#if youre wondering where ch 5 is i did post it
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Draped in Black and Dripping With Love Ch. 6
[read it on ao3]
Lan Zhanâs ears prick against the sound of shouting, however distant the echoes are as he stares at himself, or rather, someone who looks like him. Anxiety grips around him like a fist ever tightening as those voices draw closer. The version of himself in front of him is down on his knees, the blue glow of his spiritual energy catching the shadows on his face.
The blue glow illuminates the other person too, but Lan Zhan refuses to let himself take a step back as his eyes meet the unseeing, blank gaze of the Yiling Patriarch.
âWei Ying,â The other Lan Zhan pleads, his voice raspy and worn with use, âplease. Come back to Gusu with me.â Itâs the desperation that makes Lan Zhan want to choke, itâs the knowing that heâs felt it before, but he never had the nerve to ask Wei Ying to return with him. Pressing a hand against his throat, Lan Zhan forces himself forward, until he stands next to the other version of himself. He doesnât have to guess what the Yiling Patriarch is saying, he can tell from the moving of his lips, even if not a sound slips from between them.
The shouting grows nearer still, the voices growing angrier and angrier. Lan Zhan and his doppelganger both turn at the same time, their eyes wide, but only the double makes a movement. He stands and gathers the Yiling Patriarch into his arms, his breath coming hard and heavy as he draws his sword.
âHelp him.â Lan Zhanâs double says, seemingly to no one at all, until Lan Zhan feels his own eyes burning into him. The doppelganger is still pointing his sword, but Lan Zhan can see that it isnât meant for him, not at all.
The voices are almost upon them and the Yiling Patriarch is still murmuring wordlessly, but for the first time, Lan Zhan notices how bloody his double is, how robes that shouldâve been flawless and white are damaged and sullied, and how the Patriarch himself is worn. His cheeks are hollow, his hair rough and lusterless, and how he lacks the shine his Wei Ying has. As if someone has dulled him to the point of looking as if heâs been lingering on deathâs door for some time now.
The Yiling Patriarchâs eyes roll between Lan Zhan and the other version of himself like that of a dollâs, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
âHelp him,â Lan Zhanâs double commands again, dread setting in as a voice, too similar to that of Lan Zhanâs uncle, bears down upon them, âYou must. I cannot.â The words are an admission of guilt, one that makes Lan Zhanâs throat feel tight, even as coldness creeps up his back and over his shoulders. He pulls his arms in around himself without meaning to, throwing a glance over his shoulder as the Yiling Patriarch starts to push and shove against the other Lan Zhan. The blows never seem to land, they donât even seem to matter to Lan Zhan.Â
âHow?â Lan Zhan asks, raising his voice against the din that finally hangs at the mouth of the cave, but when he looks, Lan Zhan can see no one. He can feel them, though, he can feel his uncleâs glare. He feels himself move closer to the other version of himself and the Yiling Patriarch for it, a chill ringing out against his arm as he brushes against the sword. If it draws blood, just below his shoulder, Lan Zhan canât bring himself to look at it, his chest heaving.
âWangji!â Lan Qirenâs voice rings out, harsh and clear in the cave and Lan Zhanâs eyes fly open as he sits up, panting while his arm aches and burns with something cold. The sheets are tangled around him, nearly tying him to the bed as Lan Zhan drags his knees forward and hangs his head between them. His fingers curl into something hot and thick as Lan Zhan clings to his own arms. He doesnât need to look to know that itâs blood, he can feel the cut thatâs split his skin apart, he only needs to cover it with his hand so he doesnât ruin another set of Wei Yingâs sheets.
What had that other version of himself been trying to do for the Yiling Patriarch? Why was he trying to feed him spiritual energy? Why hadnât it done a single thing to improve the Patriarchâs condition? The room spins around Lan Zhan while he tries to think, his stomach lurching and clenching around nothing. How was he meant to help if the Yiling Patriarch seemed so unwilling?
Lan Zhan only stands when the room stills, when it doesnât feel as though the floor will drop out from underneath him, his body feeling heavy. âWei Ying?â Lan Zhan calls, hanging in the doorway as he waits for an answer. Heâd woken up alone, and heâs grateful for it, but it isnât like Wei Ying to wake up before him, and it isnât like Lan Zhan to sleep so late.Â
He knows he should take care of the cut on his arm first, however deep or shallow it actually is, but Lan Zhan needs to see Wei Ying first. He needs to see him and know that he isnât somewhere unreachable.Â
Forcing himself to stop, Lan Zhan listens, trying to hear if Wei Ying was working in some part of the house, if he was continuing to work on the mural like he planned to, or if heâd abandoned it again for another project, however big or small. Instead, Lan Zhan hears Wei Yingâs voice, not very close, but not very far away either. Lan Zhan swallows thickly as he forces himself to move, following the sound of Wei Yingâs voice.
The mumble of it is too soft for Lan Zhan to understand the words, but he doesnât miss the scolding tone, the way Wei Ying chastises whoever it is heâs speaking with. He begs the floorboards not to give him away as he creeps closer, squinting into the darkness of the room. Wei Ying sits on the floor, shielded from the shadows by a block of pale light creeping in despite the storm outside.
Lan Zhan watches as Wei Ying leans back on his hands, looking all too casual while he listens to voices Lan Zhan canât hear himself. âLan Zhanâs never once hurt me, I told you that before.â Wei Ying insists, his tone flattening. Wei Ying is talking about him? But to whom? Itâs been almost three weeks since the Yiling Patriarch has been seen by either of them, or at least, Lan Zhan thought so.Â
Dropping into a crouch by the door, Lan Zhan strains his ears to listen, trying to hear who or what Wei Ying was speaking with, his hands braced against the wall for balance. At first, he can only hear the whirling of the wind, the humming that always seemed to be present in the walls of houses, modern and old, but slowly, the words come. They run into each other, rising and fading with the wind, the voice behind them sounding high and then low, never once do they press themselves into Lan Wangijâs mind to be understood.
âWell, my Lan Zhan is different from your Lan Zhan, then. Heâd never drag me all the way to Gusu just to punish me.â Lan Zhan wants to sigh at the childish tone Wei Ying takes on. He knows Wei Ying can argue better than that, theyâve had better arguments than that with each other.Â
Lightning flashes outside the window and Lan Zhan cranes his neck to see into the shadows, his eyes widening as the Yiling Patriarch, pale and gaunt, sits across from Wei Ying, one arm up on his knee. The sight only lasts for a second, maybe half as much, but Lan Zhan still uses an explosion of thunder to get up, hoping to muffle the sound of the creaking floor. He isnât sure what he means to do next, whether he means to scurry back to the bedroom and pretend to still be asleep, or if he means to do something else entirely, but heâs betrayed by the house yet again.
A draft rushes past Lan Zhan, quick and cold as it pushes the door open and slams another shut, giving him away to Wei Ying and the Yiling Patriarch all at once. Wei Yingâs mouth opens and closes a few times, questions or excuses, Lan Zhan doesnât know which, trying to bubble up, but before they can come, Lan Zhan is moving. He walks with speed and with purpose, uncaring if Wei Ying is following after him, and unlistening to the way Wei Ying calls his name.
Lan Zhan tells himself that he isnât angry, that he just needs to think. Thinking is the only reason he locks the bathroom door behind him and leans against it. He isnât sure if Wei Ying stands on the other side of it, he isnât even sure if Wei Ying is the one who rattles the doorknob, but just to cover himself, Lan Zhan makes a point of turning on the lights. If he cannot handle Wei Ying right now, heâs sure that he canât handle the version of him that doesnât like him even half as much.Â
Only when the doorknob ceases to shake does Lan Zhan peel himself away from the door. If he were working, he would have to push everything aside and ask Wei Ying how long heâs been communicating with the spirit, if the Patriarch had permission to speak to him or use his body, but the mere thought of it makes Lan Zhan shake his head as he sits down on the closed toilet. Wei Ying wouldnât. Wei Ying knows better. Doesnât he?
If he asked his uncle, Lan Qiren would scoff and say that any cultivator willing to let themselves get possessed so simply shouldâve never been considered for certification, but his uncle has never truly had patience for Wei Ying. Lan Zhan has to remind himself of that.
His family would be no help if he brought this issue to them, even if he phrased it as a hypothetical question. Lans did not deal in hypotheticals, every case was to be taken with severity and seriousness. Lan Zhan was meant to do that, the fact that he didnât condemn Wei Ying and his path earned his uncle and brother looks of sympathy. Ones that were usually reserved for children and their tantrums and phases. Lan Zhan doesnât have to guess to know that his uncle still hopes that Wei Ying is nothing more than a phase, that one day Lan Zhan will come to his senses and follow after someone who might follow the orthodox path, someone who doesnât shine as brightly.
Lan Zhan doesnât remember the cut on his arm until the whirring of Wei Yingâs circular saw downstairs startles him and he leans against it by pure accident, reopening the wound. Heâd even forgotten about his own blood on his hand. Heâs already in the bathroom, he already knows where Wei Ying keeps his first-aid kit, so cleaning and putting a bandage on the cut is easy enough, but Lan Zhan still lingers in the bathroom. Wei Ying is still downstairs, the sounds of the circular saw have turned into the banging of a hammer on something.
Lan Zhan tries to think of what he might be working on, his eyes burning into the door. Garden boxes. He remembers now. They were going to work on them together, but Wei Ying has started on his own and Lan Zhan tries to ignore the sting of it. Heâs the one who locked himself in the bathroom. Staying in here any longer would be just as childish as he thought Wei Yingâs earlier arguing was, but Lan Zhanâs hand still sits on the doorknob, refusing to turn it and step out until an unseen hand drives him forward, out into the dark hallway.
Thereâs nothing. No one to pounce on him and screech in his face, not even a cold breeze to acknowledge his presence. Lan Zhan isnât sure if he should be grateful or ashamed for it.
He returns to the bedroom and dresses in a hurry, nearly skipping over the buttons of his shirt more than once. If he were anything but a coward, he might go down and confront Wei Ying, he might demand answers, but isnât he just as wrong as Wei Ying? Heâd been listening in on a conversation that wasnât his own. But the conversation was about him, does that count for anything? It wouldnât if heâd been caught at home. He wouldâve been lectured and sent to copy down rules while standing on one hand.Â
Shaking his head, Lan Zhan forces himself to take the stairs slowly, his eyes on the steps in front of him. He doesnât see Wei Ying until heâs knocked the both of them over, his own long hair blinding the both of them in the tangle of limbs. At least some of it gets into Wei Yingâs mouth until he spits it out and Lan Zhan hurries to pull it back, wishing heâd taken the time to braid it or tie it up now.
âLan Zhan,â Wei Ying starts and reaches for Lan Zhan, his voice deliberately calm. Panic overrides every one of Lan Zhanâs movements as he stands and realizes that Wei Ying means to explain right here and right now. The storm had faded away, but it had left heat and humidity in its wake, a sheen of sweat clings to Wei Yingâs exposed skin as Lan Zhan finally looks at him. He hasnât taken a single step outside yet, but the damp air is already prickling at Lan Zhanâs skin. Thatâs all it is, humidity and nothing else.
âIs Wei Ying hurt?â Lan Zhan asks, cutting off any attempt Wei Ying could make at explanation and not knowing why. Wei Ying climbs to his feet without assistance, his eyes never leaving Lan Zhanâs face, even as Lan Zhan tries to hide whatever Wei Ying may or may not see. Heâs always been better at seeing him than anyone else, but Lan Zhan does not want to be seen right now, not by Wei Ying, not by himself, either.
âIâm alright, Lan Zhan.â Wei Ying answers, his voice careful and soft. Heâs chewing on more, the words sitting in his mouth and getting gnawed into smaller and smaller pieces while he pins Lan Zhan in place, both by standing in his way and with his eyes. He doesnât ask if Lan Zhan is alright, if heâs unhurt, he knows better, but he doesnât stop himself from putting his too warm hand on Lan Zhanâs wrist, adding another degree of holding him in place. âYouâre all dressed like youâre going somewhere.â The effort to sound casual is there and the real question is buried underneath half-chewed words.
âI was going to the store,â Lan Zhan doesnât lie, it was on his list of things to do, âWei Ying mentioned that he did not want to go to the grocery store, so I will go instead.â Another truth, Wei Ying had been bemoaning it last night while they made dinner. Neither of them relax with it, though, the tension holding them both stiff as Lan Zhan clenches his fist.
âLet me drive you.â Wei Ying says, but Lan Zhan knows that itâs an appeasement, or worse, another way to keep him from moving too far beyond Wei Yingâs reach.Â
âNo room.â Lan Zhan reminds Wei Ying with a shake of his head. The bed of Wei Yingâs truck was occupied by a tarp covered armoire that Wei Ying found and wanted to restore. âI do not mind walking.â A half truth, Lan Zhan loathed walking in this heat, but compared to his other option, it felt preferable. If he bought too much, he would simply call a taxi or a rideshare service, though he doesnât say as much to Wei Ying. It would only keep the argument going.
Carefully, without shaking off Wei Yingâs hold too urgently or too reluctantly, Lan Zhan nudges past him. It takes more effort than Lan Zhan thought it would not to look at Wei Ying, to not fall into the trap of the kicked puppy look on his face. Thereâd be no saving him if he did. If he looked at Wei Ying now, he would let Wei Ying drive him to the grocery store, he would listen to whatever rationalization Wei Ying had come up with and he would force himself to believe that Wei Ying had it all under control.
Lan Zhan canât do that to himself.
Not right now.
âWill you let me help you carry the bags in when you get back?â Wei Ying asks weakly, his fingers closing around nothing. This request isnât for Lan Zhan, itâs for Wei Ying himself.
âMn.â Lan Zhan gives in, just that little bit, âI will let Wei Ying know when I am on my way back.â If he had a hand to spare. If he didnât call for a ride. If he could allow Wei Ying to come that close to him again.
Lan Zhan leaves Wei Ying to watch him go from the porch, his eyes bearing into him with every step, until Wei Ying canât see him anymore, until Lan Zhan can feel himself sag with the weight of it. He hadnât been lying when heâd told Wei Ying he was going to the grocery store, but heâd never said he wouldnât stop. He never said he wouldnât call his younger cousin.
âJingyi,â Lan Zhan tries to keep his voice measured. If he betrayed anything, Lan Jingyi wouldnât outright tell on him, he would never, Lan Zhan is his favorite cousin, but he might let something slip to Lan Huan. Lan Zhan canât risk it. âCould you research something with my credentials and send me the files?â
Lan Zhan spins a story made up of half truths and half promises made to ensure his cousinâs help. He left his work laptop behind when he left last month. A truth. He needed to access the private database on behalf of a friend. A lie, but one that Lan Jingyi accepts as truth and promises to forward the files on both the Yiling Patriarch and Hanguang-jun to Lan Zhanâs work email. All of it in exchange for Lan Zhanâs agreement to talk their uncle down the next time Lan Jingyi made a mistake, however big or small it was.Â
And then Lan Zhan goes grocery shopping, though his mind still buzzes with questions and a hurt that he refuses to acknowledge. It drives him to distraction, giving all the aunties their chances to push past him for the best pieces of fresh fruit and vegetables, for the choicest cuts of meat, for first pickings over things that donât matter.
Lan Zhan doesnât pay any of them a moment of mind as he pushes through the list he and Wei Ying made together last night. This is another thing they were supposed to do together, but Wei Ying built the garden boxes on his own, so now Lan Zhan is grocery shopping by himself. He doesnât have to think about Wei Ying sneaking alcohol or other treats into the cart while he isnât looking. Lan Zhan wishes it didnât make him feel lonely.
Another storm has rolled in by the time Lan Zhan is finished, the clouds looking darker and the rain coming down heavier than before as Lan Zhan lingers under the awning of the store. The bags cut into his fingers, but he doesnât set them down, not for a minute.
At first, heâd thought the storm would throw its tantrum and then blow over, leaving the street and sidewalk steaming whenever the sun came out to beam down on them again, but the rain only comes down harder and harder. Lan Zhan doesnât have a free hand to call for a ride, or to call Wei Ying, not that he wants to, but he doesnât even have the choice of it now.
Heâs just accepted his fate to walk home drenched with his bags filling up with water with every step when a set of headlights nearly blinds him as they sweep across his face. Lan Zhan doesnât need to see to know that Wei Ying has come to collect him, he can still hear the unique sound of Wei Yingâs truck over the rain and the thunder. Heâs still blinking the blindness from his eyes when Wei Ying comes running over, an umbrella stretched out for Lan Zhan while his own head and shoulders get soaked.Â
Without a word, Lan Zhan allows himself and the groceries to be put into the passenger seat of Wei Yingâs truck, as if heâs nothing more than another piece of antique furniture that Wei Ying found languishing on the side of one road or another. He doesnât have to say a single word if he doesnât want to, his mother had told him that once when he was still small. Sheâd held him in her arms, against her chest, rocking him to comfort him after heâd been descended upon by an older, pushier relative.
Lan Zhan doesnât buckle Wei Yingâs seatbelt for him this time, nor does Wei Ying tease him like Lan Zhan is sure he wants to. Everything feels too breakable for that, but even so, they donât move, the truck simply idles while they sit in silence.
âWei Ying,â
âLan Zhan,â
They both start and stop at the same time, looking at each other expectantly but neither willing to start whatever argument they have sitting between them. After another moment of nothing, Wei Ying looks away first, one hand resting on the steering wheel and his head thumping back against the headrest. His eyes close and Lan Zhan curls his fingers against his palms.
âWei Ying used to have a motorcycle when we were younger.â Lan Zhan starts, his quiet voice sounding too loud for the cab of the truck. âWhat happened to it?â Lan Zhan can still remember it. He can remember the sleek black of it between Wei Yingâs legs. He can remember Wei Yingâs helmet and his bike jacket. He can remember blustering when Wei Ying offered him a ride on it once.
He can remember the seed of envy in his heart as he watched someone else wrap their arms around Wei Yingâs middle while they sat on the back of the bike.
Lan Zhan doesnât expect Wei Ying to snort, his eyes still shut. âI wrecked it.â Wei Ying says simply, his head rolling to face Lan Zhan before he opens his eyes, âA few months after Uncle Jiang kicked me out, I was leaving a bartending job I had and I crashed into a tree in the middle of the night.â
âAnd then?â Lan Zhan makes himself ask, turning his whole body towards Wei Ying now.
âAnd then I woke up in the hospital.â Despite everything, thereâs a smile on Wei Yingâs face when he says it, but Lan Zhan knows that it isnât meant for him, âI guess, when they called Uncle Jiang to tell him, he mustâve given the hospital my grandmotherâs number, or I guess Aunt Yu couldâve done it. When I woke up, Bao-popo was leaning over me. I thought she was a doctor until she told me I looked like my dad, but I have to be my momâs son if I think running headfirst into a tree with a motorcycle is how you cut them down.â
Itâs more information than Lan Zhan had asked for, but he doesnât regret hearing it, not when it melts some of the too hot air between them.
âShe took me back to the farm after the hospital released me, she didnât really give me a choice about it. She said it was to help me get better without getting distracted. When I was getting ready to leave she gave me the truck she brought me home in and told me not to bring it back to her until Iâd fixed it up.â
âWei Yingâs grandmother sounds⊠Stubborn. Like Wei Ying.â Lan Zhan says too honestly, his shoulders relaxing back against the seat. Wave after wave of rain beats down on the roof of the truck as Wei Ying snorts again.
Wei Ying doesnât have to say it, Lan Zhan knows that heâs just as stubborn as Wei Ying, if not more, but Wei Ying didnât get to ask his question first, Lan Zhan did.Â
âWhat about you? What did you do while I was gone?â Wei Ying asks, his arms folding over his stomach as a jolt of panic rings through Lan Zhan.
âSix months of probation for defying my uncle.â Lan Zhan says it honestly. Not only had he defied his uncle, heâd defended Wei Ying, heâd argued against the stripping of Wei Yingâs cultivation certification. Heâd defended Wei Yingâs methods and his path as a viable one. âA year of confinement.â Lan Zhan purposefully lowers his voice as he utters the words. The year of confinement had come before his six months of probation, but in ways, the six months had been worse. Lan Zhan had found ways to communicate without his uncle ever finding out.Â
During his six months, every move he made was scrutinized, every ruling of intelligent versus residual haunt questioned, every paltry, low level case thrown his way with a dismissive wave of his uncleâs hand.Â
Lan Zhan had endured all of it, and then heâd fled to Wei Ying the first chance he got.Â
He doesnât regret it, but he doesnât expect Wei Ying to reach over and take his hand. Not his wrist, not his fingers, his hand. It makes Lan Zhan start and look at him again.
âHuaisang told me that you were the reason they didnât strip my certification, but I didnât believe him at first. Iâm sorry, Lan Zhan, I didnât-â
âDonât.â Lan Zhan says quickly, shaking his head, âNo apologies.â He doesnât shake away Wei Yingâs hand, not even when he holds onto him with both. âI would have defended Wei Yingâs methods even if I did not care for him the way I do.â The confession tumbles from Lan Zhanâs lips and he cannot take it back, but he can look away from Wei Ying. He can turn his eyes onto the groceries in the floorboard. They need to get home. He needs to put away everything that needs to be refrigerated. Itâs too late to bother with lunch, but itâs far too early for dinner.
âWei Ying, Iâd like to go home now.â
âHome?â Wei Ying asks, his hands tightening for just a moment before they loosen reluctantly and then let go entirely. âHome to Gusu?â Wei Yingâs eyebrows are knit together, hurt ready to blossom at a momentâs notice.
âNot home to Gusu.â Lan Zhan answers, shaking his head, âThe popsicles will melt long before we get there. Home to Wei Yingâs house.â
The popsicles mightâve already melted for all Lan Zhan knows, but theyâre an easy way to soothe Wei Yingâs worries, an easy way to hear him laugh so lightly, the sound of it ringing in Lan Zhanâs ears. It doesnât soothe Lan Zhan the way he wants it to, but it does tuck a few fraying ends away as well as it can.
The truck groans with relief as Wei Ying finally takes it out of park and puts it into reverse, his hand against the back of Lan Zhanâs headrest as he backs out of the parking space. Lightning still flashes, and another roar of thunder rings out above them, but Lan Zhan forces himself to relax.Â
Theyâre nearly halfway home when Wei Ying speaks again.
âLan Zhan, I heard that thereâs gonna be a meteor shower in a couple days,â Wei Ying says with faux flippancy, but Lan Zhan can hear the undercurrent of his words, the nervousness laying just underneath the surface, âand I thought I could find a good spot for us to watch it together. If youâre up for it.â Wei Ying doesnât phrase it like a question, he doesnât even look at Lan Zhan as he speaks, but it still hangs between them, unanswered and skittish.
Too many answers crowd at the front of Lan Zhanâs throat, threatening to choke him as they trip over each other. Parts of him beg and plead with him to say yes, that heâs wanted it for this long, that heâs been waiting for Wei Ying to ask him just like this, but other parts of him, the hurt parts of him, ache and burn for him to say no, to throw Wei Yingâs non-question in his face.Â
âIf the weather is clear enough to see it,â Lan Zhan answers noncommittally, his hands folding on top of each other in his lap.
It isnât the answer that he should have given, but itâs enough of a yes for Wei Ying.
Lan Zhan doesnât have to look at him to know it.
#wangxian#wuji#lan wangji#wei wuxian#lan zhan#wei ying#wwx#lwj#case fic#modern au#modern with magic au#the untamed#the untamed fic#mdzs#mdzs fic#if youre wondering where ch 5 is i did post it#i just forgot to title it
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so much fun
gear five!monkey d luffy x afab!reader | smut | ~1k words
warnings: smut. itâs smut. also mild cursing LOL
a/n: okay, i wrote this impromptu smut as soon as i saw the gif @ the end of this post from one of @meeplaws posts. it was just so gorgeous i had to write something about it. wrote half of this on the toilet.
luffy had you backed into the corner of your shared quarters, pink irises trained on your heaving chest. his hair was glowing white and whipping wildly around his face, while yours lay still against the nape of your neck. there was no wind.
heâs grinning and giggling at you, and youâre unable to tear your attention away from the way his pink tongue hangs out of his mouth. or the way his adamâs apple is bobbing up and down, strained against the skin of his throat. you gulp.
âwhere do ya think you're goinâ, sugar?â he bounced closer to you and took you by your waist, pressing your abdomen against his and leaning forward to effectively fold you backwards. âdonâtâcha wanna have some fun with your captain?â
âl-luffy, you'reâŠâ
âso what?â luffy knew you were going to mention how he was currently using gear 5. how he was currently sending things around him flying and billowing without a second thought. how dangerous and completely inviting the glint in his eye was. âsâgonna make it so much more fun, right?â
in an instant you were laying on your back with luffyâs hand still wrapped around your waist, his hips digging into yours while he sat so radiantly in between your thighs.
âhey, y/nâŠâ he giggled, seeing the mixture of apprehension and desire etched into your features. âyou love me, donâtâcha?â
you could only nod, feeling the delicious pressure of something pressing against your clothed cunt. you'll indulge your lover, you decided. even in this state. it was just that he was normally rough and unbound, never hurting you, but always leaving you breathless.
you wondered what would happen if gear 5 was added to the mix.
and you kinda wanted to find out.
âthen play with me, sugar!â he giggled again, taking this opportunity to rut his hips down against yours. you moan, earning a satisfied whine from him.
âokay, lu, what do you wannaâoh, shitâŠâ all luffy needed to hear from you was your âokayâ and he let himself loose. his palms, warm and sweaty immediately pressed against the curve of your ass, gripping and pulling your shorts down in one fell swoop, giggling wildly while he did this. he pushed your shirt up to your chin, irises turning into little pink hearts at the sight of your pillowy tits, wanting nothing more than to bury his face in between them.
the warmth radiating from in between your thighs called to him, though, and he looked down at your cunt, licking his lips and smiling.
âahh, you were just playinâ with me earlier, huh?â luffy took two fingers and swiped up from your vagina to your clit, gathering the slick that had been leaking out in a steady stream since he first approached you. âyouâre wantinâ me real bad right now, ainâtâcha?â
ây-yeahâŠâ you managed to huff out, arching your back as he continued to toy with your cunt. he was fascinated with how your slick stretched and hung in a silvery line between his two fingers. he caught the string of your arousal with his tongue, staring at you with wild eyes as he sucked his fingers clean. once heâd finished, he closed his eyes and grinned, as if he'd just ascended into bliss.
