#he already was planning to steal the bolt but he wasn’t expecting it to be that easy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hellfiresky · 3 months ago

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In the Belly of the Beast

Contribution to @clonexocweek | Theme: Quality time

This one shot was written for Clone x OC Week, based on my longfic, Seeing Red! Unlike the main fic, which is told entirely from Tal’s (OC) perspective and focuses on her journey, this story flips the angle to Rex’s POV. Written in a stream of consciousness narration, this fic was designed to work as both a standalone and a complementary piece to Seeing Red.

If you’re interested in more of Tal’s story, check out Seeing Red here!

Summary: What starts as a simple dinner invite turns into a misadventure through 1313. Rex finds himself battling molten-hot soup, watching trash monsters, and nearly getting his skull cracked open - all whilst Tal lies about his identity, picks fights, and drags him deeper into the underworld’s madness.

Pairing: Captain Rex x Ge’tal Solus (Exiled Mandalorian bounty hunter OC) Word count: 7167 Warnings: Lots of swear words, some potentially gory descriptions, typical violence. Can’t believe that I’d say this but this one is not political unlike the actual Seeing Red fic! (Well, undertones still there if you squint your eyes). Pure crack!

Taglist: @msmeredithrose @orangez3st

Playing this song as a soundtrack is recommended. And this song when you get to the Umbaran Black Metal underground gig part!

Enjoy this illustrated and immersive fic!

Level 1313 was the last place Rex expected himself to be on a Taungsday night, yet it was his second time here, and for some weird reason, he said yes again to her dinner invite. Her. Yes, her. Ge’tal Solus. The bounty hunter currently working under contract for the 501st and the Coruscant Guard’s joint operation. The same one that made him snap because of her recklessness in the Southern Underground. The same one that sent his commander, Ahsoka Tano, and General Plo Koon on a wild chase across the galaxy - because, in her infinite wisdom, she’d sold Boba Fett and Aurra Sing’s location to every bounty hunter, turning the Florum job into a free-for-all.

This time, the invite was under the pretense of introducing Rex to nerf meatball soup - because Bug’s, her go-to fry-up joint, had added a new menu item. And she swore this one wasn’t as oily as their infamous nuna rice, which had knocked him out the last time he tried it. And yet, here he was. Standing in front of the hole-in-the-wall joint in Krezzi Quarter for almost an hour.

Bug’s Fry-up Joint (Source: Star Wars Outlaw)

He checked her text again. 0800. It was 0845. Where the fuck was she? Just as he was ready to cut his losses and turn back towards the speeder lot, a loud thud echoed from the alley beside Bug’s. An Abyssin tumbled into the street, groaning, before scrambling to his feet and bolting past Rex. Not far behind, a familiar silhouette emerged from the shadows - bright red hair, a worn-out leather jacket covering a mismatched Mandalorian armour, and a self-satisfied smirk. Tal dusted off her fingerless gloves, completely unbothered by the scene she had just caused. “And that’s for trying to steal my target!” she called after the Abyssin, who was already half a block away.

Then, as if remembering her actual plans for the night, she spun and spotted Rex. “Oh, hey!” The Mandalorian grinned, slipping her hands into her jacket pockets as she walked up to him like she hadn’t just thrown someone into the street. “Sorry I’m late. Had to say hi to an old friend.”

“That’s what you call ‘saying hi’?” Rex gave her an unimpressed once-over.

She shrugged. “Yeah. Real warm welcome.”

Rex shook his head as he crossed his arms. “And what, exactly, did this ‘friend’ do to deserve your hospitality?”

“Oh, nothing serious,” Tal waved a hand, “Just tried to jack my mark, so I had to teach him some manners.”

“That didn’t look like teaching,”

“Hey,” she pointed a finger at him. “I tried words first. He didn’t listen. That’s on him.”

Rex arched a brow. “And you didn’t accidentally break his arm, did you?”

“Pfft. No, just externally rearranged his guts. Probably won’t try it again.” She peeked past Rex towards the street. “Though, gotta say, he’s got some solid cardio. Should’ve asked what he does to keep in shape.”

“Tal.”

“Rex.” She mimicked his stern tone. “C’mon, let’s get some soup. You look like you’re about two minutes from turning around and ditching me, and I cannot have you missing out on Bug’s new special.”

The interior of Bug’s Fry-up was clouded with the scent of sizzling oil, fried garlic, and the smell of spices that could clear your sinuses from klicks away. It was the type of eatery that had no menus except the old (and faded) one painted directly on the wall in Huttese, no rules, and no patience for customers who didn’t know what they wanted. Tal led them straight to a table in the corner, slumping onto the cheap, mass-produced plastic chair. Before Rex could even settle himself, she was already tearing open a bag of spicy crisps with her teeth, scattering red flecks of seasoning onto the battered tabletop.

Not a second after they sat down, Bug himself, a lean Duros with sunken eyes and a grease-stained apron, strode over their table. “Hey, Red.” Bug’s voice was a dry drawl as he wiped his hands on a rag. “And clone.” Rex fought the urge to roll his eyes. He’d been here once before, and Bug still hadn’t bothered to learn his name. Bug leaned on the edge of their table. “Same as usual?”

Tal shook her head, pointing a finger towards Rex with a smirk. “Nah, we’re here for the special. This one needs convincing.” Bug finally turned his full attention to Rex. “Didn’t handle my fried rice well last time, huh? Too spicy?”

“I’ll be fine.” Rex bristled. Tal snickered, tossing a crisp into her mouth. “Famous last words.” Bug let out a shit-eating grin, tapping a knobby finger on the tabletop. “Two bowls, then. Extra spicy for Red. And what about you, trooper? You want it mild, or you gonna let your pride get you killed?”

Rex squared his shoulders. “Same as hers.” The greasy Duros burst out laughing. “You sure?”

“Oh, now you have to.” Tal joined his laughter, licking the red seasonings clean off her fingers. Bug shook his head before making a quick note on his datapad. “Two bowls of nerf meatball soup, extra spicy. And drinks?”

Tal lifted two fingers. “Iced tea, no sugar.” Bug lifted a brow. “No sugar? What, you actually trying to live past fifty?”

“I’m not trying to die tomorrow.”

“You? Die from food? Thought you’d go out in a blaster fire - straight to the brains - before a bowl of soup takes you down.” Bug snorted.

“Well, add that to the math.” Tal quipped back.

Rex sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Can we just get the food before I change my mind?” His thinning patience earned a laugh from Bug before he shuffled off to the kitchen, leaving them to their own devices.

In front of him, Tal propped her chin on her palm. “So, you think you can handle it this time, or am I gonna have to drag your unconscious body back to the barracks?”

“I can handle it just fine.”

“You said you didn’t leave the fresher the next day.”

“I went back to the barracks at 0300, ran with Cody at 0500, and he treated me to caf. Acid reflux was expected.”

“You locked yourself in your quarters after that. Fives’ words, not mine.”

“That…” He rolled his eyes. “Was unrelated.”

“Right. Totally. Just a coincidence that you disappeared for an entire cycle after eating Bug’s food.”

“I was busy.”

“Busy recovering.”

Rex pressed his fingers on his temples, “Should’ve left you in that alley.”

“Should’ve, but didn’t,” Tal sing-songed, kicking her feet up on the empty chair beside her. “Because deep down, you like hanging out with me.”

Rex gave her a flat look. “That’s a bold assumption.”

“Yet here you are.”

Before he could retort, the not-so-charming wooden mechanical kitchen doors swung open with a loud creak, and a heavy wave of fragrant steam billowed into their table. Tal’s grin widened. “Oh, look at that. Our meatball soups are here.” Bug strolled up, balancing two steaming bowls before placing them onto the table. “Two extra spicy nerf meatball soups.” He plopped two tall glasses of iced tea beside them, condensation already gathering on the sides. Then, with a mischievous smirk, he slid two small containers of minced chili across the table. “Try not to die, clone.”

That earned a glare from the captain. But, of course, Bug ignored it. “Yellow noodles for Red,” he used his stylus to point at Tal’s order, then turned to Rex with a smirk, “and for you, first-timer, I mixed the yellow and glass noodles.”

“See? Bug’s looking out for you, giving you a bit of everything. That’s hospitality.” Tal watched him closely.

Rex looked down at his soup. The broth was an alarming shade of deep red as if warning him that this will hurt you, and you will thank it later. Floating on top were fat, perfectly round meatballs, nestled among noodles and crisp greens. But what caught his attention, the part that made his stomach turn, was the spoon resting on the rim of his bowl. A chunk of red chili paste sat squarely on it, waiting. Waiting for him. The very spoon he would be eating from.

Tal mixed the pooling red chili into her broth, watching as the deep crimson mixed into the already potent soup. She scooped up a spoonful, eyes fluttering shut as she took her first slurp. A satisfied groan slipped from her lips. “This is fucking awesome,” she declared, setting her spoon down. “C’mon, Cap. Dig in.”

Rex exhaled slowly. He had faced Separatist battle droids, fought bounty hunters, and stood his ground against Jedi generals. But as he lifted his spoon, watching the thick, chili-laden broth cling to it like molten lava, he suddenly wondered if he had finally met his match.

Bracing himself, he finally took the first bite. It was a slow burn at first, tricking him into thinking this isn’t so bad. Then, like an ion charge going off in his mouth, the spice detonated. His tongue caught fire. His throat clenched. His lungs betrayed him. He coughed once, then twice, gripping the edge of the table as he fought to keep his composure. Across from him, Tal muffled her laughter, watching the struggle unfold. “Good, huh?” she teased, slurping up another bite like she hadn’t just dropped him into Mustafar.

Rex, eyes watering, reached for his iced tea and took a deep gulp - only to realise too late that the lack of sugar did nothing to soothe the burn. “Oh, this is the best thing I’ve seen all week.” the bounty hunter in front of him cackled. Rex slammed his glass down, inhaling through his nose as he waited for the fire in his mouth to subside. This was fine. This was totally fine. He was a soldier. He had survived worse. Explosions. Blaster wounds. Close-range detonations. A war spanning the entire galaxy. Surely a bowl of soup wouldn’t be the thing that finally broke him.

“Good,” he muttered, forcing the word out through the heat searing his throat.

“Lovely!” Tal shrugged, utterly unfazed as she speared a meatball with her fork and popped it into her mouth. “Anyway, day off tomorrow, right?”

Rex nodded stiffly, still unwilling to open his mouth too much, because he was pretty sure even air would make the burn worse. He believed, that if he just kept eating, his mouth would get used to it. That was how spice worked, right? You just had to power through, let your taste buds adjust.

Wrong.

So kriffing wrong.

He barely swallowed his next bite before he was downing more tea, then waving a hand in front of his face like that would somehow fan the flames inside his skull. “Good,” he croaked. “But fucking spicy.” Tal, sipping her tea like a normal person, snorted. “I told you to get the normal one.”

“No,” Rex insisted, voice hoarse. “I can handle this.”

Tal just grinned. “Whatever you say, Captain.”

She went back to her bowl, looking far too satisfied with herself, before adding, “If you’re not in a hurry to go back, we should check out The Wharf again after this. They got some new cool shit. And by cool shit, I mean baby dianogas in the water.”

“Huh?” Baby dianogas? Was this some kind of joke? He had just suffered through the spiciest meal of his life, and now Tal was proposing a casual detour to a place with live sewage monsters like she was inviting him to a game of sabacc? The absurdity of it all sank in. There he was - Captain Rex of the 501st, battle-hardened soldier, second-in-command to Anakin fucking Skywalker - sitting in a dingy, grease-coated hole-in-the-wall on Level 1313, having a meal that was actively trying to kill him, while a bounty hunter with zero regard for common sense suggested a nightcap featuring baby trash octopus. He stared at her.

Tal, unbothered, casually dipped a meatball into the broth, not even looking up.

“…Why?” he finally asked, voice still slightly strained.

Tal shrugged. “They’re cute.”

Rex had no words. His eyebrows shot up, then dropped just as fast, before he gave a single nod. “Very well. We’ll visit the dianoga.” Tal’s entire face lit up like a kid on Life Day. She clenched her fist, punching the air. “Yes!”

“You are way too excited about this.”

“You don’t get it, Rex,” her charcoal eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm. “They got the tiny ones now. Like, palm-sized. Wriggly. Lil’ baby tentacle blobs.” She held up her hands, miming something vaguely gelatinous. “I saw one last week and I swear, it looked me dead in the eyes before it went full ‘sploosh’ back into the water. Adorable.”

Rex stared at her. “You have a very… unique definition of adorable.”

“Pfft, says the guy who names his weapons like they’re a bunch of tookas.”

“That’s different,” he argued.

“How?”

“They’re sentimental, and they’re not some creatures who live in sewage.”

Tal rolled her eyes. “First of all, The Wharf isn’t sewage, it’s waterfront property. Second, these dianogas are babies. Untainted. Pure.” She slurped her nerf meatball soup clean. “They have yet to know the horrors of this cruel world.”

Rex pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tal.”

“Rex.”

“This is the dumbest conversation I’ve had all week.”

“And that’s exactly why going to levels under 1000 is basically suicide," Tal was saying. Rex wasn’t really listening. Well, he was, but only partially. He had bigger concerns, like the fact that his stomach still felt like it was lined with molten slag from the soup, and the fact that Krezzi Quarter was probably the closest thing to an active war zone he’d walked through on Coruscant.

They’d been walking for a while now, taking the long route to The Wharf. The meatball soup had done things to him, and Tal, in all her wisdom, had declared that a walk was necessary to avoid "food coma in a gutter." Rex didn't even argue.

Krezzi Quarter was... grimy, to put it nicely. It was dark. Not only because of the poor lighting - but also as a feeling - like the streetlights had given up trying. Most of the public holobooths were either shattered or barely working, sending out distorted messages that no one cared to fix. Feral tookas scattered at their feet, chasing each other between heaps of trash and old mechanical parts he didn’t even want to find out. And the people? They looked dangerous. Then again, so did the bounty hunter walking beside him.

Rex wasn’t new to the lower levels - he’d been here several times before. Well, only once to Level 1313, but this was different. Back then, they’d gone straight to The Wharf. No detours, no casual sightseeing. But now, bloated on spicy soup and trapped in whatever adventure she had planned next, he was getting the full Level 1313 experience. He adjusted his vambrace, scanning the street. “What’s under Level 1000?”

“Ever heard of Coruscani ogres? Cthon? Corridor ghouls?” she kicked a stray cigarra butt down the cracked pavement.

“What the fuck?”

“Precisely.”

Rex narrowed his eyes at her. She didn’t elaborate, just let the words sit there like some cryptic horror story. He knew she was messing with him, but he also knew Tal well enough by now to understand that if she was saying it in that mischievous tone, it was because something was actually down there.

He was still processing that when Tal suddenly broke into a jog towards a dark alley. “Oh, hell yeah!”

Rex’s instincts flared. He almost reached for the pistol, because of course he wouldn’t let himself walk around unarmed with a bounty hunter in a district where people would stab you for looking at them the wrong way, when he realised she wasn’t running towards someone. She was running toward something.

And then he saw it. A vending machine. A fully stocked, glowing-in-the-dark, fully functioning vending machine, tucked into the corner of an alley that looked like it had never seen a sanitation droid in its life.

Vending machine corner (Source: Stray)

Tal was vibrating with excitement. "Oh, you wizard," she whispered in awe, cracking her knuckles. Rex stared at her, then at the machine. Then back at her. “It’s a vending machine.”

“You still don’t get it.” Tal turned to him, looking deeply, profoundly offended.

“No, I really don’t.”

“First rule of the Underworld, Rex. Vending machines are not just vending machines.”

Rex felt something cold settle in his gut. “Yep. You’ve done this before.”

She winked. “Hasamadhi Warehouse District. You remember.”

Oh, he remembered. Because that time, she had been on a mission. A job to find a cold hard proof of Rush Clovis’ involvement with the Separatists. It was her first major mission with the GAR. And in the middle of it, she’d pulled some shit exactly like this - pressing random codes into an old vending machine in the warehouse, like she was buying a fucking snack, only for it to spit out a hidden cache with a burner datapad inside. That also happened to contain an active bounty. The mission was hell - she worked triple jobs all at once, for the GAR, for the Pykes, and for whatever target she received from a similar vending machine. And, of course, she was jeopardising the mission. It almost got her killed. And Rex? Oh he was fucking pissed.

But now she wasn’t on a mission. Now, she was just doing this for fun on their not-date. And instead of being mad, he just sighed. “Tell me you at least checked this one for explosives.”

She patted the machine fondly. “Nah, this one’s just storage.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

She cracked her knuckles again, fingers hovering over the keypad. “Alright, baby, let’s see what you’ve got.”

And then she started pressing combinations. The first one got her nothing - just a sad little beep and an "Out of Stock" sign flashing on the little screen. She tilted her head. "Alright, playing hard to get, huh?" More keystrokes. The machine whirred, grumbling like a droid being woken up from deep sleep. A drink option blinked to life, Lava Fizz.

Tal made a face. “Eugh. Try again.” She keyed in a new sequence, fingers moving fast, her brows furrowed in concentration. Rex crossed his arms. “This feels illegal.”

“Only if you get caught by the cops.”

“That is not reassuring.”

“Tell that to Fox.”

Another beep. The screen glitched, lines of static filling its surface.

Click.

The panel slid open. But instead of a drink, a small, burner datapad sat inside the compartment. Tal’s grin stretched wide. “Oh, jackpot.”

Rex ran a hand down his face. “Of course.”

The way-too-excited Mandalorian plucked the datapad out, flipping it over in her palm. Old model, worn casing. She powered it on, and Rex watched as a grainy holo flickered to life - a face. Human. Mid-forties. Face like he’d seen too many fights and lost most of them. A small bounty tag flashing above it. Tal whistled. “Someone stashed a bounty in here. Five hundred. Nice.”

“Nice,” Rex echoed dryly, “is not the word I’d use.” Tal ignored him, she scrolled through the details. “Low-tier scoundrel. Debt fraud, minor racketeering… Huh. This one’s fresh. Posted a few hours ago.” She tilted the screen toward him. “He’s still on-planet.”

Rex narrowed his eyes. “You’re not seriously thinking of going after him right now.”

“Nah, I don’t work for less than five thousand. I could sell this info, though. Call it finder’s tax.” Tal laughed.

“Tal.”

She grinned, shutting the datapad off and tucking it into her jacket. “Relax, Rex. Not everything I do is reckless.”

He glared at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Anymore.”

Rex paced around for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… can we just go look at the fucking baby dianogas now?”

Tal beamed. “Now that’s the spirit. Wharf time!”

Level 1313 stretched ahead of them in an endless sprawl of decay. There was no sky here, no real distinction between night and day - just a sunless abyss, permanently drenched in the sickly glow of artificial light. Everything felt humid, yet it wasn’t hot, nor was it cold. It was almost like the whole level was sweating. Overhead, power lines and sewage pipes tangled like vines, giant billboards reflecting their endless ads onto every reflective surface. Rex had never really seen the kind of ads down here anywhere else. Most of them were desperate shit. Black-market cybernetics, unregulated recreational stims, debt relief scams under the guise of organ market.

YOUR LUNGS COULD BE WORTH 20,000 CREDITS! NEW IDENTITY, CLEAN RECORD, NO QUESTIONS ASKED! WANT TO FEEL LIKE A JEDI? TRY SHABOO!

Rex grimaced, pushing past a narrow alley that reeked of piss. A rat-like scavenger droid skittered over a pile of junk, glowing red optics flickering as it scanned for anything valuable. Tal, meanwhile, strolled through the grime like she belonged here. Which, she did. He never really noticed it, but it was evident now that her disobedient body language (that had always pissed him off) screamed, I see you, I hear you, and I will stab you if you try me.

And people did look. Not at him, the obvious choice. You know, for having that face.

At her.

Bounty hunters, street rats, info brokers - Rex saw them all clock her as she passed. Not with hostility. More like... recognition. Like she was part of the ecosystem. Rex had spent his whole damn life swimming in a sea of identical faces. He knew what it meant to be invisible, to be part of something bigger, something uniform. Tal was the opposite. She walked into a room, and people noticed. Which was not always a good thing. He kept close, dragging his gaze to every doorway, every alley. He wasn’t paranoid, but he knew damn well that this was the kind of place where people disappeared for stupid reasons, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with some dumbass who thought they could make creds off of a clone captain.

Tal groaned beside him. “You know, I can feel you watching my six, and while I appreciate the concern, Rex, I’ve survived this long without a bodyguard.”

Rex huffed. “Yeah, no thanks to your decision-making skills.”

“Oh, come on.” She glared. “We haven’t even been shot at tonight.”

“Yet.”

The Wharf, 1313 (Source: The Clone Wars)

A few more blocks, and the atmosphere shifted. No, not cleaner, definitely not. Nothing in 1313 was clean! But it smelled less like piss, and more like salt and rust. The scent of water. They were getting close.

The Wharf wasn’t a real wharf, not in the way the upper levels thought of it. No ships docked here. No open sky, no crashing waves. This was just another corner of Coruscant’s endless underworld, a sunken, flooded district that had been repurposed into a trade hub and food court. Below them, dark water sloshed against the support beams, black and bottomless, reflecting the neon haze of floating billboards.

Rex had been here once before, and he hadn’t exactly been thrilled about it then, either. Water in the Underworld was never a good sign. Standing water meant rot, rust, things that lived where they shouldn’t. The fact that people actually came here for fun still felt like a cosmic joke. Tal, of course, had zero such reservations. She brought him there once, and now, again. It seemed like her favourite place to hangout.

The red-haired woman bent over the railing, peering down at the water like she was searching for something. Rex stopped beside her, arms crossed. “Alright. We’re here. Now tell me again, why are baby dianogas part of your itinerary?” She turned to him with a shit-eating grin. “Because....”

She whistled, and tossed a crumpled wrapping flimsi into the water. Rex had no idea where she pulled it from, which was already suspicious enough, but he was too busy watching the water to question it. At first, nothing happened. Then, a ripple. Then, movement. Tiny, pale tendrils broke the surface, wriggling towards the cracker. Dozens of them. Maybe more. Rex took a step back. “What the fuck?” Tiny trash cephalopods. Because why the fuck not?

Tal squatted down, resting her chin in her hands as she watched the little creatures flail over each other in excitement. “Look at ‘em. Perfect little garbage monsters. So small. So stupid.”

“They eat trash.”

“Yeah, and so do I. We have a bond.”

“Why do you sound proud of that?”

“Because this is the good stuff. The real Lower Coruscant experience. Not just the spice dens. Not just the shootouts. This.” Tal flailed her arms at the scene before them. “The weird little corners. The places no one else looks.”

Rex looked down at the writhing pile of tentacles. Then back at her. And, against all better judgment, he squatted down next to her. “…So what, you bring people here on dates?”

Tal barked out a laugh. “Are we on a date?”

Rex didn’t dignify that with an answer. He just averted his eyes back at the tiny trash monsters, wondering how the hell his night had ended up here. This whole night had been fucking ridiculous. But for some reason - standing here, no, squatting here, soaked in the glow of a city that never slept, beside a bounty hunter who should’ve driven him insane by now was oddly freeing.

"And are we just gonna sit here watching these suckers until the sun rises in the surface levels?" Rex elbowed her, but Tal barely reacted, too busy tossing another crumpled flimsi into the water. She had been at this for a while. From what he could tell, the flimsi wasn’t even coming from one of her pockets anymore. Yes, it was pockets, plural. He was impressed by the number of useless shit she was carrying. Receipts, old wrappers, something that looked suspiciously like a speeder violation ticket. Maker. She was literally cleaning out her pockets by feeding trash to the trash monsters.

And, honestly? It was interesting. Up in the surface levels, there were campaigns everywhere about environmental hazards - flimsi and plastic waste, ocean pollution. Those pristine tropical planets, the luxury spots like Scarif and Spira? Their glimmering waters were choking on the same kind of garbage Tal was feeding to these little fuckers. And yet, here… Here, these creatures ate it. Here, it wasn’t waste, it was food. And Maker knew how big these suckers got when they were fully grown.

Tal tossed a handful of scrap into the water. “I mean, Leea did cancel on me.” Rex’s brows shot up, noticing the blandness of it. Normally, she was always eager to talk about her Zeltron best friend, dragging him into some ridiculous stories about their misadventures. But this was different. “She and Donz just got engaged,” Tal continued, still watching the rippling water. “So naturally, she brought him to Zeltros to meet the parents.” She threw another piece of crumpled flimsi into the water, a little harder this time. “Can you imagine? An assassin bringing home her underworld slicer boyfriend to her rich-as-fuck parents?”

“Uh—” Rex looked away, searching for something to say. Something that wouldn’t set off whatever landmine was buried in that sentence. Tal grinned, cutting his slowly spiraling thoughts. “I know, right? Like, ‘Hi Mum, hi Dad, this is my fiancé - he hacks high-security systems and once shut down an entire prison block for a bet.’” She chuckled, finally looking at him. “And her mum’s a plastic surgeon. Dad’s a party organiser.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.” Rex offered her a smile. “Oh, you know it is.” Tal practically pulled the inner linings of her pocket and let the crumbles inside sprinkled down the water. “I mean, Zeltron families are already wild, but this? A human ex-Blackout slicer and a professional hitwoman sitting at a dinner table with a family whose biggest worry is what vintage to pair with their sunset yacht brunch?” She whistled. “I bet the whole thing’s a fuckin’ holonovela.”

“Yeah. Sounds like it.” Rex murmurred. But he wasn’t thinking about Leea. He was thinking about her. The way she said it, the way her tone momentarily changed out of something that he couldn’t quite grasp. He was sure that she was happy for Leea. Of course she was. But still.

Zeltros wasn’t this. Zeltros was soft. Warm. A place where you could be someone else, or maybe just be yourself without worrying about where your next paycheck was coming from, or which scumbag employer was gonna put a blaster to your head over a deal gone bad. And although Tal belonged here, in the dark corners of Coruscant, it didn’t mean she never thought about there. And maybe it stung a little to watch someone else take a step towards something she never even let herself consider.

Rex kept the thoughts to himself. Then, Tal violently moved her shoulders like she was physically shaking something off. “Anyway.” She kicked her boot against his. “What did she cancel on me for?”

“I don’t know. What did she cancel on you for?” He was relieved at the change of topic.

“Ashes of Kuat.” She grinned.

Rex looked behind him, and back at her again. “Huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “You ever listen to them?”

He squinted. “Sounds like a holodocumentary.”

Tal gasped, covering her dramatic jaw drop with her palm. “Dude, I will not stand for this slander. Umbaran black metal. Educate yourself.”

All his life, Rex had only known one thing about the Umbarans. Separatist sympathisers. Every single one of them. Umbara had left the Republic the second their senator, Mee Deechi, was assassinated. Then they had turned their entire fucking planet into a fortress - shut the Republic out, opened their arms to the Confederacy, and became one of their most brutal strongholds. And now Tal was telling him there were Umbarans down here? Not as warriors, not as infiltrators, but as… Musicians? He squinted. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Duh.” She kept walking, hands in her pockets like they weren’t heading towards a den full of people who, under normal circumstances, would be trying to kill him. “Last time I went to a gig, Fox disbanded it because he thought there was a CIS sympathiser.”

Rex chuckled, elbowing her. “And that’s where we found you.” Tal grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Unrelated.”

The deeper they went, the louder it got. Not just the sound, but the literal vibrations! He could feel the bass, the low, guttural thrum of the sound building, growing, pulsing underneath the surface.

Down here, in an underground venue in the most infamous level of the Underworld, nobody looked Republic. The crowd thickened as they approached the entrance of the venue, a basement of a basement of a fucking basement, wedged between a speeder chop-shop and a cybernetics clinic with a No Refunds sign hanging on its door.

Gig entrance (Source: Star Wars Outlaw)

There was a metal staircase leading down into the dark, a lanky Umbaran bouncer standing at the top, arms crossed, decked in leather jacket and some advanced weapons that he had never seen before. Advanced as shit. Exotic. Rex could already feel eyes on him. Meanwhile, Tal was completely fucking unbothered. She stepped up to the bouncer like she was greeting an old friend, flashing a two-fingered salute. “Moshe, my guy.”

The Umbaran barely moved. “Red.”

Rex felt it again, the shift. The way the crowd registered her, not as some random outsider, but as one of theirs. Moshe’s eyes drilled into Rex. Small pupils. Pale skin. Sharp teeth. “You bringing a trooper?”

Tal turned to Rex, looking him dead in the eyes. Held his gaze for a bit longer than usual. Then she smirked, turning back to the bouncer. “A deserter.”

Rex fought the urge to scowl. What the fuck? A deserter? He was a decorated captain of the 501st, a soldier who had bled for the Republic more times than he could count. But before he could open his mouth to protest, he felt it - a hard stomp on his foot.

Just go with it. The bouncer’s gaze hardened, pale eyes narrowing. He wasn’t looking at Tal anymore. He was looking at him.

“Right, Dex?”

That wasn’t even his fucking name. What was she playing at? Rex exhaled slowly, forcing himself to unclench his fists. He ran through the reasons she would pull this - deserter. That meant he wasn’t GAR. That meant he wasn’t here as a Republic soldier. That meant he wasn’t a threat - or at least, not one that mattered to these people. Because in places like this, there was a difference between being a clone and being a Republic massif. And Tal had just chosen for him.

He rolled his shoulders, toughening his face. He was a man who had walked away from the order, not a man who was still following orders. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s right.” Moshe’s stare lingered for another second before he finally stepped aside. Tal clapped Rex on the shoulder, all too pleased with herself, and sauntered inside like she hadn’t just rewritten his entire identity in the span of five seconds. He was going to have words with her later. But for now, he had a role to play. And ‘Dex the deserter’ had just walked into the deepest pit in the underworld.

Ashes of Kuat (Source: Cyberpunk 2077)

The band was already on their fourth song by the time they pushed through the crowd. It consisted of Umbarans - obviously. Three guitarists, one drummer who was probably a fucking lunatic, and a frontwoman wrapped in chains like she had just climbed out of a grave. Her voice wasn’t singing. It was shredding through the air, screaming Huttese like it was being ripped from her throat. Huttese. Rex barely clocked it until he heard Tal singing along with her eyes closed and her hands in the air. Right. She was fluent. He kept forgetting - Huttese was the language of trade for people like her. People who lived outside of systems, outside of planets with clean-cut governments and clear laws. You worked the underworld, you spoke Huttese.

Another song started. The guitars didn’t just play; they howled, snarled, growled against each other like gears breaking apart. And for some reason, Rex didn’t hate it. It wasn’t like the electronic garbage blasting through Coruscant’s clubs, and it wasn’t the wailing Dathomirian metal Jesse, Fives, and Hardcase used to blast through the LAAT/i’s intercoms before they hit ground. This was darker. More industrial.

More--

SMACK.

A fist flew through the crowd, Rex barely had time to react before Tal moved first, stepping into the blow. A blur of red hair, the crack of knuckles colliding. Then a venomous voice snarled.

"CLONE!"

It snapped him back into focus. The fucker who had thrown the punch was an Umbaran, but not with the band, not security. Some other piece of gutter trash, built lean like someone who never ate enough but had too much energy to burn. His lip pursed in disgust. “Your kind and all the Republic cronies should never step foot down here. 1313 is neutral ground!” Weirdly enough, the show didn’t stop. The band didn’t even blink. No one turned their heads. The only people who cared were the ones closest - the few who had edged back just enough to give the altercation space, but not enough to stop watching.

“By that logic,” Tal tilted head, “you shouldn’t be here either.” The Umbaran sneered. "Didn't know Little Red had friended the wolf." Rex could feel the tension surrounding them. He gritted his teeth. “Tal--”

"Nah, nah, Dex." She elbowed him hard to stay behind her. "Classic CIS hardliner. Let me handle this."

Rex hated it. Hated being behind someone else. Hated letting someone else step in front of a fight for him. But he could read a room, and right now, letting Tal take the lead was the only thing keeping this from turning into a warzone. She flicked her wrist, letting her blaster slide into her palm. "What do you want?"

The Umbaran’s grin stretched wide. "You know," he shifted his weight from foot to foot, "there’s a bounty for any clone, right?"

Rex’s stomach went cold.

"We take ‘em alive," the man continued in a disgustingly casual tone, as if they were discussing market prices. "Strap ‘em in, slice open their heads, rip the data right out of that pretty little clone brain of yours!"

