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melancholia-cressa · 4 years

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Unwanted

This is the sequel to Weakness, the first Dio oneshot I posted here. Lord knows how long I had this thing in my files. I think it was 9 or 10 days? I had writer’s block and college had me in a chokehold, so I lost track of time. I was actually thinking about how I should end this for days now, and here we are. I rushed the ending, to be honest, so I still hope you guys enjoy it somehow.

warning: mentions of blood, minor swearing, huge spoilers for Part 3, another very long oneshot, and a lot of references to the oneshot preceding this

Note: I deliberately used Dio as his human side and DIO as the current one with the insane god complex.

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Dio Brando—no, DIO stood at the peak of humanity; transcending its mortal existence entirely. The moment he received his Stand from an old crone, the idea of anyone opposing the charismatic and powerful vampire was inconceivable. Foolish, even, in the eyes of his most loyal followers. The man couldn't care less for the corpses and blood that trailed after his every step nor for those who swore undying fealty with lips pressed to his shoes in a kiss of fear and reverence. Every word that rolled off his tongue is law and grace combined, akin to religious faith with its own avid believers and devotees. A mere touch is denied and unattainable, something that no one could even work hard for, unless it was to satiate his more carnal desires. If anything, men and women either feared or admired him. On more than one occasion, it was both. A god among men, they say.

So, why is one measly photograph enough to chill the blood in his veins and falter the confidence in his stride?

Enya watched her master with obvious curiosity. Her fingers gripped her cane tighter the longer DIO stared at the developed image. The old woman assumed that her lord, almighty and fearsome, stewed in cold rage. Never had she seen him cower from terror nor lose his composure. It was unimaginable. Enya discarded the notion and did not bother to ask questions. No one dares question him, after all.

His fingers curled, knuckles discreetly trembling from the force, and nearly crumpled the poor thing in his hand. To the untrained eye, his focus remained on the two prominent figures of Jotaro Kujo, a teenager donning a high school uniform with the addition of his unusual cap and a large chain hanging on the collar, and the latter's grandfather Joseph Joestar whose clothes resembled that of some human adventurer—Indiana Jones, was it? DIO didn't care to know and never will. He gave little thought to those men. Not even the two Stand users that left his ranks and became traitors once the Joestars took the implanted fleshbuds off their foreheads.

What caught his attention was the face of a woman who seemed to be in her early twenties. She stood next to Jotaro with her arms crossed and her gaze focused on the horizon. The grim smile and the hardened resolve in her eyes made her look more alive in the photo than what DIO wanted. The tension in her expression contradicted the ease in her posture, marked by her lax shoulders and dainty fingers paused midway from drumming against her arm. She brought unwanted memories of blood and weakness, ones he thought he buried long ago after a century of isolation.

It was you. The same eyes, nose, lips, skin, hair—even the damn way you held yourself. The glaring similarities between the woman in his memories and the woman engraved in the film rattled him to the core. DIO never believed in the supernatural before he became one himself. Although, he thought that reincarnation was an idiotic concept born from those who cannot accept that death and the afterlife were the end of all things. Yet, there you are; a painful reminder of his former humanity. The turmoil that wrapped itself around his mind added to the phantom throb of his heart from when he was still human.

His glare intensified, easing his grip on the spirit photograph. DIO doesn't want to alarm Enya nor any of his underlings. He loathed appearing weak and undignified; giving them an opportunity to ambush him should he let his guard down.

The photo fluttered next to a broken camera, smashed to pieces with a chop of his hand, on the table with a huff from the imposing man. Moonlight spilled through the windows and bathed him in its luminescence; his shadow swallowed by the darkened areas of the room where the light would never reach. The fury burned bright in his eyes, yet Enya noticed something else—an emotion indecipherable and foreign. She never had the chance to mull about it, because DIO turned on his heel and walked towards the stairs with an unnatural grace and elegance in his gait.

“It seems that fate is upon us,” he told no one in particular; his smooth, honeyed voice carried across the expanse of the lobby. "I shall retire to my room for the night. Do not disturb me."

DIO didn't need to say any more. The underlying threat in his words told Enya everything. If anything, this decision served to confuse the witch doctor more. Her master always ridiculed the Joestars, either with a scoff or a mocking laugh, in their quest every time he checked their progress to send in the next Stand user. Tonight, he barely uttered an insult nor a snide comment. She wordlessly watched him disappear around the bend, then sighed.

"Oh, Lord Dio… What troubles you so?"

The heavy thud of a closed door echoed in DIO's ears; magnified by the lifeless expanse of his room. His feet absent-mindedly led himself to sit on one of the armchairs across a small table where a golden goblet accompanied a bottle of wine. With a practiced motion, his fingers curled around the stem of the goblet as he poured himself a drink with his other hand. His vacant gaze remained on the red liquor flowing into his cup; lost in memories and possibilities that tortured him for a century.

DIO never did forgive himself for allowing you to die.

He had his chance. He could have turned you into a vampire like himself when he held you in that castle. He could have given you an opportunity to live life with him; his abiding presence a gift to compensate for the time he left you after he gained immortality. He could have given you unimaginable freedom—to see civilization evolve and change before your eyes, to live in a time where you two would be the only constants in the world. DIO could have taken you with him during that lonesome century to be beside him when the coffin was opened. He could see the silent admiration in your gaze if you were to travel the world with him as he searched for a way to attain Heaven. Knowing that you had never traveled outside of London, DIO would have gladly taken you to anywhere you wanted and wished. You could have been the one sitting across from him at this very moment. He could imagine a thick tome in your hands and the curious gleam in your eyes as you carefully flipped pages, as if they would break under the slightest pressure of your touch. You had never held a book before since girls were rarely educated then, and DIO was certain you would have loved to read.

If it wasn't for the fact that he respected your dying wish, DIO could have lived the rest of his life with you.

The bottom of the bottle harshly slammed against the wooden surface. Hairline cracks crept across the glass bottle due to his vice grip, knuckles turning pale from the force. His jaw clenched, teeth gnashed and bared, as he brought the rim of the goblet to his lips. Your disappointed frown flashed across his mind; the faint memory of your hands gently taking away the bottle from his grasp consumed his senses. DIO could feel your fingers brush against his wrist as you pulled him to the spare room in your house; the one which once belonged to your parents. The slur in his voice was painfully obvious, yet you never pried for the reasons that caused him to drink so much. That soft smile still graced your features, even when you faced his alcohol-induced outbursts of rage and annoyance. It burned itself into his mind even after all these years. DIO brought the untouched wine back to the table as fingers buried themselves in his hair.

He couldn't even bring himself to drink away his thoughts of you.

"Useless," he muttered, tipping his head back against the cushion. He closed his eyes with a grunt. A thunderous roar shook the floors of the castle as he slaughtered zombies who dared laid their greedy hands on your corpse. Blood—your blood—smeared his skin, stains that still haunted him for eternity, and it was everywhere. His hands desperately reached for you, your dead body clutched by that damnable blond who accompanied Jonathan, as he fell from the balcony—

"I, DIO, being pathetic and weak?" He spat, feeling pinpricks of pain blossoming in his clenched fists. "Forget your humanity. Forget Dio Brando. Forget her."

DIO found himself spending the remnants of the night wallowing in memories of you, until the light of dawn peeked through his curtains.

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Your smile greeted him the following night.

In the solace of his room, DIO traced a sharp nail against the photo that held your beaming expression: eyes alight with laughter and lips pulled into that godforsaken smile. Your fingers brushed your mouth, paused in the middle of hiding the aforementioned smile behind your hand. You shared the same name as her. Two cameras lie broken on the table along with a photo—disregarded and forgotten—of the Joestar group riding camels through the Saudi Arabian desert. He didn’t care for the others laughing beside you.

What mattered was the bitter throb of his heart that shouldn’t even be possible for someone who claimed to have triumphed over his humanity.

"Dio!" He could hear your scandalized gasp ring clear in the country air. A hand covered the smile on your lips as you laughed out loud, brushing off the strands of hair that stuck to your face. Water soaked the cuffs of your sleeves and your collar, but you didn’t mind. “I can’t believe you did that!”

Neither did Dio, but there he was: water from the nearby stream trickling down his fingers and a smug smirk stretching from one ear to another. He huffed, shaking the water off his hands, “You forget that I’m not some stuck-up aristocrat who can’t have fun.”

“True,” you hummed, wiping your hands on your skirt. “Then again, it has been a while since we spent time together like this.”

You lifted your apron to wipe off the water on your face when a handkerchief softly rubbed against your cheek. Dio, who was surprised at his own gentle ministrations, continued to dab the water off as if it was routine; his thumb ghosting your heated skin through the thin cloth. The scarlet flush blooming across your cheeks and tinting your ears made his smirk widen, if that was possible. You sputtered your gratitude, yet adamantly tried to evade the touch of his handkerchief as you held your apron in an iron grip. Dio could only laugh at your expense, his heart thundering and his own cheeks the slightest bit warm.

A resounding crash stole him away from the memory. The bright, blue sky and its cotton-wisp clouds faded from view; the bleak, ornate walls of his room in their place. The light of the sun was replaced with streaks of moonlight slipping through the cracks of his curtains and cascading down the floor. It was only then did DIO realize the crinkled edge of the photograph in his hand, the glittering shards scattered on the ground, and the wine that dripped from the wall to pool around the fragments of what once was a glass bottle. The quiet of the room was broken by three, quick knocks and a voice asking the man of his condition with an unmistakable, underlying tone of concern. DIO recognized the voice to be one of his most loyal subordinates, Vanilla Ice.

“What happened? Is something the matter, Lord Dio?”

A low growl rumbled in his chest. DIO closed his eyes, stopping time and pocketing your photo in one fluid motion. The World picked up one of the broken cameras and threw it out the window while the vampire stood over the Joestar photograph as if nothing happened. Images of you from his memories and your reincarnation occupied his thoughts; your photo burning a hole in his pant pocket. When time resumed, DIO swiped the photo off the table and thrusted the memories of his past to the darkest recesses of his mind.

DIO would leave you be for now if it meant he could take you back by his side in the end.

“Nothing that concerns you, Vanilla Ice. Come in, I have new orders for Enya.”

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She’s not you. She will never be you.

But you want her to be, DIO’s traitorous subconscious whispered. This is ridiculous. The man has never even met your reincarnation. He never spent time with you in this life, barely even a ghost of a conversation between you two, yet he longs for your company more than anything. His rational thoughts and sentiments warred against each other, vying for his final decision on what to do with you. The moment DIO saw you, bleeding and bruised on the stairs below, his heart bled and his shoulders nearly hunched from the pain. His rational side of the argument was silenced and shackled by the chains of past memories that bound him to you. He ached to take you into his arms and whisper reassurances in your ears, that he will give you all the comfort and security he could never give you before.

He couldn’t. Not with Polnareff leaning into your touch; his arm slung over your shoulders and head dangerously close to yours. Not with his blood simmering under his skin and his nails piercing through his palm, blood slowly seeping through the fingers of his clenched fist. The fight in your eyes hid the intense worry for your wounded comrade—maybe even lover, DIO bitterly mused—as you pressed your side flush against the silver-haired man’s battered, stumbling body. You looked at DIO as if he was the gum stuck on the sole of your shoe; as if he was the vilest, most putrid thing that ever graced the Earth. The tension and anger twisted your expression into a scowl, brows furrowed and lips dipped into that all-too familiar frown.

DIO had so many questions to ask you; so many memories to share in the vain hope that you would sympathize with him and join him. One look in your eyes, the same indiscernible emotion flickering to life when you tended to his bruises before he was adopted by George Joestar, and DIO knew he would lose this battle with you just like all those years ago. He could feel your fingers wrapped around his arm again; the cold cloth pressed to his bruised cheek; the soft smile he hated and adored at the same time. White hot rage bubbled and coursed through his veins. His jaw clenched and his nails dug deeper into the scarred flesh of his palms, drops of blood dripping towards the floor. His heart pounded against his chest as if desperate to flee into your embrace.

“In your fucking dreams,” you spat, scowl deepening and shifting your hold on Polnareff. “I’d sooner die than join you.”

Phantom daggers planted themselves into DIO’s heart, violently thrashing in its cage, as the image of you in his memories clashed against your battle-worn figure. Remnants of your smile adorned your lips followed by the laughter that echoed in his ears; the teasing lilt reserved solely for Dio. Your eyes glowed with life, brimming with joy and love that he realized too late. Your outstretched hand implored him to take it; to cool the swell of his bruises and wipe the blood off his wounds; to run across the fields once more before he had to return to his studies; to spend another day with you in Victorian London before he found that stone mask. Then there was you of the present, breathing ragged and gaze lit with spite and abhorrence for everything DIO is. You struggled to carry Polnareff’s weight from how much you leaned on him. Blood matted your hair and a long scratch marred your cheek. He noticed your leg wobble, threatening to let you and the other man pathetically fall to the floor. Your hands gripped Polnareff closer to you, whether this was an intended or subconscious action was beyond DIO.

He still yearned for you, despite all of this.

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His pained screams disrupted the once peaceful night of Cairo, Egypt.

“What?!” DIO felt the cracks viciously trail from his leg to his head, split in half similar to how Jonathan caught him off-guard on that fateful day. Humiliation, shame, disbelief, and a storm of emotions raged in his heart; eyes wide and lips parted from the turbulence wracking his body. Jotaro watched, heated glare shadowed under the brim of his hat, as DIO’s screams reached the heavens. The stars joined in the spectacle, mockingly bright under the torturous pain and suffering of the once invincible vampire.

“I-Impossible!” DIO warbled, choking and gurgling from the blood pooling in his mouth. “I… am DIO! I… am...”

Something in his gut coiled; whispers of his mind urged him to look in the direction of the harbinger of his demise. His gape drifted from the stars to Jotaro, but his attention was not on the high school delinquent. At least ten feet away from the two, you leaned on the railing of the bridge with trembling legs. One of your hands clutched the wound on your left side; a wound DIO inflicted himself. He clearly remembered the triumph and glee that dulled his senses; the swing of the stop sign that would bring the Joestar bloodline to an end; the surprise shifting into panic when you jumped in front of Jotaro with the intent to protect him. In his haste, DIO flicked his wrist and grazed your side with the edge of the stop sign.

He once thought fate favored him. That the decision to cut off his head and to take Jonathan’s body was fate allowing him to live another century. That your absence was a weakness that fate had nipped in the bud for him; that your reborn soul was another chance fate had given him to atone for his mistakes. So, why? Why would fate pit you against him, to relive that cursed night when Dio had taken your life in front of his very eyes? Were you fated to ally with the Joestars and die for them? Another corpse among the others that followed the wake of the Joestar lineage, all just to defeat him?

DIO couldn’t kill you, as much as he despised the sentiment.

A fool. He is and always will be a fool when it comes to you. Dio will always want you in each lifetime, and it pained DIO to admit it in his final moments. His heart lurched and lodged itself in his throat; the fire in his blood scorching his skin and insides. His hand reached out to you, just like before, but you’re not dying this time. He knew that, if the afterlife actually existed, he will never be able to join you. DIO saw your eyes widen as you took a step back, farther from his grasp. Another bloodcurdling scream rang in the night; dying gurgles heard only by the two people who brought him to his death.

Even in this life, Dio could never have you.

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koocycle · 5 years

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— table for three │kth

synopsis: ‘‘don’t make promises you can’t keep, taehyung.’’ you sighed, being able to feel his breath on your face. you slowly enlarged the amount of space between your bodies, pushing your hand deeper into his chest when he didn’t want to let go of you yet. ‘‘you are the problem here.’’

or, kim taehyung was never yours to keep, but you know how the saying goes; you want what you can’t have.

pairing: kim taehyung x reader

word count: 11.4k

genre: smut, angst.

contains: sexual tension, slight cursing, dry humping, dom themes, semi-public sex, jealous!taehyung, love triangle (but also not really), hair pulling, blow job, unprotected sex, breathplay, manhandling, biting kink (is that a thing??), multiple emotional breakdowns, tae is kind of an idiot here!!

visit: my masterlist here!

‘‘God - I’m going to show you exactly how much I’ve missed you.’’ The man muttered against your skin while leaving gentle pecks on the soft surface. You pressed your back deeper into the mattress beneath your nude body as your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you felt his kisses creating a flower path from your collarbones to the deepest crooks of your neck. ‘‘I’ll make love to you all day.’’

‘‘Such big talk, love.’’ You breathed into the heated air, ‘‘such big talk but never fulfilling your promises.’’ Your voice was suddenly nowhere to be found when his soft pecks were replaced by wet open mouth kisses, your fingers found their way to his dark, curly locks almost as if on cue.

The man, who you loved so dearly, was hovered over your own frame and closed the distance between your bodies, leaving only a small amount of air in between. ‘‘You have no idea what you’re asking for, huh?’’ he muttered softly, lips leaving your skin and staring at you with a look that made you want to be totally wrecked. He carried his weight on both of his forearms as his upper body spread your thighs even further apart, his frame was laying comfortably between your legs now. ‘‘I won’t be able to stop once I start, so you better think this through, love.’’

It was barely a second later when your lips collided with a harsh crash, heads tilting and noses bumping dramatically. The kiss was deep and filled with affection, but somehow rough and needy as well, you were able to feel the emotions lingering on his soft lips. Mouths stuck to each other like glue as your hands traveled from his broad shoulders to his bare caramel colored back, long nails scraping over the surface. You heard him hiss into the kiss, knowing immediately that you found yet another one of his weak spots.

‘‘Taehyung..’’ You breathed heavily in between the needy kisses, desperately gasping for air. His lips found their way to your neck once again when you broke the kiss off, sucking harshly on the sensitive skin until a purple spot found it’s way there. You felt his tongue swirling on the soft surface afterwards in the hopes to soothe the pain a bit. ‘‘I don’t want you to stop. D-don’t stop.’’

Taehyung released your skin from in between his teeth and stared at you with a dark gaze, the curly strands that were sticking to his forehead made him even more attractive, if possible. ‘‘Do you even have any idea how much I’ve missed you? I won’t be able to stop even if you wanted me to, baby.’’

You showed him one of your famous smiles before your fingers tangled themselves in his soft hair again, softly scraping his skull before you brought his head closer to your own. ‘‘Just show me how much you claim to have been missing me already.’’ This time it was you who slammed your lips against each other, impatience growing in your lower belly and a waterfall of lust washing over your body. You wrapped you legs around his tiny waist, trapping his body in your embrace. It wasn’t until the kiss grew needier when you felt him smiling against your lips, ‘‘Are we getting impatient now?’’ he asked you, snorting at your desperate state when you started moving your hips against his own. ‘‘Allow me to make you feel good, love.’’ He told you, but you weren’t listening to his words when you were way too caught up in the act of following his every movement.

His movements were settled in slow motion. Taehyung’s lips slowly made their way down your body, leaving a trail past your exposed chest and your lower belly, but stopping just a few inches above your panties. His index finger tapped on your clothed core before a smug smile found it’s way on his face, knowing better than anyone else how things were going down there. ‘‘You want me to take care of this?’’ You nodded in an instant upon hearing his words. He wasn’t touching you just yet, but you were still able to feel his breath through the thin material of your panties. ‘‘Use your words baby, I couldn’t quite understand.’’ He told you in a low voice as he brought his face up to yours again, hanging above you now.

‘‘Please - please take care of me, I need you to do something-’’ you gasped out loud when Taehyung circled his clothed crotch against yours, pressing the right amount of pressure to your core with the help of skilled hip movements. Your eyes traveled to the back of your head at the sensation you felt, Taehyung was great at doing this, you felt like you were able to cum right then and there if he continued for a minute longer.

Your pleasure was rudely interrupted by a loud chime somewhere in the room, making you shut up almost instantly as you lazily ripped your eyes open. Your eyes tiredly searched around the room for any kind of an electronic device, heavy breaths still filled the space as your eyes were still at the verge of closing again.

‘‘It’s mine.’’ Taehyung told you then, indicating to his phone whilst not paying any attention to the device only a few meters away. ‘‘Ignore them and focus on me,’’ you had felt his index fingers slowly pushing your panties to the side whilst offering you a sloppy kiss. ‘‘We’re kind of in the middle of something, are we not?’’ Your breath grew heavier when you felt his middle finger sliding in between your slick lips, loving the feeling of your wetness coating his fingertips. His thumb started making slow movements on your clit as you couldn’t control your moans now, loving the way he made you feel so great and silently wanting him to take steps to the next level.

The loud ringing in the distance eventually came to a stop, you even heard Taehyung mutter a small ‘‘Thank God’’ at the stop of the loud sound. ‘‘Was about to tell whoever it was to fall of the edge of the earth.’’ He tried to joke, but you only gave him a weak smile in return when you felt his fingers slowly entering your folds. ‘‘D-damn it, Taehyung.’’ You whimpered out loud as his fingers reached deeper into you. Your back arched away from the mattress at the indescribable sensation you were feeling.

However, your luck didn’t seem to last for a long time when his phone on the bedside table started blaring again. The low grunt that left Taehyung’s throat left you off guard. You forced your eyes open when you told yourself that you couldn’t enjoy this amazing feeling any longer with that awful sound playing in the background. You had looked at the male with an annoyed expression painted on your face.

‘‘I think you’re needed over there.’’ You spoke with a huff and nodded towards his device not too far away from both your bodies. The back of your head frustratingly hit the soft pillow again when Taehyung’s fingers slipped out of you as he reached for his phone, ‘‘I swear to God, I’ll tell whoever it is-’’

His voice went mute the second he flipped his phone over to the screen side. A thick silence hung in the air as you read his expression, his eyebrows were knitted together as if debating whether to pick up or not. ‘‘Taehyung..?’’ you hesitatingly spoke after some time, ‘‘Aren’t you going to pick up?’’

‘‘Hm? Oh..’’ He was startled at the sound of your voice interrupting his thoughts. ‘‘It’s nobody important, really.’’ The male above you quickly muted the sound coming from his device and flipped the phone over again when you tried to get a glimpse of the name on the screen.

‘‘Are you sure? Seemed like they were quite important, if you ask me.’’ His startled gaze slowly met yours like a dear caught in the headlights, like he did something he wasn’t supposed to.

‘‘Yeah, just didn’t like the way we got interrupted.’’ He tried to reassure your concerns, but you could hear the lie hanging on his beautiful lips. You raised one of your eyebrows as if asking him a second time, but he only responded with a small smile displaying on his features. ‘‘Let’s continue, shall we not?’’ He proposed before he was climbing on top of your frame again. You felt the hesitation radiating off his body when he slowly approached your face, but you decided to stay silent for now. Taehyung leaned in, placing his own lips on your soft ones as if they belonged there. Both of you forced your eyes to come to a close when your lips united, the movements were slow and distracted, unlike before. You asked yourself if you should question him about it, debating whether to stay silent and play along or ask him what was on his mind.

The lust and amount of affection was totally lost and nowhere to be found at this point. You felt your eyebrows knit together at the unpleasant feeling as you couldn’t find it in yourself to enjoy the plain kiss. You only figured out Taehyung felt the same way about it when his lips started to become sloppy against yours.

You gathered all of your courage together before you teared your lips away from his and voiced your question out loud. ‘‘What’s going on? You seem distracted.’’ The warm palms of your hands softly supported the weight of his cheeks. His heart melted at the sight of your worried state. The moment had seemed so peaceful with you so close to him, he almost considered staying silent, just to stare at your soft features for a little longer.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stand the silence for a second longer when you decided to voice your question in a clearer form. ‘‘Who was calling you just now, Tae?’’ He could only enjoy the silence for a little while until your worried gaze seem to grow stronger, and you couldn’t help but to feel like you’ve crossed a limit with the way he had looked at you. ‘‘Y-you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, of course-’’’

‘‘Yeji.’’ He quickly breathed out with worry painted over his entire face. ‘‘I-it was Yeji who called me.’’ You definitely didn’t miss the way he thickly gulped when looking at you, his lips parted too, but nothing came out, clinging around air instead and desperately wanting to give you more reassuring words than these, but his mind went blank.

‘‘Oh. Right.’’ His heart sank to the pit of his stomach upon hearing your short response. Your hands loosened on the sides of his face, and he wanted to do nothing more than to keep them in place. ‘‘Of course, I should’ve known that.’’

You knew you shouldn’t feel this way, but a sudden load of sorrow washed over your entire body. And you tried to erase the feeling away - and maybe you didn’t try hard enough, but the effort was totally useless. Taehyung had been your friend for a long while, even before the two of you went to college. He had been your best friend for as long as you could remember, and you had been his. It wasn’t until college when your feelings intensely started to grow for him and Taehyung had always told you that he returned the feeling, proving that each time you were spread out on the soft side of his mattress. And you actually started to believe him, you actually did.

And you were ashamed of it.

Because the Taehyung that was now laying on top of, peppering kisses all over your body not too long ago, and loving you like no other man ever dared to, was the same Taehyung who layed with another girl in bed only an hour later, showering her with kisses and loving her like no other man has ever dared to.

Neither of you knew how you ended up in this situation, but both of you were perfectly aware of how bad things were - and how hurtful and toxic they were becoming. You knew Taehyung shared his bed with another girl every single night, and you knew he wasn’t going to end it any time soon. But even then, you just couldn’t bring yourself to end the sexual relationship that the two of you shared. It didn’t really matter in how much pieces you heart shattered each time he left your apartment, every time he shared his sheets with you instead of her, you felt like he wasn’t lying when he said he loved you endlessly, like he wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to be with you and only you.

You were naive.

And stupid on that note, too.

‘‘No, no, no.’’ Taehyung pointed his index finger at you now, ‘‘Do not give me that look. I don’t want it.’’

Your eyebrows slightly furrowed at his behavior, ‘‘What look?’’ You questioned him.

‘‘That look where you’re questioning yourself again. You know I hate that look on you.’’ His hands were the ones cupping your cheeks now, obviously not happy with the situation he put you in. ‘‘There is only one truth, and if there’s one person who’s perfectly aware of that, then it’s you.’’

You weren’t aware of the truth, is what you didn’t tell him right then and there. You started questioning his ‘‘love’’ for you a while back, actually. He always told you that he loved you most, and that you were the one he had feelings for, but it could all be a game to him for all you knew. If someone was able to slip in and out of your life so easily, only to make love to another woman only a few hours later, then it was hard to not feel like a bit on the side.

