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rashoumon-homo · 2 months ago

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Kinktober Day 31: Submissive and Breedable

Inspired by this post by iwamimimimi!

-> Prompts: Exhibitionism + Orgy

-> Ships: Shin Soukoku, Soukoku

-> Content Warnings: alcohol mention, omegaverse, alpha atsushi, omega akutagawa, beta dazai, alpha chuuya, mention of mpreg

-> 2.2k words

-> Click here to read it on AO3!

Author’s Note: hi everyone! I decided to post this final Kinktober work as a tumblr fic as well as on AO3. I hope you all enjoyed Kinktober this year and have a happy Halloween!

♡ ♡ ♡

In hindsight, Atsushi should have known something was up the second Dazai invited himself over. The first hint was obviously that he came to Akutagawa instead of them both— Akutagawa could never say no to his former mentor. If Atsushi had been there, he’d be at least a little more strong-willed and maybe would have had the guts to turn him away. But no. That evening the three of them sat in Atsushi and Akutagawa’s shared living room and proceeded to watch Dazai drink them out of house and home.

“Dazai-san, is everything… alright?” Atsushi asked for the third time, discreetly moving the open bottle of whiskey to the other end of the table.

“Fine, it’s all fine, just spending the evening with my two favorite guys,” Dazai said, slurring his words a bit. “Drink something, loosen up.” He pushed his cup towards them, ignoring the fact that it was their alcohol in their cup, which he had poured himself uninvited.

Akutagawa immediately picked it up and downed the whole thing in a few gulps. Atsushi gave him a look.

“Ryuu, how do you deal with it when Atsushi blows off your plans for work?” Dazai asked offhandedly. “I imagine you’d take it pretty hard.”

“I don’t blow him off,” Atsushi answered for him. “We plan our dates ahead of time and if something comes up, we both understand. What’s this about anyway?”

“Bah, you’re no fun,” Dazai pouted. “I suppose it’s different with a mated pair anyway.” He eyed the bite scar on Akutagawa’s neck with a twinge of what appeared to be jealousy. “Deeper connection and all that.”

“Chuuya still hasn’t made a move?” Atsushi asked.

“He tried a couple times, when he was in rut and lost control. But the bites don’t stick as well on betas and they ended up healing.”

Prime conditions for a mating bite were when the pair had a coinciding heat and rut, but it was a bit trickier with an alpha-beta pair, or so Atsushi had heard. He hadn’t bothered to look into it much, since he knew Akutagawa was the one for him anyway.

Dazai took a swig from the bottle, which had somehow made its way back to him. “Got any plans to knock up Ryuu?” he asked bluntly.

“Dazai!” Atsushi admonished, as Akutagawa turned pink.

“What? You’ve been mated for a year now, it’s only natural people should wonder.” He took on a faux-innocent look. “Or is Akutagawa not a properly breedable omega?”

Atsushi seethed. “Dazai, don’t make me kick you out of our home,” he warned.

Dazai put his hands up in defense. “No, no, I didn’t mean any offense by it!” he lied. “It’s an honest question– it’s not like I’ve seen the two of you going at it before, not fully at least, so maybe Ryuu isn’t submissive enough or something like that. These things are common.”

Akutagawa looked a little hurt, though he hid it well.

“I assure you, that’s not the case,” Atsushi growled.

“Ahh, I see. Perhaps the problem is you’re unable to form a knot, then.”

Atsushi balled his hands into fists and snarled. “What exactly are you getting at, Dazai?”

“Nothing! I have no agenda whatsoever. Although…” he took a swig from the bottle, “you’re always free to prove me wrong.”

Briefly, Atsushi thought Dazai might be hitting on him, but then it clicked and he burst out laughing. “We’re not going to fuck in front of you, Dazai,” he said. “I don’t care how horny or sad or drunk you are, it’s not happening.”

“Oh, is that what he wants?” Akutagawa asked, amused. “A mating display?”

“Yeah, and he’s got some gall asking for it, as an unmated beta. Dazai, just go home and watch porn or something.”

“That’s really not it!” Dazai insisted. “I’m genuinely concerned about your sexual health! As a friend!”

“Maybe he’s telling the truth,” Akutagawa offered.

“Come on, are you serious? You’ve known him even longer than I have, he’s obviously just looking for a show,” Atsushi said.

“But would it really hurt to just prove it to him? He did insult my obedience and your sexual abilities, after all. Above that, he is our superior.”

“Yeah, at work. Right now, we’re at home and he’s way out of line.”

Akutagawa leaned over to whisper in Atsushi’s ear, “Remember that kink I was wanting to try out with you?”

Atsushi blushed. “With him?” he hissed back.

Looking a little shy, Akutagawa nodded.

It would be the perfect opportunity to try it out… and with how drunk Dazai was, it was likely he wouldn’t even remember it in the morning. Atsushi sighed. “Fine, we’ll play along,” he said to Dazai, who wasn’t even pretending to mind his own business.

“Excellent! I’ll just be here making sure everything goes smoothly.” Dazai reclined in his seat with the bottle of alcohol.

Atsushi rolled his eyes. “Better move the couch, I guess.”

Rashoumon shot out from Akutagawa’s coat and wrapped around the couch facing Dazai’s chair, then lifted it and moved it to the corner of the room. He moved the coffee table as well, careful not to knock over any of the dishes on it in the process.

Atsushi knelt on the ground and extended a hand to pull Akutagawa down next to him. Akutagawa joined him, pulling him into a slow and passionate kiss. He cupped Atsushi’s jaw, letting him take the lead on the pace. Atsushi threaded his fingers through Akutagawa’s hair, tugging slightly on it if he moved too fast. They adjusted their position so Atsushi was reclined against the ground and Akutagawa sat in his lap, making out with him.

“Boring,” Dazai said from the chair. “When are you gonna get to fucking?” He palmed his erection over his pants as he spoke, having the audacity to pretend what they were already doing wasn’t affecting him.

Atsushi broke the kiss to glare at Dazai. “It’s called foreplay, jackass. Makes sense you wouldn’t be familiar with it.”

Akutagawa took the opportunity to kiss down Atsushi’s neck, sucking purple and red hickeys down his path. He started to unbutton Atsushi’s shirt, pushing it over his shoulder as he went.

Atsushi stroked Akutagawa’s hair with a pleased hum. “So good, Ryuu,” he murmured.

Akutagawa smiled up at him. He got off Atsushi’s lap and sat to the side of it instead as he unbuckled Atsushi’s belt.

There was a matching clinking of belt buckles across the room, where Dazai was undoing his own and shoving his hand down his pants.

“Whore,” Atsushi mouthed at him. Dazai grinned back and licked his lips.

Finally, Akutagawa tugged Atsushi’s pants open and pulled his cock out. It was much larger than average, and he knew it. Close to ten inches hard, and it wasn’t even fully there yet. Atsushi raised an eyebrow at Dazai, daring him to say something.

Dazai wolf-whistled. “Impressive,” he murmured. “Almost as big as my Chuuya’s.”

Atsushi scoffed. He would have made some scathing remark, but his breath hitched instead as Akutagawa licked a stripe up his shaft. Akutagawa suckled on the head, tongue swirling around the tip as he looked up at Atsushi.

“He can’t really take all of that, can he?” Dazai asked.

“He can and he will,” Atsushi said triumphantly. “I’ve trained his throat. He has basically no gag reflex now.”

To prove it, Akutagawa began to bob his head, slowly easing his way down Atsushi’s length. Sure enough, his nose was nestled in Atsushi’s coarse white pubes before long.

“Damn,” Dazai whispered, stroking himself in his pants.

At that moment, the front door banged open, startling all of them. Chuuya stood there, looking absolutely livid. His gaze went from Dazai on the chair, hand still shoved in his pants, to Atsushi on the floor, balls deep in Akutagawa’s throat.

“What the actual fuck is going on here?”

Akutagawa pulled off, choking only slightly in his haste. “Chuuya-san,” he said hoarsely.

“Not you. Dazai, explain.”

“Well, you said you wouldn’t be able to meet up tonight because of work, so I made plans with Atsushi and Akutagawa instead. And I was worried about their sexual health, so they kindly offered to demonstrate for me.”

Chuuya stopped him with a firm shake of his head. “I said work might run an hour or two late and that you should eat dinner without me. And don’t lie to me, you obviously made them do this for your own entertainment. The fucking audacity you have, ordering around an alpha and his mate…” Chuuya took a deep breath to calm himself. “It’s fine, we’ll just have to give them a show in return.”

Dazai paled. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me. Get on the floor. Hands and knees.”

Dazai hesitated for only a second, then scrambled to obey. He got on his hands and knees on a clear patch of floor, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.

Chuuya slowly walked around him. “So obedient,” he praised. He put a foot on Dazai’s back and pressed down, forcing him to arch his spine. “Good. Keep the position.” He knelt on the ground behind Dazai and hooked his hands under Dazai’s waistband, then yanked his pants down. The glint of a silver butt plug nestled between his cheeks caught the light.

“Goddamn, you’re more of a slut than I thought,” Chuuya laughed, tugging at it. “Needed something to keep you full when you couldn’t have my knot?”

“Yes,” Dazai said quietly.

“Hm?” Chuuya twisted the plug.

“Yes, sir,” Dazai corrected himself.

“Good.” Chuuya pulled the plug out and dropped it on the floor. “Now ask for my cock. Nice and polite, like I trained you to.”

Dazai bit his tongue. He glanced over at Atsushi and Akutagawa, who were watching in wide-eyed amazement. This was humiliating, but it turned him on like nothing else.

“Don’t look at them. Eyes down, and ask.” Chuuya ordered.

Dazai looked back at the carpet. “Please fuck me. I want you to knot me and stuff me full of cum. Use me until you’re satisfied. Please, sir.”

“Very good. See, you do know how to beg like a good boy,” Chuuya said. He undid his belt and pushed his pants down.

Atsushi’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Dazai wasn’t joking– Chuuya was about as big as he was. The beginning of a knot was starting to swell at the base of his dick. Clearly, he was just as turned on as the rest of them were.

Chuuya grabbed Dazai’s hips and dragged him backwards to meet him. Since Dazai’s hands stayed on the ground where they were, his body was stretched out like a cat’s. Chuuya pushed the head of his cock against Dazai’s puffy rim. “Time to show your friends how submissive you really are,” he said, then thrust in.

Dazai threw his head back with a moan.

“So noisy,” Chuuya said, huffing with each rough thrust. “You like that? Like being used?”

Atsushi didn’t notice how hard he’d gotten until Akutagawa started to gently stroke him. He moaned softly and reclined back onto his forearms. Akutagawa looked up at him for approval, then eased his cock back into his mouth. Atsushi watched Chuuya fuck Dazai while getting his dick sucked, and he felt like he was fucking ascending. This was hotter than any porn he’d ever seen.

“Ryuu,” he moaned quietly. He couldn’t help bucking his hips up into the warm, wet heat of Akutagawa’s throat. Akutagawa hummed softly, just how he knew Atsushi liked it.

“Take it, you slut,” Chuuya said, with a sharp slap to Dazai’s ass. Dazai cried out and immediately came, leaking cum onto the carpet and the front of his pants.

Atsushi felt his knot starting to inflate, so he tugged on Akutagawa’s hair. “Careful,” he whispered between grunts.

The contrast between the way the two couples fucked was almost humorous– the rough, wild sex Dazai and Chuuya were having compared to the way Atsushi treated Akutagawa with tenderness and love as he sucked his dick.

“Gonna cum,” Atsushi murmured. He moved his hand, giving Akutagawa a chance to decide whether to pull off or swallow. Akutagawa stayed on as Atsushi came, swallowing around his cock with each spurt of cum.

When Atsushi finally finished (he was an alpha, after all, so it took longer than most), Akutagawa pulled off and wiped his mouth. “Shall we take this to the bedroom?” he asked.

Atsushi glanced over at Chuuya and Dazai, who were still going at it. “Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I wanna take my time with you. Show you how much I really love you. As hot as this is, it’s distracting me from what I really want to focus on.” He caressed Akutagawa’s cheek.

The two got up quietly, so as not to interrupt the others– though at this point, a bomb going off couldn’t stop them.

“You do realize Dazai was totally projecting when he was insulting you earlier, right?” Atsushi asked, tugging Akutagawa to the bedroom.

“Absolutely,” Akutagawa said with a rare smile. He kissed Atsushi on the cheek as they slipped into the bedroom and closed the door.

♡ ♡ ♡

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yamalegacy · 4 years ago

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prompt eleven with mirko 😳

i've already done 11 with midnight but idc, i love buff bunny too much not to do it! and well, considering how it aligns with the godly possessive!rumi hcs, it's way too tempting anyway! so here goes!

prompt: #11 from this list “I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”

pairing: mirko (usagiyama rumi) x gn!reader

cw: SMUT. afab reader. rumi is a possessive bunny. brat!reader. dom/sub dynamic. hair pulling, spanking, dirty talking, slight degradation & praise kink (yes, both at the same time, don’t underestimate rumi), fingering, strapon, slight anal fingering. oh boy this really is the filthiest thing i’ve written in a loooong time.

word count: about 3,7k words WOPS I GOT CARRIED AWAY

⚠️ MDNI reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

Your phone buzzes exactly seven minutes after you started a conversation with Keigo— he insists you call him Keigo, because Hawks is too professional and Takami is too formal, his own words. Seven whole minutes (yes, you’ve been keeping an eye on the time during the whole conversation). It’s over six minutes later than you’d expected, really. It buzzes again almost immediately, and you make a point to ignore your phone for a bit as you glance at Rumi, on the other side of the bar, over the rim of your glass.

When she arcs an eyebrow at you, visibly losing her patience, you give all your attention to Keigo again and offer him a smile before pulling your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check the messages you’ve no doubt received from the Rabbit Hero.

fluffy butt 🐇🤍

i bet you think you’re real cute letting him put his hands all over you we’ll see how cute you look later when i get you home

It’s almost disappointing how predictable she is with these things. Almost. Rumi is way too hot when she gets jealous for it to actually be disappointing. You want to remind her that she is the one who invited you to that bar and who left you alone to get drinks, that she is the one who got distracted by a conversation with Ryukyu, but you decide to leave her on read and see what happens.

From where you stand, you can see Rumi’s internal struggle not to just abruptly cut Ryukyu in the middle of what she is saying so that she can get right between you and Keigo. It’s quite the amusing sight, from her flattened ears to her thumping foot, her attitude reeks of frustration. You can’t help but wonder what will tick her off so much that she will intervene — Keigo has only touched you shoulder and given your arm a light squeeze and Rumi is already seething, so it seems likely just about anything would set her off.

“I can hear her thump from here,” Keigo comments, a lazy smile adorning his lips. “I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to murder me yet.”

You chuckle at his words.

“I think she’s trying to see whether or not looks can kill.”

He leans closer to you (and you know it’s much too closer to Rumi’s standards because you can smell the minty alcohol on his breath), “I sure hope looks can kill. It’d be a lot less painful than her foot up my— well, wherever she fancies shoving it, I guess.”

You don’t even have time to give him a reaction that you can hear heavy footsteps approaching, so you lean away from Keigo just enough to properly look at your girlfriend as she marches over to you. It’s only now that she is right here that you notice she’s opened her leather jacket, revealing one of her favorite crop tops — black, sinfully tight and exposing just the right amount of cleavage and abs to make your mouth water.

God, her skin always looks so tempting, you want to reach out, to put a hand on her waist, under her jacket, but she grabs you by the wrist before you can even try to move a muscle. Her eyes are fixed on you, and, to your surprise, she doesn’t even acknowledge Keigo.

“We’re leaving,” she says, her tone stern.

“Rumi... it’d be rude to leave so early,” you tell her, smiling at her with all the innocence you can muster (enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know you well), “and you are the one who wanted us to come here in the first pl—”

“We’re leaving. I remembered I have something to do.”

You want to push, to tease, to see how far she’ll go, so even if her tone leaves no room for argument, you open your mouth again.

“But you—”

“Now.”

She tugs are your arm and you follow as she takes a first few steps away from Keigo, only to turn around and face him.

“I hope you choke on your fucking feathers, birdy.”

“Always nice to talk to you, Usagiyama,” he simply smirks and gives her a small wave of his hand, “and I hope something,” he glances at you, “will enjoy getting done.”

Rumi doesn't give you any time to say goodbye to him, or to any of her hero friends, and she drags you out of the bar, heading straight for her car. She doesn't even let you register how forceful she is being that you've already been shoved in the passenger seat.

The ride home is short (too short; Rumi drives way too fast for a Pro Hero who is supposed to set an example for those around her) and awfully quiet. She didn't even look at you, didn't glance your way at least once like she usually does. Rumi's ears are still flattened in annoyance when she opens the door of her house to push you inside.

She kicks off her sneakers and takes off her leather jacket to leave it on the back of chair, then heads to the couch, sitting down nonchalantly, arms crossed under her chest in a way that pushes up her tits. All you can do is stare, unable to form a coherent thought as you settle down next to her.

“You had fun flirting with Big Bird, baby?” she asks, and the question would be innocent enough if you didn't know your girlfriend better.

You move so that you're facing Rumi on the couch, your knee bumping into a strong thigh — and maybe, for a moment, you get briefly distracted by the thought of these rippling muscles on either side of your head.

“Come on, Rumi, you know there was no actual flirting. We were just having fun.”

She leans closer to you, invading your personal space, face so close to yours that all you can see in the harsh coldness in her eyes. You barely have time to blink that one of her hands is at the back of your head, her grip on your hair surprisingly gentle.

“Oh, because you think I don’t know what little game you were playing with him there?” she is nearly snarling at you, and this time, her grip on your hair tightens, deliciously painful, and she tugs. “Why do you think I waited so long to grab you, uh?”

So, she knew? The whole time you spent talking with Keigo, flirting with him and allowing him to flirt to get a reaction from her, she knew? And it still didn't stop her from getting jealous and acting possessive in the middle of a bar, surrounded by numerous other Pro Heroes.

Her grip on your hair tightens once more and she brings you closer to her body.

"I just wanted to see how far you'd take your little game," she explains, words nearly spat through her gritted teeth. "But I couldn't take it anymore. You're mine, understood?" she asks, but the way she pulls at your hair clearly tells you that she expects no reply.

"I thought we agreed that I was my own person?" you smirk, even as she yet again tugs at your hair. "We said we don't own each other even if we're dating, didn't we?"

It is true, it's something you've talked about pretty early in your relationship together, after Rumi admitted that she could get jealous easily, but hated that she got jealous. It led to conversation about acting possessive during sex and marking, and you know that's what Rumi is going on about right now, and not some sort of ownership that she'd have over you because she is your girlfriend. But you can't help it, can't help wanting to push all her buttons and see what kind of punishment it earns you.

"You're playing smartass with me now, uh?"

She tugs at your hair again, forcing your head back slightly, but you hold eye contact, refusing to let her get the submission that she wants from you just now. You've already earned yourself a punishment, might as well make the most of it, right?

"I would never."

You smile innocently and bat your eyelashes at her, even if the pain tickling your scalp is starting to blur your sight.

She lets go of your hair without saying anything, and for just a second, you think she might be too annoyed with your act and drop the issue entirely to move on and do whatever she feels like doing for the rest of the night. But she wraps her strong fingers around your wrist and pulls, her free hand pressing harshly between your shoulder blades to push you down onto her lap, face into the couch cushion and ass up, perched over her thighs.

Well, shit.

The first spank comes unexpectedly fast and hard, you have no time to brace yourself for the impact, and your jeans do little to absorb the shock and the pain spreading through your cheek.

“Shit!” you groan through gritted teeth, trying your best not to get too loud, which is most likely exactly what Rumi wants right now.

“Got something to say, baby?” Rumi asks, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Nope. All good,” you mumble.

A second slap comes, matching the first one in speed and strength, leaving your ass numb from the pain. If there’s one thing you can never expect from your girlfriend, it’s for her to go easy on you.

“All good, you said?”

“Yup,” you whimper pathetically, your voice having none of the bite you wish for. Two spanks, and Rumi already has you trembling over her lap, it’s ridiculous, but you should have seen it coming, really.

She spanks you again, twice, and takes the time to brush the palm of her hand over your sore cheeks, the gesture almost soothing. She repeats the movements again, and again, before stopping to give your ass a squeeze. With each spank, you pant, forcing yourself to swallow the moans that threaten to fall past your lips.

“You’re taking your punishment really well today, baby. Trying to be good for me?” she teases, her hand now comfortably lodged between your thighs, too close to your aching core and yet not nearly close enough.

“Or maybe you’re not hitting as hard as you think you are.”

You aren't sure why you said that, aren't sure what you're doing right now, all you know is that it's dangerous because you're just provoking Rumi — it's always a recipe for disaster in the end.

She doesn't spank you though, but she snakes a hand between her lap and your stomach, pressing her fingers into your skin and pushing up until you put your weight on your knees and lift yourself up enough for her to get access to the button of your pants. Rumi hooks her fingers at the hem of your jeans and tugs, dragging them down your thighs along with your underwear.

She doesn't give you time to adapt to the cool air against your exposed bottom, doesn't let you collect your thoughts or even take a breath, before she is spanking you again. She marks no pause between each strike, just spanks and spanks and spanks. Lost in the rapid fire of her assault on your sensitive ass, you can't stop yourself from moaning — and that's when she pauses.

“Did my baby just moan?”

You stubbornly refuse to respond, clenching your jaw. You know a spank is coming, but you still aren’t ready for the pain.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re just a slut, desperate for me to touch you,” she coos, her calloused fingers gently brushing the raw skin of your ass. “Even if I’m just spanking you, you want me to touch you, don’t you? Because you’re a needy little whore for me, uh?”

Her words cause a shiver to run down your spine, straight to your core, but you press your thighs together and bit your tongue. You’re well aware what she wants you to do, what she wants you to say, but you don’t want to give it to her today. You’ve decided to play, and you won’t back down just because she’s spanking your ass raw. At your stubborn silence, she all but growls in your ear, her annoyance obvious as she slaps your burning cheek once more.

“How long do you think you can resist, baby?” she asks as her fingers trace little patterns on your back, your shirt riding up as her hand slowly moves higher. “How long til you act like the good little slut you are for me?”

You muffle your whine in the cushion, which is starting to feel uncomfortably wet from your tears and drool under your cheek. You hate it, but you can’t give in now. Rumi would be too pleased.

“Just say you’re mine, baby, say you’re my perfect good little slut,” she says, her fingers trailing down your back to settle between your thighs, an inch from where you need her most, “just say it and I promise I’ll fuck your pretty cunt so good you won’t be able to walk.”

She runs a finger along your drenched fold, and you hear her hum in delight. You hate how wet she’s making you; you can’t deny that this is all for her, that it’s the effect she has one you. Met with only silence once again, Rumi harshly pinches your clit between her thumb and index finger.

“Aaah! Rumi—” you gasp, whole body quivering.

“Say it. Say you’re my slut. Beg me to fuck you.”

“Please,” you whimper weakly.

“Uh? What did you say? Didn’t hear you, baby. Stop hiding in the couch and gimme a proper sentence.”

You nearly sob as she tightens her grip on your clit before releasing it.

“I’m your slut! All yours!” you feel your whole face burning at your own word, at the desperation in your voice. “I need you to fuck me! Please... Mirko... please fuck me.”

She chuckles, all too amused to your liking.

“See? Ain’t so hard to be good, is it?”

Before you can register what’s happening, Rumi has hoisted you in her arms and thrown you over her shoulder and is making her way to your bedroom. Your pants still down the middle of your thighs and ass bared, it’s the most embarrassing ever but you can’t even find words to express it; you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, sticky and embarrassing.

She tosses onto the bed as soon as she is close enough to it.

“Be good and strip for me, baby. Take everything off.”

You hurry to obey, pushing your pants further down and kicking them off your feet before you start working on taking off your shirt. Rumi’s disappeared into the bathroom, so you sit patiently to wait for her, back leaning against the headboard.

When she comes back, Rumi is dressed, and you take the time to admire her beauty. The size of her strong arms obvious through the thin material of her long-sleeved crop top, the delicious expanse of tan skin of her stomach, her tight abs, the curve of her hips— you notice it only now, the thick bulge hidden under her jeans. You look up at her face, surprise written all over your features, and the smile she gives you is playful, she even wiggles her eyebrows at you.

Rumi unbuttons and unzips her pants, freeing the thickness of her strapon from them before climbing on the bed. She sits, legs spread, and beckons you closer with the simple movement of a finger.

“Suck it,” she demands, “get my cock nice and ready to fuck your cunt.”

You crawl over to her and wrap a hand around the hard silicone as soon as it’s within reach, your lips closing around its head. You circle it with your tongue, lick it, and look up at Rumi’s face, the dildo snug in your mouth. She can’t feel it, but she always enjoys when you put on a show for her.

Long gone is your little rebellious act from earlier. All you want is for Rumi to take you here and now, to have her fuck you until you pass out.

As you take more of the silicone cock into your mouth, she puts a hand on your head, and soon enough, you can feel her tight grip in your hair. You’re almost halfway when she tugs and pulls you away from her cock.

“Ass up. Face down. Now.”

You do as she orders, resisting the temptation to look up when you feel the bed dip next to you. You hear her open the drawer of the nightstand, then the sound of the lube bottle being opened. From the loud clang that follows, you know she’s thrown the bottle back in the drawer rather than bother putting it down.

Her fingers are cold when they press against your entrance, slick with thick lube that she spreads over your folds, over your clit, before pushing two fingers inside you. You grip at the sheets, low moan leaving your lips.

“Look at you, being all good for me now,” she comments, her tone teasing. “Taking my fingers so well.” This time, her voice comes from much closer, and you feel her chest pressing against your back. She kisses your neck and shoulders as she starts moving her fingers, slow and deliberate. “You want my cock, baby?”

You whimper at a particularly harsh thrust of her fingers and tighten your grip on the sheet to try and keep yourself anchored, balanced.

“Yes, please! I want your cock in me!”

She pulls out her fingers, and your cunt clenches around the emptiness. You can’t help but moan miserably. She coos above you, amused by your desperation, of course.

She pushes the thick head of the strapon against your hole, but instead of pushing further into you, she guides it up and down your folds, several time, painfully slow, spreading the slickness of your arousal mixed with the lube. You whine and push your hips back, seeking what she is refusing you. A big mistake, and you know it even before both her hands hit your ass, still raw from the spanking she gave you.

“Don’t try that again, baby,” she warns, squeezing the flesh of your in her hands as she presses the dildo against your entrance again. “You gonna be good for me now?”

“I promise I’ll be good! So, please, please fuck me!”

She pushes into you slowly, just the head, then pulls out and repeats the movement, carefully stretching you. She eases more of the strapon inside you with each move, and while you are grateful for how careful she is being, you wish she would just fuck you into the mattress already.

Finally, you feel her hips against your ass, and she pauses for a moment as her hands rest on your waist.

“You ready, baby?”

“I am.”

The pace she sets is fast, the movements of her hips quick, precise and harsh, almost unforgiving. The material of her pants feels rough against the sensitive skin of your ass, and you suspect Rumi of having kept her pants on merely to torture you that way.

Within seconds, Rumi has you panting and moaning.

“So good for me, taking my cock so well.”

She slows her quick pace to focus on deeper, more forceful thrusts. You can’t even form a coherent sentence, or even words, to respond. And when one of her hands leaves your waist, you clench your teeth and brace yourself for an impact that doesn’t come. Instead of spanking you, she is gentle as she places her hand on your ass. She doesn’t leave you time to consider asking her what she is doing that her thumb is pushing against your hole, and she keeps it set firmly in your ass as she quickens the pace again, fucking into your cunt ruthlessly, her hips slapping your ass with each thrust.

“Fuck! Mirko! Please!”

You’re babbling, unsure if the sounds that come out of your mouth are even the ones in your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to care when all you can feel is your girlfriend fucking you like your lives depends on it. And with each thrust bringing you closer to the edge, you moan, you mewl, you pant, you aren’t sure which, the lewd, wet noises of your pussy overwhelming your senses.

“Look at you, baby,” she croons, “being such a good slut for me, making such pretty noises just for me. So pretty and perfect. And all mine.”

“I’m so close! Please! I wanna come!”

She stills her hips, “then do,” she simply says, punctuating the short sentence with a strong thrust before resuming her quick pace.

It only takes a few more thrusts of her cock and her thumb pushing a little further into your ass for your muscles to clench desperately around her strap as waves of pleasure crash through your body, your limbs quivering from the unadulterated bliss clouding your mind.

She is gentle as she pulls out, kisses your back as she eases you down onto the mattress and lies down next to you.

You turn your head to look at her, and she is grinning at you as you lay limply on the bed. She caresses your cheek, soft and loving, and shifts closer to kiss you on the nose.

“You did so good, babe,” she whispers, her smile only broadening, “I’m so proud of you.”

Feeling the exhaustion invade your body, you close your eye and focus on enjoying her gentle touch as she runs her fingers along your back and shoulders.

“Let’s get you in the shower in a few minutes, yeah? I’ll have to take care of your ass. I really got carried, sorry ‘bout that.”

You chuckle sleepily at her apology.

“Don’t be sorry, you know I liked it.”

“I do know. I mean, you fucking dripped on my pants, there’s still a spot on my thigh.”

You groan in embarrassment, and you would cover your face with your hands if your muscles weren’t still twitching from your orgasm.

“Just carry my lifeless body to the bathroom.”

“Gimme a break, I’m tired too. I fucking wrecked my hands spanking you so hard, ya know?”

“You really want to compare the state of your hands to my ass?” you mutter, frowning, eyes barely opening.

It’s her turn to chuckle.

“Yeah, okay, no. Just, lemme take a breathe and I’ll take care of my baby.”

#mirko x reader #mha x reader #mha x you #mha smut #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha smut #🐇 usagiyama rumi ( mirko )#⚠️ mdni ⚠️#🍌 drabbles & oneshots #i need to cleanse my soul and wash off my sins #at least i didn't write mommy!mirko #which is nothing short of a miracle tbh

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fairytsuk1 · 4 years ago

Text

i was all over her (a)

part of the autumn experiences collection.

pairing: yandere!tomura shigaraki x reader

genre: angst

words: 2.5k

summary: you never learn.

prompt: visitor

warnings: noncon mentions/intentions, stalking, pervertedness, this is a yandere fic

The rain was quickly soaking through his cotton shirt, chilling Tomura to the bone with a grumble threatening to work it’s way up his throat. He hadn’t brought an umbrella in protest of Kurogiri’s suggestion, he was sure it wouldn’t rain as he walked his normal path. But, he was wrong, it was fucking downpouring and his chuck-taylors were hardly holding up.

Your frog umbrella flashed in and out of the streetlights, the rhythmic step of rain boots clicking and splashing in the puddles that littered the sidewalk. Brown, muddy water rushed in the crook of the street so fast he was briefly reminded of the times he and his family used to look at fish in the nearby rivers. That was a long time ago, no need to make room for old broken memories that would soon cease to exist as he aged further in life.