Rex didn’t hear the rest. Didn’t need to. He knew what they did. Had seen it - maybe not with his own eyes, not yet, but in the way intelligence reports scrubbed details down to desensitised language. ‘Experimental interrogation procedures.’ ‘Data extraction techniques.’ They tore clones apart. Stripped them to parts. Used their brains like hard drives, stealing battle strategies, Republic intel, the same way they stripped droids for useful programming.

Fucking animals.

"Try it," Tal tilted her blaster just enough for the Umbaran to see the charge indicator switched from standby to ready. "Go ahead. Make a fucking move."

The man’s grin faltered. But that was all she needed. “You’re talking a big game,” Tal dropped her voice. “Really big, for someone who’s still standing here, instead of fucking trying something.” The Umbaran clearly wanted to pull his own blaster, but his brain wasn’t stupid enough to let them. He was gauging his odds. Rex knew that look.

A sharp click as she took a step closer, blaster pointed straight to his temple. "Run," she commanded sharply. "Before I put you in the fucking water."

Silence.

The Umbaran laughed. A humourless bark of sound as he held up his hands and backed away. "Alright, Red." He grinned. "Alright. Enjoy your pet."

Tal didn’t lower her blaster until he was swallowed by the crowd. Didn’t turn back to Rex for another long moment, watching her surroundings, before she finally let out a breath. And yet, Rex still hadn’t moved. He was still feeling the heat crawling under his skin. “You good?” Tal asked.

Rex exhaled. Hard.

“I fucking hate this place.”

Desi’s Noodle (Source: Jedi Survivor)

Rex didn’t know how to process the night so far.

It had started at Bug’s Fry-up, with that fucking spicy nerf meatball soup that had nearly melted his tongue off. Then he’d stood there, dumbstruck, as she fed scraps of trash to literal baby dianogas, grinning like a kid at Life Day whilst the wriggling little bastards devoured flimsi like it was grilled nuna. Then he went to an Umbaran black metal gig, where the crowd had felt less like people and more like a bunch of Separatist symphatisers ready to jump him. And somewhere in between all of that, Tal had given him a fake fucking name, called him a deserter, and pulled a blaster on a man who was debating whether or not to crack open his skull and harvest battle strategies from his brain like it was some kind of data stick.

And now it was 0400, and he was crying laughing with her at a tiny noodle bar wedged under a staircase. Another hole in the wall. Another afterthought in the endless sprawl of Level 1313, hidden behind an old warehouse, with a single red sign reading Desi’s. The owner, an older Twi’lek woman with soft green skin, had taken one look at Tal, sighed deeply, and wordlessly brought out two steaming bowls of noodles. And they were incredible.

Rex was still catching his breath, trying to stop laughing at whatever nonsensical shit Tal had just said. He barely even remembered how it started. Something about bounty hunting, maybe? Some ridiculous story about a job gone wrong, and somehow, a fucking tooka got involved. A very angry tooka, if the way Tal was dramatically reenacting it was anything to go by. “—and this little fucker lunged at me, right? Like, full feral. Claws out and shit. And my client was just laughing her ass off! Good thing it was a 10k bounty!”

“How do these things happen to you?” Rex wheezed, slurping another bite of noodle. Tal jabbed her chopsticks at him. “I exist, that’s how. Bad luck is just naturally attracted to me.”

“Bad luck, or bad choices?” Rex snorted. Tal grinned. “Same thing.”

Rex groaned, running a hand on his supposedly tired face, still grinning despite himself. Maker. It had been too long since he laughed like this. Not the barracks kind, not the mess hall kind, but real laughing, the one that warmed his chest and grew roots in his ribs. Everything about tonight had been a disaster, but this moment right here made up for all of it. “What, you don’t get shit like this in the GAR?”

“Not exactly.”

“That’s tragic.” She kicked his feet.

Rex stabbed a little fish cake in his noodle. “You know what’s tragic? The fact that I let you pick where we eat.”

“Excuse you! I have impeccable taste,” she bit back, slurping down another spoonful of the creamy broth.

“Whatever keeps you up at night, Tal.”

“Tell me again about stupid things from battlefields,” she asked with her mouth full.

There it was again. That smile. It was rare to see her without some mask of sarcasm. And for the first time, Rex noticed just how pretty she actually was. Not in the refined way like those celebrities he often saw in advertisements up there. No, nothing about her was polished. Hers was the kind of beauty that only really hit you when she wasn’t trying. It was the way the neon lights kissed her skin, everchanging between deep reds and cerulean blues. The way her eyes, dark as deep space, flickered with electricity when she blabbered about her misadventures. The way her mismatched Mandalorian armour was plastered with way too many stickers and random scribbles - some of them crude, some of them actually kind of funny - sat on her frame like a second skin. And then there was the signet, or what was left of it. A clan’s symbol that had long since been scratched out since her exile. He wondered if she even noticed how often she fiddled with it.

“Which one do you want to hear?” he asked, surprising himself when he realised he was smiling too. Tal emptied her drink, beaming. “Oh, tell me the dumbest one. I know you fuckers do the stupidest shit when your bosses are away.”

Rex laughed, shaking his head as he recalled his memories. There were so many. The time Fives and Hardcase had tried to see if they could deep fry an entire frozen nuna in the engine room of the Resolute. The time Kix and Echo had stolen a fucking data spike because they claimed they needed it for "medical and technological experiments." The time Jesse had somehow created a moonshine distillery inside their Coruscant barracks.

“Alright. There was this one time--”

And just like that, the night kept going. And Rex didn’t hate it. Not even a little.

#clonexocweek #clonexocweek2025 #clonexocweek2025 day 2 #captain rex x ge'tal solus #hellfiresky #seeing red by hellfiresky #captain rex fanfic #tcw #mandalorian oc #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanart

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solrika · 3 years ago

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Throwing this idea out into the ether for someone else to deal with, because I have too many kalluzeb AUs already:

Time magic/Force magic/fuckery sends Zeb back to Onderon.

He comes to in the aftermath of the explosion. Chokes on smoke, automatically charges his bo-rifle as he looks around. He's uninjured, though from the destruction around him, he shouldn't be able to stand.

The soldiers scattered around him aren't so lucky. Zeb already knew stormtrooper armor was banthashit; he doesn't need to see the guts spilling out of shattered plastoid. Further out, though, there are walking wounded calling to each other.

Zeb's just made up his mind to sneak off when the screaming starts.

There's another lasat, making his way through the downed soldiers as casually as if he was strolling through the spring market. Zeb watches the flash of the blaster, marks where each bolt land.

Gut shots.

And those are Imperials, sure, but no one deserves to die so cruelly.

With a muttered, "Karabast," Zeb raises his bo-rifle, yells, "Stand down!"

The other lasat looks at him, ears perking incredulously. "They're Imperials," he calls back, as if Zeb might have missed it.

"They're kids," Zeb growls back. "Leave them alone."

At some point during the stand-off, the squad's officer begins sneaking up behind the other lasat. Zeb hopes he has a blaster and a plan.

Turns out he has a vibroblade and no survival instinct instead.

Please join me in imagining young Alexsandr Kallus taking a running jump at a lasat twice his size, getting his legs around said lasat's neck in a sloppy chokehold, and going to town with his knife. He screams in terror-fueled rage the entire time.

"You don't have an officer, you have a rabid vornskr," Zeb tells the nearest stormtrooper, and goes to rescue the feral idiot from himself.

I don't know what happens to the other lasat. It's enough to know he's no longer a worry, however it happens.

There's nothing to be done for the men with gut wounds but to give them a cleaner death. The squad's pitiful medkit is enough to staunch the bleeding on those who can walk. Zeb, more experienced with field medicine and insufficient supplies, helps them fix up those in the middle as best he can.

Then it's him, one Imperial officer, and half a squad of stormtroopers, all re-realizing that they probably shouldn't be on the same side. Zeb sighs, mutters, "Look, I just patched you all up, I don't want to wreck you again. Truce?"

"Truce. And. Thank you," the officer says awkwardly, though the gratitude in his eyes is painfully earnest. "My name is Kallus."

"Karabast," mutters Zeb, running a hand down his face. Just his luck. "Now what?"

"The Empire will come for us," Kallus says.

The Empire doesn't.

Zeb wasn't really expecting anything else, but it still hurts to see the realization dawn on the soldier's faces as the sun sets the next day.

"I'm stealing us a ship. You need better medical attention," Zeb sighs, wondering when he decided that these Imps were his problem. "Okay?"

Those who can walk go with him, and they end up "liberating" an A-wing. It's cramped, meant for a crew of five instead of seven stormtroopers, one too-tall officer, and a lasat, but it flies.

Zeb's got a vague plan to get the squad medical attention, drop them somewhere safe, and then go find the Rebellion. At the medcenter, he sees the date, and realizes that this is pre-Fall of Lasan. The Rebellion can wait: he's got another chance to save his home, and he's going to take it.

Small problem: turns out that the Imps have imprinted on him like baby ducklings. Especially Kallus, who seems especially taken with him, as if Zeb is a dashing hero from some old holo. (I'm anything but, Zeb thinks, remembering how he'd failed his home and fell apart. He's not going to tell this Kallus that, though.)

Karabast.

#star wars #star wars rebels #kalluzeb #fanfic #free to a good home #time travel au

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sunshineandcybertronians · 4 years ago

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Make Your Choice - Megatron x reader x Starscream (TFP)

Word count: 2,621 Warnings: angst, conflicting feelings, major character death A/n: Finished this in one day 9/21/19 at 11:01 PM (holy heck, that was a long time ago). I read pages 140-144 in Transformers Exodus. I never thought I’d write something that’s even slightly Megatron x reader, but here I am. But this oneshot turned out good.

"Where is he?" You searched the dark corridor of Nemesis for a friend.

As a Decepticon you served under Megatron, and Starscream at times. You were lucky enough to be close to both of them. Although Decepticons would never admit to having friends, you called them this secretly.

You were kind to everyone, even those you didn't know. It hurt you to think of anyone in pain. The majority of the Decepticons knew this, and it was miraculously pardoned thus you were given tasks that required no violence. Perhaps it was your soft words and consideration that made this so, finding a soft spot in the seemingly merciless Megatron. Starscream also respected this when he was in control for about three years.

It was very possible someone would question why you were a Decepticon with your nature being closer to an Autobot. This had occurred to you before, but you hoped to change the Decepticons. If everyone who was good left the Decepticons, there would be no chance of changing it to good in the future. Plus, most of your friends were on that side.

You looked through a doorway, he wasn't there either. "Where are you, Starscream?" You whispered to yourself. Well, you said friend earlier, but recently your feelings for him were becoming a little... different.

Since you finished some work sooner than you presumed, you now had free time that you intended to spend it with Starscream. Upon coming to a T in the halls, you paused to think of a plan. Snapping your fingers, you rushed in the direction of the medbay, to not waste another second of your time. Maybe Knockout knew where he was. Out of everyone he was the second closest to the second in command. While jogging, you remembered when you first started to develop feely for him.

Despite the fact you were kind-sparked, this didn't mean that you were not immune to frustration. At the point of time Megatron had just left on his journey through space, Starscream attacked a vehicon because he was dissatisfied with their lack of progress. For no good reason, out of anger.

"Hey!" You had barked at him, startling both him and the vehicons. "Don't do that. They did nothing to you."

He examined you with his red optics. A snarl and an un-amused expression decorated his faceplate as his tilted his helm back. Releasing the vehicon whilst shoving him away, he shifted his attention to you. He approached you, in attempt to intimidate you.

Your held your ground.

"And I believe you should be reminded of your place. You are a subordinate, who doesn't even have the fuel tank to draw energon. You don't tell me what to do."

"No! You listen!" When his servos flinched, you stepped forward to grab them to prevent him from attacking you. You shoved your faceplate near his, with barely any space apart. "They're on the same side as you. Don't hurt people for no reason. It's not nice." After your anger faded, you realized how close your face was. Energon rushed through you.

He smirked, which didn't help your flustered look. "Are you blushing, little femme?"

"No!" You stepped away.

You thought a little more and decided you wanted to clear something up before you left. "But you are a good leader. You just need to avoid letting your anger get the best of you. If you make emotional decisions, you might mess up your chance to succeed, like I know you can."

Shock filled his expression, his optics widening and eyebrows lifting at the thought you actually believed in him. He quickly regained his senses. "You mean like you did just now?" He showed teeth while displaying the irony.

You pursed your lips and averted your gaze to the ground. "Yes. Just like that," you mumbled.

And strangely enough, after that you had become very good friends with him and would have many conversations with him. Knockout would occasionally tease you for it.

Another example was before leaving Cybertron, when Megatron first learned of Dark Energon (unbeknownst to you and Megatron at the time, Starscream already knew of it long before and was attempting to learn more). He privately admitted to you, something you found shocking at the time, that he knew it was unwise to use the Dark Energon due to its unknown and most likely dangerous properties. Yet he felt it necessary to end the war. He, the gladiator, was tired of fighting. It nearly melted your spark and made you want to hug him in order to make him feel better. Then he said that maybe he would finally defeat the "treacherous Optimus Prime," which then caused you to want to call him an idiot since you knew Optimus never betrayed Megatron.

You had mixed emotions like that. If you wanted someone to be the best version of themselves and to be their friend, their flaws and evil mistakes made you upset for that same reason. This mostly fell under your emotions about Megatron or Starscream.

Your thoughts were put to an end when you reached your destination. Without missing a beat, you opened the door and marched right in.

"(Y/n)! Did you need repairs?" Knockout picked up one of the tools he was organizing.

"Hey, Knockout! No. I was wondering if you knew where Starscream was," you explained.

He chuckled, his finish reflecting what little light there was in the room. "Of course you came here to ask where your boyfriend was."

You stiffened. "He's not my boyfriend, we're just friends."

"You could've fooled me." The mech lifted his optic ridge, clearly not convinced.

"Do you know where he is?" You cut to the point again, wanting to leave the awkward conversation.

"I may," he answered wistfully, "but you may have to give me some more buffing solution as payment."

"But I just gave you some yesterday. In fact, I think you almost always get it from me, and I never ask for anything in return. By the time I get you more I'll have to go back to work."

"Just joking. He's heading to the energon supplies to check inventory." Knockout didn't even give you a glance as he picked up a buffer in the corner and spun the correct pad onto it. "Make sure you remember to propose to him."

"Knockout," you drew out his name in annoyance, almost out the door.

"Just kidding."

You rolled your eyes, mentally forgave him, and bolted to the direction of the energon stock. The clanging of your pedes hitting the floor slowed and came to a halt when the entrance was just on your right.

"Starscream?" You stuck your helm in and searched. Finally, your optics locked onto the thin seeker, with sharp features and expressive wings. He looked to you with surprise, his long digit hovering over the control panel that contained information on how much energon there was, how much was used in the previous month, and the chart of how much energon was found compared to other points throughout time on Earth.

"(Y/n)? Aren't you supposed to be organizing files right now?" He inquired.

"I was done early." You hopped into the room as the door slid closed behind you. It was now dark, except for the illumination from the energon. The way it dimly shown on him and cast shadows on the edges of his figure made him look even more attractive. You shifted and swatted away the thoughts in your head.

"So, what are you up to?"

"Nothing much," he groaned, waving his servo. "I was simply accessing the inventory to find if we had enough and needed to lower rations."

"Hmm. From what I read in reports, it's getting harder to find energon, but we found a good stock recently."

"Yes. I saw that on the chart." He nodded to the glowing screen.

Before you could stop yourself, you began admiring his wings. Then your gaze shifted to a part that wasn't quite as smooth as the rest.

"What's that scratch on your wing?" You exclaimed when you finally noticed it.

He bit his lip, looked to it, and shrugged. "I flew too low and my wing got clipped by a tree."

Studying the scrapes, you delicately traced your fingers on it. He winced in pain and reached to shove it away, but stopped when you flinched away on your own after seeing his reaction.

Letting, your servo fall softly onto the undamaged surface. His wings relaxed in please and a smile crept onto his face. You gently rubbed the spot below it and held his jaw with your other servo. He seemed to melt at your touch and closed his optics. His arms snaked their way around your waist.

His optics flickered open again and stared at you with an emotion you had never seen present in them before... love. Without thinking or even considering the consequences of it, you began to close the distance between your lips and his. However you were cut off when light filled the room coming from the door.

You both turned your heads to see who it was. The expectation was that it was just a vehicon, however it was anyone but a simple minion. It was Megatron himself.

You both stepped back. What was he doing there? He was probably either looking for you or Starscream. You passed some vehicons on the way, so he could have definitely inquired where you were from them, if you were indeed the one he was seeking to find.

When he noticed you and Starscream together, and not just that, but that you were having... erm, a moment, his face twisted from a hurt shocked to anger.

"What have we here?" He marched in, servos behind his back. The door closed, blocking the light once more. You weren't exactly sure why he was so furious, he had never been that mad at you before.

"Well," Starscream stumbled on his words and shrunk back. "You see-"

"Trying to steal yet another thing from me!" He exploded at the seeker. He took the second in command's neck in his hand and held him in the air.

"Megatron! What are you doing?!" It made no sense, why he was just suddenly deciding to kill Starscream. Had he tried to kill him recently? What did he mean 'steal'?

"What are you... Talking... About?" Starscream gasped with his legs dangling.

"(Y/n)," he turned to you. You flinched back, yet noticed how his voice was softer. "Be my sparkmate."

This thoroughly confused you and sent a chill through your frame. "What?! No."

A mix of despair, anger, and desperation showed on his faceplate.

Deciding to elaborate you started carefully, "Why? I thought we were just friends. I thought of us as just friends." You had nothing against him. You cared about him, but never thought of it in a different way. Perhaps you could have explained more, although in your baffled state, you couldn't get out much.

"Those years in space," the leader of the Decepticons began, "it was so lonely I once thought I would lose my mind. The only two things that kept me going and what made me able to live after every near-death experience are my desire to extinguish Optimus and to be with you. You somehow make everything better and chase away darkness and solitude." A blade launched from above his hand and he aimed it for the dangling Cybertronian in his hand. "I want you to always be by my side. Be my sparkmate, or Starscream dies."

You couldn't believe it, well, maybe you could considering how violent he was and how many other times he came close to killing Starscream. The Decepticon leader had even expressed fear you'd leave him for someone else before. Yet, you had assumed that it was platonic and never guessed this would happen.

"Please," you pleaded, "Don't terminate him. I know you have kindness in your spark, and it is not weakness, it is a virtue. Please. Starscream has always been useful to you. For me?" You held your servos together, your sad optics sparkled.

This seemed to make him consider, as he started to reflect your sadness then shook it away. Replaced with anger of how greatly you cared for his second in command that seemed to undermine everything he did. "No. Only if you become my sparkmate."

The seeker decided to take matters into his own servos and aimed the red missile on his arm while distracted. Megatron noticed and tore it and the other off and let then drop to the floor with Starscream wailing in pain.

You shook your head in horror, still in disbelief of what was happening. "Why are you doi-"

"I CAN'T LOSE YOU TO STARSCREAM!" He raised the sword. "And now he won't keep you from me anymore!"

"NO!" You screamed. Panic surged through you. This couldn't happen, you couldn't lose Starscream. You just couldn't. You didn't want him to die. If he were to die, you would never see or talk to him again, and it was something you could never afford.

Without thinking, you lunged forward and converted your servo to a blade. Only focusing on saving Starscream, you slashed at the one threatening his well-being.

Then time slowed. Your optics widened. You stumbled back with energon stained on the sharp edge. Megatron opened his mouth, yet nothing came out as his grip loosened and he fell to the ground. His helm nearly falling off of his body, with almost all severed off. Your mouth hung open watching the glowing blue liquid puddle onto the floor, seeming to form a lake. He gave the saddest look you've ever seen, making you want to scream as he seemed to stare right into your spark, before his scarlet optics flickered and the life faded from them.

Then the gravity of what you did. You stared at the blade, then your dead friend.

"NO! What am I doing? Why did I want to hurt you?!" You screamed. Switching back to your hand, feeling the energon drip into your parts, as you ran forward and held Megatron. You answered your own questioned, "It was to save Starscream, but why did you make me do that?! I didn't wanna hurt you. I'm supposed to be a friend, be nice. I just wanna... wanted to be your friend." You changed the word since Megatron was now no more. You wrapped your armed around him in a hug. Overcome by grief. Then anger resurfaced.

"Stupid head! Why do you have to be like this? Why do you have to be an evil overlord? I wanted to be friends. I care about you!" Then you sank back into sadness.

With a sigh, you attempt to pull yourself together. He was set to the side and you stood up, energon dripping off of you.

This whole time, Starscream, who had crawled away when he was first released, watched you. He really had no idea what to do or how to help you. All he knew was that you probably needed to be left alone at that moment, thus he stood there. Although he was flattered that you, as a pacifist, would kill to save him, he hated that you were unhappy. He waited until a few nanoklicks after you stood in silence.

"All hail Starscream?" He hesitantly questioned, his wings giving a shrug. He clearly didn't want to bother you in such an emotional state, although still desired to know if he'd be leading the Decepticons.

With a small smile creeping to your lips, you nodded while trying to move on from what happened. "Yes. All hail Starscream."

#megatron x reader #starscream x reader #megatron x reader x starscream #tfp x reader #TFP #Transformers Prime #Starscream #Megatron #angst #tw death

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just-come-baek · 4 years ago

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body rhythm

Pairing: Taeyong x reader | mentions of Seulgi x Irene | mentions of Johnny x almost everybody

Themes: smut | fluff | dance!au

Word count: 14.8k

Summary: Taeyong and Seulgi participate in a nationwide dance competition. However, due to unfortunate scheduling, she has to drop out of it, suggesting you, out of all people, fill in. Taeyong isn't pleased with how things manage to fall out of place, but he is in no position to be whiny about it. For him, it's either learn to work with you or lose yet another time to his arch-enemy.

A/N it's my entry for song association event, I hope you like it, and also don't forget to check out other entries ^^ they must be all out by now lol

“Are you ready?” Johnny inquired as he set his fourth coffee of the day on his desk and plopped onto the swivel chair in a cubicle next to mine. It was a really long day at work, and we both had trouble sitting through the end of it. Heaving a deep sigh, I looked at the pile of documents that required my attention, groaning before I sprawled across my workspace.

“I thought it’s canceled tonight,” I spoke as I looked at my wristwatch, wincing when I realized there was still one more hour until Johnny and I could finally clock out.

A few months ago, our lovely firm, instead of giving us a well-deserved raise, had decided to provide us with a variety of extra activities. Though I’d rather get some monetary benefits, together with Johnny, we chose dance classes. Our company was paying for it, so we might’ve as well attended.

Ever since then, every Thursday, we would go to a dance class to sweat out all of the pent-up frustration. I didn’t have plenty of expectations, still bitter after the company’s decision, but the dance class turned out amazing. Seulgi was our teacher, and although she was a bit demanding, she was patient enough to teach us some sick moves. If that didn’t scream talent™, I had no idea what did.

“Well… last week, she said she might be absent today, but I got a text from school that someone will fill in,” Johnny spoke matter-of-factly. I sighed, checking my phone, reading the same text message from the studio. I really didn’t have energy for dance classes, but there was no way Johnny would let me skip.

“Do you want to grab a drink after? I think I need one, or a few,” I proposed as I sat back in my chair, trying to let my eyes rest from the computer’s screen.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Johnny asked rhetorically, smiling at me as if I just read his mind. It was almost Friday at this point, and we deserved a little treat.

Though it felt like an eternity, the clock finally struck 5 p.m., letting us leave our claustrophobic cubicles. Tomorrow we would come back for another dose of torture, but right now, we were free. Only for a few hours, though.

Quickly, I returned home to get my gym bag. Thankfully, I lived within walking distance from both – my office and the dance studio, so it wasn’t as troublesome to commute as it was for Johnny, who got stuck in traffic almost every day.

A few minutes before the dance class, I was already changed into my gym attire, waiting for Johnny. Though no one was texting me, I stared at my phone, furiously typing away. Moon Taeil, also known as my secret crush, was leaning against the wall on the other side of the corridor, and I tried every single trick my mind could come up with not to look desperate.

“At this point, he must think you hate him,” Johnny commented as he conjured in front of me out of nowhere. “You should hit on him instead of trying to bolt every time he approaches you,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at his yet another one shitty advice.

“Can you remind me why I don’t take dating advice from you?”

“Why are you attacking me? I just wanted to help. There’s no need to get so aggressive,” Johnny defended his case, not really answering my question. Johnny was a self-proclaimed love expert, but to me, he was more of a pathological playboy. Either way, he seemed to understand the secrets of flirtation to pick up girls whenever he set his mind to it.

“I am just trying not to be obvious,” I commented, stealing a glance at Taeil. It was a silly crush, and though Johnny encouraged me to go for it, I never decided to act on my feelings. Taeil probably didn’t feel this way about me, so remaining idle actually saved me embarrassment after an inevitable rejection.

“Speaking of which, I figured out why Seulgi is so resistant to my charms,” Johnny announced proudly, and I raised my eyebrow, waiting for the big reveal. Everybody in our group knew that Johnny was attracted to Seulgi, but every time he tried to approach her, she would brush him off.

“By figured out, you mean you stalked her, right?” I commented when Johnny handed me his phone, showing me Seulgi’s profile. According to what Johnny dug out in social media, Seulgi was getting married to Irene – her girlfriend of five years. “Huh,” I mused as I gave him back his phone, trying not to laugh at him. Seulgi was already madly in love with someone else, no wonder she could resist his charm.

“Call it whatever you want,” Johnny started, putting his phone away. “Just don’t hold me down when FBI finally recruits me for my impeccable detective skills,” he argued, and I laughed as I imagined him leaving our lovely company. That would be a shame; I couldn’t imagine anyone else sitting in the cubicle next to mine.

“The room should be open,” someone hollered, mentioning for us to open the doors and get inside. I had seen him a few times around the school, so I deduced he must’ve been our substitute teacher today.

Once everybody took their spot on the dance floor, the man cleared his throat. “Hello everybody, my name is Taeyong. Together with Seulgi, we run this school, and I hope we will have a lot of fun today with new choreography,” he announced politely with a practiced professionalism. Perhaps Taeyong didn’t seem as cool as Seulgi, but we had to give him a chance to prove us wrong.

Taeyong was intimidating. I wouldn’t want to be left alone with him. When he showed us a few moves, he was immensely focused on delivering one hundred percent. It was impressive and admirable, but at the same, Taeyong gave off a scary fierce aura. Though he was a great dancer and teacher, Seulgi was just better.

“I think I have a heart attack,” I panted, gasping for air. The new choreography required lots of jumping, and I didn’t expect so much cardio today. I wasn’t out of shape; however, after dancing to Taeyong’s choreography, I had some doubts.

“We should’ve skipped,” Johnny commented, bending over with his palms on his knees, supporting his huge body. Taeyong’s dance routine was too much for us, and we weren’t the only people struggling to breathe. Thankfully, next week Seulgi would be back.

***

“You’re not gonna believe this,” Johnny announced, craning his neck to look inside my cubicle. Heaving a sigh, I put my pen down, giving him my full attention.

This better be good.

“What is it? Who are you stalking this time?” I inquired, giving him the attitude. Johnny was spending too much time on his phone during working hours, but I couldn’t really frown upon it because I often caught myself doing the same thing.

“First of all, I thought we agreed to call it researching, not stalking,” Johnny clarified, and I rolled my eyes. “And second of all, it’s Seulgi. She and the other guy from the dance studio qualified for some dance competition. Check this out,” Johnny explained, handing me his phone.

Seulgi and Taeyong rocked the stage. Though I had nothing to compare their performance to, they just oozed charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent. Without any shred of doubt, they would make it to the grand finale.

“Wow,” I mused, not sure how to appropriately respond. I was happy for their success; after all, their performance was broadcasted during prime time on national television. At this point, Seulgi and Taeyong were celebrities.

“I can’t wait for today’s class,” Johnny added in excitement, hiding his phone away inside the pocket of his jacket. “I have to congratulate her.”

“Them. You have to congratulate them,” I corrected Johnny as he seemed to forget about Seulgi’s dance partner. It wasn’t a solo competition, so both Seulgi and Taeyong deserved praise. “And as if you’ve forgotten, Seulgi is not and will never be interested in you. You gotta let this one go, man,” I added, hoping Johnny would stop his relentless flirting with Seulgi. Though it was funny at the beginning, it was evident Seulgi would appreciate it if he stopped.

“I am all over her. Trust me,” Johnny reassured me, and I let out a shallow sigh, wanting to believe him. “Do you know Wendy from the HR department? I think I’m gonna ask her out. I am all over Seulgi,” he added, and it actually convinced me. Although Johnny didn’t seek anything serious at this point in his life, and when something didn’t go according to his plan, he would shake it off and forget all about it.

“Ok, I believe you,” I said, giving him a genuine smile. “Oh, and I was thinking… how about some beer and chicken after dance classes today? I’ve been craving them the whole day,” I offered, and Johnny enthusiastically nodded. It did sound like a solid plan.

Thankfully, this week Seulgi was back, and everybody appreciated it. Taeyong was a great teacher, but we were a group of beginners, and it was difficult for us to follow his routine. We just weren’t ready for such complex choreography.

Everybody had so much fun today. At first, we practiced some old routines, working on synchronization. Later on, Seulgi taught us a few new moves, which I recognized from her television performance. Admittedly, they weren’t as difficult as they looked. Maybe it was a little bold of me, but I was thinking I was doing a pretty good job today.

At the very end of the class, Johnny delivered a dramatic congratulatory speech, making people laugh out of utter cringe. It was a nice gesture, and Seulgi’s embarrassment was adorable. She would cover her blushed cheeks and turn around, hoping the ground could swallow her up. In all honesty, it seemed to be the only way to shut up Johnny.

Just when we were about to be dismissed, I heard someone calling my name. Surprisingly, it was Seulgi. She must’ve wanted to discuss something with me. Damn it, was she going to scold me for not improving? Or was it because I sat half of the song out? I just needed a short break; I had no idea it would get me in trouble.

“I am sorry,” I apologized even though I wasn’t sure what for yet. Seulgi would enlighten me in a second, so I cleared my throat to apologize to her once again. However, when she giggled instead of yelling at me, I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Johnny hollered before he strolled out of the practice room.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked, and Seulgi smiled, shaking her head.

Great, it was a relief.

“Actually, I may sound crazy to you,” she started, fidgeting a little. It was strange, Seulgi was a strong and confident woman, but right now, she seemed rather bashful. “Would you like to participate in a dance competition?”

Her question took me aback.

“What?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the topic.

“Let me explain,” she offered, and I reluctantly nodded.

By the look on her face, I could tell it wasn’t going to be a quick chit-chat. Seulgi had a lot of things to explain, so we decided to sit on the floor before she began her speech.

Patiently, I listened to everything she wanted to tell me.

Seulgi and Taeyong wanted to participate in a dance competition ever since they had decided to open up a dance school together. Last week they really thought they were going to achieve their dream. Unfortunately, as soon as they qualified and received the schedule, complications started to follow.

Maybe it was a little bit overconfident of them to think they’d make it to the finals, but it still made them anxious. Regardless of their talent, they wouldn’t be able to perform in the grand finale. Apparently, on the very same day, Seulgi was getting married.

At first, I wanted to interject that they could reschedule, but Seulgi beat me to it.

“It would be the third time we reschedule it, and I just can’t let that happen. I don’t want Irene to think I prioritize dancing over her. She means the world to me, and I’d quit a thousand times to get married to her,” Seulgi confessed, and I tried my best to contain my feels. There was something raw and pure about Seulgi’s love, and it moved me.

Seulgi’s proposition was genius in its simplicity. Together with Taeyong, she would perform, climbing up the rankings. And if by any chance, they would make it to the final round; she wanted me to fill in. Given I had been dancing at their studio for about four months I couldn’t comprehend why she chose me.

I was a rookie, for crying out loud!

Finding a substitute dancer made a lot of sense, actually. Instead of dropping out, they could find a replacement. This way, Taeyong could still make his dream come true. And next year, together with Seulgi, they could try to defend the title.

However, once again, Seulgi read my mind and answered my question before I voiced my doubts. She must’ve really thought this through before approaching me. It seemed she had rehearsed all possible inquires and came up with perfect answers.

“All of our dancer friends either compete against us or failed during qualifications,” she declared, and I hummed in response. “Unfortunately, people who already attempted joining can’t fill in for other dancers.”

“That sucks,” I commented, and Seulgi dryly chuckled.

