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broken-glowsticks · 10 months ago

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What Once was Mine

Chapter 11 - When, How, and Why

Genre: Childhood friends, Eventual Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Love corner/love triangle, love rivals, Series.

NOT ALL CHAPTERS WILL BE PROOF READ!!

Warnings: 18+, mdni, mentions of sex and alcohol consumption, additional warnings will be added to individual chapters as needed.

Additional warnings: mentions of explicit sex, loss of virginity, fingering (f receiving), piv, mentions of an underage related, mentions of bruises and bodily harm, slight angst.

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“What do you mean he almost kissed you?!” Felix's deep baritone ricocheted off the walls of his room, immediately followed by your hasty shushing.

“Ssshhhh! Felix, shut your face! I don't want Chan to hear!”

“Chan's elbows deep in work right now, his headphones are basically fused to his head. He's not going to hear anything.” Felix retorted, grabbing your wrists and removing the hands you had shoved against his mouth to shut him up. He didn't let you go, though. “Now spill,” he commanded, pulling you closer, a devious smile on his lips, “what exactly happened?”

With a sigh, you pulled your hands from Felix's grasp. Scooting closer to him on his bed, you tried to keep your voice down as you relayed the events that had happened the previous night.

“No fucking way, you little tease!” Felix basically sang as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, drawing you in to roughly nuzzle you.

“Ow, ow, ow, Felix, knock it off!” You whined, shoving him off you and yanking away the pillow he was leaning on as a form of cover. Felix only giggled.

“Alright, joking aside,” Felix began, once again pulling you in but gentler this time. “How do you feel about what almost happened?”

You sighed. Laying down, you rested your head on Felix's leg, gathering your thoughts as he began to tenderly stroke your hair. How did you really feel about Hyunjin almost kissing you?

“I feel like there's something going on that he's not telling me.”

“Okay, elaborate?”

“Hyunjin… struggles to communicate how he feels, he always has. The sex… always meant more.”

“More for him? I thought it was just something casual?” Felix meant no harm in his questions, genuinely wanting to understand. Before tonight, Felix didn't know Hyunjin as anything other than an obstacle to you and Changbins’ budding relationship. Everything he's ever learned about the guy has come from Jisungs’ blatant and self-admitted biased view. And while you knew Felix was still trying to sort things out, it still stung to be reminded how much you wished the sex with Hyunjin meant something different than it did. But you never pushed. You never dared to expose yourself like that because the entire time you were with him, you knew what those moments meant for Hyunjin.

“Hooking up…” you began, trying to find the words to properly express yourself, “sure, we would sometimes do it for fun or to de-stress, but that's not how it started.”

“Then… how did it start?” Taking your face in his hands, Felix leaned over, meeting his eyes with yours. “If the sex wasn't mainly just for fun, then what made you two start up in the first place?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. You struggled to hold Felix's gaze, but he asked, and you've never spoken about this to anyone, not even Jisung, who's known you since before Hyunjin even re-entered your life. You don't know why you never spoke about it, maybe it was time.

“Alright, let's get some snacks and something to drink, I might get emotional.”

○●♡☆♡●○

You sniffled as you curled yourself further under your fluffy comforter, makeup smearing against your pillow - you didn't care, you were too heartbroken. Tonight was supposed to be the best date of your teenage life, never would you have thought someone from Hyunjins untouchable circle would take any kind of interest in you, you always assumed they thought too highly of themselves based on how they acted in the halls. Turns out you were right.

You had planned this night for days. All dressed up in the new outfit you had gotten at the mall with Jisung and his girlfriend, even tentatively donning the pretty lingerie set you had snuck off to buy in the event things got heated and felt right. Your parents weren't home, set to be gone until some time tomorrow afternoon. You had made a simple dinner and picked out a few movies to possibly rent in the event the night stayed chaste. Everything was all set, yet as time ticked by, you began to worry. When your dates' appointed arrival time came and went, you began to get nervous, texting him and Hyunjin in an attempt to get ahold of the elusive boy.

You weren't expecting Hyunjin to be able to do much, he had mentioned he had plans of his own and would check in whenever he had the time, but so far he had only been able to reply twice - both times before your date was even meant to begin. At least Hyunjin managed to reply at all. You had debated over calling Jisung, but you very much didn't want to deal with the embarrassment of admitting you may have gotten stood up because he was so against the date in the first place, only helping because you expressed it was something you really wanted. Maybe you should call your date? Not wanting to seem clingy and give him the benefit of the doubt you simply assumed his phone had died or something of the sort, leading you to lay on the couch to wait for him, eating chocolate and ice cream with some random YouTube videos playing to fill the dead air as you scrolled social media. That's when you saw it.

You had followed this boy on Instagram a little bit ago, hanging on his every post as a way to glean more knowledge of him, but at this moment you wished you didn't even know about his Instagram page at all. There, at the very top of your feed, was a carousel of images of him at a party, an impossibly gorgeous girl clinging to him like shrink wrap.

A burn scorched your throat as it tightened, your heart dropping to your stomach. Hot, angry tears welled in your eyes as, stupidly, you tapped on his profile picture and pulled up his stories, the time stamp indicating he posted only minutes ago. He looked like he was having so much fun, especially with that girl who was showing up often. The final nail in the coffin was when you saw your would-be date's final story, where - presumably - one of his friends had filmed him explicitly licking whipped cream off the girl's chest. Broken and disgusted, you aggressively dashed away your phone, escaping your room to wallow in your sorrows. You stayed there, sobbing, until you had no more tears to give, seeking solace within the plush embrace of your bed.

You were unsure when you started debating over cleaning up, maybe eating the dinner you made - no point in letting good food go to waste. You had only just managed to sit upright in your bed when you heard the tell-tale sign of a fist thrashing against your door, frequent ringing of your doorbell accompanying. The barrage of noise startled you into place, and you thought about pretending you weren't even home, but the sounds of a well-known voice shouting through the wood eased your nerves.

“Y/N? Beautiful, it's me, open up!!” Hyunjins strained voice shouted, screaming at the top of his lungs in hopes you would be able to hear him regardless of wherever you were hiding in the house.

Wordlessly, you made your way from your bed to the front door, turning on the front light so he knew you were there.

“Hyunjin, what are you-?”

“I'm gonna kill that fucking ass-hole,” Hyunjin growled through grit teeth the moment you opened the door, cutting you off by placing his hands on either side of your face. He could feel his temper rising as he took in your smudged makeup and red, puffy eyes. Despite his rough tone he held your face so gently that you almost began to cry again. “I swear to you, I didn't know he was going to do this.”

“I know it wasn't your fault Jinnie…” you breathed, attempting to remain collected enough to not give into your heartbreak. It wasn't enough, as soon as you opened your mouth to reassure him another sob tore from you and you were once again lost. Hyunjin didn't bat an eye, wrapping himself around you and holding you so tightly it felt as though he was the only thing even remotely keeping you together.

“I knew it was too good to be true, but I still believed that he might like me. That, maybe, I had a chance. God, I feel so stupid, Hyunjin!” You clung to Hyunjins denim jacket as you wailed shamelessly into the collar, “and… and when I saw his stories, how this girl was glued to him… it's dumb and I know I deserve better, but I still couldn't help but wonder why couldn't that be me? Did he think I wasn't good enough, not hot enough? What am I missing that I'm so undesirable to him?”

“Y/N stop,” Hyunjins hands were once again at your face, drawing your gaze to his. “You're beautiful, you know you are. Just because this guy doesn't see it, that doesn't mean it's not true. Hell, you even just said that you know you deserve better.” he said gently, pressing his forehead to yours. “God I'm so fucking angry,” he muttered more to himself than anything, squeezing his eyes shut. How dare this prick of a “friend” hurt you like this, in the exact same way he did?

“I know… I know I deserve better, I'm not ugly, but it's so hard to feel like I'm pretty, that I'm desirable at all, when guys keep rejecting me.”

“All those guys are idiots.” Hyunjin sighed, “I wish I could show you how desirable you really are,” he said in a whisper, his brows furrowed and eyes squeezing tighter. It hurt him so much to hear you speak like that.

“I love you for wanting that, but… I don't see how you could,” you whimpered, placing your hands over his, your glossy eyes drifting over his pained features. Was it just the harsh shadows from the front light, or did he have a couple of bruises on his face?

“I can think of one way,” Hyunjin said, his voice coming out small, almost shy. This surprised you. You couldn't remember the last time he came off as shy.

“What do you mean, Jinnie?” You asked in an equally soft tone, your curiosity and fear of spooking him out of sharing his idea overtaking the uncertainty of the possible bruises on his face.

Hyunjins eyes open slowly, his gaze unreadable. You didn't know what it was, but something about the intensity of his stare made you flush, rendering you speechless. Eventually, the longer you looked, the better you could see it - the internal war he was having with himself. Whatever his thought was, he was unsure over whether or not to follow through. For Hyunjin, he was unsure if this would help or if it was even something you needed. He was worried that after what happened to him tonight, he was focusing too much over what he needed.

“Are you not going to tell me?” You finally asked, trying to goad him into fussing up, “did you change your mind?”

“No, I just… I don't want to upset you.”

“Sounds like you have something risky in mind.”

“That's putting it lightly,” he chuckled, ghosting his thumb over your cheek. “I don't think we'd be the same after, and that scares me, I don't want you to shut me out, Beautiful.”

“Just do it, Jinnie. I know that regardless of whatever you have in mind, you just want to help. I could never be upset at you for that.”

“Are you sure?” He rasped, snaking one of his arms around your waist. Your pulse thudded at his actions, but after a stiff swallow, you nodded anyway.

“I'm sure Hyunjin, I trust you.”

Hyunjins eyes became hooded as he scanned your face, his lower lip catching between his teeth as he tipped your chin up with the hand that wasn't increasing its grip on your waist. You stopped breathing as Hyunjin ran his thumb over your lower lip, taking in the softness of your skin before delving in for a bite.

You whimpered at the gentle sting as he tugged at your lower lip, eyes screwed shut and hands clutching at his tear stained denim jacket. Before you could even question what was happening, Hyunjins' other arm wrapped around you, pulling your body hard against his as he tilted his head to kiss you properly. Your head spun. All you could focus on was his soft, plush, lips, and warm breath.

A squeal sneaked out of you when Hyunjin licked your lower lip, allowing him to slip between your lips when you gasped in surprise. You put up no fight, allowing him to roam as he pleased. You were so lost in everything about him, his touch, his smell, his taste. It was as if you were caught in a current drifting you further out to sea. Was this why every girl in town wanted a chance just to spend a night with him? Or was he so good because he got around? He was just kissing you, and you could feel your excitement stirring. How did it feel to do more than just kiss him? Wanting to know you released your grip on his jacket, slipping your hands beneath the collar.

Hyunjin shuttered at your cool touch, a stark contrast to the hot skin of his neck. Goosebumps raised as he felt you slip his jacket off of him, and he released your waist to help you along, dropping the fabric by the front door and kicking off his shoes. He was so focused that he let out a small noise of surprise when you slipped your hands under the hem of his shirt, hands resting on his abdomen.

“Y/N,” he murmured against your lips, chuckling when you refused to stop kissing him. Running a hand into your hair, he held on gently as he pulled away, full on grinning when your lips tried to chase after him, “easy there, girl.”

“Why'd you stop?” You softly whined, somewhat out of breath, a pout on your sweet lips.

“I just don't want to keep this up right by the front door, I keep thinking your parents are going to catch us or something,” Hyunjin said light heartedly, his eyes still lingering on your lips. He already wanted to kiss you again.

“Then…” you began, feeling shy at what you were about to suggest, “my room?”

“Your room,” Hyunjin agreed, lifting you from the floor and carrying your giggly self to your bed. Tearing off his flannel and climbing on top of you, he finally took a moment to take in your outfit. His heart sank once he realized this outfit was new, and you looked absolutely stunning in it. How dare your date not come to see how much effort you put in for tonight. Hyunjins hands clenched at your sheets as he told himself that at least you wouldn't have dressed up for nothing. He wouldn't let your efforts tonight go to waste.

“Hyunjin, are you alright?” Hyunjins eyes met yours, and he leaned in to place a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I'm just nervous, I didn’t think you'd take it this far.”

“I didn't either,” you admitted, suddenly unable to look at him, “but I just… I liked what we were doing, how you were making me feel.” Your cheeks burned, but Hyunjin was right. You deserved to feel beautiful, and you were grateful that it was Hyunjin who was making you feel this way. “Hyunjin… I- I want you to keep going… would you… would you be my first?”

Hyunjins’ breath caught in his throat, and in an instant, he no longer felt like the full of confidence school bad boy. Instead, he was just a boy, a boy with his heart hammering in his chest as he looked down at the girl he secretly loved with the widest eyes imaginable.

“Are- Are you sure?” He whispered, the tremor in his voice matching the one shaking his body.

“Yes,” you breathed, finding the courage to look at him again. “I'm sure.”

With a fervored nod of his head, Hyunjin sat up and hastily fumbled for his wallet in his back pocket, praying that he still had a condom tucked away. With relief, he found one. He couldn't stop shaking.

“I'll stop whenever you tell me to,” Hyunjin said with a mix of excitement and anxiety, placing the condom next to you on the bed, “you call all the shots. I won't do anything you're not comfortable with, okay?”

Unable to speak, you nodded, taking several deep, steadying breaths as Hyunjin returned above you, wasting no time to kiss you sweetly. You did your best to focus on the moment, on the slant of his lips, the smell of his cologne clinging to his undershirt, of his shaky hand that trailed under your shirt to run his hand over your breast which caused your breath to hitch.

“Y/N, are you wearing lingerie?” Hyunjin murmured. Your hands flew to your face to cover your now tomato red face before he could even finish asking his question. Once again, you were only able to nod. With a groan, Hyunjin, unceremoniously and without warning, pushed your shirt up as far as it would go before sitting back on his haunches and tearing your bottoms off of you. Fuck, to think that good-for-nothing almost saw you in this. “I can't tell you how glad I am to be the only one to see you in this,” he said admiringly, pressing kisses to your knees, then down your inner thighs.

Hyunjin paused for a moment, giving you a chance to stop him before he went any further, but when you remained hiding behind your hands he continued to pepper kisses between your thighs as he worked his way down. With a small smirk, Hyunjin traced the little bow that topped the front of your lace panties. You were a present just for him. He felt grateful, getting something just for him.

Wanting to show just how appreciative he was, Hyunjin spread your legs, slotting his head in between them and placing soft kisses to your covered heat. He relished in your shy, needy whimpers as he ran his fingers up and down your clothed slit, pressing more kisses over your clit as the dampness against your panties worsened.

“I'm going to eat you out first before we do this, baby, I want you relaxed and feeling good before I try sliding in,” he instructed as he pulled your panties down your legs with his teeth and slid his finger over your now exposed slit.

You were already a panting mess from this little bit of stimulation, your hands no longer hiding your face but bunched at your chest as you watched him toy with you. You had never seen this side of Hyunjin before and were getting more and more aroused as he focused on your pleasure. You couldn't take your eyes off him, especially as he rested one of your legs over his shoulder, collecting your wetness on his middle finger before easing it between your folds. He pumped the digit in and out a few times, checking if there was any discomfort before easing in another finger. Your eyes fluttered closed at the filling sensation, savoring the delicious drag of his fingers as they slowly pumped in and out of you. Hyunjin took great care in building you up, exploring which spots were your weakest and prodding at them mercilessly until you were shaking beneath him. Right when you thought the sensation couldn't get more intense, Hyunjins' tongue slid over your sensitive clit, causing your hips to buck. Hyunjin grunted but continued licking and swirling his tongue over the bundle of nerves as his fingers continued to expertly press at your gummy walls. Hyunjin was reading you so well and all you could do was grasp at his hair and cry out pathetic moans beneath him.

Before you could even say anything, your orgasm rapidly built before exploding, your creaminess coating Hyunjins’ tongue and fingers. Your body shuttered, and Hyunjin continued to rub you walls as he helped ease you down.

“That's it, baby, you did so good. Just stay relaxed, okay?” Hyunjin cooed, licking you from his lips and fingers and reaching for the condom, “are you ready?”

“I- I think so,” you stammered out, surprised at yourself for managing to speak. Your head felt so cluttered, unable to believe Hyunjin just made you cum. Hyunjin, the guy you've known since you were a kid and who you've been able to platonically share a bed with. You were almost starting to second guess whether or not you should really go through with this, maybe Hyunjin was right about things changing, maybe it would change too much and you'd lose the closeness you had.

You didn't have time to dwell on these hesitant thoughts, Hyunjin unbuttoning his jeans and beginning to slip them down caught your full attention and you could do nothing but watch with bated breath as his stunning cock sprang free. It was too late. You had passed the point of no return, and there was nothing left to do but indulge, to let yourself dive as deep as you could and let yourself drown.

Or maybe that's just how Hyunjin was seeing it. Tonight did not go as he planned, before he deigned to open social media - all the while hiding in a tube slide at a child's park - he had gotten hurt, he was on the run, in overlapping shades of pain, his only solace being that at least you were having a good night with one of his friends. When Hyunjin had seen that the guy had ditched you for a party and some other girl, he couldn't think of a worse end to his night than leaving you to ache alone. So he ran to you, risking himself further with the exposure, but he didn't matter at that moment. He would swallow everything down, just for a chance to lift your spirits, he could deal with his own pain later, he just needed to help you otherwise he didn't think he could last the night.

He truly wasn't thinking of himself when he kissed you, Hyunjin only wanted to do whatever he could to prove to you that you are worthy of being wanted. But when you pulled him close, when you wanted more, Hyunjin realized he needed the same thing - only in a slightly different way.

Tonight had been horrible for you and Hyunjin before he came to you. He was not going to let the sun rise without something good happening for the both of you not realizing that the moment he took your hand in his, both sets of clothes now discarded on your bedroom floor, lips and tongues melting together as his protected head teasing your entrance, that he was giving the both of you the thing you wanted from each other the most.

It hurt, of course, but Hyunjin was gentle. Easing himself in and out in sections, going inch by inch and refusing to push deeper until you were accustomed. He didn't want you to cry. He refused to make you bleed, and when he finally finally bottomed out, you thought you were going to faint from how shallow your breathing was.

“Breath, baby, breath,” he whispered, kissing you tenderly, “I won't move until you breathe.”

“Hyunjin…” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck and drinking in his gentle attention. “It's okay, you can move, it doesn't hurt,” you reassured. With a few more kisses, Hyunjin rested his forehead for yours before he slowly rolled his hips into yours.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the sensation - while not entirely painful - felt foreign, and you struggled to acclimate quickly, but you refused to let him stop. You knew you just needed to ride this out, that it would get better, and it did. You could feel your body accepting him and soon wanting more.

“Jinnie… more, it's not enough, more,” you mewled, wrapping your legs around his waist in an attempt to draw him closer.

“Okay, Beautiful, I'll take care of you. Just lay back, Jinnie will make you feel good,” Hyunjin murmured, pressing kissing into your neck and picking up his pace, earning himself a few sweet moans.

It was only when all tension left your body that Hyunjin dared to truly let himself enjoy you. Adjusting so he was on his knees, he pulled your legs up, holding each behind your knees as he began to truly fuck himself into you. Hyunjin watched as your sweet, shy moans turned into heated, wanton screams as he plowed into your gummy spot. Never did he think he would see you make such a gorgeous face or hear your pussy make such filthy squelching sounds as his dick slipped in and out of you. For a moment, Hyunjin thought he was dreaming as he watched you drown in bliss below him. If he was, he never wanted to wake up. He wanted to stay right here, in this too-good-to-be-true moment where all the worries from hours ago purged themselves from his mind.

“Hyun… Jin… Jinnie…” you gasped out, feeling the pressure from your building orgasm start to grow.

“Does it feel good, Beautiful? Are you gonna cum?” He asked in ragged breaths.

“Yes… yes, I think I'm close. Oh, please don't stop,” you begged, closing your eyes and throwing your head back onto your pillow. Almost as soon as you finished uttering those words, your body clenched around him as you came for the second time, a creamy ring coating Hyunjins dick.

“Fuck, baby,” Hyunjin groaned, slamming his dick into you more rapidly as he chased his own orgasm.

Feeling his hips beginning to stutter, you forced your tired eyes to open just in time to watch Hyunjins’ beautiful face twist in pleasure as he came, melodic moans bouncing off your walls. You did your best to memorize that face as he came down from his high.

After a moment of catching his breath, Hyunjin eased himself out of you to remove the condom, your body giving a shudder at the lack of his body heat.

“Let's clean up, yeah?” Hyunjin suggested, helping you up from the bed and leading the two of you to the bathroom. The following intimate moments of clean-up felt oddly comfortable and right. Once your post-orgasm bliss had faded, you expected an air of awkwardness to be lingerie around you both, but there never was.

“Hey, can I wear your flanel?”

“What?” Hyunjin asked with a laugh.

“That's what always happens in the movies. The girl wears the guys clothes after sex. I kinda wanna try it.”

“Just for a bit? That's dumb,” he replied but handed you his flannel anyway as he grabbed the rest of his clothes to put back on.

You needed to change out of your lingerie set, so you opted to wear nothing but his flannel, a comfort pair of panties, and some knee-high socks. You wanted to wear his shirt for the bit, so you were going to commit. Besides, he had officially seen too much for you to be shy at this point.

“Was this food meant to be for tonight?” Hyunjins voice called from the kitchen. You didn't notice he had left your room since he didn't bother to shut the door.

“Yeah,” you replied as you joined him in the dimly lit kitchen, missing his double take and blushing at your choice in attire. “I was actually going to come eat it before you showed up. It's meant for two, want some, or have you eaten?”

“I haven't. Go rest, I'll heat this up.” With a smile, you nodded, leaning up to place a peck on his still tinted cheek.

“Thank you for coming tonight, Jinnie. I needed it.”

“Yeah, of course, Beautiful,” he said as you walked into the living room, “I needed it too…” he added, but you were too far to hear.

It didn't take long for the food to be reheated and soon the two of you were nestled on the couch together, sharing a blanket in the dark living room as one of the movies you had picked out for tonight played.

“In a way, I'm kind of glad the jackass never showed up, I got to have this date with you instead,” Hyunjins said rather sincerely. It made your heart flutter.

“I'm glad too. He set you up to come to my rescue and make my night better. Maybe even better than if he had actually shown up.”

“Do you really mean that?” Hyunjin asked, his heart melting as he set down his plate to pull you close and nuzzle you, “awwwww you're too sweet!”

“Alright, alright, that's enough!” You laughed, pushing his face from yours. You had meant the gesture to be light-hearted, but your nerves spiked the instant Hyunjins head shot back in recoil, giving a small hiss of pain. “Oh my god, Hyunjin, are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean-”

“No, no, no, it's ok,” he reassured, his hand hovering over his eye as if he wanted to soothe the skin but feared touching it.

“Are you sure? Let me see,” you attempted to get closer, but Hyunjins long arm held you back.

“I'm fine, Y/N, let's just watch the movie.”

You blinked at him before frowning and attempted to lunge at him again.

“Hyunjin, what are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing!” He said a little too defensively. Not in the mood to play games, you stood from the couch and walked off. Hyunjin assumed this was you pouting but ultimately dropped the matter, how wrong he was.

Stomping to the light switch, you bathed the livingstone in bright light, noticing the completely unsubtle way Hyunjin dove for cover. You weren't letting this slide. Over to the couch, you didn't even attempt to pull away the pillow Hyunjin used to cover his face, instead climbing on top of him and began to tickle his sides. Instantly, his body began to jerk and wiggle, but he was adamant on not letting you see his face. However, he was struggling to handle your body on top of him and soon had no choice but to tip the both of you off the couch in an attempt to ease the ache.

This did not work in his favor. Easily catching yourself, you now stood over him, the small fall making him release his grip on the pillow just enough for you to yank it from his hands.

Your arms paused as you held the pillow mid-air in shock. Your eyes weren't playing tricks earlier. It wasn't just a trick of the light. Blooming across his cheek bone and at the corner of his lips were two bruises, and there was even a small cut near his brow that would easily be covered by his hair, were he not on his back.

“Hyunjin, what happened to you…?” You breathed, dropping the pillow. Slowly dropping to your knees, you sat on Hyunjins hips, keeping him pinned in place so he couldn't escape.

Hyunjin didn't answer. He couldn’t even meet your eyes as your fingers barely ghosted over the discolored skin. Without realizing it, you dropped your hand on his side, only to snap your hand away when he flinched in pain. You sat as still as a statue for a few moments before reaching down and lifting his shirt, showing more discoloration.

You felt horrible. How could you not notice? How could you not see? The instant the thought popped into your head, realization hit you.

“This is why you didn't want to be by the front door… with the light right on you. You didn't worry in my room cause the lights were off, and in the bathroom and kitchen too… There was only dim lighting. It was so I couldn't see.” The look of guilt on Hyunjins face was all you needed to confirm that you were right. He was hiding this from you, but why? What happened to your Hyunjin that he came to you so hurt?

“Please don't cry, beautiful. You've already cried so much tonight.”

“Then tell me what happened,” you said firmly.

Hyunjins lips pressed together, he didn't want to open up, he especially didn't want to ruin the special evening you two were just having together. But he knew you wouldn't let this slide, and if he was honest… someone about the way you were dressed brought him back to the surprising feeling of comfort he felt while being in bed with you.

“... okay,” he eventually relented, gingerly sitting up and bumping noses with you. “But kiss me first.”

“Huh?”

“Just… please.”

He sounded so tired and defeated. Wanting nothing more than to swallow up all his pain, you didn't hesitate again, wrapping your arms around his neck and bushing your lips over his.

Hyunjin kissed you back desperately, wrapping his arms around you and holding on to you. If he didn't, he felt he would fall apart, a stark contrast to the way he held you in your doorway. You didn't realize when his hand had slipped under his flanel until his nails raked over your back, raising goosebumps in their wake as his hands traveled between your bodies.

“Hyunjin,” you called, pulling from his lips. He didn't stop, his lips dropping to your neck the moment you pulled away. “Hyunjin,” you said again, attempting to sound more stern with little success. You were melting under his touch again.

“I just want to feel you against me,” he mumbled against your skin, unbuttoning the flannel and opening it just enough to expose you, but not take it off completely. He then pulled back, once again pulling off his tee before leaning back into you, his arms snaking around you under his shirt and his face buried in the crook of your neck.

You two stayed stationery in that position for a few moments, the only sound coming from your forgotten move. Not knowing what else to do for Hyunjin, at that moment, you slid your fingers into his hair and scratched gently at his skull. Only then did Hyunjin finally relax. He finally felt the same warmth, safety, and intimacy from earlier, making it easier for him to finally explain what happened.

You weren't the only one heartbroken that night. Hyunjin had gotten involved with an older woman. He was really having fun with her. He thought she actually cared about him. She made him feel like somebody. But right when he thought things were going great, that's when everything went wrong.

What was supposed to be a normal night together turned into him finding out she was married in the worst way possibly, with her husband catching them getting hot and heavy together and beating the shit out of Hyunjin for messing around with someone he shouldn't. The guy wouldn't even believe Hyunjin when he said he didn't know the woman was married.