What he wanted, was you. Your cute little feet stuffed into rainboots far too big for you, they were a gift from your father. That man was too flippant of your desires and needs that he didn’t even know his own child’s shoe size, a sorry excuse for a man if he were to be honest. The umbrella was a gift from your sister, adamant on you having something to keep you sheltered in this shitty ass neighborhood. You didn’t deserve to live here, he could imagine you in a perfectly manicured house with polished nails and frilly sundresses. The sun would sparkle on your skin and you’d smell flowery with a twinge of cinnamon, leaving men desperate and eager to flip up your skirt with the intent to breed you. You’d look so good, he mused. Cum filling your cunt as you squealed underneath him, pleading for more from your dearest, Tomura.

“Mmph!”

Your shoe caught onto a crack in the sidewalk, nearly sending you face first into the mess that was the gravelly street. He imagined you’d make such lovely whimpers and moans as he rammed his cock into you, greedily taking you from behind...or maybe the front? He’d like to cum inside you to mark you and maybe, if he was really desperate, your mouth.

He was working himself up, your apartment was near and the excitement was practically eating him alive with the thought that he’d be able to have you if he was just patient. It would be far too easy for you to get away and cause a scene if he grabbed you by the hair and tugged you into his arms, though, would anyone come for you? Your sister was right, this rough place that you called home was no home at all, they didn’t care about your wellbeing. They didn’t even care about basic necessities, like moving the trash bins so it would be easier for you to keep clean. They were selfish and it made him sick to think of them hurting you, taking you, and doing whatever these fucking creeps could think of. They didn’t care about you like he did.

“Hey! You live in this apartment?”

Shigaraki ducks into a nearby alleyway, back crashing against the wall as he shakes water out of his face like a wet dog. Soft pants fall from his chapped lips as water dribbles down his ears and neck. There’s a tightness in his pants and his heart is racing, a usual occurrence when he followed you home.

“Hm? Oh...yes, I do! It’s nice to meet you!” You tell him your name, why would you even think that would be a good idea? “Is there something wrong? I’m new to the area!”

The man chuckles and your stalkers red eyes peer out from behind the wall, noting your neighbors large frame practically swallowing you up. He almost couldn’t see you considering this man was huddling you into the corner and looking down at you like a piece of meat.

“You’re new? No shit, I’ve never seen a pretty thing like you before.”

You can’t even help yourself, cheeks lifting as you pull your keys out of your pocket. Must be the neglect from your parents, you’ll let just anyone in between your legs huh?

No.

He can’t think like that, you’re different. You wouldn’t, you can hardly touch yourself correctly. He’d form you into the perfect girl, perfect housewife who made him meals and let him bend you over any countertop.

“Ah, well thank you sir.”

You’ve got manners too, he likes that. He wants to hear his name-not Shigaraki-but Tomura as it rolls off your tongue, it’d be syrupy and sweet just like you.

Clunky boots step into your apartment and a creaky door is locked closed, bet that makes you feel safe huh? Like no one’s gonna hurt you? Well, under his eye they won’t. But the only thing it won’t stop is Shigaraki; climbing the white rickety stairs to follow and a copy of your key to match.

Waiting takes a long time, but it’s worth it to keep this little habit up. The water drips from his hair to his chin and neck, leaving a trail that would no doubt make him smell as disgusting as he felt. His hand reaches up to insert the key before the bulbous man from before is grunting out words that he couldn’t care to listen to. Though, the dude is utterly unrelenting and questions him, “what the hell are you doing?”

“What?”

“Are you...who the fuck are you? I thought she was single.”

Shigaraki scans him, unimpressed with the way he’d come to confront him when the two of them had the same goal in mind.

“It’s none of your business.”

The man reaches for his wrist, looking small in the meat of his palm as Shigaraki lets him play hero for the time being.

“I’m calling a hero! I have a cousin who works with Endeavor, you know! Stay here!”

“Let go of me.”

The grip is starting to hurt but the man keeps squeezing, even adding a bit more strength when the wiry man expresses resistance. Doesn’t matter, he’ll just get rid of him while he can. Can’t go around harassing women if you’re just a pile of dust, right?

Isn’t that what you do, Tomura? Stalk and harass future fucktoys? Or rather...as you like to call them, potential housewives?

Sometimes, he might blanch when those thoughts resurface, bothering him and making him feel ashamed of who he is. How could someone like him, a successor to fucking All for One feel shame? That frustration or perhaps disturbance due to the intrusive thoughts lets his anger unleash, cracking like whips in the form of crumbling the man to dust. His wife beater, something he was sure he was (though he doubted anyone would want to marry this fuck), crumbled on top of the ashes and grew soaked under the downpour.

“I told you to let go of me. Now look at you.”

What once used to be a living, breathing person, is now kicked to the drain below. Fingers itching the delicate skin near his jaw, he enters the apartment. He feels hungry, but not for food. He just wants to eat you right up. Yeah, that sounds right. Take you all for himself.

You’d discarded the boots in the alcove near your door, the frogs smiling with pink cheeks as Shigaraki’s childish shoes squash them in his path of destruction. You lie drowsily in bed, pink fluffy pajamas comforting your soft skin and a duvet pulled up to your nose. You’d normally be asleep if it weren’t for the constant nagging in your gut. It felt as though something had gone horribly wrong. The anxiety causes you to lay still in your bed as if something was watching your every breath.

It was eerily similar to the way you’d cower from your closet at night with the idea planted in your head that monsters were coming to eat you. This was only different in the way that you didn’t know what monster was coming. Not only that, you had no idea what he would do to you.

You’d call yourself crazy during times like these, but you’d been right when the door to your bedroom opens.

“I know you’re awake. You always sleep on your back, not your side.”

It’s quiet and still. There’s tension thickening in the air like gravy on the stove and you briefly wonder if this was another bout of sleep paralysis. You thought you’d been in this position before, someone or something watching you. It had never felt like this, you’d never felt so terrified in your life.

“Not up for talking, huh? A bit ungrateful considering I helped rid your little ‘home’ of that greasy pig next door.”

The footsteps grow closer and against all instincts to play dead or even just move away, you sit up and face the man. His red eyes stare down at you, face bony and cracked...he looked like something straight out of a nightmare. Most people you knew were delicate and kind; they looked like regular people. Shigaraki though...you thought that Shigaraki might eat you alive and tear you apart limb by limp. A whimper exits your mouth as you sit paralyzed whilst he simply gets closer and closer.

His eyes trace the neckline of your sleeping shirt, a scoop neck that showed the smattering of beauty marks adorning your skin. You were so beautiful, he grinned and planted his bottom at the edge of your bed. You shook, the water logged clothes easily soaking through to you and making your heart sink deeper in your chest. You held a confused look, like a deer in headlights or maybe a puppy with twitching ears.

“I’m...I’m sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing? Aren’t I the one who broke in?”

Cry for me. You’d look so good and I’d commit it to memory, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“You’re such a pushover, how’d you let this happen? Hm?”

The tears build at your lash line until finally falling in fat droplets down your cheeks. Your hands turn to fists like a child as you rub your eyes, no defenses in place other than to cry like a submissive brat. Your breaths were uneven as you attempted to wipe away tears until a quick hand caught your wrist, pinky lifted.

“Look at me, when you cry. Gets me off,” he giggles before leaning so close your lips could almost touch, “did you know that? Everytime you sobbed in your pillow, I had a hard time choosing whether or not I should cuddle you or jerk off.”

A broken wail escapes you as your body finally makes the move to get away, your feet kick in the tangled sheets and you attempt to wrangle your wrist away from him, thrashing and beating on his chest desperately. He almost felt a bit sad, sure, he was a bit mean with the teasing. But...you had to have known that someday someone was going to come for you like this, right?

It’s easy to intercept your punches, holding both wrists at your head as he leaned over you. His hair framed the two of you, leaving you completely caged in this man. His lithe body scooched up yours, hips resting at yours for a moment.

“I’m gonna make you mine, well, more like you already are mine. Tomura Shigaraki's little wife. Okay? So you’re gonna come with me to the base without complaints, yeah?”

A brave scream tore through your mouth as you arched your back, trying for a second escape attempt. His left hand detached from your arm to grab your throat, cries quickly dying out as you thrashed wildly.

“If my pinky touches this vein right here, you’ll turn into a pile of dirt. If that happens, I’ll move onto someone else. So come on; do you really want to be the cause of someone’s future suffering? Give up, daddy taught you better than to fight.”

“How…?”

He laughed heartily, your throat clenching under his grip before he loosened to let you get a whoosh of air.

“Seriously? It’s so obvious you’re a daddy’s girl, take the stupid little gifts, listen to his every command, and wait for the day he decides to acknowledge you. It’s practically...practically predictable! You’re predictable and sad.”

His words feel like venom as you cry, the lack of oxygen making fuzzy black spots dot your vision. He might kill you in this moment, your lungs squeezed and he finally let go. You sputtered, body confused with it’s sudden freedom as you looked up at him with glassy eyes and snot dripping down past your lips to your chin.

“You look tired, I’ll take you home okay?”

You’re dazed, you almost don’t recognize the way he peels back the covers and grazes his hands up your thighs, exposing every inch of skin as if you were a present meant to be savoured.

“I’m a virgin! Please don’t…”

A look flashes in his eyes as he peers at you from his lashes.

“Perfect, just makes you even sweeter.”

You hadn’t thought you could cry more, but every word that came out of his predatory lips made a new wave of heartache resurface, was this really who you were? A weak girl who could let herself be lifted into the arms of a man she didn’t know, fingers digging into the plump flesh of her bottom as she weakly clung on?

A memory flashes in your mind as you let yourself be taken care of...well no, be kidnapped from your bedroom. It was the one with the high school boys, the way they’d flipped up your skirt and prodded at your weakest, most sensitive places. You’d cried for them to stop, told your father what the sickening boys had done to you. They’d practically defiled you, maybe would have gone so far to take you in that empty classroom had you not kicked one of them square in the shin.

Your father’s words ring in your ears.

“Well, you must have done something for that to happen. Don’t wear such short skirts next time.”

A hand comes to caress the top of your head. Tomura’s, he had you right where he wanted you. Vulnerable and weak to his advances, you were tired too. This was just going to make things easier.

The rain has slowed to a drizzle, you shivered in his arms and prayed to God for forgiveness as you buried yourself closer to him, the warmth comforting and soothing for your soul. Your bare feet swung limply as he kept you pressed to his front, walking on a seemingly practiced path. He was all over you.

If he could apologize, Tomura didn’t think he would. He had to be all over you. Consume your soul like the evillest of demons.

“Cheer up, maybe if you’d been a bit more vigilant, this would have never happened.”

Your bottom lip trembled, maybe love was not destined for you. After all, you must have been asking for this.

“And by the way...you know I love you right?”

You’d heard it a million times before.

#bnha #bnha x reader #yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #tomura imagine #tomura x y/n #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura

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herstarburststories · 4 years ago

Text

you and me and the devil makes three.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x reader, Demon!Dean Winchester x reader, past Lisa x Dean

Summary: Dean is a demon, he will take whatever he wants.

A/N: This got darker than I expected. I wanna make it clear I don't condone or engage with Dean's acts on this. This is my submission for @jawritter 's Make Me Cry Challenge. Congrats, honey! Hope you like it. Dividers by talesmanic and gif credit here

Prompt: I guess I should have been more like her.

Warnings: non consensual kissing, language, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR, non con (kissing and touching but no sex), dirty talk

Dean Winchester was a dreamer.

In the rawest way of the word, the meaning in the dust-collecting dictionaries and not the idealistic form. His eyelids shut close and, just like magic, Dean’s head was as haunted as the home he swore he’d never come back to in Kansas. The ghosts of the past, not ever so very friendly, coming to greet him at least three times per week. Sometimes they were happy films he could never starre in real life, his mom singing or a picnic with a lover saying that they needed to hurry up to get their kid at the baseball. The nightmares were sleepy visions of flesh and blood, mostly about his time underneath, Sam hurting, or his father spilling out his worst fears at his face.

Maybe it was how the eldest Winchester’s brain compensated for the lack of bedtime tales and docile affairs growing up. The own way that his brittle soul discovered and molded not to let him collapse, or to always keep him on red alert.

Good and bad deals are mostly a matter of which side you are betting your money on, really.

Because yeah, Dean did wake up feeling like he had shut his forest eyes briefly for twenty minutes instead of hours when he dreamed, but he also had never spent so long trapped in a better place. The green eyed hunter didn’t know which one was worse: the good dreams or the horrific ones. After all, he had went through all the atrocity and made it out alive, but the engulfed craving for light-hearted scenarios was suffocating. The hunter could never have it all. Trust him, he tried. Then, which is more agonizing: to have everything you ever wanted for a couple hours and have every scrap of it taken from you, or to undergo the calamity that accompanied your breaking point?

Dean didn’t know, he didn’t even know what to tell Sam when he wondered what his brother had dreamt about to wake up sweating and screaming, all the light and stupid apple pie desires and the sharp brutality crawling out of the back of his mind. He made a joke, Megan Fox really liked knives, man. He kept it in, shoved down a good amount of alcohol, and mocked the worry of doing the lawn. Ready for another day.

But now he was a demon, and apparently whatever he was made of - sulfur, cruelty, and black eyes under garden ones - wasn't worthy quiet reliefs in the middle of the night, or even frightening figments of memory. He became his worst dreams and all the dreams slipped beyond his reaches because of that. Demons, those unholy creatures, didn’t get the human peculiarities. You know what? Fine by him.

Who needed dreams when you don't need sleep, anyway? Even better: who needed dreams when you don't care about what you gotta do to put your greedy hands on the prize you had been eyeing for years?

Dean Winchester was finally free. Free for the first time since he was a four years little boy who watched his mother burning with a terrorized expression, ironically mimicking the one Mary wore on the ceiling. His dad’s shouting for him to grab Sammy and run, take your little brother and run, echoing through years and years. There was never time for Dean, for his grief or his questions or whatever the child frozen in time under his rib cage could come up with. They said, stupid psychologists with their fancy degrees and malicious bartenders with a unfriendly grun under the counter who learned a little too much, everybody said that when someone was so traumatized as a kid, that person would tend to get frozen at that age. Therefore, how tremendously alleviating was to kill any reminiscing emotion of the whiny child he used to be.

The kind of freedom that no traveler longed for; when one’s ruined and damaged enough not to care, and just take and take and take like hunger itself. Dean was an evil thing now, what else could he do but act on the figments of the worst intentions?

And feel so fucking good when doing that.

‘’Where do you think he's going?’’ Your eyes raked over the street, darting between the asphalt under Baby’s wheels and Sam’s weary features.

‘’I don't know.’’ He sighed, attempting to organize his thoughts. Even as a demon, his brother wouldn’t just run miles and miles away by himself for no apparent reason. There had to be something you and Sam were missing out, some unseen clue or a hidden meaning. ‘’What the localizator says?’’

At least you had managed to put a tracker in his boots during your last encounter. Whatever Dean was thinking of starting there, you and Sam wouldn’t let him.

‘’Still Cicero, Indiana.’’ You sighed. Sammy furrowed his eyebrows, a long forgotten memory rising. ‘’What?’’

‘’We had a case there once years ago.’’ He explained, opting not to elaborate. Your and Dean’s relationship was troubled enough with his new self. Sam didn’t want to blow it up completely. His brother would need you once he came back to himself. The look on your face, though, reported how you weren’t buying his cheap excuses. The long haired hunter sighed. ‘’Did Dean ever tell you about that?’’

‘’No.’’

He stepped on the accelerator.

To find the woman was excruciatingly easy. The freckled demon couldn't believe he opened his computer many times and gave up before today. He glanced through the glass window and there she was, standing in all her glory with a body that seemed to forget how to grow old. Her tan skin still glowing, as appetizing as ever. Brown eyes shining so bright, tiny hands that always seemed to know where he wanted to be touched. She was laughing like there was no tomorrow, holding a glass of wine with one hand and her cellphone with the other, while her dark hair was falling so perfectly over her shoulder, like waves against the rocks in the sea.

Dean can’t wait to smell her again, to taste her, to prove her. His fingers were tingling, begging to touch what was his as he hopped off the car, walking towards the porch. He had been gone for a long time, but now he was back.

He will destroy that quintessential, sequin woman so good.

The Winchester buckled in front of the white door, graced with the sound of the female giggle. Thin walls, he thought, those will be useful to make sure the neighbors know who’s back home. Her steps on the wood floor growing closer and closer as he heard a goodbye, probably aimed at whoever she was on the phone with. It was almost like the caramel skinned woman knew that whoever was on her doorstep wasn’t gonna be a hustled visitor. Or so the demon’s arranged mind said.

‘’Hey, Lis.’’ Dean’s voice lacked any cherishment as she opened the door, who would know that the absence of a soul wouldn't be gelid, just dry? As for her, Lisa’s face was drained of love. For all she was aware of, he was a stranger who knew her name. The male let out a chuckle empty of joy. She really didn’t remember, huh? ‘’Whoa. Cass really fucked up your head, huh? At least he did one thing right.’’

‘’Excuse me?’’ The man with dirty blonde hair and perfect teeth smelled like alcohol. She wasn’t having any of this tonight. ‘’Listen, I don’t know who you are and--’’

‘’Don’t worry.’’ He tranquilized her, although the lopsided grin on his lips held anything but good intentions. ‘’I’ll make you remember. I have a spell. You won’t believe how much you missed me.’’

The mocking laugh that left her lips utterly aggravated him. ‘’I don’t know you. Please leave or I’ll call the police.’’

Dean didn’t need a crowd for that part, a bratty woman in need of a firm hand should get a particular lesson.

‘’You always liked a little cat and mouse.’’

Speaking of, the demon pushed the door wide open without any effort. Lisa jumped at the sudden move, every instinct inside her deciding that man was a threat and not some harmless wasted guy. Her body was quickly erect, thinking about ways to run and get help, but Dean swiftly pushed her to him and kicked the door closed-- her small figure collided to his chest.

Human savagery was cut in urban ways, molded to civilize the animalistic instincts. Imagine meat. A dead animal on a silver plate, and we couldn’t wait to chew every inch of it. We couldn’t wait to eat it, put that dead thing inside us and hope it’ll be enough to control the predatory hungry. Humans will always be animals, but so will be their rests that constructed the demons.

Dean may not be a hunter anymore, but he’s still a predator who can't wait to taste his prey. He could small it, the fear in Lisa’s sweat making his mouth water. How much she tried to fight against him and scream other names when his was the only one he wanted her to need tonight. The resistance of a poor human barely made the monster shiver.

He closed his hands around her arms, throwing her against the wall like someone tossed an old toy away. There was no space for delicaly. In that moment, Dean Winchester was a tiger, a lion, the big bad wolf attacking the omega. Lis winced, her back hurting as her fibers. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that man was about to do something so terrible and disgusting to her in her own house, the place she was supposed to feel warm and safe. Why did he seem to know her? Why did he say she was gonna remember? Was he crazy, hallucinating, or drugged? Why was he so satisfied with how frightened her tiny body looked? How could she use all that information to somehow push him away?

‘’Let me go!’’ She demanded, her legs kicking the demon with ferocity. ‘’What’s wrong with you? LET ME GO NOW!’’

The brunette’s skilled body moved itself desperately, and the act of resistance only brought a hysterical laugh out of Dean. The wrong kind of goosebumps washed her skin, she had to run away for her life. This man was mad.

‘’FIRE! FIRE!’’ Lisa started to scream. Well-aware that people were most likely to come around and help a woman screaming if she said fire. ‘’THERE’S A FIRE. SOMEONE HELP ME!’’

One of his hands went to her neck, wrapping his fingers around it to shut her up. That was rubbing him off the wrong way. Lisa Braeden used to beg for his touch, how dared her not to want him anymore? Now that he was better, stronger, and thicker.

The brown eyed girl went quiet, probably scared by his brutal behavior. Dean smiled, a blood stained grin that carried mischief and pervertment. He licked the tears savoring the salty horror coming from her. Just like the day he was a vampire who almost gave in to drinking every drop of her luptuos blood. She may not remember but he did and he couldn't wait to get inside her, those tight walls squeezing his hard cock.

‘’You’re gonna do as I say, Lis. And I won't hurt you… Much.’’ He risped, crooked nose stroking her wet cheek. She whined. ‘’Don’t worry, honey. You loved it. Bet you’ll scream so much once I fuck you good.’’

‘’Please, don’t do it.’’ She begged as he coaxed his body against his. That man was stronger than her, she had no other choice but to plead to his human side. If only she knew.

‘’Begging already?’’ Dean lifted his head, smirking at her. Lisa just wanted to cry and close her eyes until everything was done. How could someone do that? ‘’I told you, don’t worry. I’m gonna make a lil’ spell that will give your memories back and you’ll remember everything. And then we’re gonna have so much fun, Lis.’’

His last murmur was finished with a kiss. A harsh, ruthless kiss. Actually, she wasn’t even sure if she could call it a kiss; teeth against each other, his vicious mouth pressed to her weakened lips, his tongue invading her like a robber and showing an unrequited dominance.

‘’Dean!’’ Your voice resonated stridently, louder than the door Sam had stormed open. You couldn’t believe what your eyes witnessed. ‘’Stop it!’’

Dean groaned, as if you and Sam were stepping on his territory. He simply turned his head to you two, not pulling away from Lisa. You couldn’t see her face, your boyfriend’s large shoulder and tall body covering her up. His eyes were still green, which set the scene in an even more atrocious light.

Your thoughts were racing. How could he come to her, crave her so badly that he drove away miles and miles as a demon? He was supposed not to feel a thing. You prepared yourself for a cold man, not an obsessive one. Apparently, a heart hidden under the black smoke. Choose if it's a gift or Pandora's box. Sam told you their history. Of course he would want that and not you. Dean never left Lisa because he fell out of love for her, he was ripped out from her life. You were so pissed at yourself; how could you picture playing the woman in his veins? How stupid were you? He may be a demon guided by wants and not emotions, but what was love but an amount of outrageous desires laced up with some pretty words and flavored with dependency?

‘’Y/N and Sammy--’’

Love was the wrong word here. Anyway. Go head and unwrap it.

‘’Please help me!’’ Lisa’s voice came to life once more through her quiet cry. Dean hardened the hold around her throat, making her cough a little.

Suddenly, your body is frozen. That, whatever that is, whatever he’s doing to Lisa. It wasn’t love. She didn’t want it. When his frame moved to face you and Sam, you caught a glimpse of her face. She was petrified, her delicate features contorted in wrath and fear and beg for help.

‘’Quiet.’’ Dean howled, glancing at her rapidly before his eyes fell on you and Sam again. ‘’You two are such killjoys. I told you to let me go.’’

You couldn’t believe what you were witnessing. You wanted to puke your guts out.

‘’And what? Kill your ex? Or do something even worse to her?’’ You elicited with disgust.

‘’She’ll come around eventually. Just playing hard to get. You know how frisky women are.’’ The corner of his lips curved into a barbaric grim, one of his hands touching Lisa’s cheek. The victim winced at the touch. ‘’Besides, I’m not just gonna take her. I’ll make her remember and she’ll want me.’’ He shrugged, unbothered by the horrified looks of everyone in the room. ‘’Are you really worried about Lis, Y/N? Or are you just jealous that I didn’t go for you?’’

‘’Enough, Dean.’’ Sam groaned, holding the gun up. It felt oily. ‘’Let her go. And come with us.’’

The demon tossed the brunette away with a simple sleight of hand, pulling his sleeves up with a marred beam. His eyes switched from starry green to black, showing his true facette. It was a peculiar relief. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean.

Yet, Dean’s gruff voice said in a twisted playful tone:

‘’Come get me, Sammy.’’

Dean Winchester was cured. For most people, to heal is to let go or to learn with things. In the doctor’s case, healing is leaving a bruise to cover up a wound. Everyone believed the war started and ended, and that was it. But when something so ravaging is gone, you gotta deal with the trauma.

He was a trauma. Cured from a sickness, drowning in sorrow and waves of woe. All the worst things Dean ever did, he knew now, weren’t to himself or to the monster he so proudly killed. His unspoken acts were against the people he cared about.

The hunter never thought his hands, his bruised and tough hands could ever hurt Lis. The woman who was his lifeline when Sam died, who allowed him to be a father and live in his dreamland of suburban life. All she ever did was to love him, and what did she get for it?

He was disgusted with himself. What almost did to her was enough to hunt him and make him sure he was going back to hell, very deserving this time. Threating to do that to a woman, and enjoy it… Dean couldn’t bear driving into memories. He was selfishly glad he didn’t remember about that, only Sam’s explanation was enough: he went to Lisa, he kissed her without her consent, and Sam and you stopped him going any further. Would his unscrupulous, demon self go ahead? He was too scared to wonder, even though his brother said that he apparently had a spell to make Lis remember and wasn’t planning on just taking her. A forced kiss was disgusting enough. He just wished Sam had put a bullet in his black eyes right there.

You walked in the bathroom that you once shared with the eldest Winchester

She was everything he ever wanted, all the suburban dreams and acceptance of hunter reality without being in it. Lisa loved him completely and you could only love him sideways-- you never wanted to be a mom, or to have a family or live in a suburb. Those were valid goals, just not yours. You thought you and Dean were on the same page about it, but this other side, not only the pervert demon but the domestic man, hadn’t been shown to you until a couple days ago. Sam had cured his brother, his dirty nature washed away with holy water, but you couldn’t help the bruises that came from the dog days. Lisa had her memory erased by Cass again, you didn’t have the same unfair luxury.

‘’Dean.’’ You said, making him look up at you. Bags under his eyes and wrinkles more evident than ever. ‘’We need to talk.’’

He sighed and wiped his face. ‘’Y/N, I don’t want to talk right now.’’

‘’You never do.’’ You scoffed, gaining an incredulous glance from him. ‘’I know that what happened was disgusting and sick and the worst thing you could ever do, but we need to talk.’’

He took a deep breath. ‘’What do you wanna talk about?’’

‘’You went to her.’’ You stated as a lawyer in front of a jury. Dean furrowed.

‘’What?’’

‘’Lisa. You went to her.’’ When the arrow hit someone so damaged, it was like an animal with his teeth there that wouldn't let go. Yeah, his human soul wasn't the same brittle glass as before but it lingered in his demon self in the shape of delusion, and it was distorted by whatever he was made of, violence and darkness, and turned into something disgusting. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’Love?’’ The word burned his tongue, Dean didn’t think he had the right to ever use it again. ‘’I was a demon, Y/N. I didn’t love or feel anything. What I did--’’

‘’You didn’t do anything.’’ You interrupted, loyal as a soldier.

‘’I forced a kiss on her and wanted to bring her memories back to have sex with her. That’s disgusting and I did half of that.’’ He pointed out aggitadly, plump lips moving fast and voice deeper. ‘’It wasn’t love. Leaving her years back was love.’’

You didn’t miss how Dean didn’t even dare to say her name. ‘’So you don’t think about her? Not even once?’’

He scoffed humourless. ‘’Are you kidding me?’’

‘’I guess I should have been more like her.’’ You hugged yourself, glancing at the wall. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again, not for another woman. That wasn’t even your cicatrix to ache.

‘’Y/N, what the fuck are you talking about?’’ The fully green eyed man raised to his feet, glancing at you with disbelief. He couldn’t face how messed up it was. ‘’I can’t believe you are jealous of what happened. I thought I was the broken one here.’’

‘’I’m not her.’’ You two shared it, the glance that only two women who were hurt by the same man could. You both understood that when he got inside you, it was like the syringe in an eutanasia. Once you were happy because you loved him, now you were scared and not so sure this was what you wanted. ‘’I’m not her and you knew it. When you became just instincts and selfish and did whatever you wanted, you didn’t come to me. You came to her.’’

‘’I hurt her.’’

The next words fly out of your mouth, as weak and totaled as you felt: ‘’Why didn’t you hurt me?’’

‘’This is the most unhealthy shit we ever went through.’’ Dean’s right. You have her expression mesmerized on your brain. Dean was the man on top of her, teaching her how to hate. How to fear. You can’t trust yourself. ‘’I can’t believe you.’’

‘’Neither can I.’’ You were so sick. How ravaged and annihilated one had to be to wish to be a demon's object of obsession? To get jealous that another woman almost died in the arms of a beast that cried his blood out once he came back to being a man and saw what he had done? ‘’I hate it. I hate feeling like this. I was there and I saw how scared of you she was, how all she wanted was to push you away and run because she was so disgusted--’’

‘’Stop.’’ He groaned, but it came out more like a whine than anything. ‘’It wasn’t me. I would never hurt Lis. I would never force her to do anything! I--’’

You gave him a sad smile. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’I love you.’’ Dean approached you, fumbling in despair to fix yet another thing his hands destroyed. If Rome was built in ruins, he was a kingdom. You pulled away before his tough hands landed on you.

‘’But you love her too.’’ The hunter stopped on his spot, unable to answer. ‘’I ruined myself for you, Dean. I can’t-- I won’t do that again. You are right. This is unhealthy. The fact that you’ve been pining for her for so long, pushing down those feelings to the point they are twisted into something so cruel and disgusting. You need help.’’ What kind of ugly you have to have inside you for a monster to love you? And, even worse, what kind of sickness you have trapped, written in your blood to want it to be spilled out in his name? ‘’You really are venom. If this is how you love, it’s scary as fuck.’’ When you loved a broken man, you were never sure if his shattered pieces would glisten or cut your hand once the light came in. Here’s your answer. His parts crawled inside you through pulled up scars, scraping your insides to make into ruins, but you never liked Rome much. You had to be better than that. ‘’Goodbye, Dean.’’

He couldn’t bring himself to go after your steps.

Once again, it’s the kind of freedom no traveler wants. When you lost it all and didn't have any person or place to cling to, when you had to leave because you were becoming the girl you swore you’d never leave, when you walked away willingly without a map.

Still, it was all you had. You’d make a good use of it. You’d be okay. No more ugly emotions or sentiments that made you unrecognizable. No more knives that cut both ways, or situations so complicated you weren’t sure where your morals could rely on.

You’d be okay, healthy, and happy.

You’d be okay.

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aellynera · 4 years ago

Text

Enumerate (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

ENUMERATE

(hey hey. this is one of my submissions for @wasicskosgirl and her 800 follower celebration! congrats on your milestone, lovely! i wrote this in one sitting, which i rarely ever do, but the idea was immediate and persistent so this happened. i just made some final edits, and it was a lot of fun to do and i hope you all enjoy it!)

Word Count: ~1750

Summary: You have a question for Nathan. He wants reasons. You have a secret weapon.

Warnings: Some language. Innuendo. Smooches. Nathan Bateman. No actual plot, just a thing. Hopefully decently proofread. Superheroes.

with the prompt - “Don’t give me that puppy dog face. How am I supposed to say no to that?”

“This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

Nathan Bateman glares at you over his glasses. Or, he would if he bothered to actually turn his attention away from the monitors in front of him, which, of course, he does not.

On the other side of the room, you’re stretched out on the bed, on your stomach with your legs bent up and ankles crossed behind you, lazily flipping through a magazine.

