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ckret2 · 1 year ago

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Chapter 47 of human Bill Cipher thinking that being imprisoned in the Mystery Shack is looking pretty good right now:

The Eclipse: Part 5

Bill and Ford are just... so energized and enthusiastic after their near death experience. Not to mention fashionable.

But they've got nothing on Dipper.

And, at long last, Ford and Dipper badger Bill—who's just too tired to lie—into explaining what kind of an "eclipse" involves a giant flying axolotl making gravity disappear.

####

When they reached the cave, Ford discovered that his antique lantern was too waterlogged to light.

"I'm not sure how we're getting to the top now," Ford said. The cavern directly behind the waterfall had some ambient lighting, but it wouldn't carry very far. "I know you can see, but I don't trust you to lead me through a cave system in the dark, no offense." He was surprised at himself for saying no offense.

"If I was planning to let you fall off a cliff, I could've saved myself a swim in the lake." Bill had taken off his backpack and was rummaging through it. "Didn't your lantern go out when you took four-eyes hiking through here? You should have learned your lesson."

Bill must have meant Fiddleford, though it was strange to hear him single out Fiddleford as "four-eyes" when Ford wore glasses too. "I did learn my lesson. I brought three flashlights as backup," Ford said. "Which are in Dipper's backpack."

Bill laughed weakly.

"Did you bring a flashlight?"

"Better." Bill pulled out a kazoo. He blew a stream of water from it, shook it, and then took a deep breath and played a long high note that wavered up and down.

Ford cringed at the noise. "Bill, what—?"

Bill held up a finger to silence Ford. Okay, fine. He was curious now.

It took a few moments of increasingly irritating kazoo playing, but Ford heard a soft clinking sound coming from the deeper caverns; and then several geodites—small creatures that looked like stone orbs with crystal limbs and teeth and glowing eyes—curiously emerged into the main cavern. Ford hadn't seen these creatures since he'd documented them in the eighties. He hadn't known they could be summoned via kazoo. They began making a high pitched humming along with Bill's kazooing.

"There you are." Bill stuffed the kazoo into his backpack and crouched down, holding out a hand until a couple of geodites crept closer to inspect it; and then he scooped up the closest one. The others startled into breaking off singing, but hovered nearby, chirping and clicking. "Okay, grab a flashlight." The light the geodites' eyes gave off wasn't very bright; but it was enough for Ford to see Bill's smug smirk. They proceeded into the caves, and a dozen-odd more geodites—perhaps out of curiosity, perhaps out of concern for the two hostages—followed along behind them.

The climb went much slower than it had just a few hours earlier. Unsurprisingly, without low gravity on his side, Bill was the holdup this time. Not only was he not as experienced in spelunking as Ford, but between his waterlogged dress shoes and his borrowed trout slippers he didn't have any appropriate footwear, and he'd elected to carefully climb barefoot again. When Ford had climbed up this path with Fiddleford in the 80s, it had been a six hour climb. He had no idea how long it would take with Bill.

But even at that, Ford hadn't expected Bill to need to pause so often to get his energy back. It seemed like the more Ford recovered from their fall in the lake, the weaker Bill got. In any other situation, he'd suspect Bill of slowing them down on purpose, but after... well, even that aside, Ford couldn't think of any reason Bill would want to delay getting home.

"It's just this body that's dizzy," Bill said, the fourth time they had to stop for him to sit. "Probably one of those... counterproductive stress reactions human bodies get." He wiped a film of sweat off his forehead, then stopped to examine how his hand trembled when his geodite's spotlight eyes fixed on it. "That or it's because I've only had a handful of cereal for the past two days."

Ford stared at him. "You what? Why?"

Bill shrugged. "Body wouldn't let me get more down. Wasn't my idea."

"Well, for goodness's sake, eat something now."

Bill took off his backpack, pulled out a cereal box, and opened it. He grimaced. He poured out a puddle of sugary lake water and dissolved cereal.

Of course. "Here." Ford pulled a tube of astronaut meat out of his backpack and offered it over. "It's not the most nutritionally complete meal supplement, but it's something. It'll have protein."

Bill took the tube with a grimace, but squeezed out a dollop of meat paste and licked it; and then he gagged so hard he doubled over. He clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from retching and offered the tube back. "Mmmf." The geodite hopped out of his lap in alarm and retreated to the group of hangers-on traveling with them.

The meat paste wasn't great, but that was a disproportionate reaction out of the alien who liked to mix chocolate sauce and mustard. This was a bigger problem than Ford had anticipated. "Keep it. If you can get down even a tiny bit every few minutes, that's better than nothing."

Bill nodded jerkily.

"I think it's better if we reach Dipper and get out of here as soon as possible."

Bill nodded more enthusiastically.

What would they do if Bill couldn't make it the whole way? Would Ford have to leave him in the cave and come back for him later? Ford hadn't tied the infinity belt's cable to Bill like he'd meant to, he just realized. It seemed unnecessarily cruel to try now; but it might be useful if he did have to leave Bill behind. He didn't know that they had any better option, he couldn't carry Bill all the way up and down. Especially since Bill had let go of his geodite, and Ford suspected the rest might abandon them if he put down his own...

They'd have to figure that out if it came to it. For now, they kept walking—Ford glancing back regularly to check on Bill, and Bill pretending he didn't notice.

####

After another half hour and another two increasingly frequent breaks, Ford saw a faint light in the tunnels ahead—yellow-white, not like the geodites' natural blues and purples. "Bill, is that...?"

"Hm?" Bill looked in the direction Ford was pointing. His right eye twitched, and then he had to squeeze his eyes shut in pain. "Yep. Boy child at 12 o'clock."

Ford called out, "Dipper?"

"Great Uncle Ford!" Dipper's voice echoed through the caves. There was a sound of clattering rocks as Dipper scrabbled down the tunnel to join them. The geodites scattered in fear, peering out from behind stalagmites as Dipper's flashlight swept over the scene. "Grunkle Ford! Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Are you—?"

Dipper collided with Ford to hug him. (Ford held his geodite out to the side so he could return a one-armed hug.) "I'm so sorry I saw you go over the cliff but I couldn't do anything I was in the mindscape the whole time something sucked my soul out of my body—"

"Not it, I'm innocent," Bill said unnecessarily, "nobody look at me." He'd taken advantage of the break to immediately sit on the ground. His abandoned geodite crept back over to check on him.

"—and—and wow, that was the Axolotl you were talking about, right?" Dipper let go of Ford to gesture like a fisherman demonstrating the size of an enormous catch, "It was huge, it had to be—I don't know, as long as the county? The whole state? How did it get so big? Is the Axolotl an alien or some kind of mutant Earth axolotl? Are all axolotls aliens—?"

"Now, hold on," Ford said, putting a hand on Dipper's shoulder, "what huge axolotl? What are you talking about?"

"You didn't see it?" Dipper paused, looked Ford up and down, and said, "What are you wearing?"

Ford grimaced, tugged his bandanna up a little higher, and turned his geodite away when it tried to aim its spotlight eyes at his neck to see what he was doing. "We had to borrow some dry clothes."

"He couldn't see the Axolotl," Bill said. "You shouldn't have, either."

"Sor-ry. Getting sucked out of my body wasn't my idea—"

"Hold on," Ford said again. "What do you mean, sucked out of your body?"

As they headed back down toward the waterfall, Dipper and Ford exchanged their versions of events. It didn't take long for them to realize Bill had saved both their lives with a swift efficiency that, had it been applied to any less altruistic a task, could have been called "ruthless." They didn't say anything, but neither one could stop from glancing back toward Bill.

"What?" he snapped, clinging to his geodite a little tighter like he thought they were planning to take it. "I don't owe you an explanation. You're not dead! Be grateful. Stop looking at me."

They stopped looking at him. Bill should be gloating about them owing him their lives. He should be convincing them they had to pay back their debt. Silence alone would have been worrying; but bristling like he wanted them to forget what he'd done was baffling.

As Dipper finished explaining his version of events, he said, "I think I remember meeting the Axolotl before—like you said." He directed this last comment back over his shoulder toward Bill.

Bill—whose entire attention had been focused for the last ten minutes on walking without collapsing, tripping, or dropping his geodite—simply muttered, "My condolences."

"Wait," Ford said, "You've... met a giant invisible axolotl before?"

"Mabel and I both did."

"When?"

Dipper opened his mouth, paused, and glanced back again at Bill for help.

It took a few seconds for Bill to register the question. "Oh—they've never met before. Not in this reality."

Exasperated, Dipper asked, "Then why do I remember it?"

"I told you—echoes," Bill said. When Dipper continued giving him an expectant look, Bill sighed deeply and said, "This is an embarrassing oversimplification, but you're at least familiar with the concept of branching timelines, right?"

"Of course I am. Every time you make a decision, the timeline splits into two paths—"

"Cute that you think it caps out at two," Bill said. "And a decision doesn't always split the timeline, sometimes the branches collapse back together depending on the gravity of the decision you made. I don't literally mean a decision 'you' made—you've never made a decision that important—but sure, you've got the basic idea."

"Fine," Dipper snapped. "So I met it on another branch, right? When?"

"Never," Bill said.

"Okay. Yes. But there is a branch where... some version of me met it. Right?"

"It depends on how you define 'is.'"

Dipper puffed out his cheeks with the effort of restraining a yell. He looked at Ford for either help or sympathy.

Ford winked surreptitiously at Dipper and said, "It's probably some complicated chronological issue. I doubt Bill can explain it in a way humans can understand." Under his breath, he loudly muttered, "Some 'teacher.'"

Bill straight-armed Ford aside to walk beside Dipper. "You humans have no sense of humor," he said. "I said you met him never because it's literally true. You had an accident that landed you in a time and space outside time and space—the meeting happened never and nowhere. It's where he prefers to take visitors. That timeline terminated after your meeting—and I don't mean you died, I mean he terminated that entire timeline."

"Really?" Dipper shivered. "With... With everyone in it? Why did he do that? Did something dangerous happen in that timeline, or was it unstable, or...?"

"That's how he usually ends casual meet-and-greets," Bill said. "Higher dimensional beings. He sees your reality from a perspective unimaginable to you. Remember when I told you you're just a movie projecting on a wall to him; he's got no problem with pulling the film out of the reel to inspect a few frames and then turning the entire projector off when he's done. What does he care if that's somebody's entire reality?" He paused to think that over. "Maybe the projector metaphor's getting strained. Imagine flipping through a book with all the pages out of order, and meeting him is like somehow flipping to a page outside the book... No, that's a little too contrived. I'll stick with the projector."

"When did we... when would we have met him?" Dipper asked. "And—when I say 'when' I mean—you know what I mean."

"You mean, when would you have made the decisions that could have led to you meeting him? Depending on your perspective, either last August or 207̃05. Time travel was involved."

"Last August..." Dipper thought back. "Was that when we were—?"

"Treasure hunting, yeah. By the by, I never asked—" Bill gestured vaguely around them at everything in general, "—which dimension did I end up in? Is this the one where you went hunting in the 1400s or 1800s?"

"Uh—1800s."

"Hm. Knew this wasn't a 207̃05 treasure hunt timeline, Questiony doesn't have a pet enslaved time pirate."

"A what?"

"So you never had a chance of meeting the Axolotl anyway," Bill said. "Hey, fun fact! Did you know there's a time pocket where twelve million alternate versions of you, your sister, and the puppet with the goggles failed at your quest and plummeted out of time? I wonder how long the last of them survived! I meant to check in after Weirdmageddon. Human flesh isn't that nutritious and doesn't have much water, but with millions of bodies and a little determination— Hey, wanna know how long you all were there before you started resorting to cannibalism—?"

"No," Ford said before Dipper had to. "And I'll thank you not to get off topic to try to give my gnephew more nightmares."

Bill shot him a sideways glance. "Remind me to tell you about the time pocket formed by all the timelines where you and Specs did your first portal test without checking your math."

"So if I wasn't even supposed to meet him—how did I see him today?" Dipper asked. "Did he pull me out of my body into the mindscape so we could talk, or...? But he didn't even tell me anything, was he just trying to get me to remember meeting him in the terminated timeline—?"

"He wasn't trying to do anything," Bill said. "He wasn't here for you, he didn't care. Shadow on the wall."

"Then what was he here for? You?"

It took Bill too long to answer. He just shrugged vaguely. "Probably not."

"Huh." Instead of questioning Bill, Dipper briefly turned introspective himself, gaze far away and thoughtful. "I think I remember a little more about meeting the Axolotl now. The first time, I mean."

"Oh, do you?" Bill asked. "Ha! Poor kid."

"Mabel and I were in some kind of rocket car?" Dipper's brows furrowed in concentration. "And the Axolotl had a... bean bag chair?"

Bill scoffed. "He still has that old thing?! Wow."

"It was really comfortable."

"It's also really tacky."

"You talked about him like he was some kind of... of big... eldritch cosmic horror thing," Dipper said. "What kind of a cosmic horror has bean bag chairs?"

"What, do you think being a vast multidimensional amphibious monstrosity with an incomprehensible mind and a body that can only been seen in lower dimensions as grotesque shapeshifting cross-sections protects you from having bad taste? He'll flay your sanity straight out of your gray matter—and you won't even have the comfort of knowing your mind-shredder had nice interior decor sensibilities!"

"I can sympathize with the experience," Ford muttered. "I was driven to the brink of paranoid madness by a nightmare demon who thinks Doric columns go with checkerboard flooring."

Bill let out a shrill "Ha!" and smacked Ford's shoulder.

"But he remembered me when we met," Dipper went on. "He told me to say hi to Mabel. And—the last time we met, we—talked. I don't remember it all yet, but... you were wrong about him. There was nothing insanity-inducing about him. He was just... nice."

"You don't think the madness sets in all at once, do you?" Bill turned back to Dipper, with an air of what Ford uncomfortably felt like was ill intent. "Go on then—what did you talk about? You can't remember it, can you? Why not? Just a harmless little conversation, right?"

Dipper frowned in thought. "There was something important, but—I can't remember what it was. What was it?" He muttered, "I know it was something important—"

"And there we go!" Bill gestured at Dipper with a flourish, triumphant. "Now you're digging for the significance of the whole thing. You're trying to comprehend the motives of something that has a state of existence your mind wasn't built to understand! You'll either go mad trying to understand his motives—or you'll go mad because you do understand. You're doomed now, kid—this is gonna haunt you for the rest of your days." He laughed. "Try to stop thinking about it now while you're ahead!"

"I'm not going insane," Dipper said. "Just shut up, I'm trying to remember."

"'I'm not obsessed, I swear! I can stop thinking about it any time I want!' Sure."

"Shut up," Dipper repeated. "It had to have been something important! Otherwise why would he dragged me out of my body and—and shown me the fourth dimension just so I could meet him?"

"Don't sound so self-important! You never saw the fourth dimension; if you had, you wouldn't think he looks like an axolotl. He visited this dimension's mindscape," Bill said. "And he didn't even mean to drag you into the mindscape! It was just a side-effect of his gravitational pull. He tugged you toward him just like everything else in town; but Earth'sgravity doesn't extend through planes like the mindscape, and his does. Yanked your spirit right out of your body."

"Then why was I the only one?" Dipper demanded. "Why didn't you or Grunkle Ford leave your bodies?"

"Your spirit's more loosely attached to your body than ours."

"Why?!"

For a moment, Bill's face twisted with displeasure; and then he sighed in resignation. "Ah, heck with it. You've been astral projecting."

Dipper's mouth worked uselessly. He croaked, "What?"

"It's when you—"

"I know what it is! I mean—what? How? When?"

"At least as long as I've been here. How long have you been having those out-of-body dreams?"

"Y—!" Dipper socked Bill's arm. Bill didn't even flinch. "You said those were nightmares!"

"And I lied," Bill said tiredly.

"Why?!"

"Thought you'd be annoying about it."

"I've been dealing with this all year, you—!" Dipper groaned in aggravation. "Why am I astral projecting! I wasn't trying to learn or anything!"

"How should I know, I wasn't around. Best guess, I think I ripped up the Velcro sticking your soul to your body when I yanked you out to puppet it," Bill said. "Oops."

Dipper gaped at him in outrage. "'Oops'?! That's all you can— I've been terrified and I thought it was a nightmare and it was real all along and it was all your fault and you won't even—"

"I knew you'd be annoying."

"I'm annoying?! How would you like it if you'd spent a year getting dragged out of your body in your sleep—!"

Bill abruptly stopped walking, turned toward Dipper, and said with an intensity that startled Dipper into silence, "You don't have the slightest idea how much I'd like it. How would you like it if you'd been trying for weeks t—" Bill cut himself off before he could get more heated; and instead, only said, "If you. Wanted to get out of your body. And couldn't. And some brat down the hall is doing it without even trying."

Dipper remained frozen, jaw locked tight in a grimace, until Bill turned away and trudged on. Dipper snapped, "But I don't want to do it. And it's your fault I am."

"Great. Nobody's satisfied." Bill sighed. "Make the most of it. Watch late night TV. Learn to meditate or something, I don't care. You've got nothing to worry about, it's harmless." He paused. "As long as nothing else crawls in your body while you're outside of it."

"WHAT?!"

"It's fine. Nothing'll get you in the shack through the unicorn hair barri... hm. Well—you're safe in the shack."

"But I have to go home at the end of summer! Will something be able to get me then?!"

Bill shrugged. "Hypothetically."

"Am I gonna die?!"

"Given my understanding of human mortality? Sure, sooner or later. Wanna hear your top five most likely causes of death?"

"No! Is it possible to—to stop? Can I control the astral projecting?"

"Yeah, sure, I guess. Ask me next time you're out of your body. I'll show you"

"Can't you show me n—"

"No. Not while you're in your body."

Dipper scowled. "Fine! Next time I'm projecting, I'm kicking you awake until you help me." He turned away from Bill; and, after a moment of fuming, mumbled to himself, "If I've been astral projecting... then that time I visited the neighbors... oh, man..." He trailed off, getting lost in his own thoughts.

Keeping silent during that discussion had been agony for Ford.

Every few seconds, he'd wanted to butt in either to eagerly ask for more information about the Axolotl or astral projection, or—far more often—to express his rage on Dipper's behalf, that Bill (of course!) had put him through this, and then not even had the decency (of course!) to try to rectify it.

But it was Dipper's conversation. It was about Dipper's problem, and anyway Dipper had been trying so long to pry some sort of useful information out of Bill—it would be cruel of Ford to snatch the conversation away from him when he was finally getting somewhere. He'd have a lot to discuss with Dipper once they were home and could get away from Bill.

But staying outside the conversation had let him observe three points he might have otherwise missed.

One: Bill really wasn't himself. Back when he'd been playing as Ford's muse, whenever he got to answer questions, he'd always done it with an air of theatricality and barely-suppressed glee; and after he'd given up that act, he'd answered questions with smug arrogance, the glee turned to sadistic delight at the bad news he could deliver. Now, he simply answered them. Even his attempts to be condescending gradually got less enthusiastic until they petered out completely.

Two: Bill was answering questions he never would have answered that morning. After telling them as little as he could about the thing coming to Gravity Falls, even trying to avoid admitting it was the Axolotl, now he was freely talking about the Axolotl's taste in furniture as though he knew the beast personally. After hiding that Dipper was astral projecting for over a month, he simply told him. Heck with it. He'd admitted it was probably his fault. He'd said the last two words Ford had ever thought he'd hear come out of Bill's mouth: I lied.

Three: this was the longest Bill had walked without needing a break all day. His voice was stronger. His steps were more steady. Ford had even seen him squeeze out a few dollops of astronaut paste between comments—and he struggled to make himself swallow, but he didn't gag.

