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the-witty-pen-name · 4 years ago

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Can’t Help Falling in Love

Loki x Reader (f)

Valentine’s Day with the God of Mischief

Based on suggestion by: @squadleaderchase

A/N: Thank you so much for the suggestion! I loved writing this, it was so much fun!

Happy Valentine’s Day y’all!

There is also a gender neutral version of this fic, and will be posted shortly after this one! Read it here!

I recommend to putting on Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis towards the end just for that finishing touch!

Summary: When Loki learns about the traditions of Valentine’s Day, he asks you to be his Valentine- and reluctantly takes advice from Steve Rogers.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: none; just fluff

“Can’t Midgardians have a holiday that doesn’t involve such a grotesque display of… red?” Loki asks walking into the living room of the Avengers compound. Loki arrived at the compound a few weeks before Christmas and so far, he’s experienced two Earth holidays: Christmas and New Year’s. Of course, Tony had picked the theme for both parties to be elaborately red and gold- he claimed the fact that it matched his suit was merely a coincidence.

“Just wait until next month,” you reply casually, your eyes not leaving the brief you were reading while you sat cozied up in one of the large armchairs. “I think you’ll like St. Patrick’s Day much more… color scheme wise at least.”

Loki looked up curiously at the hearts of all shades of red and pink Natasha had hung up to decorate the Avengers’ living quarters. She had gone to visit Clint’s family and his kids spent hours making Valentines and decorations out of construction paper and glitter. Loki looked almost puzzled at the lopsided hearts that hung from the ceiling on transparent line so they looked like they floated mid-air.

“Perhaps I might,” he mumbled to himself, the lovesick aura of his surroundings making him slightly disgusted. “Though I suppose I find your rituals as bizarre as you’d find on Asgard.”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled in response to his thinking out loud. It was rare that the compound would be this quiet. It was a Friday evening and in the middle of a team meeting earlier today, Tony declared exhaustedly that everyone needs to start the weekend early and dismissed everyone despite Steve’s protests. You weren’t sure where everyone else went and you didn’t particularly care- enjoying the rare peace and quiet.

You didn’t mind Loki’s company. He was a little aloof but overall, you found him more to be misunderstood than anything else. He wasn’t like Thor and sure, he had a very trouble ridden past to downplay it- but he’s confided in you all it wasn’t entirely his doing. Out of everyone living at the compound, he probably had grown the closest to you, or as close as Loki would allow himself to be to someone.

“What even is this holiday?” Loki asked, pulling his attention from the decorations to where you sat, binder in your lap. You looked up and closed the brief, tossing it onto the coffee table in front of where you sat.

“Sunday is Valentine’s Day,” you say looking back over to him, meeting his eyes. “I mean overtime the traditions and how we celebrate have changed but it’s originally the day meant to honor St. Valentine and commemorate his death. There’s a lot more to it than that and there’s all different of different origins, but now it’s more like a day where you celebrate love, because he was the patron Saint of Love.”

Loki nods, liking the idea of this holiday much more than New Years already. He didn’t mind Christmas, but the elaborate parties made everything not very appealing to him. You can’t blame the god for not having a good time at parties where every guest fears him or hates him. He walks over and takes a seat on the couch and crosses his legs. He was intrigued enough to continue the conversation and ask you more questions. “What are the traditions?” He asks curiously.

“Traditionally, you would ask someone to be your Valentine, and that’s the person you want to spend the day with,” you answer with a small shrug, trying to explain a holiday you’ve never had to explain before. “Some people have it easy and they ask their significant other, and if you don’t have one, you ask someone you’re romantically interested in to be your Valentine. Then you give each other gifts, like chocolates or flowers, anything really that’s romantic and you go out on a date, like a nice dinner but it doesn’t have to be. That’s the basic gist.”

“Thank you, (y/n),” Loki said, mulling over your explanation. “You’ve been helpful, as always. Tell me, who’s your Valentine?”

“I don’t have one,” you answered honestly. The only time you really celebrated was when you had been with someone. You’d never really participated otherwise. You planned to just spend the night alone or with Nat if she also didn’t have plans and probably watch a movie- most definitely Pride and Prejudice.

“Shame,” Loki said with a tsk. “Perhaps, if you would be interested, you could be my Valentine?”

“Really?” you ask, honestly surprised.

“I actually like the idea of the day,” Loki shrugged. “And I don’t know many people, people seem to hate me on this planet- no idea as to why. You’ve always been kind to me, and you are the most tolerable person I’ve encountered on this planet.”

“That’s oddly very kind of you,” you say with a chuckle. “I appreciate the sentiments. Um, yes. I’d be happy to be your Valentine.”

“Excellent,” he grinned. He clapped his hands together and stood up. “Splendid. I’ll ask Thor to help me plan something.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you smile, picking up your paperwork again as Loki heads off to find his brother.

***

“Brother,” Thor’s voice echoed in the training room. “Spar with me?”

“As much as I would love to,” Loki said sarcastically, “I need your help with something I need to plan.” Loki walked over to the side of the mat where Thor had been training with Captain Rogers.

“Plan what?” Captain Rogers asked curiously. It was an innocent enough question but Loki took it as Rogers insinuating his distrust in him. Of course, Loki can’t blame the man but it did rub him the wrong way.

“If you must know Captain Rogers, I’m making plans for this upcoming Valentine’s Day,” Loki said matter-of-factly. “I’m sure since you have quite the active love life recently, your words of wisdom are probably of infinite value.”

“You can learn a thing or two from me,” Steve retorted as he put the punching bag beck into place. “But I don’t like your attitude.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever manage without you,” Loki scoffed. He turned his attention back to his brother. “I need help to determine where I should take (y/n) and what I should get her.”

“(y/n) agreed to this?” Thor asks, his eyebrows raised in confusion. Rogers kept his mouth shut, deciding to see where this conversation will go before

“Yes, brother. I asked her to be my Valentine as stated by tradition and she said yes.”

“Ah! Good for you, brother!” Thor exclaimed, happily. “I’m glad you’re immersing yourself in the Midgard culture.”

“Yes, yes,” Loki waved him off, “Now, please, tell me what I should do.”

“I’ve never celebrated Valentine’s Day,” Thor says with a shrug and a sympathetic look. “I haven’t had much opportunity to explore the culture. Every time I’m on this planet I’m a little busy preventing its destruction. Perhaps Rogers can help you?”

Loki let out an exasperated sigh. He avoided Rogers as he knew the man had such a smug look on his face. Loki refused to give him the satisfaction. However, he realized that wouldn’t be fair to you. Rogers not only knew what to do, but he was also close friends with you. He quickly realized if he wanted to celebrate with you properly, he’d need to rely on the infamous super soldier.

“Captain Rogers,” Loki said with a charismatic smile, turning back to the man. “I wholeheartedly apologize for my lack of… social niceties. If you’d be willing to help me, to ensure your dear friend enjoys her holiday, I would be sincerely grateful.”

“Only because of (y/n),” Rogers says skeptically, waving a finger at Loki. “She deserves to enjoy her time and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you screw up her evening.”

“What a loyal friend.”

Years later, the Avengers would still talk about the fact Loki cared about you so much, he sought out advice from Captain America and Thor. And as Captain America said, he helped Loki with every last detail and Steve never let Loki forget it.

***

Loki had told you that he’d come to your room to get you at 6 o’clock Sunday evening. He wore clothes he had picked out, black dress pants, a white button-down shirt and shiny, black dress shoes. He had kept the last button of the shirt unbuttoned and he had rolled the sleeves up, a styling tip he had gotten from Thor. He had his long hair gelled back and tamed, ignoring Captain Roger’s horrible suggestion for a haircut. He felt very weird not wearing any green, but he took the advice he was given on his ensemble.

You were just putting on your heels when he knocked at your door Sunday promptly at 6pm. Of course, Loki would be very punctual. You gave yourself one more quick once more in the mirror in your room before heading to answer the door.

You had on a pair of dark green heels that perfectly matched your dress. You also layered over the outfit a suede brown jacket, that complimented the jewel tone of the dress and shoes nicely. You kept your appearance simple, sticking to how you usually styled your hair. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you quickly opened the door, your jacket and bag both in hand.

“Wow,” you say with a grin, when you take in Loki’s appearance. “You look very nice.”

“You look stunning,” Loki said, his eyes widening, taking in your appearance. The compliment made you have butterflies.

“Thank you,” you said with false confidence. Underneath, you were a nervous wreck as you took the arm that he extended to you.

“So,” Loki began to walk down the hallway with you. “Apparently, this planet has something called reservations, and anyone who tries to get one a few days before Valentine’s Day is a “moron,” according to a very rude young man I had the pleasure of speaking with- the first time using a phone too on top of that. So, I hope you don’t mind if the evening is a little… makeshift.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” you reassure him. You feel him relax slightly. You found how hard he was trying so endearing.

Where else did he bring you but just down the hall to the living room. At night with the lights dimmed, combined with Natasha’s homemade decorations, it actually looked quite beautiful. He had decorated with an eclectic array of candles as well that covered most surfaces of the room. It also looked like he had swiped every throw pillow in the whole compound and had them arranged the coffee table in the center of the room.

“Did you do all of this?” You ask in awe.

“Yes,” he replied, just watching you. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.”

“I had to make my own version of advice I received,” he disclosed to you. You sat opposite each other on either side of the coffee table, you kicked off your heels and he did the same with his shoes. “Captain Rogers said- and I’m trying my best to quote verbatim, ‘You need to show a girl a good time. You gotta take her to dinner and dancing.’” He even mimicked Steve’s voice perfectly. It made you laugh.

“I can’t believe you subjected yourself to Steve for me, I’m touched,” you smiled. “I mean I love Steve,” you continue, “But I can’t imagine you too being best friends anytime soon.”

“No, I suppose we probably won’t be,” Loki chuckles.

“I hate to point it out,” you continue, “but I think you missed both the dinner part and the dancing part of that plan.” Loki smirked and when you blinked, he transformed the whole room.

“Did I?” he asks, with an eyebrow raised. You gasp, looking around the room you were now in. You knew it was an illusion, but it felt very real. The atmosphere, the breeze coming in from the large bay windows that weren’t there before. The coffee table now a table now one of many dining tables in an incredibly high-end restaurant. The table had food, and a bottle of wine. You were stunned. There was a live band and other couples in other tables and out on the dancefloor.

“Loki?” You exclaimed, looking around at your new surroundings. It was amazing. You couldn’t believe the magic right before your eyes. Of course, you knew it was just one of his tricks, but it felt so incredibly real. You picked up your fork and took a bite of the food in front of you. It was incredible, you questioned if you were even eating.

“It’s real,” Loki said, like he could read your mind. Honestly, he had only just anticipated your next question. “I made it. Well, I made it with Friday’s supervision.”

“It’s fantastic! I can’t believe you went through all this trouble just for me.”

“Sweetheart, you are very much worth it- worth much more than this,” he responded casually, throwing in the term of endearment to see how you’d react. He caught the way it made you smile.

You continued to talk for a little while, and shared stories. You were worried that compared to his life on Asgard, he’d find your stories incredibly boring and mundane. It seemed to be the opposite. His attention was only on you and he held on to every word you said. He created this elaborate setting just to keep you the center of his attention.

“Should we dance?” He asks suddenly, a glimmer in his eye. You looked down apprehensively.

“I’m not really a dancer,” you tried to insist.

“Do you actually not want to dance, darling? Because if so, I will not bring it up again,” he says earnestly, “But, if you’re saying no because you’re afraid I’m going to judge you, I honestly can promise you I would never dream of doing so.”

You give it another moment to ponder over his words. You were taken aback at how well he seemed to know how you were thinking. You let out a sigh of defeat, and smile. “I’d love to,” you reply.

He stands up and offers you his hand. His smile is enough to make you weak at the knees. You take his hand and he leads you over to the dancefloor as the band starts playing its next song. “Does that singer sound like Elvis?” You ask, the small glitch in the illusion throwing you off for only a moment.

“I don’t know who that is,” Loki says with a laugh. He pulls you in close and rests one hand on the small of your back and the other grasps your hand close. You wrap your other arm around his shoulder. You are both pressed up incredibly close to one another. You rest your head on his chest comfortably, and you can’t see how much the action makes his whole face go red. Guiding your movements together, it mostly just swaying in place. The steps were small, and with the music playing for the two of you.

“This place is incredible,” you sigh happily looking up at him. “But I think I liked the first place a little better.”

He nodded in agreement and you got to watch a green hue encompass the walls of the restaurant as they almost melted away, and everything around the two of you just fade away. The sconces on the walls, revealed themselves to be the candles that cluttered the living room and the couples evaporated with the green mist. The table you had both sat at, turned back to the coffee table but the empty plates remained. The elaborate statues that surrounded the room turned into the furniture you knew well, and then the live band faded away to reveal Steve’s record player indeed playing a 45 of Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley.

When the room finished revealing its true appearance to you, you laid your head back on Loki’s chest and mumbled that now it was perfect. He smiled to himself, thinking about how without a doubt in his mind, Valentine’s Day is his absolute favorite holiday on Midgard. He now couldn’t believe this reality was real. If he wasn’t holding you, he’d pinch himself. You were here, with him, in his arms, dancing in the middle of the living room on this godforsaken planet.

“(y/n)?” he whispered softly as the song was coming to an end.

“Mhmm?” You responded, your eyes closed, really just basking in the feeling of being so close to him and the smell of his cologne.

“Will be mine?” He asks carefully, remembering the phrase from Captain Roger’s advice. That phrase apparently being very important if today went well and he wanted to ask you to “go steady.” You chuckled softly, hearing Steve’s influence in the phrase.

“I would love to,” you say with a shy smile looking back up to him. He beams, incredibly happy you said yes. Swept up in his emotions, he swiftly leans down and presses his lips to yours capturing them in a passionate first kiss.

“Oh gross!” You hear someone exclaim, making you both pull away. It’s Tony- who was currently holding his side in pain as Pepper elbowed him in the side.

“You really had to do that?” she chastised him, rolling her eyes and giving an apologetic look to you and Loki before pushing Tony down the hallway to give you both your moment back, as sullied as it had become thanks to Tony.

“I’m so sorry,” she said embarrassed by his outburst, ushering him out as quickly as possible.

Loki turns his head back to you, immediately after they are out of view. “Where were we, darling?” He smirks, pulling you in for another kiss.

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #valentines day imagine #marvel imagine #mcu loki #loki imagine #loki fluff #fluff imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston x y/n

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tae-cup · 4 years ago

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Old Money and Brooklyn Babies

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Summary: “Those summer nights seem long ago. And so is the girl you used to call The queen of New York City. But if you send for me, you know I'll come. And if you call for me, you know I'll run” - Lana Del Rey (Old Money)

Genre: Modern/Realistic Au, Angst, like Fluff if you squint, rich people au??

Warnings: Yandere-ish themes, LANGUAGE, drinking, sexual tension (but no smut!), unhealthy relationships, heavy topics, maybe at the end if you think about it maybe depression?, Pathological liar (s?) are involved, your brain has been warned #trust no one.

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 7.3k Words

A/N: Ahhh this was such a challenge for me to write but I hope you guys enjoy it! PS I’m sorry. And I’m really nervous to post this because I don’t know how it will turn out askldfhsalkdfh

Other: Masterlist

Loving him was intense, a whirlwind of emotions that could only be compared to a hurricane, a tornado. There was a time when loving him was explosive, a train on its way to be wrecked. The feeling hadn’t disappeared.

You knew it when you saw him standing on the staircase, a new love around his arm. You felt the room buzz when he saw you. Now, standing in this bar of sweat and alcohol where you could barely pay for your next drink, you wondered how things went so wrong.

Just a few weeks ago, you were the queen of New York City, the heiress everyone was talking about, and now you were a nothing, just another nobody in a sea of other nobodies.

Did he see it in your eyes? Did he see the desperation? The same look you had given him a few months ago, the kind of look that he had described as beautiful and exhilarating. Now he turned away in disgust. You tightened your grasp on your glass.

It was your fault.

You had ruined it all. Like you always did.

Six Months Ago

1 A.M. wake up.

Obsess over what you were going to do for the day and plan it meticulously in your mind.

3 A.M.

Get out of bed.

make yourself a cup of coffee and stare in the mirror for a while.

You stood tall, you knew you were a beautiful woman. After all, everyone had been telling you this since you were little. You could easily pass for royalty, that’s what you always thought and you wore it well.

You jutted your chin out, running a hand along your jawline. Then you made sure to put every hair in place, perfectly positioned. The mirror had a small crack in the corner, you made a mental note to buy a new one.

You put on your dark shades sunglasses so that you could barely even see inside. Nonetheless, you stumbled around your apartment like a model, refusing to look unfashionable even in the cold abyss of your living room. Who knew if someone was peering through the windows? That’s why you kept it as dark as possible.

You tripped over the couch. Since when was that there? You asked yourself angrily, as if you hadn’t been living here for the past year, a pretty bubble world built up carefully over a year of work and dedication.

Reality couldn’t catch you here. You stumbled around blindly for a while and then found the door handle.

5 A.M.

With a decisive click, your day had begun.

Astteria Jewelry, a company your father had invested in dearly when he visited the states. You hadn’t been there, but you’d heard a lot about the visit from the newspapers.

“Hello?” You cleared your throat, tapping on the top of the glass counter until someone came over, looking a bit annoyed. The woman’s face was twisted uncomfortably before she plastered a kind smile on her face.

“How may I help you?”

“Yes, yes, I need to try those on.” You pointed to the chunkiest rings in the case. They were encrusted with large and small diamonds, all glittering beautifully.

The woman shot you a skeptical look. You just peered down at her through your dark shaded glasses. She was really straining for that pleasant smile now.

“Of course.” She said tightly and reached under, unlocking the case, and bringing the rings out.

“Ah, I quite like this one.” You gasped happily. The rock on your finger was hard to even hold up, but you liked it well enough. “I’ll take it, as you probably know, my father will be quite happy with this gift.”

“That will be $247,000.” The woman pursed her lips as she removed the ring and placed it back in a box.

“Perfect.” You declared.

“I need your card.”

“Nonsense! Do you even know who I am?”

The woman shook her head, her irritation visibly growing.

“That’s quite alright. You know, my father is a great friend and investor in this company. He has often bought for my mother from this very fine store. I think he even gave us a discount at some point?” You said casually. “My father is the chairman of Sinopec, I think you know it?”

The woman stilled then she looked suspiciously at the door and back at you. “I’ll give Mr. Betta a call.”

“You better.” You snapped back, your patience wearing thin. You were the daughter of Sinopec’s chairman. Everyone knew you, obviously.

The dial tone was especially loud in the quiet store. A few rings and he picked up.

“Yes?” You heard the muffled voice.

“Sir, there’s someone here claiming you gave her family a discount?”

“Who?”

“From Sinopec.” The woman turned away, whispering furiously. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea. Okay okay, I will.”

“Well?” You turned to her, looking every part the agitated socialite,

“Mr. Betta seems to be under the impression...that you should be allowed this ring and we’ll charge your father.”

“Of course.” You said quickly, taking the box out of her hands and striding out of the store.

Your heart was racing. You felt a weight on your chest and it wasn’t the ring.

Heather was rich. You knew her to be Old Money, everyone did. You always expertly placed yourself next to her in class. She didn’t seem to mind. She was beautiful, maybe even more beautiful than you, but you would never allow that thought to come to fruition.

Heather held herself like a commoner, to put it lightly. She got her morning starbucks, waited in line, ordered and waited patiently, got on a bus, commuted to school and got to class early. You realized a big part of being a ‘normal’ person was waiting around.

“Heather, I was also at that party the other night.” You said to her as she scrolled through her photo album.

“Oh? Really?” She chewed on gum, the sound smacking across her lips. You felt an itch of irritation, but pushed it away.

“Yeah, really.” You drawled.

You carefully placed your ringed finger close to her line of sight. She glanced down for a second then back at her phone, then back at the ring. She put down her phone.

“Where did you get that ring?” She inquired, suddenly very interested in you. She picked up your hand and surveyed the ring from several angles.

“Astteria.” You said nonchalantly. “My father is a good friend of Simon Betta.”

“Who’s your father?” She glanced upwards with a confused look.

“Zhao Dong.” You said easily.

“The chairman of Sinopec?” Heather looked up, confused. “I’m surprised I didn’t recognize you! You’ve changed since I last saw you.”

You smiled and nodded at her words.

“I know. I spent some time away.” You looked nonchalantly at your nails.

“Well you look great, Y/N.” She continued with a small smile.

“Thank you, I know.” You tossed your hair. “Tell me, Heather, are we close? Would you consider me a close friend?”

“I…” She stuttered awkwardly. “N-not close close, but I know your father and...your mother?” She interlaced her fingers and looked away, embarrassed. “Truth be told, I haven’t been keeping up with Sinopec as of late.”

“That’s perfectly alright.” You assured her. “Now, I’ve been looking for a charity to donate to. My dad has been bugging me about the yearly donations.” You said the words so easily, like water out of a waterfall.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, I was wondering if you know any because...well, I know you’re into those charities and non-profits.”

The sound of pages being turned filled the room and you turned back to your work. You didn’t even bother reading the page or taking notes, you had another mission at hand. Heather turned back to her work and after a while, she cleared her throat slightly.

“There’s actually...a gala for an organization that helps fight for LGBTQ+ rights. Would you like to come? I could get you an invite if you just send me your address.” She lowered her voice.

You glanced around. Everyone was focused on their work so you nodded.

“I’m really into helping out when I can, you know? Here I’ll give you my number-” you stopped, thinking it over. “Actually, give me your number.” You prompted.

“Oh? Alright?” She recited her number and you typed it into your phone. You felt her heated stare on the old phone in your hand.

“It’s a friend of mine’s old phone.” You said. “My father has yet to send me the latest one.”

“I see.” Heather narrowed her eyes and went back to taking notes.

You sent her a quick hello and smirked, going back to write down notes. Columbia College had been quite pleased to hear about all the non profit work and extracurriculars, not to mention your straight As in school. It was what you deserved.

“Y/N!” Heather waved you over and you descended the stairs with a smile.

There stood Heather in the middle of this grand ballroom. You tried not to look impressed.

“Heather.” You greeted her with a smile.

She pulled you into a quick hug and then grabbed two champagne glasses. Gold rimmed and bubbling with clear yellow liquid, she handed you a glass. The room was decorated lavishly with red drapes covering dark alcoves and chaise lounges positioned in the corners. These lounges were occupied by men and women all dressed to the nines. This type of luxury was what you deserved.

“You look gorgeous!” She complimented as she took in your appearance.

You had borrowed a dress from your much richer friend, though you personally believed that you pulled off the look better than her. You were the most beautiful after all.

“Ah, thank you. You look exquisite as well.” You brushed a stray hair from your face.

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N.”

You turned to the voice and were met with a familiar face. You were shocked to even see him at a place like this. He hadn’t struck you as this kind of person.

You had first met Park Jimin in a club. The lights were dim and you could barely make out his face, but you knew he was beautiful, just like you. The club was a world of beautiful people, all pressed against each other and sweating.

“How old are you?” He asked, looking you up and down as you sat at the bar. You smiled slyly, swirling your drink to the pounding music.

“Probably too young for you.” You shouted over the music.

His hands went to his hair. “Listen! My hair looks gray but I can assure you I am a 25 year old man in good standing!”

You laughed. He seemed nice, genuine. It was a breath of fresh air. His entire aura screamed that he was important, yet his personality quite opposed this notion. You looked him up and down.

He was a man of stature, standing tall and proud amongst the crowd, his hair was a silver gray, his eyes of a similar shade. Jimin was either high society or had no idea how to have fun. You were a perfect match.

“I believe you.” You replied happily, setting down your drink. “Want to get some fresh air?”

He smoothed down his coat and you wondered why he was dressed so formally to go to a nightclub.

“I’d like that very much.”

“Jimin.” You greeted him happily. He gently took your hand in his and kissed the back.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He said cordially, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“And you.” You bowed your head gracefully.

The music of the gala swelled and Heather cleared her throat. Her eyebrows were raised as high as the bronze arches that hung above you.

“You two...know each other?” She asked, eyeing Jimin.

Jimin nodded. “Yes, we met, achem, a little while ago.” You were grateful he didn’t mention the club.

“Well, Jimin is actually performing tonight, aren’t you?” Heather turned to him expectantly.

“Oh? Performing?”

The man seemed embarrassed by the sudden attention on him. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah, yeah, well, I’m just singing-”

“Jimin is an excellent singer.” Heather nodded and you followed suit.

“I’m not that great. My mom just had enough money to bribe the manager.” He joked and you chuckled along.

“Yeah, I get that.” You agreed. “But I’m sure you’re an amazing singer, Jimin.” You looked him up and down, a smile growing.

“He is!” The other girl chimed in before Jimin could protest. The clock chimed 8:00 P.M. and you glanced upwards.

“I think that’s my cue to go.” Jimin announced, waving off a waiter who offered him a glass.

“Alright! Best of luck, Jimin.” You bowed your head politely and he did the same.

Heather watched the interaction intently. Once he was gone, she started laughing which caused you to look over at her sharply.

“You guys really just eye fucked each other for a whole five minutes. I didn’t think it was possible after seeing Anna’s reaction to him. At least it was mutual this time.”

“Anna?”

“Yeah, the daughter of the guy who made Adobe or whatever.”

“Oh, of course, I remember her.” You said easily, grabbing another glass of champagne.

You were going to need a lot of alcohol to make it through this night, but these luxuries were what you had always wanted.

“I would be careful, though, Y/N.” She glanced around. “He doesn’t have the best track record with women, though he attracts them like bees to flowers.”

“Oh I see.” You followed her eyes. “But from the way you look at him, I can assume you’ve been one of those women?”

She narrowed her eyes and then chuckled, though the sound was a bit strained.

“Me And Jimin? No, no. I can admit he is handsome, but we would never make a good pair.” Heather was quiet for a moment and then she crossed her arms, her gaze growing distant. “He’s too caught up in himself. You remind me of him.”

“I beg your pardon?

“Forget I said anything.”

The music began to swell and you looked up from your conversation as the curtain on the stage began to lift. The din of the room died down. A man with a rainbow pin and black tuxedo stood center stage. He held himself with confidence.

“Thank you, everyone, for attending this charity event for the Audre Lorde Project. Today, we are so grateful to be able to present Mr. Park Jimin as our entertainment for the night. If you donate, he will sing a song of your choosing!” The MC leaned in. “Just don’t be inappropriate, folks.” He winked.

“Now presenting….Park Jimin!”

You watched as the familiar man walked on stage. He looked quite dashing, sporting a rainbow tuxedo and white shoes. You were sure they must have cost a fortune. His rings alone must have cost at least $21,000. Then his shoes, oh, his shoes. They were perfectly clean, so white they could reflect the dim lighting.

People were quick to go up and pay for a song. The songs started at $1,000 and you pursed your lips, checking your wallet. Did you have enough? Yes, of course you have enough, you’re the daughter of Sinopec.

You set your mind on deciding a song. Heather began chatting to you about school, but you were hardly paying attention. You started drifting towards the box that held the donations. Heather moved along with you, unknowing to your next move. You straightened, holding up a hand, which quickly silenced Heather, and zeroed in on the box.

Withdrawing your money, you wrote a quick check for $1,000. Then you haphazardly tossed it into the box. Then you wrote your song on the sign up sheet and went back to the center of the room. You waited, tapping your foot impatiently. You wanted everything now, but you could try to be patient for once.

Heather continued talking about...whatever she was talking about. Halfway through her rambling, a familiar tune began to play. Your eyes shot up from where they were resting on your drink to the stage. You could feel Jimin’s heated stare.

“I think I'm too cool to know ya. You say I'm like the ice, I freeze. I'm churnin' out novels like Beat poetry on Amphetamines.” He sang and his voice was a perfect tune.

You felt your toes curl pleasantly as his sweet voice tingled your eardrums. Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey. You eyed him up and down, taking note of a particularly expensive looking Rolex watch.

As you made eye contact with him through the crowd, your heart thumped an untimely beat. Mine.

Jimin left hand in hand with you. What a sight to see. A couple that no one had expected, one out of the blue. You giggled, shifting over in the back of the cab to Jimin’s place.

His hand slowly inched its way over to your thigh and gave it a light squeeze. Your eyes stayed trained on his face. The dark city streets casted eerie shadows over your figures, but you felt calm nonetheless.

Your hand reached out and touched his cheek. A wordless communication. May I? To be answered with you may. And he leaned in, diving into your arms, melding his lips against yours like you were meant to be. You both gasped for air, but it was a battle for dominance and neither of you were about to back down.

You bit playfully at his lips, devouring his strawberry lip balm like it was your last meal. He pushed against you so your back thumped against the door. His hands found your hips and he pressed into you tightly.

Your hands gripped his hair and you refused to part from his lips, the cold metal of his Rolex dug into the fabric of your dress. You wanted that watch.

The taxi slowly pulled up to the apartment complex and you both hurried out. Jimin haphazardly overpaid the driver and you both took a break to get your bearings before walking into his high end apartment building.

“Hey, let’s try to look like we didn’t just make out like animals, okay?” Jimin patted your arm.

So you went about smoothing down your hair, pulling down your skirt a little lower, and patting your cheeks gently to try and, in vain, dispel the light flush.

You both stumbled your way inside, laughing drunkenly. He helped stand you upright, a strong arm wrapped around your waist. There was a jingle of something falling to the ground, but you paid it no mind. He helped you all the way up to his apartment where you leaned against the wall while he searched for his keys.

“Shit!” He cursed, sinking down beside you, his back thumping against the wall. “I lost my keys.” He grumbled.

“Ah, that’s fine.” You laughed, “Just my luck.”

“You seem pretty lucky, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m lucky, I guess, but I want a lot more than luck, you know?”

“And what do you want?”

“You.” You answered quickly.

And that was the first time a lie had registered in your addled brain. Because that wasn’t true, no, not at all. Jimin was wonderful, handsome, smart, but you wanted something more material than these flimsy emotions.

You wanted money. As you watched his expression melt into a lustful haze, you flexed your fingers and clenched them over and over. You could play his game of emotions, you could do it. You thought as he went in for another kiss.

It was a cold morning. Jimin had black out curtains. You could hide from the world very nicely here. You were awake at 1 A.M.

After a long night of searching and making out, the searching part of which you found far more enjoyable, you found his keys. He had dropped them in the lobby on the way in and the desk attendant had grabbed them. You went through your routine, replacing yourself with a pillow in his arms.

“Huh. I always thought that only worked in movies?” You tilted your head and went back to your routine. After a while of getting ready, you sat beside the bed, watching him.

He breathed steadily. You glanced around, finally deciding to explore. You stood, picking up discarded clothes and observing his apartment. It was big, bigger than yours.

There were expensive things everywhere. You could guess he was old money. A glint of gold in the morning light caught your eye. You walked over, carefully not to disturb the floorboards. On his bedside table was the Rolex watch.

“You can keep it.” His gruff voice said. “It’s not important to me, but you’ve been eyeing it all night.”

“Why would you give this to me?” You asked, lifting the watch to look at it in the slim sliver of light that cracked through the curtain. You wanted to applaud his awareness and observation skills.

“There’s something about the desperation in your eyes, Y/N. It’s exhilarating, beautiful, new. People are so...complacent, so okay with their situations nowadays, especially when you’re in positions like you and I. I’m giving it to you as a promise that this wasn’t just a one night thing. I’m serious about this.” Jimin rolled over in bed. “I like people like you, Y/N. I fall in love with people like you.” His words were soft, his expression was stone cold.