His gaze went wide when he saw tears hanging in the corners of your eyes, hanging on for deer’s life. ‘‘Talk to me princess. Talk to me.’’ He whispered softly, his thumb grazing your soft cheeks. ‘‘You know the truth, do you not?”

You sighed softly, breath hitting his face as you bit your lip to prevent the tears from flowing out. You preferred crying when Taehyung wasn’t in your sight, or anywhere near your presence at all. ‘‘I’m not so sure, Tae. I really, have no idea.’’ You barely got out, ‘‘One moment you’re over here, telling me how much you love me, and before I can blink twice, you’re-’’ you attempted to smile at him but it went downhill very fast. ‘‘..you’re just going back to her without any complaints.’’

He let out a frustrated sigh at your words, running a big hand through his already messy hair, ‘‘Jesus, ___’’ he spoke, his annoyed tone didn’t go unnoticed by you. ‘‘You really want us to have this talk again?”

‘‘I just want you to to be honest with me, Taehyung. I’m not sure if keeping me on a string like this is going to work for much longer.’’ You slipped your body away from underneath his, clinging the soft material of his bed sheets to your body in attempt to hide your nude body.

He sat up as well, unsure of how to act towards the sudden confession you made. There was an expression painted on his face that you couldn’t quite pinpoint yet, it made you shiver under his strong gaze. ‘‘You think I’m keeping you on a string?’’ The emotions in his eyes were a mix of irritation and guilt. ‘‘Everything I’ve ever told you was the truth, I’ve never lied to you about the feelings I have for you.’’ Taehyung scooted closer to your body, wanting nothing more but for you to be aware of this. ‘‘You know Yeji means nothing to me. Her dad’s promotion and investment is what keeps my father’s company going. It’s going better than ever before, if I break up with her now, that means everything’s over for him and the company. Please try to understand, princess. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before.’’

She means nothing to him but he’s most likely going to fuck her on this same bed tonight, not caring about either your or Yeji’s feelings while doing it, is what you didn’t say out loud in that moment. You couldn’t help but feel disgusted in your own skin right now. You helped this man to cheat on his girlfriend time after time, and for what in return? For your sorry and selfish feeling to be cleaned out of the way? Because they were clearly still there.

You ripped your gaze away from his, not wanting to look at him any longer before you really broke into tears this time. So you looked out of his window instead, pretending to think that the bare trees outside were the most interesting thing to see. ‘‘You’re the one I love, ___’’ You heard him say somewhere behind you, yet he felt so far away. ‘‘Don’t tell me you didn’t know about that. I’ve always been clear about my feelings for you.’’

‘‘You haven’t. You’ve never been clear.’’ You fought back in an instant, ‘‘How the fuck am I supposed to believe these sugar coated words of yours when you just turn your back towards me whenever she’s around?’’ You angrily spat at the male, creating an even thicker air than before.

‘‘Sugar coated words? Are you screwing with me?’’ He asked you in disbelief. ‘‘___, you know so much better than this. Don’t go around acting like you have no idea what I’m talking about. Time after time, have I enlightened you about my feelings for you, never downgrading them towards you in any possible way. I even show it to you every time you’re here! Heck, I was ready to show you that today if she didn’t interrupt us-’’

‘‘Well, I’m sorry if sex isn’t enough for me.’’ You snapped at him, gaze immediately shifting back to his figure sitting next to you. You wrapped your arms around each other, trying to steady your voice to a normal rate. It took you one heavy breath and a few seconds of silence before you dared to speak up again. ‘‘We need to draw a line here, Taehyung. Because this is getting out of hand, you know it.’’

‘‘What line do you want me to draw? Did you not listen to anything I’ve just told you?’’ He ran another hand through his dark hair before he spoke again, ‘‘Yeji means nothing. I don’t understand why you’re getting all worked up over this relationship I share with her when you know about my feelings for you.’’

‘‘Of course you don’t understand. Didn’t expect anything else from you.’’

‘‘Oh for God’s sake, ___’’ Taehyung’s hands flew in the air at the sentence that left your lips. ‘‘Stop flashing this damn victim card out of your pocket every fucking time her name pops up, you know so much better than pretending to be the black sheep. if you need some extra attention, all you need to do is ask me!’’

You stared at the male in pure disbelief, his words not sinking into you quite yet. ‘‘Can you not see how this is affecting me?’’ You asked him, at verge of breaking down in front of him. ‘‘Do you not see why I’m so hurt over watching the guy I love playing happy families with a woman he claims to feel nothing at all for? This fucking hurts, Taehyung. How can you not see that?’’

Your heart felt heavy in his hands, he desperately wanted to pull you closer to him and tell you that there’s no reason to be affected by the relationship he shared with Yeji, but he was frozen in place for some reason, mindlessly staring at your broken state. Perhaps because he was scared of messing up again.

‘‘Where are you going?’’ Taehyung didn’t wait a second before asking you when you stepped a foot outside his bed, quickly collecting the clothes that were disregarded on his wooden floor not even ten minutes ago. ‘‘You’re seriously going to leave?” he asked you, not wanting to believe this.

‘‘Yes.’’ You pulled your last piece of material over your head before you were fully clothed again. ‘‘You’re insane.’’

‘‘___.” He called you when he saw you standing up from the bed, looking around and collecting your last things to make sure you had everything. “___, come on.’’ You were headed towards Taehyung’s bedroom door before he rushed out of bed and stood in the doorway in just a matter of seconds, not letting you go that easily. ‘‘Don’t leave. Let’s talk about this, I’m sure we can work this out.’’ He practically begged you now.

‘‘There’s not much to talk about as long as we’re not on the same page, really.’’ You told him, noticing the way his brows furrowed. ‘‘Taehyung, I want more than whatever the hell this is between us.’’ Your finger went back and forth in the air between your bodies. ‘‘And you clearly don’t.’’

‘‘I never-’’

‘‘Don’t even try to pretend now, you obviously don’t want this to get any further than a good fuck once in a while.’’ You sighed into his chest, he was about to protest when you interrupted him a second time. ‘‘If this is how things are going to be if I want to be with you, then I rather cut this off right now before all of this reaches me too deeply.’’

‘‘I don’t see how any of this hurts you.’’ Taehyung said, giving you prove that he didn’t listen to a single word you just explained him, and it made your blood boil.

‘‘Of course you don’t understand, why would you? I’m just your bit on the side whenever she isn’t around.’’ you spoke, frustratingly letting a hand go through your hair. ‘‘I’m supposed to just-’’ you let out a shaky breath before continuing. ‘‘to stand on the sideline, waiting for you to get bored of her and run back to me. It’s better to keep your options open, after all.’’

‘‘Don’t.’’ He sternly spoke, eyeing you as if wanting you to take it all back, it almost seemed as if it hurt him. ‘‘Don’t you dare filling your head with these insane thoughts, ___.’’

‘‘There’s nothing for you to worry about, though. Sure, I’ll miss you, because - God, I love you so much?’’ You told him, completely disregarding his previous statement. ‘‘But you, on the other hand.’’ Your finger tapped against his hard chest, ‘‘There’s nothing for you to worry about now. No black sheep clinging to your legs any more, and the company will run just fine. So, if i got the facts right..’’

‘‘There’s nothing for you to lose here, am I wrong?’’

It had been close to a month since you’ve last spoken to Taehyung, and it was harder than you expected it to be when you walked out of his door a few weeks back. It had never been this long. Usually when the two of you got into an argument or a disagreement, it lasted a few days of ignoring each other until you ran back into his open arms again, and you started to wonder if this was really the end of everything the two of you shared.

Because no matter how skilled the male was in bed, and how good he made you feel very often, it wasn’t just the sex for you. It was never about the sex, it was so much more. Perhaps it was hard to believe, but Taehyung was your best friend before the whole sexual tension started building up between the two of you. He was your cheer-up clown whenever you were sad, and you were his. Now, you lost your best friend in the midst of trying to make things better for both of you. Even though you were the one who made the big decision to end things, it was hard to tear your eyes away from his figure every single time you saw him walking around on campus, an arm clinging around his girlfriend’s tiny waist and smiling at her like she was she was the last female on earth.

Your heart sank in the deepest pit of your stomach at the sight of it, it was a sight you couldn’t get used to, even after the countless times you encountered them. There was nothing you could do to prevent yourself from breaking into tears in the middle of the cafeteria. You were the one who broke things off, after all. You had no right to be sad over someone who was taken. He was never yours to be concerned about, and never will be.

You lost your best friend when you walked out of his door that one day.

It was almost like he didn’t care at all, the two of you talked so little these days, you guys seemed like nothing more than strangers. Yes, you ended things with him. And yes, maybe things were better this way, but was it bizarre to expect him to fight for at least your friendship? It made you sick in the stomach at the thought of him not needing you anymore and proving all the things he told you to be a big lie. You felt like a fool for believing anything he said.

‘‘You’re such a party pooper.’’

You narrowed your eyes at the male standing in your doorway, a knowing eyebrow raising at his expected appearance. Park Jimin’s soft looking blonde locks covered some parts of his forehead as his black sunglasses were seated on the bridge of his nose, he looked absurdly expensive today. You found him already staring at you, sassily sipping another sip of his Iced Tea bottle. ‘‘You did not just call me a party pooper.’’

‘‘And what if I did call you a party pooper? Are you going to prove me wrong?’’ Jimin’s eyebrows flew into the sky, wanting a serious answer to his bold statement.

You rolled your eyes at your friend, you left him standing in your doorway, deciding to walk away from him and not give him any further attention than he was seeking for. ‘‘Are you going to lock yourself in your house for the rest the semester? Because I was hoping we could attend some parties together this year.’’ He walked in and closed the door behind him, ‘‘I totally don’t want to deal with drunk Yoongi’s drunk ass all by myself again, thank you very much for that, by the way.’’

‘‘I would love to go and party with you, Jimin.’’ you told him, ‘‘If I didn’t have yet another stack of papers due for next week. Have some damn sympathy, young man.’’ You pointed at your kitchen island covered in work sheets and assignments to be done.

‘‘You know, I’m pretty sure he won’t even be there.’’ He said, finally taking his glasses off and running a hand through his hair, only to see a question mark appearing on your forehead. ‘‘Taehyung. I’m talking about Taehyung, ___. Keep your head in the game. He’s the reason why you’re staying home all the time, no?’’

Your eyebrows raised at his sudden assumption, folding your arms over one another before you asked him, ‘‘What makes you think I’m interested in Taehyung’s whereabouts?’’ He was partly right though, but you would never bring yourself to say it out loud.

‘‘You are obviously interested in his whereabouts.’’

‘‘I am not.’’ You quickly argued back, way too quick for your liking, knowing that it was useless to fight back against him anyways.

He showed you his unaffected look and continued, ‘‘He and that girlfriend of his really had to ruin our fun for this year, huh?”

‘‘Neither Taehyung or Yeji have anything to do with me staying home for a few nights, Jimin

‘‘Yup. You’re right.’’ Your blonde friend sighed dramatically by your side, huffing the air out of his body as if he just ran a marathon. He took a seat next to you by the kitchen island. ‘‘I’ll just go to this party by myself tonight.’’

You didn’t miss the dramatic tone in Jimin’s voice, looking at you with big eyes and blinking slowly. You knew what he was trying to do, and it was not going to work. ‘‘Well, enjoy! You’ll have fun!’’

‘‘Are you sure you don’t want to join me?’’

‘‘Pretty sure! Thank you for the offer.’’ You smiled brightly at the man next to you, not wanting to deal with him for any longer.

‘‘Alright then, I’ll leave then. Good luck with studying.’’ He gave you a pretty smile before he disregarded himself from the kitchen island seat and walked over to the front door. You responded with a soft ‘‘thanks, chim’’ as you waited for him to walk out of the door.

He opened the door but stood still in the doorway, and you made a mental note to yourself to punch him in the stomach in a few seconds. He quickly turned around to face you again. ‘‘Come on, ___.’’ He whined, making you sigh at him being a little child. ‘‘One night! You can skip one night of homework for me, can you not?’’

‘‘Do you prefer me kicking you out or were you planning on leaving yourself, Park?’’

He walked your way again after slamming the door to a close behind him. ‘‘Do you really want to spend your night making some essays and reading stupid articles while I’m offering you a night out with your best friend?’’ He asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious already.

‘‘Actually, yes. Yes I do! Now please sit and don’t talk about it again or leave, the choice is all yours, Jimin.’’ You pinched the bridge of your nose in clear frustration.

‘‘Well,’’ he said stubbornly, puffing his weight down on the kitchen island seat next to you again. ‘‘I’m not leaving until you dress the fuck up.’’

You couldn’t help but shiver in place from the cold air hitting your every spot of exposed skin, your hands aggressively rubbed the sides of your arms in attempt to find any form of warmth, but with no luck. You watched as Jimin slammed his car door to a close, a massive grin appearing on his face as his sunglasses were yet again placed on the bridge of his nose, even though the sun was long down and the only light available was coming from the little amount of dim street lights above your heads. There was no trouble in being able to hear the loud music blasting through the front doors of the frat house, and you were most definitely not looking forward to the heavy smell of cheap alcohol and sweaty bodies against each other. To say that you were desperate to go home was an understatement.

‘‘What do you mean ‘you want to go home?’’’ Jimin asked you then, smile growing wider. He loved to torture you, not to mention. ‘‘You’re actually insane. Come on, we’ll have fun.’’ he let out a snicker before he placed his hand in the small of your back and guided you inside.

You tugged the flimsy material of your black dress further down your thighs when you had walked inside, the warm air hit your skin in just a second and you let out a sigh of relief as the cold air from before slowly started to fade away. Jimin did not go easy on you when he insisted on picking your outfit for tonight,

‘‘As long as it’s not something too revealing, Jimin. I’ve known you for much longer than today.’’

‘‘Not trying to be rude or anything, but..’’ he started, trying to hold his laughter, ‘‘I’m not even sure if I’ll find something around here in this old lady closet of yours. Definitely something we need to work on.’’ Jimin responded while rummaging through your closet. He didn’t need to say anything else for you to know he was searching for something, thin, dark and most definitely short.

The familiar scent of alcohol and sweaty bodies filled your nostrils when the two of you walked deeper into the house, way too many people were crowded in this room for your liking. Dancing and grinding upon each other in all sorts of positions without a care in the world, and you felt your head spin at the atmosphere already. Empty beer bottles were placed on the sides, patiently waiting for someone to trip over them, that someone almost being you if it wasn’t for Jimin catching you just in time. ‘‘Promise me you’ll at least try to have fun?’’ He asked you.

You nodded at the male with a small smile plastering on your face. ‘‘I’ll try.’’ You promised him, also not wanting to be that friend at the party, you knew how annoying these types were yourself. It wasn’t like you despised parties, you actually really liked them. It was a great way for you to relieve stress and deal with the harsh reality of college life. Letting go of all the sudden and unexpected responsibilities you got thrown over you just a few months after graduating high school. But something felt off today, you were totally out of it and not in the mood to be a social butterfly for tonight.

After something what seemed like an hour later, you found yourself sipping on some more drinks as you had completely forgotten about Jimin’s existence. Warming up to your surroundings as the alcohol was slowly making its way to your system. You vaguely remembered Jimin telling you something about greeting some old friends before he quickly disappeared in the crowd, disregarding your desperate frame at the drinks. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care a few moments later though. Making small talks with a few people here and there and calmly swaying along to the beat of the songs by yourself wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

‘‘I’ll have to say, ___. I’m utterly stunned.’’ You whipped around at the sound of a familiar voice standing right behind you. ‘‘Out of all people, I didn’t expect you to show up in here. Not looking like this, may I add.’’

The male’s eyes slowly darted from your face down to your figure wrapped in the thin material of your almost see-through dress, not even trying to hide the fact that he was completely checking you out now, and you couldn’t help but plant a sheepish smile on your face at the sight of that.

‘‘Hoseok,’’ You smiled softly at him, batting your eyelashes in the meantime. ‘‘If this isn’t the most pleasing surprise I’ve had so far..’’

He snickered at that, ‘‘Care to tell me dear, how are you enjoying yourself? Drinking in the darkest corner all by yourself doesn’t seem like a party to me.’’

You arched an eyebrow at him, a playful glint hanging on your lips. Jimin told you to have fun tonight, might as well follow his advice if you want to get through the night. ‘‘Why ask?’’ Your finger slipped under the material of his dark shirt and you pulled him just a little closer to your own body, a satisfied look still placed on his face. ‘‘Were you planning on joining me?’’

Your eyes locked, unable to move from their place. You watched as Hoseok threw a hand through his black hair while smiling down at you. ‘‘I was thinking maybe you could join us instead.’’

He pointed his finger to a large couch somewhere in the other corner of the room, you squinted your eyes at the sight as you took in a few friends talking and drunkenly messing around with one another. You were about to accept his request until you found an awfully familiar pair of dark brown eyes staring right back at you. You could recognize these curly locks from a thousand miles away. As for now, you couldn’t quite understand whether your heart started beating in the back of your throat or if it had stopped beating overall. What was clear, was that Taehyung was sitting on the comfortable coach, man spreading his legs as if he had the biggest dick in the room. It was almost as if his eyes were warning you to not do anything stupid, the look in them being almost indescribable.

And he wasn’t alone. No, of course he wasn’t alone. That’s when you realized a long haired brunette sitting on one of his thighs while her own legs were seated in between his. You noticed his hand that was placed on a spot on her waist, and you wanted to rip your eyes away from the pair, but you couldn’t. Yeji didn’t seem to notice Taehyung’s stiffened state underneath her as her head was pressed in the crook of his neck, leaving wet kisses on all the right spots. Even though she gave him all of her attention, he didn’t give it a second thought when he couldn’t seem to rip his eyes away from yours, resuming the heavy lidded eye contact until you spoke again.

‘‘Sure, why not?’’

Hoseok showed you a precious grin as he grabbed your hand and led you to the other side of the room. You followed him in utter silence. If it wasn’t for the alcohol in your system, you were sure you would’ve found Taehyung’s gaze intimidating, or maybe even terrifying. But not to forget, you were tipsy, not drunk enough for your head to be in the clouds, but just enough to flash him a teasing smile when you passed him by.

You saw the way Taehyung’s jaw clenched when you threw you weight into the pleasing couch, right next to Hoseok. You made yourself comfortable by nuzzling up into his frame, taking in his scent and closing your eyes in a relaxed manner. You could still feel Taehyung’s eyes burning holes in your skull, though, and you didn’t mind it one bit. You couldn’t help but open your eyes again after only a few seconds, only to meet Taehyung’s dark eyes. A million questions running through them. You just watched how his girlfriend was currently leaning her weight against his chest, head placed in the crook of his neck and fingers blindly playing with his features. You just watched them without a hint of hurt to be found in your eyes.

You watched as Yeji placed her lips on his soft cheek, leaving small pecks on the surface and slowly making her way to the lips that belonged to yours not too long ago. The beautiful female took a grip of the side of his face and brought him closer. You saw the way Taehyung’s grip on her hipbone tightened, he kissed her in an aggressive manner before she even had a chance to attack. His eyes stayed open though, he didn’t close them. He just kept staring at you, even with his girlfriend’s lips attached to his own.

You felt your body tense at the sight, the atmosphere changing with the snap of his fingers. A silent challenge was passing through you. You forced yourself to keep your eyes locked with his, even though you felt the sting making its way to your eyes. ‘‘Everything alright?” you heard Hoseok speak from beside you.

You teared your eyes away from Taehyung’s then, reminding yourself of the presence of this smoking hot guy next to you. An idea popped up in the back of your head. If Taehyung was able to play this game, then so were you.

You found yourself sinking into his lap just a few moments later, your hands found their way to both of his shoulders as you tightly gripped on them. He had looked surprised at your sudden behavior, but without any complaints. Hoseok gave you a charming smile and his hands found their place on your hips not much longer after that, pushing them down so you could get the clear hint. ‘‘More than alright.’’ You grinned down at him as your hand went through his pit black hair, moving your hips against his in a rather slow pace before you slammed your lips against his with a burning passion.

And in that moment, you sneakily opened your eyes to glance at Taehyung on the other side of the couch. You found his body to be completely disregarded from Yeji’s, it seemed like he had pushed her away as she was now seated on the arm of the couch, arms tangled in one another and looking around the room with an irritated look on her face. Taehyung watched the heavy make out session happen in front of him as if he got a first row seat to a movie he was eager to see. You saw the veins in his neck popping and his jaw tensing at the eye contact you made. He harshly swallowed his hatred away as he couldn’t help but to keep looking at you.

It made you smile into the kiss.

The make out session was messy and intense, you felt his hard erection poking you from underneath and it took everything in you to pull away from him, ‘‘Do you dance, Hobi?’’ you asked him.

He arched a brow at you as you suddenly remembered him taking apart of all dance and talent organisations your school had ever organised. You rolled your eyes at him, ‘‘Of course you do. Silly me.’’ you said before you dragged him towards the crowd of people dancing in the middle of the room.

The two of you continued playfully flirting on the dance floor and you found yourself completely forgetting about Taehyung’s existence as time passed by and you couldn’t find him anywhere in the room. You figured out he went to search a room for him and Yeji to do their own thing. You didn’t miss him anyways, Hoseok’s lips were soft and he was an amazing kisser too. He brought his lips closer to your ear when your back danced against his front, ‘‘Tae’s got his eyes on you all night.’’

‘‘I don’t care.’’ Your hand slipped around the back of his neck as you closed your eyes and continued dancing.

It wasn’t until you felt a harsh grip around your wrist when your eyes opened again, a rude push followed afterwards. ‘‘What the fuck?’’ you spoke to nobody in particular before you got pulled off the dance floor and led into one of the hallways. It wasn’t until the yellow hall lightning fell on the male in front of you when you were able to make out who this mysterious person was. ‘‘Don’t you dare to fucking touch me-’’

‘‘Not another word.’’ Taehyung growled into your ear and aggressively pushed you into the wall behind you, crashing his lips harshly onto yours. You responded in an instant, missing the way these particular lips felt on yours. It was only a few seconds later until you realized you were falling into an awfully familiar pattern.

‘‘S-stop, Taehyung.’’ You harshly pushed the male away from you as your voice raised a few volumes higher, you could tell that it had surprised him from the way he looked at you. ‘‘Just stop!’’

His chest was heaving up and down from the intimate moment as he looked at you with a deathly stare, ‘‘You’re mine, so do you care to tell me why the fuck you were in there throwing yourself on some random dude you barely know?’’ His arm raised in the air to point towards the room he just dragged you away from.

‘‘Yours?’’ You scoffed at his comment, a humorless chuckle leaving your lips. ‘‘I was never yours, Taehyung. I hope you can remember why.’’

‘‘Oh, come on! This again? Seriously?’’ Both of his arms frustratingly flew in the air now, ‘‘And out of all people in this place, you choose Jung Hoseok to jump on? He isn’t even your type.’’

‘‘And who is? You are?’’ You spat at him

‘‘Come on, ___. I don’t want to fight about this anymore.’’ He let a soft breath out in attempt to calm himself down, it wasn’t really working with the sound of the loud music in the background. He grabbed one of your hands and softly caressed the skin, ‘‘It hurts to see you like this with someone who isn’t me. It breaks my heart.’’

‘‘How do you think I’ve felt all these months? You don’t think I’m hurting?’’

He sighed deeply, ‘‘Don’t compare these situations to each other, ___. That’s an entire different story and you know it. You know I can’t break up with Yeji, the company will suffer from it.’’

You closed your eyes in an irritated way as you tried to breathe the anger out of your system. You made sure your voice was calm and soft before you spoke, ‘‘I don’t expect you to understand, okay? I’ve passed that phase a long time ago.’’ The air was filled with a thick silence, thick enough use a knife and cut it in half. The only sound available was the music somewhere in the distance. ‘‘Is it alright to say that I’ve lost hope in us?’’ You softly spoke, almost as if you didn’t want to voice your thoughts out loud.

Taehyung froze in his place as he felt his heart slow down a rate. The male had stared at you a bit longer than necessary, he had an idea of the meaning behind your words but he didn’t want to believe them. He refused to. ‘‘What are you trying to say?’’

‘‘I’m saying,’’ you ran a frustrated hand through your hair, a finger running back and forth through the air between your bodies. ‘‘I’m saying we should cut off whatever this is between us. You don’t want to hurt Yeji? I’m fine with that. But sometimes you have to sacrifice a few things in order to get what you want. We can’t go on and continue this as if-’’

‘‘No.’’

‘‘Oh, for God’s sake, Taehyung.’’ you were getting impatient with him now as you felt your blood boil. ‘‘It’s the only way out of this! I’m asking you to stop being so damn selfish all the time.’’

‘‘I said no, ___!’’ he grabbed your wrist in a swift second and yanked you closer to his body, making your chest fly against his own. ‘‘I’m not letting you walk away from me.’’ Two big eyes looked up at his features while feeling the tears coming into view. You tried to swallow them away as Taehyung released his grip on your wrist, moving his hands to rest on the small of your back. ‘‘I’m not letting you.’’ He said a bit softer now.

He allowed his forehead to rest against yours, loving the way your warm breath reached his closed lips, ‘‘I don’t want to be with you, Taehyung, not like this.’’ He felt your nails digging deeper into his chest and trying to break free from his grasp, but he wouldn’t let you. Instead, he tightened his hold on you. ‘‘You keep shoving this issue on Yeji and the company, but you know it doesn’t go any further than that.’’

You felt his breaths becoming heavier on your face and heart beating in a fasted pace under your the palm of your hand, ‘‘Tell me what it is. Tell me what the problem is and I’ll take care of it.’’ he managed to breathe out.

‘‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Taehyung.’’ You sighed, still being able to feel his breath on your face. You slowly enlarged the amount of space between your bodies, pushing your hand deeper into his chest when he didn’t want to let go of you yet. ‘‘You are the problem here.’’

You tried to turn away from him and leave this horrific moment as soon as possible, but he caught your hand in the act of it. Taehyung pulled you closer to his body once more, but this time making sure you were fully pressed up against him, his hand that was placed on the small of your back made sure of that. ‘‘Give me one more chance to prove myself.’’ he muttered so softly, it was almost inaudible

Taehyung’s hand glided over the soft skin of your bare thigh, bringing it up to his small waist and keeping it there with the support of his large hand. You didn’t protest when he carefully pushed his lips against yours and deepened the kiss not even a second later, desperate to taste you again. He silently thanked you for not pushing him away again.