Turns out this woman has a history of luring young, hot guys to her with tons of spoiling and praise, only to then have her way with them until her husband finds out and beats the shit out of the poor boy. Rinse and repeat, right up to Hyunjin. The latest in a line of victims.

Hyunjin managed to get away but never before had he felt so cheap and pathetic, this wasn't the first time a girl slept with him for her own gain but sometimes about this time just made him feel so… worthless. It brought tears to his eyes to admit this, and he clung to you tightly as he cried.

You've never known Hyunjin could cry so hard, and it broke your heart to learn that this happened to him, but you were also proud of him. He said he never intended on telling anyone and that he was just going to hold on to this until the day he died, but he didn't. He told you, he let it out, and even though it broke your heart to see him like this, you wanted him to always talk to someone, even if it wasn't you. You also promised that you would do whatever it took to make him comfortable enough to open up, that while you couldn't fix his problems, you could be his safe place.

“It's funny, but… this is what we're doing right now. It's what I need. This is my safe place,” Hyunjin admitted, his lips tickling your collar bone.

“The skin contact??” By now you and Hyunjin had made your way back to your bed, settling in under the covers, each of you wearing next to nothing so Hyunjin could feel as much of you against him as possible.

“Kinda, just… the intimacy of it all. If I could, I'd be buried inside you again. I want to be as close to you as I can. It makes me feel like I'm not worthless. It makes me feel wanted.”

“Having your dick in someone makes you feel wanted?” You teasingly asked with a giggle.

“No, baby,” Hyunjin replied with a laugh, lifting his head from your chest to fix you with a soft stare. “I only feel like this because it's you. The only girl I've shared years of my life and my darkest secrets. The only girl who trusts me so much she'd ask me to be her first and who loves me enough to sit in and listen to my problems the same night.” You were too stunned to speak, but you were sure Hyunjin could see just how red your face was. “You're my closest and most trusted friend, Y/N. I think sex and stuff like that will only feel this special, this safe and warm, with you.” It was also because Hyunjin was secretly in love with you too, but he decided to keep that part to himself, he wanted to enjoy this moment, this look on your face, for just a little while longer.

“I… I think so too, Hyun. It won't ever mean the same with anyone else,” you said, decidingly also refusing to admit the feelings you've been harboring for Hyunjin.

A sweet smile spread across Hyunjin's face, his eyes curving into crescents. You knew you were essentially digging your own grave, dooming yourself to what you assumed was going to be a mainly physical relationship, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Not when Hyunjin looked so irresistible and said such endearments, snuggling against you and showering your skin with kisses, leading you two to get lost in each other again until you fell asleep in each other's arms, only for him to cling to you the all throughout the next morning. If you could just have more moments like this with him, it would all be worth it. Anything to be the safe space for the boy you were so desperately in love with.

○●☆♡☆●○

“So that's it, that's how you and Hyunjin became, well, you and Hyunjin. You were in love with him, and you were his security blanket.”

“I mean, kinda,” you replied, polishing off the last of your water bottle and opening another. “Sex with me, at least at the beginning, meant so much to him because I was someone who really cared about him. He never had to doubt if I was doing things with him for clout or for some sick kick. That gave him a sense of safety, and it gave him space to open up. And I was only too eager to please cause not only was I completely in love with him, but he did mean so much to me beyond that. He was a friend who put everything aside, even his own issues, to look out for me.”

“Which is why you feel bad you can't be as close to him as you used to be and why when he keeps things to himself, it bothers you so much.”

“Exactly.” Heaving a deep sigh, you rummaged through your pile of trash to hopefully find an unopened piece of candy. Meanwhile, Felix sat silently next to you, feeling sympathetic to your situation.

“I take it you and Changbin haven't talked about any of this?” Felix asked tentatively, making you pause your search.

“... No, I'm not even sure if it's worth bringing up,” you admitted, laying back against Felix's mattress and watching his ceiling fan turn. “It was such a big part of my life, but it's over now. I made my choice, and I chose myself. I'm finally with someone who's as much mine as I am theirs. I don't want to throw a wrench into things by telling him about something that ended before we even got together.”

“So you have no regrets then?”

“None. I'm happy with Changbin, even if I don't get to see him as often as I like.”

Just then, the sound of Chan's door opening and closing caught yours and Felix's attention. It was the first time you've heard any noise coming from him since you even got to the boys' shared apartment, and upon checking the time, you noticed that it was already 11 in the evening.

“Hey, how often do you get to see Bin?” Felix asked.

“Barely… I see him just slightly more often than I see my own roommate.”

“I hardly see my roommate anymore either,” Felix said, a deep sense of dread building in him. “How… How long has it been since you and Bin started dating?” You swallowed hard at his question, choosing instead to focus on the sound of Chan rustling through the kitchen before returning to his room. You knew where Felix was going with this.

“It's only been a little over a month.”

A tense silence settled between the two of you, neither one of you daring to say it. But you knew what he was thinking. You could feel the worry radiating off of Felix's slender body, seeping into your bones. You had essentially severed your deepest and longest lasting relationship to be with Changbin, and now, due to one stroke of chance you barely get to see him and can't even turn to the person from your second longest lasting relationship for aid.

What's going to happen to your freshly established relationship if this demand for 3racha keeps going? How will you survive not being able to see, not only your boyfriend, but one of your best friends who championed your budding connection to said boyfriend? Especially when the only deep connection you had left was someone you were desperately attempting to put space around?

These worries troubled you. Long after Felix's attempts to sedate them, long after you bid him good night and drove yourself home, and long after, you readied yourself inside your all too silent apartment and clambered into bed. You had been so happy for 3racha, so determined to support them, but now all that lingered over head was the fact that in one fleeting moment you realized you no longer had the steady foundation built by the three most precious people in your life.

---------------------------------------

Well... this chapter certainly ended up taking on a life of its own, and as I mentioned in this post, it ended up coming to mean a bit more to me than the other chapters.

Anyway, I had intended on this to be a bonus chapter, but I thought it flowed better as part of the main story. I'm getting better at placing the back stories/flashbacks.

If you go back to the first couple of chapters, you can see I was formatting the story differently. I was struggling with the build-up of the story and then found my stride in later chapters. If I allow myself to be a bit delulu for a moment, if i ever get my E. L. James or Anna Todd moment, I'd definitely go back and re-write those beginning segments.

Taglist: @groovygroovyhyunjin @hhwangsmoon @luvyblossom @doggezz@kayleefriedchicken @hyunjinhoexxx

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snowyfrostshadows · 2 years ago

Text

Gray Lies

Mario encounters Mr. L without his mask.

This both changes everything and absolutely nothing.

---

One final blast from Boomer and the (quite frankly) terrifying robotic head crashed and crumbled in on itself on top of the flat, empty landscape that the Sammer Kingdom once rested on.

Mario couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him at the sight.

Mr. L was a tough opponent, more so with mechanical aid, but without his L-Bot and the beating he'd taken earlier, Mario felt it was safe to say this fight was over.

"WHY CAN'T I BEAT YOU?!"

An angry voice howled from the wreckage as metal pieces began to move and shift from where Count Bleck's most annoying minion was attempting to free himself.

Another sigh escaped him at the sight. This time, one born of pity instead of relief.

As annoying and egotistical this guy was (seriously, he put Bowser's obnoxiousness to shame), Mario could not find it himself to refuse help to anyone. Even his enemies.

So, picking his path carefully through the pile of scrap metal, Mario made his way to where the cursing was coming from the loudest. (He wasn't sure, but he could have sworn a couple of the words were in Italian. But that was impossible...)

Pushing past the tinge of unease that crept up on him whenever he thought about or interacted with the Green Pain-in-the-Ass too long, Mario lightly tapped on the biggest piece of metal on where he thought might be where Mr. L was pinned.

The sudden pause in the angry rant over what would happen once free confirmed his suspicions of the other man's location.

"If you a back up a little, if you a can, I think I can-a get you out."

"Why? You think just because you help me, I'll give you that hunk of rock?"

Mario shrugged, forgetting for the moment Mr. L couldn't see it.

"That would be a nice but no. This may a be hard for you to understand, but there doesn't have to be a reason to help someone out."

"...well that's stupid."

"Do you want out of there or not?"

"Ugh. Fine! Sure! Be a big stupid hero! I'm only saying yes because you owe me one Red."

Ignoring for a moment what on earth Mr. L meant by him 'owing him' Mario set to work moving the metal piece enough to make an opening for the slimmer man to get through.

"He's out!" Came Tippi's cheerful voice, allowing Mario to let the heavy sheet of metal to fall back into place.

Not wanting the pixel to be alone with Mr. L for too long, Mario made his way back down to a less metal-filled space.

"Oh. That looks painful. Are you okay?"

"Tch. This? Tis just a flesh wound."

Mario felt himself freeze before forcing himself to move again.

He was just. Imagining it. Hearing things.

Plenty of people probably said that. Hell, this was a magical world. It was probably a common phrase.

But the inflection...

Swallowing, Mario moved closer to Mr. L and tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

Mr. L turned, sneer on his face as he glared down at him. "What? I thought you said you didn't want the stupid rock."

Whatever Mario was going to say, had planned to say, died on tongue.

Mr. L. Wasn't wearing his mask.

Mario didn't know where it was but he didn't care.

For the first time, he could see the other man's face clearly and he couldn't believe how stupid he'd been.

Sure, he wasn't always the smartest guy around, but it shouldn't have taken him a lack of fabric to notice that Mr. L was. That Mr. L was...

"Luigi." He breathed and Mr. L's-his brother's, god, how had he not noticed, eyes widened.

"The name's Mr. L not-"

Mario didn't (couldn't) let him finish as he practically threw himself at his brother, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"I'm so sorry! I should've a known-! But I-I thought you were dead or. Or missing and that I h-had to save you!"

A hand grabbed his shoulder and roughly pushed him away.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Luigi yelled at him, eyes wide. "Did L-Bot actually land a solid hit on you?"

His face twitched like he wasn't sure whether to be thrilled or horrified at that.

Mario frowned, feeling like he was missing something important but for the life of him, he couldn't put his finger on it.

"No! I'mma fine! Your robot...wait. Did you build that? I didn’ know you were that good at mechanics! Nevermind, not the point, I know. I'm just. So happy you're okay!"

Luigi was staring at him like he didn't know what he was looking at.

"Luigi?"

His brother scowled, annoyance practically rolling off him in waves as he began patting his jumpsuit down looking for something.

"Don't call me that." He snarled at him. Mario couldn't help it. He flinched. Not once, in his entire life had he heard his brother snarl at someone.

Mutter stuff under his breath, yes. But nothing aggressive or or harder than the rare ill-thought comment.

"...Luigi?" He repeated, softer, not sure if his brother would even hear him. But, judging by the gritting of his teeth, he had.

"I told you." He growled as he stomped closer to him, something gripped tightly in his hand. "The name is Mr. L."

Before he could ask (or demand really) why his brother was so hung up on that, Luigi had grabbed his chin hard in one hand and roughly moved his head while shining a bright light in his eyes.

Mario pushed him away.

"Luigi what the hell?!"

"Oh I'm sorry for checking if the supposed Hero of the Light Prognostics has a concussion or not!"

"I don't have a concussion! Your stupid robot barely hit me!"

"Oh really? Then WHY in Count Bleck's name are you spouting nonsense?! If this is some sort of trick to finish me off, or or take the busted up, useless Pure Heart, it's really fucking weird!"

"It's not nonsense! You're Luigi, my brother! And I'mma so so sorry I didn't a realize sooner. I promise, I'm not going to leave you behind again."

Luigi's face fell, his expression one of disbelief and...fear?

Slowly, he began backing away as an almost uneasy grin was plastered onto his face.

"Brother. That's. A-ha. That's a good one. A lil too desperate for a my tastes. What? Didja get a tired of almost losing to me thata much you had to to make up some dumb story to 'tempt me back from the dark side'?" Luigi attempted to do air quotes at that before wincing slightly. "Well it's not going to work! I'm Count Bleck's most promising minion! I would never turn my back on him and his plans with the void!"

Oh.

That's what he'd been missing.

If Luigi was Mr. L (he was, he'd know him anywhere, should have known him the moment he first saw him) then. Then Luigi had joined Count Bleck.

Who was trying to destroy all words.

Luigi was trying to destroy all worlds.

He felt cold. Hollow.

Faintly, he wondered if this was how the former inhabitants of this world had felt right before the Dark Void had swallowed them up.

...maybe he'd been swallowed up as well.

That'd make more sense than Luigi turning his back on everything they'd ever believed or fought for and gleefully watching the very destruction of well, everything.

"Mario? Are you okay?" came Tippi's gentle voice beside him.

He wanted so badly to say yes. That of course he was fine. He was a Hero; he always bounced back from anything life threw at him.

But he couldn't get the words out. He could only stare at his brother and wonder what had happened. Was this. Was this his fault? Was he actually a bad older brother? Why else would Luigi do all this if he hadn't done something to push him this way?

Luigi, for his part had stopped moving back and was watching him in turn as well.

The anger and disbelief that had twisted his face into an unrecognizable mask had softened into something that could be considered concern.

It was still too hard and stiff for it to be one hundred percent familiar, but a lifetime of knowing each other meant he could still read his brother like the back of his hand. Even if...even if they were more like strangers than brothers now...

"Are you...having a stroke? Not that I care or anything. I just want to know if it'd be kinder to take you out now than let you drag out what's left of your sad existence this pitifully."

A wet, almost choked sounding laugh escaped him.

He didn't mean to laugh, there was nothing funny about Luigi threatening to kill him out of 'kindness' but what else was he supposed to do?

This whole adventure had taken such a dark turn. He didn't think anything could top the horror and failure he'd felt seeing what had become of the Sammer Kingdom but this. This 'reunion', if he could even call it that, with Luigi sure came close.

"Oh, aside from skipping ahead a few pages of the script, our oh so noble and brave Hero in Red is just fine."

Both brothers turned away from each other to look at the source of the obnoxious voice.

Mario felt his stomach drop as he took in the ever-grinning jester. Great. Just what he needed on top of his already crummy day.

(That guy.)

"Ugh. What do you want Dimentio?"

Dimentio tilted his head slightly as he took in the scene, gaze lingering on Luigi in a way that made Mario's skin crawl.

"Oh, I was just stopping by to cut free an annoying string off my dear Count's coattails. But lucky for me, it looks like I can take care of two loose threads in one swift blow. "

Luigi scowled. "Then get going. I'm already dealing with something here. Go bother someone else."

Dimentio leaned closer to his brother, a dark glint peeking through one of the slits in his mask.

"Tell me, Mr. L, is this level of obtusity thanks to Nastasia's hard work or have you always been dumber than your brother?"

Luigi stumbled back. "What? He's not my brother!"

"Says the man with no memory." Dimentio sighed as he floated back and away from Luigi. "Seems you really are just that stupid. Pity."

Dimentio probably hadn't intended for his words to affect one of the brothers positively, but Mario couldn't help feeling like a tremendous weight had been lifted off of him.

Luigi didn't know what he was doing. Not really.

His brother must have hit his head or something and had had the bad luck to be taken in by Bleck and tricked to be somebody he wasn't.

This could all be fixed!

But first, he had to hold back on his feelings of elation and relief and watch Dimentio for the moment he was distracted enough to grab his brother and leave.

"I'm not stupid!" Luigi snapped. "I built a robot! Two of them! He-" Luigi jabbed a finger angrily in Mario's direction "Can't tell a camshaft from a crankshaft and don't even get me STARTED on the time he tried to 'fix' the vacuum and ended up coating the whole room in dust!"

Dimentio placed a hand under his chin. "My my my. What some very specific examples of a man you don't know."

Luigi's hand dropped as he stood frozen, confusion coloring his face. "I don't...how?"

Dimentio tutted in mock sympathy. "L. L. L. L. L. It's not your fault Nastasia pulled out all the stops for you. Don't ask me why as you're about as important as stray lint on a coat, but I guess even the strongest hypnosis fades after a while, no matter how weak and pathetic the subject is."

"I'm. I'm not-. I'm Count Bleck's most promising minion! I-I always have been loy-"

"Since you first woke up." Dimentio interrupted coldly. "And what 'loyal servant' thinks they can just ignore a direct order from their master? Face it L, you're on the fast track to betraying Count Bleck. I think it's better for everyone if you never show you face around anyone again. Lucky for you, I'm here to do just that."

Dimentio's ever-present grin seemed to widen as he raised a hand slowly into the air, fingers pressed in a familiar gesture from the last time Mario had the misfortune to fight him.

It didn't take a genius to guess what the stupid clown was going to do.

And while Mario had no doubt that his brother would normally be able to dodge the incoming attack or even hold his own even as a twisted, jerk version of himself, right now, after Dimentio's taunts and ripping him apart, Luigi looked...lost. He wasn't even sure if his brother was even aware of what was happening around him anymore.

Fortunately for him though, he wasn't facing Dimentio alone.

Mouth a tight line, Mario summoned a Bomb Blast from Boomer and chucked it straight at Dimentio's stupid, fat head before diving for his brother, grabbing his arm and flipping the two of them between dimensions.

A small, petty, spiteful part of himself took dark satisfaction at hearing Dimentio's howl of pain and shock at having a bomb go off in his face before the sound abruptly cut off as he and Luigi entered a more three dimensional (but still empty) world. He couldn't even pull up an ounce of guilt for the dirty trick.

Dimentio had threatened his brother. He should consider himself lucky a cheap shot was all Mario had time for at the moment.

As it stood, they needed to get out of there as soon as possible. Preferably back to the others and then everything could be one step closer to being normal again.

Speaking of...

Mario glanced down at his brother as he pulled him to his feet and began dragging him towards where he thought the portal back to Flipside might be back in the normal dimension.

"Where's. Where's Dimentio?"

"Busy."

Luigi frowned before noticing that Mario had his arm in a vice grip.

"Let go of me!"

"No."

"If you think I'm just going to let you take me prisoner-!"

Mario came to a sharp stop, accidentally forcing his brother to stumble to do the same.

"I'mma not taking you prisoner. I'mma taking you back with me. Like I promised."

Luigi stared at him for a moment before scowling as he tried to rip Mario's hand off his arm with his free hand.

"What makes you think I want to go back with you?! We're not-" Luigi's mouth twisted like he wasn't sure what he wanted to end that sentence with before settling on a growl. "Let me go!"

Mario glared right back at him. "Oh sure. So you can a what? Stand around and let Dimentio kill you?" He snapped.

"He wasn't going to kill m-"

"Yes! He was! If I hadn't stopped him-" "YOU WHAT?!" "And grabbed you-" "OH MY GOD!" "You'd be DEAD!"

Luigi stared at him wide-eyed. "... they're going to think I'm a traitor." He rasped.

“Were you not listening? It sounded like they already did! Why else would Dimen-"

"L-Like I ever believe anything that clown ever says!" Luigi laughed but even with how out of sync they were, Mario could still tell it was forced.

"I-I mean. W-Why would Count Bleck have me hypnotized to follow him? I always would have been his loyal minion without question! He's so great and clever and and-"

Mario tightened his grip slightly as his brother trailed off, desperately trying to find other attributes he admired enough to follow someone cruel enough to destroy all life across all worlds.

"No," he said quietly, "No, you wouldn't."

Luigi frowned at that, but whatever thoughts or feelings he had to Mario's comment he kept frustratingly to himself.

Although...maybe...the fact he wasn't arguing it outright...meant that he was coming around to the truth and not sticking with whatever lies Bleck had filled his head with.

Reassured by that thought, Mario started moving again pulling his brother close behind.

"...if you let go I...promise I won't...run away or anything else you think I might do."

Mario paused and looked at his brother curiously. "...promise?"

Luigi looked torn between annoyance and glowering "Dio. Yes. Do you want it in writing?"

"No! I trust you, Luigi."

His brother's mouth twisted like he'd bitten into something sour at that and Mario couldn't help feeling a small pang at the reaction.

But, a promise was a promise and he did trust Luigi. Mostly. 'Mr. L' was a lil different but he was still Luigi deep down so it still counted. Probably.

Curiously, after letting go, Luigi didn't move away or try to start up another fight. He just stood there for a moment, flexing his fingers a little before sighing and removing a bit of fabric wrapped around the arm Mario had been gripping.

To his confusion, the bit of fabric almost looked damp. But, that was impossible. There had been nothing in the empty landscape of the void that could have made anything wet and he himself had barely touched Luigi during the fight let alone with anything that could have caused a damp spot.

And then his eyes trailed away from the fabric scrap to the area it had previously covered and he nearly had a heart attack.

Luigi's arm was alarmingly bloody. Not as bad as it had presumably been to warrant a makeshift bandage in the first place but still enough that he wanted to shake him for taking the thing off.

What the hell was he thinking?!

"Put that back on!"

Luigi flinched slightly at the shout before glaring at him.

"Sure. Lemme do that right after I wring the blood out of it."

Then, probably just to annoy him personally, Luigi balled up the disgusting mess of fabric and shoved it into a pants pocket.

"LUIGI!" Mario shouted, scandalized.

Other than rolling his eyes, Luigi ignored him and began taking off his scarf with one hand.

"Wait. What are you a doing?"

"What's it look like? I'm changing the wrapping."

Mario sighed and moved closer. "And you couldn't have waited till we got back to the others why?"

Luigi blinked like that thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Maybe it hadn't.

"...I. wanted something drier?" He scowled. "Why do you even care? It'll only be a couple minutes."

"We're brothers." Mario couldn't help wondering how many times he'd have to say something that should be so obvious before it finally sunk into Luigi's head. "Of course I care."

He reached for the scarf, trying not to let the suspicious look his brother was shooting him bother him. "Let me. Two hands are better than one."

"...fine."

"Grazie."

Scarf now in hand, Mario took a closer look at the wound. It. Wasn't as bad as he'd first thought. Yes, there was blood and Luigi might need a couple stitches, but, for the most part, it looked like keeping it wrapped was still the best option at the moment.

"What happened anyway?"

Luigi snorted. "You destroyed L-Bot, remember?"

A cold feeling started to spread through him.

"And...me doing that. Caused this?"

"In a roundabout way, I guess. I bumped into a loose piece trying to get out but eh. That's what I get for not beating you."

Mario paused what he was doing, afraid that his hands might be shaking too much to wrap the scarf tight enough that it'd do any good and looked at his brother.

"Luigi. I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean-"

Luigi recoiled slightly. "I KNOW! Geeze, relax. God. Are you always this weepy? Don't answer that." He ran his free hand through his hair, disrupting his hat a little. "If it makes you feel better, I don't. Hold it against you. Not because I remember anything, but because you got me out of the pile of scrap metal faster than I'd have by myself. So. We're square or whatever."

"But-"

Luigi heaved a heavy sigh as he dragged his hand down his face.

"So. Brothers. Am I right in saying that not only am I the more handsome and dashing between the two of us, but also older?"

Mario could feel his mouth twitch slightly towards a smile. He was still upset over having indirectly being the reason his brother was hurt but, it was comforting to see some of the old, familiar Luigi shine through. He couldn't count the number of times his brother had abruptly changed the subject to something completely different if he saw him spiraling or getting stuck on a detail or two.

He hadn't done it as much as he had since they'd fallen into the Mushroom Kingdom, but it was still nice to see the habit was still there despite the memory loss.

Turning back to his earlier task, Mario was relieved to see his hands were no longer shaking.

"Technically, I'm older by about fifteen minutes or so. We're twins."

"...coulda fooled me."

Mario bit back a snort. "Well someone decided to shoot up like a giraffe in eighth grade and throw off the whole identical theme we had going."

"Not my fault you didn't get the memo." Luigi muttered low enough under his breath Mario doubted he'd have heard him if hadn't been as close as he was. Honestly, he wasn’t sure Luigi himself was aware of what he’d just said.

But the fact that he’d thrown back a familiar line in an old argument, unconsciously or not, was enough to buoy Mario’s mood back to it’s usual good cheer. All this was temporary, and the sooner they got back to the others, the quicker the rest of Luigi’s normal self would come back and this whole working-for-Bleck thing could be forgotten about.

Smiling more widely now, Mario tied the end of the scarf firmly enough that it wouldn't fall off but not so tight that it would make the wound any worse.

"There we go!"

"Great." Luigi frowned slightly before looking away. "So. How much longer till we get to wherever it is you're taking me?"

It was Mario's turn to frown. "I'm not sure."

Luigi spun back around, eyes wide. "What?! Are you telling me you've just been dragging me around without any idea of where you're going?! What is wrong with you?!"

Mario shrugged, only half listening to his brother and did some thinking.

They'd been in this dimension for awhile now, most of it at a quick pace so...maybe they were close enough to the door back to Flipside by now? It couldn't hurt to check.

Taking a couple (quick) steps back from Luigi so he wouldn't accidentally get pulled with him, Mario flipped back to the flatter, second dimension.

Unsurprisingly, it was still empty of all life, with just the occasional rare broken remnant of the vibrant world that had once been here.

The only silver lining that Mario could think of was that Dimentio wasn’t waiting for him to land a retaliation blow from his earlier attack before escaping with Luigi nor could he really be seen anywhere.

Meaning he could safely take his brother out of the more detailed dimension without fear of Dimentio targeting him or worse, persuading Luigi to start fighting him again.

Plus, he was about seventy percent sure he knew where they were in relation to the door so it wouldn't be much longer of a walk.

Satisfied with his little reconnaissance, Mario flipped back to where he’d left his brother, accidentally startling him.

“Sorry.”

Luigi shot him a dark look.

“For startling you just now.”

“Is that it?” Luigi asked icily. Mario couldn’t help staring at him curiously, unsure on what else he could have possibly done to upset his brother.

“You. Left.”

Mario blinked, still lost at what Luigi was trying to get at. “Yes?”

“Dio aiutami.” Luigi muttered. “How does a literal child have more sense than you do?” He took a deep breath and fixed a hard look at Mario. “You left. Without warning. Leaving me stuck someplace literally no one else can access!”

“I was a gonna come back!”

“How would I know that?! I don’t know you!”

Mario felt like he’d been slapped. “You’re my brother. Mia famiglia. I’d always come back for you.”

Luigi snorted and crossed his arms. “Right. Just like you did before Count Bleck did. Oh, wait. You didn’t.”

Mario couldn't stop himself from flinching at that. “That’s not fair. I wasn’t there. If I was, I’d have a never lost you.” You wouldn’t be like this he doesn’t add.

Luigi narrows his eyes, as if guessing what he was thinking and scowled. “Sounds like a you problem.”

“Weegee-”

“Don’t call me that! My name is Mr. L!”

"I'M NOT CALLING YOU THAT!" Mario roared back before slapping his hand over his mouth and turning away from Luigi, frustrated with himself.

Luigi wasn't himself.

He couldn't get mad at him. Stars knew what he'd been through to end up acting like a. Like a testa di cazzo. And while, a small part of him could acknowledge that he probably should be calling him 'Mr. L' like he wanted, a bigger, stubborn, more selfish part of him refused to.

It felt wrong to throw something as big as a title between them.

They'd known each other their whole lives, were closer to each other than anyone else in the whole world.

To be that formal with each other...with Luigi...was wrong.

Slowly, he pulled his hand off his face and sighed. Maybe...he was being unfair. He couldn't call him the name Bleck had given him, but maybe. They could come to a compromise?