“I think you would be a perfect fit,” she started, and I held my breath, wanting to hear what made her think I’d be able to rise to the challenge. “Everybody can memorize moves, but you have a natural passion for dancing. I can see it in class. Maybe you can’t see it yet because dancing is a hobby to you more than anything else, but I can tell you have the it™ factor.”

I was speechless. Seulgi, the dance prodigy, was praising my dancing skills. I couldn’t believe my ears. What kind of self-indulgent dream was it? Why couldn’t I dream like a normal person? I had tendency to toot my own horn sometimes, but it was just too much.

“I bet with proper training, you and Taeyong could win.”

“Let me think about it, okay?”

“Sure, of course! No pressure!” Seulgi replied enthusiastically, giving me enough space to clear my mind and think about it.

“See you next week.” I waved at her, exiting the dance room. Absentmindedly, I changed out of the gym clothes and walked out of the building, almost walking past Johnny.

“Hey, what did Seulgi want?” Johnny asked, grabbing my wrist, pulling me out of trance.

“She wants me to dance in her place if she and Taeyong ever make it to the finals.”

“What?!”

***

At first, I was hesitant about this whole thing. I wasn’t a professional dancer, and I really didn’t want to contribute to them losing the competition. However, Seulgi really made a point that they would have to drop out anyway, so in some twisted way, my participation gave them a slimmer of hope for victory.

Once I explained everything to Johnny, he really insisted I should help them out, spitting nonsense about fame and recognition and how I couldn’t doubt myself and just go with the flow. Opportunities like this rarely occurred, and I ought to welcome them with excitement.

So I did.

Every Saturday and Sunday, I dropped by the dance studio for practice. Taeyong still intimidated me, but I could deal with it. Seulgi was always around me to nag him whenever he demanded too much from me. They balanced each other very well, and it was fun working with them. Even though each practice left me with sore muscled, I was still excited. It was tangible proof I was improving.

Seulgi and Taeyong smoothly went through the contest, winning each battle with ease, slowly climbing in the ranking. There was still plenty of work until the grand finale, but everything looked they were to make it to the very top.

Unfortunately, the closer to the D-day, the less time Seulgi had to help us during practice. With her wedding coming up, she had a lot of preparations to deal with. As a result, Taeyong and I had to practice the dance routine on our own.

“No, you’re doing it all wrong,” Taeyong yelled in irritation when for the nth time, I turned to my right instead of my left. “Do it again; five, six, seven, eight,” he added, playing the song from the very beginning.

To say I was frustrated was an understatement of the century. I was aware that Taeyong really wanted to win the competition, but he didn’t have to be a dick about it. With no Seulgi to supervise him, he was unbearable.

“I think I need a break,” I declared once I turned to the wrong side again before Taeyong managed to scold me for it. Even though he shouted something again, I ignored it. With a deep sigh, I walked over to my gym bag to get my water bottle.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taeyong asked, staring down at me with his arms folded across his chest, his demeanor dominant. His eyes were drilling holes in my head, his jaw was tightened – it was evident I was driving him up the wall. It was just a matter of seconds before Taeyong would snap, lashing out at me.

“I am taking a break,” I answered quickly, ignoring his angry stare. I was at my limit. If Taeyong didn’t back off, it would be the end of the practice for today. One more mean word and I’d storm out of the studio. I was here voluntarily. I was doing him a favor, and I didn’t deserve this type of treatment.

“Is it a joke to you?” Taeyong carried on, and I rolled my eyes. Of course, it wasn’t a joke to me. But at the same time, I was sick and tired of his shenanigans. I wanted him to win, but not when my mental health was on the line. He was pissing me off, and I wouldn’t let him walk all over me. “I thought you decided to help us out, but you’re not trying at all.”

He did not just say that.

“What?” I rhetorically asked, standing up, poking his chest with my forefinger. “I am trying my best here. You’re the one who makes it impossible to have fun dancing. You’re making it a chore, sucking all the fun out it.”

“Then tell me what I should do for you to finally make some progress? We’ve been stuck at this part for two weeks, and you still haven’t learned how to turn right!”

“Then go ahead and find someone else who can put up with your shit. I’m out,” I spoke, bending down to pick up my stuff, ready to leave the studio. Unfortunately, before I managed to exit the practice room, the doors opened, and Seulgi walked in with a confused expression on her face.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” She asked in worry, trying to put two and two together. It wouldn’t be the first time Taeyong and I argued, but it seemed to be the most intense one so far. It didn’t sit right with her. “Please don’t tell me you fought again.”

Briefly, I summarized what happened, and Seulgi looked down at Taeyong disapprovingly. I was glad Seulgi took my side; after all, she knew Taeyong could be too demanding.

“I am a dancer, but why does it feel I am a couple counselor? You two really have to learn how to work together when I’m not around,” she scolded us, making her point. If this whole arrangement was to work out, we both needed to establish some ground rules and learn how to put our differences aside. “I have an idea.”

Oh, no.

There was something mischievous in her tone, and I didn’t particularly like it.

“Let’s finish for today,” she proposed, and I smiled, thinking it was a great idea. Taeyong and I needed some time to chill, and calling it a day seemed like an appropriate way to do it. “Let’s go out clubbing instead!” Seulgi added cheerfully, clapping her hands in excitement.

“What?” Taeyong and I asked in unison, a bit surprised by Seulgi’s statement.

“That’s my prescription for the two of you,” she started, and I rolled my eyes. Taeyong and I didn’t get along as well as she wished for us to, but it wasn’t that bad. We didn’t need to bond over a few drinks in a crowded club. We would do just fine if Taeyong learned to go easy on me. “I believe we all can benefit from clubbing.”

“How come?”

“First of all, it will remind Taeyong that dancing is about fun, not overworking oneself,” Seulgi spoke, and I hummed, agreeing with her. “Second of all, it’ll give you a chance to loosen up. Your moves are still a bit stiff during intimate parts of the choreography,” she added, and Taeyong nodded in agreement. “And I really need something to drink because wedding planning is stressful as fuck.”

Not even thirty minutes later, we were inside the club.

“It’s a very sensual song. And you two really have to work hard to convey emotions through your dance,” Seulgi started as she sipped her tropical cocktail. “You must feel comfortable around each other and just ooze longing and sexual attraction,” she added, and I almost choked on my drink.

Performing with Taeyong was going to be more difficult than I had anticipated. When Seulgi and Taeyong showed me the choreography, I was amazed. Absolutely blown away. The way their bodies moved in synchronization left me speechless, but at the same time, I was a little bit nervous because I didn’t see myself living up to their level.

I wouldn’t consider myself particularly sexy. It made me feel awkward when I thought how seductive the dance routine actually was. I wasn’t sure I could pull this off, but Taeyong still had a lot of time to teach me.

“Take her to the dance floor,” Seulgi elbowed Taeyong, almost spilling his drink. Unenthusiastically, Taeyong looked at me before standing up and extending his arm.

Drunken people were jumping around us to the rhythm, and I awkwardly swayed from side to side, staring at Taeyong. With godlike precision, he moved, getting lost in the music. One could tell straight away Taeyong was a professional dancer.

Upon noticing how stiff I was, Taeyong shook his head, yanking me against his lean body. “How about you take a five-minute break to get that stick out of your ass? You look like you have no joints,” he yelled into my ear, his breath tickling my sensitive skin.

“I’ve had too little alcohol,” I replied, but Taeyong wasn’t having it.

“When we perform on the stage, will you need alcohol to let loose too?” Taeyong challenged with a playful smirk, and I rolled my eyes, too prideful to admit he was right. I couldn’t participate in that competition drunk. We wouldn’t win if I wasn’t able to come out of my shell and show everybody I had a sensual bone in my body.

“No,” I yelled into Taeyong’s ear. “How do I let loose?” I asked, hoping to hear some words of wisdom from him.

“Mirror what I’m doing,” Taeyong guided, and I nodded, focused on my new task. I could do that. I had been mirroring Seulgi’s movements during our classes, and I was pretty good at doing it. I could copy Taeyong’s moves.

At first, Taeyong danced a few classic moves we usually did during our warm-up routine. It was easy, and I think I nailed it. Later, he wiggled his upper body, feeling the rhythm. With envy, I observed how his body executed every single move, owning it. I wish I was half as good as Taeyong. Next to him, I probably looked like a crippled kid.

Upon noticing my struggle, Taeyong began jumping around, throwing his hands in the air. He looked ridiculous, but I remained focused on my task, dancing as if I was his shadow. Our bizarre moves earned some attention from other people, but our eyes were trained on each other, slowly getting lost in our own bubble.

I was sober, and I was on my way to owning the dance floor. I couldn’t believe it was happening. Maybe Taeyong’s charisma overshadowed my poor attempts of showcasing mine; however, I was sure I made a big step in the right direction. Slowly, I was improving.

“How about we spice it up a little bit?” Taeyong shouted into my ear, and I cocked up my eyebrow, thinking what he meant by that. “Don’t be shy,” he added, yanking me against his body. Taeyong was so close I could feel his legs rub against mine. “Come on, sweetheart. Touch me, tease me, feel me up,” Taeyong snickered, getting on my nerves. Not only Taeyong was smug for no reason, but he also quoted the song, which I was slowly growing to hate.

Taeyong must’ve assumed I’d back out. Surely, he didn’t expect me to follow his instructions and actually run my hands across his chest, shoulders, and back while simultaneously swaying my hips, earning approving stares from impressed men on the dance floor. At first, he was surprised he talked me into it, but a second later, he smirked, resting his palms on my sides, slowly exploring the valley of my butt.

I had no idea I had it in me, but Taeyong helped me discover it. We were basically grinding against each other, and it somehow didn’t feel awkward at all. We were just two people having fun.

“I’m sorry I was so harsh on you,” Taeyong apologized, shouting in my ear. “I’m just stressful all the time, and I think I may sometimes take it out on you,” he added, and I looked at his face, which was dangerously close to mine.

“It’s understandable,” I replied as I wrapped my arms around Taeyong’s neck, finding it much more comfortable. Now with our bodies pressed together, it was easier to have a conversation. “I know how much you want to win this competition. I’ll try harder,” I promised, and Taeyong released a relieved chuckle.

Who would’ve thought an adult conversation would work better than shouting at each other?

“Thank you,” Taeyong spoke genuinely, and I pulled away, staring at his face. His eyes were trained on mine. No matter how many hours we had spent at the dance studio, his gaze still intimidated me sometimes.

“Ekhm, I need a break,” I said in a desperate need to break eye contact with him. The dance floor was crowded, and it was making me dizzy. I was getting dangerously hot, and it seemed like heaven to get back to our booth and finish our drinks.

“Of course, you need a break,” Taeyong teased, sending me a lopsided smirk. “It’s okay, though. We still have plenty of time to work on your stamina,” he added as he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the crowd. Carefully, we zigzagged around drunken people, trying to make it safely to Seulgi.

Unfortunately, by the bar counter, someone walked into Taeyong, almost knocking him down.

“I’m very sorry,” a man shouted, but I could sense the words weren’t genuine.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong spoke, gritting his teeth, staring at the other man. Taeyong’s grip tightened around my hand. I figured he didn’t particularly like Doyoung.

“Taeyong,” Doyoung sighed, checking Taeyong out from head to toe before his gaze shifted to me. There was something spiteful about his lingering eyes, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. For sure, there was some bad blood between two men, and I suddenly felt an urge to know more. Inquisitiveness got the best of me.

Taeyong and Doyoung kept glaring at each other almost as if it was a competition. The tension was so intense one could cut it with a knife. I cleared my throat in a poor attempt to break their stare contest, but they didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

“I saw your last performance,” Doyoung finally spoke, scoffing. “You’re getting out of it, and here I expected to kick your ass in the finale. I wouldn’t be surprised if you and your partner got eliminated next week.”

I thought I had seen Taeyong furious, but right now, I was proven wrong. The way he looked at me whenever I was a handful during our practice was nothing compared to the way he glared at Doyoung. Taeyong was scary, and I decided to not get on his wrong side ever again.

“I’d gladly kick your ass here, but I’d rather wait for the finale. You know what people say about prolonged gratification,” Taeyong talked back, and I gasped, trying to comprehend what I just heard. Taeyong was getting cocky, and it made me nervous. I was already stressed about the possibility of performing, and he just added more pressure on my shoulders.

“We’ll see about that,” Doyoung replied, focusing his scrutinizing gaze on me. “But I have to say I kinda look forward to seeing you cry again. The way I beat you the last time was spectacular.”

“Let’s go, Taeyong. Don’t waste your breath on him. He’s not worth it,” I exclaimed, pulling Taeyong’s hand, reminding him I was there the whole time. I couldn’t listen to Doyoung talk trash about Taeyong. If Taeyong wasn’t going to walk away by himself, I had to intervene and pull him aside. Doyoung was provoking him.

“And who is that?” Doyoung asked in a mocking tone, displeased by the way I looked at him. Though I didn’t know the back story, I took Taeyong’s side. At least, Taeyong didn’t try to humiliate his rival, while Doyoung had already tried a few tricks to tick Taeyong off.

“You’re right,” Taeyong said, looking at me. It was evident he was holding himself back, trying his best not to take the bait. “Let’s go,” he added, pulling me away from Doyoung.

“Who was that?” I asked as we approached our booth. Unfortunately, I didn’t get my response. Upon arrival, we noticed that Seulgi was sprawled on the table, giggling to herself.

“Is she always like this?” I inquired, concerned about how drunk Seulgi got in such a short amount of time. We were gone for thirty minutes tops, and she was barely conscious after drinking her and our drinks.

“Aww… there you are… my dear friends,” she cooed cutely, trying to attack Taeyong with cuddles. She was adorable, but it was kind of irresponsible to drink by herself when we were on the dance floor. Thankfully, nothing happened. We returned just in time to collect her and escort her home.

“I can’t believe my plan worked,” Seulgi grinned, pointing her finger at Taeyong. “You no longer have a stick up your ass,” she exclaimed at Taeyong, too drunk to realize she should be talking to me. “And look at you! You were having fun!” Seulgi yelled, extending her arms to hug me. “I am so proud of you!”

“I should take her home,” Taeyong reasoned, considering it the safest option. He could call an Uber for Seulgi or just phone her fiancée to pick her up but bringing her home himself seemed to be the most rational solution. “Will you be alright by yourself?” He inquired, and I nodded right away. It was sweet of him to look after me too. Thankfully, I barely touched my cocktail; I could get home safely on my own.

“Don’t worry about me,” I replied casually, sending him a reassuring smile. “Just make sure Seulgi makes it home safe,” I added, warming up at the way Taeyong hauled up Seulgi, carefully leading her out of the club. It made me wonder if Johnny did the same to me. Probably. He wouldn’t be that gentle, though. If anything, he’d throw me over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. Or just drag me out like a corpse.

“Give me a call once you get back home,” Taeyong demanded before we parted ways.

***

“You went clubbing without me?” Johnny dramatically asked after I told him everything that happened on the weekend. Despite my detailed narration, it seemed as if that was the only thing he caught on to. “How could you?”

“Relax, dude,” I rolled my eyes, shuffling around my desk, getting ready for work. It was Monday morning – it was about time we start our gossip routine.

“And I was wondering… would you mind helping me researching this shady dude? There’s some conflict between him and Taeyong. And I need to know what happened,” I started, wondering if Johnny would cooperate with me and put his stalking abilities to good use.

I was too embarrassed to ask Taeyong about Doyoung. Besides, I had a hunch he would either brush me off or scold me.

“Do you know anything about this dude besides his name?” Johnny pulled out his phone, no questions asked. “Please, don’t tell me that’s the only thing you know.”

“I mean… he’s probably a dancer,” I added with a sheepish smile, making Johnny heave a deep sigh. “He must be a big deal, though. Apparently, Taeyong lost a competition to him.”

“I’ll try to find some dirt, but it may be difficult given how little info you gave me,” Johnny declared as he began his thorough research.

It took Johnny five minutes to find the correct Doyoung. It was remarkable. If it wasn’t enough for the FBI to hire him, I’d gladly present them a recommendation letter. Quickly, I opened Doyoung’s profile on my phone, scrolling through his feed.

At first glance, Doyoung seemed to be a regular bratty internet star with an overgrown ego. His follower count was impressive. Studying his profile, I learned a lot about him. Unfortunately, it had no value. There was nothing specific about his conflict with Taeyong.

“How was your date with Wendy?” I asked Johnny as I gave up on my research. Whatever was the root of their bad blood would have to remain a mystery.

“It was fine,” Johnny started, but I could tell he wasn’t entirely honest. His disappointed tone betrayed him. “She left before the waiter brought the dessert. Apparently, she didn’t particularly like when I kept calling her Wanda.”

“Ouch.”

“No hard feelings, though,” Johnny shrugged it off, trying to focus on the positive aspect of their terrible date. “At least, I’ve had two slices of cheesecake. Besides, I’m kind of into Sooyoung from the creative team now. I think she is the one.”

“Every girl you’re into is the one,” I interjected, rolling my eyes, done with his antics.

“Oh, by the way, I’ve forgotten,” Johnny chimed in, staring at me in excitement. “Taeil asked me about you,” he revealed, and I almost spat out my morning coffee.

“What?”

“Are you still into him, though?” Johnny inquired, rubbing his temple in deep thought. “I haven’t heard you gush about him these days,” he pinpointed, and I wondered if my crush on Taeil was still as intense as it was a few months ago.

Taeil was insanely hot. I kept drooling whenever I saw him operate the printer. It was inappropriate to check him out whenever he bent down to change the ink, but I couldn’t help myself. Or whenever we met by the vending machine.

Good old times.

Right now, though, I rarely caught myself thinking about him. At first, I thought it was due to a hectic schedule. I was either at work or at the dance studio or getting shit-faced with Johnny on another wild adventure with him and his friends.

It was difficult to comprehend how easily my crush faded into thin air. Taeil was still sexy as fuck, but while I appreciate his looks, I wasn’t daydreaming how to get into his pants. At this point, I was just admiring his attributes in the most nonsexual way imaginable.

Apparently, the lack of response on my part was everything Johnny needed to confirm his suspicion.

“So what? Are you into Taeyong now?” Johnny asked boldly, and now, I actually choked on my coffee, thinking I heard him wrong. How did he jump to that conclusion?

“What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, but it kinda looks like you’re into him,” Johnny commented, playing with a pen. “You talk about him all the time with lots of passion. I think there’s something going on between you two. Is he single?”

“I talk about him all the time because I live to complain, and recently he’s the sole reason why I gotta vent,” I defended, but Johnny didn’t seem convinced. “And I don’t know if he’s single. I don’t really care,” quickly, I rejected all accusations, but in all honesty, his words got me wondering.

Was I attracted to Taeyong?

Surely, Taeyong was ridiculously attractive. He danced well, too. Unfortunately, we didn’t click much. There was passion between us, but it wasn’t romantically stemmed. We just kept annoying each other. I wouldn’t consider it sexual. We were just getting on each other’s nerves often, unable to properly solve our differences.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey,” Johnny teased, and I fought the urge to throw the stapler at him. “I bet fifty bucks you’ve imagined him naked, fucking you dumb.”

What the fuck, John???

I did not imagine Taeyong naked!

Not until now, at least.

“I seriously hate you right now,” I complained, deciding it’s about time I focus on work.

***

After Johnny had planted naughty thoughts in my mind, each dance practice was unbearable. My mind was running wild, coming up with different scenarios involving Taeyong and me in intimate situations. It was wrong on so many levels, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

After months of practicing the dance routine, we decided it would be best to make some changes to the choreography. Though it was still sensual as hell, with our hands roaming each other’s bodies, we found it crucial to accentuate Taeyong’s talents.

It was a strategic plan. While typically male dancers helped the female dancers shine, we put a little twist to it. Though our performance was still pretty balanced, Taeyong had a few crucial parts of choreography, in which he would snatch everybody’s hearts.

Seulgi didn’t object to our strategy. Well… she was never there, to begin with. Seulgi was a ghost, never present during our practice, always busy doing some last-minute wedding prep.

“Let’s take a five,” Taeyong hollered as he turned off the music, sending us off to a short break. It sounded weird when it came out of his mouth, but I didn’t complain. We’ve been practicing nonstop for the past hour. At this point, I was panting.

Lying down onto the floor, I rested my head on my towel, reaching for my phone. Quickly, I unlocked it to see a series of notifications from Johnny. He had sent me a link to a video, telling me in all caps to watch it.

Having left the earphones in the locker room, I played the video quietly through my phone’s speaker. It was a short film with Doyoung. It must’ve been his performance from last year’s competition. Jamming to the music, I studied his moves.

Doyoung was really good. I mean… it wasn’t professional expertise, but I could tell he had talent. His body control was impeccable, his hip thrusts must’ve impregnated plenty of women in the audience, but his shoulder rolls were just otherworldly. Along with the female dancer, they showcased quite the performance. From the beginning to the very end, I couldn’t look away, failing to notice Taeyong approach me.

“What the hell are you doing?” Taeyong shouted, tearing my phone from my hand, double-checking what I was watching. “Why are you watching this?” He angrily asked, locking the device, wishing for it to stop playing music.

It was difficult to explain.

I couldn’t exactly tell Taeyong that I asked my best friend to do research on Doyoung in hopes of finding out what was the root of their conflict. Though we had never found anything substantial, Johnny would send me more footage to check out. However, regardless of how much stuff Johnny had provided me with, I was still clueless.

“Why are you shouting at me?” I spoke, biting on my bottom lip. I was in big trouble, so it was only logical to play dumb.

Taeyong stared down at me, demanding a genuine answer. His jaw was tensed, his knuckles around my phone turned white. It was just a meaningless clip, but it got him fuming at me. Regardless of what I’d tell him, he wouldn’t like the answer. I figured this much.

“Why were you watching that?” Taeyong yelled, raising his hand, almost smashing my phone against the floor. Thankfully, he held back and gently put it on my bag.

It was incredible how much the video affected Taeyong. The movie worked on Taeyong like a red rag to a bull. One moment he seemed fine, but once he figured out what I was watching, he snapped.

“You really want to know?” I challenged as I rose to my feet, staring at him. It was my turn to raise my voice. If he kept shouting at me, I was going to give him the same treatment. “Ever since that night at the club, I was curious. You were basically throwing daggers at each other, and I really wanted to know what happened between you two. You never bothered to explain it, and I didn’t want to push you.”

“Do you have your answers now?” Taeyong exclaimed, and I rolled my eyes, agitating him even more with my fed-up behavior. He was scary right now, but I refused to let him intimidate me. “Or do you want to read my diary too?!”

I resisted the temptation of saying yes to his offering. Taeyong wasn’t the type of person to write a dairy. He was exaggerating, but I didn’t want to provoke him further. At any mention of Doyoung’s name, wrath took control over Taeyong, turning him into his destructive self.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know shit about him,” I confessed, throwing my hands in the air. “I wanted to know what he did to you, but I came up with nothing. And believe it or not, the way he treated you that night made me worry. You’re my dance partner, and I care about you a lot, and it really hurt me seeing you in distress,” I spat, not thinking about consequences. I was talking without filter, probably spilling too much information.

My verbal diarrhea confused Taeyong. His huge eyes were staring at me in astonishment. He was studying my expression, wondering if everything I said was true. Oh, no! My reckless words made him uncomfortable. He must’ve grown to hate now.

In embarrassment, I looked down at my shoes. I felt terrible, and I needed to come up with something clever to say to save my dignity and ease the tension. However, before I managed to voice my sincere apology, I felt Taeyong’s hands cup my cheeks as he surged forward and kissed my breath away. It was sudden, but I reciprocated the kiss in an instant.

Stress, anxiety, anger, sexual frustration, and probably many other factors led us to this very moment. I had been daydreaming about Taeyong’s mouth on mine for a while now. And when it finally happened, I eagerly swept my tongue across his lips, deepening the kiss. Though I had tried my best to withstand the tension between us, I wasn’t oblivious to it.

Taeyong already knew almost every inch of my body, so his hands naturally began roaming across my skin. Moaning into the kiss, he held me closer, keeping me pressed against him.

“Taeyong,” I breathed out as I pulled away, only for Taeyong to smash his lips against mine again, successfully shushing me. This time around, the kiss was even more passionate, making my knees weak. In a rush, Taeyong pushed me against the wall, pushing his thigh between my legs. “We shouldn’t,” I spoke, but my tone wasn’t convincing at all. I wasn’t even sure who I was trying to convince that it was a bad idea.

“Shut up,” Taeyong demanded as he tilted his face, sucking on my bottom lip. His hands were on my butt, kneading my flesh, trying to make me moan into his mouth. In all honesty, it worked. Maybe, I whimpered incoherent sounds, but it’s was just a poor attempt to encourage him to keep kissing me.

Regardless of how much he was to gift me, I needed more. I wasn’t going to stop until I’d take everything Taeyong was willing to give.

I craned my neck to the side, and Taeyong quickly caught on, leaving a wet trail down my neck. His lips were delicate, careful not to leave a mark, while his hips were grinding against me, letting me feel how stiff he already was.

“Legs,” Taeyong ordered, gently slapping my thigh. Obediently, I spread my legs apart, letting his hand cup my sex. It was ridiculous how horny he was making me. Once his raspy voice echoed in my ears, I fulfilled his wish, waiting for another command in excitement.

“Please,” I begged, needing more of him. Whatever he planned on doing to me, I needed it now. Whether he was to tease me with his beautiful fingers or fuck me raw with his cock, he better do it now.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he whispered against my skin, pressing feather-like kisses along my collarbone. His touch was driving me insane. His hands were everywhere but where I wanted them the most. This type of teasing should be illegal.

It was more than I could take, so I took matters into my own hands. I could play this game, too. With a mischievous smirk upon my face, I hooked my forefinger under the band of his tracksuit bottoms. Unfortunately, Taeyong quickly swept my hand away.

“You’re such a bad girl,” Taeyong commented before he captured my lips again, sliding his tongue into my mouth, knowing I’d talk back to him. “You have to do everything your way. Would it kill you if you listened to me at least once?” Taeyong muttered, staring into my eyes.

Yes, I was a brat. Taeyong wanted me to submit to him, and I would do it eventually, but not before I’d tease him first. What was fun in that?

“Don’t answer that,” he added, and I rolled my eyes. Though we barely hung out outside the dance studio, Taeyong learned a lot about me. Having an answer to everything was one of those things he had the pleasure of discovering.

“Just fuck me, please,” I said nicely, staring into his eyes, hoping it would be enough to make him cave. “I can’t take it any longer,” I added, rubbing my loins against his restrained cock, making him let out a guttural moan.

My plan was working. Slowly, Taeyong was giving in, probably taking his time to think about the consequences of letting me experience instant gratification. Orgasm would’ve been sweeter if he made me wait a bit more, but it was difficult for him to control his urges.

Without any doubt, Taeyong wanted to bury his cock inside of me as much as I wanted him to fuck me dumb. We withstood so many practices without jumping at each other – I should consider it foreplay.

“Fine, but I’m gonna eat you out first,” Taeyong spoke, and I almost lost it by just imagining his jaw going between my thighs. Swiftly, he knelt in front of me, pulling my leggings down to my ankles in one fluid motion. Having kicked off my gym shoes, I wiggled the fabric off my feet, sending it flying across the dance studio.

Taeyong ran his fingers across my panties, inspecting how soaked they already were. With a smirk upon Taeyong’s face, he pressed a chaste kiss against my skin above the waistband before he yanked the undergarment down.

“Beautiful,” he said under his breath before he surged his face, taking my clit between his gorgeous lips, making me tilt my head in pleasure. Frustration got me sensitive. Even the slightest touch got me purring in delight.

Taeyong licked and nipped at my entrance, and I run my hands through his hair, encouraging him to keep going. He flicked his tongue, and I buckled my hips, wanting more.

“I need your fingers,” I pleaded, looking down at him. Taeyong looked breathtaking, with my juices were dripping down his sharp jaw, with his lips turned into a satisfied smirk. He was proud of how he was making me feel. His glistening skin was the very evidence of his skillful moves. “Taeyong, please, I am so close.”

Though I didn’t expect him to, Taeyong listened to my humble request. His middle finger slid right it, making me purr in satisfaction. I could finally feel him inside of me, and it was heavenly. His palm moved quickly, working me up.

The first orgasm was building up. Taeyong was fucking me now with two fingers while his mouth was fiddling with my clit. If it wasn’t for Taeyong’s palm, holding me still, I’d buckle right into his face for more friction.

“I’m about to come,” I declared, shutting my eyes close. As tempting as it was to peek at the mirror on the other wall and check out the view of Taeyong eating me out, it was more than I could take. My instinct to squeeze my eyes shut and welcome the orgasm was too much.

Unfortunately, it didn’t happen.

Before tiny tingles of electricity could unite and explode, shooting through me like a lightning strike, Taeyong pulled away, denying me of my orgasm. It physically hurt when instead of a blissful peak, I felt nothing.

“What the fuck?” I barked angrily, ready to pull him by his hair against my sex and press him against me, so he could finish the job.

“We’re coming together, or we’re not coming at all,” Taeyong sternly replied, standing up. His lips were swollen from all the work he was doing, and they looked even more kissable.

“I’ve never pegged you for such a teaser,” I stated matter-of-factly, still a little bit butt-hurt over the way how smug he was about not letting me come first. Maybe I was a handful most of the time, but I didn’t do anything wrong to deserve such treatment.

“I’m not,” Taeyong chimed in, biting down on his lip. “There’s just something about you that makes me want to punish for your misbehavior,” he explained, and I got it where it came from. I wasn’t the best student he could work with. “Isn’t it the sweetest torture?” Taeyong challenged before he surged forward, smashing his lips against mine again, raising my thigh and giving it a gentle rub.

“Please, Taeyong, I need you inside of me,” I begged as I ground my sex against his rock-hard cock. I couldn’t comprehend how self-disciplined and patient he was; his budge was throbbing underneath his pants. It must’ve been painful for him, and he did all of that to teach me a lesson. “Fuck me, already.”

“Relax, sweetheart. I got you,” he softly spoke as he hoisted me up, pressing me tightly against the wall. “To be honest, I expected you to lose it sooner,” Taeyong added, and I hoped he was talking about my sanity. I endured more than enough; his teasing was too much.

“How should I fuck you?” Taeyong asked, looking around the practice room, seeking a perfect spot to stuff his cock inside of me. We didn’t have a lot of options, but I didn’t care. He could fuck me in the middle of the room, and I’d eagerly spread my legs for him. “Screw it,” he cursed, gently lowering me down onto the floor. “Do you mind?” Taeyong inquired, and I shook my head as I wrapped my legs around his hips, pressing him against me.

“Strip,” I ordered, and Taeyong smirked before he pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing his lean physique. My eyes marveled at his beautiful shoulders and toned muscles. I had touched him more than I could count, but I never saw him bare, and when I finally did, I gawked.

“What about you, sweetheart? Come on, I am waiting,” Taeyong teased, and I took off my T-shirt. I was only in my sports bra, and Taeyong bit his lip, staring down at me, admiring my simple beauty. With no further comment, Taeyong leaned in, attacking my collarbone. It was hot how attentive he was, but right now, all I needed was his cock buried deep down my cunt.

Desperately, I reached to his sweatpants, palming his erection through the fabric. As soon as I touched him, Taeyong released a needy growl, rolling his hips into my hand, finally giving in to the pleasure. He lost his self-restraint, and now, he seriously needed to fill me up with his throbbing length.

“Take them off,” I breathed out, pulling by the hem of his pants. With a lowered head, Taeyong tsked before he yanked them down to his knees, wriggling out of them. Just as I expected, his cock urgently entailed my attention.

Though the thought of blowing him crossed my mind, I eventually decided not to entertain this idea too much. It was apparent Taeyong wanted to him inside of my pussy. I’d suck him dry on a different occasion. Hopefully, it would happen soon.

“Fuck me, Taeyong,” I moaned as I trembled when the tip of his cock brushed against my folds. I was embarrassingly sensitive after his ministrations, and he dared to tease me again. “Please,” I begged as I gave his length a few gentle strokes, aligning it with my entrance.

“Aaahh…” Taeyong growled, slowly pushing his dick inside of me. Inch by inch, he filled me up, stretching my walls. A lot of different sinful noises came out of his mouth as he began steadily thrusting his hips.

Taeyong’s stamina was no joke. It was hard to believe how long he could snap his hips without messing up his rhythm. His low voice mixed with my desperate moans echoed inside the room, creating a wicked symphony along with the sound of our sweaty bodies smashing against each other.