For once it’s not a technical journal; you’d finally put your foot down a few months ago, told Nathan you’d had enough of the esoteric mumbo-jumbo he kept all over the house, and after a few pleas and a little please, he’d caved. He might make a case that, until now, these celebrity gossip rags were a worse idea, but he can’t bring himself to do it. As a thank you, you always make sure to hand him his favorite one when you’re done with it.

You briefly debate arguing that building an AI and pissing it off so much it thought it had no other recourse than to try to escape and then stab you in the chest is probably a worse idea, but you don’t want to actually fight with him. And you’re not mean.

“I don’t know, I think it would be fun,” you call back to him.

The clicking of the keyboard never stops. He gets so involved in his work sometimes - okay, all the time, if you’re being honest - that nothing else seems to matter. You knew it isn’t really true; the fact that you’re on the bed wearing nothing besides one of his old, soft henleys and a pair of wool socks proves that. The ability to occasionally engage him in actual conversation while his mind blazes through lines of code is rare.

“I’m pretty sure we have different definitions of that word.”

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure they more than occasionally overlap.”

He scans your voice for any hint of sarcasm, any tinge of facetiousness. When he can’t detect any and can’t determine your actual intent, his eyes narrow.

“Enumerate.”

Well, sort of actual conversation.

You toss the magazine aside and sit up on the bed.

“And for every step you take towards me, I want a good reason, not some bullshit half-answer,” he continues. Still typing away, still staring at his screens.

“How do you even know I was going to walk over there?” you mutter.

“I know your operating system, kitten,” he says, “so. Enumerate. And count those steps for me. I know you’re good at counting.” If he’d bother to look at you, you’d see the slight smirk on his face, but it doesn’t matter. You hear it in his voice. You know he’s mostly teasing you.

Then again, if Nathan bothered to turn around to look at you, he’d also see the giant, exaggerated steps you’re taking on the path to his desk. It isn’t very far from bed to desk. Nathan is nothing if not efficient, and one never knows when inspiration or insomnia will strike or you might need quick data access.

But you have a secret weapon and you are going to deploy it with as little delay as possible.

The secret weapon has never failed you before.

You roll your eyes. Smug asshole. “One. It gets us out of the house.”

“We have everything we need right here. Hardly a compelling reason. Try again.”

Another giant step. “Two. A little human interaction, other than verbally sparring with me and taking me on every imaginable surface of this house, would do you some good.”

The clicking might pause for a split second. You can’t be sure because it picks up and keeps going just as it had before, as Nathan replies, “False correlation. I hate most people, in large part because they can’t keep up with me. Not like the way you do.”

You smile, even though he can’t see you, and open your mouth to keep going, but he’s not quite done. “And, if I remember correctly, and I always remember correctly-” you swear you hear his eyebrow arch “-that other part does us both some good. You haven’t had any complaints thus far, and a few of those surfaces were actually rather un-imaginable. You gotta try harder, baby.”

Damn him.

Another step, another reason. “Three. It’s what normal people do.”

The clicking finally stops and Nathan spins around in his chair. He takes you in - one foot as far out in front of the other as possible without you falling over, arms held out awkwardly to keep your balance, wearing only his shirt and your fuzzy socks, hair still a mess from the evening’s previous activities - and gives you a pointed look. “That’s what normal people do?”

You giggle, then straighten your face. You take another step. Now you’re almost in his lap. “Four. You��d look really, really hot in some spandex and a cape.”

Nathan growls and pulls you into his lap. “I said no bullshit.”

There’s your opening. Secret weapon time.

You bite your lip and give him the widest, saddest looking eyes you possibly can. You think of lost puppies and kittens, the ending of Casablanca, that song in Coco that had you bawling. And you blink once, very slowly, just for dramatic effect. Not that you need to. Your trap is set.

Nathan groans and drops his head to your chest for a moment, and then looks back up at you, scowling under his glasses. “Don’t give me that puppy dog face. How am I supposed to say no to that?”

You grin down at him. “You’re not.”

“God damn it.”

“Nathan, it will be fun,” you insist.

In response, he stands suddenly, scoops you up and tosses you back on the bed, his body caging you underneath him.

“You really want me to go to, of all the fucking things in the entire known universe, a comic con with you.” It’s not a question.

“Well, I mean, you did already buy me the tickets.”

“Beginning to regret that decision,” the resignation in his voice is strong, but you can also hear some amusement. And maybe something a little more.

You pout at him. “And my sister can’t go with me now because of some stupid emergency work thing.”

His brow furrows. “Like I don’t have actual work to do?”

“And it would be a shame to waste them…,” You blink at him a few more times.

“I’ll donate them to a children’s charity or some shit.”

You smack him lightly on the shoulder, then your arms wrap around his neck as you lean forward and whisper in his ear. “And I still say you’d look amazing in a super suit.”

“Bull. Shit,” he leans up and nips at your neck.

You smack him harder this time. “Hey, those are good reasons.”

“Will it make you happy?” he sighs.

“Yes.”

He pauses for a few minutes with his face buried in your neck, then pulls back to look at you. His stern expression cracks, ever so slightly, at the hopeful smile on your face. And those damn puppy dog eyes. “You do make a compelling argument.”

You squeal in delight, holding his face and kissing him firmly on the lips.

“But...people. A lot of people. In public,” Nathan grumbles, narrowing his eyes and giving you the fakest stern look he’s ever given you.

He knows you know he was never going to say no to you. He can’t. He may know your operating system, but his own systems fail when you run this particular subset.

And the secret weapon never fails.

You smirk back, your grin and the light in your eyes threatens to throw his brain completely offline.

“That’s where the costume comes in, Mr. Fantastic.”

Nathan scoffs. “If I have to wear a costume, it is not going to be Mr. fucking Fantastic.”

“So you’re saying you will dress up.”

“No, but...there’s better options than that.” A lie. He was serious about being seen by thousands of people in public, and at this point, he’s not above wearing a ridiculous costume just so no one actually sees him at a fucking comic con.

“Isn’t he, like, the smartest superhero though?”

He pretends to think about it for a minute, lazily tracing a finger along your jaw. “True, but. What else does he do? I mean I know I’m flexible but…”

It takes every ounce of willpower you have to not burst into a fit of laughter as you stare back into his deep eyes. “Okay, fine. What about Wonder Woman? I’d do almost anything to see you with some golden wings. And those boots? Damn, that would be hot.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re a menace.”

“You haven’t had any valid complaints thus far.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, then sighs. “Almost anything, huh?” His hands have dropped down your torso, and his fingertips are gliding over your smooth skin under the hem of his shirt.

You can see the wheels start turning. Your lips purse and a smile forms. “Don’t change the subject,” you chide him. “What are your other better options, then?”

“Xavier. You could push me around for the day, it would serve you right for even asking me to do this.”

The laughter rises fully and bubbles over. “Even you’re not that lucky.”

“Or maybe Iron Man. I know I could make a working suit, and that would be pretty fucking cool,” he states, matter of fact. You’re honestly not sure if you should be amused or a little worried that he’s not kidding.

“Those are definitely better options than Mr. Fantastic,” he says softly.

You raise your head up to catch his lips, but stop just before you make contact. He makes a small noise of protest, but you just shake your head ever so slightly.

“Hmm, I’m not convinced,” you whisper, your breath fanning across his mouth. “I need some good reasons. No bullshit, Bateman.”

Nathan’s groans are silenced as you surge forth and capture his lips, kissing him fiercely and thoroughly. But his silence is only temporary, and the groans return when you pull away and hook a leg around his hip.

He stares down at you as you look back at him with the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen, and you smile innocently and bite your lip. He bites his own as you softly issue one more word into the air around you.

“Enumerate.”

~end~

Taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @deeandbobbymcgee @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @nathan-bateman @poedjarin @rosemarysbaby13 @sergeantkane @spider-starry @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @veuliee2 @yourbucky084 @waatermelon-sugaar

Nathan taglist: @millllenniawrites

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#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x you #nathan bateman #ex machina fic #nathan bateman fanficiton #my writing #Amandas800 #wasicskogirl #writing challenge #writing prompts

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caiuscassiuss · 5 years ago

Text

Birched⎮D. Sicheng (M) P.1

Description: There was something that lurked beneath that pretty boy smile of Dong Sicheng— something dark, something dangerous… something you knew you would get pulled into once you got too curious. (Or, your ill-tempered coworker turns out to be your dominant.)

Sicheng♡Female! Reader

Genre: BDSM/ enemies to lovers winwin! smut | romance | angst WC: 11k+ Warnings: graphic smut (dom! sicheng + sub! reader, BDSM (Bondage, Dominance, Submission, and Masochism) paddling, fellatio, fingering), taboo relationship, blatant sexism, TW: mentions of an abusive relationship

(A/N: Thank you to my amazing beta @won-markiepooh-woo for helping me. This story wouldn’t have been possible without you!!!!

Also, this story contains heavy and graphic BDSM with violent contact play and uncomfortable dialogue. You might not like Sicheng very much here. 18+ please.)

Red, red light highlighted the contours of the woman’s back, and threw the rest of the room into dark, dark shadows.

Slap.

A long, drawn-out, strained moan resounded,.

A sinful smile crawled up the tall, slender man’s face as he looked down at her.

January 5th, 2020

Raesung, Lee

Re: Important Office Notification —

To: y/nl/[email protected], [email protected], [email protected]… view 389 more

To all whom it may concern,

It is my greatest displeasure to be announcing my resignation and consequent retirement from Sinochen Enterprises. I had been the Head of the Sales Department in this great company for over 10 years and it has been a pleasurable experience to work with all of 500 you, in order to better our enterprise.

Words cannot express how grateful I am to all of you, from the interns to my managers, for working hard and honestly over all these years. We experienced a 468% sales increase over my tenure, and it couldn’t have been possible without any of you.

My resignation will be announced tomorrow at noon, but I thought it would be better to get a heads up from myself. In the meantime, until a new successor is appointed, my vice president, Xiao Daiyu, will step in and act in my place. A new email regarding possible successors will soon circulate shortly, and I advise all of you to keep an eye out for it.

Once again, I thank all of you deeply for these wonderful 10 years at Sinochen Enterprises, and I wish the utmost success for this company and all of you individually.

Regards,

Raesung Lee

Department Head of Salesforce at Sinochen Enterprises

Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

Office 1876, 18th floor

Phone: +852 XXXX XXXX ext. 1876

On one side of the island, a woman finished reading her work email. She remained calm, scrolled through her other emails, and shut down her laptop after seeing no such material.

She faced her high rise window, contemplating the Hong Kong skyline.

The email was written in the usual arrogant tone that her Korean boss took. Not a surprise, seeing as she worked with him nearly every day as the South Asia Region Sales Manager. She sighed, kicking up her feet on the coffee table.

A new successor? Y/N L/N hoped and prayed that it would be her.

On the other side of the island, a man finished reading his work email. He remained calm, scrolled through his other emails, and shut down his laptop after seeing no such material.

He faced his high rise window, contemplating the Hong Kong skyline.

Of course, the man was anticipating this as his East Asia Regional Sales Manager. The old coot was due for his retirement, so he could spend time with his many mistresses. He sighed and kicked up his feet on the coffee table.

A new successor? Dong Sicheng knew it like the sky was blue that it would be him.

January 6th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7 AM HKT

It was a rather chilly morning, as your assistant knocked softly on the oak door. You finished putting your light coat on the stand. As you hummed for her to come in, she slowly creaked open the door.

She smiled brightly at you. Genuine, to boot. “Morning, Miss L/N. Do you want any pastries, or breakfast goods, to go along with your usual macchiato?”

You considered BeiBei a good secretary—prompt, meticulous, and all what an assistant should be. Sociable, too. However, even with all her amiable requests for lunch or coffee, you couldn’t consider her as a good friend. After all, there was to be a balance of power to be maintained.

“Yes, that would be great.”

Like everything else in your life.

Work went on as usual in the office—you dealt with the clients, you dealt with HR, you dealt with this and that.

BeiBei knocked softly at the door. She peeked in through the door with her sunglasses perched atop her brunette locks and a scarf around her neck.

“Miss L/N? They asked all of the sales department to meet in Ballroom D for an announcement.”

It was noon already? Christ. “Alright, let me get my things and I’ll go along with you.”

You grabbed your cell phone and Dior sunglasses, then quickly headed out with BeiBei. You lagged behind her slightly as she socialized with her other coworkers, laughing uproariously at some inside joke between them.

You wondered what it was like to be able to make real bonds in the office.

Out of your periphery, a large group coming from the other side of the floor was bustling their way through. In the midst, you could see the blonde head of Dong Sicheng, looking down at his friends as if they were his royal subjects.

Psh, you could never see what was the fuss around this boy. To be fair, objectively, he was good-looking... in that pretty boy kind of way. All of his older, middle-aged coworkers looked like pigs next to his lean, pale figure. Yet, all of the sales department, and probably half of the office, thought he was the next best thing since the vibrator.

You thought he seemed too nice, too friendly to be true. Sicheng had the innocent flower boy looks, but you could see the dark edge he kept from everyone. You could see how his smiles never reached his eyes, how his words were always friendly but strained. Dong Sicheng was disingenuous as hell, and it bothered you, but why waste energy over such a matter?

You’d rather focus on other, more productive things.

Namely, the Sales Head promotion.

Your South Asia and his East Asia division converged in the middle of the lobby, forming an even more boisterous crowd. Everyone slowly piled into the elevators to go down.

You were reaching the chokehold of the crowd, but unfortunately you were a bit on the shorter side. It was hard to see where you were going in this crowd, and you wouldn’t dare raise yourself up on your tippy toes, like some fresh intern.

“Ladies first.”

You looked up to see Dong Sicheng smiling at you brightly—his arm extended to herd you into the crowded elevator. You couldn’t help but see a mocking tinge to the curl of his lips.

“Thank you,” you said.

After you had stepped into the elevator, he followed immediately afterwards. You had no choice but to be eye level with Sicheng’s chest. You two were so close that you could smell his cologne, and it briefly think of his cologne all around you—

No. Never. No. No. No. No. No. Nope.

Dong Sicheng would not tempt you.

January 6th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

9 AM HKT

The department filed out of the ballroom, murmuring amongst themselves about the new development.

“Oh my god, we all know Xiao Daiyu will never be promoted. Yeah, she may be vice president, but Daiyu can’t do shit.”

“Well, who do you think will be promoted?”

“Certainly not you, Lina.”

“Hey, I—”

A new voice enters. “I, for one, think Y/N should be promoted. She’s smart, driven, and you actually get things done when you work with her.”

A hum of agreement went over the little group. Some of them nodded along quietly.

“That’s not a bad idea. She’s cold as hell and kind of intimidating, but I wouldn’t mind working under her.”

You pretended not to hear their conversation, but you felt ecstatic to hear your name in regards to the promotion. It was hard to admit it to anyone other than yourself, but you thrived off of attention and vindication more than what was healthy. The satisfaction of being praised, of getting the answer correct or being complimented was as heady as being drugged.

“Y/N is great and all, but you know who’d I rather have as sales head? Dong Sicheng.”

Your jaw clenched unconciously when you heard that blond asshole’s name.

“Kinda agree. Sicheng’s friendly and it’s easy to talk to him. We also get a lot of work done with him too!”

You could not hear any more of the conversation as they had walked out of earshot, but you felt… sour. You swore to god—if that asshole gets the promotion, you will leave the damn company.

Well, whatever. The likes of Dong Sicheng would be wiped from your mind after the fun you would have tonight with Dolos.

January 6th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

12 PM HKT

“Hey Sicheng, what did you order?” Some coworker of his said to him.

Sicheng felt an inward flush of irritation. Couldn’t people leave him the fuck alone and let him eat his meal in peace? Without interrupting him about how XX from the implementation team did this and YY from IT did that?

“Oh, hey, um—” What the fuck was his name again? Joon? Jin? “Jae, I ordered a teriyaki salad. It’s pretty good, I’d recommend it.”

There. That answered any potential questions Jae may have and clearly signalled the end of the conversation so he could eat in peace.

“What about the grilled chicken salad? Have you tried it?”

Alas, not all well-thought out plans would be fruitful.

He continued conversation with his inane coworkers around him at the lunch bistro they always frequented. It was tiring, keeping up the facade of a friendly office boy. His impatience wilted slowly as the people tittered and tattered, laughing and gossiping, god—they were so stupid.

“I like your tie, Sicheng. It’s very nice.”

He turned back towards the conversation as soon as he heard his name.

The so-called department hottie was staring at him from her seat a couch away—her eyes slightly widened, in an attempt to be vexing.

“Thank you, Tzuyu. Might I add, you look very nice today,” he said, as he forced a smile on his lips.

The brunette blushed heavily and turned away in bashfulness. Ugh.

Don’t get him wrong.He rather liked blush on a woman. But, Tzuyu was the kind of woman that would not put up any type of fight, if he chose to seduce her. Sicheng liked the thrill of the fight, the thrill of gradually pressing his control into someone until they were submissive to only him.

God, but Y/N was someone he’d like seduce.

Sicheng thought back to the moment when he courteously gave his spot in line to her, yet she only thanked him off-handedly. Y/N was the only one in the whole damn complex that didn’t give a fuck about his amiable facade and treated him as callously as one would beneath them. He clenched his fist, thinking how uppity and standoffish you were to snub him. That was something that couldn’t ever be forgotten.

Luckily, he knew his darling Dove would be there tonight to take the edge off his anger.

Friday January 18th, 2020

A Busy Street

6 PM HKT

You huddled a light coat around yourself as you checked the address on your phone.

353 Cornerstone Ave.

You looked up at the British colonial-style building, slightly reminiscent of the Ritz-Carlton a few blocks away. The building was probably a remnant of colonization. Nevertheless, it was beautiful.

Your heels clicked against the marble floor, as you dipped into the establishment named Black’s Spa. Swiping off your sunglasses, you beamed at the beautiful lady behind the receptionist desk.

“How may we help you today? Are there any services you would like provided?” she asked.

The corners of your lips turn up. You’ve always liked this part of the game, where you have to gain access into a club. It felt like you were a femme fatale in one of those old Bond movies your father loved.

“Hey, afternoon. I’ve been hearing about this rope treatment. I’ve heard it does wonders for your muscles.”

The girl’s pink tinted-lips twisted into a grin.

“Right this way.”

The zen, stark white corridors of the spa that the dungeon pretended to be eventually led to an innocuous bookshelf. The lady felt around the shelf for the handle underneath the dark wood paneling. A hum of affirmation left her mouth as she closed her well-manicured hands around it.

With a click, the shelf gave way to a dimly lit room that looked like the parlor of a traditional British gentleman’s club. What little light there was was provided by candles and glittering chandeliers, which reflected off of the dark oak paneling of the room. Rich Persian rugs and velvet sofas dotted the room, and the hum and tinkles of conversation meandered around. However, little details quickly ruined the impression that this was a respectable establishment of any sort.

For one, many individuals here were scantily clad. Yes, some were in suits and proper evening wear, but that was contrasted heavily by the diffusion of revealing lingerie sets and sculpted chests. Second, there were casual warning signs posted about the room, asking patrons to practice safe, healthy, and consensual sex, alongside the expensive paintings.

Black’s was the best dungeon in East Asia, no doubt. It was such a bitch to gain access into the club. Yet, what made Black’s so popular was not its top amenities or the luxurious atmosphere—it was the utmost anonymity it provided.

The depravity that happened in these walls stripped even the most upright individual to their most primal, lustful states. People became lumps of flesh, starving for the next release. The eclectic mix of businessmen, trust-fund kids, and professionals hungered for the anonymity that they would be hard-pressed to find in a regular dungeon (as regular as one could get for being a BDSM dungeon, anyway).

The best way Black’s maintained privacy?

Masks.

You quickly donned your own dove gray mask, securing the silk ribbons in your hair to prevent it from falling off. Tonight, you were Dove. Tomorrow, you will be Y/N. It was easy to slip into the subspace once you donned your mask, but you couldn’t really immerse yourself into it—not until your master came to you.

A quick glance at your watch told you it was only 10 PM. Dolos had told you in his letter that he would find you at 10:10. He certainly was a curious individual—one with an obsession with symmetry and a penchant for old-fashioned tradition. For fuck’s sake, his letter was sealed by a green wax seal.

But Dolos was everything you never knew you wanted.

Deciding to amuse yourself with one of the exhibition rooms, you wandered into one that seemed crowded. A girl was strung up on stage, hands bound with chains connected to the ceiling. Her black hair hung around her face and she was as naked as the day she was born. Her voluptuous figure bared to the hungry crowd—a metal table full of paraphernalia was next to the cross.

A brutish man, clad in a wifebeater and tight jeans, walked up to the stage.

“My slave has been rather naughty,” he announced. “She had the nerve to touch herself without my permission.”

A murmur arose from the crowd, whispering and gasping and giggling heard amongst the shadows. For a slave to pleasure herself, without her master’s permission, was a serious ordeal around these parts.

The man drew a finger against the side of her breasts, causing her to shiver and a gleam of arousal to run down her leg. “Today, my dear little slave will see what happens when she doesn’t obey her master seriously.”

“Let’s start with something light. Flogging.”

A curl of delight ran through you. You loved flogging; each hit stimulated different parts of your body that ultimately brought you to the brink of an edge. A bit of heat rose in your bosom imaging Dolos, with his Cat O’ Nine Tails, flogging your ass until you were red.

A whimper was heard as he struck her stomach lightly with a cat o’ nine tails. He began alternating strikes against her breasts and inner thighs, as she whimpered and cried, begging for her master to touch her there.

“Oh dear, only good girls get touched in their sweet spot. What’s the magic word?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, sir! Please!”

“Better.”

A strangled scream echoed throughout the hall, as he struck her repeatedly in between the crux of her legs. After the girl was left shaking, he whipped off the juices she left on the leather strands then threw it behind him. You shifted uncomfortably, crossing your legs tightly to ignore the burst of arousal.

“Bend over!” the man on stage barked, grabbing a paddle from the table.

The slave bent over a table immediately, unwilling to risk the possibility of more punishment.

He inserted a knee between her legs and forced them wide open—her pretty cunt exposed.

You could only see a flash of his swing as his paddle connected with her backside, a thunderous smack resounding. Her gleaming arousal was almost to her knee now, and the poor dear was visibly shaking and could hardly stand.

A high-pitched whimper came out of you and you quickly bit your lips, hoping you weren’t heard. Your panties suddenly rubbed you in the wrong places and your knees knocked together, in an effort to stop the heat emanating from your core.

“I see my little girl has lost herself on her way to the Salon.”

A gasp left your mouth as you stared back into a burgundy mask, burnished with gold.

Dolos.

“M-master, but it’s only 10 PM—”

He chuckled—a dark, delicious sound—and stretched him over the chaise you had settled yourself in. Slim, tapered fingers played with the ends of your hair as his plump lips curved into a dark smirk.

“Wrong, dearest. It’s 10:15. What time did I write in the letter?”

You hung your head, playing with the ribbons on your dress. “10:10, sir.”

He tugged on your hair, forcing a whine from you. He tsked.

“Your master has been waiting patiently for 2 weeks to play with his favorite little girl. And yet, she’s late?” You knew he was teasing you, but a sliver of real anger and irritation slipped into his voice. Immediately, you felt guilty and your bottom lip trembled. You had disappointed your master.

“And what do little girls who are late get?”

“T-they get punished, sir. I’m sorry—”

His lips turned downwards until he was sneering. “An apology isn’t going to cut it, Dove. We’re going to the Salon right now.” He roughly took your wrist and pulled you out of the room. Interested eyes followed his clearly irritated and furious gestures.

“Your safe word, darling?”

“Sappho.”

“Sappho, what?”

“Sir.”

His eyes, through the holes of his mask, darkened. “God, I will never get tired of hearing you say that.” Dolos turned around.

Dolos has been your dominant for the last 5 months, and fuck, he has been the best one you have had. Your participation in a public demonstration had led to him stealing the contract from your previous Dom, who was already supremely possessive at first glance. Your eyes, he had told you, were the most expressive he had ever seen. They were the ones that had convinced him to enter into an exclusive contract.

Your eyes traced his tall stature, the broadness of his back highlighted by his nondescript white shirt. The quote from Julius Caesar came to mind. “Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world/ like a Colossus, and we petty men.” Such power, such arrogance.

The Salon was Dolos’ room of choice, since he was a legacy member of Black’s. Filled with toys hidden behind halcyon scenes of the English or French country sides and tall, imposing dressers, the room merely looked like a noble bedroom but the things that occured in it… not so much.

“Bend over my lap, sweetheart. I’m thinking… hm, 10 slaps? Double the time you made me wait. What do you think?” He mused, throwing himself into an armchair.

You settled onto his lap, lifting your skirt and exposing your pretty, pink panties beneath. A mixture of nerves and arousal made your hands tremble, but the haze and glossiness of subspace settled over you easily, like your favorite blanket.

“Whatever you deem necessary, sir.”

His chest rumbled. “Good answer, little one. Such a good slut for me, huh?” He whispered to himself, running a paddle over your bare ass.

You barely heard his acclamation of “ten it is” before the paddle delivered a stinging slap to your left cheek. You unconsciously jerked up until his arms forced you down.

“Count for me, Dove.”

“One!”

Another one, but to the flesh of your thighs.

“Two!” you bit out.

Dolos’ hit parts that surrounded your core, but never actually reached touching it. Moisture began to dampen your lacy underthing and you had to bite down on your lips to stop from grinding yourself on his thigh like a brazen whore.

After the ninth slap, he palmed your ass carefully. His fingers dipped in between the folds of your pussy and you held your breath.

“Already, so wet? Christ. Clean me up and I’ll hit you the place I know you want me to.”

Swiping your tongue over his digits, you looked back at his mask and saw the tension at the corners of his mouth.

“Good.” Without warning, he shifted aside your panties and struck the paddle against your throbbing pussy.

“TEN!” You sobbed, unable to keep from sagging into his lap.

He hushed you and ran a comforting hand over your ass, smoothing over the red marks you were sure glowed.

“What a good, good girl you are,” Dolos cooed, caressing your cheek. His thumb wiped away your errant tears and he smirked, patting it.

“On your knees.”

You scrambled out of his lap and onto the carpet, wincing as your heels met your sore ass. You looked at him, wide-eyed, for his instruction.

“Suck my cock.”

A blush spread over your face at his frank wording and your hands moved to unzip his trousers, but Dolos made a noise of disapproval.

“With your mouth only, slut.”

Your hands bunched the fabric of your dress tightly and you squeezed your thighs together.

“Yes, master.”

As you took the button in between your teeth, you used a combination of your lips and tongue to unbutton his trousers. Once opened, you slowly dragged the zipper down all while looking up at him innocently.

His length, girthy and flushed an angry red, sprung out of his trousers. Licking your lips, you looked up to him for permission.

A sly smile came across his face. “Go, darling. This is your reward.”

You took the head of his cock in between your lips and swirled your tongue over the salty precum. He groaned, a gutteral noise from his chest, and his fingers clenched the plush arm rests of the chair tightly.

Gathering some of the precum on your tongue, you released his head and ducked down to take his testes in your mouth. You licked the length of his cock, finishing off with a playful suck to the head.

An angry glint flashed in his eyes. “Stop teasing, slut. Get to it.”

Dolos clenched some of your hair at the back of your head in his fist, and the pain from the sudden action caused your eyes to water. You’d gotten the message loud and clear.

Spitting on his cock, you took half of him in your throat, bobbing and hollowing your cheeks. Your master made sounds of appreciation, loosening the grip on your just a little bit.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, relaxed your throat and went farther down on his thick cock. You were no novice, but you had trouble taking him so deep—even after such a long time together. The tip of your nose touched the base of his cock and you hummed in satisfaction.

The vibrations from your throat seemed to set him off. His previously relaxed grip tightened again and he forced down on his cock until your face was smashed in his crotch.

“Mmph!” You gagged from his sudden, violent action.

“You’re such a fucking tease, fuck,” Dolos groaned, his head tilted back in pleausure.

Forcefully, he fucked your mouth without mercy. You could barely breathe, and the combination of the pain from your hair being pulled, your throat being abused, and the slick between your thighs caused tears to run down your cheeks.

“You know you like this, whore. You like gagging and choking on your master’s cock. You like being used like a little slut, don’t you?”

Unable to respond, you focused on trying to breath through your nose as he abused your mouth.

“Don’t you?! Answer me!” he shouted, pulling your head back.

More tears dripped out of your eyes at this pain, and you nodded quickly with his cock in his mouth. Dolos narrowed his eyes and forced you further on his length.

He quickly set a cadence and it felt like your mind was filled with cotton. The only sensations was the pain from your throat being stretched, his groans of satisfaction, and the throbbing in between your thighs.

“I bet you’re dripping right now. What a slut, getting off on her throat being fucked,” he sneered. His face was flushed as he neared his peak.

Your knees started to throb in pain, your joints aching at being on the ground for so long. His thrust even harder and faster into your lips, prompting a squeal.

“I’m getting close, slut,” he said between clenched teeth. You could feel the hard muscles in his thighs tensing in anticipation for his orgasm. You sucked even harder on his cock, swirling your tongue in figure eights on his length.

“FUCK!” he shouted, eyes clenched tightly. Both of his hands grasped your head and forced your head onto his cock until your nose touched the base. You gagged and prayed to breathe as warm liquid splashed down your throat. He thrusted his hips harder into your mouth, riding out his orgasm.

Dolos pulled out and left the tip of his cock on your opened mouth, tapping his length on your tongue as cum spurted out erratically as he groaned. You flinched as he slapped his cock along your cheeks for good measure. He slumped back in his chair after he rode out his orgasm, his broad chest breathing heavily. In the low light, he looked like a fallen angel with his head turned up towards the heavens.

I will show you how us mere mortals can reach the gardens of heaven from earth, he had said to you once.

You waited with your mouth open, still painted in his seed, for instruction. A few drops of his seed dripped on your chin and onto your chest.

Dolos took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning your head side to side. He paid attention in particular to your smeared lipstick. A beatific smile crossed his lips and he was so beautiful in that moment, so wicked and debauched and depraved it made your heart ache.

“What a gorgeous mess I’ve made.”

Tuesday January 21st, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

8 AM HKT

Raesung, Lee

CC: [email protected]

Re: Important Office Notification —

To: y/nl/[email protected]

Y/LN,

It is with great pleasure for me to inform you today that you are being considered for the Head Salesforce position at Sinochen Enterprises. Your name has come heavily recommended to me, and your previous boss has given me a glowing review of your performance these past few years. I, myself, have enjoyed your hard-work and impressive work ethic in your year as Head of the South Asia Division. Two other people are being considered for the role, and you will hear more from Daiyu and I about several interviews and necessary materials. I know you will practice the utmost discretion regarding this email.

Regards,

Raesung Lee

Department Head of Salesforce at Sinochen Enterprises

Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

Office 1876, 18th floor

Phone: +852 XXXX XXXX ext. 1876

You squealed but quickly clamped a hand over your math. This was it. This was the culmination of your dreams coming true. Being the Salesforce director for one of the largest companies in Asia… shit. That would prove your mom and everyone in that shitty-ass town of yours wrong.