And now that Dipper had stopped asking him about the Axolotl and about astral projection, Bill's footing was growing less certain again. He wove unsteadily on the path and had to pause to lean a hand on a stalactite, taking deep breaths. "Gimme a second."

Bill was distracting himself. He was keeping himself going through conversation, the simple ritual of receiving and answering questions. Ford understood: sometimes, in desperate circumstances, you had to burn yourself out to get somewhere safe enough to collapse and recover. When you had no choice but to push yourself, the best thing you could do was think about anything but your exhausted, failing body. It made it easier to keep moving and burn through what energy you had left.

Ford had once wondered if his "muse" was some manner of creature that was compelled to answer the questions his protégés asked him. This was perhaps the closest Bill had ever gotten to actually being such an entity: answering questions because he had to to go on, and willing to give away almost anything as long as it kept him moving.

Ford stopped next to Bill. "So. The Axolotl was the source of your 'gravitational eclipse,' I suppose."

"Astute observation," Bill said flatly.

"I take it that it isn't 'eclipsing' gravity so much as canceling it out. The Axolotl must have a mass similar to Earth's, if the force it exerts flying by above us is nearly identical to the force of Earth below us."

"More or less."

"But according to Dipper's observations, this Axolotl is only the size of Oregon at most. Did he underestimate its size? Or perhaps it's incredibly dense...?"

Bill gave Ford a sharp sideways glance. Were this any other conversation on any other day, this would be when the gloating started. Well, well, well, look who finally believes I was telling the truth, finally crawling back to me to give you all the answers you can't find yourself— But Bill only looked away again, pushed himself back upright, and kept walking. "You're the square looking at the sphere and thinking it's a circle," Bill said. "The majority of the Axolotl's mass is in dimensions you can't see. The little bit of him that's visible in the mindscape is just a... a feeler. Or an anglerfish's lure. The rest of him is close enough to exert a gravitational pull—but not in a dimension you can see."

"Which dimensions does he exist in?"

"I can't tell you because your species knows so little about them that the answer wouldn't mean anything. You haven't even decided whether or not you want to officially call the dimension that time shines from the 'fourth' dimension—I could tell you he comes from the seventeenth dimension and it wouldn't mean anything but an impressively high number to you."

Dubiously, Ford asked, "Does he come from the seventeenth?"

Bill waved a hand vaguely. "Heck if I know. The most I've ever seen at once is nine, and I was on a lot of psychedelics at the time. My eyeball popped."

"Eugh."

"Worth it, though. If you ever wanna feel cosmically insignificant in the most breathtakingly beautiful way possible, and you don't mind going blind, let me know. I think I can remember most of what I was on."

"Pass," Ford said. "If the Axolotl is so enormous, then why was only Gravity Falls affected by its gravity? At a minimum, shouldn't have the rest of the Pacific Northwest been impacted—if not the whole planet?"

"He wasn't near the rest of the Pacific Northwest. In the third dimension, Gravity Falls is obviously connected to Oregon; but in higher dimensions, it's..." He tried unsuccessfully to pantomime something mountainlike. "Imagine if the second dimension were a flat sheet of stretchy fabric. If somebody plucked the fabric up in the middle and made a peak, a creature living on the surface of the fabric would still be able to travel across its slope like it was flat, right?"

Ford tried to visualize Bill's description. "Right."

"And so if a fly flew past the peak of the fabric, it'd cross near whatever town's at that peak without getting near the towns at the bottom of the slope."

"Rrright."

"That's what Gravity Falls looks like from the fourth dimension," Bill said. "In the third dimension you can't see anything, but to fourth dimensional beings it sticks out of the fabric of spacetime like a thousand mile high pillar in the middle of a desert. That's why Time Baby put his capitol here."

Now, Ford wasn't sure that sounded right, but he didn't know enough about the seventeenth-or-whatever dimension to dispute it. "And why you kept trying to punch through to our dimension from here?" he guessed. "I imagine stretching the fabric of spacetime that far might make it easier to tear."

Bill shot him a sour look, but didn't deny it.

"Why did the gravity go down slowly for two days and then come back all at once? Did the Axolotl just leave faster than it came?"

"You know how the Doppler effect works?"

Ford hesitated. "Yes. Obviously."

"Well, in higher dimensions, gravity works like a reverse Doppler effect. It spreads out in front of a moving object—"

"Oh, come on."

"—and compresses behind the object—"

"Now you're just making up scientific-sounding nonsense because you know I can't disprove it."

"I'm not, and as soon as you get me a pen and paper I can prove it." Loftily, Bill said, "There's a simple equation that can explain higher dimensional gravity."

Ford was pretty sure he was being made fun of. He didn't mean to laugh, but he did. Dipper looked at him like he'd lost his mind; but trying to explain what was so funny would probably just make him look more insane.

Bill looked nearly as surprised.

####

"... And the smaller axolotls, what are they—heralds, worshipers? Children?"

Bill scoffed in disgust, "I don't know, I've never asked him. I see them like the flies orbiting a cow's tail. They migrate with him, that's all I know."

"Then the Axolotl really was just 'migrating'?"

"Well. Migrating in the sense that a mayfly watching a human walk back and forth to the office thinks it must be 'migrating.' He has..." Bill gestured vaguely, "duties, that mandate he travel fixed routes through the multiverse. He just happens to have a years-long workday. His commute doesn't usually take him past 46'\."

"'Duties' as in... divine duties?"

"It depends on if you worship him for doing them. I don't."

The cavern was growing light again, and the distant waterfall was audible. Ford quietly sighed in relief. Even as oddly forthcoming as Bill had been, Ford doubted that even two-thirds of the information he'd shared was true. But it was hard to tell. It had always been hard to tell.

Dipper helped Ford deflate the raft and pack it up. As he did, he said, voice low, "Is it just me, or is Bill kinda...?"

Ford cast a sideways glance across the cavern. Bill was crouched in front of the geodite he'd carried all up and down the tunnel, backpack in his lap, pouring a pile of soggy cereal onto the ground for the geodite to eat. Ford was surprised he'd gotten so attached to the creature. "I think he's been in some state of mental shock since the fall in the lake," Ford said. "And it seems he hasn't been able to keep down a full meal since we left yesterday. I suspect he's barely on his feet. The sooner we can get him back to the shack, the better."

"Oh." Dipper frowned toward Bill. (He was now pouring cold medicine on the cereal. Ford would have to ask him about geodite diets.)

"What are you thinking?"

Dipper shook his head. "I just thought... He seems like he's thinking about something. And he's giving so much away... I don't know. I wanted him to talk, but now it makes me wonder if he's scheming something."

From what Ford had seen, at the moment he doubted Bill could so much as scheme a way to ruin a picnic. But now he was second-guessing his perception. Ford knew Bill better than anyone; but that also meant Bill knew how to manipulate Ford better than anyone. What was Dipper seeing that he didn't? "Really? Do you think so?"

Dipper hesitated. "I—thought so? Maybe not." (Well, now they were both second-guessing themselves.) "I just don't know why he'd tell us so much if he isn't up to something. It feels like a distraction."

"Ah." Ford nodded. "I think the distraction is for himself."

"Mm." (Ford wasn't sure if Dipper had heard him.) "I just feel like there's—something. I can feel it in the back of my head." He stared at Bill a moment longer; then shook his head and turned away. "Maybe it's not him, maybe it's the Axolotl. He said something I can't remember. Something about degrees."

"Degrees?"

But Dipper didn't reply. He'd returned to his work, lost in his own head, mumbling under his breath the way he did whenever he was trying to work something out. Something else for Ford to ask about later.

When they got in Tate's loaned motorboat to head back out, Dipper got a look at the rainbow trout slippers Bill had put back on, and let out a choked laugh of surprise; and then that was the last sound any of them made as they crossed the lake. Ford steered, Dipper remained lost in his own thoughts, and Bill stared at his friendship bracelet, thumb running around the glass evil eyes.

####

(Finally a few mysteries solved! I hope y'all enjoyed, and I look forward to hearing what you think. Next week is another emotionally wrenching chapter!!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #dipper pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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immortalmrwavell · 6 months ago

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Sam’s Choice - The Red Box

(Original story posted November 27th 2021) This story has been updated!

Make sure to read ➡️ The Prologue ⬅️ first!

Sam’s gaze darted between the three boxes. Weirdly this felt like one of the biggest choices of his life. Simply picking a box. And yet it probably was since his life could take a very different turn depending on which box he chooses .

It took some time for him to finally come to a decision. Wavell was surprisingly patient though, sitting back in an armchair as he watched Sam struggle. But eventually after taking a long deep breath, he grabbed one of the three boxes. “This one.” he said as held up none other than the red box.

“Alrighty then. Red it is.” Looking satisfied, Wavell snapped his finger with a glow once more causing the remaining two boxes to vanish in a puff of smoke. “Now. Usually I tend to stick around for the next part… but I think I’ll give you some privacy for this. Besides, I can always use my magic crystal ball to rewatch what's about to happen.” Wavell laughed, waving his hands about.

Despite that, Sam couldn’t tell if Wavell was being serious about that or not. He only gulped as Wavell returned to his ghostly form before disappearing through the walls of the hotel. Finally leaving Sam alone with the red box.

He sat back down on the bed, resting the box on his lap before gently gripping the underside of the lid. There was a pounding sensation in his chest that felt like a mix of both excitement and anxiety as he slowly but surely pulled off the lid.

Placing the lid to one side, he looked into the box excitedly. Not knowing at all what to expect. Yet what he saw definitely piqued Sam’s interest. Inside the red box was a pair of black shiny oxford dress shoes matched with a pair of long black dress socks folded neatly beside them.

Right away Sam could tell they were a very good make and in great condition. From what he could they’d been worn a handful of times but not many, still relatively new and well looked after. The same seemed to be true for the socks as he gently ran his fingers across the soft cotton.

He proceeded to remove both the socks and oxfords from the box with care in order to get a better look at them. He moved the now empty box to one side as he placed the formal footwear on his lap. Inspecting them a little closer, Sam could not only tell just how prestine the shoes were but also that they were a few sizes larger than his own shoes. But not by many. Only about 2 sizes bigger.

As he stared down at them in admiration, Sam couldn’t help but imagine what kind of man these shoes had belonged to. Or rather what kind of man now had his soul trapped inside them. In his head he could already see it being some hot older businessman. A middle aged daddy with silver hair and ruggedly handsome features. To steal a body and life like that would be hot to say the least. Well there was only one way to find out.

And that was to put on the shoes.

The young psychic was quick to slip off his own socks and shoes, tossing them across the room before grabbing the black dress socks. He rolled up his jeans in an effort to pull the fancy socks all the way up over his calves. Once he had he couldn’t help wiggling his toes a little and enjoying just how comfortable the socks felt. The soft and likely expensive material hugged his legs. He took a moment to appreciate just how good the socks alone felt before quickly moving onto the shoes.

As Sam grabbed one of the oxfords, the feeling of excitement and anticipation began running through him. His heart beating faster in his chest as his mind wandered to all the potential outcomes that these shoes could bring him. Though just as he was about to lean down and slip them on, he felt an urge that he very quickly gave into. Sam brought one of the shiny oxfords back up to his face and dove his nose into the expensive shoe. In doing so allowing his nose to fill with a mix of the leathery new shoe smell that came with the oxforbs along with the faint musk of the man who’d recently worn it. The scent was immaculate! Sam only wished that it was stronger. Well he could fix that soon enough when the feet producing that smell were his own.

Then, after giving the other shoe a quick whiff as well, Sam finally leaned down and began pulling on the enchanted shoes. Loving the feeling of his feet sliding into each Oxford with ease. And with that Sam stood up from the bed once again, looking down at his shiny new shoes with a grin. There was a little bit of wiggle room inside but aside from that they were incredibly comfortable just like the socks.

And then finally it started.

A tornado of magic began to surge and spin around Sam, blurring his vision of the hotel room. Before he had time to panic or do anything however, he doubled over in discomfort and rising tension as the most bizarre sensation overtook his body. Sam squeezed his eyes shut as the feeling flooded every nerve. He could feel something changing within him. His body was transforming itself dramatically but he could hardly open his eyes to see what was happening. A confusing mixture of pain and pleasure took over as everything about his appearance changed in order to transform him into a perfect visage of the man that once wore those classy black oxfords. Even his clothes seemed to change!

After what felt like an eternity, the transformation began slow as it reached completion. The whirlwind of magical energy started to dissipate just as Sam opened his eyes. Immediately he could tell he was no longer in the hotel. As the magic vanished completely, Sam could see that he was now standing behind a huge ornate desk in what seemed to be a large and expensive looking office.

Looking around there were shelves of books along with decorative art pieces. There were cabinets full to the brim with all sorts of files along with other bits of fancy looking decorum scattered around the room. Behind him was a huge window that, when looking out of it, Sam was able to see an aerial view of a city he didn’t quite recognise. He must’ve been near, if not on, the top floor of a skyscraper! Being able to look down at the bustling streets below and all its people as though he were some sort of deity.

It was then he finally noticed his change of attire. He wasn’t sure how he didn’t notice the second he regained his vision because it was so striking. Looking down he saw that a stylish three piece navy blue suit now clung tightly to his body along with a red dotted tie wrapped around his neck. He was quick to run his hands down the expensive fabric. Though as he did Sam noticed the difference in his hands. They weren’t the same ones he was used to. They looked slightly larger but also well manicured and looked after. But it wasn’t just his hands. It was his entire body!

Everything underneath the suit felt… different. As he ran his arms up and down his torso, arms and even his legs a little, Sam found that he was no longer the skinny twinkish man he’d always been. Not at all. Because underneath his new suit was a body sculpted with powerful but lean muscle. He could feel it. The thicker biceps. The pronounced chest. The subtle abs. Not to mention the perfect dusting of body hair covering it all. It was all well hidden under the suit but it was there.

There was powerful stirring in Sam’s new suit pants. A large and excitable bulge became more visible by the second as his cock engorged. Even that seemed to have grown bigger. He had half a mind to rip off his fancy suit right here and now just to see and feel his new body in all its glory. That was until he saw a large wall mirror mounted across the room. At that moment only a single question was running through Sam’s mind.

What did his face look like?

And that’s exactly what he was about to find out as he strode across the room with a newfound confidence he’d never had before. Like it was ingrained in him somehow. And as he walked, Sam also couldn’t help but notice how his feet now fit perfectly inside his new oxfords. Like he’d owned them all along. And from now on he would.

“Oh… my god.” Sam muttered to himself in a voice that was noticeably different in both its tone and depth as stood facing the mirror. Staring back at him was what looked to be a bearded man in his mid 30s with short styled hair and one of the most gorgeous faces you’d ever see. The kind of face you’d see on the front of men’s magazines talking about success and fulfillment. And as he brushed a hand through his beard and hair, Sam’s cock visibly jumped in his pants. This was the new him. And the mere thought of that was driving him mad with lust.

At last both hands wandered towards his crotch. He rubbed the outline of pulsing erection through his pants, visibly surprised by the sheer size of his new cock. It was incredibly thick. So much so that Sam doubted he’d even be able to fit his hand the whole way around. The length was just as breathtaking as it snaked down his pants and against one of his thighs. Sam had obviously hoped he’d get a bigger cock but this was far beyond what he’d imagined. It was monstrous!

He continued to stroke his bulge while admiring his dashing new face in the mirror. What he didn’t notice however was a man, one of the many employees at the building, peeping through the window to Sam’s office from the hallway. Sam was far too engrossed in his new reflection to realise this other man was perving on him.

Finally, after plenty of teasing, Sam was about to whip his cock out and start jacking it furiously. But he didn’t get the chance as before he was even able to undo his zipper, there was a sudden jolt of pleasure that shot through his body and down into his crotch. It was like receiving a hundred blowjobs all at once!

“OOOOHHH FUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKK!!!” Sam roared in ecstasy as his cock and balls began to twitch uncontrollably. His jaw went a little slack as his eyes rolled back in a state of pure bliss. It was impossible to hold himself back. In seconds he found himself clenching his ass tight before shooting buckets worth of cum in an instant, completely soaking the inside of his pants.

That was the trigger for his memories.

Before he knew it Sam’s brain was flooded with the life and memories of the man he’d become. His new name was Gareth Russo, a very rich and powerful man. He was the CEO of a large and successful company and was currently standing in his office at the main company building. He received memories of his family, friends and employee’s and not to mention a girlfriend. At first this memory would’ve made Sam roll his eyes while thinking he’d have to turn this straight man’s life completely gay. Yet as more and more memories barraged his mind, it soon became apparent that Gareth wasn’t actually straight at all! In fact he was just closeted and thought that coming out would somehow make him seem less manly and capable. How stupid.

Sam snapped back to reality at last once the majority of his new memories had settled in, a hand still grasping his damp bulge. That was when he finally noticed the man perving on him through the window. Sam turned and glared at the man who immediately ran upon realising he’d been caught. But Sam had just gotten a good enough look to recognise who it was.

It was Jack, his Personal Assistant. Jack was a large burly man in his late 40’s with greying hair and a thick beard. According to his memories, Gareth actually promoted Jack to being his PA simokg because of how badly he wanted to fuck the older man’s thick bearish ass. However due to him still being closeted, Gareth hadn’t made any kind of move yet. Well that was all about to change.

But just then Sam remembered what must’ve happened to the real Gareth. He smirked fiendishly while looking down at his oxford dress shoes. He walked around his desk and sat down in the huge leather chair before reaching down and pulling off one of the oxfords. Putting it eye level with himself before he spoke.

“I know that wizard is incredible but I never could’ve imagined I’d land a body this hot and a life this amazing when I opened that box and put you on.” Sam taunted one of the possessed dress shoes that housed the soul of the real Gareth. Now you get to spend the rest of your life helpless and trapped inside your own oxford dress shoes. My oxford dress shoes. Forced to watch me live out your perfect rich CEO life. Ugh god… I’m gonna have so much fucking sex. With men. Something you were too afraid to do.” He continued to boast before taunting even further by making a dick sucking motion with his other hand and mouth. “Don’t worry though. I’ll try to wear you as often as possible so you don’t miss out on much. That way I can get you nice and smelly too.” He laughed. And with that he gave the shoe a quick sniff before shoving back on its respective foot.

The real Gareth screamed and protested but his cries were left unheard. He was unable to do anything as both his shoe bodies were filled up by the very feet he used to own. Only being able to watch as his former body grinned down at him before pulling his phone out from the pocket inside his suit jacket. Sam scrolled through the messages on his phone until he found Jack. The real Gareth was then forced to look on as Sam pulled up his phone camera and took a picture of the massive cum stain around his crotch before sending it to his daddy of a PA along with a message.

Gareth — I saw you watching me, Jack. Why don’t you come back to my office and help me get cleaned up like a good assistant

It was only mere 5 seconds before Jack read the message. The three typing dots appeared at the bottom of the chat for a moment before disappearing again. Jack must’ve been so surprised by the message that he didn’t know how to respond.

Sam then set his phone up on the desk and put the camera on a timer. The real Gareth watched from below in disbelief as his imposter pulled up the back of his suit jacket and turned his ass to the camera. Then allowing the camera to snap a perfect shot of his perky suited butt that was practically begging for a cock to be shoved inside it.

Picking his phone back up, Sam took a quick look at the picture before nodding in approval. Despite the powerful orgasm he’d just had, looking at his new butt was already giving him another hard on. So much so that he couldn’t stop himself from reaching back to give it a quick squeeze. As his cock firmed up Sam sent the picture along with another message.

Gareth - Once you’ve cleaned me up I might let you assist me in other ways as well

After that one Jack responded rather quickly.

Jack — Yes sir! I’m now on my way

The rest went exactly as planned. Jack arrived in no time and before long the older daddy was on his knees sucking his boss’ gargantuan cock clean. Licking and sucking off the load Sam had shot earlier before somehow making Sam blow a second load as well! Of which Jack was more than eager to swallow as well.