You felt Taehyung smile against your lips when you moaned into his mouth. He deepened the kiss and it became needier and messier as the seconds passed by. Your nails scraped against the familiar skin in the back of his neck, fingers playing with the soft ends of his hair, and you couldn’t help but gasp a little when Taehyung lifted your other leg in the air and carried your entire weight in his arms. Your arms were slumped around his neck as you dove in for yet another kiss. The tension grew between your bodies when you cupped his face in the palms of your hand and pulled his lip in between your teeth, feeling a little guilty when he hissed out in pain. ‘‘Sorry.’’ You smiled sheepishly at him, ‘‘Getting a little eager, I guess.’’

He grinned at you from beneath, still carrying you in arms without a single care in the world. It wasn’t until he carried you up the stairs when you realized he had bigger plans for his own as well. ‘‘That kinda stung baby,’’ he spoke with a dark gaze lingering in his eyes. ‘‘Gotta kiss it better for me now.’’

He didn’t need to tell you twice as you quickly slammed your lips onto his, noses bumping drastically, tongues colliding and heavy breaths filling each others throats. The entire experience could be described as a mix of rough, messy and needy feelings. You released a low grunt when Taehyung harshly pushed your petite frame against one of the doors in the hallway, making sure he was able to reach every part of your body in the process of it. Your legs firmly wrapped themselves around his torso, making your dress ride up your thighs in the midst of it. ‘‘I wish you could see how pretty you look right now, looking all expensive and ready to be fucked in my arms, hm?” You couldn’t help the moan escaping your lips when a large hand went through your hair and suddenly pulled at it, throwing your head back to have perfect access to your neck. His mouth quirked into a slick smile. He had always loved how responsive you were towards his sexual actions and couldn’t wait to get a bit harsher with you.

‘‘Let’s get this inside first, shall we?’’ You told him as your hand blindly reached behind your back and searched for the doorknob. The door opened to reveal a room what seemed like an average bedroom, the lights were dimmed and the air was somewhat cooler than the rest of the house. However, Taehyung didn’t let you adjust to the change of your surroundings before he dragged you inside and slammed the door shut to a harsh close.

Without wasting another second, Taehyung had moved to the bed placed in the middle of the room and threw you on it, watching you as you bounced back a little. You adjusted yourself on your elbows as he climbed on the bed as well, hovering his much larger frame above yours. He most definitely thought you were the most attractive woman alive. The man above you grabbed a hold of your ankles and decided to pull you closer to him, you couldn’t help but giggle at the action.

‘‘I think I should teach you a lesson for all the teasing you did earlier, though..’’ Taehyung said, eyes tracing over your body and fingers tugging your dress up until your full lower body was in sight. He tucked his thumb underneath the flimsy material of your underwear. ‘‘Poor guy thought he had a chance.’’ He pulled his jeans along with his underwear down in one shift as he groaned at the feeling of his member being freed from the insanely tight pants.

You felt your mouth water at the sight before you even realized it. He rubbed the head of his still hardening cock against your clothed core, noticing the way your panties stuck to your skin. He grinned silently at that, ‘‘Bet you can’t wait for me to be inside of you, can you?’’ You felt his eyes investigating every detail of your face, ‘‘Shit, why am I even asking? I can practically feel everything.’’ He tapped the tip of his member against you a few times before you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Your hands grabbed his shoulders harshly as you switched positions, leading to you sitting in between his legs. Taehyung was packing, there was no point in denying that, and you would’ve been scared if you didn’t know any better.

He opened his legs a little more for you, giving you a better glance of his clearly hard, growing dick standing tall against his lower abdomen and impatiently waiting for you to make your next move. He couldn’t take it any longer when one of his hands made its way to your hair, gripping a handful and carefully bringing your face closer to his painful erection. You instantly parted your lips to welcome his head inside, satisfied at the groan leaving his lips when your hot breath surrounded his hard member. You only noticed his hand in your hair when he pushed your head down and brought more of his length inside. Only a few seconds later, you found yourself struggling to breathe, jaw hurting as Taehyung tried to go as deep as possible. The slow pace he was going at didn’t make it any better when you felt your gag reflex coming up, you tried to bop your head against his hand but he wasn’t happy with it as he kept your head in place, pinching his eyes to a close at the feeling of his dick deep inside your throat.

‘‘Feels amazing.’’ With this thought, the grip on your hair grew stronger as his hips removed themselves from the mattress and slammed onto your mouth. You rested your hands against his thighs when he started to build speed, trying to warn him in the process. You gagged dramatically at the sudden change of pace as you tried to keep up with him. You felt your eyes filling with tears as they slowly made their way down your cheeks seconds later.

He pulled out right before he came, smiling widely at your wrecked state. ‘‘Get up.’’ You obeyed his command almost immediately, crawling on the bed and laying down with your head laying on a soft pillow. ‘‘Why are you still wearing this?’’ He states, eyes leading to the thin piece of material still covering your body, abruptly ripping it apart and being satisfied at the sight of a bare chest in front of him, no bra in sight. ‘‘You’re so fucking hot underneath me, Jung Hoseok could only dream of this sight.’’

‘‘You really hate him, huh?”

‘‘With a burning passion.’’ The male grinned at you, immediately attacking your chest with wet kisses and harsh sucks, ‘‘Because all of this,’’ he breathed heavily when his hand started massaging one of your breaths, ‘‘belongs to me.’’

He moved his eyes away from your chest now, keeping you on eye level and hovering over you once again. ‘‘I’m not going easy on you for the way you messed with me tonight, if that was what you were thinking baby,’’ he said, taking both of your wrists and pinning them above your head, making you feel incredibly exposed underneath him. ‘‘Some bad girls need to be teached a lesson.’’

Taehyung aligned his dick by your entrance and panted as if he just ran a marathon. He didn’t push inside, though. The way he stopped at your entrance and looked at you, raising an eyebrow in the air made you feel irritated by his slow pace, ‘‘Taehyung, please.’’ You panted, wanting to feel him inside as fast as possible. ‘‘Hurry up, I need to feel you.’’

‘‘Hm, we’re getting a little impatient here, are we not?’’ He said intimidatingly, rubbing his head against your slick lips. ‘‘I could tease you all night and you’d still be over here begging for my cock, wouldn’t you?’’ He cockily stated, he wasn’t wrong, but openly admitting that in his face was the last thing you had on your mind.

You hissed out loud when the tip of his cock slightly pushed into you, not enough to make you feel great just yet, but the perfect amount to make you go insane. ‘‘Hoseok’s downstairs and very much open to giving me everything you can’t offer me, love.’’ An insane smile grew on your face when you saw the look he was giving you, eyes widening slightly in an unbelievable manner. ‘‘Don’t get too ahead of yourself now. I could replace you with a snap of my-’’

It obviously hadn’t been the first time for him today to rudely interrupt you mid sentence, but he really found a way to make you shut up this time as he immediately shoved half of his intimidating length inside you. Your breath got stuck in the back of your throat when he didn’t take any interests in a slow pace. Taehyung didn’t miss the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head, trying to get accustomed to the intense feeling of his thick cock fighting its way through your tight walls. ‘‘You were saying?’’ Taehyung quirked his up eyebrow as if waiting for you to answer him.

His hand was still keeping your wrists in place above your head, and he thought you were the sexiest thing ever. Taehyung’s thrusts variated between quick, sharp movements to slow and deep grindings. Growling with every thrust he made and proud of the moans spilling out of your mouth.

‘‘O-oh my god, Taehyung!’’ You panted heavily, unable to keep your breaths on a steady volume. Especially not when his thumb reached your clit and started rubbing circles on it while pumping in and out of you. Your legs tightly wrapped themselves around his torso once again as his thrusts grew rougher than before.

‘‘What did you say again? I had not much to offer, hm?’’ A particular harsh thrust made your head spin as you couldn’t think straight anymore, you felt your muscles tighten around his member as you couldn’t do anything to stop it. He brought his hand up to wrap itself around your throat, ‘‘You could replace me with the snap of your fingers, wasn’t that what you just said?’’ you felt his fingers tighten around both your wrists and your throat, keeping you right where he wanted you. ‘‘Clearly doesn’t seem like it with the way you’re clenching around me baby. Fuck this.’’

The speed of his thrusts were too quick to keep up with, you rolled your eyes to the back of your head at the intense feeling of his cock reaching even deeper spots inside of you. ‘‘Fuck, Taehyung. Keep going.’’

The headboard of the bed repeatedly hit the wall behind you as he obeyed to your wish, not being able to find the patience he once had for you. Your hands immediately found their way to his lower belly the moment he had let go of your wrists. ‘‘You’re doing so well baby, keep it up.’’ he said in a lower tone when he released your throat from his tight grasp as well. He reached down to bury his face in the crook of your neck as your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him even more into your body. You gasped when you felt his teeth digging into the skin in your neck, only to glide his tongue over the surface afterwards to soothe the pain away.

Your breaths became a total mess when you felt your orgasm building up. You pushed Taehyung to reach even deeper into you, your loud moans motivating him to do so. ‘‘Fuck. You’re sucking me right in baby.’’ His voice was out of breath as he spoke against your skin, his words being muffled as you barely understood him. He threw his hips into yours, skin slapping against skin and cock reaching even deeper than you thought was possible. ‘‘I’m about to cum.’’

‘‘I-inside, Tae. Cum inside me.’’ He totally lost it when you rolled your hips against his, it felt like pleasure coming from heaven with the way he was fucking you. It was you who came first, hot waves of pleasure happening inside of you. Your nails harshly digged in his back as you heard him hiss in your ear.

‘‘F-fuck baby, you feel so amazing.’’ Taehyung only needed a couple more of deep thrusts until he completely lost himself in you. Your bodies were sticky and hot against each other, the cool air from before turned hot a long time ago without any of you noticing. Your already oversensitive walls desperately tightened around him. He couldn’t help but groan at the feeling of it, hot breath against your throat as he attempted to place soft kisses on your soft skin. The attempted kisses turned into low groans when he gave you a couple more deep pumps. He shut his eyes tightly when he felt himself reaching closer to his orgasm, teeth slightly grazing in your shoulder as if wanting to bite every little part of you. It was only a minute later when you felt his semen spill into you.

Taehyung let his body fall against yours, breathing heavily as his head was still buried in your neck. Both of you needed a moment to realize what was happening, an awful silence filling the space, and you couldn’t help but despise yourself for letting this happen once again. You felt his dick softening inside you until he pulled himself out, disregarding his body away from yours and pulling his pants up his legs again before walking around the room to search for anything that came close a towel.

You closed your eyes tiredly, feeling absolutely disgusted by yourself in this moment. You were so selfish for choosing your own sexual emotions and struggles over an entire relationship. Even though Taehyung said that Yeji meant nothing to him, her perspective of their relationship might as well be the complete opposite of his own.

It didn’t take Taehyung too long before he came back from the other side of the room with a small towel in his hand, so little, it almost seemed like a washing cloth. Without saying anything, he sat on the edge of the bed and spread your legs for the second time this night as he carefully started to clean you up. You wouldn’t dare to open your eyes and look at him, you felt like crying if you did so.

You heard Taehyung’s every movement when he threw the towel somewhere in the distance of the room and tilted your head slightly, only to place a soft pillow underneath it. When you opened your eyes, the image of the beautiful man pulling the covers over both of your bodies filled your sight. You felt a dip in the mattress as he brought himself closer to you.

You had turned around with your back facing him, not wanting to look at him and be reminded of the sinful things you did only a few minutes ago. You heard him sigh softly as he minimized the amount of space anyways and pushed his front against your back, an arm draped around your waist as his cheek softly leaned on your bare shoulder.

‘‘Can I ask you something, ___?’’ you heard him speak softly. His voice was unsteady and you could basically hear the lump in his throat growing by the second.

You lazily opened your eyes, realizing how much you missed the way his body felt against yours, the unrequited feelings he created when being in his embrace and the amount of happiness he brought you. ‘‘Sure.’’ You answered him.

‘‘I want you to look at me when I ask you this.’’ You felt his cheek being lifted from your shoulder, waiting for you to turn towards him. It happened, but slowly. You were unsure how you would look in front of him, would you look upset? Or perhaps sad? You didn’t want to give him this kind of energy when in reality, you loved the entire experience of being in his presence. You turned around, body facing the ceiling, not his own figure quite yet.

And you waited for him to say something, anything. You raised your eyebrows just slightly, taking his worried expression in and you couldn’t help but wonder what was happening inside that head of his. ‘‘What is it, Taehyung?”

The man didn’t answer your question. Instead, two of his fingers placed themselves under your chin, lifting your head just a little as he brought his face closer to your own. Pillow soft lips landed on your own with a gentle thud, almost as if your lips would break if he went too hard on you. This kiss was different from all the other ones you had shared tonight, it was as if he finally found his place to let go of all the heavy emotions he had to deal with the past few weeks. Your eyes closed in unison as you felt your heart growing wings at the feeling. His lips felt like heaven to you, and you wanted to enjoy the moment as long as possible.

That moment not being too far away from your previous position when Taehyung softly pulled away from you, staring at you with such an intense gaze, it made you wonder if this entire night was even real to begin with.

‘‘Do you believe me when I say that I love you?’’ he questioned, two of his fingers were still placed under your chin. He was able to feel his heart beat harshly against his rib cage when it took you some time to open your mouth. He prayed for you to see the emotions hanging in his eyes, desperately wanting you to believe his honest words. ‘‘Please believe me.’’ Taehyung whispered oh so softly, one of his hands cupped the side of your face as his forehead leaned against yours.

‘‘Of course I believe you.’’ You weren’t able to stop the words before they flew out of your mouth, your heart was speaking for you. ‘‘I believe you, Taehyung.’’ You tried to ensure him when you saw him releasing a shaky breath.

You noticed the worried gaze in his eyes, looking at you as if he didn’t want to lose you just yet, as if he had more weight hanging on his shoulders than this simple question he asked you a few second ago. ‘‘Hey,’’ you spoke softly, not wanting to see him in this upsetting state. Your finger traced against his cheekbone, adoring the way his skin felt under your fingertips. A finger found its place on his soft, pink lips as you kept it there for a little while. ‘‘There are things hidden in here. I want them out.’’

You looked him over again, desperately wanting to read on his forehead what was bothering him so much. ‘‘What’s on your mind? You can tell me.’’

He released a shaky breath. Closing his eyes for just a second, trying to find any thing in the back of his mind to calm himself down. You felt his hand gliding over the surface of your nude stomach as his thumbs blindly created small circles on the skin. He sighed softly, looking up to you again. Your eyes softened on automatic mode, telling him that it was alright to speak his mind. Even though you didn’t expect the next words to come spill out of his mouth.

‘‘I’ll be asking Yeji to marry me soon.’’

#bts fic #bts oneshot #bts au #bts angst #taehyung fic #taehyung au #taehyung x reader #bts imagines #taehyung smut #taehyung #angst #bts fanfiction

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smileyfics · 4 years

Text

It’s a human thing

Hi everyone! Back with another fic. Please let me know what you think :) I hope you enjoy and have a great day!

Fandom: Supernatual

Characters: Cas, Gabe, Crowley, Sam, Dean

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, please don’t read if that’s not your thing. Mild language. Long-ish.

Summary: Sam and Dean have been fighting constantly, and the three staying with them in the bunker come up with a solution.

Words: 2,988

Really, the bunker is only so big. Sure, it was larger than any of the motels they used to stay in, it had a whole library, a huge garage, they had their own rooms. But with two hunters, an angel, an archangel, and the king of hell all under one roof- any venue would seem too small. Especially after two full weeks. Gabriel had walked in with an injured Cas slung over his shoulder, proclaiming that if he hadn’t been there Cas would have died, and that he needed to stay there to make sure Cas got better fully. Cas had tried to claim he was fine, but Gabriel ignored his protests and made himself comfortable in the library. Sam and Dean had agreed to let Gabe stay, begrudgingly, as they didn’t want anything to happen to Cas. But at this point, Cas was pretty much better and Gabe was just staying, it seemed, to annoy them.

If that weren’t enough, the boys had Crowley locked in the dungeon. He had learned of the exact location of the bunker and they couldn’t risk letting him go. But after a week, Gabe decided that it was boring keeping Crowley locked in a room and released him while Sam and Dean were out on a hunt. The cuffs were still on, but Crowley now spent his time drinking champagne and lounging on the couch.

When the hunters returned, they began yelling at Gabe for being so immature and releasing Crowley just because of boredom. To which he responded, “I didn’t release him. See? He’s chained.” he pointed to the cuffs. The fighting escalated until Cas had gotten irritated enough and pushed a table between the two fighting sides.

“ENOUGH! It’s going to take me longer to get better if I have to keep listening to this nonsense.” Sam and Dean huffed away from the others, annoyed at being told what to do in their own bunker.

That was a week ago, and the tension had only escalated. The boys were trying really hard not to start anymore fights with their three “guests,” so resorted to taking out their frustrations on each other. This was the second one of the day and it was only noon.

The two stood on opposite sides of the library, facing each other.

“This is ridiculous, Dean! I’m so sick of you and your dumbass ideas.” Sam yelled crossing his arms.

“It is not a ridiculous idea! I’m just trying to shake things up a bit, Sam! I can’t help it, being stuck here with you has been incredibly boring.”

“We know how to kill vamps, Dean! You’re just like Gabe. We AREN’T testing a new way to kill vamps just because you’re BORED.”

“I’m right here, boys.” Gabe interjected.

“Shut up, Gabe!” The hunters said at the same time before turning back to each other. Dean continued and took a couple pointed steps toward his brother, “Oh like I’m the only one around here with stupid ideas? What about yours to let the actual king of hell roam free around the bunker.”

Crowley sipped his drink and glared at the two of them, “We can hear you.” Sam and Dean were too focused on each other to even respond.

“Come on, man! It’s not like I’m the one who let him out! Gabe would have just let him out again!” They had moved closer to each other now, both looked about ready to punch the other. Sam yelled again, “This is so typical of you, Dean! You don’t always know better than me! You didn’t even have another idea on what to do.”

“Oh, I have plenty of ideas-”

“STUPID ONES! That keep getting us into these situations in the first place. Why don’t you just take your stupid car and go hunt by yourself since you don’t want to listen to anyone else anyway.” Dean reached out and grabbed the front of his little brother’s shirt.

“The hell did you just say about baby?” Sam raised a fist toward Dean and tried to pry his hand off his collar.

“You know, I think I’ve had about enough of this.” Gabe joined the conversation, snapping his fingers. Suddenly, both Sam and Dean found they were frozen in their current positions. Gabe had to admit, it looked pretty funny to have them frozen in place mid fight.

“Let us go, Gabriel, or I swear to God I’ll-” Dean commanded from his frozen position.

“Oh. I’m shaking. You’ll do what exactly?” Gabe leaned in cupping his ear as if waiting for a response. “That’s what I thought. Now, I am sick and tired of the two of you fighting all the time. It’s making for a very unpleasant stay here.”

“Then why don’t you get out.” Sam grumbled.

Gabe chuckled in response, “I have a better idea. I think a little punishment is in order.” Crowley, who had been watching this all take place from his position on the couch, decided it was time to join in on the conversation.

“I couldn’t agree more.” He interjected, “If you’d be so kind as to remove these cuffs, I am an expert at torture.”

“Not a chance, bucko. You think I’m that stupid?” was Gabe’s response. Crowley shrugged. “No, I have my own type of torture that would work great on these two.” Crowley looked confused but intrigued. Gabe snapped again, and the hunters found themselves lying flat on the floor, arms above their heads, and unable to move.

“Let us up, NOW!” Dean demanded as they both tried to get up, to no avail. Despite hearing the archangel deny Crowley’s request to remove the cuffs, neither Sam or Dean was thrilled to be unable to defend themselves while in his presence, or in Gabe’s for that matter.

“I don’t think I will. Are you two, by any chance, ticklish?” Gabe wiggled his fingers at them for emphasis. Sam’s eyes widened at that and he struggled even more to break free from the invisible force. Dean got scared, but he tried to hide it as he continued to try and get away.

“Well, I’m not. But Sammy here- man you wouldn’t believe-”

“Dean! Shut up!” Sam glared at him as best he could from his position, Dean chuckled. “You’re such a liar, Dean, you are SO ticklish.”

“I am not!” They both continued fuming at each other as they tried to escape. Crowley stood and walked over to where Gabe was standing, smirking at the boys who were stuck to the ground. “Even in this position, they’re fighting.” Crowley started with a laugh, “You better hurry up with that punishment.” A huge grin spread across the archangel’s face as he snapped his fingers again. The effect was immediate. It started lightly, floating between ribs, sides, feet, knees trying to find their worst places. Dean had clamped his jaw shut, trying desperately not to give in and laugh. He was succeeding, so far. Sam was trying this strategy as well, but evidently was more ticklish than Dean. He hadn’t laughed yet, but his eyes were watering from the effort.

Eventually, it seemed the grace gave up on floating around and decided to just spread to every ticklish place at once, with doubled effort. It wasn’t quite as bad as someone actually tickling you, but still pretty damn bad. Neither of the boys could hold it at this point and began laughing. Dean tried to hide his arm in his sleeve to avoid the embarrassment, while Sam was laughing too much to think about anything else. He shook his head from side to side and continued to try desperately to get away.

“STAHAHHAHAHAP PLEHEHEHAHAHAHAHSE” Sam shouted at Gabriel, who just shook his head in response. Dean stayed quiet, he really didn’t want to give the dick angel the satisfaction of him begging. But as the pressure increased on his hips, it became harder. “Ga-habe!”

“What is it Dean? Is it too much for you? Need me to stop?” The archangel teased. Dean didn’t respond but rolled his eyes as he continued laughing into his shoulder. “HAHAHHAHAHA STAHAHAHA-” Sam continued to laugh.

“I don’t think so, Samsquatch.”

“BUHUHUT IHIHI CAAHAN.” He couldn’t get the words out through his laughter, “IHIHI CAHAHAN HEHELP WITH DEHEHEAHAHAN!” This intrigued the archangel, and he snapped his fingers again making the tickling stop on Sam, leaving Dean in agony. Sam was still giggling as he tried to catch his breath.

“What do you mean you can help with Dean?” Gabriel questioned.

“SAHAHAMMY! DOHON’T YOU DAHAHAHARE!” Sam ignored this request.

“His hips are the worst, and his ribs are pretty bad too. I bet if you tickle those spots and also keep the grace going, he’ll beg.” Sam smirked at his brother, “Maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned how ticklish I was.”

“IHIHIHI’M GOHOHONNA KIHIILL YOHUHUHUHU!” Dean yelled as Crowley and Gabe both walked up to him. It was that moment that Cas arrived back at the bunker and rushed to see what was happening at the noise.

“What’s going on? Who are you killing?” Cas questioned, confused by the scene before him.

Sam snorted, “He’s killing me. Although I’m not sure how he’s is going to manage it if he can’t stop laughing.” Sam was really proud of himself, although he noted that though the archangel had stopped the tickling he hadn’t released him from his hold so he still couldn’t move. Cas turned a puzzling look at Dean and the two who were poised over him with wiggling fingers. “Why are you killing your brother, Dean?”

“BECAHAUSE HEHEHEHE’S A TRAHAIATOR!” As he finished his sentence Crowley and Gabe began tickling his worst spots at simultaneously. Coupled with the grace, Dean lost it.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOOHOHOHOH PLEHEHEAHASE.” Cas looked concerned.

“It’s just a bit of tickling, Cas.” Crowley answered the confused look, “If I had it my way there’d be some actual torture.”

“THIHIHIHIS IHIHIS TORTUHUHUHU!”

Sam laughed at his brother’s predicament, then turned to Cas, “You’ve never heard of tickling, Cas? How is that even possible with a brother like Gabe?”

“Guilty as charged.” The archangel laughed, “It’s a human thing, bro. When you touch them in a certain way it causes a weird feeling and makes them laugh.”

“Does it hurt?” Cas still seemed worried.

“Nope. They love it.” Cas seemed relieved, but Dean shook his head more,

“NOHOHO WEHEHE DOHOHOHON’T! STOHOHOHOP!!” Sam was too busy laughing at Dean to speak.

Crowley suddenly looked over at the younger hunter and stopped his attack on Dean, while Gabe continued. “You think this is funny, huh Moose? Considering this was your idea, I wouldn’t be so smug.” Crowley had a smirk growing on his face as he stood up and took a small step toward Sam. Gabe caught on to what Crowley was thinking, and stopped his attack on Dean as well, also releasing his grace to let the hunter breathe. Cas sat on a nearby chair and watched in amusement. He’d never seen anything like this before, but he liked that the Winchester’s weren’t arguing for the first time in weeks. Dean put an arm across his forehead and another across his stomach, laughing and trying to breathe. Crowley and Gabe backed away and gave him space. After he had calmed down Gabe released him from his hold on the ground and asked, “So, Deanarino, it seems we have a predicament here.” Both Gabe and Crowley were smiling mischievously at him, which was a really bad combination. He was briefly worried that Gabe had changed his mind about the whole letting Crowley torture them thing.

“What would that be?” Dean replied hesitantly, still trying to get ahold of his breathing as he sat up.

Gabriel’s grin deepened, if that was possible, “Well you see, my little brother needs another demonstration on what tickling is, and your little brother just told an archangel and the king of hell how to torture you more effectively.”

Dean glanced at his brother, the same mischievous grin appearing on his face. Sam was suddenly very aware that he was the only one still pinned by the grace.

Dean made his way over to Sam whose eyes were wide as he tried to squirm, no longer finding his brother’s situation so funny.

“Well, that doesn’t sound like a predicament to me at all.” Dean sat above his little brother’s head, fortunate that he didn’t have to worry about pinning him. “I think I know just the way to solve that.” Dean motioned for Cas to come sit by him for closer observation, and he obliged.

“Dean, Dean look I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! Please don’t.” He begged, knowing it was pretty much pointless after giving Dean up like that. Gabe and Crowley sat on either side of Sam, and Dean rolled up his sleeves for effect.

