#i hate the customers who would have me reach down their throat to expand and contract their lungs for them if they could

[quasistarjudgement]

Today got me all "Your heart beats twice. Like a fist."

[streetlight11]

Cat Café

Summary: Every year, your parents would set you on a date with any eligible guy that is of a wealthy family background so that your parents could expand their wealth and business. You were never looking forward to any of the dates until one fateful day, where the café worker attracted your attention.

Theme: cat café au, wealthy family au, strangers to lovers

Genre: fluffy

Warnings: none

WC: 4.4k

Pairing: Café Worker!San x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hello again! Decided to write a cute kitty fic for San since he loves Byeol 💜 I hope he's resting well :'(

Being the daughter of someone who seems to be well-known as a millionaire in your country, there are pros and cons to it. The pros are that people would do anything and everything for your family, you lived in a mansion, you have a personal chauffeur but would prefer driving on your own, you can literally snap your fingers and anything can come to you except, you don’t like that.

The cons are that some people tend to envy your family, some even throw threats at you with ransom. And then there’s a handful of people who tries to befriend you just for your wealth but you’re not dumb. You’re smarter than people think.

However, one thing you never liked about this whole being born rich and having a family business fiasco, is that one of your parents would tend to be money minded and would do anything to gain power over their company. Which is exactly what was happening to you for the past few years ever since you turned 18.

Your father had been sending you on blind dates with a bunch of different guys who were sons of rich family business owners.

However, thankfully, your father wasn’t the kind to force you into marriage if you didn’t want to. But with that being said, every guy you rejected, results in a new guy for you and you hate this.

This year, your dad found you a guy who was around your age.

His parents owned a well-known wine company in the country. He was the youngest in his family. His name was Park Seonghwa and no doubt he was good looking and rather charming in personality, you just don’t feel the spark with him either.

And yet, here you are on your third date with him. You could tell that this person was a very kind-hearted man and that he was nothing but genuine with you.

But everything just feels out of place.

For this third date with him, he told you to choose where to go so you decided to bring him to a cat café that you knew of downtown. You walked with him side by side down the pavement after having dropped off by his chauffeur.

It was quite a chilly day, light snow cascading down on you as you walked.

Seonghwa was just listening to you talk about your school when he saw the way you were hugging yourself to shield your body from the cold breeze despite the three layers you had on.

He chuckled softly to no one as he soon wrapped an arm around your shoulder to pull you against his side, causing you to softly gasp.

Your words got stuck in your throat as you looked up at him with a bashful smile.

“Sorry, I guess you knew I was cold…” You apologized, earning a soft nod from him followed by a cute little giggle. You continued walking with him against your side, glancing up at him every now and then only to find him staring down at you with such warm eyes.

Both of you finally arrived at the cat café you wanted to bring him to, only to find it quite empty save for the two couples already in the booths with the kitties.

You entered the cosy premise of the café, immediately greeted by one of the staff there behind the counter.

“Hi! Welcome to Cuddles ‘N’ Coffee! Table for 2?” She asked with a cheery smile on her face.

“Yes please.” Seonghwa responded as she nodded before walking out the back and towards the glass door that shields the cats from leaving the front entrance.

“You can have that table booth right at the back. Just press the button on the wall and we’ll come over to take your orders.” She smiled as you thanked her for her great customer service before she returned your gesture with a sweet smile that turned her eyes into slits.

You and Seonghwa walked over to the table, careful not to step on any cats laying on the ground.

Some were already trailing behind you and the minute you placed your purse down and sat on the cushioned bench, a chunky brown cat leaped onto your lap and purred.

A soft giggle left your lips as you turned to Seonghwa who was also in the same situation as you but with a slimmer white cat in his lap.

“You make me want to adopt them really badly.” Seonghwa said under his breath, making you laugh.

After a few minutes of just bonding with the cats, you finally made your orders. The same girl came back about 5 minutes later with your orders, telling you to enjoy your drinks. You were just listening to Seonghwa talking about his boring lecturer when your eyes naturally glided over towards the front counter.

That’s where you saw a guy who looks to work there too considering the same polo tee and apron that Yeji, the girl who served you and Seonghwa earlier was wearing.

His smile was captivating as he joked around with Yeji, throwing balls of tissue at each other.

You watched as he seemed to have said something to her, causing her to slap his arm a little too harshly. That’s when he curled his body while holding onto the spot she hit.

But his frown was quickly replaced by a smile, watching her leave the counter with a middle finger in the air, directing it to him. Right when you were about to look away, his eyes happened to catch sight of yours. You’re supposed to be focusing on Seonghwa!

What are you doing? Look away!

Everything around you was a blur until you felt a warm touch to your knee, making you flinch and was soon turned back to Seonghwa who had a frown on his face.

“Hey? You okay? What’s wrong?” He asked out of pure concern.

“N-Nothing. Sorry, my mind went elsewhere for a moment. I’m so sorry, Seonghwa.” You apologized, already feeling bad for ignoring him like that whilst on a date. But all he did was chuckle and tell you it was fine.

After a few more minutes, you finally called it a night. You both reused your coats and checked to make sure you didn’t leave any belongings behind before making your way to the door to make your payment.

“Hello! I hope you enjoyed your time with the cats!” Yeji smiled to you two as she keyed in your orders.

“Yes we did. Thank you for having the cute fur balls.” You giggled, earning a laugh from her as well. Just when Seonghwa was handing his card to Yeji, you happened to turn right when her co-worker left the back room.

It was him.

He made eye contact with you briefly before turning away to enter the cat room. But you could’ve sworn you saw the small pout on his face. Unless your eyes were playing tricks on you.

Seonghwa’s car was now parked right outside your estate, with him insisting on walking you to your front gates while his driver stayed behind in the car. Once you were both there, he reached down to grab your hand gently making you turn around. You saw a frown decorating his face, instantly knowing something wasn’t right.

“Seonghwa? Is everything okay?” You asked as he stayed quiet for a while before he let out a soft sigh. And that’s when he explained everything.

“I know this might not be the best time to say this, but I have to. The past two dates were amazing. I never thought I’d find someone as down to earth and humble like you. And I did. Today was as amazing as those dates. The simple sushi dinner, the walk by Han River, the cat café as our last destination for this night’s date, I loved every second of it. And I really wish I could have more of this with you. I really do.”

He paused briefly before he continued, seeing that you were listening to him intently.

“But… my parents have decided… that they’re setting me up for marriage with someone else.” You weren’t going to lie, this news made your heart sink just a bit.

“Oh…” That was all you can muster and he knew you were upset.

“But it’s okay. We can still be friends if you’ll let me? The past three dates made me learn so much about you as a person and I couldn’t ask for more.” Seonghwa smiled, making you tear up feeling slightly overwhelmed.

“Hey, don’t cry…” Seonghwa whispered in between chuckles as he wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m just touched that you feel that way for me.”

“Well, then I’m glad I managed to make you cry.” He teased, earning a soft slap to his broad chest. Seonghwa laughed again but then got quiet for a split second before he spoke up cautiously, hoping you weren’t offended by his request.

“Can… Can I kiss you?” Seonghwa asked and you weren’t going to reject him this time.

So when you didn’t reply to him, he mistook it for rejection. But instead, you carefully slide your hands around his neck, pulling him close until you feel his lips against your own.

Seonghwa smiled into the kiss as his hands wrapped itself around your waist, instinctively pulling you closer to his body. Your fingers tangled into his soft hair gently, feeling him squeeze your sides a little before he chuckled against your mouth.

“You really are something else, you know that? Whoever dates you, is gonna be the luckiest guy on earth.” Seonghwa complimented you, making you blush.

“And to the girl who’s about to be your future wife, she better be grateful to have such a handsome, kind hearted young man as her husband.” You returned as he kissed you again before pulling away.

“Goodnight Y/N. I’ll see you around. Promise we’ll stay friends okay?” Seonghwa said, making you hug him.

“I promise.” You whispered against his chest, pulling away from him. You gave him a final wave as you watched his car descend down the road. Seonghwa was an angel and whoever he ends up with, will be the luckiest girl on earth.

It has been 2 weeks since your last date with Seonghwa and you’ve been coming to the cat café. Probably 3 times in each week. Sometimes to do your assignment, sometimes to just chill and hangout with the kitties. But in all honesty, you were lowkey expecting to see the guy working there the other day and you did.

Almost all your visits there.

Little did you know, he too was kind of looking forward to seeing you there.

It was a Saturday evening and you were out and about in town. Your parents didn’t have any guys for your blind date recently so you took this chance to leave the house and just spend time alone.

You managed to find your way back to the café, parking your car at an empty parking lot down the street.

You had just entered the café and it was slightly more occupied than the last time you came. But since you were alone, it wasn’t actually a problem. You were standing by the door, looking around at the people queueing at the counter to make their payments when a voice snapped you out of your trance.

“Hi, welcome to Cuddles ‘N’ Coffee. For how many people?”

You turned to look at who greeted you, only to lock eyes with the same ones you had been hoping to see every time you came there.

“Just 1.” You said with a small smile, only to catch the inner corner of his lips twitch upwards.

“Right this way.” He said as he led you towards the room where the cats were in. You followed behind him closely, only for him to lead you to one of the booths near the back.

“Call me if you need anything.” He said as you noticed the smile that appeared on his face before he left. And you caught a glimpse of his nametag right before he turned.

Choi San.

A few minutes later, you were too busy petting the fluffy white cat in your lap, you didn’t even realize more people had left the café and there were only 3 tables left occupied. The cat in your lap was purring as it nuzzled its face into your stomach, not knowing you were currently a topic of conversation that was happening on the other side of the room.

San had just finished charging one of the customers only to let out a long sigh.

“Tired already?” Yeji asked with a teasing smile as she approached him. San grumbled, leaning against the counter with his back facing where the customers would be.

“Today’s been a full house since afternoon and I’m dead, gone.” He said, leaning his head back to close his eyes.

San couldn’t see what Yeji was doing until he heard her voice from beside him.

“Go and talk to her.”

“Huh?” San snapped his head towards her with a confused look on his face, earning a giggle from her.

“You yourself told me you were upset that she wasn’t alone the other day, and now she is. So go talk to her!” Yeji encouraged him.

“What if her boyfriend just can’t make it?”

“San, she’s been coming here alone for the past two weeks in case you haven’t noticed. Maybe she’s here to see you? Come on, just keep her company. Nothing would go wrong with that.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I’m a girl and I’d do the same if I wanted to be discreet about seeing my crush at his workplace?”

To that, San sighed as he turned to look over at you across the room, only to see you nuzzling your face against the cat’s head that was in your lap. This made his heart flutter as he saw the little smile on your face upon feeling the cat licking your nose.

He didn’t realize he had a silly smile on his face until Yeji pushed him gently to get his attention, “Just go, silly! That dumb smile on your face is telling a lot!” She laughed as he glared at her but without any venom in them.

He finally mustered up the courage thanks to Yeji as he was now making his way towards you where there’s only a couple who was left in the room with you.

Once he was a few feet away, his voice caught your attention, making you look up.

Immediately, your heartbeat started picking up speed.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” San asked politely, earning a soft shake of your head and a smile.

“No thanks, I’m good actually…” You said.

San nodded as he wasn’t sure if he should stay or leave. But you seem to have read his mind by asking him the question he never expected would have come from you.

“Do you… wanna sit down?” You asked as he glanced down at the empty spot beside you before looking back into your eyes.

“Uh.. y-yeah… are- are you okay with that?”

“Of course.” You smiled as you scooted over a little for him.

San carefully sat down beside you and almost instantly, a fluffy brown cat leaped into his lap. You giggled when the cat stood up with its back legs on his thighs while its front paws rested on his chest. Licking San’s chin cutely as the other cats started to surround him by the legs, begging for his pets.

“They seem to love you.” You commented with a genuine smile, making him chuckle.

“I own a cat myself so I guess I’m just used to being loved by them.” San said before turning to look at you, only to be flustered by the way you were staring at him.

“Wow… That’s sweet.”

“Do you have any pets?” He asked.

“No… Although I do wish to have one. I think it would be nice.” You said softly, only to hear him shift in his seat. Just then, his knee accidentally brushed against yours but you didn’t mind it.

A few seconds of peaceful silence went by, only for him to speak up, “Are you heading home soon?”

“I think I should? You guys are closing up soon right?”

“Yeah… Do you have a ride home?” He asked almost out of instinct, feeling sorry that he just blatantly asked you that when you barely knew each other.

“S-Sorry! I didn’t mean to be weird…”

“No. No. It’s fine. But yes, I do.” You smiled at him.

San awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck out of nervousness, only for you to speak up.

“Well, I think I should make a move soon. Thank you for sitting here with me.” You said as he smiled again.

“Sure.”

The two of you began making your way back to the front counter as Yeji keyed in your order. After you’ve paid, she hands you back your card and receipt, only for you to smile at both Yeji and San.

“Thank you. Goodnight.” You said as they nodded whilst she replied the same to you.

All San could do was smile, not able to move or say anything to you. The minute you left, Yeji turned to him and asked why he never replied to you. That’s when he finally told his co-worker that he was head over heels for you.

A few weeks passed and you had been going to that café a little more frequently now solely to see San. It was a Sunday afternoon, a bright, cold day. You were just making your way to San’s workplace when you got a call from him. You answered his call, only to hear his eager voice from the other side of the line.

“Hey! Where are you?” He asked.

“On my way to the café actually.”

“Nice. I’m a little caught up in the back so just come inside and find a seat near the back. Yeji’s working upfront.”

“Okay San, see you.”

“See you, cutie.” You could’ve sworn you heard his smirk creeping up on his face only for you to giggle.

You and San haven’t properly confessed anything yet, but you could definitely tell that both of you liked each other. Although San already knows about your family background, he was pretty chill about it. You could tell that he was a genuine person and wasn’t one who would just date you for money.

You even told Seonghwa about him and he feels that San is someone you could trust. So when you made it to the café and you saw Yeji talking to a customer alone by the cashier, you figured San was in fact in the back room.

So after the customer left, Yeji’s eyes travelled to you and immediately her smile beamed, causing her eyes to disappear.

“Y/N! Hey!”

“Hey Yeji.” You giggled.

“San’s a little busy with paperwork in the back but he told me to save a seat for you at your usual spot!”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that though.”

“It’s okay, his words anyway.” Yeji giggled before bringing you to the table.

A few minutes passed, you were just kissing one of the cat’s cute pink nose when a familiar voice spoke up from above you, making you look up to see San standing there with his apron discarded.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

San smiled as he sat down beside you only to reach over and gave the cat a few strokes. You were about to turn and talk to him but instead, you got flustered with how close his face was with yours. The minute San looked up at you, you could literally feel his warm minty breath hitting your lips.

His eyes glanced down to your lips and you could see the corner of his lips curve up slightly. This in itself, made your heart pound against your chest as you turned away to hide your blush on your face.

“Uhh, I- I umm, are you hungry?” You asked, earning a soft chuckle from him.

He went to order for you two, also making the drinks for you before coming back. You spent the next hour with him during his lunch break, not forgetting to share some skin ship with him. Something you’ve grown used to.

San was ending his shift in two hours and you definitely didn’t mind staying there for another few hours for him since he himself said you could wait for him there.

And so you did.

After he ended his work, both of you left his workplace not without saying bye to Yeji.

You hang out with him for a bit before he invites you over to his apartment. You’ve been there more than five times and he has never done anything inappropriate to you. So you trusted him with all your life.

A few hours passed and you were now seated on his couch, watching the Disney movie ‘Frozen’ with him. “Omg, look at this jerk! He’s totally using her!” You ranted with an unconscious pout, earning a little chuckle from him.

“Well, at least I know I wouldn’t do that to someone.” San shrugged, making you turn to him. He had a silly smirk on his face but you weren’t going to comment on it. You were just blushing at his indirect flirty comment towards you despite not mentioning who he was talking about.

San was definitely talking about you and he knows you know it too. And seeing the blush on your face could only make him burst into a laughter that left you pouting.

“Shut up! Don’t make fun of me!” You whined as San wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry but you’re just too cute!” San said as you froze.

Sure he has called your choice of outfits pretty before but this time, it felt so raw and you were slightly taken aback by it. San definitely noticed this as he pulled away from you to look into your eyes. At first he was frowning but then it got replaced with a smile, melting you instantly.

The room fell quiet as you noticed the way his eyes fell to your lips and lingered there for a bit, making you nervous.

Just then, your breath hitched in your throat when he reached up slowly to cup your face and caress your cheek with his thumb. Nobody dared to say much but he had to make sure you were alright with where this is going so he spoke up.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” He whispered, his voice soft and gentle.

You gave him a nod to answer him as you watched him lean closer until his sharp nose lightly brushed against the side of your nose, lips barely an inch apart from each other.

You closed your eyes, too nervous to keep looking. San smiled at this as he gave your lips one last glance before he too closed his eyes and pressed his lips gently on yours. San felt you move your lips against his. He smiled into your lips as he caressed your cheek while he kissed you.

He was being so gentle with you, it definitely melted your heart.

He pulled away for a breath, letting his fingers lightly ghost over your features before you reopened your eyes to look at him.

“Was that okay?” He asked, his voice quiet.

“Yeah…” You whispered as you wrapped your fingers around the wrist of the hand that was holding your face.

“Good… Because I wasn’t sure if I trusted myself with words to confess to you.” San chuckled, earning a soft giggle from you before you replied to him.

“It’s okay… I like this better.”

With that being said, San smiled in victory as he kissed you again.