After quickly shutting the door and the windows, you did an undignified jig around your large office filled with fist pumps and silent screaming.

“Y/N-laoban, I have the files for—”

You froze.

“...For… uh… you know what, I’ll just come back later—”

“No, it’s fine, BeiBei.” You cleared your throat and sat back into the chair. “I just had exciting news, that’s all. Come, please hand me those files.”

Beibei quickly handed them to you and moved to scurry out of the room and back to her desk.

“Wait! Beibei, could you grab me an Iced Americano? I feel like I need a treat today.”

Her young face peered at you curiously and nodded furiously.

“I-If it isn’t too much to ask, laoban, what’s the good news?”

Uncharacteristically, you beamed at her. She seemed a bit frightened at the sheer excitement you were exuding, so you toned it down a bit.

“Let’s just say I might not be the Head of just South Asia any longer.”

“I hear congratulations are in order?”

You looked up from your double-screens to see the extremely pretty face of Dong Sicheng. His plump lips pulled in a sort of mocking smile.

“For what? I don’t recall getting engaged nor getting pregnant,” you retorted.

“I overheard a little birdie telling her friends that her boss might move up in the world.” Sicheng pushed off the doorway and moved to place a long-fingered hand over the back of one of the couches.

A sigh left your mouth. Oh BeiBei.

He drummed his fingers against the back of the couch. “Although, I am surprised Raesung is considering someone like you for the promotion.”

Your eyes snapped to his heavily lidded one. “Pardon?”

“You know, someone of your… type.”

“Elaborate.”

He sighed, like he was dealing with an ignorant child, and moved to lean over your desk.

“We all know when push comes to shove, no matter how icy your demeanor may be, individuals like you will eventually succumb to their emotions.” His mocking smile was an attempt at his nice-boy persona around the office— that made you want to throw your paper weight at his face.

Your jaw clenched. “I knew your family was traditional, Sicheng, but I didn’t expect they were this intransigent.”

He moved closer. “The old ways keep our heads at the right place, woman.”

A snort left your lips. “And I suppose customs guide the ignorant?”

His smile grew razor sharp. “Exactly.”

Your teeth clenched around your tongue. “Excuse me, Sicheng, but I’m afraid I have a meeting in a few minutes—not all of us are as lax as a board member's son.”

Ignoring the barb, he watched raptly as you stuck all your files into your purse calmly. As you moved to show him to the door, he stalled.

“I think you’re forgetting something, Y/N.”

“I’m afraid you have me at a loss, Sicheng. Please hurry.”

“Don’t I get salutations as well? I’m the other person being considered.” He smirked.

Thursday January 23rd, 2020

Your House

9 PM HKT

“Hi, mother. How are you?” you asked.

“Aiyo, my old bones are holding up, but you know what would make me feel more at ease?”

“What, mama?” You kicked off your heels and threw yourself into your lumpy, comfy couch. It was time for that conversation again.

“If you settled down with a nice man and gave your grandfather and I grandkids.”

“I am busy.”

She continued as if she hadn’t heard you. “I know there are a lot of nice men at that company of yours. Surely there is a rich laoban that you can settle down with? You are not unhandsome, after all.”

“I am my own laoban.”

A moment of silence. “Ah, that’s good I suppose.”

“Thank you, mama,” you replied dryly.

“Aiyo, but you know men won’t like that! The good sort of men want good, obedient wives. How are you going to serve your husband and raise your kids if you are working such a busy job?”

“You say that as if I will marry or have kids.”

A loud gasp came from the other end of the line. “Y/N, you will give me a heart attack early! Husband, Y/N will kill me early!”

You heard a faint grunt and your mother subsequently scolding him.

A migraine started to form. You loved your mother as much as one daughter could, but she was very traditional in the way she looked at things. She had raised you from a young age to be an obedient, well-trained wife of a village man like her. Mother had good intentions of course, because that was all she knew. This was the best way she could prepare you for a good life.

The only reason she let you move to the city was because she thought you would find “good quality” (her words, not yours) men in the city. She only approved of you applying to Sinochen because not only did she see the name emblazoned across her noodle and food packets, she also knew very rich men worked there.

You really had thought that once you had moved to Hong Kong, everyone would be Westernized with more flexibility in their mindsets. But the higher ups in your company diminished those hopes very quickly.

Especially for country-bumpkin you.

You hadn’t known the Hong Kong dialect Mandarin, the new slang and modern mannerisms. Adding onto the fact that you were a woman, Sinochen did not treat you very kindly until you started to learn that being kind would get you nowhere.

And look at what you are now—a highly-paid business woman at one of the largest companies in Asia, living in a luxurious apartment within some of the most exclusive real estate on the island, along with all the pretty handbags and shoes you’ve always wanted. You even knew you were reasonably pretty and attractive, if the way Dolos looked at you was true. You kicked ass.

“Y/N, please visit us! Your father and I miss you terribly.”

You grimaced at the thought of your dirty and dusty hometown in the mainland. But still, you missed your father, who had supported you silently in whatever ways he could, and your mother, who loved you something deep.

“I forgot to mention! Kunhuang has been asking after you. Aiyo, what a good boy. He comes to our house once a month and gives us fruits, you know? Such a kind, kind boy.”

You smiled at the thought of Kunhuang and his childish face streaked in dirt and playing Catch the Dragon’s Tail in the woods near your village.

“Tell him I said hello, mother.”

“That boy— he owns most of the farms around us, wah—he tells us he misses you. Why couldn’t you have married him? You could've been closer to us, you know. Kunhuang and you would have made such cute grandkids—”

You sighed heavily. “I had dreams to chase, mama. I still do.”

Friday, January 24th, 2020

Black’s

9 PM HKT

Sicheng frowned at the vellum letter in his hand. His dearest Dove was unable to make it this week, citing she had work responsibilities she could not miss.

The letter crumpled in his hand.

He quickly stood up from the armchair near the cozy fireplace at Black’s, dodging various couples or individuals that attempted to coax him into joining them for the night. There was no need for him to be there tonight.

What a pitiful mess he was—over a woman, nonetheless.

When he had first received a recommendation from his uncle to join Black’s, he was ecstatic. Sicheng knew of the rich history and tradition of the club. It was a holdover from colonial times, when bored British aristocrats created a gentleman’s club that quickly turned into a pseudo-bordello as the 19th century chugged on. Legacy and tradition were paramount to the club.

His father was too fastidious to enter Black’s, even though his own father was a frequent patron of the club. For all his faults, he was a loyal man to his wife. Sicheng, on the other hand, was a randy twenty years old looking to unleash his private fantasies onto the prestigious dungeon.

The mask and name he wore were given to him by his Uncle, who retired from the club as Sicheng entered. Dolos was the other side of his personality that Sicheng hid from the rest of the world.

But never had Dolos been so enraptured by his contracted submissive, Dove.

Dove was… perfect. While other women just laid there and received his attention like a rag doll, she responded in kind. Whether it was an adorable gasp from her lips or precious, minute twitches, Dolos never had a problem ascertaining what Dove was feeling. She was also such a good girl for him, as well.

So, so good. Incomparable.

No other woman would do it for him. Well...

Sicheng slammed open the door a bit more forcefully than he had intended. Fuck, not her. Anyone but that prissy bitch. Roughly bidding goodbye to the receptionist of the so-called spa, Sicheng quickly slid into the passenger seat of his Maserati and zoomed off into the lights of Hong Kong.

As much as he’d like to put her in her place, Y/N would never do it for him.

Monday January 27th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

10 AM HKT

Your ears perked up to hear the sound of muffled yelling outside your office. Quickly standing, you peeked your head out the doorway to see Sicheng fitfully waving a crumpled paper in his fist at two employees, towering over them with his mouth pulled into a sneer.

“—I do NOT pay your salaries for you to laze around and produce substandard work! If my secretary had not caught this mistake within the analysis, I would’ve been fucking HUMILIATED at the board meeting for faulty figures! My ass would’ve been on the line—”

Glancing over, you saw the other girls in the office whispering behind their hands with shocked eyes. In any other situation, you would’ve done the same. Pretty boy Sicheng? Nice, kind Sicheng who dimpled at everyone each morning? It would’ve been unimaginable for that Sicheng to be putting two of his employees (Tzuyu and Xiaogui, you think, but can’t see past their bowed heads) on blast—but this one stood in the morning light, proudly and harshly, with a terrible mask of rage.

BeiBei, who was standing outside the doorway of your office and head bowed with her friend, giggled softly.

“Wah, Sicheng looks so attractive like that. He’s usually nice but, ugh, what I wouldn’t do to get him,” BeiBei pointed at the now snarling Sicheng,“—bending me over at my desk.”

Her friend squealed and fanned herself. “I may need to change my panties after this, oh my god.”

BeiBei nodded sagely. “I knew he was in a bad mood earlier, when I accidentally bumped into him in the elevator, but my god I didn’t expect for him to blow up like this.”

“I wonder what made him so mad? I remember when Jae accidentally spilled coffee over his phone and Sicheng didn’t even get angry—just smiled and patted him on the back.”

You frowned, remembering that day. While he did pat Jae on the back, Sicheng’s fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white and the veins on his forearms stood out. There was a hidden layer behind his seemingly placid eyes, and your suspicions were confirmed after you saw the janitor taking out a broken lamp from his office late one night.

It was that incident, along with so many other tiny occurrences, that clued you into Sicheng’s secret side. You distrusted him solely on that basis. Otherwise, what kind of trustworthy man would hide something like that?

From the corner of your eye, you could tell that Sicheng looked dangerously close to punching something. You decided to intervene before HR got called. Even you had a heart, no matter how cold you were. However, you couldn’t look like you were bailing them out...

“Tzuyu! Xiaogui!” you barked, startling the gossiping women next to you.

Everyone’s heads snapped towards you, along with Sicheng.

You pursed your lips and adjusted your stance. “The Yang reports were supposed to be in my hand an hour ago. My hands are currently empty.”

Tzuyu looked close to crying, while Xiaogui shifted his eyes to the side.

“Go. Before I tell the finance department and you won’t get your full bonus for the year.”

They bowed to Sicheng, then to you, and scrambled off.

There was a moment of silence, until Sicheng had turned his angry attention towards you.

“Well? Why are all of you just standing there? We have deliverables to fulfill, people!” You scowled at the crowd, which disbursed from your shout.

Sichend had not taken his eyes off of you, not even when everyone left.

“Y/N, can I see you in my office for a moment?” he asked with his jaw clenched.

You narrowed your eyes, but acquiesced, standing by the window overlooking Kowloon Bay as he shut the door.

Sicheng paused for a moment by the doorway, his broad chest heaving. He let out a strangled breath before standing near his desk.

“You do not encroach on MY authority in this office, woman. I know the old men in other departments let you step all over them because you’re willing to put out—”

Your jaw dropped and motioned to defend yourself, but he rolled right over you.

“—but you do NOT get to do that here. Unlike the other fuckers in this office, I think with my fucking head not my dick. I handle my goddamn subordinates the way I see fit, understand?”

Your hands gripped the plush chair you stood next to.

“Where the hell do you get off talking to me like that? They’re under my supervision as well, have you fucking forgotten that? Criticize me however you want, but I draw the fucking line on attacks on my character!” you hissed, stepping closer to Sicheng.

“I talk to you however the hell I want, woman! This is my office. I’m in charge!”

Scoffing, you sat on the arm of the chair. “I know you’re sour you didn’t get the region you wanted. But that's real life, Sicheng. It must suck getting told no, daddy’s boy? Huh?”

“You shut the fuck up, Y/N. You do not get to talk to me like that,” he growled, towering over your deceptively lax figure.

You examined your nails nonchalantly. “Whatever, Sicheng. Let’s see who gets to talk when I get the promotion.”

“Ha! You wouldn’t last a fucking week in that position. No one can stand your uptight ass.”

Your placid demeanor snapped and you pushed a manicured finger into his (surprisingly) built chest.

“Fuck off, Sicheng! Some of us worked our ‘uptight’ asses off to get to where we are. You wouldn’t be shit without daddy dearest!”

“You wanna bet on that, woman?!”

Too little, too late—you didn’t notice how close the two of you were. His right arms clenched the back of the seat behind you and your noses were inches apart. If someone walked in right now, it would’ve looked like Sicheng was trying to kiss you.

You both were breathing heavily and, for the first time, you observed him from up close—his frustratingly clear skin, straight nose and slender jaw line, mouth drawn into a snarl looking like he wanted to corner you into your chair.

It was… hot.

Unwittingly, you bit your bottom lip and his intense eyes were drawn to the movement. Your legs shifted to rub together at the crux and his pants tented, while his eyes narrowed. He breathed heavily through his nose and, god, what you wouldn’t give for him to push you up against a wall and—

What the fuck!

You recoiled the same time he did, jumping away from each other like opposite poles repelling. A cold sweat formed on your back as you realized you were fucking attracted to the man that called you a whore all but in name a few moments ago.

The feral desire on his face morphed into disgust and the two of you gazed at each other in shock and revulsion.

Rushing out of his office like a bat out of hell, you slammed the door to your office shut and collapsed into your chair. Here you were, wanting to vomit in disgust but your panties were fucking soaking. You groaned and pulled at your hair. How the fuck were you supposed to last until Friday without Dolos? He would somehow fucking know you got yourself off and he would paddle you black and blue.

You dialed the private line for Black’s.

Your last resort...

Monday January 27th, 2020

Black’s

7:55 PM HKT

Sicheng drummed his finger restlessly against the leather couch, glancing at the clock. His knee bounced in anticipation and he was unaware of the dark energy he exuded.

The man felt like he could explode right now—no thanks to Y/N in his office earlier. Sicheng couldn’t believe he was reduced to a pathetic bundle of nerves all over Y/N and her red lipstick and fuck me! Eyes.

He wanted to crack open that ice-cold facade that you hid behind. He wanted to pick apart every aspect of your being, from your veiled eyes to your restless hands and—

He rubbed a hand over his face. Fuck, not Y/N again. Where the hell was his Dove? Although, he supposed he couldn’t ask for anymore than her now. He was about to break their schedule of Friday nights only, but, by some saving grace, the manager of Black’s called to notify him of Dove’s request to meet here tonight at 8 PM.

Sicheng couldn’t get out of the office fast enough. He usually worked late, but as soon as the clock turned six, he revved his Audi to get home and shower. Now he was here, looking groomed as hell for his favorite little girl.

“Master?”

There she were—standing off to the side, wearing a simple skirt and blouse, yet looking like sex personified.

He was so relieved that he didn’t even check the clock to check if his darling girl was late.

“Sit on my lap, sweetheart. Master has missed you.”

She straddled his lap and he buried his nose into her neck, inhaling deeply. He could feel the tension melting away in his muscles as she sat in his lap.

“Are you stressed, sir?” she asked innocuously, stroking his chest.

He hummed affirmative, tracing his nose over her collarbones. “Master’s had a rough day, baby. Why don’t you be a good girl and help me out, hm?”

Dove grinned, and Sicheng could see her twinkling eyes under the grey mask. “Anything for you sir.”

Sicheng heaved her over his shoulder, a squeal to coming out of her mouth unbidden. He smirked. She was lucky he hadn’t stopped her from making noise.

As soon as he got to the room, he made her strip as he pulled down a silk tie from the ceiling. Sicheng roughly forced her hands up, exposing her breasts to the cold air. As he finished binding Dove’s wrists together, he smirked and flicked a finger over her hard peaks.

A small mewl came out of the girl’s mouth, but Sicheng heard it clear as day. A smirk crawled over his plump lips.

“What was that, little girl? You want me to use a riding crop on your ass? Huh?”

Her eyes widened, she held still.

Sicheng languorously looked her over, eyes tracing the dips and curves of her body. “That’s what I thought.”

From a wooden panel, he produced a riding crop, setting aside on a side table as he rolled up his sleeves and loosened the collar on his button-up. Brandishing the crop again, he placed it on her collarbone, the cold leather a stark contrast to Dove’s heated skin.

“Safeword?”

“Sappho, sir.”

The tip of the crop forced her chin up, his intense eyes meeting hers. “Good girl.”

She preened.

He traced it down her chest, circling her sensitive breasts. He chuckled. They were so perfect for him, begging for his attention. She clenched her eyes shut.

Out of nowhere, he sides of both her breasts in two quick snaps of the wrist. Her eyes flew open and she gasped.

“Eyes on me, girl.”

Down and down he went, tracing over her stomach and waist. Sicheng skipped over her mons and started at her feet. He tapped the crop softly against her calves and thighs; he smiled, seeing her keep her stance. Sicheng would delay her orgasm if she so much as bent her legs. The irritating tapping continued until he got to her ass, where he delivered two sharp blows.

He could see her swallow down a moan, her eyes begging him to touch her there. Push and pull, Sicheng reminded himself. Push and fucking pull.

The man looked her dead in the eyes as he snapped the crop all over her ass and waist. Sicheng was unsatisfied. She could withstand the sharp, short pain of the crop and Dove wouldn’t act out.

Throwing the crop to the ground, Sicheng grabbed a ball-gag and paddle from the wall and stalked towards her.

Stuffing the ball-gag into her mouth, he smirked. “Keep your fucking legs straight.”

With that, he wasted no time and swung the paddle straight over her ass. her moan, muffled yet a masterful concerto to his ears, filled the room. Again and again, he paddled her ass until it was hot to touch, taking out his anger at Y/N on her poor ass. She couldn’t think—a buzz filled her ears and a subspace settled over her mind as he kept delivering.

Sicheng smirked as he saw the clear, viscous fluid of her pussy tread down the inside of her thighs. Unable to help himself, he swiped a finger through it and sucked on it.

However, the paddle had hit right next to her throbbing pussy and she cried out, pushing her legs together to relieve the tension.

His slim fingers grabbed her chin. His eyes were wild and his lips were drawn into a familiar snarl. The thought left her head as he hissed. “What the fuck did I just say about keeping your legs straight? You wanna be bad? Disobey my order? I’ll show you bad.”

Uncharacteristically, he threw away the paddle and wrapped a strong arm around her chest. She felt the rough, calloused skin of his palm smack her ass and she couldn’t take it.

Moans and whines forced themselves past her lips as he kept on going, smacking her ass in quick succession with his bare palms. It was a useless mission trying to keep her legs together but he kept going until she was trembling. The only thing keeping her up was his arm around her waist.

“What a naughty, naughty girl,” he whispered into her ear. “You deliberately disobeyed my fucking orders, huh? Fucking put your legs together because you were too impatient for master to touch you.”

“Sir, please,” she sobbed through the gag, saliva dripping down her chin.

Sicheng thrust two fingers into her mouth and she rushed to spit and lube them up. He quickly spread the lips of her labia apart with his finger, and his thumb brushed slightly over her little pearl. The ‘accidental’ move nearly made her pass out, a loud scream echoing along the walls.

“What sweet, sweet screams are elicited from that throat of yours,” he murmured.

Suddenly, he roughly stuffed two fingers into her dripping wet pussy making her scream even louder from the sudden intrusion. Pumping harshly, in and out, an undulating rhythm that made her legs collapse and lean on him totally for support. She cried into his shoulder as he just kept on going, feeling the lush walls of her pussy pulsate against his fingers. Once again, his thumb brushed over her clit and her throat felt raw from her shouting. He rubbed her little pearl viciously while two fingers were still deep in her pussy. Her muffled screaming echoed through out the room and he quickly unbuckled the gag from her mouth.

“Master, sir—please, let me come! I’ll be your good girl, I’ll doing anything you want, I’ll keep my legs apart, I’ll—”

“Come, sweetheart. Come for your master,” he said, his breathing finally a bit labored.

She let out a keening wail and her nails dug into his broad shoulders, shaking uncontrollably against him. He held her close.

Monday January 27th, 2020

Black’s

9 PM HKT

All that could be heard was the crackling fire in the corner of the room. You slumped bonelessly against Dolos on the leather couch, head on his chest, knees pulled up to rest on his lap. As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you could feel his fingers stroke your hair and the comforting sound of his heartbeat thrumming steadily.

“Sir, I… I missed you,” you whispered.

He said nothing. But, as you turned your head up to his, he gazed at you with an unreadable gleam in his eye.

You blushed, and buried your head in his chest. God, that was too sincere. It actually sounded like you needed him outside the walls of this playroom. You knew what happened when you mixed feelings with sex. Trouble.

Trouble was Minghao. Trouble was dark and mysterious—the kind of boy that made girls go starry-eyed and ga-ga over him. The girls would constantly daydream Minghao “fixing” himself for them, “piecing” himself back together in order to be with the girl of his dreams.

Except they were wrong. So, so wrong.

Minghao wasn’t like that. He was cool, he was cruel, and he was mean. He was the first to initiate your eager eyes into BDSM. He was the one that discovered how good of a submissive you were. He was your first in everything.

In the end, he was too much for you. Minghao would’ve destroyed you had you stayed for any longer—would’ve ruined your already fraying self-esteem and confidence. Yet, when the two of you parted ways, it felt like something had been torn out of your chest. You had dedicated yourself to serving this man, thrown your confidence and dignity on an altar and sacrificed it to him, but he had deigned to not even treat you with a modicum of respect outside of playtime.

Never again.

“Never mind, sir. My mouth ran away from me for a moment.”

His right hand rose to cup your jaw, and his fathomless eyes searched yours.

“You are the only thing real in this world, you know that?”

Your thumb stroked his sharp cheekbones and Dolos sighed. He quickly gathered you up in his arms and crushed you into his chest. You froze, unsure what he planned to do.

“Fuck,” he said. “What are you doing to me?”

You gazed into the fire lapping at the stone of the fireplace, snapping and crackling. What the hell was he doing to you? Dolos was the first dom in years to make so weak—so attached.

He gave a bitter laugh.

“I came here for control.”

Burying his face into your hair, he inhaled deeply like you would disappear in thin air.

“So why are you taking it away from me?”

Wednesday January 29th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

3 PM HKT

You sighed and played mindlessly with your pen as the clock ticked forward. Sicheng had gone to the bathroom before your quick progress check with him which left you to scrutinize his office.

If there was one word to describe his office, it would be monotonous. White, black, and red with no personal effects in sight. The only thing that made the space not some page from a design catalogue was the simple calligraphy painting bearing a proverb in harsh, strong strokes.

人算不如天算.

Man proposes and god disposes.

Huh. Funny, for a man whom you thought was fettered by nothing but himself.

The scroll painting was also dead set in the middle of room, with two dark bookshelves flanking it. In fact, everything in the room was perfectly symmetrical. The two chairs faced the desk straight on. There were two pens that stood side by side, unnaturally neat at the center of his desk. Even his recycling bin was perfectly in the center of two tables—

A ball of paper, different from the other stark white sheets in the bin, caught your eye. Weirdly enough, the paper broke the bizarre, polished neatness of the room by laying on the floor adjacent to the bin.

Insatiable curiosity gripped you in its clutches, and you bent down to pick up the odd bit of parchment.

Immediately, you felt the quality of the paper. It was heavy and smooth like silk, not something an individual wrote on casually. Hell, it was aged as well. What was Dong Sicheng doing with this?

Opening the crumpled paper (which had felt like it had been crumpled and straightened many times), you took a look at the contents of the paper.

Your own handwriting stared up at you mockingly.

Dropping the paper like it was a burning ember, you fell gracelessly to the carpeted floor. Your eyes widened and your hand clamped over your mouth to prevent you from gasping.

No. That could not be Dove’s letter. It couldn’t. It couldn’t because—

You heard muffled footsteps echoing coming down the hallway outside the office, and you scrambled off the floor and into your chair. Having no time to think, you stuffed the letter into your coat pocket.

“Y/N, thank you for waiting,” Sicheng greeted, striding confidently into his office.

His casual oxford and black trousers were a slap in the face. How could you not notice the similarities between Dolos and Sicheng? The way they walked, the way they talked, the way they looked at you.

With Sicheng, looking into his eyes was like gazing through a veil. Silhouettes and hints of something indiscernible danced in his eyes, alien to his warm demeanor. Looking into Dolos’ eyes was as if the veil had been lifted, naked and hungry desire running rampant and burning with its ferocity. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide underneath his stare.

Even his forearms. The way they flexed as he lowered himself into his office chair and took one of the freakishly aligned pens in his sinuous fingers. You could see them twisting and rippling as he paddled your—

“Y/N?”

Your eyes refocused on Sicheng watching you intently, concern written on his face.

“N-no problem, really.”

You wanted to facepalm yourself. Your voice almost fucking cracked and sounded shy, like the twittering of the office girls around him. Fuck, where was your ice queen when you needed her?

A slight smile played upon his pink lips, and hell if you couldn’t imagine him calling you a little slut.

The informal progress meeting continued on in the same vein, you acting uncharacteristically bashful and him hiding his befuddled amusement badly.

The paper felt like it was a brand burning through your blazer pocket the rest of the day.

Love, your Darling Dove.

Friday January 31st, 2020

Black’s

9 PM HKT

Friday night once again found him at Black’s, awaiting his weekly tête-á-tête with his darling Dove. But this time, he planned to make it different.

He restlessly toyed with the red, signature box embossed with gold etching. He had never spent this much money on something for someone other than his mother and older sister, but Dove once again compelled him. The necklace with gold filigree had a simple pendant of a blossom, its leaves done in malachite and its petals in iridescent opal. Sicheng imagined Dove in nothing but his necklace, her pretty lips contorted in a moan, and he instantly got hard again.

Fuck. He could not wait to get her to the Salon and kiss every inch of her skin, worshipping her with his mouth and his hands. And after, when she was sated and curled contentedly in his arms, he would ask to remove her mask.

And hopefully, she would say yes.

Then she would be his.

His mouth salivated at the thought, his heart beating just a tiny bit faster at the thought of untying the ribbon of her grey mask and the stupid lace falling down so he could bask in her features. A thousand different features flashed before his eyes, each one as perfect than the next.

Y/N’s cold gaze flashed unbidden before his eyes.

Sicheng’s teeth clenched until he couldn't feel his tongue. As much as he’d like to put her in her rightful place, why was she in his thoughts? Dove was perfect and submissive to his whims, and he was about to make her his. Y/N had no business being even a passing thought.

Although, she acted quite off this week. She was her normal, bitchy self around the office, ruthlessly demanding results while everyone obeyed in a mixture of fear and awe, but Y/N was almost… shy.

She refused to look him straight in the eye, even if, in the past, she had no problem getting all up in his face. Her posture was slumped and hesitant, her hands twiddled and twitched in his presence.

While he liked it a bit more than he should, this was not the Y/N he knew. He had no idea what made her like this and it made him... uncomfortable. Did he do something?

“Dolos, sir.”

He looked up from his broody contemplation into the fire and to the distinguished, older man’s face. This was not some errand boy, this was the owner of the damn establishment. Sir Theodore Lau himself.

“Mr. Lau, nice to see you,” he said, rising up to greet him properly.

“Quite well, and you?”

“In good spirits.”

Mr. Lau’s face took on a pained expression.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Lau?”

The usually unflappable gentleman looked discomfited. “You… I have received this. For you.”

Sicheng cautiously took the letter from Lau’s hands, and broke the wax seal to the aged vellum inside

Dear Dolos,

I am sorry you could not receive the contents of this letter in person, but circumstances have not allowed for it.

Dolos, I’m sorry to inform you I am no longer a patron of Black’s and consequently not your submissive anymore. No, it is not an issue of money. Neither have I been treated untowardly in this establishment. No, I have had to leave because of some personal conflicts.

I have had the best six months of my life with you. You have made me feel comfortable in my submission, with no shame or judgement in those eyes of ours. I looked forward to our Friday rendezvous, embarrassingly eager for when I could be in your arms again. But that shall sadly never happen again.

Please do not get angry, but if our six months together meant anything to you, please do not seek me out. It’s best for the both of us.

Thank you master,

Dove

Sicheng could only gape at the paper, the letters rerunning and jumbling in his mind until they were all a blur. He could literally feel the blood freezing in his veins and the unnatural stillness he was stuck in.

“She… she said she was sorry. Very sorry.”

Mr. Lau could have been speaking gibberish for all he cared, because Sicheng could not hear anything other than the pounding of his blood.

“What the fuck,” Sicheng hissed after a long time of not speaking.

Mr. Lau could only look on piteously. Sicheng’s face was grotesquely beautiful in the firelight, highlighting his angelic features contorted tortuously. The owner had never seen such raw, unfiltered emotion from Sicheng— from anyone in his life, really. This was the face of a man who had the rug taken out from beneath his feet.

He put a fatherly hand on Sicheng’s shoulder. Lau had known the boy since the boy was an adolescent and a submissive had never left him in such a state.

“We have other girls—men as well—who would be more than happy to serve you tonight—”

“I don’t want to fuck tonight,” Sicheng seethed, brushing the older man’s hand off roughly. “I don’t want any of them. I want Dove.”

How could she do this? Just leave him high and dry with just a letter and unforgettable memories? He thought they were more.

Evidently not, Sicheng thought bitterly.

However, something was off in the letter. There were blotches of water around the page and even in the handwriting, as if a droplet had smeared the page. Of perhaps, a tear.

“Can I meet with you privately in your office?” Sicheng said lowly after he got his rage under control.

Mr. Lau sighed. “Of course. Come along.”

Sicheng refused his invitation to sit, but did accept a finger of bourbon. He took a sip, contemplated the glass in his hand, and hurled it at the wall.

Mr. Lau jumped out of his chair, shocked. “Sicheng, those glasses were from my grandfather!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Like air suddenly leaving a balloon, Sicheng deflated and collapsed into the armchair. The blond youth rubbed a hand over his tired face.

“May I ask you for a favor, Mr. Lau?”

The man, inspecting the now ruined silk wallpaper, snorted. “Unless you replace my decanter set, no.”

Sicheng waved a careless hand. “Consider it done. 1890s, correct? I’ll even pay for the cleaning service.”

Harrumphing, the owner sat in his office chair and steepled his fingers. “So, what may I do for you?”

Sicheng’s burning eyes turned towards him.

“Tell me who Dove is.”

Mr. Lau winced. “Anything but that Sicheng, anything. Not her identity.”

“Well, say goodbye to your father’s decanter set, then,” Sicheng murmured petulantly.

“I can live with that. However, I will never disclose her identity— or anyone’s, for that matter.”

“Please, you don’t understand. I need her.”

Oh, how beautiful he looked like this. A tortured angel materialized from a Michaelangelo painting.

Mr. Lau felt all his years weighing him all at once, and two sides of him warred.

“I’m sorry, but no matter how good your intentions are, I personally and legally cannot do that.”

“Even though my family and I have been patrons of the club for decades?”

“Even then. You know this.”

The blond man’s eyes shifted to the side, and his jaw tightened. His knuckles grew white clutching the wood armrests of the chair he sat in.

“Fuck this!” he shouted, suddenly throwing the chair back with a resounding clash. He motioned to stomp his way out of the room, but Mr. Lau’s voice stopped him.

“She’s a good girl, Sicheng. If she wanted to be found by you, she would’ve.”