“Please don’t what?” the older hunter inquired with a grin.

“Dean I’m not falling for tha-ha!” Sam couldn’t even get the words out before his brother began scratching at his sides. Dean ignored his brother and began explaining what he was doing to Cas, “So right now I’m just lightly going over his sides, which isn’t his worst spot but still tickles. If I pressed a little harder,” he did this for emphasis making Sam’s laughter hike, “it would tickle more.” It was even worse than he imagined having Dean actually use him as a demonstration for the angel. Cas was watching with genuine interest, while Crowley and Gabe chuckled from the side.

“Hey Gabe can you turn that angel mojo back on?” Gabe was about to snap his fingers when Cas held up a hand, “Wait, can I try?”

Gabe chuckled, “Wooh! Taking after me little bro. Couldn’t be prouder.” Crowley rolled his eyes and Dean smirked at Cas.

“Be my guest.” Dean continued to tickle Sam’s sides as Cas snapped his fingers and the ticklish grace began to spread again.

“Noho, pl-plehease!” Sam tried to hold back his laughter but couldn’t help a couple of small giggles that escaped.

“You’re pretty good at this for it being your first time.” Gabe noted to Cas, who seemed to be proud of himself.

“Alright, Moose, time’s up.” Crowley said, losing patience about the hunter trying to be stoic. He began to dig into his hips. Dean took this opportunity to move up to his brother’s ribs and underarms, and Gabe filled in the space in between by swirling his fingers around Sam’s tummy.

“GUHUHUYS! IHIHIHI GEHEHEHET IHIT! PLEHEHEHEAHAHSE!”

“Finally.” Crowley said putting on an irritated tone, but he was clearly trying to hide a smile.

The hunter’s laughter seemed to motivate them even more. Dean advised Crowley to go for Sam’s knees, and when he did all of his worst spots were being tickled at once. That, plus the angel mojo, was absolutely terrible.

“HAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAH! STOHOHOHHOP! LEHEHET MEHEHEH GOHOHOHO PLEHEHEHEAHAHASE!” After a while Sam seemed to be worn out. He was breathing hard and his face was a deep shade of red. Dean gestured for them to slow it down to give Sammy a chance to breathe.

“This isn’t even real torture. Humans are so weak.” Crowley muttered to himself. Cas stopped his grace, his concern evident.

“Are you alright, Sam?” Cas inquired. Sam slowly nodded his head in response.

“Good! Then you won’t mind if we continue-” Dean quickly responded.

“NO! PLEHEASE NOHO!” Dean, Crowley and Gabe had never stopped the light tickles so Sam was still a giggling mess.

“Apologize for telling them my worst spots and we’ll let you go.” As Dean said this, he intensified the tickle attack and the others followed suit, making it harder for Sam to speak.

“NOHOHOHO FAHAHAHIHIHIR! HAHAHAHHAHAAHA! OHOHOOKAHAHAY! IHIHIHI’M SOHOHORRY!”

“Foooor?” Gabe prodded.

“FOHOHOR TEHEHEHELLING THEHEHEM YOHOHOUR WOHOHORST SPOHOHOTS!” Sam barely got the words out, and Gabe and Crowley stopped their attack, laughing as they sat back. But Dean continued, “AND admit that my ideas are NOT stupid.”

“NOHOHOHO WAHAHAHAY!”

“Okay then I’ll just keep doing this.”

Cas laughed, but said, “He did what you asked, I think it’s only fair to stop.” Dean gave Cas an annoyed look but stopped, backing away from Sam to let him breathe.

“Cas saved you, man. But as soon as he’s gone, I’m gonna get the rest of my revenge. I promise.” He said with a chuckle and then got up to grab a beer. Gabe released his grace that had been holding the hunter down and he immediately curled into a ball, rolling onto his side.

Both hunters were feeling better about themselves. It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted and the petty fights they had been having seemed pointless now. Dean brought back beers for all of them-except Crowley- and went to Sam to make sure he was okay.

“You good, Sammy?”

“Yeah.” He grabbed his forearm and helped him up, tossing him a beer.

“You know,” Dean glanced at Sam and then back at their guests, “I don’t appreciate being tickled by unwelcome guests in our own home.” He teased. “Yeah, what’s that all about?” Sam played along, and they each took a menacing step toward the other three.

“I know what you’re thinking boys,” Gabe chimed in, “and it’s not gonna work. Tickling is a human thing.” Both hunters squinted at him in disbelief as Sam continued,

“Wanna test that theory?” Gabe’s eyes widened and he grabbed Cas and left. Crowley was still cuffed, but was backing away from the brothers with his champagne in hand. Dean chased after him to put him back in the dungeon now that Gabe was gone. He grabbed ahold of the chains and quickly turned to Sam,

“Hey, at least we know how to get rid of the trickster now.” He smiled, “Oh and by the way, Cas is gone.”

Sam’s eyes widened remembering his brother’s threat. This was going to be a long night.

#ticklish!dean #ticklish!sam #supernatural tickle fic #supernatural #ler!gabriel #ler!cas #ler!crowley #brothers #fluff #angst #sam winchester #dean winchester #fanfic

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years

Text

Dawn (6)

Loki x fem!Reader

ONE/TWO/THREE SHOT

Warnings:shhh!

Summary: A truce to end all wars leads to an alliance between Earth and Asgard in the form of Loki marrying a mortal. None of them what this. None except fate.

Word Count: I don’t know how many of you read this but oh Lords of whatever forces there are in this world, the things I hear. The girl my brother broke up with is have a lot of trouble letting go of him. To the point that she is dragging him through the mud in front of his friends one second and then begging his friends to make him talk to her another. it’s a roller coaster he wants to get off and is more than happy to admit all his faults and apologise for them as long as he gets some space to heal in his own. But nooooo. *sigh* Times like these when I think I was lucky to not be in a relationship in school and college.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

Eyes closed. Candles lit. Incense burning. Body soaked.

Everything inside you wants to drown in this bliss after the nightmare. Everything does. The incense from the garden of healers is working its way through your lungs and into your bloodstream, latching onto that which does not belong there; forcing it to give up and be out of your system after eighteen hours. The cold water filled with the flowers from Yggdrasil to the brim is tingling every wound and bruise. Well, except the ones on your neck and around your shoulders.

It is relaxing. It should be relaxing. That is what your mind keeps running in a loop instead of enjoying the way Asgard is taking care of you right now. But the continuous throbbing of your brain for apparently no reason is not making anything work.

Why are you so on edge right now? Your inner voice would shake you till your brains feel off if it could.

I don’t know. Your heart keeps jumping now and then; that poor thing is not sure what it is running to or away from. I don’t know.

It is frustrating to keep looking at the night sky outside while unconsciously scratching your head for answers that it cannot give you. I don’t know.

“May I be of some help?”

The siren voice soaked completely in the purest honey in the world comes from the archway leading to your bedroom. Your body turns in the tub to watch the source, creating ripples where you sit. It is him, your heart says as Loki stands there, leaning on the wall in that black shirt and black pajamas.

Of course, it’s him, your inner voice lets out a tired sigh before going quiet for a minute only to come back with a whisper resonating inside your head, your husband.

“Hmm?” is all you can muster while trying to force this unforeseeable lump inside your throat down. Loki parts his lips and looks down at something on the floor. His feet are naked, that lump in your throat grows a little. Great observation, your inner voice replies with a hint of sarcasm. “You have been struggling with that itch for quite a while. How about I help you with that,” he breathes with a tilt of his head, and the candlelight hits the pupils just perfectly for you to see the glow in those gentle eyes.

It does take some time for your brain to process that you are not breathing. It takes a little longer to realise that he has been standing there watching you scratch your head like some wild animal for quite some time. Very smooth, Y/N.

“Uh, it’s fine. I’ll shampoo it and it’ll be aww-aahh-”

Your right arm disagrees the moment you try to lift it up. You weren’t even hit, you stupid limb!

Loki is already taking patient steps towards the tub while the embarrassment is heating up your body, and this wonderful cold water. “It never hurts to have a working hand,” he states and your brain instantly deep dives into the endless oceans for the lit-up notorious corners imagining what all those hands can do.

You scooch a little inside the tub. Can he read my thoughts? Oh, Gods, I hope not. While you are trying to hide the hot thoughts of your vibrating brain, your left hand is undoing the knot of your hair; a gesture that welcomes Loki to draw a stool behind you, grounding his feet on either side of the subsection of the tub storing water just for the purpose of washing those beaten up locks.

Cold hands gather those Y/H/C tresses and push them away from you and into the sink section of the tub. Those frosty fingers come back to gather whatever is left; brisking by your neck, teasing your shoulders, marking your forehead, tantalising your temples, taunting your ears. And you can do nothing but let the tiniest touch of his fingers fire up your nerve endings.

“Rest your head here,” his voice whispers. With that low pitch, your body is ready to do anything it asks of you. Anything.

You feel his hands steadily undoing the knots in your hair. Slow and patient with his movements, he has made sure he has got all of them before your ears hear him dunking something into the water and pouring the cold elixir on your head. His hand is steady; so is the trail of water that trickles down from your temples into your head, making its way through the marred strands, doing its best to take the muck down with it before another wave comes. And with every wave, Loki’s palm rests on your forehead to stop that water from going anywhere it is not supposed to; gently pressing back into your head, feeling like his palm is taking with it all the burdens and horrors of the night that are weighing upon your soul.

Once the weight is all in the wet tresses, Loki turns to grab the shampoo- that Sybll was kind enough to leave for you- but stops to reach for the concoction he uses. Taking a generous amount in his palms, he mixes enough drops of water for it to start forming a lather. Once he is satisfied, he comes for your hair, starting with your head, smearing the product in every nook and corner, around the ears and on the back of your neck. Once he feels he has covered everything, he gets ready to get to work, never even letting you sense the high you are about to ride.

The fingers dig past the hair to make contact with the scalp and start a symphony with the skin as they massage every micron of skin they touch. You can feel your eyes turn back into your head at the perfect pressure they are putting onto your mess of a head; pressing into the pain, hurt, anxiety, mixed feelings, and releasing them all with the release of these cold little magic wands. Every press and release is a gush of serotonin just washing all over your existence; every wiggle of those fingers is a newfound lightness you never thought you could feel. In the midst of floating in a clear blue ocean of release, you do not expect a moan to escape your parted lips. And just as it does, you feel your body falling headfirst, realising the cruelty of gravity and jerking awake just as your moan registers in your hypnotised brain cells. Your hands catch hold of the edge of the tub and the water ripples at the sudden jolt.

“Everything okay?” Loki’s voice comes from behind you just as his hands stop moving in your hair.

“Yeah-” you clear your throat and shush your heartbeat to slow down- “yes.”

Don’t stop, please.

Every single strand receives the love and care it deserves; to the point that they are sure to question if you actually ever cared for them. So tender are his movements that three questions run inside your mind.

The first question- how can someone so soft ever have the heart to hurt anyone? The past of your world speaks of evils this God had brought to earth. In fact, it speaks it louder than the time when the same God was the one to bring down the threats that would have ended your planet once and for all. We all have our reasons to be manipulated by the darkness at some point in our life. I am a living breathing example of one.

The second question- how utterly vivid your imagination had to be to imagine what those very tender movements of his hands feel like on your naked skin? The mystery that was his supple touch, chasing the goosebumps on your body. How enticing was the mere thought?

The third question…………what was the third question?

Washed with the same scrutiny as they were lathered, Loki pats the water off before leaving the room to give you privacy.

Clean and dried, you take one of the green bathrobes to wrap around yourself and walk out into the bedroom where Loki stands stirring something in a small bowl. “Oh,” you cannot keep the mild surprise in, mostly because every ounce of the insignificant has escaped your body now, “I thought you would be asleep by now.”

“Not yet,” he answers quite seriously, his eyes on the bowl for a few more moments till they rise to look at you; and get stuck on you. You do not know what those eyes are seeing. Of course, you cannot comprehend the image- of something beautiful right out of a textbook- that you are for Loki in this slowed-down moment. The glowing delicacy shining still from the pollen of the flowers working on your skin, the wet hair strands teasing him of the closeness he has yet to feel; all of it wrapped up in green with one single knot. Oh, the prayers he feels coming out of him to be permitted to unravel that knot and bow down to worship you.

“What is that?”

Your voice brings him back to the bowl in his hand. He has to let his eyes adjust to the reality he stands in so as to come up with a reply in time. “It’s for your wounds. Here, sit down.”

You do. The copper bowl contains a muddy mixture with a pasty consistency. The handy mixer that seems smaller than it is in Loki’s long pale fingers is kept aside on the side table and his fingers dig themselves into the concoction. His eyes turn to you. “Your shoulders,” he requests. With the brilliance his pupils reflect, you can swear you would have given him your heart if he asked just as sweetly. And so you turn to the other side to sit with your robe slipped just above your chest, giving him all the exposed wounds the water could not get to as much.

The fresh red bruises along with the open scars marred from Torbarik’s bad etiquettes sink Loki’s heart a little. Now, he wishes he had ended his life with his own hands. It itches his chest deep inside to know how much it must be hurting you right now; given your inability to heal as fast as the Asgardians or frost giants.

“Thank you, Loki-” you bring him out of the slow train of overthinking misery is about to step on inside his head- “for coming for me.”

Loki’s fingers tenderly dab the paste over the wounds, instantly bringing a soothing cold fire over the cuts. “You are my wife, love. You should expect anything less than coming to your aid from me.”

You are my wife, love.

Your throat can visibly be seen sucking in as much air as it can to make sure you heard him right. Once your mind settles that this is in fact what Loki just declared, your brain cannot help but run those soothing words in a loop inside your head till they seep into every cell in your body, making that truth a part of your existence. And soon enough, parts of you are getting heated from the sudden confession. Your cheeks and the back of your neck are doing a really bad job of hiding the flush from his words. And on top of that, those fingers are doing one hell of a job, soothingly rubbing themselves on your shoulders and neck.

“Just two minutes and then it will dry and fall off. The wounds will close but the bruises will take some time to go away as per my observation.”

He has barely finished the sentence and you are already shifting in your place to turn and face him. He can see you have something on your mind that you want to speak and so, he puts away everything and sits there patiently for you to take your time to gather your words.

“Loki-” he darts a quick look to your nails digging into your knees- “you don’t...you don’t have to do...umm…-” your voice lowers to a whisper- “how do I put this-” you straighten your back and close your hands into a fist before looking him into those beautiful hypnotising eyes- “you don’t have to do anything you don’t really...feel. What you do not want to...do? Uhh...it’s just that...okay. Ahem. Because I am...I...oh my God-”

“I like you too.”

The white noise humming through your eyes feels like you have lost your ability to hear. The sudden roller coaster rush that your heart feels makes it want to save you from whatever height you are falling right now. You do not see it but the mere dilation of those starry y/e/c eyes at those words washes away any doubts Loki has of you not reciprocating his feelings. The fresh flush of heat emanating from your cheeks and the surprise-filled blink adds to the euphoria. “...you do?” you hushed voice cannot rise beyond this or you might start crying.

His smile is the response. The love in filling his eyes to the brim; something you have never seen before, not even for Thor. His hand moves to let his fingers caress your cheek. And oh! The cold touch of the back of his fingers with your hot cheeks is nothing short of the blessed fountain satiating the thirst of a traveller looking for eternal youth. Your eyes close on his touch, your head tilting, giving into his brush. “I have always liked you, Y/N,” Loki asserts softly, his hand embracing you while his thumb grazed your cheek, “today you just resonated my feelings and made me fall in love with you.”

Your hand rises to engulf his into yours. Like a heavyweight lifted from your chest, you feel your body breathe again. Your foreheads meet, exchanging what feels like a lifetime of unspoken feelings. They were there for quite a while; it just took them a brush with danger to surface and show their colours- their strength and their weakness- all in one night.

This is the first time you are so close to him, being able to witness all the perfection that is Loki, the God, the strategist, the Silvertongue. Yours. All yours. His lips parted, his cold breath a verse teasing your lips. His dark lush eyelashes heavy with a newfound need, hiding it in those eyes gone dark. His tongue licking his lips, waiting for your approval even though you are right in his reach. Your fingers, with a mind of their own, touch his chin, wanting to travel to his lips, feel them, want them. The craving is making your stomach turn, your breaths shallow and length apart till it is unbearable. You close that inch of space to let your love-deprived lips land on his, hesitant at the gesture. But Loki welcomes it. The first sweet kiss bursting lights inside the both of you. And with the first, the urge for the second grows. His tongue tastes your lips, and you let it enter; you let it discover every edge needy for his touch. Your tongue plays with his, lets him know how much you want it; how much you want him. So do your hands. Running over his chest, they find their way to his neck and hair. His, on the other hand, draw you closer to him- one by the waist, the other supporting your neck- carefully so as not to hurt your still-healing wounds- while pulling you further into him.

There is a mellifluous clash of your bodies that night, hands discovering each other, heat siphoned by the cold, love pouring in tender kisses over the bare skin, fingers entangled in hairs, pleading for more. Hips crashing into each other like lazy tides under the pleasant moonlight on a deserted shore, moans filling the ears, satiating the hunger of giving the satisfaction to their lover, breaths both hot and cold creating such wondrous mist in the midst of that steaming love-making. The fulfilling rise to the high, the tides reaching the rocky shores, wanting more to come crashing with thunderous vibrations. And thunderous they are, making you see rainbows in the back of your head. The best part is that love does not stop at discovering the bodies. It continues, with the willingness to take care of you, with pulling the duvet over your body and gathering you in his surprisingly strong arms, with that sweet longing and deep kiss on your forehead, and then your nose and then your lips, telling you that he is yours. All yours. For eternity.

“What’s happening? Sybll handed me the sparkliest dress in whatever wardrobe this appeared from and said it was urgent. Is this another one of Odin’s tradition things?”

Loki is already walking towards you as fast as he can. And while he does, you notice a blue bruise on his neck which you are pretty you did not mark him with. We were so gentle! I couldn’t have. Could I?

“What’s that on your neck?” you cannot help yourself.

“Yes,” Loki nods, “this is-”

“Y/N,” Thor calls for you from the halls, “you are here. Look who is here to meet you!”

Your eyes are wide and already turning to Loki for answers, who is drawing in a loooong breath. “Yes, this is what I was talking about. The bruise is also for...this. Come on, let’s go meet your self-declared father.”

You don’t even have to guess who Loki is talking about, for that very moment you enter the great hall, Tony walking with his arms open to embrace you.

“How are you doing, kid? These Asgardians treating you well?”

His hug is more than welcome and you throw yourself into it. Oh, and he smells like home. Tom Ford cologne and Quinnjet- just like you remember. “Tony, it is so good to see you.” Your lips cannot stop smiling and the smile turns even wider on seeing Rhodey and Carol standing behind him.

Rhodey’s bear hug still has the same power to cure your homesickness while Carol’s embrace just tells you she is here for you now and whenever.

“Loki.”

“Stark.”

They still greet each other the same way- a simple nod and...that’s it. Same goes for Rhodey. Carol, on the other hand, has a special fistbump for her partner in galactic crimes of justice. “You still owe me one artefact from your vault, Loco,” Carol mentions, making Loki chortle.

“You still owe me a decent fight.”

“Bullshit. I cleaned the floor with your face last time, you trickster.”

“I’m sorry, I cannot hear you over the sound of my undefeated title.”

“Oh, okay okay okay. It’s on, Loki boy. It is on!”

“Before anything is on,” you interrupt, “how about we go have a drink. Or two.”

“Yes, I love that,” Thor smacks you in the back, forcing you to swallow the grunt politely as you lead the way.

Asgards finest wine and beer are being served and you cannot help but notice Thor eyeing you and Loki with certain veiled judgement while conversations are made around the table. You let it slide, hoping it’s Tony being Tony.

“Isn’t that right, Stark,” Thor laughs and looks at him.

“Yeah, yeah, all good,” Tony replies with disinterest, his eyes stuck on you, “I’m sorry, Y/N, I have to ask. What is that bruise on your neck?”

The whole table goes silent. Loki’s drink is paused right by his lips while Carol sips hers with peak interest while shifting her curious gaze between Loki and you.

“It’s nothing,” you respond lightly with a shake of your head, wanting the conversation to go back to whatever it was.

“We tried to get the same tattoos,” Loki adds, “it did not work so I removed it in my Asgardian ways. The bruises are nothing. They’ll vanish within two more days.”

You nod a liiiittle vigorously in agreement, making Tony narrow his eyes in suspicion. “I don’t buy it. Y/N, look at me. Tell me what happened. I need to know that you are safe.”

Thor looks at the two of you. You know it will be difficult to make Tony understand your safety concerns. Even if you are safe here now, he will see it as nothing else but an excuse to take you away from here. And even take Loki with you if that’s what it takes. Or worse, he might actually start a war with the enemies here. You know of at least five people who would agree to this and stand on the front lines of that very fight.

“Tony it’s nothing,” you try to convince him.

“Y/N. What. Happened.”

Thor is about to open his mouth when you do the most outrageous thing you could think of.

“Loki and I tried some stuff, okay!” you nearly yell.

At this point, everyone is looking at you with more questions in their eyes. Even Loki.

“We experimented with BDSM,” you finally blurt out, keeping your head high, “and I liked it.”

Silence.

Carol’s silence is a victorious one; like she was waiting to hear this. Rhodey’s is more uncomfortable and you know he just wants to get up and go from there before hearing any more details about this. Loki’s silence is on the lines of appreciative surprise towards you. He is impressed. And at the same time getting some ideas.

And Tony?

His beer glass shatters in his hand. That pretty much answers it.

“W-what is beady-essum?” Thor is the only one sitting there in confusion while Carol is the only soul who guffaws through the thrilling silence.

“YESSS! I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU TWO WERE SMUSHING BOOTIES!!”

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unholyhelbig · 4 years

Text

The Vampires Familiar

Read Both Posted Chapters on AO3

Title: The Vampires Familiar

Ship: Lizzie Saltzman/Hope Mikaelson

Hope Mikaelson took three even gulps of the shop's air and tasted magic. Old magic that burned the back of her throat and nipped at her lungs until she felt like they were on fire. The odd odor of rosemary and chamomile clung to her clothes. The herbs were stacked in even and dusty jars against the far-right shelves like candles in a store. They had no lids, and separately everything was harmless. But she feared what could be created when combined.

She listened as the bell chimed with her entrance to the small business at the edge of the French Quarter. It was narrow and long instead of large and wide, posters for an upcoming circus littered the walls and a few sheets of paper advertising summer babysitting had the bottoms crudely ripped off, number smeared in black ink.

When she was younger, Hope used to enjoy taking trips to magic shops with her Aunt Freya, the jazz scene in New Orleans had just sparked a flame and different melodies, melancholy and otherwise, flowed through the city like air. They would find herbs and boil them up and fix things that had been broken for a long time.

That strength was felt the moment she walked through the door of Conrad Drew’s, Jade at her heels dutifully. There was soft gold light and the building shielded them from the sounds of the city, the bustle of parties, and iron wheels of cars.

Drew was an old man now, still holding himself correct behind the glass-paned counter with his fingers leaving little smudges. His hair was graying and his body fell rigid with fear when he glanced up, smile fading. “Your kind isn’t welcome here.” Was all he said.

“Don’t worry, we won’t stay long,” Hope responded, walking across the wood floor until she reached the desk. “I just have a few questions.”

“Take them somewhere else, plenty of magic shops in town.”

Conrad Drew was a resolute man, once young and vibrant and strong in his words. He had held the shop under his thumb for the better part of a decade, before that, it was his fathers, and his before that. Hope met him when he was twenty, simple, and able to down liquor as if it were pure water. He had aged, and so had she.

“Oh come on, I thought we were friends.” Hope cooed, letting the glass cool her fingertips. The heat left small crescents close to the service. They dissolved as quickly as they appeared. “Besides, it isn’t up for much discussion.”

He clenched his teeth and thinned his expression into a tight one. His leathery skin was glossy under the low light of the magic shop and his lungs growled like a lion pacing it’s iron cage, shoes kicking around sour hay.

Jade picked up the nearest book, dust pulling from the pages. “Don’t touch that. What do you want?”

Though the words were directed towards the curious vampire, he never moved his ghostly stare from Hope. Her fingers twitched and he noticed entirely all too quickly. Hope Mikaelson had a temper like stained glass, just like her father. Intricate and beautiful but shatter prone.

“There’s been an unusual spike in magic lately. It’s buzzing around us even as we speak, Mr. Drew, I can feel it.” She was soft with her words but still moved her fingertips against her bare arms until they left little white lines from the pressure. “You can too.”

“It’s a magical city, girl. Of course, you can feel it.”

“This is different. This is darker- an uprising of sorts. And I want to trust that I’m not foolish enough for believing in the loyalty of your witches.” Hope leaned forward and the scent of old magic was replaced with cheap cologne and sweat, primal fear that Conrad Drew didn’t show well. “Am I foolish?”

The French Quarter witches had been rooted in New Orleans for centuries before they branched out into different covens. Hope had an unmovable fist around the throat of each of them- and that stemmed from the control of the company Conrad liked to keep. The ninth ward kept to themselves, kept their magic in check.

“If there’s strange magic it’s not from us. We’re not naive enough to practice right where your castle stands.”

Hope couldn’t’ tell if that eased her worry at all, or the strange electric feeling that danced across her skin in a dangerous tango. But she believed him, even in his annoyance and bubbling anger at her for crossing the boundaries they had drawn a long time ago.

He let out a sigh and pulled a yellowed jar from the shelf behind him, Hope couldn’t read the label, mottled with age. “You should try the Garden District.”

“The Garden District?” Jade had long ago abandoned her book, “Those hippie freaks don’t have it in them. Don’t they worship their regent like a God?”

“They’re unconventional, yes, but that doesn’t mean you can discount them.” He said.

Jade shrugged her shoulders dejectedly and wandered over to the far wall. She squinted at the contents in the mason jars, careful to shove her fingers in her pockets like she was in an art museum, gazing at pictures expertly painted, gold plaques carved with the words DON’T TOUCH.

Hope had no such worry about the witches that dressed in white to get closer to the pure source of magic. They had been holed up in a large house on the west side of town since she herself was a child; her father let them be, let them simmer, and practice what they wanted with the respect and patience of a noble man. So she had done the same.