And you knew what game he was playing at with extravagant promises and carefully chosen words, you were playing the same game. So you simply let him win.

You could do that, for him, because as much as you were using him to help yourself gain a boost, your heart was beginning to lead you astray. And you could not let that happen. Still, that scent of cinnamon and the taste of strawberries would likely always remind you of him.

Perhaps it was obsession that took you back to his place over and over again. It wasn’t so much him, but the idea of him. Maybe it was the idea that he was rich, that he had money, that he was handsome, but all that aside, you were perfectly incompatible.

Jimin was old money, old money that was long gone. For as long as Jimin remembered, his father had worked very very hard to run his company into the ground. Whether it be with the drinking or the extravagant parties, his money was gone.

He had an unquenchable thirst for money. Some could call it an unhealthy obsession. So when he met you...oh boy. You exuded this confidence, the kind only old money could have. He wanted it.

Call him cruel, but he didn’t mind stepping on a few toes to get where he needed to be. He didn’t mind crushing some woman’s poor dreams. He really didn’t mind. You were another stepping stone. You were supposed to be just another tool for success.

In his alcohol induced state, probably drug induced state as well, he came to the conclusion that you two would make quite a pair indeed, a power couple. But he needed you to become more powerful. It would be a mutually beneficial relationship.

“I don’t know, Jimin, I can get pretty nervous at interviews.” You had told him in response, but there was a gleam of excitement in your eyes, he didn’t read too much into it.

“I think you’ll be fine.” He patted your back with a smile.

Looking back, he never should have gotten you that interview with the New York Times. It was a poor decision on his part. Maybe if things had gone better, if he still remained ignorant of his situation and drank himself into debt like his father, he would be able to continue living his fantasy world. However, this would not be the case. He was not someone who was afraid of getting his hands dirty. And oh how dirty they were to become.

“Thank you, Miss Y/N, for joining us.” The reporter settled down across from you.

“Ah, it’s a pleasure.” You smiled. The woman smiled back and prepared her notepad.

She was a hardworking woman. She wore flats and a nice outfit for this interview, but as you analyzed her posture and position, you knew she would most likely prefer something more comfortable. She slumped ever so slightly, her lipstick was well applied but her nail polish was cracking and half peeled.

“I’m Anna and I’ll be interviewing you.”

“Anna? As in Anna, Adobe Inc’s daughter?”

“Yes!” She nodded happily. “I’m glad you remember me! You know, I only met you once really and we were children so I’m not surprised to see you’ve grown into a beautiful woman. Let’s see here…”

The interview began.

“What was it like, growing up with Zhao Dong as a father?”

“Well, Anna, he was absent a lot.” You said without a second thought, thinking back to your childhood sadly. “But he tried his best. I think I get a lot of my outgoing nature from him. He’s really a role model for me.”

“And do you have the same goals and aspirations that he has for the company?”

You chuckled lightly at the question.

“Oh dear, oh no.” You said, like it was some preposterous question. “Honey, he is all about the money. I am nothing like that. I’m all about human connection.”

Anna seemed pleased by this. Her eyes lit up and she hurriedly went to write down notes.

“You seem like such a nice, down to Earth, person, Y/N, how do you get this mindset after being raised so...well, rich.”

“I’ve gotten used to a lot of luxury, yes, but this does not take away from the fact that my father was always strict on discipline. He put a huge emphasis on respecting others and respecting situations we cannot comprehend. It is a valuable lesson I take to heart.” You nodded seriously, your hands gently folded in your lap.

Anna was, once again, pleased by your answer. You seemed to be telling her the right things.

Soon enough, your face was on the cover of every newspaper. The rich heiress to Sinopec is here in New York City! Or Y/N Dong, the future of the wealthy and elite.

You could bathe in the attention all day. In fact, you bought about 15 copies of the story and spread them around your apartment. You meticulously cut out each and every sentence that called you beautiful, complimented you, or even mentioned you and pasted them to the blank walls of your home. Even bad press was still press. After you were done with your hard work, you collapsed on the sofa.

“Knock knock!”

You jolted upright. You looked around your apartment. The curtains were drawn over the windows, just like they always were. You looked around. Your apartment was a mess.

The floor was littered with pieces of paper, the fridge stood open and there were expertly placed scissors just lying on the ground waiting to be stepped on. You blinked wearily. It was a disorientation akin to being hungover but not quite.

“Knock knock?”

Your neck almost snapped with how hard you looked at the door. Shit. You immediately stood up, groaning in pain as you ripped your hand from the couch. You had somehow managed to glue your fingers to the fabric and it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

You started madly sweeping the paper, quite literally, under the rug. Then you threw open your windows and were reminded of why you kept them closed. They faced a brick wall. A lovely sight to see.

You frowned, but rubbed your eyes and carried on in your cleaning frenzy nonetheless. The knocks sounded once more and you finally answered.

“One sec-” You cleared your gruff voice. “One second!”

You tripped over the coffee table and you withheld a scream of frustration. Instead you threw your hands up in anger and let out a silent shout.

“Everything alright in there?”

“Yup! Just- give me- a moment-” You held your stubbed toe and every curse you knew flew through your head.

You then ran to the mirror and quickly brushed through your hair. Finally, you made it to the front door, looking as presentable as possible.

When you opened the door, two familiar people shoved their way in.

“Ah, this place is smaller than I expected.” Heather announced, setting down a gift bag, Jimin entered after her with a shy smile. His face conveyed Heather’s words.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s only temporary. I used to live down at Wall Street but then there was a pipe problem with my neighbor and you know...water damage is a real problem.” You clicked your tongue unhappily and they nodded sympathetically.

“That’s completely understandable.” Heather said, moving to get a closer look at your walls. “Interesting decorations.”

“I like words of affirmation to hang around my apartment. It helps build self confidence.”

“Looks like you already have enough of that from the article I read.” Jimin chuckled, fingers brushing over a sentence plastered on the wall.

“Oh, you read that?” Your cheeks heated up. “It was nothing, really.”

“You’re practically everywhere, Y/N.” Heather pointed out. “It’s like knowing a celebrity.”

“But I’m no celebrity.” You said humbly. “I’m just a normal person.”

“My normal person.”

Possession. It was a common theme in your growing relationship with Jimin. You quite liked it. Your heart would always thump. A smile grew on your face and you gave him a quick kiss, one he returned gladly.

“You guys are disgusting. Get a room.” Heather huffed. “Anyway,” She turned and grabbed a gift bag as you and Jimin parted. “I’ve got this gift for you. Call it a congratulations for being on your first ever cover. I was only 15 when I was on mine, but whatever.”

“You didn’t have to.” You exclaimed, but happily took the gift. You threw out the tissue paper like an animal. “Oh! Earrings! I love them!” You exclaimed, surveying the expensive earrings. You assumed they must be at least $30,000.

“Well, it’s just a little thing. Also, I forgot to mention it, my birthday party is next week and I’d love for you to come! I’ll send you the invites!” Heather interlaced your fingers with hers and you shot her a wry smile.

“Of course, we’ll be there.” Jimin answered for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Oh! I forgot to ask, has your father seen your article?” Heather inquired, it was a simple ask, one that had you twisting your hands nervously.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure he has.” You said softly. “But he’s very busy as you know, so he just hasn't gotten in touch yet!” You assured her and when she nodded, you breathed a sigh of relief.

You didn’t want to know much about Jimin besides his family, his money, and how he looked. You just wanted him to be yours.

Jealousy. Yeah, that was definitely the green monster, as green as a freshly mowed lawn at bucking-fucking-ham palace. This feeling in your stomach was definitely jealousy. You told yourself you couldn’t feel jealous of Heather.

Heather even explicitly said she’d never fall in love with Park Jimin, but that was a real trick, a trap, because everyone fell for Park Jimin. There was something about the way she held onto his arm that had you transfixed, how she casually brushed his side when reaching for something.

You were seeing green and red. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her fucking hand for one second, even when other people were trying to get your attention. The party was high caliber, celebrating the birthday of said woman. But you could care less that it was her birthday, that man was yours.

You were like a predator, stalking the perimeter before swooping in for the kill. You puffed out your chest and walked straight into their little conversation.

“Jimin, Heather.” You greeted them with a warm smile, but inside you were screaming. It was a primal urge.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you could make it!” Heather pulled you in for a hug and you both balanced your champagne in one hand while doing the awkward one armed move. “Jimin and I were just discussing the latest actions of the Audre Lorde Project.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” You smiled slyly, all teeth and no glimmer of joy in your eyes to be found. “I just wanted to personally deliver my gift to you.” You thrust out the package.

“Oh no no, you don’t have to! Besides, if you do, then suddenly everyone will want to come over and I just want to talk to you guys for now.” She lowered her voice and smirked.

You nodded, though your fingers clenched around the handles tightly. You trudged over to the gift table and haphazardly threw the bag among the other gifts.

It wasn’t anything special, just the ring you had gotten from Astteria. You had wanted to get rid of that old thing anyway. You glanced at the two, still talking. You gritted your teeth and stormed away to the bathroom.

You and Jimin did many things together. You learned his favorite color, his mother’s name and her favorite song, you learned about his life, his backstory. However, your favorite thing to do with Jimin was to make out.

Now, this might seem shallow, but making out with Jimin was like heaven on Earth. He knew how to move his lips, touch just the right spots, to get you melting.

He was the sun in a New York City heatwave and you were a popsicle melting below. It was truly a sight to behold, although Heather would disagree. As your hands would play a game of untying ties with his suit, your mind played a different game, a far more deadly one.

“I love you.” You reeled him in. He followed you like a moth to a light. “I love you a lot.” You declared and he simply fell away under your grasp.

You had always enjoyed the sight of people falling beneath you as you stripped away their exteriors to find what made them tick.

“You’re mine, Jimin, all mine.” You breathed heavily, gasping for breath as he moved to your neck.

He made quick work of the clean skin, littering it with purple marks, delicately crafted by his skilled lips. His teeth grazed your ear, making you suck in a breath. Your, his, rolex watch pressed into his warm skin.

“Tell me, Jimin, tell me you’re mine.” You said desperately and he groaned in delight.

“I love it when you talk to me like that.” He peppered kisses along your jawline. “I love that sound, begging for me like a dog.” He gripped your jaw, pulling you closer, but you didn’t mind. “I’m yours, baby, but only if you’re mine.”

“I’m all yours.” And he dove back to your lips like an animal.

“I’m madly in love with you, Y/N.” He murmured. “And you’re all mine.”

It was a perfect fairytale, but all fairytales need a villain.

I have no idea who this woman is, posing as my daughter. She is an imposter for sure, or delusional. The subtitles on the T.V. read as you flipped through the article that just landed outside your door.

You seethed, feeling your heart sink as one by one, the article undid your many lies. You almost wanted this destruction, because with it came release.

The release of pressure on your chest, from the weight of all these lies. They were carefully built, framing you in the perfect light, but you didn’t want everything to be undone.

“What’s going on?” He picked up the phone. Your hands were shaking. “Y/N? Are you alright?”

“I-I...don’t read the news, meet me outside my apartment door.” You said quickly, your voice quivering. You heard him roll out of bed.

“Okay. I’ll be right there.”

You sent the same sentiments to Heather. You needed to explain this before they found out. You needed Jimin to understand your side of the story. Jimin was yours. No one else should have him. Ever since you’d set your eyes on him, you had known he was to be your newest obsession.

“Y/N?!” Heather’s screeching voice echoed up the stairs and you knew it was too late for her.

“I know what you think about me, Y/N, but I don’t feel the need to flaunt my riches. I may seem like a real stupid bitch, but I’m not.” Heather snapped, slapping the newspaper down in front of you while you waited with Jimin. He picked up the paper before you could stop him.

“Y/N? Is this true?” He asked cautiously, his eyes scanning the page.

“Y/N? How could you?”

“Y/N?” Y/N Y/N Y/N. The chant was dizzying. Everyone wanted a piece of you, damn it.

“Shut up! Shut up!” You cried, breathless.

They both stopped. Heather’s eyes were pure anger, but Jimin looked confused, lost. He abruptly stood and you went along with him. Heather turned on her heel, storming out.

“Don’t talk to me again, freak.” Heather said, her words bitter as she exited into the cold morning air. Mornings were always cold it seemed.

“How many things have you lied about? Are you even Y/N? Is that even your name?!” He questioned, the buzz of anger growing.

“I can’t...I can’t tell you that.” And you couldn’t. You’d lost track a long time ago.

“Jimin! Jimin please! Wait!” You grasped his hand desperately. He turned around furiously, sharply.

“What do you want? You wore your little disguise so well and I, like a fool, fell for it.” His voice cracked.

“I know I’ve lied about-about a lot of t-things, but I know one thing that’s the truth,” You pleaded. “I love you.”

His gaze hardened. “How do I know that’s not a lie?”

And you couldn’t tell him that either.

A pathological liar. Your mother would have been heartbroken by the label placed upon her precious daughter. You would have been offended as well if it weren’t for the objective truth.

Even when Columbia University expelled you for not only lying about grades and extracurriculars, but also just for being an awful person as they tried to lightly put it, everything still hadn’t hit home.

You were beautiful, fit for a queen. It was such a shame, then, when people also found out that you had no money. It made you hungry for the stuff. Now, the trick was to make sure they didn’t find that out.

Your mother had always been a good woman, but your father had easily gambled away all the money saved. Perhaps you got this carefree, flamboyant personality from him?

A narcissist. Not what you had expected as a new label either, but if it was in the papers, it must be true. In the end, all your little escapades had gotten you in a lot of debt, but the banks had just kept loaning you money. You had no idea why. Maybe it was like Jimin said, you had worn your disguise so well.

“Wow, a narcissist, huh?” You studied yourself in the mirror.

Your apartment was always dark, but you felt a particular chill today. You spoke to yourself, everyone else having had abandoned you.

“I don’t think that’s right.” You argued back to no one. “I’m...Y/N...the daughter of Zhao Dong. that’s me.” You said over and over, but you were no longer convinced and deep down you knew it was all a sham, a lie.

One thing had built on another and another until all the lies piled up and you could no longer dig yourself out. Your head was often spinning trying to remember everything everyone had ever told you.

But the thing was, at a certain point, it had no longer been a fib, a disguise. You had become Y/N, the daughter of Sinopec’s chairman Zhao Dong. At a certain point, you had become someone else, and that was all you had ever wanted.

Then you started laughing uncontrollably before sweeping your arm across the counter, sending various beauty products tumbling to the floor. Your body shook.

“No, no, no. It was all a lie.” You giggled. “It was just a lie, you’re just Y/N Y/L/N from a goddamn backwater town.” You slapped your cheeks, hard, as if that could erase all that was done.

It seemed that you were the villain of this fairytale, but you couldn’t quite believe it. As you looked in the mirror, the darkness of the bathroom slowly closing in around you, you could see yourself clearly.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were the evil queen and there was no snow white, just you and your shitty castle. And you were alone. Not even Jimin wanted a thing to do with you, having called your reckless actions disgusting. You had assured him you weren’t a psychopath.

You remembered the conversation on the phone after calling him several times.

“I’m sorry, how can I make it up to you?” You had asked. He had simply laughed bitterly and shifted his phone .

“You’ve already stolen everything from me, Y/N, and I fully intend to take back most of it, but you can keep the watch.” and then he hung up.

1 A.M. wake up.

Obsess over what you were going to do for the day. Fall back asleep.

3 A.M.

Get out of bed.

make yourself a cup of coffee and stare in the mirror for a while.

5 A.M.

Take a deep breath.

Start your day.

You didn’t have a home to return to. You didn’t have anyone who loved you and you most certainly didn’t have a reputation. With your face staining every front page of a newspaper, you had nowhere to hide, but you were just one person. You needed some fresh air, and where to best do that except at the top of the Empire State Building?

You were surprised to brush past Jimin on the way up to the top floor, but you should have guessed. You supposed his mother worked there. Either way, he followed you, asking if anything was wrong. Like a fucking psychopath.

“STOP!” You cried, turning to him as you reached the top floor. There had to be roof access somewhere up here.

“I want to know if you’re okay?” His eyes were kind and you were reminded of how everything had been before.

But you had already hurt each other, the past was past, there was only forward in this meaningless space of nothing.

“Haven’t I hurt you enough?!” You shouted, tears finally making their way down your face.

He pulled you back as you started to search the top floor, which was deserted save for two workers filing out for the night.

“Why are you doing this?” You whispered.

His eyes were furious, a volcano, a matchstick ready to ignite. It caught you off guard.

“Because, even though I hate you right now with every bone in my goddamn body, I would stop you from doing something stupid, like what I think you’re about to do, over and over again. No matter what.” He stopped, words stuttering, jawline clenching as he searched for the words.

“And maybe that’s what makes me the fool.”

He stepped back into the elevator and the doors slowly closed. You couldn’t bring yourself to join him, simply standing in shock at his declaration. And then he was gone. You saw him once more at a club with Heather on his arm, and after that, you never saw him again.

You would sometimes think you saw him; the flash of his silver hair, his figure ducking into a shop, the smell of him when you woke up, the taste of strawberry on your lips but he was never there. You didn’t need the money anymore. You realized...you had just wanted him.

Loving him was electrifying, like a hurricane at times and calm waters at others. You were a train on its way to be wrecked, and you had finally...run off the rails.

Fin

Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine Cashmere, cologne and hot sunshine Red racing cars, sunset and vine And we were young and pretty

Taglist: @thereaderstea , @sadboibts, @ditttiii

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yodawgiherd · 4 years ago

Text

The Duality of Man

RATING: E

>>>Read on AO3<<<

No prompt or anything, just felt like flexing my E-rated muscle Short BDSM EM story for your viewing pleasure - if smut isn't your cup of tea then I suggest avoiding it for the sake of your mental health ^^ (another story that is def. in the main fic universe, just doesn't really fit the narrative right now)

It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was high in the sky, illuminating everything with its warm rays, the birds were singing, people were enjoying these gifts from the earth. Yet, as it always is, there were certain places where the sun did not shine, such as the room Eren was sitting in.

Then again, in his case it was better to have the shutters closed, because he didn’t want an audience right now. The things that were happening were better to be enjoyed with just the two people involved.

Taking a sip of the whiskey in his hand, Eren leaned into the gentle hug of the leather, the chair being exactly as comfortable as one can physically be. He, in his arrogance, ignored the beautiful day outside, as his eyes were trained on another prize, and it would be a lie to say that it wasn’t quite a spectacle as well.

It would also be rude not to pay attention, as his kitten was trying so, so hard.

The Sybian saddle was a powerful machine, and watching it wreck Mikasa’s shop was a sight. Or, to be exact, her riding it was the sight – the machine was only a part of the whole picture. It began on the top, where the cat ears were sitting snuggly nestled into her midnight hair, now matted with sweat. Her sharp grey eyes were hidden from him by the blindfold, but that was a trade Eren was willing to take. Down over her pretty, pretty face that was contorted not only in the pleasure from the Sybian but also by the big black ball gag between her teeth, drool glistening as it trickled down her chin. Some of it dribbled down to her collar, adorned by a cute little jingle bell.

It jingled as her body trembled, and that was so fucking hot.

Down still and now Eren was staring at her perfect tits, decorated with metal clamps on the hardened nipples. The silver chain connecting these two only added to the artistic value of the whole set. Mikasa's hands were submissively clasped behind her head, held in place by no bondage but her master’s word. Eyes sliding down, Eren took a sip of the whiskey, taking in the place where the magic happened.

Mikasa was kneeling on the ground, legs very wide apart, most of her weight resting on the saddle-shaped sex toy. It was hard to call it “resting” considering how much it wrecked her - the machine was turned on quite a high setting, the vibrations stimulating the poor girl’s sex at a brutal rate.

And because Eren was a demanding dom, he had to add a bit more to the mix.

There was an egg vibrator taped directly on Mikasa’s swollen clit, its quiet buzzing quite tame compared to the Sybian. As Mikasa was playing a catgirl tonight Eren had put the tail plug into her earlier, and just because he was so generous that was also added to the mix, stimulating her other opening.

Technology truly is the best, everything can vibrate nowadays.

At the beginning of the play Mikasa had a whole set of her cat lingerie on, but as the fun progressed most of it was taken away from her. The only article of clothing remaining on her body were the cute black stockings, left alone because Eren had a thing for her legs and was far beyond pretending that he didn’t.

The rest was perfect too, of course. She was bathed in sweat, tormented for some time already, and Eren could spend an eternity watching her abdominals flutter against the powerful vibrations from several sources. Her hips had a mind of their own, sliding back and forth slightly as she rode the toy, gasping into the gag.

While he was taking in the sights, Mikasa’s body continued trembling, the multiple assaults her body was enduring rather draining. Eren had forbidden her from cumming under a threat of severe punishment, and she knew that he wasn’t bluffing. Earlier she came against his wishes and he whipped her ass so hard that Mikasa cried and begged for mercy.

The welts were there as a reminder and made this whole Sybian ride that much more taxing. With no way to measure time Mikasa had no idea how long she was here, how long it was since Eren ordered her to climb on this infernal machine, face in a very no-discussion-allowed expression. With the blindfold cutting her vision she didn’t even know if he was still here or if he didn’t leave, letting her torment herself.

Close to being overcome Mikasa’s whole being clenched, her muscles standing out beneath the skin so beautifully that she looked like a statue. Her hands shook where they rested behind her head, this close to disobeying orders and pushing herself from the saddle. Teeth biting into the rubber ball in her mouth, Mikasa inhaled sharply through the nose and fought to get her treacherous body back under control. The punishment was painful for disobeying once, and she didn’t want a repetition of that experience.

From his perch Eren saw it all, understanding that his partner’s subspace was under attack, and as a good dom it was his duty to put her back into it. Checking his watch he hummed in acknowledgment, noticing that Mikasa was taking this edging torture for quite a while now. What a good whore, he truly couldn’t wish for a more obedient kitten to train. Standing up, he grabbed the riding crop and walked over to the buzzing saddle with its beautiful occupant. A flick of his wrist and the crop swatted over Mikasa’s chained nipples, forcing a muffled scream from her.

That’s right slut, I’m still here, said the crop, better behave.

Reminded of his presence Mikasa straightened her posture, shamelessly presenting her naked body to him on a silver platter. It belonged to him anyway, she was his submissive for the night and he could do whatever he wanted to her. The twisted way of thanks was the flick of the crop right against her abused clit, forcing Mikasa to sag against the flare of strange pain. Huffing, she straightened once again, mentally preparing herself against the whip.

Eren circled her like a shark, steps deliberate and slow, taking his time. Stopping directly behind her, Eren silently admired the tattoo, somehow unable to get enough of the inked wings. Staring at his own in the mirror was good, but looking at hers, stretched over the pale sweaty skin, that was a treat. A flick of the crop against her reddened butt later he resumed his patrol.

Blindfolded as she was, Mikasa couldn’t track Eren’s steps. The crop was unseen and accurate, hitting exactly where the master wanted, smacking the most vulnerable parts of her body. The whipped ass, the clamped nipples, the vibrated clitoris. Several times she was forced to curl her body by pure instincts, defense against the pain, but she always forced herself back upright.

Through it all the saddle never stopped going and neither did the egg vibrator or the tail buttplug. Mikasa was nearing the limits of her sanity, screaming, groaning and gasping like crazy whenever the crop painfully kissed another part of her sweaty skin. Tears from behind the blindfold, forced by both pleasure and pain. The drool trickling down, slicking the rubber of the ball gag. Too much pleasure, too much pain, balancing on the edge was torture and she was doing it to herself.

Because through it all, Eren’s order reigned absolute. He owned her – body and mind.

The leather of the riding crop appeared, this time under her chin, forcing her to look up with unseeing eyes. Soon after the blindfold was taken away and Mikasa blinked into the light, watching Eren tower over her. Damn but he looked good, dressed in a shirt with rolled-up sleeves and an undone top button. From the position on her knees Mikasa could also see the unmistakable bulge in his slacks, proving how much Eren was enjoying himself.

“You did well, slut.”

Before any conscious reaction could take place Mikasa literally purred at the praise, her mindset being fully the one of a submissive kitten. Not one that she took often, but when she did Mikasa could really get into it.

“Is there a reward you would like?”, her master asked, ever so generous.

In Mikasa’s mind there was only one thing right now. Angling her head she rubbed her face on the crotch of Eren’s pants, feeling his hardness twitch beneath her cheek. To strengthen her plea she looked him I the face, doing her best pupp-…. kitten eyes. If her mouth wasn’t wrenched open by the massive ball gag, Mikasa would be biting the bottom lip too. Anything to seduce him, anything.

“You want that, huh? Well, my attention is not cheap…”

She rubbed against him more insistently, willing to do practically anything to get off - the Sybian was incredibly effective at its job. With a grin Eren reached behind her head, unclasping the strap holding the rubber ball between her lips.

“First you’ll suck me off, and don’t even think about getting down from the saddle.”, he commanded,” You are going to ride it like a fucking cowgirl while my cock is in your throat, and you will love every second of it.”

With a wet pop the gag came free, dropped on the floor.

“Only after I cum on your face and tits will I consider letting you come too. Understand?”

Voice hoarse as she spoke, the desperate catgirl agreed immediately.

“Yes, sir.”

Somewhat gently, he patted her cheek.

“Good girl.”

With a dark chuckle Eren repositioned his hand on Mikasa’s head, right between the cat ears, angling it so it would line up with his length. She took him eagerly into her mouth, the skilled tip of her tongue sliding over all the good places and he couldn’t suppress a groan. Gripping her hair, mostly as a reminder that he’s in charge, Eren cleared his throat before giving her the order that was sure to result in an ocean of pleasure for him and a facial for her, knowing how amazing Mikasa was at this.

“Begin.”

Not even a week later, their positions were reversed.

The straitjacket must have been an invention from the deepest part of hell. Hands uselessly clenching against its restrictive hold, Eren groaned in pure desperation. It didn’t budge, of course, keeping his arms uselessly bound to his stomach.

Above him, his mistress noticed that immediately and it amused her. Greatly.

“You can pull at it as much as you want, slut, you are not getting out.”

The latex of her gloves was cold against the back of Eren’s knees as she pushed his legs higher, perfecting the angle she was fucking him at. The hammering of the strap-on against his ass would feel that much better if it wasn’t for the cage locking his cock away yet tied up as he was all Eren could do was whine.

Honestly, he should have known better than to expect Mikasa not to take her revenge after the Sybian thing. Or maybe revenge isn’t the best word- she loved that toy but her strong sense of equality demanded to balance the scales.

Which, after a certain course of action, led here.

To him, lying on his back on the bed, gagged, with a latex hood covering his face and locked in a straitjacket. Not to mention that fucking cage between his legs. At least the hood had an opening for the eyes, so he could watch Mikasa in all her glory while she ravaged him.

And glorious she was, wearing latex too, of course, the material covering her arms in elbow-length gloves and legs in thigh-high stockings. There were some real killer heels on her feet, Eren knew since he was forced to worship them. When she pushed those sharp heels into his mouth and ordered to suck, they almost reached down to his poor throat. Not that he complained though, since he also got to kiss and lick his way all over Mikasa’s godlike latex-covered legs, and that was an experience he adored.

Even her torso was in that shiny black material, the nice new leotard-type bodysuit fitting very well with the rest of her outfit. So yea, the second she walked through the door and ordered Eren to kneel he did so without thinking. After he properly worshipped her legs and shoes, practically a ritual at this point, Mikasa brought out the bondage tool of her choice. His body moved automatically when she ordered him to strip and then tied him up with the bondage jacket, assisting his goddess in any way he could. He was tied up like this, cock locked, and then the play truly began.

First things first – he was made to take care of her pleasure with nothing else but the new dildo gag. Apparently Eren was not the only one who kept accumulating new toys because Mikasa could also surprise him.

It felt strange, fucking her with his face like he was, and if Eren would have the choice to pick he would prefer to eat Mikasa out instead. Unluckily, today was not the day when he got to make choices. One, two climaxes later, teased out of her by that thing and the Hitachi wand Mikasa used on herself, she was more than ready to fuck him.

Still on his knees, he watched as she pulled the gag from his mouth and gave him a long sloppy kiss before clicking her heels towards the “stash”. Eren didn’t even see what she was searching for, completely fascinated by how her ass looked in the skin-tight latex when suddenly there was a strap-on in front of his face.

“I’m going to fuck you, and I'm going to fuck you hard.”, a cruel smirk, “Hopefully you won’t have to walk tomorrow, because that pretty ass of yours is getting destroyed.”

God, Mikasa being this much of a cruel dominatrix made him so hard that the cage had issues containing it.

“Sadly, we ran out of lube, so you will have to use your mouth.”

“But I….”

“Puppy, you have two options here. Option a – I’ll get the ring gag, force your mouth open and then fuck your throat so hard that you’ll pass out. Option b – You’ll open wide like the slut you are and suck my cock yourself.”, with the clicking of her high heels, she neared his kneeling form like a predator.

“So which one will it be?”

Under her spell, he obeyed almost immediately, lips parting.

“Good slut.”

Mouth filled with a plastic toy, Eren did his best to please her, earning short praise.

“My my, but look at you, you’re a natural at this.”

An unexpected deep thrust forced a gagging sound from him, making the mistress click her tongue.

“But we will have to work on that gag reflex of yours. So annoying…”

A sudden wave of tingling from his crotch forced him to groan, teeth dragging against the plastic.

“Biting my cock? That’s no good.”, she pulled out, and right after Eren’s face flared in pain.

“No…”, a hard slap turned his face right, “Teeth.”, now he was facing left, ears ringing.

After that, she slapped the dildo against his face too, just for good measure, sliding left and right to spread his spit everywhere. Then the hand was back, once again straightening his face and shoving the plastic cock into his mouth. To remind her whore how to move, Mikasa’s hips moved, fucking the undeserving slave with fervor while he groaned helplessly, the arms in the straitjacket uselessly jerking. She was getting into it, sliding deeper and deeper to truly abuse Eren’s throat.

Close to suffocating from this rough treatment, Eren was very glad when she stopped, pulling the strap-on out. It was surely slick enough now, and she nodded her head in satisfaction.

“Not bad.”

Mikasa was in quite the mood today, not even letting Eren catch a breath before she was pushing him on the bed. When the lube opened, despite her earlier claim, and her gloved fingers trailed between his cheeks, he knew what was coming.

So here he was, getting pounded into the next week while gritting his teeth against the combination of pleasure and displeasure. Mikasa was enjoying herself, she always was, leaning closer both to alter the angle but also to grin right into Eren’s face. Just as she was getting passionate the phone rang, but if Eren thought that it would make her stop he was dead wrong.

“Why look at this, slut, someone wants to talk to you..”, she drawled, speeding up the fucking machine that was her abdomen, “What a pity that you are quite busy.”

His vision was slowly going white in spite of the cage, but Eren did his best to stop that wave. He knew that coming like this while caged was highly unsatisfying, Mikasa forced that out of him several times already - one could say that he was familiar with that feeling. Sadly, his mistress was a sadistic, cruel bitch when she wanted to be.

He loved her for it.

The phone’s ringing was overshadowed by the rush of blood in Eren’s ears. All he could see was Mikasa, all he could feel was Mikasa, she was everything at that moment and he was on the verge of breaking when she suddenly stopped, making him heave in the air as much as he could while gagged.

Oh hey, the phone was silent too.

With a wet sound she pulled out, slapping his ass for no other reason than that she wanted to.

“Turn around, whore.”