Sicheng grasped the door and said ominously, “I will not accept this. Never.”

The older gentleman sighed, and took in the destruction a man’s broken heart had left in its wake.

*cackles evilly* to be continued...

794 notes · View notes

elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years ago

Text

August Contest Submission #4: Crown of Thorns

Words: ca. 1,600 Setting: Canon Lemon: Lime CW: Mentioned kristanna and elsamaren, pregnancy, language

AN: For those that aren’t aware, crown of thorns is a species of flowering plant that is associated with Jesus. Unfortunately, the plant can’t survive below 50 °F/10 °C so its inclusion as the title is only metaphorical.

–

Elsa woke, a heavy ache in her chest. She expected it, even felt it last night as declarations of love tumbled from her lips. Her heart was breaking, and she knew she only had herself to blame. She never should have let this happen, never should have given in to her desires. She was corrupted, plagued with vile thoughts, and twice cursed. Her powers may have been accepted by the people of Arendelle and Northuldra, but the feelings she had- that she had acted upon- would never be. As the ache grew into self hatred, she sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed.

“Morning,” came the soft voice behind her.

Elsa’s breath hitched as a hand made its way languidly down her naked back. She closed her eyes, briefly allowing the sensation to overcome her senses until a yawn filled her ears.

“Anna,” she said without looking at the other occupant in her bed, “We can’t do this anymore.” The pain of saying it aloud nearly crippled her. She wanted to fall back into her lover’s arms, to say she didn’t mean it. Instead she braced herself for the protests she knew would come.

The bed shifted beneath her as her younger sister sat up. Elsa imagined the sight of Anna’s tangled hair, freckled shoulders, pert breasts, and the small swell of her belly. She opened her eyes and reminded herself of their reality. They could not be. Especially now that Anna was with child.

“Elsa,” Anna’s voice broke through her thoughts as two arms began to snake around Elsa’s abdomen.

Elsa immediately stood up and walked to a plush reading chair in the corner of the room. She looked up at her sister. Anna looked pained, but Elsa held strong. She knew she was doing the right thing, even if ending their relationship hurt.

“Els-”

“No, Anna,” She said firmly. “We cannot keep doing this. You have a husband. You’re expecting a child-”

When Anna told Elsa she was pregnant, it came as a shock. She had known, in some distant, nebulous way, that Anna would have to produce an heir at some point. As Arendelle’s former sovereign, Elsa once held that burden, even though she had known she never would for fear of passing down her powers. When she stepped down to remain in Northuldra as the Fifth Spirit, that burden fell to Anna. And everything looked to be going well for a time. Anna and Kristoff were engaged, Elsa was happy in Northuldra, and she was even beginning a relationship with Honeymaren.

Until a few months before Anna’s wedding. Elsa’s visits home increased during the months leading up to her sister’s nuptials to help with work and planning, and something changed between them. After a confession of loving Elsa more than anyone, including Kristoff, Anna realized that her love was both familial and romantic. And Elsa returned those feelings.

The night of her wedding, Anna excused herself from the ball in order to drag Elsa out to the chapel, a maniacal grin plastered on her face. When they arrived, Elsa completely confused, Anna produced two bouquets of purple and yellow crocuses.

“If I can’t properly marry you in daylight, then I’ll marry you in secret at night,” she’d said. The vows that followed promised everlasting love and devotion and were sealed with a kiss.

Even as Anna was whisked away later to fulfill her marital duty, she promised Elsa that they would be together soon. And they had been. For nearly a year, they carried on their affair in secret. Until Anna’s pregnancy reminded them of her obligation to the kingdom.

The thought of Anna being with Kristoff made her stomach turn. Elsa hated thinking about them together. No matter how many times Anna assured her that she felt nothing but friendly fondness for Kristoff, Elsa’s knowledge of their intimacy caused jealousy, regret, and pain. Elsa pushed those feelings aside now and turned her attention back to her sister as Anna shook her head.

“I’m doing that for Arendelle, Elsa. I’m doing it for the kingdom; it’s not what I want.” Her younger sister’s eyes pleaded with Elsa to understand. “I want you.”

Elsa breathed in deeply before exhaling. “Anna, are you telling me that you do not want your child?”

“I-” Anna’s face contorted into a pained sadness. “I- I do want my child. But why can’t I have you too?” She moved to the chair and kneeled down in front of her older sister, taking Elsa’s cold hands into hers. “Why can’t I have both?”

Elsa untangled their hands. “Because it isn’t right, Anna. What we’re doing isn’t right.”

“Why? Why was it okay before but it isn’t now? Help me understand, Elsa, please.” Anna’s teal eyes shone with unshed tears.

Elsa glanced down at Anna’s belly. “You belong with Kristoff. He’s the father of your child.”

Anna shook her head again. “You know I want you. Kristoff is… he’ll be a fantastic father, but you know I don’t love him. My heart doesn’t belong to him. It’s yours.”

Elsa stood and walked back towards the bed. “No, it doesn’t. It can’t. Anna, we can’t stay together.” Each word was like a dagger, especially after Anna’s profession, but she knew it would be for the best.

“Why are you doing this, Elsa? Why are you taking our happiness away?” Tears rolled down Anna’s cheeks and she stood behind her sister. Elsa anticipated Anna reaching out and turned to stop it. The sight of her sister crying broke her further, but she remained steadfast.

“Because it was never our happiness to share,” she said coldly as she willed an ice dress to form around her pale body. “We were never meant to be anything but sisters. You may not understand my reasoning, but I am doing this for you. For your family.”

Anna grabbed a robe from the floor where it’d been discarded the previous night. “You’re my family, Elsa.”

“No. Your family is here,” Elsa allowed herself to reach out and briefly touch Anna’s cotton covered abdomen before walking to the balcony doors, opening them. “And here.” She looked out upon Arendelle with a sad smile.

Anna walked over and stood next to her. “You’re also my family, or are you going to deny our sisterly relation too,” she spat, her emotions turning to anger.

Elsa turned to her. “I could never deny you, Anna.”

“Then stay with me.” A brief hope filled Anna’s eyes.

“I must deny that. It’s for your own good, Anna. One day you’ll understand.” Elsa kissed her sister’s forehead before walking back towards the bedroom door.

“You’re a damn martyr, Elsa. You know that? You are choosing to be unhappy. You’re choosing wrong. What about our vows to each other?” Anna’s anger simmered. “You promised to love me.”

“And I will always, Anna; but, love isn’t enough for us,” Elsa said from the door.

“You’re a damn martyr,” Anna repeated.

Elsa chortled. “Like Joan.”

“No,” Anna shook her head. “Joan died for what she believed in. I take it back. You’re not a martyr; you’re a goddamn coward.”

“That may be true,” Elsa frowned. “But my whole life has been about sacrifice, and this is simply another.”

“Fuck that, Elsa,” Anna stomped to her. “You don’t have to sacrifice this. I can be yours and you can be mine.”

Elsa sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, her face looked peaceful. “Be good, Anna. I promise to visit when the baby is born.”

Anna shook her head again, more fervently than before. “No, I don’t accept this. You can’t leave me. You can’t.”

Elsa smiled softly. “I love you, Anna.” She began to walk down the hall.

“Fine!” Anna poked her head out, her face red with rage as she cried. “You coward! Coward! Don’t you dare come back. I hate you.”

Elsa finally allowed her own tears to fall as she left the castle.

In the months that followed, Elsa tried to move on. She found herself in Honeymaren’s lavvu often, though she always left unsatisfied. As fond as she was of Honeymaren, she wasn’t Anna. Honeymaren eventually realized this and allowed their relationship to fizzle, though they remained friends.

After learning of her niece’s birth in a note from Kristoff that Gale delivered, and with encouragement from Honeymaren, Elsa got up the courage to visit her sister. She hoped that she would be forgiven.

Outside of her sister’s bedroom, Elsa fidgeted. What awaited her? Was she doing the right thing? Anna’s words from their last meeting echoed in her mind. She no longer wanted to be a coward. She inspected the purple and yellow crocuses in her hand to make sure they were perfect. Then she lifted her empty hand and knocked.

“Come in,” came her sister’s lilting voice.

Elsa opened the door and stepped in. Her eyes met Anna’s, and there was a silent allowance to stay.

Anna put her daughter down in her bassinet, and Elsa realized for the first time that they were not alone. “May I?” She gestured to her niece.

Anna nodded.

Elsa walked forward and peeked into the bassinet, and a smile spread across her face. “Anna, she’s beautiful,” she whispered, looking back up at her sister.

“Thank you,” Anna smiled back. “I’m biased, but I think so too. Her name is Merit.”

“Merit,” Elsa repeated. “I love it, Anna. She’s perfect.”

Anna was silent as she watched Elsa watch her newborn.

Elsa straightened. “Anna, I’m sorry. I never should have said what I said to you, and I never should have stopped visiting.”

Anna’s face was unreadable for a moment, and Elsa wasn’t sure if she said the right thing. Just as she opened her mouth to say more, Anna spoke.

“Are those for me?”

“What?”

“The flowers. Are they for me?” Anna prompted gently.

Elsa nodded and held them out.

Anna took them with a smile.

#elsanna #submission #august 2021 contest #prompt: flowers #lime #cw: angst

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sector-i-closed · 5 years ago

Text

Strawberry Shortcake

Warning: smut, oral and anal sex. And yes I revisited the red hair for a moment.

"Here comes my strawberry shortcake." You announced teasingly as you watched your boyfriend Hongjoong enter the van where you, Mingi and Seonghwa was already waiting for everyone else to join them after everybody had spent hours practicing choreography and dance steps.

Hongjoong had overheard you speaking and you could see that his cheeks were now visibly tinted pink when he passed the car door light overhead.

"Y/N calls him strawberry shortcake!" Mingi laughed loudly in the seat behind you.

Hongjoong however, looked less than amused when he sat down by your side.

"It's obvious that she would call him a shortcake." Seonghwa piped up.

"Since we're talking about the long and short of things, I can elaborate on size matters too if you'd like?" Hongjoong responded in a nonchalant tone.

A smirk tugged at his lips when both Mingi and Seonghwa shook their heads vigorously in discomfort at what they thought he was insinuating.

"Shut up hyung..." Seonghwa muttered indirectly to Hongjoong.

The rest of your friends finally settled into the van and drove back to their dorm.

Hongjoong watched you stare out the window at the darkness outside, seeming to lose yourself in the night.

Your hand moved to where Hongjoong's hand was lying, which was near your thigh.

You exhaled softly when you touched his hand, tracing the beautiful veins that accented your boyfriend's hand.

The tender touches made him react by sighing and moving his hand to rest in your lap.

Meanwhile Wooyoung had been chattering with Yunho the entire time that you was touching your boyfriend but you was scarcely aware of anything going on in your surroundings.

You turned and faced Hongjoong, being surprised that he was staring right at you in the darkness of the van.

"Princess, I will be reminding you later that I'm not such a shortcake." He breathed lowly against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to it before settling back into his seat.

A jolt of electricity ran down your back and Hongjoong didn't miss the harsh shiver of your body that followed.

You tried to focus on the outside world but the excited thoughts in your head distracted you.