âyou always taste so good, sugar. my favorite treat.â his eyes snap open and in one swift movement, he hikes your thighs over his shoulders and presses his face to your pussy. his nose prodded at your clit while he stretched his tongue inside you, as far as your anatomy would allow, and then some. his tongue lapped at your soaking wet walls, toying with the gummy spots, the ridged spots, and the spots that made you tangle your hands in his hair and pull.
after you had cum on his tongue nearly three times, luffy abruptly left your pussy aching and cold, clenching around nothing. you chanced a glance at him between your thighs. he was leaning back on his heels with his shorts unbuttoned and unzipped, stroking his cock and staring at you. he was shuddering and shimmering at his own touch, though his eyes were focused on you and you can tell he's thinking.
âmâ gonna fuck you now, âkay?â he breathed, shimmying out of his shorts and leaning over you, pressing you into the bed with his weight. you swore you had seen stars in his eyes before he buried his face into the crook of your neck.
he panted heavily as he teethed at your neck, scraping your skin and then soothing it with a quick swipe of tongue. you could feel the remnants of your slick still on his cheeks, rubbing onto yours. you're covered in his drool and your cum, but you're happy. blissful. it feels like the sunâs rays are reaching out to you, warming you, soaking through you.Â
finally, he bit down on your shoulder and let out a loud, strained whine as he reached down to grip his cock and try to shove it inside of you. he missed, feeling his cock stretch and bend to the side against your cunt. he laughed out loud, trying over and over again to just get it in and babbling about heâs just so excited to get inside of you. the feeling of the tip of his cock brushing against your clit over and over drove you into a spluttering stupor, ripping another orgasm from you.Â
âokay, okay, here we go, sugar, here we goâŠâ he calms down long enough to completely focus on burying himself within you. he lets out a mixture between a growl and a cackle as he finally plunges his cock into you and almost immediately bottoms out.
âoh, sugar, this is gonna be so so so fun. we're gonna have so much fun.â he digs his fingers into the plush of your hips as he fully hilts his cock deep within you, eliciting another delicious mewl to fall from your lips. he arches his back and pushes his chest to the sky as you clench around him, letting out a full belly laugh as he snaps his hips forward, indulging in the way you squeeze him.Â
once he had gotten his fill of laughter, he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours. âsoooo much fun.â he grinned.
a/n: i need this man in my life. and i want him to call me sugar.
taglist: @kingofthe-egirls
#one piece#op#monkey d luffy#money d luffy x reader#luffy#luffy x reader#monkey d luffy smut#luffy smut
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Tether Me - Prologue
Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: You ran.
It's what you did in life. It's all you knew how to do. You ran, ran, and kept running and never stopped, because if you stopped, it meant you were trapped, chained, a bird with shredded wings in a gilded cage.
So, how did you end up here, tucked away into a little village in rural Japan, falling into the depths of two black holes with no way to escape?
How could you run from this? From them?
âŠWould you? CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here) AN: this is just the prologue chapter, sort of exposition. No bois in this one (technically), but I'm posting chapter 1 at the same time as the prologue. As a heads up, my most comfortable place for posting my longer fics like this is ao3. You can find more of my blurb thoughts on there. I'm not the best at tumblr posting, so forgive me pls ;-;
Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2
WC: 9.4k
Youâve always likened yourself to a kite, but less pretty and enjoyable.
Every time you glanced at a kite in the childrenâs toy section, or watched as thousands flew in the sky during festivals, your eyes stung and something bitter and uncomfortable twisted in your gut. In a way, you saw yourself in them; fragile little creatures tethered to the earth by no fault of their own. So easy to snap â to break.
They were always trapped, chained down, forever bound to either get reined back in after one had their fill of fun, or to fall like tragic angels to the ground when the winds died, and they would once again be unable to travel free amongst the stars where they belonged. All thanks to the threads wrapped around their very bones, far too strong for something that looked so thin and prone to fraying.
Yet nobody ever did release the chains. Who would willingly free their prized, imprisoned bird?
Of those pretty, unfortunate kites, you lamented with them.Â
You, too, were pinioned to solid ground. Your wings were clipped, feathers torn from flesh one by one until you were born in a body that could no longer fly. Responsibilities, duties, relationships â they all kept you drowning in a suffocating pile of down-stuffed pillows, filled with plumes that were once yours. They progressively got heavier and heavier, locking your limbs between illusions of comfort and safety, sitting on your chest and flooding your mouth until you choked and gagged and couldnât breathe.
You were different from kites, sure, beyond the very obvious things. You werenât a pitifully flimsy, inanimate toy, left forgotten in some closet, awaiting the one day youâd be remembered, taken out, and allowed to taste the breath of deities themselves again. But if you could glide in the wind like they could, oh, nothing would bring you more joy, more solace, even if you were still tied down. All for just a kiss of freedom.
You ached to be detached from everything and everyone. An untethered kite, a fledgling bird learning to fly, a paper lantern that glowed its very joy from within for all to see.
Paper lanterns.
You couldnât stand paper lanterns, because you yearned so deeply to be one. How wonderful it would be to have a warmth alight inside you as you rose to the heavens, lighter than air.Â
You envied them.Â
They made you nauseous with longing.
They made you want to stretch your fingers high and try to catch one within your palm like a cascading star.
They made you want to reach your fist past your throat and rip out your heart barehanded, just to make the accursed thing stop pounding so goddamned hard in your stomach as it sank lower and lower with each additional candle that got to join their family of stars beyond celestia.Â
Because, for fuckâs sake, you belonged up there, too. Free, flaring, blazing and flickering so spectacularly that philosophers would wax poetic about you for ages to come.
It wasnât fucking fair for you to be stuck on Mother Natureâs spine like this, burdened by the neutron star in your body that just grew more and more dense, urging you to dive into the ocean and let it snare you into its depths. You didnât choose to spawn with a spirit disconnected from the flesh that acted as its prison, you didnât choose to be jailed like this.
So, why?
Maybe thatâs one of the reasons you were drawn to kites. You pitied them. You pitied yourself.
You werenât a kite. You didnât want to be one, to have your boundless form fettered down. But when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, thatâs all you could ever see staring back at you. A kite with faded, worn out paints that barely clung to the tattered paper, feebly held together by thin strips of bamboo that had been aged and mottled from the inside out by time.
You hated paper lanterns. You hated kites. You hated yourself.
As the years dragged on, from the moment your brain snapped into your body with the sudden realization that you were a conscious, living, breathing person, those ugly feelings festered and spread like a fungus that refused to abate even a trace, just a second so you could catch a breath of fresh air that didnât reek of mildew.
The seconds spanned on for eons without prejudice, destroying your cells at the molecular level with each passing birthday that trudged reluctantly along.
In the back of your mind, the sensation of being asphyxiated by your own feathers that had been shorn away from you etched itself deeper and deeper into your psyche. You became restless, antsy, the variegated world around you fading rapidly. Colors you once saw as a child, before you could latch the inherent sense of wrongness in your chest to a concept, gradually dulled until all you were left with was a world tinged heavily in gray.
The streets you were raised on grew denser, despite the amount of people living on them never actually changing noticeably. The verdant grass of your backyard turned into a dominating presence everytime you laid your eyes on it, unruly and all-consuming, demanding an undivided attention you did not want to give. The orange beams that hung over black asphalt instilled a sense of panic in you that wasnât there before.Â
You used to be fond of walking around your neighborhood in the middle of the night, when you rightfully should have been sleeping. An inverted circadian rhythm suited you well when you were young, unaware that the crushing sensation under your sternum would only get worse.Â
Now, though, the thought of straying out where there wasnât enough light to see straight ahead made sweat form on your chest and palms while your teeth clattered from a nonexistent chill.
Everything caved in on you. Not in a rush, not in a cataclysmic flood. No, you didnât discern you were fighting for air until you were already gasping fruitlessly. Lost, terrified, unsure, you could only bear witness to the collapse of your own mind.
Then, one day, a soft voice whispered in your ear.
Run.
It wasnât a threat, not some ominous warning of death looming over your shoulder. It was a suggestion, an offering, an olive branch towards that freedom you coveted. It was salvation.Â
Who were you to ignore the hand of deliverance?
The first time you changed your scenery, moved elsewhere, even if it was only a few streets away from your childhood home, felt incredibly liberating. After so long that you had forgotten how it felt, you got the chance to gulp down air as if you had surfaced from beneath the perdition sea after spending your whole existence beneath it.Â
Color returned to your world, excitement formed anew, everything felt right. Achromatic wastelands turned into kaleidoscopic meadows, fulgent and lucid. You savored it, reveled in it, frolicked and danced and lived.
âŠIt didnât last.Â
Not long. You exhaled, and it all vanished, sand swept away by an uncaring and spiteful hand.
Once you had become used to the environment, when you no longer had to actively remember where your flat was, or how long it took to get to the store, everything was washed out; water dumped on a painting that had yet to form defined shapes.
That crushing sensation had returned, and with it the reminder that, as much as you wished you werenât, you were a kite. Tethered, perpetually confined, worn bamboo strips and thin paper threatening to rend under the drag.
Thus, you ran again. A new town, a new city, a new skyline. Euphoria nestled cozily under your breast like a second heart, purring contentedly as it curled up on the nest of blankets it created for itself.
New places, new faces, new people. All of it was fascinating to you beyond measure. It interested you to no end to learn about other human beings; their thoughts, their perspectives, their preferences. What they despised with grit teeth and barely restrained anger clenched in trembling fists; what they loved so dearly that they could never drown beneath the same waves that followed your heels, tide rising progressively.Â
They glowed from within, bright and budding and vibrant. Their eyes flickered with life, glazed so clearly that stars sparkled in the depths of their hues. You were drawn to them, a moth to mesmerizing fire.
You felt free. You rode that high as much as you could, for as long as it would allow.
Until a realization struck you with the force of a bullet train one night. A man hung onto your arm, easy laughter shared between the two of you as you let him take you home. Alcohol tinged his breath, but not enough to give him anything more than a slight buzz. He was a total gentleman through and through, and you listened with eagerness as he spoke about his upcoming work project, his excitement palpable with every word.Â
His hand linked with yours, fingers intertwined, his warm palm engulfing yours. There was a comfort in that transient window of time, one you held to your heart. It was so unfamiliar, so addictive. And as you stopped before your door, having completely forgotten of your lack of wings, you waited with bated breath for him to slant into you.
A pair of infirm lips, minutely chapped and tasting of wine, pressed against yours, and dread exploded in your gut.
He pulled away from you, lovestruck in the way his eyes shone as he looked into your own, and reality crashed down on you with horrors in three measures, shattering like broken glass in the vortex of your conscious thought.
When you stared at him, watched the way he opened his mouth to speak, you made the connection.
âI really like you,â he had murmured to you that night, nearly shy. Yearning. Hoping.
Paper lantern.
âI want to ask you out properly.â
Tether.Â
His words sank into your skin like ice, digging deep, burrowing into your marrow.
Kite.
The illusion of pellucid skies of the richest shades cracked, the lush plains you fantasized of often turned to barren heaths, and all those tormenting feelings came back to choke your breath with a vengeance. Sickly fingers wrapped around your throat, sunk into your mouth, dug past your gag reflex, wrapped around your ankles and wrists until you could barely lift your feet just to move forward.Â
You remembered with great disdain what you were. You had managed to sever your thread by running off from the pod you were born in, but it wasnât a clean cut. The string hung off your fragile wooden bones loosely, just waiting for somebody to grab and yank, to shred your freedom away from you once again, to leave you knotted around a pole to sit like decoration and stay.
You were not free.
You were not a paper lantern. You did not gleam from your soul like he did. You did not pour light from your heart and words and touch.
Youâd do anything to forget that, to prove that sentiment wrong, to show the world that you werenât a rock thrown into a pond. Youâd do anything to change the narrative, to force a rewrite. So, you did what you always did.
You ran.
You found somewhere else to live, blipping off the radar unannounced. One moment you were there, the next you had cut your lingering thread an inch shorter, following the wind blindly like a duckling to your next destination.
Each time you settled down somewhere, you had this silent hope: maybe this is where Iâll be happy.
You clung to that hope, fervently ignoring the screeching whisper in your ear that said otherwise. The next place was never the final one. It never would be, no matter how hard you tried to delude yourself into believing you werenât a lost soul, unable to move on. Some pathetic ghost youâd make, if you werenât one already.
Whenever you let yourself rest for a heartbeat too long, the rope you had trimmed ever shorter was skimmed too close by too-warm fingertips, and you fled again, and again, and again.
Thatâs all you seemed to know nowadays.
Perhaps proven now, as you sat on a train in a foreign country, absentmindedly watching rural landscapes race past the window. Your knuckles pressed indents into your cheek, the sensation unpleasant and nearing on painful, though you had stopped paying any mind to it a while ago. Your thoughts laid scattered at your feet, and you couldnât be bothered to pick them up.
Rather, the white matter of your brain was being filled with the empty, buzzing tune of songs youâd heard a hundred times over playing through your earbuds at the loudest volume possible. It made things easier to manage during this grand, several-thousand-mile-long trip. The less thinking you had to do, the better. It was the absolute last thing on your bucket list, loitering just under the cutoff line, hoping to sneak in a few words you refused to listen to.
You couldnât let yourself regret this. You wouldnât.
Not now, not after youâd already dropped everything and dissipated beyond the welkinâs gaze. You had only one place you could go to at all now, and you were already on your way there.
So if you had to blast your eardrums out to bridle the whisper-shouting voices spurned by overthinking, so be it.
Rice paddies blurred by, blending in from one farm to the next. The sun reflected off the waters the stalks soaked in, absorbing the warmth the light provided and feeding the plants with the fruit of life. Somewhere along the way, you had begun counting each field you passed for no particular reason.
You thought itâd lull you to sleep like counting sheep, subconsciously desiring to sink into a dreamless abyss and catch up on the hours that had been eluding you every night for months up to this point, given how far away you still were from your destination. But your cerebrum was not kind to you, and your body refused to succumb to the tempting allure of nothingness.
Thus, you remained as you were, counting paddies as the day never quite moved forward. The sun dwelled high, trying to glare down on you, but it couldnât get the angle right to invade the shade of your tiny cabin room on the train.
It stayed stuck to the center of the sky, mighty and proud. But then, after what seemed like only a few seconds, you blinked, and suddenly it was hanging off the horizonâs ledge.
With a slight jolt, you realized the train had decreased in speed, and was continuing to lose momentum as it approached an isolated station, all alone in the countryside. You checked the time on your phone, your eyes feeling unusually heavy and sticky. It was only early night, but you were worn down to your sinew.
Right. Jet lag. You had hopped on a plane and traveled to the other side of the planet on a whim, another desperate attempt to grab onto the concept of freedom you craved. It didnât take you longer than a week to find a small house deep in the pastoral lands of Japan, where mountains wrapped around the valley like a scarf. You chose Japan, if only because you learned the language when you were studying abroad some years ago.
It resided in a town of such a low population, blissfully around 600, it was a wonder you could even find a train that took you this far to begin with. Of course, that meant the house was decently rundown, with a community small enough to consider it unnecessary to repair. You couldnât care less. All that meant to you was that it was cheaper to buy it outright than rent a more maintained structure. Buying it was a risky move, given your track record of up and ditching the last bed you slept on without any hindrance, but, at this point, you were tired.
You just wanted to be somewhere for longer than a month or two. Maybe owning a house was contrary to your desires to be unbound, with no board to pin your tattered and thin wings to, sure, the pros far outweighed the cons.
Cheap shelter, little to no people, far, far away from anywhere youâd been before. Three for three.
Itâd still be a 45 minute drive or so before you actually got to your new residence, but you werenât in any particular rush. You chose the most isolated place on purpose. Less people, less deafening sounds, less claustrophobic, brutalist structures that loomed higher and higher.
Less chance of being tied down.
With a hiss and a loggy wheeze, the train settled into place, jostling you as you got to your feet and stretched your arms above your head. The muscles in your back and shoulders twinged from sitting in the same position all day, and your legs stung like sparklers, but it was nice to work your joints properly again. After tucking away your phone and earbuds, you tugged your luggage down from the overhead rack with a grunt.
You were hopeful that thereâd be taxis outside the station, and that you wouldnât have to walk to the village. Who knows how long that would take. Youâd probably keel over after the first mile. The thought made you snort while you squeezed down the aisle, suitcase with your bag stacked on it rolling behind you, purse strapped across your torso. The conductor â a sweet, older man â nodded silently to you as you disembarked, waving a farewell to you, which you returned. He was nice, you remembered him greeting you when you first boarded.Â
He didnât talk much, just a polite, âwelcome aboard,â while the ticket collector pointed you in the direction of your cabin, which you greatly appreciated after hopping off a plane and hurrying your ass over to your required station. You were too spent for conversation.
Leaving the station was much easier than you expected. Unlike your home country, where you could get lost just by turning 45° to the left, Japan seemed to prefer neater environments that were easy to navigate. And, upon stepping out of the building, you rejoiced at spotting a few variously colored cabs waiting along the curb. Outside of one stood a man, roughly in his 50s or so, who waved you over.
âNeed help getting somewhere, miss?â He questioned, and you nodded as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your emails to find the one confirming your purchase of the listing.Â
âYeah, could you take me here?â
He glanced down at your screen when you showed him the address and chuckled quietly. âWell, thatâs a surprise. Last time I visited that house was some twenty years ago to take the owner to the station, rather than from.â
You blanched nominally. Twenty years? Had your house really been abandoned for twenty years? The listing claimed it was only ten max, that estate bastard. A sigh left through your nose. Too late to deal with that now, you figured. âI just purchased it.â
The man nodded as he popped open the trunk and assisted you in slotting your luggage inside. âYou look like youâve come from far away. Itâs rare for foreigners to choose to live in such a distant location. Not a fan of the city?â
I fucking hate cities.
âSomething like that, yeah,â you assented, thanking him as he opened the back door for you.Â
You appreciated his efficiency as he wasted no time dilly-dallying around. As soon as he was buckled up in the car, he was on the road, taking you down the last leg of your trip. The world outside the window streaked by in shades of violet and blood orange as the sun hovered on the edge of the skyline, reluctant to rest for the night.
âAh, apologies. Iâm Hayato Kazuhiko, you may call me Kazu, if you prefer,â he quickly introduced himself, and you followed suit. âWhyâd you choose this little village of all places? Itâs very small.â
You hummed. âThatâs exactly why I chose it. Iâm not a bigâŠpeople-person, if you know what I mean.â
The older gentleman chuckled lightly. âMy wife is the same,â he nodded as he peeked at you via the rearview mirror. âShe had to visit the small town I used to live in one day, and it was love at first sight for us. She was immediately drawn to country life, and weâve lived out in the neighboring town here ever since.â
âHow long have you been married?â
âTwenty-five years,â he nodded, and you could see the pure love and devotion in his eyes as he spoke about his spouse. It was wholesome, and softened your heart a sliver.Â
He was surprisingly relaxing to listen to. Pleasant voice that didnât grate on your ears, a few stories shared about his wife, the occasional tale about some significant structure or location. It was calming, in an odd way. Heâd point out a shrine or hiking trail youâd pass by, and offer to take you to them one day to teach you its history and meaning, and you actually considered it.
It couldâve been the harmless nature about him. Even as night descended and you could only really see his silhouette, inspecting him reminded you of your father, butâŠbetter, for lack of an accurate word. You werenât afraid that heâd suddenly raise his voice, or take you down a suspicious road â or, hell, back to the train station to send your sorry ass right back to where you came from.
âMr.ââ you cut yourself off and cleared your throat, mildly embarrassed about slipping back into your mother tongue. Japanese honorifics were something you continued to struggle with. âHayato-san, do you have children?â
He gave a mellow laugh and shook his head slightly. âPlease, just Kazu is fine. And I do, three of them, in fact. A younger son, and twin girls about your age,â he estimated roughly.
So the fatherly air to him you picked up on wasnât imagined. That brought you a form of reassurance you couldnât distinctly name.
âMy twin girls are all the way up in Tokyo,â he continued, chest puffed with pride, âand my son is still in highschool, causing chaos.â
âChaos?â You raised a brow.
âYes, but not the type youâd think,â he hummed. âHeâs a gentle child, but his kind nature means heâs unfortunately quite gullible and gets himself into trouble.â
A voice, the faint echo of a memory long lost, intoned in the far reaches of your lucidity; someone shaming you for getting caught up in an issue that wasnât even your fault. Your stomach twisted with dread, and your head snapped to peer at Hayato, expecting to find disappointment shining in his eyes when you studied them through the rear-view mirror.
Except, there wasnât any.
Concern at most, a crease in his brow as he warred within himself between protecting and helping his kin, or letting the kid learn on his own. There wasnât any disappointment, or anger, or exasperation. You could see him reminiscing as he stopped talking, focusing more on the twists that followed the mountainâs curve, and all you saw was justâŠlove, and happiness.
The churning in your gut settled, instead replaced with a sense of hollowness. Not the kind that made you sick; rather, it was like you had a gap in your chest where a puzzle piece was missing, while his was filled with a perfectly fitted heart.
Bittersweet, possibly, but only distantly so. You felt happy for someone who was borderline a complete stranger to you, someone you shouldnât even care about beyond tipping him well for driving you to the middle of nowhere in the dead of night, but you did anyway.Â
Maybe I could have had that too, your thoughts mutedly supplied, if I was normal.
Then again, you didnât want that, not really. Though you couldnât tell if that was just who you were as a person, or a result of the coals perpetually under your feet, it didnât change your mind.
Nothing could.
You were sure of it.
Smooth concrete eventually became a densely packed dirt road when Kazu turned off the main path, the car vibrating as the wheels rolled over loose stones and gravel. It didnât last long, thankfully, as the shabby looking pile of wood came into view, albeit dark since the stars overhead were too dim to illuminate anything much.
âWhere we are, miss,â he spoke as you both climbed out of the vehicle and met at the trunk. He opened it to retrieve your luggage, and you pulled your wallet out of your purse and counted off a few bills, wondering what the right amount to give to him would be.
It was hard to translate currency worth when things were valued differently in this country. Your trip abroad was a long time ago.
âIs this enough?â You peered up at him and held out the bills.
He took one glance at them and chuckled deeply. âThatâs far too much, really,â he replied as he pulled only two of the strips out of the small stack you were holding. âBe careful with your money while you adjust to the currency of this country. Do you need assistance with your luggage?â
âOh,â you analyzed the remaining money in your hands before tucking it back into your wallet. You really hoped he took the right amount needed and didnât undersell himself. âNo, Iâll be okay. You got me here in one piece, thatâs all I could ask for.â
âAre you sure?â
Your head bobbed as you inspected your suitcase and bag, popping out the handle. âYes, I am. Drive safe, Kazu-san. Thank you for taking me here.â
His chest rumbled with a laugh. âPlease, itâs my job. You are pleasant company.â
âLikewise,â your lips rounded into a smile as you bowed politely. It was small, and you were tired, but it was genuine, the first one youâve had for a long while. âGoodnight.â
Kazuhiko waved his hand in farewell, bidding you good dreams as he climbed back into the taxi and drove off, leaving you alone.
Your lungs deflated.
The air here was crisper, stinging your throat in a pleasant way as you inhaled slowly. Faint hints of pine and sap drifted across your senses. Nothing indicated any heavy stenches of smog or gasoline or gods know what litters the streets of every downtown city youâd been to before.
It would probably take you a while to get used to, and you oddly didnât want to, if only so you could admire the fresh fragrance every time you stepped outside. Your muscles relaxed, surprising you as you hadnât noticed just how tense you were until you were perched outside the front gate of your brand new (old) lodging.
Turning to face it, you groaned upon the realization that it was on a hill. Said hill was tiny, mind you, but a hill nonetheless. You found you couldnât give much of a shit right now, just yearning to lay down and pass the fuck out for a while. Maybe the rest of tomorrow, too. A few weeks, actually, if you were allowed to choose. A coma sounded wonderful.
âHome sweet home,â you mumbled to nobody in particular as you pushed open the gate and virtually jumped out of your skin at the near shriek it gave. Okay, it had to have been longer than 20 years, that was loud.Â
With your heart fluttering rapidly, you made a note to deal with it (and everything else) later and trudged up the incline, almost eating shit and dying when the toe of your boot caught on the edge of a stepping stone. Another thing to add to the âdeal with laterâ list. You had a feeling it would just keep growing exponentially.
Finding the key was easy, for better and worse. It simply sat in the door knobâs lock, very safe and secure and definitely not putting your house at risk ofâŠwhat?
There was nothing in there, evident when you pushed open the front door, which wailed just as loudly as the fence gate. You felt the blood drain from your face. Sure, the interior was empty, but the house was a wreck. Peeling walls, strange, crusty scent, and a sticky floor at the entrance that made you grimace when your sole pulled off it like velcro. You knew that it was custom in Japan to take off your shoes at the door, but fuck that. Absolutely not. You were not walking in any part of this house either in socks or barefoot.
Everything was virtually pitch black as you delved further in, so you depended on your other senses, and the ability to smell was one you wished you didnât have. Your nose wrinkled as various rotting odors welcomed you, making you immediately regret going through all this.
Morning. Youâd deal with it all in the morning.
Practically sneaking on your tip-toes, you explored the open space, trying to find the room that smelled the least and was passable to sleep in. Granted, there were really only two actual rooms down a hall going opposite of the kitchen besides the restroom and washroom, but the bigger one seemed decent.
At least you had a sleeping bag and wouldnât be conking out on the bare floor. You went through the motions of prepping for bed mostly by habit, doing the bare minimum seeing as you didnât have much of a choice. You brushed your teeth with the water from your tumbler, located and unrolled your sleeping bag, and climbed under the rustling top after yanking your shoes off, zipping it up as far as it went.Â
Admittedly, the setup was kinda janky, but it got the job done.Â
You couldnât be bothered to change into pajamas.
With your head plopped on probably the least comfortable pillow you had found to bring with you (also the only one that would fit in with the rest of your shit, it was practically a pillowcase filled loosely with sporadically placed lumps of stuffing), you closed your eyes, and your body finally let sleep take over.
ââââââą(-âąÊÉâą-)âąâââââ
Morning was not pleasant. Surrounded by the musty scent of gods-know-what, back aching from the restless sleep you got from your pitiful sleeping bag and the hard floor, you were groggy beyond belief and desperate for fresh air. And a massage. And a cigarette.
You didnât smoke, finding the heavy and pungent funk nauseating, but the temptation was there. You felt you gained a little more understanding of smokers.
Brushing the thought aside, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and rubbed the heel of your palm against the sore spot on the side of your skull. You would have believed someone replaced your pillow with a rock if you hadnât intimately known that lump of fluff. Or, rather, lack thereof.
Red lines, tender to the touch and tingling a little, were pressed onto the arm you laid on for most of the time you slept, causing you to hiss when you traced your fingers against them. It seemed to be barely past dawn when you reviewed what was out your window, leaving you questioning just how long you slept, if at all.