It was awkward, with a lot of shuffling around and stuff, but Eren managed to flip himself. Grabbing his hips, Mikasa maneuvered his body until it was dangerously close to the edge of the bed. When two clicks of her heels hitting the floor resonated, he understood. Ah, so Mikasa wanted to stand while fucking him. Now he was kneeling on the bed, hands still useless at his stomach while Mikasa stood behind him. When the tip of the toy dragged over his lubed opening, Eren couldn’t help but grit his teeth.

Slowly she filled him, going in until her chest was squished against his back, black lips at his ear.

“You are taking my cock very well, I think you deserve a reward.”

Deft fingers moved and suddenly Eren’s chastity cage fell open, a feeling of incredible freedom in the crotch. Despite all that was happening, she pressed a chaste kiss to the side of his neck.

“You can cum now, okay? As long as it's only from my cock then I won’t mind. Can you do that for me, puppy?”

Most likely because she wanted to hear him scream, she opened the gag and let it fall on the bed.

“Y-Yes, mistress.”, Eren pushed out, breathing labored since he was literally impaled by her right now.

A whisper, one that sent shivers down his spine.

“Good boy…”

And then Mikasa was pulling back, grabbing his hips and Eren couldn’t remember much after.

But hell, did his ass hurt in the morning.

#eremika #fanfic #smut #snk

11 notes · View notes

for-bucks-sake · 5 years ago

Text

Old News.

Pairing: Steve x Reader Word count: 5.5K. Warnings: Angst, a lot of smut!! (Unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), just a tiny bit of choking and cockwarming.) some fluff. Summary: Sometimes, even being Captain America isn’t enough. A/N: This one was requested by the lovely (and very patient) @fandomslut666, I like to think it’s somewhere between the area of catws and aou. Your comments and reblogs are so appreciated you don’t even know. Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoy! Btw, requests are open!

Gif’s not mine.

“Captain Rogers! Captain Rogers!” His name was thrown at him from every possible direction, repeated again and again like a mantra. Countless of eager eyes seeking his gaze, desperately enough to convince him they would do anything for just a moment of his undivided attention.

Steve wasn’t a regular at press conferences. Usually, it was more of a Stark territory, but once in a while he was forced to go; it’s good for PR, they said, the people love seeing their captain.

He only went because of her anyway.

In all honesty, Steve would rather fight on his own twice as many journalists than answer their questions. A man with a striped tie and a combed hair nearly pushed a microphone to his chest. Also, he thought, make them be ninjas.

“Please, everyone, let’s all stay calm and in time, The Captain will answer each and every one of your questions.” A woman with a neat hair pulled back smiled, adjusting her grey pantsuit when she spoke. The buzzing in the room gradually died down.

Steve knew who she was. Penelope was one of The Avengers representatives in the news and the media. She was very stern but not any less kind because of it. He assumed she was very good at her job.

His eyes bore into the crowd, his guts twisted in disappointment when he couldn’t locate her.

“Captain Rogers will only answer question regarding the body formerly known as SHIELD, as well as the latest mission of The Avengers and the new aiding initiative for helping PTSD suffering veterans recover.” Penelope glanced at Steve as he nodded, confirming what she said.

He was already debriefed an hour ago, but the woman knew who she was dealing with, and after the scandal of last time…he needed to be reminded he can’t be saying exactly what’s on his mind.

“Captain Rogers will not answer any further questions referencing political views nor personal life.” Penelope smiled, “use your time wisely. Thank you.”

In a brief second suited arms were raised as high as they could, it was like the were in a competition of who can speak louder and raise his hand higher. Steve adjusted in his seat, his suit widely uncomfortable and restricting;

“It makes you look professional.” Natasha said,

“Handsome.” Clint added,

“As long as it’s not your stealth suit or those god awful grey sweatpants…” Tony huffed and physically pushed his broad shoulders out the door, sending him to the jungle.

“Carl, go ahead.”

A man from the back row stood up and cleared his throat, smoothing down the wrinkles of his pants.

“Captain Rogers, it’s an honor to meet you again.” Steve nodded, not even the faintest smile on his lips, “what is your stance regarding the conflict in the middle east? Will you explain-“

“Let me stop your right there.” Penelope talked straight to the black microphone, “Really, Carl? I thought we were very clear with our instructions. He will not answer that. Next!” She announced, already scanning for a different journalist with her eyes. They fell on a young woman, so contrasted in that view of tired dark suits, her confidence refreshing and covering everything she lacks in experience.

“The LA Times, y/n.”

Steve’s eyes lit up when he saw her thin golden bracelet sliding down her wrist as she raised her hand up.

Despite the scuffs that filled the room, a satisfied grin decorated her features when her name was pronounced ceremonially, her stance straight and impressive.

“Captain Rogers.” Y/n smiled, not missing the way Steve’s eyes roamed over her body, he swallowed the gulp in his throat and smiled back.

“Will the initiative Mr. Wilson and you have come up with only be relevant to the citizens of New York? Or should we expect to see more branches soon?”

Her skirt was hugging her curves perfectly, light purple that ended just above the knees, enhancing her body’s already sinful shape, even when she was fully clothed.

Steve swallowed again, registering her question only by some miracle; “Sam Willson is the mind operating behind this incredible innovation,” he began.

Y/n exhaled, her mind already forming the words that soon will be written on her laptop; Captain Rogers, looking authoritative in a navy suit, humble as always, credits his fellow Avenger and good friend Sam Wilson for their conjoint hard work on the anticipated “VetsForVets.” project that will debut in two weeks.

On a second thought, maybe she should scratch that comment about the suit. He does look authoritative though, and if she may add, fucking hot.

He was uncomfortable, she could see that, the way he was fidgeting with his white collar even though he didn’t have a tie, his overly tensed back, the strain in his voice when he spoke, but mostly, because he told her.

“Apart from New York, we expect to open addition stations in Washington D.C. and Boston in the next three months.” The tight fabric of her white t-shirt clung to her breasts, showing just enough cleavage to drive him crazy but still be considered appropriate. How he managed to form a coherent answer, he didn’t know.

“We aim to expand to the midwest as well, and hopefully, in six months, we’d reach the west coast. Our main goal is to be where we’re needed. Anywhere that might be.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Y/n licked her lips and looked straight at his darkening eyes. The both of them knew exactly where they needed to be.

“Fuck, Steve.” Y/n whimpered, back crushed against the bathroom stall in full force, bones hitting the plastic in motions coordinated with the rapid slams of their hips.

He shushed her gently, bringing his fingers to her mouth in a gesture so delicate it clashed with his violent thrusts, “we don’t want to be heard, do we?”

She threw her head back, hitting the stall, eyes shut in pleasure. Accepting his fingers and sucking on them in a desperate attempt to be quiet.

Steve pulled his hips almost completely out, she opened her eyes just in time to see his lower abdomen contracted, sculpted abs shrinking and a devilish smirk on his lips before he pounded into her again, forcefully pressing his way into her pussy as she squeezed her eyes shut, mouth closing tighter around his digits and filling with her own salty flavor that lingered to his skin, evidence of her previous orgasm.

“Good girl.” He rasped when she only squeaked, visibly preventing herself from making any louder sound.

They still were in a building full of journalists, after all, and damn good ones. It would be too easy for them to connect the dots if they heard anything at all. And then, all hell breaks loose.

“Shit, you feel so good baby.” He groaned into the crock of her neck, adjusting his grip on her ass and squeezing her between his thighs. When he was sure he had her secure in place he lifted his palm from her body,

“FUCK!” She moaned when he spanked her, left hand hits back hard and unforgiving on her cheeks. The place when he landed his hand heated up, skin prickling and burning in an already red spot.

Steve renewed his grasp on her skin and lifted her body against his, his cock still inside her, its stretch more defined than always when he raised her up, easily finding a comfortable position to support her in the air just in the right angle, even with one arm only.

“Steve.” Y/n cried, tears forming in her eyes as her shoulders hit the stall again and Steve picked the pace of his thrusts. His hipbones brushed against the inside of her thighs, smoothly sliding in and out as shiny sleek leaked from her hole down to her ass. She was at his mercy again; one wrong move and she could meet the hard stone floor. If it was anyone else she might’ve been worried, but not with Steve.

His free hand slowly sank down to her throat, dragging over her red lips and her chin, leaving a wet trail of saliva. The grip was loose around her neck, heavy and felt on her hot skin.

Steve bit his already swollen lips and tightened his hold, using it to bring her mouth closer; He couldn’t help it. She looked so wrecked. And delicious.

To think that less than an hour ago she was still in her fancy little skirt, strutting around with a smirk on her flawless makeup covered face. So collected and pretty- now look at her;

Melting like jelly between his arms, so begging and desperate and even more beautiful than before, needy for his cock even when it was already inside her. The thought alone made him smirk just before he crushed their lips together, taking advantage of y/n’s gasp of surprise and sliding his tongue past her lips, stroking slowly the inside of her cheeks and her own tongue- moving against each other in a sloppy rhythm.

The heat in her lower belly ignited, threatening to combust as she felt it raise to her flushed cheeks, painting them in what he thought was the most beautiful shade of pink.

She moaned into his mouth, trembling so much he had to bring down his other hand, nearly covering her asscheeks with his palms, squeezing hard but holding her in place.

“Hold tight, doll.” Steve warned, picking up the speed of his movements, slamming into her boneless body in a vicious pace.

Her grip on his biceps tightened, breast moving up and down to her ragged breaths, muffled curses leaving pulp lips and getting lost in her own pleasure.

He jerked his hips, making her produce an utterly sinful sound, dripping erotism and lust; the fire in her stomach finally consuming all of her as she burst. Fingers clawing hard into Steve’s muscles, mouth open and thrown back along with her head, legs shaking so violently she thanked god she wasn’t standing on her feet.

Steve buried his face in the crook of her neck again, leaving an uneven trail of sloppy kisses as he rode his high with her, her walls clenching around him and milking every bit of his pleasure when he marked them with his cum.

“Ugh shit, the mess we’ve made.” Y/n stared in terror at the mix of juices leaking lazily down her thigh. She grabbed a handful of toilet paper and gathered the liquids in a somewhat awkward position.

“Do you need help?” Steve didn’t even bother to button his dress shirt. He laid on the closed toilet in blissful obliviousness, the expensive suit Tony got him was in a puddle on the floor. Oh wouldn’t he be furious if he ever found out.

He reached his hand and placed it on her hip, caressing the skin under her thin panties and smiling at her, she returned the smile but slowly zipped up her skirt, forcing Steve to remove his palm. He thought it would be the perfect time to ask her.

“Hey y-“

“I gotta go.” Y/n picked her phone from her purse before he could say anything, seemingly unaware of his attempt to speak. She had too many messages, and the governor of Georgia tweeted something completely scandalous again, she needed to see if someone has written about it…

“Already?” He was disappointed, voice higher than usual and sobered up from his post orgasm euphoria.

“Yeah, uh…sorry Steve.” She didn’t look up from her phone, blindly searching for her tight t-shirt, “next time, ok?”

Steve nodded but he wasn’t sure she could tell. He located the white fabric that was thrown near her legs and passed it to her. She mumbled a distracted thank you and kept typing, only stopping once when her head was stuck inside the collar.

Steve chuckled lightly when he watched her while buttoning his shirt, slowly, without any real effort. He thought that he can make time last forever by staying in there, in the last stall of the VIP rest room, and she would stay with him.

She slipped into her Louboutins swiftly, (they were her only pair, she wore them when she had to leave an impression, she once told him in a vulnerable moment of truth) waved goodbye, and just like that - she was gone.

Steve didn’t like how empty he felt, the feeling of bliss already out the door just like her, grounding him with sheer force and striping him of his joy.

He should really get used to that by now, he thought as he picked up the blue suit, the void in the pit of his stomach getting terrifyingly deep.

Steve held his fitted blazer above his shoulder and pushed the door open with a sigh, meeting his own face in the mirror. He couldn’t ignore the fragments of past expression that masked his features before it faded away.

The creases were rooted on his forehead, curved lines and loose corner of mouth, blue dim inside his orbs.

Something downed on him then. He looked sad.

Y/n waved her magnetic card in front of the small machine, waiting for the familiar beep to arrive. The glass doors opened automatically, letting her in the elegant looking lobby. She sent a hurried kiss in the air to Daniella, not even having the time to chat with her dear receptionist friend as she walked to the elevators with determination, nodding when Dani held her phone, and pantomimed texting, as to let her know she won’t get off that easily.

From there the way to her cubicle was short. It was small and unimpressive but for her it meant everything; at her young age she managed to score her position in the LA Times’ branch in New York. She was ambitious and persistent and unforgiving- people her age could only dream of what she does. Most of them are stuck as an underpaid interns, their names written on coffee cups instead of being on top of articles. She, on the other hand, just returned from interviewing Captain America.

Y/n didn’t need a fancy office with see through walls to know she was damn good at her job, she only had to look at what tasks she was given.

So yes, a shower would be incredible right now, but also meeting her deadline that was pretty much today.

“Y/n! The boss wants you in her office.” Ruth’s assistant lightly touched her back, bringing her attention to him as she was too concentrated into typing.

“What? Right now?” It wasn’t unusual her boss required a report after a big press conference, normally she would just mail it to her, though. Speaking to her directly was only reserved to special news. Or perhaps, a slap on the wrist. Or something way worse.

What if she somehow found out she was sleeping with Steve? This could be a disaster. Everything she previously wrote about him or with relations to him would be considered unreliable. All her work for nothing and she will never be worked with again. Unethical and stupid and-

“You coming?”

Y/n nodded slowly and got up in terror, steps heavy in her suddenly very uncomfortable heels.

Jamie the assistant opened the door for her and she thanked him weakly, shrinking when she stepped forward and met with the proud back of the stern woman.

“Do you have a dress?” The grey woman ask nonchalantly after what felt like an hour of silence.

“I’m sorry?” Y/n asked, confused, trying to hide her baffled face when Ruth turned around, patting one of her famous black pantsuits .

“Did the press con go well? Have you started your report and article yet?” The tall woman seem to ignore her own question, confusing washing over y/n even further.

“It went better than expected, got enough material for a great piece about Rogers and Wilson’s project. Both the article and the report will be at your desk by the end of the day, ma’am.”

“Very well.” Ruth nodded, “now do you have a dress? I have an invitation to the Gala Stark hosts in two weeks. I already confirmed going, but unfortunately something came up and I can’t go. Since we cannot afford missing it- every single paper in the city is going to be there- and you are already familiar with the story, I thought you were fit for the job. That brings me to my question- do you have a dress?”

Steve loved watching her falling apart beneath him. Her trembling thighs secure between his arms, face buried deep between her folds and her pleasure to him mercy.

It was so intimate, sometimes. How she would whisper his name like some kind of a secret, a soft hidden truth that was only known to them.

Y/n dug her nails into his scull, weaving her fingers through his hair and pulling him impossibly closer, tongue debouching her heat, his lips applying more pressure to her core.

His cock twitched in his pants when he looked up, just for a moment. He had to watch;

She looked like a work of art, his name leaving her nearly bloody lips again and again, thick lashes fluttering on her cheeks, hair spread on the pillow in a mess that almost seemed artificial.

“Fuck!” She yelped when Steve buried his head again, grazing his teeth against her clit and biting it gently, her body squirming as he pressed a kiss to it right afterwards.

Steve bucked his hips into the matters, his crotch desperate for some friction, the delicious noises she made and being surrounded by her sweet smell were almost too much.

Content it would last forever, he felt the desperate grind of y/n’s hips against his face, and the thrill of watching her cum overpowered the pleasure of prolonging the dwelling of her flavor on his lips.

Steve groaned into her center, flicking his tongue and squeezing her thigh hard, holding in place a handful of her body as he consumed her passionately.

Ignoring the shaking of her legs he continued, back arched above the sheets as bids of sweat formed on her temple, shutting and opening her eyes in hopelessness when she chased her high, feeling the warm liquid finding its way out of her hole and right into the Steve’s waiting tongue. The sensation of him licking every last drop astonishingly erotic, arousing all over again her sensitive clit.

Y/n exhaled and looked down, exhausted.

His satisfied grin was utterly unholy, jaw coated with her juices, the sensual licks of his tongue on his lips can’t cloak that cocky expression he didn’t dare to steer. Intense stare fixated on her swollen bit lips, as if he could actually devour her whole with his eyes only.

Y/n never shied away from him, not even once- but something in the way Steve watched her from between her legs, so focused and fascinated at the same time - raised her blush higher on her cheeks, the urge to close her thigh almost overpowering her.

He kissed her left inner thigh for the last time, sending shivers down her already shook spine. He cupped her sides, bringing himself up. One corner of his lips curved his smirk even wider as he captured y/n in a kiss, smearing her up with her own release and biting on her bottom lip before he pulled away.

The pout her mouth shaped into gave him the last drop of courage he needed to gather, her still erratic breath hot on his skin when he formed the words in his mind into a question.

“I was thinking…” He began, choosing his words carefully, the growing boner in his boxer doing nothing to clear his mind, “there’s this event next week. Tony…Tony Stark is hosting it. It’s for “VetsForVets”, and I thought,” he inhaled, for some reason her breaths not as close as before, “I thought that I would love it if you went with me. I mean…That I want you to come with me. I mean, only if you want to, because I want you. To come with me, I mean.” He kept stumbling over his words, making it even more of mess than it was. Steve knew it would be awkward, but this lame attempt had him fighting the burning desire to punch himself.

Y/n flinched back, moving backward and pressing herself against the headboard of her bed, her pout turning into a frown.

“I’m sorry if I, I just assumed-“ He found it difficult to create the sentence even more than before, “it’s a thing for the press, actually, I thought you’d wanna go, since you may know some people, uh, there.”

He watched her eyes losing any trace of previous lust when she spoke, “I’m going.”

“You’re going? With…with me?”

“No, I mean,” y/n said reluctantly, “I’m already going. I got an invitation from work.”

“Oh…” Steve said, visibly confused as to why she said it like it was a bad thing, “we can still go together, it would be even easier since you already got the clearance to-“

“I’m going alone.”

Steve exhaled sharply, his mind filling with silver fog he couldn’t find the source of, eyes closing and then opening wide again.

“You…Don’t want go with me?”

People seemed to forget who he was, once. Just a skinny kid from Brooklyn that was too short to reach any girl’s eyes and couldn’t throw a punch to save his life.

People seemed to forget, but he remembered. He remembered every woman that looked down on him, dismissing him over his looks. Every foot he stepped on, limbs too awkward to dance. He remembered, and he never blamed anyone but himself.

So when y/n’s gaze met his, apologetic and with a hint of pity, he remembered.

“Steve I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He was on his feet in no time, already pulling his shirt back up, feet searching for his boots.

She got up after him, her sex still bare with a small trace of her wetness that was there before.

“It’s okay, really.” And everything about him screamed it wasn’t, “I asked. You said no. What’s the big deal?” His t-shirt was half up, fabric too tight for his muscles, he already had one shoe on.

“Because, I don’t want you to be upset! It’s nothing about you. I just…can’t show up as your date. It’s unprofessional.” She tried to explain, laying a comforting hand on his forearm. She could feel the clenched muscle under it, flexing harder than it should.

His brain was beat, irrational with that screen of black smoke that made him even angrier, “I’m just a job to you, then?”

Steve spat his words at her, flinching away from him once again as he shook his shoulder to get her hand off.

“You’re not just- what are you even talking about? Steve, I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It sure don’t seem like it.”

“God,” she moaned in despair, “I can’t be seen with you. It can ruin my career, did you know that? I would definitely lose my job at the Times. Which I fucking love, by the way.” Steve opened his mouth to react, but she beat him to it.

“Everything I have ever wrote about you, which you should know, is a lot, would be considered biased. Invalid. Fake. Do you know what happens to journalists who publish fake new?”

“But it’s not fake.” He whispered.

“Yeah, well, they don’t know that.” Her throat was sore, her head was hammering with the pain of a sharp needle that was permanently stuck inside her temple. Her vision was blurry and kept losing its focus.

“Then tell them.” He knew the fight was already lost, “I’ll tell ‘em.”

“And you really think they’ll listen?”

Steve took one last look at her and fixed his laces, eyes stinging with tears he barely managed to blink away.

She was right. Of course she was. And he couldn’t afford being angry, but he was. He told himself it was at the situation and not at her, and it felt like a lie.

“See you around, I guess.” Steve adjusted his jeans, the uncomfortable stretch still there but not as irritating as before.

“Yeah,” y/n said, watching him leaving her room on his own, talking more to herself than to him, “see you around.”

Y/n didn’t stop throwing up all morning. The terrifying thought of pregnancy dug its way to her brain but it wasn’t it. She checked.

Might be because today is the day of the Gala. Biggest event she’s ever been to all alone. Must be performance issues. Excitement, maybe.

She didn’t even think about the fact Steve will be there. Who even Steve was, anyway?

It’s been almost two weeks since what was their impromptu breakup, separation, termination of relationship, Whatever that was. And when her temper cooled down, a couple of days after, y/n realized something.

She realized she missed him. She missed him so much.

Calling in sick wasn’t an option. She will not fuck up the first time she’s given that kind of opportunity, not even for a man. Not even for a man like Steve.

Her red dress was hung outside her closet, she could see it from the narrow space left open between the bathroom door and the wall.

Sharp pains hit her stomach again, nausea and disgust pulsing through as she emptied what was left in her into the toilet. She can go.

She is going.

Even Steve didn’t see anything quite as extravagant, and he’s known Tony for years. The ballroom was decorated with the colors of the American Flag; massive sheets of red velvet and silk descended from the artificially tampered ceiling, a technology Steve didn’t fully understand made it seem like they were looking at a sky colored with changing shades of blue. The marble floor was different as well, now indigo instead of stoney beige. As for the white- it was in everything else.

The chairs and the tables, even the bar. The walls and the donation and information stations, the odd one out being the small stage that looked like a hill raised from the floor, covered in a velvety royal blue fabric. Tony was pulling all the stops to promote “VetsForVets” even though it wasn’t his.

He didn’t seem to mind though, given Steve didn’t let him donate the entire amount they needed for all the branches in plan and even more, Tony wanted to help as much as Steve allowed him, and he did an amazing job at it.

Steve searched with his eyes for anyone familiar, catching Sam and Tony standing near the stage. He approached them quickly, press hasn’t arrived yet.

“Tony!” He called, “this is incredible, I don’t know how to thank you.”

Sam patted him back with a smack and nodded, “I tried it man,” Sam smiled, “he won’t accept any thank you but a thank you.”

“Enough about me now,” Tony adjusted his glasses, “it’s your night.” He motioned to the two of them and put his hands on their shoulders, furthering them from each other and creating a space to walk through between the two.

Sam chuckled and shook his head, nodding to the entrance as a new wave of people streamed past the door, cameras and microphones in hand.

The knots at the bottom of his stomach twisted, mouth dry as he hastily searched for the inevitable.

That’s when he saw her.

Her wine colored dress fit right in the background, like she was just another mesmerizing decoration. The silk hugged her body perfectly, embracing it down until the fabric reached her mid thigh, ending with a wrap.

His gaze followed her up, moving through her bare arms, modest cleavage, the thin straps that highlighted her collarbone, until they reached her face- lips painted outrageously red, rosy blush high on her cheeks that couldn’t obscure something was off. He wanted to approach, ask her what’s wrong, before he could move she locked eyes with him, watching him watching her. Y/n retreated back to the crowded area behind her, blending in with everyone else.

- She vowed not to drink, her stomach still not recovered from the rough morning it’s been through and the last thing she needed was to make a fool of herself in front of some of the most important people in the world. And him.

Yet for some reason, the combination of an open bar with the most exquisite cocktails she’s ever seen and the overwhelmingly good looks of one super soldier, made her reconsider her decision.

Now she was pleasantly tipsy, talking to a handsome stranger and circling her sparkly straw in her nearly empty glass, even between unnecessarily loud laughs and drawn out touches she was too aware of the side glances she was getting from a particular person across the room.

They kept calling them the men of the hour, then why did he feel like he was the smallest person in this room?

Steve muttered a distracted apology as he moved past the donors they were talking with, Sam looked at him questionably but Steve dismissed his worry, smiling wide and congratulating all of them a with a good night. Sam was charming them way better anyway.

Determined, he walked to the bar and ordered himself a useless whiskey. Once he got his order he turned around to lean on the high counter, sipping slowly from the amber liquid. He glimpsed quickly at the man y/n was speaking with, getting closer an inch with the wish to be noticed.

Steve downed his drink in one go, longing for how carefree it used to make him.

“Oh, excuse me just a minute.” Jacob cut her flow of words to look above her head, his eyes lighting up when Steve nodded at him.

Jacob ducked down abruptly, “this is Captain America!” He whispered loudly, sending unpleasant breaths in her direction.

Y/n jumped in her place, breath hitched in her throat. “Fuck me.”

“I’m sorry?”

She heard Steve’s breathy chuckle too close to her neck.

“You are Captain America, right?” The man that slowly revealed himself to be more and more disappointing asked.

“Steve Rogers.” He stuck his hand for a shake, smile lopsided, “nice to meet you. Y/n.” He acknowledged her by nodding to her direction.

“Oh, you two met?” Jacob’s eyes seemed like they’ve never shone brighter.

“Briefly.” Y/n answered sternly. The cosmopolitan she drank already on its way up.

“Oh, great. I’m Jacob. A big fan, Cap. Captain America. Can I call you Cap?”

Y/n rolled her eyes and kicked Steve’s foot not very subtly. His amused grin didn’t leave his face even then.

“Steve is fine, Jacob. Thanks for coming here today. It means a lot.” He managed to say through his smile, just before Jacob’s phone vibrated loudly.

“I gotta take this.” He mouthed and pointed to his phone, strolling away objectively to find a quieter spot.

Steve leaned against the white bar again, crossing his legs and watching a general spot in the distance, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Jacob. Really?”

“Shut up.”

“What? He seems like a nice guy.”

“We literally just met ten minutes ago. And even if he is - that’s none of your business.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

The music filled the silence between them, ceiling somehow capturing the blue of Steve’s eyes the exact moment y/n looked up.

“I’m sorry. About the other day. I overreacted.” She said finally, breaking the static noise.

Steve place his empty glass on top of the counter and scratched his jaw, “no you didn’t. You don’t need to apologize. I’m the one who needs to-“

“I’ve missed you.”

He raised his gaze to meet hers, eyes sincere, her mouth slightly open. Like it was inviting him to come in.

“I’ve missed you too.”

When Jacob finally returned from his call, they were no longer there.

Steve steadily moved up her body, his weight held by his forearms to her sides. It was slow, paced. So different than any sex they’ve had before.

Sensual and incredibly frustrating. Desperate pulls of fabric and skin seeking impossible proximity, wets sound of him sliding in and out, the smell of sweat and alcohol intoxicating in their noses.

Y/n walls squeezed Steve’s cock tight inside her, clenching and releasing and pulling him deeper inside. He let his fingers down to her clit, adding to her arousal as he circled it lazily, not breaking eye contact even once.

Steve came first. Having her in his arm more profound than the act itself.

She was a close second, waves of pleasure hitting her one after the other to the voice of Steve encouraging her to cum between his throaty groans, moaning loudly as he shot warm strips of cum inside her.

“Shit.” Y/n exhaled. He was still on top of her, his cock buried deep inside. She didn’t know what about that moment changed her mind. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe Steve is worth losing some things so she could win new ones. Better ones.

“They’re probably looking for you.” She giggled breathily.

“Mmm, ‘think we can afford five more minutes. Can’t we? Unless you…unless you have to go?”

She thought about every time she left hastily after they finished. Grabbing her phone first thing and everything else next. Leaving him alone.

“Don’t worry.” She whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #captain america #tony stark #sam wilson #Chris Evans #i write #ask

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jiminisnotavirgin · 6 years ago

Text

Sweeter than Peaches

Pairing: Kim Taehyung | Reader

Genre: Smut, Slight Angst

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: pregnancy sex, lactation kink, fingering, penetrative sex, domestic ROMANTIC au, married couple and all that cute shit tbh

Note: Heavily inspired by stories by @dovechim and @hobiwonder, thanks to y’all for exposing me to my FAVORITE kind of smut. Please check them out if you haven’t yet! Classes just ended for me for the semester and I managed to get this together. I hope you enjoy it (I’m almost tempted to write another part about this couple) but lemme know what you think! I really value what each and every one of you has to say about my works! Thanks again for being patient and sticking it out till I released this fic :) love y’all. ALSO, the pic is NOT mine.