An exasperated sigh escaped your lips, 'Why do I allow myself to be turned on so easily?'

~~~~~~

The group had stopped at a restaurant for food instead of going directly back to the dorm.

The delay in returning to the dorm made the knot of the anticipation in your stomach tighten, and you appeared a bit off to your friends who kept questioning your feelings.

Hongjoong remained quiet, watching you with an impish smile that caused you to pull your legs together in an effort to quell the insistent feelings between your legs.

Once everyone else was dropped off at the dorm you was back at your home with Hongjoong, you breathed a sigh of relief, "I need a shower." You said quickly while making a run for the bathroom before your boyfriend could snag you.

As you showered you had made up your mind that you would pretend to have forgotten what Hongjoong had told you earlier, though your body certainly didn't forget his words and really you didn't want him to do anything except live up to his promise.

You just didn't want him to know how eager you was for him.

Cautiously you exited the bathroom, keeping your eye out for your boyfriend.

You found Hongjoong a moment later, sitting on the edge of your bed, watching your robe clad form walk into the room.

"Come here, babygirl." Hongjoong patted the bed beside him.

Your skin suddenly heated up as you approached him, seating yourself beside him.

The pounding of your heart filled your ears as you watched him expectantly.

"Are you avoiding me? If so, why?" Hongjoong looked into your eyes, studying your reaction.

You paused briefly, your cheeks flushed with color as you thought about what to say.

"I just needed a shower..." You started, hoping for an answer that would appease his question.

"And?" He stared into your face as he waited for you to continue.

"It was... because of you why I needed a shower." You smiled shyly, feeling the heat return to the area between your legs that had been keeping you restless all night.

"Oh? It was?" A slow smile had spread across his features when he heard your answer.

"Y-yeah..." You inhaled deeply, trying to catch your breath before he stole it away from you again.

"I thought I may have made you uncomfortable earlier. Is everything okay?" Hongjoong asked, rubbing your arm gently as you spoke.

"Everything is fine, Joong." You reassured him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable. You're too important for me to lose, baby." He spoke to you with genuine emotion flickering in his eyes.

"You won't lose me." It felt as if your heart had literally melted in your chest and released a multitude of fireflies that was warming your entire body.

You was wanting him even more now than before, finally surrendering yourself to what your body felt all evening.

In a random action you pulled Hongjoong down on top of you, bringing his lips to yours in a kiss that reignited the fire in your veins.

The kiss became heated quickly and you couldn't stop yourself from rubbing your lower body against him for relief of the throbbing that you felt between your legs.

You panted heavily as Hongjoong moved away, opening your robe so that he could have easy access.

"You're so fucking wet, babygirl. Is it because you've been so eager for me?" He cooed softly, slowly rubbing your inner thigh.

"Y-yes..." You stammered awkwardly when Hongjoong lightly blew on your core, sending pleasant tingles through the sensitive nerves that were located there.

You wasn't prepared for him to glide his tongue along your delicate, wet folds, hungrily lapping at your juices and holding eye contact with you.

"Oh fuck!" You cried when his tongue graced your clit.

He wrapped his pliant lips around your nub, sucking you firmly and moving his head in a circular motion that had you seeing stars in your vision while his hands occupied themselves with touching your pelvic curves and thighs.

Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you while he busied his mouth with stimulating your sex, moving in efficient movements that felt perfect.

Hongjoong watched you with anticipating eyes while you writhed wildly until he sent you over the edge, your legs shaking with each spasm that pulsed through your body and your voice was already becoming raspy because of your intense cries.

"Get on your knees, babygirl." He hungrily watched you slowly drape your robe off of your shoulders, tossing it to the side before turning to position yourself on your knees, resting your ass against your feet while also pressing your chest against your knees.

"You're so gorgeous," Hongjoong caressed the small of your back, eliciting a soft moan from your lips, "Fuck I can't stop touching your perfect body."

You felt turned on again, feeling small in the submissive position that you was in and you loved it.

The warmth of his hand left you and all you could do was wait for his next action.

A loud slap sounded and you flinched, uttering a sharp yelp. The burning sting of his hand making contact with your ass prompted your heat to clench involuntarily.

"That was for calling me a shortcake earlier." Hongjoong chuckled, running his hand across the area that was smacked, soothing it with his touch before smacking you a few more times.

You muffled your cries against the mattress, whining for more of his touch.

Hongjoong assessed the position that you was in, taking it as a sign that you was wanting anal again.

"Does princess want me to fuck her ass until she can't even sit down?" Hongjoong murmured lowly against your ear.

"Yes, please." You answered with a vulnerable moan, becoming aware of the feeling of wetness collecting between your legs again.

He left you to get the lubricant and you listened as he flipped the cap and dispensed some onto his fingers.

You waited as he traced your hole with a slick finger, hearing his soft breathing become slightly heavier as he worked with you.

He pushed a finger inside of you and worked with adding another one, sliding the second one inside of you when your body had adjusted to the intrusion.

"You feel so good inside of me..." You mumbled into the sheets.

"I will make you feel even better than this baby." Hongjoong replied confidently, scissoring and probing his fingers inside of your tight heat.

You stayed still in the same submissive position with your chest pressed against your knees, waiting for him to finish stretching you.

After some time he pulled his fingers from you so that he could lubricate his dick.

You whimpered at the loss of fullness when he removed his fingers from your hole, craving to feel the feeling again.

"Joong, please...? I want to feel you again." You begged.

"Such a good girl for me. Always asking for what she wants." Hongjoong purred in approval.

"What exactly is it that you want?" He pressed.

"Your dick..." You replied bluntly, the arousal in your stomach grew hotter when you voiced your admission.

"Oh!" You yelped, taken by surprise because Hongjoong pushed his dick deep inside of your tight heat.

A moan of pleasure escaped you as he fully sheathed himself inside your ass.

Your muscles tightened around his girth and you urged him to move, the burn of his dick stretching your hole encouraged tears of pleasure to fall from your eyes.

You gripped the sheets and held on as Hongjoong pounded into you, his skin slapping against your body in a fast rhythm that took the air from your lungs.

"So beautiful every way you take my cock." He commented between ragged breaths, thrusting into you even deeper.

"Oh sh...shit! S-so good..." You moaned with each rough impact of his thrusts, barely able to form a sentence with each time that he bottomed out inside of you.

Hongjoong watched as your body shook from the sensations, knowing that you was close to your second orgasm.

He pulled your upper body to his, eagerly accessing your drenched core with his fingers.

You leaned against your boyfriend, enjoying the feeling of his dick stimulating your ass while he simultaneously rubbed your clit.

"Ah... Fuck...!" You felt yourself fragmenting as Hongjoong continued to pound into you from behind, continuing to rub your clit in time with his thrusts.

Hongjoong held you close as you came, several cries escaping your lips as the intense heat of your orgasm overcame your senses. He followed your orgasm with his own, filling your hole with his cum and stopping his movements when his climax ended.

Both of you stayed still for a long time, taking in the closeness of your bodies to each other.

#ateez smut #kim hongjoong smut #ateez scenarios #ateez yeosang #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #ateez wooyoung #ateez yunho #ateez san #ateez mingi #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #ateez

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morganaspendragonss · 5 years ago

Note

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a TK sick or injured fic with the focus on Owen doing the comfort?? I’m loving your writing.

Hope you’re okay with sick and injured, anon, because that’s what I've written! (ao3)

This pairs as my submission for @911lonestarweek‘s day two prompt - I’ll be by your side.

tw - implied/referenced homophobia, implied/referenced drug abuse and overdose, general injuries

The second Owen lays eyes on his son, he immediately knows he’d do anything to protect him from harm. He doesn’t know yet just how difficult that will be, but he suspects - although even his wildest suspicions don’t even begin to cover it. He still swears it, though, right there in the hospital, while Gwyneth is resting and Tyler is asleep in his arms.

“I promise, Tyler Kennedy Strand,” he whispers, almost so quiet he can’t hear himself, desperate as he is not to wake his son. “I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always protect you.”

When Tyler is four - though they’ve switched to calling him T.K. now, his full name becoming too much of a mouthful, and just generally too much - he falls while playing with some friends in the park.

At first, Owen expects him to get up and walk it off; T.K.’s tough like that. And, at first, it seems like he will. He pushes himself until he’s sitting rather than lying on the ground, but instead of getting to his feet, he just stares at his hands.

Owen’s up and moving before the first tear even begins to fall, kneeling next to his son and putting an arm around him protectively. T.K.’s not too injured, fortunately - he’s skinned both of his knees and there’s a tiny cut on his right palm - but Owen knows that the shock of the fall would have been worse than the actual pain itself.

T.K. sniffles and turns his face into Owen’s shoulder, his head tucked under Owen’s chin.

“You’re okay,” Owen murmurs. He pulls away and tilts T.K.’s face up to look at him. “C’mon, bud. How about we get you cleaned up, then we can get some ice cream?”

T.K.’s face lights up and he bounds to his feet, injury forgotten. Owen is slower to get up, his knees cracking, but he smiles as he watches T.K. race around, grinning at the prospect of ice cream despite his bloody knees.

Owen wishes all of a sudden that skinned knees and playground falls would be the only pain his son would ever have to worry about.

ii.

By the time T.K. is fourteen, it’s abundantly clear to Owen why his friends warned him about the teenage years. He’s angry what seems like all the time, pulling away from Owen and shutting himself in his room, snapping over dinner, and his grades are dropping.

Part of Owen knows this is normal - or, at the very least, something all parents have to go through. The other part of him knows it’s far from normal, even for a teenager; T.K. has had, after all, a far from normal upbringing.

And, yeah, Owen knows pretty much every kid over the age of ten in New York has felt the impact of 9/11. Christ, the entire country - the entire world - felt it, maybe even still feels.

But not every kid’s dad was there. Not every kid had to deal with the fact that their parent might not come back - though their family was one of the luckier ones in that regard. Not every kid went through a divorce on top of everything else.

Point is, T.K.’s always had it harder than most, but Owen knows that still doesn’t fully explain this new behaviour. Particularly not when he gets a call one morning, telling him that T.K.’s been in a fight and could he please come in to collect him?

Except Owen can’t go, the alarm going off in the middle of the call, so the school just sends him home, though the woman on the phone clearly disapproves. Gwyneth normally deals with this kind of thing, but she’s away at a conference out of state, so Owen’s left to pick up the slack.

Fortunately, the shift’s only 12 hours, so he’s back home by seven; still not ideal, but it’s the better circumstance. T.K.’s sat on the couch when he gets in, a bag of frozen peas defrosting on the table next to him.

Owen clears his throat and T.K. whips around, exposing a split lip and a developing black eye.

“You should see the other guy,” he says, but the joke falls flat, and he sighs, turning back around and hanging his head. Owen walks over and sits next to him, wincing at the way T.K. shifts away.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asks, as gently as he can. Anger, he’s decided, will not help here.

T.K. shrugs. “I got in a fight. It’s no big deal.”

“No big -” Owen stops and lets out a breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “Alright, let’s try this again. Why were you fighting?”

“It was nothing.”

“T.K.”

“Nothing, I swear!”

“So you just hit him?” Owen lets a little anger into his voice, and it’s enough to get T.K.’s attention, his gaze sliding over briefly before snapping back to the floor.

“No,” he admits. “It’s just. He said some stuff. Called me a -” He stops abruptly, then shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Owen raises his eyebrows. “So some kid called you a name, does that mean you should hit him?” he asks. “Come on, T.K., you’re fourteen, not four.”

It was the wrong thing to say, and Owen knows it as soon as the words leave his mouth. T.K. rounds on him, fury in his eyes, but it’s the tears that accompany it that surprise Owen.

“You really want to know?” T.K. demands, though he doesn’t give Owen a chance to answer. “He told me it was my fault you and Mom split up. Said that it’s no wonder neither of you are around considering I’m a -” He stops, stricken. “A f - The f-word,” he finishes quietly.

Owen frowns. “Fuck?” he says, though he doesn’t mean to. He winces, but it’s enough to get T.K. to crack a small smile, brief as it is.

“No, Dad,” he says, strangely gentle. “The other one.”

“The other… Oh.”

“Yeah.” T.K. chews on his lip, then turns to Owen, apparently making his mind up about something. “It’s true, Dad. I’m a - I’m gay.”

“Oh.” And Owen knows that’s not the right thing to say, but he can’t find the right words just now. He watches his son, sorrow filling him at the tears in T.K.’s eyes, at the apprehension on his face, the doubt. Owen hates himself for it.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Owen says eventually. “I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

“Really?”

Owen smiles. “Yeah, really.”

And before he can get another word out, T.K.’s hugging him, so tight that Owen can’t breathe for a second. Once he’s got his breath back, he laughs, and brings his arms around T.K., only just then realising how much he had been missing this.

iii.

The call comes in the middle of the night, just as Owen is finally dozing off after a 24-hour shift. He’s awake and pulling on clothes before he’s even aware he’s moving, calling a cab as soon as the woman puts the phone down. All his instincts are screaming at him to get in the car and drive, but common sense tells him that he’d probably crash it, tired and anxious as he is, and that’s the last thing everyone needs.

The cab doesn’t pick him up for another fifteen minutes, New York traffic playing havoc even at this late hour, and Owen gets more jittery by the second. By the time he’s en route, his mind has gone through every potential scenario, each one worse than the last.

Fuck, how could he have missed this? Sure, he’d noticed that T.K. had become more withdrawn from him recently, and he’s aware that his son likes going out and partying more than is advisable, but he’d just chalked it up to being young.

And yet… The more Owen thinks about it, the more he realises the signs were all there, and he’d missed every single one of them. T.K. had almost died tonight, and it’s all Owen’s fault.

He’s never going to forgive himself for this.

The receptionist at the front desk points him to T.K.’s room, her kind smile doing nothing to calm Owen’s nerves. He races there, earning himself several reproachful looks from staff, but he can’t bring himself to care. He needs to see his son.

T.K.’s room is dark, but through the windows, Owen can make out his prone form in the bed. His heart leaps in fear, but then he sees the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the heart monitor beeping out a steady rhythm.

Owen breathes out shakily, taking a moment to compose himself before heading inside.

T.K.’s awake, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He doesn’t acknowledge Owen’s presence in the room, and Owen feels his heart break a little, noting how thin, how small his son looks in the hospital bed.

God, he’s really failed this time, hasn’t he?

But he drags his thoughts away from his own failures; T.K. is all that matters now. Owen eases himself into the chair next to the bed, debating whether or not to speak.

He decides against it eventually, instead just laying a hand on T.K.’s shoulder. T.K. looks over then, briefly, before returning his gaze to the ceiling. But he doesn’t brush Owen off, which he takes as his first victory.

Small steps, he tells himself. Small steps.

iv.

T.K. rarely gets sick; even as a kid, he’d tended to avoid all the coughs and colds that plagued his school friends. His system had taken a hit after the overdose, but recently he’s seemed to have regained most of his old immunity.

Which is why it’s even more concerning when he calls in sick one morning, sounding even over the phone like death warmed up. Owen has to just take it at the time, no time to check on him before his shift, but he’s over to T.K.’s apartment like a shot as soon as he’s done, the fact that it’s the early hours be damned.

T.K. takes a while to answer his knocks, and Owen’s considering breaking in when the door swings open.

“What the hell, Dad?” T.K. croaks, shuffling to the side to let Owen in. Owen doesn’t bother answering, instead surveying the mess strewn all around the place. T.K. doesn’t obsess over cleaning, but he’s generally fairly tidy, and never this messy; the table is buried in tissues, unwashed plates are stacked in the sink, and the laundry basket is overflowing. It makes Owen wonder how long T.K.’s been ill for without saying anything, but he chooses not to think about that too much.

But one look at his son confirms that he’s been feeling under the weather for a while - a few days, at the very least. He’s got tired bags under his eyes, and his face is pale and drawn. He’s hunched over, blankets wrapped around his thin shoulders, and he looks like he’s about to fall over any second.

It reminds Owen violently of the hell withdrawal had wreaked on T.K., on his body, though he’d been mercifully spared most of the fallout from that. T.K. had lasted it out in rehab and, whilst Owen had visited as much as he’d been able, he’d still had a job to hold down.

He wonders if he should feel guilty about being grateful for that.

He shakes the thought from his head and steers T.K. over to the couch, easing him down into it even as T.K. weakly swats at him. Owen glances around the room again and sighs.

“Okay,” he says, then sets to work, starting off with the rubbish on the coffee table.

“Dad, don’t -” T.K. starts, but Owen sends him a look.

“Shut up, T.K.,” he says, and T.K. does.

Owen cleans the entire apartment, guiding T.K. to bed as soon as he starts dropping off because falling asleep on the sofa is the last thing he needs. It’s late when he’s done; too late, he reasons, to go home now. His uniform’s with him in his bag and, besides, he knows he’ll sleep better here with T.K. in the next room.

Sure, T.K. will probably be pissed when he wakes up and finds him still here, but Owen thinks that that’s a price he’s willing to pay.

T.K.’s silent the entire way back from the hospital. So is Owen. There’s no point trying to force a conversation now; T.K. will talk when he’s ready.

They go back to Owen’s apartment, and T.K. heads straight to the roof. Owen is scared for a brief second, but then T.K. turns to look back at him, letting him know that he wanted Owen to follow.

T.K. barely looks at him as they talk, but it’s impossible to miss the shame and guilt in his expression. Owen tries to comfort his son as best he can, wishes he could tell him that everything’s okay, but he can’t. Nothing about this is okay.

He doesn’t know what to do. It’s all too much - Alex, the fact that Owen’s not sure it was as accidental as T.K. claim, his own cancer diagnosis. Even the New York air is stifling to him now.

Owen has lived in this city for pretty much his entire life. He loves it here. Everything he cares about is here. And yet.

Owen makes a split second decision.

“Pack your stuff,” he says. “We’re getting out of town.”

It’s the sort of thing Owen’s been dreading, ever since T.K. decided to follow him into firefighting. He’s always tried to shove the fear to the back of his mind, because their job is dangerous; getting hurt is an inevitability.

The job has put T.K. in the hospital before, but usually it’s just smoke inhalation, or some other simple, non-threatening injury. Nothing like this.

Owen’s trying to be optimistic; the doctors have told him there’s no reason not to be. T.K.’s young, healthy, and the surgery went as well as it could have done. But he also knows that T.K. almost died in that house, and there’s still a chance that Michelle just delayed it by a day or so.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to clear his mind. He succeeds, for a moment, but all the thoughts are back as soon as he opens them again, the sight of T.K. in that bed bringing too many memories back.

It’s the third time he’s almost lost his son, and the second in six months. He wonders morbidly if they’ve finally run out of chances, but he knows he shouldn’t think like that either.

This is different, though. Before, Owen was able to comfort T.K., to talk to him and hold him through the worst of it. He can’t do anything now except sit, and wait, and pray that T.K. will wake up.

Helpless is not something Owen Strand is accustomed to feeling. And yet, as it settles deep inside his bones, he wonders if it will ever go away again.

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beanfic · 6 years ago

Text

I’d Destroy Him

Pairing: Josh x reader (Reader is Tyler’s twin sibling!)

Word count: 1140

Warnings: Language (and I think that is it?)

Author’s note: This is my submission for the Music Of The Heart writing challenge that @ohprettyweeper had created! (go follow her, hehe)

Prompt: “Why aren’t you dating him?” “Because I’d destroy him.” “He’d be into that.”

“Josh is coming over today so you better behave!” Tyler, your twin brother, yelled through your closed bedroom door. You rolled your eyes knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see it and then smiled to yourself.

“I always do,” you sang back to him. You listened as his footsteps got further and further away. You flipped close the anatomy textbook from Hell that you were briefly skimming over to study for your upcoming midterm. You sighed as you closed your eyes and laid back on your bed. The thought of Josh coming over made you uneasy.

He had been Tyler’s best friend for years now, and since you and Tyler were twins, it meant that you got to spend lots of time with Josh as well. You knew Josh had feelings for you, it was obvious, and you weren’t sure if you felt the same way or not.

You were hesitant when it came to dating, especially if it involved dating a family friend. You’ve had multiple relationships in the past, but they all ended the same, with you breaking the guy’s heart as you told him you no longer felt the same. You were notorious for leading guys on, testing the waters, and then crushing their spirits.

You hopped out of bed and threw on a pair of leggings and a sweater so you looked at least a little presentable for when Josh was over. You inspected your face in your mirror, noticing all the little pimples that were starting to form on your face from the stress of school.

You sat back down on your bed and grabbed your laptop and opened it on the essay that you was due in a few days for your history class. You decided to work on that for a few hours which ended up only being twenty minutes because you ended up getting distracted by the sound of Josh entering the house. You closed your laptop and headed downstairs to see what the boys were doing.

“What is all the ruckus down here?” you asked.

“Playing Mario Kart,” Tyler said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I should have guessed.” You rolled your eyes as you headed to the kitchen to grab a Coca-Cola Zero from the fridge. You studied Josh as he was focusing on the last leg of the race.

“Damnit Tyler!” Josh threw the Nintendo Switch remote that he was holding at Tyler. You laughed at his outburst, making Josh flip his head around to glare at you.

“Hi Josh,” you smirked at him.

“Hey, Y/N.” Josh’s ears started to turn red, and both you and Tyler noticed.

“Can I play a round?” you asked.

“Sure, here play with Josh while I take a bathroom break. That taco bell is really hitting me.” Tyler walked out of the room holding his stomach.

“Gross, don’t go into the bathroom for a while after him,” you teased, sitting down next to Josh. You purposely sat close to him so your thigh brushed his, and you could’ve sworn you heard Josh gasp quietly.

You enjoyed flirting with Josh because his ears would turn red, and the corner of his mouth would always turn up into a half smile making his eyes crease. That was your favorite thing about him, his eye creases.

“You know I’m going to win,” Josh looked at you and raises his left eyebrow as a way to challenge you.

“Is that a challenge?” You narrowed your eyes.

The game started and you played as Princess Peach while Josh played as Luigi this round. You started out in the lead, but Josh hit you with a blue shell forcing you to 5th place.

“This is so not fair!” You screamed as you both start the last lap. Tyler had now joined you both, but he was more paying attention to you and Josh than the game. Tyler always teased you about how you guys had feelings for each other.

“Damnit!” Josh stood up and slammed the remote on the couch as you crossed the finish line first taking first place.

“I literally beat you by like two seconds!” you boasted. Tyler did some slow claps, grabbing the remote back for himself.

“Now go back up to your room and leave us alone,” he spat at you but you gave him the stink eye.

“What if I want to stay down here?” you challenged him.

“Y/N, seriously.” Tyler’s voice got serious so you started to walk back up the stairs. “Just kidding, Josh wants you to stay down here!” he yelled back up at you. You turned around smiling, looking at Josh who was smiling as well. You shifted your eyes to Tyler who looked amused but annoyed.

The rest of the night was spent playing more video games, and postmating chipotle while watching the latest episode of the Bachelor. It was Josh and Tyler’s guilty pleasure, but you really hated their gross comments about the girls.

“Well, I better get going!” Josh stood up from the couch and stretched his arms. You couldn’t help but stare, and Josh must have caught you because he smiled at you. This time it was you who was blushing.

You and Tyler said your goodbyes to Josh, and right as the door closed Tyler started interrogating you about him.

“It’s so obvious how much you both like each other, Y/N.”

You shrugged, “He’s your best friend Ty, wouldn’t that be weird for you?”

“I already explained this to you, no. I want Josh to be happy, and he really likes you.”

Hearing this made your heart flutter. You really liked Josh too, and you wanted to take it to the next step as well, but you were afraid that you were going to lose feelings and hurt him like you’ve done to the past guys.

“I guess that’s true.”

“So why aren’t you dating him then?”

“Because I’d destroy him.” You cross your arms and stared at Tyler, who didn’t really know what to say at first.

“He’d be into that,” he smirked at you.

“Tyler!” You grabbed the nearest pillow to you and threw it at his face, causing him to fall off the edge of the couch he was sitting on.

“What? It’s the truth. I know you’ve had relationship issues in the past, but Josh is different. He likes the challenge.”

“I seriously can’t believe you just said that.” You groaned, covering your face with both your hands.

“C’ mon, Y/N! Just give it a try.”

“Fine. I’ll text him later and see if he wants to hang out tomorrow.” You became nervous, but you also haven’t felt like this for a guy in a while, and you just really hoped that you wouldn’t actually end up destroying him.

#nic's moh challenge #tyler joseph #josh dun #twenty one pilots #josh dun x reader #twenty one pilots x reader #josh dun fanfic #josh dun fanfiction #tyler joseph fanfic #tyler joseph fanfiction #twenty one pilots fanfic #twenty one pilots fanfiction #top fanfic #top fanfiction #top x reader #josh dun imagine #tyler joseph imagine

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kilyra · 6 years ago

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How You Were Going to Die

Special Agent Ben Poindexter/Bullseye (Daredevil) One-Shot

A/N: I received an anon request with the dialogue prompts: “I can’t sleep, can I stay here?”, “Kiss me.”, and “I’ll keep you warm.” (And I want to thank @marvelmayo for helping me with a scenario idea). Although I’m pretty dang sure this isn’t the sort of story that Anon was hoping for, I still hope you enjoy!

You wake in a dark room, tied to a chair when Dex, a patient from the facility where you work, walks in.

Warning: Major Daredevil S3 spoilers. Otherwise, all good - not even terrible language!

This was it. This was how you were going to die, you were sure of it.

After your eyes had time to adjust to the darkness, you saw you were in a simply furnished room, gagged, and handcuffed to a padded chair. From time to time, there was rustling outside of the room but so far no one came in. There was no way of knowing how long you’d been there.

When the door started to creak open, your heart hammered against your chest.

"I can't sleep, can I stay here?" The question came as a whisper and you saw a dark figure come in and sit on an overstuffed chair across the room from you. Like it was a routine. Had he done that before?

How long had you been here?

A whimper escaped your throat and the figure’s head snapped towards you.

“Y/n, you’re awake. I-I'm sorry if I woke you,” he said as he turned on the lamp next to him.

Soft yellow light lit up his face and your stomach dropped. Benjamin Poindexter, one of your patients at the facility. The unstable one you had been warned about.

Tremors tore through your body as you started shaking uncontrollably. It was all you could do to keep from screaming through your gag as tears blurred your vision.

In careful movements, Dex slid off the chair and came toward you. A new flood of terror ran through you and you couldn't help the screams that muffled into the cloth as you started fighting the handcuffs. They angrily bit into your wrists, but wouldn't give.

Through your frantic fog, you realized Dex had submissively crouched low with his hands out in front of him. Almost the way people tried to approach a frightened animal. His eyes were wide and his eyebrows pulled together with fear and concern. “Please, Y/n. Please just relax, you’re going to hurt yourself. It’s not like that, I’m not here to hurt you.”

He spoke firmly, but there was a hint of pleading in his tone as his eyes darted to your wrists.

Your screams turned into a soft cry as you hiccuped and blinked the tears from your eyes.

Blinking rapidly, he watched the tears rolling down your cheeks before he swallowed heavily. “I’m here to help you, Y/n. I know it doesn’t seem that way, but I’m saving you.”

Clenching your hands into your fists, you tried to keep it together as you watched Dex slowly move closer with his palms still turned out towards you. “It's hard when you’re not able to express yourself. I think it might help you feel calmer if I remove your gag. But, if I do that, you need to promise me you won’t scream.”

You couldn’t promise that.

“Can you do that for me, Y/n? Can you promise not to scream?”

You nodded.

His fingers shook as he reached over and paused. Like he knew you were waiting for your chance to cry out for help.

Staring intently at your cheeks, he moved his hand from near your mouth and gently wiped your tears away. His fingers were soft, but his movements were halting and unsure. "I'm sorry. It's…it's just really hard to see you this upset, if I'm being honest. And…you're so cold. I’m sorry, Y/n, I wasn't thinking about that."

Swiftly, he stood up without ungagging you, and strode out of your view. Every muscle tensed as you tried to keep yourself from panicking. More tears fell.

After hearing things shift behind you, he reappeared with a large, fuzzy blanket in hand. Draping it over your shoulders, he took care to tuck it in around you. “I’ll keep you warm. I’m here to take care of you, I promise.”

“I’m going to remove this now,” he said as he maintained eye contact. With gentle movements, he loosened the gag and pulled it out of your mouth, leaving it hanging around your neck.

It took all of your willpower not to start yelling. Your voice was unsteady as you straddled the line of hysterics. “Please…please just let me go. I have kids-”

"No, you don't. You don't have any family, that's why they have you working at the facility. They need people with no ties." he bluntly cut you off.

You started visibly shaking as a cloud of anger briefly drifted across his face. “It’s ok, Y/n. I’m not mad at you for lying to me. That’s actually a very smart tactic – humanize yourself to an assailant, try to gain their sympathy. But I’m on your side.”

“I…I want to believe you Dex, but…” You rattled the handcuffs under the blanket.

Frowning, he let out a long sigh. Grabbing the footstool by the large chair, he pulled it up in front of you and sat down. “I know. I'm sure those are uncomfortable and must make it hard to trust me. Once I know that you understand what is happening, I promise I'll take them off. But, we have to talk first.”

“I took care of you. W-Why are you doing this?” Your voice broke.

He chest heaved as he sat forward. “You saved me. And now I’m saving you. I really need you to understand that.”

“W-why m-m-me.” It was difficult to form words with your trembling lips.

“Because you’re a good person. That stood out to me, from the first moment I saw you. Well...actually the first moment I saw you, I thought, kiss me.” He let out an embarrassed scoff as he looked away.

Your face was frozen, you didn’t know how to react.

When he continued, it was in a rush. “But don't worry, I'm not like that – I was just waking up and it was the aesthetic. What I really noticed, what really stuck, was how you treated me. You were patient and compassionate and I needed that.”

His words didn't stop the growing knot in your stomach. If there had been anything in it, you would have thrown it up by now.

“Thanks to you and Dr. Oyama, I'm better than I have been in a long time. I’m back on my meds and he even accessed Dr. Mercer’s files to get me copies of my sessions with her. I’m stable and I can see things better now.”

Stable? If you weren't so terrified, you might have laughed at that.

Glancing away, he swallowed again as a distant look seeped into his eyes. “Y/n. You’re caring and kind, the type of person others look to when they need a reminder of how to lead with empathy. There aren’t many people like that and the last good person I knew, Julie, she…was my North Star…and she was taken from me.”

Staying silent, you slowly tested your handcuffs, twisting your wrist to see if there was any sort of give. The blanket dampened the noise.

Not seeming to notice, Dex continued. "I see now how I let her down. I didn't keep her safe and people like that, they need to be kept safe. That's actually why I stayed working for Dr. Oyama. Sure, I owed him, I'm his experiment but I could have slipped his grasp a dozen times. But I thought by staying there, working near you, I could make sure you were safe.”

Taking a shaky inhale, you cleared your throat to mask the sound from your handcuffs. “What changed then? Why wasn’t that enough?”

Finally, he looked back at you. His eyes were red. Redder than you remember any time you saw him at the facility. Exhaustion? Was he upset?

“Because Fisk is out. I knew no prison could hold him if the system didn’t fail us again first. But he’s out, and no one seems to know where he is. But he…he…killed Julie. I can’t fail you like I failed her. You get it, right? I need to hide you to save you.”

Fisk. All you knew of him was everything covered in the news, but it was enough to raise him to the status of the boogeyman.

Could Dex was right? Could there be a possibility his sight was set on you? It didn't seem likely but...

Clenching your hands tighter, your nails dug into your palms as you tried to force yourself to breathe through the growing layers of horror. “Why didn’t you just tell me that? Why do this?”

Offering a lopsided grin that was somehow filled with sadness, he sighed. “Because you’d never believe me. You don’t even believe me now. I thought maybe but the way you keep trying to get out of those cuffs tells me you still think I’m the enemy here.”

Your heart sank. “M-maybe if we had this talk at the office instead of like this, I might have.”

Slowly his eyes dropped to the floor as he considered your words. “Maybe. But I made a choice and now we have to work within the parameters of that choice.”

Getting to his feet, he brushed his jeans off. You noticed his right hand was twitching, and he quickly crossed his arms. “I’m going to go get you some water now that you’re awake. You’ll need some food soon too.”

“No wait, please don't leave me here,” the words poured out of you. He terrified you but, for some reason, being alone felt worse.

“It's ok, Y/n. I'll be right back,” he said, his voice calm and soothing.

As he turned to leave, fresh tears flooded your eyes. Hearing the door lock after he clicked it closed, a wave of nausea passed over you.

This was it. This is how you were going to die.

#benjamin poindexter x reader #dex x reader #bullseye x reader #daredevil #agent poindexter x reader

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mendespideys · 6 years ago

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don’t freak out | p.p.

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Summary: when peter parker knocked on your window past midnight on a school night, he asked you not to freak out. so you asked him to give you a list of reasons not to

Warnings: a flustered peter parker, a gay mj, mentions of injuries and sharing a bed but no sex

Words: 3.1K+

a/n: this is my submission for @gab-spidey’s 2k writing challenge. everyone go read her stuff, she’s amazing!! i had the prompt: “give me a list of reasons not to freak out”

also, i have no idea how a dislocated shoulder works or how exactly you fix it. i’ve only ever broken my collarbone lol

also also, this is my 200th post

my masterlist

The first time you heard the sound, you ignored it. You rolled over in bed, your eyes too drowsy, and you knew it was late. Telling yourself you had just imagined it, you forced yourself to fall back asleep, which, admittedly, wasn’t too difficult.

You heard the tapping sound again, clearer this time, and rolled out of bed with a groan. Turning on the small lamp on your desk, you looked around your bedroom trying to locate the sound that was starting to make you slightly uncomfortable.

The sound appeared again, and you furrowed your eyebrows, walking closer to the window. Pulling back the curtains, you were startled by a pair of dark eyes looking at you. It was dark outside, but you could see enough of his features to realize it was Peter Parker.

Hurriedly opening your window, you stepped aside and he slipped himself through slowly, wincing at the movement. He landed on your floor with a soft thud, his breath hitching as he did so. In the dim light from the lamp, you noticed the nasty bruise forming underneath his left eye. You gasped involuntarily.

Peter stood, clutching his right arm against his torso. You looked at him, waiting for him to explain why he had knocked on your window past midnight on a school night. You barely even knew the guy. The two of you shared three classes together but had never really talked. You knew he hung out with Ned and MJ, and you knew he had left Liz by herself at homecoming sophomore year.

“Where did you- how did you get up here?” You asked quizzically, well aware that the balcony did not reach your window.

“Don’t freak out,” Peter said, his eyes silently pleading you.

“Give me a list of reasons not to freak out,” you stated, your voice and pulse rising. “I barely know you, yet here you are knocking at my window in the middle of the night, which, by the way, is too far from the balcony. You’re hurt, badly, and I still don’t understand why or how you’re here.”

He stared at you, studying you as you stood in front of him in your pajamas. You felt his eyes on you. Suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed, you crossed your arms over your chest, desperately trying to hide the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra.

You watched incredulously as Peter unzipped his hoodie slowly. Seeing the familiar red and blue suit, your eyes widened. He looked back up at you, watching as you processed the new information.

“What happened to you?”

“When I got my powers or tonight?” Peter asked for clarification, a half-hearted teasing smile tugging at his lips.

“Both,” you moved toward the window, closing it quietly. “Either. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be going to the hospital?”

The bruise underneath his eye was definitely going to take a while to heal. He also had a small cut on the bridge of his nose and you noticed he was still holding his arm steady.

“It got a little rougher than intended,” he explained, shrugging, but immediately regretting it. He groaned, pursing his lips in pain. “I got him though. I came to you because I know you study with the trainer at school. You know your way around sports injuries and stuff.”

“Exactly, sports injuries,” you raised your eyebrows at him, to put emphasis on the obvious. “These injuries are not something you would get during a game of soccer.”

Peter chuckled softly, and you glanced at your alarm clock. You were surprised to see that it was almost one in the morning, suddenly feeling energized. Just now realizing what he had said, you turn back to look at him. He’d been watching you?

“Do you think you could help me though? My shoulder is killing me.”

Silently, you get to work. You help Peter take off his jacket and then his suit, wincing at the sight of his flattened shoulder. Deciding to take care of his minor injuries first, you gently brush your thumb over this bruise to make sure there are no broken bones or fractures.

Peter sat silently as you inspected his nose. You were unsure if it was because he was in pain or not. Your silence came from still trying to comprehend the information. Sharing three classes with Peter, you had often seen him abruptly running out before the bell had even rung. Him being Spider-Man would definitely explain that.

“Okay,” you mumbled, straightening your back to take a closer look at his shoulder. “Your humeral head is prominent and your forearm is internally rotated.”

“Which means?”

“Your shoulder’s dislocated,” you stated with a slight shrug.

The boy sat on the bed in front of you groaned softly before meeting your eyes. The few exchanges you had with Peter mostly included homework clarifications and a few comments, but you had never actually looked at him.

You knew a majority of your classmates classified him as a loser. You had often heard the name Penis Parker being called out teasingly in the hallways. The horrible nickname was mostly used by Flash Thompson. You knew the two of them were on the academic decathlon team together, so you assumed he was just jealous of Peter.

“Can you fix it?”

Your eyes widened, looking at him in disbelief. “I-I’ve only ever seen it done. I’ve never actually done it myself.”

“I’ll be your first try then,” Peter smiled cheerfully, and you realized he was oblivious to what he was asking.

“Peter-”

“Please? We both have school tomorrow. The only other person who knows is Ned and he passes out at sight of blood, let alone a dislocated shoulder.”

“You should really go to a hospital-”