Figuring you wouldnât be able to go back to sleep anyway, you shoved yourself out of âbedâ and groaned when every joint in your body popped and every bone creaked. Hell, you werenât sure youâd be able to sleep tonight again. Not here, anyway. More problems for future you.
Sheâd certainly be happy about that. She already had so much shit to handle.
The growl of your stomach reminded you that food was something you needed to consume to continue living.Â
Reluctant as you were to do anything, you figured going out by starvation was 1) probably not the best idea, and 2) you wanted to be out of this dingy torture shed.
What was unfortunate was that you, like a smart person, didnât bring anything more than snack bars and those weird trail mixes with the fruit cubes that you just threw into your bag without much care. It was really the only motivation you needed to walk your sorry self out the door.Â
After you brushed your teeth and changed your clothes, of course, being very careful to not let anything touch the floor.
Stepping out of your home through the shabby and creaky door with your purse slung across your chest, you were met with the grandiose sight of mountains surrounding you on every side. They rose high, aching to brush the sky and touch a star, just one, just once, just for a second. Covered in thick greenery, you figured the faint yet present scents of cedar, pine, and other woodsy tones were carried down into the valley from the steep inclines.
You couldnât see any of these details nearly as well when you were dragging your tired ass to this place with ink covering the sky in a thick veil, but it truly was breathtaking.
Had nature always been this green before?
Having only done some cursory research on the village â namely, population â you didnât bother giving yourself time to actually inspect photos of the tiny rural town. From what youâd seen anyway, pictures could never do it justice. A velvety breeze brushed against your cheek, prompting you to tuck your hair behind your ear and pivot towards the direction the gale came from.
Your breath left you in a silent âohâ, mesmerized by the incredible view of the rising sun you had. It shone valiantly and radiantly through the gaps it had carved out between the towering peaks itself, illuminating the land in shades of brilliant gold with its splendor.
For perhaps the first time in your life, you feltâŠnothing.
Not a sense of hollowness, nor a void in your chest, no. A peaceful kind of nothing, as if not a thing in the world could take your mind away from this newfound elysium you found in sharing the morningâs shine with its source.
Invisible fingers caressed your jaw, threading through your hair with the gentle touch of adoration, as if you were delicate.
You hated to be treated like you were easily breakable, as fragile as glass, but this sensation was consoling, rather than degrading. The wind cherished you, not akin to a brittle figurine, rather as someone who was beautiful and worthy of gentleness unsullied by pity or licentious intentions. As if you were someone to be worshipped and revered.
A mother combing her fingers through her daughterâs hair, humming a lullaby only she knew the tune of.
Perhaps it wasnât impossible to find what you were searching for. You didnât know what it was exactly, a question without an answer, but it gave you a place to start.
With a deep breath swelling behind your ribcage, filling your soul with air untouched by sickly city pollution you were so accustomed to, you turned and began heading down the beaten dirt path that led into the heart of the village. The early summer warmth was pleasant on your skin, not too hot given the time. It seeped into your cold fingers and made them ache a little less with each minute going by.
While the town you had chosen was visually quite a bit older in style, with smaller structures dotted about reflecting traditional Japanese designs, there were some modernities. Electricity was, fortunately, one of them.Â
Based on the fact that you found and bought the listing online, you figured there was likely a way for you to get your hands on some Wi-Fi here, too. Youâd probably die without it.
The nearer you drew to the center of the population, the denser the structures became. Not to say they were rubbing walls, but neighbors were only a short few steps away, compared to the distance between your own house and the one closest to it.
Minka houses in significantly better condition than yours spanned either side of the road as the terrain shifted from soil to asphalt. They were beautiful, and you bet that living in that kind of house in this kind of place was either absurdly expensive, or dirt cheap, with no real in-between. You were personally on the latter end of this, which probably wasnât a good thing.Â
Doomed by the narrative once again.
Off in the distance on an elevated surface, you could see what you thought was a Wayo Kenchiku temple, if you had to guess. Its overlapping roofs were a deep green in shade, nearly black. They protected the desaturated brown walls of the building, and you were taken aback by how easy the temple was to see from where you were.
It sat across a wide river, one surprisingly calm as you approached it. It rushed along, springing with glimmering waves that shimmered under the light and frothed white around raised boulders. Despite it coming across as fairly deep, you could see clear through to the bottom, with the water itself being a refreshing shade of clear blue. A bridge spanned the rift, made of sturdy wood that had dark railings protecting either side of you, matching the aesthetic of your surroundings.
The bridge whined under your weight, but didnât shift, giving you some reassurance that you wouldnât go crashing through the planks. It led into the most packed section of the whole area, with structures built closer together, bearing a more modernized likeness, while retaining its unique characteristics.
In truth, though you remained apprehensive, the voice that scratched at the back of your skull everywhere you went and pestered you to run, run, run, had quieted. You hadnât registered it, the silence, too focused on taking in your new surroundings as a serene blanket covered the thoughts that usually pranced wild and free in your cranium, putting them to rest with a whispered mercy:
This feels right.
It didnât take you long to spot what you figured was the local grocery store. The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside, peering at what products you could see on the shelves and aisles from where you stood. Being an anxious little creature, you double-checked to make sure you had your wallet, as well as the translated bills within. Last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in a place where everybody knew everybody.
Reassured, you chose a random aisle and headed down it, skimming the products to see if any of them appeared even vaguely familiar to you. Besides cans of soup and tubes of Pringles, there wasnât much for you to grab onto. Sure, there was ramen, but you didnât have a way to boil water. Cereal and milk, maybe?
Shit, no, you didnât have any cutlery or dinnerware. Unless you wanted to be a sad raccoon and eat raw cereal straight from the box, but you werenât that desperate.
Yet.
Mentally crossing out your options as you went through them, you nearly knocked over an entire row of items when you almost ran into an older lady who stood in the middle of the strip, watching you.
âOh! Iâm so sorry!â You hopped back a foot, raising your hands in front of you placatingly. âI-I didnât see you there, am I in your way?â
The woman laughed and shook her head, her smile reminding you of a grandmother thatâd sneakily give her grandkids candies while their parents werenât watching. âYouâre quite alright, I was actually wondering if you need help?â
âOh, uhâŠâ Bashfully scratching the back of your head, you glanced at the various bags of foodstuffs beside you and debated your choices. Say no, when it was painfully obvious how green behind the ears you were, or set down your pride and ask for assistance.
Your stomach chose for you, warning you to suck it up and get food before it began eating itself.
The womanâs chuckle was heartier the second time around, her eyes glimmering with mirth as she motioned for you to follow her. Feeling a bit like a scolded child, you trailed after her while she wove her way around her store towards the produce section at the back. She pulled a random fruit from the thunder-rain-shelf-thing (you honestly had no idea what it was called) and rubbed it against her apron before handing it to you.
âEat,â she insisted.
You blinked rapidly, peeping the fruit, the sign for it, then her. âHow muchâŠ?â
The lady waved her free hand dismissively. âDonât worry about it. Eat, I insist.â
You were going to argue further, but a deep cramp in your gut had you sinking your teeth into the sweet and wonderfully-textured treat. As embarrassing as it was, you borderline moaned as you chewed, quickly taking another bite. Whatever it was, it tasted divine.
This time, when she directed you to move with her, you followed without hesitation. âThank you so much,â you mumbled as she pulled out a chair from behind the counter and urged for you to sit on it.
âItâs nothing, I canât let you go hungry, now,â she swept away your worries. âYouâre new here,â she stated, rather than asked.
You nodded through another bite, waiting until you swallowed before continuing the conversation. âYes, I got here last night.â
âOh? Are you visiting someone?â
âNo, I moved here.â
Her brows raised. âReally, now? Who are you staying with?â
Mid-bite, you stopped to address the matter. âOh, no, Iâm not living with anyone. I purchased the house just outside the village.â
The way her eyes widened was nearly comical. âThat place? Now, thatâs a surprise.â
If you had a nickel.
âThatâs the second time Iâve heard that now,â your lips tugged into a frown and you stifled it with another chomp into the sweet object in your hand.
At that, she simpered mutedly. âI apologize. Iâm merely awed that it was still standing, let alone that someone had bought it. Last I heard, there hasnât been anyone living there for, oh, maybe 20 years or so.â
The realtor, that dog. He did lie to you after all.
You scornfully hoped he was enjoying spending your money.
Picking at your cheek with your free hand, you looked away with a nervous giggle. âYeah, itâsâŠnot in great shape. I have a lot of work cut out for me.â
âYouâre going to try to repair it?â
âYeah. Keyword being try.â
âIâm not sure thatâs a wise choice.â
You sighed. âMe neither, but I donât have much of a choice now.â
The woman shook her head, smiling regardless. âYou let me know what kind of help you need. There are plenty of handymen in this village of ours, Iâm sure theyâd be happy to help.â
âOh, thatâs very nice of you, butâŠIâm sorry, I didnât ask for your name,â you pouted, hurriedly introducing yourself.
âJust call me Granny. And I wonât take no for an answer, missy,â okay, now you really felt scolded. âI wonât stand for you trying to fix up that cluster of wood by yourself, itâs far too dangerous. And you shouldnât be staying there while itâs in that condition, either. Give me a moment, let me find someone you can stay with.â
Panic rose up in you and you waved your hands frantically in front of you. âN-No! Itâs fine, Iâllâ Iâll figure something out, really, donât worry. Please.â
Granny eyed you suspiciously, her hand hovering over the landline on the wall. âAre you sure?â
âYes! Itâs fine, Iâm fine, I promise.â
Her eyes remained squinted, even as she lowered her arm. âAlright, if you say so. But if you need any kind of help, big or small, come to me right away, okay?â
Relieved you wouldnât have to interact with more strangers, you nodded and deflated. âI will.â
âPromise me, young lady.â
âI promise.â
She grinned brightly and ruffled your hair. âThatâs a good girl. Let me pack you a few things to take with you so you have something to eat.â
âAhâ wait, IâŠIâm not very good with currency yet,â you halted her sheepishly. The prices were still confusing as fuck to you. Man, how the fuck were you going to manage this when you get a job? If?
âNonsense, itâs on me. I wonât charge you.â
Sorry, what? Did she do that for every person she met five minutes prior?
âButâ but thatâs notââ
âFinish up your peach,â she asserted as she was already walking away with a bag in her hands that wasnât there a second ago. What was it with grannies and having some weird, innate magic?
Your eyes darted down at your half-eaten peach, surprised to learn that it wasnât some foreign fruit youâd never even heard of before, let alone tried. It was an exceptional blend between succulent and rich; easy to bite into and chew without pouring juice all over yourself.
The fuck kind of peaches have you been eating before?
Sensing you might be buying these often if they were this good, you had well-nigh inhaled the rest of it by the time Granny came back with a stuffed bag.
âHere you go, dear,â she held out the shopping bag to you, which you took graciously after tossing out the peach pit into the small trash can by the counter.
Glancing into the bag, your lips shifted downwards. It was filled with a few different fruits and veggies, a couple bags of snacks, but mostly packaged food that looked like it could be eaten as is without needing to worry about cooking it. Your guilt skyrocketed. âGranny, this is tooââ
âDonât worry about paying. Save your money for the repairs of that home of yours.â
Your head shot up, eyes widening. âI canâtââ
âYou can because I say so, young lady,â Granny puffed out her chest proudly, using a motherly tone that easily put you in your place, much to your bafflement. You didnât even listen to your own mother like this. âCome back in the evening, Iâll have something cooked up for you.â
âYou really donâtââ
She made brushing motions with her fingers, shooing you off the chair. âOff you go. Thereâs a lovely little pergola in the park, go have breakfast there. Just turn right when you leave and keep walking straight.â
Flustered, you let her push you along out the door, your confused brain trying to catch up. âGrannyââ
âIâll have a list of handymen for you when you return,â she informed you right as she managed to get you out the door. âExplore the town while thereâs still daylight!â
And just like that, she was back in her store, sweeping with a broom that you swear materialized out of nowhere. You stared at the shop for a good minute, blinking dumbly until you processed whatever just happened.
You still werenât wholly sure. You went in, expecting to grab a bag of something random to âfeedâ yourself with, and left with a bag full of free food from a woman who spontaneously decided to give it to you.Â
The fuck. Sheâd go bankrupt if she just kept giving strangers sustenance off her own back.
Your own feet seemed to carry you along as you exhaled through your nose and took her instructions to heart. Too late now, youâd feel bad if you went in and returned everything. Itâd be insulting at this point, and you were hungry, anyway
A cooked meal did sound lovely as well, discomfited as you were. You had never met your own grandmothers â not in person at least, so you had no idea if grandmothers were simply like that or not. Regardless, you had a feeling she was going to fill that role in whether you liked it or not.Â
Luckily, you were drifting towards like. She did give you free food, after all, and was going to find help for you. That part you were more apprehensive about, however, stubbornness and introversion making you want to be stupid and attempt to pick up carpentry out of nowhere.
All you could do was try to accept it and sigh, taking in the sights, stores, and dwellings as you walked past them and towards the park. A couple shops caught your eye, particularly a clothing boutique, and what could possibly be a hardware store. You werenât certain, and didnât want to find out yet. The prospect of entering one and facing the big ass sign that said âyou donât know what the hell you're doing!â was too daunting to approach for now.
It didnât take you long to get to the park. In fact, it was such a short walk that it bemused you. A population of 600 people seemed larger on paper than it was in reality. Most of the town was behind you, granted, but the uncanniness was uplifting, in a way.
It didnât feel claustrophobic. The trees in the park were closer together than some of the buildings outside it, and they smelled so good that it knocked you back a step. The entire wild garden carried the fresh perfume of sweet and fresh vegetation, from blooming flowers scattered about and the grass underfoot, to the rustling leaves above. You couldnât recall the last time you were in a park, let alone one that was as vibrant and alive as this one.
The pergola was easy to find. It resided in the center, right beside a large pond that you saw was filled with koi fish when you got close.Â
They swam to-and-fro, carefree, intermingling, playing, and searching for food.Â
Your stomach twisted when you made an unintentional connection in your mind. They reminded you of kites. Pretty, ultimately trapped.
The koi fish, however, didnât seem to mind one bit. Not that you could understand fish language. They just went about their business calmly. It perplexed you, didnât spending their lives in a single body of water bother them? Didnât it make them depressed?
Could fish feel depression?
Shaking your head to rid it of the peculiar journey your mind had gone off on, you set the bag down on the table under the pergola and settled into one of the chairs, reaching to dig through your options. Of the items present, you opted to munch on a sandwich Granny had tossed in with everything else, bundled in saran wrap and clearly made by her.
While you were skeptical of pre-made food bought in a grocery store like this, one sniff had you biting into it ravenously. You were way hungrier than you thought as you devoured it, trying to will yourself to slow down enough to at least savor the taste of it. Your earlier guilt and trepidation disappeared three bites in, and you were now very much anticipating Grannyâs handmade cooking if this was the kind of sandwich she was capable of creating.
You questioned again if all grannies were like this, or if you lucked out. Either way, if it meant you didnât have to struggle with food for the time being (or ever, if Granny let you mooch off her forever), you didnât mind getting spontaneously adopted by her at all.
About halfway through your meal, the koi fish in the pond caught your attention again. They were gorgeous animals, graceful and sleek with scales that twinkled iridescently when the sun flickered over them from between the gaps in the canopy above. They had you mesmerized, sights focused solely on them as they showed off.
Maybe they had managed to hypnotize you, because you decided to tear off a piece of the ham, rip it into tiny pieces, then throw it towards the pond. There was a large splash as all the fish rushed towards the food, making you snicker.
A sort of childish glee bloomed within you, persuading you to indulge them a smidgen longer before you finished off your food. The park seemed like a sacred place where nothing could touch you, where the lands would remain lavish and healthy, and where you could let all your worries fade away.
Arcadian â that was the best way you could describe it. Placid, halcyon, grounding, mellow. You could go on and on, really, but youâ
The hairs on the back of your neck prickled when you sensed that someone, or something, was watching you. Heat grazed against your nape, slow, measured breaths right behind your ear. A kiss from a pair of soft lips that never reached your skin. A demanding presence wrapped around your figure, a prey caught in the trap laid out precisely by a steadfast and salivating predator.
Ghostly fingers slid down your shoulders, crept over your forearms, and encircled your wrists, holding them in place with a deceptively lax hold. Something firm and wide pressed against your shoulder blades, keeping you between it and the table.
Your heart kicked in your throat, preventing you from swallowing anything more than a tiny gasp.
And, like the cornered quarry you were, you shifted slowly to peek from the corner of your eye, avoiding any sudden or abrupt movements. You expected to find a beast hovering over your shoulder, eagerly anticipating your reaction.Â
There was nothing.Â
Only foliage greeted your wide-eyed inspection, expansive and untouched since you came here. The feeling of being hunted on had evaporated as soon as you checked, and though uncertain of this verdict, you chalked it up to being in totally unfamiliar territory. A result of a soundless, featherlight brush of wind, a critter in the foliage envying the fish you fed, lasting no more than a sigh.
Your brow furrowed as you searched through the plant life, seeing not even a hair out of the ordinary. That dovish sensation the park carried returned like it had never left to begin with, coaxing you to let it go and relax.
Maybe that was your cue to leave.
You shook off the lingering sensation with a shiver. Everything was okay in the wooded pasture, and as tranquil as your surroundings were, you knew youâd have to face the elephant in the room eventually.
You dusted yourself off as you got up to dislodge any lingering crumbs, carefully packed everything back into the bag, and took one final look around. This place would become your safe haven, you determined. Already, you were thinking of coming back, the memory of your adrenaline spiking fading rapidly. Imagining returning here gave you that minor push you need to fill your lungs with courage and turn to head back out the way you came.
You could explore the town later. Right now, you needed to address the state of your new stead and gauge what laid ahead of you first. Maybe itâd give you at least an idea of what you required to get started on all of this, though you doubted youâd come out of witnessing it in the full glory of the sun knowing more than you did now.
Absentmindedly, the milieu filtered into your subconscious, automatically noting small landmarks here and there to assist you in finding your way around the streets while they still confused you, until you had learned to traverse them and knew every path and alley like the back of your hand.
(Just in case, you assessed the back of your right hand. You know, to reacquaint yourself with it.)
Glumness overtook. You knew you probably wouldnât stay here for too long, no matter how much you liked it. You could fix up the house, flip it, and head off someplace else again in pursuit of something that probably didnât exist.
Itâs always been this way for you. The same old pattern, the same old story, the neverending book that looped in on itself over and over, caught in a wormhole where the exit was the entrance.
So it was easy to convince yourself to not get attached to the valley, nor the people, nor that damn sticks-on-bricks abode. Not even the grass filled with flowers and protected by tall trees you had already found yourself longing for.
It was easier this way. This was all you knew, after all.
You had it all figured out.
Didn't you?
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#Tether Me#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#geto x reader#suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader#suguru geto x reader#satosugu x reader#chimera writes
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knowing [8/8]
Summary: Sanji knew you were the one the moment he met you.
Pairing: Sanji x Reader
Warnings: None really. Normal One Piece stuff I guess.
Note: I changed my mind, I'm posting this today because I loved this and just can't wait any longer. Thank you all for reading this little fanfic!! I wrote this before I fully finished reading Wano, so it's not 100% accurate at first, but that's fine, this is a fanfic of course. I hope you all enjoy, and I do have another two one-shots connected to this series!
Taglist:
@jzkeisuke | @arcanumlaw
[Ch. 1] â [Ch. 2] â [Ch. 3] â [Ch. 4] â [Ch. 5] â [Ch. 6] â [Ch. 7]
With Big Mom and Kaido defeated, Wano freed from the Animal Kingdom Pirates reign, you were beyond relieved when you'd heard you could all rest. Luffy and Zoro seemed near death, both had just woken up when you'd snuck out with Sanji to another area. He still needed rest more than you, and Chopper had followed along to make sure neither of you did anything to upset your wounds. You'd made it out with a few small burns, some scrapes and cuts, a slightly deeper wound on your abdomen, but Chopper had taken great care of you and gotten you as close to 100% as he could. Sanji too of course, he suffered slightly worse wounds than you did, but the geishas had taken great care of him and he had nowhere near the same battle damage as the other two members of your monster trio. Chopper had instructed him to lay down and rest, which Sanji did, trusting your doctor that he knew what was best, despite his wanting to join in whatever party was being started in the other room. You knew there was no way the people of Wano would let you leave without a large celebration, Sanji would just have to wait for that.
After Chopper left the infirmary you'd walked off to, you gave Sanji a smile while saying something about changing your own bandages real quick. Despite your insistence that it was fine, he looked away while you stripped off your shirt to change your bandages, instead quietly pulling something small out of his pocket to occupy his eyes, wondering if now was the best time or if he should wait.
"What's that you've got there, Sanji?"
Your voice brought him out of his millions of thoughts, making him decide that yes now's the time, before he smiled softly and held it up, making your eyes widen and your mouth open just a bit.
There's no wayâŠno way, right?
"I picked this up in Dressrosa."
"Sanji, you did not."
Sanji grinned at you, nodding happily. "I did! I saw it andâŠI thought of you instantly."
It was a small ring he held in his hand, a thin silver band with some blue gem on it, perhaps a small sapphire, you weren't sure, but it was very pretty to you anyway. You didn't care for gaudy, showy jewelry anyway, so if this really was an engagement ring, you were all too ready to accept.
Even without a ring you'd accept. You loved Sanji, more than anything. If he had shown up to the women's bunks in his pajamas without a ring at 3am and asked you to marry him, you would accept even then. The middle of battle, though not his style, you'd say yes. An evening after dinner where you'd both drank a little too much and were giggly messes, if he said 'marry me' you'd accept instantly, whether you remembered it the next morning or not.
It didn't matter. You'd marry Sanji no matter how he proposed.
"Maybe I'm crazy, or all that wedding talk because of them got to me, or even us playing husband and wife for the time we did here, butâŠI'm certain of this." His voice was quiet, even though it was just the two of you at the moment, and it made you start to tear up.
It definitely was crazy. The fight with Kaido and Big Mom had ended just two days ago, you were still surprised Sanji was even capable of walking and sitting up right after his fight against Queen. You half wondered if he suffered a blow to the head that knocked something loose that was making him do this right now.
But really, you knew he hadn't. He was mentally sound, he knew what he was doing.
"SanjiâŠ"
"I'm probably the worst mess of a man you've ever met, I'm worthless really, but I know I love you," Sanji smiled softly while you cried and gladly held your hand out for him to take when he reached out for it, "I don't want to ever again look at another woman the way I look at you. I can't imagine myself with anyone else, married to anyone else, becoming a parent with anyone else, if we're so blessed. Everything that's happened recently just made me more aware of that."
Sanji moved more towards the edge of the bed while gently pulling you closer to him. You couldn't have cared less if he was on one knee or not, it didn't matter to you.
What mattered was that it was Sanji.
You wished you weren't crying, especially when he pulled you down beside him, just to place his forehead against yours and wipe your happy tears away.
"I love you so much, [Y/N]. You mean the world to me and I just want to be with you forever. I wanted to ask you weeks ago now, even when we all met up again in SabaodyâŠbut now feels like the perfect time. Please, [Y/N], will you marry me?"
Trying your hardest to stop crying, you nodded and kissed him, hoping he didn't mind your salty, teary kisses.
"Yes! Yes, a million times yes, my dear!"
Sanji pulled you into a tight hug that you returned, telling you again that he loved you and you responded in kind. You took a few minutes to fully calm down, and once you did, you let Sanji put the ring he'd bought all the way back in Dressrosa on your finger, not at all surprised it was a perfect fit. Of course he knew your ring size, either that or he borrowed one of your rings you wore for fun and took it with him to get the right size.
"A perfect fit."
"Just like us." You smiled brightly at Sanji, which he returned before kissing you again.
Your sweet moment was interrupted when the door to the infirmary almost flew open, and you jumped back up a bit, only to be relieved when you saw it was Zoro, who looked like he didn't know what he was even doing there.
"What do you want, moss head??"
"...looking for Chopper." Zoro's eye wandered over to you, noticing you'd been crying and he looked almost ready to cut down Sanji, until he took in the fact you now had a ring on your finger.
That same ring he'd watched Sanji pick out in Dressrosa.
"Oh!" You nodded, giving a smile. "He left a while ago, said he was going to go check on the Samurai and Luffy!"
Zoro nodded, turning to leave before he stopped and looked over his shoulder at you. "Congrats. If he hurts you, let me know and I'll kill him."
"Zoro!"
"As if you could, moss head!!"
"Sanji, stay in bed!" You pushed him back down when he went to get up, a scowl on his face while Zoro left and closed the door behind him. Sanji started complaining to you about the "stupid moss head" and how he couldn't touch him, but it made you laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"Ohïżœïżœit's justâŠit's like a little brother protecting his big sisterâŠthat's all Zoro means by it."
Somehow, Sanji understood what you meant when you said that. If his family had been different, he probably would have been the same with Reiju, protective of her when any potential boyfriends or suitors would come to see her, if they ever did considering how their father was. If your lives were different, if you had met under different circumstances, he was sure your biological brothers would be the same.
While he was thinking about it, Sanji barely realized you had crawled into bed with him, until you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him close. He did the same, kissing the top of your head as well.
"I love you, Sanji."
"I love you too."
I can't wait to marry you.
+!+
Once the Thousand Sunny had taken off from Wano, your next destination decided by the log pose, you were determined to be married with your found family as the witnesses. While in Wano, you and Sanji had slipped away to find something like a courthouse, whatever their equivalent was, to get a marriage certificate so you could have a small ceremony on the Sunny. It took a bit of time, but you found a place that processed marriage certificates and got one printed immediately, knowing that technically, as soon as you signed and dated it, you'd be husband and wife.
You hadn't told anyone yet, Zoro would never, you knew that, but you had told Sanji you wanted everyone there and to be married on the ship you called home. He quickly agreed, telling you that he'd do whatever you wanted for the wedding, while thinking it was the best place for you two to get married. You were both absolutely sure your crewmates would be happy for you, they'd all be glad to participate in the wedding and help you two tie the knot.
You also made Sanji promise not to spend so much time on the cake or to make it too big, though you had to give some leeway there due to Luffy. But he promised he wouldn't work on it so much that he was doing last minute touches when he was supposed to be saying his vows to you. You didn't want the wedding to be an extravagant, fancy affair. Just something small and simple with everyone you loved there.