But what on earth could he call hi- “...Mario?”

Mario froze before slowly turning back around to face Lui-Mr.-his tw-the stranger wearing his brother’s face and almost cried.

The nervous unsurety was so familiar it hurt. If he wasn’t still holding himself back, wasn’t still looking at him with the barest hint of mistrust, like he didn’t know him, then there was no doubt in Mario’s mind that he’d be by his brother’s side to offer comfort and trying to boost his confidence back up right this very second.

But that wasn’t his brother.

Not really and maybe he’d never be again.

“What.” he said tiredly, completely and utterly drained from this whole mess of an adventure.

The other man bit his bottom lip, uncertainty in his eyes. “You don’t. Lose it. Like that.”

Mario blinked. “What.” he repeated dumbly.

Mr. L frowned and rolled his eyes, some of his earlier annoying bluster coming back. “Lose it. The whole.” he waved a hand “Snapping you just did. Not even when Ashbreath kidnaps Miss Pretty in Pink.” a small snort escaped him. “Don’t know why, if anyone deserves a good scolding it’s him…” Mr. L frowned again and eyed him curiously. “But you don’t. Ever. You’re always...chipper. It’s annoying. So. That. Outburst just now. That’s not you.”

Mario’s mouth felt dry as he stared at Lu-his brother. “I thought. You didn’t know me.”

His brother grimaced and looked away. “I don’t. Not really. I just know you don’t lose your temper like that. I mean really. My name? Would it be so hard for you to call me Mr. L?”

“Yes.”

His brother looks back at him again and Mario isn’t sure, but if he didn’t know any better, he’d swear something crumples in his expression before it’s gone as he throws his head back and groans.

“Fine. You win. Bambino drammatatico. You can call me Luigi.” Luigi’s mouth twists like he’s still not sure of his own name. “But if you even attempt to call me ‘Weegee’ again, I’ll give you a beating that’ll make your last fight with the world’s dumbest, ugliest turtle look like a picnic.”

“Thank you, Luigi. That. That a means a lot.”

“Ugh. Don’t mention it. Ever.”

Mario can’t help a small smile. He was being stupid earlier. Luigi would always be his brother, no matter what happened. And, this whole ‘Mr. L’ thing was bound to go away eventually, right?

He just had to keep reminding himself of that fact.

“I think I know where we are by the way.”

Luigi raised a brow. “You think?”

Mario shrugged. “As much as can in this world. I’m pretty sure the door back to Flipside is close by.”

He moved closer and hesitantly placed a hand on Luigi’s arm. “Ready?”

“I guess so. Don’t know why you’re so nervous. Everything’s dead. Teleport us over or whatever it is you do.”

Mario bit his tongue and quietly flipped the two of them back to the regular, flat dimension they were more used to.

It was still empty.

Void of all life and color.

A reminder of his failure and what lay in wait for the rest of the connecting worlds if he couldn’t stop Bleck and his terrifying all-consuming void.

Tightening his grip on his brother’s arm, Mario trudged ahead. Judging by Luigi’s callous tone right before they’d flipped from one dimension to the next, he didn’t want to look back and see what sort of expression he was wearing.

If it was some sort of sick glee or or pride on his brother’s face at seeing a once vibrant world gone, then there was a very good chance he’d go down another depressive spiral and he doubted Luigi would bother pulling him out of it again.

Better to just keep going. Find the door. Get out and hope once his brother was around normal people again, their friends, then he’d be able to drop the whole Mr. L mindset faster.

Thankfully, the walk back to the door that would take them back to Flipside Tower ended up not being as long as he’d first thought it’d be. The deep, rich blue was a welcome sight after seeing nothing but white for so long.

“Huh.” Luigi muttered as he pulled his arm out of Mario’s grip and moved closer to the door and placed a hand against it. “Not bad. Not as nice as the ones back at the castle of course, but the craftsmanship is nice. No wonder it survived the void.”

Mario stared at him. “What?”

Luigi looked at him like he was an idiot. “The energy coming off this thing. Can’t you feel it? It’s.” Luigi frowned and waved his hands. “Y’know?”

Mario looked back at the door. He didn’t feel anything. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t giving off any energy. Maybe it was electrical? Luigi told him once, after getting his Thunder Hand, that he sometimes felt the power running through their house or when or where lighting was going to strike during a storm. Kind of like how Mario found himself more aware of sources of heat or fire sometimes.

So it was probably that. But he had a feeling trying to explain all that would just give them both a headache so he just shrugged.

“Maybe. But it’s y’know. A portal in the shape of a door? I wouldn’ be surprised if it wasn’t giving something off.”

Luigi frowned and looked at the door again. “Maybe…”

Placing his own hand against the door, Mario pushed forward, relieved to find it still open and lead back to the Tower. They were so close.

“Come on.”

Luigi quietly followed behind him and already, Mario could feel some of the tension he’d been carrying since coming back to the Sammer Kingdom leave him as he walked down the hallway full of doors.

Yes, the swirling, glowing vortex of purple just out of the corner of his eye served as a reminder of how little time they had left to stop Bleck was. BUT he had his brother back, possibly another Pure Heart depending on how well he was able to persuade Luigi to give it back, and Merlon was sure to be able to point him in the direction of the final Heart and help his brother shake off Bleck’s influence fully. And then all of this nightmare of an adventure could be one step closer to being done and behind him forever.

Belatedly, about halfway down the hall, Mario realized he didn’t hear Luigi following right behind him anymore.

Turning, Mario was surprised to see his brother had stopped at some point and was just staring at the swirling vortex looming over them.

“Luigi?”

His brother didn’t respond.

Concerned, Mario backtracked till he was at Luigi’s side and lightly shook him. “Bro?”

Luigi jumped slightly before looking down at him and scowled. “What?”

“You were just. Standing here. Are you okay?”

Luigi blinked before shooting a quick look at the void and frowned. “Yeah. Peachy.” His frown deepened slightly. “I guess I just...got caught up looking at the vortex up there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

Mario nodded. “Got it. It. Is a pretty scary isn’t it? Looming over everything, getting bigger…” He gave his brother a light pat and one of his brighter smiles. “But we’ll stop it before it destroys any more worlds!”

“...Sure you will.” Luigi replied flatly before suddenly pushing past him. “That the thing that’ll get us a outta here?”

Mario stumbled a little as he quickly reoriented himself to find Luigi gesturing towards the white elevator box at the end of the hallway.

“Yes. Is som-”

“Wonderful. Pick up the pace Shorty. You’re on a time crunch remember?”

Mario watched in slight confusion as Luigi nearly ran towards the elevator. That was...weird. He looked up at the swirling void near the tower and frowned. Did. Seeing the mechanism of Count Bleck’s form of destruction instill some form of guilt in his brother?

“Oh my god! Why are you so slow?! Do you have a date or something with that thing!?”

Mario sighed. Whatever Luigi’s reasoning, it wasn’t important right now. What was, was catching up to his brother before he decided to ditch him. And having to try to finding him again.

With a light jog, Mario quickly caught up to his brother.

“Finally.” Luigi muttered, glaring at the elevator’s doors and stubbornly refusing to look at him. “Any longer and I’d have to apologize to that oversized reptile for thinking he was the slowest thing on the planet.”

“You seem to be in a rush.” Mario started cautiously; half-hoping his brother would say he regretted his current/past actions.

“Yeah well, the view here sucks.” Luigi snarled as he slammed a finger on the elevator button. Distantly, Mario wondered how many times his brother had pressed it before he’d gotten there.

Almost a second later, there was a light ping and the doors had barely started opening before his brother marched into the box.

“Luigi-” Mario started as he followed after him. “The vacuum thing. Did that really happen?” Luigi suddenly interrupted, throwing him completely for a loop. “What?” he asked weakly.

“You trying to fix a vacuum. Was that real?”

Mario blinked and couldn’t help staring at Luigi dumbly. It. Took him a couple of seconds to realize what exactly he was talking about. That part of the exchange with Dimentio felt like it had happened ages ago.

He wasn’t sure why Luigi was bringing it back up again out of the blue like this, but it all honesty, he didn’t mind answering. Maybe this meant his brother was willing to try to remember who he was supposed to be without anymore fights first.

“Yes. That’s real.”

“Why would you do that? You suck at fixing stuff.”

Mario rubbed the back of his neck and looked away in slight embarrassment.

“It was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday. You’d been so busy that week with a bunch of projects for other people that you’d let...some of our own stuff fall to the background. And you a kept complaining about not havin’ any a time to fix the vacuum that I thought...maybe I could a do it. One less a thing for you to a worry about.”

Luigi leaned back and tipped his head against the wall. “Huh. Y’know, you coulda of just got me a toolbox. Woulda of saved on the cleaning bill I bet.”

Mario couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at that. “You said that last time too.”

An amused smirk crossed Luigi’s face. “Well that just means I’m always right, doesn’t it?”

Another laugh escaped him at that. “Most of the time. Maybe. I can think of a few times you were wrong.”

Luigi’s smirk turned into an achingly familiar teasing grin. “I dunno. I don’t think those times count if I don’t remember them.”

“I think they do. I’ve got a few people who could back me up on you being dumb.”

Luigi snorts as the doors ping, announcing they’ve arrived at the bottom of the tower. “Whatever you say Red; I still don’t think it counts.”

Not bothering to wait for a reply, Luigi quickly stepped out of the elevator and onto the main street of Flipside. Rolling his eyes, Mario followed after him.

“Would it a kill you to wait two seconds?”

Luigi shrugged as he scanned the street. “Where to now?”

“Not too far, Merlon’s house is right next door.”

Pausing only long enough to make sure Luigi was following him, Mario led the way. As towns he’d visited went, Flipside was nice. Cobblestone paths, old style homes and buildings. It had a nice, cozy, almost industrial feel to it.

He couldn’t help wonder what Luigi would have thought of Flipside if he was in his right mind.

“Yeesh. Is that the guy’s house? It looks like a rainbow threw up on it but missed a few colors.”

Mario sighed.

It’d probably be the exact opposite of that.

“Luigi, please don’t insult Merlon.”

“The man is insulting himself if he thinks any of that works. I mean. There’s like fifty stars on the front of the house alone. Talk about tacky.”

“Luigi.”

Luigi groaned. “Fine. I won’t insult your dumb best friend forever over his clearly questionable design choices.”

“Grazie.”

Taking a deep breath, Mario opened the door, just barely resisting the urge to drag his brother behind him as they entered.

Just a little while longer. Just a little while longer and then Luigi could be himself again.

“Oh ho! Our Hero has returned! Tell me, do you have the-” Marlon paused as he caught sight of Luigi behind him. “Who’s that?”

Mario gave the wizard a wide grin. “This is my brother, L-”

“Luigi?!”

Peach gasped as she entered the room behind Marlon. “You’re okay!”

Before Mario could warn her, or say anything really, she had closed the distance between them to throw her arms around his brother. “I was so worried for you after that dumb wedding fell apart with everyone running all over the place. Are you okay? Where were you?”

Mario couldn’t help wincing as Luigi pushed her off of him and took a couple steps back. “I don’t know what it’s like in your kingdom, Princess, but buy a guy dinner first before you throw yourself at him.” He threw her a smarmy look that made Mario want to die just looking at it. “I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but get a hold of yourself.”

Peach’s jaw dropped as she looked between the two brothers before settling on Mario. “...Are you sure this is your brother?”

Mario barely had a chance to open his mouth before a familiar roar shook the house.

“What is that Mr. L PUNK doing here?! Get away from my wife!”

Luigi’s face split into a wide smile. “Finally someone knows who I am! You’re not as dumb as you look, Spikes for Brains!”

“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!”

“Spikes for Brains! Or is that too hard for your dumb little lizard brain to wrap itself around?”

Luigi jumped away from Mario’s outstretched hand, eyes still locked on Bowser. “And to answer your questions…” His smile turned sharp, making Mario fear what would come out of his brother’s mouth next. This time, instead of trying to grab him, he aimed for a tackle; half-hoping an impact with the floor would knock whatever was driving him to insult a giant fire-breathing turtle right back out of him.

Unfortunately, Luigi somehow saw that coming as well and dodged at the last second with a stupid spin that left Mario flat on the floor and him right in front of Bowser’s furious face.

“I thought Mario could have an arch rival that he wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen hanging around with.” Luigi’s eyes flicked down to Bowser’s claws before darting back up to his face. “I don’t see any rings. Marriage problems, roba calda?”

Bowser let out a low growl that usually meant he was about two seconds from setting something or someone on fire when Mario grabbed Luigi from the back of his shirt and pulled him out of Bowser’s face.

“What. Is. Wrong. With. You?!?” he hissed as he dragged him back towards the door. “When I asked you not to insult Merlon, I didn’t a mean you could insult everyone else in the house!”

Luigi shrugged. “You should have been more specific. Besides, he started it.”

Mario dragged his free hand down his face and took a deep breath.

Of all the things Count Bleck had done to his brother’s personality, was making him act like a literal five-year-old really necessary?

“Well I’m ending it. Just. Wait here for a moment while I catch everyone else up. Try not to start any more fights.”

Luigi just rolled his eyes before leaning against the door and gave him a flat look. “I won’t if he won’t.”

Mario sighed. Good enough he supposed.

Turning, he clapped his hands and headed back to the others, hoping his smile didn’t look as strained as he felt.

“So. As I was saying, I found my brother Luigi. He’s uh. Having some a memory problems…”

Peach frowned slightly. “Mario...issues with memory don’t erm. Change someone’s personality that...um, that is to say…”

“He may also have a been hypnotized.” Mario interrupted quickly before turning to look at Merlon. “But you can undo that, can’t you?”

“UGH! I shouda known you just brought me here to mess with my head too. Bet you had a big ol’ laugh with Dimentio about it too. L-ater Losers.”

Mario barely had time to feel his heart leap up his throat at the threat of losing Luigi again when his brother gave a startled yelp from Bowser picking him up from the back of his shirt.

He didn’t know what the Koopa King was doing next to his brother or even when he’d made his way to the door without him noticing, but Mario was grateful for the big lug regardless.

“You seriously want me to believe this mouthy, rude, disrespectful minion of Bleck’s is Green ‘Stache? This guy?”

Luigi made to swing an arm at Bowser before wincing. “I’ll show you ‘rude’ if you don’t let me go right this instant you you walking bowl of turtle soup!”

Bowser raised an eyebrow before shooting Mario an unimpressed look. “Yeah, I don’t buy it. How’d you get duped this badl-?”

Bowser paused at a light touch from Peach.

“Are you hurt, Lu-Mr. L?”

Luigi paused in his attempts to get Bowser to free him to shoot Peach a suspicious glare. “You a empath or something?”

“No, I just saw you wince just now...and if I’m not mistaken, that’s your scarf wrapped around your arm, correct?”

“...Yeah so? It’s already taken care of.”

Peach clasped her hands and gave Luigi a soft smile. “Well, I can be a pretty good healer. If you want, I can take a look at your arm and do my best to fix you up.”

Luigi frowned for a moment before shooting her a cocky grin. “Well if you insist.”

“Always.” Peach glanced back up at Bowser and gave him one of her sweeter smiles. “If you could let him down?”

Bowser snorted. “Why? I don’t think he deserves to waste any of your ti-” Bowser froze as Peach trailed her hand over one of his. “Please? It’d mean ever so much to me.”

Bowser blinked before looking away before his blush could get to big. “F-Fine. But I’m going to supervise! No way I’m going to let you be alone with this scoundrel! Who knows what he’d do!”

“Of course. Thank you Bowser.”

As Mario moved to follow the three of them to a quieter place in the study, he was stopped by Merlon.

“Mario, if I may speak to you for a moment?”

“Of a course! We didn’ finish our conversation before all of...that.” Mario waved a hand semi-nervously before pushing on. “I a swear, he’s not a normally like that. So if you can help me undo whatever Bleck did to him-”

Merlon placed a hand on Mario’s moving one. “My dear boy; I am afraid there’s nothing I could do, even if I wanted to. Magics of the Mind are a delicate, tricky thing even for the masters of that craft, which I am not. If I were to even attempt what you are asking of me, I fear I would only make things worse.”

Mario’s heart sank. “What. What about the other Sages? Maybe one of them-?”

Merlon shook his head sadly. “I am afraid not. None of us ever desired to study that particular path.”

“Then...is he. Gonna be like this...forever?”

“That I cannot say. As I said the mind is a delicate thing. But it is also wondrous. It can recall the most smallest of details at any given time while continuously capable of creating and holding new memories. Your brother may come to himself in time or he may not. But would he still not be your brother?”

Mario ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Of course. Luigi will always be my brother. It just. Wouldn’t be the same…”

Merlon nodded. “I understand. In the meantime however, we must stop Count Bleck if we are to have any hope in the future. If you succeed, as the Light Prognosticus foretells, then I shall do all in my power to help you find someone skilled in the Magics of the Mind.”

Mario took a deep breath and sighed.

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but at least it was a start and yet another thing for him to fight for against Count Bleck. He would just. Have to be patient.

“Grazie, Merlon. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. Now, tell me, were you able to find another Pure Heart during your last venture? We need eight of them if we are to save all of reality.”

Mario nodded. “I think Luigi still has it.”

Merlon’s eyes widened slightly. “In that case, let us check in with your brother then.”

Relieved that he could rejoin the others, Mario quickly led the way to where they were gathered; where, the closer he got, the more he could hear their conversation.

“...n’t seem to mind if he calls you Luigi.”

“Yeah well. He gets...mopey.”

“Yeah right. Mario doesn’t get ‘mopey’.”

“Well he did and it was pathetic and…”

“...Mr. L?”

“It doesn’t matter. If calling me...Luigi...makes him….happy, then who cares?”

Mario turned the corner just in time to catch Bowser leer at his brother. “Then can I call you ‘Luigi’ too? Since it makes Mario soooo happy?”

Luigi snorted. “You actually calling me by my name would be a first.”

Peach froze, tugging on the needle she was using to sew up the gash on Luigi’s arm hard enough to make him hiss and glare at her. “What was that for?!”

“You. You just said your name was Luigi.”

Luigi frowned. “No I didn’t. I keep telling you, it’s Mr. L.” He jerked a thumb at Bowser. “At least he gets it.”

Peach pursed her lips but before she could say anything, Mario coughed to let them know he was there as well as send a silent apology to Peach for interrupting her.

While privately, he couldn’t help think the more people who called Luigi by his actual name was a good thing, he needed his brother to be in a good enough mood to hand over the Pure Heart without throwing a fit about it first.

“Hiya bro!”

Luigi narrowed his eyes slightly. “What do you want?”

Merlon stepped forward. “I was told you held the next Pure Heart. May I see it?”

Luigi snorted and rolled his eyes. “That hunk of rock? Sure, be my guest.” Reaching into a pocket, Luigi pulled it out and practically chunked it at them, Mario just barely catching it in time.

“Luigi.”

His brother smirked. “You never said how you wanted the dumb thing. Figured I’d give it to you the fastest way how.”

Mario was about to throw his hat at Luigi’s obnoxious face when a quiet “Oh dear.” beside him gave him pause.

“Merlon? Is a something wrong?”

The old wizard sighed. “I’m afraid so. I do not feel any energy or power emitting from this Pure Heart. I fear, that if you were to put this in a Heart Pillar, it would do nothing.”

Mario felt cold.

“What are you trying to say old man? That that’s it? There’s nothing we can do?” Bowser nearly shouted.

Marlon shrugged helplessly. “Without all eight Pure Hearts, you cannot stop Count Bleck and his destruction. We have seven and yet...one of them is powerless…”

A sharp bark of laughter interrupted him and all eyes turned to Luigi.

“This isn’t funny!” Bowser growled at him. “Sure it is, you three junior heroes spent all that time running around, trying to stop us and just when you get to the finish line, you trip and fall!” Luigi shot Bowser a cruel look. “I mean in your case, at least, you should be used to this.”

Steam practically erupted from Bowser’s mouth as he glared right back at Luigi. “And what’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Exactly what it sou-” Mario slapped a hand over his brother’s mouth after darting between the two of them.

“How a bout. We just all take a couple of deep breaths. And a talk a things through.”

He took a deep breath and hoped it didn’t sound as ragged to everyone else at it did to him. “Merlon. There has to a be a something we can do.”

Peach grabbed his free hand and gave him an encouraging squeeze. “Mario’s right. We’ve come so close, lost so much already. We can’t give up.”

“I’m not saying you should give up. It’s just that we are alas, between a rock and a hard place as the saying goes.”

“A ha ha ha. What a sad group of so-called heroes we have here. One broken toy, a missing puzzle piece and they all fall to pieces.”

Mario stiffened. No.

No.

Not here. Not now. Not when he had enough on his plate without adding one more headache to the mix.

“Who’s there?” Merlon called and, almost as if those words summoned him into existence, Dimentio materialized above them, looking as if he had told the world’s funniest joke.

Glaring, Mario took his hands off of Luigi and Peach. “What do you a want?!”

Dimentio pressed a hand against his chest in mock surprise. “Me? I just want to offer my help!”

“The day you help someone is the day I throw away my tools.” Luigi muttered darkly. “What are you really doing?”

“You wound me with your words, L. I am nothing but helpful!”

“Didn’t you try to kill me?!”

Dimentio laughed. “Oh you do remember that! And here I was thinking you’d shut down past the point of no return when I shared with you the truth of your little existence!”

“Get to the point, Dimentio” Luigi snarled with enough venom that even Bowser gave him a second look.

“Fine, fine, you’ve twisted my arm. The ‘point’ I’ve come to share with you all is that there is no way in this world to restore the Pure Heart! It’s useless! Forever!”

“HOW IS THAT HELPFUL?!” Bowser roared.

Mario wasn’t sure, but it seemed like Dimentio’s smile widened.

“It’s helpful because it means you are all too disheartened to notice...this.” Dimentio raised his arms and the air rippled.

“YOU BACKSTABBING INSANE TWO FACED COGLIONE!” Luigi howled. “LET ME OUT OF THIS BOX RIGHT NOW SO I CAN RIP THAT STUPID MASK OFF YOUR FACE!”

Dimentio tapped his chin and hummed. “Tempting L, reeeal tempting but I’m afraid I have to decline your offer.”

Luigi gave another screech of rage before the sound of something hitting something solid echoed through the room.

Tentatively, Mario reached forward and found his fingers stop at an invisible wall. This. Wasn’t good.

Worriedly, he looked over at Peach who also had an arm outstretched, fingers stopping at an invisible wall as well.

Looking on the other side of him, he watched as both Luigi and Bowser attempted to break past the invisible barriers with brute force.

Reaching out a hand to try to pull Luigi back before he broke something, Mario was horrified to find another wall between him and his brother. Panicked, he tried to grab Peach’s free hand but discovered there was a barrier between them as well.

They. They were all in separate boxes.

He’d let go of them. And now he couldn’t reach them.

“Since your little quest has ended in vain, I figured I might as well give you all a consolation prize.”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” Luigi roared before there was a sudden onslaught of blasts within each of the boxes that felt hotter and more intense than the last until after what felt like an eternity, there was nothing.

When Mario next woke up, he found himself in a grassy, almost jungle like place that was, according to the first person he’d met, the Underwhere. Which was where all souls came when they’d died.

Which meant...he’d failed.

And what was worse, not only did he fail the worlds and his friends, but that they were probably dead too.

And while he had a feeling Dimentio would have killed them anyway, he couldn’t help but wonder if the way the jester had done it was because he’d thrown a bomb at him.

And while he still couldn’t dredge up any regret for his actions (he’d gotten Luigi back. Somewhat. He could never regret that.) He did feel regret that the bomb hadn’t been enough to stop Dimentio completely or more permanently.

But.

He did what he always did. He got up and kept going.

And...maybe things weren’t as bad as that first shade made it out to be.

Queen Jaydes seemed nice; he didn’t mind looking for this Luvbi person for her.

And...and she had mentioned that someone else like him had fallen into the Underwhere. Someone in green.

It was a long shot, but there was only one person Mario knew used that color as a signifier. And and even if he still didn’t have his memory and was more prone to starting a fight than avoiding one, Mario could deal with it!

Because it would mean that Luigi was still okay! That they could work together, hopefully find the others and maybe just maybe make it back to Flipside and figure out how to stop Count Bleck with just six pure hearts; seven if they could find the last one.

It could all work out. He just had to keep hoping; stay positive and everything would turn out fi-

A familiar sounding voice groaned causing Mario to ignore everything in his surroundings and run towards it.

He caught sight of a familiar shade of green hiding behind a rock and it took everything in him to tamp down the hope that bubbled up in him at the sight. It was just the scarf he was seeing. Or. Or the hat.

Luigi would still be wearing that black jumpsuit, wouldn’t he?

The closer he got, Mario could hear his brother mumbling.

“...underlings grabbed me; I remember that. And then. And then.” A frustrated hiss escaped him. “Why can’t I remember anything else?”

“Luigi?”

Luigi looked up from behind his rock, confusion coloring his face for a second as it landed on Mario before lighting up.

“Bro? Bro!”

Before Mario could even say another word, Luigi was moving and had nearly tackled him as he gave him a bone crushing hug.

“I don’t know where we are, but I’m happy we’re together! I missed you Bro!”

Mario carefully pulled away from the hug and swept his eyes over Luigi, half-afraid that if he looked away, his brother would turn into Mr. L again, or worse, vanish into thin air.

“Mario? Are you okay?”

Mario sniffed and rubbed his eyes. “Y-Yeah. I’mma fine. I just. I missed you too.”

Luigi gave him a small smile and patted his shoulder. “Well I’mma a here now.” He looked around and frowned. “Speaking of which, where are we?”

“The Underwhere. It’s uh. The place people go when they die.”

“Huh.”

“...you. Don’t seem surprised.”

Luigi shrugged and then winced, rubbing gently at his arm. “I dunno...I guess it a makes sense? I think I’ve been here awhile...I don’t remember anything past Bowser and Peach’s wedding…” he frowned a little.

“What did I do to my arm? It feels like I pulled it or something.”

“Maybe you a landed on it wrong!”

Luigi blinked. “...Maybe.”

Mario gave him a wide smile, hoping his brother would buy the explanation and drop it. He didn’t like lying to Luigi but what was he supposed to tell him? He cut it after a fight with him because he got brainwashed to be evil?

He didn’t think his brother would take that well.

And...if Luigi didn’t remember being Mr. L, and was back to being his regular, kind-hearted self, then...what was the point of ever bringing up what he’d been up to before falling into the Underwhere?

It didn’t matter.

Not anymore.

It was all in the past and unlikely to ever come back up again in conversation with...anyone.

He’d have to talk to Peach and Bowser first, of course, but he was sure they’d agree with him.

Luigi didn’t ever have to know about Mr. L.

Mario would take that experience with him to his grave.

Smile turning more warm, Mario offered his hand to Luigi.

“C’mon. I can fill you in on what you missed as we look for someone else down here. It’ll be like you were there the whole time!”

Luigi grinned and took his hand. “Sounds like a plan, Mario. Lead the way!”