You spent the day with him, cuddling on his couch after a long but innocent make out session. Never did you think you would fall for a boy who worked at a cat café but you did. And you were more than happy you did.

~~~

[lunarflux]

han jisung x reader / femme o/c

genre — fluff

cafe!au pt 2

suggested background music: x

9:59pm

Like clockwork, Jisung switched off the lights to The Rose Room. The quaint little cafe he owned with a friend seemed to have the most solemn atmosphere just before closing, and tonight was no exception. The red glow from the streetlights danced along the freshly polished floor like a night light. It was time to lock up and head home.

Jisung polished off the last of his coffee, forever regretting how much caffeine he continuously consumed just before he had to sleep. All the part-timers had gone home for the night, and the only company left in his coffee house was the sound of flickering lights and a symphony of car horns from down the road.

10:05pm

Jisung had his key in the door, but in his head, he was counting down.

Ten seconds.

With a deep breath, he heard the gears click together, and right on time, there she was.

Hyacinth & Holly - that was the name of the flower shop across the way. Jisung had his routine locked down that by the time the doors had shut, you were about to walk out.

Always carrying a fresh bouquet of blue hydrangeas, there you were. Locking up your own little kingdom of hues and aromas, you turned and gave him a small wave.

This was the routine that Jisung always looked forward to at the end of the day - seeing you even if for a moment. You both always walked in opposite directions, but that simple five seconds of eye contact were enough to make him forget his fatigue.

One day, he'll talk to you.

One day.

But this is not that day.

Jisung turned his heel, knowing you'd easily turn yours away from him. The walk back to his apartment was always quiet, but lately, it was even more solemn.

Hyunjin, your last-minute roommate had moved out last week to live with his girlfriend. It was just one less person he interacted with during the day, and it was only then that he realized, he didn't really talk to that many people.

In his head, he would imagine you walking through the doors of the Rose Room.

Strawberry latte? Iced rose tea? - He would guess your favorite drinks in the hopes that one day, you'd walk in, and he could surprise you.

Hyunjin used to tease him.

"Just go over there on your break. You're never gonna know her name unless you just talk to her."

Jisung scoffed at the thought of that conversation, remembering how it took over a month for Hyunjin to confess his own feelings. Then again, the flower shop opened up a few months ago, and still he hasn't spoken to you.

One day.

**

Jisung walked into the Rose Room at 2:00pm.

An unfamiliar vase with two massive sunflowers sat on the bar top.

"What's this?" He picked up one of the yellow stalks and prodded it with a small smile on his face.

Jeongin continued to work on his Americano. "The girl from the shop across the street dropped it off this morning. She said someone canceled their order, and she'd already clipped the stems so it'd be a waste not to put them out."

Jisung felt the lump in his throat expand. She had been in here.

"I was gonna bring her a drink to say thanks, but I didn't ask what she liked." Jeongin slipped off his apron. "I figured an Americano would be okay -"

"I'll do it." Jisung interrupted. "But give that to the next customer, I'll make something."

**

Carrying a small plastic lunch bag, Jisung steadied himself. The strawberries in the sandwich he made had to stay pristine. Paired with the rose tea, he made his way over to the storefront, ready to be either rejected or welcomed.

"Hello!" A part-timer greeted, the name 'Yeji' scribbled on her name tag. "Can I help you?"

"Um -" The familiar lump in his throat was back. "Th-The girl who brought the sunflowers. Is she here?"

Yeji tilted her head, looking over to the sunflowers behind Jisung, not realizing the amount had been altered. "That might have been my boss? But she isn't here."

"Oh." Jisung was almost relieved.

"Is that for her?" Yeji motioned towards the lunch bag.

"No - I mean, yes, but -"

"She'll be back later. She only came in to help prepare an order, but she closes usually." Yeji said with a smile. "Do you want me to leave that in the back -"

"No!" Jisung nearly screamed. "I mean, no, no, I'll come back. If... that's okay?"

The surprised girl nodded quietly.

**

9:48pm

The strawberries in the sandwich got soggy and the rose tea watered down. Jisung slumped his head over the counter, still cringing from today's interaction with the girl who very well knows his crush and could easily ruin his chances.

Why am I so awkward?

Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward, peering out into the street. He didn't know if you were there. He didn't even know if he could muster up the same courage to go back.

Jisung reached for the door, tempted to just run over if only to catch you before you closed up, but before he could, you emerged.

Holding his breath, he watched as you walked outside - but not alone.

You were with someone. A guy. He patted your head, and you smiled back.

Jisung's grip on the door handle pushed the blood from his knuckles. It was too good to be true. He waited too long.

And just like that, he felt his heart drop into his stomach. He didn't even know you, yet he already felt that familiar pang of sadness and disappointment. It wasn't as if he was craving a relationship, and perhaps, he had built you up too much in his head. He didn't know your name or your favorite color. He didn't know the music you liked to listen to on your way to work or the sound of your laugh. He really didn't know anything, and seeing this solidified that thought.

You were a stranger after all.

**

Hyunjin and his girlfriend, the day manager left together today, but not before trying to talk Jisung out of his mood.

"You know that might not be her boyfriend," she shook her head. "Don't jump to conclusions."

"What other guy would meet up with her that late at night?" Hyunjin rolled his eyes. "If you were the closing manager, you know I'd show up to walk you home."

Jisung cringed, seeing the couple exchange loving glances.

"We're just saying not to give up. You can't wait forever."

They weren't wrong. It seemed better to try now and get rejected than to wait and wonder.

**

9:59pm

It seemed automatic now. The counting. Only now, he didn't really know what he was counting down to.

Jisung heaved a heavy sigh as he inserted his key.

9

8

7

"Are you closed?"

5

Wait.

Jisung nearly stumbled down from the small ledge of the door.

There you were. Apron and purse in one hand a fresh bouquet of blue hydrangeas in the other.

"Yeah, we closed -" He cleared his throat. "We closed - I mean, we close at 9:30."

"Oh." You almost looked upset. "I'm sorry, I'm just so used to seeing you leave after ten, so I wasn't sure. I always wake up too late to come here before my shift, and you guys are always so busy.

Jisung put his key back in the lock without thinking. Opening the door, he held his breath.

"I can make you something."

**

You swung your legs under the seat. Jisung quietly steeped the same kind of rose tea he wanted to give to you before. Glancing over, he could see one of the last strawberry sandwiches of the day as if it had been waiting for him to reenter.

"Do you always work late?"

He heard your small voice over the counter. Walking up, you joined him so that the only thing between you was marble. Jisung nodded, setting the glass of tea and sandwich in front of you.

"Yeji told me you stopped by yesterday. I'm sorry, I missed you."

"It's fine." He could feel the cold sweat on the back of his neck. "I would have brought it later, but your boyfriend was there."

"Ex."

"Ex?"

"Ex." You smiled, quietly sipping your tea with a blissful sigh he'd never seen before. "Dropping off my spare work key. I'd forgotten it when I moved out last month."

Ex. Her ex boyfriend. Of course.

"Why did you break up?"

Picking at the edges of the sandwich, you shrugged. "You know how it is. Working adults not working the same schedule. I like working the night shifts. I like closing the store. And he hated how many hydrangeas I brought home. Said it made the apartment smell too much."

"I think they're pretty. The blue ones."

As if you'd forgotten the color already, you giggled. "They're my favorite."

"Mine, too." Jisung could feel the air lessen.

"I can bring you some tomorrow if you'd like."

"That'd be nice." He smiled, genuinely for the first time in what seemed like a long time. "If you want, I could -" He caught himself.

You nodded towards him, midway through your sandwich.

Punching his leg, Jisung quietly scolded himself. "If you want... I could walk you to work. I'd like to see you - the flowers, I mean, and everything tomorrow. Y'know. Before it gets dark."

"You'd wake up early for flowers?"

"W-Well, yes, and I need to wake up earlier anyway - I drink too much caffeine at work, and I need to stop sleeping so late, and -"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'd like that," you beamed.

Jisung almost choked. "I'm sorry, it's just. Well. I don't even know your name."

"y/n." You poked his cheek. "All you had to do was ask."

[beca-mitchell]

if you wanted to, girl, we could cross that line (1/1)

Summary: Aren't you supposed to book the wedding venue after proposing? Word count: 3,316 words Author’s Notes: I’ve been thinking about recent discussion re: Chloe and Beca's relationship. Specifically how Chloe hates it when people think Beca is some uncaring/apathetic person. Or that Beca is aloof and distant in their romantic relationship. I had some ideas about that, but then it kind of spiralled into this which I don't even know if it addresses any of that discourse at all. But. Anyway. I've been binging Friends, so yes, this is totally inspired by Season 6, episode 22 (and a little of episode 23) of Friends. Fic title from Lauv's "Feelings".

Read below or on AO3.

* * * * *

“Aubrey this place is beautiful,” Chloe gasps, looking around the high ceilings and well-decorated walls of the country club lounge. “You’re really thinking about moving The Lodge to California?”

Aubrey flips through the brochure, nodding along to Chloe’s words. “It seems like a natural choice. Would be nice to expand out here. Lots of companies need their morale boosted.”

Chloe nudges Aubrey. “I’m happy for you, you know? You’ve done so much in the past few years.”

“Chloe,” Aubrey sighs. “Thank you.”

“And I’m so glad you didn’t move to Mykonos and become a doula.”

Aubrey frowns. “I don’t remember saying that.” She flips to the next page of her brochure. “Oh! Chloe, look! They host weddings here!”

Chloe shifts to lean over Aubrey’s shoulder to examine the glossy pages. “Oh wow, I’m sure they must be beautiful here. Expensive too. Oh!” Chloe points to the next page. “They can even host guests overnight.”

“Perfect for corporate retreats,” Aubrey muses.

“Or weddings,” Chloe says, tugging Aubrey’s arm along. “Just think about it. A beautiful day...a little bit of a breeze." Chloe sighs, somewhat wistfully, lost in her own world for a moment. "You’d look beautiful in the dress I have picked out for you.”

“Oh is this your wedding we’re talking about?”

To Aubrey’s immense surprise, Chloe glances away, clearly embarrassed. “I mean. It could be anybody’s wedding. I was just. Throwing it out there. You know.”

“Were you picturing yourself in the wedding dress?”

Again, hesitation from Chloe. “...Maybe.”

Aubrey moves so she’s standing in front of Chloe. “Hey, what’s this all about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You,” Aubrey gestures with a stern tone. “Getting all weird and shy about weddings of all things.”

It wasn’t that Chloe was fanatic about weddings, it was more that Aubrey knew Chloe was a complete romantic. And passionate about literally everything, on top of that. Plus, Aubrey, in her capacity as Chloe’s de facto best friend, knew just how much Chloe wanted a fairytale wedding. It was something that some people grew out of—Aubrey would know, being all about practicality—but it was also something that followed people and nestled within their hopes and dreams like a permanent reminder of what optimism and sunshine could bring.

Chloe is the embodiment of both of those things and Aubrey is fortunate enough to have experienced such a person in her lifetime.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Chloe begins, going for nonchalance which Aubrey disregards completely. “I just. I—I’ve been dating Beca for a year and a half. And then soon it’s going to be two years. And then...more.”

“That’s how time works, usually.”

Chloe glares at her. “It’s just. Beca isn’t...I don’t think she wants to get married.”

“Has she said that to you?” Aubrey demands, surprised that even Beca of all people would have so little tact to say that to Chloe specifically. Chloe who has had her wedding planned since she was in second grade. Chloe, who would go to the ends of the earth for Beca Mitchell’s smug, talented ass.

“No! No, God, Beca is amazing. And she—” Chloe sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I know what you’re thinking and it’s what everybody thinks. Beca isn’t like that, okay? She loves me and she’s in love with me. There’s no doubt about it.” Aubrey shoots her a skeptical look. “You’re so unfair,” Chloe complains, upon seeing Aubrey’s expression. “She’s an amazing girlfriend. Honestly. Everybody thinks that she’s this distant, emotionless little...” Chloe makes a noise of frustration. “Well, she’s not. She’s passionate and beautiful and so so good at that thing she—”

“Chloe!”

Chloe blushes. “Sorry. But it’s not that. I promise.”

“Then where did...all this come from?”

“Well, I just don’t want to...freak her out.”

“Freak her out,” Aubrey echoes, contemplating the word choice and wondering whether she really does need to talk to Beca about her lack of decorum. “Has she said that to you?” she demands again.

“No!”

“Then—?”

“I just. I know I can be a lot, okay? I know that I want things too much sometimes. And that I can get loud and crazy about things. But I want to…” Chloe glances around. “I want to spend the rest of my life with Beca and I don’t want anything to mess that up.”

“Why would you two getting married mess that up?”

“Um? Hello? Has she not complained about her parents before?”

Aubrey can concede to that. “Once or twice. But I mean...we’re not all defined by our parents’ mistakes.” Chloe shoots her a look. “Okay, you know what? This isn’t about me.”

Chloe giggles, relenting. She kicks her toe against the ground, following the movement with her eyes. “I just know that Beca isn’t thinking about getting married. We just moved in together.”

“Like two months ago,” Aubrey mutters.

“More like four months ago!”

“Oh, but who’s counting?”

Chloe flashes a quick smile. “Yeah, it’s been four months hasn’t it?” She softens. “I love living with Beca. And I love L.A.! Oh—and of course I love that you’re going to be moving here.” She pulls Aubrey in for a quick hug, right in the middle of the hall. “It’s just...everything is coming together. I love my life just the way it is.”

“Chloe—”

It is that moment that a couple decides to make their way through the hall, led by a man holding a clipboard. He appears to be listing off amenities and accommodations.

“—host many weddings a year, especially during June. You are very lucky to get on the waiting list.”

Chloe, never one to really acknowledge social customs, somehow manages to insert herself into the conversation midway. “Is there a long list?” she asks conversationally, a hint of amusement in her tone. She tugs Aubrey along despite Aubrey’s attempts to mind her own business.

The wedding planner scrutinizes their intertwined hands. “Are you two ladies looking to have a wedding?”

Chloe tilts her head before turning to look at Aubrey with a glint in her eyes. “And if we are?”

“Chloe!” Aubrey hisses.

“Well, the wait list is about two years long, so you’ll have to get in line.”

* * * * *

“What was that about loving your life the way it was?”

“It wasn’t serious. I just won’t ever contact them again.”

“Yes, putting yours and Beca’s names down for a wedding venue wasn’t serious.”

“Think of it as a way to drum up some press for when you host corporate retreats there.”

“How does this help me? This absolutely in no way helps me at all.”

* * * * *

Chloe forgets about her little relapse until two weeks later. She and Beca decide to go for a nice dinner at the country club—a place where Beca can maintain some anonymity while they engage in things that Beca would prefer prying eyes to keep away from.

Namely kissing.

“You haven’t touched your dinner,” Chloe murmurs. She smiles as she catches Beca’s next kiss head-on, tilting her head ever so slightly to elicit the quietest of whimpers from Beca’s throat.

“You haven’t touched yours.”

Chloe tenses her fingers, splayed on Beca’s thigh. “Maybe I’m more interested in my dessert.”

Beca blushes immediately and clears her throat, drawing back to take in Chloe’s swollen lips and playful smile. “I’m so happy that you’re mine,” Beca drawls, reaching up to cup Chloe’s cheeks. “But you have to stop saying shit like that in public.”

“Why do I have to stop saying shit like that in public?” Chloe asks innocently, letting her lips and tongue emphasize the word shit while her hand glides further up Beca’s thigh.

Beca’s eyes darken further. She hums, leaning in to capture Chloe’s lips in another kiss. “You don’t play fair,” she complains when Chloe finally draws back and refocuses on her plate of untouched food.

“But you just get so cute and flustered,” Chloe points out. “How can I resist?”

Later, as they are leaving, Chloe barely has time to recall just why she recognizes the man walking towards them before he is greeting them both.

“Hi, Chloe, right? I just left a message on your phone earlier this evening. I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

Chloe opens her mouth, recognition dawning. “Oh it’s—”

“Hi,” Beca cuts in. “What message?” she asks curiously.

“It’s nothing,” Chloe says quickly, an unpleasant heat spreading quickly through her body. “I’ll check later,” she says politely.

“Of course! It wasn’t anything serious. Just letting you know that your position on the wedding venue waitlist got bumped up because we had a few cancellations in the past two weeks. We’re looking at much sooner than two years. Probably within the next year if you want to remain on the list.”

“The what?” Beca demands. “Chloe, the—” Beca looks like her eyes might pop right out of her head. “Chloe,” she hisses, following as Chloe quickly mutters a thank-you and tugs Beca’s wrist along until they reach Chloe’s car. “What the fu—”

“Don’t curse,” Chloe whispers.

Beca presses her lips into a thin line. “Well, what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Are you mad?”

“I’m just confused,” Beca murmurs, sliding into the passenger seat. “Are we getting married?”

“No!” Chloe exclaims quickly. “No, of course not—”

“Of course not?” Beca echoes. “What—”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just—it was just a dumb thing. Can we…” Chloe rests her hand on the steering wheel. “Can we talk about it when we get home?”

Beca stares out the window for a few long moments while Chloe pulls out on the main road. “Okay,” she finally agrees. “Okay, we’ll talk when we get home.”

The drive home itself is the longest and shortest of Chloe’s life. She shifts uncomfortably more than once, resisting the urge to look over at her girlfriend every two minutes. Scratch that. Every two seconds. She can’t believe that she forgot. That she wasn’t more careful. That a brief, silly moment with her best friend resulted in this. Whatever this is between herself and Beca right now.

It’s the last thing she wants, to have potentially messed something up in their life together.

When Chloe pulls into the private parking lot for their apartment complex, Chloe finds that she doesn’t want to leave the quiet of the car.

“Chlo,” Beca urges softly. “Let’s go inside.”

“I just wanted to see what it was like,” Chloe blurts, too stricken to restrain herself any longer. “I’m sorry.”

Beca reaches out to hold her hand across the console like Chloe wishes she had done during the drive home. The comforting feeling of Beca’s hand in her own makes Chloe look up, finally meeting Beca’s eyes for the first time since leaving the country club.

“Let’s just go inside,” Beca repeats, squeezing her hand.

Chloe hates that she feels too frazzled to correctly read Beca’s expression. She can’t figure out just what Beca is feeling or thinking and she hates that. She hates not knowing the one person she feels like she knows better than any other person on Earth.

“So...like.” Beca exhales, taking the keys from Chloe’s hands and placing them in their little shared bowl. “What did you mean? You just wanted to see what it was like? How do you just see what it’s like to reserve a wedding venue?”

Chloe bites her lip, still afraid to meet Beca’s eyes. She focuses instead on the flowery B&C engraving on their key bowl. It warms her. Comforts her. “I mean...it’s not really a wedding venue. It’s just a country club,” she points out evasively.

Beca snorts. “Where weddings are sometimes hosted.”

“Well. Yeah.”

“And you specifically put your name down—our names down—for a wedding. Sometime in the future.”

Chloe groans at that, covering her face with her hands. “Aubrey pressured me into it,” she lies, wondering if Beca will believe that.

Beca stifles a smile, instead choosing to step closer to Chloe in order to pry her hands from her face. “I bet she did.”

“You’re freaking out,” Chloe mumbles from behind her hands, though she does part two fingers in order to peer at Beca. “You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

“I mean...I was,” Beca admits. “That was kind of…” Beca ponders her word choice. “Sudden,” she finally says with a delicate tone.

Chloe sighs. “I know it freaks you out when I do...stuff like that.”

At that, Beca frowns. “Do stuff like what?”

“I don’t know. Think about the future. Talk about this kind of stuff.”

Beca’s heart seizes for the briefest of moments. “I don’t want you to think that I’m not…” she swallows. “That I’m not, like, into that. Because I am.” She reaches for Chloe’s hands, pulling gently. “With you.” She bites her lower lip. “I hadn’t thought about it much before you, but it—” Beca laughs, a little breathlessly. “It drives me crazy that we haven’t talked about it, you know?”

“I just thought you weren’t…” Chloe shrugs, though her heart pounds at all of the words Beca has just thrown at her. “That it wasn’t something you wanted.”

“That was before you,” Beca reiterates.

Chloe feels a flush rising up her neck and spreading into her cheeks rapidly. “Beca…”

Beca, to her credit, does not flinch nor shy away. Chloe has been privileged enough to get to know this side of Beca over the past year and a half and especially over the past four months of living together. She is smitten and completely head-over-heels for Beca Mitchell and she doesn’t care if anybody knows that. That being said, she completely understands that Beca might not necessarily be the same, at least in terms of expressing herself outwardly (“Love languages are a thing, Beca!”) but she has never doubted that Beca cares for her. Loves her, even.

Beca is in love with her.

The thought only makes her blush again and offer a shy, demure smile at Beca who merely looks perplexed at the sudden change in mood. “What?” Beca asks quickly. “What is it? What did I say?”

“Nothing,” Chloe chimes in, shifting so that she can wrap an arm around Beca’s shoulders. “Well, not nothing. For you, that was basically a public and cheesy romantic gesture. Like declaration-on-a-billboard level.”

Beca scrunches her nose. “What was?”

Chloe pecks her quickly, enjoying how squirmy Beca is becoming in her arms. “You saying that you think about the future with me.”

“I don’t know if I said it exactly like that.”

“A little like that,” Chloe pushes. She leans in to kiss Beca slowly, letting her breath linger against Beca’s mouth. “A little bit,” she murmurs when she feels Beca take a breath, likely to protest again.

“Okay, maybe I did.”

Chloe relaxes completely, wondering how she got so lucky to fall in love with her perfect match; how she got so lucky to find her soulmate in a world full of people who refused to believe in love like she did. That was a relatively painless conversation, resulting in some unexpected results. Namely that Chloe had been the only one standing in the way of this much-needed conversation, but also that Beca Mitchell wanted to marry her.

The thought only makes Chloe deepen her kiss, eliciting a noise of surprise from Beca. They kiss for a few more moments, hands beginning to wander more boldly and surely as their kisses deepen with each passing second. Beca groans when Chloe’s hands slip under the front of her shirt, fingers scraping up her stomach with purpose.

“Are we still talking about this?” Beca asks, snagging Chloe’s lower lip between her teeth.

Chloe hums, tilting her head to capture Beca’s lips in another kiss. “That can wait.”

“I mean,” Beca begins breathlessly, allowing Chloe to steer her towards the bedroom. “You are next on the waitlist.”

Chloe is already unbuttoning her jeans. “You talk way too much. Shut up, now. I want you.”

* * * * *

Another two weeks later and Chloe has all but forgotten about that wedding venue mishap, too caught up in the motions of her own hectic life and just how good her relationship with Beca has become. She hadn’t thought it possible, but she falls more for Beca every day.

“I can’t believe my girlfriend is ditching me to hang out with my best friend,” Chloe pouts. “This is so unfair. My two favorite people.”

“You could come,” Beca laughs.

“No, you know I have a long shift today.” Chloe sighs. “I’ll miss you. Say hi to Aubrey for me. I know she’s been busy setting up work stuff. Ask her if she needs our help.”

“I will ask her if she needs your help,” Beca says obediently.

“Our help,” Chloe corrects, leaning down to kiss Beca on the lips. “See you!”

Chloe heads out the door, without much thought as to the rest of her day.

Beca waits until she hears complete silence, then she waits for another few minutes estimating how long it would take Chloe to get into her car and drive.

Beca she’s gone, hurry up and get over here

Aubrey Rude. On my way.

Beca rushes to get ready in preparation for her day with Aubrey.

“What did you think of the place?” Aubrey asks when Beca climbs into the car. “Did you like the photos?”

“Yeah, but I kind of want to see it for myself. In person.”

Aubrey scoffs. “Chloe has amazing taste and so do I. We would never lead you astray.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Forgive me for wanting to see the place where I want to get married myself.”

“Beca, you don’t exactly strike me as the kind of person—”

Beca resists the urge to completely snap at Aubrey or say something snarky to cut off the other woman. She fiddles with the small box inside her jacket pocket before she pulls it out, running her fingers along the velvet surface. She smiles at the thought of Chloe’s expression—what her imagination provides at least—and suddenly she can’t quite wait another moment. She wants to marry Chloe immediately. She wants everything that she always thought she’d hate because of her parents’ own failed marriage. She wants that life and that future with Chloe and she wants it because she knows it’ll work.

It will work because they love each other.