He was fucking me hard, and I was in seventh heaven. Taeyong was filling me up so good; I could come undone on his cock anytime.

“Taeyong,” I moaned his name as I watched him fuck me. Though it was hot to look at his cock disappear in my pussy, it was even sweeter to stare in the mirror. With my head turned to the side, I studied the whole picture how Taeyong was fucking me.

“I am coming,” I screamed as I felt the bliss approach. Taeyong was panting, struggling to maintain his tempo with the way my walls tightened around his sensitive cock. Once he hit my sweet spot, I was a goner. After a few thrusts, I came, digging my nails in his back.

“Fuck,” Taeyong cursed, shouting my name as he shot his load inside of me, collapsing on top of me. We were a breathless mess, our bodies sticking together, but neither of us minded. At this point, we were too spent to care. “You were incredible,” Taeyong whispered as he pulled out, rolling to the side.

“You weren’t that bad yourself,” I panted, giggling, still recovering from the mind-blowing orgasm. Thankfully, Taeyong didn’t pay much attention to my playful jab. “I meant it what I said,” I added, turning around to look at him.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Taeyong started, staring into my eyes, showing me his sincerity. “I just can’t help myself but get angry when I see him or hear about him,” he continued, and I nodded my head, letting him know I was willing to listen.

I didn’t expect that Taeyong would agree to vent to me, but when he did, I patiently heard him out. After all, I was pretty sure we were at least friends now.

“It all happened about a year ago. We were competing in the same contest, and he made my dance partner quit. Doyoung seduced her, toyed with her, and once the trophy was his, he dumped her. Because of him, I was disqualified, and she quit dance altogether.”

Listen to his story made me both sad and angry. Doyoung had been a dick to interfere like that – he must’ve known he hadn’t stood a chance against them in a fair fight. My blood was boiling in my veins as I put all the pieces together.

Sadness took over next. The way Doyoung had manipulated Taeyong’s dance partner was upsetting. The wound had been cut so deep, she couldn’t have forced herself to keep going. Doyoung had wrecked two lives, and it made my blood boil, too.

“We’re gonna beat him. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we do,” I spoke, reassuring him. It was impossible to tend the wounds, but the least I could do is help Taeyong win. For what he had done, Doyoung deserved punishment. If I were Taeyong, I’d not hesitate to beat him up.

“I hope so,” Taeyong muttered, reaching for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s still fine if we don’t. I’m pretty sure karma will get to him eventually,” he added with a sigh.

“I’ll work harder,” I declared, feeling an extra wave of determination wash through me. “I’ll try my best,” I said, and Taeyong smiled fondly, content to hear me say it.

“Thanks. It means a lot to me.”

For a while, we were staring at each other. It felt nice and somehow more intimate than all the fucking we had done. If we were in bed, I could do it all night. Unfortunately, we were still lying on the uncomfortable floor.

“Let’s get washed up before we get too sappy,” I added, trying to ease the tension. I really enjoyed it, but it was getting a little too much.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing the shower with me. You know… water bills are a bitch,” Taeyong spoke, and I giggled at his bullshit excuse, finding it incredibly cute, considering what we had been doing a few minutes ago.

“Of course they are,” I deadpanned, chuckling. Though his excuse was lame, I liked Taeyong enough to go with it. “Come on. Let’s go. I don’t want anyone to catch me naked.”

***

After that one time at the dance studio, Taeyong and I made it a regular thing. However, we kept it civilized. We wouldn’t jump each other’s bones in the open like animals like we had done the first time. Usually, we would go on small kind-of-dates, which consisted of picking up food, going to my or his place, and then rolling in the sheets.

We were having lots of fun. It was a perfect way to de-stress. After all, the finale was this Saturday, and we were nervous as hell. In all honesty, I was still scared, but these orgasms were numbing my anxiety.

“I think that’s it,” Taeyong spoke, and I smiled brightly, unable to contain my joy. It was the first time Taeyong ever approved of our performance. Most of the time, he was nitpicking, complaining about the slightest mistake, but finally, he was satisfied with it.

I was ecstatic; I never expected to live up to Taeyong’s approval. Through hard work and persistence, I managed to earn his eulogy.

“What should we do now? How about we order some food?” I asked, feeling in a celebratory mood. Maybe it was a little bit too early to drink to this small success, but it’s still worth a shot.

“We should do it again. We should dance it flawlessly at least a couple of hundred consecutive times before celebrating,” Taeyong seriously replied, and I rolled my eyes. Despite his painstaking nature, a couple of hundred times, it was a bit too much. Even for him. “Don’t give me that look. Let’s start again; five, six, seven, eight.”

Though usually, I’d complain and try to force him into a five-minute break, right now, I was oddly energized. We were dancing for the past two hours, and I was panting out of exhaustion. Nevertheless, the thoughts of finally mastering the choreography kept me going.

“I’m pretty good at this,” I confidently commented while roaming my hands across Taeyong’s shoulders before he twirled me around to the rhythm. I could tell that Taeyong was just waiting for an excuse to pause the music and scold me for making a mistake. However, much to his dismay, I executed every move impeccably. “I had a pretty good teacher,” I added, stroking his ego. The D-day was approaching, and Taeyong obviously needed an extra boost of confidence.

“I must admit you were a piece of work. I have no idea what kind of sorcery is this,” Taeyong teased, staring into my eyes. We had practiced the routine plenty of times; we could probably perform it in blindfolds and not make a single mistake. “I must be a magician or something.”

“Don’t push it,” I warned him in a very non-threatening tone, making him smirk. “But it’s only partially your success. Seulgi told me I have the it™ factor,” I proudly said, cracking Taeyong up, messing the choreography. “Is it a student-has-become-the-master kind of moment?” I asked, laughing at Taeyong. For the dance prodigy, he was getting distracted way too easily. It was suspicious.

With a broad smile upon his face, Taeyong grabbed my wrists, making me look at him.

“How about we finish up for today? I have a surprise for you,” Taeyong said, and I cocked my eyebrows, biting my bottom lip. “Not that kind of surprise,” he added, rolling his eyes at me. “We might get it on later, though.”

“What kind of surprise then?”

“Wait a second,” Taeyong spoke, quickly jogging out of the practice room. In a minute, he was back with a garment bag in his hands. “Here, that’s for you. Seulgi came in the morning to drop it off for you,” he explained, and I pulled down the zipper. It was going to be my costume for the contest, and I was curious how it looked.

I was speechless. At first, I thought it was a joke. I wouldn’t be able to perform in that. However, the more I looked at it, the more sense it made. It was a simple white suit shirt, but when mixed with a leather body harness, high-waisted shorts, and boots, it fitted the concept beautifully.

“Do you like it? I thought it was too revealing, but Seulgi insisted you would look amazing in it. I mean… it fits the mood, but if you’re not comfortable with it, we still have some time to find something else,” Taeyong blabbered, and my heart swelled. It was very sweet of him to consider my comfort above anything else.

“It’s skimpy, but it’s fine. I like it,” I replied, having no idea where my confidence was coming from. A few months ago, I’d be anxious to even try it on in the confines of my bedroom. However, now I was planning on showing a lot of skin on national television during prime hours on the weekend. I must’ve gone insane.

“Do you want to try it on?” Taeyong challenged, pulling the hangers out of the bag.

“You mean… here?!”

“Come on, it wouldn’t be the first time you took off your clothes in the middle of the practice room,” Taeyong concluded, smiling at me mischievously.

“Pass,” I firmly rejected his dare, even though it felt tempting. “It’s not fun when I’m doing it alone,” I added, and Taeyong grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, more than ready to discard his clothes in a blink of an eye. “Don’t fool around,” I warned him, placing my hand over his before he managed to take his T-shirt off.

“You’re right. Let’s go to my place first,” Taeyong agreed, zipping the bag before he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the practice room.

***

On the day of the performance, I woke up with a terrible stomach ache. No matter how much fantastic sex Taeyong and I had, I was not mentally prepared to perform in front of the whole nation. I felt sick, almost as if my body was telling me to quit before I’d embarrass myself on national television. Stress was eating me from the inside.

“What are you doing up so early? Let’s go back to bed,” Taeyong purred in his raspy morning voice as he sneaked his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “You need to be rested before the performance. Trust me, you don’t want a camera to catch you yawning,” he added, nuzzling his nose in the crook of my neck, breathing hot air against my skin.

“Thanks for giving me one more thing to stress about,” I deadpanned, heaving a deep sigh, staring at the ceiling. It was a mistake. I should have never agreed to Seulgi’s proposition in the first place. What the hell was I thinking? “I think it’s a bad idea. We should quit.”

Taeyong wasn’t in the mood for my nagging so early in the morning; he was having none of it. “You’re being ridiculous. We’ve practiced so much. We’re gonna win it with ease,” he declared, pressing a featherlike kiss against my jaw. “But for real,” he added, climbing on top of me, trapping me between his thighs, “we’re going to win. And even if we don’t, it’s fine. Really, if somehow we lose to Doyoung and his partner, I’ll just punch him backstage.”

“How can you say that?” I said with a sigh, running my hands across his thighs, finding it rather calming. “I know you said we should rest, but how about…” I trailed, and Taeyong smiled before eagerly capturing my lips, reading me like an open book.

“Say no more,” Taeyong whispered before his hands traveled under my shirt.

Unfortunately, Taeyong’s phone started buzzing on the nightstand before he managed to pull my panties down. With a groan, he extended his arm, staring at the screen.

“It’s Seulgi.”

“What are you waiting for? It’s her wedding day. Pick it up,” I yelled at him as I fell on the pillow, admiring his handsome face when he was talking to Seulgi.

“Please, not you, too,” he barked, rubbing his face in annoyance. Though I barely could make out what she was saying, I figured this much Seulgi and I were suffering from the same stress-fuelled illness. It was her wedding day, after all. Even if it was obvious she loved Irene with a burning passion, she wasn’t immune to pre-wedding anxiety.

Seulgi was talking her stress away, and Taeyong just hummed and nodded his head, registering her words. For some reason, the pressure didn’t seem to bother Taeyong at all. It was weird, but at least he was the voice of reason, which could help me and Seulgi cope.

“Breath in, breath out,” Taeyong spoke when Seulgi made a pause long enough for him to interject. “I know it’s a big deal, but there’s nothing to worry about. You’re getting married to Irene. You love her so much,” Taeyong reminded her, winking at me, expecting Seulgi to end the call soon. “Everybody’s a little nervous; it’s completely normal.”

It was beautiful how close Taeyong and Seulgi were. They had each other’s backs in all types of situations.

About ten minutes later, Seulgi finally calmed down. Taeyong’s reassuring words swept the anxiety away, and she was more than ready to get married to the love of her life.

Once Seulgi hung up, Taeyong threw his phone on the bed and secured my legs around his hips before he leaned forward, giving me a quick kiss. “Seulgi says hi, by the way,” he added, sneaking his hand under the hem of my panties.

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” Taeyong looked down at me, creasing his eyebrows in confusion.

“She knows?” I yelled, unable to comprehend how, on Earth, Seulgi figured out I was in Taeyong’s bed. She couldn’t know. She wasn’t even there when our romance bloomed. “How?”

“Yeah, is it a bad thing, though? You didn’t want to fuck me in secret, did you?” Taeyong challenged, not really answering my inquiry. Did Seulgi figure it out on her own? Or did Taeyong told her about us? And, the biggest question mark was: what were we to begin with? “Seulgi must have some sort of sixth sense. She was bothering me about the sexual tension between us since day one of your training.”

“I wouldn’t call it sexual tension per se, but there was something going on,” I replied, reminiscing how rocky our beginning was. “But I think we were interrupted…” I reminded him, and Taeyong with a playful smirk on his face dived right between my thighs.

***

The streaming should begin at 8 p.m., but we had to arrive before 5 p.m., so the make-up artists and stylists could prepare us for the performance. Sitting in that chair and waiting for all pampering to be over with was stressful as fuck. I tried to preoccupy myself with an idea of Taeyong, but whenever someone threw a question in my direction, I was being pulled out of my train of happy thoughts.

I wanted to get on the stage and be done with it. Unfortunately, whoever funded that contest didn’t think of the mental health of its participants when making today’s schedule.

Punctually, the show began its transmission at 8 o’clock. However, at the very beginning, the MC had to introduce all sponsors. Going through them took him about twenty minutes. Then, they interviewed some of the eliminated dancers, asking them questions either about their experience in the competition or simply who they thought would win.

Later, they decided to rewind the contestants’ moments in the show. At first, they showed Doyoung and his partner, and a few experts analyzed their performance, wondering what the odds of them winning were.

When the host announced the rewind of Taeyong’s and Seulgi’s stages, the jury only talked about the sudden switch up, confirming it was the first time it ever happened in the grand finale. It startled a lot of people why would Seulgi drop out, but Taeyong explained it in a brief interview.

“It was a crazy coincidence, but Seulgi couldn’t participate today because she is getting married today,” Taeyong revealed, and the audience cooed loudly, obviously supporting her choice. “I was stressed at first, but Seulgi found an amazing dancer to take her spot. She really chose well,” he added, and I looked at him, trying not to cry in front of everyone.

It was almost impossible to fish out a compliment from Taeyong during practice, but right now, he did it on his own accord, melting my heart with his words.

“Everybody is dying to know more about your partner,” the MC started, shifting his attention to me. I didn’t particularly like to be put in the spotlight, but before I managed to spit some nonsense, Taeyong butt in, rescuing the day.

“Although she doesn’t have much experience in dance competitions, I think she’s a great dancer. To think of it, she is my secret weapon,” Taeyong added, and I almost ran into his arms, feeling too overwhelmed by his speech.

“Alright then, let’s see what you got after a short commercial break,” the MC cheerfully announced before I bolted out of the stage as I felt the stress crept into my head.

“Calm down,” Taeyong softly spoke as he approached me, holding my hand, drawing circles with his thumb. “You’ve got this. Just focus on me,” he added, flashing me a reassuring smile before kissing my knuckles.

“Awww… isn’t it adorable?” Someone snickered, and I didn’t need to turn my head around to know it was Doyoung. He was like a venomous snake, trying to sneak into our subconscious and make us even more anxious. It couldn’t be fair play.

“Buzz off,” I barked as I didn’t want to let him tick Taeyong off. Taeyong was my safety pin, and I didn’t want him to go full rage on Doyoung. Their backstage battle would make it to the news, but I’d rather prevent it from happening.

“With Seulgi on your arm, I was giving you a five percent chance of winning,” Doyoung started, ignoring my warning. “Now, when she’s gone, I won’t even have fun beating you on the stage,” he added, and I almost surged forward to punch him. If it wasn’t for Taeyong, who held me in my place, I’d definitely rearranged Doyoung’s face.

“Don’t let him get into your head,” Taeyong whispered into my ear, and I nodded my head, sighing. Then, it struck me. Doyoung’s motive wasn’t to mess with Taeyong but with me. He knew I was the weakest link, and he wanted to guarantee his victory by making me doubt myself. His words rung in my head, but one look at Taeyong helped me relax. We had practiced it a thousand times; there was not a chance I would make a mistake.

“Come on. Let’s go. They’re calling us out,” Taeyong mused, pulling me towards the stage.

The silence filled the auditorium when we got on the stage, taking our respective places. I stole a glance at Taeyong – he was mouthing words of encouragement seconds before the MC announced our performance.

I can hear it callin'

Loving the way you wanna talk

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

Callin', something in the way you wanna talk

On two sides of the stage, we moved to the rhythm, telling the story of two strangers lusting over each other from afar. With hunger in our eyes, we tried to seduce each other with sharp movements, showcasing our attributes.

You got me sayin', you got me sayin'

How you doing? Tell me what's your name (Ey, tell me what's your name?)

What's your sign? Feeling like you are into me

Taeyong ran up to me like a man enchanted by the siren’s voice, rolling his body against mine. It was his moment to shine; everybody’s eyes were on him as he owned the stage with his overflowing charisma.

Baby, we're two distant strangers

I know you don't speak my language

But I love the way she's talking to me (Talking to me)

I can hear it callin' from where you are

Loving the way you wanna talk

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

It was a classic game of cat and mouse. Though our bodies were so close to each other, we moved in perfect synchronization, careful not to brush against each other. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and the feeling of yearning was visible from the very last row.

Max, max, max, we can have it all (To the max)

If you back, back, back, back, back it up (Back it, back it)I'll take you where you wanna, got the gas in the tank (Wow)

If you really wanna make it last (Git, git, git)

Finally, as the song slowly progressed to the end, we were showing intense frustration. We were portraying two individuals, yearning for intimate contact, who were hastily losing their minds over uncontrollable passion.

I can hear it callin' from where you are (Callin', woo)

Loving the way you wanna talk (Love the way you talk)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up (Yeah, yeah)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

The song was to end soon. The last chorus rolled in – it was our cue. After all teasing, we finally made the connection, ready to combust out of raw craze. After three minutes of painful longing, we were to reach completion.

I can hear it callin' from where you are (Callin', woo)

Loving the way you wanna talk (Love the way you talk)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up (Yeah, yeah)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

It was all or nothing. We were finally together, touching each other with fervor. The audience was eating our performance up – particularly when Taeyong showcased his flexibility and body control.

Tell me how you like it babe (How you)

I don't even know your name (How you, ey)

I love the way you're talking to me

It was finally time to finish our performance with a bang; we needed to show something spectacular, something Doyoung wouldn’t ever think about. As the singer began the last verse, it was my cue to run into Taeyong’s embrace. The second the last syllable rolled of the singer’s tongue, Taeyong caught me in his arms, and the lights went out to add a dramatic twist to our performance.

For a while, the audience was silent. However, a few seconds later, they roared in excitement, clapping loudly, showing how much they enjoyed our stage.

The MC was congratulating us, but I was too thrilled to register his words. I still couldn’t believe I performed on national television and didn’t trip and smash my face.

I had no idea how I found myself backstage, but there was a high chance Taeyong led me off the stage. I was too overwhelmed to do it on my own.

I even forgot that Johnny, together with Yeri – the love of his week, had backstage passes. I only remembered that when he wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug, congratulating me.

“You gotta quit that office job and start dancing professionally,” Johnny ordered, and I smiled, glad that he enjoyed my performance. “We both gotta quit. You’ll be dancing, and I’ll be a badass FBI agent.”

“You two were great,” Yeri politely said when Johnny let me go. “Thank you so much for letting me backstage.”

“No problem,” Taeyong replied as he grabbed my shaking hands. “Are you okay?” He asked, cupping my face, making me look at him. “You rocked the stage,” he added before he leaned forward to peck my lips.

Ignoring Johnny’s perplexed expression, I wrapped my arms around Taeyong in a comfortable hug. I hadn’t suitably introduced Johnny to the concept of me dating Taeyong, but hopefully, our interaction got the message across.

Emotions were slowly fading away, but I still needed Taeyong’s support. I was a rookie, and I had no experience with this type of stress. Something was calming about Taeyong’s aura; I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly, but I wasn’t going to question it.

“Anticipation is killing me,” I muttered against his skin. “Can he already go on that fucking stage?” I yelled, wondering why Doyoung’s performance didn’t start yet. I knew the MC was building up tension, but it was too much for me to handle.

“We could always skip,” Taeyong casually spoke, and I pulled away to look at him. What the hell was he talking about? I hadn’t agreed to help him out, so we didn’t wait until the end. “If we lose, we lose. If we win, your friend can accept the prize, can’t he?”

“Are you insane?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he answered with a bright smile, brushing stray hair off my forehead. “I just want to know the result already so we can go to Seulgi’s wedding and congratulate them,” he added, and I nodded my head. Though we couldn’t participate during the ceremony, the least we could do was to show up ridiculously late to the reception.

“Can they hurry the fuck up now?” I craned my neck, trying to find Doyoung and his partner. They were arguing about something right behind the curtain. Everything seemed they weren’t in the right headspace.

“I don’t think I want to see their performance,” Taeyong whispered, tightening his grasp on my waist. “How about a quickie in the dressing room? What do you say?” He proposed, and I smacked him, telling him to behave. It was tempting, but we really shouldn’t. I wouldn’t walk up that stage with messed-up post-sex hair.

“Get a grip,” I added, gently elbowing him. “Let’s just hit the snack table. I am hungry,” I spoke, pulling him away when the MC invited Doyoung and his dance partner onto the stage.

While munching on snacks, we stared at each other fondly. In some weird way, we were helping each other cope with anticipation and stress. Though it was tempting to check out their performance, we decided it was for the better if we didn’t.

They performed to “Hips Don’t Lie,” and it was almost impossible to turn my head around to check out Doyoung’s sick moves. Having considered all the videos I had seen of him, I was sure he looked gorgeous.

“What about a little peek?” Taeyong questioned, unable to control his urge to see his rival’s performance. “I thought I could endure it, but I can’t,” he added, and I nodded, giving in. Instantly, we ran to the nearest screen to watch their stage.

It was everything I imagined. Their moves were executed with precision and grace, but entertainment-wise, I was bored. They had the skills, but something about the general concept didn’t fulfill my expectations.

No matter how great of a dancer Doyoung was, he just could not pull this song off as the original artist did. Regardless of how hard he swayed his hips, it just didn’t live up to its potential. Though I wasn’t educated enough to give an honest review, it felt meh.

The audience in the studio whistled and shouted once they finished their performance, giving them a round of applause. With genuine smiles, Doyoung and his partner bowed before they ran off the stage.

Now, only thirty minutes of aggressive advertising, and we would know the winner.

“Is it too late to agree to that quickie?”

“You should’ve said so earlier,” Taeyong answered with an innocent smile as he reached to hold my hand. “The best I can do is cuddles,” he added, leading me to the couch, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. “It feels nice.”

“It does, but it doesn’t take my mind off things like a quickie would.”

“Don’t even try. I am not going on that stage with a boner in my pants,” Taeyong warned, peeling my hand off his thigh, pressing a delicate kiss against my knuckles.

Though it wasn’t as preoccupying as sex, it was still nice. And most importantly, it took our minds off the unbearable anticipation. A staff member actually needed to gently shake Taeyong’s shoulder to remind us that the MC was calling us to the stage.

Taeyong’s hand didn’t leave mine once we were waiting for the big reveal. It was fine if we lost. Next year, Seulgi and Taeyong would definitely make it to the top.

When the MC announced the winner, a few confetti bombs exploded. The audience roared in excitement, but I had no clue what was going on. Uncertainty was over – one of us won.

Stress, anticipation, and anxiety slowed down my reactions. However, I figured it would be weird if Taeyong picked me up and spun me around in his arms if we lost. It could only mean one thing – we did it.

We won.

Taeyong’s acceptance speech was short and simple. He thanked everyone who succored him discover his passion for dancing, who supported him throughout his dream, who directly helped him get this far, and me.

When I was handed the microphone for the first time that evening, I basically rephrased Taeyong words. Maybe it wasn’t my dream, but it felt damn good to assist Taeyong in achieving his. It was a bumpy road, but overall, it was all worth it.

The MC handed me a statue after shaking my hand, congratulating me once more. Taeyong, on the other hand, was gifted a huge check for 20 thousand dollars.

“Let’s go,” Taeyong whispered to me, running off the stage with me.

***

It was shortly before midnight when the Uber parked in front of the hotel where Seulgi’s and Irene’s reception took place. It was beautifully decorated with lights and flowers, making it look like a magical castle.

Though the security didn’t want to grant entrance, one of Seulgi’s aunts recognized Taeyong and told the man to let us in. She was nice enough to help us out, but she still found some time to glance disapprovingly at my stage costume. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gossiped to her entire family I was a prostitute.

As soon as we walked into the ballroom, Seulgi noticed us. She was sitting by the table, eating the wedding cake with Irene. In an instant, she rose from her chair and ran up to us, throwing herself on Taeyong’s neck.

“You won! I knew it!” She shouted as she gave Taeyong a bone-crushing hug. “Irene and I sneaked out for a while to watch your performance. You smashed them,” Seulgi added before she turned to me, congratulating me too.

“You were amazing,” Irene approached us, sending a polite smile. Unlike Seulgi, Irene was much calmer and collected.

“You are finally married,” Taeyong spoke, beaming. “You better have everything recorded. I gotta know every embarrassing thing that I missed,” he added in a teasing manner, earning a playful jab from Seulgi. “I bet you cried during your vows.”

“Congratulations,” I chimed in, breaking their friendly banter before it properly started. It was Seulgi’s wedding day, after all.

After we caught up, Seulgi and Irene walked off to the dance floor, leaving us by the table alone. For a while, we admired them. They looked absolutely stunning in their white suits, dancing, basking in happiness.

“Do you know where the gifts are held?” I inquired suddenly, looking around.

“Why? Did you have time to get them anything?” Taeyong asked before he stuffed his mouth with a chocolate glazed strawberry. “Or are you thinking of stealing some?”

“I just want to give them my part of the prize,” I started, making Taeyong choke on the fruit. “Seulgi’s the rightful winner, and I think it’s only right.”

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of money.”

“Yeah, I know, but I really want to do that,” I replied, fiddling with my fingers. “I don’t need this money, so I want to give it to her.”

“You’re so hot right now,” Taeyong said, making me turn my head in embarrassment. “If that’s what you really want to do, do it. But remember, you earned it.”

“I am sure.”

“Then let me spoil you with my prize,” Taeyong offered, staring into my eyes. At first, I thought he was joking, but when his gaze didn’t even falter, I understood how serious he was. “Well… look at that. What are the odds?” Taeyong spoke as a familiar melody echoed within the walls of the grand ballroom. “It’s our song. Shall we dance?”

Having glanced at Seulgi, who whispered something to the DJ, I smiled at Taeyong. Though I was sick and tired of Love Talk already, it was kind of our song. We had been listening to this song too much, and regardless of how good it was, the prospect of it being our anthem terrified me.

“One last time,” I gave in, accepting Taeyong’s invitation, letting him lead me to the dance floor. Despite having mastered the choreography to it, I just wrapped my arms around his neck, slowly waltzing to it.

“That’s nothing like we practiced,” Taeyong pinpointed, and I chuckled, shaking my head. “I don’t mind, though. It’s comfy,” he added as his hands found purchase on my hips.

“Seulgi doesn’t look pleased. She didn’t expect us to perform, did she?” I whispered into Taeyong’s ear, hugging him closer. “Also, it can’t be our song. We have to change it; the sooner, the better,” I complained, but Taeyong just chuckled into my ear, humming softly.

Instead of giving me an actual answer, Taeyong decided to sing it.

“I love the way you're talking to me.”

#taeyong smut #neosmutsongs #neosmutcollective #nct smut #taeyong #lee taeyong #nct u smut #nct 127 smut #nct fluff #taeyong fluff #dance au

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lunarsands · 3 years ago

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ALSMP Fanfic: Fatemirrored

Characters: Wither!Sausage, latently revealed Angel!Scott

Warnings: Violence, Body Horror, Mention of Blood Drinking, Religious Overtones (because angels), Character Death, Hey Guess What this one is also Dark (I kind of feel bad at this point but Here We Are)

Summary: In the utmost turn of cosmic irony, a vampire is reborn as an angel and finds himself immediately at the mercy of an angry wither.

Direct sequel to Bloodfall and Witherrise. Please read those first for this to make sense!

(Also available on Ao3! And hey, it’s a series now!)

[A/N: This starts off with the assumption that the traits of Scott’s new origin didn’t appear right away, as per the ending of Witherrise. | I had started on other plans for doing justice to wither!Sausage’s anticlimactic canon death but this temptation was dangled in front of me and I had to grab it. *chucks other WIP out the window*]

Fatemirrored

---

Cyan eyes wide, Scott scrambled backward out of Sausage’s reach. The wither’s smile dropped, all pretense of comradery gone, and he lunged after him. Scott twisted around, pushing off the ground to get to his feet. He shifted to run—

An odd feeling shot through his body, causing him to arch forward, and then a pair of yellow-and-orange feathered wings erupted from his back, tearing through his shirt. Stunned, he fell to his knees, but knowing Sausage was close behind made him hurry to get up again.

“W-What in the world?” Sausage sounded equally dumbfounded, but then he snarled in outrage, “How-?! How did you--?!”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Scott found himself babbling, reflexively putting his arms up in front of his face to block the expected attack. “Sausage – wait! Stop, please!” He stumbled, unbalanced by the weight of the wings. How had the former angel ever gotten around like this?

The wither did pause, but he glared with unbridled hatred, clenching and unclenching his fists. His eyes had gone stark white, his skin writhing with shadows. Scott shrunk back, one hand groping for a tree to lean on. Sausage gritted his teeth. “What is this? You steal my wings, you take away my very life, and now—what? You get to be an angel?”

“I – I thought we were past all that,” Scott said weakly, hoping Sausage wasn’t about to go back on his word, that their allyship would still hold up. He very badly wanted to flee but he didn’t think he could outrun the wither just then. Sausage’s throat wheezed loudly. Scott again pictured the demon of the Nether, how relentless they could be once angered. He tried to think of a way to placate him. He didn’t have much to offer. He didn’t even know yet what he could do, besides fly away – if he could figure out how.

“We – We can still work together, Sausage. I’m not automatically some goody-goody daytime lover. There’s still a world of light to conquer.” That was a complete lie. He couldn’t deny his joy at being able to feel the sun without burning. He just needed Sausage to calm down. He shifted his new wings, trying to figure out how to fold them in to be less obvious.

Sausage, however, was following every move of the wings, staring like a man starved for days. Scott began to wish he had come back as anything else – why had it taken so long for them to appear, anyway? He could have already been practicing how to handle flying instead of being pinned by that ravenous gaze like an insect in a display case. He would give anything to not have the wither looking at him like that. Finally, he could stand it no longer and bolted. He dodged through the trees, still struggling to keep his wings in and not catch them on low branches. He heard Sausage come crashing after him.

The tree line ended at a sheer drop. With even older instincts kicking in, Scott spread his wings and launched himself from the edge. The updraft caught him and sent him gliding. It took a few failed adjustments, but he was eventually able to send himself in a purposeful direction. He didn’t try to look back. Sausage may have been able to levitate, but true flight – and pursuit – was out of bounds.

Although Scott had been able to cover a lot of ground quickly with powerful leaps as a vampire, there was a different quality to flying, and it was bringing to mind very old memories from before he had been a vampire. It felt strange, like he could hardly imagine being something different. He decided not to think too much about it and instead focused on where he should go. He didn’t want to return to his manor. That was too obvious – Sausage could easily find him there. He knew dealing with the wither was still his first priority. He suspected that Sausage wasn’t going to just let him go unscathed now. Retribution was absolutely back on the table.

All because of something Scott’d had no control over. Maybe it was a curse that had granted him wings so very like the former angel’s own, and it was he who was now to be hunted. He could perhaps accept that consequence of his own actions and face whatever justice Sausage chose to enact upon him. On the other hand, from the deranged way Sausage had been staring at his wings, he wasn’t sure if the wither hadn’t just lost all semblance of sanity.

Scott then decided he would take refuge right under Sausage’s nose. With a little more confidence in his control of his flight, he flapped his wings and headed in the direction of Heaven’s Reach. A church was where angels belonged, after all, and maybe something there could jog Sausage’s memory about being good and less…vengeful.

Or it could backfire because that was where he had been defeated the first time, but Scott chose to take the risk. He personally didn’t feel any connection to this Saint Pearl, but the idea was inviting. The church offered shelter from the undead, and maybe because of his old connection it would actually be safe from Sausage himself.

Scott tried to make an approach that avoided passing over Wither’s Grasp, even though it was probably unlikely Sausage had made it back there yet. Landing was going to be tricky due to his inexperience, so he settled for gliding back and forth a few times until he was close enough to simply tumble onto the ground. Undignified, but it got him there. He brushed himself off and walked to the church, plucking at the half-tattered remains of his shirt. Maybe there were some extra robes inside or something.

What he did see right away were two wide-eyed clerics tidying up for the day, who immediately stared past his head to his wings. Scott mustered a smile and made up a story about having been passing by and had seen a welcoming place to rest. They didn’t ask which deity he served or how his shirt got ruined, but they did find something he could wear and offered him some food.

Food that wasn’t just slurps of blood turned out to be incredibly fulfilling. He ate with gusto and thanked them for their kindness. This seemed to greatly brighten their mood. They had, he figured, after all been tending to a church seemingly abandoned by its founder for the longest time. The sight of another angel gracing them with its presence was probably akin to a blessing from their god. He smiled a little arrogantly at the thought. Maybe there was an advantage to all this, despite the rough start.