Shortly after that Sam decided his lovely assistant had done enough sucking on his knees and deserved a reward for being such a good daddy. And so Sam bent himself over his own desk, presenting his suited ass for Jack to worship. As soon as he was given permission, Jack groped at his boss’ ass. Smacking and kneading at the cheeks he never imagined he’d get a chance to touch. And before long shoving his face against Sam’s suited butt as he pulled out his own cock.

Jack eventually built up the courage to pull Sam’s pants down and gently pressed his dad dick between his boss’ ass cheeks and into that incredibly tight hole. It was clear his boss had never been properly fucked by another man before so he didn’t want to go too hard. But soon enough Sam was practically ordering Jack to destroy his ass! Well Jack couldn’t disobey a direct command from the CEO. So the next thing they knew, Jack was fucking Sam into oblivion before finally moaning out and breeding his Boss’ ass with as much cum as he could stuff in there.

———

A couple weeks have passed since then. The new Gareth officially came out as Gay while leaving his former girlfriend to be with Jack. He absolutely adored his new life as Gareth Russo. Getting to be a smart and powerful millionaire with a sexy body and hot boyfriend. It was quite literally a dream come true in every sense. This was a level of success Sam could never have achieved before. And now he had it all. A perfect life all thanks to his new shoes.

That said, the real Gareth had eventually given in and accepted his new reality in being nothing but a pair of shiny dress shoes. He loved whenever his old body filled him up with his large feet and went about his day at the office. And after just a few weeks of use, his two shoe bodies had begun to stink up a bit with his former body’s sweaty scent. But he loved it more than anything. And so did Jack apparently as the daddy assistant turned boyfriend would frequently find himself sniffing the shoes. Sometimes just before sex as a bit of foreplay. But other times Jack would sneakily take them after Gareth when he wasn’t looking after a long day at work and huff on them for a while before putting them back. Even though they were boyfriends now, Jack was still a bit of a perv.

“Looks like he did what that body's previous owner was too afraid to do.” The invisible Mr Wavell chuckled as he walked in on the new Gareth slamming into Jack’s fat bear ass with his massive cock. Wavell decided he may as well sit back and enjoy the show as the two men filled the room with the sound of their groans. Gareth’s balls smacking loudly against Jack’s ass in a lewd display of sexual domination.

Wavell then noticed the shoes across the room. “Bet you’re loving this aren’t ya.” He smirked devilishly. “Seeing him become a better version of you and fucking the man you always wanted. Just goes to show that he was always meant to be Gareth Russo. While you were always meant to be nothing more than his fancy oxfords.” He stated boldly, knowing the real Gareth was in there watching the show with him. And if the former man could speak, he would have agreed with the wizard that did this to him. As much as it didn’t make sense. As much as he should want to hate Wavell for doing this. The soul of the original Gareth couldn’t help loving his new existence as nothing more than a pair of shoes for his new master.

“FUUUUUUUCKKKK.” The new Gareth roared before unleashing an enormous load inside his boyfriend’s ass and breeding his hole nice and deep.

#mr wavell #magic #male body theft #male tf #male transformation #identity theft #male musk #suited #boss and employee #ceo body swap #mental change #straight to gay #suited body swap #tf by clothing #clothing tf #boss #male body swap

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dat-town · 7 months ago

Text

mine for the summer

Characters: Leehan & female reader

Setting & genre: coming of age, summer romance, angst and fluff (it has a happy end!)

Summary: Busan is your hideout, your runaway place, your freedom bought on stolen time. Leehan is your first love, your safe place, your everything. At least, for the summer.

Warnings: stage name used, OC is coming out of a burnout in the beginning and she has a relapse, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, past hospitalization, emotionally distant parents, parental pressure on academics

Words: 9.4k

Author’s note: title from One Direction’s Summer Love. here is the Romeo + Juliet movie scene that gets mentioned

turns out i cannot not write an at least bit of an angsty story for your bday but i do sincerely hope you have a very happy one, @restlessmaknae <3 also of course you would start singing this song in july to give me a heart attack right before i accidentally told you i’m writing about Leehan

The humidity of air sticks to you like second skin, sweat glistening on your nape where your hair gets tangled in the summer heat. With closed eyes and the tickling feeling of sand under your bare feet, you listen to the ocean waves washing up the beach and children giggling. You take a deep breath of air filled with salt and fish and oil, something so uniquely Busan that you feel like fourteen again.

It’s been years since you had come to visit. Excuses were easy to find: too busy, too far; reasons were much harder.

But now you’re here and you realize that you missed it. The quiet serenity of being hidden away in the part of town that’s far from the busy skyscraper downtown and the overwhelming tourist traps. You remember spending summers running down these sandy beaches and playing in the water, mouth sticky with fruit and palms scratched with falls and youth. Then you turned older and got bored of the quiet neighborhood, the ocean losing its significance after seeing it too many times, eventually you stopped coming altogether. Now you are even older but still young, barely out of school, the CSAT exams still haunting your dreams. You’re just twenty but sometimes that age feels like it bears the weight of the world. Your world at least.

You open your eyes and squint right away at the brightness of the Sun and feel its burning heat on your bare shoulders only cooled by some nice breeze. The air might smell like salt, fish and oil but it tastes like freedom.

You take one more deep breath, willing yourself not to think of your mother’s disappointed words about your behavior nor her disapproval of you coming here, and push yourself up. You grab your discarded sandals and head back. Your grandparents must be worried already. In their eyes you are still fourteen, forever a child.

And they might be right because not even halfway down the beach, you abruptly halt and hiss, pain shooting into your feet and your carmine blood drips onto the golden sand. Balancing yourself on one leg, you check on the wound, a cut on the softest flesh part of your feet and the culprit, a broken shell in the sand. Clumsily you take your water bottle from your bag to clean the blood off, your skin still sensitive around the fresh wound. You debate whether you should tiptoe the rest of the way or clean your footwear off sand and dirt as much as you can but before you could decide, a stranger approaches you with worriedly furrowed brows.

“Are you okay?” He asks in a deep voice but you don’t pay too much attention to him, too busy to figure out what to do with your injury.

“Yeah, it’s just a small cut,” you brush his worry off, expecting him to walk away or maybe to give you directions to the closest pharmacy but he does neither.

“Here. Hold onto me,” the stranger offers his arm which you reluctantly but take because your balancing skills honestly aren’t the best. Then you can do nothing but stare as the boy around your age suddenly pulls out a plaster from his shorts’ pocket and leans down to inspect your wound. It’s a bit awkward, having a stranger look at your feet, so your fingers curl inside themselves around his arm. The boy is gentle, barely touching your skin as he applies the plaster and once he’s done, he straightens, looking down at you with sparkling, shiny eyes.

The first thing you notice about him other than his height and the low register of voice is actually his eyes, how pretty and expressive they are. The second thing is the way the wind blows his longer, almond colored fringe into his eyes. Your fingers twitch to brush it away just to find out if they are as soft as they look.

Then you realize that you’re staring, so you quickly look away, down at your feet that now has a cute seahorse patterned plaster on it.

“Thanks,” you mutter, a bit dumbfounded but amused at the same time. “Do you just carry around plasters everywhere?” You blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind as you lower your leg, still feeling a bit sensitive but much better.

“I can be a bit clumsy at times. And too curious for my own good or so I have been told,” the boy shrugs with a sheepish smile on his face. “I’m Leehan by the way.”

“I’m…”

“Y/N-ah! There you are,” your grandmother’s voice cuts off your introduction and like a kid caught doing something you shouldn’t have, you take a step backwards, away from the boy, on instinct.

“I have to go,” you look at the stranger, Leehan, one last time apologetically. “Thanks again.”

“Take care,” the boy smiles warmly and waves, the movement cute just like the animal print plaster he had on him.

You limp all the way towards your grandma who stands there with her hands on her hips, ready to scold but you hush her and tell her it’s nothing serious, that you are okay. Still you listen to her tsk-ing and nagging as you walk back inside the house but once she seems to run out of everything she could have said about it, she changes the topic swiftly.

“You barely got here and you are already snatching boys?”

“If by snatching you mean embarrassing myself in front of them, then sure,” you try to softly tone down your grandma’s enthusiasm but she keeps chattering despite the sarcasm in your answer.

“Leehan is a sweet boy, always helping when he sees me with lots of groceries. He lives in the neighborhood with his family and I think he graduated high school last year, so you must be the same age.”

You hate how hopeful she sounds because you didn’t come here to befriend people. When you called asking if you could spend the summer here like you used to, except this time you would help them out, your grandma was happy to take you in but worried too that you would be lonely or bored alone with ‘only them old folks’ but honestly, you craved a little peace and alone time. That’s why you needed to get out of Seoul too, away from its people. From all its memories.

So you just make a noncommittal hum and escape to the kitchen to help your grandpa with the scallion pancakes for dinner.

“What’s your grandmother fussing about?” He asks, pushing the glasses further up his nose.

“Nothing, I just stepped on a broken shell,” you shrug and get three plates from the shelves and kimchi from the fridge.

“Typical. I heard about it for weeks when I accidentally cut my finger one time,” he recited and you smiled, feeling loved and cared for. At home.

The market is stuffy, different smells of sea animals, fried food, fresh fruit and detergent mixing with the sounds of vendors arguing and negotiating over the static sound of music coming from an old radio. It’s busy but different type of busy compared to the crowded metro coaches. It’s lively here and while you had studied your ass off for the promise of a future corporate job, here you are packaging tteokbokki for takeaway, always adding extra because that’s a given for regulars. Not that you think it’s below you, you love the food stall aunties and uncles very much, but you would have never imagined yourself sweating next to a spicy boiling broth in the heat of summer. Maybe it had something to do with the way your mother talked about her parents’ job so derogatorily, always telling you that you’re only somebody if you’re well educated and a career woman. Maybe that’s why she was so against you coming here. Because it was a place she had run away from.

You’re in the middle of chopping scallions in the back when you hear a cheerful call of Ahjumma! and your grandma perks up more than usual.

“Leehan-ah, are you going down to the beach?” She asks and you feel the back of your neck heat up but you blame it on the Sun. It has been days since the shell incident but the embarrassment still creeps on you. You hope the boy won’t notice you or at least not say anything about it.

“Later. First I have some errands to run,” Leehan says and your granny coos, probably patting his cheek too, calling him a good boy. Then casually while she is stirring the tteok in the pot, she suddenly changes the topic.

“If you have some free time, could you show our Y/N around? She doesn't really go out on her own.”

“Grandma!” You turn around, sulky at the callout. A mistake because you can clearly see the boy failing to hide his amused smile.

“Sure. If she can keep up,” he raises a brow elegantly at you which immediately makes you defensive.

“Are you calling me short?” You straighten up without meaning to because come on, you aren’t that much shorter!

“I’m asking if your foot is alright.” Leehan corrects your assumption with a know-it-all smile plastered on his face but he still manages to pull it off in a genuine way with a hint of worry. It makes you feel flustered for a moment.

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine,” you clear your throat and clean your hands in a rag cloth nearby.

“I’m just going to the post office, I’m free after that,” the boy says, looking straight at you from under his longer fringe, over your grandma’s shoulder.

“Great. Go have fun!” The old lady exclaims, turning and walking up to you, untying your apron faster than you would expect from somebody her age.

“Grandma, I’m not leaving you alone,” you protest but it’s no use. She tsks and shakes her head as if she couldn’t believe what she’s hearing.

“Please, we were doing fine before too. I can just get your grandpa to stop playing mahjong with the neighbors if more people come,” she brushes off your worries easily and basically pushes you out of the food stall’s kitchen area. You’re just about to complain about your bag when she shoves it towards your chest and all you can do is stare at her, shocked but you can’t really say anything when she smiles so sweetly and wishes that you have a good time.

Eventually, you’re the one to give up. It’s not like you could make her let you work against her wishes and she seems very keen on making sure that you go out and get friends while you’re here. It was difficult to convince her to let you help out at the shop at all to pay back in a way for their hospitality no matter how much they told you that they would be happy just to have you over the summer.

It’s only when you’re a little further as you follow Leehan through the market, when you speak up.

“You know, you don’t have to do what my grandmother asks you. I can be on my own just fine,” you mutter, not wanting him to think you’re some child that needs a babysitter. Just because you like to stay in your room, it doesn’t mean you would get lost if you set a foot outside.

“I’m sure, don’t worry. But it’s no bother. I like to be an advocate for the city,” the boy grins at you and as if on cue, an auntie greets him and insists on giving him a bag of peaches. Leehan asks about her grandchildren and compliments her harvest. He charms everybody effortlessly, a real sweet talker but he doesn’t seem fake about it at all and it’s kind of lovely, just like his fish themed plasters.

With people constantly greeting him, it takes way longer to get to the post office than it should have but at least you can laugh when he loses paper, rock, scissors against a nine year old kid and is bullied into trying something really spicy. You try to hide your smile while the little kid is unabashed about his reaction when Leehan grimaces at the hot spices, finding his disgusted nose scrunch hilarious. In apology, you buy him iced green tea at the next stall you see and he smiles at you brightly like the Sun.

Once Leehan is done at the post office, you expect it to get awkward but it’s him who breaks the silence as you stand in the shade, sweat dripping down your back in the moonsoon season’s humidity.

“So… you’re here for the summer?”

“Hm. I missed the sea,” you hum quietly, keeping your eyes on the bright horizon and the shimmering line of water in the distance.

It isn’t entirely a lie but not the whole truth either. Being so burned out after high school that you got a panic attack at the thought of going to university, so you had to postpone a semester and the disappointment it caused to your parents certainly isn’t something you want to dump on a practically stranger. But even if Leehan has a feeling that you’re not 100% sincere, he doesn’t push, which is something you appreciate.

“Well, then you came to the right place. Not to be biased but Busan has the prettiest beaches.”

“Prettier than Jeju?” You tease just for the sake of it and it makes the boy chuckle.

“Of course! Come on, I will show you my favorite place,” he tilts his head, a clear invitation and you give in because you don’t have anything better to do anyway.

The Sun is still high up on the sky, white clouds clear against the blue of it. You’re fanning yourself but it doesn’t help much. Leehan however doesn’t seem bothered by the heat, so you find yourself asking:

“Did you grow up here?”

“Born and raised,” he nods with a proud smile which isn’t that surprising because he has that more laidback way of talking that locals around here have. At least he’s not talking as fast as the neighbor ahjussi whom you have trouble understanding. “You have a Seoul dialect though.”

“That’s the standard way of speaking, just saying,” you roll your eyes at him calling the way you speak a dialect which makes him laugh.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

It’s silly arguing over something like this but it’s actually fun, you find yourself smiling without meaning to. Something that has come harder lately. So you end up answering the boy’s unasked question about your upbringing. You tell him about growing up among metal skyscrapers, the Han River and Seoul Forest being your escape, only spending your summers in Busan, your mother’s hometown until you were fourteen. Leehan listens and asks random questions like whether you have ever been to the COEX Aquarium or if you ever wanted to be a mermaid as a little girl. It’s surprisingly easy to talk with him, to open up. Maybe it’s because you know he doesn’t know you well enough to judge or even if he did, it doesn’t matter much because you would leave at the end of the summer anyways.

In the meantime you reach the sea and walk along the shore farther from the crowded beach and bay areas. When you come across a bunch of larger rocks, Leehan climbs onto the top easily and holds out a hand for you to help you up too. Tentatively but you take up on his offer and let him pull you up on the slightly slippery rock. He doesn’t let go until you land on stable ground on the other side. There are smaller rocks and pebble stones splattered across the sand there stretching from the clean turquoise blue waters to a cave overshadowed by greenery. It’s beautiful and you can’t believe you’re the only ones here.

“How did you find this place?” You ask in awe, wandering farther ahead. Even the sand is cooler here from the trees’ shade.

“Honestly, I don’t go out a lot either. I just like to go down to the beach and be, you know. So I have been looking for a place where I can chill and well, I had years,” the boy says with a hidden smile in the corner of his mouth as your grandmother’s words about your hermit behavior echoes in your ears.

Of course, you know that she means well and that she’s a social butterfly, so it’s weird for her that you are not that outgoing at your age. Or maybe she has heard from your mother of those weeks where you refused to leave your room let alone the house. Things had been bad then, now you’re getting better. You have come all the way to Busan after all. Was it to run away from your problems? Maybe, but also you hoped that not being in an environment that reminded you of your failures would help.

“Do you always bring girls here?” You ask, more playful than anything as you balance between two rocks, looking back at Leehan over your shoulder. You can hear him snort and catch the way he scratches the back of his neck.

“Not really,” he admits sheepishly. “Just the special ones,” he adds with a mischievous smirk on his face. Tsk, what a flirt, you shake your head in disbelief but amused.

“Aren’t you afraid that I will ruin your chill time here?” You ask as you settle onto a place in the shades, closing your eyes as you enjoy the cool breeze against your sweaty shoulders.

“Not really,” comes the answer closer than you expected as Leehan settles on the ground not far from you. You squint your eyes open to see his expression but he’s only looking at the sea fondly.

You don’t talk much afterwards, just sharing bits and bobs of your lives, little anecdotes. Leehan eventually offers to walk you home when it gets close to dinner time. You could easily find your way with Naver Maps but you let him anyway and try to keep up with his recommendations of Busan places to check out; you probably forget half of them though. You don’t exchange contacts, it somehow doesn’t even occur to you because you’re pretty sure you will run into each other one way or another. It’s all nice and cozy. Something you could get used to.

Even though you expected to meet Leehan, you didn’t think it would be so soon. But trust your grandma to play the matchmaker despite your firm reminder that you didn’t come to stay with them over the summer to get a boyfriend.

Still, you should have known better when you agreed to get cat food at the local pet store in lieu of one of your grandmother’s friends. You feared she would have gone herself and carried it all if you weren’t going and at that point you were just happy if she let you do anything yourself because you felt like a spoiled guest at her house. But of course, she had ulterior motives, you realize when behind the store’s counter, there’s none other than Leehan with his pretty smile and soft-looking hair.

“Are you stalking me?” He grins when he spots you after the jingling sound of the door chime signals your arrival, one side of his mouth curling more upwards then the other, the asymmetry of it making him even more handsome.

“Blame my grandma. She sent me here on an errand.”

You are quick to give him your excuse but it only makes the boy pout slightly and you can’t tell whether he’s faking it or he’s actually disappointed.

“I thought you missed my wonderful company,” he puts a hand over his heart and ah, that’s definitely over exaggerated.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” you deadpan as you walk up to the counter and pull out your phone to get the list of things you should buy.

You show the pet food brands and quantities to the boy and while he’s off to get them from the back, you look around in the shop. There are all sorts of cat and dog supplies but further in the back you see tanks and you swear you see movement in some, so your curiosity brings the worst out of you and you wander closer, smiling upon seeing the blue and golden fish in various prettily decorated glass boxes. You’re so busy looking inside the tanks that you get startled when Leehan speaks up from behind you.

“Do you like fish?”

“Oh… actually, I have wanted a fish tank at home ever since I saw Romeo + Juliet,” you admit as you turn to face the boy. He furrows his brows in confusion and you somehow feel urged to explain it in more detail. “It’s an adaptation from the 90s. In this version, Romeo and Juliet saw each other first through a fish tank at the ball. I just thought it’s… romantic,” you cut yourself off when you realise your’re rambling about embarrassing girly things and clear your throat. “Anyways, my parents obviously didn’t let me have one.”

“That’s cute,” Leehan says, his smile half-teasing, half-sincere and you feel heat coloring your cheeks. How can he just say things like that? “I have one at home.”

He adds casually but you immediately perk up.