Aubrey gasps loudly, pulling the car off to the side of the road and throwing her hazard lights on. “Beca! You didn’t!” She all but snatches the box from Beca’s grasp, both of them tussling over it for a brief moment before Aubrey finally shoves her shoulder and displaces Beca back into her seat. “Oh my God, you actually bought a ring. Without talking to me. Beca! How could you!”

“I didn’t know I needed your permission to buy a ring.”

Aubrey ignores her, opening the box. Her eyes widen comically and if Beca’s heart weren’t completely in her throat because it is now dawning on Beca that she absolutely craves Aubrey’s approval, Beca would laugh. But she doesn’t. She waits with bated breath as Aubrey lifts the ring closer to her face, eyes practically glittering.

“Are you...okay?” Beca asks. Is it okay? she wants to ask, but refrains.

“This is...beautiful, Beca. This is so beautiful.”

Beca exhales, feeling an entire year’s worth of tension leave her body. “For real? Like you’re not just...saying that, right?”

“No, Beca, I’m not just saying that. This is beautiful. And...and I’m so happy for you.” Aubrey presses the ring back into Beca’s hands before moving to grip the steering wheel with determination.

Beca waits, watching Aubrey for a long moment before she speaks up again. “Are we gonna go, or—?”

“I just need a moment to collect myself.”

“Oh, okay.” Beca flips the box open again, smiling at the ring. “Take all the time you need.”

She has never been more ready.

fin.

[georgescatcafe]

vermillion — 3

rating: t warning/s: period-typical homophobia pairing/s: georgenap genres/tags: cowboy x city boy au, rancher sapnap, rich george, coming of age, slow burn word count: 3,306 summary: When Sapnap gets sent into the city to get quick cash for his family’s struggling ranch, he’s not expecting much from the experience—lights aren’t very blinding when held up to the Sun, and he’s not exactly there to play around. But then he meets George, a boy built on money, who quickly sweeps in not just paying customers but also Sapnap, leading him into what any ruddy country boy would call the mouth of the Devil: high society. Cue a summer spent by each other’s side while feelings run unbidden, uncaring of deadlines and restraints.

It should be enough for the pair—and for awhile, it is, right up until it isn’t.

+ao3 +masterpost

;;

George’s parents aren’t even home. They get inside, George unlocking the door and calling out a tentative greeting only to be met with silence. Nick turns to him.

“Dinner, maybe,” George says. He readjusts Nick’s bag from where it’s started to slide down his arm. “Come on. I can show you to your room.” Nick doesn’t have a room, not yet, he knows, but he follows George anyway when he starts walking out the foyer and past the living room, er, both living rooms. He can’t help but crane his neck when they pass a doorway leading to what looks like an open dining room and adjoining kitchen. He bumps into George then, the other having stopped at the base of a staircase to wait for him.

Nick stutters out an apology.

“It’s fine,” George replies. “I can give you a proper tour in the morning, if you want?”

Nick will have to head out earlier, to set up at the market. “Maybe,” he says.

George smiles.

Nick’s room is apparently the first room on the left.

“The bathroom is right at the end of the hall,” George says, “and my bedroom is basically right across from yours.” He points at another, slimmer door. “Linen closet if you get cold. Or if you want to switch out your pillowcase or something.” And another door. “Another guest room. We don’t have company, but sometimes my parents strike unexpected deals and we end up having someone in there. If they’re at some dinner tonight, that might happen.”

“You’re going to tell them I’m here, right?”

George hasn’t stopped smiling, but it’s dull, eyes dark and shadowed, cheeks strained. “They’ll know; don’t worry.”

“I can stay in my truck,” Nick tells him. “It’s fine.”

“But you don’t have to,” George says. “Seriously, don’t worry about my parents.” He nods to the bathroom. “We’ve got extra toothbrushes if you need them. I’ll be in my room. You won’t have to look at me anymore.”

“I like looking at you,” Nick says and then wishes he didn’t because the smile finally drops from George’s lips only for the shadows in his eyes to expand and cover his entire face. “I didn’t mean that,” he adds.

“Yeah,” George replies, “I know you didn’t.” He turns, heading towards his room. “Anyway, I’ll be in here if you need me.” He tries a smile again. It’s weak, and Nick feels bile rise in his throat. He’s not sure brushing his teeth will make the sensation go away. “Goodnight, Sapnap.”

“Night, George.”

When he spits for the nth time over the sink, the tangy sharp taste remains. Being right is always fun until it isn’t. Nick splashes water over his face, cold and stinging. When he looks up, his eyes are bordering red. He squeezes them shut before pressing his fingers into them. When he pulls his hands away, his eyes are only even more red. Whatever. He takes his toothbrush and heads back to his room.

He can’t help the glance he sends to George’s door as he passes. The lights are off. He bites back the sigh threatening to slip out and keeps walking.

;; 

Despite the bed which is comfortable as hell, sleep doesn’t come easy. Every creak from downstairs puts Nick on edge, and a couple of times he hears creaking right outside his door, and he’s left to wonder just what it is George is doing out there. If it’s even George walking around. The room he’s in is big, with a high ceiling and tall windows, even for a second-storey bedroom, and it leaves him feeling open and exposed, and part of him wonders if it’d have just been better to sleep in his truck, in that market parking lot. Yeah, he was equally exposed there, but he was also in the middle of the city where shouting could wake up pretty much anyone. And he wasn’t the only one asleep under the open sky. Here, George is his friend, but that’s a new term, and Nick doesn’t plan on meeting George’s parents, not really. Here, he’s basically on his own.

Nick rolls over, tugging the sheets higher, tucking them right under his chin. It’s fine. He’s fine. It’s like first sleepover jitters. He just needs to get over it.

But there’s voices now, from downstairs, and his ears strain as he tries to listen is. It’s all accented, so it’s hard to pick out if George is among the voices. Definitely his parents, though. Nick groans, finally just giving a rough jerk to the sheets and pulling them fully over his head.

And the damn footsteps, again and again, going past his door. Seriously, what the fuck is George doing? If he didn’t hate the idea of meeting George’s parents, especially when he’s the way he is, he’d go out there and force the other to stop, marching him back to bed and tucking him in himself.

In the least weirdest way possible.

Eventually, the voices die down, and with them, so do the footsteps. Nick lets out a breath. When he looks over to the window, he’s grateful to see it’s still dark out. There’s still a chance for more than a couple of hours… hopefully.

 ;;

Morning is not kind to Nick. He wakes to birdsong, sunlight on his face, and that’s well enough, but it’s when he goes downstairs, planning to leave a note for George and his parents, thanking the family for their hospitality, that he sees a note is unnecessary.

“Um,” he says, and then, “good morning, sir.”

George’s father looks nice enough, if you look past the air of frigid coolness X from him while he butters a slice of toast. “Good morning,” the man replies. “Are you Nick?” The name comes out after a hesitation, and it makes Nick want to slam his head into the sparkling granite counter, embarrassment flooding him when he realizes George probably introduced him as Sapnap.

But all he does is smile and nod his head. “Yes, sir,” he replies. “You’re George’s father?” At the affirmative, he continues: “Thank you for letting me stay here. I know it’s probably inconvenient, and I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“It’s alright,” George’s dad offers a polite smile. “George said you’re a Pappas?”

“Yes, sir,” Nick thinks he’ll be using that phrase a lot, “son of Glenn Pappas.”

“I’ve spoken to him once or twice,” the man thinks for a moment, “has your father ever mentioned a Davidson family?”

“I think I’ve heard that name, sir,” Nick replies. “I’m guessing you’re Mr. Davidson?”

“Guessed right,” Mr. Davidson replies. He spies the clock over the stove. “Well, you know us working men, I’m off. Take George with you when you go. I tell him he’s inside too often.”

Nick nods as Mr. Davidson takes a final sip from the mug that’s been sitting on the counter, placing it delicately in the sink before bidding Nick goodbye and disappearing out the doors and out the house. Nick stands alone in the kitchen before heading back upstairs to wake George.

George does not rise after the first knock, nor the second nor third.

Finally, Nick opens the door.

“George,” he says. “Wake up.”

The lump on the bed groans, shifting before settling again.

Nick sighs. “I had to talk to your dad. You have to wake up. George, what the hell.”

The blankets fall away as George sits upright, rigid. “You what?”

“Yeah,” Nick replies, “I went downstairs because I need to go to the market soon, and your dad was down there. He told me to take you with me.”

“Good,” George says at that, finally climbing out of bed, his lounge pants catching on his toes with every step he takes towards what Nick assumes is the closet. “Not good that you met my dad, though. You’re okay?”

“I didn’t want to,” Nick admits, “but he knew Pa, so I guess it went fine?”

“Stockyards, remember?” George sends him a smile oddly bright for someone who didn’t want to wake up a minute ago. “Anyway, get out.”

“What?” Nick takes a step back anyway.

“I’m going to get dressed,” George tells him, disappearing into, yup, the closet. “Get out.”

“Oh my God,” but Nick still exits the room, shutting the door behind him.

George comes out a couple minutes later, tugging a jacket on over his shoulders.

“You’re going to get hot later,” Nick says, but George waves him off.

“I’m cold now.” George leads the way downstairs. “Now come on, I’m fucking hungry. What do you want from McDonald’s? There’s one on the way back to the market.”

 ;;

Nick watches in both admiration and horror as George orders half the breakfast menu then proceeds to eat that and drink a large orange juice. Normally, it’d be just admiration, but George is so skinny—there’s no way he can just fit all that in there without dying. But he does, and when Nick still hasn’t exited out the parking lot after thirty seconds, George turns to him with a cocked brow.

“Weren’t you the one wanting to leave early?”

So Nick drives.

 ;;

The day passes much like the last, but with less awkward pauses and hesitation. Banter comes easy between the two of them, and George brings in customers while Nick leaves them satisfied with their purchase. The day’s inventory depletes quickly, and for that, Nick allows them an early dinner, the two of them packing up the truck and heading out before the sun’s even thought about reaching the horizon.

As they sit nursing sweet tea and picking at their pasta, George gives a sigh. “You can stay the night again,” he says.

“Do you want me to stay the night?” Nick asks.

George shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean,” he blinks, staring into his paglia e fieno before winding the fettuccine around his fork, “I like your company. I just mean—I don’t—I don’t know what I mean.” He takes a bite of his food. “Do you feel like you’re intruding?”

“No,” Nick replies, “I feel paranoid. Dissected, maybe.”

George nods, stabbing again at his pasta. “Yeah,” he says, “yeah.” He sets down his silverware finally, the metal making a small clink against his plate. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Can’t help it,” Nick says. “Oh, uh, what were you doing last night? I heard… were you pacing?”

George picks up his fork, and with the action, the pasta-twirling starts again. Nick refrains from reaching across the table to still his hand. “Yeah, that was—I went downstairs a couple times, and a couple times I was going to see if you,” he laughs, quiet, embarrassed, cheeks an obvious red, “were all settled in and stuff.”

He wasn’t. “I was,” Nick tells him, offering the other a smile. “No checking-up necessary.”

George smiles back.

;; 

It takes a couple more nights at the Davidson’s before Nick meets George’s mother. Equally nice as her husband, equally frigid. “You must be the Pappas boy,” she tells him. “Nick, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, “and you’re Mrs. Davidson?”

She smiles at him, and Nick finds himself smiling back, though he keeps a good few steps between them. “George says he’s been working with you,” she continues, “at the market downtown?” Nick nods, and she nods too. “Good. He needs to get out more.”

“He’s definitely out more now,” Nick says, and she smiles again, tighter at the corners, though. Right. He straightens. “I’ve told your husband but thank you again for letting me stay here. I’m sure it’s inconvenient, but—”

“If Harry said it’s alright, then it’s not a problem,” Mrs. Davidson interrupts him. “And we’re equally grateful you’re getting our son out of the house. Out of his room, honestly.” She shakes her head. “Always did wonderfully at banquets.” Elegant fingers rub at the pearls on her wrist. “He’s very good at speaking when spoken to, that means.” The smile she wears now is soft, gentle as the light from above the stove.

Nick isn’t sure whether or not he’s supposed to laugh. He tugs at his shirt collar. “Well, I’m glad to help. He’s a great business partner.”

Wherever Mrs. Davidson is, it isn’t with Nick. Her murmured yes is as much a dismissal as Nick thinks he’ll get. He bows his head and wishes her a goodnight. He doesn’t hear a reply.

 ;;

“Your ma is nice,” Nick tells George when he gets upstairs, finding the other sitting at his desk in his room. “Is it really not a problem? Me being here?”

George leans back in his chair, pushing himself away from the desk. “Yeah,” he finally says. “It’s not. We’ve got the space, anyway. You went three days without meeting my mum.”

“Not as much luck with your dad,” Nick says, and George laughs. When George pulls himself back into his desk, fiddling with the various knickknacks there before scratching his pencil across a notebook page, Nick wonders about what his parents said.

George talked about having friends—talks about having friends, even. He didn’t sound close to them, not really, didn’t even sound like he enjoyed having them, but he had them. Has them. Nick frowns, taking a seat at the foot of George’s bed before falling back onto the soft duvet. George doesn’t glance up from his writing.

“Are you going to see your friends at all?” he finally asks. “I mean, I know you said you don’t want to bother, but still….”

At that, George straightens, setting down his pencil and turning to look at Nick. “Anna and Blair are in Paris; Vince, Theo, and Gordon are back in the UK; Beth and Seraphina are in Switzerland. Everyone else is either away on summer internships or partying at South Beach.”

“And the people you named… are you close to them?” George sends him a look and Nick is quick to revise. “As close as you can be, I mean.”

“Sometimes,” George says before frowning. “Why? Do you want to stay at a hotel or something?”

“Stop acting like it’s the end of the world if I sleep in my truck,” is what Nick tells him first, and then, “and no. I was just curious. Before, you were by yourself, and now it feels like you’re always with me. I know you said you can’t really trust your friends, but you don’t even have plans with them.”

“It’s unconventional, yeah,” George says, turning back to his desk, “but it’s fine. I like what we’re doing at the market, and I like my friends in small doses. You, that exception.”

“Probably because I’m not someone that would leave you behind for South Beach,” Nick replies, and George allows a small laugh at that. Nick grins. “Alright,” he says, “I’m going to go get ready for bed. See you in the morning?”

George nods and lifts a hand in a wave. “See you in the morning.”

Right before shutting the door, Nick pauses. George does too. When they look at each other, Nick opens his mouth, words on the tip of his tongue, before he realizes he doesn’t even know what those words are. He shakes his head, closing the door quietly behind him.

 ;;

He’s practically forgotten about the conversation when George brings it up again. “My parents,” he begins, “what’d they tell you?”

Nick freezes. “Nothing,” he replies, slicing a liver, eyes locked on the organ. Can’t afford to mess up and all that.

“Sapnap,” George says. “They told you something.”

“They didn’t!” Nick bites his lip and squints, lining his knife up again. Really, he’s got to get this cut right. He does.

“Nick.”

He puts the knife down. “They just said that you don’t go outside much and that I help with that. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Nothing with my parents is ever not a big deal,” George sneers. “I can’t believe this. So what—I fucking hate my friends, what about it?”

“Nothing about it!” Nick tells him, packaging the sliced liver. “Really, I was just wondering if you really didn’t have any plans. I think this is something that’s not a big deal.”

“No, no,” George sinks to the floor, squatting, palms pressed over his eyes, “it is a big deal.”

Nick frowns, lowering himself to pull George’s hands away from his face. “Everyone likes a little alone time, and you’re, like, living in a pit of snakes. How is it a big deal?”

George glares at him. “Let’s just say it’s not a very good look when you’re inside all day, and when you’re not inside, your usually with girls that you aren’t having an affair with.”

“You’re a teenager; how the hell would you have an affair?”

“It’s the thought that counts,” George replies, flat. “I look fucking weird! To my parents and to all their stupid business partners! Especially here. We literally work with oil companies and ranchers, Sapnap.” He jerks his arms free of Nick’s grasp to cover his face again. “No wonder they stopped putting up a fuss about you—you make me look good! I’m actually working, getting work experience, and to have a friend like you, a real, rugged, gritty guy—oh my God.” He drags his hands down his face to look up at Nick. “That’s so dumb.”

“So I make you look like a man?” Nick asks, and then blinks, shaking his head. “Also, stopped… putting up a fuss? So they didn���t approve at first?”

“Of course they didn’t approve,” George hisses. “I never do stuff like that, what I did with you, they were—not terrified, but you know.” He widens his eyes, lips set in a stern frown. Nick nods, though he’s not sure he knows. George continues anyway, “It’s messy. Families are messy.”

“Yeah, they are,” Nick agrees, though his was always pretty neat. Oh well. “But it’s fine,” he tries a smile, though the frown doesn’t leave George’s face, “I didn’t think anything of it, and your parents are happy with you—I see no downsides.”

“It’s the principle, Sapnap,” George tells him, but finally, he gives a small smile too. “It’s fine.”

“Do you want to maybe get off the floor now?” Nick asks, and George nods.

They rise, and Nick clears his throat. “Uh, I don’t know how good that was for business.”

“Sorry,” George replies, “I don’t usually… do that.”

“I know,” Nick says. When he smiles, George smiles back, zero hesitation.

;; 

The next day, George asks him how long he’s staying. Nick frowns down at his street tacos. “Until all the meat sells,” he says, “and then I’ll go home, get more meat, and stay until that sells out.”

“All summer?” George asks.

“All summer,” Nick replies.

George stares at a point past Nick’s shoulder. “Huh,” he says. “Well, you’ve been here a week. Are you going home soon?”

“Give it another week.”

George nods. “How many trips are you thinking?”

Nick shrugs.

“Do you think I could go with you on one?”

Again, Nick shrugs.

George narrows his eyes before huffing. “I want to see the ranch.”

“It’s got the animals you sell and grass,” Nick says. “What are you hoping for?”

“Consider it my South Beach,” George replies.

“Go to Galveston, then,” Nick retorts.

“Take me to Galveston, then.” When Nick looks across the table at him, George is serious.

Nick sighs. “Do you mean it?”

George doesn’t reply.

Another sigh. “Maybe. Can’t you drive?”

“My mom doesn’t want me to risk it,” George tells him, and the statement is so ridiculous it makes Nick choke on his next bite of taco. “What?” George asks, brows furrowing. “It’s true!”

Nick swallows as best he can before taking a drink of water. “I know,” he replies. “That’s what makes it so terrible.”

;;

next

[last-wish]

Feainnewedd: Chapter 7

Summary: Geralt and Ciri leave Kaer Morhen and set out for the Temple of Melitele. On her journey there, Yennefer returns to a key place from her past where a new war is brewing.

Pairing: Geralt x Yennefer

Word Count: 4,1k

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Cross posted to AO3. Special thanks to @ohrackham for all her help.

The Blue Mountains loomed like silent giants over Kaer Morhen. Ciri huddled inside her fur coat, trying to keep the cold out. Despite spending all winter in the witchers keep, every time she climbed to the top of the walls, she felt the stinging wind in her bones like the first time. She sighed. Gazing down the valley, a glinting line revealed the course of the Gwenllech river, swollen by the snow melt. Soon she would be following the river southwards. Away from Kaer Morhen, from Vesemir, Eskel, Coën and Lambert, from the safety of the Blue Mountains. And back towards the South.

The mere thought brought back an old sense of unease, the urge to sharpen her hearing, to look for anything suspicious around her. Everyone is looking for you. You can hide for a while, but how are you ever going to feel safe when they all want you? Your name, your claim to the throne of a forsaken kingdom, your blood. You can’t escape.

She clasped the battlement in front of her and recalled Calanthe’s words from her deathbed. As in life, it is impossible always to be fully prepared for battle. Keep your sword close and keep moving. Her ragged breaths slowly evened out. Footsteps sounded behind her and she turned like a cornered beast.

“Hey,” Geralt said, “it’s just me. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just… thinking about the journey. It feels strange, going back South after everything.”

The witcher put his arm around her shoulders and stood beside her in silence for a while, staring into the distance. “I remember the first time I left Kaer Morhen. I was just as nervous as you.” The witcher smiled. “Vesemir took Eskel and me down the river to look for work. And we found some—a villager tormented by a curse. He claimed that every night someone knocked on his door. The ghost of his brother, who had frozen to death in the snow the previous winter.”

“Oh. What did you do?”

“Well, Vesemir said we had to do everything for ourselves. So Eskel and I stayed at the house that night, waiting for the knock. Eskel was sure it wasn’t a ghost, probably just some drunkard or the villager’s imagination. But then, in the middle of the night, we heard it, loud and clear. We rushed to the door, busted it open and saw no one. We did find a strange trail near the door and followed it to the village cemetery.”

“You must have been terrified,” Ciri said.

“Oh, we were,” Geralt chuckled. “It was so quiet. We got to the center of the cemetery when we heard footsteps around us. We stood back to back, ready to kill and die. And then—” Geralt snapped his fingers into the Igni sign and a small flame flickered before his face. “Light. A bunch of older apprentices around us, howling with laughter.”

Ciri shook her head slowly. “Uncle Vesemir? Really?”

“Well, every witcher of the School of the Wolf must pass it. It’s an ancient ritual of Kaer Morhen.”

“You’re all just… ridiculous.” Ciri burst out laughing.

Geralt smiled and leaned on the parapet. Ciri noticed then that the witcher was holding something behind his back.

“What’s that?”

Geralt slowly revealed it—a sword, sheathed in a simple leather scabbard. The witcher offered her the hilt and the girl seized it immediately, the warmth of its grip inviting her hand. She unsheathed the sword and the slender blade glinted in the morning sun. Astonished at its lightness, the girl turned and swung it. After training for so long with heavy wooden swords, wielding this blade in her hand she felt she could fly off the battlements of the old keep. She cut the morning mist again and again, slashing the throats and piercing the hearts of the fiends that inhabited her nightmares.

She stopped to catch her breath and when she turned, Geralt was smiling at her.

“Does it feel good in your hand?” He asked.

Ciri nodded and giggled while she sheathed the sword.

“It belonged to a witcher that trained here a long time ago. Vesemir adjusted it for your weight and height and I sharpened it.”

The witcher girl jumped at Geralt and hugged him tightly. After a moment of surprise, the witcher hugged her back.

“You know,” Geralt said when they separated, “you’ve learned here how to defend yourself. You have that potential in your hand now. This blade is light and sharp, it will want to leave its cage and bite. But keep this in your head—once you unsheathe it, there’s no coming back. That will always be the hardest decision you’ll have to make.”

“Is that why you have that golden brooch on yours?”

“How do you—” The witcher shook his head.

“I saw it in a dream. You were holding a woman bleeding out on the street. She had that same brooch.”

Geralt looked over the wall, his face like stone. “She was called Renfri and she... she was a princess like you. And yes, that’s why I have her brooch in my sword.”

He didn’t look eager to talk about it and Ciri didn’t press him. Instead, she approached him and looked at the abyss below them. “I hate leaving people behind. I had to leave my grandmother in Cintra, then the dryads in Brokilon and Dara after that. Now I have to leave Vesemir, Eskel, Coën and Lambert. I’m so tired of it, Geralt. Will it always be like this?”

The witcher put his arms around her shoulders and looked her in the eye.

“I will always be with you.”

***

“Alright lady, your papers are in order. You can go.”

Yennefer mounted on her black horse and crossed the bridge over the swollen Pontar river, leaving behind a throng of merchants and peasants trying to pass through the customs post. After just a few steps of her horse on Redanian soil, the sorceress stopped abruptly. On the other side of the river, the forests of Temeria extended to the horizon. Among the sea of green, the road she had followed before approaching the bridge waited patiently for her return. Stop overthinking. This won’t take long and I have more than enough time.

After setting the meeting in the Temple of Melitele via megascope, Yennefer had decided to avoid any unnecessary risk. Bidding farewell to Tissaia as she returned to her diplomatic missions through the Northern royal courts, she had headed to the Academy of Aretuza to spend the winter. Helping her friend Rita in her new role as Rectoress had been a much-needed distraction from her worries, but, as soon as the roads thawed, she had set out in secret to the Duchy of Ellander. The Northern roads that waited for Geralt and Ciri would take longer to reappear under the molten ice, giving her time for a short detour to the other side of the Pontar.

Almost there. The place where the spark of a single decision started an all-consuming fire. But even so, a tainted spark, one that contained the doom of its own product. Could an impure creation be saved from itself? Was it worth the effort? Many lives ago, she had asked herself the same questions. Her own answer at that time was marked forever on her wrists.