“I can’t!” he exclaimed, his expression softening as soon as the words had left him. “That was uncalled for, sorry. I just- I can’t afford to go to a hospital. Aunt May already has two jobs and she doesn’t know what I do when I’m not home-”

“First of all, stop interrupting me,” you stated sternly. “Secondly, it’s gonna hurt.”

Standing behind him to get better leverage, you grabbed his shoulder firmly. His body tensed at the touch of your cold hands, and you tried to ignore how warm his skin felt underneath your fingers. He relaxed as your hands grew warmer, nodding his head once.

Briefly, you went through the steps in your head. You could feel your heartbeat increase as the realization of what you were about to do dawned on you. How Peter trusted you to do this was beyond your comprehension. You were only a seventeen-year-old girl after all.

“On the count of three. One, two,” you counted down, your grip tightening, before popping his shoulder back into its correct place with a sickening crack. “There. It hurts less when you don’t expect it.”

Sitting back, you were surprised to see that Peter didn’t appear to be in much pain. You crawled off the bed silently, standing in front of him. You could feel his eyes tracing the length of your legs, and you cleared your throat while putting one leg in front of the other.

Peter looked up at you, his cheeks flushed faint pink. He knew he had been caught staring. It was your turn to watch him as he tried moving his shoulder, grinning widely at his mobility.

“It might be sore for a while,” you informed him, once again crossing your arms across your chest. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough superhero stuff for the night and would like to go back to sleep.”

Peter didn’t seem to take the hint at first, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he sat deep in thought. You took the opportunity to study him again, wondering why you had never really noticed him before. You quickly pushed the inappropriate thoughts away.

“Can I stay?”

You widened your eyes at him, looking at him doubtfully. Momentarily, you wondered if this was what Peter was like outside of school. Maybe he wasn’t a huge science nerd like the rumors said but rather a confident player. It didn’t really seem like him though.

“Stay? As in spend the night? Here? With me?” you asked for his clarification, not really needing it. “I don’t think MJ would like that.”

“Look- MJ?”

“Yeah,” you answered simply, furrowing your eyebrows. “I thought you and her-”

Peter cut you off with a laugh, covering his mouth when you narrowed your eyes at him. You didn’t understand what he suddenly seemed to find so amusing, but you needed him to shut up before your parents heard him from down the hall.

“No,” he croaked, still trying to recover from his laughing fit. “Me and Michelle are not- no. Besides, she doesn’t, um, like boys.”

Oh.

You had only seen her a few times, mostly she would be wherever Ned and Peter were. You thought the girl was quite pretty, prettier than Liz who you knew Peter had had a crush on. You guess that would explain why she always hung out with the two boys.

“I- look,” Peter started, his expression softening. “I told my Aunt May I was staying at Ned’s tonight anyways. I guarantee Ned’s already asleep and I’m already here. I-I would sleep on your floor, of course, and I would be out of here before you wake up.”

He looked flustered, seemingly just realizing what he was asking. You stifled a giggle, finding his embarrassment kind of endearing. You felt kind of bad for him, understanding what kind of predicament he was in. If you had come home with bruises and cuts, you knew your parents would ask questions too.

Sighing in defeat, you gave him a nod. “Okay.”

His eyes opened wide with genuine surprise, fumbling to get off the bed. He found his way to the end of your bed, picking up a beige Jansport backpack you hadn't noticed he brought with him. Pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, he grinned up at you innocently.

Telling him the bathroom was the next door over, you went to your closet to find the spare blanket and pillow. Sitting down on your bed, you waited for him to return. Processing all of this new information and spending more time with Peter than ever before had made you tired. Your brain had been going haywire and you weren’t too sure if you had really processed everything.

Peter opened the door quietly, popping his head through first before the rest of his body followed. You had to stifle a giggle at his science pun shirt, finding it particularly amusing. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the uncooperative curl falling into his eyes. You watched him silently.

“Well,” he glanced at your clock. “I guess we should go to sleep.”

He sat down on the floor, unfolding the blanket you had left out for him. Tucking yourself into your own covers, you looked at him again as he attempted to get comfortable. Even though you would never admit it, how Peter Parker didn’t have a girlfriend was beyond you.

“Peter?”

He stopped squirming, slowly turning to meet you. You squinted, trying to read his expression in the dim light.

“Yeah?”

“You can, um, share my bed with me? I-I don’t feel comfortable making you sleep on the floor,” you suggested softly, grateful that the dark was hiding your blushed cheeks. “Besides, you forgot to turn off the light.”

He had been reluctant at first, and you wondered if it had been a mistake to suggest the idea in the first place. Then, with a tired sigh, he stood from his spot and walked toward the small desk. Once the light was out, you didn’t see him until his weight shifted the bed, startling you. You kept silent as he wrapped himself in the baby blue blanket you had given him.

Your eyes were getting heavier by the minute, and suddenly it felt more comfortable than awkward to be sharing your bed with Peter. You listened to his even breaths, wondering if he had managed to fall asleep already. The bed shifted again, and although it was dark, you knew Peter had turned to face you.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly, only continuing after you hum to let him know you were awake. “You should sit with us tomorrow. At lunch. I’m sure MJ would like having another girl there.”

“Sure, Spider-Man,” you mumbled back, praying he could hear you as the exhaustion took over and lulled you to sleep.

When you woke up the next morning, Peter had kept his promise. The light blue blanket was folded neatly at the end of your bed, and if it hadn’t been for the vague smell lingering on the pillow, you might have thought it was all a dream. Ignoring the pleasant smell, you put on a pair of black denim shorts and a random crop top you had found in your laundry basket. On the way out of the door, you grabbed your Midtown sweatshirt and shoved it into your backpack.

The walk to your high school suddenly seemed longer than usual, and you silently prayed to miraculously gain superhuman speed. Once the familiar gate came into view, you could feel your heartbeat quicken. You scolded yourself, walking among the crowd of other students. Peter was sitting in his usual spot when you entered the classroom, turning his head as soon as you stepped foot inside. He gave you a nod, grinning, and you smiled back, taking your own seat.

The next two periods went even slower. Your two other classes with Peter was after lunch. You had also forgotten to bring money for lunch, so you were desperately trying to hide the loud growls coming from your stomach. When you walked into the cafeteria, you came to a halt, wondering if Peter had been genuine when he offered the invitation.

“Y/N!”

Ned grinned as you wandered closer to them. Peter wasn’t there yet, and you wondered if his Spider-Man duties had come up again. Michelle looked up from her sketchbook, giving you a nod with a tight smile. You sat down next to her, placing your phone on the table.

You shared one class with Ned as well, and you figured that’s where he knew you from. He quickly started a conversation, firstly asking for help with the homework the teacher had assigned. You clarified it for him, easily understanding why he and Peter were best friends.

“Hi, guys,” Peter’s voice startled you out of your thoughts.

He sat down next to Ned, placing his lunch tray on the table. Ned greeted him, finishing copying your notes from yesterday’s math lesson. You studied Peter for a second, realizing he was wearing the same blue hoodie as last night. His bruise was almost completely gone and you wondered if he had borrowed his aunt’s makeup or if he healed that fast.

You bit your bottom lip, forcing yourself to ignore the smell of the food. It was with no success, however, because not even two seconds later, your stomach made the loudest groan in existence. At least that’s what it sounded like to you. Peter heard it too, furrowing his eyebrows questioningly.

“If you’re hungry, why don’t you have food?”

“I forgot to bring money,” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes at him. “It was kind of a rough night last night.”

The two unknowing friends looked between you and Peter, obviously sensing the awkward tension. Peter squirmed under your stare, his cheeks flushing slightly. Although you would never say it to him, he looked extremely cute. Michelle cocked an eyebrow, closing the pad in front of her.

“Did you guys hook up last night?”

Peter choked on the sip of juice he had taken to compose himself, coughing loudly as Ned gently patted his back. You whipped your head to study the girl next to you, silently praying your cheeks didn’t look as hot as they felt. Usually, you were rather confident, but the thought of you and Peter affected you more than you wanted it to.

“What- no!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

The two of you spoke at the same time, the awkwardness only growing stronger. Your eyes flickered to Peter, silently asking if she knew, and he shook his head. Michelle looked between the two of you for a moment before shrugging and taking a bite of her sandwich.

“It was just a question. Geez,” she mumbled, her mouth still full of food. “I just wondered since you guys are all weird and stuff all of a sudden. Something happened between you guys since she’s sitting here.”

“Here,” Peter offered, his voice coming out raspy from coughing. “Take half of my sandwich. I always grab another one at Delmar’s on my way home from school anyway.”

You began to protest, but he insisted once more, and you gave in. He watched you until you took a bite, smiling proudly. You swallowed, relishing the feeling of the food entering your system. You immediately felt better and awarded him with a thankful smile.

The three of you kept up the conversation for a while, and you wondered why you had never hung out with him or Ned before. Michelle pitched in an opinion or two, and you instantly grew fond of the girl too. You were finishing the last few questions of your homework as Peter and Ned were watching a video on Ned’s phone.

“Are you guys watching that stupid Spider-Man again?” Michelle muttered, not even looking up from her drawing.

Ned and Peter looked at each other before looking at their friend, shaking their heads quickly. All four of you knew there was no point as the news anchor continued the story about how Spider-Man had stopped what would have turned into a huge chain collision.

“I think Spider-Man’s pretty cool,” you admitted, giving Peter a teasing grin as his head whipped up to look at you. “I might even consider sharing my bed with him.”

Michelle rolled her eyes, playfully offering you her middle finger. You knew she had hoped you would take her side, and truthfully, if you hadn’t known it was Peter, you probably would have. Ned looked between you and Peter with wide eyes, eventually narrowing them at his best friend who just couldn’t seem to stop blushing.

It dawned on you then that Ned knew, too. Why wouldn’t he? Those two boys spent all their time together and it made perfect sense that Peter had confided in him. You quickly made a mental note to ask Peter in chemistry as you grabbed your backpack and slung it over your shoulder. Walking toward the door just as the bell rang, you look over your shoulder.

“See you in class, Peter.”

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arsenictheurgist · 6 years ago

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Voltron Spooky Games Submission

Kay-lynn K.

Round 1 Prompt: Character(s) going to a fall festival

Word Count: 1399

Garrison Trio

Notes: This will take place before they find the Blue Lion on Earth. Pidge will have male pronouns because Lance and Hunk do not know they are a girl. When Pidge is referring to themselves, they will have female pronouns.

Friends, Bonfires, and Apple Cider

Lance was tense as he slid into the hovercar, the keys felt almost heavy in his hand. It had taken a lot of sneaking to get them from his sister’s room on the base, but they needed them if they were ever going to make it to the nearby town. He started the car as soon as heard Pidge and Hunk enter the backseat and shut the doors.

Keeping the headlights off, Lance reversed, pulled out from the parking space, and drove out of the parking lot into the night of the desert. It was mostly silent in the car until the looming building of the Galaxy Garrison had shrunk to nothing behind them.

“Who’s car is this, Lance?” Pidge asked, finally breaking the silence, nervous tension from sneaking off the Garrison base.

Lance briefly glanced back at her in the rearview mirror before focusing his eyes on the road ahead. Clearing his throat with a cough, Lance replied, “It’s my sister’s. She works here at the Garrison.”

Pidge opened her mouth to question him more only to feel a sharp nudge to her side. Irritated, she looked over at Hunk who was shaking his head and had put a finger up to his lips. Taking the hint, she decided to change the topic as they drove on. “ So, what’s this festival all about? All Hunk told me is that tonight’s the last night to go and that it starts when the sun goes down.”

Some of the tension seemed to ease out Lance’s body at the mention of the festival. Tonight was supposed to be a fun thing that brought them closer as a team; he just needed to loosen up. “They call it El Regalo de la Cosecha, The Gift of the Harvest. I’ve been going to this festival with Hunk for a few years now. Usually, my sister chaperone’s us, but she couldn’t get the time off to take us. It’s a tradition to go and Hunk and weren’t about to miss it,” said Lance.

“Since you’re a part of our team now we thought you should come with us,” said Hunk, smiling slightly, “Consider it...initiation. We’ll be together until we graduate and possibly longer after that. Better to be friends rather than strangers if we want to be a good team.”

“El Regalo is the celebration of a good harvest and how the world slowly falls asleep until it wakes again in spring to provide. It’s mostly food, good music, and games but the real kicker is the bonfire at the end of the last night,” said Lance as they finally arrived at the town.

Even with the windows rolled up they could hear the chatter of people and music from the various performers. Deftly navigating the car through the crowds of people walking the street, Lance managed to find a good parking spot not too far away from the main festivities. Exiting the vehicle, he stretched slightly, loosening his muscles after sitting in the driver’s seat for so long.

Turning to towards Hunk and Pidge he saw that they were already avidly chatting about what to do first before the bonfire.

“We should play some games first!” said Pidge, hands moving to accentuate his words, “We can win something cool to take back as a souvenir of our first team outing!”

“I know what game you’re already playing, dude,” replied Hunk, “I’m not playing it! We have to swing by Tante Helda’s Apple Goods stand first before we do anything else. She sells out quickly, and I’m not waiting for another whole year to drink her Cider or eat her homemade fritters!”

“We’re not doing either of those!” Lance said. Wrapping an arm around either of their shoulders he pulled them in close and whispered, “I’m surprised you didn’t want to do this first Hunk. We need to get our Favors de San Agabo. They run out quickly, and I want to know how my future looks this year.”

“What are Favors de San Agabo?” asked Pidge, staring up at Lance with a perplexed look on his face.

“The favours are little pouches given out to festival goers to toss in the bonfire at the end of the night. They say if you stare into the coloured flames from the herbs in the pouch you get a glimpse of the future!” he replies. Releasing them both he dashed off into the crowd in search of the festival’s committee stand where they handed them out. “Keep up you two! The night is young let’s get our favours and enjoy the festival!” he called over his shoulder.

It was a whirlwind of activity for the three from then on out. After getting their favours they went from booth to booth, alternating between food and games. Lance and Hunk cheered Pidge on as they watched him dominate game after game. Soon enough they had to make a few trips back to the car to deposit his prizes into the trunk, so they didn’t have to tote them around.

The most time they spent was at the various booths of merchants that had arrived to sell their wares. Lance haggled with one of the merchants for a while about the price of a face cream he wanted to try and successfully managed to purchase it for a lower price. Before they knew it it was midnight, and the bonfire was no longer just a stacked tower of wood, but a raging pillar of flames. Swinging by Tante Hilda’s first, they all bought a mug of cider to enjoy as the night came to an end.

Clutching his favour in one hand and cider in another, Lance turned to face Hunk and Pidge as the stood beside him. “On three we toss our favours in, sound cool?” Lance asked, itching to see what the Saint had prepared to show him.

Pidge looked at him and nodded yes, and Hunk hummed and ‘alrighty’ in agreement. Both with favours in hand and drinks in another the stood ready to toss in their Favors and see their ‘future’.

“ One,” said Lance.

“Two,” chimed Pidge.

“Three!” exclaimed Hunk.

The moment their pouches hit the fire the flames instantly consumed them and changed to vibrant shades of blue, green, and striking yellow. The thick scent of incense permeated the air from all the other favours burning, but with the trio, it was all whisked away by a strong desert wind, and replaced by the overwhelming scent of a freshly fallen rain in a forest. The three moved closer to the bonfire in an attempt to look closer at the shapes that seemed to be forming in the flames.

“This shouldn’t be possible…,” whispered Pidge, awestruck at the phenomenon occurring before them.

“I’ve done this for years with you and Veronica, Lance, but I’ve never seen the pouches do this,” said Hunk, worried concern bleeding into his voice.

Lance said nothing as he stared at where his pouch was burning the flames seemed to twist into the shape of a feline. Too big to be the head of a cat, in fact, to him it looked like… “Do you guys see lions in your flames too?” asked Lance quietly, transfixed at the sight of the blue head of a lioness in his flames.

At that moment a deafening roar of thunder rolled from the sky, followed by a threatening crack of lightning. Rain began pouring from the sky and in response the tower of burning wood finally gave, and the three’s mystical Favors de San Agabo were lost among the glittering embers of the bonfire.

Pulled from their trances Hunk, Pidge, and Lance began shouting as the rain immediately began to soak them all. Running through the waves of people who were also trying to depart, they managed to reach their car safely and load up. Starting the car, Lance began the long drive to head back to the Galaxy Garrison base, the face of the lioness still emblazoned in his mind.

#Voltron #VoltronSpookyGames #Round1 #BlueLion #Fic #Prompt 6

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elsanna-shenanigans · 4 years ago

Text

June Contest Submission #4: Flash Point

Words: ca. 5,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: yes CW: swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of hunting, weed, tobacco

Why was it so damn hot?

The Sun bore down with unusual cruelty, and the air was so heavy it felt damp against her skin, too thick to breathe, and if the dog at the other end of the leash she was holding’s panting was anything to go by, Anna was not alone in her feeling. They hadn’t even gone far, yet the Vizsla was pulling towards a shaded patch of grass and plopping down with a little whine.

“I’m not carrying you home, so you better hurry before it gets really hot,” she grumbled. On the other hand she couldn’t exactly blame him. She’d spent the last five years studying abroad, two years in Oslo and three at Uppsala University. The Scandinavian Summers were comparatively cool and mild when contrasted to the hot, humid Summers so typical of the Eastern part of the North American continent. Her dog was born in Europe, and at the ripe old age of 3, had quite literally never known such high temperatures.

“Tűz, fot!”

The dog lifted his head to look at her then let out a noise of complaint before he got up and very slowly made his way to a heel position, looking forlorn. She chuckled a little at how dramatic he was being and gave him a gentle pat.

“Duktig hund!“

A crown of dew formed around her temples and coated her shoulders and her neck. Given it was only 8:30 am, she dreaded to think what the rest of the day would be like. At least, she figured, her parents and the rest of her family likely wouldn’t want to leave the cool respite of the central AC.

She quickened her step at the prospect, hurrying back to the modest house her sister had began renting sometime after Anna had left for Europe. As much as she adored her parents, she’d been overjoyed when Elsa asked her to stay with her, and she’d been eager to make up for lost time. Of all the things she’d missed while studying, her older sister was what she’d missed most, leading her to question whether it was possible to be homesick for a person.

As she walked through the door, she found Elsa in the kitchen, frantically shoving a granola bar into her bag, along with a sandwich and some gatorade. Without looking up, she reached for her car keys and brushed passed Anna, only pausing briefly to kiss her forehead and mumble “good morning” which immediately drew a smile on Anna’s lips.

“Got everything?”

“Yeah I think I left most of Tűz’s stuff in the car.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

-x.x.x-

The drive to their parents place was a little over 20 minutes, but fortunately brought Elsa a little closer to the work errands she had ro run that day. Anna was a little bummed she wouldn’t be spending most of the day with her, but took comfort in the fact she’d come join them as soon as possible. Her eyes studied the edges of Elsa’s cheekbones, admiring her chiseled features, and the way the stray strands of blond escaping from her messy braid framed her face. Anna hoped that she had thought of applying sunscreen before leaving, though she somehow doubted it, given how hectic she’d been just before they’d left.

“Is it okay if I don’t take you all the way down?”

Pulled out of her reverie, it took her a moment to process the meaning of the question, until she remembered her older sister was referring to the downhill driveway that led to their parent’s house.

“Oh sure! I forgot how tricky it is to turn around and come back up from there.”

“How could you forget you very nearly wrecked the paint job on dad’s brand spanking new car?”

Anna cringed with embarrassment at the memory, but a reassuring ruffling of her hair cued her in on the affectionate nature of the teasing. The car stopped and Elsa turned to face her with a soft smile.

“I’ll try to be quick ok? I’ll text you as soon as I know when I can come meet you.”

“Okay, I’m pretty sure we aren’t going very far in this weather anyhow.”

The car’s thermometer indicated an outside temperature of 37°C at the moment and she had a sense the felt temperature would only get worse. She grimaced, until Elsa reached over to hug her. She twisted in her seat, reaching to embrace her, leaning in to give her a quick peck on the cheek, only to find they were both leaning in the same direction with the same idea. She readjusted, and so did Elsa, so they both course corrected once more, this time fully confident that she’d accomplish her task at hand. In their hurry to affectionately see each other off, the momentum they’d gained was too strong to brake, and somehow they both landed smack dab in the middle, their lips colliding in a soft peck.

Anna felt a little spark and let out a giggle, shared by Elsa who immediately looked up at the ceiling of her car, mortified, but unable to shake the wry smile of amusement.

“Nothing like a little accidental incest to get your day going huh?”

She shook her head and reached up to tuck a strand of hair back behind Elsa’s ear, shrugging nonchalantly, genuinely amused because what else could you do at such a ridiculous situation? An accidental kiss, with her older sister warranted laughs, and she was sure the rest of the family would find it hilarious when she’d tell them.

“It’s just like that Folgers commercial: the best part of wakin’ up, is incest in your cup.”

There was a glint of mischievous amusement in her eye, in spite of the sheepish grin, almost apologetic for what she had just said (rather than what she had done).

“Dear lord, Anna, just take your dog and go. At the very least this day can only improve as I’ve just hit rock bottom.”

Doing as she was told, she got out of the car, retrieving her dog from the back seat along with their belongings before she turned to Elsa, offering her a bright smile, the hint of a smirk still lingering in amusement.

“Bye, I love you, drive safely!”

“I love you too, see you later.”

She watched as the car pulled back up to the top of the hill, waiting for it to disappear, just long enough to feel the weight of the heat begin to crush her, Sun searing her skin with eager malice. Anna turned to look downwards, recognizing the solar panels on either side of the roof, and the glass roof of the integrated green house. It felt so familiar to her, and as she walked towards it, it gave her a sense of comfort even if it no longer really was home.

Subconsciously she reached up with her fingertips tracing her lower lip where the ghostly sensation of the peck crackled with electricity, forcing a little quirk of her mouth as the thought of it tickled her. How funny, she pondered, that she’d felt more from an accidental kiss with her sister than she’d had the last time she’d kissed someone. If that wasn’t the most obvious indicator of lack of chemistry, she didn’t know what was!

Knocking on the door she couldn’t wait to catch her parents up on this, tell them about the mishap, and couldn’t wait to see who amongst their relatives would have joined them for Anna’s welcoming home party.

However, when her mother opened the door and embraced her tight, prompting excited tail wags and jumping from her dog, and asking her how she was, Anna found herself unable to speak it, suddenly second-guessing whether Elsa would appreciate her telling them, and wondering if it would come across as weird after all, rather than strictly funny. She couldn’t shake the feeling, and wasn’t sure why.

A while later, the moment had passed with relentless overthinking on her part and even still as she drank coffee and ate croissants with her mother, father, her uncle and her cousin, the sensation of the spark lingered on her lips, leaving her flustered with butterflies at the thought of her older sister’s mouth.

That thought was soon cast aside however as her dog tried climbing into her lap which prompted her uncle to ask her about him.

“What kind of dog is that?”

Though the breed was becoming more prevalent in North America and increasingly popular with hunters it wasn’t quite as well spread in Canada as it was in the USA.

“Tűz is a Vizsla.”

“Gesundheit.”

She rolled her eyes, wanting to correct

“It’s a Hungarian Pointer breed. Pretty ancient, excellent and versatile gun dogs. I had him evaluated by a trainer in Sweden who said he was a natural bird dog. His name means ‘fire’, in Hungarian.”

Even as she was listing out her boy’s illustrious origins she figured it likely sounded just the slightest bit improbable to her uncle Frederic, given how said majestic hunter was currently curled up in her lap with his front paws on her shoulders.

“Huh. Y’know nothing beats a good Lab in my opinion but he sure is cute. He even looks like you, redhead and all!”

“Y’hear that? Uncle Fred thinks you’re cute! Don’t tell him you could outrun his lab in upland hunting any day.”

She turned to give her dog a little kiss on the cheek, but her mind immediately went back to the tingling she felt there, which seemed to amplify as she replayed the earlier moment with Elsa in her head, from start to finish. Her kopfkino was overshadowed with a much more pressing sense of dread however, when she heard her father’s warm voice cheerfully ask:

“Alright, who’s ready to rock and roll?”

-x.x.x-

Though Anna had been distinctly less than thrilled at the prospect of going back out into the the fiery pits of hell her hometown had become, she took some consolation in the fact they were headed to her favourite, fully air conditioned lake front eatery. To sweeten the deal, Tűz had been so charming and well behaved, the staff didn’t question his coming in, and he immediately laid down under the table as he had been taught to do.

The plan had been to eat first then head out to the beach for a swim. Of course no one had informed her prior so she hadn’t brought along a swimsuit, and she did her best to eat her lunch as slowly as possible. She’d failed to do the same with her drink though, the thirst was real and the long island iced tea was sweet. It had taken everything in her power not to text Elsa so as not to bother her (and avoid looking like the clingy younger sister she’d always worried she came across as).

Trying to ignore her phone as she shared anecdotes and tidbits of her time spent overseas, she almost missed the notification from her older sister.

Hey, I’m close to finishing up here. Where did you guys end up going?

Mid-sentence, Anna interrupted herself to focus on typing back a quick response.

We’re at The Captain’s Favourite, we’re almost done eating then we’re going swimming. Meet us at Faux Fjord Beach?

Awesome I’ll be there in about 15ish. Btw can you get me one of their Vodka Lemonade Slushies? Please and thank you! Can’t wait to get hammered on the beach and finally catch up with you ;* ( <- fully intentional, not accidental incest this time)

Anna blushed the slightest bit at the emoji, subconsciously biting her lip as it tingled again, and she giggled at the joke initially. At the very least, it was reassuring to know she hadn’t been the only one to think about their silly little incident this morning.

Omg I forgot this place did frozen cocktails, that’s an amazing fucking idea. Same tho, can’t wait! See you soon <3 (not sure that’s legal)

“So Anna, are you going to tell us about your boyfriend?”

Her eyes shot up from her phone to find her cousin Rapunzel with an eyebrow quirked and a knowing smirk, along with the rest of her family looking at her expectantly.

“My what?”

“Girlfriend? Whoever that was that just texted you! Clearly you’ve been holding out on us because dang girl, you’ve got it bad.”

Anna stifled the urge to grab her glass of water and toss it at her cousin’s face, force of habit from their youthful roughhousing days. The cycle of merciless teasing and correspondent indignation was just as part of being home as the rest.

“Chrissake no that was Elsa! I was laughing at one of her stupid jokes, she was asking where to meet us.”

Unimpressed green eyes looked at her with skepticism, unconvinced that Anna was telling the truth. Her first impulse was to show her the text exchange to prove it, but she then realized that the out of context inside joke would land with the current audience.

“C’mon, the girlish giggling? The lip biting? The blushing?”

Her ears felt hot and a flash of defensiveness flared up within her but she exerted just enough self-control not to throw herself into an argument about wrongful perception. Instead she pointedly ignored that line of questioning and relayed her older sister’s message to the rest of their family.

“She said she’d be here in 15 minutes, and I told her to meet us down by the beach.”

A familiar, warm, curious little head poked out from under the table, golden eyes round and hopeful.

“I said beach, not bitch.”

Laughter erupted around her and she let out a quiet sigh of relief under her breath, patting her dog softly as she leaned backwards sinking into the booth seat.

-x.x.x-

Anna was looking out at the water with a slightly forlorn expression, watching her dog swim out to her folks, then back to the shore on a loop of manic joy, wishing she could join them. Alas, with no bathing suit the best she could do was tie up her tank top, sitting in her daisy dukes under the sunshade, though she licked her wounds by sipping on the Bourbon Peach Lemonade Slushie she’d ordered.

When a pair of arms embraced her from behind, nonchalantly sliding over her shoulders she immediately perked up at the recognition of the familiar scent that accompanied them. Before she could say anything however, Elsa was kissing the side of her cheek (successfully this time), and her heart skipped a beat as she smiled in response.

“Hey, didn’t feel like swimming?”

Anna turned to look as her sister sat down beside her, scooting into the shade, though not before her eye had caught sight of the dew on her skin betraying the heat. It was a little nicer on the lake, a pleasant breeze kept it from feeling completely unbearable, but still it would have been so much better if she could’ve gone swimming.

“No one informed me either, remember? Didn’t bring my bathing suit.”

Reaching for Elsa’s drink which she managed to time almost perfectly before her arrival, she handed it over and took another sip from her own, her ears twitching slightly at the sound of the crushed ice compacting with the liquid.

“Thanks,” was the murmured acknowledgement.

“Guess that means you’re stuck drinking with me.”

Her sister reached up to ruffle her auburn hair affectionately and Anna raised her mason jar with a smug little smirk showing that she was already well under way.

“Way ahead of you, you’re gonna be playing catch up now.”

“Hm is that a challenge or a warning?”

Elsa’s tone sounded playful but her polarized aviator-style sunglasses hid the extent of her expression, making it somewhat unreadable. Anna shrugged, starting.

“Well if you aren’t a coward, it’s- ah!”

She shrieked as she felt sharp, cutting cold against her bared shoulder. Glancing over, she saw that Elsa had pressed her still perfectly icy lemonade against her skin, amusement curling her mouth as she took her first gulp through the bendy straw. Anna’s resent at the sudden cold melted like… well, snow in the sun as she noted the genuine mirth in her sister’s mischievous gesture and the way her perfect, bow-shaped lips wrapped around the straw.

“Don’t get cocky, getting hammered was my idea remember? I’m gonna see it through.”

Anna had scoffed but been unable to respond anything right away, instead distracted by the way the unruly strands of platinum that pried themselves loose from Elsa’s braid either floated softly, or stuck to the gentle sheen of her neck. Unable to resist the urge to try and tuck them back at times, it earned her an easy, quick smile whenever she did.

They’d remained mostly in comfortable silence, Anna stealing glances at Elsa’s exquisite face, trying to guess her expression behind the glasses she wore, studying how much she had changed, and it what was she was still identical to the way she remembered her. She wondered if her older sister was in any way aware of the stunning beauty she was.

If they spoke, it was with a mixture of familiarity and uncertainty, like they were both re-learning to speak each other’s language without having ever really left one another. In truth, even before she’d gone to study abroad, It hadn’t always been easy for Anna to read her older sister, penetrate through the wall of ice she guarded herself with. And yet, she had never felt like she was being treated with anything besides love and tenderness. She relished in the small touches, the tactile displays of adoration she had missed so dearly from her and marvelled at how ravishing and confident she managed to look with such a simple and laidback style. The ripped jeans, beater-boy tank top and the shades were achingly cool and suited her all too well.

She knew their parents were overly proud of her for getting a fancy degree overseas, and that they generally avoided discussing Elsa’s lack of direction in life. It didn’t matter one bit to Anna, she would always look up to and admire her older sister, maybe even more so because in spite of her struggles she’d managed to gain her independence.

A brush of the hand against her shoulder, a gentle stroke in the nook of her palm. Fingertips brushing her hair out into her back. Fuck, while she hadn’t been isolated the whole time she was away and had her share of memorable trysts, this kind of intimacy sent pleasant tingles down her spine, and she only just realized now how much she’d missed it. It made her own fingers twitch with the need to touch, to stroke, to hold but she kept her foot on the pedal, once again afraid of coming across as clingy.

When they had found the bottoms of their drinks, likely far too quickly for the amount of alcohol that were mixed in, Anna was resting her head on her older sister’s shoulder. Elsa had turned around to rummage through her bag, before handing Anna a bottle of spray-on sunscreen.

“Really? I’d like to remind you I tan m-more easily than you…”

Elsa laughed at that point and shook her head, reaching for Anna’s free hand with her own and giving it an affectionate little squeeze.

“That’s the point, I want you to put some on my back, you know I’m old and crunchy and cannot reach for shit.”

She snatched it out of her sister’s hand and scoffed.

“Firstly, shut up, you’re not old, you have a good two years of immortality left ahead of you.”

Popping off the lid she shook the bottle as per the instructions on the label before. It felt slippery with her palms so sweaty, matching the rest of her body’s glow. While the drink had been refreshing on the way down, she regretted the way the alcohol made her skin flush and feel hot at this point.

“Secondly, lie down, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Overheard in the town of Arundel. Out of context sisters.”

She felt like an idiot for laughing, but she couldn’t help that Elsa got her sense of humour so well and threw zinger after zinger about this since that very morning. Anna then waited for her to lay down on her stomach over the giant beach towel that had served as a makeshift picnic blanket.

Her heart felt suddenly a little more forceful as it beat faster in her chest when she looked down at the exposed shoulder blades and lower back revealed by the hiked up shirt. Her mouth felt strangely dry and she didn’t for a second question the notion of finding Elsa genuinely gorgeous as she began to spray the solar protection onto the pale, fair, just barely freckled skin.

Not wanting to hurt or surprise her, she very gingerly began rubbing to spread it more evenly. It soon became clear however that from this angle she wouldn’t be able to get the coverage the lotion needed in order to be effective. She swallowed quickly and subconsciously wet her lower lip with her tongue. Her head started racing as thoughts swirled in her head and she felt almost feverish. She knew she’d be better off straddling Elsa to apply the lotion properly, and she knew it was no big deal, yet still felt she should ask before doing so. On the other hand, asking might make it weird, and while they were enjoying their running gag from earlier this morning, this was a whole new level.

God. Was she really overthinking helping her sister to put on protective sun lotion? This was fucking ridiculous.

Buck up, or shut up.

Finally getting over herself, she swung her leg up, straddling Elsa’s thighs, trying to watch for any signs of discomfort as she went to work.

“Mh, do you mind pressing a little harder against my lower back? Cause that feels really nice.”

Elsa’s skin was already damp, but somehow mixing it with the sunscreen made it feel silky, rather than sticky to the touch and Anna obliged, hoping she wouldn’t lose track of where she’d already rubbed, or that the sweat beading at her own crown wouldn’t start dripping down on her sister because the thoughts and implications there were maybe a little bit much, even for her. Yet the more she spread out her touch, the more she thought about their earlier text exchange, suddenly fixating on the parenthesis and the emoji, and the accidental kiss and… truly the unbearably hot weather was getting to her head and she’d have half a brain cell to be convinced she had a fever.

“Leave some for yourself, in spite of what you think you still need to protect yourself too. I’ll even return the favour.”

Anna gulped, almost audibly.

Miles away clouds gathered hanging heavy and jealously holding the crushing humidity hostage, unbeknownst to them which in turn only cranked up the heat Anna was struggling with being subjected to. It created a restless tension within her, an unconscious anticipation.

-x.x.x-

The rest of the afternoon and evening Anna had been torn between the trepidation of going back to Elsa’s (their) place, and the secure comfort of her parents home. She’d avoided her cousin’s exacting questions about her European paramours and at dinner had been unable to focus on conversation as she’d felt Elsa’s occasional touch. The brush of her ankle against her leg, the innocent stroke of her hand on her side when she’d reach over for something on the table.

She’d told herself she was just exhausted from the heat and stimulation and simply wanted to get back to an environment where she could decompress.

And while it was true a huge part of her stress was lifted the moment they’d arrived back at Elsa’s (their) place, the excitement of being alone together crackled with an unfamiliar weight in the air. Tűz had gone immediately to plop down in the love seat closest to the AC unit and almost instantly had began to snore.

Elsa had dropped her keys on the kitchen counter, grabbing a pair of beers from the fridge, handing one to Anna before she’d walked towards the kitchen door leading to the patio.

“I packed a bowl this morning if you want. Just gonna have a quick smoke.”

Anna had nodded and gone to sit down on the couch, feeling weirdly tense, shaking a little as she’d reached for the glass pipe on the coffee table and the lighter next to it. She put a flame to it, igniting the smoke and breathing it in deeply, hoping it would help ease the knot in her stomach. The entire day had passed and yet, whenever she thought of the accidental kiss they’d shared this morning, the spark still felt vivid, like the simple thought was enough to reignite the sensation. She couldn’t remember sharing an intentional, yet alone an accidental kiss with anyone else that left the same imprint. She wanted to ask Elsa if it was the same for her, if the element of surprise was simply being mistaken by her mind and body for excitement.

After all, this was her sister. It couldn’t possibly mean anything else. The idea of it being anything more was preposterous and inconceivable. Right?

But when Elsa returned with the smell of tobacco mingling into her natural scent, and the woody notes of her perfume, mixed into a sweet, soothing and… attractive blend, Anna could only move towards her as she sat on the couch and looked up at her, a sleepy smile hiding the slight trembling in the rest of her body.

When she felt two hands cradle the sides of her face, her whole body went tense. Elsa’s icy gaze burned down into her eye and Anna’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it at the edge of her lips. She dared not twitch a muscle as the moment lingered and Elsa’s thumbs stroked her cheekbones with a heartbreaking gentleness.

A strike of lightning flashed outside, quickly succeeded by a crack of thunder.

Anna’s eyes closed as she felt soft, pink, perfect lips against her own, and her mouth parted invitingly on instinct as she leaned forward. The fever, the restlessness, the mania that had built up throughout the day exploded as torrential rains beat down against the window pain, and Anna pressed her upper body into Elsa, her hands finding the edges of her tank top, savouring the taste of her, especially as she suckled at the tip of her tongue.

Quiet gasps and sharp, shallow moans floated between them, and she hungrily kissed her back, nails scratching at the now exposed skin of her sacral area. She hooked her fingertips in the fabric of her shirt pushing it up with an urgency that was perhaps borne out of the clamour of the formidable display from the heavens outside. Though she’d have been lying to herself if she’d said it wasn’t also spurred on by the clenching she’d felt in her own lower belly any time she’d thought of her sister’s mouth against hers that day.