~*~

He stayed there for a day and a half without issue, taking time to get used to the weight of his wings and trying not to give away that he was new to this whole angel thing. The clerics left him alone, respecting his apparent contemplations, aside from inviting him to their meals when they themselves didn’t leave to eat elsewhere. He feigned interest in the books that described Saint Pearl’s life and her dominion over the harvest and valiant warriors. He even tried to make his own holy water when no one was looking, but going about imbuing something with power eluded him for the moment. Definitely didn’t work the same as casting a hex.

It was after nightfall when the clerics had gone home to sleep that he heard a scratching at the door, soon followed by the thud of a fist. Zombies did like to beat on doors they couldn’t open, church or no church. He decided to ignore it and started walking away down the aisle. Then the scratching got louder.

Zombies didn’t scratch.

The door exploded into pieces. Scott shielded himself with his wings, flinching at the all-too-fresh memory of a wooden stake.

The first thud hadn’t been a fist. It had been a thrown skull softening the barrier. Another one flew in and knocked Scott off his feet. Fortunately, the explosion didn’t seem to do too much damage. He shook out a few loosened feathers and coughed from the smoke as he got back up. There was a blue flash, and another skull struck him. This one didn’t explode – instead, as it faded out of existence, he felt a terrible cold settle over him and he found he couldn’t move. All he could do was look over to meet a pair of eyes full of madness as Sausage gripped the door frame with hands of pure bone. He looked more like a vision of death than ever before. Scott wondered how close he had come to seeing this version of Sausage awaken in his prison.

The doorframe creaked. Sausage snarled, “I’m going to rip those wings right off of you, and I’ll tear down this whole building to do it if I have to!” Splinters rained down from where his fingertips dug into the wood, emphasizing his threat.

At least it seemed like he couldn’t properly enter the church. Scott felt warmth return to his limbs, and he eased himself back a step, lowering his wings; at least the effects of the blue skull was only to stun and not permanent, or else he might have become a helpless statue waiting for the walls to come down.

Oh gods, Sausage’s gaze was riveted to his wings again.

He thought back to how the wither had stormed into his manor and ended up destroying his prized trophy. Something was still unresolved there, and it had birthed a clear obsession with the feathered appendages Scott now sported. If only he knew what had first set Sausage off. Something about a grave..? An empty grave, made in the former angel’s honor by someone unknown.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a sharp crack! He looked up to see that the lintel above the door was breaking – in fact, the once vibrant wood had turned ashy gray and was splitting in numerous places. Sausage was using his withering powers to erode it away. The decorative vines and flowers in the foyer were shriveling up, the lanterns showing rust.

Maybe he really could bring the church down. Scott could always run away again, but… Sausage was blocking the only exit. Well, the only easy exit. He could always try breaking one of the windows to escape, and with the wither’s power eating away at everything it might prove rather easy. But he did already decide that he would deal with Sausage sooner rather than later.

“How about we avoid the wanton property damage and try to discuss this?”

Sausage growled in response. “What do you care about this place?! You’re just taking advantage of it, it means nothing to you!”

“But these wings mean everything to you.” Scott watched him for a reaction to the words, then purposely spread his wings wide, stretching the feathers as far as they could go. There was another creaking sound as Sausage’s hands gripped the doorframe even harder – if that was possible. Maybe it was actually his finger bones and not the wood. “I don’t want to be your enemy, Sausage. We don’t have to work together, but maybe we can agree to leave each other alone. You won’t have to look at these anymore if we just go our separate ways.”

“I’ll still know you have them,” the wither spat. “I can’t stand knowing.” His face darkened with more shadows, the inverted skull glaring clear as day. Chunks of desiccated wood showered down and even the church’s ceiling seemed to groan.

Scott didn’t fancy being buried in rubble any more than he wanted to feel those skeletal hands on his wings. Perhaps it was time to try a different tactic. “What if I allow you to have that bite of my soul? Would that make us even? I took a part of you, you can take a part of me.”

The shadows raging across Sausage’s face faded somewhat. The cloudy blue returned to his irises with a hint of rationale coming to his eyes as well. “Really? You would agree just like that?” His tone was definitely wary, though.

“Be honest: would you stop even if I did run away?” He spread his arms to indicate the church interior. “If I’m not safe here, where else is there to go?”

There was another flare of anger in Sausage’s eyes, but he did release the door frame. An ominous creak ran through the building. Scott tucked his wings in as he walked toward the foyer, although the urge to use them to block any falling pieces of ceiling on the way was strong. He halted just out of reach, waiting to make sure Sausage wasn’t planning to simply grab him and start pulling off his wings. The wither stepped back, eyeing him cautiously – although at least not as murderously now – then turned to walk several paces away from the church.

Scott steeled himself and followed. He wondered what it was going to feel like. He remembered the time he had watched Sausage pull out an Enderman’s soul. It couldn’t have been pleasant.

Sausage turned to him, already flexing the fingers of his right hand. “Fine,” he said flatly. “Blood already given, for a bit of soul now.” He clamped his left hand down on Scott’s shoulder then plunged his right hand straight into the newly minted angel’s chest. It was all ethereal, no piercing of flesh or spurt of blood, only a dreadful hollow sensation as Scott felt a resistant pull from somewhere inside and then a sharp tug as Sausage withdrew his hand. A golden-hued sphere was clutched in his fingers. They both stared at it for a second, Scott with numb detachment and Sausage with unsuppressed hunger. The wither leaned his head down to bite into the top of it, the sharp fingers of his other hand digging into Scott’s shoulder.

Abruptly the soul flared up like a flame and was yanked out of his hand, returning back into Scott’s body. Sausage yelped and leapt back, clutching at a singed hand, the rising smoke none of his own doing. As he watched, Scott’s eyes began to turn gold, the color spreading through his hair and along the veins of his feathers.

Scott’s head reeled for a moment, arms and wings thrown out to counter the dizziness. He suddenly felt a lot less fearful than he had a few moments ago. He looked over at Sausage’s burnt hand. Arrogance surfaced once again as he tilted his head upward and smiled coldly. “I guess not, then. Perhaps we should just part ways after all.”

Sausage stared at him in disbelief. The aura of holiness now radiating from the former vampire was almost overwhelming. Rage, jealousy, hatred – they all swept through him and he was ready to drown in them. “This…This has to be some kind of cruel joke! This can’t be possible! You were just some normal little thing laying on the ground when I found you! How did you get like this?” The look of madness returned to his eyes. “Why? Why why why WHY?!”

He suddenly threw himself at Scott, burying his fingers in his wings and recklessly gouging out feathers. Scott only barely managed to keep his balance, the withering effect of Sausage’s touch sending a shudder down his spine but he grabbed for Sausage’s wrists to try to stop him.

A golden glow appeared around his hands and smoke began to rise from where he’d made contact with the wither’s skin. Sausage cried out in anger and pain. Scott forced him backward, keeping hold of his wrists. “What’s the matter, Sausage? Didn’t you ever use your angelic power like this? How many creatures of the night did you smite with holy fire?” A fierce grin broke out across Scott’s face. He pushed the wither back another step, tightening his grip. He spread his wings high and shook out the damaged feathers not already torn free, watching as they floated to the ground. “There’s your repayment for all the blood I drank. Happy now?”

“Hhhkk—” Sausage uttered some kind of incoherent noise, unable to break free of Scott’s hold. The shadows were completely gone from his face, leaving him ghostly pale. Anger and fear warred in his eyes.

Scott laughed. He focused on the golden light and imagined it spreading. Instead of it continuing up his own arms, however, meandering threads began to appear along Sausage’s hands. They zigzagged around, almost forming patterns, wrapping around the outside of his sleeves and then appearing across his chest, and onward. Sausage looked down at himself in horror. His arms trembled from the effort of trying to free himself. “Not again,” he wheezed. “Not again!”

A blackened skull appeared between his hands and exploded right in both their faces. Scott was forced to let go, dashing smoke from his eyes and sneering. Sausage cradled his arms against his chest and glanced around in desperation. The golden threads were still on him, spreading. They started to creep onto his face. He couldn’t escape them, just like he couldn’t escape the vampire’s clutches not so long ago.

Scott patted soot from his hair. “You were such a promising lackey when I was a vampire. Now I see you’re just as pathetic as you were when you were an angel. I don’t think you would have ever known what to do with true power. You’re too soft.” He closed in and raised his arms, sweeping his wings forward to enfold Sausage in a mockery of an embrace. The wither wasn’t staring at them now. “You even had the perfect chance to kill me when you first changed. Instead, you let me live. I’m not going to be that weak.”

By this time the golden lines were encircling Sausage’s forehead. They dipped under his eyes, flowing over his cheeks like the trails of a teardrop. They itched but he didn’t dare scratch them. He didn’t know what would happen. He didn’t know what these markings were, or how Scott had placed them on him. The only thought that brought him any sort of comfort was a question of whether he was the same type of angel. One last, bitter smile came to Sausage’s face. “Yes. You and I are very different, Scott. And I hope you suffer for it.”

Scott thrust his wings back to create a buffeting gust. “Not likely. I seem to just be getting more powerful. You… Well, maybe you’ll come back as something better next time.” He raised a hand between them and clenched it into a fist. The golden threads glowed brighter. Torrents of smoke began to pour off of Sausage’s body. Soon his form was dissipating altogether.

“And maybe I’ll destroy you again then, too.”

---

[Post A/N: This just in: smug bastard vampire becomes smug bastard angel, news at 11. Alas, poor Sausage stays losing.]

[Continued in: Heavensent]

#alsmp #alsmp fanfic #wither!sausage #angel!scott #MythicalSausage #scott smajor #dark fic #like I said #couldn't have asked for a better #canon plot twist than that #soul liminality

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tragedy-for-sale · 4 years ago

Text

Wild Blue

Look, it's not everyday I give you wholesome shit, hell not even every month. But you got luckily... apparently. Boys playing in the water and being stupid? Yes please, I think we need this.

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The boys didn't often have a minute to themselves, but when they did, when they had free time, Havoc was never quiet. "I'm saying it's impractical to wear our armor when we don't have a mission, we have civilian attire for a reason, Echo." Tech rolled his eyes, he, as you imagine, was not wearing his armor nor his blacks, but whatever clothes they'd stolen over the years. "... and if we want to go steal stuff, we'll blend in perfectly with the population." Tech smiled, knowing he and Echo had made plans to do just that.

Echo frowned, "Yeah whatever." He crossed his arms, pouting as he tried to think of something witty as a way to insult Tech, but that thought was quickly interrupted, "Uh Wrecker, why are you carrying around Hunter?" Echo asked, looking up from his holopad. Tech also looked up, the smallest smile on his face.

"Oh!" Wrecker's smile grew, "He was just sitting there so I picked him up, he's just living in the moment now! See." Wrecker then turned around.

Hunter, who looked as if he had been sleeping, lifted his head, "How's it hanging?" He smiled, waving softly. Echo chuckled a little, hand to his mouth to try to hide it. Hunter then let his head fall again, maybe he was trying to sleep.

"He likes it!" Wrecker said as he turned back around.

"Yeah!" Hunter assured, there was a little laugh in his voice, it was as if they were cadets again. Wrecker always picked him up. Hunter had been pretty weirded out the first time Wrecker did pick him up. But he'd gotten used to, Hunter was never doing anything better and Wrecker also took him to the right place. Where ever his brothers were.

Crosshair peaked his head out from the doorway, and with a giddy laugh he ran up to Wrecker and jumped, "Me too!" He would've tackled Wrecker to the ground, but Wrecker wasn't caught off guard. Also, Crosshair is not strong enough to knock Wrecker off his feet.

"Ah! I got 'em both!" Wrecker laughed, picking Crosshair up and slinging him over his other shoulder. Crosshair took a minute to ensure he wouldn't fall, once he did he looked down to Hunter and fist bumped him. "Time to go!" Wrecker started moving, getting nonstop laughs from his brothers. Tech and Echo trailed closely behind as Wrecker ran outside the ship.

"Just run and jump on him, you'll fit." Tech prompted, taking note on how Echo eyeballed the three.

"Oh no, I couldn't." Echo shook his head. Tech gave him a shove, "Oh fine!" He huffed, running and jumping up on Wrecker's back. "I'm here-!" Crosshair and Hunter both made sure Echo wouldn't fall, their hands on his back that only moved once he felt he wouldn't fall.

"Ah!" Wrecker laughed, adjusting to the weight of another brother. "Tech you coming?" He turned around and looked at his brother. Hunter lifted his head, almost falling in the process. Echo was holding onto Wrecker's head and Crosshair was just sitting there, sticking his tongue out at Tech.

"...I don't think there is anymore room, so..." He stated, a small smile creeping on his face as he came up with an excellent idea. "...See ya, losers!" Tech laughed as he bolted the other direction towards the lake they'd landed nearby. As he ran, he threw his helmet at his brothers, luckily Echo caught it before it hit Wrecker. Who was charging full speed after Tech into the water.

When Wrecker had ran deep enough into the water, he flung his brothers off, sending them flying into the lake. Wrecker then picked up Tech, "Can't escape me, brother!" he laughed as dunked Tech's head underwater, then dropping him.

Tech floated back up to the surface, lifting his goggles up to wipe his eyes, he then threw them to shore. "How about we play a game of- Shit!" He screamed as Crosshair, who was underwater, yanked on Tech's leg and made him fall again. Crosshair emerged and burst out laughing.

Hunter had Echo on his shoulders, they were going after Wrecker, the two tackled their older brother, he plunged into the water. He stayed underwater for much longer than he should have. "Uh oh." Hunter said as he scanned the water trying to see Wrecker under the water. "Echo abort! Save yourself!" Hunter cried as Echo jumped off, swimming to safety with Crosshair. As soon as Echo was gone, Hunter was pulled under the water, Wrecker waved to him before swimming up. Hunter lingered there for a minute before he resurfaced.

When he did, he saw his brothers playing chicken, which is what Tech was going to suggest before Crosshair interrupted him. He came over, watching them, a smile on his face. Crosshair lost against Echo, falling off Tech's shoulders and into the water. Hunter then intervened, allowing Tech to get on his shoulders for round two.

As you can imagine, the boys went about this until the sun had set. Echo and Tech had completely forgotten about their plan to rob several stores of their foods and alcohols. "...But could we even buy alcohol? 'Cause at 79's they know we're clones" Echo asked, he was laying on the ground with Tech, the two were stargazing, "Also, we don't have IDs and like, we're all twelve."

Tech turned his head, chuckling softly, "No, I don't think we could, that's why we made a plan to steal it, Vod." He rolled his eyes, flicking Echo's head.

"You were going to steal something without me?" Crosshair asked, sounding genuinely offended. He stood by their heads, looking down, he had plates of food in his arms. They two of them made Crosshair get them food, he was the youngest, he had no choice.

"Damn right." Echo smiled as he sat up, taking a plate, "Thanks bubba." He said, grabbing a fork and taking a bite of Hunter's 'infamous but not really 'cause it's Hunter's mac-n-cheese.' Tech took his plate and also thanked Crosshair, who sat down with them.

"The night is still young, we can go, but it's almost your bedtime, Crosshair, you'd have to ask Hunter." Tech smirked, eyeballing Crosshair as he took a bite of his food.

Crosshair shot Tech a defeated glare, he tried to be offended, but he failed. He made a face before turning his head, "Hunter! They wanna go steal stuff, can I go?!" He yelled. Echo and Tech burst out laughing, not expecting him to actually do it. He did it out of spite. Hunter would say yes and then they'd have to take him.

Hunter turned his head away from the grill, "What? Yeah, just don't do anything to the population!" He called back before turning back to Wrecker. "Yeah, so I was tellin' Tech that just because he's smart doesn't mean he can tie his shoes."

Wrecker nodded, "Exactly, doing algebra scary fast doesn't mean you can get all of us ready to fight in fifteen minutes before a battle." Wrecker took another bite of the mac-n-cheese, looking over to his brothers, who were all laughing together over in the dirt.

"You get me," Hunter said, "It's not about book smart, it's about street smarts."

"But I don't know shit about streets-"

"Not actually streets," Hunter shook his head, "... I think." He mumbled before shoving his face with food to avoid questions. Wrecker nodded, very wise was his little brother.

"Anyway, look at Crosshair, can you believe him?" Hunter shook his head, making eye contact with Crosshair, who had gotten up and had come towards the two.

"What did I do?" Crosshair asked, "I just wanted more food." He whined, shuffling to them as Hunter set down his plate, took Crosshair's and gave him more food.

"I can't believe you, you're atrocious." Wrecker gave Crosshair a soft shove, Crosshair tried to hide his grin as Hunter handed him his plate.

"Oh yeah, I'm terrible, ya'll should just leave me on Kamino one of these days." He laughed as he turned away, walking back to Tech and Echo.

"What an idiot."

"Ugh, I know right?"

The two shared another laugh and continued to diss their little brothers, but luckily, they were doing the same thing. "Yeah, no, Hunter's hair? Nothing special, now General Skywalker is fucking ugly," They all nodded in agreement as Echo spoke, "But he knows how to do his hair. Hunter needs to use better conditioner, the general would go to Amidala's place and come back smelling like an angel." Which helped with his face.

"I agree, in comparison to General Skywalker, Hunter's looks are not on a vomit-inducing scale." Tech added, stacking his empty plate on top of Echo's also empty plate.

"But he's still ugly."

"Oh, very."

Crosshair laughed as he chewed, trying his best not to choke. "Can we go now?" He said when he'd finished eating. Tech and Echo both glared at him for a solid thirty seconds before nodding and getting up. Crosshair got up, having to catch up with them. They dropped their plates off. Echo and Tech simply said they were heading out, but Crosshair lingered, "We'll be back, I- I can do the dishes when we get back," He muttered, "Uh, bye."

"Bye, bubba." Hunter smiled, waving Crosshair off. Crosshair had a giddy smile, giving them a nod and a thumbs up before turning around and running after Tech and Echo, who were practically already out of sight.

"Hey! You assholes!" Crosshair screamed as he ran after them, "Wait! I'm scared of the dark!" He called as he caught up with them. Wrecker and Hunter smiled fondly. It was a good day.

"....Crosshair isn't gonna do the dishes." Hunter said once they'd stood there in silence for several minutes.

"Yeah, no he isn't." Wrecker agreed as he helped Hunter clean up. Wrecker loaded their grill back up as Hunter took the plates and food back inside. "We'll make Tech do them." Wrecker called as he locked the compartment the grill was in, he then headed back inside, "Hide his armor so he'll have motivation." Wrecker suggested once he was back inside. Hunter was putting the dishes in the sink, he looked up to Wrecker and chuckled,

"Good idea!"

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shanastoryteller · 5 years ago

Note

how different do you think the story would be if draco malfoy had been picked as the hogwarts champion?

draco doesn’t know how this happened, and he’s pissed off in between being terrified. he stands up, nose in the air, and walks to the front of the great hall, taking his place between fleur and viktor.

he expects them to look thrilled. if he’s the hogwarts champion, they’re going to have an easy time of it, but instead the both of them just look concerned. he’s been talking with both of them, friendly with both of them, because he’s not an idiot, he knows what power looks like.

he knows what it isn’t, and it’s him. he’s smart, and strong, but he’s a fourth year and even with all the spells he’s not supposed to know, he doesn’t have the easy, solid presence of viktor of fleur, people who are not only powerful but know how to wield their power, unlike potter who just stumbles around accidentally defeating monsters with that stupid confused look on his face.

then, as if this whole situation isn’t bad enough all on it’s own, the goblet spits out one more name.

harry potter.

of course. draco doesn’t know what he expected, really.

severus yells. his parents make an awful lot of scary threats that he knows they’re prepared to deliver on. his aunt floos over from the magical artifacts office to try and declare the goblet faulty, but it’s not use.

his name came out of the goblet, so he has to compete.

he can’t help but notice, however, that no one yells on behalf of potter, no one comes to his defense in the face of this ridiculous task they’re supposed to complete, not even dumbledore, even though potter’s supposed to be some sort of golden boy. it seems, maybe, that everyone’s forgotten along the way that he’s a kid too.

that night his parents send him a package, and he rolls his eyes because he hasn’t worn something like this since he was a kid, but it’s not like he doesn’t understand the rational behind it. he slips the dainty silver ring on his middle finger, and makes a mental note to fidget with it.

his housemates rally around him when he gets back, faces solemn, quiet as severus towers behind him.

he sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. “well,” he says, “are we going to win this or not?”

a slytherin is the hogwarts champion. he can’t get out of it, so he’s going to win it, he’s going to rub silver and green in the face of everyone who’s ever looked at him sideways because of his house.

over a hundred eager smiles meet him. if he succeeds, all of slytherin succeeds, and so all of slytherin is going to help him.

he finds out about the dragons from Flora, who’s cousin is an intern in the department of magical creatures. snape ropes his newts level slytherins into devising a sleeping potion powerful enough to take out a dragon, and cassius drills him in manipulating the bubblehead charm until he’s exhausted and his fingers ache and lungs hurt. pansy promises to carry the potion with her on the day of the first task so draco can cast a simple summoning charm to get it from her in the stands.

the day of the first task, he summons the potion, casts a giant bubblehead charm around them, then a smaller one on himself, and smashes the potion in the center of the dragon’s forehead. it roars, and blue mist surrounds them, and then there’s a thunderous crash as the dragon falls to the ground, asleep. draco cautiously darts forward to collect the golden egg, darts away, and casts a dissipation spell before ending both bubblehead charms and running as far away from angry, sleep muddled dragon as he can get.

he thinks it’s a pretty impressive display until potter flies around the horntail, outflying and out maneuvering her, and coming away victorious with the golden egg tucked under his arm.

the second task seems to throw everyone for a loop. even severus looks perplexed by the screaming egg, and nearly his whole house writes their parents and uncles and cousins for advice.

it all ends up being worthless.

everyone’s huddled around the egg in the common room, and there’s a pounding sound. draco closes the egg and they all look out the window, which of course leads out to the great lake.they are in the dudgeon after all.

there’s a merperson, young based on the pattern of their scales, who’s pointing towards the egg, and them pointing towards themselves, then gives an approximation of a wink and swims away.

marcus flint, of all people, is the one who figures it out. “water,” he says, “listen to it under water. it’s a mermaid singing.”

his prefect takes him to the baths, and him and as many people as they can cram in there listen to the egg sing it’s pretty song. there’s some debate about what the merpeople will take, with vincent suggesting all his hair products and daphne offering up his broom, but it doesn’t actually matter what it is, because what they take doesn’t change what he has to do, which is get it back from them.

severus offers gillyweed, adrien pucey says that draco might as well take advantage of the bubblehead charm he already knows, and theo, who is terrifying and brilliant, says it’s too bad he doesn’t have the durmstrang ship.

they all go quiet, and severus stands up and says that he can’t hear this, then leaves, “hear what?” theo asks, blinking, and marla, who’s already been accepted to cairo’s curse breaking graduate program, leans forward, eyes bright, and starts coming up with a plan.

then draco finds out they’re taking people, not things, and that’s just not on.

they’ve taken his cousin.

“luna lovegood?” potter asks, confused, because he’s an idiot, and draco ignores him.

the stakes are suddenly much higher. he doesn’t think they’d actually let the hostages get seriously hurt for this contest, but intentions don’t mean much to him right now.

the other three champions go bolting into the water. draco turns and goes the other direction.

everyone’s in the stands, so the durmstrang ship is completely empty. people must be figuring out what he’s doing, because there’s some angry yelling, but stealing a ship isn’t against the rules, so. he does just as marla told him to, and he doesn’t know what and who she had to do to get this information, but he’s too grateful to question it. he steps to the captain’s helm, activates the underwater mode, and the boat sinks into the great lake.

steering is extremely difficult and requires more upper body strength than he’s thrilled with, but he’s surrounded by a pocket of air as the ship zooms past the other contestants, so he doesn’t care all that much. he throws up the shield to barrel through the line of merpeople acting as a barrier. he uses a severing spell to cut the ropes and summons luna into the ship. as soon as he crosses the barrier, into the air, she gasps awake, and he carefully sets her on her feet.

“cousin!” she greets, smiling. “headmaster dumbledore said that i would be thing you most sorely miss. that means you like me, right?”

“wrong,” he says gruffly, flicking her radish earring. “i love you, but i don’t like you, you’re weird and annoying.”

she just keeps smiling at him, eyebrows raised, and uhg, this is the worst, she’ll never leave him alone now. “well,” she says, “we are related, after all.”

“hey!” he says, but she only giggles.

they should be leaving, he’s gotten here first and he can get back first, with his cousin in tow.

but.

what if something happens to the others after he leaves? viktor and fleur will be so upset if something happens to their girlfriend and little sister, and well, it’s not like harry will be any fun to poke fun at if he’s busy mourning his best friend.

he can’t just say that though, and it’s not like he’s willing to come in last just to make sure everything gets back okay.

“cousin?” luna asks, head tilted to the side.

“shut up,” he says, and taps his wand on his hand.

he transforms three wooden dummies with the hostages respective names carved into their chest, then right below it adds early bird captures all the prizes, xoxo draco and swaps them out, although he has to keep the ships shield’s activated while he does because the merpeople are pissed.

gabrielle huddles into luna’s side, who speaks even less french than gabrielle does english, but draco’s too busy steering the ship to play translator.

granger and weasley stand next to each other, staring at him like they’ve never seen him before, and he really wishes they’d stop looking at him. “what?” he snaps. “i just - i’m just trying to - to make them angry, is all.”

“right,” weasley says, eyebrows pushed together. he and granger share a look. draco doesn’t know what it means, but he hates it.

“oh, piss off,” he grumbles as the ship breaks the surface.

the durmstrang students are clustered near the shore. their headmaster looks pissed, but all the students are laughing, so draco doesn’t feel too bad about the whole thing.

viktor and potter bring back their wooden figures, and fleur stops crying and kisses him on both cheeks when she realizes draco’s gotten her sister. potter hugs granger and weasley, and the three of them keep looking at him.

draco gets nines across the board, with each judge deducting a point for stealing, which he doesn’t think is fair. no one said stealing wasn’t allowed after all.

the third task happens, and everything goes wrong. viktor attacks him, and later he finds fleur unconscious and sends up red sparks for her. he ends up fighting back to back with potter, which is hell, and the golden trophy is across from them. he and potter look at each other, for a moment completely still, and then they both go running. draco’s so close, he’s not going to let harry win this, even if the whole thing does seem a bit unfair what with viktor having lost his mind and attacking fleur, but draco’s not about to be a hufflepuff about this.

because there’s no justice in this world, they grab it at the same time.

draco’s used a portkey plenty of times, and it doesn’t disorient him. he lands on his feet with his wand out, and pointed right at a man with overly large front teeth.

a crackly voice says, “kill the-”

draco doesn’t wait around for him to finish that sentence. “stupefy!”

the stunning spell works, and the man falls to the ground with a loud crunch that would be concerning if draco cared. “malfoy?” potter mutters, finally getting to his feet, looking too pale and green around the edges. his hand is pressed against his forehead. “i-i think something is wrong. we should leave.”

“malfoy,” that same crackly voice says, and draco leans forward cautiously. “good, good. lucius’s boy. you’ll finish this, then.”

cradled in the man’s stupified arms is a scaly creature about the size of a large toddler with beady red eyes.

draco’s hit with overwhelming wave of revulsion, with wrongness, that he’s never felt before and can’t explain. “I-I,” he pauses, stepping back, and in front of potter, who still looks like he’s going to be sick at any moment. he keeps his wand out, but uses his other hand to twist the ring around his middle finger three times.

“pick me up,” the thing commands, “we have work to do. i need your flesh.”

oh, merlin above.

there’s two pops, and then his parents are here, following the distress signal sent off by his ring.

“mum, dad,” he says, taking another stumbling step back, finally able to breath when they step in front of him, wands raised, “that’s - i think,” he pauses, “that’s the - the dark lord.” then, because he wants them to make informed decisions, “he tried to kill me.”

“did he,” his mother says, voice icy. his father sighs, like he already knows what’s coming, but makes no move to stop it. “avada kedavra.”

there’s a flash of green light, and when draco peeks around his father’s shoulder, the scaly creature is unmoving.

“dear,” lucius says mildly.

narcissa turns, holding out her arm, and draco tucks himself against his mother’s side. “yes darling? surely you didn’t really want to get involved in this mess again. and,” her voice drops, “he tried to hurt our son.”

“yes, of course,” he says, reaching out a hand to brush it through draco’s hair, “but keep in mind there are plenty of people who will want explanations of what just occurred. he’s not actually dead, you know.”

his mother hums, “well, i suppose we’re changing sides.”

lucius frowns, but it’s not like he’s going to argue with narcissa, so he says, “very well.”

“um,” potter says, and the three of them turn to look at him, “what?”

“that’s a portkey then?” lucius asks, looking to the trophy on the ground. daring, “i’ll handle things here, you go back with the boys. surely there’s someone who set this up waiting for whoever returns.”

“uh,” potter says, “er, sorry, i just - can we take pettigrew too? he - i can use him to clear my godfather’s name, is all.”

his parents both make a face like they’ve smelled something rotten, and his mother sighs. “i suppose dealing with sirius is one of the many prices we’ll pay for switching sides. very well. petrificus totalus! wingardium leviosa!” the mans stunned body rises, and voldemorts’ pathetic corpse falls with a dull thump. she looks expectantly towards them. “ready?”

potter shoots him a desperate look, but if he’s looking for draco to explain his mother, he’ll be waiting for a long time. draco had given up on that by the time he turned five. he wonders if all this means that he and potter will actually manage to be friends.

“come on, potter,” he holds out his hand, “mum’s probably going to kill at least one more person tonight, so best not to start questioning things now.”

“at least two, if i get my hands on dumbledore,” she sniffs, grabbing draco’s other hand so she can travel with them by portkey.

potter looks down at his outstretched hand, then back up, and only hesitates a moment more before taking it. “call me harry. isn’t ant of this, you know, weird for you?”

draco shrugs. “we’re wizards, harry. weirdness is relative, don’t you think?”

harry’s just grabbed the portkey, so his laughter gets cut off, and draco tries not to mourn the loss.

hopefully, now he’ll get a chance to hear it again, after all.

#harry potter #fandom ficcery #welp #this ended up being way longer than i planned #me: i'll do a quick thing to get me in the mood to write #me two hours later to myself: you absolute buffoon #anon #asks

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writingsofwerewolves · 3 years ago

Text

This is unedited but here’s the first two chapters of my new project. Sex scene in chapter 2!

Chapter 1

“Talia, my love,” his voice was deep and silky as he cradled my face between his hands, his eyes glowing red and his stark white fangs emerging from below his upper lip. “You should stay away from me.”

“I can’t,” I told him, tears running down my cheeks, “I love you, Vlad! I don’t care that you’re a vampire! I want to be with you!”

“I’m not good,” he said, his face pained, “I’m not a good person and you deserve better. You deserve a human.”

“What if I don’t want a human?” I demanded, “Shouldn’t I be able to choose my own path?”

He dropped his hands and turned away, “And you would choose this? A life with a vampire? A vampire that could cut your life short with just one bite… You would curse me with the guilt of your death?”

“You won’t hurt me!” I gripped his arm and pulled him to face me again, “I trust you!”

“You shouldn’t,” he warned, “Talia…”

“Please!” I begged.

“Talia!”

“Stay with me!”

“TALIA!”

I sat bolt upright in my bed. There was a pounding on the door.

“Talia! Get your butt upstairs now! Abe’s bus’ll be here in an hour and there’s no breakfast on the table!”

“I’m coming,” I called back weakly.

“Hurry up, girl!”

“Yes, Aunt Ester.”

I moved as fast as I could to dress and wrangle my hair into a tight bun before heading up the stairs and into the kitchen. As I fixed breakfast, my mind was on my dream. It wasn’t the first and it would most certainly not be the last.

After coffee was made, Aunt Ester settled in the kitchen and turned on her favorite ‘news’ station, which made it harder for me to escape into my fantasy.

“They want to let vampires work as doctors!” the man on TV reported, “These perverts want access to humans at their most vulnerable. And children! In the two years since these demonic monsters revealed themselves, they’ve done nothing but push for laws that give them every advantage! They already can own properties and run businesses and now they want to prey on the sick and weak!”

I suppressed a sigh as my aunt tsked and sipped her coffee.