She reached the top of the hill and the city walls rose before her. Red standards hung from the guard towers of the southern gate. The white eagle of Redania flapped its wings as if getting ready to take flight. The sorceress wondered again if she should do the same and turn back to Ellander.

Almost ten years already, Yennefer thought as she walked the bustling streets of Rinde. The city was an awkward combination of worn-out but still recognizable places and new additions that sticked out like a fresh, nasty scar on a familiar face. The air carried the events of past months in its smell of clay and mortar. The proud local nobles strove to repair the landmarks, but the rebellion of the Redanian peasants had left an unmistakable mark upon it.

The sudden clatter of hooves on cobblestone startled her. A group of riders dismounted before a nearby building, bringing three wounded soldiers with them. At once, a lanky man emerged from the building and guided the troop inside. The last soldier stopped before him, his face twisted with rage and contempt. The tall man raised his hands in appeasement, only to find a blade over his throat. Yennefer rushed towards them. Before she got there, the enraged soldier spat on the ground and left. Sighing with resignation, the man was about to go back inside when he saw the sorceress. From up close, his light blue eyes and pointed ears left no doubt.

“Chireadan!”

“Yennefer! What are you doing here?”

“I was just passing by and I thought—” Shouts from inside interrupted her.

The elf clenched his jaw. “Sorry, I have to go. We can talk later.”

“Can I help you?”

The healer’s eyes shone. “In fact, you can. Come, quick.”

Before they got to the end of the hallway, they bumped into the soldiers leaving the main room.

“Get this into your skull, elf,” one of them said, his finger an inch before Chireadan’s face. “We tried every sawbones in this city before we brought ‘em here. Guess what? None has any room left thanks to your traitor kind. You better slog your guts out mending our wounded because you see my boys?” He grinned. “They are just waiting for an excuse to expand our collection of nonhuman scum hung at the square.”

“Are you suggesting Chireadan would let a patient die?” Yennefer asked. The soldier stared at the sorceress with a mix of surprise, confusion and restrained anger. After a moment of quiet tension, the soldier made a gesture and his companions followed him outside.

“Thank you,” Chireadan said when they closed the door behind them, letting out a long sigh. “Few people in Rinde would dare to defy the sorceress that almost destroyed the city. Or so the stories say.”

“Stories from a time when all the city respected you and sought your services. What happened?”

“It’s been some rough years, Yennefer. Today’s Rinde has little in common with the one you left a decade ago. First, the peasants rose up in rebellion, and now…” He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. A slight wince highlighted fine wrinkles all over his face, betraying a pain that ran deep beneath. Somehow, this elf seemed to have visibly aged in just a decade—an absolute absurdity. “It started shortly after the war with Nilfgaard. Just whispers among elves in the beginning. Then leaflets calling for revolt appeared in the nonhuman district and the attacks on the roads started not long after.”

“Elven rebels here, too?” Yennefer asked. Chireadan frowned. “I’ve encountered them in Sodden and Temeria,” the sorceress clarified.

“Then the saying is true, misfortunes never come alone. I truly thought it was just a Redanian matter. Mobs started lynching elves and dwarves during the peasant rebellion and the youngest among us needed just a spark to take up arms. I guess things weren’t better in the rest of the Continent. Anyway, come with me, I must tend to the wounded.”

Yennefer followed Chireadan to a large room where the three injured soldiers laid among others. A nauseating stink of sweat and blood assailed her. Chireadan wrinkled his nose while he examined the rushed bandages on an unconscious soldier’s arm. “It’s a miracle this one’s not bled out. We have to change the dressing, bring me the cloth over there.”

“What’s their goal?” Yennefer said as she handed him the rags.

“The Scoia’tael’s?” The elf raised his gaze from the soldier. “That’s how they call themselves, because of the squirrel tails they wear. Well, they demand the liberation of the nonhuman prisoners, the end of the racial laws and the privileges by birthright.”

“Here, in Redania? The nobles will never accept it. They’d have Vizimir’s head on a spike if they suspected him of bargaining with those chips on the table.”

“I’m aware,” Chireadan said sharply. “It’s hard not to notice with every mutilated soldier that finds his way here. This war won’t end with a treaty. Is this the reason you’re here?”

“Oh, no. It’s more of a… personal reason.”

Before she could continue, one of the wounded moaned and squirmed, and the healer rushed to his side.

“I must—” He struggled. “I must warn them.”

“Of what?” Chireadan asked.

The soldier twisted and screamed. “You fucking squirrel, let me out!”

Yennefer approached the man. “We’re in Rinde. You’re safe. Chireadan is just trying to treat your wounds.”

“There’s no time for that, take me to the barracks now.”

“Soldier,” said Yennefer. “What’s your name?”

He stared at her. “Caspar.”

“You are in no condition to go anywhere, Caspar. I can take a message if that’s what you want.”

“Not with him here,” Caspar said through gritted teeth, looking at Chireadan. The elf threw up his hands and crossed the room to attend another patient.

“Well?” Yennefer asked.

“I heard two squirrels talk before they stabbed me. They’re breaking camp. They’re leaving Redania.”

“Great news, then. Where’s the urgency in that message?”

“They’re going to join the squirrels from Kaedwen. Don’t you understand? These commandos are giving us hell. If they join forces—” The man shook and moaned, his breaths turned to rasps.

“I see. But what can you do about it?”

The wounded soldier rose slightly, drawing closer to Yennefer, his voice a whisper. “The Murivel pass. They’ll cross the Kestrel Mountains there, towards Kaedwen. An ambush there… We’ll get them all.” Caspar’s smile was interrupted by a coughing fit. Yennefer turned away as Chireadan rushed to the dying man. The sorceress wiped her hand across her face. It was covered in blood.

“Bloede pest!” Chireadan screamed, trying to turn Caspar over. The cough stopped after an endless moment. The soldier’s lifeless eyes were fixed on the ceiling. An ominous laugh made Yennefer’s skin crawl.

“You’re done, elf,” one of the wounded grunted. “Maybe I’m too. But I’ll die with a smile knowing your body will hang soon on the square. Then they’ll get the rest of your own and you’ll all understand that Redania is no place for murdering scum like you.”

Chireadan stooped over the corpse, grabbing the bed with both hands, his knuckles white.

Yennefer approached him. “Chireadan…”

He stormed out of the room. She followed him.

“Chireadan!”

“Don’t you see it? I have no way out!” His hands trembled. “Those soldiers were just looking for an excuse to arrest me, it doesn’t matter what we tell them. What’s left for me, join the rebels and die with a blade in my hand? By the Mother, my job is mending bodies, not maiming them!”

“Maybe there is another way. If the Scoia’tael are fleeing to Kaedwen, perhaps they can help you escape Redania, start a new life there.”

The elf laughed bitterly. “A new life among humans in Kaedwen, another kingdom besieged by rebel commandos. How do you think they’ll treat me there? Not just an elf but an outsider.”

“Then join them. You’ve healed wounded for one side, why not for the other?”

“I must be feverish too if I’m hearing the hero of the Hill, savior of the Northern Kingdoms, urging me to enlist with the rebels trying to topple them.”

“Urging you to save your neck, Chireadan. Do you think I fought on the Hill for this? For injustice, crushing the different, the pogroms? No. I fought for the people I care about. And I intend to keep on doing it. If there is truth to what that soldier said, we are the only ones who know about the Scoia’tael plans. You still have time to reach them and get out of Redania.”

The healer stared at her, a storm raging behind his eyes. He let out a long sigh. “I’ll get my things. As for my patients… I’ll go warn my assistant.”

“You’ve done far more for them than they would have done in your place.”

He nodded. “You won’t be safe here either, those soldiers saw you with me. The river is our best bet. I have a friend who can get us across.”

“Then I’ll see you on the docks at midnight,” the sorceress said. “I must do something first.”

***

“This is a good spot,” the witcher said. “Here, give me the reins.”

Ciri dismounted her mare. As soon as her feet touched the mossy forest floor, pain shot through her legs and she fell pathetically to the ground.

“Shit!” She winced and moaned.

“All winter without riding a horse,” Geralt chuckled. “It’s only normal you get leg cramps now.”

“Normal?” She massaged her worn out legs. “Does riding all day sound normal to you? The sun is almost set.”

“Then get up and help me. This is the only light we’re getting tonight—no fires. We’re still close to the fort and I don’t want to alert any patrols.“

Ciri got to her feet and relieved her exhausted mare from the weight of her saddlebags. After rummaging a bit, she took some food and sat on the ground next to Geralt, her back resting on a thick tree. She took a deep breath. The air carried the scents of earth, damp moss and flowers in bloom. The forests of Kaedwen were beautiful in the spring. Ciri’s stomach rumbled and she started munching on the lamb pie she had bought in a village that morning.

“You better get your fill of food and rest tonight,” Geralt said. “We have another long day before us.”

“Oh, come on,” Ciri protested, her voice muffled by the pie. “First you leave Triss behind and now you want to ride all day.”

“Triss was too sick to continue and you know Eskel is taking care of her. We just need to get some distance between Fort Leyda and us. The road will be much calmer after—”

Leaves rustled suddenly somewhere nearby. Geralt's eyes narrowed.

“What was that?” Ciri asked.

“A deer. We must have scared it. Or something else did.” The witcher stood in silence for a while, eyes alert and his sword nearby. After a while, he slowly relaxed.

“I wish I had a bow,” Ciri said. “We could eat some fresh meat tonight.”

“A bow is no weapon for a witcher.”

“You witchers are so boring. I should have stayed in Brokilon, the dryads would have taught me how to shoot a bow.”

Geralt laughed. “Dryads do not hunt forest animals. I don’t know how Eithné could have put up with you.”

Ciri smiled. “You never told me how you met her. When was it, a thousand years ago?”

“Not quite that long. But I was still a young witcher, sent on a contract by the King of Verden...”

Ciri’s eyes closed as night fell over the forest and Geralt’s voice slowly drifted to the realm of dreams.

***

The sun had disappeared beneath the horizon when Yennefer reached Rinde’s main square. Not even a ray of moonlight cut through the overcast sky, and only torches and lamps hanging from the balconies provided some light in the dark. Not that there was much to light up. A couple of guards leaned on their halberds before the mayor’s house. On the opposite side of the square, a bunch of drunks broke the night silence with their songs and shouts. Between the two groups, the corpses of two elves and a dwarf swayed softly, hanging from the gallows at the center of the square.

The sorceress stood on one of the side entrances to the square. The thought of stepping into it felt wrong, as if the impossible peace of that place would snap like a taut rope with no hope of mending it. Her resolution hardened—despite her sacrifices for the Northern kingdoms, despite the friends fallen in battle, she would never help tighten the chains of injustice.

Under the faint light of the torches, the mayor’s house looked as ten years back, but an attentive look on the right place unveiled the truth. The top of the house had been rebuilt in an austere style after a djinn had collapsed the previous one. Yennefer felt a strange relief as she realized she was not the only one marked by the events of that day. But could she restore what had fallen time and again during those ten years? Was it not a doomed effort, trying to build on a cursed foundation that had never withstood for a long time? Each breakup with the witcher had inflicted a deeper, more painful wound than the last. And now he had embraced a new life, taking care of the princess of Cintra. Was there a place in his life for her? Was it worth casting her shield aside, show herself as she was, maybe even taste the sweet fruit of affection just to be abandoned again? You already know what will happen, an old cruel voice whispered in her ear. No one will ever love you.

The world spun around her—screaming drunkards, crackling flames, dancing corpses on the gallows. She leaned on the wall of the entrance arch. The smoke from the torches scratched her throat and slowly choked her. She felt her own insignificance again, stuck into her heart like a sharp dagger. A shiver ran down her spine as the clouds above her opened, the moon emerging from behind them. She was naked against the silver light, no shield able to protect her. Yennefer stopped fighting and tasted salt on her lips. Her limp body trembled against cold stone.

The desire to flee invaded her. To flee far from the city, from the war brewing within, from kings, rebels and assassins to a shelter against this ravenous cold. Inside a tent standing bravely on a cruel mountain, beside braziers that warmed her skin. A smile against hers, a drowsy, sincere voice uttering a confession she clung onto, each word a rope she would never release. You’re important to me.

Yennefer rose. She had lost track of time, but the moon was still above her among the clouds, lighting the now quiet square. Her footsteps broke the silence as she walked towards the docks, where Chireadan and her embarked on an old weathered boat, never to return.

Crows cawed in the night. The clouds flared red as if the sun was about to break through, and the scents of the blooming spring had turned into a burning smoke. Cintra was falling. The bird of prey would take her soon, as it did almost every night. But the face looming over her was not the one she expected.

“Ciri, get up!” His hoarse voice could hardly belong to the same person that had told her old stories of Brokilon just a while ago, but Geralt’s eyes were full of worry and Ciri did as he said. “Fort Leyda is burning, we have to get out of here.”

“War again.” Ciri’s voice broke. “But we’re so far North, how could it reach us so fast?”

“This can’t be Nilfgaard. Must be bandits. There’s no time, get your things and—”

A whistle cut through the air, ending abruptly as a thud on the tree behind Geralt. The arrow was just a few inches above his head.

“Glaeddyv vort, dh’oine!” A raspy voice rumbled in the dark of the forest. Geralt stood silent. “Do you not understand? Drop the sword, human, or my next arrow will pierce your neck!”

The witcher’s hand gripped his sheathed sword, where Renfri’s golden brooch glinted against the fiery sky. “Essea neén dh’oine,” Geralt said curtly.

Ciri recalled her Elder Speech lessons with Triss back in Kaer Morhen. I am no human. The witcher’s eyes burned bright. Ciri had no idea how many attackers surrounded them, but she knew Geralt could see in the dark far better than her. His thumb pressed against the brooch on the sword’s crossguard. What would he do? Ciri’s sword was by her saddlebag, too far for her to reach before an arrow found her.

A woman emerged suddenly from the trees in front of them, her footsteps so light that Ciri didn’t hear her coming. She held a short bow with a strange shape, bowstring drawn near her pointed ear. Her green clothes were splattered in blood.

“Gwynbleidd?”

“Toruviel?”

[occasionalhumor]

Makumakuren Chapter 1

Chapter Art by @corvaous​ (see below)​

Also available on AO3

[CW: Blood, abuse+violence (various), illegal activity] 

Summary:  An AU where Keigo was born with his mom’s quirk. His dad is a notorious criminal and known for stealing precious jewelry and fine art. The Takami Thief is a small team that rules the underworld with valuable items and, with the help of the Tokoyami family, has expanded internationally. But what happens if Keigo grows up with a collection of golden pining eyes instead of large red wings?

Chapter 1:  Yosuzume: The Takami Thief

Tucked away in the ceiling raft, keys clacked as Tomie’s nailed fingers formatted a 3D map of the building. A few floating eyeballs twisted and rotated like targeting orbs, watching for security as a few others zoomed down hallways.

“Almost done?” A low voice spoke over her earpiece.

“Mhm.” Tomie responded with a hushed moan.

The free eyeballs made their way back to her, floating back around her body. She closed the lid of the laptop, securing the 3D model of the building, as well as the target location. She slipped her way over the berm to find her husband, Takami Kanaye, waiting on the cement ledge.

“Took you long enough.” He grumbled, red feathered forearms puffing in from the breeze of the high tower. The 2AM city lights illuminated his hardened expression.

Tomie stared at him with dull eyes and spoke quietly, “...here’s the map.”

He snatched the laptop from her hand and opened the model. The detailed map gave them an advantage over the security measures of the building. Cameras and laser traps were labeled as well as the shortest distance to the target. Of course, the timing of patrols and a simulated dot to show their routes.

Kanaye smirked and ran his fingers through her plush hair. He gripped a fistful of her hair and dragged her limp head in circles, “that’s my downy girl. This pay out is going to be fucking huge. You've earned your share, Tomie.”

Tomie took his loving aggression as she always did. Something about the way he grabbed her, the way he praised the use of her quirk, the security he provided with money and a place, the way he took care of everything for her, she got off on it despite his abuse.

He released his grip with a small shove, pushing her head away from him, “Let’s rest up and get to work tonight.”

--

The Takami’s were suited in their stealth gear, fitted in matte black long sleeved shirts and blak cargo pants. Kanaye packed a duffle bag with tools, a case of wireless earpieces, and the computerized map. Tomie followed closely behind him, using her eyeballs to scan the area for security.

Kanaye leapt off the rooftop onto the next building, using his hardened feathers to stabilize himself on the structure. He reached his hand out for Tomie, who leapt off the ledge, and reached for his palm. He hoisted his wife up aggressively, tossing her over the edge onto the rooftop.

He climbed his way up and tossed the black canvas bag in front of her, “get set up.”

Tomie unzipped the bag gingerly, “not going to help?”

“No, I’m about to finish the job. Set me up and pull your weight, yeah?” He huffed before mumbling under his breath, “... worthless bitch. ”

Tomie flinched with a bout of anxiety at the comment, as she unpacked some technical instruments, the computer with the 3D model, a hand held small suction, and an amber marble with a red feather in the center of a black cat-eye.

She cleaned the concave piece with an alcohol wipe and lazily handed it to Kanaye. He stuffed the laser into a cylindrical pouch on his belt and scratched the marble from the ground. He rolled it between his fingers before chuckling and placing it into his breast pocket.

Tomie opened the computer and placed an earpiece around the cartilage of her ear. She handed Kanaye a matching piece and played some testing beeps.

“I don’t hear anything, Tomie. Don’t tell me you fucked up and broke the comms.” He gritted, grabbing the collar of her shirt, “I swear to the Gods, cunt , if you-...”

He was interrupted by Tomie handing him another earpiece. He shoved her forward by her collar and huffed. After he placed the tech in his ear, she played the testing audio again. He looked down at her disgusted and humphed while taking a few steps to the edge of the building.

“If this is an easy job, you’ll get a good fucking for all your hard work. If not…” He smirked over his shoulder, “...you’ll get a good beating. But you’d like that, right? You fuck up missions on purpose so I beat you? Like the whore you are.”

Tomie didn’t answer, she stared at Kanaye blankly until he turned to her. His chest puffed out and he furrowed his eyebrows, “not going to answer me? Then maybe I should beat you first.”

He took two large strides toward her before she spoke coldly, “I would like to be rewarded for an easy job.”

He stopped in his tracks and stood straight, “Good.” Kanaye closed the distance with soft steps and knelt to Tomie on the ground, “I hate punishing you, it hurts me more than it hurts you.”

“I know, everything you do is what’s best for me... For my health, my safety, and my security.” She mumbled as he planted a peck onto her forehead.

“That’s right, my downy little girl.” He gripped the back of her neck tightly between the pads of his fingers, “Don’t forget who you owe your body to.”

There was a long pause before Kanaye brought his hand across Tomie’s cheek in a small, yet forceful, slap. “Give me your eyes, bitch. We’re late.”

Tomie glazed over, floating a set of three eyes to follow Kanaye as he began his descent into the building through a vent. Tomie curled up, folding her legs, and resting the laptop in her lap. She watched as a dot moved slowly on the 3D model, showing where Kanaye is located.

A bout of static filled Tomie’s ear, “alright, GPS. Where to?”

Tomie fed him directions to the jewelry gallery. Kenaye paused, “where are the traps?”

Tomie took a moment, “pressure sensor rimming the case, take the glass with you. The floor has a rotating electric tripwire. Wait for my signal, I’m going to scout it to check the timing.”

“Quickly, Tomie.” He huffed in frustration.

Tomie’s eyeball glided across the open space, close to the ceiling until she spotted the green ray rotating slowly across the floor.

“From its current position, you’ll have….93 seconds.” She stated.

“That’s enough time.” Kanaye dropped from the vent with a thud of his heavy boots.

He ran his fingers through his greasy hair and hardened a crimson feather, plucking it from his forearm. He scraped the feather over the glass in a circular motion to score and pulled the suction from his pouch. He placed the piece of rubber over the glass and ran his sharpened feather another pass over the score. Kanaye applied a little pressure and the glass easily released itself.

Kanaye smirked and slid the glass off the suction, placing it in his pocket. He eyed the gold pocket watch in the blistering white case. The Breguet Antique Number 2667 glistened its $4.5 million watch face on the rotating pillow as he reached into the case and gingerly pulled the it from the pedestal.

“20 seconds, Kanaye.” Tomie’s static voice spoke in his ear.

“Package secure, Tomie. You fucking earned it tonight.” He mumbled placing the watch in a small velvet bag and into the crossbody satchel. He pulled the marble calling card from his breast pocket and placed it in the viewing case.

He jumped back up into the vent and was directed back to the rooftop where Tomie was waiting. The two packed their gear and made their way back to the hotel. But not without warranting some aggressively lewd statements from Kanaye.

Kanaye escorted Tomie into their modest hideaway and he dropped the satchel and tech bag on the table. He grabbed Tomie’s arm firmly, not allowing her to get too far and yanked her into him.

He squeezed her rear, taking her small cheek into the palm of his hand. He dug his nails through the thick fabric, while squeezing the back of her neck with his other hand. Almost unwelcomed, he shoved his tongue down her throat until he laid a resounding smack on her ass and she opened her mouth for him to ravage.

Tomie blanked, her body defaulted and allowed Kanaye to do as he wanted. He stumbled them to the bed, in a series of sloppy backsteps. Kanaye shoved her onto the stiff sheets and flipped her, forcing her hips up.

He tugged at her pants, pulling them over her small and bony structure. After he could see her skin, he pulled his half-erection from his pants and found a home for another slap on her bare body.

“It’s only good when you moan, bitch.” He tugged himself twice before slipping his head in raw and dry.

The thing is, it did feel good, only after a while. Tomie’s forced and faked whimpers turned into deep moans to accommodate his aggression and girth. She loved how he felt inside, but only after proper attention to her sex, which she never received.

Within minutes, he was quickening the pace and pulled her hair, bringing her neck into his palm. He got off on her gasping, the way her throat contracted in his hand as he applied more pressure.

He brought her close to hear her cries until he finished himself with a final pump inside her.

Uncaring he dumped her body, letting it hit the slightly wrinkled sheets as he undressed to shower.

--

Tomie gently tapped the traditional shoji door with a gold plaque etched Tokoyami , “sumimasen…Fumiko-San?”

A short and slender woman with a raven shaped face slid the shoji open and ushered her inside, “hello Tomie-San! Looking for another job? Is Kanaye-San with you because Tsukiya is at the meetup apartment.”

“I actually came to talk with you. Kanaye is out of town with another gang.” Tomie squeezed the hem of her cardigan.

“Of course, you’re a long time friend! Let me get some tea and we can catch up!” Fumiko disappeared into the kitchen to collect a Tokoyami custom tetsubin (cast-iron kettle), a large vase of water, tea leaves in a porcelain dish and two tea cups.

Fumiko brought the kit to the irori (sunken hearth) where Tomie sat. She filled the kettle with it’s first round of water, bringing it to a slow boil. The women sat in silence for a while, absorbing the company.

Fumiko’s porcelain skin peeked from her sleeves, her raven face analyzed Tomie’s body. She took account of the bruises that were barely hidden on her forearm.

“How have you been Tomie?” Fumiko asked, replacing the boiling water with fresh water and tea leaves. She placed the kettle back over the flame to officially prepare the tea.

“Fine. Lots of jobs, thanks to the Shadow Mafia.” Tomie smiled.

“Tsukiya does all the work finding the connections for you and Kanaye. You are the greatest thieves in the underworld. To be frank, you’re a hot commodity by some of the big names across Japan…” Fumiko paused, to flip the cups over, “...and with this new deal, maybe worldwide.”

Tomie chuckled, “it’s an honor to work with you. Do you really think we could get international contract?”

Fumiko scrunched her nose in disbelief, “oh absolutely! How could you not? You’re clean on jobs, efficient, and The Takami Thief is murmured as a thing to be feared. You and Kanaye will have so many jobs to choose from. Dealer’s choice!”

Tomie paused, taking in her compliments. She gripped her cardigan that lay over her thighs, “I don’t know how well that will work…” She leaned onto her knees.

Fumiko pulled the boiling tea from the flame and poured it into the cups. She gently handed one to Tomie and pointed to her bruised arm, “are you planning to leave?”

There was a dense bout of silence before Fumiko continued, “are you planning on getting out of your marriage, Tsukiya can help. We can have our prediction team, Dark Shadow, watch over you. Neither of us like that Kanaye beats yo-...”

“I’m pregnant.” Tomie muttered in a dry and cold tone.

Chapter 2 available August 20th

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,168

Tag List: @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali​