The sweet scent of fresh peaches drifts into your bedroom window from the fruit garden outside. The summer air blows in small uneven gusts, tangling itself in the strands of Taehyung’s brown curls. The curtains along the window frame spin and twist in an endless tango with the breeze. He lazily slings his arm across the sheets, expecting the warmth of your waist. His eyelids flutter from the depths of sleep when he’s met with your cold, empty side of the bed instead. His sleepy state makes him more vulnerable to the emotions running through his mind, amplifying his confusion because you’re nowhere to be found. As he tries to make sense of your absence, he finds his answer in the sliver of light spilling into your shared bedroom from the bathroom across the hall. He doesn’t call your name, opting instead to watch silently as you flutter around the room. Your husband’s endearing eyes remain focused on you—the love of his life and like always, you are oblivious to his gaze. At times, he believes he couldn’t possibly love you any more than he already does but you always find a way to prove him wrong. It is very ordinary moments like these that truly take his breath away. Your long eyelashes graze the tops of your cheeks as you brush your teeth and stare into the running faucet. Taehyung’s eyes drift lower and lower to your lusciously curvy body, supple breasts, and round stomach which steadily grows with the weight of his child inside. Your pregnancy has brought on more than a few changes and Taehyung’s hunger for you is more urgent than water for a man in the blazing heat of a desert. It takes all the control he has not to kiss you and your stomach all the damn time. The doctor insisted that an increased sex drive is common in pregnant women and sexual activities are encouraged but you haven’t displayed much of an interest in intimacy, at least to him. He doesn’t know the real reason why you haven’t brought it up despite your growing and constant state of arousal. As you sit on the toilet and pee for what feels like twenty minutes, you’re reminded of exactly why you’ve remained silent on the matter. From this angle, you’ve got a crystal clear view of your puffy, swollen feet. Not even a pedicure could save them now. They were so pretty before. You know your insecurities are ridiculous and superficial but that doesn’t change the fact that these thoughts resurface on the forefront of your mind like a wrecking ball when you feel happiest. With each passing day, your confidence dwindles. You’ve already spent seven months with the angel in your stomach and you’re grateful for that time but still, you don’t feel confident and it isn’t because you’ve gained weight—it’s because you don’t recognize the woman looking back at you in the mirror with her flushed cheeks, baggy t-shirt, and messy bun. On top of it all, concealing these feelings from Taehyung is extremely difficult since you confide in him about almost everything. This is the one thing you’re too embarrassed to reveal and honestly, it’s more about your own fears coming to life than his. “Jagi, come back to bed,” Taehyung’s voice is faint from the bedroom, low and groggy from sleep. “I miss you.” Flipping off the light switch in the bathroom, you tiptoe into the bedroom and settle into the cool sheets beside Taehyung. Taehyung’s head is already perched on his hand, his body angled towards yours as he rests on his side. “Duty calls?” “You know it. Like sixty times a night,” you answer with a dry laugh while digging through the top drawer of your nightstand for a pair of fuzzy socks. “It’s your fault for drinking orange juice like the world’s gonna end tomorrow.” “Shh, you know I can’t help it.” “Maybe the baby’s gotta pee, too.” He places the palm of his large hand on the side of your stomach, leaning forward to press his lips on your neck. You tilt your head up, allowing him easier access. Breathing in the scent of your natural aroma, Taehyung lightly drags the tip of his nose over your skin. “Why do you always smell so damn good, hmm?” “Mr. Kim, it is two—“ you pause to take a glance at the clock on your nightstand before continuing, “—thirty. Two-thirty in the morning. Are you seriously trying to seduce me right now?” “Of course I am, Mrs. Kim,” he hums, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his index finger. “I’ve been trying to seduce you for weeks—months—but I think my charms have worn off.” “What are you talking about?” “I mean you’ve barely even kissed me since baby Peaches joined us. Did I do something wrong?” His playful expression shifts, revealing the concern lingering in his heart. His brown irises dart back and forth between your shoulder and face as he tries to gauge your reaction. Even in the dark of the night, the tiny moles decorating his face stand out like a stream of stars connected as a constellation. You long to kiss each one, eager for a taste of the stardust that comes with Taehyung’s pure soul. His question echoes in your head. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ Of course not. It isn’t him—it’s you, truly. You’ve allowed your own insecurities to intrude on your relationship and now he’s suffering the brunt of it. He’s perfect. Not literally perfect but close enough to have snatched your stubborn heart in a matter of days when you first met. If you haven’t treated him that way lately, now’s the time to show him. “Come here, you,” you whisper, closing your eyes and allowing your lips to lead the way to Taehyung. His plump lips greet you gladly, molding against yours with subtle yet hungry determination. His tongue glides over your bottom lips and nudges into your mouth with a light tug. His lips are comforting. Home. And you’ve been gone for too long. You pull back, fiddling with the collar of his shirt before teasing at the warm skin of his chest with your fingertips. “I’m sorry.” “For what?” A haze of desire still glazes over his eyes but his hand halts its ministrations over your thigh. “For what, jagi?” “I haven’t been myself. Hell, I don’t know who I’ve been lately but I promise, it has nothing to do with you, Tae. I’m sorry for being so confusing, I just feel so overwhelmed with my job and the baby coming soon and my body, I can’t seem to figure—“ “Your body? Jagi, where is all this coming from?” he interrupts, worry occupying his handsome features. You hike the sheet over both of your bodies, hoping to cushion the intensity of your previous statements. You know better, though. Taehyung won’t let a comment like that slide without investigating and although you’re supportive of his logical side that solves problems through discussion, you’re still so ashamed for having these feelings in the first place. Talking about them will only make them more real. “It’s nothing,” you sigh. “Really.” “Talk to me.” “I just don’t look like myself so I don’t feel like myself.” “But this is you,” he speaks softly, choosing his words carefully. “It’s another side of you, sure, but it’s still you and it’s not a bad thing because change is good. Change is growth.” “I know.” Your response is quiet as you begin to get lost in your own thoughts. “I’m just afraid. You know how I feel about change, it scares the shit out of me. Every day I get closer to having this baby and every day we get closer to our lives changing forever. I… I want things to go right.” “I’m scared too, you know,” he murmurs. “But everything’s going to be great and it’s been great so far. The same way you took a chance on me, we’re taking this chance together. We’re gonna raise this baby and guide them through this crazy life together and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather do that with than you. I love you, jagi, you’re not alone and you never will be.” The pressure of his lips against yours is featherlight, devoid of sexual lust but oozing pure love and affection. His words are so soft and sweet, warming you up from the inside. Taehyung sighs as your sleepy face floods with relief. Sometimes, all you want is someone to hold you and tell you that everything’s going to be okay and Taehyung understands that more than anyone. “I love you,” you breathe. Taehyung’s hand rests over your hip as you sit up and fluff your pillow, desperate to feel his strong arms around you. You nestle against his chest, curling to mold against his body. His hand falls neatly in the valley below your breasts and above your stomach but his fingertips begin to draw tiny patterns over the bare skin of your chest, where the loose collar of your t-shirt hangs over. He peppers tiny kisses on your shoulder blades, allowing his hand to sink underneath the fabric of your shirt and roam across the expanse of your chest. He’s tempted to tweak your round, perky nipples that stand tall against the incoming breeze, however, he proceeds to cup as much of your swollen, milk-engorged breast in his hand as he can. A tiny moan flies from your lips as he squeezes, following the speed of your shallow, eager breaths. Milk begins to soak through the fabric, creating two very obvious damp spots on your shirt. Once the surface of his fingers are soaked with the sweet liquid flowing from your breasts, he brings his hand to his nose and inhales before letting out a low groan.

“This shirt’s gotta go,” he insists, gently lifting the hem with a light tug. You toss it to the side and sit up, keeping your legs spread to provide space for Taehyung.

“Could you…” you begin, too shy to finish the rest of your request. It’s something you haven’t asked of him yet.

“Say it. I want to hear you say it.” His locked gaze has already answered the question and his eyes reveal nothing but desperation to taste you. You can’t deny that this has secretly been one of your desires since you began lactating. The thought of Taehyung’s tongue as well as him greedily sucking your juices stirs up many, many feelings inside. “Suck.” Burning desire shoots straight to his cock but he manages to utter a quiet, “Say no more,” before lunging at your chest with a mischievous smile. The feeling is light at first. Euphoric. He teases you with his tongue, poking at the center of the tender bud with delicate taps before fully latching on. Weaving your hands into his locks, you urge him forward with a few gentle pulls. He whimpers as the sugary liquid flows into his mouth, unprepared for the burst of flavor gracing his mouth. Your head falls back as goosebumps begin to cover your entire body. His mouth triggers a wave of heat and tingly sensations you haven’t felt in a while and suddenly, your core is seeking any form of friction against Taehyung. “So sweet.” He pushes your panties to the side, groaning when his fingers are met with the arousal of your desire for him. “So wet for me, Jagi, what if I—“ he slips the tip of his index fingers into your clenching entrance, grinning as your breath hitches in your throat, “—Shit. I fucked a baby into you—how are you so tight, jagi?” “Put them in, Tae,” you beg. “Stop teasing me, I’m gonna lose it—“ Without warning, he thrusts two fingers inside until your heat sucks them up with one push. You bite your bottom lip as he pulls out, only to go back in with three fingers. You squirm with the pressure but welcome each twist of his digits as you find yourself grinding against his hand. Each of his thrusts increases the pleasure reaching your limbs and just when you think you’re close enough to reach the moment, he pulls out and slathers his tongue over his hand before stripping himself of his pants. “God, you’re gonna kill me. Sit on my cock.” Sweat glistens over his forehead, reflecting the pale streetlights guarding the roads outside. He lays down beside you, smiling as you straddle him, clutching onto your round stomach to balance your weight. “Baby Peaches was kicking before,” you admit breathlessly, settling yourself over his legs. Over time, you finally grew to love the strange nickname Taehyung used for your baby. “Wait, what?” he asked seriously, squinting in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me? C’mon, jagi, I miss it every damn time.” You smile and wipe the dampness off his forehead. “There are more important things at hand.” His hard, long cock lays flat over his pelvis, red and twitching with the desire to be touched. Rubbing yourself over his length, you grind forward and backward, creating a rhythm that prepares you for when he’s inside. His panting grows more sporadic, stomach clenching with the urge to plunge into your sopping wet heat each time you get close to the head of his length. Rather than riding him the way you used to, you lean your weight backward, grabbing onto his thighs for extra support. Your extended stomach rises and falls with your own desperate breaths before you finally sink onto the bulbous head of his slick cock. Although he took the time to warm you up beforehand, the burning stretch of his cock against your soft inside still manages to catch you off guard every time. As you slide in and out, every ridge, vein, and crevice of his length presses against your hot walls, coating his hard cock in your nectar. “Harder, Tae.” “Not too hard,” he warns. “Remember what the doctor—“ “I’m not gonna break, Tae, come on! I’m so close to cumming.” “Alright, jagi,” he decides, willing to go only a smidge deeper. He refuses to risk it when it comes to baby Peaches. He shifts gears, thrusting up into you as you lower yourself onto him. He hits that soft, spongy spot deep inside you and just when you think that’s enough, his thumb pokes at your clit, rolling in smooth spirals until heat pools in your pelvis. “Oh, god, keep going.” Taehyung’s moaning too now, his peak approaching with each of your clenches around his dick. The squelching sounds of his skin slapping against yours echo across your bedroom, mixed in with the melody of your deep breaths blended into one. He thrusts into you until he easily slides in and out, picking up the pace as your whimpering increases. “Touch my clit again,” you ask, too focused on chasing your high to open your eyes. Taehyung stares at you and joy floods through his bones. Your long brown locks, red cheeks, and large breasts bounce with each lift and fall. He loves seeing you crumble with pleasure. He rubs the pad of his finger against your swollen bud until your entrance clenches uncontrollably around him, milking him of all the come he can hold. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he sputters, watching as your wet cunt swallows his dick and releases it, only to pull it back in again. “Cum on my stomach,” you groan, too dizzy to look at anything but Taehyung in his cloud of physical ecstasy. “Wh-What?” “Do it.” He gets on his knees and strokes the last bit of himself on your stomach, painting the round surface in messy strings of white. You lay back, accepting the fuzzy warmth flowing through your blood and brain. It’s hazy and you know Taehyung’s feeling the same thing but he kisses you, relieved to feel your touch on his skin once again. A small smile makes its way to your face. “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before.” “Don’t apologize. I want you to know that you can always talk to me about anything, jagi—anything. It’s okay if you’re confused or angry or upset. You don’t have to feel one hundred percent all the time—no one does, you know?” “Except baby Peaches. Always kicking all the freaking time.” He groans and smacks his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Don’t remind me because I always fucking miss it!”

#bts #bts reaction #v #kim taehyung #kimtaehyung #btssmut #bts smut #bts au #bts fanfic #fanfiction #btsfanfic #fanfic #bts au fanfic #jiminisnotavirgin #masterlist

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thepaperpanda · 5 years ago

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The Skies of Dead

Summary: When London become devoured by walking corpses and mysterious virus, two complete strangers try to find a way to keep on surviving in the rotten city.

Warnings: zombies, graphic description of violence

Words: 3223

Authors: Cass & Grizzly

A/N: Cass here! My boyfriend has always had a little dream about writing his own story. I am so glad I could have helped him in making this dream come true! Hope you all will enjoy it as much as we did while writing! I love you, sweetie! 😍😍

As Arthur Bristow stood across from the building and debated with himself whether or not he should enter the Shard building, the humming and chanting grew louder.

Arthur held a machete up, breathing deeply as he checked once again if the blade was sharp enough.

Who is in there? What in blazes are they doing?

It had been a horrible week to the man. It was now four days later, and the reports of missing persons and murders in the streets of London had multiplied to shocking statistics. The city was seeing its fair share of violence, too, and it all seemed to orbit around the Shard skyscraper.

That morning four days ago, Arthur had gone to his office, finished his paper work, packed his pocket voice recorder, and set off walking to the London Eye where he had to meet with famous guest, who was about to share an interview to him. When he arrived on place, he realized the recorder wasn’t in his pocket. That made him angry and frustrated. Had he dropped it on the way? It could be anywhere between The Times office and London Eye. Arthur cursed when he realized his foolishness. Nevertheless, he made up his mind to return to his office and look for the recorder. It was when he saw undeads for the first time. Everything bursted out of nowhere, people were chasing others, trying to bite their flesh, and as soon as someone has been bitten, they turned into undeads as well. And most of infected went out of Shard. Was it a coincidence?

This day Arthur had taken a short side trip to London Bridge Street to take a look at the Shard, and here he was. Scared and hesitant. The sweat trickled down his neck. His heart rate had increased.

If you’re going inside, you’d better get going, he commanded himself. Be brave. It can’t possibly be that bad, can it?

He stepped into the street and crossed to the other side. It was then that he realized there wasn’t much traffic. For a Saturday morning, that was unheard of.

Where was everyone? Perhaps the Londoners were just as frightened as he was and were staying indoors. Good for them.

Arthur went up the stone steps and put his ear to the doors made of glass. The ugly chorale was a symphony of moans. It sounded as if the people inside were in pain and were collectively and wordlessly expressing their misery. A bunch of very sick civilians had gathered in...

Steeling his nerves and taking a deep breath, Bristow opened the doors. The stench that met his nostrils almost overpowered him. He gagged and put a hand over his mouth. He considered turning back, but now his curiosity got the best of him. He stepped inside.

The inner foyer was empty, but it was clear that the noise was coming from theinside, off to the left. Artur slowly approached the double doors to the great conference room, swallowed, and opened them.

The horror inside was too much to comprehend. And then the source of the terror turned its attention to him..

The coldness of old, stoned basement was growing with every minute Emily was spending there. The lightbulb was shining brightly but even light didn't change the fact about her position. She sat in the corner of the room, scared and cold with her back pressed hard to a wall.

Just a four days ago this young lady was working at a veterinary clinic. She never said her work was hard, being close to animals of all kinds was the main goal in her life. Their size never frightened her but that day all animals acted weird just like they would feel something that people did not, cats were hissing and dogs were nervous.

Due to some unexplained reasons, all patients canceled their appointments or simply didn't show up. This was highly suspicious to every worker but the truth was that there was no one to work for so everyone was sent home.

Emily lived outside London in a small village.

She got into her car and drove through the streets, this was when she saw the undead for the first time even if she wasn't completely oblivious to the fact then.

The man shuffled trough driveway, he was covered in blood and didn't look healthy, Emily did her best to pass him by thinking that it was just some kind of sick person on a lose.

Even if the house was small it still was cozy and enough for a young woman. Even if the day seemed quiet it quickly changed into chaos.

Emily looked through the window as soon as she heard screams outside, the things that she saw made her stomach turned.

People were running and attacking each other, acting like rabid animals which only goal was to bite someone. The sidewalks were already splattered with blood, turned body decorated streets and lawns.

At this point, only one thing hit Emily - thought about finding a shelter. She needed to hide from horrors of the outside world.

An only safe place that she knew was her basement, she ran there as soon as it was possible.

And this was how she ended in such a bad position but she knew she couldn't stay there forever.

Arthur Bristow opened his eyes, winced at the brightness of the new day, and immediately vomited. He forced himself to get to his knees in order to keep the vile stuff from getting on his clothes, although lying in the recesses of a burnt-out building wasn’t the cleanest place he could have hidden.

Soot, ash, and blackened pieces of the wooden roof that had caved into the space littered the floor; its filthiness hadn’t been so obvious last night when he’d slithered inside the structure of Big Ben.

You don’t care too much where you’re going when you’re running for your life. The main thing is to hide—quickly and silently—so they don’t get you.

After he’d finished heaving, Arthur crawled away from the mess and weakly collapsed. He lay on his back, looking up through the gaping hole at the clouds in the bright blue sky. This one building was the most iconic, both palace and clock tower.

Ironically, it was a beautiful day outside. The weather was perfect, although hot, ideal for a relaxing swim in the hotel pool.

Big Ben was now a relic of the past. The luxury establishment was now burned, destroyed, and overrun with Infected. And it had happened so quickly. The siege by the creatures began after ten last evening, and it was over in less than an hour. Everyone who was still alive had fled into the dark, dangerous streets of London. Arthur was surprised no one else had followed him into this little shelter, where he huddled for hours in fear until he had finally fallen asleep.

Sleep. At this point, it was something that wasted precious time. And he didn’t have a whole lot of that left.

Man rolled up the torn sleeve of the windbreaker he had donned to keep warm. The bite on his forearm was angry, red, and swollen. It burned like the dickens. He noted the time on his wristwatch; it had been roughly seven and a half hours since the Infected’s teeth had clamped down and punctured his skin. Now, the wound appeared diseased and putrid. Yellow pus oozed from the several perforations. It was gross, it hurt, and it was certainly deadly. Arthur quickly covered it with the sleeve of his leather jacket, although it, too, exhibited punctures in the fabric.

He stifled a cry, but the tears flowed regardless.

Emily growled pushing the heavy flap of the basement, the morning felt cold even if the sky was clear outside.

She wasn't sure how many days she spent in the basement. Her fear was paralyzing to the point that she refused to leave the safe place, thanks God for jars of food she had there.

Emily moved to window, a view there calmed her down but at the same time gave her weird feeling of danger.

The horror she saw before hiding, disappeared. Now streets were simply empty, some splashes of blood but that was it. Whatever happened she couldn't just stay there and wait for the rescue because that might never come.

Emily had chaos in her head but she had to do something so she grabbed her bag and packed some simple items like a flashlight and some bandages as well as something to eat, then put on her jacket and slowly left using the front door.

How angry she was when she saw her car was gone, all she saw was little bits of glass scattered over driveway.

Emily decided that she had to get to London, the capital of the whole country simply had to have some kind of a shelter or at last information of what the hell happened.

The young woman opened the garage and looked inside, the only useful thing there was a bike. There was no other way so she had to use the bike.

The way to London was terrible, it was a long time since she used the bike for the last time.

No matter what place she went by, they all were almost empty. Almost was the word, on her way she saw some moaning, whining, mangled figures but she never dared to get close.

The City of London was always beautiful and full of life, it was one of the most popular cities in the whole world but now it looked sad and empty.

Streets splattered with blood, old newspaper scattered all around the city, wrecks of cars.

Was it war or something else?

Emily jumped off the bike as soon as she got to one of the most iconic places in the whole city - Big Ben.

Looking around Emily smiled seeing someone walking the street.

"Sorry!," she yelled. "Hello! Excuse me but do you know what happened here? I look for some information and maybe... some government shelter," she said walking to the stranger. The horror grew big as soon as she got closer to the person

It wasn't really a person. It was a living corpse. Empty eyes and grey-white skin, its jaw was half ripped exposing everything inside. It was missing a whole arm. The creature let out a weird sound and started quickly moving toward Emily.

"Fuck! What is this! Help, can somebody help!?," Emily let out a high pitched scream and started running, trying her best to lose the monster or hide from it.

How long did he have? There was no question that he would turn. It happened to everyone who was bitten. Sometimes it took a few hours, but he had seen others fight it for up to two days. His former friend had wisely conjectured that it depended on how healthy a person was. If you were young, strong, and in good shape, then you lasted longer. The weak, elderly, and very young children turned quickly. And it was horrible. Arthur had seen first-hand what transpired when a person turned. He didn't want that to happen to him.

The nausea had passed, but Arthur felt as if he had the flu. He placed a palm to his forehead and realized he was burning up. How high was her fever? No way to know. Could his healthy resistance keep himself from turning before the medicine arrived?

If the medicine arrived.

Arthur dug into the backpack again and pulled out the handgun. It was a Colt. He appreciated the weight in palm, and then he lifted it to his head. He placed the end of the barrel to temple and wrapped finger around the trigger. It would be so simple. Just squeeze. Perhaps a moment of pain and surprise, and then blackness. Arthur would never have to experience the horror of turning into one of them. It was truly the sensible thing to do. Who was he kidding? He was doomed. Nothing was going to stop him from turning, unless... The fucking medicine.

But before he could bolt, Arthur heard some noises outside of his shelter. And a voice. NORMAL VOICE OF SOME WOMAN.

"Fuck," he cursed and put gun back into his backpack, then took a bat with himself as he headed downstairs and out of Bog Ben, right onto empty street.

The woman was running out before one of Infected.

Arthur sighed and made some noise to distract undead.

The thing that used to be a guy emitted a howling snarl and leapt forward with surprising agility. Reflexively, Arthur swung the bat as if he was trying to knock one out of the ballpark. The club smashed into guys’s head, throwing him back onto ground. Arthur swung the bat again, striking the man’s arm. There was a loud snap and the man wailed. Arthur was sure he had broken a bone. Again, Bristow struck with the weapon. This time, the bat hit the man’s neck, surely snapping it. The horrid noise coming out of his mouth abruptly ceased as his throat was crushed. Arthur kept swinging wildly. Thing tried to get up. He drew closer and then,the bat walloped him in the head. He fell to his knees but kept grappling. Arthur clouted him again, and this time Infected dropped to the ground, unconscious.

All was quiet, except for Arthur’s rapid breathing. He shut his eyes, said a silent prayer, and then looked at the body, only to move his glance at the stranger.

Emily was sitting on the ground, her back pressed against the wall, arms covering and tightly holding her head. Her eyes were wide and cheeks were wet from fresh tears, she was hasping for air.

She was never attacked before, since begining she didn't know what was happening but this was madness, horror.

She loooked at stranger, shivering hard. He just killed this... Thing. What if he will kill her next.

"I do not have anything that would be valuable with me! Don't kill me!," Emily whimpered with voic full of fear.

Arthur tilted head aside and snorted shortly.

"I don't care. Come," he walked to her and offered his hand. "Unless you wanna rather stay here and wait for death."

Emily blinked a few time, thinking about all of this. After a moment she nodded and wiped her eyes before taking stranger's hand.

There was no other hand, and she had to survive somehow, no matter what happened here. She had to trust him, looking at the situation from a minute ago she would never survive alone.

"What... What had happened here? I don't understand, one day everyone went crazy," Emily said as she followed the stranger.

He hushed her by raised hand. "Quiet or we will become their dinner."

He led her inside the clock tower and as soon as they passes threshold, Arthur made sure to lock door and push heavy drawer in front of them, just in case.

All the windows were covered with anything that was available then: rags, furniture, newspapers glued to glass.

She pressed her lips together and nodded, studying his face carefully. Emily had to admit he was a handsome man, she couldn't say his age but he wasn't old. She followed him.

Inside Big Ben, Emily looked around amazed and terrified. Emily looked at stranger waiting at the permission to speak.

"What were you doing out there, all alone, no weapon?," Arthur asked as he took a trip along the wooden stairs. "You had wanted to get your head cut off by their teeth?," he continued leading the way.

Emily watched him unsure what to say, finally, she found the right words. "What do you mean? I have no idea what was that... I guess I spend a too long time in this basement of mine," she said and quickly followed the man. "I just saw this madness and hid, I have no idea how long I spend there. When I left I simply packed some food, bandages and went to London. Is this some kind of government shelter? Or maybe you know how to get there... Oh! I am Emily, by the way," young woman smiled sweetly at the stranger.

"You have bandages? I'll need them," he said simply, he didn't pay more attention to her other words. "No. There's no government shelter. The government is dead by now I bet," Arthur growled as they approached the controlling room at the higher level of clock tower.

He opened door ans shifted aside to let Emily in. He followed her closing door behind him.

Emily looked around and nodded. "Yes, I have bandages and what do you mean, they are dead? What even happened? Is it the War Wold 3?"

She took off her jacket and bag and looked inside then back at the man.

"Come here... I will help you with whatever happened to you. I hope that my bandages will be enough."

"Don't," he growled deeply eyeing her. "I don't need your help, who you are, a fucking nurse?"

Arthur felt even worse now. The flu-like symptoms hit him more strongly than before. He sat down on the cot laying under the window, he rested back of his head against the wall and gasped. "No one knows," he said after moment of silence, "It just happened. People turned into killing machines. They attacked everyone on their way. Nothing could have stopped them, even a gun shot. Now I know only a headshot can take 'em down."

"You don't need my help so you don't need need my bandages, sir," Emily growled with a frown and went to find herself a nice place to sit. She found it in the corner of the room, she put the jacket on the floor and then sat down and looked at the man. "Sounds like zombies or something. So? We are stuck in a real-life horror movie? What now?"

"Can you shut your mouth for a bit, my head hurts," he told her coldly gazing up at her. "I just need them. And be grateful, I happened to save your life," Arthur said.

He felt rotten and didn’t know if he could find the strength to stand again and keep moving. Should he grab the revolver and shoot himself now? The sickness was worse.

Emily frowned and took the bandages out of her bag. She threw them to him with some little snack she had with herself. "Thank you," Emily whispered to not annoy him anymore.

Arthur had gotten up. For a few seconds he felt dizzy and was afraid he would be sick again, but it passed quickly. He moved to the side and waited until his thumping heart slowed.

He looked at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to be mean. I am scared and lost, just like you," man said.

Emily got up and slowly walked to him. "I am kinda used to this but fighting won't get us anyway. Come on, let me help you with whatevere happen. I am a vet but... bandaging man can't be harder than bandaging a dog," she shrugged with soft smile.

"It's gonna be rough tough," he said glaring at her. "I was bitten."

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greenninjagal-blog · 6 years ago

Text

White Lily Guardian (pt2)

Summary: Virgil shows up at a funeral for his distance cousin, but someone forgot to tell him Remy named him the next-in-line guardian of his son Thomas. And taking care of a kid might just been the least of Virgil’s problems when Thomas’s (unpleasant) grandmother is in the mix.

Words: 3035

Part One

Featuring: Virgil, kid!Thomas, Emile Picani, and mentions of the dreaded dragon witch and best dad!remy (along with a car crash)

Taglist: @background-noise-headache @prplzorua @pumpkinminette @puns-and-patton

General Taglist: @felicianoromano @jemthebookworm

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Picani says, with a hint was resentment in his tone, about an hour after Madam Hydrus had removed herself from the property.

Virgil doesn’t say anything, but he agrees with the older man so much its nearly overwhelming. His mind is alarmingly quiet, his shoulders hunched in anticipation for the onslaught of pure, unadulterated panic he knows is coming: it feels a lot like he’s walking right next to a cliffside with a blindfold on—why is he doing this, why can’t he just take the blind fold off, why can’t he just walk away? Or better yet, why can’t he just fall already?

Then Picani will see that he is unfit to be a parent and he’ll be able to move Thomas to the next family member Remy picked out, someone who isn’t that awful snakelike lady that had made Thomas cry so hard. Thomas doesn’t deserve this, any of it.

He didn’t deserve to have his father taken away so suddenly, to have all these people look down on him with pity, to have someone who terrifies him very nearly take him away. He certainly doesn’t deserve to have someone as awful as Virgil come through and try to make up for everything he lost.

Virgil doesn’t even know what kind of person Remy was, much less what kind of dad. Was he the kind that wanted to be involved in every aspect of Thomas’s life? Did he bake cookies in the kitchen and show up to the PTA meetings and brag about how amazing Thomas was until every other parent hated him? Or was he a recluse? Did he let Thomas come to him with questions rather than go asking for them and never respond to teacher emails or show up to meetings because he knew everything that was important about Thomas already?

Virgil looks down at Thomas, who was tucked into his chest. Virgil is by no means the type of guy who works out, but even then, he can still carry Thomas from the front lawn into the house with only a mild amount of strain (Did Remy carry him like that? Oh, fuck, what if he was carrying the kid wrong?). The house is strangely quiet, and tense and the same feeling settles over them like a knife poised just between Virgil’s shoulder blades. Even Thomas’s sobs become breathless hiccups. Picani motions Virgil to follow him up the stairs and he’s struck by the strange amount of familiarity that the man has for this place.

Who was he again?

A lawyer of some sort? Someone who had access to Remy’s will at least.

Virgil doesn’t remember the upstairs of the house, which is really no surprise. He’d never dare exploring a house that wasn’t his even as an adult. There was something about it that his shoulders tense, waiting for someone to pop out of the rooms and ask him what he was doing. Even with Picani leading the way and Thomas in his arms, Virgil could feel the walls judging him.

There are pictures on the walls, but Picani doesn’t bother turning on the lights and its too dark to see what they are. Somehow that doesn’t help Virgil’s anxiety much.

They come to a room which Picani pushes open and turns on the light. Virgil hesitates to follow. He’s not sure why, because the room is far more inviting than the dark, dreary hallway. Thomas buries his head into Virgil’s shoulder, and it’s a little uncomfortable but he can’t bring himself to complain about it.

Inside the room it’s warm—in all senses of the word. Virgil feels like he stepped into a sauna the second his shoes slip through the doorway. It surprises him, slightly, because he hadn’t realized how cold he was until then. Beside that, its decorated like a kid’s paradise: action figures from several cartoons all over the place—some of which Virgil vaguely remembers from years and years ago with a tiny smile—poster from video games and Disney, and a coffee table had construction papers, glitter, and glue. Picani quickly walks to a rather large wooden desk (decorated in children’s crayon drawings of houses and dogs and blobs that probably meant something to a kid somewhere) and rifles through a stack of papers on the top of it.

When he turns back around, he’s holding a packet of papers that makes Virgil’s insides a little squeamish; it looks like a every instructional manual Virgil has ever been handed. Was this “How To Tell When Someone Is an Unfit Parent for Dummies”? Because Virgil could save them both time and just announce to him that he was the least fit person to be taking care of a kid. He had come to the funeral in a rented suit because he didn’t have one himself, there’s still paint on his knuckles that he couldn’t wash off in time for the service, and he forgets to eat at least twice a day.

Virgil’s childhood was limited to the tabulations of his parents’ moods towards him, but even he knows that he couldn’t take care of a small living human being when he could barely take care of himself most days. It isn’t fair to Thomas.

“Oh, uh,” Picani says, and vaguely motions to a couch that was decorated in handmade quilts, “You can, uh, set him down.”

Virgil feels more than stupid as he shuffles towards the couch and juggles the armful of Thomas that he has in order to set him on the couch. Especially when Thomas doesn’t let go of him and instead tightens his arms around Virgil’s neck.

“Don’t!” Thomas gasps between his hiccups.

“Thomas—” Virgil says softly, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right next to you.”

He shakes with his whole body, and for a long moment Virgil worries that Thomas will never let him go again and they’ll be stuck together like a parasite and it’s host.

“Promise?” Thomas’s voice cracks Virgil’s heart right in half. He can feel the shards of it puncturing his lungs.

“How about this, you can hold my hand while we sit, okay?” Virgil suggests even though his own skin feels feverish and his neck itches where Thomas’s wrists had pressed against him. He can’t remember the last time he let someone touch him (it might have been Remy himself for all he knew).

Thomas’s arms move away, slowly, slowly, and then he buries his head in a blanket before Virgil can even see the tear tracks on his bright red cheeks. Virgil sits down right next to him and its only a second more before pudgy little kid fingers squeeze around his.

Virgil glances up at Picani to find the man watching the two of them with a painful smile. He wipes his eye with the sleeve his dress jacket and resets his glasses with a deep breath.

“I’m really sorry you had to find out this way.” He says again. “Remy was going to contact you this weekend to ask your permission, but he insisted that he needed it written legally sooner than that.”

“Why?” Virgil asks and even he isn’t sure what he means. Why did Remy choose him? Why didn’t Remy tell him sooner? Why did Remy get it legal written down in his will before he asked? Why was Virgil so scared right now?

Picani sighs heavily. He taps two fingers on the packet. “I wish I knew, Mr. Quies.”

Virgil flinches at the use of his last name. He never uses it if he can help it; too many bad memories growing up as part of the Quies family. He never fit in with them, never quite lived up to be anything other than a disappointment for his parents, never enjoyed the way it rolled of so many people’s tongues in a derogatory manner. When he had moved out—and away—he had started using the surname Storm. Virgil Storm sounded better, and it didn’t come with emotional baggage.

Virgil makes a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between clearing it and trying to say something but not knowing what. He glances at Thomas.

“Picani—”

“Emile, actually, if you please,” He says with a wince.

“Emile,” Virgil corrects himself, “I don’t—Remy and I—I can’t….” He twists his bangs out of his face just to do something with his hand. The man in the half lenses waits patiently for Virgil to articulate himself. “I’ve never taken care of a kid.”

Thomas squeezes his hand tightly. Virgil thinks he lost feeling in two fingers, but he doesn’t try move.

“I’m not the best fit for Thomas’s caretaker. I didn’t even know Remy. We talked one time when we were kids. Are you sure it was me on that will and not someone else?”