Sanji didn't tell you, though, that he'd talked to Nami and told her you two were engaged and wanting to get married as soon as possible. She was so happy for the two of you that she burst into tears and hugged him, about to run off to find you when he stopped her. He wanted to surprise you with your parents and siblings at the ceremony, and knew your home was an island in the New World, so Nami put the ship on a detour there in the middle of the night when Sanji had a night watch, so no one would have any idea. There were no questions about where the ship was heading the next morning, and Nami was constantly talking about romance and things like that to you, trying to get you to spill your engagement to her. Anything she said you related back to Sanji with a smile, annoying her that you were acting so dense.
It was about two days before your unknown arrival to your home island that Sanji convinced you to tell everyone. You had gone over it multiple times in your head, wondering if it was a good time, before he told you that you'd probably never be ready to tell them, so might as well do so now. When he said that, you ended up agreeing and when everyone was on the deck that night, Sanji told them all you two had an announcement to make.
"You guys aren't gonna leave, are you??" Luffy was so terribly concerned that you and Sanji had chosen to leave the crew, but you quickly reassured him it wasn't anything like that.
"No, no, not at all! We," you took a breath and smiled at Sanji, taking his hand, "We've decided to get married."
"Ahh!"
"And we want the ceremony to be on Sunny in a few days."
"AHH!!"
Everyone was so excited for the two of you! Nami immediately ran over and hugged you, Robin joining her after a moment and both asking to see your ring, where Sanji got it, and what you were going to wear. Luffy laughed a bit and threw himself on Sanji, saying he was glad for the two of you. Brook said something weird about marriage; Franky was crying but patting Sanji on the back; Usopp wanted to know when and how you'd be married without a priest; Chopper said he was very excited for the two of you; Jimbei also gave his congratulations, saying he may not have known you both very long, but you seemed like quite the loving couple, and Zoro, who still viewed you as his sister, reiterated his previous statement of being willing to kill Sanji if he ever hurt you. Before Sanji could argue back at him, Zoro put a hand on his shoulder and congratulated him, causing everyone that heard him to be shocked, and then even more surprised when Sanji thanked him.
The Straw Hats threw a celebration party for the two of you the rest of the night, almost like an engagement party. There was a point where Sanji had slipped away, knowing you were in good hands with Nami and Robin, who were trying to help you decide on a few things for the wedding. He went back to your shared room, picking up the transponder snail you'd bought a while back, and made a call to the Baratie. He didn't let whoever picked up know it was him, requesting to speak to Zeff personally.
"Hey, old man, it's me."
"Sanji? What's this about, calling after heading off two years ago?"
"IâŠI had some news I wanted to tell you, that's all."
He couldn't see him, but Zeff was a slight bit concerned with how calm Sanji sounded, to the point he made him hold on while he transferred the call over to his personal snail.
"Sanji, you in here?" You had gone searching for your fiance once you noticed he was missing and found him in your room, he waved you over to sit beside him on the bed while he waited for Zeff to get back on the phone. "Who'd you call?"
"Zeff."
"Ooooh." You nodded and took his free hand in yours, Sanji gripping it tightly, nervously waiting.
"All right, what'd you wanna tell me, kid?"
"I'mâŠgetting married in a few days. I justâŠI wanted you to know."
It was quiet for a bit, and you worried that maybe Zeff was angry that this was the first thing he'd heard from Sanji in over two years, but then heard laughter.
"So! You finally found a girl willing to put up with you, huh?"
You giggled and Sanji smiled.
"I found a girl that's done more than just put up with me."
The two of you stayed on the line with Zeff for a while longer, Sanji's tight grip on your hand loosening after he realized Zeff was truly happy for him. Eventually you decided to let him have his privacy with his true father, kissing his cheek and returning to the party your crewmates were still throwing.
You finally decided you'd get married four days later, the two of you were ready for this step and didn't want anything to interfere, not the Marines or another pirate, nothing.
However, when Nami had said you'd all reached an island to dock at, your breath caught in your throat and you started to tear up when you recognized the pier, despite it being nearly seven years since you'd last been there.
"ThisâŠthis is my home."
"Yeah," Sanji held your hand and gave you a smile, "IâŠfigured you'd want your family there when we got married, so I asked Nami if we could take a detour. IsâŠis this okay?"
You looked up at him and smiled brightly, despite the tears threatening to fall down your face. "Of course!!"
Once the Sunny was fully docked, you didn't bother waiting for your allowance from Nami, grabbing Sanji by the arm and dragging him in the direction of your childhood home. None of your crewmates bothered to stop you, they did stop Luffy from following and getting in the way of you introducing your fiance to your family.
To your surprise, your family already knew you were on the way, you figured Sanji had something to do with that as well (you'd be correct if you asked him). Your mom was the first to hug you, telling you how much she missed you and how beautiful you'd become in the last few years. Your dad told you the same, before he and your mom introduced themselves to Sanji, you weren't at all surprised at how easily he won them over despite not being able to ask their permission to marry you.
All your siblings ended up running at you when they knew you were there, and it made you beyond happy to see you had a new sister after all. She was a little more shy around you, but Sanji speaking to her convinced her that everything was all right. Everyone ended up mentioning how they had copies of your wanted poster, your brothers would brag to their friends that their big sister was a badass pirate while your sisters would use that as leverage against the boys in town they didn't like, and it all made you blush and become flustered.
Your parents insisted the two of you and the rest of your crewmates join them for dinner, which you happily accepted and so did Luffy when he heard. Your family gladly accepted your found family, sharing stories and having a lovely time with everyone around.
It got to be a little much for you, you had to step out on the porch for a bit so you didn't get too overwhelmed, Sanji following you a moment later to make sure you were okay.
"You know, sometimes, I wonder what would've happened if I hadn't left."
"Oh yeah?"Â Sanji smiled a bit while lighting a cigarette and watching you.
You nodded, sitting down with your legs dangling off the edge of the porch, your youngest sister having followed you and Sanji out the door and now cuddling next to you. She'd opened up quickly and became attached to you and Sanji.
"I wonder if we ever would have met."
"I still would've found you."
"You're sure about that?" You laughed a bit, but Sanji sat down beside you, putting his arm around your shoulders.
"Luffy still would have come to the Baratie and convinced me to join him. We'd still have all the same adventures, and eventually end up hereâŠwhere I'd find you. And I'd still be attracted to you, and try to get you to come with us, and we'd still end up together."
Humming a bit, you nodded.
"I know you'd still find me."
+!+
The next day was your wedding. You'd woken up early with a bit of happy anxiety, Nami and Robin were already up and ready to help you get dressed and do your hair. You'd ended up buying a white sundress with a [f/c] colored sash around the waist and white flats to make it simple, you never really wanted a fancy wedding dress anyway. Nami took a curling iron to your hair and added some soft curls, while Robin brought you a flower crown your sisters had made overnight for you to wear in place of a veil. Both girls were still beyond excited for you, and Nami kept giving you hugs through the morning. You and her were like sisters at this point, she'd already called being aunt to any kids you and Sanji may have in the future. Having her and Robin with you helped calm your nerves, and you were more than ready to get married to the love of your life.
Sanji, though, was almost a nervous wreck. He'd already gone through half a pack of cigarettes, before he even got dressed for your wedding. You'd told him during the events at Whole Cake Island that you really preferred black suits on him, so he gladly got one specifically for your wedding, choosing a [f/c] colored tie to match with you. He didn't know why he was so nervous, probably the fears that he wasn't good enough for you and wouldn't be able to make you happy were the cause, but he couldn't stop his racing mind. He tried everything but went back to smoking as his stress reliever, worried you'd change your mind at the last second and leave him.
"She's not gonna leave you."
Surprisingly, Zoro was the one to get Sanji to calm down.
"And what if she does?"
"She won't. She wouldn't have agreed to marry you and plan a wedding so quickly if she wasn't sure about it. If she didn't want to be with you she would've rejected your ass all the way back at Alabasta."
"What. How do you know about that?! I thought you didnât know until Skypiea!"
Zoro rolled his visible eye and smirked.
"You guys weren't exactly subtle back then. Freaking weirdos making out in the kitchen."
Despite Zoro being amused, Sanji knew he was right. If you really didn't love him and were going to leave, you probably would have done so after everything that happened with his family and that attempted arranged marriage. Instead you had stuck by him, giving him a smile and hug when he first told you how much he loved you, repeating it to him every day since you all had left Thriller Bark, telling him even more so after you'd retrieved him from his screwed up family, giving him the time he needed before showering him in hugs, kisses, and constant 'I love you's so he knew you'd never leave him or let him go again, and that you understood what he was doing when he fought with Luffy and 'broke up' with you in front of his brothers and sister. When he told you everything about his childhood, despite your crying and wishing you'd been born in the North Blue so you could have been his friend, you accepted every bit of it, telling him how much his mother must have loved him and you would have loved to have met her. He'd never felt more relieved than when you said his past didn't matter, the things his father said didn't matter. What mattered was that he was Sanji and you loved him. That was the first time he'd cried to you, hugging you and letting you stroke his hair, while he thanked you for loving a âfailureâ like him.
"You're not a failure. You're Sanji, and you're perfect as you are."
Sanji knew Zoro was right, you'd never leave him. If you did he'd fight to get you back, but he was sure that wouldn't be necessary.
"Yeah, you're right. Thanks."
"No problem. âŠdon't tell anyone about this."
"Wouldn't dare."
+!+
Your wedding ceremony went off without a hitch, several hours ago now, and you and Sanji were finally married. While you were being wed, you couldn't stop smiling and crying lightly, Sanji giving you soft sweet smiles while he held your hands. Your mother, Nami, Franky, and Brook were all blubbering messes, you wondered if they'd actually heard anything the whole time. Your dad was slightly teary, but he'd never fully admit that to you. All your siblings were excited, more so that they were on a pirate ship but your wedding was a nice excuse to be on the ship. Luffy couldn't stop grinning, he was beyond happy for the two of you. Usopp was also slightly teary, mostly because he couldn't believe you two were actually getting married. Chopper was anxiously waiting for when he could have cake, but he had told you when he saw you earlier that day that he thought you looked pretty. Robin smiled, looking at you like you were her baby sister who was getting married and she couldn't have been happier for you both. Jimbei acted as your priest, after you learned he actually could legally perform marriages, you practically begged him to be the one to marry you. He agreed quickly and you were grateful for it. Zoro, always the quiet one, watched without much emotion visible on his face, but those of you who knew him well enough could see he was happy for you.
Of course, you and Sanji were the happiest ones there. Your ceremony wasn't long, it didn't need to be really, just something small to show you were committed to each other, now and forever. When Jimbei pronounced you husband and wife, and said Sanji could kiss you, you had to keep yourself from almost bouncing out of your shoes in excitement. Once he did kiss you, everyone cheered for you, which made you giggle after breaking the kiss and giving Sanji a smile that he returned.
"We're married!"
He couldn't help it, Sanji picked you up and spun you around, he was so happy! You two had gone from awkwardly facing your feelings for each other, to now being deeply in love, and married finally. He set you back down, only to kiss you again, laying his forehead against yours afterwards.
"I love you, ma femme."
"I love you too, my husband!"
"Come on you lovebirds, let's start the reception!"
The reception, which was really just a normal Straw Hat party, went on for several hours. You had to step away at one point to bid farewell to your family, none of whom wanted to see you go but they understood you couldn't stay on your island for more than a few days, and the Sunny would be taking off in the morning.
Sanji noticed quickly you'd disappeared from his side while he was fighting to keep Luffy from finishing off your piece of cake, and when he saw where you were, he put Zoro in charge of keeping Luffy at bay so he could go stay with you.
Your family had already walked off the dock and back into town when you felt Sanji wrap his arms around your waist and place his chin on the top of your head.
"We'll come back someday."
"I know we will."
"And you can always call or write."
You nod, looking up at Sanji with a smile. "This was a wonderful surprise, thank you. It meant a lot to have them here."
Sanji returned your smile, kissing your forehead. "Anything for you, mon amour."
You were about to suggest the two of you slip out and go off to bed, before Luffy shouted your names.
"Come oooonnnn!! The party's for you guys!" Really he just wanted more cake, but Sanji and Zoro had stopped him from having anything more until you had what you wanted.
Grumbling a bit, Sanji pulled away but still held your waist, causing you to giggle a bit and turn around in his hold, putting your arms around his shoulders.
"A bit longer, then we'll go to bed." You whispered before kissing him with a smile.
He sighed but still nodded. "Fine, fine."
Your reception continued well into the night, you avoided drinking too much so you'd remember it not only in the morning but in years to come. Eventually everyone had either passed out or was calmed down enough to start cleaning, refusing any help from you or Sanji and telling you to both go on to bed, with a kind a smile from Robin or Nami but a sly smirk from Franky.
Once you did, you both simply admired each other's ring and how right it felt to have them now. Within a few more minutes your exhaustion was taking over and you took Sanji's hand in yours, snuggling right up next to him, causing him to do the same with you. You'd consummate your marriage another night, but for tonight, all you wanted was to bask in the fact you were married to the love of your life, and enjoy the warmth that came from knowing that you were his and he was yours. Sanji had tried to say something to you at one point, but you were so near sleep you didn't hear him, except for when he chuckled lightly and kissed the top of your head.
"I love you, [Y/N]...in every lifetime and every universe, I'll always love you."
#one piece x reader#reader insert#sanji x reader#blackleg sanji x reader#knowing fanfic#fem!reader#black leg sanji x reader
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Born of Unknown Stardust
Ch. 3
summary: The angles formed the world and all mortal life from dust. One day from the unknown the angels came across bizarre dust, that seemed to have a will of its own. It refused to be molded and shaped to the angel's will. So they cast it aside, till a certain angel got his creative hands on it.
(Long post)
(bittersweet story) (platonic) Lucifer x (???) Reader x Sera
<-Part 2/ Part 4-> (additional art here)
____________________________
"Lucifer... What Have you Done!" The elders shot in horror as the roots of Evil seeped into the earth.
The Apple of Knowledge of good and evil is eaten into rolls on the ground as the knowledge that Eve was not ready for rushes into her head. It was painful and overwhelming.
Lucifer stands before the court of the heavenly elders. Lilith stood not far behind Lucifer as she watched in worried anticipation.
"Not only have you gotten too involved with a human, but You let evil taint our creation. We told you your Ideas were too dangerous, and you have only proven our point," One of the elders glared.
Lucifer stood resolute as he tried to put on a bold face for Lilith Even if the angelic metal chains and cuffs were tight on his wrist and neck.
"We will look past this and forgive you if you apologize. And Leave the mortals alone," Another elder spoke up. "That also means leaving that mortal alone too."
They said as they pointed to Lilith who was cowering in front of some arch-angels keeping an eye on her. Lucifer looked at her with concern, all this happened so suddenly. As their eyes met, Lucifer made his decision.
"I... I do not regret what I have done," He said with a slight glare, even as the chain chafed at his skin.
The Elders gasped in Horror at Lucifer's answer, the elders quickly discussing amongst each other.
"Lucifer has not only let evil leak into the earth, but it seems to have taken him too. Fallling into the chains of lust," One elder said.
"We made it clear to him when we told him not to interfere. He only has himself to blame," Other scoffed.
As the Elders chatted, one was not paying attention to the conversation. The high seraphim Sera. Her mind was elsewhere, on the one who everyone seemed to have forgotten, Yuu. Her heart could only wonder what would happen to little Yuu now, one of the many victims of this. She started to think back when she noticed Lucifer sneaking off for days at a time.
___________________________
Sera flew up to the door and gave a light knock. The Door opened quickly, but instead of Lucifer, it was Little Yuu treating her.
"Hello Miss Sera," Yuu greeted happily.
"Hello Yuu, is your father home?" She asked as she knelt to Yuu's level
"Da? No, haven't seen him," Yuu shrugged.
"How long ago did you see him, I might be able to catch up with him," Sera asked.
"Umm... 5 days ago I think," Yuu said as they thought back.
"5 Days?! How often is this?" Sera asked in concern.
"Umm, more often know... And longer too... Where is Da going Sera?" Yuu asked her.
" I don't know sweety. Mind if I keep you company for a little bit?" Sera asked.
"Well Da said to not let people inside the house when he's not home," Yuu said as they thought, when. " But he never said anything about the garden!"
Sera chuckled at Yuu's enthusiasm, as Yuu told her to wait in the gardens. In the garden was a simple stone table, the flowers and plants surrounded the small set up. Soon the young tot came outside with Tea and snacks. It looked very childishly slapped together, but Sera appreciated the effort.
Sera just smiled and listened as Yuu childishly rambled on and on anything that came to mind. To hold a conversation with guests. As She listens, she notices one of Yuu's blueprints sticking out from their pocket.
"So what great invention are you working on now?" Sera asks as she points to the paper.
"Oh, this? This is for my dad," Yuu said as they pulled out the blueprints.
Sera looked it over. She was a bit confused to see a simple drawing of a jar. With notes scribbled all over that she really couldn't understand.
"What is it?" She asked with a confused expression on her face.
"A world in a bottle," Yuu smiled excitedly.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," Sera said.
"I'm going to put a world inside the jar. Where my dad can make whatever he wants inside," Yuu explained. " I'm almost done putting everything together."
"Umm, how so?" Sera was beyond confused, how could a world fit in such a small container.
With an excited smile, Yuu opened the jar, and the two were sucked inside. Sera gasped as she closed her eyes, waiting for the worst.
"Miss Sera? You can't see anything with your eyes closed," Yuu said.
She slowly opened an eye, to see an unbelievable sight before her.
"I managed to finish the ocean, but I like the idea of an underwater house. So I'll add land later, and have a normal house," Yuu explained as they showed off the pocket world.
"Yuu this is beautiful, and this is almost done?" Sera asked in awe.
"Yeah, just want to add some land and mountains," Yuu nodded. "Do you think Da will like it? Then maybe he will spend more time with me?"
"Lucifer will love it," Sera reassured with a gentle smile. âBut why did you make this for him?â
âSo he can see Iâm getting close to making his own earth,â Yuu said proudly.
âHis own Earth?â Sera asked curiously
âSo he has a place he can put all his ideas, so the elders donât have to worry about their earth,â Yuu explained.
Sera smiled softly at Yuuâs kind heart. "You know making a world by yourself won't be easy. It could take a very long time," She says.
"I know, but Da promised he would wait for me and stay out of trouble," Yuu smiled, though it was a bit unsure.
"Your heart is so kind little one," Sera smiles as she pattes Yuu's head.
____________________________
"And that creature Yuu should go too. Who knows what that thing will do on its own. It could cause trouble, cast it to hell with its creator," another elder said, snapping Sera out of her thoughts.
"No," She said suddenly.
"What?!" The other elders gasped.
"Yuu is innocent and has nothing to do with this. Lucifer's choices and actions were all his own," She says sternly. " Yuu is a kind-hearted individual, and sending an innocent to hell is too cruel a fate."
"Are you going to Keep an eye on them?" They asked.
"I will. I'll make sure to guide them down the right path," Sera said with certainty.
-----------------------------------------------
The portal to The underworld ripped asunder as the archangels dragged and pushed Lucifer and Lilith closer to the edge.
"Lucifer!" Sera called out.
Lucifer looked at her with a slight glare as the chains held him still.
"I promise to take care of Yuu for you," Sera promised sincerely.
"Wait? What do you mean Sera?!" Lucifer asked, panic quickly filling his voice.
"Oh, know you remember your (Son/Daughter/Child). To put it simply, they will not be going with you Lucifer," Sera said. " They will be staying up here in heaven."
"Yuu? Y-You Can't Do That!" Lucifer shouted as he approached Sera, but the chain slacked short of her. "You Can't just take them from me! I know full well they're not safe in Heaven!"
"So leaving them alone for days on end, in heaven was safe?" Sera challenged. âOr letting them go to Hell with you is safer?â
"You know What I mean Sera. The Elders never accept them then, why know?!" Lucifer shouted back.
âYuu will be under my care. I promise you they will be kept out of harms way,â Sera promised, as Lucifer continued to fight against his chains.
âJust let me see them. Let me hold them one last time!â Lucifer begged as the chains pulled him closer to the portal.
But before Sera could say anything, Lilithâs screams could be as she fell down into the portal.
âLilith!!â Lucifer screamed, without hesitation jumped into the portal after her.
ââââââââââââ
Sera sat nervesly in onceâs Luciferâs garden as Yuu brought tea and treats as they always did. As Yuu chatted on and one, the dreaded question finally arrived.
âDa hasnât come back in a long while⊠Miss Sera, where is he?â Yuu asked with a worried smile.
With a deep breath, Sera gently explained to little Yuu what had happened. And what Lucifer had done on earth and how his actions had brought a horrible curse onto the earth.
âAre you Okay Yuu?â Sera asked gently.
âI-I think so. So Da is in time out? I can visit?â Yuu asked.
âIâm afraid not little one,â Sera said sadly.
âOh, so I can see him again when his time-out is over?â Yuu asked again.
Sera slowly shook her head, as Yuu slowly started to crumble.
"So I'm never going to see him again?" Yuu asked shakily.
"I'm afraid so," Sera nodded.
"He promised me," Yuu whimpered to themselves. "Why would he lie to me. He Promised to stay out of trouble."
Sera looked on with sorrow in her eyes, as she slowly reached out to comfort them.
"Can... Can I be alone a bit?" Yuu sobs as they run back into the house.
Sera worried for the small child, quietly followed after them. Yuu ran into the house as they felt something within them. Something wanted to burst out, but it only intensified as more tears forced themselves to the surface.
This was a foreign feeling they had never felt before, and it was growing. Yuu didn't know what to do with this feeling and knowledge as they stomped about the house.
'Why did he lie? Why didn't he wait for me? Why did he leave me for the Earth?' questions flooded Yuu's mind. "Maybe because I wasn't enough."
With that though Yuu came to a halt. Was it because they couldn't give him the planet he wanted fast enough? They looked at Lucifer's once workbench. To see that the World Jar was still untouched, and most importantly. A framed Photo family of Lucifer and Yuu.
To be continued.
Tag-----------
littleladydemon
#luficer morningstar x reader#lucifer morningstar#lucifer#lucifer x reader#lucifer x you#lucifer x y/n#lucifer morningstar x y/n#lucifer morningstar x you#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer hazbin hotel#hazbin sera#hazbin hotel sera#Hazbin hotel Sera x reader#hazbin hotel angels
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Hello, i just discovered this blog and i really want to read your work more. If you don't mind can i request malleus x reader where reader feeling empty or brunedout due to study and overblots. You can edit it as you like or write as headcanon or one short it depends on you. Well have nice day/night.
â Tea for the Prefect : Malleus Draconia
tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, burnout, reader is the prefect, gn! reader, ch.5 spoilers!
desc: upon noticing your growing distress, malleus takes matters into his own hands and bestows a gift of relaxation upon you. sleep well, dear prefect.
a/n: finally being more consistent with posts!! thank you for the request! I thought this was a lovely concept and a great opportunity for some lovely stress comfort fluff! also, I love writing for malleus! the reader in this is the prefect, but the reader is not explicitly yuu! with that, enjoy! â winnie <3
Time is fleeting, whether he likes it or not.
Such is a fact that Malleus is painfully aware of. Every day that passes is but a fraction of his extended lifespan.
That is until he met you.
Most people talk about time flying when oneâs having fun, but for Malleus, time slows when heâs with you. Being in your presence reminds him of all the little things life has to offer. Despite his extended lifespan, he chooses to live in the present nowadays simply because youâre a part of it.
That being said, heâs still able to pick up on things when they happen so suddenly.
Like your fatigue.
Malleus is unaware if your fatigue slowly built up in terms of a human lifespan, but to a fae like him, it seemed almost immediate. However, he knows full well that it isnât without reason.
After Ashengrottoâs overblot, he conversed with you out of curiosity, questioning how you used the advice heâd given you earlier. Thatâs when he learned that youâd been handling student overblots since your arrival on campus. Lilia further confirmed this fact, noting your involvement in Kingscholarâs overblot as well.
He didnât realize how emotionally taxing it mustâve been until recently.
After Schoenheit was pulled from his overblotted state, Malleus appeared. He witnessed the aftermath firsthand.
More importantly, he could see the exhaustion in your eyes. He noticed the way you tiredly limped backstage once heâd repaired the stadium, and saw the way you brushed off your situation.
When he asked you about it, you insisted that it was nothing.
After that conversation, many things clicked into place for him. Not only did you deal with these treacherous battles without the use of magic, but you did so in tandem with your studies and other responsibilities. You had an incredible amount on your plate and everyone seemed content to continuously pile more and more atop it. He had to wonder if you truly ever allowed yourself the opportunity to rest.
Malleus, in good conscience, cannot sit by and allow you to remain in a perpetual state of stress and exhaustion. Youâre precious to him, his dearest treasure, and if he can prevent you from losing your luster, he will.
Given your mortal lifespan is already so limited, he refuses to watch you crash and burn out.
So, he decides heâll lend you some much needed assistance.
After a week of testing and schoolwork, the weekend finally arrives. The first thing Malleus does is convince Grim to stay at Diasomnia for the weekend. Silver (and, begrudgingly, Sebek) agree to watch over the small feline. A promise of food is all it takes.
Then, Malleus gathers various things he remembers that you like from your various conversations: tea, biscuits, warm blankets, and a book about gargoyles that youâd wanted to borrow from him.
With that, he sets off to your dorm, announcing that heâll return the following morning. The fae certainly hopes you wonât mind him spending the night. Either way, he merely wants you to relax. Surely, you wonât turn him away.
Upon arrival, he knocks curtly on the door. While he typically preferred strolls around the quiet forests of Ramshackle, he didnât mind having a day in at your request. You seem to enjoy cozy things when stressed, so he hopes this is enough.
You soon answer the door, a panicked expression on your face. âTsunotaro! Have you seen Grim? He ran off earlier, and he didnât say anything!â you insist. Malleus gives you a simple smile.
âHeâs spending time with Silver and Sebek at Diasomnia. My apologies, I thought he left you a message. Heâll be there for the weekend,â Malleus explains. You heave out a relieved sigh, leaning against the door frame.
âThank the Seven! He really needs to tell me before he runs off⊠but wait. Really? Heâs staying at Diasomnia? Are you sure you donât mindâŠ?â you ask nervously. Malleus chuckles and shakes his head.
âLilia is in charge for the weekend. I assure you, he can handle a few unruly creatures. He quite likes the challenge, actually. He doesnât mind,â Malleus starts. âActually, I was hoping youâd allow me to stay with you. Iâd enjoy your company.â
You regard him with wide eyes for a moment before stepping aside. âSure, I donât mind. Come in,â you say. âAh, but itâs a bit of a mess. Iâm sorryâ itâs been a hectic week.â
Malleus walks in and glances around. Sure enough, itâs a bit disorganized. Papers are strewn across the floor and judging by the mess of blankets by the table, heâs certain that youâve been sleeping while studying.