CHAPTER 35:  House of Cards

“As time passes by We only mess it up even more.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Yoongi didn’t look back even once to see if Yoo Kihyun was following him. He didn’t have to. He already knew that the man would follow because his twisted curiosity wouldn’t allow him to ignore Yoongi. There were questions that the man would have and the only one who could give him the proper answers would be The Lightning Claw.

No one else. Just him.

Ducking into a nearby lounge bar, the barkeep greeted them and told the two men they could sit anywhere. Yoongi plopped onto a stool at the bar, ordering a glass of cognac. Kihyun sidled into the seat next to him, ordering a whiskey sour. Neither of them cared that it was the middle of the day and that they weren’t on vacation. This was business; at least it was for Yoongi. He only had a semblance of an idea of what Kihyun’s agenda was.

The two men sat in silence; the soft clinking of ice in their tumblers the only noise either made between them. A soft jazz medley played in the background, barely audible over the sound pounding inside the shell of Yoongi’s ears. His eyes zeroed in on the amber colored liquor in his glass, his fingers pressing into the brim of the glass. There was an ache in his chest from how the heavy thrum his heart and he clenched his jaw; an almost vain attempt to quiet his ire that was beginning to escalate.

Mentally chanting a mantra to himself, Yoongi lifted the glass to his lips to take a generous sip. The alcohol slid down his throat smoothly, the burn curling into the pit of his stomach. Closing his eyes, he fought back an oncoming migraine as he set the glass on the coaster. Just as he was getting a handle on his anger, Kihyun decided to speak up.

“It’s almost a shame, you know,” he said gently, casting Yoongi a sidelong glance, “if you all decide to leave Seoul.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed slowly as he looked at Kihyun. “And why the hell would we do that?”

Kihyun laughed softly, as if he’d heard an interesting joke. “You don’t have to play dumb, Yoongi-ah. We both know you’re aware of what’s going on.”

“You never answered my question, Kihyun-ah,” he said evenly, “what were you doing there?”

“I thought I gave you an answer already.”

“It wasn’t good enough.”

He shrugged. “I’m afraid it’s going to have to be. I don’t know what else you want me to tell you.”

“Stop messing around,” Yoongi growled, grasping Kihyun’s shoulder so he could force the other man to face him, “because I know you better than that.”

Kihyun’s eyes took on a wet sheen in the low light of the bar. His smirk remained, practically screaming that he knew something and wasn’t willing to share. It pissed Yoongi off and he dug his fingers into Kihyun’s shoulder to emphasize his displeasure. But nothing could wipe the other man’s smirk away, though a brow did twitch in response.

“Do you? I was beginning to think you’d forgotten all about me.” He laughed. “About us.”

Yoongi pulled his hand away, like he’d touched an open flame. Kihyun looked completely satisfied with himself, turning away to face the bar and take another drink. The blood roared in his ears, muffling all sounds once more while taking measured breaths to alleviate the strain on his nerves. Spinning in the stool, he hunched over the bar as if to shield himself.

“That was a long time ago,” he muttered, feeling a cold sweat break out along his temple, “you’d do well to forget about it.”

“Well, that’s not fair at all.” Yoongi heard the ice in Kihyun’s glass clinking together. “I look back on those days quite fondly.”

A mild ache pulsed at the bridge of Yoongi’s nose, attempting to control all thoughts clambering to the surface.

“Well, you shouldn’t.”

“But I do.”

Yoongi whirled around in his seat, leaning forward to press into Kihyun’s personal space. “Goddammit, Yoo Kihyun!” he growled under his breath. The other man continued to smile. “Stop with your stupid fucking games!” He reached out slowly, curling his fingers into the lapel of Kihyun’s coat. “I mean it.”

For a while, neither of them spoke a word. The silence that existed between them was deeper than any chasm. The barkeep watched them out of the corner of his eye but continued polishing glasses and serving other customers. Yoongi felt his lungs beginning to expand with each breath he took, as though he’d been climbing a mountain and was only just now stopping to rest.

He almost jumped when Kihyun pressed his hand along the back of his wrist. Yoongi reeled backward, his heart rate escalating all the way to the vein in his neck. Kihyun laughed, shaking his head while shifting his body to face the bar again.

“You’re a mess, Min Yoongi. You make it too easy.”

Yoongi scoffed and drained the rest of his drink. “Shut-up.”

“Seriously, someone will start thinking you actually care.”

“I said shut-up.”

Kihyun sighed gently. “Do you ever think about how things would have been different had you come with me back then?”

It was Yoongi’s turn to laugh, though there was no amusement behind it. “If you ever thought, for one second , that I’d ever leave the Golden Jackals—”

“If I wasn’t a Jade Fang, you would have.”

“Fucking as if.”

“We didn’t need the underworld to thrive,” he whispered, “we made enough trouble all by ourselves.”

“You lived in a fantasy world, Kihyun-ah. You still do.”

Kihyun leaned back and shrugged. “Dreams become reality eventually.”

“Not this time.”

The bartender refilled Yoongi’s drink. Just as he was about to take another sip, he heard the other man laugh loudly, causing his shoulders to tense up on reflex.

“That’s where you’re wrong, I’m afraid.”

Yoongi glared at Kihyun, seeing the icy expression replacing the jovial one. He felt a lump of ice forming in the pit of his stomach and Yoongi sat up straight in his seat. Again, Kihyun looked as though he knew something and wasn’t willing to share. He didn’t like being the butt-end of a joke and he hated it more when someone was able to hold something over his head. In this instance, it seemed like both were happening simultaneously.

He had half a mind to punch Kihyun straight in the mouth.

“Changkyun-ah is still trying to put the pieces together. We all are.” Kihyun waved to the bartender so that he could refill his glass. “I’m sure you’ve managed to figure some things out. You’re not a moron.”

Yoongi said nothing. His eyes shifted to look at Kihyun’s profile, watching as he took a slow drink from his glass.

“Some things I’ve kept to myself.” Kihyun craned his neck to look into Yoongi’s eyes. “For personal reasons, of course.”

He wasn’t going to fall for this bluff. Kihyun did this to him all the time years ago. He would feed just enough information to a person to get them to slip up, divulging more than they’d intended. Observant and being petty were his strong suits, to the point that Yoongi often had to keep his guard up just to avoid falling into a trap.

…he doesn’t have anything, he thought, pursing his lips together, he’s fishing. If he had something, he wouldn’t be dancing around like this.

“I have to say that I never pegged you for the type to give up.”

Yoongi blinked, leaning back to gauge Kihyun’s expression. It was placid, almost bored-like. This unnerved him, but only slightly. Was he trying to play the game another way?

He decided to test the waters. “…what do you mean?”

“Eden McGee.”

His mouth went dry as a throbbing sensation exploded near the back of his head. Yoongi felt heat rising through his intestines, against his chest and into his throat. His shoulders shook, trembling in tandem with his fists as they curled near his thighs. There was a distinct ringing sound in his ears, and he swallowed the lump that managed to form near his Adam’s apple.

“What did you just say?”

Kihyun’s smile returned and Yoongi realized too late that he’d fallen for his trick. “Eden McGee,” he repeated slowly, rolling the vowels around on his tongue, “I’m surprised you gave her up so easily.”

“Ya, Yoo Kihyun,” Yoongi managed to huff out, “do you have a death wish?”

The other man clapped his hands together, leaning back in his chair to laugh in triumph. It was too late for Yoongi to take anything back. Even if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t have bothered.

“See? This is what I meant when I said you were making this too easy.” Kihyun narrowed his eyes as he lazily propped his cheek into his palm. “She was the one, wasn’t she? The one you turned your back on me for?” The question held no warmth to it. Kihyun quipped a brow while Yoongi did everything he could to tether his anger to the heels of his boots. “I never would have guessed you’d let her run to the arms of your little brother.”

“You keep her name out of your fucking mouth or I will make sure you won’t live to regret it.”

Kihyun shrugged as if the threat didn’t matter to him.

“I’d say I’m jealous, but it’s clear you’re not the man I once thought you were.”

“Come off it,” snapped Yoongi, “there was no reason for me to join hands with you back then. Nothing’s changed.” He stood from the stool, placing a handful of bills on the bar counter. “And it won’t change. You better tell Im Changkyun to get his fucking head out of his ass. We’re not going to play his stupid game.”

Yoongi started to walk away. But just as he passed Kihyun, the other man chuckled softly. Pausing in his steps, Yoongi continued looking forward. He wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d gotten under his skin.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Yoongi-ah.” There was the soft clinking of ice on glass as he heard it being set down on the counter. “You already are.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Yoongi spat as he looked over his shoulder.

Kihyun stood from his chair, placing money on the counter. He stood in front of Yoongi, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. A chill raced down his back as he stared into the confident expression of the man he once thought he could love. But it was a lie; a house of cards built on a cheap, rickety folding table.

“Nothing is going to come of you staying here,” Kihyun said simply while shrugging one shoulder, “except for a lot of pain. What affection I have left for you doesn’t want to expose you to that.”

Yoongi was rooted to the spot. Even as he watched Kihyun approach him, he couldn’t move. It was like someone cemented his boots to the ground, restricting all movement from him. Kihyun gently pressed his shoulder against his, turning his head so he could lean forward and whisper softly into the shell of Yoongi’s ear.

“Be selfish, Yoongi-ah.” Goosebumps peppered along the back of Yoongi’s neck as he spoke. “Take that woman from your little brother and leave this place. Otherwise—”

“Or what, goddammit?!” He hadn’t meant to bark the question, but there was a heavy feeling weighing inside the center of his gut.

“…otherwise,” he said slowly, moving around Yoongi to head for the exit, “you’ll shed tears of blood.”

As he watched Kihyun exit the lounge, Yoongi could only stare in wide-eyed shock. Long after he was gone, he remained – spine ramrod straight as a cold feeling washed over him. He wasn’t sure what he should have been doing, but his legs trembled slightly as the very weight of Kihyun’s words fell on top of his shoulders. Suddenly, his knees buckled and his hip crashed into the bar counter – an almost vain attempt to keep himself upright.

Yoongi clutched at his chest, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as a sharp pain sliced through his chest. Slowly, he took a breath only to wince in pain as the feeling worsened instead of ebbing. It felt like needles spreading out through his lungs, causing a ragged cough to explode from his body. The barkeep asked if he was alright, but Yoongi couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t hear anything. Nothing save for the drumming pulse of his own heart increasing its tempo with every passing second.

Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through his contacts with a shaky hand. Seeing Jungkook’s picture, he slid his thumb over his brother’s name. But before he could hear the first ring, the world blurred in and out of focus – the shadows creeping around the corners of his eyes.

His consciousness was gone long before he hit the ground.

[kittae]

Bottoms Up

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader

Side characters: Min Yoongi, Jey

Summary: A drabble series where Taehyung is a successful artistic erotica actor but has to expand his areas of expertise in the rapidly evolving world of adult film. Lost and inexperienced in everything that doesn’t involve classy settings, flattering lighting and romantic scripts, he basically has to start from scratch to make it in the online porn community. As a highly demanded A-lister in that community, you take him under your wings (or better yet, between your legs).

Genre: Smut, fluff, a bit of comedy here and there. Maybe some angst, who knows.

words: 1368

Disclaimer: Slight alcohol intoxication, dialogue-heavy, foul language, both of them had too much to drink and are being annoying lmao

« previous — next »

“I trusted you! You’ve betrayed my trust!” Taehyung wails, dramatically flinging himself against the wall of Yoongi’s living room.

“Stop acting, you’re going to drain yourself.” Yoongi murmurs as he pours himself another drink. “Besides, why are you being like this in the first place? The shoot went better than expected, you should be celebrating with me instead of fake crying.”

“I’m not fake crying.”

“Yes, you are and you know what else you are?” Yoongi takes a sip of his whiskey, “Killing my buzz.”

Taehyung merely pouts, knowing his crocodile tears aren’t going to coax sympathy out of the slightly tipsy older man. “You should’ve discussed this with me in advance.”

“You know, I totally would’ve if you hadn’t been such a stubborn baby about the whole ordeal from the beginning. I could barely get you to agree to the shoot, heavens know how you would have reacted if I told you about the seminars.”

“You know what?” Taehyung scoffs, heated, “I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you by showing my true feelings towards your off-putting suggestions.”

Yoongi snorts, rolling his eyes and taking a rather large gulp from his glass.

“But I am who I am and I thought you supported me! You’re making plans behind my back instead.” Taehyung presses on, crossing his arms in displeasure. He didn’t come here with the intention of making a fuss considering everything went shockingly well today, yet he needs to make sure that Yoongi knows how he feels about the secretive way he handled things.

“If I don’t make plans behind your back sometimes, we’re not gonna get anywhere,” Yoongi calmly explains, gesturing with the crystal glass in his hand, “You only got to expand your boundaries today because I arranged it like that and that’s what being partners is all about.”

“No,” Taehyung slowly counters, “Being partners is about trust and honesty, which is the opposite of what you did today.”

“Noooo, I really don’t feel like arguing right now,” Yoongi groans as he slouches further into his padded couch, “Can’t we just hold hands and call it a day?”

Taehyung squeezes his eyes to slits, “Don’t try to bribe me into forgiving you, hyung.”

“Why not? You do it all the time.” The manager grumbles, reaching for the bottle to prevent his glass from getting empty.

After fiddling with the buttons of his silk, albeit questionably patterned shirt, Taehyung sighs and collects himself. He then goes over to Yoongi’s liquor cabinet to fetch a glass identical to that of his manager.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi asks, an amused look on his face.

Tae shrugs as he flops down next to his friend and plucks the bottle right out of his hand. “Getting a drink.”

“You hate alcohol.”

“Correct,” Taehyung responds matter-of-factly, “I just like the aesthetic of swirling scotch around in a crystal glass while I ponder over what you could do to get my trust back.”

Yoongi scoffs. “How about not kicking you out of my apartment? Sounds good?” He raises his brows, briefly letting the amber liquor tickle his tongue, savoring the slight burn when it hits his throat. “You’re here more than at your own place. You’re lucky I’m not charging you for rent and unwanted sleepovers.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Taehyung gasps.

“You are the only one allowed in my apartment and even you will lose your apartment privileges if you won’t quit it.” Yoongi warns seriously. “And those include storm cuddles and hurricane hangouts.”

Taehyung look absolutely horrified and gulps hard before taking a big swig of the whiskey in pure misery. Needless to say he instantly regrets it, the liquid too sharp and the vile taste of alcohol burning through his throat. He coughs dramatically as if he’d just drank poison, with Yoongi already on his way to the kitchen to get him a diet coke to wash it down –although not without an eyeroll or two.

“I swear you’re worse than a baby sometimes.” He sighs as he opens the can for his teary-eyed younger friend who reaches for the soda as if it’s his only lifeline. “Bet seeing you like this would burst more than a few bubbles of the women who love your films.”

Taehyung says nothing, too busy chugging the coke ad fundum. Only when any trace of the whiskey taste is gone, can he relax. And he does, with a big, content smile on his face.

“Love you, hyung. You know that, right?” He coos, nestling his head on the older man’s shoulder, who responds with a barely suppressed sound of disgust.

“Fuck’s sake Taehyung, did you get drunk from that one sip already?” Yoongi frets, exasperated.

“Sometimes... people w-won’t never adjust to changes.” Tae offers a vague explanation, followed by a hiccup as he makes himself cozy against his manager’s side to take a nap.

Yoongi gives up, sighing, simply patting the younger’s head and accepting his punishment. “Alright buddy.”

“–and then he just flipped a switch or something! Woah, you should’ve seen it, it was really incredible.” You conclude before you wash down the spicy food with some more beer.

“Yeah, it must’ve been...Seeing how it’s the only thing you could talk about for the past hour,” Jey chuckles, reaching for another snack. The dining tent is crowded this evening, lots of noise and ruckus of other drunk customers filling your ears while you talk.

“Ah, sorry… Do I talk about it too much?” You grimace.

“Nah, you’re fine,” she waves away your concern with a laugh, “It sounds like it was a whole experience. I’ve never seen him like that either so it is kind of fascinating to me to hear this.”

You gasp, snapping your fingers when you recall something. “Right! You once told me you sometimes work for him!”

She frowns. “Told you twice… Actually, Yoongi called me today asking for my help but I was booked.”

“Is he usually shy like that? When you fluff him? No, wait, not shy– Uh, you know, super careful?”

Jey full out laughs at your rambling now, “Honestly, I’ve never seen you so invested in one of your projects before.”

You pout at that, “Don’t call him that.”

“Oh my god, ___, are you in love with him or something? You’re creeping me out.” She pulls a face before cupping your hot cheeks with her palms. “Oh, nevermind. You’re just super drunk.”

Shrugging, you shake off her hands like a child, only to replace them with your own when you rest your chin in them, elbows on the wonky, iron table as you lean over to her, smiling wide. “I still haven’t seen his dick,” You whisper-shout and Jey snorts at your drunken obliviousness. “Tell me about it.”

“Alright, sweetie, you’re making it weird,” she flicks your forehead and you whine, “It wouldn’t be very professional of me if I told you, hmm? Besides, didn’t you binge his films last week? I think you have a good enough idea of what his dick looks like.”

“But I’m so frustrated!” Your whining gets louder and more heated as you put up your index finger and practically shove it in Jey’s face, “I just wanted to feel it once, Jey. Just once.”

“Time for some water I think,” Jey raises her eyebrows and calls the owner of the tent for a bottle, “I don’t get what you’re getting worked up about. He’s going to be taking your classes, right? You’ll have plenty of chances to suck his dick later so stop crying about it, jeez.”

You clap your hands and giggle, the alcohol really starting to get in your head, “That’s true! I can still suck his dick then!”

“Shhh!” A hand instantly comes to cover your mouth before you can say more. “You don’t have to shout! What’s wrong with you?!”

“Mmmight be getting a little bit tipsy,” you helpfully suggest as if she hasn’t been trying to sober you up since you started talking about Taehyung’s dick.

“No shit, really? After only six beers?” She jeers sarcastically while forcing the bottle of water against your lips, sighing in relief when you allow it and start swallowing. “Let’s get you home, messy girl.”

Heliotrope masterlist

[cordytriestowrite]

This is Our Getting Along Sweater

One Shot

Loki x Reader

Summary: Bruce is tired of you and Loki fighting. What else is he to do but take advice from the internet?

Things were slowly getting back to normal in the cluttered lab you could call your second home. Bruce was back, his hand still bandaged but out of the sling wielding the infinity gauntlet had put him in, and you had a new focus. Once you worked to find Banner a cure of the monster he called the Hulk, the same creature with which he now effortlessly cohabited. Then it was miscellaneous work for the avengers, whatever Tony Stark deemed you and Bruce could handle. Then Bruce disappeared on a mission leaving you to find work on your own. Then there was The Snap, the loss of half the population including yourself and so much had happened to your colleague in those five years that passed you by within what only felt to you like the blink of an eye. 

The Avengers, well, they didn't seem to really be a thing anymore, at least for now. Tony and Steve were gone, Natasha too. Sam and Bucky were still roaming around New York being heroic. Thor was in fucking space…but you and Bruce were back in the lab, the way it should be.

With one

Special

Guest

Who needed to back off before you punched him in the nose.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

His deep drawl blew cool air straight into your ear. You paused, your clamps hovering just above the bundle of wiring.

"Good thing you're not me then." You responded through clenched teeth.

"Yes, a very good thing I'm not a foolish Midgardian sticking her nose into technology she can't even begin to understand. And it is an especially good thing I am not about to give myself a nasty shock my weak body would never recover from."

You threw down your clamps, metal against metal causing the outburst to echo through the room. Bruce looked up, the top of his head just visible beyond the rest of the ship pieces he had managed to salvage.

You could say Bruce was directionless. You could also say Bruce was too purposeful in his direction. Once he found something interesting and complicated enough to catch his attention he would work on it until it inevitably went wrong or his duty to saving the world overrode his day job. So Bruce has been to space, been to a couple of different worlds, and yeah, occupied a spaceship or two and now he was obsessed with understanding how it all works. With his new massive Hulk-merged body he lugged large chunks of salvage for you to break down and study. Along with the flotsam and jetsam littering every surface of your shared workspace, Thor: big, smiley, secretly devious Thor, decided he would throw one more piece of foreign and complicated junk at you in the form of his brother. 

Loki who, for all his bitching and complaining of the mundane existence of Midgard, refused to leave even with the lack of supervision his brother had on him. Not only has he stayed on earth for the past three and a half weeks, but he specifically seemed to have decided his stay on earth would be treathered to the back of your neck at all working hours. 

"Loki, just fuck off okay."

You cupped your hands around your temples and let your head sink down far enough that your breath fogged the magnifier separating your uncovered face from the chunk of alien hardware. You could practically feel Loki's head move down with yours by that too short invisible tether he had decided to tie between you. 

"Now, now, is that how you thank someone for saving you from your own incompetence?"

Your palms curled into firsts at your temples, gathering the hair there almost at the root. It hurt and if Loki didn't spurr on a headache your self-inflicted pain definitely would.

"Call me incompetent. One. More. Time."

Bruce called out to you, a tired warning he had given too many times before. You barely heard him over the pounding pulse crashing against your eardrums. Loki ignored the warning as well,  possibly because it wasn't directed at him, more likely because the reward of pissing you off outweighed any punishment Bruce could shell out.

"If you stopped being so incompetent I wouldn't feel the need to point it out."

You shot up from your seat so fast your stool wobbled dangerously,  almost crashing to the ground. You turned to face him, open palm raised and ready to strike that high, delicate-looking cheekbone.

He didn't even uncross his arms, he just leaned back and avoided your hand, his smirk never even leaving his arrogant face. The cry you let out was primal, ripping your throat apart in its desperation to be heard. Your hands moved of their own accord reaching for him with closed fists but never making contact. Loki easily moved his body to avoid your wild blows and with each sidestep he let out a chuckle.

No, it wasn't a chuckle, it was a giggle, one of pure amusement. He was having fun! You could kill him if only you could get your hands on the slippery snake. 

"Hey, break it up already."

Bruce's shouting was much louder now and as soon as you realized how close he was you lost sight of him as a thick, warm, beige sweater was pulled over your head. You surfaced quickly, sputtering between one syllable curses, as your anger addled mind attempted to infuse some rational thinking into the moment of blind adrenaline. 

You could feel something moving against you beneath your new outerwear, something slightly chilly and firm and wiggly. You turned only to find yourself nose to nose with Loki, both of you trapped in the ring of Bruce's massive collar. 

"Bruce, what the fuck? Get this thing off of me."

You pushed against the fabric, against Loki, trying to bring your hands up and hoist the garment off of you, but all you managed to do was elbow Loki in the shoulder and drag your nails against his neck leaving a stark red line to blossom on his pale skin before Bruce trapped yours arms to your sides with his massive palms. 

"I saw this online. They call it a 'getting along shirt'."

You knew the photo Bruce was referring too. You had been the one to show it to him! And now it had come back to bite you in the ass. The fight was leaving you, replaced by a solemn irony. You would laugh at it all if it wasn't happening to you.

"Bruce." Loki began, his voice controlled, but the small puffs of air coming from his nostrils was hitting your cheek far too frequently to reinforce his calm demeanor.

"I will give you one minute to remove your sweater from me, else I will be forced to remove myself and I know how much you hate ordering custom clothing." 

You could just barely see the tip of a blade materialize in Loki's hand. It was placed dangerously close to the hem and with a flick of his wrist Loki could separate the fibers and let it fall away. Bruce glanced down at the weapon at the same time you did, and for the first time in three weeks you could see Hulk's anger in Bruce's kind eyes. 