#super mario #super paper mario #my fics #mario #mr. l #luigi #in which i put mario through one heck of an emotional roller coaster #i would also like to apologize for any and all inaccuracies in this #i don't own a wii and have thus never played the actual game #sorry bout that #buckle in folks; this thing got LONG #tw: language

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basu-shokikita · 1 year ago

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Kloktober 2023 Day 28

Use Brendon Small in some kind of way

We're nearing the end of the event! I really didn't want to miss this prompt because we owe it all to Mr. Brendon Small in the first place and I wanted to honor him somehow.

So, have this kind-of-meta entry for today 🤘

Toki was used to the unusual. As both someone raised by heavily religious parents and the member of the famous band alive, he had seen all sorts of things. He was very rarely surprised these days.

So, when he walked into the living room that morning, ready to start a new day, he wasn’t really surprised to see Skwisgaar standing still in a strange position. Like he was about to start shredding, but had stopped at the last second. It was Skwisgaar, after all, a total weirdo about his guitar. Toki ignored him and went straight to the kitchen. It was a peanut butter and banana kind of day!

It did confuse him, however, when he came out of the kitchen roughly 20 minutes later and Skwisgaar was still in the exact same position, not having moved even an inch. He didn’t seem to be blinking either. Actually, was he breathing?

He looked at the other three. Nathan was reading the newspaper as usual, Murderface inspected a new antique gun he had acquired and Pickles was crushing almonds for whatever reason. They didn’t seem to have noticed at all.

“Um…guys…” He said. “Skwisgaar amsnt movings…”

“Oh, yeah,” Pickles’ attention was still on the almonds. “He gaht frozen.”

“Whats?”

“He gaht frozen ‘cause he defied…” Pickles pointed upwards with one hand, the other one being used to align the almond dust with a credit card. “Ya know?”

Toki followed where he was pointing, but there was nothing in the ceiling. “Um, noes?”

“He defied God.” Nathan intervened, raising his eyes from the newspaper.

“Yeh.” Pickles snorted a line of almond dust and shook his head. “Oh, dood, this healthy drugs shit is fucking sick!”

Toki was aghast. “What you means dat-” He stared at Skwisgaar in horror. “Ams he deads?!”

“Nah.” Pickles wiped his nose and sat up. “God’s just teaching him a lesson. Or somethin’.”

“That’sch what happensch when you’re an arrogant prick.” Murderface commented.

“But whats did he do?!” Toki couldn’t understand why everyone seemed so calm about it. And since when did they all believe in God?

Pickles put his hand on his chin, like it was a faraway memory. “He gaht fanmail asking if he was a better guitarist than God…”

“And he said that no God could beat him because he was his own God.” Nathan finished, folding the newspaper.

“We told him to stahp…”

“And he just kept going.”

“So this thunder came down and froze him.” Pickles finished his explanation with a smirk.

“Becausche he’sch an aschole.”

Overwhelmed, Toki fell on the couch like dead weight. “So Gods ams reallies real…” He said, despair overcoming him. “And he ams watchings us…” His parents’ icy stare was drilling in his mind, haunting him.

“Yeh, but’s naht like God-God.” Pickles said. “More like…” He leaned in to whisper into Toki’s ear. “Da creator.”

Toki blinked. “Um…”

Pickles sighed, exasperated. “Like naht in a religious wey…the dood that literally created us.” When Toki still didn’t seem to understand, he gestured upwards. “Do you see that hole in the ceiling?”

Toki looked up and saw there was indeed one gap at the corner of the ceiling. it was like a white square and in all honesty he was surprised he hadn’t noticed it before. “Yeah?”

“Go stand under it.”

“Pickles…”

“No, it’s okey, Nethan.” Pickles assured the frontman. “He deserves to know.”

“Knows what?” Toki asked, panic rising in his voice.

“Go stand under that hole and ya’ll see.”

“He’sch totally gonna pisch himschelf.”

Reluctant, Toki got up and walked until he was standing right under that seemingly empty spot in the ceiling. “Nows what?”

“Look.”

“Ams looking.” Toki said, staring at the white square.

“Ya gotta wait for it.”

“But what ams I-” Toki was in the middle of asking when he saw something move outside. “Wow! What was dats?”

“Just keep lookin’.”

Toki squinted, ready to pay attention. Suddenly, the white spot seemed to be covered and big grey-ish blue eyes appeared, then a nose, then a mouth…it was a gigantic head gazing down at Toki, and talking to someone that couldn't be seen. It pointed at something in particular, and Toki was suddenly struck with existential terror and moved away from the giant head’s sight. “Wha…Whats de fucks was dats?!”

“That’s him.” Pickles said. “The dood that made us.”

“What you means mades us?” Toki asked, beyond baffled.

“He’s the guy that came up with us.” Nathan said, staring at Toki with mild concern.

“Wha…Cames ups with us?!” Toki’s voice was high-pitched.

“He invented us, Toki.” There was not a tinge of amusement in Pickles face, he was completely serious. “You exist because of him.”

Paralyzed, Toki just stared at Nathan and Pickles, unable to mutter a word.

Nathan turned to Pickles. “I don’t think he’s ready for this.”

Pickles glanced at Toki. “Yeh, ya’re right.” He laid back on the couch. “Forget about it, Toki.”

“Whats?!”

“Haha!” Murderface laughed. “You’re too much of a baby to handle the truth!” He pointed at Toki, mockingly.

“Shut up, Murderface.” Pickles rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, shut up, Murderface.” Nathan joined in.

“Waits!” Toki refused to let the conversation steer away. “You gots to explains to mes! Whats-”

A thunder suddenly struck down at the frozen Skwisgaar and Toki jumped like a scared rabbit. Before too long, though, it was gone and Skwisgaar started blinking, his hand twitching and the rest of his body recovering mobility after.

As if awoken from a slumber, he whipped his heard around. “Whats did I miss?” He asked, confused.

Pickles squinted at Toki menacingly before shrugging. “Nuthin’.” He said. “Ya just fell asleep while standin’.”

“Oh.” Skwisgaar didn’t sound too surprised. “It happens sometimes.”

As if nothing had happened, the band resumed the conversation, leaving a baffled Toki staring at them with disbelief. So Skwisgaar didn’t know about it either? But the others did? Why were Toki and him left in the dark about this?

And most importantly, who the fuck was that guy?!

#kloktober2023 #kloktober #metalocalypse #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #pickles the drummer #nathan explosion #william murderface #dethklok #brendon small #truly sorry for any mistakes i just wanted to finish this already and go to eat #my writing #no beta we die like men etc

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tired-of-being-nice · 9 months ago

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not allowed to die (+ i love you)

febuwhump day 29!!!!!! we made it guys!!!! this is a combo of the actual prompt (not allowed to die) and an alt prompt (i love you), and oh boy, i've been planning it out for a LONG time >:D let's go!

content: some questionably healthy relationships, sickfic, fever specifically, mentions of death

Ray brings them towels, which Milo is disgustingly grateful for—it's a good thing Ray has so many favors to pay back, they have to keep reminding themself, or they'd owe her after all this.

But it's nice to no longer feel quite so much like a miserable wet cat, and they and Ray conduct in whispers a negotiation of the exact terms of this. Much of their relationship, really, has been built off of owed favors and transactions—it is precisely this that made Milo go to Ray first. They know that she will keep her end of a bargain and not try to find a way to screw them over with it, and in this way Ray is the closest thing Milo has to a friend.

The upshot of the negotiation is that Ray goes to get blankets and an Advil, and they bundle up Coren in the blankets and wake it up enough to convince it to take the Advil, and then they sit there for a long time. Ray actually gets out a book and starts reading. Coren dozes. Milo tries very, very hard not to doze off as well.

"I'm gonna go make myself something," Ray announces abruptly. "Should I make you something, too? Some soup?"

Milo would really, really like that, but they only have so many favors left, and they don't want it to swing the other way so they owe Ray. They shake their head.

Ray nods in understanding and goes over towards the kitchen. Milo sits. Glances over at Coren, cozy in its blanket nest. Looks down at their hands. Looks back to Coren.

Ah, fuck it. They peel back a few layers of blanket and tuck themself in next to Coren. It's still pretty out of it, but it doesn't seem to mind. It makes a pleased chirping noise and flops over on Milo.

Milo knows it's not exactly a good thing to do—it's actually probably really fucked up, they observe distantly, to use the shell of your former friend for heating. But fuck, they dragged it all the way here, and it was the kind of cold out that sinks into your bones and makes you think you'll never get warm again, and Coren always ran warm and with the fever they're even more so (and that's fucked up too, come on Milo they're literally sick and you're just– what are you doing) but it's too late, so there, Milo's done many bad things over the years and comparatively speaking this isn't much worse.

Coren is so warm. The warmth is slowly creeping back into Milo's skin, and their breathing is slow and even, and if Milo closes their eyes they can almost pretend they're back before any of this happened, that they're safe and warm on Coren's old couch and they're going to watch a movie.

(Not quite. Not exactly the same. Coren smells like blood and antiseptic, not like comfort and coffee, and it's so thin—god, don't they ever feed it over there? Milo hugs it closer, all the same. Close enough.)

"Coren," Milo whispers. "You in there? At all? Anything left?"

Coren doesn't respond.

"Coren," Milo says, now with a sense of urgency pressing at their throat, "please, even if you don't know me anymore, just– fuck, don't die on me, okay? You are not allowed to die on me. I'm forbidding it, it's forbidden. You will not die. Understand?"

Coren stirs a little, which startles Milo– they mean to actually wake it. "Mmm. Miley?"

Milo feels a jolt of shock run through their body. Coren hasn't called them that in years, are they dreaming or did it really just—

"Mileyyy," Coren repeats, sleepy grin spreading across its face. It bats a hand roughly in their direction. "What'dja say?"

Milo has to take a second to steady themself before they can respond. "Just– that– um. That you're not allowed to die."

"Oh," Coren says, blinking one eye slowly open and then closed again. "Mmokay. I'll do my best." It yawns, head lolling to the side. "I love youuu."

Milo feels like their insides have turned to ice. There's a faint humming in their ears, and they half-feel themself gently brush a strand of hair away from Coren's face.

"No you don't, Coren," Milo says gently. "That's just the fever talking. Go back to sleep, okay?"

Coren frowns. "But–"

"Shhh," Milo says, running their hands through its hair, and Coren sighs and relaxes into their touch, falling quickly back asleep.

Milo wishes they could do the same.

taglist: @whumpsoda!

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday29 #sickfic #not allowed to die #fever whump #oc: coren #oc: milo #oc: ray #milo my love you have oh so many problems #also YAY I DID IT!!!!!!#not every day but almost all the ones i wanted to do!!!!#i set a goal and met it!!! WAHOO

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writersmilex · 2 years ago

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Dating Training

Parker Ogilvie X Fem | Reader

Summary: After befriending Parker, you decide to give him some advice about dating.

________________________________________

How (Y/n) met Parker was an interesting story indeed. He was nearly surrounded by Greasers after he strayed away on their turf. Before the Greasers could do anything to him, (Y/n) stepped in and smooth-talked both him and herself out of the Greasers' grasp. Parker said that he felt like he owed her something for saving him from becoming all shades of purple and blue. (Y/n) couldn't really think of anything that she was owed for helping someone, so she told him that she'll think of something later, Parker agreed and that's where a kind of friendship happened, hanging out together while (Y/n) takes her sweet time to think of something get owed from him. He is from a wealthy family like the other Preps, but money is not really what (Y/n) values as much. Besides, her own family is wealthy enough to send her to a private boarding school that looked nice on paper, but the (L/n) family is self-made and not upper-crust rich like the Harringtons for example.

Weeks later (Y/n) believed the bargain was forgotten as she gets to know Parker, as far as she can tell, he is the nicest Prep out of all of them, and even though he still acts entitled like Preppies tend to do, he's still nicer than Tad. Lately, Parker has been a little sulky. And once day (Y/n) decides to ask him why.

~~~~

"I don't understand girls..." He grumbles his response while looking rather flustered. He sulks like a child, looking down at the ground, toying with some loose pebbles from the asphalt ground with his polished shoes. (Y/n) looks at him quizzically, "What do you mean?" she asks quietly turning towards the bench the two friends are sitting on. Parker doesn't reply for a moment, searching within himself for the right way to explain himself. "What do they want? From a boyfriend, I mean..." His voice is quiet, he doesn't meet (Y/n)'s eye directly. (Y/n) has no reason to lie to him, "Well, what girls see in a guy is completely subjective. And every girl has a type they'd like to date." She explains honestly, but from the look that Parker gives her, he doesn't seem to understand all that well. "But... I have money! Isn't that enough?!" He seems genuinely Confused. Poor guy, really. Different upbringing, different expectations. Not that he can help it much, but there is still room for improvement. (Y/n) never asked how old he was, nor did he ever mention it. But if she had to guess, most likely around 16 or 17 years old?

(Y/n) shakes her head. "Sometimes just being rich is not enough, Parker. You'll attract the bad type of girls if that's all that you put on the table." She explains. Parker looks back at her from the asphalt. "Like... interests?" He questions, which feels like a revelation almost, (Y/n) beams at her friend and nods excitedly. "Yeah, you're getting there! But you need some help if you wanna attract the right kind of girls." (Y/n) taps her chin while deep in thought. "I know!" She stands up straight once she got an idea. "I can give you some advice! Advice about girls, from a girl!" She exclaims and points at herself. Parker's expression turns hopeful as he stands up as well. "Really? You'll help me?" His eyes almost shimmer with newfound hope for his problem. (Y/n) confirms her offer of aid with a sharp nod.

Parker cannot contain a smile any longer, "Well, where do we start?"

~~~~

(Y/n) fiddles with Parker's fancy wristwatch, adjusting it carefully. "First things first, People in general like you more if you look well-groomed." She let go of his watch to reach up and mess with a stray strand of his jet-black hair, the usual most stubborn strand. "Neat hair, well dressed, things like that already give people an impression and make you look more attractive too!" (Y/n) straightens his collar rather roughly to get her point across. "You already got that covered pretty well, so we don't have to go over that." She says and moves away from him.

Parker seems to follow up for now. Although he feels a little flustered by the compliment he got from her. Was it a compliment? It must be, right?

"Come here, sit." (Y/n) sits down at one of the many tables inside the Harrington house, patting the surface of the table just across from her. Parker obeys and makes his way over to sit in the chair at the table across from (Y/n). "There are certain things you show to know if you want a long-term relationship." (Y/n) begins while putting her elbows on the table, and resting her chin in her hands. Looking at Parker with interest.

"Sadly, being rich is sometimes not enough. And if that's all that you have to offer, then you're most likely to get used for your money alone." (Y/n) continues, her features serious. Parker listens intensely, (Y/n) sudden serious expression replaced her usual carefree look means that she is giving him a serious warning, whether he completely agrees with her or not.

"You've got to show interest in her too, you know." (Y/n)'s serious tone disappears as she smiles again. Justin and Bryce, who just entered the room, stop and moved to the side to listen to Parker's pauper friend without looking suspicious. "Ask her about her hobbies or interests. Any movies she likes? Something like that." (Y/n) suggests, That's when Justin realized that (Y/n) is giving Parker dating advice.

"And don't forget about yourself too!" She adds with a grin, "What about me?" Parker asks as he leans forward slightly with interest. "Tell something interesting about yourself, silly!" (Y/n) laughs, it's just the most obvious thing, but not to Parker Oglivie apparently. "What do you like to do for fun?" She asks him in order to test him a little. Parker blinks, "You already know what I like, (Y/n)." He answers, causing (Y/n) to rub her face in frustration. "No, Parker! I want to hear it from you!" She reaches out and gently nudges his shoulder playfully. Parker lets out a short laugh and squirms in his seat almost uncomfortably so. "Well...I... Like Boxing and Action movies are fun to watch." He manages to stammer out eventually. (Y/n) laughs loudly, alerting Justin and Bryce who were still pretending to do something else.

"I like action movies too! We got something in common." (Y/n)'s whole face lights up with a bright smile, "That's how dates work... traditionally, anyway." She explains and calms down. "Dates?!" Parker panics slightly at the mention of dating. (Y/n) confirms with a nod, "If you want a girlfriend, you've got to try dating if you haven't before." she explains casually. By Parker's silence, she can already tell that he most likely has never been on a date before. "We could go out together, to practice." Parker jolts at (Y/n) invitation to a date. (Y/n) seems to realize what she said. "That is... If you want to, of course... Just some dinner and a walk around the park. I think it would be fun, right?" She backtracks a bit and becomes flustered. Bryce is sipping his sparkling water while watching the whole thing go down. Justin is watching with his mouth agape. Parker is silent for a brief moment, and then he smiles and nods in agreement, "Yes, that sounds nice. Tomorrow evening?" He suggests, (Y/n) agrees and lifts her hand to shake his to settle the arrangement. Parker has a pretty firm grip as he shakes her hand gingerly. (Y/n) smiles and pretends to glance at her wristwatch and jumps up. "I've got some homework to finish that's due tomorrow. I'll see you tomorrow evening!" (Y/n) waves goodbye and leaves the Harrington house to presumably make homework. "Wow..." Justin whistles in amusement and approaches the shocked Parker. Bryce follows behind and chuckles at the astonished look on Parker's face. "You finally scored yourself a date?" Justin teases, crossing his arms. Parker doesn't respond. He is thinking hard about where to take (Y/n) for dinner.

______________________________________ Wasn't that cute? There isn't a lot going on in this story, I think. But it's nice nonetheless. Thanks for reading❤️ -Smilex🙂

#bully scholarship edition #bully x reader #parker ogilvie #parker ogilvie x reader #x reader #reader insert #fluff #cute #imagines

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himemiya-kun · 1 year ago

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Secret Swan (Chapter 5)

« Chapter 4 • End

Back to list

Chapter 5: The Truest Self

Summer

Characters:

• Tori Himemiya

• Tsukasa Suou

• Eichi Tenshouin

Tori: (I got help from Producer without asking for help… At this rate, I’ll never be able to find a way to improve...)

I remember during the filming of “Fist of the Shangri-la Idol”, Eichi-sama seemed to use special methods to stimulate our acting skills.

If only I could think of a method like Eichi-sama… but that's Eichi-sama.

Sigh…

Ah!? Ow, ow, ow… Who is it! Is it hard to see where you’re going?!

Tsukasa: Oh, you were the one who bumped into me while walking without looking, didn’t you, Tori-kun? So why is the villain filing a complaint first?

Tori: Ugh, it’s Tsukasa…

I really don't want to talk to you right now, so you should leave quickly. This is the secretary you're talking to. Now leave me alone.

Tsukasa: Oh? You’re usually so arrogant, but now you’re willing to lose without a fight in an argument with me?

I’m really curious to know what made you look so troubled, maybe you were preached by Fushimi-senpai again?

Tori: What do you mean ‘again’! Yuzuru praises me more often than scolds me recently, you are the one who is often lectured by Sena-senpai, right?

Hmph, next time when Sena-senpai comes, I will tell him that you secretly eat snacks every day after class!

Tsukasa: Hold on…! Did I start spreading rumours if I couldn’t say it, you liar! I’m just curious about what kind of trouble people like you have, but it seems that I shouldn’t have given you any extra care in the first place!

Tori: Huh~? An idiot full of evil thoughts like Tsukasa will not understand the troubles of a cute and simple person like me.

Tsukasa: You are Tori who obviously doesn’t know what respect is?! I don’t want to have the same knowledge as an insolent boy like you!

Tori: I'm too lazy to talk nonsense with an uneducated guy like Tsukasa!

Tsukasa: Ahhh…! For a person like Tori, there are so many fans who believe that you are really a pure angel, they praise you for being cute, I really want them to see you like this!

Tori: Hmm? What are you talking about, am I not cute now?

Ah…!

(The plot of the short film roughly expresses that even if the world doesn’t understand you, you must dare to show your true self, show the side you want people to see, and pursue what you want…)

(In the eyes of Yuuki-senpai and the others last year, as well as in the eyes of Tsukasa, even I have been the villain quite a few times.)

Tsukasa: Cute? You are the embodiment of evil sometimes! A demon!

Tori: Heh heh heh, so what if I’m the incarnation of evil? The original me is the cutest me ♪

That's great, it's another step ahead of you. It won’t be long before I can leave you far behind. When the time comes, you will kneel down and cry and beg me to forgive you. Maybe I will agree ♪

Tsukasa: What the… What’s the matter? Why do you suddenly look completely different from just now? You also said a lot of inexplicable things, which is really unpleasant!

Tori: Alas, you won't understand even if I explain it to you, idiot.

Tori: …Still, I want to thank you.

Tsukasa: You, what are you saying? Thank you? Are you saying thank you to me? Did I hear you right?

Tori: That's right ♪ Although I’m just a mere secretary, you made Tori-sama feel super excited~ Well, of course the cutest Tori-sama in the world will choose to forgive you for the time being ♪

Tori: Producer~ Here I come ♪

Eichi: Haha, we have been waiting for you for quite some time.

Tori: Eh, Eichi-sama is here too?!

Eichi: Producer told me before that she was a little worried about your situation, but judging by your appearance today, she was worrying a bit too much.

Tori: Producer is always worrying~ but this time, I really want to thank her ♪

Eichi: Mm. Producer really did a lot for us. There's one more thing she hasn't had time to finish, and while I'm waiting for her to complete it, let me tell you something first.

I feel that, now, there should be no bad influence for you.

In fact, I got news from Yuuki earlier. I don’t know why, but people from COS PRO are more inclined to participate in the audition of the “W series”.

So the “B series” has basically already been negotiated with our STAR PRO.

Tori: Eh, in other words, the audition pressure will be very light, is it just a formality?

Eichi: That’s right. In the end, even if you still can't solve the difficulties you encounter, I will ask Yuzuru and Tsumugi to help you, so that you can play this role perfectly.

But we have all seen Tori working hard. If I told you this in advance, it might make you feel that we didn't expect you from the beginning.

Because you said that you don't want me to treat you as a child again, and this time, after all, it is a job commission you personally received, I want to give you as much respect as possible.

So, in the end, you made a really amazing result that exceeded our expectations, Tori.

Tori: Hehe, I feel like I've been praised so many times by Eichi-sama recently that it feels like a dream.

Eichi: Oh, it seems that the work on Producer’s side has been completed, so go over there and have a look.

Tori: Huh? The outfit Producer handed me looks very similar to the upcoming B-Series...

Hey, this is specially tailored by Producer for me?! Because you think that if I really wear this suit, maybe I can break through the original...

Woohoo~ How can you treat me so well! Although you always avoid close physical contact with us after arriving in ES, can you let me hug you now?

No, I'll hug you even if you don't agree! Thank you, Producer ♪

Yesterday, I finally found some understanding of this role, and just now, after seeing this costume, I immediately imagined what it would look like to wear it... It proved that my idea wasn’t wrong!

I have always acted as cute as an angel in front of my fans, but in the eyes of different people, I still have some bad intentions and self-willingness, right?

So I thought, I’ll show my truest and most natural self, and show my lovely self to the fans!

This costume needs not only my cuteness, but also my confidence—

When I wear it, I'll tell the world how awesome this costume is!

And I, Himemiya Tori——is the perfect spokesperson for it.

« Chapter 4 • End

< Back to list

#ensemble stars #enstars #enstars translation #ensemble stars translation #secret swan #tori himemiya #tsukasa suou #eichi tenshouin

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emdashingly · 1 year ago

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hydraulic heart (35k, ushihoshikage, T)

Kageyama Tobio's happy being alone. He's survived this long trusting nothing but his own instinct, and he doesn't want that to change. But when a taciturn noble catches Kageyama breaking into his ship and tries to recruit Kageyama as his pilot, his instinct tells him to say yes. It tells him to say yes again to the sharp, irrepressible off-worlder who ends up taking refuge in their cargo hold after a mission gone wrong. Thrown together by fate, the unlikely trio stumble across a plot which concerns them all — and the fate of their world as they know it. (Or: a prince, a spaceship thief, and a professional wrestler walk into a bar.)

new fic! space opera/found family vibes, and as always my kageyama and ushijima are autistic in very, very different ways. i hope you like it!

concept art/planning/thoughts under the cut!

so this is... not my usual fare at all! it's the longest thing i've ever written by over 50% (black nightshade is 14k), it's got an actual plot, and it's got a setting that i had to get roughly right before i could even establish the scale of the plot.

this fic was written for the tobio bowl event, a kageyama-centric ship exchange. my giftee (who seems to have dropped, so this is now a gift for everyone) requested the adlers trio as a ship, a slow burn, and an au, potentially royalty. this is technically a royalty au, in the loosest sense! but that's where i started, trying to work out how to slow burn these three as a ship in a universe outside canon. for me, that immediately suggested very different class and region origins (which is true in canon to some degree), and a crisis which forces them to understand each other.

the rest went from there! here's some art, then some snippets of insight into how i started developing this, taken directly from discord.

feb 11

so here's the thing right. in an au you make characters recognizable by giving them not just similar temperaments but similar arcs so a) they retain their arcs. b) their arcs must intersect creating the enemies to lovers/slow burn c) they have to start at different places, of course ushijima's arc is always going to be like. respectful, quiet guy in power who hates the social side of things, but who believes wholeheartedly in the goodness of his power and rule -> working out the world is not that simple, finding joy and meaning and color in his life, rising to the challenge of meeting people outside his world i want there to be a power struggle especially since we're doing hurt/comfort and/or enemies to lovers. but like. interpersonal/societal hurt as in most of my fics bc that's what's interesting to me. sometimes the hurt is that the world is broken and the comfort is that you have each other. and enemies to lovers can be the personal betrayal being symptomatic of the bigger hurt

feb 22

i wrote the fic roughly from march 15 to april 15, so clearly it had over a month to marinate (apart from one scene, the climactic one, which was written first in february!). then it all came together! between april and may i had help from my friend m, who did a wonderful job catching minor plot holes and errors. thank you!! i owe you my life.

and finally, a quick sketch of ushijima, the very first time i put any of them to (digital) paper, bc i saw a photo of a cape (that it turned out one of my friends has sewn???) and was like It's Him. the kageyama (and the fic graphic) came later!

#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #ushijima wakatoshi #kageyama tobio #hoshiumi kourai #schweiden adlers #ao3 asynchrony #tony muses #tony draws #both this fic and this graphic were me just making shit up nonstop until it seemed right and i am v proud of them both

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trans-leek-cookie · 4 months ago

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whats in canon (fucking nothing) versus the logical results of the situation that I know of bc I'm interested in how ppl recover from the trauma abuse, how that's reflected in fiction, and am specifically interested in cult abuse and recovery as well

Anyway Suguru, almost definitely unintentionally, created an INCREDIBLY scary dynamic between him and Mimiko + Nanako.

He rescued them from an incredibly dangerous and abusive situation in which they were essentially led to believe they were going to be killed (1a BY HIM)

Before rescuing them he massacred an entire village.

They were taught that because they were sorcerers, they were inherently evil/dangerous. Suguru gives them the complete opposite- they're inherently Worth Something because they're sorcerers, and everyone else is not a person

He killed a person in front of them. Did he explain why beyond "not a sorcerer"?