Emile leans back against his desk, still careful not to crush any of the drawings. “I’m honestly not sure I’m the right person to ask. Remy and I were good friends, but even then we didn’t talk about everything. When he announced that he was changing his will to remove me as Thomas’s next-in-line guardian I thought it was a joke--”

Virgil’s stomach drops out at the comment. He feels sick again, the rolling nausea sweeping over him like a wave. That sounded right—all of it sounded right. Virgil didn’t know why someone would joke about that, but Remy had to have been joking because Emile was a well put together man, who Thomas knew better than he knew Virgil.

“Thank goodness it wasn’t.” Emile continues, much like a wrecking ball to the train of thought in Virgil’s head. It leaves his ears ringing.

“What?”

This time Emile looks at him with those dark eyes, “I love Thomas. I really do. But I can’t be his caretaker. I’d lose him.”

“Lose him?” Virgil repeats, remembering every time his parents had forgotten him at the supermarket or in the mall and the weekends were he just didn’t go home and no one was suspicious of it.

“Yes, um,” He fixes his glasses, “Due to a few infractions of the law in my childhood, I can’t legally adopt a child. I can run a therapist office,” He waves a hand around the room, “but I can’t have one of my own. Especially not Thomas.”

Virgil isn’t entirely unsure of what to make of that comment. First off Emile Picani looks a lot like a single breeze might knock him down, and the way he had shriveled up at the sight of Madam Hydrus wasn’t helping his case. However, he was also admitting that he at some point broke several laws? Laws that prevented him from taking care of a kid?

But this was Thomas.

“Madam Hydrus,” Emile says lightly. He picks up a figurine of Ursula from his desk and considers it. “She is Thomas’s mother’s mother. Extremely high class. Had she found out her daughter and Remy had been a thing back from Thomas’s birth, she undoubtedly would have put a stop to it. Her daughter—Thomas’s mother and Remy’s girlfriend at the time—died in childbirth due to a complication. Remy took it hard. Madam Hydrus took it harder.”

Emile sets the figurine back down. “She has been trying to gain custody of Thomas since his birth, declaring Remy an unfit parent. Every other week she had lawyers harassing them. I’m not sure what Thomas’s mother told Remy about her, but Remy refused to let her see him, refused to leave his son’s side when the woman was anywhere near.

“I believe her intention was to keeping sending lawyers in an attempt to run Remy out of money. When he no longer could support a child the judge would have to rule in her favor. However, Remy was a business major who knew how to maintain and predict the stock market.” Emile pauses, “That’s how we met actually. I asked him to help me learn the stock market. I’m a terrible student. But Remy tried, so hard. He was a good person. He really was. When my landlord kicked me out, he immediately offered me a few spare rooms here as long as I paid rent.”

Virgil nods, the sick feeling in his stomach bubbling. Beside him Thomas shifts again, quiet, oh-so-quiet. The warmth of the room makes his dress shirt collar stick to his neck.

“When Thomas turned three, Remy asked me to take guardianship of Thomas should anything happen to him. He was paranoid that Madam Hydrus would get tired of sending lawyers and might escalate to sending not-so-polite people. He wanted to make sure that if he did pass unexpectedly there would be someone else lined up to take in Thomas that was not Madam Hydrus.”

Virgil tenses, “What?”

“He—”

“Are you saying Madam Hydrus paid someone to kill Remy?” Virgil says. Oh, and there’s the panic: his foot has slipped off the steady edge of the metaphorical cliff and Virgil is free falling to his death. His lungs feel two sizes too small for his chest, and all the oxygen in the world doesn’t seem to be able to fill them. He rips his hand from Thomas’s and claws at his collar, struggles with the tie that is acting as a noose around his neck.

Remy was dead—Remy was dead because Madam Hydrus had him killed. Madam Hydrus was the same woman that Virgil just told off and then announced he would be taking in Thomas. What was stopping her from having him killed? Virgil was going to end up dead. By this time next week Virgil would be decorated with white lilies and people would be standing in his living room talking about how sad it was that he was gone.

“Mr. Quies! Virgil!” Emile is suddenly by kneeling by his side, “Virgil I need you to breathe with me. Breathe—In, yes hold it! Out….”

Virgil’s had panic attacks before. They normally leave him curled in the corner of his apartment with his own nails clawing through his hair, and his chest aching from too short of breaths. It’s another reason why he’s not fit to be a parent, because how can he take care of a kid when he can suddenly shut down like this. What if there was an emergency and Virgil wasn’t able to protect Thomas?

“In….” Emile says again, and Virgil strains to force his lungs to follow the instruction. “hold….Out….”

It takes a few minutes to calm him back down. It feels like hours. Actually the whole day has felt like eternity, drawing on and on and on. Virgil is suddenly aware that Emile in kneeling in front of him, speaking soothing words that mean absolutely nothing to him.

Thomas��

Virgil glances to his left where the kid had been, fully expecting Thomas to have bolted the second Virgil started acting weird. But he didn’t. Thomas is sitting there beside him, watery eyes and a nose fully of snot that he wipes on his arm.

“Dad… does that too,” Thomas says, between the sniffles.

Oh good, Virgil shares exactly one thing with Remy and it’s his panic attacks.

“Thomas,” Emile says quietly, “Can you grab a cup of water?”

Virgil has half a mind to tell them he doesn’t need a cup of water (He needs to have a chat with Remy and ask him what the hell he was thinking), but Thomas is already up and dashing out of the room. Virgil sinks back into the couch.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Quies—”

“Virgil.” He rasps out because the name is causing him to flinch and he doesn’t have the energy to suppress it anymore. “Virgil, or Storm, or anything that isn’t that name.”

“Virgil,” Emile nods like it isn’t weird at all, “That was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention to my words. Madam Hydrus did not so anything…illegal. The police found no sign of foul play. Remy was driving on too little sleep and he slid off the road, into a tree.”

Which Virgil had read all about in the obituaries online during the flight here. Which he knew was the truth. Which didn’t stop the feeling in his gut from twisting over and over like some mutant alien parasite.

“Remy was paranoid,” Emile says with a sad frown, “But he made up his mind. He wanted someone he trusted who didn’t have a record that Madam Hydrus could exploit in court.”

“Am I…the only one?” Virgil asks.

Emile makes a face that tells him the answer. Of course, he is. That’s why they’re having this conversation. That’s why it’s Virgil’s name on the will and not anyone else’s.

“He left you most of his finances,” Emile says, “As long as you agree to take care of Thomas.”

“I am the least fit person to take care of any kid, Emile,” Virgil reiterates because all the money in the world won’t change that fact.

Thomas scoots back into the room, with a bathroom cup of water that he’s trying very hard no to spill. He gives it to Virgil, before climbing up on the couch next to him again. Before Virgil knows what he’s doing he runs his hand through Thomas’s hair, and the kid almost flops into him.

Emile watches the entire thing with a miniscule smile on his lips.

“I beg to differ, Virgil,” He says, “I think you are the most fit person.”

Virgil isn’t sure what it is about the other man, about the room, about Thomas, but sitting there, exhausted out of his mind, he thinks that Emile isn’t entire right (because after all Remy was the best person to take care of his kid), but Virgil might just be willing to try.

“I’ll get in contact with Remy’s lawyers.” Emile promises.

Virgil nods to show that he heard, but all he can really focus on is the softness of Thomas hair and the weight of the kid on his shoulder. He sinks back into the couch.

“You should get some sleep.”

Virgil is way ahead of him.

#white lily guardian au #remy sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #Virgil adopts a kid #kid!thomas #emile picani #dragon witch #Please just overlook any factual inaccuracies #i'm tired

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kwrittink · 6 years ago

Text

Sweet Coffee

Pairing: Kim NamJoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: language (like one curse word?)

Bitter and earthy scents surround them i the cold early morning, mixed with the characteristic odor of every flip of the worn-out pages. The little sounds cutting through the quietness of the coffee shop - bell dinging softly at every opened door in the distance, whirring of espresso machines and the drag of chairs through the wooden floor - was soothing as it was familiar.

"Isn't this the hundredth time you read this book?" Her words made NamJoon snap up from the slightly frayed book, a smile growing on his lips upon meeting his beloved's eyes.

"Yeah, I figured it was fitting," He started, hand unwrapping from the warm surface of 'his' ceramic mug - being a regular customer on the coffee shop and a good friend of the owner earned him and his girlfriend little privileges, that went as far as having their own table and a set of personalized mugs -, his drink barely touched due to the nervous feeling harboring inside his stomach and landed lightly over her chill fingers, coaxing a shudder to ripple through her body due to the difference in temperature. "Though you don't get to call me out while having that open in front of you, Y/N." Teased, eyebrow cocking up as his eyes pointing the familiar thick volume of the favorite book in front of her, prompting a snicker while their fingers intertwined naturally.

"I guess we really did think the same..." Y/N shrugged with a smile that NamJoon didn't notice for being too engrossed with the sight of their hands linked together, wishing to never let go as butterflies fluttered all over his insides. He felt so giddy that morning, but at the same time such a nervous wreck that reading that old book was the only thing keeping him distracted enough to not break down. "Funny, we eventually end up at our start point, and like the first day we met we're reading the same books, having the same drinks, sitting on the same spot. I think the issue is this place," She chuckled lightly, and NamJoon smiled back at her with an understanding nod.

"Also, isn't that the same beanie you were wearing-"

"Don't start blaming my coffee shop for you being two love-struck puppies." Just in time the tall and lean man that went by SeokJin - or just Jin, like they called him endearingly - popped at the table, and the breath NamJoon was holding then could be released silently, not ready for Y/N to be noticing the little details yet. I've been preparing for this for a month but am still not psychologically ready, apparently. He scoffed, sure it would be mistaken as humoring the owner as he patted both of them, one hand at his shoulder and one at her head, just as if they were children - his children. "Talking about it, today's your three-year anniversary, huh?"

"Yeah, and thought we should probably change coffee shops now, Y/N thought fitting for us to celebrate here." NamJoon shrugged teasingly and prompted an eye-roll from the burnt caramel haired male.

"Because she's a loyal friend, you should know that by now," Jin shot back, winking suggestively at his friend. Okay, he's got everything ready apparently. "And I may have told her there was a new dessert I wanted her to try today."

"Oh, so that's why you were so eager to come huh?" He inquired, eyebrow quirking up. Y/N smiled sheepishly at him and NamJoon could probably die from the cuteness at that point, weren't he planning to achieve just one more thing before he could go.

"So, as it's the inauguration of said dessert, I'll have people recording the whole thing; the preparation, decoration - even your reaction, if that's okay. You know, social media now is the best tool for marketing!" Snorting again, NamJoon watched with amusement his girlfriend's face scrunching at the idea of having someone recording her eating, but most of all how naturally SeokJin delivered his prepared lines, smiling at the really natural performance. Give this man an Oscar, please.

After the whole ordeal - Jin managing to convince Y/N to let him do a little video of her reaction but without tagging them and with little face exposure as possible - and laughter died down, they both set themselves in a comfortably small silence, Y/N sometimes muttering lines from her book softly and NamJoon spying on her - and the door where the food came out from - while pretending to read his own. Leg bouncing under the table, it didn't take a second glance to notice how much of a nervous wreck he was becoming, but he hoped Y/N was engrossed enough on her own little world to notice.

It had been a cold end of summer when they first met, SeokJin's little coffee shop in a fairly good air after opening on the beginning of the hot season with a premise of a place that had special and seasonal beverages, earning a fair amount of popularity for the innovation, but more so for the good looks of the owner and chef, that happened to be his roommate at the time. So with the rising fame of the place, it was often to see it crowded but NamJoon always tried his best to hang out when he was around, knowing that it meant a lot for his friend the support. And of course free coffee was always nice.

One particular day the aspiring writer and library cashier - his part-time job at that time - had the luck to find a table near one of the windows closer to the kitchen empty, promptly setting his stuff on the leather cushioned seat before heading to make his order. Luck would have it that his bag slid to the floor right after he turned around, so when a girl entered her newly favorite place in a rush upon seeing an empty table through the window, never noticed the bag right next to her feet. And in the exact moment she was getting up to make her order, NamJoon got back to the previously empty table, practically bumping into that girl and almost spilling the big cup of piping hot and just brewed Americano on the thickest wool sweater he had ever seen.

"Excuse me but, did you see a bag in here?" The boy in the black beany had a deep but soft voice, eyes confused as he searched with his eyes for his belongings.

"No I'm sorry, the table was completely empty when I got h-" She was about to explain but as soon as she looked back gesturing, the dark bag stood out at the foot of the wooden furniture, causing her to gasp. "Oh that must be it! Surely it slid off from the table or something," she picked the bag and quickly handed it to him and he relished on the cheerful and sincere interaction, smiling a little and thanking her.

"Well now I must be going, I'm sorry for the inconvenience," she started while mentioning to pick her stuff, the weary version of her thick romance almost slipping as she tried to balance everything in one hand, weren't for NamJoon's hands holding it in place.

"Oh no please stay. The table surely is big enough for both, and outside must be freezing already." He asked, not wanting her to lose the only seat in the shop just because of a small misunderstanding. Her face sported a surprised expression and NamJoon's cheeks were burning slightly, not thinking he'd ever act that way in his entire life.

"Well I won't be asked twice... If you don't mind," she smiled, setting herself and her steaming beverage in front of him, a grin on his lips to mimick the greeting gesture.

A silence installed itself right after as they both pulled books to the table, and NamJoon would realize that it wasn't an awkward moment at all, and would happen quite often as they met again and enjoyed their companies while sipping on their drinks and reading.

She cleared her throat softly, calling his attention. "Excuse me, but where did you get that edition of the book, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, it's the new one that just arrived at the library I work on. You know, little pros of working at the bookstore," NamJoon chuckled lightly, patting the brand new volume endearingly. The girl in front of him seemed thrilled to know he was employed at that kind of place and suddenly they were discussing about a diversity of subjects - the goods to have a physical book in hands and the pros of buying ebooks and things of the sort - without even proper introduction, but even before they both had to go and part ways and finally exchanged names and phone numbers, NamJoon had the conviction that he had fallen in love in that evening.

"Babe, oh my god," Y/N's exclamation was low, hand clutching to his in alarm. He looked up at her equally startled, having managed to relax a little and forget the world while deep in his memories, the heart previously aching with emotion now threatening to jump out of its cage.

Even NamJoon's eyes widened upon seeing the plate it was brought to the table.

"Now, I really like the expression you guys have on, that's exactly the kind of awe I'm looking for," SeokJin started while placing the bigger-than-average golden plate in front of Y/N. "This is a special dessert created for special occasions and well, today it's a very special date to you two, am I right?" The little grin on the corner of his mouth failed completely to convey how excited the chef really was, but the man at the other side of the table could clearly see how thrilled he was. Y/N laughed, prompting NamJoon to do the same, seeing amusement glinting in her eyes as she asked what exactly was being served.

"Well I'm glad you asked. This my dear, is a perfect dome of chocolate sprinkled with edible gold leaves and surrounded by peach slices and mint, that once this lovely hot salted caramel sauce is poured over will reveal a beautiful-" the dramatic pause for a chuckle almost made NamJoon roll his eyes as he picked the golden decorated porcelain holding said hot sauce and lifted it over the perfectly handmade reversed bowl. "Probably is better if you see it for yourself, hm?"

Like a true entertainer - something that nowadays was very useful on the gastronomic business - he tipped the porcelain, caramel spreading quickly over the whole expanse of the semisphere and slowly making it wrinkle then gape, melting from the center and out, while silence fell over the whole ambient, growing curiosity of all in the small coffee shop to know what was hidden inside.

Namjoon could only watch the expression on Y/N's face change as her eyes set on the surely old-fashioned and delicate ring placed carefully on top of the creamy texture of the pretty white chocolate cheesecake just as if it was a cherry. At far there was a small gasp, and that was probably what made her snap her eyes up and put him to move, knees finally responding to the commands to get up. "Na-"

"Y/N, I know that you don't like grand gestures or a big exposure and predictable scenarios for this kind of thing since I happen to know the kind of stuff you read," he started, chuckling a little as he got down on one knee beside her, hand holding the trembling other with candour and eyes meeting a little scared for both sides. "But I couldn't do this without trying to show you how much you mean to me and the feelings that I usually fail to express are practically spilling out of my chest. 'In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.'" A smile grew on his face with successfully managing to speak without his voice trembling, and almost broke into a laugh upon watching Y/N's expression change at the recognition of the quotation, face falling just a little in mocking disappointment for having her favorite book used in such manner. "In simple words, I planned all this to ask you: Would you marry me?"

There was a feeling of general commotion on the small coffee shop, making NamJoon slightly conscious and he would have been blushing if it weren't for being so engrossed in watching Y/N's expressions change as the words sank in.

"I-"

A sob cut her words before she could answer and crushing off his nerves for a second, her pained frown worried him a lot. "Y/N What- What happened?" He started, even mentioning to get up, but quickly shoved back down by her trembling hands.

"Before I can answer that, I need you to know something- Two things actually." As his girlfriend spoke kneeling on the ground together with him, fingers ice-cold cradling his face, a sense of dread threatened to wash over him, an insistent nausea right at his throat. "First of all, I love you so, so much,"

He swallowed loudly, parting his lips to say the phrase back but unable to get anything out, too aware of the people staring at him - not that they mattered to him at that point - and waiting for something to come out of that big gesture he had put on and was starting to regret immensely. Softly, NamJoon felt himself nod, encouraging the girl in front of him to continue, even if by then he was staring completely unfocused at her face.

"Second is, I-" Y/N took a deep breath, and as she breathed out the smell of half the sugarless coffee she had gulped down before SeokJin's specially made dessert arrived at the table flooded his senses, forcing him to blink and finally focus on her teary eyes. He waited, unable to search his mind for something that he had done - or any other reason - that caused his beloved so much pain to be crying like that. One more sob cut through the silence, the whole place so quiet one could hear a pin fall on the wood floor.

"I'm pregnant, NamJoon. Found out this morning, three months already." At her blurting, it took NamJoon at least an eternity so he could put words to the sounds, meaning to the words and finally shift the world back to place. As if far away he heard some people gasp shocked with the turn of events, waiting for development.

"Shut the fuck up," he breathed out, lungs aching with the lack of oxygen as he was completely unaware from holding his breath till then. "I'm going to be a dad?"

Y/N's face crumpled with a mix of feelings, letting out a little relieved whimper - that she'd later on blame on the hormones - before nodding, heart beating so fast upon seeing the growing smile of the man in front of her, letting herself be pulled into a hug that was meant to ground both as their throats loosened, letting out little chuckles.

"Yeah but now answer his question!" The voice of one customer urged at the back, startling them enough to remember that they weren't in fact alone.

"Oh right!" She chuckled, sitting back on her knees and grabbing his hands, heart swelling at the look of complete adoration NamJoon got on, eyes twinkling with unshed tears. "We do, love." Y/N stated, the cutest giggle he thought she could have ever produced muffled as the whole shop broke into cheering while he wrapped his��arms around her figure, breathing ojlut his relief and filling his lungs with the scent of her, that not only occupied the spot of fiance but also mother of his children all in the same day. Parting for a moment he looked down, hands sliding to her jaw with utmost delicacy.

"Great, you were making me a little nervous already." And as the deprived man he was, NamJoon kissed her, lips pressing with a certain urgency of somebody that couldn't handle too many emotions in one day. Jin cleared his throat to call their attention, prompting them to break the intimate gesture and look up at his 'proud dad' expression.

"So, should I still not tag you both on this post?"

#kim namjoon x reader #bts kim namjoon #sweet coffee oneshot #kim namjoon smut #at last I posted this

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kallura-icedcoffee · 6 years ago

Note

I just saw you were taking prompts. I don't know the themes for the week, but how about a bit of comedy up in here. Kallura (side of plance), where Acxa is actually their daughter from the future. This crack headcanon has been in my head for days now.

A/N: I decided to make this a continuation of this other drabble where Allura is jealous of Acxa and Keith. It’ll make more sense if you read the other drabble first. Thank you @kentaruhinaka for waiting patiently!

“What happened? Is everything ok?” Hunk asked.

“Who knows, maybe? Yes? Remind me to never fall for someoneif it makes you crazy like that.” Pidge shook her head as she took a seat nextto Lance.

“Oh please, you’re gonna crush on someone someday and it’sgoing to totally wreck you before you even realize it’s happening.” Lanceteased as he mussed her hair playfully.

Pidge looked up at him, at his irritatingly cute smile, andhuffed before turning to the fire, hoping it was the flames making her cheeksburn. She snatched up a stick and stoked the fire.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” she grumbled.

“Are they ok?” Acxa blurted out suddenly.

She’d stayed quiet during the entire ordeal starting withAllura snipping at Keith around the campfire to them excusing themselves totalk privately. While everyone else was chatting or pretending to absolutelynot be eavesdropping on the argument, she was staring at the spot where’d they’dsnuck off to rather intently and the louder they seemed to get the morefrequently her eyes would dart to her hand on her knee which unbeknownst toanyone else, was subtly fading in and out.

“Hmm?” Pidge looked up from the fire.

“Are they ok?” Acxa asked again a bit more persistently.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, not sure why the ex-general seemed tocare so much, “they were saying some mushy stuff before I walked away.”

“Oh thank god” she sighed with relief.

Everyone turned and looked at her strangely.

“I just mean…it’s good that everyone is getting along.” Sheshifted uncomfortably.

“Well since all’s well that ends well I’m ready to hit thehay.” Lance yawned.

“Same!” Hunk followed with an even bigger yawn.

“Yeah I’m beat, let’s call it a night guys.” Shiro chimedin.

“Should we tell them we’re going to bed?” Romelle askedpointing to where Keith and Allura had gone off to.

“Better not, they could be doing lord knows what now that it’sgotten quiet back there.”

“Like what?” Romelle asked with naïve curiosity, eyesblinking.

“He’s probably givin’ her the ol’ razzle dazzle!” Lanceperked his eyebrows before snatching Pidge in his arms.

“Oh princess kiss me before I get extra emo!” Lance deepenedhis voice as he mocked Keith, dipping Pidge and frantically nuzzling his facein her cheek while making exaggerated kissing noises.

Pidge’s face went red, redder than the red lion red, codered red, atomic red. His face had moved to her neck which sent a sharp tingledown her spine.

“G-g-g-get off me you dork!” She tried to push him away.

“Oh Keith!” His voice suddenly jumped to a higher octivewith a fake British accent. “The Marmora can go on without you but my loins, myheaving bosom, they cannot! Make love to me you mulleted fool!”

“Lance!” Pidge screeched as he picked her up and spun heraround.

“This is so exciting what happens next?!” Romelle clappedwith wide bright eyes.

“What happens next is we all go to bed before you scar usall for life.” Shiro rubbed his temples.

“I don’t know if I’m happy or worried that my son has youall as friends” Krolia’s forehead creased with concern.

“You know your acting has improved, perhaps I should havehad you play the princess during The Voltron Show” Coran said thoughtfully.

Lance winked while popping a signature finger gun.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

“Including making me sick.” Hunk joked.

“Ouch!” Lance retorted which clutching his heart.

They continued to tease each other as they walked towardtheir lions. Pidge was left standing there, still a flustered blushing mess.She patted her cheeks, trying to calm herself when she noticed Acxa was stillstanding there staring at her.

“What?” Pidge blurted out a tad accusingly.

“Nothing.” Acxa smiled knowingly.

“That isn’t what you think it is” she stated adamantly.

“And what do I think it is?” the Galra woman asked.

“He just caught me off guard that’s all! I don’t actually…Imean I would never…with him…like that.”

“Mhm.”

“I wouldn’t!”

“Of course.” Acxa nodded as she rose to her feet. “Wellgoodnight then.”

“Goodnight.” Pidge was still a little on edge and quicklystomped off to her lion.

Axca waited until Pidge was out of sight to look at her handagain. Everything seemed to be back to normal and she took a deep breath as sheclenched it into a fist to confirm its solidity. She thought maybe she shouldcheck on Keith and Allura but thought the better of it and went back to hertent.

She plopped down on her makeshift cot and looked around thetiny space decorated with what little belongings she had. She lifted up therolled up fabrics she’d made into a pillow and pulled out the worn, slightlycrumpled photo underneath. There was just enough light seeping in from thedwindling fire outside to make out each person, although she’d looked at thispicture a million times and could have described it in her sleep.

An air strip. Garrison in the background. A large Alteanship. A group in the foreground. A very old Iverson. Pidge and Lance inuniform, their two twin toddlers in regular civilian clothes. Keith looked important, like a knight…or perhaps a king. His physical appearance was a bit different, moreGalran. His arm was around Allura. She looked elegant.

And in her arms a baby…

Tiny…beautiful…violet skin with a small tuft of dark hair,eyes the perfect mix of blue and purple.

She’ll grow up hearing how pretty her ears are from her mamawhile she pinches said ears while placing raspberry like kisses on her cheeks.

She’ll get her first dagger from her papa when she’s far tooyoung to even have one, to her mama’s aggravation.

War will prove nothing is certain and a very irritating caterpillar-likealien will put it in her mind that there are a million possibilities and she’llhave to go back to make sure the two people she loves the most don’t screw itall up.

“I wish you two would just admit you love each other alreadyso I don’t have to keep worrying about ceasing to exist” Acxa muttered toherself with a smile as she ran her fingers over their faces.

“Idiots” she added with a chuckle.

Meanwhile Keith and Allura finally took themselves to bed,Allura’s bed in the blue lion specifically. He rubbed her bare back as he heldher, using his fingers to trace the additional Altean markings on her skin asthey faintly glowed in the dark. She rested her head on his chest listening tothe sounds of his beating heart, the way he breathed. Their clothes were in apile on the floor.

“Are you sure it’s…y’know, ok that we…?”

“Yes, fertility cycles, alien stuff, you’re fine.”

“Whew.”

“Not ready to be a father yet?” Allura giggled.

“I can barely get you guys to listen to me let alone a kid.”

“Well I think you’d be a wonderful father, someday of course.”

“Someday.”

There’s a long pause.

“Keith Jr. is a good strong name though” he joked.

Allura laughed.

“And what about you, do you want kids someday?” Keith asked.

“I think so, when the time is right, once we’ve been able tobring peace to the universe.”

“That sounds like a tall order.”

“It is but I believe we can do it. I want my daughter toexist in a time of harmony.”

“Daughter huh?”

“Yes, I’d love a girl,” Allura smiled to herself, “beautiful,strong, smart, independent with a name that reflects her strength and grace. Perhapsa name that starts with an ‘A’.” There was a playful arrogance in her voice.

“Hmm,” Keith sighed contentedly as he held her closer, “thatcould be nice…”

#kallura #plance #ficsbyKIC #drabbles

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beheadingofmakai · 7 years ago

Text

Let’s Be Their Coincidence

Though their hands were clasped tightly, their eyes had not met in minutes now. The nerves of youth were very apparent in the faces of both the boy and the girl, who walked side by side, hand on hand, and step by step, but who couldn’t bear looking at each other.

“...T-this is the park, right?” the girl inquired, smashing the silence with all of her courage at long last. “The park that is... Supposed to bring couples together. Haha, it’s a really weird rumor, isn’t it?”

“It’s worth a try, at least” the boy replied, doing his best to not stutter. “I’ve heard of people that have come here and... Well, they end up much better, but they refuse to speak of what happened, and they warn you to not come here! That’s just way too suspicious, they just wanna hoard whatever it is for themselves!”

“Hah, that wouldn’t be too far fetched, but they could also just be lying, like, to be hip and stuff, you know?”

“See, that’s what bothers me. Yoshida isn’t one to lie! He’s been my bro since we’ve been little, we’ve never kept a secret from each other, and yet, he was practically begging me not to come! It’s wrecking my nerves! Just what is it about this shitty park...?”

Keisuke and Asuka are not dating, but lord almighty, do they wish they did. Keisuke and Asuka used to be classmates in middle school, and now once again are classmates in high school. They have a good vibe, but their insecurities have led them to be unable to say the words, to seal the deal, to stir the stew, to clench the cheeks, and so, they spend agonizing days full of awkward implications, sweet little nothings, and painful blushing. It could continue this way until something overly dramatic happens, or until they spit it out, but, haha, yeah, good luck doing that when you’re wuss, and guess what Keisuke and Asuka are? Wusses. Grade A, low fat, bona fide wusses from the finest wuss farms.

And for wusses, there’s always one salvation, one resource that never abandons them: Rumors. Whether it be magazines, “psychological tests” found in said magazines, Zodiac compatibility, blood types, elemental affinity, anything, wusses will take it as gospel and find the crutch they need to move on. Where that takes them, who knows, but it sure as hell makes them move at least. Proof: The Lovermaker Park.

“So, how did this Lovemaker Park rumor go, Keisuke?” asked Asuka, trying to stir any conversation to distract herself from the fact that she was holding sweaty palms with him.

“It’s Lovermaker Park, and it goes that if you get off Naka-Meguro station and walk down towards Saigoyama Park, but keep going from there without entering the park, you’ll find a desolate memorial park that no one remembers about. The benches will be sufficiently maintained, but still in disrepair, the trees will be alive, but with browned leaves and ashen bark regardless of the time of the year, and you’ll be alone with your lo... Lo... Companion. If you walk from the entrance to the end together, hand in hand, you’ll grow closer.” Keisuke replied, capitalizing on the opportunity to talk as much as possible, as the silence had been torturous not only to her.

“...It’s kinda unsettling how specific the rumor is, but it’s even more unsettling how... Well, it’s kinda true. It’s the start of spring and these trees look battered! Withered leaves, dried roots... D-do you think we should go back now?”

“Wait, Asuka! Don’t say that! Remember what they said! If you turn back, or even think about turning back, an Oni will appear and eat you!”

“Oh, a Oni, you say? Ya believe in those, little boy?”

“O-Of course I don’t!” retorted Keisuke, facing Asuka for the first time since they entered the park. “But you never can be... Did... Did your voice get deeper, and... What are you looking at...?”

The poor girl to his left was not looking at him. With a horrified expression and teary eyes, she stared at least two heads about the boy, her neck at the limit of how much above her she could look at. “K-K-Kei-Keisuke, be-behind, behind, Keisu--”

As he turned around, Keisuke found himself face to face with a belt decorated with various bells and bones. As he slowly looked up, he realized he was next to something truly and well massive, with white eyes that looked down at him, a razor sharp cheshire grin barely holding back its laughter. “What’s wrong, runt?”, it spoke, “I thought ya didn’t believe in Oni? Whatcha peein’ yer pants for, then, pussy?”

Both teenagers screamed in horror as they realized they were face to face with an ogre three times their size. Its long limbs looked unnatural, and though it was slender like a panther, it was very easy to see the toned muscles that comprised its body. Not that they looked at those for too long, as the real “charm point”, let’s call it, was the toothy smile comprised of a mouthful of sawed, jagged, misplaced teeth and large, featureless, mocking eyes. The bony hands with long fingers came down upon the two adolescents, missing them by a hair as they panicked and fumbled backwards.

“A-A real Oni!? Wha... Run! Run for it, Asuka!” cried the boy, trying to desperately get on his feet and stumbling forward, meeting the cobblestone face first and flailing wildly to get away as fast as he could, but his headless chicken tantrum came to an end the moment a shrill scream made him realize that his escape was a lonesome one. Turning around, the horrible sight of his crush being lifted effortlessly by the torso with only one hand broke his stupor, and instead genuine, conscious, palpable horror froze him in place.