“Really? Do you have pictures of it?” You can’t help but inquire and luckily the boy doesn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he seems pretty excited that he’s able to talk about his fish. He keeps showing you pictures of different states of the fish tank and what kind of fish he had before and what else he wants to get one day. He also tells you that this is his go-to place when it comes to buying fish supplies and it’s pretty cool that the owner lets him work here part-time over the summer. You are so distracted that the next customer has to come to the back looking for the cashier which is a bit awkward but you both laugh about it.

You shuffle around in the back while the customer gets the new leash for his dog and when he leaves, you go to the checkout counter too to pay for the cat food. You already stayed longer than you intended to do, so you do a little ‘hwaiting’ gesture at Leehan as a goodbye but his words stop you before you could leave.

“Would you like to go to the aquarium this weekend?” He asks and you swear you can hear the nervousness in his tone despite the smooth, casual delivery or his confident front.

“Sure, why not?” You try to play it cool too and eventually you agree to meet in front of the place on Saturday, so you leave the pet shop not only with cat food but weekend plans too and a smile on your face.

It’s an understatement to say that your grandma is over the moon when you tell them that you will be out Saturday because you made plans with Leehan. Your grandpa asks though if he needs to talk with ‘this young man about his intentions’ and you protest vehemently. It’s not even a date after all, because it isn’t, right? You’re just hanging out. Your granny waves her hand and chuckles at the interaction.

“Let them be. We were young once too,” she says in that voice she always has when she gets nostalgic. You listen to her stories about her youth even if you have heard them dozens of times before because your grandma had such an eventful life. No wonder she always encourages you to ‘live a little’ and follow your heart. That’s how you don’t regret life looking back, she says.

So that’s what you are doing when Saturday comes and you get ready to go out. The loose-fitting white dress feels light against your skin and with a sudden wave of enthusiasm, you reach for your barely used eyeshadow palette. Today you feel like doing something special, like putting on silver, glittery makeup. You feel good when you look into the mirror but then you start second guessing it. Isn’t it too much for a simple hangout?

Too late, you realize because you’re already short on time to make it to the aquarium by the agreed time, so you brush off your worries. By some miracle you manage to catch the bus, trying not to think about your outfit or makeup being too much, too… date-y.

When you arrive at the entrance, Leehan is already there, his tall figure striking even from a distance, especially in the jeans and tucked-in, light blue shirt combo he wears. He stands by one of the pillars, scrolling through his phone but pockets it right away when he sees you.

“Hey… You look pretty,” he blurts out, faint rosiness coloring his cheeks and it makes you feel shy too. Your previous thoughts about taking this dressing up too far cease to exist.

“Thanks. You look good too,” you say because it’s true, but he always looks nice. Even in the bermuda shorts he wears to the beach or the pet store uniform t-shirt. Maybe it’s because of his slender figure or his prince-like features or just overall the casual confidence he holds himself with.

“Thanks,” Leehan mutters and looks away. It’s quite a different reaction from what he shows when ahjummas on the market pinch his cheeks and call him handsome. “Let’s go in.”

Inside it’s like a hidden Atlantis. You are surrounded by lovey-dovey couples walking hand-in-hand and families with kids running around. The blue hue of water is casted over everything and Leehan’s eyes sparkle in the dim light as he tells you about things he learned from documentaries about the deep sea or at university. It turns out he’s studying oceanology at Korean Maritime and Ocean University there in Busan which is pretty cool, something that suits him. When he asks about your side, unknowing to the turmoil inside you when it comes to your studies, you don’t tell him about the stress you have been under just to get into a SKY university. You don’t tell him about your messed up sleeping and eating schedules, the IV drops at hospitals, the anxiety and panic attacks nor the result of it all. You just shrug and tell him that you got into a good uni with a business management major, but it’s not really what you want to do. He doesn’t ask why you did it then or why you don’t change it. Instead he looks at you with a smile under the penguins’ majestic aquarium and asks:

“If nothing else mattered, what would you want to do then?”

You give it a thought because you didn’t quite have the luxury to think about what you really wanted before. It was always about what your parents wanted you to do. Until you decided to pack your things and come down to this beach town.

“Staying here forever,” you eventually respond and it sounds like an exaggeration, so you chuckle to soften the confession’s rough edges. Even if Leehan doesn’t know you well enough (yet) to understand the longing in those words, your yearning for the taste of freedom and the warmth of a home where you are waited for,che seems to understand. He just smiles wider and proceeds to tell about the crazy lifespan of some turtle species. It’s good, your tensed shoulders relax again as you follow him to the next section.

After you have thoroughly seen everything at the aquarium, you find a place nearby to eat at, then walk down the closeby popular Haeundae beach. It’s not as pretty as the one next to the lagoon Leehan showed you the other day and there are more people here than you would have preferred but it’s okay. You never seem to run out of topics, lighthearted ones, yet even silence is comfortable with Leehan.

“See you tomorrow at the beach?” You ask in lieu of saying goodbye on your way back. Your fingers are intertwined behind your back just to do something with them because they are sweaty and soiled with sand from the impromptu sand castle building you came up with under the last unforgiving rays of the Sun.

“Don’t miss me too much until then,” Leehan says with a corny smile playing on his lips instead of saying yes but you just laugh and let him be.

You ignore your grandma’s knowing glare from the living room as you run up the stairs two at a time, your white dress floating behind you like flower petals in the wind.

On Sunday you meet on the beach and stay out until the Sun disappears behind the horizon. Next week you help Leehan choose a new decoration for his fish tank and spend two hours in the pet store listening to him talk about the difference between algae types and the importance of filters and sub-filters. On Friday your grandparents are at the hospital for their usual check up, so you’re on your own in the food stall. Leehan comes around to keep you entertained but he ends up helping out when a bigger group appears. Sweet of him but you find out the hard way that he has shitty sense when it comes to spice, especially salt, measurements.

The week after, you run into each other in your local Olive Young while you’re getting a new nail polish color and he has a bottle of shampoo in his basket. You end up leaving with a new glittery eyeshadow palette too because the boy drops a comment that it would look pretty on you. You put it on together with the baby pink nail polish you just bought when you go to the outdoor screening of a Korean classic on the beach. Under fairy lights and the fluorescent reflections of the movie in Leehan’s sparkling eyes, you feel a rush of something selfish, a longing so deep it cuts and you have to look away before it becomes obvious.

You don’t talk about it, whether these are dates or not. Because talking about it would make it real. It would make it scary, because then you would have something to lose when the summer ends. It’s fragile but it’s yours and it’s enough, you tell yourself.

One of these days it rains. The kind of sudden summer downpour that feels way too nice on your heated skin in the humid, hot weather. It catches you in the middle of eating ice cream with Leehan and you can’t help but yelp when the first cold raindrops touch your bare shoulder. You both get up quickly and run for cover ice cream long forgotten but the rain just pours and pours and both of you are drenched by the time you reach the nearby cave.

You look up at Leehan from under your wet eyelashes, shivering slightly and burst out laughing at the sight of his hair sticking to his face weirdly like a soaked puppy. You know you don’t look any better because you feel your hair weight over your shoulders like a rag. You try your best to tie it up, out of your eyes but Leehan is still staring.

“What?” You ask, self-conscious and shy under his intense stare. Then you are holding your breath because the boy lifts his right hand and touches your face. His touch burns and leaves goosebumps in its wake as he brushes another lock of hair behind your ear.

The rain is loud around you but it all sounds saturated right there, at the entrance of the small cave just by the beach. You tremble, not from the cold but something akin to anticipation.

Leehan’s gaze meets your eyes. There’s softness and wonder in the depth of his brown orbs. You take a shaky breath as he runs his fingers down the expanse of your bare arm until he finds your hand and then he chuckles and pulls you out into the pouring rain.

“Yah!” You scream at him but you laugh too, a childish feeling bubbling up in your chest.

You chase each other around on the beach. The sand is wet under your feet and the sea is cold when you end up knees deep, splashing water at each other as if you could be even more soaked. Your laughters echo in the cave and you feel the most alive in a while.

You still laugh about it when the next day you wake up with a cold and sore throat.

The push and pull between you is like the waves washing up the shore. There has to be a breaking point when it spills over. It happens in Leehan’s room when he finally shows you his fish family in person after chatting your ears off about them. The tank is bigger than you expected and it’s really nicely decorated, it’s clear that the boy put a lot of effort into it and you appreciate all the details. You’re too busy watching in awe as the tetras and shrimps swim around to notice the boy on the other side of the water wall until you catch his eyes on you. You blink in surprise and think that it’s unfair how handsome he looks even through two layers of glass and filtered water. Bashful, you straighten up at once and Leehan does the same on the other side.

“Was it like this? In the movie?” He asks, curiosity coloring his deep voice and your breath hitches because he remembers! It was something small you mentioned to him the second time you met and yet, he didn’t forget.

“Something like this,” you nod, still bewildered and breathing shallowly as the boy edges closer, leaning over the fish tank.

“What happens after?” Leehan’s voice is barely above a whisper as his gaze searches your face. Your fingers tremble, so you press them against the countertop for balance.

“Why do I have a feeling that you know?” You lower your voice too as if it was a secret and the thought of him looking up the movie just because you told him about it makes you feel mushy inside.

Leehan giggles and it's music to your ears, a beautiful sound.

Your eyes flutter closed when his lips graze against yours. It’s chaste and clumsy but his kiss tastes sweet like cherry lip balm and summer. You never want to forget this feeling.

What starts with a kiss between four walls ends up spilling all over the pages of your summer. It’s in the way you share looks and secret smiles over your grandmother’s shoulder, the way he holds your hand as you walk down the beach or the way every accidental touch sets your skin on fire. The way you talk on the phone until late on days when you can’t meet or how he notices the faintest burn mark on your fingertip from cooking and presses a kiss on it to ‘help it heal’. It's shared packs of gummies, sea-washed hearts drawn into sand, blush on cheeks and a secret held close to your heart. You still don’t talk about the future, about what it means even though you know you should. You should tell Leehan that it’s bound to end in heartbreak because you will leave eventually but for once you let yourself be selfish and pretend that you have all the time in the world. Or at least pretend that you have him.

It’s been almost two months since you have been in Busan and you have felt better than ever. No pressure on your chest anymore when you wake up, no breaking out in sweat when you see the calendar counting down days, no lack of motivation to go outside. However, one thing is enough to crash it all down. One simple thing.

You stare at your ringing, buzzing phone as if you could will it to stop just by looking at it hard enough. Your mother’s name on the screen is enough to make your stomach twist uncomfortably and you bite into your inside cheek so hard you taste iron as you swipe the call towards the green direction.

“Y/N,” your mother calls your name like a greeting. You hold your breath back, wondering if she will tell you that they missed you since you haven’t talked with them since you have left but you should have known not to get your hopes up.

“Did you decide on the next semester?” She asks, straight to the point as if that’s the only thing they care about. Maybe it is.

“No,” you mumble and you want to make yourself smaller when you hear your mother’s disappointed sigh. It’s bringing back ugly memories. The realization that their love is conditional hits you hard again.

“When are you coming back then? It’s been enough of a vacation already,” she says dismissively and you know too well that she doesn’t ask because she wants you back out of caring but because then she would have more leverage over you.

“I’m staying for the rest of summer,” you force yourself to remind her because no matter how guilty and ungrateful she makes you feel, you remember how hard it was to leave, to go against her in the first place, so you don’t want to go back, not until you are sure she cannot emotionally manipulate you into doing something you don’t want.

“What a waste of time. You should at least sign up for a language course–”

“I have to go. Sorry,” you hang up the call and only when you drop the phone onto the bed’s mattress you realize that you’re trembling. It’s when the tears are starting to sting your eyes. Your phone rings again, your mother’s contact haunting you like a ghost, so you switch the phone off entirely. You refuse to cry but the ugly sobs bubble up nevertheless and it’s all coming back.

It’s day three of shutting yourself in your room and not talking with everybody. You feel useless and stuck, just like the disappointment your mother thinks you are. When there’s a knock on your door, you think it’s your grandmother coming for the breakfast tray, so unsuspecting, you open it. You immediately wish you didn’t because in front of you stands Leehan with worry clear on his face. Or is it pity? In this mindset, it’s hard to tell.

“Your grandmother let me in. I couldn’t reach you,” The boy rushes to speak up, his voice stained with something heavy. “Are you… What’s wrong?” He corrects himself probably realizing that asking if you are okay would be a stupid question when you clearly aren’t.

“You should leave,” you croak out, your voice hoarse from disuse.

“Y/N, don’t,” Leehan pleads with sad eyes that beg to don’t push me away, don’t shut me out but you’re too used to dealing with things alone. “You don’t have to tell me but let me be here for you.”

It’s the gentleness in his request that makes you stall. He doesn’t force you to do anything, he just asks like he wants to be there. Like he doesn’t care that you look shitty and ignored him for days. You don’t deserve his kindness.

“Let me shower first,” you look away before opening your door wider to your curtained and stuffy room.

You open the window and grab some homey clothes from the gardrobe because you don’t want to stay in your pajamas next to the boy. Then you close yourself inside the bathroom, taking a too cold shower but by the end of it you actually feel a bit more like yourself. You walk back to your room in the new, clean clothes and wet hair, not ready to look Leehan in the eye, so you’re relieved when he doesn’t make you do that either. He just gently takes the towel from your hands and sits down behind you on the bed, massaging the soft material into your head. You let out a little choked up sound at the feeling of being cared for. You close your eyes to will yourself not to cry and Leehan doesn’t say anything, he just keeps drying your hair gently.

“My mother called,” you speak up after what feels like forever and yet not long enough. The boy hums quietly, showing that he’s listening but he lets you go on at your own pace. So you tell him about the pressure to do well at the CSAT exams and to get into a SKY uni, about falling out with your best friend because of competitive studying, about starting to hate it and how it ruined your relationship with your parents.

You speak and Leehan listens, then when there are no words and your heart feels like an empty shell, he holds you close. It feels like he holds all your broken, ugly pieces together.

It doesn’t happen from one day to another but things get better. You get better again. It’s the kind of progress that you have to do yourself but having your supportive grandparents and Leehan by your side definitely helps.

The boy comes over often in the beginning because you don’t yet feel like going out and being seen by people. Your grandfather mentions something about keeping your door open at all times but after realizing that all you do is watching documentaries on your laptop, reading books with your head in Leehan’s lap while he is on his phone or braiding each others’ hair, he doesn’t say anything anymore.

It takes a while to gather courage to tell everything to your grandparents too because it’s one thing opening up to Leehan but it’s about their daughter and you’re afraid that despite letting you stay here and not caring much about your education, they would take your mother’s side. Luckily, they understand.

“You could stay, you know. Your grandfather and I would be happy to have you here,” your granny reassures you with a hand on yours, soothing.

“It’s not that simple,” you let out a quiet sob because which ungrateful child doesn’t do what their parents want after the fortune they had spent on her education? It’s just university, you can bear it for a few years, says the little voice in your head, even if you hate it, even if your perfectionist tendencies will ruin the experience for you.

“It can be that simple. I will talk with your mother,” your grandpa exclaims and you know he would do so if you don’t stop him.

“Please don’t. It’s something I have to do myself,” you say because you can’t let others fight your battles for you, because it’s a step you need to take for the freedom you crave.

It’s scary still, preparing to tell your parents something you know they won’t like nor will they hesitate to try and change your mind.

Leehan squeezes your hand before leaving you alone to make the phone call. He doesn’t go far, you know that the farthest is the kitchen where your grandma will convince him to taste her cooking. You pace around in the room, giving yourself a pep talk, rehearsing your prepared speech a few times before hitting the call button.

It takes three rings for your mother to answer. Her voice is leveled and disinterested when she asks how you are. She doesn’t care, she only cares about what people will say about her if their A+ student daughter won’t go to university. But you won’t take her burdens on your shoulders anymore.

“I decided. I won’t start uni next semester. In fact, I will drop out,” you blurt out as quickly as possible, like ripping off a bandaid. You don’t let your voice waver no matter how nervous you feel. “Maybe one day I will attend a university but if I do, I will study something I would like to, something I'm actually interested in, not business,” you continue before your mother could interrupt you. “Thank you for supporting me through school but I’m old enough now to make my decisions, so I would rather pay you back for all that.”

Your parents are stunned to say the least. There comes a nicely wrapped threat about ‘their house, their rules’ but when that doesn’t work, they try to negotiate. They tell you that you will regret it, to think of all your wasted efforts and how lucky you are, then they want to talk in person. You say it wouldn’t change anything and telling them actually feels like a huge rock being lifted off your chest and you can finally breathe.

It becomes easier after that. The countdown stops and you can sleep properly. Summer ends and you start packing your bag. Going back to Seoul doesn’t seem so scary anymore.

You ask Leehan to meet you at the beach, your usual place, because he deserves to know. He brings fruits and jellies, an entire picnic. Your heart aches because he doesn’t know it’s goodbye. Or maybe he has a feeling since he has always had good intuitions and because this idyll was never meant to last longer than summer.

You eat and you talk while watching the waves and the clouds chase each other. Leehan tells you about the classes he has in the upcoming semester and his fish family updates. You tell him the latest anecdote about your grandparents because the atmosphere is too good to bring up you leaving so soon.

You watch the sunset together with his head on your thigh and your fingers raking through his soft hair, grazing across his reddened ears and the earring he wears. He’s illuminated by the oranges and goldens of the dying Sun and your heart shatters at the sight. He is so beautiful and you want to remember this moment forever.

When darkness settles, you take out sparklers, set them in the sand and cuddle until the last speck of light burns out, until you can see the constellations you cannot name clearly in the night sky.

“I go back to Seoul next week,” you whisper as you lie on the picnic blanket and watch the stars together. Leehan doesn’t say anything immediately and you don’t dare to turn to him. Not before you tell him why. “We will go to family therapy. It was mom’s idea but maybe it will do us good. I owe them at least this. They are trying.”

They might not be the best parents but you know that they mean well in their own way even if it’s not something you want. It’s already a big thing that they also realized that you need help to mend family ties. But that’s not the only reason why you’re leaving.

“I also need to figure out what I want to do for myself and not for others,” you admit in a small voice, barely audible.

You spent your teens working towards a goal your parents set for you and it made you miserable. You’re afraid of it happening again and that’s why you can’t stay in Busan no matter how at home you feel here. Because you know this is what your grandparents would want, because Leehan is here and it scares you that one day you will blame them for staying because you are too weak to make your own choices. So you need to decide on your own. You need to be sure you aren’t just running away from your problems.

Moments pass and the boy’s silence is unnerving. You wonder if he’s angry or if he’s sad. If anybody, you would think he understands but you cannot be sure and it’s killing you. When you turn to him, he moves too and suddenly you’re paper thin distance apart. When he pulls you against his chest, you can feel the rapid rhythm of his heart. When he speaks up, his melodic voice is shaky with unsaid emotions.

“I hope you can find what makes you happy,” he says as he strokes your back gently and it’s an i will miss you, i get it, i wish you the best all in one and tears pool up in your eyes, feeling touched and understood. You nuzzle closer, taking a deep breath full of Leehan’s signature scent of sea salt and sand and something sweet.

“I will miss you,” you whisper under the stars and they witness it as the closest thing you can manage to the confession you can’t say out loud. But it’s in your heartbeat and all your memories.

You and Leehan had all summer and it was golden. It was love even if you never said it out loud.

3 MONTHS LATER

Winter in Busan is kinder. It’s still cutting cold but not unforgiving like in Seoul. It's a roasted sweet potato smell and a stranger helping you with your big suitcase as you get off the train. One of the stores plays Christmas music while you are checking your phone to see if your driver has already arrived.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice calls for you and a smile blooms on your face, whipping your head towards the source of it. There he is in all his beauty, a fluffy scarf around his neck, a beanie on top of his head and his nose red.