This makes being sorcerers integral to their identities. Also, the general consensus is that children tend not to have a fully formed identity/personality until roughly age 8-10. This isn't like hard and fast rules but it's something to keep in mind since Mimiko + Nanako are like. Five or six. When being exposed to Suguru's eugenicist beliefs

they probably have an understanding that Suguru saved them Because They Were Sorcerers (whether or not that's exactly true him seeing them was definitely a step in his radicalization) so like

Anyway you're living with a dangerous unstable young man who is a Murderer and who values you Because Of What You Are and believes people not like you + him are Evil Incarnate

You also feel like you owe this guy your life because like. He did save you. And he tells you that you're not evil and didn't deserve to be abused (with the subtext being the only reason you didn't deserve it was bc you were sorcerers)

Like I don't wanna say Mimiko + Nanako are totally off the hook for Believing In Eugenics but. This is an incredibly different situation than Suguru's radicalization

I feel like Suguru. Doesn't process how fucking scary he is. Because he's the 2nd/3rd strongest sorcerer (idk where Yuki ranks. Suguru kinda sucks so I'll say he's 3rd) and hes constantly comparing himself to fucking Pretty Much A God On Earth Gojo Satoru so. Yeah everyone is fucking weak compared to him I guess.

Basically I'm saying that first Suguru doesn't realize that just because he's a far second/third the fourth strongest sorcerer is probably waaaaaaay behind him so like. He's canonically given the rank that means "yeah they could fuck an entire country if they wanted to"

He does not make exceptions for family

Anyway. Even if he never would've hurt Mimiko and Nanako, which I believe, he shouldn't be fucking allowed to raise them.

Idk if they were doing anything similar beforehand but the fact he was Willing to declare war on jujutsu tech. Beyong the "us vs them" of sorcerers vs ppl who Aren't, there's the "us vs them" of Cult Members and Believers vs Other Sorcerers. And those other sorcerers are, before his near death realization, FAIR GAME

What I'm saying is I think subconsciously (bc consciously they love and kinda worship Suguru) Mimiko and Nanako lived w the idea that Suguru could and Would kill them if they went against him

Cults are abusive and the fact Suguru made/took over a cult. And then raised his kids in the cult. DEATH PENALTY

#Ask to tag #abuse ment #cult ment #eugenics ment #Like. Even if you know ur parent or someone with power over you wouldn't hurt you. Logically.#That often doesn't actually Help. Y'know.#And Suguru has given Every Indication that he is willing to use Lethal Force on Almost Anyone #So uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Hhhhhhhhhh. Satoru should've killed him and stole the kids. Like toji #I'm gonna be sick thinking about how Mimiko n Nanako could've paralleled Mai and Maki if they weren't. Treated like shit in story

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the-firebird69 · 5 months ago

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160,074 if the money's worth more back then could be the roughly $245,000 social security owes me for times when I was eligible and they didn't send a payment which they did before and I was surprised and I didn't even know about it.

Zues Hera

It is about that much money too back then a broom would cost about $3.50 and now it's like $5 for inexpensive broom. And what's weird is inflation makes the money back then like 25 times the value but they want to pay you in straight dollars for what the value is without accounting for changing the numbers of the face value of the currency which is very strange. There is the conversion to pound to dollar and the dollar was weaker back then if you put them both together it comes out to about $243,000 which is almost the exact number and Dave was tracking it and found out what they're doing no he was kind of ignoring what you're doing not really but he didn't catch this social security stuff now really he caught it any understood any plan for it to happen. He planned it too. So there might be a clan with people up there who have an idea of what it is. It's pretty sharp of him to pick up on it and he picked up that they were pounds it's a British note and he picked up it was worth more he kind of knew that from the dollar being worth more here and it's valuation but he's been around the world so he gets it sometimes the pound is stronger than the dollar no it usually is now in Canadian money is weaker odd. Now this makes a lot of sense to a lot of people now and they're saying the first payment is like $293 or 253 dollars or something and as you go there these little teeny payments. And social security would probably not do that but some people say they could be adjusting for the insurance it says no no insurance he believes that's true there's some kind of copay for the premium and so they don't know what that would be and it says at the end of July it's like $7,000 or something or $8,000 or something and mac daddy says that's true it's a little bit more and they don't pay you every week so he says this it's not a way to do it no but it has symbolism and it's what money that he really put into it of his own his own investment but it's from the wrong side so why pay his brother is to kind of implicate him and say what he's doing wrong to other people and it kind of goes the wrong way a lot of times and they start to do the right thing for themselves so we'll figure out they're doing that and it is painstaking and it's something stinks yeah it's outside. And they are sending the signal all over the world and it is to affect other people as well and that's supposed to sit in the midwest they said but this is a strange code and it has a strange feel to it and a lot of people are not liking it a lot a lot of them are saying I hated I can't understand it and I don't know why they would be doing this for him so I figured out what he's saying we have to figure it out and work it and these guys are going to be manipulated by us or lost because they're not doing it and it's still not so we have to do it and we have to fight them

And the last paragraph is Mac daddy. So there's a multiplier and you can figure it out by what percent the $160,000 years of 243,000 and the first batch number would make sense. It's around 9,500 they say for July and June he only had $293 or something. So he's going to try and calculate it it's interesting but he's worried about it still finds his preposterous they would pay him but not us and or foreigners and it makes him mad but what would they pay me for him doing the job for the rebels cuz it's direct it's against the empire or the representatives and he was doing it not me and they're starting to say then why say this because you said it and you started saying you're doing it and it hasn't happened yet and they're laughing saying you're probably right it hasn't... so that was the Mac proper

Thor Freya

This is how it goes we didn't pay Dave so we don't think we have to pay you and what you say is go over there and I'll stay here and we get that and have wave after wave of nobody left anyways It really hasn't started yet. It will once the Midwest is empty and he says that but yeah this is crazy

Trump

Olympus they're going to get stuck over there and they'll find that the empire us and the pseudo empire keeping them out and kicking them out and it's a big Force and there's still going to be messing around in DC and New York and it'll take longer than that but not that much longer we'll start frying themselves trying to get to California getting hit by foreigners and getting hit by Max trying to invade failing trying to get East and failing and it's going to continue like that for probably a month and end of July would be probably the first time except for the $293 or whatever it is

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bao3bei4 · 3 years ago

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fan language: the victorian imaginary and cnovel fandom

there’s this pinterest image i’ve seen circulating a lot in the past year i’ve been on fandom social media. it’s a drawn infographic of a, i guess, asian-looking woman holding a fan in different places relative to her face to show what the graphic helpfully calls “the language of the fan.”

people like sharing it. they like thinking about what nefarious ancient chinese hanky code shenanigans their favorite fan-toting character might get up to⁠—accidentally or on purpose. and what’s the problem with that?

the problem is that fan language isn’t chinese. it’s victorian. and even then, it’s not really quite victorian at all.

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fans served a primarily utilitarian purpose throughout chinese history. of course, most of the surviving fans we see⁠—and the types of fans we tend to care about⁠—are closer to art pieces. but realistically speaking, the majority of fans were made of cheaper material for more mundane purposes. in china, just like all around the world, people fanned themselves. it got hot!

so here’s a big tipoff. it would be very difficult to use a fan if you had an elaborate language centered around fanning yourself.

you might argue that fine, everyday working people didn’t have a fan language. but wealthy people might have had one. the problem we encounter here is that fans weren’t really gendered. (caveat here that certain types of fans were more popular with women. however, those tended to be the round silk fans, ones that bear no resemblance to the folding fans in the graphic). no disrespect to the gnc old man fuckers in the crowd, but this language isn’t quite masc enough for a tool that someone’s dad might regularly use.

folding fans, we know, reached europe in the 17th century and gained immense popularity in the 18th. it was there that fans began to take on a gendered quality. ariel beaujot describes in their 2012 victorian fashion accessories how middle class women, in the midst of a top shortage, found themselves clutching fans in hopes of securing a husband.

she quotes an article from the illustrated london news, suggesting “women ‘not only’ used fans to ‘move the air and cool themselves but also to express their sentiments.’” general wisdom was that the movement of the fan was sufficiently expressive that it augmented a woman’s displays of emotion. and of course, the more english audiences became aware that it might do so, the more they might use their fans purposefully in that way.

notice, however, that this is no more codified than body language in general is. it turns out that “the language of the fan” was actually created by fan manufacturers at the turn of the 20th century⁠—hundreds of years after their arrival⁠ in europe—to sell more fans. i’m not even kidding right now. the story goes that it was louis duvelleroy of the maison duvelleroy who decided to include pamphlets on the language with each fan sold.

interestingly enough, beaujot suggests that it didn’t really matter what each particular fan sign meant. gentlemen could tell when they were being flirted with. as it happens, meaningful eye contact and a light flutter near the face may be a lingua franca.

so it seems then, the language of the fan is merely part of this victorian imaginary we collectively have today, which in turn itself was itself captivated by china.

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victorian references come up perhaps unexpectedly often in cnovel fandom, most often with regards to modesty.

it’s a bit of an awkward reference considering that chinese traditional fashion⁠—and the ambiguous time periods in which these novels are set⁠—far predate victorian england. it is even more awkward considering that victoria and her covered ankles did um. imperialize china.

but nonetheless, it is common. and to make a point about how ubiquitous it is, here is a link to the twitter search for “sqq victorian.” sqq is the fandom abbreviation for shen qingqiu, the main character of the scum villain’s self-saving system, by the way.

this is an awful lot of results for a search involving a chinese man who spends the entire novel in either real modern-day china or fantasy ancient china. that’s all i’m going to say on the matter, without referencing any specific tweet.

i think people are aware of the anachronism. and i think they don’t mind. even the most cursory research reveals that fan language is european and a revisionist fantasy. wikipedia can tell us this⁠—i checked!

but it doesn’t matter to me whether people are trying to make an internally consistent canon compliant claim, or whether they’re just free associating between fan facts they know. it is, instead, more interesting to me that people consistently refer to this particular bit of history. and that’s what i want to talk about today⁠—the relationship of fandom today to this two hundred odd year span of time in england (roughly stuart to victorian times) and england in that time period to its contemporaneous china.

things will slip a little here. victorian has expanded in timeframe, if only because random guys posting online do not care overly much for respect for the intricacies of british history. china has expanded in geographic location, if only because the english of the time themselves conflated china with all of asia.

in addition, note that i am critiquing a certain perspective on the topic. this is why i write about fan as white here⁠—not because all fans are white⁠—but because the tendencies i’m examining have a clear historical antecedent in whiteness that shapes how white fans encounter these novels.

i’m sure some fans of color participate in these practices. however i don’t really care about that. they are not its main perpetrators nor its main beneficiaries. so personally i am minding my own business on that front.

it’s instead important to me to illuminate the linkage between white as subject and chinese as object in history and in the present that i do argue that fannish products today are built upon.

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it’s not radical, or even new at all, for white audiences to consume⁠—or create their own versions of⁠—chinese art en masse. in many ways the white creators who appear to owe their whole style and aesthetic to their asian peers in turn are just the new chinoiserie.

this is not to say that white people can’t create asian-inspired art. but rather, i am asking you to sit with the discomfort that you may not like the artistic company you keep in the broader view of history, and to consider together what is to be done about that.

now, when i say the new chinoiserie, i first want to establish what the original one is. chinoiserie was a european artistic movement that appeared coincident with the rise in popularity of folding fans that i described above. this is not by coincidence; the european demand for asian imports and the eventual production of lookalikes is the movement itself. so: when we talk about fans, when we talk about china (porcelain), when we talk about tea in england⁠—we are talking about the legacy of chinoiserie.

there are a couple things i want to note here. while english people as a whole had a very tenuous knowledge of what china might be, their appetites for chinoiserie were roughly coincident with national relations with china. as the relationship between england and china moved from trade to out-and-out wars, chinoiserie declined in popularity until china had been safely subjugated once more by the end of the 19th century.

the second thing i want to note on the subject that contrary to what one might think at first, the appeal of chinoiserie was not that it was foreign. eugenia zuroski’s 2013 taste for china examines 18th century english literature and its descriptions of the according material culture with the lens that chinese imports might be formative to english identity, rather than antithetical to it.

beyond that bare thesis, i think it’s also worthwhile to extend her insight that material objects become animated by the literary viewpoints on them. this is true, both in a limited general sense as well as in the sense that english thinkers of the time self-consciously articulated this viewpoint. consider the quote from the illustrated london news above⁠—your fan, that object, says something about you. and not only that, but the objects you surround yourself with ought to.

it’s a bit circular, the idea that written material says that you should allow written material to shape your understanding of physical objects. but it’s both 1) what happened, and 2) integral, i think, to integrating a fannish perspective into the topic.

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japanning is the name for the popular imitative lacquering that english craftspeople developed in domestic response to the demand for lacquerware imports. in the eighteenth century, japanning became an artform especially suited for young women. manuals were published on the subject, urging young women to learn how to paint furniture and other surfaces, encouraging them to rework the designs provided in the text.

it was considered a beneficial activity for them; zuroski describes how it was “associated with commerce and connoisseurship, practical skill and aesthetic judgment.” a skillful japanner, rather than simply obscuring what lay underneath the lacquer, displayed their superior judgment in how they chose to arrange these new canonical figures and effects in a tasteful way to bring out the best qualities of them.

zuroski quotes the first english-language manual on the subject, written in 1688, which explains how japanning allows one to:

alter and correct, take out a piece from one, add a fragment to the next, and make an entire garment compleat in all its parts, though tis wrought out of never so many disagreeing patterns.

this language evokes a very different, very modern practice. it is this english reworking of an asian artform that i think the parallels are most obvious.

white people, through their artistic investment in chinese material objects and aesthetics, integrated them into their own subjectivity. these practices came to say something about the people who participated in them, in a way that had little to do with the country itself. their relationship changed from being a “consumer” of chinese objects to becoming the proprietor of these new aesthetic signifiers.

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i want to talk about this through a few pairs of tensions on the subject that i think characterize common attitudes then and now.

first, consider the relationship between the self and the other: the chinese object as something that is very familiar to you, speaking to something about your own self vs. the chinese object as something that is fundamentally different from you and unknowable to you.

consider: [insert character name] is just like me. he would no doubt like the same things i like, consume the same cultural products. we are the same in some meaningful way vs. the fast standard fic disclaimer that “i tried my best when writing this fic, but i’m a english-speaking westerner, and i’m just writing this for fun so...... [excuses and alterations the person has chosen to make in this light],” going hand-in-hand with a preoccupation with authenticity or even overreliance on the unpaid labor of chinese friends and acquaintances.

consider: hugh honour when he quotes a man from the 1640s claiming “chinoiserie of this even more hybrid kind had become so far removed from genuine Chinese tradition that it was exported from India to China as a novelty to the Chinese themselves”

these tensions coexist, and look how they have been resolved.

second, consider what we vest in objects themselves: beaujot explains how the fan became a sexualized, coquettish object in the hands of a british woman, but was used to great effect in gilbert and sullivan’s 1885 mikado to demonstrate the docility of asian women.

consider: these characters became expressions of your sexual desires and fetishes, even as their 5’10 actors themselves are emasculated.

what is liberating for one necessitates the subjugation and fetishization of the other.

third, consider reactions to the practice: enjoyment of chinese objects as a sign of your cosmopolitan palate vs “so what’s the hype about those ancient chinese gays” pop culture explainers that addressed the unconvinced mainstream.

consider: zuroski describes how both english consumers purchased china in droves, and contemporary publications reported on them. how:

It was in the pages of these papers that the growing popularity of Chinese things in the early eighteenth century acquired the reputation of a “craze”; they portrayed china fanatics as flawed, fragile, and unreliable characters, and frequently cast chinoiserie itself in the same light.

referenda on fannish behavior serve as referenda on the objects of their devotion, and vice versa. as the difference between identity and fetish collapses, they come to be treated as one and the same by not just participants but their observers.

at what point does mxtx fic cease to be chinese?

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finally, it seems readily apparent that attitudes towards chinese objects may in fact have something to do with attitudes about china as a country. i do not want to suggest that these literary concerns are primarily motivated and begot by forces entirely divorced from the real mechanics of power.

here, i want to bring in edward said, and his 1993 culture and imperialism. there, he explains how power and legitimacy go hand in hand. one is direct, and one is purely cultural. he originally wrote this in response to the outsize impact that british novelists have had in the maintenance of empire and throughout decolonization. literature, he argues, gives rise to powerful narratives that constrain our ability to think outside of them.

there’s a little bit of an inversion at play here. these are chinese novels, actually. but they’re being transformed by white narratives and artists. and just as i think the form of the novel is important to said’s critique, i think there’s something to be said about the form that fic takes and how it legitimates itself.

bound up in fandom is the idea that you have a right to create and transform as you please. it is a nice idea, but it is one that is directed towards a certain kind of asymmetry. that is, one where the author has all the power. this is the narrative we hear a lot in the history of fandom⁠—litigious authors and plucky fans, fanspaces always under attack from corporate sanitization.

meanwhile, said builds upon raymond schwab’s narrative of cultural exchange between european writers and cultural products outside the imperial core. said explains that fundamental to these two great borrowings (from greek classics and, in the so-called “oriental renaissance” of the late 18th, early 19th centuries from “india, china, japan, persia, and islam”) is asymmetry.

he had argued prior, in orientalism, that any “cultural exchange” between “partners conscious of inequality” always results in the suffering of the people. and here, he describes how “texts by dead people were read, appreciated, and appropriated” without the presence of any actual living people in that tradition.

i will not understate that there is a certain economic dynamic complicating this particular fannish asymmetry. mxtx has profited materially from the success of her works, most fans will not. also secondly, mxtx is um. not dead. LMAO.

but first, the international dynamic of extraction that said described is still present. i do not want to get overly into white attitudes towards china in this post, because i am already thoroughly derailed, but i do believe that they structure how white cnovel fandom encounters this texts.

at any rate, any profit she receives is overwhelmingly due to her domestic popularity, not her international popularity. (i say this because many of her international fans have never given her a cent. in fact, most of them have no real way to.) and moreover, as we talk about the structure of english-language fandom, what does it mean to create chinese cultural products without chinese people?

as white people take ownership over their versions of stories, do we lose something? what narratives about engagement with cnovels might exist outside of the form of classic fandom?

i think a lot of people get the relationship between ideas (the superstructure) and production (the base) confused. oftentimes they will lob in response to criticism, that look! this fic, this fandom, these people are so niche, and so underrepresented in mainstream culture, that their effects are marginal. i am not arguing that anyone’s cql fic causes imperialism. (unless you’re really annoying. then it’s anyone’s game)

i’m instead arguing something a little bit different. i think, given similar inputs, you tend to get similar outputs. i think we live in the world that imperialism built, and we have clear historical predecessors in terms of white appetites for creating, consuming, and transforming chinese objects.

we have already seen, in the case of the fan language meme that began this post, that sometimes we even prefer this white chinoiserie. after all, isn’t it beautiful, too?

i want to bring discomfort to this topic. i want to reject the paradigm of white subject and chinese object; in fact, here in this essay, i have tried to reverse it.

if you are taken aback by the comparisons i make here, how can you make meaningful changes to your fannish practice to address it?

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some concluding thoughts on the matter, because i don’t like being misunderstood!

i am not claiming white fans cannot create fanworks of cnovels or be inspired by asian art or artists. this essay is meant to elaborate on the historical connection between victorian england and cnovel characters and fandom that others have already popularized.

i don’t think people who make victorian jokes are inherently bad or racist. i am encouraging people to think about why we might make them and/or share them

the connections here are meant to be more provocative than strictly literal. (e.g. i don’t literally think writing fanfic is a 1-1 descendant of japanning). these connections are instead meant to 1) make visible the baggage that fans of color often approach fandom with and 2) recontextualize and defamiliarize fannish practice for the purposes of honest critique

please don’t turn this post into being about other different kinds of discourse, or into something that only one “kind” of fan does. please take my words at face value and consider them in good faith. i would really appreciate that.

please feel free to ask me to clarify any statements or supply more in-depth sources :)

#x #-__- another fandom essay sorry

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mackenzielovee · 3 years ago

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hiiiii angel!

I have a request for rafe x reader x jj.

In which Barry uses the reader as a collateral after rafe accumulates late payments for the substances he consumed and jj steals the 25K from him. The reader has been hanging out with both boys since she has a strong connection with both. Barry has been watching them all three interact over the last month and finds the reader as the perfect way to make them pay for their mistakes. Barry confronts both boys and right when he’s aiming to shoot the reader either JJ or Rafe get in the way and take the shot instead ( you can choose who) and the other boy promises to take care of the reader and protect her from all dangers. Meanwhile the other one is bleeding himself to death while giving his life for reader. This idea was so random but I’m so obsessed!!! Please please please! I’m so excited it would mean the world to me<3

a/n: hey baby! thank you so much for this request. I actually loved writing this and i hope i did it just the way you wanted! please let me know if you enjoyed it! ily<3

Warnings: swearing, talk of drug abuse, gun play, gun fire, blood, mentions of death,

Word Count: 5.5k

my writing

protection - rafe cameron

It's a warm day out on the Cut. As you walk through the tall grass and slap away a mosquito that landed on your arm, you think about how JJ is going to want to swim once you get the boat out into the water, and you forgot your bathing suit. You hope Kie has one that she left over at John B's, maybe you could steal it.

Faintly, you hear the hum of a dirt bike as it gets closer to you, but you think nothing of it. You're holding a six pack of JJ's favorite beer in your hand, excited to get the day started. You, JJ, John B, and Sarah all planned to take the boat out for a joyride and a day on the water. Kiara's working and Pope is preparing for his scholarship interview, an excuse that made JJ call him a nerd.

You hear the bike start to approach you, so you turn to see who it is. You've never seen anyone with a bike this close to John B's house. You don't recognize the guy under the helmet, but you don't really have time, because he pulls the bike in front of you and stops, scaring the shit out of you.

"Hey there, sweetheart," you hear, and immediately know the voice of the slimy drug dealer himself.

Barry removes his helmet and smirks at you, eyeing you up and down. You look disgusted with him, not sure what he wants with you but knowing you want no part of it.

"Get out of my way, Barry," you snap.

Barry's an asshole, always has been. One of your other good friends, Rafe Cameron, buys coke from him on the regular. You've been trying to get Rafe off of it and even went so far as to see Barry to get him to stop selling to Rafe, but it didn't work out. Barry just called you 'princess' a lot and then told you he'd lose a fuck ton of money if Rafe ever gets clean.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Barry laughs, but it's sarcastic, "Are those beers up for grabs?"

You instinctively pull your occupied hand back, away from him so he can't grab it.

"No," you say, trying to side step him. He hops off his bike and walks in front of you, quickly boxing you in.

"Listen, sweetheart, it's nothing against you. But I'm gonna need you to get on the bike," Barry's voice is thick, making you swallow your anxiety.

You wonder if you screamed for JJ, would he hear you? Or would Barry rip your throat out before any noise even came out?"

"Not a chance," you reply, trying to keep yourself calm.

Barry snickers, then brings his beady eyes back up to yours. He steps closer, making you step back, until your back hits the bike and you had no way of getting away from him.

"I'm gonna say it one more time," he tells you, "And then it might have to get ugly. Get on the fuckin' bike."

Your heart is beating a mile a minute with no idea what this man wants with you or where he's taking you, but you know better than to go anywhere with him. You shake your head, sure words will fail you right now. Barry just sighs, then reaches up to his back and pulls a gun out from his pants. The beers fall from your hand to the ground, splitting open and spilling out on the ground.

"Oh, now, that's just a big waste," Barry uses the gun to point down at the beers, "Get on the goddamn bike. Now."

You don't see any other option; essentially it's live and get on the bike, or die right here, less than half a mile from John B's. You can already imagine the memorial JJ will build for you when they find out this is the spot you died in. Somehow, it comforts you. Only a little.

"Why are you doing this?" you ask him quietly as you turn to face the bike.

Barry watches as you sit down on the back of his bike, then uses the gun to slowly stroke up your bare thigh. You can smell his breath as he leans in to speak to you.

"Your boys both owe me. Big time. So, I'm taking the one thing I know they'll pay good money for," he smirks, then hands you his helmet, "Don't want you to get hurt, sweetheart."

You want to throw up every time he calls you that, but instead, you grab the helmet from him and put it on. You look back, hoping maybe, for some reason, JJ had wandered out and would just so happen to see you. All you see is trees. Barry hops on and starts up the bike, then turns back to you again.

"Now, you're supposed to hold on here," he tells you, wrapping your arms around his waist, "But if you feel so inclined to move your hand a little south of that, well, I don't mind at all."

You gag and loosen your grip on him as much as you can, not wanting to touch him any more than you have to. He starts up the bike just as his words sink into your mind. Your boys both owe me. What does that even mean?

Barry takes off, not bothering to go any slower with you. It's a pretty short ride back to his place, but feels longer to you because of how sick you feel. Every thought goes through your mind; he's taking you back here so he can kill you in private, he's going to rape you, sell you to some old Kook who will keep you in the basement. All sorts of things you think of, none of them good.

When you get back to his house, he stops the bike and you immediately jump off. So does Barry, who winds up just throwing the bike down in the grass. You throw the helmet down too, not caring if he wanted you to do that or not.

"What are you talking about?" you snap, watching Barry act surprised by your outburst, "Who owes you money? What boys? Why me?"

Barry rolls his eyes and shakes his head, then reaches over and grabs onto your wrist. You try to pull away, but his grip is firm.

"Don't fucking start that shit with me," he snaps at you, "Get in the house."

His tone scares you, and even though you know you shouldn't, you obey. You just want to know why you're here and what the hell is going on.

You walk up the stairs to the porch and sit down on the couch, the same one Rafe sits on every time he buys from Barry.

"Tell me what's going on," you say once you're seated.

Barry picks up a blunt from the table and lights it up, silently holding it out to offer you some. You shake your head and scrunch your nose up, disgusted with it. That makes Barry grin.

"Rafe owes me money," Barry states simply.

You raise your eyebrow, "So?"

Barry looks over at you, giving you the 'are you serious?' look. He sits down in the chair beside the couch, taking a long drag off his blunt before he speaks again.

"So," he says, "Did you know JJ stole 25k from my house?"

Your expression falters and your jaw drops, telling Barry you know nothing of it. That almost makes him feel guilty for scaring you so bad back there, if you were totally innocent. But he needs his money, and you're his one way ticket to it.

"JJ wouldn't do that," you say, not being able to stop the hesitation in your voice.

"Really?" Barry snickers, "Well, he did. And since both of them boys seem to be wrapped around your little finger, you and I are gonna become best friends until I get my money. Understand, sweetheart?"

You glare at him, now understanding what he wants with you.

"So, I'm just collateral," you confirm, watching Barry's lips turn up around his blunt when you speak.

"Exactly," he smiles, "Now. Do you have your phone with you, or did you drop it when you spilled my beers?"

You huff at him and roll your eyes, then lean over in your bag and pull it out of the front pocket. Barry snatches it quickly, then asks you what your code is. You tell him, knowing if he can just get the boys here fast, you won't have to be alone with him anymore.

"Should I send them a picture of you holding up a newspaper? Don't they do that in all the hostage shows on TV?" Barry laughs to himself, looking up at you for confirmation.

You shrug, not wanting to speak to him any more than you have to. Barry rolls his eyes.

"Them boys really put up with that attitude?" he snaps at you, "Goddamn, I could never. You better straighten up, honey."