"Loki, if you so much as stretch out the collar of my sweater you are out of here. If you want to stay here so bad you're going to start listening to me and you two," he wiggled a massive index finger inches away from your face, "are going to get along. Now sit down, shut up, and do some work."

Bruce left no room for arguments, his eyes firm behind his glasses. There was a twitch to his lips, one that straddled the edge of a snarl, and you didn't want to send it over the edge. Judging by Loki's silence and now empty hand even he didn't want to toe that line. In a final act of what was embarrassingly close to teenage rebellion you sighed loudly and dramatically before shoving your arm through the massive sleeve dangling on your left side. 

"How am I supposed to get anything done like this?" You called out as Bruce walked away.

"Figure it out. Together." 

You made a face at his back, tongue out and eyes screwed shut. Years of working well together and you had developed this familiarity, a bond that you assigned to that of siblings. There was no heat in your annoyance at Bruce, no intensity to it like what you had for the man next to you, the man now moving away from you causing your body to lean dangerously until you complied.

Or resisted.

"Hey!" 

You dug your heels into the floor, leaning back in an attempt to counter the god. You watched in satisfaction as Loki stopped a few steps away from you.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Loki raised an eyebrow, a single, judgmental eyebrow. It went comically well with his deadpan stare. You could see then, if ever this face wasn't directed toward you, Loki would be so consumable. You could probably watch him all day, watch his handsome face contort and transform so artfully. He could express a million things without saying a word. If only he knew how to shut up. 

"You have work to do, darling. Or were you not listening?"

You stopped resisting, your shoulders going slack with a sheepish shrug.

"I was listening." You said, coming to your own defence and really wishing you could cross your arms. Instead you settled for closing the gap between you and creating it again, this time with you leading the way.

Your work seemed unaffected by the outburst that happened only a few feet away. Soft light still pulsed through thick black tubes like a heartbeat. You could swear you saw the parts expand and contract, as if this single piece of spaceship was a set of lungs able to breathe on its own. Dissected bits 5 mm squares of paneling and scraped samples were lined up on the table Bruce was hunched over, the only sample missing was a piece of the pulsing, breathing, vein-like wiring that sat in the center of voidless black machinery. 

Loki said it would kill you. Fry you past the point of recovery. Not for the first time you asked yourself why you continued to do this, why you couldn't just go find normal work, even after Bruce disappeared for almost three years. Bruce: your reason was right in front of you, as always. A man in a terrible situation once gave you a chance. A man with seven PhDs took in an intern who ended up not even graduating because you got so caught up in Banner's work. A man fighting an internal war with a creature of his own creation entrusted you to help him find a way to undo his mistake. Bruce Banner was your reason. He was your best friend and if your eyes fogged with unshed tears at the sight of him it was only because of how far he had come since you found him, large and green, spitting out a bullet years ago.

Bruce's sleeve made good work of the water around your eyes, absorbing your quiet moment with efficiency. If Loki saw anything he had the sense to say nothing. You may not be able to conjure weapons but at this close of a range he wouldn't be able to dodge a swift knee to the crotch.

With a tiny sniffle you plopped yourself down on your stool and leaned over the magnifier. The world was only slightly blurry but with a few blinks you would be ready to tackle this all again. Except, the pressure on your neck was painfully distracting and as you leaned forward the dig only intensified. 

Sitting back you glared up at your attachment. Loki was standing tall and the angle was all wrong. You needed him at your level if this was going to work.

"Sit down, Loki."

It's like he was waiting for you to say it. Biding his time so you would ask for the torture and practically demand him to be irritating. The grin on his face was wide and wicked, and yet again you felt that if it wasn't directed at you, watching his perverse glee would have been entrancing, but when you were the victim it was like looking into the sun before being hurled right into the star.

He practically shoved you off the stool, your left foot hitting the ground with a loud, knee rattling smack. You used it to keep your other ass cheek on the small round surface, though you didn't need to fight too hard. Loki pressed himself against you on the stool, from hip to thigh, his long right leg stretched out in front of him for balance. His look was one of feigned concentration, and an expertly timed bite of his bottom lip happened in sync to his arm wrapping around your waist and settling on your hip. Your arm, with nowhere to go between you, fit like a final puzzle piece along his thigh. 

Your body was rigid but pliant as Loki shuffled a few more times to get comfortable. 

"There we go. Better?"

He was looking at you, you could see that venomous grin out of the corner of your eye, but you refused to look at him. It felt too intense, too intimate to look him in the eye, to let your breath mingle and noses touch while so much of the rest of you was connected. This is what Loki wanted, to make you uncomfortable. The hand on your hip squeezed as he waited for a response. You clenched your jaw and reached for your discarded clamp. He would not get a rise out of you, not again. 

Leaning forward was easier now that Loki's height wasn't causing the sweater to stretch to its limits but you now realized another obstacle: you had only one usable arm. 

You indulged in your stubbornness for a few minutes. You would rather attempt clamping the bundle of wiring and extracting a sample with your lone left hand than ask Loki to help. Loki, unsurprisingly, offered you no assistance, instead he held his chin up in his hand and set his elbow right next to the set of tools he could be using. Your hand was cramping up as you struggled to hold open the clamps which meant you would have to give up or give in, but somehow asking Loki for help seemed like both.

"Would you mind?"

"Hm?"

Loki had the gall to make a sound of confusion as if he hadn't been eyeing your struggles the whole time. You rolled your eyes and all but shoved a pair of tweezers into his cold hand. 

"You pull that one," you pointed your clamps at a section near the edge of the bundle, "and I'll hold the rest in place."

For once it seemed you had rendered Loki speechless. His mouth opened and closed around single syllable sounds as his eyes moved quickly between you, the tweezers you had shoved in his hand, and the pulsating mass of glowing tubes. Like revving an engine once he got the words situated in his head he let them off hurriedly.

"Were you not listening? If you do this you are going to get hurt!"

"What do you care?"

He was speechless again, you had finally unearthed the secret to shutting Loki up and you didn't know how but you managed to do it twice in the span of a few minutes. 

"I care."

You shook your head in disbelief and subconsciously leaned closer to him. You weren't sure you heard him correctly. Had the 'don't' between 'I' and 'care' somehow get drowned out by the groan of the stool or a brief and sudden deafness. With your head closer to his you definitely didn't miss the frankly carnal groan rumbling deep in his throat. 

"Your hair smells divine."

"What?" 

If you didn't expect Loki to say he cared about you then you definitely didn't expect him to confess to liking the scent of your hair. You almost choked on your breath, eyes going wide as you stared at a small dent in the table with a startling intensity. 

Something cold pressed against the top of your ear making you jump in surprise before Loki pulled in a  deep tickling inhale. He was smelling your hair! Brazen and blatant he nudged his nose into your locks and sent abrupt goosebumps over your arms. On reflex one hand squeezed Loki's knee while the other held the table to keep steady. You blinked twice, not pulling your gaze away from that dent in the table. If you moved even a millimeter who knows what would happen.

"I care if you hurt yourself." 

Loki's voice was low and husky and right against your ear so you could hear every single word. There was no way for you to deny what you were hearing.

"I care, because I like the smell of your hair."

The hand on your hip snaked under your shirt causing another eruption of goosebumps at the light and teasing way Loki's fingers moved against your skin. It was too much, the stimuli coming from all directions to attack you physically and mentally. You felt dizzy and confused as your breath came in short, shallow pants. With a chuckle Loki withdrew his hand, letting it fall limp at your side before pulling his face out of the hair at the side of your head. Your breathing slowed, your skin settled, and the fog lifted. Your heart was near a normal rhythm when a sudden thought made it jump and thunder all over again.

"You're fucking with me aren't you?"

His eyes glimmered in amusement, lips pulled in a well practiced smirk. With his free hand he gripped your chin and held your face in place as he planted a swift, mocking kiss to your cheek. It was enough of a shock to keep your attention as he unceremoniously dug into the machinery sat in front of you with his fingers and tugged a few pieces free. 

"This whole time." He confessed, holding the harmless tubing out to you.

"You're an ass." 

You should have said it with more fire, should have felt more spiteful, but all you felt was humiliation. You pulled your left arm out of Bruce's sleeve, gripping the harmless space parts protectively in your first, and then ducked your head under the collar. Wriggling down you separated yourself from Loki and moved quickly across the lab towards Bruce without looking back. Bruce glanced up curiously as you got closer. Wordlessly you opened your fist and display the extracted parts 

"Awesome! See what happens when you work together?"

You smile and nod, knowing you didn't look sincere, but Bruce already had his head back down in his work. The air around you cooled and you half turned to see Loki depositing Bruce's sweater carelessly over partially labeled and bagged mystery parts. 

"Thank you for the lesson Bruce. I think we will be getting along a lot better from now on."

Loki pulled you close with an arm around your hip, really hamming it up for Bruce by tilting his temple to meet yours. Your molars ground together as you tried to keep your anger and embarrassment in check in front of Bruce, who only wanted you to get along better.

Better. He wants your relationship to be better. Bruce Banner wants everyone to be friendly and companionable. Well that might have finally worked for Bruce and Hulk but there was no way to reach the same outcome with you and Loki. No, the only thing you could do was play Loki at his own game.

Your jaw loosened, and a wide, easy smile spread across your face. You wound your arm around Loki's waist, mirroring his close hold.

"Oh yeah Bruce, a lot better. Isn't that right sweetheart?"

Not giving Loki a chance to respond you planted a big, wet, sloppy kiss to his cheek with a resounding smack. Pulling back you grinned in satisfaction at Loki and Bruce's practically matching shocked expressions. You got why Loki toyed with people now, it was exhilarating.

There would be no getting along, only getting even, and judging by the impish glare Loki was sending your way, you wouldn't have the upper hand for very long. 

Tag list

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[eternalflame421]

My Take on Tom Nook

The following is my interpretation and my headcanon backstory on Tom Nook. inspired by Jwittz's video on Tom (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rvfmPtkhqok) and this cover of Sable's favourite song, Soulful K.K. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqAlQ4ARTZI )

The year, was 200X. Thomas Nookington (Tom Nook for short) returned home to Animal Town tired and broken. He was betrayed in the city by two colleagues he might have called friends in the past. Lyle the Otter, and Akato ‘Crazy Redd’ the Fox. With no more dreams left in the city, he returned to his childhood home and took his family’s shop; the Nook’s Cranny, later upgrading it to the Nook ‘n Go. But the city changed him; in many ways. In some ways, he changed for the good, teaching him many economic, financial, and business lessons. In others... for the worse. 

The city made him bitter. Cold. Mean. The city broke him, making him feel like a waste. In his blind depression, he treated customers and employees alike totally wrong and he pushed away anyone that was nice to him even old friends like Sable of the Able Sisters; no longer writing to her even though he did so in the city, even in his lowest points, before his betrayal. It wasn’t unnoticed though.

When Sable eventually went to see him in person, she saw what he had become. What the city had really done to him. She was sad and afraid. To her, Tom was her only friend; and someone she even sometimes liked as more than a friend. But at that moment; On that day, that friend was gone, and she told him as such.

with the slam of the door, tom was broken again; by none other than himself. She was right; he did change for the worse, and he was blind to it before. Blinded by the pain of betrayal, to the point of betraying himself. He knew what the villagers said about him behind his back, where they felt safe; Calling him everything he saw in Akato; in Lyle. Everything he hated about Akato and Lyle. Everything he now saw in himself.

He called up a distant old friend; a carpenter sheep by the name of Cyrus. He made a deal; 75% of the Revenue if he took up Nook ‘n Go for a while. Cyrus was confused but agreed. After leaving Cyrus notes about the items and how they sell, Tom left Animal Town again, no longer seeing his place there. No longer feeling like he even belonged there. 

But where to go? The City certainly didn’t hold any promise for him anymore, but at the same time, he no longer felt like he deserved home since it hated him. He decided on the city nevertheless. little did he know it wasn’t too much of a bad idea in the long run. 

Walking down the streets at night, after a few days in the city, Tom heard a noise at the end of an alleyway; a garbage can being knocked down, and the voices of two... children? Hesitantly, he dared to look, coming across two young Tanukis. They were naked and almost feral, besides being able to properly speak.

they bear their fangs and claws, growling. “Hey! Leave our stuff alone!” They said in unison, though one lagged behind at times.

Tom tilted his head at the sight but kept his distance. “... shouldn’t children like you be at home in bed at this hour?” He asked.

They shook their heads. “We have no home! This is our home; So leave!" They yelled.

Orphaned mysteriously and young enough in their lives to have never known true family, these two unwanted Tanukis were raised in an orphanage that didn’t want them and so they ran to the city and took any unwanted thing they could from a world that wanted everything from you. If they were found, it would take them too.

‘What do I do?’ Tom wondered as the two Tanukis growled primally. He could not leave them. This world would swallow them whole. It nearly swallowed him, if it weren’t for Sable. He could not take them, it’d be a long story for the apartment complex that he dared not tell.

even as a race, The Tanukis/Racoons have always had it rough, thanks to mischievous and conniving ancestors, the same as the Fox/Kitsune. And though Akato never did much to defy it, it was the Nookington family Ideal; to show no greed and break out of the stereotypes. An ideal he lost sight of.

A thought suddenly ran through his head. ‘If I... if I saved them... would I save... myself?’ The City had made him worse overall. He knew that. It made him unwanted, by even his closest friends. But these Tanukis... They weren't much different, were they? Tom saw himself in these Tanukis, so if he made them better using what the city taught him and what his family taught him... would he make himself better? Tom wondered if it would work. Would they even agree?

He hesitated to speak. “... No. That won’t do. A world of finder-keepers can not live forever. You’ll only want to find more and more. A world where everyone shares everything won't work either; greed drives us too much.” Tom said, and the Tanukis went quiet.

“Take the banks!” Tom exclaimed, waving his hand out. “They will deny a young man a loan, though they know nothing of his character. And why? For who do they work for then, hm? Themselves!”  He pointed out. The Tanukis stared at him in quiet confusion.

the Tanukis scoffed. “What’s your point, old man?” They asked.

Tom cleared his throat. “To take, you must give. To give, you must take. Take too much, you will be unwanted and the world will hate you. Give too much, and the world will eat you for all you’re worth and leave you in its dust.” He explained. “We are... alike, hmm? Unwanted Tanukis, in a Wild World of greed and swindling, only seeing camaraderie in our own kin, rather than the common City Folk.” Tom noted.

a plan came to Tom’s head. An idea. “How about a deal, Hmm? Simple one, this. If you help me run a shop in a place much more accepting than the city, I will give you everything you need and teach you how to survive in this world?” He proposed. 

the Tanukis were confused. “Everything we need?” One questioned. “How to survive?” Asked the other.

Tom nodded. “Indeed. You have no place to rightfully call home, correct? If you help me with running a tool and furniture shop, I’ll give you a home.” He proposed. 

Hesitantly, the Tanukis agreed and were given the proper names of Timothy ‘Timmy’ Nookington and Thomas ‘Tommy’ Nookington Jr. Tom also learned to tell Timmy and Tommy apart from a mole on one of Timmy's hands.

With Timmy and Tommy in tow, Tom moved to a small village 3 towns away from Animal Town, with the intention of starting new. He rebuilt Nook Cranny there and built himself back up, treating customers and employees better with more slack, and began teaching them business and economics while also teaching them more standard things like reading and writing.

Tommy often reminded Tom of himself, hence them having the same name; Tommy proved to be more of a leader than Timmy and was a bit more hands-on than Timmy, though Timmy understood a lot of the math faster than Tommy and problem-solved a bit faster. One found the problems, and the other solved them; such a symbiotic relationship interested Tom greatly, so Tom always made sure they worked in close proximity to each other; not always, however, in occasional efforts to test their independent skills. 'Though they might work together wonderfully, they won't always be able to.' as he reasoned.

Tom became well known at this town, to the point that its local orphanage named a wing after him; Nookington Orphanage, growing to be one of the few things that had his name on it, despite not being owned by Tom. Tom also got back into writing to Sable. He knew not if she would actually read his letters anymore but that sense of nostalgic normalcy helped him feel better about their relationship at the very least.

After another moving trip to the city with Timmy and Tommy, using his now heightened street cred, he managed to not only get back into his old job at the Happy Room Academy, But he managed to own it and absolve it into his own Nook Homes company by 20X0. It did mean working with Lyle again, but Lyle was always easier to deal with and was less conniving than Akato. Akato himself went into the art-selling business soon after Tom left the city.

At first, Tom made sure Lyle hated his job as a sort of payback, before retooling him for a better job, changing HRA’s name to the Happy Home Academy; once he was sure he learned his lesson. On New Years of 20X2, his resolution was then to continue to turn over new leaves and do new things.

and by February Of 20X2, Tom felt happy about his position in life. He had used the city to reach dreams he didn’t know he could and even changed an enemy for the better. Tom even began giving money to orphanages, giving as much as 90% of his revenue to orphanages across the world.  It was then that he decided, that perhaps, it was time to go back to Animal Town. 

By the time he came back, it had changed dramatically, however. Nook n’ Go turned into Retail, staffed by Cyrus and his wife Reese, for one. Tom had known Cyrus had a girlfriend when he had called him to take over, but he had not realized they married. 

The mayor; Tortimer, was retiring as well, and was reported to be calling someone in to help and take his place; an interesting shake-up, as Mayor Tortimer was in office for longer than there was a Tom Nook.

Lastly, The museum moved up to a hill past the Train station, as did the Able Sisters. It was like a miniature city with a single street of a couple of different buildings, though it felt a lot more homely. Tom saw an opportunity in this, and set up a Nook Homes office and a revitalized Nook’s Cranny, using Retail to teach Timmy and Tommy about business competition. 

Tortimer’s replacement came and turned out to be a Human by the name of Murasaki. Murasaki was an interesting human, who spoke using Telekinesis rather than with words, claiming to be mute otherwise. Rare to be sure, but accepted all the same.

With the help of Mayor Murasaki, Main Street grew and grew. Nook’ Cranny became Nookington’s, the Able Sisters expanded to have not only the long lost sister Label return, but have the shop Shampoodles in the floor above Able Sisters. Club LOL was made from an alleyway, hosting KK Slider, the world-renown Music creator and DJ. Tom did sneak down to see his shows once in a while, he might admit.

Tom had also come to a compromise with Sable, resolving to at least be friends again. It was hard for her, but before Tom had come back, she did read his letters and was delighted to hear of the changes he had made to himself. The old Tom was back, to be sure, but the memory still weighed heavy in her mind; and his too. Neither party dared bring up the idea of being more than friends again.

Sable wasn't the only one who couldn't forget though. even after 20X2, there were still those who talked of Tom as a greedy, evil man; to this day he hears it and sees it. but at this point... he had accepted it. he accepted the fact that there will always be those who cannot forgive and forget. He hasn't himself, fully. "if I must be villainized in my pursuit of teaching, then so be it!" as he said.

Even though he hears plenty talk ill about him to this day, he sees otherwise; in the faces of the other villagers; in Murasaki's; in Timmy and Tommy's; in Sable's. He sees the good; the happiness he had brought to those around him, and it drives him, to this very day.

Over time, Nook Homes expanded into Nook Inc, and acquired many islands in both the northern and Southern Hemispheres, eventually opening Project Horizon, based on Murasaki's Sister, Shikibu's camping Hobby. Shikibu herself was an Interior Designer working for the HHA since 20X5.

Project Horizon culminated as the Abandoned Island Getaway Package in 202X, through collaboration with Dodo Airlines. It was then taken up by Murasaki, Who was curious about what Project Horizon was since its announcement.

[yamithediaperdork]

Forgotten Stories 3: Baby hunter and Daddy vampire (you guessed it, Mortal Instruments)

jace signed softly as he waited at the cafe. He was annoyed something fierce as the former mundane turned vampire Simon had flat out SUMMONED here to the late night dinner, saying that they NEEDED to talk. Jace, who had better things to do, and money to make was understandably vexed and as he sipped on the black crud that this greasy spoon dared to call coffee, he mumbled to himself. "Swear to god, if it's more of my blood he's after.." the shadow hunter grumbled, then set the coffee down and reached once again for the sugar, pouring more into the crud. "How the hell do you not have diabetes?" Came the amused tone of the vampire and jace just rolled his eyes. "you know,. just because you're immortal and can drink anything doesn't mean the rest of us are. i have to make this drinkable SOMEHOW." the blond shot back and then nodded to the seat across from him. "Now you wanna tell me why I'm here instead of doing better things with my time? I'm not giving you more blood..or gum wrappers." jace smirked at that as Simon narrowed his eyes, taking a seat. "ohhh wow, soo witty. I was a rat for a few hours years ago. get over it. and besides, in terms of embarrassing things.. i think you've more then topped me being turned into a rat." Simon said and gave a big smirk. "what ever you think you've found-" Jace started to say, but even as he spoke he was getting a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and then Simon pulled out a tablet, which was already on a certain naughty boys mycam page. Jace's to be exact. "..So did i ever tell you I have a twin brother wh-" "Bull.shit.diaper boy." Simon said and then pressed play on a video.

the video came to life and there was jace, at a playground. it was late at night and he was wearing a trench coat but was smiling into the camera. "Sup my peeps? this is your boy Stinky J and thanks to a generous cash gift from daddy V, yours truly is about to go and take a epic dump in his huggies, and go and play. remember, if you got the money and have a idea, PM me and you can see my cute twink ass doing all sorts of degrading things. don't forget to like and comment." Jace said, dropping the tench coat and revealing that he was only in a paw patrol pull up under the jacket. Turning around and slapping his butt, the blond demon slayer poped a squat and audible grunting could be heard and then with a MASSIVELY loud fart and a sign of relief the the back of the pull up expanded rapidly, puffing out and discoloring as Jace coo'ed in content. "Mannn that feels better.. though whew..y'all should be thankfully you can't smell this!" the blond brat teased, waving a hand and then waddled slowly (clearly making a effort not to let his hot load spill out of the poor pull up) towards the slide. "heh, what do you think folks? time to slip sliding? ..yeah thats what i thought too~" climbing up the ladder it was hard to make out his face from the distance he was at and then the big stinky baby plopped down on his butt (a oh fuck! and gasping heard) and then the big baby was sliding down the slide and-

Grabbing the tablet Jace turned the video off and was beet red, looking down at the table. "...Ok what do you want?" Jace asked. "What i want,for starters, is for you to stop using the money I send you to get stupid pull-ups when i clearly state diapers." Simon said and smirked as Jace looked up at him in confusion, the realization. "Y-Your daddyv!" "Ding ding ding! thats right, you've been a poopie pull up baby brat for a vampire the past three months. i wonder just how much trouble you'll be in when your little clubhouse finds out not only are you a diaper pooping big baby. but a vampires bitch too~" Jace whimpered, it was going to be humiliating enough if anyone else found out about his naughty way to make extra money. add in he was doing it for vamp.. this was NOT going to be good. "L-Look..I already spent the money if you want it back an-" Jace started and Simon cut him off with a sharp laugh. "what makes you think I need your money? I've been the one spoiling you remember dip shit?" Simon snorted. Jace huffed and actually started to pout a little at that. "awww look at it this way..at least I'm not a mundane anymore. that would make what I'm gonna make you do to shut me up even more humiliating for you." Simon added cheerfully. "...should I be worried?" jace asked with a gulp. "terrified." Simon confirmed with a shit eating grin.