“You’re absolutely right, Mike,” the other person on the TV commented, “Do you know there are actual vampire night clubs? They’re popping up in nearly every major city. They’re places of sin and debauchery of all kinds, but especially a preying ground for vampires. Letting vampires open businesses was a mistake.”

That peeked my interest. Night clubs? Vampire night clubs…

“Aunt Ester…” I ventured tentatively.

“What?”

“Would you like me to return Isaac’s library books today?” I asked.

She frowned at me suspiciously. “Fine. Stop at the grocery store while you’re out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I didn’t have a life. And I never would. That had been clear for a long time. But there were little things I could do. Small rebellions. I’d learned at a young age that the library was the best escape. Not only did it have books but it had internet access, something I was staunchly denied at home.

At the library, I could search for things like ‘vampire night club’ and my aunt would never know.

I didn’t have high hopes but I did actually find one. It was in Dallas, which would be quite the drive. And I didn’t have delusions of grandeur. I knew I wouldn’t find a vampire that would sweep me off my feet and steal me away from my life. At best, I’d find one willing to feed on me. At worst… Actually, I couldn’t decide which would be worst: being completely ignored by all vampires or being killed by one. Either way, it was worth it.

And so, I hatched a plan.

Chapter 2

It was simple enough, really. My aunt didn’t know my workplace would be closed on a day I normally worked the late shift. So I dressed up for work that evening and left like usual. Except instead of heading for the diner, I drove towards Dallas and I had an extra change of clothes in my bag. With traffic, it was over a two hour drive and the entire time, I was wracked with nerves. I didn’t know what to expect.

All the news I saw made vampires out to be evil, demonic creatures. But my aunt and uncle exclusively watched stations that spread hate about queer people and people from non-white countries, so I didn’t trust that.

I arrived at the club around ten. The club was creatively named Club Blood. I parked and started changing my clothes. My wardrobe certainly wasn’t appropriate for a night club but I thought I looked pretty good in my black V neck tshirt and black short skirt. Hopefully I looked tasty enough.

I had to show my ID at the door, my hand shaking with excitement and anxiety. When I entered, I was overwhelmed by the scent of bodies and alcohol. I nearly choked on the smell, but pushed forward to the bar, my eyes scanning the crowd as I went. I had no idea how to find a vampire. I took a stool at the bar and hoped a vampire would find me.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.

“Uh…” I hadn’t planned for that. I didn’t have any idea what types of drinks there even were beyond what I’d seen on the limited TV shows I’d managed to watch. Only one drink game to mind. “Gin and tonic?”

The bartender nodded and within moments, a drink was in front of me.

“Thanks,” I said and ventured to take my first sip of alcohol.

I tried to stifle my cough as the smell and burn of it overwhelmed me and returned to scanning the moving bodies.

Among the crowd, I spotted a few people with glowing red eyes. I straightened up in my seat, puffing out my chest in the hopes of looking appealing. But they didn’t glance my way. Examining the outfits of everyone there, I felt very plain.

My shoulders slumped as hopelessness started to fill me.

“Not what you hoped?” a smooth voice questioned. A well dressed man moved to sit in the stool beside me.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I assume you came for the vampires,” he commented.

“That obvious?” I grimaced.

“Well, most people come for the vampires,” he shrugged. “No bites yet?”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

He held up his hands, “Hey, I had to.”

“Not yet. You?” I asked.

He chuckled, “Not quite yet. I’m Damian, by the way.”

“Talia. Nice to meet you.”

“That’s a lovely name,” he said, “Talia. Beautiful.”

My face flushed, “Thank you.”

A vampire with glowing eyes passed in front of me then, turning his gaze to me briefly before moving on.

“Don’t take it personally,” Damian offered, “Some vampires are just asses.”

My eyes widened, horrified, “You probably shouldn’t say that,” I said in a whisper, “Don’t they have really good hearing?”

Damian lowered his voice to match mine, “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

“Okay…” I agreed and returned to scanning the crowd.

“Not all vampires keep their fangs out,” he informed me, “You won’t be able to tell who’s who just by looking.”

“Oh,” my shouldered slumped further.

“Don’t worry, it’s not too late for a vampire to proposition you,” Damian assured me. “The night’s young.”

“Maybe, but I don’t have that much time,” I admitted.

“Hmm,” he frowned, “Well then I’ll be straightforward. I’m interested in you, Talia.”

I turned to him, surprised, “You’re… what?”

“I’m a vampire and I’d like to spend the evening with you,” he clarified, “However long you have, at least.”

“You’re… a vampire?” I repeated doubtfully. He looked very human. He wasn’t pale at all.

“I can prove it,” he said, a grin forming. His eyes started glowing red and I saw his fangs peek out behind his upper lip.

“Oh,” I squeaked, squirming excitedly in my seat.

“Richard, put dear Talia’s drink on my tab,” Damian told the bartender without looking away from me. Even with his fangs out, he didn’t slur his words at all. “Talia, your place or mine?”

“I… don’t have a place,” I told him nervously.

“That’s fine,” he said, his eyes returning to their rich brown color, “I have a hotel room a few blocks away. Is that acceptable?”

I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry.

He offered me his hand and I shakily put mine in his. His skin was cool, though not as cold as I expected. Damian stood and led me out of the club.

“Did you drive here?” he asked.

“Yeah…”

“Can we take your car? I walked here.”

“Uh… sure,” I agreed without thinking and nodded towards my beat up thirty year old car.

When we got closer I realized how messy it was.

“One second,” I told him apologetically.

“Take your time,” he said.

I cleaned up the front passenger seat, throwing my diner shirt to the back. Once it was clean, I held the door open for him.

“Thank you,” he said.

I got in the driver’s seat, shaking a little.

“Take this street for a few blocks,” Damian instructed.

My hands were tense on the steering wheel as I followed Damian’s directions to the hotel. It was happening. I was going to have sex with a vampire.

He pointed out where to park and then began leading the way into the hotel. He grinned at me and then caught my hand in his, holding it with a comforting firmness as we made our way through the hotel. I perhaps should have felt self-conscious. What did it look like to the people we passed? But I didn’t see anyone. I only had eyes for Damian.

The only time I was aware of anyone else was in the elevator when an older couple joined us. There went any fantasies of him taking me passionately in the elevator! But Damian didn’t let that stop him from resting his hand on my hip, sending a shiver of arousal through me. I glanced at his face and by his expression, he knew exactly what he was doing.

We came to our floor and Damian took my hand again, leading me from the elevator, away from the older couple, and through the empty hall. He only released me to unlock the door to the room. He opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter.

I couldn’t help but be in awe of the luxuriousness of the room. It looked like a picture from one of the magazine’s my aunt threw out. The windows were huge, encompassing most of the room and giving a bird’s eye view of the city at night.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed.

Damian came up behind me and whispered against my neck, “You are beautiful.” He wrapped his arms around me, pressing me close to him.

Anxiety filled me but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I turned and pressed my lips to his urgently, needing to feel him. He seemed surprised, but reciprocated, kissing me deeply. Worried my inexperience would show, I let him take the lead.

“Just a moment,” he panted, putting his hands on my shoulders to hold me back, “Just need to cover the bases.”

“Hmm?” I whined desperately, just wanting him to kiss me more.

“Do you want for me to drink from you?” he asked, his expression serious.

I swallowed hard and nodded.

“Okay,” a small smile formed on his lips, “I can’t get you pregnant but I can use a condom if you’re more comfortable with it.”

I shook my head, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Is there anything you want me to know first?” he asked, “Any preferences, dislikes…?”

I shook my head, grasping at him to make him kiss me again, “No, please just…”

He chuckled, “Just what, Talia? What do you want?”

“Just… just fuck me,” I pleaded, forcing the dirty word to come out of my mouth.

“I can do that,” he assured me and then he kissed me. Deeply and passionately.

I barely noticed that he was moving us towards the bed until I fell onto my back atop it, with him over me, his hands roaming my body. His knee came between my legs, forcing them open and his hands pushed up my black skirt so he could cup and knead my rear.

“You feel amazing,” he breathed in my ear before ducking his head to kiss my neck.

I gave a small yelp when I felt his teeth gently nibble my skin, my whole body tensing in fear.

“Hey,” he pulled back and caressed my face, looking down at me sympathetically, “It’s okay. I’m not biting you yet.”

“Sorry,” I panted, my body torn between excitement and fear. “I’m fine.”

“Talia,” his voice was gentle but firm, “I don’t have to feed from you.”

“I… I want it,” I assured him, my hips squirming of their own accord as I felt the pressure of his knee between my legs, pressing against my sensitive parts, “Please.”

“Alright,” he agreed, “Do you want warning before I bite you?”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before looking up at him with determination, “No.”

He smiled, “I promise, you’ll like it.”

The tightness in my chest eased at his smile.

Damian kissed me again and I felt his hands grip the hem of my shirt and start slowly easing it up. He only broke the kiss long enough to pull the t shirt over my head. I had a moment to feel self conscious about my very plain bra before his hands were on my bare skin, running over my sides and belly as he continued to kiss me.

I suddenly wanted to feel more of him. I began desperately groping at his shirt, searching for the buttons to undo. I felt him smile against my mouth before his hand gripped my wrist and directed me to his buttons. My fingers were shaky, but I managed to get his shirt open enough for my hands to find the skin of his chest. Not nearly enough but it was more of a man than I’d ever felt before.

He broke the kiss suddenly and straightened up. I whined in disappointment, trying to keep a grip on him to hold him to me, but he winked and started undoing his shirt the rest of the way. I licked my lips as he slowly revealed more of his torso. He was lean and didn’t have defined muscles like the men on magazines did, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have muscles. I sat up and reached my hand to trail down from his chest to his abdomen and felt the strength beneath his skin, covered lightly with dark hair that got thicker before it was hidden behind his jeans.

I realized I’d been admiring his body for a long time and looked at his face shyly. Damian just smiled at me, seeming pleased that I was enjoying his form. He put his finger under my chin and kissed me again, more gently, before reaching to undo my bra.

I instinctively held it to me when it came loose, feeling the need to hide myself.

“It’s okay,” he murmured against my mouth, kissing me again, “You’re beautiful. I want to see you.”

With a shaky breath, I let the bra fall from my chest and Damian helped free my arms from it before kissing me and running his hands over my form again. He trailed kisses over my jawline and down my neck before coming to my breast, flicking his tongue over my taut nipple. I gasped and gripped his curly black hair as the sensations overwhelmed me.

Damian eased me to lay back again as he continued to kiss his way down my body, until he came to my skirt. He kissed my abdomen as his hands slowly pulled down the band of my skirt. Had my brain been functioning at that point, I may have worried about my plain panties under my skirt. I may have worried about the hair I hadn’t been able to remove. But I was far too gone to care.

He threw my skirt somewhere I didn’t see and then kissed my thighs, one after the other, and then he started to remove my underwear. That was when I had a moment of worry. Was I really doing it? Was I really going to have sex for the first time? Was I really going to have sex with a vampire?

As Damian tossed my underwear aside and his mouth descended on me I decided, yes. Oh fuck yes, I was.

His mouth found my clit, gently sucking it into his mouth as his fingers worked my inexperienced hole. Within seconds, my body convulsed with pleasure, an embarrassing strangled moan coming from my throat.

As I came back to earth, I realized he’d stopped pleasuring me with his mouth, though his fingers were still inside me, moving slowly.

“Would you like to continue?” he asked me.

“Sorry,” I panted, “I didn’t… I…”

He grinned, “Don’t worry. I can make you cum over and over again. That doesn’t have to be the end. That is, if you want more.”

I felt my pussy clench at his words. Would he really? I’d never managed to make myself cum more than once a night. Would it really be possible?

“Okay,” I nodded, nervous and excited.

Damian kissed me again and I tasted myself on his lips. Somehow that made me even more excited. He pulled back and undid his jeans with record breaking speed, pulling them and his underwear off in a smooth motion before returning to kissing and fingering me, so fast I didn’t even get a glance at what he was working with.

Though I decided I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel him. I grabbed at his finally naked body, feeling the shape of him, the strength of his arms and then the curve of his butt as I tried to pull him closer.

He chuckled against my mouth and pulled away slightly.

“Just a second,” he told me, reaching a hand to the night stand and opening a drawer. He pulled out a pump dispenser and squirted a bit into his hand before straightening up just enough that he could encircle his length, rubbing the liquid up and down it a few times. “Lube,” he offered at my puzzled expression, “Trust me, that’ll make this much more pleasant.”

I nodded, trusting his judgment on the matter. I certainly didn’t know what worked best, though I felt like I was wet enough for everything to function as intended.

With my first look at his cock, I didn’t really know what to think. I hadn’t seen any in person and very few images. All I knew was that it was longer and thicker than my fingers and I started to worry about how well that would work. I thought about warning him that I hadn’t had sex. But I didn’t want to ruin the mood. I didn’t want him to do anything differently. I could handle it. Whatever pain came, it would be worth it to know I’d had sex with a vampire.

He kissed me again and then rubbed his length over my pussy a few times before pressing against me. I tensed, bracing for pain.

“Talia,” he murmured, “Relax. I won’t hurt you.”

He kissed my forehead and my whole body relaxed, suddenly feeling safe and cared for.

I felt him slip inside me and let out a small gasp. It didn’t hurt, but it felt strange, touching parts of me I’d never managed on my own.

Damian moved my legs so they wrapped around his waist and began to move slowly, getting deeper with each gentle thrust.

“Oh,” I breathed as it started to trigger new feelings in me.

He smiled and began to move faster as he used his hand to stimulate my clit. His hard length started to press into a part of me that made my back arch off the bed. Suddenly I needed him to go harder and faster. I tightened my legs around him, starting to move, matching his rhythm.

Damian braced a hand on the bed, still touching me with his other, his movements causing an intense friction within me. He changed the angle slightly and suddenly I broke apart, my whole body clenching down on him as I whined and whimpered while the pleasure gripped me. In the midst of my pleasure, he bent down and bit the juncture between my neck and shoulder, sending more jolts of ecstasy through my body.

As my orgasm released me, I collapsed back into the bed, still getting intense aftershocks. Damian gently pulled himself from me and I realized by the white fluid dripping from him that he had also cum. He moved to lay in the bed beside me, breathing hard as I was.

Out of instinct, I moved to cuddle up against him, resting my cheek against his chest. He didn’t hesitate before moving to hold me, cradling me gently in his arms. Beneath my ear, I heard his heartbeat. That surprised me. I thought vampires were dead but he felt so alive. His heart was beating as fast as mine.

Exhausted and sated, my eyes closed and I drifted into the most peaceful sleep I’d ever had.

#oc Damian #oc talia #unknown's writing

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wulfies-kpop-fanfics · 4 years ago

Text

The Rest is History → Jeon Jungkook

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/Reader

↳ Word count: 1,679

↳ Notice: Italic sentences are spoken in English.

⁙ Summary: Jungkook comes up with a plan to get you back after your best friend comes to Korea for a vacation, stealing you away in the process.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook stirred awake as bedsheets rustled and his arm suddenly was no longer draped over your side. He groaned, turning over and huddling into himself, wedging his hands between his knees. It wasn't until he heard the soft click of his bedroom door that he fully woke up, curiosity outweighing his fatigue.

His eyes fluttered open and a yawn escaped his mouth. "(Y/N)?" His voice was met with no answer, and through the darkness, he felt that your side of the bed was empty. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Maybe you had just gone to the bathroom, but when he checked the time, he wasn't so sure. 3 AM.

Jungkook had realized more than once that you had gotten up at this exact time in the middle of the night; every single day for the past month. He had let it slide, never suspecting much because he trusted you. Today, however, he was determined to find out why this was always happening. He peeled the blanket from his body and stood up from bed, quietly making his way out of the bedroom.

Across from the bedroom door was the door to the computer room, where you and Jungkook had desktop elaborate setups and nerdy decorations sprawled about. You had a keyboard and Jungkook had his own mixing station as well, the room a safe place to think and compose. Jungkook smiled when he saw light coming from the bottom of the door, immediately knowing you had gone in there.

He approached the door and furrowed his eyebrows when he heard you giggle, a little lost on who would be discord calling you this late at night. Ever so gently, he turned the doorknob and pressed the door open, hoping that you wouldn't be startled. He almost didn't notice that he was holding his breath, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy and worry in his chest.

All of his tension was released into a sigh when he saw you, curled up in a star wars blanket and sitting cross-legged in your gaming chair, laughing quietly at a video feed of your best friend, who was cloaked in daylight. He smiled, leaning against the door frame and watching the two of you talk. He worried for nothing, but he still got to see how adorable the two of you were while you were interacting. He couldn’t catch all of the English you were speaking to the monitor, but he still found it all so endearing.

He had seen Rhiannon a few times but had never met her in person. You talked about her all the time, how she was sweet, funny, smart, and always there for you even when you had decided to move to Korea on a whim. You had told Jungkook once that Rhiannon was actually the one to convince you to follow your dream, and as a result, met and fell in love with him. Rhiannon was still attending college in Canada, having taken a longer course than you had. Jungkook's eyes widened and he began to blush wildly when he realized he was standing where the webcam could pick up his image and now Rhiannon was pointing at her screen, causing you to turn around and see him standing in the doorway.

"Hey baby," you say sweetly. "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Not really," Jungkook said quickly. "I was wondering why you were awake, though."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Here, let me leave the call." You turned around, facing your monitor. "Sorry, Rhi, but Kookie woke up. I should go back to bed. Talk soon,"

"So this is why you're always getting up at 3," Jungkook softly says as you hang up and shut down your computer, turning back around and standing. Quickly you move across the room to embrace your boyfriend, who immediately melts into the hug and sighs.

"Yeah," you say softly, "she gets home from work around now and... I miss her a lot. I'm sorry if I woke you up, I don't mean to."

"It's okay, baby," Jungkook runs his hands up and down your back. "Let's go back to bed. Do you think that maybe she can get some time off of work?"

You begin to follow him back to your bedroom, "What do you mean? I guess I can ask her, but why?"

"Well, I have a few extra bucks… maybe she can come for a visit. It's summer vacation for her college, right?" Jungkook smiled down at your shocked face.

"Y-yeah! Are you sure?"

"Anything for my baby and her best friend."

After weeks of planning, Rhiannon had gotten two weeks off of work and gotten the most obscure flight possible so that Jungkook could accompany you to the airport. You had even prepared a silly rainbow sign with her name on it to greet her when she got off the plane.

"There it is, that's the flight from Toronto!" You grabbed Jungkook's hand and began pulling him to the exit gate before he could react, excitedly jumping about as you walked. The two of you waited for a little while by the exit gate until the passengers began to file out from the check-in stations. Sign be damned because as soon as you saw Rhiannon's face in the small crowd, you dropped it and took off running.

Jungkook couldn't help but smile beneath his face mask as he stayed behind to avoid the crowd. Jungkook watched you essentially pounce onto your best friend, toppling both of you over into a giggling mess of hugs and noogies. That was how the rest of his day went, watching quietly as you and your best friend wreak chaos wherever you were; as you collected her luggage, walked through the airport, drove home and settled her into your guest room.

On the third day of Rhiannon's visit, you had spent so much time with her that Jungkook had actually begun to feel a little jealous. You had taken her into the heart of Seoul, to a mudflat and to an NCT concert all in the first few days she was here. Even though Jungkook knew you hadn’t seen each other in a long time, he still wanted you to himself for a little while. So, he devised a plan. The first step of that plan was eavesdropping.

Jungkook had been in the kitchen making a sandwich on the morning of the fourth day, yawning and feeling a little lazy when he heard the giggling. He was almost used to it at this point: girls will be girls. What he found interesting however was the faint mention of Yoongi. With a mischievous grin, Jungkook set down his sandwich and began making his way to the door of the guest room. He pressed his ear up against it, listening.

"This is another picture of Kookie and I while they were filming a bangtan bomb- and there's Yoongi in the back. I have no idea what kind of expression that is, but it's a goal of mine to find an excuse to use it as a reaction image one day." Jungkook smiled when he heard you speaking.

"Ah, you're so lucky you have so much time to spend with them!" Rhiannon responded. "You're just lucky in general."

"Hm, I suppose, but hey, once you graduate you'll be able to find a bomb job too, right?"

"Yeah," Rhiannon agreed softly. "Let's keep looking. What other Yoongi pictures do you have saved?"

Yoongi. Jungkook caught the name, even if it was in English, and he grinned mischievously. That was going to be his angle. Licking his lips, he stood up straight and rapped his knuckles on the door.

"You girls okay? I can make you a snack if you'd like before I head to dance practice," he called sweetly. "Unless… you wanna come with me." Jungkook already knew he had won when Rhiannon was the one to open the door a few seconds later, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"You'd really take us to dance practice?" She asked, her voice nearly reaching a squeal. You appeared behind her, searching Jungkook's expression.

"Yeah, why not?" Jungkook tilted his head toward the front door of the apartment. "Better choose quick cause I gotta leave in a few."

With that, Rhiannon was already bolting past him with a giddy smile on her face.

You took Jungkook's hand, smiling and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing," Jungkook said with a laugh. "Nothing at all."

Jungkook wasn't one to outright call himself a genius, but he certainly felt like one. He introduced Rhiannon to everyone once you both had followed him up to their practice room, and before the music started you all shared a small snack. Yoongi already seemed taken with Rhiannon's polite yet giddy attitude, smiling brightly at her with a blush as soon as she began making conversation. It was almost too easy.

Jungkook danced with confidence, making sure to shoot plenty of confident smiles and winks your way, but blushing as soon as you crossed one leg over the other, raising one eyebrow at him.

When it was time for a break, you got up and passed Jungkook his bottle of water. "Those two are really hitting it off," you comment idly, latching onto your boyfriend in a hug.

"Yeah, they are," Jungkook agreed. "It's really cute,"

"Did you plan this, you little sneak?"

Jungkook nearly burst into laughter. "Maybe a little bit, but I wasn't expecting them to glue themselves to each other," he nods in their direction, your eyes following his gesture. "I just wanted you all to myself again."

Rhiannon and Yoongi were practically glued to each other, chatting away quietly. The ways they looked at one another reminded you of you and Jungkook when you first met.

"Seeing that look from the outside is really endearing," you comment, pressing your ear against Jungkook's chest, listening to his heartbeat. "If they start being like that so quickly,"

Jungkook grinned triumphantly, "the rest will be history."

#jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #reader insert #kpop imagine #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #bts #bts imagine

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dabisburntsack · 5 years ago

Text

False Alarm

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing(s): Shigaraki Tomura x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff !

Synopsis: When your long time gaming partner brings up the topic of May Day you can’t help but romanticise the olden holiday with your ever growing crush on him.

Wordcount: 1784

This is apart of a sfw flower collab done with the bnharem discord server! I loved the prompt for this collab and can’t wait to see how everyones fics turned out!! Special thanks to @pluviophile-imagines for helping my ass through this as I had a mental breakdown٩( ᐛ )و

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

⇾ signifies texting

May Day was a traditional holiday, one you wouldn’t have really heard of had your long time online gaming partner not brought it up in discussion as you fought against him to bring down the zombies on your screen.

“Yeah you pretty much leave a basket full of flowers with different meanings to them hanging on a loved ones door”

“I would have never pegged you for the romantic type” You replied amused.

“I’m- well, I’m... I would never do it-”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Pffft no, of course not”

“Shame, I think it's really romantic!”

The line went quiet, the only audible sound being the cock of guns and explosions going off in the game. You readjusted your mic wondering if he’d cut off when his voice came again; though quieter than the usual responses you would get.

“You think?”

“Yeah! Come onnn, tell me that isn’t the cutest thing ever”

The line paused again for the briefest moment, but when he finally continued speaking the conversation switched back to gameplay as if the short discussion about May Day had never occured. You shrugged and went back to chatting aimlessly about zombies yourself, though a small part of you may have wanted to carry on with the romance talk.

You had known the player ‘Decay_God’ for going on 3 years now and were as close as online friends could be. From what you’d gathered over the years, Tenko worked at a bar and had a shit ton of roommates. Though he constantly went on about how annoying they were, you could tell he cared deeply for them. He was passionate about what he did, whether it be his job (you didn’t know what exactly it was, just that his mood in your games would be whether or not he had received good news from his end) or his game play.

In the beginning, you didn’t really like him or his attitude; both being highly ranked in the gaming community you would constantly butt heads and his childish behaviour of when you would steal a victory off him annoyed you to no end. But as it went on, his temper tantrums died down and once you got to know him, you found his quips and wit to be quite entertaining. Now two years later, you would look forward to getting home from a stressful day at work to endlessly chatter about whatever topic was of the day.

You couldn’t lie, you had garnered a bit of a crush on him.

You didn’t even know what this man looked like. He could be a catfish! An old perverted dude! Hell he could even be a criminal and you’d be none the wiser! Although, if you were being honest with yourself… you couldn’t help but make the obvious connection to a certain infamous villain. One that happened to have pale blue hair and a decaying quirk. Even in personality they seemed interchangeable, from what you had seen on the news he was also akin to throwing childish temper tantrums and scratching at his neck when frustrated (a habit you regularly scolded Tenko for when you heard the telltale sound nails scraping along side the column of his neck.)

Whenever you did think about it though you stopped yourself, come on as if you would be gaming with Shig- no, you weren’t even going to say his name. So they had a few similarities, this was a whole villain compared to your sweet gaming partner. Dumb conspiracy theories aside, you couldn’t help the small flutter of your heart when he would say your name in a teasing manner or when he praised you for a particularly hard kill.

As you logged off for the night you laid your head against the wall your bed was propped next to and stared at the blank ceiling, your mind drifting back to the May Day conversation. A blushing Tenko came to your mind, his face obscured by a large hood, nervously rubbing at the back of his head before handing you a large bouquet of flowers. Your cheeks flushed and you slapped at them to stop yourself from heating up, vanishing the mental image mid thought.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t as much of a small crush as you wanted it to be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After having a three day break, getting ready for work so early in the morning proved more effort than it should have been. Still trying to blink the sleep out of your eyes, you dragged your dazed body to your front door. You checked yourself for your belongings as you unlocked it, but as you took your first step out your foot landed in...ash?

You lifted your shoe to inspect the little decaying bits stuck to it, looking down you realised there was a pile of decayed dust on your doorstep.

You paled.

Instantly you were on high alert, tearing your foot from the contaminated shoe and snapping a picture of the evidence. You placed the shoe in a bag for further examination and bolted your door before texting your boss, the number four hero: Edgeshot.

Having the job of a personal assistant to such a high ranked hero meant you were used to lives being threatened. So far it had never happened to you and although this was small you could never be too sure. With the inside information you had, Edgeshot had always told you to be aware that someone may pull something sooner or later. It wasn’t completely out of the blue.

After seeing your message to your boss had been delivered, you reached out for the metal baseball bat you kept in the storage cupboard under the stairs, your quirk not really suited for defence purposes as it was made for technological aspects.

Checking every nook and cranny of your small apartment you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and flopped back onto the sofa. Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair before going through your phone, checking the news, any odd sightings, anything you should possibly be alert for.

However crime rates seemed to be low and the only recent stories were from three days ago. Still not having received a text back from Edgeshot, you automatically switched to your messages with Tenko to type out the events of your morning.

I think I just got threatened lol

Instant response.

WHAT?!

If you don’t hear from me in 24 hours call the police :DD

Y/N

Ok okaY, damn you’re such a buzzkill

There was a pile of ash on my doorstep this morning, with my work you know I can never be too careful

I’m fine though, I already told my boss

You waited as three dots appeared signifying he was typing but after a while they stopped. You furrowed your brows as they started up and stopped multiple times. After a full five minutes (during which time you grew bored and changed apps) a ping popped up.

With how long he had taken to type you were expecting a lengthy paragraph, what you weren’t expecting was a simple:

Oh? That’s all?

Yeah

You placed down your phone before another ping sounded out.

Are you sure they weren’t flowers

How the hell did you come to that conclusion

The typing ceased once more and you were left to your thoughts. What the hell did he mean by that? How did he come up with flowers out of all things like-

May Day?

You leapt from your seat, stumbling to look at the calendar attached to your kitchen wall, scanning the dates crossed off before turning the page and realising it was indeed the first of May. It surely couldn’t be a coincidence Tenko had brought up the holiday just yesterday. So he’d brought you flowers, because you said it was romantic… and he’d… dusted them. Dusted them, with his quirk, because he was…

Tenko could not be Shigaraki Tomura.

You did not have a crush on Shigaraki fucking Tomura.

Luckily at that moment the chime of your phone's ringtone going off distracted you. Looking at the caller ID you breathed a sigh of relief to see that it was Edgeshot. You could finally get to the bottom of this instead of drawing up ridiculous conclusions.

Edgeshot’s calm voice came through the other end of the line, stern but familiar. It seemed you’d been right to take the situation seriously, or so he assured you. But even as he talked to you, asking if you’d seen anything or if there was any other evidence of someone watching you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it hadn’t meant anything at all.

Of course, if your gut instinct was right and you’d been gaming (and falling for) Shigaraki Tomura for three whole years and he’d been trying to romance you then that was. Definitely something. You just weren’t entirely sure what that something was.

You’d been talking to Edgeshot for nearly two hours when a knock sounded on your front door. Had he come by? What was the point of ringing, then? And wouldn’t he have told you?

You made your way over to the door and opened it expecting the sight of your boss, but instead you were met with a large bouquet of flowers perched on your doorstep. You looked up just in time to see a mess of unruly blue hair tucked into a black hoodie turning rapidly round the corner.

“False alarm,” you said quickly, ending the call on pure impulse and making a dash after the stranger.

You weren’t entirely sure what the plan was. It seemed more and more likely that you were right with each new development. What were you going to do if your gamer buddy really was an S-rank villain? Would you still be interested? Would he? He’d gone through the trouble of getting you flowers not just once but twice, and honestly… the idea that he’d been so nervous the first time was kind of endearing.

That was a cute image, him standing at your door, so worried that he didn’t even notice he’d dusted the flowers in his hand as he set them down, probably running away quickly so you wouldn’t see him.

You reached out to grab the sleeve of your fleeing visitor and as they whirled round your suspicion after all this time was proven correct. You were speaking the moment his eyes met yours, all hesitation suddenly gone.

“You can’t just leave me flowers and run off like that, what if I thought it was another threat?”

Shigaraki’s scarlet eyes widened as they met your own.

“Hey Tenko” you grinned.

#sanaa writes #bnha x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki fluff #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha imagines #league of villains #league of villians x reader #my hero academia #mha #mha imagines #mha x reader #shigaraki x y/n #bnharem #bnharem collab

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mochegato · 5 years ago

Text

Pixie Spy

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Adrien was resting lightly on the hotel couch as he waited for Marinette and Constantine to return from their mission. It probably would have been wiser to just wait until the morning to check on Marinette but he wanted to be available to leave immediately in case something happened. Plus he wanted to see Constantine before he went home so he could make sure they all agreed on the next steps. Which led to his current position in their base of operations, covered in popcorn from an overturned bowl, in front of a table full of caffeinated drinks that hadn’t been as effective as he was hoping, the credits for the latest movie in his movie marathon rolling by on the television, and Plagg snoring loudly atop the overturned bowl.

Their Base of Operations was a penthouse room in Le Grand Paris Hotel next to Chloe’s room. She had convinced her Daddy she needed to have the extra room so she could have a gym and meditation area nearby. After all, was she really expected to share a gym with other people and their germs? Did he have no concern for her health at all! Did he want her to get sick? And with the whole Hawkmoth situation, she needed to meditate to relieve stress. Did he really think there was any way she could relax sharing a meditation area with other people!? Stressed people had trouble focusing in school. Did he want her to fail out of school? Did he want her to be stressed out and stress eat? To be sick and unhealthy and uneducated and miserable and get AKUMATIZED? Again? Is that really what he wanted for his only daughter?

The speed at which he caved was a personal best for Chloe and will forever be used by the team as a measure of speed, “yeah, that was fast, but not like meditation room fast”. And if the room she selected just so happened to have a balcony the heroes could use to swing in on and an extra bed they could use to collapse into after a tough fight and gym mats that could be used for sparring and a fully stocked refrigerator and pantry with the snacks the kwamis liked best and soundproofed walls (I mean honestly how was Chloe supposed to be expected to meditate in an unsoundproofed room?), it’s not really anyone else’s concern, now is it.