âNo need to offer apologies to me, Prefect. Actually, itâs fitting for the topic of conversation I wanted to bring up.â Malleus continues, âfrom what Iâve noticed, you seem overwhelmed. Iâve even heard that youâve been falling asleep in class. Are you resting properly?â
He watches as you deflate, walking over to the couch and sinking down into it. With a sigh, you respond.
âIâm glad someone noticed. Iâm exhausted, Tsunotaro. Our useless Headmage doesnât help with overblots or money, so Iâve been working at the Lounge on top of everything elseâ
âNot to mention, I need to help Grim study so he doesnât get caught in any dealings with Azul again. With everything going on, I hardly have time to sleep! Iâm so tired⊠Iâm really sorry, Malleus. Iâve been so busy that Iâve hardly had time to spend talking with you,â you mumble sadly. Malleus walks over and seats himself next to you.
âWhy apologize to me, dear Prefect?â he questions. You huff and lean against him, shutting your eyes.
âI actually enjoy your company, but Iâve been so busy. Iâve skipped so many of our usual late night walks. I miss spending time with you,â you express. Malleus canât help but give a fond smile in response. He gently runs his fingers through your hair as he hums.
âIâve felt deprived of your company, but Iâve never once blamed you for such a thing. Donât you think youâre the last person who owes anyone else an apology? Youâre an unwilling participant in all the messes you find yourself in,â Malleus mentions. You sigh quietly.
âThatâs true, but if I donât take care of the overblots, who will? We both know Crowley wonât do a thing,â you mutter, a tinge of bitterness in your tone. Malleus chuckles lightly.
âForgive me if it came off in this manner, but I wasnât suggesting that you change your ways. I quite like you the way you are now, even with your needless prying into dangerous trouble,â he teases lightly. âAll Iâm requesting is that, when you find itâs too much to bear on your own, you allow me to take care of you.â
You pause. Met with silence, Malleus turns to face you, shocked to find your face red with fluster. You let out a shaky breath and smile, looking down.
âDonât say things so cryptically like that, Tsunotaro. If you do, someone might mistake it for a confession, yâknow,â you mumble under your breath. Malleus regards you with a gentle expression, placing a finger on your chin and lifting your head to meet his gaze.
âPerhaps I wish for it to be taken in such a way. Have you considered that? If youâd prefer me to properly court you in order to be convinced, I donât mind. Though, I thought itâd be best to inform you of my intentions at the very least,â he says with a smirk. You find yourself speechless, unable to tear your eyes away from his gaze.
Malleus awaits your response patiently, and once you find your bearings, you sputter out a response.
âI-Iâve never considered that, but Iâd be happy to accept your feelings,â you whisper. âOh, but no courtingâ please, I can only handle so much embarrassment. I donât wanna know how far youâd go if I let you court me.â
Malleus smiles, leaning in to peck your lips softly before pulling back. âIâd only go as far as fae tradition allows. Alas, Iâll respect your wishes. If you accept my feelings, will you allow me to take care of you?â he asks. You return his smile and nod.
âPlease. Iâd appreciate it, Tsunotaro,â you say. With your permission, Malleus quickly gets to work.
A quick spell organizes the disarray that was once your lounging area. Then, he steeps the tea and prepares the snacks that he brought. He refuses to let you lift a finger to assist, insisting that you remain seated.
Once he pours you a cup, heâs happy to see the way your tense frame relaxes as you take a sip. Your dull eyes regain their shine as you both chatter away about whatever you please.
When he notices you yawn one too many times, he carries you to bed, much to your embarrassment. After changing into more comfortable clothing, he joins you in bed.
Sitting up, he allows you to wrap your arms around his waist and lay in his lap. In one of his hands, he holds the book youâd wanted to borrow, reading the contents aloud to you. With his other free hand, he gently runs away the knots in your back.
Malleus glances down every couple of minutes. Your expression of bliss and comfort brings warmth to his heart. Itâs a far cry from your exhaustion earlier, the bags beneath your eyes slowly fading away.
âMm⊠Tsunotaro. âm gonna fall asleep soon,â you mumble tiredly. Malleus hums in acknowledgment, shutting the book and setting it on the nightstand.
âThen sleep, my dear,â he insists, idly running his fingers through your hair. You shift your body to look up at him.
âWill you stay here? Please?â you ask. Malleus smiles, leaning down to kiss you gently.
âAs promised earlier, Iâll remain by your side. When you awaken, I will be here to greet you, so fret not,â he assured gently. You grin, leaning up to steal another kiss before laying back down.
âAlright then. Good night, Malleus. And thank you for helping me.â
Malleus smiles.
âOf course. You neednât thank me. Youâre my dearest treasure, and these simple things are merely proof of that,â he says. He watches quietly as you quietly drift off into slumber, your built up exhaustion finally catching up with you. Smiling, he leans down and kisses your forehead gently, whispering one last thing before falling asleep by your side.
âGood night, dear prefect.â
â fin.
#twisted wonderland fanfiction#twisted wonderland x reader#twst fanfic#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland fanfic#twst oneshot#twst malleus#twst malleus x reader#malleus draconia x reader#winnie-writes#winnie-wishes
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Moonlight Reign Ch. 5
A/N: Lmao hi! I'm back and this chapter is sorta boring but trust the process! Hopefully next chapter will be much sooner! Basically I post a chapter once I have the following one or two done~ Please enjoy and send asks and all that! I keep meaning to make a banner for this series, and one day I will have one!! As usual everyone thank @rapline-heaux my wonderful beta reader who read this months ago lmaooo
Series Masterlist
Pairing: Yandere Mafia! BTS x Reader
Word count: 5.4k
Warnings: yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, poly relationship, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mafia activities, crime, manipulation, crying, trauma, sensory flashbacks, murder, pining, past abuse, past neglect, familial issues, academic neglect, Taehyung and Jimin being mean, abandonment
By the time Jungkook returned to his apartment, all six of his lovers were seated around his dining table, waiting for him. The men looked at the youngest with an aura of moderate annoyance. They hated tardiness, and Jungkook could only imagine the story he spun about you.
âHow are you going to be late to the emergency meeting you called?â Jin asked, sighing as he checked his nails impatiently.Â
âGo on, tell em where you were.â Taehyung snipped, but Yoongi clicked his tongue in annoyance.
âDonât bother, he already whined about it.â Namjoon sighed out.
Jungkook snorted, âYeah, I can tell by the way Jimin looks pissed too.â The MMA fighter bristled at this but sighed, crossing his arms.Â
âIâll never understand what you guys have against her.â Hoseok rolled his eyes, âHow is she, dare I ask?â He sarcastically spoke, âAccording to Tae sheâs the Devil incarnate.âÂ
Jungkook rolled his eyes at this, landing on the man in question to send him a glare, âDid he tell you how much of an asshole he was?âÂ
âFunnily enough, he neglected to mention his behavior.â Yoongi spoke, not breaking his eye contact with Taehyung who shrunk in his seat a bit, âI also will never understand why she gets under both of your skin so much.â He looked to JImin who shifted in his seat, âNone of our trysts have ever gotten to you both.âÂ
âSheâs different.â Taehyung snarled bitterly. No one said it, but the sentiment was there. You were different because Jungkook kept going back to you. You were different because instead of making him worse and leaving them to pick up the pieces, you made him⊠better. You helped him come from the depths of rock bottom in a way none of them had been capable of doing due to their own internal battles, and it weighed on the two men in a way that guilt could never fully encapsulate.Â
âAnyways.â Jungkook spoke, plopping down next to Yoongi who sat at the head of the table, âIâm sure everyone here wants to know why I called you here?â He asked, and the men looked on expectantly. It was rare for Jungkook to call these meetings, especially so close to the anniversary date. Truthfully, he was surprised that they were all even able to attend in the first place, but it was all fate after all, at least in his eyes, âWell, I have just given us the best anniversary gift yet.â The men in the room perked up noticeably.Â
âDid Byungjoo seriously give you something useful?â Jimin asked curiously, âI thought I was supposed to go in tomorrow because heâs not talking about the old manâs whereabouts?â He looked to Namjoon whose gaze stayed fixed on Jungkook.
âYeah⊠you told me he wasnât squealing?â The CEO asked suspiciously.
âAnd he didnât, not about Byungyeol.â Jungkook confirmed, âBut he did mention something⊠about the girl.â Yoongiâs back was pin straight as the younger man spoke.Â
âIsnât she dead?â Hoseok asked, making Yoongiâs jaw set.Â
âHey, we donât know that for sure,â Jin argued for the sake of the second oldest who waited for Jungkook to continue with bated breath.
âOh come on.â Taehyung huffed out, âThat fireââ
âEnough.â Yoongi grit out, âLet him finish.âÂ
Jungkook smiled a bit, all too eager to finally have you out in the open, âSheâs alive.â The room went still as he continued, âHe gave me her name, and I had to check it out to make sure he wasnât lying but⊠I found her.âÂ
âNo way.â Jimin gasped, turning to the older man who had a lump in his throat, âWhat did you wanna do with her, boss?â The title was a bit sarcastic, âShe sharing the same fate as Byungjoo?âÂ
âNo.â Jungkook and Yoongi spoke in unison, making the two look at each other curiously. Everyone in the room knew Yoongi had a certain fixation on finding the green girl, especially as they were preparing for the fall of the Moon group, but they werenât sure why. The only person who really knew had been Jin who remained as tight-lipped as ever about the topic.Â
Yoongi cleared his throat to break some of the tension, âNo, I donât think I plan to kill her.â He spoke cooly, but Jungkookâs jaw set at the mere possibility.
âNone of us will be killing or harming her.â Jungkook proclaimed, making the two bosses in the room glared at him.Â
âThatâs not your call to make, JK.â Namjoon reminded him, but he shook his head in defiance.
âWhy do you even care?â Jin asked curiously.
Taehyung watched with squinted eyes as he studied the scene before him. Jungkook never once cared about who lived or died. Hell, he hated attending most meetings. It didnât make sense why heâd care about some random girl he didnât knowâ
Oh.Â
Rage bubbled in the pit of Taehyungâs stomach as the puzzle pieces clicked into place, âItâs because sheâs been right next door this whole time, isnât it?â He piped up, and Jungkookâs glare at him deepened, âSheâs fucking deaââ Taehyung stood and Jimin followed suit.
âSit down.â Yoongi hissed, and the men had no other choice but to listen as he turned to the maknae, âIs that true?âÂ
Jungkook pursed his lips and let out a short laugh, âAnd I had no fucking clue,â He admitted, and Namjoon wanted to bang his head on the table. All of the men knew that Jungkook wouldnât lie about this kind of thing, not when it meant so much to Yoongi, but stillâ
âHow could you be so carelessââÂ
âWe all thought she was dead!â Jungkook defended himself, and Yoongi remained quiet, âNone of us knew her name, how she looked, hell, we didnât even know her real age, evidently.â He sighed, âShe didnât even know about me.âÂ
âWhat?â Hoseok chimed in, âYouâre telling me this is all a coincidence?â He asked incredulously, but Jungkook stood his ground.
âThe reason Iâve been so off these days?â He offered, and his boyfriends stiffened, âShe saw Namjoon on the news as Bangtan Corpâs CEO, and she⊠I mean, sheâs not an idiot. She added two and two together.â He bitterly admitted, âOur one rule was shattered, so we agreed to go our separate ways butâŠâ
Jin scrunched his brows as he took it in, âYou couldnât let her go, could you?â He asked, and the implications made the men in the room feel ill. Jungkook, the man who could have multiple one-night stands in a night without feeling an ounce of affection for them, couldnât let you, his friend, walk out of his life, âJungkook youâŠâ
âShe was all I had duringâŠâ He trailed off, and the other men could fill in the blanks, âWe found each other at our lowest, and now I see why she was so skittish at first itâŠâ He sighed, âIt was fate, I see that now.âÂ
âFate?!â Taehyung guffawed, âShe was playing you!âÂ
âHow?!â He challenged, raising his voice back, âItâs been years and sheâs never once asked me for anything!âÂ
âEveryone calm down, okay?â Hoseok tried to mediate, âLook, I agree with Jungkook, thereâs no way she knew or was playing him.â He defended and Jimin scoffed, âIâm serious. I was the one who watched her those days, alright?â
âByungjoo had no idea I even knew her.â Jungkook mentioned, âI didnât tell him I did, obviously. He just⊠immediately gave me her name and her phone number.â He said, but sighed, âShe got a new phone the day after she saw Namjoon on the news, you know.â He admitted, âI know now Byungjoo called her that day and she freaked out, now I know why.â
âFreaked out?â Yoongi asked, expression unreadable.Â
âWhy would she freak out if her uncle called?â Namjoon asked, the Moon family was supposed to be tight-knit.
âSheâsâŠâ Jungkook tried to find the word, âI donât think she was raised how we thought at all, hyung.â He admitted, and it made the older manâs stomach churn, âI think we need to reevaluate everything we thought we knew about the Moon family.â Whispers in the Underworld spoke of a spoiled yet deadly princess who got everything she wanted at the snap of a finger. You were supposed to have been pampered to a nauseating degree.Â
âWhy donât we ask her ourselves?â Jimin bitterly added, unbelieving that you could be anything other than what theyâd been told.
âFine.â Jungkook surprisingly agreed, âBut not tonight.âÂ
âWhat are we even going to do with her?â Jin asked finally, âIf weâre not going to kill her then what?â He felt the need to add, âWe canât let her run. Obviously, she was planning to.âÂ
âWe hire her.â Yoongi announced and all of the men except Namjoon looked at him in surprise.
âJust like that?â Hoseok chuckled, âVery well then.âÂ
âWhat use do we have for her?â Jimin hissed just as Taehyung stood.
âYouâre joking.â Taehyung seethed, âHire her to what? Stab us in the back?âÂ
âI havenât heard anything to suggest she has any allegiance to her family.â Namjoon reasoned, âAnd she is a nurse, has been Jungkookâs very own for a while now.â He added with a tinge of bitterness, âIt only makes sense thatââ
âNo way in hell am I going to the green girl prodigy killer to heal me.â Taehyung scoffed.
âThen donât.â Yoongi clipped, making the man scowl further, âBut if you need to, she is our new nurse, effective immediately.â
Hoseok, utterly amused, beamed a bit at this, âAnd no more coming to me to patch you up anymore.â He added, making Taehyung click his tongue, âIâm no good at it and it makes me have to cut into our supply.â He defended. Hoseok had some medical training, he had to in order to be the knowledgeable pharmacist he was now, but he didnât like using it.Â
âAnd whoâs going to tell her?â Jin asked, seemingly unphased by the nightâs events, but he seldom was.
âI will.â Yoongi proclaimed, âIâll speak with her tomorrow and lay out the terms after we hammer them out tonight.â Jungkook stiffened at the idea of the other members seeing you, but it was unavoidable. All he really cared about was the fact that your heart would remain beating and you would be relatively free.Â
Jimin glared at Jungkook, âWhat did you two talk about over there?â He asked.
Jungkook stiffened at the memory of just moments ago before returning his loverâs harsh gaze, âHave something you wanna say?âÂ
âInteresting that Jungkook gets to keep his toy.â Taehyung spat, making the man in question snarl before Jimin had a chance to say anything.Â
âShe is not a toy.â Yoongi hissed to everyoneâs surprise. He cleared his throat, letting the heat melt from his body, âShe is now a vital member of the group and should be treated as such.â This made Jungkook smile.
â
â...And then you tie it like this.â Eunhwa explained, tying the know just above the tip of your gash, âThese are poligecaprone sutures, best for general tissue repair, like this.â She was so dutiful in her words, you almost envied how well-spoken she was. Eunhwa was a new instructor since the last one stopped showing up, and you didnât have it in you to worry when she was so rotten. So far, Eunhwa was quite kind, but she made a displeased face at your wound, and you wondered if she blamed you for it. Father did, after all. He always said you had no business being as clumsy as you were.
Nevertheless, you watched the needle enter your skin and the knot she tied carefully as you nodded, ten-year-old mouth trying to form the word in silence as you did the next suture, the pattern being interrupted, âPolââ You cut yourself off, looking at Eunhwa with surprise at the fact that you made a noise. You knew the rules, you knew legacies donât speak unless they have something useful to say.Â
You gulped, waiting for admonishment or a behavior report to be made and handed to your uncle, but instead, she smiled, âDo you want help sounding it out?â She asked.
âYes, maâam.â You whispered out.Â
A brief moment of sadness, an emotion you couldnât identify yet, flashed on her face before she dutifully guided you through the word.Â
You completed the knot and she checked your work with a nod, âVery good.â She mused before her eyes flicked to yours, âDid it hurt? Your father suggested I not give you numbing cream, but if it hurt too bad I can try to convince him.â She offered, but you shook your head. She looked at you quizzically, âIt didnât hurt?â You shook your head again. It hadnât hurt more than anything else youâd taken, âYou donât want me to talk to him?âÂ
You swallowed, left with no other choice but to talk, âI can take it. I must.â You echoed his words, âItâs my job.â You solemnly spoke and Eunhwa paused for a moment, before nodding.Â
âVery well.â She spoke softly, âI wonât talk to him, then. Just, speak freely around me, okay?â She asked, âI wonât tell, I promise.âÂ
You nodded, unable to say that you didnât know how to speak freely.
â
If sleep found you, it certainly didnât feel like it. Your eyes opened, and it felt like a mere blink. Nevertheless, the sun was slowly beginning to light the sky. The world was still turning for you, for now. You wondered how long you could keep that up.Â
It wasnât going to be long now before the devil was coming to collect your soul in the form of one of the Bangtan men, so you decided to use your last moment to speak to the only other person who ever cared what you had to say.Â
The line rang only twice before she picked up, and before she could say anything you spoke, âItâs over.â You breathed, âThey found me.âÂ
âWhat?â Eunhwa asked, and you could hear a door close, âNo, that canât beââ
For the first time in your life, you cut her off, âItâs okay.â You breathed out shakily, âI lived a bit.â You wanted to say you were ready to die, but you werenât. You werenât and the fact made you envious of your past self. A puppet with no concept of a life to live canât fear death.
âNo you didnât.â She seethed, making your jaw clench. She was right. Your life had just barely started. You still had so much to learn and so many things to do that were now evaporating right before your eyes, âAre you sure theyâre going to kill you?â She asked, and your brows scrunched.
âTheyâve been looking for me this long.â You pointed out, âWhy would they keep me alive? Even if Jungkook were to plead my case.âÂ
âWhy would they kill you though?â Her voice was too hopeful for you, but you let her speak anyway, âWhy would they kill someone theyâve been pursuing this hard?âÂ
âEunhwaââ You were cut off by a sharp knock on the door that made your stomach fall, âThank you.âÂ
âDonât talk like that.â She hissed, but you could hear the quiver in her voice, âI-Iâm going to make a few calls andââ The knock on your door pounded louder this time, and you smiled sadly.Â
âI have to go.â You simply said before hanging up. You took a deep breath before approaching the door. You figured death was best faced without thought. You had spoken to the one person from your past life that would miss you, and that was enough.Â
The doorknob was unbelievably cold in your hand as you opened it. You didnât realize you were looking down until you were left to stare at the fanciest pair of dress shoes youâd seen in a while. Finally, you looked up to face the man before you, and it was like time stopped for a moment. Something about his sharp eyes was eerily familiar, and it nearly gave you a headache trying to think about it.Â
Yoongi on the other hand, found himself blown away by you. Finally, after years of searching and clawing his way through unwritten records of the underground, here you were. Right under his nose this whole time. How many times had he passed you in the elevator or in the mail room? You were beautiful, stunning even, so how could he have missed you for this long? He watched you drink him in with knitted brows and a brief flash of recognition nearly made him jump back. Could you truly recognize him, even after all you went through since?Â
âDo⊠Do I know you?â You asked, and Yoongi smiled. You could see the melancholy dripping from the expression, making you feel even more uneased, âAre you here to kill me?â You asked, voice smaller than you hoped but you supposed it wasnât going to matter much pretty soon.Â
âQuite the opposite.â He quickly corrected you. Yoongi couldnât kill you even if he wanted to. You may not be able to recognize him, but heâd know your face anywhere. It was his one comfort for a long time until it was ripped from him, âMay I come in?â He raised a brow and you shrugged.Â
âI donât suppose I have much of a choice.â You mumbled under your breath before walking to your couch.Â
Yoongi shut the door behind him, studying your form. Even in this despaired state, you were full of more life than heâd ever seen before. A smidge of jealousy boiled in his blood at the realization Jungkook got to see you laugh and act aloof like a friend would this whole time. He shook it off, sitting on the armchair next to the evidently second-hand furniture you sat on, âNeedless to say, I am involved with Bangtan.â You nodded, eyes clouded with a million different emotions, âI am Min Yoongi, one of the seven bosses.â You sat on the couch next to the chair, never taking your eyes off of him.
âI donât recognize you like I do Namjoon.â You spoke, studying his face further.Â
He flashed you a tight smile, heart panging from hearing you say you donât recognize him, âIâm in charge of running our underground operations and appearances.â He explained and your mouth formed a small O for a moment.Â
âWait.â You spoke, studying him further, âMinâŠâ His surname stuck to your lips for a reason you couldnât place, âI know that name IâŠâ You bit your lip, you prided yourself on remembering faces and placing them just as well, but something about him clouded that ability, âDid IâŠâÂ
âNo, I donât have a vendetta against you.â He shook his head, and you scrunched your brows, âI do against your father and uncle, but youâve done nothing to harm me.â He spoke, âItâs why we plan to let you live.âÂ
âAnd not them.â You finished for him, heart dropping a bit when he nodded. You knew you shouldâve been more upset hearing that your father and uncle were to be murdered, but you didnât care too much if you were being honest. It wasnât as if they wouldâve felt any different if the roles were reversed, even if the child in you was mourning them.
However, Yoongi was unnerved by your lack of reaction, âDoes that upset you?â He asked, genuinely unable to tell.Â
âNot really, no.â You spoke honestly, not wanting to nor trained in the art of lying all that well, âSo I get to live?â The glimmer of hope in your eyes squeezed at his chest in a way that made him shift a bit.
âIn exchange for something else.â He confirmed, and your body went stiff as you waited for him to continue, âYour time and knowledge.âÂ
You sighed. Fuck, you were screwed if he needed you to know anything of use, but most importantly, you were tired, âIf you think Iâm at all still connected to the UnderworldâŠâ
âNo, no.â He stopped you short, and you looked at him quizzically, âI wouldâve found you long ago if you were.â You nodded, and his confidence was all you needed in order to see him for what he was. He was the man who triggered the downfall of your family. You wanted to hate him for it, but you couldnât, not really, âWe all agreed to hire you on as our new nurseâ Your breath hitched at his words, mind swimming with a million different things, âWe will compensate you for your time and stock whatever supplies you need. You will also have our protection.â
You nodded, but you could hardly believe it, âWho will be my patients?â You asked.
âThe seven of us.â He didnât need to elaborate much further than that, âThe lower echelons have their own designated medical services.â He explained, and you were a little impressed by it it all. Your fatherâs organization was not nearly this⊠well, organized. You and Eunhwa were the primary medical services for the upper echelons and the lower members had to fend for themselves.
âAnd can I still have my current job?â You asked, and you breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded.Â
âYes, itâs best that way.â He confirmed, âIf any of us need you during your work hours, we will make sure to tell you beforehand so we can coordinate that in a way that doesnât look suspicious.â He said, but it all sounded too good to be true.Â
You fixed a sharp look on him, âWhat else?âÂ
He sighed, âTomorrow, we plan to have you come forward.â You had to grip the couch to stop your bones from turning to jelly at the fear that burned you from the inside, âWithout revealing your identity fully, of course.â He quickly added, but it did nothing to ease you, and something about your evident panic made him feel sick, âWe plan to have you announce your intent to bring your father and uncle to justice. It may draw the old man out.â He leaned forward, trying to catch your panicked gaze thatâd been darting across the room, âAll you have to do is record a voice line tonight, include something that only you would know, and send it to me.â He said, and it slowed your heart a mere fraction, âWe will take care of the rest.âÂ
âHow will you explain this to the public?â You asked, but he simply shook his head, âTheyâre going to demand my head I bet.â You were a cold-hearted killer. You knew that the few people that did hear of you firsthand had seldom good to say. Who even knew what your father publicized about you? You stayed away from the news because you didnât need to know.Â
âHow scared you are right now tells me that the public will never have been so happy to be wrong about someone.â He mused, and your brows scrunched in confusion, âYou were supposed to be some prissy spoiled heiress who killed when she bribed to.âÂ
âBribed? Spoiled?â You balked, shaking your head, âThatââ You didnât even know what those words really meant until you met Jungkook, âHow didââÂ
âYour father controlled the narrative for a long time.â He spoke, words heavier than he knew, âHe wonât now.â He spoke as if it were so simple, âI canât believe Iâm saying this, but be honest about what kind of man he and Byungjoo were.â He chuckled, no amusement behind it, âTaehyung will be by in a bit to take your statement and give you the contract.â He stood, and you wanted to complain about Taehyung being the one to do it. However, you held your tongue, only nodding, obedient as ever and you hated it. But what choice did you have?Â
âYes, sir.â You sighed, and the silent submission made Yoongi feel disgusted with himself.Â
âNo need for that.â He shook his head, making you look up at him in confusion, âPlease, just call me Yoongi.â His plea was a little too noticeable, but you nodded anyway, âIâm not your father nor your uncle.â He said softly, but that was only something you would believe when you saw it for yourself, âWere theyâŠâ He stopped, trying to think of how to ask such a thing, âYou really werenât spoiled or sheltered, were you?â He asked, already knowing just by how you looked away.Â
âNo, not in the way you think.â You breathed, âI was an employee more than anything.â You murmured, embarrassed for some reason, âI see that now more than ever.âÂ
âI see.â He simply said, âAnd JungkookâŠâ You stiffened at the mention, âHas he been good to you?â He asked against his better judgment. This wasnât his business, no matter how much he wanted it to be.Â
You nodded, and he felt his shoulders relax, âNo one had ever been so kind to me.â You refrained from cursing him for bringing the Underworld back to your door. Not only were you unsure how angry you were, you doubted his boyfriend would fancy hearing it.Â
âGood.â He simply said before taking his leave.Â
â
âLook, I donât want to be here anymore than you want me here,â Taehyung said when you opened the door to reveal him and Jungkookâs favorite MMA fighter, Park Jimin, at his side. You didnât even have the energy to be surprised as he regarded you with as much hatred as Taehyung held, âSo letâs get this over with.â He pushed past you to enter your apartment. Namjoon trailed behind them, at least having the decorum to nod at you.