half a hour later and there were at a old warehouse that was boarded up on the outside but Simon flew himself and jace in though a window where.. a makeshift nursery was set up among the ruins. "...this is going to suck even more then i thought huh?" jace asked faintly. "well if nothing else, you're more then free to use this for your videos." Simon snickered and then winked. "maybe I'll even be your camera man too." "pretty sure i'ma stop doing the videos after this." jace huffed. "You say that now.." was all Simon would say on the matter, leaving jace even more worried. "now then, who's ready to be put back in a good diaper for a change, not a pull up that'll leak the second you putt too much pressure on it?" Simon asked, going over to by the changing table he had set up in the ruins and grabbing out a stupidly thick and massive diaper that instead of the normal designs one would expect on it.. had diaper fag in baby block letters all over it. "..That has to be a custom job." jace whined and pointed. "No shit Sherlock." Simon chuckled. "Clearly you are the brains of your outfit." "you don't have to be a jerk you know." jace whined, starting to tug his jeans and undies down and Simon laughed again, "really? YOU of all people giving someone hell for being rude?" Jace paused and gave a sheepish smile. "well when you put it like that.., god.. am I even gonna be able to WALK in that thing?" Jace asked, naked from the waist down and shaved bald down there. "Fuck no. but you'll be able to crawl and get on your knees, which is what i want." Simon said and smirked, showing off his fangs. "...I'm gonna be sucking your dick aren't I?" "Awww who's a clever little baby? you are!" "look i uh.. I don't know if-" "oh don't try and tell me you haven't been slurping on Alec's dick like a greedy cock slut for the past year. just about everyone knows you're his cum dumpster." "W-what!? I am not!" jace squeaked and had a full body blush going on as Simon walked over and swatted his cute cheeks, leaving the shadow hunters buns slightly red. "ah ah ah..No lying." "I-I really don't suck Alec off..he uh.." jace's voice trailed off and looking down at the ground, and poking too fingers together, he finished in a tiny voice. "I..I pay him to fuck me.." "oh? don't you think he'd do it if you asked nicely?" "I..uh.. he said he would for free but I uh..asked if i could.." jace trailed off again as Simon started to laugh. "oh my god, your a total bottom bitch! begging to pay for the privilege of getting that cock.. you know i thought you were just shitting yourself in diapers rto buy booze or whatever.. not degrading yourself in public so you can get that dick!" Simon laughed. "Does alec at least give you a cum dumpster discount?" "D-Depends on his mood...c-can i get put the diaper on and suck you off already and get this over with!?" Jace whined and huffed. "...awfully demanding for a diaper shitting butt slut aren't you? you know..i was gonna make you shit yourself before sucking me off.." "...i'm not going to like where this is heading am I?" "Normally i'd say no..but with what a fucking bottom bitch you are you'll likely be creaming your huggies." Simon said.

the alternative to Jace loading his pampers was worse then he had thought, and after getting onto the opened diaper fag diaper, he'd had to watch as Simon gave himself a mild enema. "you know your fucking disgusting right?" jace whined, on the verge of tears as Simon pulled the tub out of his ass and walked over. "right. i'm gonna listen to someone who bounces up and down in shitty diapers for money to get fucked into submission on whats normal and whats not. though don't think i didn't notice all those silver scars on your ass.. does alec just wreak your hole so much you have to heal or need diapies full time?" Simon asked, squatting over Jace's cock and balls now. "Oh my god will you just shut up and do it already so i can suck your stupid dick and get out of here!?" Jace yelled. "alll right, but you know you just ASKED me to shit on you right?" "All of my fucking hate." "love you too." Simon grunted and as jace looked, tears welling up in his eyes, a thick brown log snaked out of Simon's ass and as the tip of it touched Jace's cock, his cock started to go limp and the tears were flowing. "S-Simon please! stop! I do-" he started to sob and simon just smirked. "Shut up diaper baby. it's going in your diaper or down your throat." Simon said and jace just blubbered. the hot shit coiled around his crotch before it broke off and the smell was horrible, making jace hold his nose. "Awww whats wrong, the stinky baby can't take a REAL MAN'S funk?" Simon teased and bore down, pushing out anther thick log and shifting slightly, making sure this would coat the baby fags balls. the third and forth logs didn't go on baby jac'es cock and balls though, it went right into the diaper so it was squish all over the big babies back side and jace had to give up holding his nose as he needed to suck his thumb and close his eyes to keep from just getting up and trying to bolt. "awww, such a sad widdle diaper boy~ don't worry buddy, Daddy Simon is almost done getting your diapie nice and stinky for you, then you can have a cock baba." simon teased. jace just whimpered. finishing up with his smelly load, Simon grabbed jace's boxers and used them to wipe his ass, giving jace a look that dared him to open his mouth to complain then tossed them in a diaper pail and stepped clear of the dumb baby fag. leaning down simon made a face and waved a hand, then grinned to jace. "whew! no more tacos for me! thats rotten huh buddy?" simon teased and the dumb baby just sucked on his thumb and nodded, then whined loudly as the diaper was taped up. helping jace roll onto his tummy and then get up on his hands and knees, Simon then patted and rubbed the back of the loaded diaper, making baby Jace whimper even more but any and all fight was clearly out of the former big shot. "D-Daddy pwease..cock baba." the stupid little diaper wimp whined. "Awww you wanna show daddy how grateful you are he 's letting you see how it feels to wear real man shit huh?" Simon teased. Knowing what the sadistic vampire wanted him to say, jace whined, then nodded. "yesh daddy. pwease wet stinky jace suck your dicky to say fank ku." he whined and despite how much he hated the load in his diaper, hated simon, hated all of this., jace was getting wood. 'whats wrong with me!?'

Simon took a seat far enough away that jace's knees got a little scraped up crawling over, and the crawling he was forced to do only squished the mess around even more but then he was on his knees and looking at Simon's 6 inchs of fuck meat. it wasn't as big as Alec's (hell, Jaces was sure there were horses who weren't as hung as Alec) but the fact that he was going to suck anther mans dick while wearing his shit just had the poor bottom bitch in total sub mode and he leaned forward and planted a big sloppy kiss on the cock head as Simon moaned. Opening his mouth he took the vamp cock in slowly, worried about gagging till the whole thing was in his mouth, going down his touge and he had a nose full of musky pubes. the taste..wasn't so bad as as jace pulled his head back, trailing his touge and making Simon moan he almost, maybe kinda, found himself loving the taste. Pushing back down a little more eagerly the blond bitch started to bob his head up and down the fuck meat with eagerness and Simon reached down and ruffled jace's hair. "Fuck..fuck..good boy Jace. I knew you'd love this.. just a little fucking diaper fag.. Fuck..I'm gonna have you in diapers 24/7..just a total fucking diaper bitch for my amusement." Simon was groaning and jace in his horned up state moaned around the vamp cock. "Fucking knew you'd like that..Not gonna out you to your widdle friends but you're gonna be my little diaper bitch from now on..Mine. and you're not healing your ass next time Alec breeds you either..i want you helplessly shitting yourself while hunting demons." Simon was panting now, regretting the fact that he had edged all day to the thought of what he was going to do to jace and knew he couldn't last too much longer. "Gonna fucking dress you like a toddler and take you to the park in the day. let all the kids see you in your t-thick massive diapers..L-let them spank you.." Simon added and then noticed that jace was reaching back, mushing the mess around in his poofy diaper while worshiping his new daddies cock. "Ha! knew you'd love my shit! Get ready baby boy, time for you first of MANY loads of daddy milk!" jace pulled back and with just the cock head in his mouth, reached around jerked Simon's cock hard. he didn't know why but he felt like he NEEDED to taste full on all of the vampire boys load and wasn't disappointed as Simon's cock erupted all over his touge, filling his taste buds with the taste of real man cum. as the last few ropes of nut juice fired off, causing some to start to leak out of Jace's nose, the stupid big baby came hard in his poopie diaper and collapsed, whimpering and moaning. Simon smirked and after making sure that jace was fully out, turned his attention over to a corner of the room, where a webcam was set up. "well everyone, thanks for watching! hope you all enjoyed seeing me use this shadow slayer as a diaper bitch cum dumpster and don't forget to like the video and comment on other things you wanna see me do to him. this is daddy v signing off." he said. After all, why should Jace be the only one to make a little cash on the side?

the end..for now.

[xiubaek-13]

So Handsome

Prompt: Luhan + “If you’re bored I can think of other ways to pass the time…” + “I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”

Setting/AU: Library/College AU

Warnings: None really, cocky Luhan, implied smut.

Word Count: 1,241

Seriously how did you end up in this situation? Libraries were supposed to be for studying, or reading or researching. They were not supposed to be like this. You were not supposed to be this excited when surrounded by aisles and aisles of books. You remembered going to the library when you were at school. It was the place where you had to whisper and be quiet. It was where you chose to go during lunch breaks so that you could read. It was the place where the other kids flocked to on rainy days for shelter or hot days to take advantage of the air conditioning.

During university the balance shifted. Your love of the library dwindled when you spent so many hours there studying and researching. College dorms were not the ideal place for peace and quiet so the library was like your second home. You even had the best spot picked out, it was up the far back left corner of the fourth floor. The elevator was always broken so the odds of anyone dragging themselves up all 4 sets of stairs just to be loud and annoying was rare. The only books up here were on social theory and crime and you knew damn well that 80% of them were also on the first floor in the criminal law or sociology section.

There was one problem though. One very distracting problem and his name was Luhan. You knew who he was, it was difficult to live at a college dorm and not hear about Luhan. Girls flocked to him and guys wanted to be him. The guy was attractive, unfairly so, a top notch soccer player, a killer dancer and a seemingly overconfident ladies man. Tales of his conquests were a weekly occurance in your dorm. Until two weeks ago you’d never met the guy but you kind of hated him. Well, you hadn’t officially met him until two weeks ago, but you had acknowledged his existence at the odd mixer or frat party when your friends dragged you along to them. Two weeks ago everything changed. Two weeks ago he expanded your knowledge of exactly what one could do in the secluded aisles of the fourth floor. As it turned out, the answer was a lot.

Two weeks ago you’d been following your normal routine - finish classes, grab a snack and head to the library, climb the stairs and study in peace in your favourite spot - when he showed up. At first you were shocked that someone other than library staff and you even knew there was a fourth floor. Then you were annoyed at the idea of your space being violated, a feeling that you quickly squashed because it wasn’t really your space, it was public space and how were you to know if it wasn’t a like minded individual who wanted to escape the lower levels where study was surrounded by distractions.

You looked up from your books and watched the figure that was coming up the stairs. Disheveled brown hair was the first thing you spotted, followed by a face that did not belong on a human male. It was so youthful and angelic with doe eyes and inviting lips. He looked up when he reached the top of the stairs and your eyes met. You inclined your head as a way of greeting and he did the same before disappearing into the aisles.

You shook your head and tried to focus back on your paper but it was no use. You found yourself glancing around the aisles from your seat trying to spot him. He’d appear with a book in hand at the end of one aisle before disappearing again. Get a grip. You have a very important paper to write. Stop gawking at the stupidly attractive guy. You mentally scolded yourself and forced yourself back to writing.

In your periphery you spotted the white and black of his varsity jacket as he sat at the end of the table, placing a few books in front of him. You glanced at him as he slumped into the seat, his pen dangling from his mouth. STUDY.

You stared at your paper. You’d been right in the middle of fleshing out your argument for the decriminalisation of prostitution when the ultimate distraction had ascended the stairs. The essay had to be five thousand words and you planned to use each and every one of them. Most of the students would go the easy route, opting to simply support keeping it illegal. You found it much more interesting to counter that argument by not only debunking the popular myths and taboos about sex work but by also offering a vision of how sex work might look if it was a legitimised, legal job. You’d bring up point for standard health and hygiene requirements for both workers and customers, applying taxes, job security, safer work environments and more. You refused to let him throw off your train of thought and by proxy, lower your grade.

In your mind the two of you started a game of cat and mouse over the course of the next week. You’d come up to study and write your paper and then he’d appear and do his best at distracting your thoughts by simply sitting at the table. You wondered if he knew how much strife he was causing you by simply existing.

***

“If you’re bored I can think of other ways to pass the time…”

You jumped, startled by how close his voice was to you. The last time you’d checked he was all the way down the other end of the table. Now he was sitting right next to you, leaning towards you, a certain look in his eyes.

“Wh-what makes you think I’m bored?” You grabbed your bottle and took a sip of your water to try and make your throat feel a little less dry.

A devilish little smirk formed on his face. “You’ve been staring into space for like the past twenty minutes. Usually you are either staring at your books or at me.” You choked on your water, almost spitting it across the table. “I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”

“I’m not - I don’t - Why would -” Words were failing you and that only seemed to amuse him more.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“I just - How dare -”

He laughed. “Relax. I don’t mind.” He gestured at his face and winked at you. “I’m just that handsome.”

“And a little full of yourself.” You poked his shoulder as he feigned offense at your words.

“Seriously though, what’s got you staring into space? You’re usually more focused than that.” He leant on the desk, resting his head in his hands as he watched you.

“I’m stuck on one point on my essay. I know what I want to say but I can’t get the right words out.” He grinned and grabbed your hand, tugging it as he stood up, indicating for you to do the same.  He dragged you into one of the aisles and caged you between his arms. “What are you doing?”

“You need to empty your mind and lucky for you, I have multiple ways to help you do just that.” He pressed his body to yours and nipped at the exposed flesh of your neck, causing you to gasp.

“This is a library!”

He raised his eyebrow at you and scrunched his face. “I’m well aware of that, I just currently don’t care. Now, can we try my method for clearing your mind. I’d really prefer it if you said yes.”

[what-even-is-thiss]

Off of Land, Out of Water, Part 2, Help

It’s part 2 of the mer au. Let me know if I need to add warnings. 2,721 words

Abstract: Logan and Virgil relearning some things.

Part 1 Next

2. Help.

Virgil held onto Logan’s arm for a while at Logan’s insistence.

“You didn’t sleep, you shouldn’t be swimming much.” he had said.

For once Virgil didn’t protest.

They got to the school, a low building in more shallow waters where people went to memorize the history of merfolk. Undersea people had no written language so a select few with good memories were chosen as young children to learn trade secrets, history, how the systems of government worked, and yes, any interaction they had ever had with humans. Logan was appointed as a a history scholar but always felt he would be better at memorizing things found in science and math and magic. The masters had insisted, however, for whatever reason, that he learn history. So that is what he did. The names and places of all merfolk from the central Atlantic region, their ancestors’ place of origin, their previous migration patterns, the major things that happened in their politics and history were all in his head. Soon, if he passed this test, he would work as an archivist. Keep relics safe, answer merpeople’s questions about their family history when they came to the school. When he’s older he’ll take on an apprentice and teach them everything he knows. Literally. All that was ahead of him though. For now in this moment he had to start reciting.

And his chest was feeling weird.

“Virgil, I don’t like to use this word more often than I have to, but my chest feels weird.” Logan said casually as they waited outside the stone exam room where people had carved many pictures in the stone walls of teachers being eaten by sharks or stabbed with spears.

“Your chest feels…. weird?” Virgil asked.

“Yes. Strange. Odd. Queer.” He also made a low humming in his throat in mer language to further solidify his point that whatever he was feeling definately wasn’t ordinary.

“Like are you anxious?” Virgil asked, a horrible note of hope in his voice.

“Hardly.” Logan said. “I know everything I should. But my lungs, my inner gills, I…”

Virgil suddenly grabbed Logan’s arm and started pulling him away.

“Virgil! The test!” Logan exclaimed.

“No time for tests! Your stomach is going to start hurting soon! I knew it was you. I just knew it. Oh God, why did it have to be you?” Virgil said.

Logan swore very loudly with a whistle and a click as his stomach started hurting just as Virgil had predicted. His head went light. People made extremely disapproving noises as Virgil pushed them out of the way. They knocked a decorative rope made for graduation season and New Years off of a building. Virgil was moving upwards at a dangerous pace, somehow not bothered by the change in pressure, his black and grey scales and pale skin both began to reflect real sunlight rather than the bottled kind.

“Virgil take me to a healer!” Logan called, trying to fight his way out of Virgil’s grasp.

But it was no use. Even on Logan’s best day and Virgil’s worst Virgil was still stronger, bigger, and had a much tighter will than him. His fear made him unstoppable. Logan could vaguely hear shouts and other confused noises behind him as his skin began to feel gross. Just really, really gross. The shimmering light of the surface became visible. Everything was expanding too quickly. Somehow Virgil didn’t slow down. His desperate grip on Logan’s arm began to draw blood. Logan’s stomach reached critical levels of pain. Oxygen bubbles began forming in his lungs.

“Surface… too… fast…” Logan managed. His vision went blurry.

He blacked out.

……….

“Keep walking, Virgil.” dad said. “The car’s that way.”

“Dad… it…” Virgil started.

He fell to his knees.

“Verge!” his mom yelled.

Through his blurry vision Virgil thought he could see her straight curtain of bleach blonde hair. The boardwalk was hard and yet somehow soft under his knees. 

“Mom, what’s wrong with him?” Virgil heard his brother say.

“Be quiet, Roman. We need to think. I told you we shouldn’t bring him to the ocean until he’s grown. I told you!”

“I told him to not touch the water, Jen!” 

“What…” Virgil tried. “My stomach… Mom?”

He fell fully onto his side. His lungs were starting to burn.

“It wants him now, John! There’s no one around! That witch made sure of it! Do it!”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen yet! He’s only thirteen!”

“Look at him! The ocean doesn’t care! Do it!”

The air suddenly felt very dry despite the sea spray around him. For some reason Virgil knew this had to do with when he had stood in the waves despite his parents’ warnings. Though why suddenly being sick would be related to that he didn’t know. He felt his heart increase to a dangerous pace as some arms belonging to he didn’t know who began pulling his clothes off of him.

Virgil cried. But he couldn’t cry. Some hands, he didn’t know whose, threw him into the air. He felt water engulf his naked body. He couldn’t move his legs apart. He gasped in a mouthful of salt.

He blacked out.

……….

Logan opened his eyes and tried looking around. Everything was heavy except for his lungs which were horribly light. It was almost as if they didn’t exist. His body hurt. The surface under him was hard. All he could see was blurry grey shapes.

“Vir-gil?” he asked. He tried to whistle out his friend’s mer name but found that he couldn’t. His mouth felt strange. His hair felt strange. His skin felt strange. His tail felt… His…

“H… huh?” he asked nobody in particular.

A hand on his back helped him sit up.

“They’re called legs.” said a familiar deep and ominous voice.

“My teeth are…” 

“Not pointy. Take it slow. It’s hard to adjust.”

Logan ran his tongue along his teeth. Most of them were flat. They had become… what’s the word? Omnivorous? Flat? Annoyingly small?

“I’m going to put something on your face now.” Virgil said. “I borrowed them from my younger brother. They’re his old prescription. It’ll be better than nothing.”

Virgil carefully put some kind of glass and wire thing on Logan’s face over his eyes and Logan stopped seeing a blur and finally saw his friend’s face. His black hair wasn’t floating around, nor was it plastered to his head with water. It was dry. Before now Logan hadn’t even known what that word truly meant. He ran his fingers into his own hair. Dry. He looked at Virgil. Down his body. He was…

“You are…”

“Human. Yeah. Try looking down.”

Logan looked down.

“Okay clearly that isn’t natural.”

His friend laughed. “You said you know how full mammals reproduce.” Virgil said. He lifted up his shirt and pointed to the large inverted scar on his stomach. The one Logan had asked about every time he’d seen him for the past ten years. “That’s how I got this scar. From being born. We call it a belly button. Or, a navel I guess.”

Virgil jumped up and went to what Logan recognized from drifting junk he had seen in the ocean to be an ice chest. He looked around and saw that they were under a cliff face, or he assumed it was a cliff face from carvings he’d seen. He also slowly realized that he was physically human now and that according to what he’d heard about human customs....

“You need help putting these on?” Virgil asked, pulling some clothes out of the ice chest.

“Most likely. I’ve never had to… um…”

“You’ll get used to it. Don’t try to understand anything yet. Trust me. It isn’t worth it.”

Virgil gently helped his friend into a pair of boxers and some jeans. He brought out a polo shirt.

“You’re about my younger brother’s size so I brought some of his clothes. Hope you like polo shirts. That’s basically all he wears. Well, except for things with cats on them.”

Virgil instructed Logan on how to put a shirt on, helping him put his arms through the holes.

“Now, before I see if you can walk, word to the wise, don’t take your shirt off in front of people. Almost every human that has ever lived has a belly button, and you don’t.”

“Why?” Logan asked. “What is any of this? What is happening? What are you?”

“Okay, L. Clearly you were lying when you said that you know how mammals reproduce. I’ll have the talk with you later. I’ll have a lot of talks with you later. For right now, I’m gonna help you stand.”

……….

“That’s it. Put your entire body into it.” she encouraged.

Virgil clicked out her name angrily and huffed, but he moved his tail nonetheless.

“That’s good. You’re getting better at pronouncing my name!” she whistled.

“I’ve been thinking about a human name for you. I decided. I’m gonna call you Val in human.” Virgil said.

“If that makes you feel better. I don’t need a human name though.” Val said.

“Am I done yet?” he asked.

“Do you think you can swim next to me?” she asked.

“Ugh, fine.” Virgil spat. “You’re too happy.”

“So you keep telling me, guppy.”

“I’m already an adolescent!” Virgil hissed, showing his teeth.

Sometimes instincts really did override what he’d learned as a human. Even though he was, for all intents and purposes, physically a merman now, he did age a bit faster than other merpeople. A merman his age would normally be figuring out social rules and not have any hormones to speak of. The equivalent of a human nine year old. Virgil, on the other hand, was now supposed to be learning how to be an adult, which he couldn’t do when he didn’t know how to move around or speak in full sentences. He was supposed to be wrestling his younger brother and defending him from their mom, going to his older brother’s music recitals and hating it, learning how to cook from his parents, crying over final exams, worrying about which high school he was going to. Watching Gators football games and cursing as he stabbed himself in the eye with a mascara brush for the first time. 

But instead it was like he was a toddler all over again.

Val and Verge swam slowly together in silence to the edge of the reefs where her house was, dangerously close to human civilization. Virgil was exhausted.

“Why am I even here? Why can’t I just stay human?” he asked as she held him tight when he was ready to sleep.

“It’s because of what came before us, guppy.” Val said, running her fingers through his hair. “It’s just something you got caught up in. I’ll tell you soon.”

……….

“I am so heavy.” Logan said, rubbing his injured knee.

He had knees now. He… no, don’t process that. Save it for later.

“Everyone’s heavy. It’s just more obvious on land.” Virgil said, holding his hand out again. 

Logan took a deep breath of briny sea air and pulled on his friend’s hand. He managed to stand with some help.

“We can carry you to the car if you can’t make it.” Virgil said.

“No. Cars sound horrifying and I’d rather know that I’m able to get away from it. And your brothers. They don’t sound agreeable. Let me go.” Logan said.

“Alright, but I hope you know that almost nobody learns to walk in one day.” Virgil said.

“I’m not a child!” Logan exclaimed.

“Yeah that’s what I said too.” Virgil said as he let go.