However, after hours of watching bad movies, the resolve he had earlier in the night of staying up until they returned had waned and he had involuntarily drifted off to sleep. It was almost sunrise and not long after that was when he would normally wake up for the day. Thankfully, he didn’t have anything scheduled for the day to ‘work on a large project’ with Chloe all day, so he would be able to sleep in and try to catch up. But as it was, he was running on almost no sleep for about 24 hours, after a full week of late nights and early mornings preparing for tonight, and consequently he was a little out of it. So perhaps he should be excused for having a very loose grip on reality at the present moment.

As soon as the portal opened behind his couch, he bolted up sensing the change in pressure more than reacting to any actual sound and immediately collapsed back on the couch when the sudden rush of blood made him dizzy. He blinked heavily as he watched Marinette and Constantine walk through the portal. He kept his focus on the portal behind them, mesmerized by the shimmering waves it created and still trying to get his hazy brain to focus on the present even after the portal had closed. He rubbed his eyes and squinted, still not sure if he was dreaming or conscious or if the two were bleeding together. “Is that… did you bring me a cat?” he asked in an uncertain voice still trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

“A what?” Marinette asked whipping around. “Oh for God’s sake. Seriously, cat. You’re not allowed to eat the kwamis,” she chastised the cat who dutifully ignored her and jumped onto the coffee table in front of Adrien to get a better look at the new kwami he had discovered, knocking over a few of Adrien’s drinks along the way.

Constantine huffed out a single laugh and tossed a cigarette into his mouth as he made his way toward the balcony, “Persistent little bugger. Good luck with that. I’m going out for a smoke.”

The cat cocked his head to the side and stared at the kwami. He cautiously raised his paw toward him as if to bat at him and started making chirping noises at him. When Plagg didn’t respond to the chirping, the cat moved a few steps closer to the black cat kwami and tried meowing at him.

“Back off fleabag,” Plagg hissed eyeing the infiltrator hostilely, “there’s already one cat here and I don’t share.”

“Only one?” Tikki asked amused.

“He doesn’t count his isn’t a real cat,” Plagg spluttered out motioning towards Adrien.

“Neither are you,” Adrien pointed out blithely.

Plagg flew into Adrien’s face to glare at him, “Look here you little…”

“Relax Plagg, I’m sending him back now,” Marinette interrupted rolling her eyes. “Voyage,” she called out picturing the Batcave and moving her arm to create a much smaller, cat sized portal she could push their stowaway through. She attempted to pick up the cat, but he apparently had other ideas. He twisted smoothly out of her hands, struggling to stay near the kwami. “Ugh,” Marinette grunted after a few more failed attempts, “Stop being a liquid!” she ordered the cat who continued to ignore her, but still rubbed against her legs on his way past her. “Tikki, Trixx, can you help out here?” she asked exasperated.

“Sure thing,” Trixx chirped and Trixx and Tikki flew around the cat’s head, gaining his attention. Once they were sure the cat was paying attention to them and willing to follow their movements, they both flew toward the portal at top speed, splitting up just before going through the portal. The cat raced after them but wasn’t quick enough to change his direction in time to avoid the portal. His momentum and Marinette’s well timed push caused him to slide through the portal. As soon as he was through, Marinette closed the portal, sealing him on the other side. They may be data thieves, but they were not cat thieves and she was not in the mood to deal with Plagg’s territoriality.

Marinette called off her transformation and collapsed into a large arm chair, letting out a long, tired sigh as she pulled off her shoes and tossed them on the floor. She rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, trying to meld with the chair and become one. She was ready for this night and this mission to be over. She didn’t even want to check that they got the data, she just wanted to go to sleep and never think about this night or blue eyes ever again. The gala was the past. It had no place in her future. Except that after all the information she had so stupidly shared both in the cave and at the gala, to a member of the Batfamily at that, they could definitely expect an immanent visit from the Batfamily and they would have to be prepared for that.

Adrien glanced over at Marinette amused at her exhaustion. He hoped her exhaustion was due to her having fun at the gala. Maybe she had met someone, at least for the night. Or maybe she had been able to network a bit. With the dress she had… his eyes widened as he suddenly noted her dress. That wasn’t what her dress looked like when she had left. That wasn’t a good sign. She was in the escape plan version of the dress, the shit-went-to-Hell version of the dress. It was supposed to be a last resort option. Well shit… On the bright side, that version of the dress was a lot more appealing and would have gotten more attention, so she might have gotten something out of the night after all. He shook his head and plastered on a fake smile, “So, how did it go? Was the mission a success?”

Marinette opened one eye to glare at him, the effect of which he thought was quite impressive considering she was only using one eye, honestly. “How did it go?” she repeated back to him in a belligerent tone opening both eyes to fully glare at him. “How did it go? How do you think it went?” she asked moving her hands up and down over her body indicating her dress.

“It looks like you got to show off that amazing design. So… any commissions? Get any phone numbers? Get the data?” He tried again still with a forced optimism.

“Oh he got the data alright,” her voice was dripping in false sweetness before switching to venom. “From the batcomputer in the Batcave as he was stealing it from Batman.” She replied intentionally avoiding the commission question because like hell was she going to hand him that win.

“What?!” Adrien exclaimed in shock.

“Yeah, that was the mission. Keep eyes on Batman while Constantine stole from him.”

“But you were supposed to keep an eye on the Waynes…”he commented confused.

“Exactly,” she confirmed with an acerbic smile.

“Wait… what! Bruce Wayne is Batman!!” he jumped up off the couch.

“Yep” she said popping the p.

“Shit,” he ran his hand over his face and collapsed back on the couch.

“That was roughly my response as well but with a lot more hostility and cursing.”

“But, I don’t understand… doesn’t he know Batman? Haven’t they worked together before? Why would we have to go through all of this if it was his friend?” his brain was still waking up and this was a lot to process and clearly his brain was not ready to do so.

“That is an excellent question my young Padawan,” she stood up moving closer to him.

“I’m older than you,” he interrupted with an annoyed look, but Marinette continued on ignoring him.

“And who does Constantine avoid at all costs?”

Adrien thought about it. They didn’t know Constantine extremely well, but they had managed to get a pretty good feel for him, “Legal authorities, debt collectors, his exes…”

“Exactly,” she interrupted “and since he doesn’t consider Batman a legal authority based on having worked with him before, and he doesn’t owe him money…”

“Oh my God!! He was screwing Batman!”

“It would seem so,” she nodded picking up one of the drinks on the table and contemplating the benefits of drinking it vs just saying fuck it and going to bed now.

“All that stuff we did? All that prep work, all that studying, the planning, the stress, the lost sleep, it was all because he wanted to avoid his ex?” Adrien needed clarification on this because they had gone through a lot in the last few weeks, unnecessarily so if that was true. Why had they allowed Constantine to help them again?

“He wanted to avoid him but get him involved with us. He figured this little undercover operation would achieve both.”

“Wait, how was you going to the Gala supposed to help?”

“Oh that’s another brilliant part of this clusterfuck of a night. The whole ‘stay undetected’ proviso was a fake out. The entire point was to get noticed. That’s why he sent me instead of you.”

“But, I’m famous so me going would have done that better.” Adrien couldn’t figure out if none of this made sense because his brain was still turned off or if it really didn’t make any sense, but Marinette’s reaction seemed to confirm that it wasn’t just him that was struggling with this.

“He didn’t just want us to get noticed, he wanted one of the bat boys to get invested, and he thought that was more likely if it was me rather than you. Apparently I look a lot more pathetic than you, so I worked better in his little plan,” she grumbled before smirking at him. “Personally, I think he vastly underestimated your ability to flirt and apparently the oldest brother is something of a slut so you could have possibly gotten a date out of it or at least a make out session. You should talk to him about that.”

Adrien stared at her as she ranted, trying to process everything she was telling him. One phrase caught his attention though, “which one is the oldest one again? Is he the one with the hair and the eyes and the…” he motioned toward his shoulders trying to indicate broad shoulders and firm body, “the gymnast?”

“Yep, that’s the one,” she nodded.

“Shit.” Adrien looked dejected. But turned back to her with a rakish smile. “So did his plan work? Did one of them ‘invest’ in you?”

“Not in me… ugh” she fell onto the couch. “So, on top of everything else, the brother we thought was dead? He’s very much alive. A wonderful fact which Constantine knew and I discovered WHILE I WAS DANCING WITH HIM! I mentioned the Hawkmoth situation to him in a very vague way before I knew who he was, which I would never have done if I’d known who he was, and I would have known if Constantine had fucking TOLD us about him.” She shouted toward the balcony.

“So…” Adrien prompted her.

“He seemed invested in stopping people getting hurt when I ran out, not in me.” She clarified, though whether she was trying to convince herself or him, she wasn’t sure.

“… you were dancing with him?” Adrien cocked his head to the side and gave her a smirk. “How closely were you dancing, exactly?”

“It wasn’t… that’s not how… It wasn’t like that. I was using him as a cover to get onto the dancefloor to observe the Waynes.” She floundered, her cheeks starting to turn pink as she forced down the ‘not close e-fucking-nough’ that wanted to break out.

“Don’t let her lie to you like that,” Constantine said coming back into the room. “She and Jason were getting cozy.”

“You were not there. We were NOT getting cozy,” she lied through her teeth, pointing a threatening finger towards him. And they certainly hadn’t been as cozy as she would have liked, so it isn’t really a lie, only kind of a lie.

“How cozy were you getting? Should I start planning a shovel talk?” Adrien grinned, enjoying every second of this.

Marinette sputtered at him, her blush turning darker, “This is not about my non-existent love life, this is about Constantine’s fucked up sex life. It is about him going though all this so he could avoid having to talk to his ex. He could have just asked Wayne for the information if he wasn’t so focused on his stupid little lover’s spat.”

“It wasn’t a lover’s spat.” Constantine corrected offended by the suggestion.

“Just a prank on your boyfriend then?” Marinette hissed at him, “at the expense of our time and Parisians’ sanity.”

“He isn’t… we aren’t… I have never and will never sleep with Batman. God, of all the vigilantes to suggest… I mean not the worst but not even when drunk and desperate.”

“You’ll screw a shark but not a bat?” Adrien asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Okay, first I didn’t screw a shark, I got screwed by a shark, a lot. There is a difference. I highly recommend it actually... well maybe not to you two sunshine children… but the loud, blonde one seems like she might be into having fun.”

Adrien made a gagging sound and Marinette turned away quickly, shuddering and closing her eyes against the thought of Chloe and… anything. She didn’t want to think about Chloe doing anything with anyone. “I think I need to scrub my brain with bleach.”

“Second,” Constantine continued on, pretending he wasn’t enjoying their reaction to his statement, that it wasn’t the exact reaction he was trying to illicit, “ew. Too much drama involved. And, I’d still like to know how you found out about that anyway.”

Marinette looked over to Adrien to answer but noticed he was completely lost in thought, probably still trying to think of something to take his mind off of Chloe before glancing over to Plagg. Plagg looked up from the pillow he had settled on and shrugged, “you smell like fish.”

Adrien cocked his head to the side still deep in thought. “So… does that make him a Furry?”

“What the hell, Adrien! Is that really the focus here?” Marinette exclaimed hitting him on the shoulder. She was desperate to stop thinking about Chloe but Constantine doing anything with anyone was not an improvement over that. On the bright side, she wasn’t thinking about the gala anymore but God, at what cost?

“I mean, sharks don’t have fur so… finny?” he said still looking at nothing while he thought through the implications. “But furry is a reference to their skin and shark skin is made up of denticles, really tiny scales, so… scaly? No, that doesn’t sound nice. ‘Furry’ sounds cute, being into non-mammals should get a cute name too. Yeah, finny is definitely better. But since, a bat is a mammal, sleeping with the bat would’ve made him a furry. So he’s a finny, not a furry.” He said with a nod, proud of himself for working that out.

Marinette stared at him incredulously and ran a hand over her face, “Never has your scientific experience been more inappropriately utilized.”

“Oh no, you don’t know the conversations Red Cap, Glasses, Skater Girl, Monkey Boy, and he have. It gets much more inappropriately utilized and quite often.” Plagg said with an evil grin.

“You’re both wrong. Furry refers to people in costumes meant to evoke an animal. One really is a shark and the other isn’t trying to actually look like a bat so neither qualify, if we’re getting technical.” Constantine said leaning against the arm chair, arms folded over his chest. “As much as I like to discuss people’s sexual proclivities, is that really what you want to discuss before I leave? No better questions you want to focus on before I go?”

Marinette was almost grateful for him voicing his concern and changing the topic. Almost. Because she knew his concern wasn’t with staying on topic. The waste that the last two weeks were stood as testament to that fact. He didn’t care about wasting time. He had a point he wanted to make and he wanted their attention for it.

She wanted to get mad at him. She wanted to lecture him, but everything about this night was messy and frustrating and aggravating and it was all his fault so he didn’t get a pass even if she knew he was trying to help. At this point in the night… morning? God it was so late. At this point in the morning, she just wanted to drop it and let sleep wash away the night and the memories. Thankfully, she had Adrien. And Adrien takes Parisian suffering just as personally as she does.

Adrien looked at Constantine in feigned naïve confusion, “What did you want to focus on? How you made us unwitting accomplices to stealing from a superhero? How we are now on the Justice League’s radar as possible villains? How you lied to us the entire time you’ve been working with us? How you manipulated us against our express wishes to try to force our hand? How you ignored all of our expertise and thought out conclusions and instead of talking with us, played games with ours and other Parisians’ lives? How you wasted our time? During which time approximately 3 million Parisians died as a result of 8 akuma attacks. Which one did you want to focus on right now?”

Constantine rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath. “Dramatic much? Two weeks and one or two more deaths for someone who has already died a dozen times isn’t going to make much of a difference, but getting Batman involved might.”

“It makes a huge fucking difference to the people going through it. One more on top of so many others can be enough to cause a break that might take years or decades to recover from, if they ever do, to drive someone irrevocably insane. It makes a difference to the child who lost their innocence because of it.” Marinette hissed at him, suddenly very much awake.

“You swore to keep the Justice League out of this,” Adrien growled next to her. “That was the one condition. We were very clear on our opinion on the matter. You agreed. You swore you would abide by our rules.”

“I agreed to abide by the rule. I never said I agreed with it. I swore I wouldn’t communicate anything with or to them. I didn’t,” he said pointing to Marinette, “Spots did. And us being there did. I didn’t break anything… I just bent it a bit and if you’re asking me for my opinion…”

“We didn’t,” Marinette snarled.

“…I think that rule needs to be finessed. An exception made,” Constantine finished ignoring Marinette’s interjection.

“You don’t get to make that decision, you don’t even get a say. This is our city. You don’t dictate the terms here,” Adrien gave Constantine a dark look, rising from the couch to his full height. “You’re welcome to give advice. You’ve certainly had more experience with magic and fighting, but you didn’t do that. You didn’t offer your opinion or advice. You manipulated us and the situation to force us to do as you want. You involved Batman. That is...”

The rest of Adrien’s rant was interrupted by the sound of Constantine’s phone ringing. Constantine pulled out his phone and grunted as he saw the caller id, “Bollocks, speak of the Bat and the Bat shall appear. Took longer than I expected. He must be slipping or he isn’t worried about you.”

“What are you doing? Turn your phone off so they can’t track you.” Marinette ordered hurriedly jumping up when he didn’t immediately turn it off only calming down when he had turned it off. “And why wouldn’t he be worried about me? I am very worrisome.” She defended herself.

“I can attest to that,” Adrien nodded from her side.

She glared at him, then shook her head and cleared her throat, “I mean, good. We don’t want them to show too much interest. The less interest the better. Maybe if we make it hard to find us, they’ll just move on.” She winced as she finished saying it, not even believing it was an option herself.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen and they’re going to know I’m in Paris.” Constantine scoffed.

“Probably, but they don’t have to know you’re in this room. Just leave it off until you leave. And remember you aren’t going to tell Batman anything.” Adrien ordered him pointing his finger towards him and levelling him with a steely look.

“Oh well thank you so much for your permission,” he snarked at him. “And just to be clear, I’ve been abiding by the no speaking rule… more or less, but this is Batman. It’s a losing battle. He’s going to find me and I’m not getting tortured by one of his kids for you. They’re all pain and no pleasure.” He opened his coat to put his phone back in his pocket and discretely sniffed the air between his body and his coat and furrowed his brow. He looked up and saw the two watching him. He stood back up nonchalantly. “And my advice is it’s a good idea for you to talk to him. He can help.”

“Does Batman have some insight into magic that we don’t? Or the ability to control his emotions? Would he respect us and listen to us? Is he trustworthy?”

“No, God no, that’s laughable, and fuck no. But what he does have is detective skills and a shit ton of backing money.”

“But we can’t trust him,” Marinette clarified.

“Sweetheart, you trusted me so… your judgement is suspect to begin with. I would have trusted him before I trusted me.”

“We needed you for your knowledge of magic, the history, the limits, how to wield it, how to manipulate it, where to find more information on it… and how to steal that information.” Marinette conceded the last bit. “That offset the trust factor. Batman doesn’t have any of that to offer.”

“I’m just saying…” he sighed quietly, “think about it. Or one of his kids. You could let one of his kids come or help you from a distance. They really are good detectives and you kids really do need a break. You’ve been doing a good job, but until you find Hawkmoth, this isn’t going to end. You won’t be able to move on. You could use a good detective for that. They don’t call them the world’s greatest detective for no reason.” He stopped to consider the title for a minute, “although Tim might actually be better than Bruce and better at controlling his emotions too.

“But your best bet might just be Jason,” he grinned devilishly at Marinette as she fought her blush. She was not going to blush just at hearing his name. She had more control than that, damn it. “It sounds like you’ve gotten his interest in the project already. He’s a good detective too, some experience with magic, and if he trusts you, you can trust him. He’ll have trouble with his temper so you’ll have to keep an eye on that, but you won’t find a better fighter.”

“Oh, that sounds like a great combination to have here, amazingly skilled fighter with no capacity for anger management,” Marinette bit at him. “That’s not Hawkmoth’s ideal candidate or anything.”

“Hard to control though, the best have tried. Even if Butterfly Man tries, he’s your best bet at resisting it,” he said knowingly. “And as tough as he looks, and is, he’d give the skin off his back to help someone in trouble, especially a kid.”

“Isn’t the phrase ‘shirt off his back’?” Adrien asked with a raised brow.

“He’d be more upset about the jacket. Just consider it. Maybe the information we got will be enough, but you can use all the allies you can get on your side. And maybe you could use a new approach, a new perspective.” Constantine sighed and looked back at the two teens noting the darkening bags under their eyes. “Now, get some sleep, you look like hell.”

“Personal knowledge?” Adrien quipped at him.

Marinette rolled her eyes, “You better be careful. If anyone were to hear you now they might think you give the slightest care about someone other than yourself. What would happen to your reputation then?” He huffed at her and she smirked back at him.

“I’ll just have to be extra careful to show my true feelings around other people, so nobody gets confused.” He responded.

Marinette hummed in response. He wasn’t fooling anyone and everyone there knew it. She sighed and stood up, calling for her transformation. “Voyage” she said quietly and motioned near Constantine to open a portal to his next destination.

“Let me know when you get it deciphered. I’m just a voyage away if you need anything. And if you need someone to talk to… definitely don’t be afraid to think better of calling me,” he said gruffly. Marinette rolled her eyes at him. “And think about what I said,” he said looking her in the eyes with a meaningful look. She nodded in understanding and offered a quiet “Good Night and thank you” to him. He turned to give a small nod to Adrien before walking through the portal.

“Want to talk about anything?” Adrien asked coming up behind her and bumping her with his shoulder.

Marinette shook her head, “We can talk about everything later. There isn’t anything you need to know right now. Let’s just go to sleep. It’s been a rough night.”

<><><><><>

“Constantine turned off his phone before I could get his exact location.” Tim called out loudly not bothering to look up from his spot in front of the computer in the Batcave. He hadn’t left his seat since returning from the gala. He had barely waited until the limo was stopped before jumping out and reporting immediately to the batcomputer. Unlike the rest of the family, he hadn’t even bothered to change out of his suit from the gala yet, too focused on trying to glean all the information he could from the breadcrumbs Constantine had left behind.

They needed to track down that girl and figure out how much of a threat she was to them. She had already proven herself to be a clear and present threat and they needed to establish if she needed to be neutralized. First priority was Constantine though. He seemed to be pulling the strings and had broken into the cave for a very specific reason and they needed to know what he knew and why he did it. That meant figuring out what files he had accessed and where he was hiding.

“Were you able to get a general vicinity before he turned it off?” Dick asked coming up behind him. Unlike Tim, he and the rest of the family had changed out of their suits and into pajamas before they started the post mortem on their night.

“Of course,” he scoffed at the audacity of the doubt. “He didn’t turn it off that quickly. He’s somewhere in Paris.”

“He likely left it on so we would know where to start our search,” Bruce nodded knowingly. “Did he leave us any messages?

“Just this note,” Tim motioned toward a section of the screen with a typed message, ‘You need to up your security. Your move, Bats.” Bruce sighed and rubbed his temples.

“What did he get?” Jason demanded from his spot leaning against a wall.

“A file on something called a ‘Miraculous’.” Tim responded.

“What the fuck is that?” Jason asked annoyed. Something had to make sense tonight, just one thing. Sooner or later, something had to make some fucking sense.

“I’m not sure. There isn’t much here. Or rather there is a lot here but only a small portion of it is in a known language. The part I can translate says the Miraculous are magic jewels that grant powers that are potentially devastating on a global scale. The rest is in a language that neither the computer nor I have ever seen. I’m running translation algorithms but not getting anything... yet” Tim answered distractedly, still trying to read as much as he could as he was talking.

“It says they wield a lot of power. The League had plans a couple hundred years ago to try to steal them from something called ‘The Order of the Guardians’ but before they could enact their plan the Order’s compound was destroyed by an unknown force. The League surmised it was a power of the miraculous. They found no evidence of survivors or the miraculous. They were able to gather some texts from the ruins, scans of which is what is in the files, but without the miraculous themselves, it isn’t much good. There isn’t any translation offered so either we didn’t get that file from them, they weren’t able to translate it, or they gave up on trying to translate it.

Magic. Mother fucking Hell. There went any hope Jason had of anything making sense. Nothing ever made sense or went their fucking way when magic was involved.

“Any indication what that has to do with this girl or Paris?” Dick asked.

“None, but if I had to guess, which I do, I would say they are being used in Paris.” Tim responded.

“It isn’t like the League to give up, especially on something that could grant them power on a global scale.” Bruce noted.

“Agreed. And there would have been reference to a translation here if there was one, so they likely were never able to translate it.” Tim nodded.

“That isn’t a good sign for us.” Jason commented.

“They aren’t me. I’ll translate it. Give me a week.” Tim said confidently.

Dick stared at the video of the earlier events in the cave playing on the far side of the screen. “What do you think the odds are that the portal thing was somehow related to the Miraculous? She seemed to have to transform to use it.” Dick noted.

Bruce nodded, “Good point. Tim, go through the information in the files and the video and write up a summary,” Bruce ordered Tim. Turning to Jason he said, “What do you know about her?

He snorted, oh now they fucking trusted his intuition. He thought through the night with her. She hadn’t said too much during the first part of the night, but he was a detective damn it, and a damn good one so he didn’t need words to figure someone out. She had been fidgeting, she took care of the sexual assaulter quickly and discretely but hadn’t tried to fight Jason when he grabbed her later, she helped cheer up the kid with him, she kept up with his banter, she had a brilliant smile and looked gorgeous when she blushed… that probably isn’t relevant… accurate but not helpful in this particular situation. She had figured them out after just observing them for a few minutes, she had cursed the hell out of Constantine and was damn sexy doing it, she said people were depending on her, she had somehow arranged a way to change her dress unnoticed with people around and looked hot as hell in both dresses. It all came together to help form a personality profile in his mind and make the room feel significantly warmer.

“Has Anxiety. Can protect herself but doesn’t like using violence. Kind. Witty. Creative. Smart, like Tim level smart. Dick Syndrome, shouldering the blame for everything that happens around her. Does not like being lied to or manipulated. Not wealthy. Don’t think she was invited and she definitely didn’t want to be there.” He listed off.

Tim nodded along with the last part using it to springboard into another way to track her and Constantine, “Likely acquired by someone else who gave it to her, probably Constantine. But since we would have recognized Constantine’s name and clearly he was trying to go under the radar on this, he asked someone else to get it.” He rolled the chair to the left and focused on a different monitor while starting the search for the list.

“Do we know if anyone asked for a ticket last minute?” Dick asked jumping on Tim’s train of thought. If they could figure out who Constantine was working with they could ask them questions, get some leads.

“I’ll look through the invitation list and see if anything stands out,” Tim responded.

“This seems like a waste of effort, whoever that is probably doesn’t know anything more than Constantine wanted a ticket,” Jason countered. Why was this the focus? The more important thing to focus on was what she said about Paris, not how she got in.

“Whoever it is may be working with them as well and may know something. It’s worth at least a look,” Dick explained. “Anything else?”

Jason rolled his eyes, at least it meant they were looking into it and finally taking it seriously. “She said there has been a supervillain in Paris for the last 5 years. The data Constantine was getting was related to that. That data was supposed to help them fight the villain. She said people were counting on her, which makes me think she’s a hero there….” he turned toward the sound of Damian scoffing as he made his way into the cave. “And Alfred likes her better than Demon Spawn.” Jason smirked turning back towards the rest of the family.

“I will get my katana and gut you. I only just succeeded in calming Alfred enough to rest.” Damian glared at Jason.

“Yeah, because he was upset he wasn’t still with her,” Jason snarked quietly, but loudly enough for his words to be heard by everyone in the cave.

Tim chortled from his spot at the computer, “she does seem to have a way with demonic creatures, doesn’t she? Constantine, Alfred… maybe we should send Demon Spawn to her too. She can tame the Hell Spawn.” He kept his focus on the computer as he made his comment missing Damian’s face shift from anger to rage. Jason snickered at the comment, pushing Damian over the edge after all the comments and events of the night.

Damian jumped up from his chair to rush toward Jason, yelling something about a hussy and sullying. Honestly, Jason couldn’t make out his exact words. Tim only glanced back with the briefest of looks before returning to the computer. Damian attacking Jason was nothing new. It always ended with them getting separated before any real damage could be done and Jason chastised for defending himself because ‘Damian never meant to actually kill or seriously damage anyone during the attacks. It was more of a venting session for him’.

Damian lamented that he hadn’t prepared properly for a confrontation as he rushed toward Jason. He had prepared for bed, like the rest of the family and had left his katana and weapons in his room. The weapons he used for patrol were on the other side of the cave, too far away to be of use right now. But he was confident he didn’t need weapons to best Jason.

Damian jumped on the meeting table just at the last moment, using it as leverage to add height to the flying kick he sent towards Jason. Jason anticipated the kick, Damian had been dumb enough to announce his attack, expecting everyone to react as they normally did. What he didn’t anticipate, what none of them anticipated, was for Jason to not be in the fucking mood. This was a long night already and the only good part of it they were belittling and to top it off Damian was attacking him again and no matter how it ended, he was going to get in trouble for it.

Just as Damian’s foot was about to land on Jason’s face he pushed it to the side and twisted, redirecting Damian’s momentum, causing him to crash harmlessly to the floor. Damian jumped back up and ran at Jason. He threw a punch to his side just a beat too slowly. Jason twisted slightly again, just enough for the fist to fly past him then encouraged Damian’s momentum with a slight push of his own causing Damian to slam face first into the ground. When he stood back up, ready to try again they could hear Dick in the background starting to intercede but Jason was too pissed to listen or to back down peacefully and Damian was still looking for a way to vent his frustration.

“Stand still you giant oaf,” Damian screamed at Jason, running at him again. Jason squared up against Damian and punched him in the center of his chest. Damian went down hard as all the air left his lungs. Before he could take a breath Jason pulled him up by the back of his shirt, bringing Damian’s face close to his own, “how many times do I have to tell you, don’t start a fight you can’t finish, Shorty” he hissed at him before letting him drop.

Dick was next to Damian before he hit the ground checking him to make sure he was okay. “What the hell, Jason! Was that really necessary? He wasn’t trying to hurt you. You didn’t have to hit him that hard. He was just letting off steam.”

“Then he should have gone after a practice dummy, not me. And he should stop acting like a little jealous, elitist bitch. I don’t understand why you dislike the galas so much, Damian, you’re right on track to be exactly like all those people there. And for the record, if I’d wanted to hurt him, his sternum would be shattered right now instead of just bruised.”

“How dare you, you dimwitted, boorish, buffoon!” Damian hissed out, still breathing heavily and unable to yell. “You’re so ready to defend that uncultured streetwalker over your own family. You have no loyalty and no honor.”

“Way to prove his point, Demon.” Tim muttered from the computer.

“Alright, enough,” Bruce glared at Jason and Damian. “We don’t have time for this. Jason and you too Tim, Damian is a kid. You’re adults. Stop baiting him.”

“Y’all are going to have to decide if he is a kid or a vigilante assassin because you seem to blur the lines a lot. Is he a kid or a tool to achieve your vengeance?” Jason seethed at the two older men in the room.

“As amusing as this show is and as much as I would love to hear the answer to that question,” Tim interceded, “let’s bring the focus back to the matter at hand; Constantine exposing us and bring a stranger into the cave. I started looking for evidence of heroes in Paris and whatever she may have told you, I can’t find any news on any villains or superheroes in Paris or even France. The only thing I have been able to find is a note on an official Paris city calendar about a Heroes Day to celebrate heroes. But, it doesn’t specify particular heroes though so it could be everyday heroes or even heroes anywhere on Earth. And we have to consider the very real possibility that she played Constantine. If there was anything going on in Paris, let alone for 5 years, we would be able to find something, anything, but there is nothing.”

“Whatever else you want to say about him, Constantine is a good judge of people, when someone is playing an angle and when they are on the level, when that angle is really bad and when it’s just ‘bad’. He didn’t break in here and leave that message for no reason. The Miraculous is in play in Paris. We need to decide what we are going to do about that.” Jason retorted.

“That inept excuse for a hero clearly isn’t doing a proper job of handling it. We should intervene and handle it for her. Show her what a hero really looks like.” Damian responded snidely still hunched over a bit. Jason glared at him.

“I’ve already taken you down once today, kid,” throwing the term in Damian’s face as a taunt, “I’ll do it again. And if you believe that, then you also believe there is something going on there. You’re admitting she was telling the truth.” Damian scoffed in response and looked away.

“We know almost nothing about the situation in Paris. The League’s notes said the Miraculous’ power could potentially affect the entire planet. At the very least, we should gather as much information as we can on it, talk to the heroes there if there are any, see what we can do to help.” Dick suggested calmly.

“Them,” Tim corrected. “The files indicated there is more than one miraculous.”

“And each one can affect the entire planet?” Bruce asked concerned.

“It is unclear from the data available.” Tim responded.

“Constantine’s phone was definitely in Paris, he left it on so we would know to go there. He’s too experienced to make that mistake. It was a clue about what our next step should be. We should follow it.” Dick observed.

“So we are deciding to do exactly as the deranged dullard wanted us to do and playing into his plans,” Damian muttered from his spot at the table. After everything that had happened that night they were going to just let him win. “Brilliant plan.”

“There is too much at stake to ignore it. We follow the leads we have. So we go plain clothes as reconnaissance, see what we can pick up by being there, but bring the suits so we can meet with the heroes there if we find something. Dick, you and Damian can stay here and watch over Gotham while we are gone.” Bruce ordered, standing up to end the conversation.

“I’m going too. Someone has to keep that wench from turning Todd against the rest of us.” Damian responded coldly.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. He was not in the mood to deal with this right now. There were too many unknowns. “Fine. I’ll ask Clark to be on call as backup for you Dick. The rest of us go to Paris tomorrow. Use the rest of today to get ready.”

“I’ll make the arrangements, Master Bruce.” Alfred announced from the doorway.

Chapter 4

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#maribat #jasonette #Pixie Spy

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themurphyzone · 5 years ago

Text

This post is a combination of the 90s PatB alongside the reboot’s Ep 13. Spoilers below.

So...I was certainly not expecting a flashback in this ep. Great usage of the ‘everyone asks how, but no one ever asks why’ question by Pinky.

No matter the adaptation, Brain is always presented as a mouse with a pathological need for control because he sorely lacked it as a young mouse. When he loses that control, whether in this episode with being locked in a car and taken on a road trip against his will, or in other episodes with different situations, he’ll lose control of himself, the very thing he’s trying to avoid.