“Keisuke! Go! Get away!” she pleaded and pleaded as the chesire maw approached her head with glee and laughter. “What are you doing!? Run!”. Keisuke dashed not towards the exit, but at a nearby bench with an oddly colored plank. “N-not that way, Keisuke, the exit is over--”

“T-the rumor said that if the Oni appeared, you had to find the oddly colored bench, and behind it...!” -- Keisuke leaped at the bench and landed on it kneefirst in his panic, his adrenaline masking the pain, and reached behind it to produce a large, gold branch with a glowing, silver, stake-like tip -- “...You’ll find a branch that can kill it!”

“What!? That’s the Branch of Amenunohoko! How could a brat like you brandish that!?” exclaimed the Oni, impetuous and brutish footsteps smashing the cobblestone beneath it as it shortened the distance between itself and the boy with blinding haste. “Pretty good for a pussy! Die!”

With a scream more akin to a warcry than a cowardly whine, Keisuke lunged at the towering beast, the branch easily piercing its hand and impaling the shoulder, purple blood gushing out of the wound, the pain forcing the beast to let Asuka go to cover it as it cried in pain. “Keisuke! T-the last part of the rumor! The Oni can only be killed if two hearts that truly love each other impale it with the branch...! Hurry, let’s do this!”

“Ou! Hyaaaaa!”

The two, their hearts as one, jumped at the screaming beast, still recoiling from the holy branch embedded in its shoulder, and their two pairs of hands drove the stake fully into the beast, it’s deafening scream drowning out every other sound in the park, sacred azure flames ensnaring the Oni in their purifying embrace.

“You... You bast... Aaaa...” crackled its last the Oni, collapsing a smoldering ruin.

The boy immediately embraced Asuka. “Are you alright!? I thought-- I thought it was gonna kill you! Are you hurt at all?”

“I’m fine! I’m fine! Thank everything, you are not hurt either...! I love you, Keisuke! Let’s... Please go out with me! This all made me realize that I can’t just hesitate anymore! And the way you threw yourself at that beast... I knew you were the one for me!”

“Asuka...! D-don’t say it so loud, I... I love you, too... Haha, hahaha! Let’s get out of here, and... I’ll be in your care!”

The smiling pair, nay, couple, held hands firmly and with no second thoughts, they left the park, effectively a closer couple than before, having survived the vicious assault of an Oni thanks to the power of their love!

The end.

Of their story, at least.

The burnt out husk of the Oni was left in the park, the glowing branch sticking out of it as unending blue flames gently swayed and danced with the night’s gale. A single pair of footsteps, light and subtle, became louder and louder as a blonde woman with a plastic bag hanging from her left hand and a long sniper rifle hanging from her right approached. Once she was a couple of meters away from the burnt corpse, she rummaged in the bag and produced a can of beer.

“Great work today, here you go.” the woman whimsically said to the corpse as she threw the can at it. As the can was about hit the corpse, its hand suddenly sprung to life, catching the can. In a flash, the fire was gone, and where there was once a smoldering carcass now lie a tall woman with long, dark hair in a casual, almost relaxed position. Wordlessly, she opened the can and downed it in a matter of seconds, motioning to the blonde to throw her another one. “Sheesh, you were parched, weren’t you?” the blonde chuckled, throwing two more from the bag.

“Ya know it! After a whole freakin’ day of doing this, I deserve it! Ya got the good stuff, too, ya lovely little bugger, thanks! Screamin’ and laughin’ that loud so much all day to mask yer rifle bangs has me throat parched like the sole of a crusader!” enthusiastically replied the cheerful dame on cobblestone, in stark contrast to the more subdued, quiet tone of the blonde woman. “I tell you what, I wasn’t fully in love with yer plan when ya laid it on me three weeks ago, I thought this was gonna go bust and then we’d hafta skedaddle for this or that reason... Or that ye were gonna try ‘n cap me while I was doing this shit, yeah? I’m glad I was wrong as usual!”

“You have a bounty on your head or something? Not that I care if you do, I am not into mercenary wet work, just doing my job here, so that’s what I’ll do. You’re free to be as paranoid as you wish.” calmly replied the riflewoman, removing her wool beanie hat and undoing her hair, letting her pale yellow mane flow with the night’s gale as she sipped soda from a can as if it was wine.

“Iunno if I have a bounty or not, friend, and though I’d bet my horn and a half I do, it ain’t about that, bwahaha, it’s about, uh, don’t take it the wrong way, aight?” replied the dark haired girl, who was dressed in a mish-mash of differently colored fabrics, her hair messily tied in a spiky ponytail as she casually removed the branch from her shoulder and tossed it aside. “But, an Angel holding a freakin’ rifle approaches you in this country, which is well out of your peeps’ jurisdiction, may I add, well, ya can’t blame me if I feel a little itchy behind the knuckles, yeah? Angels ain’t exactly the best fellas -- uh, no offense -- so an Angel with a rifle is, like, double bad news. Double false alarm in your case, though, thankfully!”

A hollow, practiced, and barely cordial chuckle came from the Angel. “Eh, you aren’t wrong. Angels are pricks. I’m not with them anymore, either way, and as far as I know, freelancers are ok here, right? I am a solo Cupid, not affiliated with anyone and not in contact with the Choir at all. If anything, I find it weird that an Oni so readily accepted to work with an Angel with as much... Pulchritude, let’s call it, as you did.”

“Eh, I ain’t smart, I like risks. I was half hopin’ for ya to shoot me in the noggin’, and then we’d have a nice ol’ rumble, ‘cause see, I’m not gonna lie, I ain’t never traded hands with an Angel, and a buncha little birdies have told me ain’t nothin’ funner than brawlin’ with one of y’all, but you turned out to be a real Cupid, and a weird one at that. First I hear of a solo Cupid. You just... Do this as a hobby? It’s our last day together, so I figured I might as well ask, if that’s cool with you.”

Without raising her voice or changing her deadpan expression in the slightest, the holy woman simply looked directly into the Oni’s red eyes. “Love rocks.” she uttered in the flattest, but clearest, of monotones.

“...Hah? What?”

“Love rocks.”

“You... Ya just doin’ this ‘cause you got a metaphorical sweet tooth?” asked the puzzled, bewildered, but definitely bemused Oni, downing another can of beer.

“It’s not metaphorical. It’s very real. Love rocks.” Again, that monotone? An unbreakable bastion. “I like seeing inexperienced couples composed of clumsy people manage to come together. I mix pleasure and business, because my business happens to be pleasure.”

With loud and powerful footsteps, the tall woman approached the angel and sat beside her. “...You... Went solo ‘cause you just love seein’ couples, Astra? Ya mean to tell me that ya took one good look at yerself in the mirror one day, said “fuck it, I’m doin’ me now”, gave the Choir both slips, and just legged it here to Japan? Just to shoot literal love into dumbass teenagers and shit? Then you look at yerself in the mirror again every night after a steamin’ hot shower, blonde hair probably a mess from bein’ inside that beanie all day long, cascadin’ ‘round ya as ya try t’fight it with the mightiest comb, and ya think, “yeah, fuck yeah, this is my life now, I love it”, girl?”

“Yup.”

“...Well slap me on the buttcheeks and tug on me ponytail.” the Oni remarked, laughing heartily. “It’s just one thing after the other with you... Fuckin’ Angels, man, bwahaha.”

“Astra” was a tall, woman with an almost pale, cream tone of blonde coloring in her shoulder blade long hair. Although not as tall as the Oni, she definitely wasn’t short, standing at 187 centimeters. Her attire consisted of exactly what you wouldn’t expect from someone who is supposedly “Cupid”: Tough steel-toed boots, grey jacket and cargo pants, tactical vest, grey wool beanie that usually concealed her hair, and silver sunglasses that masked her green eyes. One couldn’t tell her figure from her clothes, but her way of carrying herself indicated a lot of grace and dignity, with an elegant gait and a repertoire of smooth moves and habits, which would be charming if she wasn’t as intimidating as a woman with a perpetual, concrete deadpan expression and a rugged sniper rifle slung over her right shoulder was. “Don’t call me that, please refer to me with my full name, Nahoko.”

Nahoko, in contrast, was an even taller woman, hitting 217 centimeters of height. Her long, black hair was tied in a wild, messy ponytail, and not once had the Angel seen her without her eccentric war paint adorning her face or her even wilder attire that consisted of mix and mash pieces of fabric, some singed, some torn and ragged, worn in a way that barely counted as an outfit, with her left arm clad in a bizarre, single long glove covered in black feathers of several different birds, judging by their varied shapes, spike-like accessories jutting out from her left leg, and several bells and bones hanging from her sash. Her feet, legs, and right arm were wrapped in sarashi, and due to the exposed, almost exhibitionist nature of her outfit, it was immediately discernible that her sizeable chest also was covered by sarashi, and that her body as a whole was strong, with well defined abdominal muscles and biceps. Atop her forehead, the pride of every Oni, her two long horns, sat like a magnificent crown, above her red eyes, and below these, her toothy, serrated smile. “Yeah, yeah, yer so stiff, Astrael, jeez, we’ve known each other for three whole weeks! We’re practically sisters at this point!”, the Oni teased.

You couldn’t find a more contrasting pair.

“Finish up your drink, we still have time for one more. Last couple, and then our contract is up.” Astra was a very no-nonsense person in general, already cleaning her cylinder and preparing her ammunition and scope.

“Oi oi, no need to hurry, Astra...El” -- Nahoko chuckled like a child -- “When the tripwire tells us to go to work, we go to work. Talk with me a little, yer a sight here, and I happen to live for the spice of variety. Whatcha doin’ in a country so far from where yer kind’s influence is? I mean, even if yer solo, there had to be easier places than the land of the rising sun, yeah?”

With a tired sigh and seeing how it was truly the last night they’d share together in this job, the dutiful Astra decided to humor her at least this once, setting her rifle down and cracking open a can of beer of her own. “...I came here precisely because of that. I guess you could say I like a challenge.”

“Or ya don’t want to be found.” immediately interjected Nahoko, who couldn’t tell if Astra was averting eye contact through those silver shades, but she could bet she was. “...I’m not one to prod me horns ‘round where they don’t belong, but it’s really dang novel to see an Angel 'round these parts, and when we see one, it’s ‘cause they tryin’ to expand J-man’s influence in this ol’ country. I mean, we are even celebratin’ Christmas in here nowadays, how wild is that, bwaha!”

“...Did you accept to work with me to keep tabs on me?”

“Nah” -- the big woman produced an old fashioned pipe and lit it with her fingertip -- “I’m no friends with those old Shinto fucks, either. On the contrary, honestly. Y’know about Oni in general, so you should understand if I told you that I hail from the old school, from that one mount you probably haven’t heard of.”

“Oh? Mount Ooe? You were with Shuten-douji’s gang?” Astra added, keeping an eye on her cellphone in case the tripwire called them to work, much to the surprise of the Oni. “Can’t believe I’m working with such a big shot.” she added with some sarcasm mixed in with the curiosity.

“Hah! Not bloody likely, I was a bit player, the henchest of the women, you may say!” laughed Nahoko, throwing herself back to the cobblestone as if it was a comfortable bed. “Nah, a low ranked brigand who wasn’t fit to serve drinks to even his underlings, that was me! I mean, doesn’t sound too cool, I reckon, but I’m still alive! I wasn’t worth their time when they came a-stormin’. They killed every Oni worth killing, the rest of us cowards scattered. Fuckin’ Onmyouji and Exterminators, bwahaha, they only missed on Ibaraki-douji, ‘cause she was ungodly tough and resilient. There, see? I’m willin’ to show my hand, so show me yours already, ya stiff! I signed up with yer job ‘cause it was convenient for me and because it sounded fun. I get to scare kids and then play a big bad villain, just like the old times! Oni nowadays ain’t fun at all, man... Organized crime just ain’t the same as raidin’ and pillagin’... Ooh, racketin’ and protection money! Look at me! I’m such a pussy that I can’t just go take what I want! Subterfuge! I swear to Auntie Moriko, Oni these days ain’t got balls...”

The sniper couldn’t help but laugh at Nahoko’s bravado and lamentations for the “good ol’ days” of savage ransacking. “Heh... Well, times change, for better or for worse. Truth is, I didn’t really enjoy my job as an Angel anymore. I was stationed on Egypt one time for a big job, and I did that one... Really well, apparently, so I was dispatched to do similar jobs, even though I didn’t like it. I eventually had enough of it and just deserted. I came here at the prompt of an old friend who needed help with this country’s low birth rates, he was hoping I could do something about it, so I took to being a Cupid here.”

“Ooh, a big wig in this here country? Pretty well connected, ain’tcha? He’s payin’ you?” the Oni teased, elbowing Astra playfully, who was pretending really hard that those Oni-strength-fingerjabs didn’t hurt.

“Just essentials costs, really, stuff like lodging and day to day necessities. I didn’t want a full-on paycheck as if I was some sort of operator here, I’m just living my life now, helping clumsy couples with that first push, see?” Astra elaborated, playfully chambering and unchambering a round with a clicking sound.

Nahoko dragged on her pipe and puffed a big cloud of smoke from her mouth. “...You really love ‘love’, don’tcha? I swear, the only times yer eyes fire up are when yer talkin’ about these kids and how they need a little push. For such a crackshot to be this much of a consummated... Shit, whatcha call it... Um... There a word for someone like this? Romantic, maybe?”

“I mean, can you blame me?” interrupted the Angel, finishing her beer and opening the last can. “In a country where birthrates are low and where public displays of affection are frowned upon, where kids are clumsy lovers but wish they could partake in the skinship, the sweet caresses of mutual affection more freely, where the public opinion holds such weight and as such is a barbed leash, where the nail that sticks out gets hammered down, a silver angel is needed, and so she descends, bow and arrow of heart at the ready, prepared to ignite a night of romance with devastating accuracy and overwhelming firepower.” With each word, Astra’s monotone was growing weaker and weaker.

“W-woah.”

“Look at it this way: Imagine you are a girl in love with a boy, and you know that the boy loves you back. But! You are both clumsy, coy, foolish! You wait for him to take action, but he’s waiting for you, and you’re both, admittedly, pansies, so this just goes on and on, with both of you biting your respective pillows and waiting for each other to text first, until you are in the last year of high school, preparing for exams, and then you just say, “It’s fine! We’ll have time in university! Or while working!”, but then the years pass and pass, and none of you makes a single freakin’ move or takes a single freakin’ clue and then you are both old wrinkled raisins rich on protein and regret and you wonder and ponder, why! Why did I let the time pass like this! Social constructs, damn you! My own childish idiocy, curse you! You think convenient accidents and unexpected events that will bring you together just happen?! That you just reach into your jacket’s breast pocket one day and say, “Oh, wow! A contrived coincidence that will help up grow closer! Lucky me!” You think life is that easy, Nahoko!?”

“Holy shit, dude.”

“And that! Is why! I’m here! To prevent all of these sad, depressing, inevitable futures of beds far too large for one person and houses too spacious for a bachelor! So these unskilled sacks of love can fully... Love! I am the convenient accident! I am the unexpected event! I am the best thing to happen to clumsy couples! That is what I want to be!”

As the passionate outburst of the love legionnaire came to a conclusion, the perplexed Nahoko only made this “bweh” sound that is somewhere between a “Wow” and a “Mm!”. “Yeah, I didn’t doubt you for a second, but god damn, you a love maniac for real.”

The usually pale face of the Angel had turned beet red once she realized she had, once again, done it, and now she was definitely averting her eyes behind those shades. “I... Well, ahem, hmhm! Let me rephrase that in a less uncouth manner: I believe that love is complicated enough without all the social constructs and expectations that its participants may have to skirt around, and sometimes it can be hard to spit it out. I aspire to be able to give these couples this first push, or maybe their last push, so they can take the first, difficult step, because after that? They need me no more... To be frank, I don’t care about the low birthrate, either, man and man, woman and woman, I am here for love, not babies... There, I said it, are you happy? Have I made my, as you put it, ‘hand’ clear enough?”

“Plenty, ya little love freak! You are so adorable when you ain’t a block of ice and marksmanship. I knew you had a fire behind those stupid expensive shades, after three weeks of workin’ with ya, I just didn’t think it’d be a supernova!” jeered the loud ogre, pounding the cobblestone to dust with a hand as she laughed merrily. “Wouldn’t kill ya to be honest with yerself more often!” she finally declared, to which the Angel simply crossed her arms and pointed her nose skywards.

“W-why, you-- Make a mockery out of me, won’t you? I knew I shouldn’t have humored you. The nerve...”

“On the contrary, Astrael, thank you. It truly does make me happy to know I worked these three weeks with someone as alive as you. I wasn’t laughin’ ‘cause I was mockin’ ya, I’m just happy when I get to see people truly be about their thing. It’d be a more colorful world if we all were alive like that.”

“...I see.” Apparently, the compliment caught her off guard, as Astra calmed down and began playing Chamber The Round again.

“Anyways, get going.” Nahoko abruptly commanded. “We have our last couple.”

“What? Oh! The tripwire!”

Astra had been so distracted by her own volcanic passion that she didn’t notice the sensor being tripped. Grabbing her rifle and beanie, in one motion, four large white wings protruded from back, her special outfit opening on the shoulder blades to accommodate their exit, and she leaped with earth-shaking strength back to her sniper nest.

“Al~right, let’s make this last job one to remember!”. Dusting herself off, Nahoko grabbed the branch from earlier and imbued it with her illusion magic, giving it the golden and silver appearance from before. As she stowed it behind the odd-colored bench, the large woman couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’ve been a great companion, ‘Branch of Amenunohoko’, pff! Yer such a great actor!”

It was time for the final gig.

“A-Aimi, are you sure about this? This park looks really shady! There’s not a single soul around, and the trees are withered, even though it’s spring! L-let’s just go home, yeah?” pleaded the cowering, shorter girl, whose puffy light brown hair and thick glasses endowed her with a homely, what-are-you-doing-outta-the-library look.

“Michii!” chastised the taller, thinner girl with the longer and straight black hair and the many colorful accessories on her uniform and beautiful, expensive eyeliner, clearly from a different world than Michiko’s. “We said we’d go through this, right? Don’t back out on me now! B-besides, I told you, didn’t I...? I have something... Very important I want to tell you, you know?”. Hearing these words, the cowardly Michiko hit her own face with her palms and gave Aimi a resolute look.

“I’m sorry! It was a m-moment! You are my dearest friend in the world! A-anything you want to do, even if it’s scary and I want to die and explode and swallow needles instead of doing it, if it’s THIS important to you, then I’m down for it! Let me at it!” she roared with a voice that cracked midways through the declaration.

“Michiko... Heh, yeah, see! You can do it if you try! Now gimme that hand.” But as she gripped Michiko’s hand tightly and looked in the other direction, naught but sorrow brewed on her expression as the false confidence melted. “I... I hope you’ll be as enthusiastic after I tell you... That I... That I’m...” she murmured to herself, her heart tightening, her eyes watering.

The park was a depressing shade of brown, white, and grey, even though it was spring. The trees that should be blossoming and offering bountiful recompense for the passage of time for eyes to admire and hearts to sing instead stood almost like made of stone, naked branches offering misery instead of beautiful sights, and the less said about the cracked, dry bark, the better. The plain, white cobblestone, coupled with the dry soil blanketed with dirt, stones, and no life whatsoever, gave the image of a graveyard during the haunting hours more than that of a park where you might make magic happen with a confession. This isn’t even to mention the complete lack of birds or bugs. The air was stagnant, and something was quite obviously off. This wasn’t a place where you wanted to stay for more than you needed to in the worst of cases, and a place that you just took the long way around in the best. None of this dissuaded the two girls, one of which was, as they say, ‘riding or dying’ for her friend (riding and dying, however, would be more correct in this case), and the other simply had no interest in the scenery, a far more grave matter making the rounds in her head, something that had been torturing her for long, an aching secret that left a bitter aftertaste to every happy moment between the two.

And that is simply no way to live.

Aimi’s grip tightened on Michiko’s hand, which the bespectacled girl noticed. “...Aimi? Is everything ok? You’re far more tense than usual, and you do crazy stuff all the time.”

“Crazy is easy,” she replied. “This being a bit too sane is what worries me.”

The shorter girl stopped, bringing both of them to a halt. “Now, look, I don’t wanna push you, but this has had you acting weird as of late. Just what is it that has you like this? You rejected going for a burger -- my treat -- because you weren’t feeling up to it, and then you called me at 4:30 am the next day, saying we needed to abso-posi-you-better-believe-it come here yes or yes do or double die today. That’s not normal!”

“...Hmm, yeah, calling at four in the morning is a bit overkill...”

“You always call me at four in the morning, you expired pancake! But it’s always for a prank or a laugh! You do funny, stupid voices and stuff like that, not dire and ambiguous invitations to a park that looks like it contracted the Black Plague!”

“...F-fair, but the voices are pretty intelli--”

“Aimi.”

The stylish girl sighed and sat down on the oddly colored bench. “...Right, I guess I’ve dragged both of our feet a tad too long. Michiko, see, the thing is... Um?” -- Aimi couldn’t help be puzzled by Michiko’s expression of pure, abject horror -- “Michii? I haven’t actually told you anything yet, why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“A-An ogre.” she stuttered back at the inquiry, with the elegance and dignity of a dog that has been caught tangled with the curtains.

“Well, geez, ok, an ogre, a ghost, same thing, what’s up?”

“AN OGRE IS WHAT’S UP, AIMI!” yelled the terrified girl, pointing behind Aimi.

“I think she’s talkin’ ‘bout me, but I could be wrong. Maybe there’s an ogre behind me? Could y’be a love and check behind me, lass?” a grim and mocking voice playfully requested, a hot breeze of freezing air licking Aimi’s ear as the unnatural voice broke into laughter. Wasting no time, Aimi immediately got off the bench, startled, and faced the tall, lanky beast that stood at least thrice her size, a towering creature of bony limbs and jawed teeth. Skulls and bells adorned her waist, neatly hanging by a sash, and she was immediately sent flying through a tree after Aimin landed an impeccable spinning kick right to her lower jaw, using the momentum to--

Wait, what?

The creaking of a tree collapsing under its own weight after the Oni was sent flying through it went completely unheard, for Michiko’s “Eeeeeh!?” was deafening enough. In the distance, a somewhat angelic, but subtle “Eeeeeh!?”, fortunately also went completely unheard. “A-Aimi, what was that!?”

“That was a spin kick. A Rolling Savate, if we wanna be pedan--”

“AIMI, I AM VERY CLEARLY TALKING ABOUT THE ONI! Wait, no, not the Oni! The fact that you kicked the Oni through a tree! Well, the Oni, too, but-- Ok, you! What is going on!”

“...What Oni? That was a stray dog.”

“Stray dogs don’t speak fluent Japanese and don’t wear skulls and bell on their waists! And they don’t have horns!”

“You’ve just had a sheltered life, Michii. They totally do.”

“Aimi.”

“O-ok, ok, I c-can explain, kinda, it’s just that--”

But before Aimi could begin trying to weave a tale or explanation outta this one, the beast was back on its feet, clutching its jaw. With thunderous footsteps that crushed the cobblestone under it, the Oni finally approached the pair of girls, invading Aimi’s blue eyes with its fully red own. Letting go of its jaw, it pointed a long and bony finger at her adversary, the air stagnant with intimidating anticipation. Michiko couldn’t move a muscle nor speak a word. The beast finally opened its mouth: “Eeeeeh!? What the hell was that!? Who the hell kicks an Oni in the face as their first reaction!? That ain’t fair! How’dja do that!?”

“...Ah?” the glasses girl let out, the scene playing right in front of her not quite living up to her expectations of something that should be impossible and mystic.

“For real! What the hell! Do ya just kick people in the face when they tap yer shoulder and are like, ‘hey, here’s the eraser ya dropped’, ya damn miscreant! Apologize to me! Apologize to me right now, or I’ll eat yer frieEEEEEAAAAAAAA!!!!”

Whatever threat the Oni was making didn’t exactly pan out, as Aimi immediately went for its legs in the middle of its little speech, seized them, and begun spinning the beast in the air.

“Holy shit!” a bespectacled voice exclaimed.

“Holy shit!” an exasperated Oni voice yelped.

“Sacred feces!” an angelic voice yelled, unheard to anyone but herself.

“Oraaaaaa!” Aimi cried, spinning faster and faster until she attained sufficient momentum to launch just about anything out of the stratosphere, chucking the monster through many more trees this time. “Piss off already, damn it! You’re ruining my important day!”

“H-haha!” the Oni laughed, coming back battered, bruised, and clearly in pain. “Y-you can’t defeat me with yer p-puny human strength...?” -- the Oni seemed to have difficulty believing the things that were coming out of her own dislocated mouth -- “Only the Branch of Amenunohoko can--”

As if possessed by the soul of a particularly furious housewife after her husband flushed the toilet while she was in the shower, the stylish girl stuck her hand behind the bench, produced the gold and silver branch, and she smashed it over the Oni’s head in one fell swoop, breaking it in half. “PISS OFF”. Picking the broken halves, Aimi proceeded to pretend the Oni was a taiko drum with her makeshift clubs. “Just! Get! Out! Already! Uggggh!”. After the Oni was practically mashed potatoes, Aimi discarded the now regular looking branches and approached her friend once anew. “Dogs are wild nowadays, aren’t they, Michii!”

“...Aimi, just what in the world is going...” is all the poor, confused girl could say, clearly still processing the scandalously brutal beatdown her best friend just inflicted on the Oni. Oh, and the Oni probably has to do with her confusion, too, maybe. Aimi could only sigh again, dejectedly looking at the floor, then the sky, and sighing again before finally looking at Michiko in the eyes.

“Look, Michii... The thing is... What I wanted to tell you is that I... I--! Get back!”. AImi immediately pushed Michiko away and turned around just in time to block a massive overhead hammer punch from the Oni, who was suddenly back on its feet. Aimi’s thin arms somehow blocked the attack, but she sunk halfway to her torso through the ground from the impact and heft of the blow. “Guh...! This is the strength of an Oni, alright...! I guess you finally decided to stop playing around!”

“...Me?” replied the now serene Oni, seemingly not harmed in the slightest from the drum solo or the Giant Swing Aimi inflicted on its body. “I ain’t the one playin’ around, missy, ya know that well. You got some guts pretendin’ to be just any ol’ preppy high school girl, ya fox.”

“...! Not one more word out of you!” Aimi barked back, her composure beginning to melt much like her knees under the immense strength of the hand that threatened to crush her against the ground.

“Yeah, yer right, no more words, we speak with actions now!” the Oni announced with a mocking laughter ten times colder than its hyperbolic act when it met them by the bench. This wasn’t the guffaw of a children’s book’s picaresque and colorful villain, no, this was the genuine snickering of a blood starved beast who was finally found some meat after surviving on dirt and berries for who knows how long. Cocking its free hand, the Oni swung a hook with her left hand, smashing its massive hand against the exposed side of the girl, launched her in the air with a yelp. “How’s that for a greetin’, ya shit.”

“Aimi! Oh god, Aimi!”

“Hey! Nahoko! What the hell are you doing!?” Astra chastised her partner through her radio. “Did you seriously hit a human for real!?”

“...Astrael, two things.” the Oni replied, holding two fingers against the comm on her right ear. “The first is that yer wrong. That right there ain’t no human. Fooled us both real good, didn’t she?”

“...Huh?”

As the dust dissipated from where the school girl landed, a silhouette of a thin, tall girl was vaguely visible. Same long legs, same long hair, same thing arms, and yet, the silhouette was fundamentally different... Or rather, complete. “Aimi...?” The silhouette became clearer and clearer as the dust settled, with two long, fox-like ears pointing upwards, and massive fox tail protruding behind her. For someone that just got ragdolled by an honest to God Oni Haymaker, she was looking pretty good. Stepping forward, she cracked her neck and then her knuckles.

“...Michii, get behind me.”

“Aimi, you... What, what is going on!?”

“Michiko!” finally burst the fox girl, startling the confused, smaller girl. “...Look, I’ll explain everything, I promise, this is... Relevant as to why we are here today, but for now, I need you to trust me, ok? That thing is dangerous. Stay behind me. I’ll protect you with everything I got, and after I’m done with it, I’ll tell you everything.” Michiko was afraid and confused, but she didn’t doubt her friend’s words for one second, nodding and quickly running behind Aimi, at a safe distance.

“...And the second thing, Astrael...” continued the Oni, “...is that ya can count me out. That there Kitsune is a real tough one, the kinda prime meat ya don’t find on the market just any day. And I am hungry. I am oh so hungry for a good damn fight after so long. This is the real pay I get outta this, I guess!”

“Oi, wait a minu--” is all the angel could get out before the Oni destroyed the comm, reducing it to fragments and chips by simply rubbing it between her fingers as they underwent a metamorphosis, losing their bony appearance, much to the surprise of the duo. “Over and out. Now, you, Kitsune... Aimi, was it? I reckon I might as well introduce myself prim and proper, the way momma taught me. Name’s Nahoko, and I am going to pummel you to a pulp.” Nahoko smirked and spat, walking towards Aimi with footsteps more akin to stomps that smashed the cobblestone under her all the same. “Don’t even concern yerself with protectin’ that kid behind ya. I am not interested in her in the slightest. Focus yerself fully on fightin’ me, ‘cause bruisin’ ya is all I’m lookin’ for, yeah?”

Right before their eyes, the beastly and uncanny Oni morphed, shrinking and becoming more properly proportioned, finally resembling a beautiful, very tall woman with long dark hair tied in a messy ponytail and warpaint adorning her face. “...I won’t ask why you were acting and looking like a fool before, but I suppose this means you’re going to be serious now.” shot back Aimi, a faint teal flame surrounding her hands, now balled into fists. “I suppose I can shit all over you for a bit, given you went and ruined my special day, you asshole.”

“Fuck off. Talk with yer hands, pussy.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

There we no more words. Oni and Kitsune clashed in the center of the cobblestone walkway, Aimi opening with a right straight that Nahoko countered with a headbutt, smashing her hard head against the thin girl’s fist, making her wince from the pain, but the Oni’s follow up swipe missed its mark, as Aimi twisted her body and rolled on Nahoko’s arm to get to her back, placing both of her palms against the back of her neck and blasting her with a localized explosion, sending her reeling.

“Hoh! That was supposed to behead you.” coldly complimented the Kitsune. “That was supposed to be an explosion inside of your neck. You have good magic resistance.”

“Hah! This hide of mine is pretty damn rugged!” boasted Nahoko, tapping her unscathed neck twice with a finger. “Yer gonna need Magic Emission on the level of a Faded Sigil in order to cast magic directly inside my body, so ya better start thinkin’ a new strat, fox.”

Although they fought with very different emotions, it was clear both wanted the other made into a bloody mess, stat, and so, they clashed, the Oni seeing a dance where the Kitsune saw a death match. As elbows and knees met and bone and sinew sang, from among the bushes, a tall, blonde woman emerged, rifle in hand. “Alright, that’s enough.” the vexes sniper announced, training her rifle at Michiko, freezing both fighters in place. “Let’s just cut to the chase.”

“Oi, Astra! Don’t fuckin’ intervene in this! I’ve wanted this for a long tiIIIAAAA!” In that singular moment of carelessness, Aimi seized Nahoko by the horns and threw her between Michiko and the sniper just as she squeezed the trigger, the bullet hitting Nahoko square in the chest, making her drop to a knee. “Guh!"

“Don’t you dare hurt Michiko! I’ll rip your apart!”

“Kitsune!” erupted the inflamed angel. “What is the meaning of this!? That bullet was meant for that girl! Do you think those are cheap!?”