You want to rush up to him but your suitcase is heavy and its wheel gets trapped in something, so you manage to trip and lose your balance. Luckily, Leehan is there to catch you and it’s déja vu, a reminder from the summer when you held onto him, another beginning.

“Careful,” the boy warns you with a chuckle as he lets go and looks down at you with a tender smile. You mimic his reaction, your heart getting wild in your chest that you finally see him again. “You are smiling. It’s pretty,” Leehan says in awe and you beam at him wider.

“I’m happy,” you tell him, honestly because he’s part of the reason why.

A lot has happened in the last three months since you left Busan. Family therapy wasn’t a piece of cake because admitting mistakes wasn’t your parents’ forte but it did help to salvage your relationship as a family. They stopped pushing you to choose a higher education and let you make your decisions yourself. First of those was to start tutoring high schoolers who wanted to get into a SKY university like you did. Even though you didn’t actually attend one, the admission letter was proof enough for many people and you realized you liked helping others. You also developed a teaching style that’s more compliment and reward-based than the strict hakwon style. Out of all subjects, you enjoyed teaching English the most, so when you not so accidentally came across an opening position in a language center in Busan, you applied right away.

The truth is you missed Busan. The freedom, the independence, the happiness you found here. And you missed your grandparents and Leehan the most. This time it’s not just a hideout where you come running away from your issues. This time, you come because you want to be here. It’s a home to return to.

Leehan takes your suitcase from you and walks you to the parking lot to his dad’s car. He got his license this fall for which you cheered him on all the way via texts the same way as he supported your teaching journey. You listen to the cheerful songs on the radio as he drives you to your grandparents’ house while talking about the train ride as if you haven’t been texting throughout it. It’s almost like nothing changed and yet, everything did.

“Leehan-ah,” your grandmother coos when you arrive, welcoming the boy with a warm hug.

“Hey,” you pout pseudo-sulky because shouldn’t she greet you first? Her one and only granddaughter? She should take notes from your grandpa.

“Don’t be jealous, sweetheart,” your grandma singsongs before wrapping you in her embrace too, all warm and loving. Immediately after she starts listing down your favorites that she has been cooking since morning but you shush her because you should at least pack your stuff in your room. Leehan offers to help with your luggage and the two of you go up the stairs while you hear your grandparents ‘whisper’ about when to bring out the cake. It makes you chuckle. It makes you happy.

“Actually, I bought you something, too,” Leehan speaks up, his ears as red as his nose but you aren’t sure it’s from the cold outside.

“Oh, what is it?” You ask, surprised but curious and when he nods towards your room’s door. You give him a quizzical look before pushing down the handle.

At first nothing stands out, it’s almost like how you left it months ago but then in a flash of gold you notice one striking difference. There it is, unmistakable, a fish bowl with a single goldfish and some rocks and coral decoration in it on your desk.

“It’s not exactly a fish tank you must have wanted but it’s better to start small,” Leehan explains with a smile in the corner of his mouth and you realize once again just how much he sees and understands you, he always has.

“Thank you! I love it so much!” You exclaim, throwing your arms around the boy, giggling into his chest.

You fussing over your new pet fish is interrupted by your grandma inviting you down for lunch and suddenly it’s like nothing has changed since summer. Leehan is welcomed at your table as if it’s the most natural thing and your grandpa is still teasing your grandma about making way too much food. They keep asking you about your job too as if you knew anything more than what you told them on the phone.

After lunch, you help clean the table while your grandpa keeps Leehan busy by asking him about something he saw on the internet. When your grandma sees you stealing glances, she nudges you in the side and tells you to walk him out with a knowing look which makes you roll your eyes as if you didn’t yearn for more alone time with the boy.

So here you are right at the gate, knowing full well that your grandparents are watching through the window, fidgeting with your scarf, not knowing how to say goodbye even though you will probably see him tomorrow after work. Eventually it’s Leehan who speaks up.

“Y/N,” he calls your name and it sounds so sweet from his mouth, you feel degrees warmer in the cold of winter.

“Hm?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to call your name. I still can’t believe you’re here,” the boy chuckles sheepishly and you realize it’s not only you who’s nervous. But maybe there’s no reason to. Now you know what you want.

“I’m here and I’m staying,” you promise and when Leehan smiles, the mole on his left cheek moves upwards and you tiptoe to peck him right on it. He has a hand on your arm as you descend down flat to your feet and his gaze is stuck on you. You’re mesmerized as you watch all his moles and acne spots and his boyish beauty that makes your heart flutter. You stand so close that you can see the snowflakes melting over his eyelashes and that’s when you notice it.

“Oh, look, it’s snowing!” You squeal with childlike wonder as you look up at the sky and try to catch the floating snowflakes on your palm.

Leehan hums quietly but his voice is playful when he asks:

“Do you know what they say about the first snow?”

You blink at his sudden question, cheeks growing pink and hot as the boy leans closer.

“You’re as smooth as ever,” you mumble, shy, because of course you know the saying about couples’ love being long-lasting if they witness the first snow together.

Your first kiss tasted sweet like cherry jellies but this one tastes like forever locked in a touch. You had the summer together but now you have all the seasons ahead of you and you can’t wait to walk them through together with Leehan.

#stories #boynextdoor x reader #bnd x reader #leehan x reader #bnd fluff #bnd angst #leehan fluff #leehan angst

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atrueneutral · 1 year ago

Text

'Husband' & 'Wife' Part II (Raphael x Tav)

There's smut in this. [Part I] --- She stared at him.

And he stared at her - waiting for her to strip.

“Is there a problem?” Raphael inquired with faux innocence and a raise of his brow.

Well, no… and yes.

It was neither the act of stripping nor the thought of actually being naked in front of the cambion that delayed her from enacting the first half of her bargain; it was the fact that they had appeared in the entrance hall - and it wasn’t empty.

To their credit, half of the debtors paid them no mind because they had no mind left; they shuffled around in despair, mumbling to themselves whilst the other (seemingly-more-lucid) debtors silently worked on their hands and knees to clean the marble floor with rags and a bucket of water.

Also to their (and Raphael’s) credit, they were clothed.

Suddenly her poor-decision-of-an-offer to clean his House naked became just that: a poor decision.

Another poor decision to add to her List of Regrets…

The List was never to be revealed to anyone, and therefore Raphael would never know how many times his name was mentioned; what he did need to know was that she was a woman of her word (most of the time), and she would, in-fact, clean his house naked for eight hours if need be.

(What-in-the-devil possessed her to say eight hours? Of all the hours! Why not five? Or even two?

One would have sufficed, surely…)

“No, there’s no problem,” she said sweetly, holding eye contact as she began to undo her belts. “It is rather toasty in here…”

His intense, heated gaze wasn’t helping.

Not in the mood to entreat Raphael or the debtors to a striptease, her belts were casually discarded to the floor. Footwear was next in line to be removed, but because her boots did not simply slip off, it became mildly embarrassing as she balanced on one leg at a time and wrestled each foot from imprisonment - all with Raphael watching with crossed arms and the hint of a smirk. Tav smirked, too, albeit with slight sarcasm once she dumped the second boot, and she swiftly moved on to pulling down breeches and smallclothes in one go. She stepped out of the puddle of garments whilst lifting her tunic from over her head, and the pile continued to grow with the added shedding of her brassiere.

All that was left-

“Leave your footwraps,” Raphael commanded, reading her intention of going for the strips of cloth around her feet. He inspected her as Tav straightened to shamelessly stand beside her shorn gear. His brown eyes were unapologetic in their scrutiny, and both she and her arousal unapologetically liked the way the cambion slowly burned a path from her face, down the column of her neck to drink in the sight of her breasts and hardened nipples. Further netherwards they went, trailing along her waist, hips, and thighs to magnetically settle on her sex. “I married well, it seems. You are exquisite. Haarlep does not do you justice - in more ways than one, I’m sure.”

Heat tinged her cheeks (the cheeks of her face, though her other cheeks were warmed from the temperature within the House), and Tav mentally reproached herself; this scenario was leading to danger, which was not good seeing as how the last time she stripped naked in front of a fiend…

“I’m very flattered you think so, husband,” she said with a pinch of haughtiness. “I presume my eight hours has officially begun? Where am I to begin cleaning? It looks as if this hall has been taken care of.”

“You will be cleaning the Archive. You know the way I believe?” Raphael dramatically gestured for her to take the lead down the hall. “After you, my dear.”

Tav stuck her nose in the air and airily began to guide them down the steps and through the passage that led to the dining hall.

“I can’t help but notice that you have yet to thank me for coming to your coin purse's rescue,” Raphael remarked behind her.

“You will get your thanks when I have the breastplate in hand,” Tav replied. “Besides, if anyone should be thanking anyone, you should be thanking me for my offer to do this - let alone in a state of undress.”

“Mm, you are quite right, Little Mouse…” said the cat, his voice dipping into a purr. “Thank you.”

She refrained from glaring at him; there was no-doubt that Raphael was appreciating the view of her assets as they moved through the dining hall and towards the Archive. The loitering debtors strategically fled or turned their backs at their approach, and Tav tried not to pay attention to the worrisome amount of wispy, spectral souls that skimmed through the air overhead.

Thankfully, for this visit, there was no need for her thieves’ tools; the doors to the Archive were open for visitors, allowing her to head straight for the expansive room she had at one time browsed all by her lonesome. During that uninvited drop in of Raphael’s treasures, the Archivist had annoyingly hovered over her shoulder (even after she successfully persuaded him that she was Someone Important), and, by the looks of things, the very same Archivist still had a job.

Not bothering to cover up, Tav stopped a number of feet away from the snobbish servant.

“If it isn’t Verillius Receptor,” the Archivist said snidely after getting over the initial surprise of her nudity. He then smoothed down his hostility once he saw who it was who followed behind and he bowed. “Oh, and my lord!”

“You are not needed - begone,” Raphael ordered in greeting.

Unable to help herself, Tav discounted the Archivist’s presence as she gave Raphael a simpering smile, “I look forward to seeing your treasures up close, husband.”

At the moment of leaving her, she regretted the way her words could be misconstrued as innuendo. Nothing lost on him, her ‘spouse’s’ eyes glinted with amusement - and more.

The ability to sputter like a goldfish was passed from her to the Archivist; his mouth opened and closed as his eyes flicked from her to his lord - confusion apparent. Panic then sprouted, for his delay caused a change in demeanor from Raphael and the servant hastily bowed again before scampering off.

“Close the doors behind you,” added the master of the House.

The Archivist obediently obliged, and the set of doors shut at his exit.

Wanting to avoid Raphael’s stare, Tav appraised the items that sat behind impervious shields. The Amulet of Greater Health and the Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength remained on their marble pedestals, but the center pedestal was empty of any item or any contract belonging to a specific person.

Raphael stepped closer. “I’ve yet to find anything to match the significance of what was there.”

“Yes, the contract of your Crown’s courier,” Tav answered. She rotated to face him, and her heart stuttered; Raphael was closer than expected - well within arm’s reach. “Congratulations, by the way. As I understand it, you’ve achieved a number of victories since gaining the object of your heart’s desire.”

“Yes, but, as is natural when a desire is fulfilled, another must take its place.” His eyes drifted to her lips, and the rapid beating in her chest hurt. “Would you like to know my latest heart’s desire, Little Mouse?”

“Please share - unless you’d like me to find out through the reading of your diaries.”

His expression turned calculating at the recounting of her indiscretion, and Raphael invaded her space further with a single step, his head leaning in for her ear as he had earlier in the armor shop. A chill coursed through her when the back of a finger ghosted along her arm. “It’s my heart’s desire that each pedestal be cleaned to pristine perfection.”

He pulled his smirking (and stupid) handsome face away, and Tav quelled her own heart’s desire to punch it.

Snap!

At their feet, a bucket of sudsy water and a number of rags appeared from a plume of smoke and embers.

“Be sure to do a better job than the debtors - I’d hate to have to punish my wife.”

Tav internally fumed; he thought to lord himself over her? When there is no contract between them? She could win right here and right now; she could forget the breastplate! She could leave - leaving Raphael a thousand gold short with a breastplate he didn’t need or want, and with the remnants of a bargain to be made between him and the dwarven shop owner!

Tav mentally burned the List of Regrets (to avoid adding her next decision to it).

Oh, she’ll show him! She’ll make him beg!

“I’d hate to be disobedient.” She smiled demurely as she gracefully lowered to a crouch while looking at him. Her head came to be at the level of his crotch as she picked up the rags and then the handle of the bucket with the same hand. Her eyes fell from his face to consider what lay beyond the fabric of his breeches, and Tav caught a sliver of her lower lip between her teeth.

She rose without a second glance to the cambion and swayed her hips on her way over to the first exhibit displaying the Amulet of Greater Healing.

Raphael prowled after her.

“Oh, does my lord husband have nothing better to do than to watch his wife clean?” Tav asked as she stepped up the few stairs. She set the bucket down on the top step, just shy of the pedestal’s base.

“Past experience has told me that I can trust none else in this House to see to it that a mouse doesn’t get into mischief,” Raphael answered, landing at the foot of the stairs and effectively blocking her path from leaving the golden, fenced-in enclosure in which she stood.

“I’m sure the mouse meant no harm in seeing where the cat - no, pardon me, the fox - conducts his business.” Again she crouched, and Tav stuck out her backside as she grabbed a rag and dunked it into the foamy water. The rag was rinsed of any excess before she arranged herself to begin.

“Had there been harm, the mouse would have suffered for it.”

“Duly noted.”

She would clean to the best of her abilities, and she would do it whilst posing in the most provocative manner possible. Currently, this meant placing herself beside the pedestal - her position remaining low as she spread her legs and hovered above the floor on the balls of her feet, giving pedestal and floor an eyeful of her sex.

Nothing for Raphael, of whom she did not bother to acknowledge while ‘focusing’ on her task.

Hand and rag slowly moved up the smooth, arched portion of the pedestal before making its way back down again, wiping the marble of any accumulated dust and grime. When it came to more ‘stubborn areas’, Tav decided to add a bounce to her body in rhythm to her vigorous scrubbing.

“What are you doing, Little Mouse?” Raphael inquired with a substantial drop in his pitch.

“I’m cleaning in the nude - per the terms of our agreement,” Tav said pleasantly, moving to re-dunk her rag.

“Do you typically clean in this manner?”

“No, I typically clean with clothes on.”

“You know my meaning.”

Tav shifted the bucket over and threw a smirk over her shoulder as she once more sunk down and spread her legs - providing the front of the pedestal en eyeful of her front and the cambion a nice picture of all that her backside had to offer. “No, Raphael, I’m afraid I don’t know your meaning.”

“Then let me speak plainly - do you typically clean as if there were a cock beneath you?”

With the bucket slightly out of reach, and because she hadn’t rinsed her rag fully, Tav squeezed a nominal amount of water from the cloth, providing Raphael the illusion that her sex was soaked to the point of dripping.

“Not typically.”

She heard a low growl behind her, which pleased her to hear in more ways than one as she progressed on in her cleaning of the pedestal’s surface. After a handful of minutes, Tav got to her feet to return to the bucket but was stopped by a new directive.

“Move on to cleaning the center pedestal.”

The roughness of his voice drew her attention, and Tav knew she was doomed to live out her fantasies - if not solely due to the look Raphael was giving her; his eyes were dark and glazed over with want, and he gripped the stiffened outline of his cock through his breeches.

The devil was unraveling - because of her.

Tav grabbed her rag and bucket to then sidle up to him.

“Do you typically get aroused while watching debtors clean, Raphael? I wouldn’t put it past you,” she murmured whilst glancing from his eyes to his parted lips - the top of which was frozen in a partial curl.

“Only when watching you,” he replied huskily.

Tav tightened her hold on the bucket handle, lest it slip from her fingers and she make a genuine mess. The urge to kiss and taste that mouth of his was churning within, but she could not give in per the rules she created; he must bend and break first.

“I see.” She smiled as she stepped past him, and Raphael trailed after her to the center enclosure where the empty pedestal awaited to be cleaned.

Tav was at the top step when she paused and thought better of the placement of her bucket. She pivoted and slowly strutted back over to Raphael, who, yet again, acted as a guard to the section’s entrance and exit. The bucket was gently set down to the side, and she half-kneeled before him while she drowned her rag within water. With her eyes on that-which-couldn’t-be-ignored, Raphael capitalized and worked to free his erection from confinement.

It was then that a string of happenings happened within seconds of one another; Tav came face to face with the cambion’s well-endowed and well-engorged cock, her mouth went dry somewhere in the middle of ringing the water from her rag, and there was the painful realization that she might end up as the one begging.

Raphael languidly began to stroke himself - precum gathering at the tip.

Needing to clean and possessed by desire, Tav leaned in and swiped her tongue across the exposed head of him, causing Raphael to groan and twitch. She looked up, meeting brown, dilated pupils that were filled with longing, and there was the cursory thought that he, with his fiendish arrogance and pride, would simply take what he wanted rather than-

Tav’s musings were cut short when Raphael’s other hand wove itself into her hair.

“Tav.”

The sound of her name was perhaps the closest she would hear to a plea, and her response was automatic. Tav licked her lips before bringing them around the head of his cock, taking him into the heat of her mouth and planting her tongue against him. The rag was dropped and forgotten as her hand came to replace Raphael’s in wrapping around his shaft, and she took over in pumping him slowly, causing an audible breath to leave him. His hips reacted, matching her pace, and his fingers entwined in her hair - adding a gentle pressure to the back of her head as it moved.

Raphael’s heady gaze emboldened her to gradually increase her pace - her tongue circling and licking at his head, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked. His shaft became slick with her saliva, assisting her in her strokes…

And then she stopped with a teasing smirk. He growled in disapproval as Tav removed his cock from her mouth, and she did not blink as she snatched her rag and stood.

“Forgive me for getting distracted - I’d better go clean what was requested,” she rasped.

Every purposeful step she took away from Raphael and towards the pedestal caused her cunt to throb with need, and Tav decided to play out her fantasies; she would be the one to bend for him.

Up the few stairs she went with his eyes never leaving her, and she began to leisurely wipe down the top of the pedestal.

Oops! How clumsy of her to drop the rag behind the massive obstruction!

Needing, of course, to retrieve her item, Tav bent over the pedestal, positioning her stomach against the cool surface, and she made a half-hearted attempt to reach the rag while presenting herself to the cambion.

She gently wiggled her ass in invitation, and, at the sound of a burst, bootsteps became jingling bootsteps in their approach.

Her wiggling ceased the moment she sensed and felt Raphael behind her. The fabric of his clothes pressed against her bare skin, his cock nestled between her legs, and a delightfully warm, clawed hand splayed across her back to then follow down the line of her spine. The hand palmed her ass before giving her a firm spank.

Tav yelped in surprise and twisted to glare at the fiendish, winged and horned form of her ‘spouse’.

“A punishment for being so careless,” he said lowly, treating himself to a handful of her smarting cheek. “I warned you, did I not?”

“I suppose you did,” Tav conceded with a sigh. Her expression changed to include a charming smile as she batted her eyelashes. “But, be a dear and get me another rag so I may continue in my duty?”

“No,” Raphael said. His other hand gripped her hip while the hand on her ass traveled to her aching sex. Fingers slipped between her soaked lips and across the sensitive bud of her clit, causing her to jerk and keen. Raphael practically purred at his findings, and Tav gasped when two digits pushed inside her after a moment of exploration. “I have my mouse right where I want her - squirming under my claws.”

He began to pump, and the mouse squirmed as she held onto the pedestal.

“Have you always wanted this, my dear?” Raphael asked, curling his fingers to elicit a cry of a moan from her lips. “Why else would you offer what you did?”