You thought about introducing yourself to Jimin, but decided against it at his glare, âRight.â You simply breathed.Â
âFirst, hereâs the contract.â Jimin shoved the paper toward you as you read through it. You may not have been the best speaker or the best writer, but you could sure as hell read. Reading was all you could do for a long time. When you signed your name, his nose scrunched, âYou write like a grade-schooler.â He spoke, and it pricked at your deepest shame. You had only been writing for the most part for five years.
The pen snapped in your hand, but you paid no attention to the ink that spilled onto your skin, âFuck you.â You hissed, taking him aback for a moment.Â
âWatch it.â Taehyung snapped, pausing as he set up the equipment.Â
âI donât talk back unless spoken to.â You snarled, moving to wash the ink off, âI donât need this from either of you, especially not tonight.â You sat at the table, waiting for him to position the mic, âSo letâs just get this over with, I have work tomorrow.âÂ
âEveryone relax.â Namjoon finally spoke, âWe can be adults about this.â He glared at the three of you, before letting his gaze land on you, âIâm going to ask you questions, and you respond accordingly.â You nodded.Â
âOkay, Ms. Moon, I say as this is not your real last name, please address your father Byungyeol.â He spoke into the mic. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. What the hell was there to say? You had laid it all out to him five years ago. You had shown true and genuine weakness, real desperation, and he didnât hesitate in turning his back to you.Â
You looked at Namjoon, expression totally lost and much more vulnerable than you wanted. Something about the way you looked like a puppy tugged at his heartstrings a bit in a way he didnât understand, âWhat? Donât wanna disparage your precious dad?â Taehyung taunted, snapping the CEO from his trance.
Your eyes snapped to him in a sharp glare, âHow many times do I have to tell you that you donât know one thing about me?â You seethed, but he looked less than convinced.Â
âLook, just pretend he was rotten and mean and youâre scared of him.â Jimin spoke to you as if you were a child, and it only made you angrier, âYou should be used to lying, come on princess.âÂ
âEnough!â Namjoon silenced the two men, âIf you upset her itâll show in her statement.â He spoke, as cold as ever, âBehave.â He ordered before looking to you, âNow, tell me is Byungyeol a good man?âÂ
âNo.â You spoke, immediately, and you were both disappointed when he waited for you to elaborate and you had nothing to say. You didnât know how to do this, and it pissed you off. Jungkook knew how to keep you talking all the time, and so did Eunhwa, but outside of them, you were a mere soundboard. Namjoon could see the frustration on your face, and it unsettled him.Â
Why were you having such a hard time talking? He looked around the room to see his lovers glaring harshly down at you and figured maybe that was the reason. He sighed, âHow is she supposed to feel comfortable saying anything with you two looking at her like that?â He asked, shaking his head, âBring Jungkook or Hoseok in.â He waved them off with a sigh.Â
âNo, itâs fine.â You grit out, the pride in you swelling, âThey can think what they want to.â You didnât even dignify them with a glare, âAgain.â You nodded at Namjoon who finally broke his disbelieving look at you with a sigh.Â
âOkay.â He fixed his tie despite this whole thing only being audio, but you supposed it just made sense he was constantly aware of his appearance, âLetâs try a different approach.â He announced, âJust talk directly to your father.â He said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, âTell him to turn himself in and be sure to mention something only you would know. Do the same with your uncle for the sake of optics.â He ordered and you wanted to say you werenât sure if your father committed his actions towards you to memory. Odds are many of those days and nights tattooed in your memory werenât out of the ordinary for him, as mundane as brushing his teeth. However, you shut your mouth. It wasnât your problem if it didnât work.Â
You nodded and he gestured for you to start after Taehyung clicked the record button, âFather, IâŠâ You took a deep breath as you tapped on your thigh mindlessly, âI think itâs time to atone for your sins.â Your words were shaky, âRemember? We donât show fear, and you shouldnât now.â The words were heavy on your tongue, âYou told me that you find me in three years⊠that we would be a normal family after I begged you not to leave me alone, all by myself in a world I never got to see.â You wanted to choke on your fatherâs false promise, âItâs been five years since that day, and Iâve grown up a lot since then. I understand now more than ever how wrong you were about so much, and I have solemnly accepted the consequences of my actions under your guidance.â Your leg began bouncing as you spoke, âItâs time for you and uncle to do the same.â You tried to think of anything else to say, but it was all you had, so you looked at Namjoon, âGood?âÂ
His eyes were clouded, and you were unable to make out how exactly he felt. However, one thing remained that was clear, he was undeniably skeptical of you. That was fine, you didnât need his trust, you just needed your heart to be beating, âYeah, thatâll do for now.â He nodded to Jimin and Taehyung, âIf he doesnât come forward, we may need more.â You nodded, and that was thankfully enough for him.Â
âYou can let yourselves out.â You sighed, âIâm exhausted, so goodnight.â You didnât bother to wait for a response as you turned on your heel and shut your bedroom door behind you.Â
Namjoon opened his mouth to mention that they didnât have a key, but you didnât seem to care anyway. He sighed, a mix of conflicting emotions swirling in his chest as Taehyung packed up.Â
âSheâs the worst.â Tarhyung grumbled under his breath as Jimin curtly nodded. Namjoon rolled his eyes, knowing the two men well enough to see when they felt a twinge of regret. It was obvious at least some of what they heard about you was incorrectâ if your statement was to be believed, that is.
----------------------
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#bts mafia au#bts fanfic#bts series#bts poly au#ot7 x reader#yandere bts#yandere bts x reader#bts x reader#mafia bts#yandere mafia bts
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Author's Note: If you're wondering where Chapter 4 is, you're not going crazy. Due to the nature and formatting (it uses chatlogs and explicit content) it is not suited enough for this prude-ass site. I'm sorry to say, but if you want to read Chapter 4 (and all the way up to 7), you'll have to subscribe to my SubStar. I'm sorry, I wish there was another way, but I will have it available for even the least expensive option of $3. My sincerest apologies. Still, I think you'll still be able to grasp the story without missing too much context from Ch. 4 (our main character, Alan, performed a task, and was rewarded with pictures of Persephone.) I hope you can still enjoy the story below. Thanks for reading!
The White Rabbit Chapter 5 - Cockslut
I had never jerked off to the same set of pictures so many times in my life. Even when I was younger and found my Dadâs dirty magazines, my prepubescent self didnât spank it as much as I had to the photos Iâd just received from Persephone. I spent so long staring and fapping to those pictures she sent, every inch of her was embedded into my brain. Burned into my retinas like when a TV is left on for so long that it damages the display. Hell, it probably is burned into my phone screen from being up so many times.Â
Sheâs even more gorgeous than I imagined. Itâs rare that something can live up to the hype youâve been building up for it for so long. I pored over every pixel of her perfect body, examined the contours of her cheeks, the twinkle in her eyes, the crooks of that devious smile, the splotches of colors in her tattoos, specifically the one of the little white rabbit.
âThat doesnât mean thatâs what she really looks like. She could be catfishing youâ That tiny voice in the back of my head still whispered. But I shoved that thought aside, even after the post-nut clarity hit.
I still masturbated the way she told me to. Every single time. Fingering the head of my dripping clit through my little panties with a dildo in my mouth or ass. I didnât last long at all. I imagined her standing over me, smiling that wicked smile, laughing at me while shoving that dildo in my mouth, or pounding me in the ass with it. I finally was able to give a face to the rubber dick Iâd been shoving in my holes for so long. What I wouldnât give to have her right there next to me, doing all the things I imagined, but in reality.
Persephone didnât talk to me for a few days. I donât know if she had something going on, or if she was just leaving me to my own devices, to stare longingly at her photos, to imagine scenarios of her in my head. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I think it also makes subs more dependent on their Mistresses.Â
Without her guiding presence, I was left with this odd sort of void. No one was telling me what to do anymore. How would I know how to âfuck my slutty little assholeâ if she wasnât there to tease and berate me with her messages?
Iâm not proud of what I did in her absence.Â
âSorry, I had some thingsâŠcome up at work.â She messaged after almost a whole week.Â
âItâs fine.â I said, trying to sound nonchalant, like I wasnât checking my phone every 30 seconds in hopes that she would finally respond.Â
âDid you do okay while I was gone?â
âYes Mistress.â I said, hoping to leave it at that.
âMy little slut was able to handle herself?â
I guess you could say that. âYes Mistress.â
But something was eating at me. I didnât know how to tell her, I didnât know if I wanted to tell her. But this relationshipâno matter how weird it wasâhad to be built on trust, right?
âIâŠi mightâveâŠâ I typed out the next part, deleted it, then typed again. âI may haveâŠfound someone elseâŠâ
My heart was pounding as I waited for her response, but it didnât take long.Â
âOh?â
She wanted me to elaborate.Â
âDid you find a girl in real life thatâll dress you up like a sissy bitch and fuck your little butt, slut?â
I audibly scoffed at that. Like that would ever happen.Â
âNo IâŠfound some other people onlineâŠâ
âPeople? As in, more than one?â
âIâŠyeaâŠâ
She didnât say anything for a while. She must have been fuming.Â
âAre they girls? Or are they men?â
I felt myself flush, shriveling into myself. I felt so ashamed, not just because of what it was, but because I knew I was disappointing her. I was effectively âcheatingâ on her.Â
âMenâŠđâ
Nothing happened for a second, minutes, hoursâ or at least thatâs what it felt like. Then, Persephone is typingâŠ
It took a long time too. She must have been writing a novel. Berating me for being such a piece of shit. I finally found a girl to fulfill my dreams, and I went and blew it as soon as she stepped away for a few days.Â
âYouâve gotta be fucking kidding me.â She said. âDid you sext with them??â
Again, I wanted to lie, but there was no denying it now. âYesâŠâ
âThis is it. I blew it. A girl any submissive would kill for, and I let it slip away the first chance I got.Â
Persephone is typingâŠ
I was sweating, dreading what was to come. Finally, a massive text bubble hit the screen.Â
âLMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOđđđđđđđđđđđđđđđđđâ
WellâŠthat wasnât the response I expected.Â
âYou fucking WHORE!! Hahahaâ
I felt a bit of tentative relief, still not quite sure how she was taking it.Â
âDid I tell you you had to do that??â
âNo maâamâŠđ„â
âBut you did it anyway?â
âMhmm.. đŁâ
âYou know, this is the second time youâve done something without my permission, and it always seems to involve cockâŠâ
She was referring to the time I used the dildos she âmadeâ me buy. She didnât tell me to use them, she didnât have to, I justâŠdid it anyway.Â
âBecause youâre a desperate little cockslut, arenât you?â
My immediate reaction was to deny it, the same way Iâd been doing my whole life. I always told myself âas long as a woman was making me be a slut for men, it was fine. Itâs not gay.â But the proof was right there. Even without her around I still went out and did what I always told myself Iâd never do on my own.Â
âIâŠi think soâŠđ©â
âI wanna hear you say it.âÂ
âSay what?â
âTell me what you are.â
It took a second to register what she meant, but then it hit me like a truck.
âIâm a little cockslutâŠâ I said. Just typing the words made me feel weird, but also weirdly arrousedâŠ
âLouder.â
I switched to all caps, âIâM A LITTLE COCKSLUT!!â
âNo no.â She replied, âI want you to make a video. Put your little panties on, get on your dildo, and start bouncing.â
I scrambled to obey, perhaps a bit too quickly. My cock was already fully erect by the time I pulled my panties up around it. I stuck the suction cup to the floor, making the rubber dick sway back and forth, squirted a generous amount of lube on the tip, worked some between my crack, pulled my panties aside, hit the video, and started recording.Â
I slowly lowered myself down on it, wincing as it pressed inside my unrelaxed sphincter. There were several seconds of awkward fumbling and adjusting and lowering and gasping before it finally worked its way in and the sounds turned to sighing.Â
âIâm a little cockslut,â I said softly, working the dildo further into me.Â
âIâm a little cockslut.â I repeated, feeling it slide along my prostate.Â
âIâm a little cockslut!â My eyes were in the back of my head.Â
âIâM A LITTLE COCKSLUT!!â I practically shouted, burying the dildo all the way inside me until I was squatting down on the balls. There was no denying how good it felt to be full like that. I quickly clipped the video and sent it to Persephone.Â
âDonât stop now.â She replied. âI can see you leaking in your panties. Youâre loving this!!â
She was right, my panties were soaked with precum.Â
I bounced, swirled, grinded my hips back and forth.Â
âHow many guys did you sext with?â
I wanted to reduce the number, but I was too horny to deny it.Â
âSevenâ I managed to reply while still keeping rhythm.Â
âSeven?! Thatâs more than I assigned you the other day!â
She was right. What felt like such a chore before quickly became something I craved, like a lot of things she was making me doâŠ
The dildo felt so good. I was fully relaxed now, bouncing and taking that dick like the best of them.Â
âHow did it make you feel? Being a little whore for men and making them cum?â
âLike a slut, Goddess.â
âYou fucking LOVED it, didnât you?â
I did, and I told her so.Â
âShow me how much you love that dick.â
I set the camera up again, putting it in selfie mode so I could see myself bounce on the cock. I needed to shave my legs, I needed to work out more, get in better shape to get a better body so I could attract moreâ
Oh my GOD! It felt so good. When I leaned back it hit my spot perfectly. I crab-crawled my arms backwards, putting all my weight on my hands so I could focus on gyrating my hips.Â
I pulled the front of my panties to the side. I wanted her to see how hard I was. How much it made my dick swell to have something pumping in and out of my asshole. I was gonna be her little buttslut. Her little whore to pimp out like she always told me. My mind was swimming, my body was clenching, waves coursed through my legs and up to my pelvis, an immense rush came from inside my rectum and thenâ
The first shot caught me off guard. A huge spurt of semen flew straight up in the air. Another one went forward, spraying the floor and pretty much everything else around the room as my bouncing cock spewed like an unmanned firehose.Â
It took several seconds for me to register what happened, to come off the high I just experienced. To snap back to reality, to realize this even was reality. I was still gasping for breath when I slowly slid the cock out. I sat there for a second, contemplating what just took place.Â
I just had a sissygasm.Â
Iâd heard of it before, but I never thought it was actually possible other than by extremely practiced sissies. Professionals. Ones that knew what they were doing because theyâd done it so much and so heavily enjoyed the feeling of coâ
I grabbed my phone, swiping away a glob of cum that must have landed on the screen. I contemplated not sending the video to Persephone, but I had to see what she said.Â
Her first several messages were a series of laughing emojiis. She even sent me an audio file of her cackling like an amused hyena. If I could have seen her face, it probably had tears of laughter leaking down the sides.Â
âI knew youâd get there one day, but I didnât expect it to be so soon!!â
I let her have her fun. Berating and humiliating and teasing me for proving what a âcockslutâ I am. I donât think there was anything I could do to deny it at that point.Â
âClean up your mess.â She finally said.Â
I spent the next several minutes lapping up the many, many puddles of cum littered around the room. The thick globs refused to come up just from me tonguing it like a dog, so I had to press my lips around them and slurp it up like a dog.Â
âYouâre not done.â She said after I sent her the video of me gargling and swallowing some.Â
I looked around for a puddle Iâd missed, how had she seen something that I couldnât?
âIâm not sure where, GoddessâŠ?â
Was it my panties? They *were* quite wet, did she mean my panties? But she soon clarified:
âThe dildo đâÂ
My stomach churned as I looked back at the rubber dick Iâd just violated my ass with. âOh GoddessâŠplease noâŠâ
This wasnât me faking some sort of trepidation in order for her to have another chance to belittle me, this was genuine disgust.Â
âI know itâs gross, honey. But if iâm gonna whore you out youâre going to have to get used to going ass to mouth. There are some very callous men out thereâŠâ
âPleaseâŠplease donât make me đ„șâ
âIâm sorry, sissy, it has to be done. Let this be a lesson for you to keep yourself clean at all times. You need to be doing regular enemas. You never know whoâs gonna stop and bend your bimbo ass over! Now get to cleaning. And donât try to wipe it down first either, I can see the glistens of lube.â
Damn, that was my backup plan. There was no getting out of it. WellâŠthere was. I could just stop talking to her altogether. Draw the line. Quit right here and now. But was I really going to let a dirty dildo ruin what we have? Iâd probably never get this opportunity again. (Not to clean my ass juices off a fake dickâbut have a powerful woman tell me what to do.)
I leaned in close, turning up my nose, trying to block out the faint, pungent smell. The fake black dick at least hid any damning streaks I may not have had the stomach to see.Â
After tapping record on my phone, I tentatively opened my mouth and stuck my tongue to the tip, cringing at the taste that was probably more lube than anything else. I made a mental note to get the flavored stuff if this was going to be a regular occurance.Â
A regular occurance? What was happening to me?? I went from wanting to be dominated by a stranger, to wearing panties, dirty talking creepy men, shoving dicks in my holes, and then shoving those dirty dicks back into my mouth. I never imagined wanting to be dominated would lead to me doing such depraved things. But here I was, slurping the lube off of a dick I just used to make myself cum without even touching my own dick.Â
âI think you missed a spotâŠâ Persephone said, âgo deeper.â
I wonder if she enjoys this. Like genuinely enjoys watching guys in panties gag and sputter on a dirty dildos. Then again, I can think of several females I screwed over in the past that would probably pay good money for this very video.Â
âNow the ballsâŠâ
If it was able to sparkle, it would have by the time I was done with it. My mouth was full of all sorts of conflicting flavors like cum, lube, and god knows what else.Â
âSmack your face with it a few times, just for giggles!â
Oh how far Iâd fallen. If only I had known at the time that this was only the very beginning.Â
âDid you have fun?â She asked after it was all said and done.Â
âYes Goddess,â I said, even without being horny anymore, I found myself being truthful.Â
âYou like being my little slut?â
âYES Goddess!â
âGood. Because I have another assignment for youâŠâ
~~To Be Continued~~
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MEMORIES LOST â Jareth x ofc/fem reader. Ch. 3.
Summary: A mysterious woman falls into the Underground, claiming she does not have memories and not knowing why she is there. Jareth, who's bored and taking slight pity on her, takes her under his wing to ease some of his own misery. Post Labyrinth (1986).
Warnings: nudity, masturbation, voyeurism, manipulation, corruption, smut in general.
Word count: 1,333.
Note: female character is named Leah, but no physical characteristics (such as skin color, hair, eyes, etc.) are described on this story. Feel free to imagine how she looks like.
I also think this might have 4 or 5 chapters in total, I'm still deciding on that lol.
In this chapter: dirty oral sex (m receiving), kinda manipulation, and corruption.
â if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !
This fanfiction is also posted in Ao3 under the name undyingfidelity.
Chapter 1. | Chapter 2. |Chapter 3.
The woman hummed a happy melody, walking around the aisles of the castle. Leah just finished her duties late that night, but she was still full of energy, so she didn't mind staying up until it was almost midnight.
As curious as she was, she found a great and magnificent door in the castle, she assumed it was the throne room. Leah did not recall ever getting in there, she was intrigued by how would it be. It was already late, and the door seemed not completely closed. The aisle was empty and there was no one around, so carefully she got inside the room.
Leah felt cold hitting her body for some reason as she closed slowly the door behind her. She observed the roof was very high and that Goblin stone heads decorated the place, making it a little intimidating. Leah looked at the throne at the back of the room, giving short steps and getting near the stairs of Jareth's empty seat.
She stopped right on the edge of the stairs, deciding whether or not to climb the stairs and sit down on the throne. Maybe she would feel powerful, just like he did. Leah swallowed thickly, thinking about the control Jareth started to have on her. Even if his orders and requests were mundane house chores, his voice and the way he managed to tell them made her feel chills and strange sensations in her body.
"I didn't expect a visitor," a familiar voice talked behind her.
She swallowed thickly and remained still. Jareth's steps got closer and closer until Leah felt the heat of his body near of her own.
"Shouldn't you be asleep by now?" Jareth questioned the woman, getting dangerously close to her, almost breathing into her neck.
"And how are you supposed to know that?"
Jareth smirked against her skin. "Oh, there are a lot of things I know about you, Leah."
Her name fell from his lips like the sweetest thing he ever heard, weirdly liking how it sounded with that deep voice of his. The Goblin king started to walk around Leah graciously and slowly. His presence was intimidating the lady, as he circled her, feeling just like his own prey without anywhere to go.
Maybe she did, but something inside of her was aching to remain right where she was standing, waiting for his next move. Jareth stopped right in front of Leah, standing face to face. He observed her from head to toe and she felt like he was eating her alive with his gaze at that moment.
"You're such a dirty girl," he teased. "And you have behaved badly, entering my throne room without permission."
"I- I didn't know it was your throne room, I'm sorry-"
Jareth interrupted her poor excuse and his hand moved steadily to her neck, applying a little of pressure around her delicate skin. He leaned down, almost touching her lips, feeling her pulse increasing.
"I wonder how you expected me to react," Jareth said darkly.
"I promise I won't do it again, just- can I leave?" Leah breathed out, her chest rising up and coming down due to her breathing and heartbeat increasing.
"I don't think I want to let you go tonight," he whispered and closed the gap between them, kissing her harshly. "You do think about me a lot at night," he said, remembering how she touched herself the past few days with him on his mind.
Jareth bit her bottom lip, searching for her tongue, and he savored the way she easily gave in, moaning against his mouth, letting the king lead the kiss they were now sharing. His hand slowly made its way to her neckline and breasts, feeling her hot skin with his fingertips. Jareth broke the kiss and whispered against her swollen lips.
"You will not escape from me, little dove, and that is an order."
Leah let a moan past her lips. Her mind was screaming for her to leave the room and run away, but her body was aching for him, for Jareth. For his touch. She desired to know what other things he could teach her, what other feelings and sensations her poor, inexperienced self would encounter. Her body was hurting by now; her body was yearning for him so deeply and she felt a pool starting to grow between her legs. And despite everything, she decided to stay. So she kissed him again, desperately, willing to obey his command.
As much as Jareth was enjoying the wet kiss they were sharing, he suddenly pulled away and walked upstairs, until he sat down carefully on the throne, looking at his prey from above. His pants were tight by now, his bulge prominent, aching to be freed. A smirk formed on his lips as Leah watched him with lustful eyes.
"What are you waiting for? Come here," he ordered harshly.
Leah followed his steps, climbing the stairs to stand in front of the Goblin king. Jareth took her hand, making her stand between his legs. The woman shivered with anticipation of what was going to happen and learned she loved the feeling of his skin on her own.
"On your knees."
Leah did as he ordered immediately, dropping her legs to the hard floor until she was facing his crotch. But her eyes never left his beautiful face. The king undid his own pants with fervor, releasing his hard cock, aching to be touched by the woman on his knees.
With a grin, Jareth read her naughty mind, realizing it was a mess and he, proudly, was the cause of that. Leah had nothing on her mind, but lust and longing for him. She felt strange sensations on her body and a weird feeling down her belly when he motioned her to come closer, breathing against his erection.
"I will guide you and you will do as I say, is that clear?"
She eagerly nodded, as submissive and innocent as she was.
"Suck."
He caressed her cheek with his hand, guiding his dick to her beautiful parted lips. She took his tip into her lips, tasting the salt on his sensitive skin. Leah started to give small licks on the tip and trace his veins with her tongue. She went slowly, making sure to keep the image of the powerful king shutting his eyes in pleasure as she went further with her lips parting around his cock and hollowing her cheeks.
Jareth's hand came around the nape of her neck, forcing her to take more of his cock inside her warm mouth. He guided her pace until she knew what he wanted from her. Leah continued, as he caressed her scalp and soft groans left his lips.
Jareth bucked his hips, just to tease, and he felt the back of her throat. She gagged a couple of times, and oh, how Jareth loved the sound of her choking with his dick repeatedly as he fucked her mouth so deliciously like he had dreamt of. He was close to the edge.
Her eyes began watering at the rapid pace he settled on her, taking him as deep as it was possible for her poor throat. The obscene sounds filled the throne room, Leah continuously gagged around his cock and low groans and moans escaped his mouth, until he finally felt the sweet release.
Leah felt him spill his seed inside her mouth, but she continued bobbing her head a couple of times, savoring the bitter taste of his release. Jareth pulled out of her mouth, groaning at the messy look in her eyes and saliva combined with his seed running down her chin. She looked even more exquisite like this.
The king leaned down, cleaning her bottom lip with his thumb and forcing the fluids into her mouth again.
"What a wonder you are," he praised.
She held back a moan, staring straight into his dark eyes. "Did I do well?"
"Yeah, and you're going to do better."
#jareth labyrinth#jareth smut#jareth fanfiction#david bowie fanfiction#david bowie#jareth x female reader#jareth x reader#jareth the goblin king#labyrinth#jareth x oc#jareth x ofc#jareth imagines#jareth imagine#jareth the goblin king x reader#labyrinth 1986#labyrinth fanfic
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Cruel Summer Ch. 5
Donations | Thoughts & Feelings | Cruel Summer Series | Chapter 4
(Thank you all so much for being patient as I worked through personal issues!! I'm trying to write and get new chapters out for you guys. I'm still dealing with personal issues but for now, I'll push through, thank you all so much for always sending kind supportive messages. Love you guys! Enjoy!