“Was that all, Miss Mikaelson?”

It had been. The early evening was bleeding into a desolate night filled with the sound of crickets and the wet summer air that made her want to peel her own skin off. An expertly crafted wooden sign indicated that the magic shop was closing its own doors and Hope was never one to linger after hours when a place lacked good liquor.

The door with the little bell and the burgundy paint flung open with enough force to crack the double-plated glass that protected it. Jade drew in a sharp breath and Hope felt the defensive bit of energy strike against her fingertips akin to a match.

A girl crashed to her knees and winced as they stung tearing against the aged wood. She was drenched in the pungent smell of sweat mixed with swamp water and mud, it left an even ring against the midsection of a pure white dress, something that had once been spotless but was now torn with the scent of blood and moss.

Hope exhaled because she decided that it was better than the opposite, perfectly content with the heir of magic instead of muck. This girl was captivating and a near stranger. Her blonde hair was stained similarly with mud and tears streaked down her cheeks. Eyes so pale they were almost gray. Mud darkened behind her nails and blood soaked close to her collar, not from a bite, but a tear, a simple slice in her skin that looked all too intentional.

Conrad moved across the shop wordlessly and flipped the large iron lock against the door “What in God’s name-“

“I need help,” She girl gulped out, her voice was broken, pained from screaming. “There are people after me and I didn’t know where else to go.”

“A hospital?” Jade suggested, blinking at the scene.

“No, no I couldn’t. That can’t help me not against them.”

Hope hesitated “Who did this to you?”

The girl’s breath slowed, no longer a jagged pant but something loose and unstable. She hugged herself close, still sitting against the floor and dripping mud that would be nearly impossible to scrub away. “I took something important from a group of witches. It was for the greater good, I swear it, but they don’t’ see it like that. They have a tracking spell on me and I figured— fuck if anyone was strong enough to counter it with a cloaking spell it would be”

“Me,” Conrad finished the sentence. “Whatever it is, I’ll need more power than I have. It was half-witted to show up here. One man can’t take down an entire coven.”

“What about yours?” She searched desperately.

“They’re indisposed. You can’t hide here, girl. I’m sorry, it’s not my fight.”

Hope rolled her eyes, staring the sad excuse for a regent down. He liked to protect his people, and the tribrid could admit to her own motives as well. But watching the girl, so small and unsure of herself, it pulled at her. Pulled at her the same way that it did with Jade in the 1800s and countless others that shared her disposition. She blamed her mother for her soft side.

“Have some pity, Drew. Where would the world be if we didn’t take mercy on anyone?”

“A hell of a lot safer, your daddy knew that.”

She ignored the comment and the mention of her father. Flames licked at her skin, and an acid taste pressed against the back of her throat but she swallowed it down, kneeling in front of the scared witch, so pulled into herself that she barely noticed another presence until now. Her beaten stare flashed in recognition, and fear, and something else entirely that Hope couldn’t read.

She whispered, soft “Now, I think you and I can make a deal.”

“I’ve heard stories about you.” The stranger swallowed the dirty taste on her tongue “I think I’d rather risk my luck in the quarter. I don’t need your protection.”

Hope gave a wolfish grin, fighting back a bitter laugh. Even now, even crouched low coated in every kind of grime that the Louisiana swamps had to offer, she refused her. It made an odd bout of pride swell in Hope’s chest because the stories had lived on and so had her presence in this town seeping with the history of her family.

“You took something from a bloodletting frenzy of homicidal witches. Like hell, you need my protection.”

The girl gulped in the same air that Hope had when she first entered the small shop. She stared at her supposed savior, at Conrad Drew, and a stranger leaning close enough to the shelves to clear them entirely. She felt the hot floor against her knees and tasted the waters of the swamp she had waded through, and though it was slight, she could pick up on the magic of a woman entirely too patient to compete with the fairytales.

She conceded “What kind of deal?”

#lizzie saltzman #hope mikaelson #hizzie #Hizzie fanfic #hizzie fanfiction #Legacies #legacies fanfiction

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raendown · 4 years

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Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5816 Chapter: 38/42 Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

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Chapter 38

Watching Madara address the council was an exercise in patience. Not because he didn’t believe in what his husband was saying or even because he found listening to be difficult but rather because the confidence practically dripping from him was very attractive and Tobirama wanted nothing more than for this blasted meeting to end. He had a husband to violate in whichever empty room presented itself for his convenience first.

The Police Force Initiative truly was the right place for him here, a job where his passion for the people under his care shone through in such a way that no one could deny he believed in this village. Never had Tobirama loved his husband more than as he sat and watched him advocate for a larger budget just so he could serve better, protect better, provide for the men and women who would be under his command so he could give them the tools they needed to serve the citizens under their protection. It was like watching him slot in to place and flourish right before their eyes. Tobirama was captivated.

And happy. It may have taken a year or so but everything was finally coming around to how it should be - for all of them. Even Izuna looked more relaxed than ever where he sat farther down the table. Tobirama himself had been the one to suggest that he attend council meetings as the head of ANBU and therefore the crux of all information flowing in to the village. He’d let his brother-in-law think it was Tajima’s idea, though, happy to rely on the man’s ego and propensity for claiming every good idea was his own. At least in this instance it served to protect someone else’s ego for once.

“A pretty speech,” one of the minor clan Heads spoke out as Madara wound down. “But do you have the documentation to justify this proposed budget?”

“I do. If you would but open the dossier I handed out you would see that.” Unwilling to bend, Madara stared the other man down until he had no choice but to give in and open the packet that had indeed been given as soon as the subject was broached. Right there on the first page was a table of contents. And prominently listed in that table would be evidence to back up why Madara needed the money and where he would be getting it from.

Tobirama didn’t bother to smother the look of pride he could feel on his own face, undamped by the pressure headache that had been slowly mounting in his temples over the past hour. He hadn’t needed to offer many changes after Madara asked him to look the packet over. The work was good and it was all to his husband’s credit.

“Now, if the council would be good enough to indulge me a little farther, I’ve already spoken with the head of village security and Touka-san has agreed to a joint training program which I’d like to detail for you now.”

“What’s the point in training you both together?” A light scoff came from the Hyuga heir. “Wouldn’t that be more expensive?”

“Cheaper, actually, since we wouldn’t need to provide two dedicated training facilities.” Madara lifted his eyebrow but it was not a defensive expression, merely a judgmental once.

The young Hyuga folded his arms. “We already have many training grounds.”

“If my officers and the security teams work together we will have a better understanding of each other’s patrol routes, better response times, tighter protocol for who has jurisdiction over what, and also go fuck yourself.” Several people in the room covered their mouths, whether to gasp or snicker, but Madara only blew a bit of fringe away from his face. Clearly he was nearing the end of his already short fuse.

Butsuma stood up with the clear intention of bringing him to order but he was interrupted before a single word had time to pass his lips as the door burst open to admit three men, two of them panting and wild-eyed.

“An emergency!” the more put together man cried. “Danger!”

“What is the meaning of this?” Butsuma demanded.

“It’s coming! It’s coming our way! Straight for us!” One of the clearly exhausted men gave a shudder. “We’re all doomed…” And with that his eyes rolled back in his head, crumpling to the floor in a dead faint.

His companion did not waste time checking on him.

“We’re from the team that was sent to investigate the massive chakra presence. I-I know you won’t believe me. But I swear! It’s a tailed beast! A massive fox with nine tails and teeth as long as I am tall and it’s coming for us! It’s coming this way!”

“Someone tell me what the hell this idiot is blathering on about,” Tajima grumbled.

On his feet still, Madara's quiet voice was just loud enough to reach the whole room. “I thought the tailed beasts were just legends. They can’t be real.”

“They’re real,” the soldier moaned. “This one is. It’s massive! And it- oh god. Tetsuo…it ate Tetsuo…”

At last the stress of what he had seen appeared to catch up with him as well. He didn’t faint like his companion but he did waver, catching himself against the wall and sliding down until he could bury his face against his knees like a terrified child. Though Tobirama hated to leave anyone in such a state he understood that this was obviously a crisis on their hands. Psychological breaks could be dealt with later. Right now they needed to think about saving lives.

Unfortunately organizing themselves did not seem to be the first thing on either of their supposed leaders’ minds as it should have been. Butsuma and Tajima were both out of their seats but their eyes were locked in the sort of staring contest that generally prompted the rest of the council to simply sit back and wait out the proverbial dick measuring contest.

“It will take time to gather our forces,” Tajima murmured as if to himself.

“Such a beast cannot be allowed to simply enter the village unheeded,” Butsuma answered, finally something they agreed upon. “Time must be bought.” It was just too bad that what they agreed on was something utterly stupid.

“Consider it done. I myself will go; I will hold the beast at bay until our people can answer the call to arms.”

“You will not go alone.”

They stared each other down until Tobirama felt his temper snap. “This is not the time to worry about pride!”

“My son is correct. Now is the time for action. If you still have fight in you, Uchiha, then let me show you how hot my own fire burns. We take the beast on together.” Butsuma tilted his head in challenge, one his counterpart was only too ready to accept.

“Perhaps not the words I would have chosen,” Tajima said. “I go to protect my village. If you should happen to come along that is your choice.”

They moved towards the window at the same time with all the intention of men who would not be swayed from their paths and even Tobirama himself was startled to hear his own voice call out for Butsuma to wait. More surprised still when the man actually paused to look back at him. He wasn’t even truly sure why he’d done it. Knowing the danger descending upon them all, for the first time since he was a child Tobirama looked at the man across the room and saw his father. Not a good one, no, but the man who sired him all the same.

“Be safe,” was all he said.

He should have expected no less than the puzzled frown that was his only answer before Butsuma turned to leap after Tajima, unwilling to take even a moment for his own son in the face of allowing his rival to upstage him in any way. So much wasted breath. In their wake the room was silent but there was no time for that, someone needed to get these people moving.

“Alright,” Tobirama snapped, taking up the responsibility of leadership only because no one else had yet. “While they slow the beast we need to gather our forces. Izuna, you have your own people to organize and you know their skills best. Move fast, hit hard, and the rest of us will do what we can to keep the attention off of you. Shimura-sama, wake my cousin. Touka’s patrol teams can make a perimeter around the village as a last defense.” Both of them nodded and darted off.

“Won’t we need them on the field?” Hashirama asked. “We should throw everything we have at it!” Tobirama shook his head.

“Even if the fight doesn’t reach the village the debris or backlash of it might. This is supposed to be some legendary massive beast and the civilians cannot be left unprotected.”

“Right! You’re so smart, little brother!” His smile was sharper than usual, the adrenaline of an upcoming battle hardening his normally soft edges. A look he hadn’t worn since peace was made.

Tobirama let that pass; there were other things to concentrate on. “The InoShikaCho clans have extensive experience working together. All available bodies from those clans not enrolled in the ANBU or the patrol teams should be allowed to work as a unit. Do not concentrate on bringing the beast down. Try to slow him, stop his movement, control the field. Madara, you and Hashirama are our two strongest fighters and the Uchiha can move faster than most. I don’t mean to put our people in the line of danger–”

“We’re as ready to fight for our homes as anyone else.” His husband tossed a bit of fringe away from his face. “Attack, not defense?”

“The Uchiha have always been particularly good at burning whatever lies in their path,” Tobirama agreed with the shadow of a bloody smile. He was pleased to receive one in return.

“And the rest of us?” The Hatake clan heir looked ready to sink her teeth in to something already.

Tobirama opened his senses and winced at the sensation of the mass of brilliance bearing down on him. It was a miracle his latent sensing hadn’t felt it as more than a mounting headache, though he supposed that by now he’d grown used to living in the center of so many different signatures all piled on top of each other that a gradual increase simply hadn’t been all that noticeable.

“Support,” he said, a snap decision, wondering at how easily this room of leaders had decided to allow him to take control. “Fill in the spaces when you can. Remove any of the fallen if needed, escort the wounded to medical attention, and allocate a small team to prepare extra weaponry for standby. Hyuga-sama, instruct your people that defending their comrades is more important than attacking the beast. We will not win this battle if there are none left to fight it.”

In the distance something rumbled and Tobirama shuddered at the massive wave of chakra that rolled over them. The beast was angry.

“We are running out of time. Prepare for battle.”

The room scattered as each of them rushed towards their weapons and armor. Fighting in their casual daily outfits could only accomplish so much no matter that each of them surely kept some kind of blade on them at all times. Butsuma and Tajima had promised to buy them time; they would be fools not to use it.

Without a word Tobirama snagged his husband’s arm and reached for one of the markers he had set up around their home. Almost before they had finished shifting through space he was moving, reaching for the stand where his armor sat waiting after its latest repairs. He got one hand on it and then scowled as he was forcibly turned around, irritated to be stopped, ready to tell the other man off for interrupting him. Annoyance melted away as he was pulled down in to a fierce kiss.

“You will be careful,” Madara snarled in his face. “I will not sit by your bedside and pray for your life again. Don’t you dare do that to me.”

“I expect you to do the same,” he said quietly.

“Obviously. If that dumb monster so much as thinks of hurting even a hair on your head I will rip its bloody heart out. Twice you’ve been hospitalized in one year! I refuse to see it happen again!” Still grumbling under his breath, he released his iron grip and stomped over to pull his own armor off its stand.

Tobirama watched him with a full heart. “At least you did not need to sit with me through the second time.”

“Yes, because leaving you in Izuna’s care will always turns out well!”

After that they garbed themselves for war in silence. Strapping himself in to his armor felt to Tobirama almost the same as strapping another persona on to his skin. Here in their home it was sometimes hard to believe the soft and openly loving husband he had become but those feelings had no place in battle. Though it caused him something akin to physical pain he boxed those parts of himself away and firmly closed the lid on them, tucked away to leave his concentration free for observation and strategy, the sort of clear thinking that would keep him alive to come home where he could open that box again.

If there was one silver lining to this situation it would be the chance to see Madara in all his glory once again, a veritable god of war in blood red armor and that distinctive gunbai strapped to his back.

“Let’s go,” he murmured. They had no more time to waste on soft words or meaningless compliments. As they dashed out in to the frigid temperatures outside and took to the rooftops Tobirama promised himself that later he would spend hours describing for his husband just how incredible he looked with that fierce expression – then he very carefully shoved that in to the box as well and locked it shut.

Just past the edge of where the village wall was still being upgraded they crossed paths with Izuna, directing his ANBU with last minute instructions.

“You know what we really need?” he called as they passed him by, breath misting in the air. “A fucking alarm. A village-wide alarm system so we don’t have to go running around like chickens gathering everyone up if this shit happens again.”

“That…is a good idea,” Tobirama admitted.

Izuna stared at him.

“Why don’t you give that some more thought and if we both survive we can hash out some ideas later.” When he turned he managed to catch just the edge of a thoughtful look on the man’s face as they continued on their way and leaped out of sight.

Figuring out what direction to go wasn’t hard. Even without the sounds of destruction and the clouds of dust and smoke rising slowly from the forest there was the oppressive weight of that chakra signature, close enough now that even the most insensitive shinobi would be able to feel it there, hovering at the edge of their mind like a wild animal dragging sharp teeth along their consciousness. It was not a pleasant feeling.

Tobirama and Madara kept speed with each other as they darted through the trees, matching step for step and weaving through the branches in perfect unison. Battle had called them and they had answered. All of Tobirama’s instincts cried out for him to strategize and make plans but he recognized that it was useless until he was able to see the situation for himself. He’d never fought a tailed beast before let alone the Kyuubi itself, the strongest of the nine. Trying to plan for something like that was like trying to plan for the path of a tornado; there was simply no predicting what would happen until it did.

Much easier was determining that they were getting close. As soon as they began to encounter long swaths of forest crushed or burnt they increased their speed. Tobirama pushed through the discomfort of that massive signature to find the cool green feeling of his brother and directed them that way. Shinobi of their power served best at the front no matter the danger they faced.

Seeing the beast for the first time nearly stopped them both in their tracks, however. It didn’t matter how brave a man was, seeing a creature several stories taller than the administration tower would have been a sight all on its own. The oppressive weight of the thing’s hatred was something else entirely.

“We have to fight that,” Madara breathed, his voice only just audible over the commotion around them.

“No,” Tobirama said. “We have to stop it. Let’s go.”

Several bodies lay still in scattered places throughout the carnage, others darting in to carry them away, but Tobirama’s eyes found several directly beneath the feet of the Kyuubi where they could not be safely retrieved. He dismissed them. Later he would mourn the loss of life. Right now he would do what he could to protect the living.

Hashirama fell back to meet them as they approached and Tobirama felt his heart clench at the sight of tears streaming down the man’s face.

“Are you injured?” he demanded. Hashirama shook his head.

“Later,” he choked out. “We have to put this thing down before it takes more.”

“Right. Then let’s do that.”

One quick survey told him that the people of the village were indeed following the strategy he had quickly laid out. To one side Nara cast their shadows to snare legs and tails, Yamanaka threw their own consciousness’ out in an attempt to take over the beast’s, and the Akimichi stood over them both with their bodies expanded to massive sizes, deflecting the lashing tails and protecting their friends.

Hatake and Inuzuka harried the flanks while several Aburame attempted to guide their insects in to any orifice they could use for an inside take down. Uchiha sent flames from the front in brilliant displays while Senju used the earth and the river to push and pull, attacking, attempting to knock the thing off balance. The Hyuga clan were spread through the rest of them, each paired up with another shinobi and moving in tandem as though this battle were a well-practiced dance. Directing attacks to the targets with the most deadly potential, rotating or using their Byakugan to deflect incoming debris, they made the perfect support for anyone lucky enough to work with them.

Just watching their village come together in such a way was enough to make a man burst with pride and yet for all their efforts they made very little progress. Bodies fell and others dashed in to remove them. Screams and thunder rent the air in a near constant litany of destruction.

“I’ll take its head,” Hashirama declared, legs coiling in readiness.

“The back,” Madara claimed. “Watch me tame that fucker.”

“Hold,” Tobirama snapped.

Amazingly enough, they did as he asked, holding until suddenly waves of ANBU burst from the trees in a concentrated attack. Then Tobirama ducked his head to bare his teeth.

“Now, while it’s distracted!”

Hashirama burst forward with his hands already forming signs. Spires of mokuton burst from the ground at his command to reach for the beast’s face and muzzle its jaw. Deep in its throat the Kyuubi snarled – then he screamed with rage and pain as Madara hit him from behind with the largest Grand Fireball the field had seen yet that day.

Letting the two of them work ahead as a distraction, Tobirama scattered kunai marked with his special seal. As soon as he had the layout of the terrain solid in his mind he reached for one and appeared directly under the belly of the rampaging animal. With so much water already scattered about it was the work of a moment to gather a large puddle and swing his arms upwards to slice at the soft flesh above his head, an attack that he hoped was doubly painful with the temperature of the water only barely above freezing. He was gone before the answering scream was finished and gathering more water to go for the hamstrings.

Before he could get close enough a great roar shook the earth and destabilized his footing as the Kyuubi broke through its wooden muzzle, snapping at the branches that reached to capture it again. Tobirama flashed to his brother’s side and pulled him out of the way just in time for one of the many tails to come crashing down where he’d just been standing.

“Thanks for the save,” Hashirama cried. “Let’s try this on for size!”

Only once had Tobirama even seen him use that massive scroll he carried in to battle but it was a testament to how seriously his brother was taking this fight when he threw it down and unrolled it, slamming his palm in to the center. When his summon appeared it carried them both up on its shoulders to tower over the forest and draw their opponent’s attention all to themselves. The Kyuubi didn’t look terribly impressed to see the Several Thousand Hands but Madara clearly was – and just as clearly did not intend to be left behind.

“You think that’s something? I am the one you should be worried about, fox!” His voice came from the ground a moment before he was raised up above it in the headpiece of a fully formed Susano’o.

“Together, my friend?” Hashirama called to him.

“Eat my chakra dust!” Madara hollered back.

Despite his words they moved in sync as only the best of battle partners could. Tobirama spared a moment to roll his eyes at their antics even as he cast one of his kunai and followed it through the air, summoning the river to his purpose.

With their strength combined and aid from all the other clans the amount of injuries dropped significantly, though the battle was still a hard one. The tide was turned with the arrival of Mito, her usual orderly outfit replaced with the minimalistic battle gear of a true Uzushio warrior. With delicate grace she evaded the reached claws attempting to crush her spine and wove between the hundreds of wooden fists slicing through the air to land at her husband’s side. Tobirama appeared at his other a moment later.

“I can seal him,” she announced confidently. “But nothing inanimate will be able to hold that much energy. If I seal him it will be in to a living creature. A person.”

“Any volunteers?” Tobirama asked dryly.

“That sounds incredibly dangerous.” Deftly weaving his signs still, Hashirama kept the beast distracted with his summons while they spoke. “Would his chakra not tear the person to shreds?”

Mito shook her head. “No. This is why I did not come until now; I have been modifying the seal we use to make storage scrolls and I believe that it should contain him so long as there is another chakra to give the array power. Their life will be the safeguard that holds him.”

“I will do it,” Hashirama declared. He looked determined until she laid her hand on his arm.

“No, it cannot be you. The head of one clan with so much power would unbalance the rest. I believe it should be me. It would be dangerous for whoever takes this responsibility to leave the village and I hardly do so already.”

“Make a decision,” Tobirama snapped. “We don’t have time to sit around and chat it over all day. Yes or no, Anija!”

“May the kami forgive me. Yes. Do it – and fast.”

She gave one sharp nod and then Mito turned towards the Kyuubi with fire in her eyes the likes of which few had seen and lived to speak of. With barely a thought Tobirama was away at his own husband’s side, suspended within the Susano’o.

“On my mark be loud. As much of a distraction as you can be. Draw its attention and hold it.”

“Understood.”

Tobirama trained his eyes across the shifting mass of fur between him and his brother, watching until Mito’s tiny form shot forward.

“Now!”

Purple flame exploded outwards in a Grand Fireball nearly the size of the Kyuubi’s head, singing fur and flesh and drawing a scream that must have shaken the mountains from one side of the continent to the other. Several of the men and women scattered below dropped to clap their hands over their ears even as Mito, brave and beautiful Mito, flung her body straight towards the source. For a single moment she existed as a streak of flame across the sky, red hair spilling behind her like a banner as her traditional buns unraveled with the force of such a violent movement.

Then the motion ended as she impacted the beast’s hide palm first, black ink spidering out from underneath her touch. Even the trees themselves quaked with the force of the roar this time, the sound of an animal who knew it was about to be caged. Seeing his chance, Hashirama moved quickly to pin the lashing tails with bands of wood, holding them down for the howls to carry on in stillness.

When the massive form began to ripple and waver Tobirama almost felt a touch of pity for the thing. To be caged for the rest of his life was something he couldn’t imagine. But the feeling was easy to brush away as he looked out at the carnage surrounding them, steeling his heart to the vision of the Nine-Tailed Beast shrinking in size as it was pulled in to Mito’s body. For such a momentous act Tobirama felt almost let down by the anticlimactic silence when it was over.

Mito stood where the Kyuubi had, tall and proud. Then even from a distance Tobirama could see her tremble before she crumpled to the earth like a doll. Hashirama was by her side almost as fast as though he too was able to utilize the hiraishin.

Concern warred with the instinct to give the two of them some space and Tobirama married the two urges by asking Madara to dismiss his Susano’o, taking the time to walk across the clearing by the power of his own legs rather than flashing across with the marker Hashirama carried. When they arrived his hands were already limned in green chakra and his brows pulled together with deep concentration. Thankfully for their sanity he did not look too worried.

“She doesn’t appear to be injured,” he announced as they and several others drew close. “I think the shock of absorbing so much extra chakra was just a little too hard and her mind shut down to protect her until she finds a balance.”

“Are you alright?” Tobirama asked. His brother looked up at him with a wan expression.

“I’m…uninjured.”

With a nod Tobirama turned to Madara, gently cupping that precious face with one hand.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine too,” the man growled. He did not, however, pull away from the touch. They held each other’s eyes for a moment of understanding before Tobirama turned back to the pair on the ground.

“Uninjured is fine but that wasn’t my question. You looked distraught when we arrived.”

“Of course I’m distraught! Look around you!”

The outburst was so unlike the Hashirama that others knew and shock was plain to see on many of the faces around them. For Tobirama, however, it brought him nothing but a clench in his chest. It may have been years since he heard that tone but he would have remembered the heartbreak it carried until the end of his days. The last he’d heard it they had stood over a fresh grave after burying their mother between the bodies of their younger siblings.

“You know better than most than many injuries can look much worse than they truly are,” he murmured. Squatting down, he laid a hand on the other’s shoulder. “I know it seems as though we lost many lives today but until we get a tally from the medics we can’t know that for sure. Many more could have survived.”

Hashirama lifted his face to show that tears once more streamed over his cheeks. “But they didn’t. They’re gone. He’s gone.”

“Who is?”

“Father,” Hashirama whispered.

A great empty nothingness seemed to echo in Tobirama’s chest as he followed his brother’s line of sight down the path to where the Kyuubi must have met with the first line of resistance. Miles away at this point, he wasn’t able to see where the body of his father lay. He didn’t care to. What state the flesh was in mattered little if the mind had gone cold.

He waited for the pain. For the sense of loss. The last time he had seen Butsuma’s face it struck him for the first time in years that they were family – not a happy one, perhaps, but blood all the same. Now the man was gone and with him any chance that they might someday recover the relationship that had never had a proper chance to grow. And Tobirama, to his small secret shame, felt nothing.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said at last, an empty platitude to fill the silence as his brother continued to stare up at him expectantly. Hashirama didn’t look surprised but neither did he look at all comforted.

“What are we going to do?”

“Get these people back home, I imagine.” That particular wisdom came from Izuna as the man approached. “I’ve instructed my teams to search the area and retrieve any dead or wounded left behind. They took too bloody long waiting for the right moment to make an attack and I’m not happy with their performance. So now since they didn’t actually see much battle they get to enjoy the clean up afterwards.”

“Right. Touka can have any of her people who have a talent for earth jutsu restore the forest as best they can until Hashirama is able to see to the trees.” Tobirama nodded to his brother-in-law, unsurprised by the hesitation before Izuna nodded back.