You just stare at him, deciding it's best if the two of you don't speak. Barry hits send and then tucks your phone in his pocket.

"That should send those two idiots running," Barry laughs, taking another hit from his blunt and then looking over to you again, "You sure you don't wanna try this? Might help you fucking relax."

You glare at him once again and then shake your head, looking away from him. You can tell out of the corner of your eye that he stands up, but when he grabs your chin and forces you to look over at him, you gasp.

"Straighten out, or I'll do it for you," he says, then roughly releases you.

You sigh and sit back on the couch, praying that at least one of the boys will arrive soon. Barry sits back down in his seat and tries to strike up a conversation, pretending he hadn't just manhandled you.

"So, which one are you gonna choose?"

Your head snaps over as you stare at him, trying to figure out what the hell he's talking about.

"What?" you ask, your voice giving away your confusion.

"You know," Barry shrugs, "They're both, like, crazy in love with you. So, if I have to shoot one to teach the other a lesson, which one would you pick?"

You roll your eyes, "You're fucking crazy."

Barry leans forward and stares at you, blunt hanging from his lips. He slams his hand down on the table in front of you, trying to get your attention.

"They stole from me," he shouts now, "Both of them. Someone's going to fuckin' pay for that."

You just nod your head, hoping he'll just shut up now. You don't want to talk about how they stole or Barry teaching either of them a lesson. You just want to go home. You should've never been walking by yourself in the first place. Then again, you never dreamed some psycho with a gun would come along.

"I think it'll be JJ," Barry continues, "You seemed pretty bummed on Cameron when he refused to quit his shit. But, you know, take your pick. Drug addict or thief. Man, it's like the Bachelor or some shit up in here."

Your eyes roll so far back into your head that you swear you can see your brain. When you look over at him, he's still laughing at his own joke.

"They're going to pay you back, and then you're never going to see any of us again," you say confidently. Barry just laughs.

"Yeah, okay, sweetheart."

You look over form the porch when you hear a noise, then sigh with relief when you see Rafe's truck pull up. He's driving fast, too fast, and he hops out of the truck the second he gets within running range of the porch. He doesn't even bother to close the door behind him.

You try to stand and go out to him, but Barry grabs your arm and keeps you down on the couch.

"Easy," he tells you, reaching behind him and pulling out his gun. He sets it down on the table in front of him, and you take note of how his expression changes from laughing to pissed off.

Rafe runs up to the porch and swings open the door, and that's when Barry releases you. You stand and rush to him, feeling Rafe sigh in relief as he wraps his strong arms around your little body. All of your anxiety melts away as you know you're safe now. Rafe would never let anything happen to you.

"Please tell me you're okay," Rafe whispers against your head, squeezing you tight.

"I'm okay," you confirm.

He pulls back from the hug and starts checking all over your body for injuries anyway. He holds up your arms and scans those, stopping his finger over a bruise you already had. It happened on the boat with JJ.

"I'm fine," you repeat to him, laying your head back on his chest. You really just don't want him to let go of you.

"What the fuck, Barry?" Rafe yells, his voice echoing through your ear as you have your head pressed on his chest.

"Afternoon, Country Club," Barry stands and smirks, watching the way you cling to Rafe.

You don't look at him, you just close your eyes and breathe Rafe in, not wanting to remember where you are. In your mind, the two of you are hanging out and eating lunch at the club. You always love going, especially on windy days when his scent travels from across the table. You love the way he smells.

"I'd like to change my answer, sweetheart," Barry tells you, ignoring Rafe's confused glance, "I think this one might love you back, Rafe. How sweet."

Rafe instinctually tightens his arm up around you, keeping you pressed up against him.

"I swear to God," Rafe starts, "If you laid one hand on her-"

"I didn't, Jesus," Barry groans, "I wish you cared about getting me my money the same way you care about saving this bitch."

You don't react, not even slightly. You don't care what Barry thinks of you. You just never want his slimy hands to touch you. Ever again.

"She's not a bitch, man," Rafe's voice goes quiet, "And I'm going to get you your money."

Barry laughs and then pretends to cry, "Boo who, she's not a bitch. I don't care, bro. I gave you shit on two separate occasions-"

"And I gave you my bike as collateral!" Rafe shouts back.

"That piece of shit ain't worth half what you owe me," Barry spits, "Your girl liked riding on it, though."

Rafe's chest tenses against you, and then you feel him bring his hand up to stroke your hair. He's trying to keep you as relaxed as possible.

"Y/N, go wait in my truck," Rafe tells you quietly, pulling the keys out of his pocket.

"Oh, no, no," Barry smirks, reaching out and snatching the keys from Rafe, "You think you're the only person I called here?"

As if on cue, the porch door swings open again and JJ walks in. Your eyes open and you see him, his expression worse than you've ever seen him.

"You got her?" JJ points to you, but he's talking to Rafe.

Rafe just nods, tightening his grip around you again. You open your mouth to speak, but watch as JJ charges toward Barry and punches him square in the nose.

"What the fuck did you do?" JJ shouts, watching Barry tumble to the floor, "If I find out you fucking hurt her-"

Barry laughs from the floor, wiping blood from his nose, "Easy, bro. You two are so damn worried about this chick."

JJ's chest is expanding and then contracting every five seconds, telling you his adrenaline is going crazy. You know he's ready to punch him again. Barry stands and picks up his gun from the coffee table, pointing it directly at JJ. You try to push forward to stop it, but Rafe keeps his grip tight.

"Now," Barry says, spitting his blood onto the floor, "You bitches are gonna pay up."

"Barry, I'll get you your money, man," Rafe promises. When Barry moves and points the gun at Rafe, he quickly tucks you behind him. He gives you one of his hands to hold onto, while the other one goes up to stop Barry from shooting.

"Yeah, when?" Barry yells, "I told you, Cameron. It's not just me you're screwing with."

Rafe nods his head, doing his best to try and calm Barry down. JJ looks over at you, mouthing 'are you okay?'

You nod at him, your expression clearly giving you away. You're scared, and he knows it.

"I know, bro," Rafe says, "Some people still owe me from the party Friday night. I'm going to get it, I just need some time."

Barry laughs sarcastically and lowers the gun, "Oh, yeah, for sure, man. You know what, take your time, Rafe."

Rafe's expression changes, knowing Barry doesn't mean it. He just wonders what that means for getting you out of here.

"The girl stays with me until both of you are paid up," Barry tells both of them.

"Like hell," JJ mutters.

Barry, who is still pissed about his nose, turns around and hits JJ in the head with the stock of the gun. You watch JJ stumble back, and without hesitation, break from Rafe's grasp and rush over to him. Rafe reaches out to try and grab you, but his grip isn't good enough.

"JJ!" you say, grabbing onto him as he stumbles. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, allowing you to help him stand.

"Shit," JJ mumbles, gripping his forehead. He pulls his fingers back and sees blood.

"Damn, darlin'," Barry grins at you, "You really do love them both."

You glare at Barry for the millionth time today as you set your arm around JJ's waist and lead him over to sit down. He sits in the chair Barry had been sitting in and you stand in between his legs, moving his hand away to see his wound.

Barry looks over at Rafe, who has his jaw clenched as he watches you stand in between JJ's legs and clean him up. He watches as JJ's hand lingers on the back of your thigh, his fingers brushing your skin ever so slightly.

"That's gotta hurt," Barry says to Rafe, getting a lot of amusement out of watching the boys squirm over you.

You ignore whatever Barry says as you use the bottom of your shirt to wipe off some of the blood on JJ's forehead. It's not bleeding badly, which you're thankful for. You're almost sure Barry doesn't own a first aid kit.

"Now, JJ," Barry steps over to you two, "Let's talk about how you stole twenty-five thousand dollars out of my house, yeah?"

Barry presses the gun to the back of JJ's neck, making JJ tense up. You watch Barry, bringing your hands to JJ's shoulders and holding onto him, as if to comfort him somehow.

"I'll get it back," JJ says, his voice hoarse.

"You bet your ass you will," Barry tells him, "When will that be, exactly?"

JJ sighs, knowing it won't be any time soon. That money is long gone.

"Can we set up a payment plan?" JJ asks sarcastically.

He regrets it when Barry grabs onto your arm and pulls you away, pressing the gun into your stomach as he holds onto you. JJ stands quickly and Rafe starts to rush over, but stops when he sees the look in Barry's eyes.

"You know, I'm getting real sick of being treated like a bitch," Barry tells them, pressing the gun into you harder, "I want my money. Now."

You let out an involuntary groan at the pain, watching Rafe as he tries to figure out what to do.

"Let her go, Barry," Rafe finally speaks, "Let her sit down and I'll go get your money."

"All of it?" Barry confirms.

Rafe nods, "All of it. Just let her sit down over there."

Barry looks at both boys, noting how pathetic they are. He's glad, though, knowing all he has to do is threaten your life to get what he wants. He just doesn't understand what's so damn special about you.

He releases your arm and shoves you in the direction of the couch, Rafe stepping forward to grab you. He pulls you into him again, leading you over to sit down.

"You all right?" he asks you, taking a seat beside you and bringing his hands up to your cheeks.

"Yes," you reply, nodding feverishly as if to try and convince him.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? I'm so sorry, baby," he whispers as he pulls you into him.

Your breath catches in your throat as he calls you 'baby'. He's never done that before. Your mind wanders back to Barry telling you that both boys are crazy in love with you. You now sit there in Rafe's arms, wondering if Barry's right.

Rafe pulls back and looks at you in the eyes again, "Just sit right here for me, okay? I'm gonna go get the money. I'll be right back."

You nod again, silently promising him that you'll be here when he gets back. As if you could leave. He rubs the base of his thumb on your cheek and gives you a small smile, then stands up. He curses, knowing he doesn't want to leave you here.

JJ steps over to Rafe as he walks toward the door, grabbing his arm.

"Where the fuck are you gonna get twenty six thousand bucks right now, man?" JJ hisses, keeping his voice down for your sake.

"I don't know, JJ, I was thinking I'd walk into the bank and ask nicely," Rafe snaps, "I have no fucking idea. But I have to figure something out, right?"

JJ runs his hands through his hair and exhales loudly, then looks over and smiles quickly at you. Barry watches the boys, trying to figure out what's going on.

"Dude-"

"Just," Rafe starts, already annoyed with JJ, "Stay with her. I'm going to figure it out."

Rafe hates telling JJ to comfort you and be there for you, but it's the way it has to be. No way JJ could get his dirty hands on that kind of money right now. Or ever. JJ nods and starts walking over to you as Rafe thinks about how much money his dad might have in his safe right now.

"You know," Barry starts, standing up again with the gun in his hand, "I'm starting to think you don't really have my money, Country Club."

"Chill out, Barry," Rafe sighs, stepping toward the door once more. The safety of the gun being turned off is what makes Rafe stop dead in his tracks.

"Tell me the truth, Rafe," Barry says.

Rafe slowly turns around with his hands up, swallowing quickly.

"I'm going to get it," Rafe states again.

Barry shakes his head, "You're lying."

Before Rafe can process it, Barry moves the gun in your direction. He looks at you for a second, the horror on your face, and you know your body is frozen. You shut your eyes, not wanting to see it happen. At least you'll die with the boys.

The shot fires fast, but you don't feel anything. You hear a yell, then Rafe scream out, and when you open your eyes, JJ's lying on the ground. Your jaw falls open as you tumble onto the floor beside him, setting your hand on his bleeding stomach. Your hand is soaked instantly, but you don't know what else to do.

"JJ," you cry out, watching his eyes find yours, "JJ, oh, my God."

Tears fall down your face as you stare at him, his eyes glazing over. He's just watching you panic. Rafe comes over and sinks down beside you, not knowing how to help.

"Towels, Rafe," you order, "Hurry."

You spot a random shirt laying on the ground, one you're sure is Barry's and use it for the time being to soak up some of the blood.

"Hey, JJ, I'm right here," you tell him, watching your tears fall onto his shirt. They become invisible immediately, the blood stains swallowing them up.

"Are you okay?" JJ chokes out, spitting blood from his mouth onto the floor when he finishes speaking. You shake your head and try to swallow your tears, but you can't.

"I'm fine, JJ, just relax," you tell him, then look up, "Rafe!"

Rafe comes out of Barry's and onto the porch with towels in his hand, stopping only when Barry grabs onto his arm.

"I was aiming for her, remember that," Barry tells him.

Rafe just yanks his arm away and comes to you, placing one of the towels over JJ's wound.

"Rafe, what do we do?" you ask frantically, trying to ignore the blood that now seeps onto the floor.

Rafe shakes his head, having absolutely no idea what to do. He brings his hands over yours and puts more pressure on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"You have to call 911," you tell Rafe, "Go."

Rafe stares at you for a second, still stunned, when JJ starts to speak from the floor.

"Rafe," JJ chokes, "You gotta get her out of here, man."

"Not a chance, JJ," you say, trying your best to smile at him.

JJ looks over at Rafe again, "Rafe."

His voice is serious, and Rafe knows exactly what he's telling him. He's a goner, and he knows it. But he doesn't want you to watch him die. Rafe nods to JJ, telling him he understands. He watches JJ relax and lay his head back down, then stands up. JJ brings his hand down to yours and wraps his fingers around you. You squeeze, trying to tell him it's going to be okay.

"Go call," you remind him.

Rafe steps across JJ's body and, without speaking, tucks his arm around your waist and picks you up. He knows this won't be easy, and he can already feel his emotions coming up.

"Rafe, put me down!" you shout, your blood soaked hands going down to try and peel his arm off of you, "Rafe, stop! JJ!"

He carries you over to the door of the porch, doing his best to keep his grip tight as you fight with every ounce of strength you have.

"Let me go, Rafe! I have to help him!" you're screaming your head off, and Rafe hates it, but he knows he has to do what's best for you.

He glances back only for a second and sees JJ's shallow breathing, knowing he doesn't have much time left.

"Rafe!" you scream, kicking and thrashing around to try and get away.

"I have to make sure you're safe," Rafe tells you as the two of you reach the truck, "It's what he wants me to do."

"He's going to die!" you scream, "Let go of me! I'll never forgive you for this!"

Rafe opens the passenger door of the truck and puts you inside, using all of his strength to keep you there.

"You'll be alive, though!" Rafe raises his voice at you, making you stop. He's never yelled at you, not once.

You choke on your sobs as you see the blood all over Rafe's shirt, then all over your own. He buckles you in and closes your door, then rushes around the truck.

"Don't think this makes us even, Rafe Cameron!" Barry yells from the porch. Rafe flips Barry off and then gets into the truck, starting it and speeding off without buckling himself.

"Rafe, stop!" you yell, "I can't leave him there! He's all alone!"

"This is what he wanted!" Rafe yells back at you, stepping further down on the gas pedal.

"I don't care, I don't want him to be alone!" you cry, reaching for the door handle.

Rafe locks the doors and puts child lock on, preventing you from flinging out of the truck. You bang your fist on the window as he does, leaving a blood stain there.

"Rafe!" you look over and scream at him again.

He gets so frustrated he pulls the truck off the path and sets it in park, then turns to you. He grabs onto both of your wrists and holds them down.

"Calm the fuck down, right now," he demands, "Calm down."

You sit back in the seat and do as you're told, but your tears still fall. JJ just gave his life up to save yours, and Rafe doesn't seem to care at all.

"You need to understand that my only priority back there was to keep you safe. I'm sorry about JJ, baby, I am, but staying would've only put you in more danger."

You shake your head at him, almost as if you're disgusted. You let out a sob and then try to wipe your eyes, only smearing JJ's blood on your face. He reaches over and grabs your cheek, pulling you to look at him.

"I'm going to go back there and get his body. You can say goodbye to him. I'm gonna pay off Barry and never go back there. But I'm going to protect you first, do you understand?"

You nod your head under his touch, letting out another sob as soon as you try to breathe in. Rafe brings his hands down to your hips and pulls you toward him, over the console and into his lap.

"Come here," he whispers gently, tucking his arms around you and holding you close.

He knows you're a mess right now and there's blood all over his truck, but he doesn't care. He just wants you to calm down.

"Rafe," you sob, not knowing what else to say. His shirt becomes soaked with tears quickly.

"I know," he tells you softly, "I know."

"He saved me," you say, more just processing what happened, "Oh, my God, he's dead because of me."

"Shh," Rafe hushes you, his heart feeling like it's breaking in two as he listens to you, "It's not your fault. None of this is. Just calm down for me, baby."

Your hands come up and wrap around the back of Rafe's neck as you nuzzle your nose into the front of it. He brings one hand up to stroke through your hair, trying to relax you.

"We're okay," he soothes, his other hand rubbing your back, "Everything's okay."

You two sit there for a while, Rafe just rubbing on you and calming you down, until eventually, you start to come to terms with what happened. He's thankful you're no longer hysterical.

"Let's go get you cleaned up," Rafe whispers against your head once he feels you relax against him.

You pull back and look him in the eyes, feeling his hand come up to wipe blood from your cheek.

"You'll go back and get him?" you confirm.

Rafe nods, "Yes, of course."

You nod your head and then bring your hand up to his cheek the same way he had on yours, observing how soft his skin is. You think about what Barry told you about them both loving you, and how he later told you that you love them both.

"Rafe?" you ask, your voice nasally from all the crying and screaming, "Can I ask you a question?"

Rafe nods, loving the feeling of your skin on his. It relaxes him, makes him feel complete.

"Barry told me he thinks you're in love with me," you say quietly, leaving out the part about JJ.

You watch as Rafe nervously swallows, and then nods his head ever so slightly. You feel your heart swell, not knowing Rafe Cameron could ever make you feel that way.

"It's true?" you ask him, searching around in his eyes for any kind of doubt. There is none.

"Yeah," Rafe barely whispers.

"Oh," you say, watching Rafe's expression change to hurt as you glance away.

He's sure you don't feel the same. When you look up at him again, he's staring intensely at you.

"Is it okay that I love you, too?" you ask him, voice fragile.

Rafe smiles slightly, then watches as you smile too.

"Yeah," he repeats, but with more authority this time.

He leans his head down and then hesitates, making you hesitate as well. You reach up and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to you. His lips make yours feel like they're on fire as they move together. He reaches up and grabs your cheeks, holding you to him. He pulls away after about a minute, staring at you in full adoration.

"I'm so sorry about today," he tells you, keeping his grip on your face, "I will never put you in any danger like that ever again."

You nod your head slowly, "I know that."

Rafe smiles down at you, bringing one hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

"Let's go get you a shower," he says softly.

He doesn't make you get back in your seat, however. He just tightens his grip around you and puts the car in drive again, allowing you to hold onto him while he drives. It almost reminds you of being on the bike with Barry this morning. But instead of being completely disgusted, you're completely in love.

#drew starkey #rafe x y/n #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe #rafebarry #jj maybank #outerbanks netflix #outerbanks rafe #outer banks netflix #outerbanks #outer banks

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angelasscribbles · 3 years ago

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Bad Romance Epilogue 5: Riley

Series: Bad Romance

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Riley x Liam, Liam x Max, Riley x Max, Riley x Drake, Riley x Rashad

Paring this chapter: Riley x all of them, these are her recollections of all four relationships.

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Language, adult themes

Word Count: 3,795

Special thanks to @21-wishes for pre reading and discussing with me!

A/N: This clocks in at roughly four times longer than the previous four epilogues, which is fair, because they each had their recollections about their relationship with her, but she has her recollections about her relationships with all four of them.

Part of me is really sad because with this final epilogue, the series truly comes to an end. It's bittersweet for me. I'm going to miss this series and these characters.

On the other hand, total word count, with all 36 chapters, five epilogues and two one-shots (so far) comes to 108,643. That's a lot of words. That's a book. I wrote, and finished, a book. While I can't publish or make money on it because it's fan fiction, still....I wrote a book. In four months. That gives me a deep sense of satisfaction, and the confidence to go back to working on my original book.

I know not everyone is a fan of this version of Riley, but I kind of love her. So I hope everyone is kind. What started off as a toxic mess somehow, inexplicably, evolved and transformed into something functional and meaningful. At least to me. I hope at least a few of you have enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

My other stuff: Master List.

It started off selfishly on my part. All of it. But can you really blame me? I mean come on, hot rich guy offers to fly me to Europe on a private jet where his family will foot the bill for everything for the foreseeable future and my only job is to buy fancy clothes, on their dime, attend balls and hang out and flirt with the other hot rich guy that I’d already fucked anyway? Are you really going to tell me you wouldn't have done it? It sure beat the holy hell out of waiting tables.

Did I start sleeping with Maxwell Beaumont because I felt like I owed him something? No. I did it because I wanted to. Because that's what I do, whatever the hell I want. Always have. Because you see, the world is a shitty place, my little corner of it was no exception. Everybody else I’d ever known did whatever the fuck they wanted without regard to how it affected others, how it affected me. Why should I be any different? Life is too short.

Like I said, Max was hot, and a good way to kill the time during the social season. I knew I was technically there to win the heart, and the hand, of a prince. But let's be honest, what were the odds he was ever going to want me? No one ever had, not my parents, not the first boy I fell in love with, nobody. I didn't see the likelihood that an actual real life bona fide fucking prince was going to, regardless of what had happened between us in New York. So why the hell not sleep with Max?

But Liam pursued me relentlessly, even though he shouldn't have, even though he wasn't supposed to, even though he was told not to. He was supposed to be giving all the women equal time and an equal chance, but he didn't, not even close. Oh, I mean he did publicly in front of the court but behind the scenes? Not so much. So, I started sleeping with him too. Why not? Two hot rich guys all over me? I didn't see the problem. There was no problem, at least not until I went and fell in love. I blame Liam.

He was charming and appropriately funny in every setting. But when we were alone? He was charming in an entirely different way, sweet, vulnerable, solicitous and hysterically funny in a completely inappropriate way. But the thing that really drew me in was that he listened to me. No, I don't think you understand. I mean he really, actually, actively listened to me.

Look, I've never lacked for male attention, not since puberty anyway. I'm used to men throwing themselves at me, crashing their ships on my rocks as it were. They competed with each other; they did ridiculous things to try and impress me. But what they didn't do was take the time to get to know me. The real me. Because that's not what they cared about. I knew what they cared about. It only took me one heartbreak to decide that I wasn't about that life.

One of the few pieces of wisdom my mother did manage to impart to me at an early age was that in any given relationship there's always one person that loves more than the other, and they are the one that inevitably gets hurt. So, my mission in life had been simple. Always be the one who cares less, always leave first, don't get hurt again. Simple. Until it wasn't.

Liam listened to me, as if my ideas and thoughts actually mattered. Like I was fucking important or something. Like I had an actual brain in my head, like I was more than just my looks. Pretty intoxicating stuff if you ask me.

I know it sounds like a humble brag, but I don’t see the point of false modesty, I know I'm an attractive woman, more attractive than most. And it may sound like a stupid thing to complain about, but being smoking hot isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Can I fuck pretty much whoever I want? Yeah. Can I get stupid men to give me just about whatever I want in the pursuit of that? Again, yeah. And that’s all well and good unless you want more than fun and games. When you’re built like I am, you never really know if someone wants you for you or for the physical aspect that they see, that is pleasing to the eye and to the touch. Liam had a fairly similar problem between the money and the crown, something we actually connected on and commiserated about.

When I was in high school, I was a smart kid. Smart and pretty aren't supposed to go together. After high school a lot of the athletic guys told me they had crushes on me, but they never asked me out because they thought I was too smart for them, and I would have rejected them. The boys I met in my advanced AP classes and debate club had similar stories. They developed crushes, but thought I was too pretty and would have rejected them. Meanwhile I didn't date much in high school. Until I met a boy from a different high school, but he broke my heart.

Then I hit college and discovered the very real power I wielded over men. And it didn't take me long at all to figure out how to use that to my advantage. Men were pigs, they would use a woman for what they wanted and discard her. Why shouldn't I do the same? It got me the things I wanted in life, and a little bit of vengeance on behalf of my whole gender, so why the hell not?

Then Liam Rys came along and changed every damn thing. He treated me like a real person, he listened to my hopes and dreams, he shared his own childhood heartaches and fears with me, and he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world. I decided he was different, that opening up his heart to me meant something, that I had finally found something real. And I fell right the fuck in love with him. He held my beating heart in the palm of his hand.

So, you can imagine how gutted I was when it appeared that it had all been an elaborate lie and he was just like all the others, only worse because I had believed him, trusted him, let myself fall in love with him. I broke my own rules, I did the thing I wasn't supposed to do.

I had only myself to blame. I should never have let my guard down. So, in way of self-care, I fell back into Max's arms, and his bed. And Drake's.

If there's one thing I learned in college it’s that the best way to get over one man is to get under another. So that's what I did. And listen, I had always had a philosophy: piss me off a little and I was definitely going to sleep with one of your friends. Piss me off a lot and it was going to be your cousin, brother or best friend. I like to twist the knife where it hurts the most. But even so, that's not really why I started with Drake, though it was a definite fringe benefit.

Watching Liam squirm, watching the low-key fury that he could do nothing about with every brush of my lips across Drake’s, with ever loving caress I gave him, was just the cherry on top of my sundae. It was much less than what he deserved for tricking me into thinking he was different, for making me love him then breaking my heart.

But if Liam owns my heart, then Drake owns my body. That’s not as shallow as it sounds. The way my body responds to his is out of my control and always has been. Being close to him without touching is an actual, physical struggle. A hard one. There has always been some kind of magnetism pulling us together. I know exactly where he’s at in a room without even looking. I can literally feel him. It’s crazy. It’s insane. It’s fucking amazing. That energy, that pull his body has on mine is what keeps me anchored in this realm of existence, I’m sure of it.

Drake Walker is attached to me by some kind of cosmic decree that I have never been able to figure out. He killed Tariq over me and damn near killed the king of Auvernal and started a war. He only thinks about me, ever, he doesn’t even consider consequences to himself when he undertakes these things. That’s why I have to do it for him. I can’t let him destroy himself protecting me. After Tariq’s death, I realized that the system wasn’t going to do its job, that no one had his back, that no one was going to protect him! No one but me. That was when I started amassing political power. It was all for him.

If he was going to do stupid shit to protect me, then I was going to do smart shit to protect him. I was going to do whatever I had to do. Even marrying the man that shattered my heart.

Did I mention that I’m just two classes shy of a master’s degree in political science? People often dismiss me because, again, smart and pretty aren’t supposed to go together, but in truth, I was probably wildly more qualified for the job of queen than most of the snobby bitches that looked down on me. While they were learning how to sip tea and play piano, I was learning how governments work, and how wars happen, or get avoided. I knew how the game was played. Add in my ability to manipulate people, especially men, and it was time to get serious about that queen thing.

Though Liam and I found our way back to each other eventually, at the time, I was still furious with him, and my only focus was Drake, but I decided to stop fighting the engagement. If Liam wanted me to be queen, I’d be queen, and I’d use that power to help Drake. But I wasn’t by God doing it on Liam’s fucking terms. So, I set some events in motion that gave me leverage to amend the contract, and I made damn sure the new version protected Drake and Max.

Then I set out to get Drake out of the mess he was in because of me. I secured the best lawyer Cordonia had to offer and I made sure Liam pulled the correct strings behind the scenes. I campaigned on his behalf, I lined up character witnesses, I had a conversation with Tariq’s brother, I made sure Drake was exonerated, that was all me.