P.S. you can find clues about future chapters if you read through the tags ;) )
-Chapter 5-
You stared at him before giggling, âFunny Chris, you knowâŠ.. about usâŠnow that weâreâŠya knowâŠgonna be public and all that.â you smiled as he chuckled. âBabyâŠyou know we could never be publicâŠI can't ditch the perfect, good girl next door, to go out with an old co starâŠbesides, weâd never work out publicly, we're better this way. Private, just you and me, locked away in a bedroom somewhere.â he leaned in to kiss you again, but you pulled back feeling bile rise in your throat. âYou never planned on leaving her for meâŠdid you?â you asked, staring at the bed. âBabygirl,â he walked around the bed to sit by you on your side of the bed.Â
He pulled your chin up kissing your lips before you pulled back, he only had a moment to see your eyes before you slapped him as hard as you could. âGet out. Get the fuck out!â you glared at him before you moved quickly off the other side of the bed. âSweethear-â âFUCK YOU!â you screamed. âGET OUT!!â you grabbed his clothes throwing them at him, he ducked as his shoes flew at his head.Â
The door busted open, your security guards and Megan stood there. âOh Y/NâŠâ She said softly as Chris stood up after sliding his jeans on. âY/N! Baby come on! Knock it off, let's talk about this!â he snapped back at you. You raced off into the bathroom, locking the door as the tears fell. You started the shower, a sob leaving your lips as you slid down to the floor crying.Â
A few weeks later
âAnd in other news mega worldwide Popstar Y/N, has deleted all posts from her social media. Sources say, Sheâs âBlacking out any and all communication on tour, and while she loves sharing her life with her fans, touring has taken a toll on her, sheâll return eventually, but for now. Sheâs got to focus on herself.â wow, so no more thank you posts to all her concert goers? Thatâs gonna feel like a slap to the face.â the news reporter stated as her co-star started in on you and your reputation. You sat by the window staring out over the city, thankful that no one could see you all the way up here. âTurn it off.â you grumbled out, âYou know it's interesting, one former Avenger star announces his wedding date with pictures of his fianceâ the same time another former Avenger star blacks out her social media? I smell drama!â he chuckled as she gasped.Â
âI donât need to hear how Lacey and Simon think Iâm some big fuck up for not wanting to be on social media right now.â you said getting up and grabbing your phone. âIâm going down to the gym, maybe running will clear my head.â you said matter of factly before grabbing your headphones. âMaybe you shouldnât go alone?â Megan asked as she stood up. Your phone had been blowing up from friends and family checking in on you, wondering why youâd gone radio silent.Â
You felt your phone go off as you exited your room and felt the corners of your mouth turn up for the first time in what felt like forever.Â
Hemsworthy: âThis place is super boring without you here.âÂ
Y/N: âTell me about it. I wish you were here. Life fucking sucks right now.âÂ
Hemsworthy: âHeard you went black out on socialsâŠ.you doin okay?Â
Y/N: âYepâŠgot a lot going on & I donât want to see anything onlineâŠjust, want to focus back on friends and myself for a whileâŠâÂ
You sighed as you sent the message, heading into the gym where you began to walk on the treadmill. You thought back over all your time with Chris lately, before he left for South America. The movie nights eating ice cream, playing new songs for him, talking him through his depression when it came to the divorce. You felt tears in your eyes, how could you have been so fucking stupid.Â
Were you this desperate to fall in love and be with someone? Youâd mistook your friendship with Chris, the things that friends did, as romantic interest and felt yourself developing feelings for him. He was just recently divorcedâŠwhy would he even think about dating anyone; you needed serious help.Â
Hemsworthy: âYou know if you keep running on the treadmill, youâre gonna burn holes in those tennis shoes missy. :PâÂ
You glanced at the message before you did a double take; you didnât remember telling him you were going to work out to clear your head. âIf I have to stand back here any longer Iâm gonna go insane.â his thick Australian accent startled you, causing you to whip around as you pulled your headphones off. âOh my god!â you dashed over to him jumping into his arms as he laughed and hugged you tight. âI missed you popstar,â he mumbled in your ear as you buried your face into his hoodie, breathing in his scent. âI missed you too,â you whispered against his shoulder.Â
You jumped down smiling up at him, âLetâs go order some room service and catch up,â he chuckled and cleared his throat, âUhâŠI wanted to see if you wanted to go to dinner tonight, with me?â he smiled softly. âSomewhere nice?â he asked as you grinned and nodded, âyeah! That sounds fun!â you said as you both walked to the Elevators. âI have this super cute outfit Iâve been wanting to wear anyways!â you grinned as he chuckled. âIâm sure youâre going to look as beautiful as you always do,â Chris smiled at you, his eyes twinkled softly as you talked about your upcoming show, which was a couple of nights away and Chris was thrilled he was going to attend it.Â
When he was touring with you, he would stay back at the hotel, usually cooking a meal for the two of you and picking out a couple of movies for you guys to watch and relax after your shows. It wasnât that he didnât want to go to your shows, it was just easier to avoid the press. After the divorce, anytime they had the opportunity to print something about him or his ex wife, they jumped on it. Â
Once you guys made it back up to the hotel suite, you got ready for the evening, excited to have a nice dinner with someone who didnât give a shit how famous you were, or what was happening in your life. You looked in the mirror and smiled at the black sequinned dress, which looked like a night sky, with clouds and a half moon on it. You wore strappy black heels and a fur jacket; and paired it with a silver flashy purse with a diamond studded necklace.Â
Chris grinned as he saw you come from your bedroom, âWhoaâŠyou lookâŠ..incredible,â he held his hand out spinning you around as you giggled softly, âThank you. My friend Kayleigh had this made for me, and I hadn't found the right occasion to wear it yet, but thought tonight was perfect.â you smiled as he smiled tenderly at you. âWell itâs perfect, come, Iâve made reservations for us.â he chuckled as you giggled excitedly. âYay! Itâs going to be so nice justâŠgoing to dinner and relaxing,â you said as you both headed to the car.Â
Pulling up to your favorite restaurant you sighed softly, the paparazzi were covering the street and you looked at Chris. âIâm sorryâŠI know you want to avoid them, I can go firstâŠmaybe see if they have a back entrance you can come through?â you said as he reached over and grabbed your hand, smiling softly. âI think I can manage a few photos with a beautiful girl before we go to dinner.âÂ
The way he smiled at you, something felt different, you were starting to convince yourself that it was all in your head, but a small part of you wanted him to be into you. You knew you were developing feelings for him. âY/N! Over here! Over here!â several voices shouted at you as you climbed out of the SUV and made your way around to the sidewalk. You smiled, waved at them, clearly not showing annoyance that you held toward them sometimes and even asked a few of them how they were doing this evening.Â
You stopped and posed for a couple of photos, when the other door opened and Chris got out smiling and waving at them for a moment before he put his hand on the small of your back as he walked with you to the door. The camera clicks intensified as he placed his hand on your back and you could hear them shouting more questions as you walked in together.
Tag List:
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#Chris Evans one shots#Chris Evans one shot#chris evans imagines#Chris Evans imagine#Chris Evans fandom#Chris Evans fan fiction#Chris Evans fanfic#Chris Evans fanfiction#chris evans hot#chris evans x you#Chris Evans x reader#Chris Evans x popstar!reader#chris evans smut#Chris Evans hook up#Chris Evans PR#chris evans characters#Chris Evans angst#Chris Evans pain#Chris Evans hot#Chris Evans mini series#Chris Evans series#Chris Evans story#Chris Evans au#Chris evans#chris hemsworth x reader#Chris Hemsworth one shots#Chris Hemsworth one shot#Chris Hemsworth imagines#Chris Hemsworth imagine#Chris hemsworth series
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The Price You Pay For Power Ch. 5
Pairing: Neris | Chapter Rating: T | Word Count: 4493
Story Summary: Eris revises his bargain with Rhysand: Nesta for Autumn Healers. He agrees and Nesta is sent to Autumn under the guise as Erisâs new bride in order to assist with removing Beron for good. Now she has to navigate a new court and also decide just how much she will trust her new husband.
CW: None
Chapter Summary: Wedding Day!
Read it here on AO3| Previous Chapter| Masterpost
A/N: if the vows are icky thatâs on purpose. Also I had to replace Ăine because it copied over wrong and I wanted to die by the time this is posted. I donât think the photo below is going to appear smaller so. Oh well I am attempting dividers. I apologize in advance.
Nesta awoke early to the sounds of movement in her room. For a moment she panicked; unfamiliar scents and the sounds of more than one person made her heart race. Then she remembered. She sat up to find the two servants from yesterday in her room. Â
âLady Nesta,â one noticed her first and curtsied by the bed. âYour fitting is in an hour. The dress is being set up in the sitting room. The Lady of Autumn requested she be present.â
The girl did not look her in the eyes. She felt guilty for already forgetting their names. The quiet one scurried off to the bathing room. She could hear water being run.Â
âThank you,â Nesta whispered.Â
As she gained her senses, she remembered their names: Opal and Lynn. As yesterday, she bathed- they insisted despite her protests. They also insisted she wash her hair. Nesta sarcastically asked how she was supposed to let that much hair dry before the ceremony only to be informed there was a way to dry it with magic. Begrudgingly, she did as requested.Â
She was given a soft amber colored robe to cover herself with. They indeed used magic to dry her hair; Lynn used her hands, hovering them over her hair until they dried in perfect curls. They said it was Autumn fashion to wear it down. She didnât argue with them. Opal was the one who wove in pearl pins, with a golden rose clipped on the right side of her hair. Nesta hated that she liked it despite preferring her hair up. Magic was used to keep it styled.Â
She was finally allowed out of her room and she entered the sitting room to see it rearranged. In the corner was a privacy divider. A small riser was where the table originally stood. Her eyes widened as she took in the stand behind it. The wedding dress was beautiful. The color like ivory minerals from the mountains sheâd only seen in pictures in books. The top was modest with long sheer sleeves, with a corset bust and A-line skirts that flowed out. Near the bottom there was orange and gold stitching in the shape of vines and leaves.
âDo you like it?â A soft voice startled her.Â
She turned and saw The Lady stood behind her. Nesta had never been this close to her before. She was beautiful, auburn hair in soft waves cascading down over her shoulders. Her russet eyes were bright despite the shadows under them. Nesta wasnât this close last night to see there was a hollowness in her cheeks. She wondered if her appearance was the future that awaited her if she stayed in this court too long.Â
âItâs beautiful,â Nesta replied honestly.Â
âI wish Lord Rhysand had allowed you to come try it on,â she looked past Nesta at the gown. âIâm sure your sisters would have loved to see you in it. After.â She paused. âMy son deserved an engagement period. However, his father was of the opinion this might be another trick of the Night Court. Weâve already had a tarnished betrothal. Beron does not want to risk another.âÂ
Mor. She had forgotten about her past with Autumn and Eris. Now the push to wed her off to Eris and keep her made sense. Nesta went to ask what happened with that engagement, to hear the Ladyâs version of events but a knock interrupted her. A stout female entered with a covered basket.Â
âLady Ăine, good to see you,â the female curtsyed. âLady Nesta.â
This female did not lower her gaze like Opal and Lynn. Her hair was red with a touch of grey though she didnât look much older than Nesta herself. It was the fine lines around her small russet eyes that gave any indication of her age. Nesta also realized she called the Lady of Autumn by her name: Ăine.Â
âThis is my seamstress,â Lady Ăine said with a soft smile. âMeri will help you into the dress and see if any changes are needed.â
âPleasure to meet you, Meri,â Nesta nodded.Â
âPleasureâs mine dear,â she smiled back. âAny female willing to marry that rake of a boy has my utmost respect.â
Nestaâs eyes widened at her candor but Ăine laughed. A true laugh she didnât think was possible given the circumstances.Â
âNow Meri, youâll scare my new daughter in law into changing her mind,â Ăine joked with a soft giggle.Â
âIf sheâs half the female Iâve heard about, then itâll take more than my nonsense to scare her off.âÂ
âAnd what have you heard of me,â Nesta furrowed her brows.Â
Meri looked her over, as if she was debating with herself.Â
âI heard youâre quite the dancer.â Nesta blinked, not expecting that. âLetâs get you in that dress, shall we?âÂ
Meri ushered her behind the screen and helped her into the dress. It fit. Almost too well, in Nestaâs opinion. There was a mirror behind the divider for her to see it first. She looked the part of a princess her mother envisioned for her so many decades ago. When she walked around the screen the Lady was sitting on the couch, legs crossed with a book in hand. She looked up and gasped, a grin forming.Â
âOh Nesta,â Ăine placed the book down and watched her as Meri helped her onto the riser. âOh itâs perfect. Youâre beautiful.âÂ
Nesta pushed down the well of emotions building in her chest. Ăine was looking up at her proudly. Like a mother should when seeing her daughter in a wedding gown. But Ăine was not her mother. This wasnât a real wedding. But maybe she could pretend selfishly. Just this once. She gave her a polite smile in return while Meri went to work and circled around her once to look her over.Â
âHold up your arm.âÂ
She did as instructed. Meri started pinning fabric along her forearm to tighten the fit. She then did the same with the other. Ăine filled the silence by making small conversation and commentating every now and then on something Meri missed. That left Nesta to stand in relative silence which she didnât mind. A few minutes passed and Meri stood up.
âNot too bad; a few quick changes- nothing drastic. Iâll return with it in a few hours.â Meri smiled at her.
She helped Nesta off the riser. Behind the screen she eased the dress off of Nesta, mindful of the pins she placed. Once Nesta was back in her robe, Meri bid them both a good morning and promised to return when it was time. That left her alone with Ăine again. The older female must have sensed her unease, as she patted the seat on the couch next to her. Nesta sat down beside her and Ăine placed a hand over her own.Â
âYouâre brave, Nesta Archeron.â She whispered, eyes pleading with Nesta to read between her words. âThe walls have ears, so I shall not say more.â
âThank you.â What else was there to say? Nesta decided to change the subject. âI am not familiar with fae weddings. Would you mind going over the ceremony with me?âÂ
Ăine nodded. âI think we should have some tea first.âÂ
Without much effort, she used magic to make a tray appear. A tea pot, two cups, a cream pitcher and sugar. There was also more fruit and what looked like small sandwiches. Ăine served the tea. Nesta looked away when the sleeve of her dress rose up her arm. She was too afraid of what she might accidentally see.Â
âSugar?â She asked, bringing Nestaâs attention back to her.Â
âNo thank you,â she replied politely.Â
Nesta was given a look that she could only describe as a stern motherâs knowing look. However she did not add sugar as requested. She handed Nesta the cup and saucer and poured her own.Â
âMy husband will have to escort you, since you have no family here to present you.âÂ
Nesta leaned into her tea cup to keep from spitting out the carpet. Gods she would have to endure Beron again. She continued.Â
âThere will be a priestess. She will recite the vows in the Autumn tongue and bind your hand to my sonâs with a silk ribbon. Youâll make your own vows to each other. Then we will hold a reception.âÂ
âWill I need to prepare vows?â Her anxiety tumbled in the pit of her stomach.Â
Ăine shook her head. âThere is a standard vow of the Vanserra family. The priestess will speak it and ask you to repeat it.â
That felt like a weight removed from her shoulders. Though her anxiety didnât fizzle. She at least didnât have to worry about fumbling to remember, she still needed to make sure she didnât mess up. Ăine seemed to sense the whirling in her mind. She sat down her cup and sauce and gave her a soft smile.Â
âTell me Nesta, do you like to read?â
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A knock came. Nesta looked up from the Sellyn Drake book sheâd been reading for the last few hours. It felt too early to be getting ready but sheâd been reading for some time. She placed the book Lady Ăine had given her, opened and facedown to save her spot onto the table. She tightened her robe just in case and opened the door. Before her was one of the brothers. Asher. Up close, she could see he looked more like his mother than Beron. And while she had called him stalky, she realized it was simply that he was more broader in the shoulders than the Eris. He did not greet her with a smile.Â
âI brought you a visitor.âÂ
He stepped to the side and Nesta inhaled sharply.Â
âElain?â
Her sister came up and embraced her tightly. Nesta was in too much of a shock to do much other than hug her in return.Â
âIâll leave you to it,â Asher grumbled.
He left and Elain let her go, so Nesta stepped aside to let her in and shut the door. She stared at her sister as she looked around the room, eerily calm while she took in her surroundings. Nesta noted she wore a warm yellow dress- like the color of the leaves that littered the ground when she arrived.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â Nesta finally found her voice.Â
Elain turned to her, her expression neutral. âRhys is with the High Lord. He will be joining us shortly.â
Nesta blinked. âRhysand is here?â
âIt would have looked poorly for your family to not be present. I believe that is the excuse heâs giving Beron. Really, we didnât want you to do this alone.â
Nesta felt her heart harden, her features returning to the stony demeanor she so casually used her whole life. She saw the flash of fear in her sisterâs eyes as she braced herself for the worst Nesta could offer. And yet Nesta could not force herself to be angry, she couldnât even force herself to remain steady with a cool indifference.Â
âWill it just be you and Rhys?â She asked instead and Elain nodded. âCassian didnât wish to attend?â
âHe would have slaughtered everyone in attendance.â Elain whispered. âHe wanted to come. Rhys talked him out of it. He asked him to stay with Feyre.â That did nothing to ease the knot in her stomach. âAzriel has not returned yet. Feyre, well sheâs with healers as we speak, not that sheâs allowed to winnow.â
Right, the healers that Nesta was bargained for. She wondered how Eris snuck them out with the wedding. Maybe they would return in time to not even be missed. Elain sat down on the closest end of the couch. She looked up at her sister with her sad doe eyes.Â
âRhys has no idea the consequences of the decisions he is making.â
Nesta frowned. âWhat do you mean?âÂ
Elain didnât answer her question. She stared at the empty dress holder. Instead, she asked another of her own.Â
âIs your gown being tailored?âÂ
âIt is.âÂ
Nesta went around and took her place back on the opposite end of the couch, curling up on it while ensuring the robe stayed in place. She thenpicked her book back up and opened it. It felt rude to ignore her sister but what else did she have to say?Â
âAre these your permanent quarters?â Elain asked as if to spite her for trying to read.Â
âI hope so. His are across the hall. I shutter to think about being forced to share a bed every night with him.âÂ
âHeâs no worse than what you bedded in Valeris.âÂ
Nestaâs head jerked up and Elain bursted out with a laugh. Nesta kicked her which made Elain laugh harder.Â
âI am not wrong,â she giggled.Â
Surprisingly, Nesta laughed too. She couldnât remember the last time her and Elain acted like true sisters. It was long before their mother passed. If Nesta was honest with herself, it was nice Elain wasnât handling her with gloves. Or worse, for Nesta to be too defensive.Â
âI suppose not,â she sighed, her laughter dying down.
They spent the next hour talking, Elain asking subtle questions about Nestaâs time at the house so far. She explained how dinner was interesting but didnât go into detail beyond the brothers rude remarks. If the Lady was right and the walls had ears, she had to be careful. Even Eris had warned once already.Â
âYour hair is beautiful. Do you do it yourself?â Elainâs gaze went to the rose clip.Â
âOpal and Lynn did my hair. Theyâre a lot like Nuala and Cerridwen. They donât really talk to me.â She shifted uncomfortably. âOpal talks the most. I think I only heard Lynn tell me her name.â
âThey will open up to you, Iâm sure.â Elain gave a polite smile.Â
Another knock came. This time she didnât have to wonder who it was. She put her book away, resigned to reading it later and answered the door. As expected Asher had once again came this time with Rhysand.Â
âRhys,â Nesta greeted him with no emotion, letting him into the room.Â
âNesta.â He nodded in return.Â
They were silent, the three of them, once the door shut. So much it was almost deafening. Rhys sighed loudly and took a seat on the couch. Nesta wanted to roll her eyes.Â
âAre you to walk me down the aisle?â Nesta asked, crossing her arms. âOr however the customs for weddings are in this realm?â
âYes, Nesta.â He glanced up at her. He looked tired but not as tired as he did before she left. âI know that I havenât been the kindest to you. But I am eternally grateful for what youâre doing.â
âIâm not doing it for you,â she hissed back.Â
âI know. For that I am even more grateful.â
She bristled even if she didnât understand why it bothered her so. She was certainly not sitting next to him. So she held her robe tight and grabbed the chair that had been pushed to the side and brought it forward. When she was seated, she looked over to him again.Â
âBeron asked me to show him where Velaris was when I arrived. I told him I couldnât read a map.â
Rhys and Elain both snorted a laugh. Nesta decided right then she may as well come clean and admit the other things she said.Â
âI also told him I wasnât allowed to leave the house as punishment, when he asked how the governing system worked for Velaris.â Their laughter stopped and she stared at the floor. âI- I said some things about Feyre I didnât mean. I also said you were jumping at the chance to be rid of me.âÂ
âThatâs why he was shocked to see us.â She could feel Rhys staring at her, probably glaring. His tone however was neutral when he said, âThank you for protecting the city, Nesta.â
She looked up in shock. âYouâre not angry with me?âÂ
âIâm too tired to be angry,â Rhy shrugged, picking at his suit. âBeron has already put forth his demands now that our courts are âbetter alignedâ. I told him I was only here because my mate insisted someone be present. If he wanted to talk business, we would do it later.â Â
Thankfully there was yet another knock. Nesta didnât have to bother getting the door this time, even as she stood to answer it. Meri came in and abruptly halted as the door shut.Â
âOh,â Meriâs eyebrows rose on her forehead. She curtsyed deep in front of Rhys. âHigh Lord. I wasnât expecting-â
âItâs alright,â Rhys waved a hand as Meri straightened herself back up. âI wanted to surprise my sister. No one knew weâre coming.âÂ
It didnât seem to put her at ease. She glanced nervously at Nesta and Nesta nodded in return.Â
âWell, itâs a good thing youâre here. Made a few adjustments, but it should fit her just right.â Meri waved her hand and the dress appeared on the stand.Â
Elain gasped, looking it over. âOh Nesta, thatâs beautiful.âÂ
âWait until you see it on her,â Meri said proudly.Â
Nesta wished Ăine had returned with her, as she followed Meri behind the screen. She couldnât blame her for not wanting to be in the same room as Rhys. Which made Nesta resent him just a little bit more. Meri helped her into the dress; the small changes made it so it fit her even better than before. She came around the screen while Meri held up the train and Elain gasped again. There were tears in her sister's eyes. Like this was the only wedding dress Nesta would ever be in. Even Rhys smiled. There was a scratch at her mental wall. She opened it and heard Feyre.Â
Nesta, youâre beautiful. She could hear tears in her sister's voice.Â
Thank you.
I love you Nesta. I love you so much. I need you to know that-Â
Nesta shut the window in her mind. Any longer and hearing Feyre cry would leave her a sobbing mess as well. Besides, Nesta didnât deserve that confession of love from Feyre. Not really. It would take more than marrying the enemy for Nesta to deserve an ounce of her love. So she held head high and pretended Rhys wasnât frowning at her for shutting out Feyre.
âEverything appears to be in order,â Meri said and took one last walk around Nesta. Nesta forced a smile as she came back around. âThe captain will escort you and your family to the temple, at the request of Lord Eris.â
âCaptian?â Rhys asked, leaning his elbows onto his knees. As if it would make him less threatening.Â
âCaptain of the guard,â she replied curtly. âHeâs outside the door.â If Rhys was offended by her response he didnât show it. âShall I let him in? The ceremony is soon.â
âOf course,â Rhys spoke for them.
It was a blessing she kept her eyes from rolling. Meri curtsyed before wishing Nesta the best of luck and left out the door. As promised a male entered. He had brown hair and deep brown eyes, though he was not as pale as the rest of those in Autumn.Â
The male bowed. âIâm Captain Rowen Garlian, the general gave me the pleasure of escorting this beautiful female to the temple.âÂ
âGeneral?â Nesta frowned, noting how her stomach flipped, immediately thinking of Cassian.Â
âLord Eris,â he replied.Â
âRight, apologies,â she said.Â
Eris was a general? The cauldron was surely making fun of her at this point. A scrap came against her mind walls. She wanted to ignore it but opened a window against her better judgment.Â
Youâre supposed to be happy, so maybe act like it. Rhys hissed into her mind.Â
She slammed her walls shut. As if she had forgotten. If there were still gods they surely hated Nesta, for her to have to suffer these men- males, she corrected herself- like this. Elain stood, drawing her attention. She seemed worried but quickly schooled her features.Â
âShall we?âÂ
Politeness never sounded forced from her.Â
Before they left Rhys threw some magic on her- to keep the dress clean or so he said. She opted to believe it when Elain nor the guard had any comments. It was a long and quiet walk. They saw no one in the halls as they passed, which Nesta found strange. They followed the captain out a different door than the main hall entrance.Â
She was again struck by how beautiful the trees in autumn were. Just ahead across a wide path was the temple. It too, looked to be a large tree, the stones covered in moss and a grove in the back with the leaves casting a silhouette. There was a male at the door as they approached. It was Piran, she remembered. Unlike last night he was far more subdued, not looking any of them in the eyes. It made Nesta sick to her stomach.Â
âHigh Lord,â he bowed. âIf you will come wait in the foyer, I will escort Lady Elain to her seat.âÂ
Elain turned and came up to Nesta. She gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. She then followed Piran into the temple and behind them, her and Rhysand followed. The captain did not follow them in. It was a small closed off foyer, sconces all on the walls to illuminate where there were no windows. Piran held out his arm and together they slipped through the door. Nesta was standing too far to the left to see inside but heard the chatter.Â
She wanted to vomit.Â
âYou can do this,â Rhys whispered. âI believe in you.âÂ
âIâm surprised,â Nesta whispered back. âConsidering you think I fuck everything else up.âÂ
Rhys rolled his eyes but didnât respond. Piran came back out and wordlessly nodded to them. Rhys held out his arm and Nesta begrudgingly took it. They came to the door and the sanctuary was full, everyone silencing as she appeared in the doorway with Rhys. Only a soft piano played to fill the silence. Her stomach flipped again as all eyes went to her but she bit the inside of her cheek.