“Astra, you god damn imbecile, of course she’s gonna block it! They ain’t even know yer a--!” but the Oni couldn’t finish what she was saying before a jolt shook her to the very core, her eyes fixating on the petite human girl she had unintentionally shielded. “...Hey... Yer... Yer damn cute as a button, now that I look at you better.”

“Oh.” The Kitsune, faster than the eye could possibly ever dare to perceive, grabbed the sniper by the collar, lifting her, a wicked grin on her face. “...A ranged weapon, angel, and a sudden infatuation... You wouldn’t happen to be a Cupid, would you?”

“N-No idea what you’re talking about.”

“And you wouldn’t happen to have shot that Oni with a Love Arrow just now, hmm?”

“Certainly within the realm of possibility.”

“Haha.”

“H-haha...”

“...”

“...Um, Kitsune, you--”

“I wonder if you bleed?” Aimi wondered with the sweetest smile as she clenched her fist hard enough that it sounded like rubber stretching.

“Fair, but you might want to look at Naho-- the Oni right now.”

“As if you could escape the Triple Deluxe Knuckle McSandwich that I am going to force feed you right now with a dumb trick like thaaaAAAAA WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY MICHII!”

As Astra and Aimi played mental footsies, the suddenly infatuated Oni, with a proper posture instead of her usual hunched over gait, approached the paralyzed Michiko, in utter awe and confusion at this behemoth of a curvaceous woman who towered over her, hips swinging with each step she took. “I can see why that fox likes ya! It’s like I could just hug ya while I sleep and dream the sweetest things, ya cute little radish stalk.” With the distance between them gone, the big hand of the tall woman fell upon the tiny girl’s head, bringing her closer and pressing her face against her exposed stomach, causing the little girl to yelp in surprise and bewilderment as she met her powerful abdominal muscles on a personal level. “I don’t even work out much anymore, but I think they are pretty good, ain’t they? Just wait till you feel them in action, you’ll see what I mean once I am rammin’ yer cute little body against my bedpo--”

“Oi! Watch your tongue!” the irate Kitsune yelled. “Don’t be saying things like that in public!”

“Oh? What, ya jealous? Then watch this.” Without further ado, Nahoko crouched, her face very close to Michiko’s own, lips half open and eyes half-lidded and... She lightly tapped her horns against Michiko’s forehead.

“Huh...? Wh-what was that...?” the human wondered, but one look at Aimi and the sniper seemed to clue her in to that having had a special meaning, because the Kitsune was beet red and the Angel was covering her mouth in amazement.

Spin Kick 2: The Return Of The Spin Kick, the long awaited sequel, interrupted the Oni’s scandalous invitation, sending her through yet another tree. “YYYYYOU! Lewd! Extremely lewd! What do you think you’re doing to my Michii!” howled Aimi, hugging her puzzled friend close. “You... Horny temptress! Michiko, are you alright?! More importantly, do you like taller girls? I mean, I am taller than you! Maybe not as tall as she is, but I am still good, right?”

“Um... Aimi? What does it mean when an Oni taps her horns against your head? and what are you--”

“And I can start working out, too! I’ll get some toned abs over the summer, so don’t you worry!”

“T-that’s cool, but, um, hey, so, what is... What is going on, dude?”

“...And plus, a less extreme height different is much cuter, if you ask m-- Hm? What do you mean, what is gOh.” -- Aimi finally returned to the real world -- Yeah, right, the, um, everything. Ok, so, Michii, this might be awkward, but--”

“...You’re... A Kitsune, Aimi.” finally blurted out Michiko, looking at the long, elegant ears that protruded from her friend’s head. “...So things like Kitsune and Oni are real, huh? This is kinda wild.” Aimi couldn’t find the words to answer to that or the courage to look at her in the eyes right now. With a long sigh, she finally worked the courage to say what she had wanted to say all these years, what she had come to say today.

“Michiko, please listen closely, ok? There’s no point in dolling it up by now, but, yeah, I am... A Kitsune. A legitimate Kitsune. I’ve kept this from you for all these years, and I really apologize for that. It’s felt horrible having to lie to you for so long, and I’ve wanted to tell you so, so much, but, well, it’s just not that easy. You’re a completely ordinary person, unaware of the the truth behind the fake ordinary world in which humans live. I was never supposed to tell you, or to even... Spend much time with you in the first place. It never was supposed to be like this.”

Meanwhile, rising from the rubble nearby, a revived Nahoko was ready for round two. “Alright, you cheeky little shithead, we were just going for pleasure before, but now, iiiiit’s business! I am aimin’ to kill ya if ya want to lay a hand on my Michiko!”

However, the Oni couldn’t move. Much to her surprise, she found her arm seized and a cold blade pressed against her neck, a trickle of blood trailing down her collarbone. “Wha...! How and when did you...?”

“Do not interrupt, Nahoko. If you interrupt this right now, I will kill you.” Astra promised, holding Nahoko perfectly still, despite her struggling. “Besides...”

“Haha, fuck, so you can actually... Well, aight. ‘Besides’ what?”

“It’s getting good as shit.”

“What do you mean, it was never supposed to be like this...?” inquired the puzzled Michiko, dreading the tone of that statement.

“...I initially just got close to you because I wanted to humiliate you. It’s what we Yako, or Nogitsune, do. Being malicious and mischievous is in our nature, and we love toying with humans, sometimes just to lead them to misfortune, other times to lead them to ruination or even death. I wanted to get your trust so I could throw it to the ground when you least expected it.” explained Aimi with a plastic, apologetic smile. “Oh, look at that tiny little loser, she has no friends, she doesn’t go anywhere after school, she just sits by herself during lunch... Is what I thought when I saw you for the first time in school. I saw an easy pick, is what I am trying to say. I went for it. All you were to me was a future accomplishment, a funny story I’d tell to my family some time later during lunchtime, when it was Humans Are Dumb story time.”

“...Aimi, I...”

“Remember the first time we talked? I asked you if you wanted to partner up with me for gym class. You gave it your absolute everything, more than I ever saw you try any time before, because you didn’t want to drag me down. After that, you overcame your shyness and asked me if I wanted to hang out after school. I was surprised, but not truly moved. Not yet, at least. Time passed, we did this and that, you were always on board with my dumb ideas, and you even stuck through our, no, my punishment whenever I got caught. Why didn’t you ever just say it had been my idea? You could’ve gotten away with no punishment, no suspension every single time.”

“Because I was having fun with you. I couldn’t just--”

“Couldn’t just abandon me just because things went south, right? Because that’s the thrice accursed kind of person you are. Time and time and time again, you stood by my side, during the little detentions, and during the big suspensions. I hate you... I hate you for being like that!”

“...Aimi, what are you saying...! I just couldn’t... Turn my back on the first person that--”

“I hate you because I love you, you big idealistic idiot! You never suspected I could have been trying to mess with you, not even once! You didn’t distrust me when you should have! You never once even entertained the idea that I might have just been preparing you for the biggest humiliation of your life, and you just kept treating me like a friend, over and over and over! Too naive! You’re the kind of person that a Nogitsune has a field day with! You are the person that ends up being ruled as a suicide in the middle of a lake or a forest because we can simply toy with you at will!”

“Well, what could I have done, you imbecile! You want me to look at my first and best friend in life and just turn a blind eye whenever she needs me!? If I couldn’t trust you, then who could I trust? Call it naive, call it dumb, I don’t care, I don’t regret a single one of those decisions! It’s been the best time in my life, so you... How can you just call it a waste and something dumb!? Are you out of your... Out of your... Aimi?”

In front of Michiko, the fox girl had broken into tears. The usually haughty girl who stood up to anyone and got in trouble at all times, famous problem child Aimi, who had just gone toe to toe with an Oni, now had streaks of sorrow trailing down her face and her ears were drooping down, an unending stream of tears staining her usually immaculate face currently contorted by sorrow. “...You’re like this, and this is why I hate it... I hate it because I love you...! I love you! I love you so freaking much, Michii! It was all just supposed to be a prank, a ploy, but I didn’t consider the most important aspect of it all: How much I came to care for you, and how much you came to care for me... Every time things were hard for me, you’d stay with me one the phone until the high hours of the morning. When I had problems with my folks, problems I never once told you about, you trusted me, you let me stay over at your place, and damn, I have never enjoyed myself more than the time I get to spend with you. So I’ve felt horrible! I’ve felt horrible because I only wanted to harm you, I lied to you, I kept so much from you, but you kept giving!”

“...Aimi, friendship isn’t about keeping tallies!”

“It should be! No... Well, it’s like that... At least among my family, it is, but I want to believe you. So, I decided to bring you here today so I could tell you. So, please, let me do it properly now. Ahem, um, Michiko, I’m sorry I lied, I’m actually a Kitsune, a Nogitsune, specifically. I couldn’t just tell you, but as time passed, I couldn’t just not tell you anymore.”

“...Well, I mean, this is where I should be surprised and demanding an explanation, but after seeing you and that Oni go Wuxia on each other, and given you kinda just told me already, anyways, well... This is awkward, haha!”

“Ahahaha, yeah, not the most ideal confession, could’ve gone better.”

“Still, Aimi, thank you for telling me this, thank you for everything you’ve done for me and for deciding to trust me with this, even with the malicious beginnings of our friendship, everything. I don’t feel like there’s anything for me to ‘forgive’, per se, but I want to ease your mind as well, so if it’ll help, I forgive you, please don’t worry about it.”

The fox girl smiled and her ears shot upwards. “Michii...! Does that mean...!” Before Aimi could finish what she was saying, the smaller girl rushed her and buried her face against her chest, trapping her in a tight hug.

“Of course I don’t mind! Please don’t go away! I’ll keep your secret, I wanna keep getting in trouble with you, doing dumb things, getting called at 4:30 am to hear your silly voices and jokes, everything! Also, I wanna touch your ears and tail, but that’s neither here and there!” joyfully cried the smaller girl, embracing her friend tightly.

“Ahahaha! Gosh, as usual, you do not hold back, but hey, um... About what I said... Um, I meant it in a lot of ways, but also a very specific way...”

“Hm?” Without letting go of her hug, Michiko, whose face was burried in Aimi’s chest, looked up to meet her eye to eye, just to find a beet red Aimi. “...Whatcha mean?”

“T-that I... That I love you. I love you so, so much. You’re the best thing that has happened to me, and my life has only been sweet and fun since we’ve been doing our thing. I wanna know... If you feel the same way, or if, you know, both of us being girls gets in the way, you know, important stuff! You feel me! Don’t make me say it!”

“I don’t... Understand what you’re saying, Aimi, this is all too sudden, can you please repeat that for m-me...?”

“Aaaarrgh! Michii! I’m saying that I love you so much it makes my heart hurt! I want to hug you and cuddle with you and... Gosh, just run my fingers through your puffy, curly hair as I smooch you right in those adorable cheeks, could you please get it already! I love you!”

“Hehe...”

“...! Oh, you little shit!”

“Sorry, sorry! I just wanted to hear you say those things, haha! You’re so cute when you get flustered, Aimi! Haha!”

“See! This is the shit I put up with! I’m the fox but sometimes I’m the one being tricked! How dare you, you absolutely rotten pancake! You hideous macaroon! You heretic beef stew from two days ago! You--”

“Hehe... Yes.”

“--soggy french fri-- Huh?”

“...Yes. Of course I want to go out with you. I love you too, silly. Kitsune or human, boy or girl, you think that matters to me when my favorite person in the world is the one saying it? I love you. I want to see what kind of trouble we can get into tomorrow, the day after, the year after, the decade after... Ideally, forever. I don’t want to get separated from you, and... Well, you know what my parents say? ‘The best person you could possibly date, love, and grow old with is your best friend’.”

“Michii...”

“And you know what, Aimi?”

Standing on the tip of her toes, the petite human pressed the softest kiss on the lips of the Kitsune, holding her face with both of her hands. “...I’m inclined to believe them. Let’s keep having fun together, now and ever, AImi. I love you.”

“...Once again, you ambush me when I least expect it, gosh... I-I had this whole thing where I was gonna embrace you and kiss you and all, I even had a good line prepared!”

“Hehe! Well, do it now! We have all the time in the world...”

“Ahem.”

Their little world was shattered down to pieces the moment a particularly angelic interruption reminded them that they were not alone. “Ah.” “Oh!”

“Good for you, kiddos, but you shouldn’t be swapping spit in front of strangers.” reprimanded Astra, who had Nahoko on top of her shoulders, hogtied and blindfolded. “Still, congratulations. I hope you two have an excellent future together.” As she said this, however, the voice of the sniper was at its softest yet, and a genuine smile adorned her lips. “Take care of each other, yeah?”

“Yes!” the enthusiastic Michiko exclaimed, hugging her girlfriend tight and close.

“...This was all weird, but, yeah. And... Thank you, Miss Cupid... Even though you totally missed your shot, haha. Um, before you go, can I ask you... Is this park Scenario Witchery?” inquired Aimi as she held Michiko close, a hand on top of her head.

“...Oho. Good eyes, Kitsune. This park is, indeed, my Scenario Witchery. During your confession, I could’ve made all these dead trees bloom and a million of flowers erupt, but... That would’ve been way too cheesy, no? Way too cheesy. It would’ve really been too cheesy.”

“Ah, she wanted to do that, huh.” both girls thought to themselves.

“It’s also why I recommend you to get out as soon as you can. The time limit is the end of today, so just in a couple of hours. I’d held this Scenario for the last three weeks. This ‘park’ is actually an empty lot that will be made into a big building soon. I hear it’s a mall, so I say you two come here for a date when that’s ready. It’ll be fun to revisit what technically was where that cute fox confessed oh so clumsily, no?”

“Oi, you...”

“Hehe!” chuckled Michiko. “Yeah, we’ll come, right, Aimi?”

“...Y-yeah, if you wanna. Well, thank you, Miss Cupid, we’ll be on our way, then.” Aimi said, waving half-heartedly.

“Mmhm! I don’t really get it, but I suppose you’re the one responsible for this! So thank you!” chimed the enthusiastic smaller girl.

“Yeah, take care, I’ll go dump this dumb Oni on Meguro river or something now.” And with that said, Astrael walked away with the struggling Nahoko, disappearing among the trees.

As they walked home together, Michiko tugged on Aimi’s arm. “Aimi, what’s Scenario Witchery?”

“It’s a very complex kind of magic. Basically, you morph one area into something else entirely for a certain amount of time, and when people are in this artificial area, they become ‘players’ or ‘actors’ in the Scenario. People trapped in a Scenario have their usual reason and logic skewered by the Scenario, as if a compelling power forced you to act or think a certain way.”

“...Isn’t that really dangerous? That’s practically modifying the thoughts and emotions of people!”

“Yeah, it’s very powerful, and hence why it is so complex and difficult. I consider myself pretty skilled in magic, but I cannot make any sort of Scenario Witchery. That Cupid was really something else. She was using her Scenario to make couples come together, but she really could’ve just made the Scenario ‘a bloodbath where lovers become unable to believe each other and then devolved into brutal violence, with one or both dying’, if she so wished. Scenario Witchery is forbidden due to how it can be used, hence why it’s ‘witchery’ and not ‘magic’.” explained Aimi, serious for once. “...I’m glad she’s using it benevolently, but... No mere Cupid can just handle Scenarios... And even then, her magic felt very grim, it had me on edge, but...”

“...Aimi?”

“...It doesn’t matter anymore. Hey, can we go to your place? I’d like to let auntie and uncle know the good news.”

“N-not so fast, bucko! We should keep it under wraps for now!”

“Haha! I’m kidding, I’m kidding, but still, I wanna hang out.”

“Hehe, yeah, of course! I found a pretty good band last night, I wanna show you their first album, ‘cause their latest one sucks, but their early stuff is absolutely your kinda deal.”

“Ohh, cool! What kinda stuff do they do? I swear if you show me enka again like the last time you said you found some real gold, I’m gonna...”

The new couple laughed and talked their way home peacefully, each with an arm around each other, each with their lips curved into a genuine smile.

11:30 pm.

Along the empty back roads of Meguro, a single woman, carrying another woman over her shoulder, made her way across the night, many closed businesses to her right, the empty street to her left. February 14th, Valentine’s Day, where everyone was sharing a moment with their loved ones. This could count as sharing a moment, if you really squint, because it’s not every day you say an Angel hoist a hogtied Oni atop her shoulder. “Alright, we’re far enough.” Finally setting Nahoko down, Astra cut her bindings and finally freed her. “Nice acting, knucklehead. Sure had them fooled.”

“...But it seems I couldn’t fool ya, hah! How did ya know?” the Oni asked, once again producing her favorite pipe to smoke from.

“That Love Arrow was calibrated for a human. There’s no way an Oni would be in the least affected by a Love Arrow that weak, between your own high magic resistance and an Oni’s natural poison resistance. I’d need something like a .905 SSK caliber Love Arrow round to affect you.”

“Well, caught me with the fingernails in the pot.” admitted Nahoko, lifting her arms in mock surrender.

“It was actually really helpful. You wanted to really rile up the fox, and it paid off. Your next drink is on me, Nahoko. You really have my thanks. And with that... We’re done. Congratulations.” said the Angel, warmth in her voice.

“Aw, sweet, I am going to bankrupt you! Bwahaha, but, yeah, japes aside, good shit, Astrael, that went well. Got bumpy for a bit, but it went well. It honestly was tons of fun. I’m actually kinda sad this job’s over.” Nahoko commented as she tried to get on her feet, but when she tried to get up on her left leg, the Oni winced and dropped back to the floor.

“Are you ok? I guess the pain from those blows wasn’t fully an act. Here, let me give you a hand.”

“Ah, no no, I’m mostly fine, but my left leg... These spikes? Well, they are real.”

“Wait, what?” The Angel was puzzled. “I thought they were just part of your outfit.”

“...Well, that’s kinda what I hope people think, but I, uh... Well, I fucked up a long time ago, and it’s kinda related to why I accepted this job. This is a curse I fully deserve, ‘cause I did something really dumb a long time ago, a crime of passion, one might say, and got cursed with this as a result. This is the least of my problems, though, the real curse is livin’ with the fact that I... Well, doesn’t matter now.”

They were finally outside of the hotel where Astra was staying. With a motion, Astra invited her in, to which Nahoko nodded. In Astra’s room, the conversation continued. “I’m not gonna press you for questions, but, hey, Nahoko, are you going do something after this?”

“It’s back to the vagabond’s life for me, really. As I said before, I just took this job on a whim, and... Well, to make amends, I suppose.”

“Well, if you aren’t going to do anything, I want to hire you.” bluntly stated the sniper. “I’ll pay you well, too. I have a sponsor, after all. I realized my objective is much more easily achieved with a partner, and you know the land and the people’s customs. I am very much a foreigner, after all, so having someone native would really help.”

Nahoko’s boisterous face finally softened a bit as she heard Astra’s offer, before finally bursting in a goofy guffaw. “Hah! Hahaha! Bwaaahaha! You for real, girl? A Cupid and an Oni, shittin’ around ol’ Nippon’s highways, shootin’ love at people? Pushin’ inexperienced people towards their happily ever afters? Well, fuck, aight, it’s not like I got anything else goin’, honestly, sure! Sign me the fuck up, cap’n!” The Oni’s laughter, still boisterous as ever, was also very warm right now, the kind of warmth that comes from finding purpose, and maybe, just maybe, atonement.

“Then, it’s settled. I, Astrael, hereby appoint you, Nahoko of Mount Ooe, as my Assistant Cupid. Now go get a bath, you’ll stay here. You’ve had enough of sleeping in caves and under bridges, I take?”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice! Be right back!”

As the Oni got in the bath, Astra pulled out her phone and hit call. “...Hey, it’s me. Oh, it all went swimmingly. The Scenario will be dispelled in just a couple of minutes, at midnight. Yeah. Yeah. No, no problem. Also, something else, ma’am, I’ve decided to hire an Oni to help me with my next tasks. Yeah, I figured you’d laugh like this and would be ok with it. Mmhm, if it’s not much trouble, I will need additional funds to pay her and all. Alright, that’s all, talk to you later, then, Inari.”

With a “that’s settled, then” face, Astra finally put down her rifle and various sidearms, sitting on her bed and stretching. It had been a long three weeks, and a hell of a way to conclude them, but she finally had managed to turn Valentine’s into a memorable experience for many couples that would otherwise still be twiddling their thumbs. With a content sigh, Astra finally relaxed, and the bathroom’s door swung open. “Hey, Nahoko, I already talked to the boss, she said it’s fiWoah what who are you”

Out of the bathroom, covered only in a towel too tiny for a woman that big, came out an absolutely gorgeous woman with long and smooth hair as black as midnight cascading around her curvaceous, voluptuous frame, smooth pale skin, striking red eyes, and light pink lips that one could feel their softness with just one’s eyes. Turns out, when she’s not wearing those tacky bells and bones, or the war paint, or the mix and match clothes, the messy ponytail, or anything else, Nahoko looked quite stupendous, or so Astra thought, anyways, if we go by her complete lack of words and powerful stare. An unwashed savage who smelled of sake and grime entered the bathroom, but a supermodel came out. Notably, the spikes that jutted out of Nahoko’s leg were retracting right in front of her eyes.

“I can at least pull these back for a limited about of time, which is useful whenever I wanna sleep without fuckin’ shredding futons or beds, bwaha. Anyways, what were ya sayin’?”

“O-oh, nothing, you’re officially hired, that’s all. So, take the bed, I’ll sleep in the sofa today. This is a one person room, after all.”

“What’s with that? Nah, we’ll both take the bed, it’s cool.”

“What!? No, no, it’s not cool, I can take the sofa, I’ve slept in worse places.” argued the Angel, trying to find anywhere to look and just finding herself more and more flustered. “Anyways, good night, we gotta get up early tomorr--!”

As she tried to make a beeline towards the couch, the long and strong arms of the almost naked Oni scooped her up and trapped her, pressing her against her dangerous body, still warm, wet, and steaming from the bath. “Oh no, ya don’t! Why the hell would ya take the couch? We can take the bed, there’s plenty space in it for both of us.”

“That’s not what this is abOh Lord I know I’ve forsaken you but please help me” she immediately cried mid-sentence when she found her face pressed against the Oni’s chest, a chest that had to have been hand crafted by the best and most libidinous artisan in the world. “--Anyways, it’s just not right to share beds, we don’t even know each other that well!”

“Oh, what, really?” Nahoko wondered, unaware that she was subjecting Astra to a Full Contact Skinship Torture. “We’ve known each other for three weeks, though? That’s plenty, girl. Back in Mount Ooe, us underlings had to use the smaller caves, and there were plenty of us, so it usually was the case that three or four of us had to sleep together, bundled on one mat or somethin’. We hadta be thrifty with space usage, so we came up with many ways to do so. This bed, for example...” Nahoko, still with Astra pressed against her body, got in the bed, placing Astra on top of her, their bodies pressed together more than ever, one of the Oni’s arm tightly around Astra’s waist. “...Yeah, this works, see? One bed, two people, no problemo. Hell, we still have space, so we can even be luxurious and do this.”

“aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” is all that went on the Angel’s mind, who was trying her best to remain conscious through this carnal assault on her senses. While she fought her inner self, Nahoko got her off from on top of her and put her on her side, instead, slinging an arm around her and hugging her tightly, making the two of them fit in the bed just right, Astra’s face buried against the tall woman’s collarbone, feeling very well how the rest of those dangerous curves pressed tightly against her own body, leaving nothing to the Angel’s imagination. “Oh my God I Am Going To Die.”

“See? We’re good like this. Aight, partner, see you in the mornin’, we gotta hit the road early, shoot ‘em Love Arrows, the works, right?”

“Y-yeah... Wait, no! I gotta take a bath! I’m all sweaty and--”

“Oh, don’t bother, what’s a little sweat between friends? See you tomorrow, Astra.” Nahoko chuckled, and then immediately went to sleep, her powerful arms hugging Astra so tightly and closely that the Angel couldn’t escape that voluptuous Alcatraz, no matter how hard she struggled.

Finally settling down and realizing the futility of her efforts, Astrael simply gave up and swung an arm around her new peer, pressing herself close and burying her face on the smooth skin of the Oni’s collarbone and top of her chest, a muffled “Thank you God but also fuck you, I’m supposed to Cupid” escaping her lips as she decided she might as well enjoy this, given she had no chance but to last until morning like this.

This wasn’t why she decided to hire her, but it certainly didn’t hurt for Cupid to find someone of her own on such an eventful Valentine’s Day.

It goes without saying she didn’t sleep a wink.

The rumbling of the truck’s engine waiting by the hotel’s door accompanied the sounds coming from the radio as Nahoko loaded their luggage.

“We’re checked out, packed up and ready, boss!”

“Don’t call me boss, just refer to me normally.”

“Heh, thought so, Astrael.”

“...Astra’s fine.”

The Oni just smiled. “Aww, lookitchu, being nice and shit. Well, Astra, where are we goin’ next?”

“Shinagawa sounds nice, doesn’t it? It’s more populous than Meguro, so we’re sure to find people in their post-Valentine’s blues.”

“Ooh, aimin’ for the target while they are down, huh? I like it. Sounds good to me, let’s be their coincidence, their first push!”

“...The convenient little event they need to take that first step.”

Bumping their fists, Astrael stepped on the gas, and off they went, the two Love Legionnaires, Angel and Oni, off to cause some trouble to greenhorn little pansies that wish to be lovers, to be their coincidences.

#code:astrael #length:long #format:one off

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thewritenerd · 4 years ago

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Victor And Adam: NaNoWriMo Day 5

‘Really?’ ‘Well there’s no need to sound so surprised.’ Igor said he would pick Adam and the others up by the fountain. While they sat waiting Adam couldn’t help feeling the man sat across the street was watching him.

Victor If Victor thought his interruptions were over he was proven very wrong when Igor came through the front door followed by Adam and two kids he’d never seen before. ‘Who do we have here?’ he asked eyeing up the two strangers. ‘Him I’m Chelsea.’ Said the blonde one with the pink heart earrings. ‘And this is Nate.’ They gestured to a nervous looking boy with a scar over his right eye. ‘We’re friends of Adam.’ ‘We’ll stay out of your way.’ Adam promised. Sighing Victor nodded his head. ‘Okay just stay out of the library I’ve got some research to do.’ Adam’s face split into a grin. ‘Thanks Victor.’ As he lead his friends away to the kitchen Victor over heard Chelsea loudly asking if Adam really called his dad by his first name. Giving Igor a nod to indicate he didn’t need anything from him Victor turned and continued making his way to the library. Once inside he sat himself down in his chair and picked up the book he’d been reading since that morning when he’d first been interrupted. But he couldn’t focus on the words in front of him. Instead his mind kept wandering back to Adam. He’d noticed the redness in the boys eyes and how his hands shook. A clear sign something had upset him. Maybe he should ask Igor if he knew anything. No he’d just tell him to ask Adam himself. He supposed he could do that. Not now but later. Maybe at dinner? Victor shook himself, was this really what was distracting him? Worrying about his pseudo son? Didn’t he pay Igor to do that. In fact he had, even raising his pay for taking on the job. Sighing he set down his book and stared out the window. It was a nice view, quiet. The town was only visible from the south facing windows and every where else all you got were forests and fields. From this window he could see a river that eventually disappeared from view due to the trees that eventually became a forest. Igor had once taken Adam to the river for a trip but it hadn’t ended well. No matter what he tried he couldn’t convince Adam to go near the water. Trauma the old man reasoned. ‘His only memory of a body of water like this is a bad one. So it stands to reason his natural reaction would be fear.’ Though that wasn’t to say he was scared of water. Adam much to the distress of both adults in his life was very interested in puddles and trying to get him inside when it rained was near impossible. Rivers and fire, that was what scared Adam. Yet Victor was pretty sure there was none of that in town. Certainly no rivers flowed that way and he or Igor would have seen smoke if there’d been a fire. Maybe he should ask. Not directly, but he if he could steer the conversation in the right direction. *** ‘So Adam anything happen when you were in town?’ Adam blinked at him looking like he’d just asked if he’d ever seen a green elephant. Then again he often looked confused. ‘Umm not really. I just went shopping with Igor then had lunch with my friends.’ Victor nodded not convinced. ‘So do you plan on making that a regular thing. Going out to lunch with, what were their names again?’ ‘Nate and Chelsea.’ ‘Yes them.’ Adam sat there stirring his stew with his spoon not looking at Victor. Eventually he shrugged. ‘I dunno. I guess not. I. I think I prefer staying at home. It’s quieter.’ Victor racked his brains for something to say but had nothing. He had no idea how to coax the truth out of Adam without asking directly. Then why not ask directly? He wondered. Because if he wanted you to know he would have said already. He replied. But was that true. For a moment he watched as Adam picked at his food gradually reducing it to a cold mush. He always eats his food, Victor thought. Something’s happened. Something bad enough to put him off going into town. Deciding it was best to drop the subject Victor racked his brains for something else to say. ‘I hear you’re going to repaint your room?’ he eventually said. Adam just nodded. ‘What colour did you choose?’ he had in fact already seen the paint tin but Adam didn’t know that. ‘Green. Not like a lime green. It’s kinda similar to the trees outside.’ Victor sighed. ‘It’s kind of. Kinda is not a word.’ ‘Sorry.’ ‘Anyway do you have any other plans for your room?’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Well I was wondering do you plan on getting anything to put on your walls? Or any other decorations? It is a little plain.’ ‘Well it’s not like I have a lot of stuff.’ Adam grumbled resting his head on the spot where his bowl had been before Igor had taken it away. ‘Chin of the table.’ Victor scolded. ‘Well have a think about it. Maybe you could find some stuff online. Or Igor could take you into town again?’ ‘I’d be happy to do it tomorrow if you’d like.’ Igor added. ‘As long as you’re willing to be up early.’ Adam shook his head. ‘No thank you. Can I go now?’ he asked this more to Igor who looked to Victor. ‘Okay. You’re dismissed.’ Victor watched as he left before turning to Igor once he was out of sight. ‘Any chance he told you about what happened?’ Igor shook his head. ‘I wish I could say yes. Though I am glad to see you take interest in the boys wellbeing.’ Victor grunted and poured himself another glass of wine. He usually only had one but on Saturdays he made an exception. As he drank his mind wandered back to the river. I wonder he thought. I wonder if they’re connected.