Ironic that, later on, Drake would question if my love for him was real or if I only wanted him as a cog in my political power structure. Really fucking ironic considering the whole damn thing had been constructed for his benefit. He really is stupid sometimes.

And through all of that, after Liam had broken my heart in two, and when Drake was fighting against me, making it harder for me to help him, Max was there. Max was just always fucking there!

There was literally nothing I could say, nothing I could do that pushed him away. And trust me, I tried. I know that sounds horrible. Max is the sweetest, most genuine, most giving, loving person I know. But that’s what I had thought about Liam, and he’d broken my heart. So, I pushed Max away. I used him for sex, I used him for comfort, I used him as my fallback position. And he let me. But more than that, he offered nothing but support, he just kept being there, and it felt good when I was with him. I don’t just mean in a sexual way.

Slowly I started to realize that the chaos boiling inside me was somehow muted when he was there. And he was always there. He never failed me. He never disappointed me. He never left. He never hurt me, and he refused to let me push him away.

I once referred to him as my emotional support boyfriend and that isn’t far from the truth. Max balances me. He calms my rages and soothes my rough edges. The turbulent waters in my mind churn less when he’s around, the raging infernos in my heart cool in his presence. He tames me. He fucking tames me, and I don’t even know how or why. He does it just by existing. If I need Drake to anchor my body in this plane of existence, I need Max to keep my soul tethered to it. I’m certain, that without him, I would have spontaneously combusted a long time ago.

And only after I let myself fall in love not once more, but twice more, with both Drake and Max, only then did I realize that staying engaged to Liam, staying in his orbit, interacting with him on a regular basis had let him bury himself under my skin again. Burrow his way back into my heart.

Oh, who am I kidding? He never left. I tried so hard to push him out of my heart. I couldn’t.

Liam was the first man to love me properly. To show me what that meant, what that felt like and I think somewhere deep down inside, I knew it wasn’t over. That it would never, could never, be over. My heart recognized his, like they beat in the same rhythm or something. Somehow, I don’t think I would have been capable of loving anyone else, ever, if Liam hadn’t breached my protective walls in the first place. It’s like he possessed some kind of secret code. He was the one that broke my heart open and once I started to let myself actually feel, well, the rest is history. Literally.

How was I supposed to choose between them? I wanted, no I needed them all. I still do. I always will.

You might think it’s not possible to truly love more than one person at a time. You would be wrong. It’s not that I love less. My love is not somehow divided between them, it’s not a finite supply, dwindling with each person that holds a piece of it. I used to believe there was something wrong with me because conventional wisdom says there is. But if anything, what I’ve discovered is that I love more!

I have always felt things more deeply than others. I learned as a child that I couldn’t watch the news. Long after my mother had clicked the TV off and moved on with her life, I’d be crying in a corner over the story about the murdered child or car collision that took out a family of five. It’s why I had to shut those parts of myself off after my first heartbreak. I swear I feel everything so much more! Everything.

I’ve always known that my sex drive in largely in overdrive, but once I had children, I discovered that so is my mothering instinct. I kept my babies attached to my body for the first three years of their lives, at least. It’s like all my feelings are intensified compared to normal people, and if I’ve ever loved someone in my life, that doesn’t go away for me.

I know I’m a lot. But the over-the-top reactions, the rages, the jealousy, the going to any lengths for those I love, it’s all part of the same basic malfunction. But despite outside appearances, despite judgements from people who think that only sexual fidelity equals real love, the upside to being with me is that I love deeply, fiercely, truly. I’m loyal in every way that matters. I would kill for someone I love. I sort of have.

So, like I said, I blame Liam. He was the codebreaker that opened up my heart in the first place, then left it vulnerable. Of course, my newly opened, bleeding, battered heart was going to fall for Max, who nurtured and shielded it. Of course, I was going to be drawn back to Drake who commanded my whole body to his side just by existing, who literally killed a man defending me. Of course, my fractured, trying to mend, longing for good feelings again heart was going to fall for him, from the moment I climbed on the back of his bike in Fydelia.

Where Max was the gentle healing and slow, steady pace that I needed in the immediate aftermath of heartbreak, Drake was electric jolt that I needed to get back to the business of living.

If it’s true that I would have never fallen for Max, or Drake, if Liam hadn’t cracked my heart open in the first place, it’s also true that I would have never been able to forgive and love Liam again if Max and Drake hadn’t patched up the shattered remains of said heart. They all played a part, and they all earned a place in my life. I fell in love with each of them, separately, differently, uniquely.

So no, I was not giving up any of them.

You would think the public would have noticed something, especially when three of our five children looked nothing like Liam but if anyone noticed, no one mentioned it.

I’m sure that’s partly because my enemies had a habit of bad luck befalling them. Tariq Lambros is dead, Fredrick Monsommer is dead, to name just two. Barthelemy Beaumont had once threatened to take my child from me. Taking the throne was secondary in my mind. No one threatens my children. No one. Barthelemy was the father of a man Liam and I both love dearly and deeply, and he still had an unfortunate accident, courtesy of Drake, before he could put his plan into action. At some point, people did learn that it wasn’t wise to cross me.

But the main reason, I think, is that once the Cordonian people got it into their heads that I had somehow helped Drake get away with murdering the slimy degenerate that had killed his sister, they decided that I could do no wrong. I may or may not have helped spur those rumors on. Add to that the incentives that I’ve spearheaded over the years that help the actual people and not just the nobility and I am above approach in their eyes. In short, I’m bulletproof. The public and the press fucking love me.

It’s not like any rumors could stick to me anyway. Not with the stellar legal representation I employ. Which brings me to Rashad.

He’s a shark, legally speaking. What Drake is to my physical safety, Rashad is to my legal safety. He’s what they mean when they say release the hounds. He’s that damn good at his job. The best. I would retain his legal services no matter what. But he’s more than that to me.

He’s an attractive man. Just ask the Cordonian Star, they’ve named him most eligible bachelor eight times. But the thing that makes him stand out, arguably the sexiest thing about him, is his superior intellect. We can sit up all night discussing politics, religion, law, technology, history, the topics are endless really. He keeps up with me mentally and that’s no easy feat. When I read about a new scientific advancement, he’s the first person I think of, the one I want to share it with. I save those discoveries for him, and our time together is an outpouring of thoughts and feelings we’ve both been keeping in reserve for each other. Our time together is always too short.

He is a stunningly beautiful man, but that alone wouldn’t have kept me coming back all this time. The deep friendship we’ve built over the years is something I truly cherish. I trust him. I respect him. I like him.

Do I love him? Yes, I suppose I do, a bit. There is a piece of my heart that’s his and his alone.

Maybe the exact whirlwind that occurred after the coronation was what was needed for things to happen the way they did. It was the perfect storm of heartbreak, tragedy, and self-discovery and only those that got sucked into the vortex were able to enter, to find a place in my heart. Because once everything calmed down, once Liam and I mended things, it was like a lock clicked in place. Everyone inside was in, and anyone outside, was out. The die was cast.

I’ve been with other people over the years, men and women alike, but never as anything more than casual sex and almost always in the context of one of my already established relationships. Be that Max and I playing around with a man we picked up at a nightclub or me bringing another woman along occasionally to play with Drake. But loving anyone else? Can’t imagine it. Not like that.

Hana, Leo, Liv, I love my friends, but you know, it’s not the same.

So, I don’t regret anything that happened, because it brought me all of them. And it brought Liam and Max together as well, which has been an unexpected and thrilling dynamic that wouldn’t have happened otherwise.

Max has jokingly dubbed me the Teflon Queen, because nothing seems to stick to me. I have practically flaunted my relationships under the courts’ nose, one of my children looks exactly like Drake, one of them looks exactly like a Beaumont and no one says a word. My enemies have all come to bitter ends, but Drake has never been investigated for any allegations again. Having elevated him to head of the Queen’s Guard, everything he does is a matter of national security. I have made him untouchable. And the rumors that do swirl about his role in my life and his dedication to me, and Liam’s acceptance of it, encouragement of it even, only serve to strengthen and solidify my position.

Liam, Drake and I together are a dangerous force to be reckoned with. Undefeatable. With Max as the steadying, encouraging, comforting support behind us, the three of us are an unstoppable team, steam rolling over any and all obstacles. A powerful and formidable triumvirate, protecting each other and those we love, leading Cordonia into a better and brighter future.

It’s good to be queen.

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levworship · 4 years ago

Note

Okay but I just read what the other anon requested and that was so good?? I didn’t think I had a thing for receiving oral but wtf 😭🤚could I maybe request smth if you got time?? Could it be a reunion between volleyball teams from miyagi and tokyo? So nekoma, fukorodani, seijoh, Johzenji (terushima’s tongue piercing PLS), karasuno, itachiyama You were the old manager of nekoma and was friends with literally everyone, during the talk kuroo somehow mentioned that in the nekoma reunion like 2 years ago it somehow ended with the main guys all taking turns eating you out and that pisses off the rest of the guys because that was their fantasy?? This ends up with you (with consent ofc) being sat down on kuroo’s lap as the guys also take turns eating you out (inspired by the other anon because 😩) I understand if you obviously can’t mention everyone, but pls mention terurshima, sakusa (who would only let you make a mess on his face) and bokuto if you could <3 ALSO the idea of two people eating you out at the same time, maybe bokuto and terushima?? IM NASTY OKAY BUT PLS DO THAT

Ty in advanceeee

i’m usually pretty fast but this took me a whole two days to write smh i’m sorry anon. hope you enjoy tho <3 i wanted it to be a lil longer but i’m so tired and i rlly wanted to get this out for you.

cw: group sex (like.. big group), hella sub reader, also fem reader, anal lol, oral (fem reviving), kuroo is the ringleader, humiliation ig, reader kinda into it doe, dirty talk, degrading + praise, squirting, overstimulation

summary: basically everyone wants to eat out/fuck y/n. explicitly written in here is kuroo, oikawa, sakusa, bokuto, and terushima. the rest is implied.

word count: about 1.9k

your face was buried into kenma’s stiff shoulder, your whole body feeling hot as your group of friends continued to talk about you as if you weren’t even there. but clearly they hadn’t forgotten about you too much considering the way their eyes burned holes into you from all around so indiscreetly that you couldn’t even sit your ass still.

you weren’t quite sure how the previous conversation had shifted so suddenly, but kuroo seemed more than happy with the subject change as his signature asshole smirk never left his features. “- yeah, ‘bout two years ago i’d say. she was a good fuck too. poor thing was so eager to make us feel good that she passed out.” kuroo continued to drag his story as if to intentionally provoke the others, and the staring at you only got worse. your nerves were shot.

you looked and felt like a precious bunny being stared down by a bunch of wolves. and honestly? it was hot as fuck.

which is why you didn’t bother to argue when you were practically dragged into the locker room of the old gym, daichi hurriedly locking the door behind all of you. you couldn’t help but feel bad for just a second. ‘didnt some of these guys have girlfriends? couldve sworn i saw terushima enter with some girl.’ but how could you possibly focus on that when your clothes were being literally ripped off of you and disregarded to who knows where?

your legs felt weak, both out of shock and nervousness from being handled so roughly. “bring her here, bo. sit her down on my lap.” bokuto (for perhaps the first time in his life) was silent as he dragged you over to the other ex-captain, setting you down in his lap on his spot on the bench just as he’d requested. kuroo snickered and raised a hand to cup your cheeks, squeezing them together like you were a little baby before releasing.

“ease up, will ya? so damn tense i can feel it from here. you know we’ll take good care of you.” he spoke so lowly and reassuringly that you couldn’t help but to nod like a fool as he turned you around in his lap to fit the others. he tapped your thigh once, twice, and you quickly picked up on the hint and opened your legs for their viewing pleasure. you tried to put your face down as you were smothered in shame from just how quickly you got wet from their rough handling, but kuroo gripped onto your face once again and forced you to look up.

“look up, baby. so many big strong men dying to make you cum so fucking hard. be a little more thankful, yeah? say it.” “thank you.” he shook his head with a small laugh before releasing your face, but not before lightly tapping your face twice with soft slaps. still, you remained out of it even as oikawa settled himself between your legs, looking up at you with the same lazy smile you frequently saw him wearing around you.

“smells so damn good. finally gonna let me get a taste, cutie?” he spoke lowly as if he were to himself before diving in and holy shit. you figured he’d be pretty experienced. the guy was a literal chick magnet. but damn, this exceeded your expectations by far. your body threatened to curl over itself if it hadn’t been for kuroo’s sturdy grip on your twitching thighs. the way he sucked vigorously at your clit while swiping his tongue along your folds to capture more of your essence had you drawing nothing but blanks up there.

“haven’t even cum yet for us and already going dumb?” kuroo teased, planting a kiss just behind your ear, a shocking contrast to the way oikawa’s tongue worked against you just right.

the air around you was so thick you felt as if it could be cut with a knife. some of the guys surrounding you couldn’t figure out what to do with themselves, nervously shuffling their feet without taking your eyes off of you. others had clearly overcome any former shame, already slowly pumping their cocks in their hands as they hoped and prayed that they would get a turn soon. the whole scene made you feel so dirty— so wanted. the desire that leaked from their looks on you had your orgasm approaching faster than ever.

oikawa seemed to have noticed this, using his thumbs to spread your folds apart to make sure you felt him deep, muttering a quick “cum on my fucking mouth, princess.” the simple phrase alone made your orgasm crash down on you finally. your fingers tangled in his soft hair, which was now messy and tossed thanks to you.

you nearly passed out right there when he continued to lick you clean even as you violently shook in kuroo’s grasp, the black haired boy having to shove the other away forcefully just to separate his mouth from you. “that’s enough of that. did he make you feel good baby?” your eyes are still shut as you cling onto the leftover bliss, only offering a quiet “mhm.” “good girl. think you can give us another?” the question was clearly rhetorical, which should’ve been clear by the was he was already gesturing someone else forward. but still, you shook your little fucked out head ‘no’ and prayed upon some god that he’d have mercy on your poor quivering cunt.

but you knew better than to expect mercy from kuroo of all people. especially when it came to your body, when he kept whispering to you about how you were such a “perfect little toy,” and his “favorite doll to use.” before you knew it sakusa was diving into your pussy quickly without giving you time to do so much as muster up the energy to open your eyes again. his mouth was quick and desperate to get you off, moving with a sense of urgency as his hands busied themselves palming at his covered dick. he wasn’t nearly as precise or experienced as oikawa was, but his eagerness made up for it as he ate you out like a starved man.

your hips threatened to buck against his face wildly, cries of “please, please, please” falling from your mouth even though you didn’t even know what you were begging for. all you knew was that you needed more than what he was giving you right now. the man above you seemed to have read you like an open book once again as he released one of your thoughts to reach a hand around to your sensitive bud, pressing down on it softly. “see this?” he murmured, only receiving a small “hm.” in acknowledgement as omi continued his assault on your little hole. greedy fuck. “try touching her here. she loves that shit.” you cried out for more again, clenching tightly at the way he spoke of your body as if you weren’t even there.

the second sakusa tore himself away from your folds to wrap his lips around your clit, you were a goner for sure. there was a distant scream that you didn’t even recognize as your own until kuroo muffled them with his hand, body twitching and jerking more than it had the previous time. the room fell to a sudden silence even as you came down from your high, causing you to let out a confused hum.

kuroo’s chuckle broke the quietness, his large hand slapping your wet overstimulated mound and making you yelp. “didn’t know you were a squirter, baby. how come you didn’t do this for us the first time hm?” another rhetorical question. his hand trailed down lower, collecting some of your juices before he began to prod a finger at your other hole. “fuck- gonna let me bury myself in here again? want both of your holes fucked out?” and you couldn’t help but cry out because fuck yes! you couldn’t think of anything you’d want more. you nodded your head and panted like a sex craved mutt, and perhaps you would’ve been as humiliated as you were before if you weren’t so damn thirsty for it. every inch of you was begging to be ravished and destroyed, and you couldn’t help but grow more and more impatient as the time passed.

kuroo didn’t take his eyes off of you as he nodded towards the crowd once again, sakusa taking the hint and reluctantly scurrying off to palm at himself through his sweatpants just as he previously had. kuroo’s command must’ve been unclear though, as both of you were pulled away from your eye contact at the sound of a comical bonk followed by two grunts of “ow.” perhaps you would’ve laughed if the two aforementioned fools weren’t kneeling in front of your drenched pussy, ready to service you eagerly just as the other two had.

a chill ran up your spine as you surveyed each of their features. while both of them shared the same underlying expressions of lust and desperation, you couldn’t help but note how bokuto’s face resembled one of an excited puppy dog that perhaps would’ve been adorable in another circumstance while terushima’s was much more primal. “look at that” kuroo’s voice in your ear dragged you back out of your own head as he slowly sunk another finger into your tight ass. just because he was going to treat you like a whore didn’t mean you didn’t deserve prep. “making a fool out of themselves, all because they’re so desperate to get a taste of that perfect pussy. doesn’t that make you feel filthy?”

kuroo couldn’t do anything but shake his head at your lack of response, finally releasing your thighs for a moment to grab at both of their napes, silently demanding for you to hold them open yourself. “well? since you’re both so impatient, think you two can work together as a team? if i hear her complain even one time, i’m not letting either of you touch again.”

the two of them nodded obediently, and your eyes nearly rolled back at how demanding kuroo was being right now. it was clear that everyone knew who was truly holding the ropes here, and yet no one was complaining about the arrangement. seemingly satisfied with their responses, kuroo released their necks and his hands smacked yours away so he could replace them and hold up your thighs himself once again. “think you’re ready to take my cock now in here, y/n?” he smirked as he lined himself up. “gonna let me fuck this ass while you let both of them eat that slutty pussy? such a dirty girl. so fuckin’ good for us” he continued to spew filth at you as he lined himself up at your entrance, allowing you to sink down slowly.

you hissed at the stretch, but of course didn’t have much time to focus on the sensation because bokuto and terushima had finally decided that they’d been waiting for long enough. they worked diligently, the cool metal of teru’s tongue piercing flicking against your bud while bokuto slurped on your juices so loudly that the sound filled the room in the most embarrassing way possible.

yeah. you were in for it tonight.

sorry for mistakes or inconsistencie. requests for bnha and haikyuu are open.

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #bokuto smut #sakusa smut #kuroo smut #oikawa smut #terushima smut #haikyu!! smut #haikyuu x reader dirty imagine #.chiyo’s works #.chiyo’s works hq

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cazimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Try not to forget me

Synopsis: Anon request: Can we have a reader who slept with Zemo when they were younger, they were basically each other’s first times. Reader was brought to the mission and when Sam mentions Zemo she only limits herself to saying that she knows him assuming she knows him from civil war. At some point, Zemo mentions it to Sam and since he can’t contain himself he has to ask reader to be sure. Maybe some smut, like ‘I don’t remember you being this good’

Word count: 8.5k

Author’s note: Welp it took me a while but it's finally here! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am such a sucker for the trope of seeing someone you once dated years after not seeing them again. Like give me all of that. Also I changed a little bit of the request but not much.

Warnings: Gun shots, SMUT (for mature audiences), Fingering, Vaginal sex, Stripping

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Fingers fumbled with the clasp, the feeling of lips trailing up your thigh, sweet whispers in the air,

‘My princess, my everything’

His kisses on your neck, the desperation in his voice

‘I need you, all of you’

His fingers dug into your hips, his body moving like waves on top of you.

You call out his name to the night, losing yourself in the passion that consumed you.

Your hand tangled in his hair, tugging roughly which elicited a moan from his lips.

His eyes sparkled as he reached his first climax with you, ‘You’ll always be mine’

You woke up still with the taste of his lips upon your mouth. You felt the ghost of him linger on top of you, clinging to that long-ago memory.

But all things fade with time and the cold reality pulled you from the once pleasant dream drenched in sorrow. Sighing you pulled yourself off the made-up bed on the floor, already grabbing a hair tie to pull the bird’s nest of your hair out of your face. You hop over to where your prosthetic leg laid and strapped it onto your thigh.

Grabbing your phone you notice a few miss call from an old friend, calls you must have slept through. Pressing the number you hold it up to your ear as you wander around the apartment preparing for your day.

On the third ring, he picked up.

“Sam?” you ask

“Y/n! I wasn’t sure if I would hear back from you, it’s been a while”

“Yeah, things have been keeping me busy. It’s not like how it was when we were in the army”

You could hear him chuckle down the line, “It’s strange, I would have thought my time in the army would have been the craziest part of my life, but it’s hard to beat all the stories I have of aliens”

“At least you have stories to tell, what do I have? I served for a few years as a new American citizen, almost died a few times till one day I got shot in the leg”

“I don’t know losing your leg is one hell of a story, but speaking of almost losing your life. You remember that time I was able to pull you away from a landmine and you told me, ‘oh Sam thank you so much, I owe you so much’” Sam says down the line in a squeaky voice

“Since when have I ever spoken like that Sam? And why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like where this is going”

“Well that’s because it is time for me to cash in that favour”

That’s how you found yourself arriving at an airport, searching around to find Sam. As you walked around the corner you could make out what seemed to be three figures in the distance. As you got nearer one of them noticed you, and started waving exaggeratingly making you chuckle.

You finally reach him as Sam pulls you into a firm hug. “It’s good to see you again y/n,” he says as you pull away.

“Yes, after all these years of avoiding me” you quip making him laugh

“You know I’d never avoid you! It’s you who has always found an excuse to get out of meeting up with old friends”

“Well I’m here now”

“Speaking of old friends, let me introduce to you this man, 106 years old, dermatologists hate him”

The man Sam referred to now stepped forward, holding out his hand, “Hi, I’m Bucky” he says, smiling slightly as you shake his hand.

“Y/n, you look good for your age”

“He moisturises” Sam buts in making Bucky send him a look, “It’s complicated” he mutters and you nod.

“I met Steve once, I understand,” you tell him, making his eyes light up at the mention of his old friend.

“Super soldier serum, the ability to be almost immortal, another reason as to why we have all gathered here to prevent it”

A shiver ran through your spine as you heard that long ago accent which you had removed from your voice. You focus on the man behind Sam, someone you should have noticed when you first appeared.

It had been over twenty years since you had last seen him yet you could still recognise the way his lips twitched up at the sides but dipped in the middle, the softness of his warm brown eyes, and the slight angular twist his eyebrows had. His hair was more well kept than when you had last seen him. Then he was still going through his rebellious phase, letting his hair grow unkempt but now he had a sense of refinement about him. He knew he was ageing like fine wine and now instead of trying to rebel from the prestigious life he had like when you knew him, he lavished in it, enjoying the money that was of so easy access to him and spent it on all the finer luxuries of life.

“Y/n, this is Zemo. You might remember seeing him on the news, he’s the one who framed Bucky”

You knew him more than that, more than any of them could ever know him. The dream from this morning swarmed your thoughts again, taunting you as if your brain knew what was to come.

Sokovia had been your home country, a place you had longed to forget, leave dead. Zemo, Helmut, was your childhood friend. You couldn’t remember the time when you first met as it felt like he had always been in your life. Everything you two did, you did together. Attending the same schools, going around to each other’s houses, exploring the wildness together. You two were closer than siblings. Your family had nowhere as near the same money as Zemo’s family had, yet that didn’t seem to matter, at least not when you were children. It was no surprise to people when eventually you two started dating. There had been bets on how long it would take for Zemo to gather the courage to ask you out. You and Zemo had been each other’s firsts, first partner, first kiss, first making love, which is where your dream had come from. It was cringy to say it but you felt like you loved him with every inch of your soul, and you knew Zemo was just as dedicated to you.

That’s why the break-up was so messy.

You were the one who called it. You had to. Zemo might have been blind to what it meant to be a Baron at that time but you weren’t. His parents allowed him to have his little indulges, allowed you two to be friends, to date. But at the end of the day, he would always be from the higher class and your family from the lower class. They would of never let you two marry so you had to call off the relationship before you got too deep, to save yourself some pain. You’d hoped that you two could still be friends, though it would have hurt, you still wanted to be around him but that was never meant to be.

At first, he didn’t believe you, he laughed it off as a good joke till he realised you were being serious. Then was the confusion, he wouldn’t let you leave. He needed to know what he did wrong, what could have happened for you to want to break up with him. Then was the obsession. He wouldn’t leave you alone, turning up to your house every day to beg for another chance, following you around trying to pick the relationship back up, threatening any guy that went near you. Then the heartbreak when he finally accepted it was over. He didn’t leave his house for months, you heard rumours he drank himself to sleep most nights, till one time at the dead of the night you found him pounding on your door, shouting to let him in. He was pissed and crying, imploring at you to give him a second chance, begging for you to tell him what he could do to get back with you. He would do anything, give you all his money, abandon his family and run away with you. You helped him back home and told him to leave you alone. And to give it to him he did because then came the anger. You would see him outside and he would pretend he didn’t even know who you were. You’d walk past and accidentally hit shoulders and he shouted at you to watch where you were going. Soon he would be seen with lots of different women, taking them to all the places he took you, dancing at parties. Whenever you looked over to them they were making out and it pained you deeply for what you had to give up. Eventually, you ran away. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself seeing Zemo move on with someone else while you were still suffering on the inside, not just for losing the boy you love but the person who had been your best friend for as long as you could remember.

You left Sokovia to live in America, completely ridding yourself of your whole past identity. There you decided to enlist in the Army which is where you had met Sam, served with him for a few years till you were forced to retire early due to losing your leg. You checked up on Zemo every once in a while, it wasn’t too hard with the Sokovian news constantly obsessing over him. He married the woman he moved onto, the one you always saw making out with him. You suppose he truly must have loved her because it was your birthday when his son was born. While he celebrated the happiest day of his life you spent the day at the bottom of a bottle drinking away the loneliness. You still remember the moment you found out what had happened to Sokovia. You hadn’t been back there in years but it was still your home, where you had all of your fond memories, now all gone.

You didn’t see anything in the news about Zemo after that, he and his family completely vanished so you had to assume the worst. Till you finally saw him on the news. It was hardly like the boy you once knew. The Zemo you knew was kind, empathetic, caring, beautiful in every way he could be yet the man you saw there was a murderer, cold-hearted, reckless. What had happened to the boy you once knew?

You could make guesses, his family was nowhere in sight and you could only imagine how losing the woman you love and your child could hurt you. You hated imagining all the pain Zemo has gone through.

“Yes, I remember seeing him on the news,” you tell Sam. Both you and Zemo stared at each other, your eyes unwavering.

He knew who you were. He knew from the moment you turned around that corner. As he watched you warmly greet Sam and shake hands with Bucky. He watched the person he never thought he would see again stand right in front of him, not even noticing him.

But now you stood there, staring him down. Both of you almost speaking through your eyes. Would the other one bring up the past? Try to acknowledge all that has happened between you or is that dead, left forgotten. Will you two pretend to have never met before, letting years of memories fade.

Zemo was first to speak.

“I see my reputation isn’t too favourable”

“That’s what you get for blowing up the UN,” you say scowling at him as you cross your arms

Zemo opens his mouth to say something but Sam gets here first, “Y/n served in the Army with me so you better be careful with what you say Zemo”

Zemo’s eyes then flicker back to you tilting his head, like he always used to do, in interest.