“Yes, I’ve thought about this - too often…” Tav admitted in between breathlessness.

The claws at her hip dug further into her flesh, and Raphael hummed - sounding positively pleased by what he heard in the middle of positively pleasing her with his fingers. Once she was substantially wound up and to the point of nearly-begging, the cambion removed his digits, leaving Tav feeling empty and needing to be filled.

Eagerness and anticipation spiked her blood at the feeling of his ridged cock sliding between her lips. He coated himself with her desire for him before the head of him pushed at her entrance.

“As have I,” Raphael said, easing himself inside her walls with a shudder.

“Oh, gods!” Tav moaned. The size of him stretched her, and she choked on breaths as they both acclimated to one another.

He began to move, ripping pleasure through her body while both of his hands gripped her hips.

She clung to immovable marble as the devil she knew fucked her from behind. Raphael buried himself within her cunt with each thrust, and his rhythm seemed to match that of primal need. Her head turned to look at him, and his eyes ensnared her with a blazing fire that held flames of possessiveness.

“My Little Mouse,” he growled.

Danger manifested before her, and the meager amount of wisdom Tav had fought to keep her mouth shut - to neither confirm or deny his claim over her.

But every other aspect within her stupidly liked how it sounded…

“Oh, my lord husband! My Archdevil Supreme!” she exclaimed, causing Raphael to shudder again.

Well.

Her wisdom tried.

As he continued to fuck her, Tav wished to have access to her clit to help push her over the edge, but even if she was not to come undone herself, there was immense satisfaction to be felt and seen in the cambion’s undoing. He became absorbed in having his way with her, which was an ego boost as much as it was a turn on, and Tav was confident that her time for sexual bliss would come in the hours ahead.

Cleaning the House was no longer a priority for either of them.

“You should also know how often I’ve thought about you coming inside me - filling me with your seed...”

In exchange for her confession, Raphael growled something feral. A hand roamed across her skin before pushing into the small of her back, and she was held to him and pedestal both as his pace signified that his climax was nearing.

With a last, rough jerk of his hips, Raphael finished and spilled inside her cunt - his fingers trembling against her skin while every drop seeped into her womb.

His hold left her as he leaned forward and braced himself upon the sides of the pedestal surface. He panted over her, getting his bearings, and Tav was stunned when the cambion eventually leaned over to plant a kiss on her shoulder before slipping out of her and stepping back to give her room to move.

Tav peeled herself away from the marble, leaving perspiration behind.

“I would get my rag…” she cheekily remarked. “But I’m afraid I’m not done soiling this pedestal.”

Raphael’s head snapped to her, and he ravenously watched as she hopped up to properly sit upon the marble top, her legs spreading to showcase his come that leaked from her.

“What's next, dear husband?"

#this is all over the place #it be what it be #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael x tav fanfiction #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #my writing

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year ago

Note

Hiii Miss Ravennn! 😊 I’m sure you’ve seen the new club Leona by now and if not now then at some point you will. 🎤 Care to share with the class about what your thoughts on it are?

-Insert groaning sfx here-

IF I MUST... 💀

***Spoilers for Epel, Ruggie, and Leona's Club Wear cards below the cut!!***

*aggressively leans into the mic* ALRIGHT, WHICH ONE OF YOU TWST DEVS DECIDED TO PUT THE GUY WITH THE BIGGEST CHEST NEXT TO TWO OF THE FLATTEST GUYS IN THE WHOLE CAST 🤡 That poor belt looks like it's going to burst, it truly is the strongest soldier of Magift/Spelldrive Club... I'm going to have to avoid scrolling on socials for like the next week or else I just know I'm going to be clocked by fan art after fan art of Leona in uniform 🪦

BUT HEY, IT'S OKAY, IT'S FINE, IT'S FIIIIINE. Let's compare the club outfits of Leona against his teammates to distract me from thinking about rolling for L*ona!

Many fans already predicted Leona's new hairstyle would be something that kept his hair out of his face, similar to what we see for Epel and Ruggie. This makes sense, as you would not want anything obscuring your line of sight if you're going to be playing a sport. I like that they differentiated Leona's ponytail from the one he wears in his PE Uniform card! In his new Clubwear, Leona's bangs are slicked back to not get in his way, and the ponytail is much higher. The PE Uniform ponytail still has his usual bangs and the ponytail is very low.

Around Leona, Epel, and Ruggie's necks appears to be some kind of... cord???? (I'm not familiar with sporting gear, so I don't know what the terminology for this piece is. Sorry!!) There is a different number of golden notches, and I wonder if this corresponds with their year level since Epel (the first year) has one, Ruggie (the second year) has two, and Leona (the third year and club captain) has three.

Leona’s jacket also appears to be slightly longer than Ruggie and Epel’s, though it’s hard to tell for sure because of his pose. Is that to indicate he’s the leader??? (If it’s signaling seniority, then Ruggie’s jacket would be longer than Epel’s). Edit: Leona’s longer jacket is confirmed in his voice lines to be someone only the club leader wears.

An interesting detail is that Ruggie and Epel have goggles with different colored coatings on their lenses to reflect their dorms (golden for Savanaclaw, purple for Pomefiore). Leona, however, does not have traditional goggles, nor are they mounted on his head. He seems to have a pair of trendy-looking sunglasses dangling from the little side pocket that holds his magical pen. Ruggie and Epel's footwear also indicates their dorm allegiance via colors. Leona's shoes are that signature Savanaclaw yellow as well, but... ahbdbyovqyfefe THEY'RE SO EXTRA???? At first I thought it was a bunch of shiny golden particles but upon closer inspection, it looks to be more like a purposefully textured fade. Truly, hats off to the designers and artists for somehow making a variant of the club uniform that conveys Leona’s arrogance and includes luxurious fashion (though let’s be honest, Ruggie probably maxed Leona’s credit card buying these accessories for him www).

…

<_<

>_>

A n y w a y

I think my favorite part of this new card is Leona’s face. You can unfortunately get a good look at how handsome he is here 💀 The cocky smirk, the sharp and bright eyes, his sharp jawline, how his locks fall around his face and call attention to… YOU KNOW, EVERYTHING???? 😭 His regal aura really is there front and center…

But no, no!! I shan’t roll for him 🙃 I can appreciate from afar, I don’t need to have ojitan in my card roster, nope.

Since the Epel Clubwear first dropped and I saw the buckles… I’ve been on a spiritual retreat in the mountains and lived a humble life as a nun, meditating in the peace and tranquility of nature to attain enlightenment. I have no worldly desires such as Fake Cat 🙏 This is me coping

#twisted wonderland #twst #Leona Kingscholar #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #jp spoilers #notes from the writing raven #question #NOT L*ONA ROT

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danikamariewrites · 2 years ago

Text

Anything For You Fox

Eris x reader

A/n: in anticipation for @erisweek2023 please enjoy this soft fic of Eris taking care of reader. I’m so excited for Eris week I’m so excited for the fics I have planned.

Warnings: none

The ball raging on in the grand room of the Forest House showed no sign of slowing down any time soon. It was well past midnight and you were exhausted, practically falling asleep standing up.

Eris was beside you in an instant feeling a wave of exhaustion from you down the bond. He wraps a strong arm around your waist, leaving a soft kiss on your head. “You ok fox?” He murmurs against your hair. You nod, “Just tired. And done with this party.” Eris hums in agreement.

Removing his arm from your waist he offers you his arm. A suggestive smirk on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. You take it, letting your mate lead you into the cool hallway toward the courtyard.

Eris pauses looking down at you, “Cabin?” A bright smile takes over your lips as you eagerly nod. Before you knew it darkness consumed you as Eris winnowed to your secret hideaway. Your true home with him.

As Eris opened the door he held your hand, spinning you inside. He grabbed you by the waist dipping you, pressing a deep kiss to your lips. Pulling you up you broke the kiss. Letting go of Eris you turned and hobbled over to the plush couch. You let yourself deflate into the cushions not care about your dress being wrinkled or your hair frizzing from the soft blankets draped over the back. You never had to worry about those things around Eris.

Sauntering over to you, Eris let out one of those rare genuine chuckles that made your heart swell with happiness. He perched himself on the coffee table in front of you and brought one of your feet to rest on his thigh. As he started to unbuckle your heel he inspected it curiously. “I don’t think I’ve seen these ones before.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “My mother picked them out. They look pretty, for once, but hurt like a bitch. They’ve been pinching my feet all night.” You hiss as Eris slowly slips the shoe from your foot.

He grimaces at how red your foot is and the blisters forming. “Cauldron. What does your mother have against comfortable footwear?” A giggle escapes your lips and Eris smiles at you. He brings your other foot to his lap, removing your other heel.

You crack your toes and roll your ankles, ecstatic to be free from your too tight shoes. “Thank you, Er.” He gives your ankle a loving squeeze as he stands, resting your feet on the table. “I’ll be right back.” Eris pecks your forehead and heads to the bathroom.

When Eris returns he’s holding a tin of salve and eye drops. You tilt your head at him curiously. Eris sits back down, placing your feet back on his lap. Opening the tin and scooping out some of the salve he placed it on the red spots of your feet.

Eris started rubbing it in and massaging your pressure points. And his hands were so warm. Gods he’s the most perfect male. Once he was done you made grabby hands at him. Eris picked you up bridal style, starting toward the bedroom.

He set you down and motioned for you to turn your back to him. Eris started undoing your corset, pulling your dress over your head and carefully hung it for you. You felt like you could breathe again. Rubbing at your stomach you looked down, noticing the lines your dress left imprinted on you.

You frowned, rubbing at your eyes. You hated that your mother always insisted on gowns with a corset. You despise them. They’re always so uncomfortable and you can never move properly.

Eris noticed you frowning at your stomach. He walked up behind you, handing you one of his shirts to sleep in. Before you could put it on Eris carefully laid you down, kissing at the marks on you. “I’m sorry you have to wear these stupid things. I know how much you hate them.”

You lovingly pinch his cheek and slip the shirt on. “Can we cuddle?” “Of course we can fox. Just let me do your eye drops first? They look a little red.” You nod against the pillow as Eris gets up to retrieve the small glass vile where he left it.

“How do you want to do this?” You bite your lip thinking. “My head in your lap.” Eris wordlessly gets on the bed as you scoot down to make room for him. “Are you going to actually keep them open this time?” His tone faked sternness. “Yes,” you giggle.

After two drops in each eye and no fidgeting from you Eris kisses the tip of your nose. You pull back the covers and snuggle into Eris’ side. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you to lay on his bare chest.“Thank you for taking care of me.” “Of course fox. I’d do anything for you.”

tags: @rigelus @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @aroseinvelaris

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #eris x reader #eris x you #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra #eris fluff #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar

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streets-in-paradise · 1 year ago

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His Weakness - Achilles x (Fem)Reader

Troy (2004) Oneshot

Warnings: Injury, brief description of healing practice.

Summary: Achilles is taking care of you after you injured your heel and the situation iniciates a talk on the legend about his only weakness.

Note: For the medical part, i tried to make it as accurate to the period as possible through what i remember of the descriptions of medicine found in the iliad.

Tags: @zoegarfield

Racing across the landscape of the myrmidons was so much fun, but it could be dangerous for reckless racers that didn't know the grounds as well. Phtia was a rocky territory, but you were so used to run carefreely on your old homeland that you didn't entirely acknowledged the difference. The result was a fall that put end to the amusement as Achilles rushed in aid of you before Patroclus could claim the victory. He felt very bad for challenging you despite the wise advice of his cousin, but you didn't allow the sweet lad to take any guilt.

Pain aside, being carried back by your beloved hero felt very nice. He held you in his arms to ease the scare of the fall and although you tried to play tough for him, it was evident that you had trouble with your left foot and he didn't let you take one more step.

Laying on his bed for further inspection later revealed that the source of stronger pain was a badly bruised heel hurting you whenever you tried to stand up. Used to see way worse in the wounded from battle, he probably knew it was something you would recover from giving healing time to the injury. With proper rest, you would be alright in a week. However, in the meantime you would be in pain and very bored, so he wanted to be the one in charge of making you feel better.

Achilles loved you too much to stand your great discomfort without trying every measures he had available to help to go through it. Keeping you company, playing the lyre to help you relax, or telling you stories while staying in bed with you so you would fall asleep to the sound of his voice and the heat of his body.

Despite you would insist in wanting to do it yourself, he allways ended up applying the wet cloth on the wound and giving you the calming drugs to ease the painfull inflamation. The lovefull respect for your temporary fragility would have shocked anyone among the people who didn't know him for real. Those who used to see him as a fighter beast wouldn't believe their eyes regarding his caregiver performance. His hands knew how to inflict and calm pain giving death or caresses with the same amount of skill.

After finishing the task, he was carefully drying your skin when an ironically cute thought occured to you that you simply couldn't keep to yourself.

" Can you believe that, from all the chances for damage, I had to hurt my heel? " You commented to him. " Now we share a weakness, no one can deny we are meant to be. "

Achilles chuckled and your glances briefly meet.

" Where did you got that from? Didn't you hear they call me the swift-footed? You are mine, but we aren't bonded by the heel. "

" There is a local legend that the myrmidons whisper to each other, a secret they believe to be protecting. " You recalled in a mysterious tone. " Eudorus told me about it, they say that when you were a baby your mother inmersed you in the waters of the river Styx and that made your skin invulnerable to the wounds of bronze. Given that she was supposedly holding you by the heel, this is the only spot of your body that remains mortal and your preference for closed footwear has fed that rumour. "

He should have guessed that it was going to be a matter of time untill you would bring that up.

" Each city you go, they have made up a different idea of what may kill me. " He answered in a mock. " I'm like the minotaur, or the hydra. The fear I inspire forces people to invent mystical ways of feeling in control of their fright. They all believe they have found my weak spot, but nobody trully knows of my true human weakness. "

" Can you please stop comparing yourself to monsters?" You interrupted him. " You frightening, beautifull man. In your hands I feel blessed even in sickness. "

Still delicately holding your exposed leg, he placed a soft kiss in the front of your ankle.

" I'm so weak for you … Can't you tell? " He purred, teasing you. " The messengers of Agamemnon could come ríght now asking me to follow them to war, and I wouldn't leave your side not even if I would be told to be paid with lands and a share of the treasure as big as his. No fighting untill you would be back on your feet, nothing can get me away from you when i know you need me. "

He made you giggle in pure enjoyment of his love.

" Very beautifull, but not compelling for the legends. " You sweetly corrected. " When people invent a hero, they wouldn't expect him to list his lady as his mythical weakness. It's not attractive in symbolic terms. "

Achilles wasn't very concerned about the observation.

" That's why they will never guess it. "

With that, he resumed his playfull kissing in a road going up over the skin of your leg. You could tell he guessed you were starting to feel better, or otherwise he wouldn't have seeked for that sort of intimacy so suddenly.

#i'm in bed after f**cking my heel and did this instead of resting #enjoy #troy 2004 #achilles #brad pitt #achilles x reader #brad pitt x reader

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gisinspection · 11 days ago

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Footwear Standards and Regulations in the US - A Guide to Compliance

Shoes and footwear manufactured, imported, and sold in the United States is subject to a series of standards and regulations concerning labeling, and testing requirements. Manufacturers and importers are both responsible for ensuring that their shoes and footwear complies with all applicable product safety standards in the US. This article aims to outline key considerations that US buyers should…

#footwear #footwear standard #product inspection #quality control #Quality Inspection #shoes

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stormywanderer · 7 months ago

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Calling on God

Premise: Y/N (undescribed) is a sorcerer at the Metropolitan Jujutsu High. She teases Gojo about having kids and Gojo follows through on her joke.

Rating: Mature

Author Notes: Reposting cause I found out I had my tumblr HIDDEN. Gojo/YN. NSFW. Light restraint, P in V. Y/N is whipped. ONE BED TROPE. Use of "good girl". Wearing his shirt. My Gojo is a bisexual king.

(thank you @voloslobotomyservice )

It was quiet, in an eerie way. The school’s halls, normally filled with the loud reverberation of cursed technique being practiced nearby, the yelling of the students or simply the overwhelming and heady feeling of cursed energy harbored by all the sorcerers, were absent now. All asleep in their beds and unbothered. And why would anyone be worried? This was the only place one could relax their guard behind the protection of Master Tengen’s barrier.

Y/N yawned as she shrugged off the oddity of liminal space, dropping her report in the drop box outside the office of the admins. The only reason she’d be here so late, knowing if she went home before… she’d never remember to bring it back.

“Ugh my feet are killing me too~” she begrudged, lightly hitting her head against the wall next to the box before straightening back up and heading back the way she came. But each step hurt. Boots rubbed every curve and bone in her feet the wrong way. She barely made it to and back to the elevator before admitting defeat. Dragging her feet, she slowly trudged out of the elevator on the bottom floor towards the common area. Spying the nearest couch, she kicked her shoes off before entering the conversation pit and flopping down. The normally uncomfortable furniture, more appearance focused than functional, was oddly welcoming as she sank in. She was doomed if she thought she would be getting back up. The thought of putting any sort of footwear back on painful. Instead, she rested her head back, staring at the ceiling as she looked back at the thoughts of that day.

“Oh Gojo~” Y/N cooed, leaning over the railing of the walkway to get his attention as one student seemingly launched another. “What do you think of my new nails?”

Gojo, not caring too much about being the most responsible teacher, quickly turned his back on the moment to greet her and sauntered over to where she was. “Well now, let’s take a look-“

Y/N held her hand out, showing off the precisely curated almond shaped nails with a combination of the magnetic cat eye gel and the dewy reflective drops. The overall affect being that of what she felt like if rain drops contained star light. Another fun and whimsical set like all the others she’d gotten before.

“Oh, now those are best yet,” Gojo hummed in appreciation, hand on his chin as he inspected them despite the blind fold. “I don’t know Y/N, I’m not sure you’re topping this design any time soon.”

At this point, the student not in combat had hopped over to get a look too, leaning over with stars in her eyes.

“Where do you get nail like that around here?” The ginger haired girl gushed, clearly over with the two fighting boys in the background.

Y/N pulled her hand back to appreciate them again, watching the way they caught the bright afternoon light. “Oh, I go into Tokyo for these since I don’t live here at the school.” She corrected with a smile. It was nice to see another girl on campus, her graduating class being the one and only time in a decade that sex diversity had happened so strongly on campus.

“But then what are you doing here? Who is this?” The girl asked, consecutively, before turning back to Gojo.

“Oh, she’s just one of the many sorcerers who report here when there is a job to do. Only the teachers and administrators live on campus, really.” He mused, turning back to the boys just long enough to see they hadn’t seriously maimed each other before turning his attention back to the girls. “Actually, she graduated with me.”

“Yup! It’s true- but Shoko is nose deep in her job and not big on fashion. Utahime is at Kyoto, and Meimei…” Y/N made a face and shuttered, not willing to continue the thought around the students. “So, I rely on Gojo to appreciate these things.” She wiggled her nails in emphasis.

Gojo simply hummed again in agreement.

“Which means, uh.. what’s your name?”

“Nobara Kugisaki!” The girl proclaimed, puffing out her chest confidently. “The best first year this class.”

Y/N looked from her to the boys, one of which was currently being chased by a pair of shikigami wolves, and back to her. She did not comment on the fact that she had known Megumi for most of his life. “Well, well. Nobara, you’re gonna have to do us all a favor and find Gojo-sensei here a girl okay?”

Gojo immediately tried to cut in. He attempted to push Y/N off the railing, but she quickly dodged him to keep the girl’s attention. “He’s getting far too old, and we need to pass the 6-eye down to someone. You got that? Give all the clients his number.”

She winked and bounced off just in time to avoid the impending wave of Limitless, a silent threat as Gojo chuckled nervously.