Between them, Madara craned his neck to peer down the alley of destruction where Butsuma supposedly lay. It didn’t take a genius to guess where his thoughts were drifting. Neither of their first responders had been seen since they dashed off, their blood running hot with reckless competition. If Butsuma had gone to his final rest here in the forest then chances were Tajima had too. Tobirama waited but his husband said nothing, turning his head away with a telling tension at the corners of his eyes. No one present saw fit to mention it.

“Izu is right,” he muttered. “Let’s get these people back to the village. We’ll need to gather the council for a debrief. Shit, wait, Izuna can you also send one of your people to find the rest of that team who came to warn us? There wasn’t time to ask but–”

“We need to know why,” Tobirama finished for him.

“On it.” Just like that the man was off again.

Hashirama used the utmost care as he cradled his wife between both arms and lifted her, for once not looking around to see to others before taking off towards safety himself. Although the greater good often took priority over many things in his eyes there were few if any things in this world that could possibly be more important to him than the safety of his beloved wife. Tobirama watched them go and thought to himself that once he had envied their bond. How funny it was to think of it now and realize that he had the same.

Urging his own beloved to go ahead, Tobirama stayed to organize those wandering around the field looking lost, some of them bearing the frantic expression of those who had lost sight of their loved ones. He urged them to allow the allotted team to comb through the area before descending in to panic. Many injured had already been taken to the hospital and extra bodies milling about would only impede the progress of others reaching the same help.

At a certain point he had to realize that he was mostly killing time, putting off the inevitable as though hoping that the council would meet without him. Unfortunately he knew the one they would not start without was Hashirama and since he would have taken the time to ensure his wife was more than comfortable in the proper care it wasn’t likely the debrief would have even started yet. Not to mention the fact that Madara was likely to glare the lot of them in to submission if they tried to go ahead without Tobirama’s sizable brain there to point out the angles no one else ever seemed able to see.

Knowing it would be better to get this over with did nothing to make him feel any more enthusiastic but still Tobirama forced himself to turn back towards the village when there was only petty busywork left to occupy himself with. The meeting needed to happen. As a council they needed to make a decision on how to react to these events and how to proceed now that their two nominal ‘leaders’ had both fallen. Yet something in the back of his mind couldn’t help pretending that if he never went to the meeting then he would never have to admit that all of this was real.

Clearly he’d been spending too much time in Hashirama's presence for such childish notions to have any hold over him.

What drove him forward despite his distaste for it all was the same urge which had driven plenty of his most self-destructive urges in the past: his need to know. The need for answers that had a tendency to blot out the rest of the world. Tobirama set his feet towards the village center and he would have damned his own curiosity if he wasn’t so achingly aware that he would have eventually gone anyway.

Duty had been bred in to him at a young age, pressed in to his skin so deeply it could almost be considered a personality trait on its own at this point. He might drag his feet and put it off but in the end this was his home and he would do what he needed to for this village. That was his duty and Tobirama had long accepted that he was nothing if not a dutiful man.

To his husband. To his family. To his people.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #hashirama #tajima #butsuma #izuna #mito #fanfiction

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anasticklefics · 5 years

Text

Vacation

Fandom: Stranger Things (takes place after the main events in season 3)

Characters: Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley

Anonymous said: maybe something with steve and robin if you’re down? maybe them hanging out after work and robin telling steve she’s never kissed or dated anyone and asking steve about relationship things and he brings up having tickle fights with nancy or another ex and admits he always lost said tickle fights which leads to one breaking out between them??

Words: 998 (for some reason I prefer fics to be just under 1k than just over)

Steve hadn’t realized how little time they’d spent together outside of work and life threatening situations until they did just that. With the mall ruined and the ice cream parlor nonexistent - and with it, their jobs - they were forced to find new ways to occupy themselves.

“I think we deserve a vacation,” Robin had said, the two of them standing in front of the mess of a building, shoulders touching and brows furrowing. “I feel like those Russians stole ten years of my life.”

So on vacation they went. Sort of. Steve was so fully aware of the fact that he needed to apply for a new job or five, but they gave themselves two weeks to ignore their responsibilities and enjoy the rest of their summer, despite being stuck in Hawkins the entire time.

Only they had no other proper friends their age except each other.

“What do you wanna do?” Robin asked, settling down on her bed as Steve hovered next to it. Her house was small, but cozy; as was her room. There was probably a quote somewhere about your space matching your personality, and Steve felt both intimidated and instantly at home as he settled down beside her.

He shrugged, back against the beige wall. “What do you usually do in here?”

“Watch TV. Read books.”

“I’m not reading a book.”

“TV it is, then.”

It became their thing, walking around town doing whatever during the day - even hanging out with Steve’s children, as Robin called them - and then ending the night in Robin’s room in front of the TV. Until one day they skipped the reality shows and started talking. They hadn’t really shut up since.

“So who was your first kiss?” Steve asked, having recounted his own awkward first attempts that she’d bent over laughing about.

“Oh, uh.” Robin wiped at her lips, leaning back and avoiding looking him in the eye.

It was always fascinating whenever a topic made her shy or uncomfortable. Being so overly confident and loud, something Steve had learned was sometimes a facade, it made the timid moments more pronounced.

“I haven’t had mine yet,” she confessed. “Spinning the bottle has never really been my thing, and I obviously don’t wanna kiss- well, you know.”

He was nodding. “So no ladies have shown any interest in, you know, trying it out?” He’d heard about girls practicing with their female friends, and wondered how many people said that to hide having enjoyed it.

“Not really.”

“Their loss, then.”

She shoved his shoulder, laughing again. “No, but seriously. What are relationships like? What do you do?”

He shrugged. “Hang out. Make out. It depends. Nancy and I had some real fun toward the end.”

“Ah.” She picked at her jeans, seeming to ponder over his words. “Why toward the end?”

“The beginning felt a little… tense. Almost forced. We came from entirely different groups and all, but later on we both started loosening up. Laughing more.” He grinned. Their short time together was still a painful reminder, but one he felt grateful for now. “We had some of the most intense tickle fights I’ve ever experienced.”

“Oh?” Robin smirked, cocking her head. “Who won?”

“I never did,” he said without thinking. “She’s small, but mighty.”

“Or maybe you’re just too ticklish for your own good.”

“Hey now.” He realized the information he’d given so easily was rather sensitive and narrowed his eyes at her. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Robin was already moving toward him. “Oh, I would.”

See, Steve could easily push her off of him, but he didn’t. He couldn’t entirely understand why. Sitting on his lap, planting both her feet on each side of him, she went to town on his torso. Fingers jabbing and curling and scribbling, whatever she was saying drowned out by his sudden laughter. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this. Dustin didn’t really make a habit out of poking him, but thus far he hadn’t really made a habit out of wanting to be tickled either.

Huh.

“Shit shit stop stop!”

He still couldn’t really take it, though.

“Giving up already?” she asked, a lilt in her voice that would’ve made him blush had he not been a little preoccupied.

“Robin, I swear to god-”

“Swear as much as you want, Harrington. No one’s gonna hear you.”

So Robin. Cool girl. Nerdier than you’d think. Into ladies and movies. Spoke multiple languages, including sarcasm. And apparently she was a freaking pro at tickling. Who would’ve known? Of course, Steve was the only one to make that acclaim, but he was pretty certain he was right.

She knew just what to do to get him giggling, bellowing, screaming. Applied the right amount of pressure to her squeezes. Aimed at the exact right spots when she poked. And when she fluttered her fingers over his neck? Steve right about died.

He couldn’t be confused over all those tickle fights he’d lost anymore. He seemed too goddamn easy to break.

He grabbed her wrists. “Please stop.”

“Oh, please, is it? I didn’t take you for a begger, Harrington.”

Steve paused his squirming. “Is that even a word- no!”

She’d taken advantage of his stillness and gone for his underarms, his arm clamping down and only succeeding in trapping her against his skin. Each movement of her fingers was ticklish. He couldn’t remember being this sensitive there. It was torture. He kinda liked it?

Robin noticed. Of course she did.

“You’re enjoying this,” she said over his protests and pleas for it to end. “Holy shit, you’re actually having fun.”

“Shut up!”

“I’ve got a gold mine at my hands, what are you talking about.” She freed her hands, pausing the attack in order to smirk at him. “Admit you’re having fun and I might shut up about it.”

“Now you’re just being cruel.”

“Suit yourself, Harrington.”

It became a thing after that, and no matter how much Steve complained Robin knew better. He was grateful.

#tickling #tickle fic #ticklish!steve harrington #ticklish!steve #steve and robin #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #mine #vacation #ana's fics

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screensirenfic · 5 years

Text

Black Leather - Chapter 30

The moment Steve’s sneakers hit the grass; you could feel the tension in the air change; a buzzing, almost electrical feeling whipping up my skin, like when a storm’s coming in and you can sense the change in air pressure.

I followed out after him; my boots noticeably lighter sounding despite their clunky design.

Slowly; step by step, we crept out in the open, already adopting the soldiers’ stance of bent knees and sharp eyes.

Dart let off a low chortle.

A warning. He knew we were after him.

I could see his hackles rising; a distinctly canine trait despite me knowing he was far from it.

Steve began to whistle; a cheery sharp sound more suited to calling a dog than a monster.

“Come on, buddy…’ He called, finishing it off with a series of whistles just in case he didn’t seem crazy enough.

“Come here, fella. Good boy.” Steve cooed as we crept closer, eyes fixed on the suspicious looking creature.

“Steve; cut it out. It’s not a dog.” I muttered under my breath, not entirely sure we should be treating this thing like a pet.

“Have you got any better ideas?” He pointedly asked, still not taking his eyes off the demogorgon.

I sighed, knowing he was probably right; goddamnit!

“Here boy…” I began to call, feeling every ounce the idiot as we cooed to a Lovecraftian horror like some puppy.

“Dinner time.” Steve coaxed it; and I tried not to think of the very real implications that we may end up in this thing’s stomach.

Dart continued to watch us, and I was beginning to wonder if this plan was gonna work at all.

“Aren’t you hungry, fella?” I asked; forcing a fake smile, because maybe this thing could read facial expressions.

“Human tasted better than cat; I promise…” Steve continued to tempt it, edging closer and closer still.

Finally; Dart started to respond, slowly approaching us; strange flowerlike jaws snapping at us experimentally.

Steve whipped his bat in front of him, warding Dart off like a lion tamer and his beast.

“Have you got a shot?” Steve asked, focusing on the creature in front of us in case it decided to pounce.

“Almost…” I said, lining up a shot with my gun so I could see Dart in my crosshairs.

“Just a little further…” I waited, because the fucking thing wouldn’t move it’s head and I needed a damn headshot.

“Come on, come on…” Muttered Steve, watching as the beast began to hesitate, almost as if it sensed my gun on him.

If it just moved left a little—

“Steve! Lola! Watch out!” Yelled Lucas from the top of the bus, but we didn’t have time to look.

“A little busy here!” Replied Steve, not taking his eyes off Dart, because goddamnit; we could see what it was doing! We didn’t need a—

“Three o’clock! Three o’clock!” Lucas yelled; and I turned my gun just in time to spot another demagorgon jump onto the hood of a junked car, hissing menacingly.

“Shit! You got that one?” Steve asked, noticing the other demodog, but not moving his bat away from the first.

“It’s alright. I got it in my sights. You just watch the other one.” I reassured him, settling my crosshairs over the advancing creature.

“Steve! Lola!” Yelled out the voice of Dustin, and I suddenly realised that must’ve meant he’d opened the bus door.

“Abort! Abort!” He yelled from the doors; and goddamnit! This kid was gonna get himself killed!

Suddenly, I heard hissing, and before we knew it, Dart was making a leap at Steve.

I fired at him; aiming for the head, but in quarters as close as these, it was hard to see if it met its mark.

I think my shot went wide, then—

Fuck!

The other demodog came sailing towards me, and I was beginning to think this was it…

Fuck me for watching out for Steve’s dumb a—

Shit! I landed on the metal hood of a car with a thud; the metal cold and hard against my back.

I immediately pressed my gun up, ready to fend off whatever had landed on top of me, only to realise it was Steve.

I didn’t get time to thank him for the save before the Demodog took another leap at us, but Steve managed to take a swing at it.

Wood met flesh with a firm crack, and I think Steve must’ve broken one of that thing’s legs, but it still wasn’t dead. I could fix that.

I lined up a shot with it quickly, before firing into its back.

It wasn’t a headshot, but I didn’t have time to check my kill, Steve already grabbing my arm to haul both our asses back to the bus where the kids were beckoning frantically in the doorway.

“Quick! Run! Run!” They yelled, and I swear the growls of the demagorgons had gotten louder, but I wasn’t about to stop and check.

We were almost at the door now, and I could literally feel the demagorgons snapping at our heels behind us.

We made a dive for the door, fully expecting not to make it and end up being dragged back by the ankles by a pack of vicious demagorgons.

Steve landed first; his heavier frame landed back first on the bus floor with a firm thump.

I came next, landing straight on top of him; hands quickly shooting out above him to stop myself from giving him a pretty debilitating headset.

Steve stared straight up at me; deep brown eyes sparkling with life and adrenaline, and was it just me or had his pupils gotten larger?

I smiled down at him, enjoying how he tensed beneath me, because fuck; Steve was such a sub, and a pretty one.

Steve was always so very pretty; everyone thought so, and here on the floor of a junked bus, he was no different.

Soft waves of brown hair spilling in a relative halo around his head, dumb pretty boy smile across his lips that just made you wanna kiss it off hi—

And what the hell was I thinking? This was Steve I was thinking about!

The same guy who I’d known since seventh grade.

The very same guy who made stupid jokes just to see me laugh.

The very same guy who dropped me home after Tina’s Halloween party; who held me when I’d cried because Billy had been a total dick, and goddamnit; this was Stev—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The sound of three very heavy bodies colliding with the closed door snapped me out of my thoughts; me quickly dismounting Steve to scramble towards the other side of the bus.

“Shit!!” Dustin exclaimed, but Steve was already on it, grabbing a piece of scrap metal from the floor and holding it to the door with his feet.

I began to reload my shotgun, knowing Steve wouldn’t be able to keep them out for long.

“They can’t get in! They can’t!” Insisted Lucas, but I don’t think the demagorgons cared, still throwing themselves at the bus door with angry hisses and bangs.

“Shitshitshitshitshitshit!” Panicked Dustin, and I don’t think he was the only one—

Shit! The demagorgons had managed to break through, already clambering to get onto the bus, but Steve wouldn’t let that happen; already standing with his bat in hand, taking swings at it’s snapping jaws.

Meanwhile; I managed to get another bullet into my shotgun, silently cursing the day I’d convinced my dad that he didn’t need a newer model.

“Is anyone there? Mike? Will? God? Anyone?!” I could hear Dustin yelling down the radio; a last ditch attempt at getting backup, despite all of us knowing we were terrifyingly alone out here.

I raised my shotgun, aiming past Steve to fire at the attacking demagorgon.

BANG! BANG!

I fired both rounds into the monster, forcing it to retreat out of the bus, and goddamnit; why weren’t these things dead yet?!

I didn’t have time to contemplate the potential invulnerability of the demagorgons; the beasts in question having already circled the bus and begun to fling themselves at the back of the bus.

The kids began to shriek in terror, and I was really beginning to regret agreeing to this field trip, because goddamnit; I could deal with monsters, but screaming children?!

“We’re at the old junkyard, and we are going to die!” Yelled Dustin into the radio, stating the truth we really didn’t need to hear, even as Max and Lucas began hopelessly looking for an escape route.

Unfortunately, not all of us had time to panic; me already getting to work at reloading my shotgun, but I don’t think I brought enough shells for this, and fuck it; I don’t even think they were work—

BOOM!

Something managed to land on the roof; the whole bus shaking with the force of the impact.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I could hear heavy footsteps reverberating on the metal roof of the bus, but somehow; I don’t think my dad had managed to parachute down and rescue us--

“AHHHHH!” Max let out a scream, staring up from the foot of the ladder at something above the sunroof.

Me and Steve rushed over to her; already knowing what it was.

“Out of the way! Out of the way!” Instructed Steve, shoving her to one side.

I levelled my shotgun with the face of a snarling demogorgon; it’s jaws parting to let out a roa--

BANG! BANG!

I unloaded my shells into the back of its throat, watching as it fell to one side and off the roof of the bus with a sickening squelch.

The bus suddenly stopped shaking, and the demagorgons hissing and roaring started to become fainter as if they were—

They were retreating!

Thank fucking god!

I wanted to fall down on my knees and praise whatever god was listening for sparing us from a gory death, but I couldn’t quite yet; not until we knew for sure.

——————————————————————————

Five minutes later, after Steve and I knew it wasn’t a trap and we weren’t about to get jumped by demagorgons the moment we opened the door, we ventured out of the bus.

Steve went outside first, nailbat in hand, because despite the fact I was better armed and more suited to fighting at range; he still had to play the gentleman and keep me out of danger.

I followed, gun at the ready, because it would be a cold day in hell when I let his ass get killed over something as stupid as chivalry.

Nothing.

Not a single living thin—

CRACK!

Me and Steve both spun towards the sound of a twig breaking; both hyper alert and ready for battle, should things get ugly.

On the outskirts of the junkyard, I could see Dart running away back towards the woods.

I raised my gun, ready to take a potshot at him, when Steve stopped me, placing his hand over my barrel and pushing it down.

I let him, deciding that I could at least defer to his judgement just this once.

Besides; we didn’t want them coming back for vengeance.

“What happened?” Lucas asked, emerging from the bus first to take a look around.

“I don’t know.” Max replied; the next to get off the bus with a shaken look on her face.

“Do you think we scared them off?” Dustin asked, sidling up between me and Steve as if he’d done anything but screaming and whining.

“It’s possible—“ Steve replied,

“No.” I interrupted as Steve rested his bat on his shoulder, ready to call it a day.

Fuck; I was ready to call it a day, but I couldn’t, not if they were going.

I could hear the demagorgons growls and hisses in the distance, echoing as they retreated.

I knelt on the ground, studying the start of a blood trail leading into the woods.

“They’re going somewhere.”

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katehuntington · 6 years

Text

How You & I Will Be - part five (finale)

Fandom: Supernatural Main characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester (mentioned), Bobby Singer (mentioned) Pairing: Dean x Reader Serie summary: When a hellhound case in the mountains goes sideways, Dean and Y/N find themselves trapped in a small cabin, miles from civilization. A serious injury forces the two hunters to come to terms with their true feelings for each other. Rescue is on its way, but will it be in time? Part 5 warnings: angst, severe anxiety, nightmares, hallucinations, swearing, alcohol, description of blood and injury, possible character death. Some fluff. Music: ‘Lullabye’ by Billy Joel Word Count: 2154 words Author’s note: This is it, folks. The end of my mini series, and what a pleasure it was. Thank you @idreamofhazel and @littlegreenplasticsoldier for helping we work on this, you both are wonderful betas. Fair warning when you proceed: I managed to move them both to tears. @littlegreenplasticsoldier even made clear that I will have to hire someone to do my obit at my funeral, because I will have no friends left after this.

Find the ‘How You & I Will Be’ masterlist here!

It turns out Y/N has a little more time on her side than they initially thought. Not that she will be able to remember much, since she laid in Dean’s arms unconscious most of the time, but somehow the huntress has made it till sunrise. Despite her brave attempt, her condition deteriorates with every minute that passes. During the hallucinations, Dean pulled her into his lap, holding the girl he loves with everything he’s got, like he would comfort an infant. The acid trip-like dreams had her in confusion and all he could do to sooth her, cradling her gently, whispering sweet words and promises.

The nightmares seem to have passed now, setting in a new stage that is just as ominous. She has been unresponsive for quite a while, as if she has drifted off into a coma. It feels as if she’s slipping through his fingers like desert sand and there’s nothing he can do about it. Sometimes it takes over twenty seconds for her to breathe in again, which is only a weak gasp for air. Between those inhales Dean keeps her close to his chest, begging silently for her to take another breath, to stay a little longer.

Red ashes have turned into grey charcoal overnight, causing the temperature in the cabin to drop. Now Dean’s leather jacket is the only item that can provide her some warmth; even if there were wood left, he wouldn’t let her go to restart the fire. The storm has passed quickly and it wouldn’t surprise Dean if it was the work of that witch that owed Bobby. The rescue-team was supposed to start their climb at the break of dawn; they are probably well on their way, now that the first rays of sun peek over the ridge, watercoloring the sky with pink and purple. The mountaintop of Glacier Peak is outlined with gold that glows ever brighter as the sun comes up. It’s a beautiful sight, one that Dean enjoys intently, aware that these will be the final moments he’ll have with his girl.

When the sunshine spreads a warmth in the cabin, illuminating the fibers of dust that float in the air surrounding them, Y/N opens her eyes slightly without Dean noticing it. The scenery outside captivates her. The view looks more like a painting from Leonid Afremov than it would seem like reality, and for a second she wonders if she’s hallucinating again. But when she observes Dean, who admires the spectacular scenery as well, she guesses it’s nature’s way of saying goodbye.

“Well…” she rustles, words coming out raspy. “If that isn’t the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen….”

Stunned, Dean looks down at her. He honestly didn’t expect her to ever open her eyes again, but here she is. A moment of clarity. God, it’s nice to hear the sound of her voice again, despite it not being more than a weak whisper. “Hey, you,” he returns, smiling down. She smiles back, glad to be able to gaze up into those depthless green eyes once more. He lovingly strokes some wayward hair from her forehead, and places a tender kiss on her skin. Embracing the moment, she closes her eyes and sighs as her grin reaches wider. When he pulls back and witnesses the satisfied expression on her face, he suddenly notices the difference; she’s made peace with her fate. It scares him deeply, he isn’t anywhere close to prepared for her coming death. “You wouldn’t be able to squeeze out a few more hours by any chance?” he pleads. “The rescue workers are on their way.” For a moment she opens her eyes again, clearly worn out by the fight for life. She swallows with difficulty and lets the air escape from her lips, finding it harder to inhale every time she does so. “I’m so tired, Dean….” Her voice fails, but he heard her. The hunter nods slowly, accepting the true message behind her words. The fight is over. She’s lowered her weapons. With difficulty, he gulps, trying to ignore the sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. After all, he has to be strong for her.

But she’s no fool; she can see right through it. Y/N knows how hurt he is, how he’s trying so hard to prevent himself from caving. She might be okay with the fact that her hour has struck, he can’t say the same. The thought of letting her go causes the tears to pool in his eyes. “Hey… It’s alright,” she tries to comfort him. He scoffs, amazed by her urge to care for him, even now. He manages a quivering breath. “I should be telling you that.” “I’m not the one who’s about to be left behind, am I?” she reminds him.

It’s a solid point. Who knows where she might drift off to. Heaven, the light, whatever one would want to believe. Dean will remain right here, on this spot of land without her. “What do you think is gonna happen next?” he wonders out loud. “Lights out and that’s it?” “Hell, no,” she chuckles, having found a little more spirit to strengthen her words. “It’s gonna be either Vegas or Hawaii. I haven’t decided yet.” Dean scoffs through the tears, imagining it for a moment. He hopes she’s right, it makes the idea of dying a little less terrifying. “Maybe my heaven will be driving down the road towards the sunset in the Impala, backseat to myself…” she continues on a serious note. “Maybe it’s this, this moment right here with you. This view.”

Dean follows her thousand-yard stare through the window that portrays the colorful picture outside. As the sun rises further, it casts an golden light over the snowy mountains, and Y/N takes a moment to count her blessings. Sure, she wishes she would’ve had more time, but it isn’t the worse way to go. The man she gave her heart to is holding her close and they got the chance to spend their final moments together. The man who told her: I love you. The man she told: I love you, too. It’s not that bad, actually. “Promise me something?” He turns to face her again, waiting for a follow up. Trying to speak, her voice hitches in her throat as breathing becomes more difficult. Her fragile state indicates it won’t take long now. “Promise you’ll let your friends and family help you. Promise you’ll talk to Sam. Don’t bottle it up this time, okay?” The pressure on Dean’s chest becomes so heavy that his airway constricts. He is able to keep a hold of her questioning gaze, though. “I promise,” he assures, choking up. “And no deals,” she continues. “I know you’ve been thinking it.” “Y/N -” But she won’t have it and interrupts his attempt to object instantly. “No, Dean. I don’t want you to get torn up by those hounds. If you make a deal, you’ll go to hell,” she pauses to catch her breath. “And where I’m going… It’s not a bad place.” Dean sighs after a moment’s consideration, trying to blink away his tears as he admits to her conditions with a nod. “Alright.”

She smiles slightly, glad to have his word and relieved that she got the message across. It remains quiet for a couple of minutes as her respiration slows down even further, taking down her pulse as well. Scared, Dean holds his love, watching her subside, further and further away from him. “Dean?” His name is barely audible, it’s more of a breath than her voice. “Yeah?” She forces her eyes open, taking in the hunter above her. For the first time since last night, tears stain her beautiful eyes. Dean knows exactly what she’s trying to capture, because he’s trying to accomplish the same. He takes her in, every feature, every perfect flaw. A few lost birthmarks that decorate her face and neck. That scar on her chin that she always tries to cover up with a scarf or the collar of her jacket. The slight frizz in the lock of hair that she cusses about whenever it’s rainy or windy. And damn, those eyes, those gorgeous eyes. “I-I think it’s time….” she stammers weak.

She’s might be okay with dying, that doesn’t mean that she isn’t scared of what lays ahead. Of course she’s terrified, who wouldn’t be scared of the unknown? Vampires, ghosts, demons; she faced them all. But with every single monster she came across, she knew a way to defeat them. Never, ever, did she show up for a fight unprepared. At the verge of battle she was armed with a weapon of choice, if it was silver, salt, dead man’s blood or the Colt. She knew her opponent, she did her research, she read the lore. But she can fantasize about casinos or white sandy beaches all she wants, the truth is that nothing can prepare anyone for what awaits on the other side. “It’s alright, Y/N. I’ve got you,” Dean comforts, pulling her even closer, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I’m right here. I won’t leave your side, I promise.” She cries against his chest silently, wheezing every time she tries to inhale. Dean’s heart is beating out of his chest as hers will stop any moment now. “Y-you know what my mom’s favorite song was… to sing to me?” she whispers, referring to their talk days ago, about music and songs sang by their mothers. “It was Lullabye... Billy Joel… She always sang Lullabye.” “It’s a good song,” Dean gets out with difficulty. “It is,” you smile into his shirt, before she softly whispers the first lines.