She broke the kiss, though not before she’d given Elsa a little nip of the teeth to her lower lip, and only long enough to hurriedly discard both of their shirts, giving her a coy, heavily lidded glance as she noticed her older sister’s gaze on her now exposed, freckled breasts and pert nipples. She’d not been wearing a bra because, well, it had been too hot, and she could in fact get away with it.

Confidently, Anna reached for the nape of Elsa’s neck giving it a littler squeeze to bring her back to herself immediately sliding her tongue between her lips. Her other hand caressed her side, the expanse of her stomach then travelling to the fabric of her bra. Meanwhile she produced little mewls of pleasure as she felt her sister’s hands cup her breasts hungrily and she shifted her position without missing a beat, pulling her down with her as she laid back on the couch, legs falling open, needing to feel the weight of her ribcage between her thighs.

The hand she’d held the back of Elsa’s neck with began flirting with the damp, soft skin and toying with the stray platinum coloured baby hairs. She felt Elsa shudder above her and felt her hand wrap around her wrist, pinning it above her head, which elicited a moan from Anna. Her hips rolled upwards and she felt instant frustration from the denim creating an unwelcome barrier between them and she wished it gone.

Her wish was apparently Elsa’s telepathic command.

Before she knew it they were squirming out of their respective skin tight denims with the clumsiness only eager urgency could bring. Her heart was thrumming to the relentless and unforgiving rhythm of the raging elements, and as her fingertips brushed against Elsa’s pulse, she knew hers was beating in time with them too. Chills went down her back at the thought of it and she left the harbour of her sister’s mouth to find that same point to the side of Elsa’s throat, kissing and nipping at it, causing their hips to connect frantically. One of her hands was still pinned above her head and her eyes burned with tantric desire as she looked up at Elsa, features magnified and deified each time the lightning flashed out of the living room window.

Anna let out a whine as she felt Elsa’s free hand slide between their two bodies, slick with sweat now and she knew she was blushing when she felt just how wet she was once her sister’s finger parted her folds, the heel of her palm teasing against the engorged bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex. Her hips bucked upwards with need, both in shock of the sensation and in desperation for more.

Eyes flew shut as Elsa now pressed her own hips against her hand, creating a firm inescapable pressure against Anna’s bud, and her finger pumping deep inside of her.

“Fuck!”

It was not so much exclaimed as it had been hissed as Anna’s entire body rocked into Elsa, fingertips now tugging more firmly at the blonde roots she’d been gripping, as if clearly communicating she wanted her right there, and no further, desperate to feel her as close as possible, feel their nipples brushing against one another, bodies ravenously hungry for each other.

They found a rhythm though it started off hot, frantic and messy and they found themselves pressed forehead against forehead, mouths slightly agape in the beatitude of sin, and the unbridled lusts of their animalistic pursuit. Thrust upon thrust, roll upon roll of the hips, caused electricity to spark and course through the burning of her lower stomach, tensing and clenching as she felt herself flutter against the welcomed intrusion of Elsa’s touch. Her nervous system pulsated it seemed with the same electricity that ravaged the outside world, protecting rather than threatening their unspeakable passions.

“Elsa,” she breathed almost pleadingly as she felt a storm building inside of her, one to rival the majesty of the the fierce Summer storm rattling the windows with a reckless force.

“Anna,” was the sultry, husky reply. And not that she had any way of knowing this prior to that particular moment, but she could tell that Elsa was on the edge, just as close as she was, possibly closer. Her thighs squeezed harder around her sister’s hips, ankles locking together to keep her even closer than what was thought possible until that point.

She could feel it tugging at her loins almost painfully now and she dug her nails into her own palm, the sting and bite of the pain cracking her closer.

They cried out in unison as their climaxes crested in synchronicity, but the sounds were drowned out by an emphatic strike of thunder, so loud they could’ve sworn the house shook were it not that their own bodies were sent into a shaking mess of trembling frenzy. Overwhelmed and needing to channel it somehow as lightning and fireworks exploded in her mind’s eye their lips met into another electric, full mouthed kiss.

Waves of pleasure crashed over them, unrelenting until they could take it no more, the tension evaporating as they fell limp, heart to heart breathing tickling each other’s ears, the sensation of which enough to titillate them into wanting to continue.

Exhausted, Anna buried her face in the nook of Elsa’s neck, breathing in her sent deeply. Though driven by post-coital bliss, at the back of her mind a dark cloud gathered, fear attempted to bubble up, trying to ruin the glow. She nuzzled Elsa softly, kissing the sweat covered skin, humming gently at the taste as she deliberately avoided thinking about the mess they had made.

They had a lifetime ahead of them for her to process the guilt and the shame. Or unpack the fact she did not feel any regret in the immediate aftermath of the unspeakable.

My God, what had they done?

#elsanna #submission #June 2021 contest #prompt: storm #lemon #cw: alcohol use #cw: substance abuse

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iturbide · 7 years ago

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Honestly, bless you and your writing! Quality content fadgsaffsg-- But what if something super bad happened? Like the summoner somehow got captured by maybe Muspell (Surtr?) ovo I'm imagining the reasoning could be something like 'Askr is nothing without their precious summoner. Watch as their mockery of a kingdom falls apart even before I raze it to the ground.' kinda deal? How would Grima (and the whole castle by proxy I suppose) react? :>

quality content I am so flattered okay i’m still screaming about this

but okay you see this

this prompt

this set my brain on fire

so please forgive me for the fact that this monster is literally 6,500 words long and clocks in at a full 18 pages

If you’ve read anything else of mine that exceeds a thousand words, I like to change perspective sometimes. For ease of understanding, asterisks (*) represent a perspective shift, dashes (-) represent a scene shift. The first bit is there as a teaser, the part below the cut is significantly larger, you have been warned.

Kiran was fairly certain by now that combat would never become familiar. Nothing in their prior life could have prepared them for this, and even with as many fights as they’d seen (and between the conflict with first Embla, now Múspell, and all of the battles waged for practice in the Training Tower or sport in the Arena, they had seen a lot), it never really felt natural or right, sending soldiers – friends – onto the field to fight and bleed and sometimes fall for the Askran cause.

Perhaps it was good that war did not sit well with them. But regardless of their feelings, they had a job to do here, and they intended to do it well. Anything to keep Askr from becoming a mirror of Nifl’s scorched wasteland: the further they traveled, the more wreckage they encountered, empty towns covered in snow that could not hide the burned remains of what had once been thriving communities.

As they continued their trek toward Nifl’s former capital, the Askran forces had run afoul of Múspell soldiers camped in one of the ruined villages. Tagging Ike, they glanced briefly at his health, winced, and instead sent Lissa to heal him before ordering the young mercenary into a green mage’s line of fire. Robin moved to intercept a mounted archer encroaching on their flank, sending a conspiracy of magic ravens tearing through the bowman’s defenses, while overhead a six-winged dragon banked slowly over the battle, awaiting his next command.

“We might need to retreat,” Kiran muttered as enemy reinforcements appeared upfield, well beyond their line of sight but easily tracked by the tactical map piped into their phone. The axe fighter and the red manakete wouldn’t be so bad, with Alphonse and Sharena to intercept them, but the cavalier with the firesweep lance was another matter…

“The situation hardly seems so dire.”

The Summoner looked up at the hooded figure leaning over their shoulder, a wry smile twitching across their face. “When did you take over as the Order’s tactician?”

Grima rolled his eyes, keeping easy pace with the Kiran as they picked their way through the remnants of the village square. Several of the houses beyond remained more or less intact: the narrow streets would afford them a good choke point to deal with additional reinforcements, provided they could keep their ranks in order. Humming thoughtfully to themselves as they climbed the steps of an abandoned home, Kiran drew the Askran fighters one by one across the on-screen grid, casting a quick glance back the way they’d come to see faintly glowing marks on the ground leading into the plaza. They still had no idea what Breidablik had done to their phone, but it had certainly been effective.

“Incoming,” the Summoner noted, listening to the approaching hoofbeats. “You ready?”

The fell dragon grinned, violet flames licking at his boots. “Always,” he chuckled. Though they both knew it wasn’t necessary, Kiran still moved Grima’s icon down the street as he advanced, the great six-winged form overhead descending to attack. More reinforcements had appeared around the square, and the Summoner bit their lip as they sized up the new opposition, attempting to suss out the least risky solution to their predicament. Tapping a few troops experimentally, Kiran gauged their chances…and, satisfied that they could pull off a defensive ploy, moved their allies one by one to engage the newly summoned soldiers, grinning as the blinding glow from Alphonse’s Sol momentarily brightened the overcast afternoon. Grima’s dragon form screeched as an axe fighter filled the position occupied by the now fallen cavalryman, and the Summoner glanced briefly at the screen…only to chuckle at the damage predictor’s single-digit output. Even with two hits, there was no chance they could take down the Wings of Despair. Maybe they had been too hasty, considering retreat–

“Hello, Summoner.”

Kiran froze.

They hadn’t heard movement in the building behind them. Hadn’t even considered that someone might be in there waiting – which was foolish, given the hard lesson they’d learned combatting the Black Knight not so long ago. But they slowly raised their hands in the universal gesture of peaceful submission, taking great care not to disturb the blade pressed to their neck.

“Hello,” the Summoner replied, grateful that their voice did not quake the way the rest of them did. “It’s Laegjarn, right?”

“I’m flattered that you recall my name,” the general chuckled. “Perhaps you also recall my offer.”

“Surrender quietly and you won’t hurt me?”

“Your memory serves you well. What say you?”

Kiran swallowed, feeling the sword’s edge burn their throat. With the fight still raging out of sight in the plaza and Grima’s attention focused on the wyvern rider flying into range, no one had seen the enemy under their noses. No help was coming.

Some tactician they turned out to be.

“I submit.”

“Very good. Please disarm, Summoner.”

The blade at their throat relaxed an inch. Nodding slightly, Kiran removed Breidablik from its place on their hip, kneeling to lay it on the stoop alongside their phone…

…and as they lingered, casting one last pleading look toward the fell dragon, they cranked the volume up to the max. The music barely even reached their own ears over the pounding of their heart, and the general made no remark on it as the Summoner straightened.

“Thank you for being so cooperative,” Laegjarn remarked, taking hold of Kiran’s arm and pulling them into the shadows of the scorched house. The back half had collapsed, blackened beams jutting from the ash; the Múspell general paid the wreckage no mind as she guided them out onto the next road and past a fresh wave of soldiers. “Retreat,” she ordered. “We have what we came for.”

The troops pulled back from the village with shocking speed. The Askran forces remained, perhaps confused by the swift turn of the tides, perhaps elated at their victory. Kiran did not know. They could only wonder what the Heroes would feel when they realized what they’d lost.

***

Grima frowned as the Múspell soldiers withdrew. “Barely a challenge,” he snorted.

Something’s strange.

“I’m inclined to agree, given how fierce these forces are said to be–”

We were outnumbered. There were still reinforcements coming in. Why did they retreat?

He glanced up at the dragon floating lazily overhead.

A wyvern rider tried to stab you in the face. I don’t think the dragon really made much of an impression.

A grin twitched across Grima’s face as he moved back down the icy road. Kiran had left the doorstep; turning into the square, the fell dragon joined the other Heroes that had gathered, submitting without complaint to the fair-haired cleric’s treatment.

“I was worried for a moment there,” the Askran princess giggled. “There were so many of them!”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Ike muttered, the words clearly at odds with the wounds the healer had yet to mend.

“What troubles me is how quickly the tides turned,” Alphonse said. “Our enemy has shown fearsome skill at predicting our course of action and heading us off…they may seek to lure us into a trap.”

“Where’s Kiran?” Anna asked. “Perhaps they’ll have some insight…”

All eyes turned to Grima.

A sense of disquieting unease crawled down his spine. “I did not see them when the battle ended. I thought they had joined you here.”

But scanning the worried Heroes that turned to look amongst each other, he found no trace of the Summoner.

“They can’t be far…right?” Lissa asked, wringing her staff between her hands.

“Let’s look for them. Perhaps they were sidetracked investigating something,” Robin suggested, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his otherwise calm logic.

The fell dragon retraced his steps as the other members of the Order fanned out through the square, calling to the Summoner to reveal themselves. Approaching the doorstep where he had left them, Grima narrowed his eyes at the open doorway leading into the wreckage. Had it been ajar before? If Kiran intended this to be some prank–

That isn’t like them.

As he drew close, an odd sound snared Grima’s attention: a muffled, melodic hum from somewhere nearby. Tilting his head, he peered up and down the street, toward the scorched eaves, down to the snowy ground…

Oh, gods.

The fell dragon crouched, lifting the Summoner’s magic tile off the step. Free of the ice, the song it sang grew louder, a tense battle hymn that set his nerves on edge. “Kiran,” he called, taking to his feet and striding through the doorway, out through the collapsed rear wall, and across the packed snow left by the enemy’s retreat.

No response.

They won’t hear you.

“Kiran!” Grima snarled, loud enough to echo through the wreckage, distorting beyond recognition.

They can’t hear you.

“KIRAN!!”

The dragon overhead shrieked in unison with him, sending scores of dark birds rushing from the forests on every side. But as the ringing in his ears at last abated, nothing more than silence greeted him.

They’re gone.

—

The Order had searched. They had scoured the woods until the last light left the sky, following the tracks left by the Múspell soldiers in hopes of finding the place where they converged; but even with six eyes overhead peering through the dark, they found no clues to spur their progress.

Nightfall forced their hand. With few options and grave uncertainties of what lay ahead, the Order’s commander called for a retreat back to Askr to resupply and assess the situation. And as little as Grima liked it, he had nothing better to offer.

“We should gather reinforcements,” the Askran prince insisted as they strode through the luminous gateway into the plaza. “The Múspell forces couldn’t have traveled far. If we set off at dawn we may be able to catch up with them–”

“It’s too risky,” the commander replied. “We don’t know how many soldiers they have. Even if we were to take the whole of the Order, we’ve no guarantee of victory – and that could be exactly what they want, leaving Askr’s defenses weak for Surtr’s invasion force. Until we know more, we should wait and prepare.”

“You would abandon them.”

The words echoed through the plaza, leaving silence in their wake. Grima stalked forward, rage fueling the violet tongues of flame that swirled around him; only the warning from the presence in the back of his mind kept him from lifting the red-headed general off the ground by the front of her tunic. The Askrans still retreated, warily touching their weapons as the fell dragon stared down at them.

“We’re not abandoning anyone,” Anna insisted, the tremor in her voice undercutting her patient tone. “Rushing in will only put everyone at risk.”

“Múspell’s general is a formidable strategist, but has treated the people of Nifl fairly even after its fall,” Fjorm offered. “If she has taken the Summoner, we can be assured of their safety until terms are delivered–”

“And if Surtr is responsible then they may be dead already,” Grima snarled.

“…we can’t afford to risk the Order, or the Summoner’s life, by rushing in ill prepared,” the commander repeated. “We will make ready, and when we receive word–”

The fell dragon bared his fangs, feeling the pull of the great form atop the castle and wanting nothing more than to bring the walls crumbling down on the Askrans’ miserable heads…

That won’t help Kiran.

He hated that voice. All the more for the fact that he knew that it spoke true.

Clenching his fists, Grima stormed from the plaza, winding his way through the halls and up to the castle roof where his six-eyed form roosted. The dragon made a small noise of distress, six eyes fixed on the distant horizon while Grima settled against the parapets and struggled to fight down the rage burning its way through him. “Miserable wretched cowardly worms, every one of them–”

They have some sound points.

“They’re leaving Kiran to die, how is that a sound point?”

If Surtr had been involved, we would have known it. He likes to gloat too much. He wouldn’t have retreated with Kiran, he would have made it known immediately what he’d done. Odds are good that it is the general who’s responsible, then, and that gives us time to prepare.

“Prepare for what? Do you really imagine their terms will be anything beyond ‘surrender or we slaughter the Summoner?’”

…unconditional surrender or providing Gunnthrá’s location would be my guess.

Grima sneered, pressing his fists to his forehead. “How reassuring.”

What else can we do, though?

“How should I know? As I recall, you were the genius tactician.”

The presence at the back of his mind had no response for that.

Heaving a heavy sigh, the fell dragon reached into the pocket of his coat, removing the Summoner’s magic tile. The divine weapon they’d left behind had been left in the commander’s care…but Grima had kept the Summoner’s fohn. The surface had gone dark, the eerie music silent now as he held the device in his palm…but as he prodded it experimentally, the screen flashed to light, a series of tiny white dots speckling the bottom of the screen.

He had watched Kiran toy with this blasted thing often enough. Touching the surface, he drew his finger through several of the spots…and with a soft click, the tile’s surface rippled and changed, a faint red cast overtaking the screen. Touching it lightly sent sparks dancing under his fingers…before a map of the Askran kingdom appeared, glowing stones marked with ornate banners scattered across the continent. The Summoner had shown him this once before…tapping one the seals arranged along the bottom of the tile, he frowned at the banners filing down before his eyes. Skills, seals, growth…tapping another made the surface shimmer into a list of even less helpful banners: dueling swords, stamina restoration, barracks expansion…

What are you looking for?

“There must be some way to help them,” the fell dragon muttered. “If this so-called ‘Order of Heroes’ is as grand as the Askrans claim, there must be something…”

Like what?

“If I knew that, would I be searching?” Grima growled, squinting in the tile’s light and touching another symbol, only to find himself back on the map of the kingdom. “Wretched thing…”

Try the last one. On the right.

“I didn’t ask you,” Grima snarled.

…I want them back, too, you know. But I don’t have a body anymore. I can only help if you’ll let me.

Silence settled over the rooftop, broken only by the whisper of the breeze rustling the Askran flags flying high over the towers. And finally, without ire or protest, the fell dragon touched the furthest symbol, scanning the list of banners that scrolled before his eyes.

There. Catalog of Heroes.

Grima touched the words, watching the screen shimmer and change, displaying tiny portraits of the Heroes assembled within the Askran palace. Dragging his fingertip along the edge sent the tiles trailing out of sight, replaced by new ones. Some were familiar: Naga’s young daughter, the Hoshidan archer prince, the Ylissean tacticians…others much less so.

Touch one.

He did without argument. The surface briefly darkened before an image appeared of a fair-haired man in red, a quiver of arrows secured at his side; a scroll emblazoned with a name and epithet hovered over a brief biography…

A strategist.

“How many do you think there are?” Grima asked quietly, touching the scrollwork arrows and browsing through the other Heroes.

If we’re lucky? Enough.

The dragon felt a smile tug at his lips, exposing pale fangs to the moonlight. “Then tell me, tactician: what will we need?”

—

It came as no surprise when the Askran troops made no move. One day passed. Then another. A pall of silence hung over the castle; the Heroes carried on their conversations in hushed voices and terse words, half their attention seeming forever fixed on the gates leading to the lands beyond Askr in hopes that some message would arrive from beyond their borders.

None came.

And for that, Grima was grateful. It would have been far more difficult to lay plans with the Order scrambling to meet Múspell’s demands.

Nightfall cleared the plaza. None of the Heroes seemed interested in idle chatter when one of their own was missing. And it made the task of locating them far easier as he stalked through the quiet barracks, glancing from door to door and knocking one by one on the rooms he and the tactician had so carefully chosen.

Responses were, as expected, mixed. Soren had no interest in helping Grima, with his loyalties so firmly tied to the young mercenary swordsman; Ike, however, needed no encouragement at all to join when he heard the proposal, and in his wake the strategist grudgingly followed. The Ylissean tacticians, meanwhile, were far more open to hearing the fell dragon out, though the rest of their exalted families harbored grave misgivings (and Grima felt a pang from the presence in his mind when Lucina touched her sword).

They assembled in the castle’s grand council chamber, taking their seats at the round table and looking among their number: four Ylissean tacticians in various states of dress and festive attire, one fair-haired Archanean archer, a stoic swordsman and his branded mage companion an Ostian spy with a sly smile and sharp eyes, and one Ylissean thief contemplating the gathering over a lollipop.

“You said this is about Kiran,” Ike said, breaking the uncomfortable silence at last.

“I did,” Grima agreed. “And it is.”

“Have you seen something?” his counterpart ventured, glancing up at the ceiling as though searching for the six-winged form roosting far above.

“No,” the dragon replied. “Which is why I asked you here.”

“…’fraid I don’t follow,” Gaius muttered.

Yes he does. He just wants to hear you say it.

“How ‘bout you spell it out for us?” the thief continued, leaning far enough back in his chair to nearly upend it.

A smile carved its way across Grima’s face. “Why are we all here in this place, fighting this war?”

“We were summoned,” Jeorge replied. “By Kiran, and that strange weapon they hold.”

“I’m still not sure if we’re bound by contract or not,” Robin said, twisting a lock of long white hair around her finger. “We can’t go home unless we’re sent back, but…”

“I don’t…exactly feel obligated to help here,” her twin agreed, adjusting the coat over her bare shoulders. “Not like some of the Heroes we’ve encountered in Veronica’s ranks.

“Why is that?” the fell dragon asked. “Why do you remain here, why do you commit yourself to the Askran cause, if not for a contract?”

“I’m only here because Ike is,” Soren grumbled.

The swordsman paid him no mind, meeting Grima’s eye steadily. “Kiran.”

“Kiran,” the fell dragon repeated, beginning to pace the length of the room. “The Summoner. The one who brought us together, who’s honed our skills, who’s afforded us every chance to better ourselves. Who’s listened to us, and tried to help us find our places in this strange world. Who’s seen us through countless battles and allowed us to be the Heroes we’ve been branded, regardless of our worth.”

You’re waxing poetic.

Kiran brought out a strange side of him. Turning to the assembled Heroes, he leaned his weight against the table. “Who’s now lost behind enemy lines, who’s been abandoned by the leaders of this Order, and who may be in danger.”

“You heard Anna,” the festive tactician noted uncomfortably, folding his mittened hands a few times. “There’s too much of a risk, both to ourselves and to Kiran, to charge back in when we don’t know the full situation.”

A smile tugged at Grima’s lips, exposing the tips of his fangs. “Then perhaps it would behoove us to rectify that.”

“…alright. I’ll bite. How?” Matthew asked, his smile twitching as he fought to keep it in place.

“A covert operation.”

All eyes turned to Grima’s doppelganger. He folded his hands on the table, meeting the fell dragon’s eye steadily. “That’s what you’d propose. Isn’t it?”

“No wonder you need spies and strategists,” the woman seated beside him remarked. “The first to slip into the Múspell camp, assess their forces and potential weak points; the other to take that and devise the plan to strike, extract Kiran, and retreat.”

“I’d expect nothing less from Ylisse’s illustrious tacticians,” the fell dragon murmured, inclining his head in agreement.

“Why, though?” Gaius asked, propping his boots on the edge of the table. “What’s in it for you?”

The assembled Heroes turned their attention back to Grima. He met their stares without flinching, standing tall beside his place at the table. “You imagine I have selfish motivations. And you are not mistaken. Were it another, I would have no qualms about leaving them, whether they were royalty or the Order’s commander. But this is Kiran. They are a weak, wretched, pathetic excuse for a human, unable even to defend themselves in a fight. I want them returned. Nothing more.”

“…I would like to see the Summoner returned safely, myself,” Jeorge remarked, resting his chin on his hands as the other Heroes nodded in agreement. “So, then. Where do we begin?”

—

The council lasted well into the darkest hours of the night. But their plans came together, bit by bit, until at last they parted ways to rest and prepare for the opportune moment. Slipping through the plaza, Grima made his way toward the soft glow of the gates that led beyond the Askran kingdom. If conditions were in their favor, they might be able to set things in motion with the next nightfall–

“Where is Kiran?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder at Hoshido’s archer prince as he emerged from the shadows of the pillars. “Not here,” the fell dragon replied brusquely.

“Where?” His voice sounded hoarse. Narrowing his eyes, Grima watched the noxious violet fog swirl and eddy around the young man. The possessed one, then.

The volatile one.

“I haven’t seen them since the battle,” the fell dragon said.

“I need to find them,” Takumi insisted. “Where are they?”

“I could not say. But they are not here. Look elsewhere.”

“I’ve looked. Everywhere. Nowhere else to go. I need to find them.”

“…why?” Grima asked.

“It won’t go away.”

The archer pressed a hand to his face, fingers curling into an unsteady fist. “I try. I try to block it out, but…the voice keeps telling me…to kill them, all of them, and I can’t make it stop, I need Kiran to make it stop, I need them, where are they…?”

“Gone.”

Takumi looked up, his expression an unsettling mask of distress and rage. “Where?”

“Captured.”

Are you sure you should be telling him that?

“By who?” the archer growled.

“Múspell,” Grima replied.

“Get them back.”

“The Order intends to do nothing,” the fell dragon sneered. “They will sit on their hands and wait for Surtr’s demands. Or for him to put Kiran’s charred corpse on display. Whichever comes first, I suppose.”

The mist around the prince seethed and roiled, and a thin smile cut across Grima’s face as he watched the bow at Takumi’s side begin to tremble.

You’re doing it on purpose.

“I will go.”

“The Order won’t allow it,” the fell dragon remarked.

“I don’t care. I’ll go. I’ll kill them all for Kiran, I’ll get them back, I’ll…”

“You want Kiran back so badly?” Grima murmured, knowing the answer even before he asked. Takumi nodded, offering no more than a low, guttural noise of assent. “Then collect yourself.”

The singer might be able to help. Azura? Kiran called her in to help before, I think…

The fell dragon gestured for Takumi to follow, making his way back into the halls. Considering their purpose, a performer could prove advantageous, though a songstress ran the risk of betraying their position…

But if you plan to use him, you need a way to keep him together. Besides, a singer doesn’t need room to perform the way a dancer does. Reach out to the one in blue, she’ll have a better chance of blending into the dark.

The fell dragon grinned. Perhaps it truly had been a stroke of luck that he’d been bound to a tactician’s body.

You can thank me any time.

…he might consider it if they succeeded.

***

Laegjarn had been true to her word: following the retreat from the village, the Múspell general had personally escorted the Summoner through the march to the edge of the forest before placing them – under heavy guard, of course – in a private tent near the heart of the camp. While Kiran was grateful for that, it didn’t stop anxiety from gnawing a hole through their gut, leaving them queasy and sleepless through the next few days and nights.

It didn’t help that Surtr was on his way. Laegjarn hadn’t said anything about it, but the Summoner had heard her call for a messenger shortly after they made camp. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess what she was going to send.

Aside from the unbearable waiting, though, it wasn’t as bad as Kiran might have expected. No one bothered them, the general was conscious of their needs, and the conditions were more than fair given their prisoner status.

The Summoner wondered, often, as their nerves twisted their stomach into knots, what would end up happening to them. Laegjarn had vowed that no harm would befall them, but with Surtr on the way, that seemed like a hard promise to keep. Would she be able to convince her father to discuss nonviolent terms? Would the flame king overrule his general and act on whatever violent whims ruled him? Would…

…would the Order somehow find a way to save them?

Impossible as it seemed, that was the thought that gave them the most heart. Heroes swooping in to the rescue, defeating the Múspell soldiers…

A flurry of activity on the third night made their heart seize up. Kiran heard Laegjarn calmly directing the soldiers as she strode past the Summoner’s tent…and as she passed, someone entered: not the eldest princess of Múspell, but her sister, her face an expressionless mask and her eyes far colder than her heritage would have implied.

“Is something going on?” Kiran asked, feigning calm.

“You will come with me,” Laevatein ordered.

The Summoner heard no room for argument. And they weren’t exactly in a position to protest, either. Rising to their feet, Kiran approached the young general, submitting without protest as she took hold of their arm and led them out of the tent.

The frantic bustle of activity set their nerves on edge as they moved toward the lanterns lighting the front of the camp. “Your sister seems pretty great,” they noted quietly, watching soldiers scrambling from one corner of the camp to another. Kiran swore they saw the ghost of a smile cross Laevatein’s face at that, though she made no reply. “I’d like to thank her, if I could. Sometime. Y’know. I really appreciate everything she’s done…”

Anything else they might have wanted to say died on their tongue as they approached the edge of camp. The lights they had seen were not lanterns at all: they were naked flames, writhing in the air and nearly choking the Summoner with their heat alone. And at their heart stood the Ruler of Flame himself, his dark eyes staring down at them through the rippling haze.

“I present the Askran Summoner,” Laegjarn said, gesturing to Kiran as Laevatein released their arm.

A wicked sneer sliced across Surtr’s face, and any breath the Summoner might have salvaged to speak abandoned them. “Pathetic,” he chuckled, a sound so low it seemed to shake the ground. “This wretched thing is what’s given them such nerve? They look like they would lose to a mere ember.”

Kiran had to admit that they probably would. But the words would not come out, even if they’d wanted to speak.

The man’s smile grew, exposing teeth and gums alike. “I wonder how well they will burn.”

He raised a hand, and the Summoner stared at the flames licking his fingers, sparking across his nails and crackling in his palm. They could not speak. They could not move. Try as they might, all they could do was watch in growing horror as his hand stretched toward them, the heat baking their skin and singing the edges of their hood and oh gods this was how they would die, they would burn to death here and they couldn’t even cry as they stood rooted in terror beneath the burning gaze of Múspell’s king–

A hand closed on their arm, pulling them back a step.

Kiran stumbled, gasping into their sleeve as Laegjarn placed herself between the Summoner and her father. “I gave my oath that no harm would befall them,” she said, her voice perfectly composed. “The Summoner is a valuable bargaining chip. We can deliver terms of surrender to Askr in exchange for their safe return and end this war tomorrow, but only if we have the Summoner to offer–”

“You should not have made such a hasty oath,” Surtr growled. “Stand aside, or the flames may feast twice this night.”

Kiran’s knees threatened to give way beneath them as Múspell’s king brushed his daughter aside, leaving her armor scorched from even so light a touch. Another step and he loomed over them, the flames making him seem still larger as they flared around him, and the Summoner could not be sure whether it was the haze of heat around him or the adrenaline coursing through them that made his silhouette waver and blur–

And in a flash, chaos erupted all around them.

Horses shrieked and bolted with glowing green wolves snapping at their heels, blue-black ravens descended on the archers reaching for their bows, and wyvern riders taking to the skies fell to a hail of arrows. Kiran scrambled blindly out of the way of the scattering soldiers–

Someone gripped their arm. The Summoner yelped, whirling in a panic…

“Stop sniveling, Summoner.”

Their breath caught.

“…Grima!?”

***

The weather held throughout the day and after the fall of night. Thick clouds obscured the moon and stars from sight as the band of Heroes made their way through the dark: two mages, two dagger wielders, two archers, a swordsman, and a songstress with an ornate axe. Not a brigade for sustained combat, but they had all agreed it would suffice for a strategic strike.

They found the Múspell camp with little difficulty. Gaius and Matthew slipped from the cover of the trees, darting across the icy ground to the pillars of ice that sheltered the enemy tents. They would need time to assess the situation and return to brief the rest of the company…

A sound overhead drew his attention. Glancing up at the heavy clouds, Grima narrowed his eyes at the winged silhouette moving against the sky. He scanned their small force, catching Takumi’s eye and gesturing up to the enemy on patrol; the archer followed his gaze, raising his bow and taking careful aim before loosing a bolt of black energy into the air. The fell dragon saw the wyvern jerk and list in its flight an instant before its wings crumpled…

A sharp hiss drew his attention back. He frowned, watching Takumi shudder while the aura pulsed and coiled around his neck. Nodding briefly to the dark-clad singer, he focused once more on encampment glowing against the blue-white ice while a soft song filled their ears. Even from this distance, he could see soldiers moving hastily through the lines of tents, seething and swarming like ants disturbed from their mound. Something was going on, that much was clear…

He heard, rather than saw, the return of the spies from their patrol, the faint crunch of pine needles and snow under soft boots betraying their presence. “We gotta move fast,” Gaius muttered as he slunk up to Grima’s side. “Bad news just walked in.”

The fell dragon growled low in his throat. That would explain the activity. “Then we had best make haste.”

He moved swiftly, hearing the others following his lead. They moved swiftly, dark shadows against the pale ice, taking shelter behind the icy stones that littered the plain. As they drew close, he saw Surtr speaking with one of the two Múspell generals, watched him brush the woman aside, his hand reaching for…

Kiran.

“Now,” he hissed.

They did not hesitate. The tacticians leapt into action, their spells descending on the encampment and throwing its soldiers into disarray. Jeorge and Takumi took aim at the wyvern riders, arresting their attempted flight while Grima cleared the remaining distance, his attention fixed on the Summoner’s gilt robes amid the chaos. Taking hold of their arm–

Kiran whimpered, rounding on the fell dragon and raising their free hand to shield their face. He could feel them trembling beneath his touch. Typical. And yet, the fell dragon felt a smile curve across his lips, a soft rumble of laughter rising in his chest. “Stop sniveling, Summoner.”

Kiran stilled, turning their face up to look at him. And in spite of himself, he could not hide his grin.

“…Grima!?”

“Who else would it be?” he asked, turning back the way he’d come. “Quickly, now–”

“Hold.”

The fell dragon stopped, moving the Summoner carefully behind him as Surtr towered over them. “Stand aside,” Grima commanded. Even at his full height, the fell dragon was forced to tilt his head up to look the Ruler of Flame in his scarred face. But he felt no fear, even as the man lifted his axe, tongues of fire licking the glowing blade.

Surtr sneered. “Or what? What can a puny thing like you do?”

Grima’s smile widened, exposing his fangs. “I will devour you,” he replied. He raised his hand, gesturing to Múspell’s king as the man uttered a booming, mirthless laugh…

The clouds above roiled and parted for the six-eyed dragon, its maw gaping wide as it descended toward the camp. Surtr paused, watching the dragon’s descent with a vaguely amused smirk. “Keep close,” Grima muttered, sheltering the Summoner with one outstretched arm as the dragon overhead breathed a cloud of violet smoke over the encampment…

“Foolish wretch – you will learn the meaning of fear,” Surtr laughed.

Sparks danced through the veil of haze. The king of Múspell raised his axe high, flames coalescing into a ball that rivaled the sun – and as he swung his weapon, it soared high, striking the dragon squarely in the jaw.

The fell beast shrieked in rage and agony, expelling another cloud of noxious fog across the enemy’s forces. He felt Kiran’s hand grip his sleeve, and without hesitation he retreated through the dark, away from the Múspell forces and onto the snowy wastes beyond. He saw the others ahead, pulling back with equal speed, cutting swiftly across the ice and into the shelter of the trees beyond; with the songstress speeding them along their way, they continued without pause until at last the light and sound of the battlefield had faded from a ringing in their ears to utter silence.

And then, at last, their breathless troop stopped, collapsing beneath the shelter of the Nifl pines. Grima glanced across the battered force, an odd sense of relief settling over him as he found them all accounted for. They had done well.

And moreover, they had succeeded.

The fell dragon turned to the Summoner beside him, looking them over carefully as their breath at last grew steady. They appeared unharmed, if slightly singed… “Are you alright?” he asked.

Kiran drew in a shaky breath. And when they looked up at him, their wide eyes were full of tears.

Before he could speak, the Summoner flung themselves at him, pressing close and clutching his coat in their trembling hands. “He was gonna kill me,” they whimpered. “Gods…g-gods, I could’ve died, he was gonna burn me alive, and I couldn’t d-do anything – I froze up, I just stood there, like s-some dumb…I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t even run away, I was gonna die th-there…”

Grima hesitantly coiled one arm across Kiran’s shoulders, the other awkwardly patting the peak of their hood. “What did you expect?” he asked quietly. “You do not fight. That is not your role.”

“I could’ve…a-at least run away, i-instead of dying like…like some c-coward,” the Summoner sniffled into his increasingly damp shirt.

“There is no cowardice in what you did,” the fell dragon murmured. “Brave words can mask a coward, but his actions will betray him. You showed great courage. You held firm in the face of fear. You faced a foe that even Heroes fear. You should take pride.”

“I’m no Hero,” Kiran mumbled.

“No,” Grima agreed. “You are not. You are a Summoner. But what makes us Heroes is not our presence in Askr. It is not our histories, nor our titles, nor our lineages….it is you. You are the one who makes us Heroes. Your belief in us. Your faith. You are not a Hero, Summoner…but we are not Heroes without you.”

You’re waxing poetic again.

It seemed effective, though. Kiran’s sniffling abated, and they turned their gaze once more up to look at his face. “…do you really think so?” they whispered.

“I think any here would agree,” he nodded. The Summoner drew back slightly, mustering up a shaky smile as they dried their eyes and turned to scan the assembled Heroes…

“Holy shit, what happened to Takumi!?”

Kiran broke away, hurrying over to where the archer sat. His head came up, bloody lips curving into a relieved smile as the Summoner settled beside him. “You’re back,” he mumbled, the shifting aura around him beginning to disperse.

“Of course I am,” they chuckled. “You guys can’t get rid of me that easy. Don’t suppose a healer joined the party…?”

“No,” Grima confirmed, moving to stand beside them. “But Askr is only a brief warp away, and there are clerics enough there.”

“We should probably get going, then,” they said, helping Takumi to his feet. Nodding in agreement, Grima turned–

Something tugged on his sleeve. Looking back, he found the Summoner’s hand on his arm, a familiar smile taking its place once more on their face. “Thanks, Grima,” they murmured. “For saving me. And…for everything else, too.”

The fell dragon inclined his head slightly, concealing his smile beneath his raised hood as he turned to join the tacticians in seeing to the preparations for their return. The commander would likely have harsh words for them all, but…he would bear them without complaint or apology. The risk had been well worth the reward.

#fire emblem: heroes #fanfiction #fallen robin #grima #kiran #answered #anonymous #holy fuck i hope this was worth the wait #it was so much fun to write okay #i've been living it up for the past few days working on this #it's two in the morning and i don't care i'm on cloud nine because i did the thing #forgive me if it's not super polished though #it got no proofing through last basically 4k words #might go back and make tweaks tomorrow but i did the thing #i did the thing i'm so happy #controlled chaos #snippets

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