“Oh well it looks like its time for Y/N here to head out, we’ll be seeing you.” He waved as he nudged the young Nobara away. Nobara herself was cackling it this new information about her sensei.

“Or at least an egg donor if he’s gay!” Y/N yelled out lastly before stepping into a slip stream of cursed energy to avoid a last wave of Limitless. Effectively vanishing into the air of the training ground to head out on her mission.

“God I’m pathetic” Y/N muttered, sighing as she sunk further into the couch. “Absolutely whipped like everyone else.”

It was promptly after that moment that she went off the decimate a near by abandoned building. A facility for the sick a long time ago, left to rot. It wasn’t too bad of a job. But it had been tedious. Every floor and wing a mess of low- and higher-grade spirits that had gone unknown for too long due to the lack of trespassers. She had tried her best to go through one by one, to leave the building intact. She hated paperwork after all… But by the 3rd wing she was more than over it. The sun had already been setting and there was no end in sight. So she had stepped back out the front doors of the building, took one look back, and with all her frustrated affection with Gojo spat out an energy ball at the building as if it was a bad taste in her mouth. The aftermath of frustration and unresolved feelings. Buried deep down for nearly a decade. Cause she knew him. Hated that she knew his deep-down dislike of that sort of attention these days. Something that he matured into and had only made her appreciate him more.

“I need to get over this.” She uttered out lastly, blinking at the ceiling till it drifted off with the ebb and flow of sleep. A wave that won as her eye lids became too heavy. The quiet halls soon replaced with an endless see of green rolling in the summer breeze…

“You’re heavier than you look,” a voice said, soft but heavy simultaneously.

Y/N rolled her head towards it in the grass, the soft blades tickling her face in the warmth of the afternoon. She was comfortable here, a lazy afternoon exactly what she needed. “I’m trying to nap here-.”

The voice distant yet near, chuckled in her ear. As if the grass itself spoke to her. “Heh, that’s okay, just sleep yah?”

“Mhmkay” She whispered out, too comfortable to question the all too familiar voice.

The world gently rocked. A back-and-forth motion, lulling and soothing. It was easy to drift off again as the grass caressed her face. It was sweet. That is, till the world rocked too far in one direction and had her spilling with a soft thud onto a bed.

A bed?

“Okay, I’m gonna give you one of my shirts. What you’re wearing, as cute as it is on you, doesn’t look comfortable to sleep in.”

Y/N blinked, the first sense hitting her being smell. The heady smell of an expensive cologne, specifically. Cologne and… fabric softener? Then it was touch. Fabric so soft she wanted to melt into it. It bunched under he hands and caressed her face as she slowly opened her eyes to the dark room.

Ah, and then it was sight. A bright blue, like two stars, shining in the night as something white is handed to her. Blearily, she pushed herself up from the bed with a heavy head.

“Come on, put this on, you’re almost there.” The same voice from the grass.

She accepted the shirt, registering the pale hand that had offered it but not much beyond that. Nodding, she started to unzip her top to change.

“Woah- okay. I’ll just… turn around.”

She didn’t look to see what the voice meant. Y/N was sleepy, and there was a comfy bed waiting for her. And God did she want to be out of her working clothes. She fumbled through the motions till she felt the relief of the cool night air on her skin as she dumbed her pants, top, and bra to the floor in favor of the far-too large shirt. Spilling the material over her head, it fell into a pool at her thighs due to its size. And the sheets? They were nice. She couldn’t wait a second longer to turn back to them and crawl into the bed. Large fluffy pillows were here. And the comforter was both light weight and fluffy. Y/N tucked herself in without hesitation only to bask in the heaven of the bed she was in.

“I assume you’re decent-“ the voice asked, still soft as if trying not to disturb her too much.

She responded, or at least attempted to. It was more of an incoherent muttering as she buried her face into the crisp pillow.

“Okay, well this is a big bed and there is more than enough room to share, yah?” It continued. Large hands gently prodded their way beneath her side, slowly coaxing her further over on to the bed, till a dip in the mattress signaled another body joining her. Seemingly settled, the hands retreated, but not before soothing her back and patting her shoulder gently.

“You get some sleep now, okay?”

“Okai-“ she whispered into the pillow. The gentle lull of sleep now like a sweet cool breeze on a summer night.

There were birds. So, so, many birds. Much more than normal outside her place in the city. With a groan, she felt her limbs slowly wake as she stretched her legs, torso arching too-

Y/N gasped as she felt the full of her stomach meet the skin of another. Startled, she flew into alert as she looked up to be met with familiar halo of white. Gojo- sleeping with a soft pout, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. His arms were loosely draped across her, one slightly tucked under the shirt that had bunched well above her ribs. Y/N’s felt a twist her gut as she registered the intimacy of it all. Unwilling to wake him, confused, she slowly lowered her head back to what seemed to be his bicep that had become her place of rest.

“Mmm~”

He hummed above her, having woken up, pout opening into a wide yawn as his hand ghosted up further on her back. The action caused her to gasp and yawn simultaneously, unable to control it as her body pressed further into his. This time though, Gojo bumped a thigh up higher between her thighs where she had tucked her own.

“Gojo-“

“I normally don’t sleep in this late, but I think I could get used to this” He said, voice sultry and teasing as always. But, with something else? Something more intimate than she’d ever heard from him before. The hand that had been ghosting up the bare skin of her back slid back down, fleetingly touching curves before resting on top of her thigh. The bicep beneath her flexed as his other arm curled round to enclose her shoulders.

If she hadn’t just woken up from the deep dead of sleep, her thoughts would be racing. Her pulse certainly was with how hot her face felt. But thoughts turned to mush as she bunched her fingers in the soft cotton of his tee.

“So why haven’t you?” There is silence as he considers her question, thumbs rubbing small circles in her shoulder and thigh. He still had even opened his eyes.

“So many responsibilities, too little time?” He answers after a moment, in complete seriousness.

Y/N couldn’t help but note the disappoint in that statement. Knowing all too well the weight that rested on his shoulders. Instead of dwelling on the reasons for all that weight, she pulled herself up to nudge her nose to his.

“It’s- it’s okay,” she whispered as he finally opened his eyes. It was hard to see those brilliant blue eyes so early. Something she rarely saw as it was. But she wanted to see him. Always, to see him. Someone only Nanami, Shoko, and Y/N knew. “We’ll make time now. If you want…”

“I’d like that” he whispered back as his breath ghosted against her lips, nudging back and bumping his forehead to her own. “Plus, apparently I’m getting too old too-“

“Oh. My. God.” She hissed in embarrassment, turning her face only for Gojo to nudge his nose against her cheek and turn his attention to her ear.

“What? Did you not want my attention?”

Gojo punctuated that by using his hand to hold her thigh in place as he pressed his own against her clothed sex.

“Don’t remind me how pathetic that was, please.” She rushed, unable to help as a slight whimper worked its way out as his breath tickled her ear and the thick muscle of thigh rubbed against her in the best way.

“I don’t know, it was rather cute. Would be cuter if you hadn’t done it in front of my students”

Gojo pulled away, leaning over her so she was forced to face him again. “Cuter, if you had been with me like this.”

He ran his hand further down her thigh, hiking it up on his hips before pressing himself in. She gasped at the pressure; lids heavy as Y/N rolled her hips up to meet him. The sweet drag of her sex on his thigh sinful.

“Yeah… definitely like this.” He finished, leaning in to capture her mouth before she could respond.

His lips were softer than she could have imagined, unable to help herself as she rose up to meet him. His kisses were more precise than expected, slow and sweet as he coaxed her head to tilt just so-. Y/N couldn’t help but sigh. And all the while he ground that thigh down, forcing her to ride him. And she did. Up and down, down and up again. She dragged herself up and down him till she felt the small high or an orgasm flicker inside her. She came quickly with a gasp against him, a hand threatening to tear his shirt as the other slid up to his hair to hold him to her as she vibrated with sensation.

“Gods yes~” she whimpered as the acute climax pulsed through her like a wave.

“You know you call on god a lot with me.” Gojo noted with a cluck, breaking the kiss with a soft suck to her bottom lip and a ‘pop’. “Satoru is fine though.”

“Try insufferable” Y/N panted, chest heaving as she flicked her sight between his eyes and the kiss swollen, wet, lower lip of his.

As if to tease her more, or subconsciously noticing her attention, he sucked his lower lip in and rolled it in his teeth to taste her.

“Trust me, I plan to be.” Gojo declared. He reached down between them, fingers toeing the edge of her panties before diving down to press against the soaked gusset of them and rubbing up against her lower lips. Reaching the apex, clit still sensitive, he rubbed against her with middle fingers in slow circles.

“Satoruu…”

“Yeah, that’s it. Say my name- come on.”

Y/N groaned as he continued, writhing beneath him as he slowly increased the pace.

“Satoru its sens-“ She gasped then, legs twitching. “Wah-WAIT.”

She let go of his hair to cover her mouth, eyes watering as he tortured her over sensitive clit immediately after getting her off on his thigh.

“Ohhh? Sorry baby. Is it too much? You going to cry?” He taunted, words harsh but tone endearing. A devilish juxta positioning.

“Here, I’ll relent-“

And he let up before the feelings become too much, only to hook his fingers in the band a loop through each leg. In a show of strength, a blur, her panties were torn from her and left her exposed from the ribs down. “Its okay, I’m feeling impatient to feel you wrapped around me.”

Panties tossed somewhere else, Gojo returned to her to rub his fingers up her pussy once, twice, before sinking two digits inside slowly till he was knuckle deep.

“Yeah-, fuck yeah. Been wanting to feel you like this for so long-“ He whispered, the two of them both diving to kiss each other as he slowly rocked those fingers inside.

And he was relentless, taking no time to find the spot against her upper wall that had her keening for him the most. Curling his finger just so- so that he could drag the pads of them against as he pumped them in and out. The only sound in the room that of sloppy kisses and the wet movement of him inside her.

Gojo broke away to kiss down her jaw, wet open-mouthed kisses down her neck as he searched for and tested each spot that garnered more reactions. Sucking against her pulse point as he rubbed a slow circle inside her tight heat before receding again to move lower.

“That’s it baby.” Gojo whispered to her chest, using his nose to push her shirt up the last of the way to expose her breasts. “I can feel how much you like it. Feel how you squeeze my fingers. Gonna squeeze my dick this good yah?” He peered up for Y/N’s response, watching her with a heady look as he licked his way up the underside of her breast to suck her nipple into his mouth.

Y/N could only nod dumbly, breath hitching as his second knuckles caught against her tight entrance with each thrust. Gojo unrelentingly assaulted her nipple till her breaths were ragged.

“Good.” He said, popping off one slightly purpled nipple before switching to the second.

As devilishly as before, his soft coos were conjoined with cruelty. Sucking in the second nipple to lavish it, he pressed his thumb to her clit. If she was in her right mind, she’d be impressed. But Y/N could only mewl for him as he thrust his finger in slow circles while simultaneously rubbing her clit. The hand clutching his shirt was trapped under him, pressed between their bodies as her other dug into the sheets. Her hips rocked to his hand, grinding out a rhythm till that coil tightened just this side of too much. Rocking, rocking, till she couldn’t take no more. Coiled all the way to her chest where Gojo was keen on sucking out her soul from her. All the way to her throat till she arched into him, breast bouncing up against the bunched-up tee. Till her lips fell open in a silent scream before the gush of release rocked though her and over his hand.

“There you go- I got you I got you, come on baby I got you-“

Y/N shook again with her release, jolting in her pinned beneath him.

“S-sa-sato- SAT-“

Gojo crashed his lips into hers again, tongue fucking her. Effectively silenced as he quickened his pace inside her with quick movement of biceps. Quickening until she was attempting to run from him, lurching away as he worked her release out of her till she couldn’t stand to be touched anymore.

“F-FUCK.” She finally ground out, pushing him away. Struggling to worm out of his grasp. Trying to ignore the way he chuckled darkly.

“Fuck that was hot.” Gojo rushed, slipping out his finger with a wet squelch before bringing them to lips as he watched her intently. Making sure that she was watching as he dipped those very fingers into his mouth before closing his eyes and humming in approval.

“Yeah, fucking amazing.” He rushed, pulling them out with a ‘pop’.

“Fucking evil is more like it” Y/N gasped out, heart beating in her chest against her ribs and threatening to escape. She could only close her eyes, drag her hand out from under him to run it through the sheets. Grounding herself on the soft material of what was likely designer.

They were probably ruined now.

“Have to say, those nails were definitely worth it.” Gojo pondered, sitting back to look down at his chest.

Y/N opened her eyes to see what he meant, met with the deep holes gouged into the cotton. Practically ripped down the middle. Her gaze continued down, down to the blue briefs with the distinct bulge. Briefs that were now soaked.

“It’s okay, they can be washed.” Gojo said, following her gaze as she gulped.

But that wasn’t what had her gulping. No, it was the size of the bulge and what was waiting for her there.

“You still gonna squeeze me good, right~” He teased, finger trailing down his torso and along the edge of his briefs. He ran them across the hem twice, before hooking the hem and pulling them down slowly. Watching her watch him, and the way he slowly revealed himself till the thick length of him finally sprung free.

“Y-yes?” She whimpered, still observing his dick as he stepped off the bed and out of his briefs.

“Hey-“

“Yeah?”

“My eye’s are up here Y/N” Gojo teased, lifting the destroyed tee over his head. He tossed it to the side too, with a wink, before crawling back over her with the grace of a tiger mid hunt. “Lets see the rest of you.”

Y/N nodded meekly, lifting her own tee only for him to slam his hand down one her wrists and forcing the material to remain there. It effectively trapped her hands above her head, vulnerable to him as he slowly lowered himself down while kneeing her thighs apart.

“Sorry, would love to see what those claws could do to my back but- gotta stay appropriate on school grounds. But we can still have fun like this, yah?”

“Yeah-“ she swallowed, fighting the urge to struggle against the restraints

“Good girl.”

Gojo adjusted so that his hand encapsuled her own, fingers tangle with hers as he settled himself against her. Gentle again as he used the other hand to hook under her knee to open her up for him. He expertly rubbed his dick up her slit one, twice, before rolling his hips forward with his head to her sex and slowly pressing it. He was velvet to her, a thick and soft caress and her lip wobbled at the tight fit.

“That’s it-“ He cooed, more to himself, as he slipped in till he was half way before pulling back to lean back up above her. If she wasn’t already a mess, it wouldn’t have gone in so smoothly. But all it took was a roll of his hips and he was sinking in. In till felt himself slide all the way, her thighs meeting his hips. Toes curling as she unconsciously opened her thighs further for him.

They breathed, both gasping as he bottomed out. Searching each other’s eyes as he rested so deep inside her. Gojo’s head tilting as studied the way her tongue flicked out just behind her lips, her bottom lip wobbling with the smallest movement, the way her breast bounced with every gasp. Watched as her as he pulled himself out to swiftly press back in. Press the air from her lungs as her eyes rolled back. It was all she could do too. Fingers tangled in his tight grip, toes curling as he squeezed inside her over, and over, and over.

It was everything. Each thrust a punch to her lungs as she gasped for him. Gulping for air the only thing she could sanely manage. Gojo dragging himself against her expertly, canting his hips till his was pressing her deepest spot. The one that had her seeing stars as her cunt fluttered around him.

“So-so good Satoru.” She whispered, barely audible above the soft squelches.

“Yah? Does that feel good?”

“Ye-yes yes yes.” She panted, holding his hand as if her life depended on top.

“Yah- you make such a pretty mess you know. Such a pretty little mess for me~”

Gojo quickened his pace, hips meeting hers now with wet slaps. Each slap a meeting of thick muscle against the round fat of her ass. Each one almost enough to bounce her off the mattress.

“So. Fucking. Pretty.” He bit out with a gasp.

“Go-“ stars already beginning to gather behind her eyes.

“That’s not my name.” Gojo snapped his attention down. Eyes boring into hers as his hips punctuated each word. “Look at me and say my name”

“Sa-to, Sa-sato-Satoru!”

Y/N’s eye widened, unable to look away as his crystalline ones bore into hers. Unable to control the way his stare brought that coil creeping back up on her. A white-hot flame threatening to sear through her.

“Just like that, watch me. Watch me fuck my name into you.”

“Y-yeah, yeah yeah yeah. Please Satoru plea-“

It was all she could take. A damn inside her breaking as her body lifts from the mattress to meet his, Thigh shaking around his hips as her vision went white. White except for his stare. Blue boring down into hers. A beautiful crystal sky that crashed down to her earth as she screamed his name.

“F, fuck-“ she was squeezing him so hard, practically milking him for all he had. He could barely contain himself as her last orgasm took him down with her. His hips stilled, buried inside her has he convulsed. Unable to maintain eye contact as his eyes squeezed tight and he spilled himself inside her.

They stayed like that for a while, panting and coming down from their respective highs. Gojo collapsed on top of her, grumbling something about not want to work as he snuggled into the crook of her neck. It was lost on deaf ears as Y/N tried to bring herself down to earth. Room tilting just slightly, far too dehydrated and in a calorie deficit by now.

She tilted her vision to the rest of the room, finally taking in the rich wood of the expensive bed frame. Across from her more matching furniture with the familiar modern yet mid century style. A trash bin next to his dresser and clothes hamper nearby.

A singular trash bin, with a familiar white tee shirt hanging over the edge.

“Satoru…”

“Yah?”

“You’re too fucking much.”

“You love it,” he cooed, slipping her shirt over her wrist to nonchalantly toss it behind him to the clothes hamper.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo fics #gojo satoru fic #gojo x yn #stormy fics

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 2 months ago

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Chapter 10: Everything Counts

[Also Available on AO3]

Shadow Dance Masterlist

Summary: Rory, Soap, Ghost and Rudy head to the Fuerzas Especiales base to deal with Graves, but things don't always go as planned

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, swearing, character with trauma, established relationship, military inaccuracies, includes some in-game dialogue, references to previous fics (All Along the Watchtower), canon-typical violence

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC - 3rd person POV (Rory Sinclair)

Word count: 4.5 K

A/N: the further continuation of Rory's story, this follows and expands upon the COD: MW2 reboot canon. Told from Rory's POV

November 3, 2022 15:42 - Las Almas, Mexico

Almost lost in the slick blackness of the metal compact full of eyeblack, the depths of the tin that her fingers spread round and round in like a scrying mirror’s surface, Rory found herself with a quiet ache settling in her chest. A hollow emptiness like a forgotten dream overtaking her as the scent of the grease camouflage harkened back to childhood and the bag of costume makeup her mother kept aside for her to play with while she clomped around the house in high heels several times too big for her, scuffing against wood floors as they dragged with each tottering footstep, a sound repeated in the faded noise of reality with each scrape of boots around her.

It always surprised her how a wave of nostalgia could hit at the strangest of moments, a hint of simpler times rising to the surface compared to some more recent battle. A reminder of the loss of innocence before waging warfare.

Closing her eyes, she rubbed the thick pancake of paint over her lids and around the orbital bones. Seeping into every crevice after being spread thin by the warmth of her skin, it sank into the lines that had begun to settle – the crow’s feet birthed by smiles and sun damage like Aphrodite from the seafoam.

Memories of hours spent getting herself ready for inspection before a superior flashed across her eyes along with the phosphenes as her fingers massaged over the thin flesh, smearing them with warpaint the consistency of boot polish. The start of her career had still had her stomping about in shoes that took years before they finally fit and were no longer merely a means to an end. Finding her place, standing tall after countless hours with a hunched back bent over stiff footwear, the elbow grease required a soft cloth and brush to work the leather until it shone. Wanna see my face in it, Private. That same effort equaled a steady climb up the ranks. Slow, tender dedication spent making sure the hide grew supple and slick, the sheen maintaining a bright gleam like the gimmick of sparkling teeth in a toothpaste advertisement. That small practice became a touchstone for all things when it pertained to her success as a soldier.