“Why is he even here?” you ask, finally pulling your eyes away from him to Sam and Bucky

Sam turns to Bucky with a plastered on a fake smile, “Why don’t you explain Bucky”

Bucky sighs as he glances over to you, “As Sam mentioned to you on the call we are trying to track down this group of super-soldiers called the Flag Smashers. We need Zemo here to help us track down where they got the serum and help us so no one else becomes a super-soldier”

“And you trust him?” you scoff, glaring back to Zemo who just smirked at you

“We have no other choice” Bucky mutters, scowling over at Zemo

“I can assure you, I won’t do anything to betray your trust. For once all of our goals are aligned that it would do us no good to go against each other.”

“I’ll hold judgment till later,” you reply bitterly.

Swifty Zemo swings on the heels of his feet, turning around to start walking away, obviously expecting all of you to follow him. Sighing in annoyance you trail after him.

As you had predicted both you and Zemo were pretending to not know each other, perhaps for the sake of the mission or perhaps for the sake of your well beings. You’re not sure if you could cope even acknowledging the past you two had. He’d been the person you had been closest to, someone you shared all your secrets, all your thoughts and feelings with. Someone who you would have taken a bullet for in the blink of an eye and to suddenly lose all of that, it wrecked you. You had finally managed to build yourself up again, to try and move on and then he comes straight back into your life. It’s as if there is some strange omnipotent god up there and it loved to torment every waking moment of your life.

“So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam asks and you all catch up with Zemo and see him walking towards what you assumed was his private aeroplane.

“I’m a Baron, Sam, my family was royalty till your friends blew up my country”

There was a slight change of tone for when he said ‘my’ not enough for Sam and Bucky to pay attention to it but enough for you to feel the slight twist in your heart as you thought back to the country that used to be yours, long ago.

As you got closer you observed a man standing by the plane, ready to welcome Zemo aboard and you felt your heart stop for a moment. Oeznik. The man had aged since you last saw him, he had fallen to the tolling of time but he still had those warm, caring eyes.

Memories swept over you of your childhood as you observed him. He has always been Zemo’s assistant, hired by Zemo’s parents when they were much younger. You could remember times when you and Zemo would be running down the corridors, not where you were supposed to be and Oeznik would find you two, not telling you off but smiling at you two, saying how Zemo’s parents were looking for him. He would sneak you two Turkish delights even if it was only an hour before dinner. Anywhere you two wanted to go he would drive you there. Whenever you slept over he would prepare your favourite meals, making sure everything was just how you liked in the room you would stay in. He was almost like another father figure to you and Zemo.

And now there he was, greeting Zemo. Zemo kissed him on the cheeks fondly before heading inside. Sam and Bucky both follow up but you take a moment to turn to look at him.

“Oeznik” you whisper

He smiles warmly down at you, placing his hand on the side of your arm. “It’s good to see you again madam”

You nod your head, unable to say anymore without letting your emotions get the better of you so you choose to head inside.

You could feel his eyes on you as you enter. You glance up to him and you know he knows why you took a little longer to get onto the plane. It was that knowing look in his eye, the slight twinkle of amusement but also sadness.

You frown realising you’d have to take a seat opposite Zemo, Sam and Bucky already choosing to sit on the other side, showing their dislike for him. You freeze for just a moment making Zemo gesture to the seat in front of him, smirking as he tilts his head. You huff, not bothering to hide your displeasure, taking the seat in front of him but refusing to even look at him.

A few minutes later Zemo chuckles as Oeznik brings out two drinks, a glass of champagne which he offers to Zemo, and a glass of rum which he offers to you. You’re favourite drink. After all this time he still remembered.

You kindly thanked Oeznik, taking the glass as you avoid the confused eyes of Sam who was wondering why you got a drink and he didn’t and the eyes of Zemo, which held an emotion you couldn’t quite recognise.

“The food is out but I will see if there is some good food in a gallery,” he tells Zemo and starts to turn away but then Zemo speaks.

“If it doesn’t pass the food test, give it to them,” he says, speaking in sokovian and gesturing to Sam and Bucky.

You weren’t prepared for the surge of pain in your heart as you heard Zemo use the language of your people. Though it had been over twenty years since you last heard it, you could still remember it perfectly.

Oeznik laughs, “It’s good to have you back sir,” he says, then nods to you before leaving again. Zemo smiles at Sam and Bucky, enjoying the notion of how they didn’t know what he said, before his eyes swiftly turn back to you, knowing you know exactly what he said.

He takes a swing of his drink before speaking again, “It’s kind of him to remember your go-to drink” he says in Sokovian.

And there it was. The first acknowledgement of the past between you two. Your eyes burn into his head as you realise just what he was doing. It was a test. He spoke in Sokovian for just you to understand, seeing if you were to take the bait and talk back in Sokovian. He wanted to see if you were willing to acknowledge the past between you two as well.

But Sam and Bucky had no idea where you were from. As far as they knew from your accent you were American and you planned to keep that secret. You weren’t going to play in Zemo’s little game, you refused to take your turn. Instead, ignoring what he had said to stare at the ground.

He waits for a few moments before accepting you weren’t going to reply. Sighing he turns to Sam and Bucky.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell” he starts “Oh, that’s right, you do” he then carries on, taunting them. If he can’t mess with you then he’ll mess with them.

“Why don’t you tell us about where you are going” Sam replies, ignoring Zemo’s attempt at taunting.

Zemo then instead turns to the book in his hand, thumbing through it. “Sorry, I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?” he asks turning to Bucky

Instantly Bucky was out of his seat, his hand around Zemo’s throat pulling him back as he leans in towards his face.

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you” he whispers

Zemo nods as Bucky lets him go, letting out a slight breath he had been holding in. Bucky glares as Zemo has he takes his seat again.

“I’m sorry. I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

“But you’re not sorry” you abruptly say, making all eyes turn to you. “Ever since we’ve sat down you’ve been taunting us, trying to stir up trouble. Soon your annoyance will outweigh any use you have for us”

“I’m sorry if I have caused you any offence, Princess, it is never my intention to upset any of you”

But it was. It fucking was. Because he knew just how much pain that nickname brought to your heart. Princess. That’s what he had always referred to you as when you dated. In his eyes, you were a princess, his princess. You clench your jaw, trying to stop the tears that swelled in your eyes. Something Zemo picked up on and himself felt pained seeing your reaction.

“Don’t call her Princess. Her name is y/n” Sam says, glaring at Zemo.

“My apologies, it was my fault to refer to your girl like that”

Instantly both yours and Sam’s eyes widen at his words.

“We’re not, that’s not-” Sam starts to say, fumbling with his words

“We’re just friends” you but in, glaring at Zemo for you knew why he said that.

“Y-yeah” Sam replies, looking between you and Zemo as you stare at each other. Zemo tilts his head slightly, the edge of his lips twitching up.

“I see”

“Now perhaps you could stop taunting us, Zemo, and answer Sam’s original question about where the hell we are going”

If you had blinked you would have missed it but just for a split second, as his last name fell from your lips, you could see him flinch. These days everyone referred to him by his last name, never his first name. And although in the past you had always called him by his first name, you, like them, were using his last name. That hurt more than he thought it would.

“I’m afraid I can’t say just yet, but all will be relieved in due time’

You just groan, rolling your eyes and then choosing to stare out the window trying to forget all about the man that sat in front of you.

Hoping to alleviate the conversation Sam nods to the book Bucky took back from Zemo.

“I’ve seen that book, it’s Steve’s book for when he came out of the ice. I told him about trouble man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What did you think?”

“I like 40’s music so…” Bucky grumpily replies

“You didn’t like it!?” Sam exclaims leaning forward

“I liked it”

“It’s a masterpiece James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African American experience” Zemo buts in, speaking with his hands as he looks over to Bucky

Sams’s eyes face moves from looking at Bucky, to looking at Zemo then back to Bucky.

“He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great. Everybody likes Marvin Gaye”

Inside your head, you scoff at Zemo as he talked as if he was sophisticated with music, ‘like you didn’t listen to Nirvana all the time’ you thought. From that point you ignored what they were saying, sipping your drink as you stare out the window. Today had taken a complete turn from what you ever could have imagined it would have turned out to be. And little did you know it was about to get a whole lot messier.

“No fucking way. You can’t make me do that”

“You have to if you want to blend in for the mission” Zemo explains

“She can blend in, in many other ways, she doesn’t have to pretend to be your partner,” Sam says arguing for you

“They will be suspicious of her though and it could risk the whole mission but if she was my partner they wouldn’t be suspicious”

“He’s right y/n” Bucky adds, “I don’t want to be doing this either but if we want to find out where the super-soldier serum has come from we need to”

Zemo nods to Bucky in thanks and then looks to you, the corner of his lip twitching up in amusement that Bucky was backing him up and seeing your anger.

He was deliberately trying to antagonise you. Making you pretend to be his partner for the mission, was his way to get back at you for the pain you caused him when you broke things off. You didn’t think you could cope with having to pretend to be his partner for it, it would just bring up all the pain of what had been lost between you two, what you had to let go of. But they were right. You had to do it for the sake of the mission. If Bucky could pretend to the winter soldier again for the mission the least you could do was this.

“Are you seriously taking his side Bucky, if she doesn’t want to be that then-” Sam starts to argue but you cut him off.

“It’s okay Sam, Bucky’s right I need to do it”

Sam opens his mouth in surprise and then moves over to stand in front of you, placing his hand on your shoulder. “No you don’t y/n, don’t listen to them”

You place your hand over Sam’s hand on your shoulder, rubbing it slightly. “I’ll be okay with it Sam. It’s not like I’d be dating him”

Your eyes flicker to Zemo who had been glaring at Sam now turned his eyes to you, his lips almost twitching into a frown but he stops them.

“I won’t wear that dress though,” you say, your eyes looking down to the short dress Zemo held in his arms.

He opens his mouth to argue against that as well but you stop him, “No Zemo, I won’t be wearing that, that is final”

He bites back his words, smacking his lips together as he nods, “If that is what you wish”

You weren’t ashamed of your prosthetic leg. It was a reminder to you for all you had given to people. But you weren’t about to walk around Madripoor with it being showed off to everyone. And a part of you wasn’t ready for Zemo to see you with it, though you don’t know why.

You hadn’t been to Madripoor before but it didn’t surprise you that Zemo knew the place well. It looked like the shady place you would find him in. As soon as you stepped out of the car Zemo’s arm wrapped around your waist. It fitted like nothing had changed in the time between. Your face instantly turned to him to tell him to let go but he held his finger up to your lips to stop you, “For appearance y/n, you are after all, for this evening, my partner”

Begrudgingly you accept it and don’t try to move his arm away as you walk together. Sam walks up beside you and as you turn to look at him he rolls his eyes. You chuckle at Sam then felt Zemo’s grip on your waist tighten.

As you walk into the bar Zemo takes a seat on the stool. You glance around but all the other seats had been taken. Smirking Zemo pats his lap, “Hop on princess”

You grasp onto his shoulder, pinching it harshly to cause him some pain as you position yourself on his lap, but he just chuckles at your reaction, his hand instantly going to rest on your tigh which was thankfully covered by your trousers.

“Don’t call me princess” you whisper angrily to him

He leans forward, his lips by your ear as you feel his breath, “We have to make it realistic princess, plus I think that would be the sought of a nickname I would give you if we were dating”

He presses a lip to your cheek as he pulls back from you, chuckling as he sees how your cheeks heat up and the glare you grace him with.

“Hello gentlemen and lady,” the barman says finally coming over to you, “I wasn’t expecting the smiling tiger”

“His plans changed, we have a business to do, with Selby,” Zemo says, trying to take over all conversation so no one gave themselves away.

“And she does as well?” he asks, nodding to you

“Anywhere I go she goes with me” Zemo replies, chuckling as he looks at you with a smile on his lips

“Isn’t that right princess?”

You try your best to push back the anger you felt, instead, forcing a smile as you look back at Zemo, “Of course my love” you tell him then leans forward to place a quick peck on his lips.

As your lips lightly brush against his you could hear the slight hitch in his breath and as you lean your head on his chest you wonder if he could feel how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

It’s just for appearances, that’s all you tell yourself but even though it was brief you could still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that comforting feeling that you hadn’t felt in so long and it was as if all the buried emotions you had come flooding back. Here you were sitting on his lap, kissing him as if nothing had changed and for a moment you wondered if that could be the case. Could you two go back to what time was like before?

But you couldn’t. Not only was it down to the fact that Zemo was a wanted criminal, but he had moved on from you. He fell in love with another, he married her. Any feelings he had for you were long gone and this was just him messing with you, and you didn’t want to let him know the feelings you still had for him after all this time.

The barman seems to accept your display though, choosing to focus on Sam instead as he makes him his ‘usual’ drink.

Zemo orders you and him a drink which you thankfully take from his hand, hoping to drown your feelings away with the alcohol.

A man comes up behind you and instantly Zemo lifted you off your lap, pushing you behind him as he stands up to face the man.

“Got word from on high, you’re not welcomed here,” he tells Zemo,

“Hm” Zemo replies, nodding as he takes the man’s words, “I have no business with the power broker, but if he insists he can either come talk to me...” he finishes, nodding over to Bucky

“Or bring Selby for a chat”

The man leaves as Bucky looks over to Zemo. As Zemo turns around once again his arm wraps around your waist.

“A power broker, really?”

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar”

“Do you know him?” you ask and Zemo looks down at you amused by your question, “Only by reputation”

“In Madripoor he is judge, jury and executioner”

Zemo’s eyes focus now on another man coming towards him. Turning back around to the bar he speaks to Bucky in Russian just as the man places his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. You all turn around to watch as Bucky grabs the man and starts to attack him. You’d seen violence before but it still made you wince knowing how Bucky didn’t want to do this.

After one particular nasty hit without thinking your hand grasps onto his hand, needing something to hold on to. As soon as you realised what you had done you swiftly try to pull your hand back but Zemo holds onto it tight, refusing to let it go. You could feel his gaze turn to you but you choose to ignore his cocky face and instead focus on Bucky.

You stand out of the way as Bucky slams the man onto the table and Zemo leans forward to let Bucky know not to take it too far. That was your ticket though as then you were being shown the way to see Selby.

The meeting itself wasn’t too bad. Zemo held onto your hand as he pulled you over to sit with him. He talked to Selby while you just sat on his lap. Selby didn’t pay any attention to you, which you were thankful for. Things were going smoothly until Sam’s phone ringed.

That’s how you found yourself running along with Bucky, Sam and Zemo avoiding gunfire. As you ran you heard one gunfire and felt your prosthetic leg move slightly as the bullet went straight through it.

Zemo must have seen what happened as well, but not knowing you had a prosthetic leg, he wrapped his arms suddenly around your legs, picking you up bridal style. He ran off to the side, leaving Bucky and Sam behind as he hid you down an alleyway.

“Zemo let go of me!” you hissed, hitting him in the chest as he stopped running. He instead places you on the ground, growling at you not to move as he starts to check all his pockets in his coats. Instead, you do move, getting up off the floor and he looks at you angrily. “I said don’t move! You’ll injure yourself more”

You lean down and jank up slightly the trouser leg, showing the fake metallic leg underneath.

“I’m fine Zemo! It’s fake. Now we need to go and find Sam and Bucky”

But Zemo was frozen, staring down at your leg in shock. Because at that moment was the realisation for him. All this time he had been teasing you, testing the waters of how far he could push you to admit to the past. Messing around with you as if you were two lovesick teenagers again. But you had both changed, and he was refusing to realise that until now. Because he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact you were no longer the woman he once knew. The one person he knew better than himself and he had still half-believed that was the case until now. You had a fake leg, lost in what he assumed was the army which you and Sam had been in. He didn’t know because the truth was you were almost a stranger to him now, and he hated that. He just wanted things to be the way they once were. That’s what he desperately craved but it couldn’t be.

“Okay,” he simply says and nods, finally pulling his gaze away from your leg and up to you. Following your lead, he chases after you to find out where Sam and Bucky had gone.

Sam paced around the main room of Sharon’s house. His mind was occupied with so many thoughts it was hard to concentrate but there was one that stuck out like a splinter in a thumb. What the hell was going on between you and Zemo? He wasn’t stupid he could pick up on something, the looks two you gave each other, the tension in the air, the way you reacted when you first saw him. Sam considered himself your best friend, though you two hadn’t seen each other in ages. So it bugged him how this was obviously something big to you, and he didn’t know what it was.

Zemo sat at the table by the side, quietly drinking some whiskey. Both you and Bucky had decided to retire for the night while Sam decided to stay up just so he could find out the truth.

“You look like you are trying to burn a hole through my head by the way you are staring at me Sam” Zemo says, finally looking up from his glass to Sam who was glaring at him.

“Is something the matter?” he asks

“You and y/n. What’s up with that”

Zemo chuckles, looking back down into his glass, “Ah that”

“I’m her best friend, I know everything about her, apart from this apparently”

Zemo’s eyes snapped back to Sam but this time there was no amusement in them, instead a angry glaze as he frowned, “Best friend?” he repeats, standing up and walking over to Sam. “You hardly know her at all”

Sam scoffs as he raises an eyebrow at Zemo attempting to get into his face. “And you do?”

“Yes” Zemo instantly replies, “I know she was born in Novia Grand, Sokovia. Just like me. I know which schools she attended, the same as mine, I know what her favourite meals are, we had them whenever she came round to my house. I know her favourite band, I took her to their first concert. I know everything little thing about her Sam, and you know nothing”

Sam’s eyes widen at Zemo’s confession, realisation dawning on him. “You were childhood friends”

“More than friends Sam, we were lovers. We were the first people we dated, we were each other first kiss, we were each other first time” Zemo claims as if bragging to Sam

“Yet you didn’t know she was in the Army, you didn’t know she had a prosthetic leg did you?” Sam asks and when he sees the slight fall in Zemo’s face he smiles, “You used to know her Zemo, but obviously, you don’t know the person I know now”

With a pair of tweezers lent to you from Sharon, you pull your trouser leg up and search around in your prosthetic leg attempting to find the bullet lodged inside and pull it out. You could see the bullet but you couldn’t quite get the right angle to pull it out making you groan in annoyance.

You were about to throw the tweezers across the room in anger when you heard a knock against the door. You were currently sitting in one of Sharon’s guest rooms as lot were staying at Sharon’s place for the night to rest up then go and find the scientist tomorrow morning.

“Y/n?” you hear his voice call out from the other side

You sigh rolling your eyes, “What do you want” you snap

“May I come in? We need to talk”

“I don’t want to talk”

You hear the click of the door and Zemo pushes it open to stare at you in a slight annoyance. His eyes then move down to the tweezers in your hand and your leg. He takes a few steps towards you, his hand out as he closes the door.

“Let me”

You hesitate for a moment but finally, give in and hand him the tweezers. He pulls out a seat beside you and gently puts the tweezers through the hole in your leg.

“How did it happen?” he asks as he concentrates on your leg while at the same time trying to create polite conversation.

“Like most injuries out there. One of the soldiers was on the floor, shot a round of bullets into my leg. The doctor there couldn’t save my leg so I had to get it amputated”

He nods, finally grasping the bullet with the tweezers and started to pull it out. “Serving in the army, it’s admirable. Something very like you. I was in the Sokovian armed forces. EKO scorpion”

You nod as you watch him pull the bullet out and place it to the side. “I remember reading about it in the news”

His eyes, flickering to you, glimmer with amusement. “So you kept track of me?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he caught you out. You glance away from his intense stare instead to the table. “Did you really expect that I didn’t? You once were my best friend Zemo. It’s hard to let that go. I saw you got married, had a child. I’m sorry about what happened to them”

It was Zemo’s turn to look away now, feeling the pain in his heart ignite as he thinks back to his previous family. “My son, he was born on your birthday”

“I’m surprised you remember my birthday”

He smiles slightly, finally turning his eyes back to yours, “Of course I do. Every year I’d drink a toast to you. You said that I was your best friend and hard to let go of that. Well, it’s the same both ways y/n. I couldn’t just forget about your existence.”

“I had to leave” you whisper

“I know. I know why you left, and I know why you broke up with me in the first place”

Your eyes flash to his in surprise and widen seeing how they were swarmed with tears. “Because of my family, they never would of let us marry because of your status. Y/n I would have left all of that behind for you, without a second thought”

Shaking your head you reply, “I couldn’t have asked that of you Zemo”

“And that’s one of the reasons why you are so perfect. You always put me before you, now this time I am asking you to finally let yourself choose. If you want me to leave say and I will leave. But if you don’t say I will stay with you, and I won’t let you leave again”

“We’re not who we once were, Helmut” you mutter, finally letting yourself use his first name and with that, he already knew your choice. His hand goes up to cradle the side of your face gently, moving it nearer to him.

“Then let’s discover each other, all over again”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed his lips on you, fitting perfectly against yours as if they were made for you. He poised there, hoping he wasn’t being too forward but his lips smirked as you started to move your lips on him, crashing them on top of his for action, which he kindly gave.

His tongue poked your bottom lip, begging for entrance. One which you allow as you wrap your fingers behind his neck, getting tangled in his hair.

You could hardly believe this is where you were, once again with Zemo, his lips upon yours, desire between your legs. In the last twenty years, you had often dreamt of reuniting with Zemo, experiencing this moment again but you never thought it would happen. But here you were.

His hands travelled down your back, swooping under your butt as you wrapped your leg around his waist. Swiftly he lifts you off the chair and walks you over to the bed, placing you down on it and crawling on top of you.

His lips trail down your cheek, across your jawline and down onto your neck, sucking on that delicate pulse spot. A moan escapes from your lips and he pulls back chuckling. “For so long now I’ve longed to hear you moan for me Princess”

You just groan, your hand pushing his face back into your neck making him laugh but he quickly goes back to making a hickey on it. His fingers trail down to your shirt, slowly lifting it and once again he pulls away to be able to lift the shirt off you.

He holds back for a moment to admire your beauty. His hands move behind your back and swiftly undoes the clasps on your bra, tugging it off. He groans seeing you for all your glory and buries his head in your boobs. ‘Oh how I have missed these’

While his mouth latches onto your breasts, smothering them in kisses as his hands go to undo the buttons on your trousers. He starts to tug them down, with no sense of being gentle but rather a primal urge taking over him. He manages to tug them off you and then his lips move down even further. He trails his tongue from your breasts down your belly, leaving a trail of saliva. As he reaches your underwear, his teeth latch onto it. With a slight groan from his lips, he then pulls them off, sliding them down your legs and flicking them off to the floor along with your other discarded clothes.

He sighs in contentment as he buries his face into the side of your thigh as his fingers trail your prosthetic leg. Leaning forward he places a kiss on it, then trails upwards, littering it in soft kisses. The only softness you’ll be experiencing tonight.

As you feel him get nearer your core you let out a shudder in anticipation, as you shudder you feel his lips suddenly press against your core. He instantly latches into your clit, his tongue dancing on it, twisting it in circular motions. Your hands instantly grasp his hair, holding him close to your core, not letting him go. Not that he ever want to. Sandwiched between your legs is where he belonged.

“If I remember correctly, you always liked this part”

You let out a shocked gasp as suddenly a finger presses against your entrance and then slips inside of you, with ease from how wet you have become. He slides the finger all the way into the end, letting a moan rip out of your throat.

“It seems I do remember correctly”

“Instead of commentating everything why don’t you put that mouth to good use” you groan, pushing his face back into your crotch. His tongue instantly went back to your clit as he started to thrust his finger in and out of you, making sure it brushes against your walls. As you start to let more little moans he thrusts another finger inside, opening slightly to stretch you out.

You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening as he worked his tongue on your clit and his fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace. Then his fingers hit just at that right spot and your walls fluttered around him. You hardly got enough time to choke out a warning before you were gushing all over his fingers. When your climax started to edge away he pulled his face back from your clit, removing his fingers and while holding your eye contact he stuck his tongue out, lapping up your juices on his fingers.

He moans slightly as he licks it up, his eyes fluttering half close, ‘Mine Gott, I forgot just how good you tasted’

“Well let’s see if you are as good with that dick as you were in the past” you tease, pulling his face towards your to encompass in another kiss. As your hands hold his face to yours his fingers feel up the side of your waist, ghosting over your skin creating goosebumps.

You could sense when his fingers started to trail to his trousers though and you pull away from his lips making him whine.

“Strip for me”

He tilts his head smirking as he looks up into your playful eyes. “As you wish my princess,” he says as he climbs off you, standing at the end of the bed. Slowly he tugs off his large coat off, laying it on the side of the bed. Next, he works on his turtleneck, slowly tugging it up to his chest, then over his head. Soon it joins the steady growing pile of discarded clothes. Next, he quickly tugged down his trousers and boxers, his patience starting to wear thin.

As he pulled them down exposing his dick you hummed in approval. “Now isn’t that a sight for sore eyes”

“And you were complaining at me for talking” Zemo murmurs, stepping forward to crawl back onto you but your hold your hand up to stop him. “Put the coat back on”

“I see in our time apart you’ve become more demanding,” he says as he picks up the coat and slides it back onto his naked body. As he finally gets to crawl back on top of you, you grasp the fur collar and pull him closer to your face.

You run your fingers through his hair, making it even messier than it was before. Parts of it fell onto his forehead. His hands move down to hold his dick by your entrance, rubbing it against your folds. For a moment he hesitates, moving his head to rest against your forehead in anticipation.

“You’re still as beautiful as when I last saw you”

With that, he pushes into you, rather quickly because of how desperate he was to feel you around him. As he bottoms out he groans, pushing his face into the crook of the neck as you grasp the back of his head gasping. He stays still for a minute, treasuring the feeling of your walls clasping onto him. Then slowly he pulls mostly out of you, till just his head hung in your, and then thrust back into you.

He started to pick up speed, hearing the increase of your moans against his ear. His grunts and moans start to intertwine with yours as you both chase your pleasure.

“Gott, you are so perfect my princess. You feel so good around me” he’d groan into your ear as his hips thrust repeatedly into your, the sounds echoing on the walls of the room. His fingers sneak down your belly to your core, rubbing against your clit. Instantly your back was arched and your fingers grasped onto the coat.

“God Helmut, I don’t remember you being this good” you moan and with your words he speeds up, pumping inside of you. His head kept brushing up inside that perfect spot inside and with his fingers twisting on your clit you could feel your climax steadily approaching.

“H-Helmut, I’m going to, soon I’m-” you tried to get out between moans but there was no need to as Zemo could feel how close you were for the way your walls clung around him tightly.

“Come for me Princess, let me feel you. I need to feel you again my love, after so long”

And his words were music to your ears as you feel the knot within you snap and your wetness gushing over his dick. Zemo bites down on your neck, trying to be gentle, as he feels your walls grasp you even tiger as he thrusts into you. Not long after he felt his own release coming and as you lay there panting he thrusts in time to his release until he squeezed out every last drop.

He hovers over you for a moment, panting, wanting to remain in your warmth for just a moment longer but eventually he pulls out and collapse beside you.

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side, burying his face in your hair.

“Thank you Helmut” you whisper

“No my princess, thank you for forgiving me for everything I’ve ever done to you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I don’t deserve your love but I desperately need it. I won’t lose you again my darling”

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