Anyways, the flashback presented in this episode can reasonably fit with the origin episodes in the 90s PatB, so I’m gonna try and present these in an order that can fit together, so let’s start off with Leggo My Ego, shall we?

Anyway, Brain starts life as an innocent field mouse. Ain’t he the cutest little thing you’d ever see?

Um...hey guys, maybe we could let the cute mouse baby blow a feather around and be happy?

Nope...oof. Time to begin a life of trauma.

He’s a babey.... He needs hugs! How do you people not have sympathy for him??????

So basically, the 90s cartoon presents several origins and some of them are more contradictory than others. I believe Leggo My Ego and The Visit are the only episodes that mention Brain was originally a wild mouse captured by humans, but it’s generally the most widely accepted origin for him.

In Leggo My Ego, Freud notes that Brain’s desire for world domination appears to be a subconscious desire to return to the simple life he once led.

So..let’s bring in Snowball now.

In this post, I’m trying to be chronological here. In this flashback, Brain describes how he and Snowball were once very close and how he could always make Snowball laugh.

Brain and Snowball grew up together, and Brain genuinely cared about Snowball, even into adulthood when the two became enemies.

They went through the gene splicer together after an experiment gone wrong. The gene splicer exploded and supposedly messed with Snowball’s mind.

Snowball did something that caused him to get kicked out of ACME Lab. The rift became permanent, though what was the exact cause or if clashing ambitions fueled it is unknown.

This event left a permanent mark on Brain, and Pinky himself had never heard about Snowball until he tried to steal one of Brain’s schemes.

But anyway, the exact timeline of the splicing and the break in friendship is unknown. So...I think this flashback in the reboot’s Ep 13: Roadent Trip might fill one of the blanks in on an event that might’ve occurred during Brain’s time with Snowball, before he met Pinky.

Alright, so for this post’s sake, I’m going to present the new flashback as if it took place shortly after Brain’s splicing with Snowball. I’m also going to disregard the 90s PatB episode Project BRAIN, because there’s stronger canon evidence that Brain was born in the wild and that he grew up with Snowball. However, I do enjoy keeping that Brain named Pinky.

Anyways, that’s enough for the introduction. Grab your tissues if you haven’t already.

Pinky: “You’re always trying to work out how to take over the world, but you’ve never told me why you want to take over the world, Brain.”

*moment of silence*

Pinky: “Brain?”

Brain: “If I answer this, you’ll let me expire in peace?”

Honestly, a GIF would do Brain’s reaction justice, because he doesn’t outright dismiss Pinky’s question. He’s more hesitant because he realizes this moment is going to lead to a heart to heart talk, something he’d rather not engage in. And you know what? I can’t recall any instance of Brain admitting to Pinky about why he wanted to take over the world, just how or that he was going to do it with this particular plan.

I think this correlates well with Leggo My Ego above; that Brain doesn’t reflect on the ultimate driving force behind his actions, just that he wants it and he’s going to somehow get it. If he does have a moment of clarity, he always dismisses it and goes right back to the drawing board.

And most importantly, that he just wants love and respect. Does he create his own misery? Yes. But at the same time, he’s sadly a product of the combination of human curiosity and ignorance.

So...I deeply apologize for this tangent real quick before I move onto the rest of this post.

*takes deep breath*

LOOK AT THIS BABY HE’S SUCH A CUTIE I WANNA HUG HIM SO BAD HE DOESN’T DESERVE THIS CRAP YOU WILL LOOK AT HIM AND YOU WILL LOVE HIM

Okay, so like I said before, due to his head shape and how he seems to display early cognitive abilities here, I honestly think the best timeframe for this would be sometime in the 90s, just after his and Snowball’s splicing. Again, Brain was ultimately a child in Snowball, but since he’s the one narrating, we’re led to assume he set his sights on the world right away.

Actually, it seems more likely that while Brain’s capacity for knowledge was enhanced, he still had to make the effort to learn. What he knows as an adult didn’t come all at once. So here, he has cognition, but he’s still fairly optimistic because the weight of the world truly hasn’t set in yet.

Alright, so my explanation is that Snowball was elsewhere in the lab, and that they’re simply separated for the day. Brain was lifted out of an experiment with other mice, and placed directly into a solo study.

The scientists place a huge slice of cheese on a stun plate, with the intention that Brain will be shocked if he tries to go for the cheese. Of course, who would be able to resist having this much food placed in front of them? I certainly wouldn’t.

But the moment he tries to go for the cheese, he gets shocked. But since he’s very much learning, he doesn’t understand why he gets shocked if he steps on the plate.

It’s this pose that makes me believe he’s spliced at this point. Brain adopts that thinking pose well into adulthood. However, he doesn’t really have a plan. He just thinks he’ll succeed if he goes for it enough times, much like the world.

Also, compare his tail shape between this photo and the one above it. Rather fitting for it to be a lightning bolt, is it not? Mice tails do get kinked in real life if handled improperly, which is very much the case here too.

Scientist 1: “The idea is that once we remove the electronic stimulus, he still won’t go for the cheese.”

Scientist 2: “Learned helplessness.”

And sadly...their hypothesis is proven correct.

And the thing is, Brain does recognize that the shock is turned off. He does learn that he shouldn’t touch the plate. So he tries once more...

And stops.

Even with the cheese’s proximity, it’s still unattainable. The only thing that holds Brain back is himself. He wants the cheese, but he’ll get hurt if he tries to go for it. So...despite there being no obvious danger, Brain doesn’t go for it again.

Learned Helplessness Wikipedia Page Link

This could potentially be the moment where Brain finally loses his innocence. He has to control everything because the moment he doesn’t...he’ll get shocked.

Notice how everything Brain’s ever wanted at any stage is always in close proximity to himself? In Leggo My Ego, he was extremely close to his parents and the tin can upon capture. In Snowball, he clearly desired companionship, but he and Snowball were never in the same cage. In this flashback, the cheese is ripe for the taking with the shock turned off, and he doesn’t try again.

Brain is able to learn. And he learns that the world is cruel, that he’s only an interesting specimen for science with no autonomy of his own. He learns that he has to be in control to stop hurting so much.

“From that day hence, I vowed I would be the one in control. Of myself, of my surroundings, of the world. Yet again, here I am, totally helpless.”

Okay, I swear this wasn’t intentional and I didn’t notice this until I made this post, but look at how similar the final pose in the flashback and Brain’s pose in this shot are.

That in some ways, Brain is still that child with simple desires. Maybe he phrases them differently, but that’s what it ultimately boils down to.

And from Brain’s emotionally charged delivery of the above line, this experience was so traumatic that he kept it hidden for two decades.

And while the cheese is supposed to represent how he can’t obtain the world despite living in it, I think there’s another thing that went unstated. It also happens to represent:

Pinky is the cheese. Brain won’t step on a stun plate if he tries to touch Pinky. Rather, Pinky will welcome any affectionate gesture with open arms.

But Brain believes he’ll be hurt if he tries. The humans set the precedent. Desire affection, desire love, you’ll get hurt, they taught him.

The only thing holding Brain back is himself.

And it’s absolutely tragic.

Be like Pinky. Give Brain a hug.

If you’ll excuse me, Imma go cry.

#pinky and the brain #animaniacs spoilers #patb spoilers #long post #animaniacs reboot #also i'm sorry i fooled you into believing this post would actually have good analysis #that's how all these start out and it quickly devolves me into crying over cute mouse babies

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with-love-anu · 5 years ago

Text

Arranged 2

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Summary: You are forced to marry George when Voldemort rises to power in an attempt to purify the bloodline. Will you the two of you ever to terms with each other?

Warnings: Forced marriage, shouting, swearing, mentions of blood, fainting, mentions of food.

Word Count: 1,938

Series Masterlist

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hissed touching your forearm and finding blood there. You squeezed your eyes, trying to make out things around. The hall was dark with tall daunting shelves covering the walls.

“He was right here,” came a voice behind you making the hair on your neck stick up. You felt like your heart would burst.

“Then bloody go find him!”

You tried to breathe slowly. Think. There must be a way out. You bent low, slowly moving towards the last shelf. Careful not to touch anything, you muttered spells to camouflage yourself with the surroundings. Your head snapped towards the faint sound of footsteps. So you weren’t the only one hiding.

“I know you’re here. I’m going to find you and hand you over to dark lord. Oh how is he going to award me for finding the person who kept on stealing our plan documents.”

Clutching the paper in your hand, you treaded slowly and cautiously. Blood tickled down your arm as you suppressed a shiver. Your breath stuck in your throat. Getting caught now would risk not only your own life but also the order. You had to try and save the elf. You were starting to regret it now.

“Where are you?”

You reached the end and you touched your bracelet. This was it.

“nunc,” you whispered.

There was a huge explosion at the door as the person after you shrieked. There were shouts and screams as you stunned the man who stood there wide-eyed. You caught his wand and bolted towards the door. Almost there. You saw someone point your wand at you, but you’d already apparated.

Your head zoomed and you groaned as you reached the public washroom. Opening the cubicle’s door, you slowly peered outside, watching for signs of any other people. You were thankful it was empty this time. You cast the main door shut, not wanting anyone to barge in on you. You washed your face, rubbing off all excess makeup. You cleaned the gash on your arm, hissing at the sensation. Pouring some dittany over the wound, you clenched your jaw. You opened your bag, keeping the documents safe and taking out your bottle. You chugged some water, breathing deeply. Dissecting the plan could wait. Removing your wig, you sighed at the sensation of your hair finally being free.

***

You stared at the house as your head thumped. The wound on your arm had hardly healed and even though you had placed spells to not let it show, it was still a little predominant. It had been rather quite since Bella made a visit. Not that it was ever noisy anyway. You shook your head.

Opening the door, you slowly made your way towards your room.

“Where have you been?” George’s voice came as you froze. You turned towards him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He studied you as you forced a tight lipped smile.

“I went to take a walk.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

There was a beat of silence as the two of you just stared at one another. His hair were tousled and he wore a sweater and pajamas.

“I think we both know that’s bullshit,” George said coming towards you. “And this is not the first time either. You are never here at night.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. You never thought he noticed.

“So, tell me. Where are you off to each night?”

His eyes moved all over you, scrutinizing your every move.

“It’s none of your business-“

“What’s up with your arm?” George moved to touch it and you backed away. A sudden jolt went up to it and you groaned. Your head whirred as you caught George’s arm.

“Y/n-“

And then there was darkness.

***

You opened your eyes slowly, feeling your head bang against your head. You tried to get up.

“Don’t sit up. Lay back.”

You blinked slowly trying to make out your surroundings. George came and sat beside you. He handed you a cup, helping you lay on the pillows. You drank the water greedily. Everything seemed a bit clearer. You looked around yourself. You were in your bed and your arm had been wrapped up in bandages. It struck you then. George. You glanced towards him as he looked at you. None of you said anything. There was something soft about the moment. For the first time, it didn’t feel like he had his defenses up.

“I fainted,” you pointed out; more to yourself. George hummed and heaved.

“Look,” he began. “I know you’re not going to tell me where you go. But I think as a person living with you, I’m allowed to know whether you work with or for the death eaters. You don’t have to tell me anything else. Just tell me if you are.”

You looked at George as your mind reeled. You couldn’t let him know anything about your mission and at the same time, you knew he had already seen a whole lot. You didn’t expect him not to go through everything he could while you were unconscious. You mentally thanked Moody for training you to disguise any and every small item you had. Moreover the wound on your arm, made it quite clear, you weren’t out for a ‘walk’.

“Everyone’s working along death eaters,” you said carefully.

“You know what I meant.”

“You asked me whether I worked with the death eaters-“

“Stop. Stop avoiding the question. I just need to know whether my family is at risk. It’s that simple. So, I ask again- Do you work with or for the death eaters?”

George looked pained. You thought about your father, how you would freak out if anything were to happen to him. He wasn’t wrong, he deserved to know. You slowly shook your head.

“No,” you rasped.

George squeezed his eyes shut breathing deeply.

“Thank you.”

The two of you sat quietly for a while, unsure what to do. George stood up slowly.

“Oh, and I wanted to ask you- what have you been eating lately?”

You frowned.

“Ramen and fruits. Oats at times.”

“Ramen as in the instant noodles we have?”

“Yes, why?”

“You’ll get sick. No wonder you fainted so quickly- why do you never make yourself something?” George asked and you looked away, flushing.

“I don’t know how to cook,” you grumbled.

“What?”

“I don’t know how to cook, okay? The house elf never let me do anything and at Hogwarts I never had to.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he said as you looked at him.

“Well we don’t exactly talk,” you snapped, not feeling good being interrogated. George huffed, rolling his eyes and left the room. You squeezed your eyes shut hating yourself for your response.

You shook yourself. You had work to do. Getting up, you slowly found the small coin purse. Muttering some spells, you slowly saw it transform into a bigger bag. You took out the parchments, before transforming the bag back. Finding your diary, you finally got to work.

***

There was a nudge at the door as you closed your notebook. Your head ached from trying to guess Voldemort’s next move. George came in with a huge bowl of something that made your stomach growl.

“I made stew,” he said keeping it beside you and turning to leave. You held his hand, making him stop. He looked towards you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, smiling as he nodded, moving out of the room.

You sighed, taking the bowl in your hand, it’s warmth seeping through the ceramic. You ate it slowly, feeling better after a long time. You never thought George could be such a good cook.

That night was one of the best sleep you had in quite some time. You woke up refreshed. George had already left the house as usual, but you found some pancakes and juice on the table with a warming spell cast on them. You smiled a little. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

The next few days were the same. You woke up to some breakfast, worked on the stolen plans until the evening and then had dinner. The atmosphere of the house had changed. The rooms weren’t full of knife-sharp silences anymore. The two of you didn’t talk much, but it was okay. George had been the perfect roommate and that for now, was the only think that mattered.

‘Roomate’ you thought, as a sad smile overcame you. Your heart clenched. Never, never did you ever think you’d be in a situation like this. You had always planned your life ahead. You worked hard at Hogwarts and after graduation, wanted to work as an auror. Maybe fall in love along the way and marry when it felt real. There was a click at the door as you shook a little. George came inside, looking exhausted as you gave him a small smile. He nodded moving towards his room as you felt your heart squeeze again. This was it. This was your life and you had learn to live with it.

There was a knock at the window as you turned to see a black owl waiting patiently to be let in. You opened it as the owl dropped in a sleek letter into your hand before flying away.

“What’s that?” George said coming to stand beside you. You turned the dark green letter slowly.

“A howler, from the Malfoy Manor,” you said frowning. You pulled at the strings as it hissed and took form of a nasty mouth mid-air.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” it started in a cool tone and you had to bite back sounds of contempt. “You are invited to the Malfoy yearly gala. 24th December, 7pm onwards. Dinner to follow”

With that, the paper burnt down to ashes. You looked at George for his response.

“I’m not going,” he breathed.

“What do you mean you’re not going?” you frowned, moving after him. “We have to go there so we don’t get any ‘checkup’s’ from the death eaters”

George huffed.

“Listen- I’m not going there. I already have done enough pretending that we’re married, I can’t handle hours of that shit.”

“We are married, George,” you said looking at him as something flicked through his eyes. “Moreover, it’ll be better if we go. We really can’t risk any red alarms.”

“I don’t care. I’ll-“

“You have to care, George.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do. I’m not answering questions about you.”

“Well, you don’t have to go too.”

“My father would be there- I have to George. You must come with me-“

“NO- Y/n! I can’t. It’s already a burden living with you, I don’t want to start attending gala dates too!” George shouted as your words stuck in your throat.

“A burden?” you let out a dry laugh. “I’m so sorry George that I’m a burden on you. What would you like me to do? Go buy the above flat and live there? Because I can really do that.”

“Stop-“

“Why?”

“BECAUSE I’M JUST AS EXHAUSTED AS YOU. BECAUSE I CAN’T. I SPENT MY WHOLE CHILDHOOD- WHOLE CHILDHOOD, HATING ON THESE PUREBLOOD PARTIES, ON PEOPLE LIKE YOU. And now? Now I’m married to you. Believe it or not, I’m trying. I am trying. I’m trying to let go of prejudices. I can’t do everything all at once, (Y/n). I can’t.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you saw George break down. You went towards him slowly and wrapped your arms around him.

“Shhhhh,” you cooed at him holding him close.

He wasn’t the only one with prejudices.

A/N: Huge shoutout to @futurewriter2000 for hyping me up! Written for a lovely anon. Please lmk what you think, this fic really challenged me to come out of my comfort zone!

#george #george weasley #george x reader #george weasley x reader #george x you #george weasley x you #fred #fred weasley #hp #harry potter #Anu writes

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tossawary · 4 years ago

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Chapter 27: “The First Day” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.

Right now, deep into the safety of darkness, Shang Qinghua thinks about how he never actually expected to be lying in his bed with Mobei-Jun. No, there’s a reason his sofa is comfortable enough to sleep on! That was by design too! Sure, Shang Qinghua had lots and lots of bed-related fantasies, but he had no expectations of those fantasies ever coming true. He didn’t dare to have expectations.

It’s kind of weird, lying in bed with Mobei-Jun. It’s definitely weird lying in his bed partially on top of Mobei-Jun. With the way things were headed, Shang Qinghua was admittedly fostering some hopes about those bed-related fantasies, but he still didn’t think to mentally prepare himself for the practical details. He really wasn’t mentally prepared for the softness of Mobei-Jun’s hair, for the thickness and the weight of the man’s arms, or for the coolness of his skin against the warmth of the blankets.

Fuck, now there is no way that Shang Qinghua is going to be able to see Mobei-Jun with a plunging neckline without thinking about touching the man’s bare chest. It’s a nice chest! It feels great underneath Shang Qinghua’s hands now.

He can feel a steady heartbeat beneath his fingers.

He can feel the gentle rise and fall of it with the man’s slow breaths, as the man’s eyes have fallen comfortably closed.

Shang Qinghua has never seen Mobei-Jun this relaxed.

AN: Moshang in bed together is very good. I loved writing Moshang cuddles. I think it’s really nice when they’re allowed to be soft and relaxed, and everything is understood between them. Mobei-Jun at this point has learned to treat Shang Qinghua like a particularly anxious cat sometimes - if he just stays still and relaxed, eventually Shang Qinghua will calm down and chill with him.

Shout out to Mobei-Jun and all those years he spent trying to get some hint as to how human social everything worked, only to get nearly no help from Shang Qinghua. In this fic, part of the idea is that Shang Qinghua has been a slightly better communicator. Mobei-Jun can be a good listener when he doesn’t feel hideously embarrassed over his fuck-ups.

“I had made plans to speak with you at some point about… this,” Mobei-Jun agrees. “But that was not why I had come to see you that day.”

“Ah, what… what was it, then?”

Mobei-Jun sighs. “I had come from a gathering of demon lords, hosted by my father at their request. They have loosely agreed to each contribute to an attack on the next conference of human cultivators,” he explains, apparently annoyed at just having to recollect this event. “My uncle encourages my father to force my involvement. He must have trouble planned… or see an opportunity for it.”

Shang Qinghua processes this, then sits bolt upright in bed. “What?!”

Mobei-Jun frowns up at him.

“There’s a demonic alliance to attack the next Immortal Alliance Conference?!” Shang Qinghua demands, leaning over the demon lord beside him.

“Yes.”

“And you waited to tell me this?!”

“There are years left before this event,” Mobei-Jun points out.

Shang Qinghua stares at him.

Sure! But he feels like he should start planning now! He already knew that there was going to be a demon attack of some kind - the seal on Luo Binghe’s powers has to be broken - but demon lords getting involved is bad news! Multiple demon lords who are important enough to be socializing with Mobei-Jun’s father is worse news! Demon lords potentially including Mobei-Jun’s shitty father and shitty uncle is the worst news of all!

“You should warn your people,” Mobei-Jun says, dryly.

AN: Mobei-Jun doesn’t care about the sects, but he cares that Shang Qinghua cares. Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua really are villainous in SVSSS. Shang Qinghua just so happens to sometimes be on the protagonist’s (Shen Yuan’s) side and Shen Yuan has romanced a budding tyrant who has MBJ as a loyal minion. But, oof, I didn’t want to go that route with this fic.

I mean, I considered it! I considered having Shang Qinghua be forced to bring a demon invasion down on the sect he’s come to care about and his own nephew, but that felt a little too angsty for me. It totally could have been good, I was just like, “I can’t handle that.” Plus, with the world update, it felt fitting to jazz things up a little bit - to up the ante by inviting more demon lords and also have a little role reversal by letting Mobei-Jun be the spy. This way, I think, it really feels like Mobei-Jun is on Shang Qinghua’s side.

Shang Qinghua isn’t on the demons’ side. Mobei-Jun isn’t really on the humans’ side. But they are on each other’s side. They’re a team!

Again, what’s more romantic than your demon boyfriend actually doing the work of growth on his own? Moshang can be a little rough and with a lot of sharp edges (on both sides, they’re both kind of mean people) sometimes, so it’s sometimes nice to remember that they can support each other too.

Also, I’ve always been kind of curious about what Mobei-Jun’s family thinks of his relationship with a human. Mobei-Jun’s father is still alive throughout SVSSS, so it’s fun to think about ice demon politics, power and influence and loyalty in that court, and whether that factored at all into Mobei-Jun’s extremely slow-moving courting timeline of a human.

The person at the door knocks a third time, and Shang Qinghua feels the person beside him stir. He can feel a not insignificant amount of weight shifting, a low and unhappy grumble, and cool skin brushing against his own as that person makes to get up. Possibly to handle the person at the door? Shang Qinghua here abruptly remembers many important details about his current situation that make the sect potentially being on fire seem like a not-so-bad emergency.

“Demon invasion,” Shang Qinghua finds himself thinking. “Mobei-Jun. Fuck.”

“No, no, no! Don’t get up! I’ll get it!” Shang Qinghua cries, throwing off tangled blankets and flying out of bed. “I’ll handle it, my king! Sorry! Ahhh, sorry! I’ll take care of it, you can just stay where you are-”

Shang Qinghua, now on his feet, pushes firmly down against Mobei-Jun’s chest. He’s not expecting the man - a very, very strong and very, very stubborn demon lord - to go back down under his hand without any resistance at all. This easy obedience, this willingly being pushed down, leads to a surprised Shang Qinghua overbalancing and catching himself hard on Mobei-Jun’s chest and shoulders.

As though Shang Qinghua is actually pinning the man down.

Mobei-Jun stares up at him, eyes low-lidded, and raises his eyebrows.

Ah.

Wow.

Shang Qinghua is going to… well, he’s going to think about this for the rest of his life, probably.

AN: Mobei-Jun is so self-conscious in SVSSS that it’s kind of hilarious. So it’s fun to let him be a little more confident (rather than arrogant and lashing out defensively). Mobei-Jun probably thought to himself here, “You know what’ll be funny here? If I just go down now.” I feel it in my heart that Mobei-Jun is a teaser, especially when he’s relaxed and happy.

Shang Qinghua takes the time to fix up his appearance a little more - to get rid of the “I slept with a demon” smell - because if the asshole at his door has kept it up this long, they can wait a little longer. It turns out that he didn’t really need to bother, because it’s his fellow transmigrator and most dogged critic, Peerless Cucumber.

“Bro,” Shang Qinghua says seriously. “Do you have a deathwish?”

Peerless Cucumber - Shen Yuan, Shang Qinghua has to remember to call the kid by his real name - lowers his hand with a scowl. “...One of your disciples told me to knock on your door and keep knocking until you answered,” the other transmigrator says defensively. “After I said you said to meet you in the morning.”

“...Which one?”

“Wen Shufen, I think?”

“Ah, just for that prank, Sticky Fingers is going to be hauling fertilizer for Long Sheng Peak for a month,” Shang Qinghua says tiredly. “Bro, do not believe half the things your martial siblings here tell you. They’re pretty much all liars, cheats, and thieves.”

“Then why keep them around?”

“Ah, well, sometimes you need someone to lie, cheat, or steal.”

“...It’s nearly not morning anymore, you know.”

“Eh, I guess you get a pass this time, since I did tell you we’d have a nice long talk about things tomorrow morning. Come on in.”

AN: I don’t know if this vibe is coming across, but Shen Yuan feels a little ignored and neglected. They just got back from a mission and Shen Yuan has already been shooed off like twice. Shang Qinghua is so busy. Shang Qinghua is so experienced and so established here. Shen Yuan has latched onto SQH as his lifeline, though he’s trying very, very hard to be independent, and yet Shang Qinghua kind of has SY on the back burner most of the time.

Not only is Shang Qinghua the author of this world, but he’s also an important figure in this world. Shang Qinghua really lives here and if the plot wasn’t looming over them, SQH would be very happy here. This place feels 100% like Shang Qinghua’s | Airplane’s world and brand new transmigrator Shen Yuan feels like an unwanted intruder. SY is still lonely and scared.

“...Are you going to try to activate it now?” Shen Yuan asks.

“Hmmm… no, not right now,” Shang Qinghua decides, standing up off the dusty stool he was sitting on. “Cucumber, bro, I’m just not awake enough for tackling anything serious right now. Let me get a few texts and tools together first to test this thing properly, alright? Some safety equipment! Aprons and face shields! Thick, fireproof gloves! I’m still trying to figure out how to safely ask Duan Tianyu what he knows about this map the System apparently made him send me, when he might not even know what the fuck I’m talking about! Maybe he can give us some hints.”

“Who?”

“One of my Huan Hua not-disciples,” Shang Qinghua answers. “I picked up some extras a few deadly missions back. They’re good kids. All grown up now! Less naïve than they used to be! Duan Tianyu is teaching back at Huan Hua Palace now, so maybe I’ll have to be the one to wander over there on some pretense.”

Shen Yuan agrees that getting as much information as possible is probably the better course of action. Shang Qinghua ushers the kid out of his secret basement and his fellow transmigrator goes easily enough. Shang Qinghua complains about his shitty, no-good System on the way up for forcing them to do all the work by themselves.

“It must think everything is more ‘authentic’ if I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” Shang Qinghua suggests, removing his spiritual seal and causing the door to the secret basement to vanish. “Ah, I’ll admit that’s kind of cool to watch.”

AN: Throughout this conversation, SY is kind of reaching out, giving himself or Airplane excuses to let him stay. It’s not that he doesn’t want to cultivate, but SQH represents a sort of safety and familiarity SY doesn’t have right now.

In SVSSS, Airplane was always pretty direct with Shen Yuan, from what I remember, but he wasn’t necessarily open. He was direct about some potentially vulnerable or personal topics, like Luo Binghe’s insanity or his own general fear of his character’s planned death, but that’s not the same as actually being vulnerable. They snap at each other, they’re pretty direct about their personal goals, but they don’t actually get vulnerable with each other by confessing their personal fears and new relationship developments.

So I’ve tried to adopt that here, while making Shang Qinghua a little kinder and slightly more vulnerable, thanks to the efforts of Luo Jiahui. But Shang Qinghua still isn’t necessarily open here and neither is Shen Yuan. He’s just like, “Hey, it’s shit and I don’t like it either, but what can you do?” He’s not actually seriously talking about his breakdown or just how scared he is of his own plot.

For some people, there’s a certain kind of openness in confessing things to a stranger, so it’s kind of like that too. Shang Qinghua and Shen Yuan have fallen into kind of familiar dynamics, because there’s nothing else to really do, and they are kind of acquaintances, but they’re still not friends yet.

I think I want to have SY and SQH actually address this soon. SY feels that SQH has been kind of dropping the ball when it comes to honestly helping his fellow transmigrator, though SY, being SY, can’t quite put his finger on the lack of emotional intimacy and affection that he’s starved for right now.

The day-in-day-out of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect can’t get him down today! He feels kind of like he’s walking on air! Sure, the work never stops and there are some fucking terrifying things ahead, but he just had a very successful mission overall! He just had a really, really successful conversation with Mobei-Jun! He and Mobei-Jun are romantically entwined and Mobei-Jun was very explicit about the fact that he expects them to be romantically entwined… pretty much indefinitely!

“There is no one else,” Mobei-Jun had said. “There will be no one else.”

Shang Qinghua fostered a lot of hopes over the years! More hopes than he felt that he should have reasonably fostered! And to have those hopes unexpectedly fulfilled like this is… really something! It’s really, really something! Mobei-Jun really isn’t the type of character to say that - to say any of the things he said, and wow, he said a lot of things back there - without meaning it completely.

Shang Qinghua doesn’t really know what to do with that.

Forever is a long time.

He understands, of course, that some things really do last an impossibly long time. He used to be pretty certain that all love matches faded eventually - that people were genuinely wildly in love… that people were sincerely in love with each other, sure… up until they inevitably weren’t anymore - but now he can’t really imagine Liu Qingge or Luo Jiahui ever getting tired of each other. Liu Qingge keeps bringing Luo Jiahui new recipes to try and rare ingredients to interest her, so she can make dishes for the two of them or her family as a whole, and Shang Qinghua can easily imagine the two of them doing that pretty much indefinitely.

Shang Qinghua can’t think about this for long, before he has to focus on greeting his disciples (it’s just Peng Hongpeng and Chen Xuan in here at the moment) and getting to work. “Good things last while they last!” he decides for now, because thinking about things not lasting kind of makes him feel like he’s dying.

AN: Shang Qinghua can’t quite bring himself to believe in a relationship lasting forever right now. Part of it is his commitment issues, but another part of it is his persisting inability to see past the looming plot. He’s still worried about Luo Binghe and the Eternal Abyss, so he’s having difficulty seeing past that hurdle, even though things like Luo Jiahui’s marriage and his new relationship with Mobei-Jun are forcing him to confront the fact that there’s still a life outside of and beyond the plot.

For Shang Qinghua, it’s kind of a “I’ll think about that later if we all survive” thing when it comes to him and Mobei-Jun.

“He made a mistake with good intentions and got a small injury for it,” Shang Qinghua says, as reassuringly as he can. “He’s fine! He’s in trouble with his shizun for it, though, but I’ll see what I can do about bringing you up to meet him or bringing him down here as soon as possible. I’ll do my best to make it happen!”

Luo Jiahui leans into Shang Qinghua’s side and admits, “I miss him.”

“He misses you.”

“I miss you too,” Luo Jiahui adds.

“...Ah, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” his sister-in-law says warmly. “I’d miss you even if you visited every day.”

Shang Qinghua is holding her hands, but it feels like she’s got an extra one wrapped around his heart. “Where’s that husband of yours? Doesn’t he come down the mountain every day? Should I be telling him off? Sorry I ran off with him for a little bit!”

“What does Qingge have to do with you and me?” Luo Jiahui demands. “It doesn’t matter how often I see everyone else, I still miss you and Binghe the most.”

“Hm, that’s a point! That’s a point.”

What else can Shang Qinghua do but admit that he misses her the most too?

AN: It was fun to follow up Shang Qinghua’s romantic developments with a return to his most important and longest relationship: the one he has with his “fake” sister. Luo Jiahui is and always will be important to Shang Qinghua and who he’s become. They have such a lovely relaxed feeling that’s nice to revisit. I’ve missed Luo Jiahui these past few chapters, as things get twisted up more and more in sect business.

It would feel dishonest to the rest of the fic if Shang Qinghua’s other relationships disappeared in favor of his new romantic relationship. They all have their own importance. Mobei-Jun and Liu Qingge don’t make Shang Qinghua and Luo Jiahui any less important to each other.

I am looking forward to making Mobei-Jun and Luo Jiahui meet again, and tackling some of Mobei-Jun’s thoughts on Shang Qinghua’s relationship with his family. Mobei-Jun has a really shitty family, so it’s interesting thinking about what family means to him and how loyalty/love plays into it.

While he's busy plotting around the plot, there’s a hum of power behind him, the cool whoosh and crackle of a portal opening, the faint hair-rising warning of demonic energy. Shang Qinghua finishes tapping at his own face in thought, looks up at the looming shadow standing behind him, and smiles. He kind of feels like he should run away, but it's too late for that now. He held on long enough that he made it too late for himself.

“Hello,” he says.

AN: I took this almost exactly from the first chapter of Part 3 of this fic. I can’t remember the chapter number, but it was the one titled “The Inevitable Plot”.

Parts 3 and 4 of this fic blend together a little. Part 3 of this fic kind of ends here, but I have a couple more chapters that I want to tackle before I feel that I can say we’re for sure in Part 4? I have some things I want to accomplish before we go into a slight time skip towards the Immortal Alliance Conference.

#tossawary commentary #tossawary svsss #pride is not the word

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