Logan looked down at his feet now trapped in things called “tennis shoes” and took a breath.

“Just focus on not falling down.” Virgil said.

“You’ve already said that. And I have a good memory. I…”

“Yeah, I know L. Just look up. Look at me. Step forward. Just one step for now.”

Logan looked up. Virgil was a lot bigger than him even as a human. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. He wanted to take a step towards Virgil to point at him and tell him that this wasn’t fair. He tried to do that but took two steps and fell into Virgil’s arms instead.

“Further than you got last time.” Virgil said.

“You’re never this patient.” Logan grumbled into Virgil’s chest.

“I have a long term memory, you know. Swimming isn’t easy to learn as an adult. Or a teenager.” Virgil said. “Come on, we’ve got another hour before they get here. Maybe I can see you fall face first into the rocks a few more times.”

Logan tried standing up again.

“Virgil, how long were you… before we met?”

“A hundred days.” Virgil said. “Just living with Val, learning how to exist again. It was another year after that I got to visit my family again.”

Logan took a step forward.

“I can’t wait a hundred days. Much less a year.”

He took another step forward. Then another. Then he fell over again. Virgil caught him before he hit the ground.

“Well at least you’re giving me a good arm workout today.” Virgil grunted, lifting his friend up again. “God, Patton is rubbing off on me. I just looked on the bright side of something.”

“I don’t know who that is, but he’s clearly corrupting you.” Logan paused. “That was a joke.”

“I know, dude. You don’t have to tell me every time. He’s my younger brother.”

He sat Logan down on the rocks.

“Well I suppose I know where you go when you leave without any warning now.” Logan said, rubbing his face underneath the glasses. He clicked his tongue in a small curse. Some equivalent to “Crud” or “Shoot.” in mer speak.

“Yup.” Virgil said. “Florida. Lucky you.”

“That sounded suspiciously like sarcasm.” Logan said as he rubbed his suffering knees.

“It was.”

……….

Virgil focused on breathing slowly. He swam up cautiously.

“You’re shaking, buddy. Come on, you’ve been growing. They’re gonna want to see that.” Val said.

“I can’t.” Virgil said, stopping suddenly. “I can’t.”

He turned around. Val grabbed him by the arm.

“Hey, you survived the first day of school and talked to the elders. You can do anything.” She said.

She gently ran one of her hands along his neck and to the base of his spine, a gesture he recently learned was used to soothe people when they were nervous, especially between parents and children. He nervously flicked his tail at that realization. How did Val see him, really?

“They’re your family. They want to see you.” she said. “It doesn’t matter what you’ve become. And next year? You’ll get to visit them properly. Go on.”

She gestured upwards. Virgil swallowed.

“Alright, but I won’t like it.”

“Sure you won’t.”

He swam cautiously upward on his own. It had been so long since that day at the boardwalk where everyone had suddenly disappeared and his stomach had started hurting. The day he had been thrown in to appease the ocean and hadn’t seen his family since. How much did they know? How could they forgive him for not listening? How could he forgive them for not telling him why he couldn’t touch the water? Could he explain everything to them? How he looked like a freak even down there? How badly he wanted to come home? How badly he wanted to stay?

He caught sight of the correct pile of rocks and aimed for it. Two almost familiar figures were peering into the water. He broke the surface.

“Virgil, baby!” his brothers were pushed aside and almost fell into the water as his mom knelt and hugged him around the neck.

Virgil blew the water out of his lungs and smiled with all his teeth despite how embarrassed he was at the size of them. He saw his dad standing behind them and when it was his turn he hugged even harder. If merpeople could cry Virgil knew he would be doing it.

“Hi dad.” he whispered into his father’s shoulder. “Hi.”

Patton and Roman both smiled at him from behind their parents’ tearful babbling. Roman gave a wave. The same one he did whenever a piano recital was over. Virgil sighed. It was alright.

[writingsbymo-mo]

Have Some Glitter!!!

This is an idea that’s been sitting in the back of my head for quite some time now and I’ve finally finished it!

It involves my oc, Amaya who has the quirk imagination. She is also referred as Enigma, her villain name.

Other characters present: Overhaul, Tomura, Chronostasis, and Mimic.

Information about Amaya provided in the links below (Please click on them before you read!!! It’ll help you understand how her quirk works and stuff)

Link:  Her costume, quirk information, and basic personality

Link: Character profile

Note: This fic contains the diabolical reflective plastic that is glitter and will cover everything it touches. Amaya has no idea about what’s in the quirk erasing drug since she has never had access to the drug itself. She is just a supplier for the guns and the bullet canisters. 

Summary: Amaya is tired of how Overhaul has treated her and decides to stop being his supplier for making the guns and bullets for the quirk erasing drug. She plans on giving him the new and improved finished product as long as Overhaul doesn’t make any denouncing comments towards her.

Sorry Overhaul stans, I personally don’t like him from what he did to Magne and how he abused Eri. I understand if you don’t want to read this one.

Also take note I used some dialogue from chapter 132. I tried to reword some of it since I didn’t want to copy it, but some of it I just left alone.

_______________________________________

Amaya finally finished developing the new bullet and guns for the Shie Hassaikai. “Ugh, finally!! This took months to finally get right!” She groaned while stretching, collapsing in her black office chair as her pastel rainbow hair flowed behind her head, draping against the back of the dark fabric. She lulled her head to the side, staring at a clock on the wall. “Guess it’s time to present it to Overhaul then.” She grimaced, rubbing around her tired magenta-colored eyes.

Amaya absolutely hated Overhaul and his arrogance. He never would give her extra time on projects or anything, even when she’s sick.

“This is the last time I’m doing anything for him!”

She donned her disguise with swiftness, running her hands through her pastel rainbow waves as the strands turned to brown with the glide of her fingers. She took off her work clothes and put on her outfit she always wore for this occasion. It consisted of a pair of black converse boots, a black and pink plaid skirt, pleated at the bottom that reached just above the knees, one of her many novelty tees, and a simple black hooded jacket.

With haste, she made a portal to the entrance of the Shie Hassaikai’s hideout. As soon as she stepped out, she met Chronostasis and some guy in a hooded, black trench coat. She realized it was Tomura Shigaraki, the leader of the League of Villains. She had met him in the past, once at the mall where he was with some high school kid and through Giran for orders on custom equipment and weapons.

Amaya couldn’t get a good look at him right now, but she did notice his hair had grown since the last time they met.

Shigaraki turned and stared at her for a moment a bit puzzled, trying to figure out who she is and why she’s here. ‘She looks familiar…where have we met before?’ He thought.

Amaya noticed him scanning her features, ‘does he not remember me? Well…I guess being a big shot leader of the League of Villains wouldn’t remember me anyway.’

Your thoughts were broken when Chronostasis cleared his throat. Amaya and Shigaraki turn to face him as he spoke in a stern yet flat tone, “I assume since you’re here that means the guns and bullets have been finished, Enigma.”

Amaya nodded, not wanting to speak. She was just wanted to get this over with.

Shigaraki’s red eyes grew interested, 'so she’s the maker of their weapons huh…ah, that’s why she looks familiar, she does custom orders through Giran.’ He hoped he might be able to get information out of her about it if Overhaul wouldn’t comply that is.

Chronostasis motioned Shigaraki and Amaya to follow down the maze-like hallway, so many twists and turns to go through. It was seemingly endless.

The hideout felt like a prison, though a rather clean one. The walls were bare with very bland coloring. The place smelled like a hospital, sterile, so very sterile. It made Amaya uncomfortable every time she was there as she internally grimaced at the heavy, unpleasant atmosphere it radiated as she picked at the skin around her nails.

Finally, they reached the meeting room, which wasn’t much better from the bare hallways. The room was very plain and lifeless. The only things suggesting people ever stay in this room are the two couches and the coffee table between them. A poster of the Shie Hassaikai’s symbol was framed on the wall, though it didn’t add much to the room. It severely lacked character.

Overhaul sat at the center of the couch on the far end of the room with Mimic sitting on the armrest, drinking tea.

Shigaraki carefully placed Father on his face as he took off his hood, revealing his silvery-blue hair.

“What a dreary place…” Shigaraki grumbled, scratching his neck.

“I never was one for cluttered objects. Just simply isn’t my taste.” Overhaul responded.

“Hmph, I’ll say.” Amaya snorted, rolling her magenta-colored eyes.

Shigaraki stole a glance at Amaya, an amused smirk crept up his face behind Father before it faltered. “You had me wandering through countless hallways for thirty minutes! Just what kind of Yakuza house is this?”

“Since we don’t know what our guests are thinking or who’s watching this place, so this area is filled with hidden underground routes. This room also serves as a hideout,” Overhaul stated.

“It’s because of these measures the Shie Hassaikai has lasted this long,” Mimic added.

'Yeah, you don’t know what I’m thinking, Overhaul…’ Amaya crosses her arms, and sighs, “well, I guess that’s one way to do it.”

Shigaraki makes his way to the couch in front of Overhaul and Mimic. Amaya noticed and goes to the left side while Mimic talks to Shigaraki. “When you were talking on the phone, were you being real? Depending on the conditions, you’ll side with us?”

Shigaraki plops himself on the right side of the couch, Amaya on the left. She rests her elbow on the plastic armrest, placing her face in the palm of her left hand with a blank expression.

Lifting his leg, Shigaraki spoke, “that’s a rather self-serving way of putting it. You’re the ones wanting to latch onto the League’s name but we’re both wanting to expand our influence.” He shoves the rubber heel of his right shoe onto the low table in front of him, dragging it along making a rubbery scuffing sound. “Our motives happen to align.”

Amaya’s eyes shift to the table, 'oh hoho, you didn’t Shigaraki. Overhaul is going to hate this! At least I’ll get some amusement until he starts criticizing my work ethic…’

“Put your foot down, you’re dirtying up the table!” Overhaul demands, annoyed.

Amaya rolled her eyes, ‘and there it is…’

Shigaraki leaves his foot, amused by Overhaul’s annoyance. “I believe that should be 'can you please put your foot down young boss?’ If anything, you should be bowing your head in respect,” he taunted.

Amaya held back a smile, listening to what else he had to say.

“First, we don’t answer to anyone. We will move however we like. Call it 50/50. In other words, we’re willing to work together in a “joint venture,” Shigaraki states, staring at Overhaul.

“Is that the only condition?” Overhaul asks curiously.

Shigaraki lifts his right hand, index finger out, “there’s another, that “plan” you were talking about, “he pauses, “tell me more about it. It’s a natural condition. I just can’t lend you our name for worthless schemes. Although…”

Amaya notices Shigaraki reaching into his coat pocket as the atmosphere grew tense. Her hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, she heard heavy footsteps behind her and noticed Mimic shift. Before she could think, Mimic attaches himself to Shigaraki as Chronostasis threatens the young villain leader with a gun. She flinched, her body pressed to the corner of the armrest, staring wide eyed. ‘The hell is wrong with them?’

Chronostasis grips the gun tighter, “don’t get cocky! You’re getting a little ahead of yourself aren’t you?”

“Who do you think you are punk?!!” Mimic growls, voice dripping with venom.

Shigaraki’s eyes dart towards Chronostasis, leering. “’Who do you think you are?’ That’s my line. Do you really think your throwaway small-fry yakuza human shields are of equal value to our Magne?” He lifts his left hand as it shook with rage, gaze shifting to Overhaul. “Don’t forget we’re down an arm too. If you can’t even make a small compromise…”

Overhaul’s eyes darken, “Chrono, Mimic, leave him be.” “He did come all this way to consider the future with us.” Chrono understood his orders and slipped the gun back into his pocket while Mimic detaches himself from Shigaraki, eyes glaring in a warning not to try anything. Overhaul lifts his left hand, gesturing towards Shigaraki. “Let’s hear what he has to say. You were in the middle of saying something, weren’t you?” Overhaul asked.

The heaviness throughout the room lessened, though Amaya could still sense the malevolent aura radiating around Mimic. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as she relaxed into the cushions, still on edge in case something might happen.

Shigaraki reached into his pocket and pulled out a quirk erasing bullet, holding it with his thumb and index finger ever so carefully. “This has something to do with whatever this is.”

Overhaul raises his eyebrows and listens. “Immediately after this was fired into him, Mr. Compress was no longer able to use his quirk. What is this? What do you plan on doing with it? Tell me.”

A glint appeared in Overhaul’s golden eyes, onlooking at the potential future. “I’m going to destroy justice.”

“Hmmm, justice…?” Amaya muttered under her breath. ‘So that’s what the quirk erasing bullets are for…’ Then she noticed something as she furrowed her eyebrows in thought, ‘wait…he had the audacity to threaten the League of Villains? Just what does he think he’s doing?’

Overhaul continued, “I hear that All for One controlled others by taking their quirks. I figured I’d brush up on that approach a little bit. Our roots have already spread throughout the country. Little by little…little by little…all of the preparations are proceeding to according to plan.”

‘For now anyway.’ Amaya’s eyes shifted around the room, trying to focus on something: the tiles on the ceiling, the floor, anything. Shigaraki shifted on the couch, placing his right leg on the floor. Overhaul turns his head towards Amaya.

“Speaking of the plan, I’m sure you have what I need. Right Enigma?” He eyed her carefully.

Amaya took out a sheet of paper and placed it on the table, giving it a tap. It turned into a rather large briefcase, peaking Shigaraki’s interest. “Everything should be in there. Sorry it took so long,” Amaya said with a shiny smile.

 “This should’ve been finished a few weeks ago Enigma…” Overhaul scolded, opening the case.

Amaya stiffened, furrowing her eyebrows. “I told you I had the flu and it would be delayed! Were you not listening when I told you?”

“That’s not something I want to hear. I gave you a deadline and you missed it.” he accused.

She jumped from her seat on the couch, fists clenched as her face turned scarlet. “I could barely walk to the bathroom when I was sick!!! Plus, it didn’t help I worked day and night to get your order finished. It’s probably part of the reason I caught it!” Amaya barked, eyes darkened. Her whole body trembled, seething with rage. ‘You better not say another word Overhaul….’

Mimic shifted on the armrest, pointing his finger at Amaya and shouted, “hey! Don’t you be talking to our boss like that!” Amaya lowered her head and closed her eyes. The trembling increasing along with her shaky inhales as she tried holding all the emotions in, but it was too late. “Heh, you should be glad I even bothered making the guns and bullets for your precious boss! What would this operation be without my help, Mimic?!!” She spat at him.

Overhaul froze for a moment, noticing the change in Amaya’s demeaner. “Enigma…?”

“Save it Overhaul, I’m done!” She snapped, angry tears pooling from her eyes and sliding down her reddened face. Then, she started to laugh. “Hah, hahahah! In fact, you won’t be needing these anymore, I mean the weapons you do have are enough for now right?!!” She picked up the briefcase with her left hand, dangling it in a taunting manner in front of Overhaul.

Shigaraki just stared at Amaya, amused by the events as he hid a toothy grin behind Father.

“Wait! Enigma, please! Don’t!!” Overhaul reached out to grab it in fear.

Mimic and Chronostasis attempt to get the briefcase but failed. They cannot move their legs. “What the–I can’t move!” Mimic cries. Chronostasis takes out his gun, pointing it at Amaya.

Amaya shifts her body towards him, craning her neck. “Do you really think that will work Chrono?” She mocked with a playful smirk.

He froze, arms shaking before placing the gun back in his pocket.

“Oh, do you know how sick and tired I am about this?” She gripped her forehead with her right hand, uttering a frustrated breath. “You never appreciate anything I’ve done for you no matter how crucial it is. And you know what?” She paused. “I’M DONE!!!” She let go of the briefcase as it levitated towards Overhaul, stopping just above his head.

Mimic and Chronostasis are speechless, staring wide eyed towards their boss, still unable to move. Overhaul attempts to get up. He shudders as his golden eyes tremble in fear and anger. His eyes dart towards Shigaraki. Amaya notices.

“Don’t even try bringing him into this!” Amaya snarls as she removes her right hand from her face, snapping her fingers. Buckets appear over Mimic and Chronostasis. Shigaraki leans back into the couch, nonchalant by the events happening as he watches it unfold.

“For a while, I had thought about quitting as your supplier. Well, guess that’s happening, starting…NOW!” She snapped her fingers on both hands, cranking her neck to the side, smiling in amusement.

The moment her fingers snapped, the buckets dismantled themselves, turning into a cascade of sparkling rainbow glitter. The briefcase over Overhaul’s head burst, coating him and the couch in the reflective plastic. Mounds of it slid onto the floor, coating it as it glistened under the fluorescent lighting. Silence emanated throughout the room for a brief moment. The only people not affected were Amaya and Shigaraki.

Overhaul’s hands twitch and bend in disgust, shining with every miniscule movement. His eyes became bloodshot, fuming from the rage pooling inside him, letting out heavy breaths. “….Ennnigmaaa…..,” Overhaul shouted, fists clenched as his body trembled and shook, trying to lunge after Amaya.

Amaya stood there laughing in amusement as she relished this beautiful moment. “Heh, I just knew, this would be the best way to say fuck you and your precious yakuza! Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said, turning around while strutting towards the doorway. Shigaraki tried holding back a laugh though couldn’t help a few snickers leave his scarred lips.

“You won’t get away with this Enigma!” Mimic growled, glimmering with rainbow sparkles though every movement.

She craned her neck in Mimic’s direction, mocking him in a sing-song manner. “Oh, but I will. Have fun cleaning this up! I made sure you won’t be able to get all of it up.”

Amaya let Overhaul move. He sprung from the couch, a shower of glitter trailing off of him. He took off his glove and touched her arm. His eyes widened and shook with fear as he dropped to the floor, crawling away. She still stood, unscathed. Mimic and Chronostasis were shook.

“Sorry, not happening today Overhaul, but nice try.” She held up her left hand, shooting a burst of glitter at his gut.

Overhaul grunted from the impact and hit the back of the couch, a sparkling mess. Shiny, gold glitter coated the tiled floor leading towards him. He shined much like an angry star under the light. Through Overhaul’s heavy breathing, he called off Shigaraki to meet him another time to finish their deal at a later date.

She waved goodbye with a goofy smile and left, delighted at hearing Overhaul’s snarls and curses from the room. Shigaraki soon followed dreading he’d have to come back, but he admitted seeing Overhaul losing his shit over a bit of glitter was worth it.

‘Finally! I won’t have to deal with that sorry arrogant ass ever again!’ Amaya threw her fists up in victory. She made a portal for Shigaraki to leave the Shie Hassaikai’s hideout, knowing he wouldn’t want to travel through all those twists and turns again. He smiled at her before taking his leave. Amaya made a portal directly to her room. Now, she would finally get her much needed rest before working on the other equipment orders.

[belovasangel]

Au Lait .3

Summary: Shawn falls into routine, and you stumble into his heart.

Pairing: Mob!Shawn x (fem)Reader

Warnings: So much fluff, mentions of violence, cliffhanger

Start from the beginning

The beauty behind books is that a storyline can hold you for pages upon pages, keep you going as long as the main character survives. Protagonists and antagonists alike share a bond, to keep the plot going. A story never stops, it expands and develops, even when the cover is turned. The people we’ve met and known for days, weeks, months- they shape our lives. Much to our displeasure, we cannot admit that fake characters change ourselves, alter our minds and personalities. They corrupt our morals and give us a stronger sense of who we wish to be. As if their story never ended, but continued within ourselves.

That’s the appeal to series like Harry Potter, Divergent, even A Series of Unfortunate Events. We find ourselves in these characters, and carry on their lives as if they could see through our eyes and find their happy ending. That’s what we want. A peaceful stop, the end of our own personal novels, our lives.

Shawn came into the shop the next weekend, holding a coffee from the cafe you two met at. His assumption was correct, you did enjoy how they made espressos. He walked in every Thursday at 11:25 precisely, holding the goods and standing behind the counter, watching you check out and help customers.

He had never felt such a connection to anyone before. Shawn loved his family, his cat, his business, but no amount of familiarity can fill the void that you created in his heart. Shawn never admitted that he purposely took the train to this side of Toronto, just to walk by the bookstore and watch you work. He never thought that the reason he finally began to read again was because of a small shop owner.

Shawn couldn’t force himself to admit that (y/n) was the girl he saw in his dreams. The one he wished he could wake up to, make breakfast for, love on and die with. She was his one. He knew it, but he would never say.

Looking over his shoulder, Shawn caught your eye and gave a slight smirk, you shooting a wink. He longed to reach out, to hold your hand again, or wrap his arm around your waist. Shawn wanted to put his fingers in your hair, hold your chin as he kissed you, and cover your throat in him. Red and purple reminders of his love. Shawn let out a slight cough, clearing his mind, and took a sip of his lukewarm coffee. He hated the bitterness and the temperature.

And you knew it. 

You read Shawn like the books you saw everyday. From the red ears he gets by a look, to the puppy dog eyes he gives when you don’t pay attention to him. Shawn Mendes was wrapped around your finger, and you wanted to say yes, ease his mind. You wanted to be the one to clean his wounds, kiss his knuckles and wrap his cuts. He was your escape into the worlds you read about.

Shawn Mendes, mob boss, part-time lover boy, was the book you wanted to pick up and never put down. He was your story, your new universe, and a place you were ready to dip your toe in. But, he would never open his heart enough for a little bookstore owner. So, you drank your coffee and indulged in the glances and simple touches he gave ever so often. And that would be enough, for now.

He looked over at you momentarily, taking in a sharp breathe as the customer left with a new book, a smile on her face. “Have a nice day, enjoy Les Mis!” You turned around and began writing something on a sticky note. “So, Shawn, is this simple life everything you’ve ever dreamed it to be?”

“It’s great, however, it could be better.” You looked up, tilting your head with furrowed brows. “I’ve only ever gotten coffee and muffins, which might have been good in the beginning, however the taste is growing on me. Do you know anywhere local that I can go for... I don’t know, dinner? I want to try a new restaurant, maybe one fit for two people?”

You bit your lip, crossing your arms and looking up at Shawn. His cheeks were red and his hair was a slight mess, most likely from running his hands through it. Before you could answer, Shawn cut you off. “Okay, listen, do you want to go on a date? It won’t be anywhere lavish or expensive, but somewhere you and I can go to relax. I know this has been a weird thing, with me just coming in an-”

Before Shawn could talk himself into an asthma attack, you placed your hand on his chest, gently. “Shawn, of course. I’d love to go on a date with you. There’s this place a few blocks over we can go, very quaint and nice. Tonight?”

He let out a shaky breathe, bringing his hand up and taking your fingers between his. “Of course, that’s what I was hoping. Seven on the dot, I’ll pick you up here, okay princess?”

You brought his knuckles to your lips, today they were more pink than red, and the cracked skin was healing. Giving a quick kiss, you nodded. “Perfect.”

We all crave the kind of love that books give. Our Prince Charming, or our Aurora’s, can hide between the cracks of day and night. They walk by us daily without glancing over twice, feigning to be busy or occupied by other things. Yet, we always catch the subtle glances and tender smiles. It comes time for us to make the first move, that’s the hardest.

Looking over at the clock, the time had hit 6:45. You ran your fingers through your hair gently, fixing the rings on your fingers and the earrings dangling between empty space. As you made sure the sign on the door was flipped to close, you did quick inventory behind the desk. 

The door opened to the store, bell ringing and the clicking of boots walking in. 

Stories always end how we want. A classic love story, a cliche that we’ve all seen before. The characters show a life that we want to have, where the ending is romantic. You’re swept off your feet and taken far far away, to start a life and begin your happy ending. That’s our goal, to see and believe, that love can save us from peril, our own internal and external struggles. 

“Oh, excuse me sir, we aren’t open right now. You can come back tomorrow, we open at 9:30.”

With furrowed brows, the man kept walking towards the counter. Standing up, you reached for your phone. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, or I will call the police.”

He placed both hands on the counter, one open handed, the other clutching a pistol. The man looked up with a dead set face, staring you in the eyes. A chill went though your spine as your phone began ringing. Looking down, you saw Shawn’s face, his ringtone blaring into the quiet store. The man picked up his gun, aiming between your eyes. “Pick up the phone.”

Maybe what we read isn’t all that true. What if the endings we want aren’t what we get? What if love isn’t enough?

Part 4