Goodnight, my angel Time to close your eyes And save these questions for another day

Dean joins in with her, cradling his dying girl to the rhythm of the song. The melody somehow makes it easier to pronounce the words.

I think I know what you've been asking me I think you know what I've been trying to say I promised I would never leave you, and you should always know Wherever you may go, no matter where you are I never will be far away

She lets Dean take over the vocals completely, listening to his emotional yet clear voice. It hushes her into a deep sleep from which she will never wake again. Slowly Y/N sinks further into the depths of unconsciousness. But she can still hear him, she can still hear Dean. Scientists have proved that the sense of hearing is the last one to perish when a person dies. Seems like they are right.

Goodnight, my angel Now it's time to sleep And still so many things I want to say Remember all the songs you sang for me When we went…

He stops mid-sentence, waiting for some kind of response from Y/N. A flinch, her chest rising, anything. But nothing happens. There’s no cloud of humid air coming from her lips, even the drum in her chest has stopped playing. When he lifts his chin off her head and loosens his grip on the woman in his arms slightly, he is able to behold the blank expression on her pretty face, eyes slightly opened, but her soul is gone.

“Y/N…?”

Shocked he stares at her as a lump obstructs his throat. A hole in his stomach grows larger when the harsh reality replaces his denial. Dean can’t prevent the tears from building up in his eyes and so he looks up, hoping that they won’t fall down, but they fall anyway. Unable to cope with the avalanche of sorrow that hits him like a freight train, his bottom lip starts to quiver and slowly he begins to move back and forth, mourning, as he presses her lifeless body against his.

He lost her. For a few moments she was his and now he’s lost her. He whispers her name in her hair, tells her he loves her once more and then again. God, he would give anything to see her react to those words, by throwing him that amazing smile. Softly he continues to sing the song. The earth turns and the sun shines its light on the both of them. His voice is shaking so badly that he has trouble getting anything out at all. Being able to hold and cradle her helps, and so he sets off again where her death caused him to pauze.

Remember all the songs you sang for me When we went sailing on an emerald bay And like a boat out on the ocean I'm rocking you to sleep The water's dark and deep, inside this ancient heart You'll always be a part of me

Someday we'll all be gone But lullabies go on and on They never die That's how you and I will be

The end, people. Thank you so much for reading my story. I appreciate every single one of you. If you would like to talk about this or if you need a grief-counselor, let me know. Feedback is very much appreciated.

Follow Forever: @angelsandwinchesters @atc74 @bandobsession98 @books-wands-swords-impalas @canadianspnhunter @chumi-la-chula @cookie-dough-lova @dillpicklesunflowerseed @hannahindie @heartsaved @hennessy0274-blog @hyperella @idreamofhazel @just-another-busy-fangirl @kathaswings @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @mrswhozeewhatsis @myheartbeatsjustforyou @rainqueen @sammyssupersmile @sheepdogs33456 @sofiadiaz04 @spiritofoblivion @spnimag @sunskittlex @supernatural-girl97 @super-not-naturall @susan-is-in-the-house @theyaremyveryownthoughts @trashforwinchesters @ultimatecin73 @unlikelygalaxygiver @uzum4k1-uch1h4 @vvishous @vxxn128 @winchesterxtwo

How You & I Will Be tag: @deanwnchstr @parkeret @professionalspnfangirl @tmiships4life

169 notes · View notes

iftari · 5 years

Text

but in this handmade heaven, i come alive

an - dedicated to literally anyone who reads + shares it bc christ i love u for that. i swear it isn’t that long its all mostly just dialogue that stretches it out. also for @rayllum-week bc i found out exactly 4 minutes ago that that was a thing and this weirdly fits the last day so why note. i love u.

“Your handwriting is getting worse,” she announces leaning against the doorway. Callum looks up from his spot on the bed to find her holding a stack of papers all of which that are out of order.

“My bad,” he sounds entirely unapologetic

She shakes her head, walking over to where he’s laying. “You’re meant to be working you know,”

“I am,” he says, still sprawled on the bed. His lying skills are getting far worse he thinks.

She scoffs, leaning against his legs now. He tries not to notice the added pressure, fails if his quickened heartbeat is of any indication, and turns to look at her. From his position, he can make out only her upper body, arms well-toned, luminescent skin. Her sleeves are torn off revealing still white-pink skin, despite how much she’s been in the sun with him, and all he wants to do is draw her arms. And then her hands. And her legs, and her chin and eyes. Her really - all he wants to do is just draw her in every light, from every angle, as she throws watermelon seeds at him.

“You know,” she says conversationally, breaking him out of his trance “you’re a terrible prince. You literally have one job to do today and it’s to write out these memos for Ez”

He sits up at that looking mildly dismayed. “I’m not a terrible prince - my writing isn’t even that bad,” he objects, despite his lackluster apology two seconds ago.

She juts her chin out holding up the stack of papers. “Caps Callum. You’re literally writing in caps now instead of normal”

“That doesn’t mean its bad” he protests, although he can see her point. The lines are all intertwining within themselves and he’s left little spaces between the actual words.

“You’re right it's revolting. Horrendous. The worst thing I’ve ever seen and that includes Bait’s throw-up”

“You can’t say that about Bait, he’ll be hurt”

Her lips twitch as she leans down to rest her chin against his knees. “I’ll live I think, he already doesn’t like me”

“Well you can’t blame him,” he says in mock seriousness. She lets out a breathy laugh and he lets himself look at her for as long as he can get away with it. Her horns are stark against her white hair, all twisted and purple. She once told him that all Moonshadow elves had them in order telepathically communicate with one another and he’d spent a week at Xadia paranoid at what the elves could have been saying.

“Hey,” she says, breaking him out of his thoughts again. “Give me your hand.” Without thinking he reaches out towards her and wonders if she’ll notice that his hands are too calloused. She turns them over, running her fingers lightly across the lines etched in his palms. He suddenly feels every nerve on high alert, keeping his eyes low to avoid hers.

“I can read palms you know,”

“Yeah?” he asks struggling to keep his heartbeat normal. He feels like a live wire, with her hands so close to his. If he wanted to he could close the small gap between them. If he wanted to, he could intertwine their fingers and rub his thumb against her knuckles.

“Yeah”

“What’s mine say?” he finally looks up and she is impossibly close. He’s given up on controlling his heartbeat; it’s at an impossibly fast rhythm now, banging against his ribs like a fist upon a door. He can’t decide where to look, his eyes darting from the top of her head, back to their hands, still dangerously close.

“I think this line has to do with your energy. It means that you’re bound to have a good head in the face of danger and that you should be looking for excitement in your life. Adventures with heroes and that you’ll have great tales about brave and kind elves”

He lets out a breathy laugh, pulling away from her. “It does not say that” he objects, feeling the loss of her hands. “You’re just making this up now to boost your own ego”

She grins back at him, all teeth in that way he’s learning girls do when they’re truly happy. He forces himself to swallow, feeling impossibly delirious being this close to her still. His eyes fall to the column of her neck and he’s struck with a sense of wanting.

“I am not making this up I swear,” she says holding her hand over her chest, in an attempt to seem honest. “This really is a Moonshadow ritual”

He doesn’t respond back, going over the way she said ritual less than two seconds ago. He’s been becoming more obsessed with her voice as of late, listening to the change of tone in certain letters, hanging on to every sound. It’s becoming more common for him to register her voice before he can even see her in the room. A part of him wonders if this is becoming a problem.

“You really can read palms?” he asks her, this time looking directly at her. Her eyelashes are longer than his he notices.

“Yes”

He huffs, pulling his hands out again, trying to ignore the quickening of his heart.

“So this line here” she starts again, this time biting her cheek to stop herself from laughing. She is close enough for him to see the scar by her left eyebrow and he is struck with another feeling of desperate want. “Its about your love life. You can find a happy love but you need to have the courage to say something”

His throat constricts tighter, eyes widening. She looks up at him, all traces of teasing laughter gone.

“Oh?”

“Yeah” she hums, “think you know what that’s about?”

His heart is hammering around his ribs, all loud and desperate to say something. He thinks he might feel lightheaded, if it wasn’t for her hands still holding onto his wrist, tethering him down. She looks so pretty across from him, all purple eyes and white eyebrows, her hair curling by her neck. Time is passing by hopelessly slow between them and distantly he thinks that this is his chance, this is his opening, with her standing just a bit away.

“About you,” he manages to say and she blinks up at him, startled. His own voice surprises him. He wasn’t even aware of his mouth moving until the words were out, unprocessed.

“What’d you say?” she is just staring back at him now, mouth slightly agape and oh this was a very bad idea he thinks. He forgot, for that split second of bravery, that people can hear him when he talks. That she can hear him when he confesses truths he wasn’t fully aware of.

“Ah,” he says, except it comes out more as a regretful hiss than a real word. “Nothing - I thought - well see - what I meant was - because - and so” he’s babbling now, just saying empty words to fill up the silence. This was a mistake he thinks and is trying to awkwardly reach out of her grasp to jump out the window.

“Callum,” she says, her hand reaching to touch his chin. He stills under her touch and looks at her to see a slight smirk on her face and Christ. She really is so pretty he thinks, his heart lodged in his throat now rather than his ribs. “Do you like me?”

He scoffs, trying to swallow. “Of course not. I hate you actually” he lies. It’s pointless because she can feel his heartbeat against his skin, and knows him well enough by now to figure out his tells. He thinks he might feel shame at his lying abilities if he wasn’t so busy feeling embarrassed over his unfiltered confession.

“Such a shame then,” she says and the smirk on her face is growing wider by the minute.

“What?” he finally asks trying to seem nonchalant, like he isn’t paying attention to her tongue running across her teeth.

“Because I really like you,” she says, voice certain, head tilted. Her smirk is fully grown by now and he truly cannot feel his heart anymore. He’s fairly certain it’s plummeted down somewhere into his stomach, dissolving in a pool of acid.

“Ah” and it comes out as another hiss, this time slightly less regretful. “Yeah, it is a shame then. On the record of my very much not liking you - hating you in fact”

“Good god,” she says and before he knows it she’s leaning into his space, even more, closing in the small gap between them. Her chest is pressed against his and it’s only then that he can hear his own heart again, realizes that it has yet to dissolve away into nothing.

She is so unbelievably present against him, grinning into his mouth victoriously, silver hair falling against his face. He’s forgotten how to think now, except for the way she says really, her voice putting more tension on the second half of the word.

#rayla #callum #the dragon prince #rayllum #kcwrites #i have. a lot of feelings abt them and this and theyre v conflicting #me: u have to write them to get used to them and write good content for them #me: u suck lemme die real quick #whatever im writing this at 1:19 am w my mother being impossible and this is probably na go into the queue so who knows when it'll post #title from marina (prev marina & the diamonds) 'handmade heaven' and the vibe of her song and the vibe of this fic are v different but lmao #this is 5 pages on google docs but again. its the fucking dialogue and spacing its not actually 5 pages i promise

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rkminhyun · 5 years

Photo

MGA SEASON FIVE CALLBACKS ∙ june twenty seven

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 : 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲

𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 & 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐬' 𝟐𝟒𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜

0:34 - 1:17 & 1:58 - 2:38

↺

he lies there in bed for a while after everyone’s settled down from from the events of getting the email, rereading the contents in question at least a dozen times before he can will himself to put his phone down.

the day had originally gone like normal, the disruption of peace coming in the form of someone mentioning they’d gotten an email ( -- kenta, maybe, if he searches his thoughts hard enough to find an answer, followed closely by daniel rushing into the room ) and with nerves erecting instantaneously, minhyun takes a breath before looking towards his own phone.

the first read is more eyes casually finding themselves in a frantic search for the key words -- an invitation outlining he’s made the callback cut, an address attached and formal details lingering in between the main points of the email. his head hits the back of the couch silently, and he closes his eyes.

he breathes.

conversations around him eventually fall into a lull as they break off into tiny groups, scattering as they discuss the necessary details for the big day, excitement in the air. minhyun checks in and out of the conversation, finding himself a little lost but stubborn enough not to let it seep through into his expression. he keeps his answers light and goes about his day.

then, he tucks himself into bed, bidding kenta a goodnight, before turning his back on the other boy and proceeding to open up the very email he’s been lamenting in his head all day.

oh god, what did he sign himself up for?

a minor freak out later, not that anyone in the share-house would really know considering it’s all happening internally in the middle of the night, because clearly minhyun never quite learned the value of expressing your emotions and having a healthy venting system going -- and so, when woojin asks him if he knows what he’s doing, he simply shakes his head the first time and then says i’m working on it anytime after that.

yeah, definitely.

it’s definitely not as if he whips something together the day before, practice running into early morning, relying on choreography he did in past and knew his body was still comfortably familiar with. it’s times like these he’s thankful to his little sister, that he had been coerced into attending dance lessons for however short a time it may be in comparison to other trainees, appreciating the experience exponentially simply so he wouldn’t necessarily embarrass himself. it takes a few full runs for his mind to remember the way his limbs are supposed to be working, but a few hours in and breathless, minhyun can stay with some semblance of confidence maybe he’s anticipating the big day.

well, more so at the prospect of getting it done and over with, but he deems the thought is what counts.

daniel stays over the night before so they can all go together, and minhyun’s up making breakfast earlier than he expected to, despite how he has to rub at his eyes for a while when he wakes just to will himself to open them. once he’s up, the butterflies ever present in his lungs make sure their presence is acknowledged, and he almost considers skipping out on the meal.

almost being the keyword, but he knows the importance of a good balanced meal in the morning and so he eats, pushing the same on the others through insisting remarks and a bit of force where necessary. he smiles to himself at the sight of the group together, a sense of love ever present in the way his eyes crinkle just the slightest, before he shifts his attention back to his plate.

the rest of the morning and the time after they’re finally past check-ins and inside the venue almost flies by, minhyun too busy fretting over small details for the others and making sure everything was ready for his own performance by running through things a couple dozen times in his mind. he helps sungwoon carry in his keyboard, amused at the prospect of coming to the other’s aid though he doesn’t make any remarks about it, almost wordless thanks to nerves. his heart feels like it’ll never stop racing, and after a while, he almost gets used to it.

they’re all dressed in empty enigma shirts, making some sort of combined statement and he can’t particularly remember who brought up the idea but he wears it proud -- just a shirt, he’ll remind himself later, a little embarrassed, but the point stands.

he waits for the other boys to sit first before following suit, finding comfort having a seat on one of their ends, having the ability to look over and see them all at once. maybe it’s the side of him that served as empty enigma’s manager for as long as he did, or maybe it’s just a him thing overall, but he smiles to himself as the others chatter among themselves and feels contentment stirring inside him. he may not say it now, maybe not anytime soon when words are so difficult to filter through and process but the appreciation he holds for his found family, his band of misfits -- he can’t even begin to phrase it all into words.

instead, he turns towards the front and watches as others start filtering in, eyes beginning to analyze the competition without him really meaning to. it feels like an automatic response, and overall, a very him thing to do when he’ll consider it later while looking back on the day.

eventually his phone buzzes and he sees the text from suwoong pop onto the screen as he slides it open, and for a moment he stares at it before looking back up towards the front. ah, yes. suwoong. how naive of him to forget the other was apart of the process, especially when he was sure to be a sight to behold in the auditions, no, more the entire show.

his phone then buzzes thrice consecutively, and minhyun only sighs before unlocking it to respond, question prompted about the location of his seat. minhyun closes his eyes to bask in the quiet murmurs of the room and then like clockwork, the quiet is shattering as if infiltrated by an incoming tsunami, and he opens his eyes to offer suwoong a wry attempt at a grin.

time passes with idle conversations and then a focus towards the beginning of the call-backs. soon after begin the nervous jitters, crawling up his skin and he scratches his arms, his neck, his cheek from time to time, the phantom sensations never quite leaving him, increasing once the judges are announced. he’s one to operate with a sheet of iron over his expression, but he blinks in minor shock, later supposing it’s not too out there -- the contestants would be their investments in the future, some talents they’d be scouting at the end of the program. despite the pressure, minhyun finds his jitters translating into excitement, his attention kept towards the stage.

daniel goes up first, and minhyun offers a quick pat before he can making his way down, the good luck almost lost in his bout of nerves before finally making it past his lips. he shifts into the seat beside sungwoon when the other’s gone, and like clock-work, without really meaning to every time he swears, his grip becomes interlocked with the others as they stare at the stage collectively. he tries his best to pay attention through the whole thing, beaming proudly though with the first of them gone, minhyun feels the presence of ticking clock grow exponentially. at some point, he blanks out. when daniel returns, he slides back into his own seat as everyone commences the quiet cheers, and minhyun offers a heartwarming good job whispered into the air once the other sits.

“hwang minhyun!” katie lee calls out the moment he’s done with the congratulations, and minhyun’s heart immediately jumps into his throat. daniel pats his knee before he can stand, the other boys offering a thumb up and some verbal good lucks but it’s the collective smiles that stick with him as he makes his way to the makeshift stage.

taking a few deep breathes on his way up, he slides on what he deems to be a charming smile and quickly introduces himself. “hello, i’m hwang minhyun, and i hope everyone remembers to recycle on the daily.” he doesn’t know why he says that, actually fails to remember much of the beginning when he looks back on the day later, but he knows the rest of the pleasantries go as well as they can before he’s waiting for the music to begin. the number of people should add to his nerves, as he finally stands before them all, but the stage does what it always does -- spotlight in his eyes, he inhales sharply and lets the rest of the world seep into the back of his thoughts.

twenty four karat magic in the air

the performance is meant to start off a little acoustic style, the backtrack essentially just his own ad-libs for his performance, timed perfectly as he went along at the pace he’d practiced. his voice is loud as he sings the final note in the line, side of his mouth perking up as he closes his eyes for a moment.

head to toe so player look out uh

his only plan for the beginning is to rely on his subtle charm and eye contact to start off his segment of time. it’s a plan he’d been hesitant on doing but the idea bugs him for some time before he’d finally given in, practicing and watching himself perform it countless times as his slightly accented english stabilizes as he gets a grip on his intentions. his version is a little more focused on actually vocalizing the verse more so than the original did, taking the chance to show off his singing.

pop pop, it's show time (show time) show time (show time) guess who's back again? oh they don't know? (go on tell 'em) oh they don't know? (go on tell 'em) i bet they know soon as we walk in (showin' up) wearing cuban links (ya) designer minks (ya) inglewood's finest shoes (whoop, whoop) don't look too hard might hurt ya'self known to give the color red the blues

despite his growing confidence as he goes on, he has yet to do much outside of exerting the image of a man that knows his lines and has the confidence to perform them, switching his gaze from being planted on the judges themselves and the audience at large, hoping to pull in the entire room into the piece that would come together to form the memory known as “minhyun’s attempt at a successful mga callback performance.” a long title -- it can use some work.

oh shoot, i'm a dangerous man with some money in my pocket (keep up) so many pretty girls around me and they waking up the rocket (keep up) why you mad, fix ya face, ain't my fault y'all be jocking (keep up)

at the pretty girls line, he fixes his gaze on katie lee and baek jiyoung for a moment, shooting finger hearts to the panel, then finishing off the verse. at that, the backtrack makes a faltering noise, distorting at the next intended players only, come on, and he sees scattered looks directed his way though it’s a well-known technique really. minhyun takes it as a cue to run a hand through his hair casually, growing grin visible as the track plays finally leaves the acoustic back track, picking up where he’d left off vocally only a moment prior. as the music switches to the original, bruno mars’ voice echoing through the room, his body reacts to the music automatically.

just put your pinky rings up to the moon girls, what y'all trying to do? (tell me what y'all trying to do) twenty four karat magic in the air head to toe so player (hands up!)

his mind is empty as he dances, more focused on the music than anything else, not much active thought needed to deliver his moves. there’s a casual grin, tinted with a subtle cockiness only present when he performs, channelling a bit of his reign persona to exert the intended effect of a man put together, who knows what he’s doing. he knows the moves well, more than anything else in the moment in fact, and a voice deep within his conscious tells him it’s clear with the confidence in his steps. (not that he’d tell anyone else that, finding blissful ignorance a safer home to settle within -- i did okay, he’ll tell anyone that asks and leave it at that).

put your pinky rings up to the moon girls, what y'all trying to do? (do) twenty four karat magic in the air head to toe so player (twenty four karat) uh, look out

he falls into a bow almost immediately, breathing heavy as he tries to stabilize but almost glowing with satisfaction. the warmth covers every inch of him and he runs a hand through his hair once more before bidding his thank you’s.

#rkmga5 #rkmga5callback #danielxrk #rkxsungwoon #rkkenta #rkpwj #rksuwoong #wc : 2222

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imnotcameraready · 5 years

Text

If Villains Baked Cookies — Chapter 3

A/N: it’s been a Fuckin While, welcome back to this!!!

Word Count: 3295

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit y’all, curses, cursing, minor character death (not anyone significant to the storyline), suggested abuse, suggested trauma, swords, knives, panic and panic attack — if i forgot any pls let me know!!!

Pairings: im realizing that this is platonic Moceit and then platonic Analogince, with like. light versions of platonic DLAMP given that they’re a famILY

Characters: Deceit, Patton, Virgil, Logan, Roman, Thomas, AND EMILE PICANI :^) and Percy the Printer™

read on AO3!

Prologue — Chapter 1 — Chapter 2

@rebelrewriter

enjoy!

Sir Virgil Malory wasn’t exactly a knight, per se. He never liked the shining armor and giant swords, both of which would clang together in an incredibly distracting way. No, Virgil prefered the shadows, the quiet, soft leather shoes and a few small daggers hidden in his coat.

He was forced to undergo the knight training, though, as the youngest of four brothers who had all grown to be high ranking knights. His father, before he died, expected all of them to carry on his own legacy of being one of the King’s war advisors.

When he was sixteen, just before the last year of his knightly training, he was pulled aside by one of the King’s aides. Of course, his heart was beating in his neck, he was sweating buckets, what had he done to make the King mad? Why did he need an audience with the King? And the aide didn’t tell him anything until they got to the small war-planning room.

With JUST the King in it.

“Sounds terrible, being locked in a room with a royal,” Roman interrupted, feet kicked up onto the table.

Virgil shot him a glare. “It is pretty terrible when I’m locked in a room with you,” he stuck his tongue out at Roman, who made a sound crossed between a squeak and a gasp in indignation.

“Virgil? Keep going?” Thomas asked, wrapping his own cape around himself as well.

“Fuck, uh, yeah.”

“No more interruptions, Roman,” Logan raised an eyebrow and cast a side glance at him, “And get your feet off of the table. Patton would be furious.”

Deceit rolled his eyes while Roman grumbled quietly, sitting up proper. “Like Patton’s capable of being furious,” he joked, voice soft.

Thomas still didn’t like how his tongue flicked when he spoke.

Virgil cleared his throat, and Roman’s grumbling quieted.

The King had called Virgil into the room not to reprimand him, but to extend an offer. His army had enough knights who fought with swords. He needed more who could fight in the shadows. Who could sneak into an enemy’s tent and slit their throats quietly.

Yeah, it was a weird gig. Seemed to go against all of the knights’ mantra of honor and dealing with things in battle, but the King was serious. He talked a lot about how not everything could be settled out in the open and how not everything could be known to the public. I didn’t like it at all but….I wasn’t really cut out to be a knight, anyway. I said yes.

Training was, well….similar? I don’t know how much y’all wanna hear.

“Just, like….I dunno. Whatever you see fit?” Thomas asked.

He had started slowly slipping off his armor, but kept his dagger and sword strapped to his person. His choice to keep his weapons didn’t escape Deceit’s gaze, he kept noticing the god’s eyes following him. Thomas really, really didn’t like him.

Virgil just watched Thomas a little harder. He seemed to want to retaliate, but a nudge from Roman distracted him. “No more third person?” he cocked an eyebrow, leaning across both of his arms and the table, grinning cheekily up at him.

“Eh, that wasn’t gonna last anyway,” Virgil rolled his eyes with a huff, “I’m not a storyteller.”

I’m gonna skip training. But basically, uh, I learned how to throw knives, make poisons, climb walls, you name it.

My brothers knew I had a special job, but they didn’t know what it was. We lived in the same house, nearby the castle, which was technically my eldest brother’s house since his family lived there. They always asked what I was doing and what the King wanted from me but I never told. The King’d said that….anyone I told would be killed.

My brothers sucked, but I didn’t want them dead.

I was knighted when I was seventeen, and then I started getting sent out on jobs. Never with anyone, never during the day. The royal family always claimed I was a war messenger. That appeased my brothers for the most part, but the oldest one….Percival. Percy. Percy never really trusted that description. He never went after me, though, but I could always see that he just didn’t accept that.

When Patton was first being challenged by the King, I was almost sent, actually. There were only a few of us war messengers, all assassins, and I’d just returned from another job. Because I was fresh home, the King sent someone else. I didn’t know his name or anything but I remember how scared we all were when he didn’t come back.

The King sent someone else to poison Patton’s crops, and they came back. Succeeded.

News traveled fast, though, that the. Well. He was called a murderer then, and everyone was saying that the murderer’d run. Fled into the hills. And everyone was calling for the King to send a party against him.

The pressure went on for only about a year before the King caved. He said he sent a single knight against the murderer to best him in combat. The King sent me. He told me it didn’t matter how I did it, but that I just needed….he wanted me to bring Patton’s dead body back.

Virgil now looked down at the table, brow furrowed, angry at the memory. Thomas glanced up at Logan and Roman, noticing that they seemed surprised. Thomas hadn’t been asked to bring the body back, either. It might have been a custom that died with time.

Even Deceit was looking at his own lap, humming quietly along with the wind chime.

It was a tense, uncomfortable silence.

“Whew!” Thomas’ head snapped up at the sound of the side door opening. Patton walked in, wiping his hands on a towel. “Left was really milkin’ it today!”

Only Deceit chuckled. Virgil lowered his head onto the table, the hood of his cloak falling over his head. Logan groaned.

Patton seemed confused at what he’d walked into. He looked around at them all and opened his arms. “What’s wrong, kiddos? I hope that pun didn’t moove you!”