Opening her eyes, pupils shrinking as the light poured into her hazel depths, she wiped her hands off on the thick material of her tac pants before slipping on her gloves, pulling the rough kevlar and leather taut at her wrists. Groping over the pockets of her vest for one last check, completing the soldier’s superstitious practice of the pat down – no stone left unturned, nothing left up to fate – it was as close to the religious routine of the sign of the cross Soap was committed to each time before heading out into combat.

In the hangar where they waited for their vehicles to complete their final preparations, Soap, Rory, Ghost, and Rudy took a moment before setting off to catch up with Price, Gaz, and Alejandro who were already on their way to the Fuerzas Especiales base. The plan was to move in a swift two prong attack against Graves and Shadow, using chaos to their advantage. It had worked in the prison break, Graves’ confidence acting as a weakness, not expecting them to come knocking on the front door. The old adage don’t fix what isn’t broken sprang to mind and there was a certain charm to the idea of ruining the American’s day once more in just the same way.

Against the black makeup Soap’s eyes stood out bright and blue like a husky as he twisted his torso left and right, the bulk of his shoulders and arms flexing with each movement. Never seeming to be able to stay still, his mind and body was always active. And reactive – Much like the explosives he was so handy with. “So, who do you think the Cap’n’s punishin’ puttin’ you with me an’ Ghost?” he mused, a wry grin twisting his stubbled jaw as he glanced towards Rory. “Either he’s had enough of your lip by stickin’ you with me, or I’ve gone and done some’in’ to piss him off royally and now I’m stuck with two Lt’s.”

She chuckled, pondering as she tightened the laces on her boots, tugging up on the tongue. “Don’t know yet. Suppose we’ll find out when he starts barking orders, eh?” “I was going to ask…” Rudy interjected, turning to Soap with a curious furrow to his brow, “How come your squad has two Lieutenants?” His eyes roamed over to Ghost who stood near the wall, facing the nearest exit. Solid as a rock, his arms held at his sides, his eyes focused out into a non-specific point in the middle of the floor. “Doesn’t that get kind of… confusing?” Ducking his gaze away, he looked to Rory instead.

“John’s the type who likes to keep a stacked deck,” she replied. “Ghost and I – while we have some crossover in our skills – we both offer the Captain something a little… different. Depending on the sort of mission, that can be quite advantageous. And John’s willing to do a fair bit to pull out ahead.”

Soap stepped forward and placed his hand on Rudy’s shoulder. “What she means to say is: They can both be sneaky fuckers the enemy doesn’t see comin’.” His head tipped back towards her, white teeth glinting in the lowlight as he smiled. “Only she tends to look ‘em in the face an’ smiles about it while she does it.”

“That’s probably the easiest way to put it. Yes.” She nodded her head and patted her hand over the left pocket of her tac vest, the leaden weight of the brass knuckles she carried connecting with her touch. “Thank you, Soap.”

“Certainly ain’t called ‘Lamb’ ‘cause she’s innocent,” Ghost muttered.

Rory’s eyes rolled towards the hulking man and a slight hint of a smirk curled the corner of her lips. “Yes, well, unfortunately all the good edgy names were taken before I could get my hands on one.”

Ghost chuckled, low and ragged, his shoulders shifting slightly as he lumbered towards the door. “Right, got a ride waitin’ for us. Johnny, Rodolfo – you’ll be on me. Sinclair’s got ‘er own set of orders to carry out once inside.”

The group made their way out to the two vehicles waiting for them. Engines running, exhaust pumped out to meet with the haze of afternoon sun and the dry heat of the desert. In the pick up truck, members of Los Vaqueros sat in the cabin and the bed, while the van sat with its back doors ajar. Gritty sand crunched beneath their boots with each steady step, a sudden quiet falling over them as each soldier sunk into their own heads, broken only by Soap humming “Heat Waves” to himself.

Clasping the doors for leverage as she climbed inside, Rory's hands were met by the sting of hot metal. Like touching the burner on a stove by accident, she hissed as her fingertips not covered by the material of her gloves made contact. Looking back over her shoulder at the Scotsman who was next in line to climb in, her sharp eyes narrowed at him. “For the love of God, Soap. You have to find another song to get stuck in that skull of yours. You are doing my head in.”

“Can’ help that it’s playin’ on the radio all the damn time. It’s catchy, ye ken?” Gazing skywards – up to a god who was punishing her, even if Price wasn't – she took her seat, the others filing in afterwards. Ghost, the last to enter, slammed the doors shut behind them and the engines revved.

Both vehicles pulled out down the dirt road towards the roadway, tires bouncing as they hit the asphalt pavement. Driving through the region towards their destination, they were surrounded by rocky hills, the wind whistling through the windows and the wild grasses outside. The sun remained high in the sky, beating down on them, slow to descend and bathing their progress in its light.

Coming up on the curve in the road, the roof of the base breached the horizon line, climbing slowly upwards. The citadel. The promised land.

The twitchiness of adrenaline steadily starting to beat within the forces’ bodies began like a wave through the back of the van. Rory’s fingers ran over the grooves of her rifle, the alloy cool upon her singed tips, as she surveyed the approaching battleground. Her warm eyes locked in on the security towers which would likely conceal snipers, and the iron bars of the gates only resembled a small deterrent to their advance. Toes curling in her boots, ready to march, to engage, she stretched her neck from side to side. The muscles in her back twitched, and a low, dull throb hummed deep in the tissue of her shoulder.

Ghost’s radio chirped to life as Price’s voice filled the small enclosure. “All Ghosts. I’m wheels up with eyes on.”

They were moments away from breaching, the vehicle shaking with mild turbulence as the sergeant behind the wheel began to increase speed. The nervous flutter in Rory’s stomach clenched at her insides as she breathed in slow and exhaled through pursed lips.

“Copy that,” Ghost replied, squeezing down on the radio strapped to his shoulder. “Two is inbound to the gate. You’re cleared hot when target is marked.”

The closer they drew towards their infiltration point, they held one last final briefing to ensure everyone was on the same page for their attack, yet Rory’s mind drifted to the helicopter that buzzed above, the sound of its blades steadily growing louder. Death from above. Their eyes in the sky.

“Comprendes?”

The grate of Riley’s voice and his use of Spanish pulled her from the game plan she was running through in her head. While Ghost, Soap, and Rudy would be laying down firepower, acting as the distraction, Rory would be going in with a group of Vaqueros headed straight for the main base, slipping in silently, sight unseen – Her past with reconnaissance priming her for such a feat.

“Completely, Lieutenant,” Rudy agreed. His hand grasped at the radio on his vest, relaying orders to the rest of the team. “All Ghosts, stand by for breach.”

“Soap, get the detonator and mark targets for Price in the helo,” Ghost ordered.

It wasn’t long before the whine of a missile soaring through the air was cut short, followed by the shockwaves of an explosion that rattled the glass of the vehicle’s windows, and a mushrooming blast of fire that shot up into the sky. The fallout of shrapnel shot in all directions as the gate that blocked their route was erased from existence, along with the armored vehicle and guard detail posted there.

“Good guns, Bravo-6.”

“Copy. Get to the HQ and find Graves. Alejandro, use the chaos for cover and get to Valeria.”

Sunlight flooded the back of the vehicle as a horde of special forces soldiers exited, the doors bursting open forcefully. Weapons hot, primed and ready to go, they spread out like a hive of carpenter ants ready to tear down an enemy’s nest and wipe out its leader.

Motioning a signal with her hand, Rory and her small team of three other soldiers – all of whom were handpicked by Alejandro for their skill with infiltration – split off to flank the opposing force, striking from the back while Shadow was focused on the targets attacking them head on. This was her forte. Sneaking in under cover, methodical and precise. Gusto had its time and place, and Ghost and Soap would see to that with Price’s help. Noisy, violent – the berserkers in a viking raid there to spread chaos and unsettle the Shadow forces. Creating chinks in their defense, little cracks in the armor where she could wreak havoc before they even knew she had arrived. Rust eating away at iron, weakening it. A contagion spreading, the deadly killer on the inside. Just as Laswell had pinned her all those years ago: the soldier and the spy, straddling the line between both.

Moving quickly, remaining careful, but always with the confidence of someone who belonged there, the priority was to never give the enemy a reason to question their appearance while also not allowing them a chance to take a second glance. It was a fine line to walk, one that took practice, skill, and certainly not for the faint of heart. Rory and her team vaulted over barrier walls, climbed nimbly, and kept off the beaten path, headed straight for the main headquarters where Graves was thought to be holed up.

Silent takedowns were a necessary recourse when acting without being caught. Infiltration like this required a soldier to always be on the alert for the witness that could rat them out. The crunch of bone under her hand was one that made her teeth grit but didn’t stop her from completing her objective. The warmth of an enemy soldier’s armor-clad body pressed against her as she slipped the blade into the unprotected joints blended with the sweat under the heavy material of her uniform that slicked her skin and the blinding rays of the sun that beat upon her brow. Blood on her hands, stained under the nails – when she gifted herself with a manicure she was always half sure the nail tech could catch the stale scent of iron that she imagined clung to her ceaselessly.

There was a coldness to executing an op like this, something about getting up close and personal with little use of gunfire that required a soldier’s mind to cut itself off from the realities of it more acutely. Missing the disconnect of a scope or a bullet finishing the job, she felt the odd archaic, almost primal surge of quiet savagery inside her that she didn’t often like to contemplate. Everyone was capable of violence when push came to shove, very few could live with the thought of actually enacting it. She had learned to. Grown more comfortable with it day by day throughout her career and under the tutelage of Price. Honed into a well-crafted weapon that carried the tell-tale marks of the notches of his grip like the leather of a knife’s hilt. It had become all too natural to her now, delivering a swift end without the moral dilemma that used to follow her. Even the others could see it, remark upon it. She always knew the cover of the “Lamb” was a farce, something that would be sacrificed at the altar of her career, but to feel the bite strength of the wolf’s jaw as it clamped down around the unsuspecting still sent a shiver down her spine. Hell, she could practically hear the David Attenborough narration in the back of her head:

And so, the alpha female working in conjunction with the alpha male, helps to corral and control the flow of movement of their lesser prey. Meticulous in their maneuvers. Herding them towards demise. Well trained. Synergetic. Near telepathic in their connection after so many years spent hunting together.

She was lucky there was a mask on her face to hide the smug expression that encompassed her features. Eyes glinting through the slit in her balaclava, the soft fawnish gaze hardened to one of burnished bronze and the sharp prickle of pine needles as they reached the exterior walls of the Fuerzes Especiales building. Connecting their ropes, ascenders in hand, they started to scale the building to the first set of windows. Eyes peeled for enemy movement, Rory contacted Price, her hand squeezing the radio on her vest. “About to make entry into the HQ. Is the rest of two headed this way?”

“Copy,” Price rasped hoarsely as the rattle of the helicopter’s minigun went off in the distance. “Still clearing the route. Should be breaching in five.”

She hummed, looking out at the battleground as the helicopter Price was inside weaved and bullets scattered, carving through environment and enemy alike. “Something to be said for how a man handles a very big gun,” she murmurs.

“Comm channel’s still open, sweetheart. I heard that.”

“Perhaps you were supposed to,” she replied with a smirk. Checking in the windows once more, and noticing no movement, she pulled the small strip charge from her vest. “Right, we’re breaching and heading for the top. Hoping to catch Graves with his pants down. Out here.”

Holding up her hand, counting down on her fingers, charges were placed on the tempered windows.

With the blast of shattering glass scattering across the floor in fine fragments, black ropes slithered in through the open wounds in the building, penetrating the stairwell. The only cure was a bullet as the lyssavirus made its way for the nerve center, the brains of the operation of Shadow Company.

Heavy tactical boots moved with a whisper over the cement steps, clothing quietly rustled, each breath little more than a hushed pant as they ascended the stairwells. Filtering into the hall, catching Shadows unaware, arms wrapped around necks holding them in tight chokeholds while silenced pistols and knives finished the task. The quiet thud of bodies being lowered to the floor was the only remaining sound as they pushed forward.

A tremor from deep within the foundations of the base carried up through the support structures of the building. Like an oncoming stampede, the floor shook below her boots, the early warning that Ghost’s squad was drawing closer as Shadow was forced to start pulling out the heavy artillery. The low, creaking groan of twisting metal followed the sound of a colliding missile causing her to grit her teeth as one of the radio towers outside smashed to the ground and caused more enemies to come scurrying out of their holes, reminding her of when buildings in London’s core were torn down and the rodents would be forced to locate to some new burrow to nest in, resulting in waves of generations crawling out of the woodwork.

There was causing a distraction, laying down covering fire, and then there was whatever this was.

A hailstorm of ricocheting bullets on the roof above had her and the rest of her squad looking up towards the ceiling and the concrete dust that sprinkled down from it.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered under her breath, quiet enough for no one else to hear as she rolled her eyes.

Signing out the next orders, she directed the cell towards the assumed position of their target, and moving as one, they reached the pinnacle of the base.

The soft clang of boot treads on metal grating caused little resonance, hushed by the continuing sounds of destruction around the base courtyard. Their movements pillowed by the explosions as they climbed towards the control room.

One step.

Two steps.

A held breath.

And then, the colossal blast of the door on the ground floor being blown wide open made her progress falter, the C4 bang traveling upstairs rapidly to meet them. Her time to strike had just been trimmed down for her, fat flayed away from the rump.

Fuck.

Gunfire filled the air. Shadow forces calling out enemy positions was a blizzard of cacophony. The element of surprise was pulled out from underneath her like a rug.

“Goddammit,” she snarled quietly. Glancing over her shoulder at her squad, she relayed her orders. “We still have our orders,” she whispered in a rasp. “We’re here for Graves. Silence doesn’t matter anymore.” Swinging her rifle off her shoulder, she readied her weapon in her hands, and took point at the door. “On three.”

“One.”

She could hear Soap, his timbre carrying even without the use of a radio, the heavy stomping of boots growing louder the closer he and Ghost came as they stormed the building.

“Two.”

Graves’ voice over the speaker system at least confirmed her suspicions that he was still in the base, especially as he ordered his forces to take the offensive against those who had arrived to kill him.

“Three.”

Kicking the door in, all weapons pointed at the remaining targets, she found Graves bent over the console where a bank of monitors displayed the many camera angles he had available on the base.

Turning to face his firing line, hands held up in surrender, a smug grin pulled the scar on his cheek taut. “Well, looky here… s’pose you must be here to take me out.” His eyes flickered between the soldiers and he sucked his teeth. “Let’s say you and I have a little chat, huh?” His hands slowly started to lower, trying to keep her busy with talk as he reached behind his back. “Seem like you’re a reasonable ‘nough lady, maybe we can come to an agreement. Sound good?

A round went off, and the screen of one of the monitors splintered and cracked, flickering to black as the soldier standing before it dropped to the ground.

Graves’ hands immediately flew back up, sky high. “Fuck me,” he muttered, chuckling nervously as he looked down at the body of one of his men. “Don’t take prisoners, do you, sweetheart?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, goddamn, you’re just as ruthless as that Captain I’ve been hearin’ so much about, now aren’t you?” He smiled, far too cocky for his own good. “Shepherd warned me you’d be on your way. Couldn’t just leave well enough alone, could ya?” Gripping the shoulder straps of his tac vest, he grinned from ear to ear. “Buncha Brits in my territory…” His head angled to the side, his blonde hair fluttering softly. “Did ya really think you could win?”

“Haven’t lost yet,” Rory replied, lining up her shot.

Boots clattered up the metal stairs behind her, the weight of them carrying the force of a battering ram, the headstrong punch of the young buck looking to clash antlers. Soap was about to stomp into her crafted trap, gormless of the background machinations.

“There he is!” Soap called out, bursting into the control room, firing towards the targets. A firefight breaking out was not the angle she had hoped for. She knew she was already working outside of the plan by not shooting Graves on sight, by planning to keep him alive for intel, but then again it was easier to ask for forgiveness than it was to seek permission. If she had been able to complete her objective the way she wanted to, she would have been able to debate the logic, win Price over. But external forces had caused the plan to go sideways. What was worse, in the momentary confusion, Graves was given his chance to run. Bullets flying in a confined space made keeping an eye on every moving body difficult. The whole bloody point of her infiltration had been flung out the window because of one brash soldier who couldn’t keep his head on straight…

Well, if that didn’t remind her of someone she knew…

When the dust settled and the emergency exit door had been left wide open, swinging in the breeze as the burnt orange glow of the coming sunset painted the cement walls in terracotta, her frustration boiled over. Flashbacks to her own youthful exuberance when emotions ran high flooded her head and it was like seeing the Russian Gentleman’s club play out again in deja vu.

“Goddammit, Soap,” she snapped, rising up from behind cover, her rifle gripped tight in one hand at her side. “I had him!”

“You weren’t shootin’ at ‘im. Were you?” The young Scot marched up to her, standing toe to toe, blue eyes blazing as he glared down at her.

Rory had dealt with Price in his most heated moments, tempers flaring wasn’t something that intimidated her in the slightest. A head shorter but years wiser, she looked him dead in the eye and brought her voice back to a calm level. “I had him in my sights.” “Save it,” Ghost interceded, stepping one large boot between her and the sergeant as he pressed his hand to Soap’s shoulder. “Don’t have time for this. Haul arse, let’s find ‘im.”

Soap gave a low, grunting growl as he stepped back, not bothering to offer any amends and following his Lieutenant’s orders.

With a heavy sigh, she made her way to the exit door and was met by blue skies blending with the peach and pink grapefruit of sundown. Price and the pilot hovered in the helicopter above, circling and surveying the ground below, his voice rumbling through her radio,

”All stations, be advised, Graves went over the wall.”

She shook off the percolating irritation of interpersonal issues that came with working in a group and held her weapon at the ready, taking the rear while Soap and Rudy led the charge. But her aggravation was a short lived thing when the white glint of a missile being launched through the air caught her attention, the whine of it tearing upwards towards their helicopter screeching in her ears.

Before her brain could quite catch on to what was happening, the sharp flare of the aircraft being struck by an RPG blew out across her retinas. The after image of the helicopter going into a tailspin, flames bursting free from the rear rudder, black smoke trailing behind in a thick plume, caused her muscles to lock, left frozen mid-step.

”We’re hit! We’re hit!”

Rory had never heard John’s voice sound like that. For once he sounded concerned, the usual hoarse bark of his voice containing a strained choke. Her heart stopped beating, her breath held. She couldn’t do anything to stop it, couldn’t help. Made useless. An observer of the worst thing she could imagine.

”We’re going down! We’re going down!”

Crashing behind one of the hangar buildings, smoke and sparks shot up into the sky as the ground shook with the cataclysmic fall of their support helicopter, the Captain and pilot still inside. The creaks and groans of metal crumpling were like a stab to her already aching heart, and in an instant, the act - nay, the farce - that her and Price had kept up for years, that what was between them was merely professional, platonic, was entirely shattered.

“JOHN!”

She screamed his name out for all to hear, her voice carrying over the barren base as she tore the mask off her face. Freed from the snake skin, tight and clinging, it dragged away from her tousled and sweat-slicked hair, leaving her tresses matted to her temples. Her eyeblack was smeared across the peaks of her cheekbones, streaky and staining her skin as she stared frozen in disbelief. Her heart thundered in her chest with the sound of the explosion, the yawn of destructive flame eating its way through the fuselage. Only one thought remained in her head, thumping against the confines of her skull and crawling down her spine in a slow, horrible slither – Please God, let him be alive.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare 2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #rodolfo parra #john price #captain john price #oc: rory sinclair #skelly writes #fic: shadow dance #chapter 10

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