Adam The four friends sat under the stairs chatting like they’d known each other for years. Though it hadn’t even been a month since Adam had started school. Chelsea was frantically trying to finish the physics homework that was due next lesson. Adam was trying to help it but it kept jumping ahead of his explanations and writing the wrong answers. Nate was writing numbers into his notebook paying them no attention. Shreya was sat reading a book of poems. Usually she spent breaks with her other friends but today none of her friends were around; one had a dentist appointment, one was off sick and two were busy with the drama club, so Adam had invited her to join them. Eventually Adam gave up on trying to help Chelsea, realising it was too wound up to listen to him, and instead turned his attention to Shreya. ‘Is that any good?’ he asked nodding to her book. ‘What? Oh yeah. Listen to this part; My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!' Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.’ She smiled. ‘What does it mean?’ Adam asked. ‘Well that’s the thing about poetry. It can be interpreted different ways. Like to me it says it doesn’t matter how big or important you may think you are eventually time will destroy everything you build.’ Adam shook his head. ‘I don’t see it.’ Shreya shrugged. ‘Well like I said it’s really down to interpretation. Hey do you want to borrow it?’ ‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘Yeah. Here.’ She handed him the slim green book. ‘And don’t worry about rushing to finish it. I’ve got plenty of others.’ Adam thanked her and carefully slipped the book into the front pocket of his bag. He was about to say something else but was interrupted by a very loud raspberry courtesy of Chelsea. ‘Gross.’ Nate complained. Grinning Chelsea leaned into his face and belched. ‘Ahh! Yuck.’ Nate freaked giving it a kick in the stomach. ‘Owww.’ Chelsea doubled over half with laughter half with pain. ‘You dick.’ ‘Well don’t do that.’ Nate scolded huffily. Adam shook his head, being all too used to his friends antics already. Shreya stared at them with a raised eyebrow but said nothing. ‘Come on we’d better get going to class.’ Chelsea said standing up. ‘Ms Abbate is going to kill me.’ It added looking down at its half-finished homework.’ ‘I told you not to leave it until the last minute.’ Nate scolded as they made their way up the stairs. ‘Yeah yeah I know.’ The four of them had just reached the top of the stairs when they heard a unfortunately all too familiar voice. ‘Hey Freakenstein.’ The four gave an almost collective groan as Jouko made his way over to them. His two friend, who’s name Adam still didn’t know, as usual hung back eyeing Adam wearily. ‘What do you want?’ he asked wanting to get this over with. Jouko smirked. ‘Oh just wondering when you plan on getting your weird looking face out of my school. I hear there’s a circus visiting the next town. Maybe they’d take you on as a freak act.’ ‘Oh and let me guess they’ve already turned down your application?’ Adam snapped. ‘Makes sense. I hear it’s a family show.’ This earned him a loud snort from Nate while Chelsea muttered ‘wow’ to itself. Jouko’s face didn’t change but his eyes grew dark with anger. ‘Yeah well I’ll tell you who does want me. My parents. Which is more than I can say for you. The only reason your “dad” keeps you around is because the law says he has too. That and no one else would want you either. Why I bet that old fart I see you with after school everyday only tolerates you ‘cause he’s too senile to know any better.’ That was the last straw for Adam who gave Jouko a good hard shove. What he’d just done didn’t register at first. Not until Jouko hit the bottom of the stairs with a horrible crack. For a moment there was no sound as Adam’s face went from seething to a mask of pure horror. Then came the scream. It took longer than it should have for Adam to realise the scream was coming from Jouko. It seemed too high pitched.

#nanowrimo #writing #writblr #long post #read more #victor and adam #sci fi

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lunastwilightblog · 7 years ago

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“Lillian” part 2!

Part one

Words: 2767

So I’ve finished the second part of my first fic, which I’ve out under the cut here, I’d love to know what you all think of it💖

A pained expression crossed Aro’s face as he put his hands back together, under his chin. Lillian waited for him to speak, her nerves wrecking her insides but her lungs taking in slow, steady breaths. In the light of the early day she noticed a tree in the corner of the garden, by the wall over which she’d climbed. It was a young tree; smaller than other ones of its kind she had seen, yet just like them in that its brown bark was peeling away to reveal a grey inner layer, and its dark green fingers of leaves rustled softly in the new breeze. The day was beginning. Yet, there was no birdsong.

Aro’s soft voice harshly broke the silence, snapping her attention back to him. “How wonderful it is that you are here, my love. What you have suffered is truly, truly horrific.” She opened her mouth to ask him how he knew what she had been through, but he continued. “My gift is centred in the palm of my hands. With one touch,” he smirked, “I can hear every thought one has ever had.”

Lillian did not know whether to be alarmed by this or not. He had read her mind? He had heard every single one of her thoughts? Her mind had been violated too, now? She thought she should have been disturbed and upset, yet all she could utter was the question: “so you understand me?” Then she was frightened. He had experienced everything she had through her mind. What if he had been hurt by what he saw? “I’m sorry if it was too . . .” Your experience has nothing on other people, I bet, what you’ve been hurt by is nothing. You’re just weak.

“Do not fret, sweet one. Though of course I am disturbed by what you have undergone, you need not worry about me.” He lifted her chin gently with his fingertips, and only then did she notice she was crying. “You have my deepest sympathy, Lillian.” He looked into her eyes, sternly. “You are safe now, I will make sure of it.”

“Thank you,” she sniffed. Why is he so kind? I don’t deserve this.

“You are worth much more than you allow yourself to believe.”

She shook her head. “But you know I can’t do anything special,” she replied as she diverted her eyes back to the tree.

Aro raised his eyebrows and his eyes widened. “Quite on the contrary!”

“Hmm?” She was confused. If he’d really heard her thoughts, he would know as much as she did – that she wasn’t special, and that she didn’t have some sort of magical power.

“My darling Lillian, you have one of the most powerful and exciting gifts I have ever happened upon in all my years!” All his years? He looked in his late twenties at the oldest to her eyes. And what did he mean about a powerful gift? It wasn’t as if she could fly. She wondered that maybe he really was a madman as she’d considered earlier. A very convincing madman.

“What do you mean?” Though slightly more confident, her voice was still very quiet, and unsure.

“Sweetling, you are in Volterra. This night, while suffering from painful, debilitating injuries and near starvation and dehydration,” – he raised his palms up in wonder – “you walked twenty-three miles. That should have killed you.”

Twenty-three miles? That could not be right. “How is that a gift?”

Aro grinned, and tilted his head to the side, clasping his hands together again. “You do not remember the instance when you were electrocuted in a bathtub at three years old. That, too, should have killed you, and so should have many, many other incidents through which you have endured. La mia cara, your gift is a gift indeed. It seems, that quite possibly, you possess the inability to die.”

Oh.

“That . . . makes sense.” She gave him a smile. “Thank you.” She was unsure of what she was thanking him for, but she felt as if she needed to. This stranger had been kinder to her than anyone she had ever known before, and she was very grateful. She looked into his eyes as she thought about this, and a question formed on the tip of her tongue. His eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Si, of course.”

She felt unsure about this question. She didn’t want to offend her new friend. An abrupt gust of wind blew her hair into her mouth as she braved asking. “Why do you have red eyes?”

He suddenly looked up, to the sky. “It is getting light. I’m enjoying our little chat; shall we continue it inside?” He stroked her cheek delicately. “You must be needing to sleep. I will answer your question in a moment.” His tone was comforting, and she was comfortable with him putting his arm around her as they stood up, and as he guided to her to the plain, mahogany door in the side of the building that made up one side of the garden wall.

Inside was a corridor that angled downwards, into the hill. It was plain, with industrial grey carpet and white walls with tube lighting. It didn’t fit with Aro’s look – he was smart, and his features perfect, not a single smooth, perfectly straight hair out of place. This corridor was too out of place; fake, a façade. It smelt wrong, too, Lillian thought. It was like fresh paint and dust, unlike Aro, whose breath was even pleasant. His hand was placed gingerly on her waist, and though it was a comforting gesture, Lillian couldn’t help but feel unnerved about her proximity to him. Like this corridor, something about him was . . . off.

Soon the atmosphere of the passageway changed, and they came to a harsh iron gate, its grills stretching from wall to wall. It was a fearsome thing, but Aro unlocked and opened the heavy door with ease. It did not creak.

He led her through another short series of plain corridors leading downwards until she was sure that they were underground and she began to panic internally and her throat felt as if it were closing up and she suddenly clung onto Aro to avoid falling. He looked concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she stammered, “just claustrophobia.” She tried to stabilise herself and took several quick, deep breaths.

He removed his hand from her waist and took a few steps away from her.

“No,” she protested. “Not you. Underground.”

“I’m afraid most of our small company here reside underground.” He touched the top of her arm, something Lillian was aware people did when they wanted someone to like them, or when they were being persuasive. She didn’t mind though, he was clearly only trying to help her. “They are all very talented, just like us. Would you like to meet them?”

Who was he? Was this where all the freaks like her came to live? Had she been that lucky? No, not lucky. If I am apparently gifted, and I am hated and tortured for what I can do and I can’t even do something as cool as Aro, and people hate me for only being related to people who had powers . . . If that boy and girl really existed . . .

Then they’ve suffered as much as me. The notion broke her heart. She couldn’t fathom the idea of other people being hurt. The troublesome thought made her forget her claustrophobia.

She was unsure if she wanted to meet these people. And she was still sceptical over whether Aro was telling the truth. “I am, don’t you worry.” He gave her a small, warm smile. He read my mind! Aro chuckled. “Yes, I can.” He tilted his head to the right, down the hallway. “Shall we?”

The door at the end of this, wooden floored hallway was astonishingly ornate. Gold leaf adorned the frame and the delicate swirling pattern, and several large red rubies embellished the coil of each of the swirls. Lillian was in awe. It’s amazing. “If you like jewels, I have many more lying around that you could have, perhaps, if you take a liking to them.” Lillian’s mind was distracted from the door now, her eyes watching the CCTV camera pointed at them.

All of the ideas whizzing around her head about the possibilities of how these new people would be; how Aro’s home looked; how she could cope immersed in a world she knew nothing about – none of them could have prepared her for what she saw beyond the door. It was magnificent display of a hallway; sparkling black marble stretched out in front of her, in the floor and the walls, the ceilings a majestic crimson, and the grand golden doors on both sides decorated with cerise curtains, shadowing them from the several crystal chandeliers hanging in even intervals along the ceiling. Small glass tables sat between some of the doors, situating small items like a bunch of flowers in a vase, and miniatures of the statues from the garden. This suited Aro more.

He nudged her gently in the small of her back and took her to the end of the corridor, and opened a door there on the right, by a small potted primula vialii. There was no hint of dust on the table. This place was spotless. Lillian stepped inside this new room, and was again greeted by a stark contrast in colours. This room was gold; a rich, delicate gold created with the same gold leaf that beautified the door earlier, but now played Midas on the ceiling, the room’s corners and between the glittering black stones of the floor. The light in this room was entirely artificial, again emitted from grand but not gaudy chandeliers, and it was cold, unlike the town aboveground. Its shape was uniquely octagonal, and upon each of the eight walls was a gorgeous, colourful renaissance era painting, though she recognised none. A few people were scattered around this room in small groups, and all had turned to face the door when Lillian and Aro entered, but Lillian’s eyes were drawn to the centre of the room to a high dais, upon which sat five thrones, all as unique and as magnificent as the others, embellished with their own designs and precious stones. Two men and two women already sat upon four of them, the one in the centre empty. They were all staring at her, and she shied away behind Aro.

“What is this, Aro?” Questioned the man on the throne furthest to Lillian’s right. He was tall in stature but his hollow cheeks and white hair gave the impression of being weak and frail, yet the clarity and confidence of his voice stood as a bare refutation of that idea. She watched him curiously.

Aro took Lillian by the arm and pulled her gently towards the centre of the room. “Dear Caius, this is Lillian. She has a wonderful gift!” Wonderful didn’t look like a word Caius had ever said in his life, as he glared at Lillian sourly. “She cannot die!” Aro rejoiced. “Even after struggling more than twenty miles in her condition she has not even thought once about water, or food. Such a marvel!”

Caius’s response was heavily cynical in tone. “And how will that be of benefit to us? If anything, it serves to be a problem now she knows too much.”

“Brother, I thought you would understand. She has this gift now, thus has the potential to evolve into something more powerful when she is one of us. Perchance,” he looked back at Lillian and smiled again, “she may be able to protect others than herself from harm.”

Protect people? Is that what he was on about earlier when he said there was a chance she could have a power and not hurt anyone? But something else in their conversation made her hairs stand up on end. When she is one of us. What did he mean by that?

Her soft, scared voice was barely audible to her own ears as she spoke. “When I’m like you?”

A tall and brooding man in plain clothes standing by the painting to the left of the door locked eyes with her. His were a menacing red, like Aro’s. She looked away, back to Caius, who was glaring at Aro, paying Lillian no attention. She couldn’t discern the colour of his eyes from this distance.

Aro wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and when his cold, hard skin touched hers she suddenly understood. These people, whoever they were, weren’t exactly . . . human.

Aro heard her distress and quickly adjusted his expression to comfort her. “Like us? Yes indeed.” His other hand stroked her cheek gently, but it served more to unnerve her than to console. Surprisingly, it was her own conscience that told her what she needed to hear. If they were going to hurt you, they would have done it already. Didn’t you hear Aro? He wants you to be like him. He read your mind and still he likes you, he wants you here. Someone wants me.

She had to agree with that, and Aro relaxed, having heard her conclusion too, though it was Caius who spoke first. “You haven’t told her yet?”

“Tol-,” Lillian began, but the frosty glower Caius was giving her made her quiet. Told me what? She thought, looking up at Aro. Her eyes flickered back to the dais when the woman on the throne by Caius rose, and stepped over to stand beside him and take his hand. She was beautiful; tall, and thin, with long, thick white hair. She must be his wife.

“Brother, please be less harsh toward this young one. She has suffered enough today.” He stood up straight, and took away his hand from her shoulder. “We are vampires, my love.”

Vampires?

She jumped as a sudden snort of laughter erupted nearby, only realising a moment later it was hers.

“Is there something wrong with her?” Caius asked Aro, but Aro only chuckled.

“Are you alright, Lillian?”

All of her fear swiftly fled her body, and she breathed deeply, somehow relieved. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just . . . didn’t expect . . . vampires.” A crystal from a chandelier twinkled in the corner of her eye. “I’m not scared.” She smiled. If she were a vampire, immortal, she would certainly never be caught and sent back to her basement in England to rot until old age. She could never get hurt again, and live forever, with this man here, who seemed to care so much more for her than anyone else ever had. She felt that she owed him. She owed him her life, and she was giving it to him. “If you meant that you’d like me to be a vampire too, I can do that.”

Aro rubbed his hands together and smirked. “Contrarily-,”

“Contrarily?” Caius snapped. Lillian was beginning to take a strong dislike to that vampire, who forever seemed to be interrupting with unnecessary passionate scorn. Maybe she had missed something.

Aro put his face in his palm for a brief moment, apparently irritated.

The other man on the thrones spoke up then. He was unlike Caius, with black hair waving to his shoulders, an average build and a face that wore an expression of eternal boredom. Perhaps he’d had too much of Caius’s constant picking, like Aro seemed to have had. “You should turn her now, Aro, if that’s what you believe her talent to be. She could save us a great tragedy.” His voice was deep like Aro’s but far more whispery, and fainter, as if he were not quite there.

Aro nodded. “Of course, Marcus, I will turn her as soon as it is appropriate.” He moved so fast then, too fast for Lillian’s eyes to register he had moved until his face came creepily close to hers, and his hands rested upon both her shoulders. “But first, there is something else of high importance she can help us with.”

Me, a human, help with something that’s really important to vampires? She was immediately interested. He thinks I could be good at something?

She and Caius spoke synchronously. “What is it?”

“Lillian, we are, hmm, what you may consider the vampire form of law-enforcement,” Aro explained, “recently, we happened upon a type of case we had not judged afore. I believe your particular gifts can help us reach a final conclusion.”

Devilishly, Caius smirked.

#my words #lillian

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thetruthofyourdespair-blog · 8 years ago

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Room 27- a Royai Fic

A gift for @queenxolivier which was inspired by my drawing of fabulous Riza holding a gun while in a beautiful dress. Enjoy!! <3

• • • • • • • • • •

The annual State military ball. It was the same every year: champagne, speeches, music, dancing, chatting. Yet Riza found herself there on the same night every year to soak up the glowing atmosphere.

She opted to wear a stunning black split leg dress (partly on Rebecca’s suggestion) and matched it with heels of the same height- not too high, of course, otherwise they’d be unsuitable- and a golden necklace and earrings that she adored. And Riza Hawkeye wasn’t one to fawn over such vanity that came with wearing jewellery.

Nevertheless, she looked stunning.

“I told you it was the perfect dress, did I not?” Rebecca boasted with a smile of pride. She, too, looked gorgeous in a flowing scarlet-red dress with silver earrings to top it off.

Both women and Jean Havoc (now finally and officially Rebecca’s boyfriend) were stood amongst the crowd who were diving into the bubbles on offer. They’d grabbed glasses of champagne while they could, even though Riza decided to leave the drinks until later.

“I’ve gotta say that this State ball is the best one yet,” added Rebecca a while later.

“What makes you say that?” Asked Riza.

“I don’t know. Just the beauty of it all, I suppose. You know, there’s no need to work and we can all relax for one night!”

“Yeah, and we certainly need it,” Jean agreed, taking a sip at the champagne and screwing his face up in disgust. “Although the alcoholic beverages aren’t that good.”

“Oh, Jean. That’s because your taste buds have been destroyed by those cancer sticks you keep inhaling,” said Rebecca. “That, and the fact that you are simply just too weak to handle such an easy drink.”

“Hey! That’s not true!” Cried Jean with a frown. Riza laughed, saying: “you know, Havoc, she’s got a point.”

“Aw man,” he sighed exasperatedly. “Can’t I ever win when it comes to the ladies?”

“No,” replied Riza and Rebecca simultaneously. This just caused them to laugh more at the poor soldier, who decided to carry on drinking the champagne anyway (just to prove that he wasn’t weak).

While Jean was being the entertainment for the night, the newly-appointed General Mustang was surrounded by several other senior generals and the Führer himself.

Grumman had gone to great lengths to ensure that this year’s ball- the first of many for him- was extravagant. And he certainly didn’t disappoint. He also made an excellent show in telling jokes and anecdotes to his small group of subordinates.

Roy stood tall and proud, listening intently to what the other generals had to say on new laws and legislations. He smiled at their frequent jokes with fulfilment, knowing he’d gone through Hell to be be where he was now. He owed this night to a lot of people.

Soon, however, the generals began to disperse into the ocean of tuxedos and ballgowns. He was left with an ever-content Grumman who adjusted the cap on his head with a knowing grin.

“I never asked you, Mustang,” he began. “But what do you think of the State ball this year?”

“It’s magnificent, sir,” Roy responded earnestly. “The decorations are probably the best.”

“Hmm. I’m glad you think so.”

“Did you choose them?”

“No,” Grumman chuckled. “I wish I was as creative as my granddaughter, but it must the trait have skipped my genes!”

Roy raised an eyebrow. “You mean Captain Hawkeye chose them?”

“Indeed,” he said with a nod. Then a pause, followed by a serious glance coming from the older man’s dark and mischievous eyes. “When are you going to marry her, Mustang?”

“I’m sure you know as well as I do that there are fraternisation laws, sir,” Roy answered without letting his cheeks stain pink with embarrassment. “It’s impossible.”

Grumman grinned. “I’m sure I can make a few changes…”

“And I’m sure that it’ll be seen as favouritism. The other officers won’t even have to guess twice at why the law changed.

"Well, the rumours I hear are quite… Interesting.”

Roy’s eyes widened, which didn’t go unnoticed.

The Führer guffawed, patting Roy on the shoulder. “I’m just kidding, my boy, but you’ll have to excuse me for the time being; I have to find Major General Keller and speak with him about a matter.”

The glance that Grumman gave Roy as he departed into the crowd was one that said ‘please consider the offer on marrying my granddaughter or I’ll have to kill you’. Despite acting like a young boy sometime, Führer Grumman was rather intimidating. Roy knew him better than to decide that the older man was joking because he certainly wasn’t.

When he’s left, Roy straightened out his jacket and swiftly made his way over the quietest corner of the room. Breda and Fuery were making idle chitchat, yet silenced themselves when the superior approached.

“Any news from Falman?” Roy questioned.

“Yes, sir,” answered Breda. “He informed us that Vanzetti arrived in the hotel just five minutes ago.”

“Great. And has he got tabs on him?”

“Yes, sir,” came the same reply.

Tonight wasn’t all about celebrations. It was about continuing to bring down the criminal underworld that lurked under Central City. Vanzetti- an infamous arms dealer- had come to Central for several meeting with clients and was currently at a nearby hotel. Roy and his team were incredibly close to catching the bastard, but he was sliding through their fingers, and if he wasn’t caught tonight then things would be an utter wreck.

They needed help from a certain sharpshooter.

Roy left Breda and Fuery, pushing his way past everyone and scanning he room as he did so. He had the sudden impulse to pick up a glass of champagne and down it before continuing, yet he knew that even the smallest glass would butch up the mission.

Eventually, he spotted Riza. She was still stood with Havoc and Rebecca, laughing and smiling (with bright red painted lips) and talking.

Roy tried hard not to gawk at her radiating beauty and quickly proceeded towards her, the thought of successfully capturing Vanzetti lingering on his mind.

He failed to noticed the excited Rebecca shoot her friend a look of delight at the sight of the General.

“Evening, sir,” Havoc piped up with small nod.

“Evening, Havoc,” Roy smiled. “And to you, Rebecca.”

Rebecca hummed in acknowledgement. “And I suppose you’re here to steal Riza and whisk her away?”

“Pretty much,” he answered, turning to Riza. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, sir,” she uttered, placing her almost-empty glass of champagne down onto a nearby table. She bid her goodbyes to Rebeca and Havoc, the former instantly beginning to matter away as Roy led Riza onto the dance floor.

“And a very good evening to you, Captain,” he said, offering her his hand as a gesture to dance with him.

Riza, of course, accepted. She placed on hand in his own and the other on his shoulder. She shivered slightly when she felt Roy’s other hand rest itself upon her waist. They began to dance to the slow classical music that was being played by the orchestra, who seated at the front of the room. Just like the good old days.

“Likewise, General,” she replied with a curt nod.

“You look marvellous in that dress,” he admitted suavely. If not now, when? Right?

“T-Thank you. You look pretty good yourself, sir. You should wear tailcoats more often.”

“You think so?”

Riza nodded.

“Anything for you, Captain.”

She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging on the corner of her lips. “And what is it that you want from me, sir?”

“What makes you think I want something from you?”

“That look in your eyes,” replied Riza, staring right into them and noticing the glint that followed. “It’s important, isn’t it?”

To the melody of the music, Roy- the rest of the men dancing- spun their partners around. Riza twirled elegantly, her bottom half of her dress flouncing in the air behind her. She was quite hypnotic and Roy found it difficult to focus on anything but her.

Oh, how he wanted her. He wanted to immediately accept Führer Grumman’s proposal and marry her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her- the woman who stood by his side since they were teenagers- but perhaps Riza felt indifferent. Hopefully not.

When she returned to having her hand placed on Roy’s shoulder, he finally answered.

“There’s a man- Georgio Vanzetti- who’s staying at the Royal Amestris hotel tonight. He’s there now, and Falman’s keeping an eye on him. I need your help to apprehended him.”

“And who exactly is this Vanzetti?”

“Central City’s most notorious crime syndicate leader and weapons dealer,” Roy elaborated. “He needs brining to justice and we can’t do it without you, Captain.”

Riza smirked. “I’m glad to know that I’m wanted in a time of great need. Isn’t just a coincidence, General, that I brought my gun?”

Roy let out a low laugh, clearly impressed by her preparation skills. “You’re brilliant.”

“Thank you, sir.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Roy and Riza soon exited the ball, making sure that nobody noticed that they’d left. They walked down the street, and thankfully it was quiet tonight. It was a warm night with a clear sky, which was splattered with stars.

The Royal Amestris hotel was only for people with hefty wages. Its lobby had a marble floor, a fountain, walls lined with artwork and ornaments, and Riza was rather stunned by it all.

“Vanzetti is staying in Room 27, second floor,” Roy told her. “He apparently armed and has two of his bodyguards with him, one inside the ion and one outside.”

“And all I have to do is take out the bodyguards and apprehend Vanzetti?” She asked to be sure.

He nodded. “I’ll have back up here within ten to fifteen minutes; that should be sufficient enough, yes?”

“Yes, sir. And what about you?”

“I’ll come back for you. I have to get Breda and Fuery first, and inform Havoc of the progress.”

“Okay,” mumbled Riza, standing up a little straighter.

“Good luck, Captain. You’ll be fine.”

She turned and advanced towards the staircase, Roy’s final words echoing in her mind.

Her heels clicked loudly against the marble floor and she wanted to silence them, yet had no choice but to carry on regardless, concentrating on the matter in hand.

Take out the guards. Apprehend Vanzetti, she though to herself. That was easy enough. Riza was used to dealing with more difficult situations in the past and this wasn’t going to faze her.

When she got to the second floor, she passed a couple, who were also dressed in their best outfits. They smiled at her and she smiled in return. Her expression then flattened out as she neared the end of the first section of the hallway.

Riza halted where the hallway veered to the right. She drew the gun that was strapped to the holster on her concealed thigh, gripping it firmly. For the moment, she was hidden by the shadows, but soon she’d have to advance down the corridor in the exposing light. Riza was also thankful that she made the smart decision to wear her comfortable and sensible heels that would allow her to walk at a good pace with steadiness.

She peered around the corner. Room 24… Room 25… Room 26… Room 27. The latter was where she needed to go. Room 27 hid Central City’s most notorious crime syndicate leader and arms dealer: Georgio Vanzetti. A formidable man on paper, but there was no doubt he’d be even more so in person.

Riza swallowed hard. She felt her heart thumping inside her chest. No. She couldn’t let her nerves get in the way. Not now.

Then she noticed the burly, dark-haired man stood in front of the door. His arms were crossed, showing off the strength in his muscles. He was clad in a black suit and his almost-black eyes were fixated on a particular spot on the opposite wall, but they occasionally flickered elsewhere.

How on earth was she supposed to get around him? How was she supposed to get close enough to do sufficient damage? If only she had the General’s assistance…

Deciding it would be better to hide her gun for now, Riza placed it back into the holster and made sure her dress was smoothed over it and that her appearance was immaculate before stepping out of the shadows and strolling at a slow pace down the corridor. She wore a concerned expression on her face as she approached the burly man.

“Erm… Excuse me, sir,” she began, her voice slighter higher pitched than normal. She hated false pretence, but it was something she’d have to deal with for now.“

"Are you alright, ma'am?” He asked.

Unusually nice manners for a criminal, Riza scowled inwardly.

“I’ve lost my… I’ve lost my room key,” she replied. “I came down here earlier and thought I’d retrace my steps to find it. You haven’t seen it have you?”

“I don’t recall seeing any room key, ma'am,” the man said with a shrug. “Sorry.��

“Shame,” she said, copying his shrug. In a split second, Riza pulled her gun out again and squeezed her finger against the trigger, sending a bullet towards the man’s chest. He grunted and growled before falling to the floor in a muscular heap.

She reloaded her gun and pressed her back against the wall on the other side of the doorway. There was the sound of muffled heavy footsteps and the rapid opening of the door to Room 27. Another man of the same clothes, yet of a skinnier build and lighter hair, appeared. He looked down on his dead friend before glancing down the left side of the corridor and then to the right. But he barely got the chance before Riza shot him too. His body crumpled next to the burly man’s and she trod carefully over them, avoiding the blood that was spilling onto the carpeted floor.

Room 27 was an mysterious place. It was darkened, the doors to the balcony were opened and the curtains were dancing in the night breeze, a fire was burning, which added more warmth to the evening. But where was Vanzetti?

“You insult me, intruder. Such a fine shot shouldn’t have made such a mess of her kill.”

Never mind. He was here.

Georgio Vanzetti was sat in large armchair by the back wall of the room, behind Riza. He was around sixty years old with greying hair, a thick moustache and narrow blue eyes that were like knives stabbing into Riza’s delicate skin.

“What does it matter? Either way they up dead,” she responded confidently, reloading her gun again and aiming it steadily at Vanzetti.

Vanzetti laughed. “Wonderful! I can offer you a job simply based on your marksmanship and wit, my dear.”

“Thanks, but not thanks. And don’t call me 'dear’, it’s patronising.”

The old man frowned. “I tried.”

He rose from his seat and took a few paces forward, his gait short and his balance that wasn’t too good.

“Now, be continued. "I’m guessing your with be military. They’ve been keeping tabs on me. I noticed one of yours- the grey-haired one- as I came in the hotel. See? I’m not that stupid.”

“Nobody ever said you were,” Riza said bitterly. She wanted to kill him too, but she had been specifically ordered to apprehend, not kill.

Despite the old man’s minor hobble, Vanzetti moved quick. He almost knocked Riza over, but she regained herself and nimbly swerved away.

“You’re good considering you’re wearing heels,” he commented slyly.

“They’ve never stopped me before,” she retorted, kicking the bend in the back of Vanzetti’s leg. He toppled to the floor with a cry, then turning on his back. A pistol had been whipped out from his pocket, he cocked it in the meantime and stared at Riza with evil eyes.

“You thought I’d be an easy target, didn’t you, my dear?” He sneered. “I think you’ll be joining my bodyguards over there.”

She kept quiet, her hands still tight on her gun. She felt her finger itching to pull the trigger, but resisted the urge.

It didn’t matter, though. Somehow, a bullet was always going to end up piercing Vanzetti’s skin. He dropped his gun with a 'clang’ when blood spurted from the back of his hand. The pain was electrifying.

Riza ran to kick the weapon away, her own still aimed on the older man.

“Captain, are you okay?”

Havoc jogged up to her. He injured Vanzetti and it just about saved her life.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered, listening to the dull moans escaping Vanzetti’s lips as he writhed against the agony in his hand.

Three MPs entered the room not long after Havoc, they arrested the criminal mastermind and shifted the bodies of his bodyguards. What a lot of use they were.

Roy entered Room 27, panting and red in the face. He’d ran as fast as he could from the State ball to the hotel when he heard that Vanzetti had been arrested.

“Mission complete, sir,” Riza affirmed with a salute and a smile when she saw him.

Relieved, he breathed out. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

“Me too,” she laughed nervously. Riza was pleased that this was all over in such a short amount of time. She could finally go home and rest, or return the the ball. Probably the latter; Rebecca would be wondering where she was.

Now it was just Roy and Riza inside Room 27, along with a large amount of blood, a cosy fire, and the night air that floated in from outside.

Riza sighed exhaustedly, placing her gun back into the holster and sending a glance to Roy. “Are you alright, sir? You’re staring.”

“My queen deserves the attention, does she not?” He said, walking towards her. “Especially after putting her life on the line.”

“Just another day at the office… My king,” she replied, accepting Roy’s warm embrace. His arms snaked around her waist and he buried his face into the crook of Riza’s neck.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. “Amestris is in debt to you.”

“Now, don’t be silly.”

“I’m serious,” he muttered. “The most wanted criminal in the country has been arrested all thanks to you.”

Riza smiled, satisfied with her day’s work. She was glad to be of service to her country, but of course, it was lol part of the job description.

Roy pressed soft kisses where his face was buried. Riza shivered under his touch; every time he brushed her it was a cold reminder of the laws that hung over them and the burning love that they shared.

He moved up her neck and before he got chance to kiss Riza’s lips, she pressed a finger to his own.

“Later, okay?” She whispered, a faint smile appearing in her faded-red lips.

“Okay,” Roy agreed reluctantly.

One of his arms was still wrapped around her waist as they left they hotel. She needed such comfort after completing something so dangerous.

“Do you think Rebecca will catch on to us?” She asked him as they re-entered the ball, the sea of people still refusing to die down.

“Captain, I think she already has,” came the mirthful reply.

“Let’s not make it too obvious then,” Riza added, moving in such as way that her arm was now linked with Roy’s.

They exchanged a glance: one of happiness, knowingness, and sparked energy. Later, they’d finally get what they had both wanted for years- passionate kisses, fiery touches, and a whole lifetime of suppressed love.

After all, what happens in Room 27, stays in Room 27…

#fma #fma brotherhood #riza hawkeye #roy mustang #royai #royai fic #au #kinda #this took me hours #it's 1am and I have an exam in seven hours #I'm tired and screwed #but I love writing #and making Jess happy!#ily Jess #thetruthofyourdespair #thetruthofyourdespairfics

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