“We’re just, um….” Thomas looked up at Logan — he seemed to be the task manager.

Logan met his eyes and sighed. Despite only being here for a few hours, Thomas was already getting the hang of being here. Truth be told, he’d already made up his mind. Of course he was staying. But he didn’t want to be just stagnant. Not after all that he’d heard about the king.

“We are listening to Virgil explain how he arrived here. Are you….aware, of why he came?”

Patton grimaced as soon as Logan said “explain.” He stepped to Virgil’s side and gently rubbed his back. “Yeah, I remember when Virge arrived! He, uh….well, he was real determined!” he smiled, a little too cheerily for the topic, “But Deceit wasn’t havin’ any of that.”

“Sorry,” Deceit grumbled, “It was fun.”

Virgil sat up. “Sorry,” he mumbled, wiping his face, “I’ll keep going.”

“Don’t wipe too hard, you’ll smudge your angsty make up,” Roman retorted, voice lacking the bite it’d had earlier, “You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.”

Virgil looked up at him and they seemed to share a moment. Patton kept rubbing Virgil’s back, also watching Roman, then Logan. Scanning around, making sure his children were okay, Thomas reckoned. He was a little surprised when Patton’s eyes landed on him, too. He gave Patton a tiny smile, which Patton returned thrice as large.

“Well, this is a good time to, uh, air out the dirty laundry. I’m gonna cut up the brownies while you kiddos talk?” Patton patted Virgil’s shoulder one last time before walking around the table, towards the kitchen area.

Thomas watched him and Deceit share a look, too, though it was a little different from the other. He couldn’t tell how. Was it an increase in tension? Determination? Seriousness?

It must have communicated something, because Deceit rolled his eyes away and glared at Virgil’s back. “I cannot pick up the story, Virgil, if you would like,” he offered.

Virgil shook his head and faced Deceit. “No, nah, it’s….it’s okay. It’s way in the past anyway! And, ‘sides, I kicked Roman’s ass harder,” the last part was punctuated with Virgil pointing to Roman with his thumb over his shoulder.

Roman, however, snorted. “The only thing you kicked, Angst-fest, was the dirt after our glorious battle!”

“You started crying over your ripped cape, but go off,” Deceit said, checking his fingernails and digging the dirt out from under them.

“You little—”

“Shut it! Alright, so…..”

The whole chosen one thing wasn’t big back then, but everyone kinda knew about me being sent off. I didn’t say bye to my family or anything, either. Those assholes didn’t care.

“Virgil! No swearing!”

“Jeez, sorry Patt.”

The King set me up with everything, rations and money and weapons and all that jazz. It only took about a week to ride here, too, since it was the first time and none of the opportunists’d settled into where they are now.

Like, you know. Logan talked about having to fight a sphinx, when he first came. I’m sure you had to fight some things like that too. Creatures and peddlers and thieves set themselves up along the path, see if they can kill the Chosen One and loot their body. Or they just wanna swindle you out of money and goods.

None of that was there when I went. It was real easy, until I got to the mountain.

I ran into Patton first, while he was building the barn, actually. With like, his hands. I didn’t think he was the warlock but, well, did any of us? I asked what he was doing all the way out here, he said he lived here. He’d just moved. He was kinda jumpy, but like, that’s valid. He asked why I was here and I told him….I told him I was here to meet a warlock. Lied, and said I was here to discuss a truce with the King.

Patton flipped out. Super excited and all.

Here, Virgil gestured to Patton. “I dunno, do you wanna….pick up the story?”

Patton shot him a small smile and brought a plate of brownies to the table. As soon as he set it down, Roman grabbed one and began nibbling on it. Logan thanked him and took one as well, and then Virgil, who was still staring at Patton.

He leaned on the counter besides Deceit, who wrapped an arm around Patton’s shoulders. He took a deep breath.

“I thought it’d be the end of being chased around. Maybe I’d get to farm and-and go back down to the town. I missed having neighbors. But, like….at that point, it’d been a year. A little over a year of working with Deceit’s magic. And, since it’s tied to preservation and honesty, I could….I could hear you lying. It’s weird, but I could hear it, but I wanted to believe it so badly,” Patton shrugged.

“That means it wasn’t a dumbass idea,” Deceit grumbled.

Patton laughed behind a hand. It seemed no one was going to mention that Deceit had sworn. Logan raised a hand, but Virgil grabbed it and lowered it slowly, all waiting for Patton to continue. It only took a few moments before his hand dropped, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Yeah, um. That wasn’t my brightest, I’ll admit,” Patton’s voice was airier, “I let Virgil in. We sat in the kitchen. We….I think I was just rambling at you.”

“You were telling me about the chickens you were raising,” Virgil added, eyes flickering towards Deceit.

“And I didn’t interrupt. You had a knife in your sleeve,” Deceit met Virgil’s gaze.

Virgil looked down at the table and nodded. “Deceit, uh….we had a fight.”

All was quiet, Virgil staring at the table and fidgeting with his sleeves, but Deceit leaned off of the counter behind himself. “Do you not want me to show it?” he offered, sincerity clear in his voice.

Virgil stood up, head snapping up to Deceit. “Don’t,” he leaned forward on the table, nostrils flaring, knuckles tight on the table’s edge.

Roman stood up, too, and — where the fuck did he get that sword? He stuck a sword between the two of them, holding up his off hand towards Virgil’s chest.

On instinct, Thomas stood as well, drawing his own sword and holding it out to mimic Roman. “Woah, woah, calm down, everyone. If that’s—if that’s where the story ends, then that’s fine, right?” Thomas glanced up at Roman for support, who nodded, then at Logan.

Logan….didn’t move. He was just watching Patton, who was standing behind Deceit, seemingly stricken. Thomas watched, too, as Patton blinked a little. He moved slow, like how one would when approaching a scared animal.

“....Dee. Don’t do it,” Patton grabbed Deceit’s arm, tugging him back a little.

Deceit didn’t break eye contact with Virgil. Just watched him quietly, the second eyelid over his snake eye blinking slowly. Virgil was matching his glare and seemed only a few seconds away from ripping Roman’s arm away from himself.

Yet he broke first, looking down and away. The room’s tension dropped, Roman spinning around and sheathing his sword. He held Virgil’s shoulders carefully and asked if he was okay. Patton pulled Deceit backwards into his arms, holding him tight and asking the same. Thomas himself just….watched. Slowly sank back into his seat, leaned backwards. Logan patted his arm and Thomas turned up towards him.

“I hope you can excuse the tension,” Logan’s voice was quiet, probably hoping to not be heard by the others, “They have a lot of history.”

“They. Deceit and Virgil, I’m guessing?” Thomas whispered back.

Logan nodded, fixing his glasses as he glanced back up at Deceit. “Deceit is fairly tame, for a forgotten deity, but he is incredibly protective of Patton. Given that Virgil was assigned to kill him, Deceit….well. I don’t know much of the story myself, but I do know that Virgil was defeated in hand to hand combat. Multiple times. They get along fair enough now but I assume those memories are still difficult to sit with.”

They both looked up at the sound of Roman tugging Virgil toward the door. Thomas couldn’t see much of Virgil, wrapped beneath his thick patchwork cloak, but the one hand he could see was gripping Roman’s white tunic tight enough to turn his hand just as white. A murderer. It was still a little hard to process, this teenager was supposed to be a hardened murderer. Roman held the door open with his foot and carefully ushered Virgil out. He caught Logan and Thomas’ eye as he hurried out and mouthed “We’ll be back,” before letting the door close behind himself.

Now, Logan and Thomas directed their attention to Deceit and Patton. They’d shifted, Deceit sitting on the counter, Patton holding his hands tight.

“He’s very human, all things considered,” Logan murmured just loud enough for Thomas to hear, “If you’d like….I can show you to your room for the night.”

Thomas looked at him. Logan was watching him as well, blue eyes piercing behind those glasses.

He reminded Thomas so much of the librarian, Emile, but with a different level of power. When Thomas had been chosen he went to Emile, only to be held in the tightest hug he’d ever felt. There were rumors in their village, there are always rumors, that Emile had the Gift of Sight and that he’d been able to see what happened to his brother. The same piercing eyes, the same knowing gaze. They held Thomas in his spot so well that he almost forgot he wasn’t standing in the library’s foyer, about to ask Mr. Picani if he’d ever climbed a mountain.

“....I….”

“I know you’ve made your decision, Thomas. Regardless of your desire to announce it or not, there are still a few hours until dinner and you may find it best to rest,” Logan’s face folded into a small fond smile, “Besides, Patton has been arranging your room for the past decade.”

They’d been expecting him. Of course they had, if the Chosen One was a generational tradition lasting over the past hundreds of years.

The thought made Thomas’ blood boil. He’d trained for years to protect Tomasphere but the more he learned about the royal family….

He hoped Logan couldn’t see his anger. Thomas smiled back, more unsure. “Um. Yeah, sure,” he followed Logan as he rose and tucked in his chair.

“Patton,” Patton turned to look over his shoulder at Logan and Thomas, “I’m going to take Thomas to his room. Roman and Virgil are outside.”

“Wait,” Deceit’s hand — Thomas’ fists balled tightly as he saw that there were claws, claws on his scaled left arm, just like the claws that gripped his throat only a few days ago — pulled Patton’s shoulder to the side, “I can tell Virgil totally wants to finish the story, so I shouldn’t step in. Thomas’ isn’t staying, ergo the story shouldn’t be finished.”

Logan frowned at him, opening his mouth to interrupt, then closing his mouth as he tried to decipher the circle speak. Thomas watched him, deferring in a moment of fear, but Logan only shook his head. “I don’t think that will be necessary—”

“Virgil didn’t get his ass handed to him so bad, and it definitely took less than a week for him to fully recover,” Deceit rubbed the back of his neck, “It….I’m completely proud.”

“Dee, it’s okay.”

“I didn’t break his spine. He—Patton, sunlight, he—Patton.”

Deceit’s eyes flicked toward Thomas, whose fists clenched even firmer, and then down to the table. His shaking shoulders were hunched just enough for Patton to pull him back to his chest and for him to rest his head in the crook of Patton’s neck. “Now, Dee, you were different. That was a few centuries ago, and you were different. Things’re better now,” he rubbed the deity’s back, running a hand through his dark brown hair, “Things’re better.”

“I don’t know, Patt,” Deceit’s voice was muffled but held a distinct change in tone.

Thomas wanted to watch, something in him wanted to bear witness to this honest side of Deceit. He hadn’t been sure about Deceit’s sincerity since he’d met him, certain that there were backward statement and some very obvious lies, but, well, Thomas couldn’t exactly tell. The sentiment of his sorrow, though, and the tone. The tone of his voice. Was he being honest?

But Logan’s hand gripped his arm and tugged.

“Thomas. Let’s go,” his voice was firm, and Thomas couldn’t help but obey.

He followed Logan out of the kitchen and left Patton to calm the upset god. He followed Logan into a smaller room, furnished with a fully-made bed, a small desk, a wardrobe, and a candlestick in a lantern already glowing. It seemed quaint, like moving into a new room, but Thomas could already tell that it was meant to be “home.” He dropped his satchel onto the desk and looked up. There were stars drawn onto the ceiling in golden ink, an “R+L” in the corner paying homage to the artists.

If Logan expected some sort of reaction, he was sorely disappointed. Once he saw the bed, Thomas knew he was done for, as the weight of how much he’d gone through during the day finally crashed onto his shoulders. He took a few steps toward the bed, collapsed onto it and, within mere seconds, was asleep.

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thecorteztwins · 6 years

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Fabian Cortez: A Masterlist of Marvel’s Worst Man or Mutant

@sammysdewysensitiveeyes Heya! Sorry this took a bit. I have a LOT of Fabian comics to go through. I want to rec the ones really worth reading in terms of content, whether quantity (a lot of him) or quality (he’s important, scummy, or funny in some way) I also wanted to describe what the actual content inside them is, so you can decide for yourself if it’s up your alley or not for what you’re looking for. So under the cut I’m going to list you every piece of Fabian Cortez content worth having! Complete with pictures! Try not to drool, ladies!

I’ll start with his 616 issues. X-Men (second series) #1: Fabian arrives! First thing he does is use the fact that his sister was nigh-fatally shot defending him to MANIPULATE MAGNETO WITH HER APPARENT DEATH while conveniently not mentioning he can heal her and she’ll be fine. Also introduces the term “flatscan” hooray! X-Men (second series) #2: Magneto shows up to save the Acolytes from the bullshit they got themselves into. Scolds Fabian on the way home after. Quality bits include that when Magneto arrives to collect his stupid followers, Fabian grins RIGHT AT THE GODDAMN CAMERA like he fucking KNOWS. Also, THIS HAPPENS

FUCKING FABIAN I SWEAR TO GOD HE’S SO GROSS also this is when she calls him Magneto’s “pet boy” which I am never ever letting go of X-Men (second series) #3: Fabian betrays Magneto and the other Acolytes, leaving them to die! So what’s the humorous content? Well, they’re spying on a napping Xavier, and Fabian is all “What are you doing, old man?” pondering-like, and Magneto goes “Sleeping?” and idk I find that fucking hilarious. Magneto and Fabian hold hands while Fabian tells him “Let me take you to your quarters” RAWR

X-Factor #92: Fabian’s first interaction with Pietro! He’s pulled together this massive fucking Acolytes attack on a government facility, exposed their secret Sentinel project to X-Factor, put an alien parasite in Val Cooper (which she vomits up in this issue) to control her...ALL TO TALK TO PIETRO!!! Yeah. Also he makes a girl kneel between her knees and creepy-touches her hair, then PULLS it while snarling about how Pietro will be his. So. Yeah. The Uncanny X-Men #300: This happens

Moira also whispers to Neophyte (a teenage boy Acolyte) about how she’s seen how he looks at Fabian when no one is watching. She actually is referring to how she can tell Neo knows Fabian is lying about everything, but still. Neo also quotes some shit about how “Lord Cortez was with our savior a the moment of his death. Magnus has entrusted him” that you just fucking KNOW Fabian is the one who said this you KNOW he’s been preaching this shit to his new Acolytes. Meanwhile, the Gamesmaster TROLLS THE HELL OUT OF FABIAN by letting him talk about how “lol yeah I totes killed Magneto” when Gamesmaster knew that Neo was listening. When Fabian calls Gamesmaster out on this “You set me up!”), Gamesmaster is like “lol yup trololol” and his reason is honestly just that it was funny (”Anything to keep the game interesting”) Fabian tries to run away during a fight because of course he does. THEN WE GET THE FAMOUS NAKED TANTRUM!!!

BECAUSE THIS WAS NECESSARY Fun fact, the naked tantrum epilogue is done by a different artist than the rest of the issue. The person who did most of the issue draws the men with heavy black body hair. The person who did the naked epilogue does not. So Fabian goes from having very hairy arms to totally smooth, suggesting he just got a full-body wax during the time between the tantrum and the main story. So there’s that. Also he breaks a window during said tantrum because THAT’S such a smart idea; nothing like glass shards in your urethra! Also jumps on a man (still naked) while he screams about being royalty. God, I love him. The Uncanny X-Men #304: Opens with the Acolytes dogpiling on Fabian because Exodus has revealed he’s full of shit and the one who killed Magneto. He is STILL trying to give them orders---specifically, the female ones! Oh, Fabian! Exodus, rather than killing him, teleports him away, claiming that Magneto doesn’t want him executed but to suffer slowly “a victim of someone else’s legacy” This was probably meant to foreshadow that Fabian had the Legacy virus, since that plot was just starting at this time, but that never happened so it just comes off like Magneto, being an egomaniac himself, knew that just fading into obscurity would be the perfect punishment for someone like Fabs. Avengers #368 (Bloodties Part I of V): Starts with Fabian holding little Luna above the flames of Genosha and monologuing to her. SHE’S A BABY, FABIAN. SHE CAN’T UNDERSTAND YOU. WHY DO YOU LOVE YOUR OWN VOICE SO MUCH. It is kinda cute (if you ignore the whole “city on fire” thing) that she’s wrapped up in his cloak and appears to be smiling and snuggling him while he rambles. Maybe she thinks he’s telling her a story, idk. All I know is Luna is the only person in this whole damn series who has ever liked Fabian at all and that’s because she’s a literal toddler (infant?) who doesn’t know what’s going on. Issue also ends with Fabian and Luna. He and his forces have murdered the entire government of Genosha and now he’s proclaimed himself the new Chief in State of the nation. He addresses the people from a broadcast inside the state citadel, with a worried-looking Luna on his knee, surrounded by the corpses of the former government. I personally don’t think he looks good on TV. Not good for humorous content, but is worth it if you also want to see him actually seeming scary; it’s gonna be the last time he does it. X-Men (second series) #26: Fabian holds a very confused baby Luna as he gives a big dumb ranty speech to the Genoshans. Also shows up to flash thigh at Pietro like this:

Avengers #369 (Bloodties Part V of V): Exodus takes baby Luna from Fabian and kills him effortlessly. Nothing funny here, but if you enjoy the idea of him dying in a sewer, it may be for you! The Uncanny X-Men #307 (Bloodties Part IV of V): Pietro, Jean, Crystal, and Wanda search the Genoshan sewers for Fabian and Luna. There’s a lot of very unintentional humor here. Pietro mistakes HIS OWN WIFE for Fabian in the dark after HEARING HER VOICE, Fabian compliments Pietro on HOW WELL HE SCREAMS FABIAN’S NAME, Fabian teling Wanda and Pietro not to fight over him, Fabian ranting about how his life is in danger AS IF HE EXPECTS ANY OF THEM TO CARE LOL. Also at this point Fabs is having a nervous breakdown in sheer pants-pissing fear of Exodus, so he is REALLY rough-looking. Very unkempt, very unclean, raggedy cape, and the only time we see his hair out of the ponytail. Don’t know if you’re into the whole “grungy crazy-eyes” look but if you are, this is the issue for you! The 1996-1997 Magneto miniseries is full of hilarious Fabian goodness! It also does not actually have Magneto in it. It has Joseph, Magneto’s younger clone, believed by everyone at the time to be a de-aged Magneto with amnesia. It’s four issues and THE ART IS HORRIBLE and they forget Fabian’s ponytail through the whole thing except one issue...but the Fabian fuckery is AMAZING! It’s where he lies to a bird, it’s where he returns from the death no explanation and comes in LEVITATING AND SPARKLING with also no explanation how he’s doing that, where he tells a woman that snow reminds him of himself because he’s SO PURE and then tries to put her in his would-be harem two issues later and SHE BEATS HIM UNCONSCIOUS AND NO ONE QUESTIONS HER WHEN THEY WALK IN ON IT, where they lock him up and he escapes by somehow making A BIG FUCKING HOLE IN THE WALL WHAT THE FUCK and Joseph is just like “eh he’ll die out there” and apparently that’s just fine with everyone (LOOOL), where three Acolytes fight over who gets to kill him....honestly it just goes on and on, it’s great. A+ Fabian material, you must read! Fabian also tries to tutor Joseph on how to be Magneto and all I can think of is the bit in “Anastasia” where Vlad and Dmitri teach Anya about being a princess. Also he tricks “Magneto” into kissing a woman and it makes Exodus cry. So there’s that too. Quicksilver #1: IN JUST ONE SINGLE ISSUE Fabian manages to get a MASSIVE AQUARIUM comically dumped on him because he didn't listen to a woman, literally RAINS on poor Bova and Luna who have NO IDEA why a random wet fuckboy is falling on them from the ceiling screaming, SHOOTS A HORSE FURRY ON ACCIDENT, and then gets scolded like the idiot he is by Exodus. I’m just...in awe. Quicksilver #4-6: MAXIMUS AND FABIAN TEAM UP!! Heroes for Hire & Quicksilver Annual 1998: Pietro is finally ready to lead the Acolytes like Fabian was always pressuring him to!...and Fabian goes “lol nope” when Pietro is like hey go fight this dangerous battle. FABIAN. Exodus and Pietro both think he’s a coward lol. Fabs just takes anyone with him who will go and tries to split XD Magneto Rex #1: Magneto tracks down Fabian to make him serve him again. Involves Fabian saying “I guess I don’t have any choice” while kneeling in front of Magneto and a closeup of Magneto’s hand on his head. So yes. And Magneto even brought along a NEW ponytail douche with him, Pipeline, just to show Fabian he’s not special. X-men (second series) #96: A shirtless Magneto sits up in bed after having a dream about Xavier and yells “Fabian Cortez! Attend me!” Fabian comes running into his room. Also Magneto punches him in the face. Uncanny X-Men #379: At this point everyone knows Fabian is a big fat traitor so he doesn’t even try to hide it, he just openly talks treason to the other Acolytes. Magneto catches him and tosses him into a pillar, he ain’t even surprised. Magneto Dark Seduction #1: Pietro walks in on Fabian sitting in Magneto’s chair when no one is around and yells at him. Magneto Dark Seduction #2: He’s in it but not worth noting. If you want to read the Dark Seduction series as a whole though, you probably should read this just for context’s sake. He does send a goddamn email as “Trojan Horse” though. Seriously. Trojan Horse. FABIAN ARE YOU SERIOUS?! Magneto Dark Seduction #3: Just a couple panels, but Fabian getting a fuck ton of guns pointed at him while he plays innocent!

Magneto: Dark Seduction #4: Fabian stares at a woman’s ass while negotiating with her for his release. He never notices the floating head of Sinister behind him because of said staring. He complains about the means of escape she gives him not being good enough, and then is killed by Magneto. So the last two things he does in his life is stare at a woman’s butt and be an entitled brat. HE DIED AS HE LIVED! X-Men ‘92 is indeed great! The thing to remember is, there are TWO X-Men ‘92 series. The first series is part of the 2015 Secret Wars and is four issues. The next series, which spanned 10 issues from 2016 to 2017, is not. The one with Fabian content is the second one. However, he is NOT in every issue, and not every issue he’s in will have Quality Fabness. X-Men ‘92 #2: His first appearance in these pages, in which he immediately shows us YUP, IT’S HIM by proclaiming himself THE SUPREME MUTANT:

X-Men ‘92 #6: Features Fabian undercover as a roadie in Lila Cheney’s band. This is where he fools all the X-Men here as security by him just wearing a goddamn baseball cap. Also features THIS FUCKING FACE:

X-Men ‘92 #7: The first page doesn’t have Fabian, but it does have someone talking about him! He’s one of The Toadies, the band that Lila was playing with, and a real-life grunge band that got to cameo in these issues! He refers to Fabian as “that weird roadie with the ponytail” which is priceless enough, but also says that the band “chased him to the parking lot but lost him” That’s right, Fabian was CHASED THROUGH A CONCERT PARKING LOT BY A GRUNGE BAND! And it was off-screen! This is both FANTASTIC because it happened and a HUGE LOSS that we didn’t get to see it. Later in the issue, Fabian himself does show up being HIMSELF and we get this:

Because we needed that angle of him, I guess. Thanks artists. And then we get him...being himself. X-Men ‘92 #9: It only has one Fabian panel but OH MY GOD WHAT A PANEL

X-Men ‘92 #10: Includes these wonderful moments/faces!

That time Fabian Cortez just kind of randomly photobomber the Summers-Grey-Xavier family photo Seriously, Charles is basically Scott’s father, and to a degree Jean’s as well, Cassandra Nova is his twin sister, and Cable is the son of Scott and Jean’s clone and then there’s Fabian who has no connection to any of these people who isn’t even on the same SIDE yet has just RUN IN THERE AND INTO THE FUCKING CENTER NO LESS FABIAN

Now let’s go one more, X-Men Forever! I don’t consider it great Fabian content, there’s really no comedy beyond how much Claremont clearly hates this guy, but given his presence in it, I’ll list his appearances and let you decide if it’s something you’d want to have a look at. Like X-Men ‘92, X-Men Forever takes place in an alternate timeline. It branches off right after X-Men #3, when Fabian murdered Magneto. Also like X-Men ‘92, it’s the second series to be called this. The first one is by Fabian Niceiza and there is no Cortez content. The one you want is the X-men Forever written by Chris Claremont and his beautiful, beautiful hate-on for Fabian. X-Men Forever #1: Fabian fights the X-Men. Not anything really noteworthy as funny or scummy or specifically “Fabian” here. Some of them debate killing him once they knock him out, as the X-Men all kinda become especially “fuck this guy” in X-Men Forever towards Fabian even though he’s done MUCH less shit in this universe. Why? Claremont hates him, that’s why. But yeah probably not worth it if you’re looking for a “Fabian being Fabian” fix. Is worth it is you always wanted his flat ass in khakis though!

Also the Phoenix knocks him on his ass when he manhandles Jean

And he does what he does best!

X-Men Forever #5: A shackled Fabian is dumped into the middle of nowhere into the hands of a mysterious group. Just one page, nothing funny or shitty here, not worth it for what you’re looking for I don’t think. X- Men Forever #19: We get to see what happened to Fabian! He’s in the clutches of the Consortium, an anti-mutant organization, and he’s a tortured emaciated wreck. I don’t even like seeing him like this, man. I love him getting what he deserves but oh man this is rough. There is one kinda funny bit where, when they discover him, he asks if they came to mock him. I think this is funny just because it speaks to his egocentric mindset even in this state; yes, Fabian, they busted into a super dangerous top-secret facility just to make fun of YOU! X-Men Forever #20: . He can’t even stand up, he has to be carried out of there. He gets shot during his own rescue, but lives (for a bit) through it, long enough to give the X-Men some info about who’s behind this operation. This is not funny Fabian content at all, so you might not want it. X-Men Forever #21: Fabian passed away during the night after his rescue. Claremont is sure to state in the yellow boxes that “Nobody misses him. Nobody mourns.” We do get to see his dead body and Jean does a sort of psychic autopsy in which she extracts further info from his deceased brain. Again, this isn’t funny Fabian content, it’s not even really Fabian content at all, would not recommend. We come back to the fun with “X-Men: The Animated Series” from the 1990s! Fabian appears in “Sanctuary: Part !”, “Sanctuary:Part II”, and “The Fifth Horseman.” All of them are pretty great! And gave us MY FAVORITE SCREENSHOTS OF ALL FLIPPIN’ TIME! xD THE HOLOGRAM HAREM!

#xmen #x men #fabian cortez #issue list #masterpost #a fabsterlist

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