She held her head high and focused her gaze forward on the Priestess ahead. Her heart ached for Gwyn and Emerie, wishing they could be there for her. As she walked arm in arm with Rhysand, she dared to glance at Eris. She could admit he looked handsome. The outfit he adorned was different from his usual attire. A long, sleeveless burnt orange robe with what seemed to be red detailing. Under that was a long sleeved white shirt. The sleeves appeared puffy and were cuffed at the wrists. The sleeves also adorned the same threading details her dress had. In another life, this is the wedding she would have wanted.Â
Maybe in another life, he would have been the groom she wanted too.Â
She also admitted he was a good actor; in that moment he seemed stunned at her, like a real groom would. She watched his gaze run over her and when his soft amber eyes met hers, even at a distance he looked away. Like he wasnât supposed to be staring at her. Like she had caught him even though his staring was technically warranted. She tried to not frown. When they reached the end, Eris gave Rhysand a nod and then held out his left hand to Nesta.Â
For a split moment, she thought about not taking it. It felt too permanent. As if this was her choice to make and by doing so, would change everything. Elainâs voice rang in her mind from earlier about the consequences for the choices being made. But they were not hers to make.Â
Without another thought she took his hand in her own.Â
The time did not stop for her. The world did not flip in on itself. He helped her up onto the rise and she stood before him. The Priestess smiled at her, the stone on her forehead flashing from the lit sconces. Eris did not let her go as the Priestess started to speak in a language Nesta did not know. She tried to pull her hand away but Eris held a firm grip on it.Â
The Priestess nodded and Eris lifted their hands up. She pulled a deep green ribbon from her pocket and began to wrap it around Nesta and Erisâs hands. She still was speaking what Nesta remembered Ăine called the ancient Autumn language. She watched it as it was wound snug around their joined hands. She swore the ribbon glowed the more that was added. Finally a bow was tied and the Priestess let it go.Â
She spoke normally. âI will ask you both to repeat the vow. This vow is not bound by magic but bound by duty and love you share with each other.âÂ
Nesta bit her tongue again. The priestess continued.Â
âYou, Eris Vanserra, promise to be a righteous and dutiful husband. You honor the Vanserra family and the Autumn Court through this marriage with Nesta Archeron. You ask the mother to bless this union between you, to guide you to be a pillar of support for herself and for the family you will create.â
Even Eris looked like he had been biting his tongue. He stared directly into Nestaâs eyes as he spoke, repeating what the priestess said.Â
âYou, Nesta Archeron, promise to be a righteous and dutiful wife. You honor your family, your former home in the Night Court, and your new home here in the Autumn Court through this marriage with Eris Vanserra. You ask the mother to bless this union, to guide you as you serve and support your new husband. You ask The Mother to bless your womb so you may honor her image through the children you will bear.â
Nesta tensed at the last part. Words felt heavy on her tongue though she did not show it as she repeated the words. She nearly stumbled on the âserve and supportâ and her stomach churned again as she repeated the last bit.Â
The ribbon glowed, glittering and in an instant lighting aflame. Nesta gasped; in the ribbonâs place were two solid rings.Â
âIt is my honor to be the vessel that pronounces you, by The Mother, husband and wife.âÂ
The Priestess smiled and the room erupted into applause. There was no romantic gesture on Erisâs part. He let go of her hand gently and offered his arm as he faced the aisle towards the door. In a daze, she took it. As they walked past her sister and Rhys she noticed Elain watched her while Rhys glowered at Eris. It was when they exited the door that the reality of the situation truly hit her.Â
She entered that temple as an Archeron and walked out of it as a Vanserra.Â
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Next Chapter
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#eris vanserra#acotar#nesta archeron#Neris#fanfic#The Price You Pay For Power#Chapter 5#This chapter took forever and a day#wedding day!#lady of autumn#eris acotar#nesta acotar#acosf au#elain archeron
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Natural Connection | KNJ | Ch.6
A Small Town Swoons
Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Plum)
Wordcount: 6.6k
Genre: stragers to lovers, fluff, mild angst; ranger/trainer!Namjoon, Chef!reader
Rating: 18+
Synopsis: Namjoon has some skeletons in his closet. Plums helps him bury them in a way that makes him feel almost reborn.
Warnings: discussion of mature topics: sex, emotional abuse. A painful trip down memory lane, burnout, anxiety. Also heavy flirting, making out and loads of raunchy jokes. Mentions of depression, therapy and feeling out of chances to restart
A/N: Iâm posting this in some sort of a rush while barely keeping my eyes open,itâs not edited or reviewed, I just want it out there for you to read đ Iâll review it in the morning and add links. Love ya đâšđ„ș
Here is my Masterlist, enjoy!
Navi: Part 1 â Part 2 â Part 3 â Part 4 - Part 5
âLone wolf. That's not a cute way to spend the night.â Jackson's words were just mildly teasing. He was mostly compassionate as he sat beside Namjoon at the counter of the bar. âWhat's given you the blues?âÂ
Namjoon shook his head and took a sip of beer. He had never been much of a drinker, and he regretted not being able to hold his liquor properly, because tonight really called for some hard spirits. âNothing really.âÂ
âIt's her, isn't it? Your Tinkerbell lady.âÂ
Namjoon grumbled and groaned, letting his head fall to his wrists, current laying crossed on top of the counter.Â
âHey, dude, we thought we'd lost you,â said Christopher as he approached the other two men at the bar. âOh. I see,â he said as he made himself comfortable on Namjoon's other side. âWe all have a vague idea of what happened the other day when you followed her to the bathroom,â Christopher hinted, then rubbed Namjoon's shoulder. âWanna talk about it?âÂ
He shook his head, than took a large sip of his beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and put down the glass, quite loudly too.Â
âI did something, but I don't know what. And today she said she needed a day off. And now I'm wondering if I did something wrong, whether it's my fault she cancelled on today, whether I made her uncomfortable and am now ruining her holiday â something she hadn't had in a very long time.â
âNamjoonââÂ
âMaybe I'm not as good a friend with benefit as I thoughtâd been. Maybe I'm not an easy hot-girl-summer kind of thing. Maybe I suck in bedââÂ
âNot unlikely,â muttered Jackson, at which both Namjoon and Christopher snapped in his direction, as if throwing daggers with their gazes.Â
âOh, come on, there's a possibility to it, you've been out of the market for a long while!âÂ
Christopher grabbed the tray of shots and started making his way to the table where the other guys were hanging out, while Jackson convinced Namjoon to join them.Â
âDude, we've found a way to make this party less about you!â Jackson hollered at Jaebeom, currently wearing a cute set of antlers and a sash that spelled âThis dancing queen is getting marriedâ. Very cute, and Namjoon appreciated the Mamma Mia reference.Â
âNamjoon is having issues with Plum.âÂ
He rolled his eyes at your nickname being used by them. They always called you Tinkerbell anyways, why the sudden change? That was his own nickname for you, because of your cute, round face, and soft soft lineaments. And then also because of the taste of sun-dried plums in your mouth that time he kissed you in the pond, after that first, wondrous fuck. Maybe he hadn't satisfied you. Maybe his performance in the bathroom hadn't been as stellar. Maybe you'd already grown bored of him.Â
âThey're not issues,â Namjoon mumbled, vaguely grumpy.Â
âWell, what are they, then? You fucked her and she's ghosting you?â Wooyoung asked bluntly.Â
âWoo, no need to use that kind of language,â Christopher reprimanded. âStill, could that be the reason? She's maybe⊠Embarrassed about something that occurred the other day in theâŠâÂ
âYou did it in the restroom!?â Mingi exclaimed.Â
âA bit louder, Mingi, I think the guy in the corner over there didn't hear it clearly,â said Jaebeom with an eyeroll.Â
âIt was strange when we parted, yes, but⊠I guess there would have been other uhm⊠uncomfortable moments before. She would have bailed after theâ uhmâ the restroom. Not today? Why today? Why let so much time pass by?âÂ
Namjoon had always been an overthinker. He'd managed to control his tendencies through meditation and therapy, but once an overthinker, always an overthinker. Sure, you can put a damper on it, but it would be like putting a hyena in a clown costume: at the end of the day, it would still be a hyena.Â
And he was struggling to find the words. He did not have the lingo for this. He did not have the nerves for this. He had not been mentally, emotionally engineered for this.Â
âI know I fucked up. I'm sure I fucked up. I don't know where or how butââÂ
âWhen I met my wife, I was a mess.â Jaebeom ran a hand through his hair and gave a weak chuckle. âI couldn't do without her. I spent weeks, months pining.âÂ
âIt's your future wife, JB,â Jackson clarified.
âFuck off, we're getting married, she's already my wife in my mind. One could argue sheâs always been,â he snapped, a certain possessiveness taking over. âAnyways, I was saying, before this cold hearted snake interruptedââÂ
âYou were messing around, I made a move so you could feel the bitter bite of jealousy and realise you were wasting your time and your energies!âÂ
âAs always, thank you for the lesson, but you didn't need to shove your tongue down her throat!â Jaebeom hissed at Jackson, then rolled his eyes. âAgain, I was a mess. And I didn't know it, but she was a mess too. We only managed to fix it when we dragged our heads out of the sand and finally stated what we wanted.â
âWhich, again, is something we told you to do cause you were a lowly little coward,â Christopher muttered.Â
âOkay, whatever, just do what these two tell you to do,â Jaebeom said, exhausted, rubbing his face and picking up a glass shot. âCheers to my wife, or whatever.â
âPoor woman,â Jackson whispered, which earned him a stormy look from the husband-to-be. âAnyways, whatâs holding you back from going there and telling her what you want?â
âThe fact that maybe I donât even know what I want?â Namjoon but back, not without some exasperation.Â
âWhat do you mean?â Christoperâs question was direct, firm.Â
âI was⊠I havenât been all that⊠active, lately.â
âBy lately he means in the past eight years.â Everybody but Jackson turned to Namjoon, eyes wide, mouth gaping, the picture of disbelief.Â
âWhat the fuck.â Wooyoungâs face was ashen before he shook his head lightly, âAnd why, for the love of holy smokes, did you punish yourself so?â
Namjoon stared at a glass shot, which Jackson noticed. He grabbed one shot for himself, one for his friend, then handed it over.Â
Namjoon stared at it, but Jackson was already clinking their glasses together. âFor the incredible woman who brought you back to life.â
âLife is fucking terrifying,â Namjoon whispered, anxiety bleeding out of him. But Jackson was tipping the glass over, the burning tang of tequila dribbling down his throat.Â
âIt really is, but you loved doing her, or you wouldnât have done that twice.â
Namjoonâs brain promptly produced a supercut of every naked inch of your body, every curve, every movement, every flop of your hair, every gasp of your mouth, every droplet of moisture that your bodies shared in those moments. He recalled the feel of your breasts in his palms, the pressure of your behind as you ground against his groin.Â
âTwice?â Mingi inquired, interested.Â
âIâm not going to elaborate on that.â
Christopher respected the boundary, seeing Namjoonâs pained and tired expression. âWhat do you want from her?â
Namjoon shook his head. âIâve got no idea. Sheâs leaving in a couple days. I mean, sheâs lovely. But Iâm not sure thereâs enough time or space to build something more.â
âBut you want more?â
âI do, eventually. But I thought it would happen with someone a bit more⊠Rooted. Here.â He was destroyed, Jackson could tell. Namjoonâs hair was all over the place with the way heâd tortured it with his hands. âBut then she happened.â
âAnd it changed things, right?â Jaebeom asked.Â
Namjoon stared at his feet. âThe sex is so good. Just so, insanely, otherworldly, unbelievably good.â
âLetâs also say your terms of comparison were scarce,â Jackson added, teasing.
Namjoon smirked, then stared at Jackson for a long, loaded instant. âBoth things can be true.â Then, he shrugged, toying with his fingers, smiling at himself.Â
âHeâs smitten,â Jaebeom said to no one in particular.Â
âI guess I am,â he finally admitted. âMaybe itâs because the sex is good. That tends to alter your perception. I also think sheâs attractive, and her energy is incredible. Sheâs also guarded, somehow, and delicate. It really makes me want to stand tall for her.â
âKnight in shining armour,â Wooyoung said with just a pinch of sarcasm in his tone.
âWhich she doesnât need,â Namjoon commented, puffing out his chest. âSheâs just⊠Sheâs tough, but I just want her to know she doesnât need to be when sheâs around me. Thatâs what I like, I guess. And sheâs unstoppable. Sheâs not the kind that would lie to you or put on an act to save her ass. She takes what she wants and she weathers the consequences of her own actions. And sheâs a leader, sheâs got backbone, she works great in a team, people see her, see how competent and hard-working she is, and they respect her for it.â
âDude, you really are smitten.â
Namjoon grabbed another shot, and the other men quickly joined him. âTo life-changing women,â said Jaebeom.Â
Namjoon could happily toast to that.Â
There⊠Just⊠there.Â
So close. The lights were insulting his eyes, but his vision was clear. Oh so clear.Â
The alcohol had made his eyes glossy and sensitive. And there. There, your door.Â
He brought himself to climb the steps, then knock at the door.Â
He wondered whether you were in bed. Maybe in the shower, maybe you were already asleep. Maybe you were⊠like that one timeâŠÂ
His ears strained, searching for signs of you.Â
He knocked again. He could call your phone, right? Did he have your number?
He couldâÂ
The door opened before him, and you were standing there, an oversized white shirt covering your body all the way down to your knees. The fabric was thin and the chill night air was making your breasts peak. The sight of Namjoon right in front of you didnât help at all.Â
âHi,â you said, a little breathless, and surprised too.Â
âHi.â The greeting was sharp, a little rushed. âI really would like to kiss you right now. Is that okay with you?â
You blinked. Once. Twice. Then nodded.Â
He was upon you before you could even register him, or parse your agreement. His breath had the lightest taste of liquor, and his mouth was hot, as hot as his hands now cupping your face, gathering your face up close to his own. If he could have swallowed you, he would have. He dove for you and you soared for him and you met in between, perfectly, gentle but sure at first, and then it spiraled.Â
This is what Icarus must have felt as he reached for the sun, you think, because you feel like burning and flying and falling. But isn't flying something like falling without ever hitting the ground?Â
That's how you feel.Â
Gravity isn't working where you and Namjoon kiss. It's not working as he wraps and links and loops his limbs through yours, legs and arms and wrists and ankles like ivy. Your thighs are around his waist, and he's holding you up by your hips, then your ass.Â
âI'm coming in,â he says and you nod against his lips, waiting for him to come inside you, and you grind against him. Instead he chuckled against your throat, catching the double entendre. âI meant I'm entering your apartment.âÂ
You purred, heat warming your cheeks, but you were not sure whether it was embarrassment or pleasure. âBut you could get inside me next.âÂ
âThere's stuff I need to tell you,â he whispered close to your ear.Â
âCan you tell me while you're inside me?âÂ
Namjoon's laugh was bright and glorious, perfectly rough and warm, the most tasteful combination of a scratch and a caress. âPlum, you're insatiable.âÂ
You looked at him with surprise, and just a pinch of innocence too. âIâ Am I?âÂ
He closed the door with his foot, still holding you up in the entryway. âIt's positively surprising. And very lovely.âÂ
You nodded to yourself in slow understanding. âLovelyâŠâ you mused. âI never thought I would become something like this.âÂ
âLike what?âÂ
âInsatiable. Obsessed. Weak and dependent.âÂ
âYou're absolutely not weak. And maybe it's not too bad to depend on someone every now and then.â His nose traced the column of your neck. âAnd it feels nice, knowing that you're a bit hung up.âÂ
You cant your hips just right against his, which causes you both to moan, your frown disappearing. ââA bit hung upâ doesn't even cover half of it, trust me.âÂ
Your short nails bite the nape of his neck and he gasps a little, his hips giving the lightest stroke.
âI'm a bit of all of that too,â Namjoon confesses. âInsatiable. And obsessed. And⊠And weak.â He shakes his head, then hides his face against the slope of your neck. âIâŠâÂ
You smiled as he lost his words again, his mouth focusing on sucking at your throat.Â
Your chuckle came out lightheaded and euphoric. It stopped entirely as he fixed his grip on your hips, lifting you higher up with a little bounce, and then lowering you again, against his crotch.Â
You exhaled slowly, trying to focus on anything but the burning need at your core.Â
He nibbled at your collarbone, then whispered, âFuck, you're so wet.â There was tension in his voice, conflict. âBut I've gotta tell you all of that.âÂ
âWe can do this, and then talk,â you suggested again, your voice coming out barely patient, and strained. Oh, and imploring too.Â
He shook his head, then put you down. âTalk first, then I'll do anything you want, Plum.âÂ
You pouted, which almost broke his resolve, but he caressed your cheek and your frown disappeared like a spring cloud.Â
âFirst, I just want to make sure you didn't stay in today because you were avoiding me.â His eyes betrayed a sliver of insecurity before he looked away, staring at the floor.Â
Youâre caught off guard by his statement, and youâre not sure how to reply. Did he really thinkâ? âAbsolutely not!â You exclaimed, hooking your pointer finger beneath his chin and bringing his eyes to yours. âNo, Namjoon. Sure, Iâve beenâŠâ You searched for the right word for a couple seconds, âConfused. By some of the things I felt yesterday. But I am not avoiding you at all. I just needed to be off today, and rest. And maybe think about some stuff, but none of it had to do with you,â you stated, reassuringly and firmly, then reconsidered, a coy warmth creeping to your cheeks. âWell, maybe it had the tiniest bit something to do with you. But not in a bad way. Actually in a very good, very mature, very grown-up way.â
Namjoon almost startled at your statement, his head jerking back slightly. âOh. Wow. Okay.âÂ
âOh goodness, you thought I was avoiding you?â You asked him, a smile spreading all over your face. âReally!?âÂ
âNo,â he said, the vowel stretching, his intonation absolutely hesitant, absolutely doubtful, and very, very embarrassed.Â
You threw your arms around him, gluing your body to his. âOh god. Joon, no.â You laid a couple kisses on his chest, then added, âAbsolutely not.â
âGood,â he stated. âStill, I was absolutely sure you werenât avoiding me. So this statement is totally unnecessary and it doesnât calm my nerves at all, because they were already one hundred percent calm.â
You roll your eyes and place your forehead and nose in a way that aligns perfectly with the valley between his pectorals. âGood, now can you calm my own? Historically, someone telling you âI need to tell you somethingâ doesnât end in a nice way.â The nervous chuckle you emit then is a clear testament to how much he has become to you. How much you have elaborated in the last hours, corroborating your decisions.Â
This is not going to be forever, you think, but I wouldnât mind if it lasted a bit more.Â
Namjoon caressed your head, kissing the crown of it. âItâs nothing big, really. Just a tiny bit of backstory that I think you should know. It sorts of explains some parts of me that could be complicated to other people. Parts I would like you to know about.â
Summertime must be approaching, or maybe the heating came on: anyways youâre feeling hotter and hotter, and youâre pretty sure itâs a flock of tropical birds that is currently storming your stomach.Â
âOkay.â
âLetâs get comfy, shall we?â
You agree, then lead him through the room. Itâs not the first time he sees it, after all he did sleep here with you a couple nights ago, before he left at dawn for some reason, leaving you on the verge of insanity with desire and doubt both.
He sits at the edge of the bed and you stand before him, ready to climb astride him, except he shakes his head and smiles mischievously. âNo way this is happening,â he teased, then slid slightly to his right, avoiding your other leg, letting you sit at his side rather than on top of him. âYouâre too dangerous sitting on my lap, Plum.â
He says it in a way that makes it sound like a compliment, and you grin, eyeing him seductively. âThank you.â
You both turn to each other, and he starts talking. âItâs been a while since I did this, you know. Being⊠Being intimate with someone.â
You nodded. âYou mentioned something about a relationship you used to be in.â
He grabbed your hand, toying with your fingers, looking away, as if retracting within himself. âIâve had one very long relationship. From fifteen, all the way to twenty years old circa.â
Your eyebrows shot to your hairline. âWow.âÂ
âWe were extremely close friends at first, then we sort of merged into the relationship until⊠I guess we just became too different to ever truly be one.â
You nodded encouragingly.Â
âHer mom and mine were colleagues when we moved here. I was five or six.â His eyes connected to yours. âI was shy and she was very outgoing. We became friends. Or rather, she befriended me. I was one of those puffy, awkward kids, sort of a nerd too.â
He shrugged and blushed, his eyes gleaming. âIn middle school she suddenly changed. She had one of those incredible glow ups. I guess puberty hit her like â I donât know â suddenly she looked like Aphroditeâs favourite child. She was⊠She was like a goddess. Being attracted to her was inevitable. I liked her as a person, because she was my first friend here, and because I felt comfortable around her, and she didnât make fun of me like other people, she didnât act like I was weird and weak and chubby and awkward. And even though she became so beautiful, and so popular too, she was still kind to me, and treated me like a person.â Namjoon slumped, his stance turning self-protective. Â
âOnce we hit high school, sheâd learned how to use the body genetics had gifted her. She filled it with confidence, and it rewarded her in return. Her attitude and her looks were the kind that spells trouble for a hormonal teenage boy. But despite that, I still cherished her the most as a friend, and the fact that she continued protecting me in front of popular kids making fun of me was really meaningful. I admired her for how she stood up in front of mean kids. She had the kind of influence that could make other kids respect me, or at least tolerate me.â
You held his hand fondly. âI get it.â
His eyes met yours with gratitude, and a pinch of hesitation.Â
âAnd then I turned fifteen.â
You lick your lips, tip your head to the side and observe the smirk on his face. âIn about three months, I grew taller than all the kids in my class, and though I wasnât bulky like the football athletes, I played basketball with a friend of mine, and that kept me pretty fit, plus there was all the trekking and some climbing, and the canoeing too. I was also quite smart, and for some reason, some girls liked that. When we got back to school after summer break, I caught this girlâs eye. We were chatting, and things were getting personal and I ended up confiding in my friend, Aria.â His eyebrow quirked. âShe didnât take it well.â
You frowned, then waited for him to continue.Â
âShe gave me the silent treatment for three days straight. Meanwhile I was getting closer and closer to the other girl. One day I was talking to her by the lockers, and next thing I know, Aria is gripping my hand, gluing her body to my arm, and kissing my cheek. âHi boyfriend,â she said.â He shook his head. âThe other girl didnât take it well. She thought I was playing her.â He rubbed the hand across his face. âIt took me years to make up for that.â He shook off the feeling, then continued, âBy the end of the week, the entire school knew Aria and I were a thing. The week after that, we were making out pretty much anywhere, anytime. I guess it took us about a month before things got extremely serious, and Aria got on birth control because her mother was terrified at the thought of her getting pregnant, and teenage moms were so common back then, and she knew Aria was not really the religious type. She also had the kind of body that gets hyper sexualised because of pornography, you know. Of course any teenage boy would want to see it naked as soon as possible. And eventually do things with. Or have things done by. You get what I mean,â he concluded.Â
You nodded. âDid you?âÂ
He laughed. âI was terrified. I wouldnât have known where to start with it. And sure, I watched as much porn as any other dude my age, but itâs not like I was eager to reenact it in real life. It felt complicated, and loud, and dirty. So damn dirty.â He frowned and smiled at the same time. âIt didnât feel right.â
You study his face, the slight repulsion he seems to radiate from his body.Â
âThen one night we were watching a movie â which actually means we were making out in my bed â and we were so damn close, and of course my body went haywire and⊠Letâs say she realised I was pretty interesting down there.â
You furrow your brow, trying to understand what heâs implying. âYou meanâŠ?âÂ
âSheâd never felt me up, and that night she realised I was big.â The words didnât come out with arrogance, but with a dry matter-of-factness.Â
Your eyes widen suddenly, and he laughs a little, the sound deep and warm, and it sends tingles down your spine. âOh.â
âThatâs about what I said, too.â He smirked, blushing wildly. âLuckily I managed to hold her back that night, because I truly wasnât ready, and I really wanted to get things right. So I bought condoms online, because I was too ashamed to buy them in person, and I kind of panicked for three days straight because I was terrified my mom or my dad would find out and get mad or make fun of me or whatever. And I did some research on⊠You know. The kind of stuff you have to erase from your browsing history.â
You chuckle, nodding. Hearing all of this is somehow fascinating. Knowing he was so clumsy, so embarrassed, and yet so committed to making it as safe and right and good as possible. Itâs endearing somehow. Not only is he a good man now, but he was a good boy too, and it makes him shine even brighter to your eyes, this commitment to goodness.
âStill, I was not ready, emotionally. But she was impatient, and in the end I said, âscrew itâ and I gave in. We were sixteen, we were two days into winter break, and this friend of mine has this little cottage by a small lake. Heâd left me the keys to the cottage. We went there, and we had sex. I was terrified I was going to hurt her, because Iâd read about first time sex being painful and all the fuss about hymens et cetera. But it went surprisingly well. I came in about fifteen seconds.â
You both laugh. âI guess I got lucky.â
He eyes you significantly. âYouâve got no idea how much.âÂ
âAnd then?âÂ
âAnd then we spend the entirety of winter break doing stuff.â He shrugs. âI could have done without, sometimes, but she was always trying to start trouble. And I wasnât too strong about telling her no. But letâs be clear, itâs not like she was abusive or something, I was happy to have sex with her. I liked it a lot, and she had my consent, always, before doing things. But at the same time, I knew I was losing some of my connection with her. There was less talking, less quality time, less⊠We were having sex all the time. We didnât watch movies, we didnât read books, we didnât hang out or you know, the stuff you actually share with someone. All we had was each otherâs body and our own. Thereâs only so much a brain can feed off that. But we weathered it. And she was possessive, so itâs not like I had the chance of finding that with someone else. And the sex made me feel so lucky, knowing that I had someone who loved me so fiercely, someone so out of my league â it all made me feel like I should be grateful and I would be an idiot complaining, or looking for anything else, or trying to change the situation in any way.â
Thatâs when the pain starts to blossom in your chest. âSo you start neglecting your emotional needs.âÂ
Namjoon nods slowly. âThat. Precisely.â His eyes focus on your hands again, trying to avoid your face because he knows his expression might show too much now. âBut weâre seventeen by this point. The sex starts to slow down, and we get some of the friendship back. I get a lot less awkward around eighteen, and my resumĂ© is one of the brightest in my class. Iâm in the debate team, and Iâm in national competitions for writers. I write poetry, and short stories too; I win some prizes, I get published in a paper, then in a review.âÂ
âThatâs impressive.âÂ
âIâm starting to live my dream life. I get selected in a summer programme for young writers. Aria is very proud of me. I get better at sex too, in the meanwhile.â He gives a boyish shrug. âI start planning my life with her at my side. By the time high school ends, Iâve managed to get a bit less awkward too, and Aria has fixed my haircut and my wardrobe. She gets selected by a university in California for a volleyball scholarship. It scares the shit out of me, but she accepts. Sheâs convinced we can make it long distance. I get into some niche writing academy on the east coast.Â
Itâs winter break when we see each other again.Weâre all partying by the lake, me and her and some of our friends. Weâre all so damn drunk, damn, I couldnât even count the fingers of my hands. Weâre all sitting by the fire when she leans against me and says, âYou know why Iâm sure weâre gonna make it?â And I smile because I think sheâs going to say something cheesy, something about the ring I bought with the money I made from the first short story I actually sold.â
You smile so bright at that, at his success, at such a huge milestone for someone who made writing his path, his vocation â and then it clicks.
Cuisine is your calling, youâve always known, and thatâs one of the first things you tell people when you introduce yourself. If heâs never mentioned writing then it means it never came true. Horror creeps in.Â
âShe said, âweâre gonna make it because Iâve fucked about twenty or so other people, but you still love me. And youâre the fucking bestâ.â He stops, snickers, and thereâs so much self-loathing in the way he moves, the way he breathes. âI went stone cold sober in a millisecond. I asked her to repeat, to make sure I understood correctly. I laughed it off, excused myself to the bathroom, and cried my fucking eyes out. Threw up about three times or eight, then locked myself in a room. The following morning, I left before dawn, returned to my college with my mom. Returned the ring. And broke up with Aria through a text. Changed number. I detached myself from the entire world, disappeared for about a year, except for the people that truly mattered. I finished my programme in record time, mostly because Yoongi needed me back here, and well⊠I mostly finished school because I had to, but I never went back to writing. Itâs like Iâd been emptied, and to this day Iâm not sure words will ever truly fill me again. Iâm not sure they will ever spill from me again, or that Iâll find a way to make them flow like I used to.â
This is so wrong. You end up saying the words out loud.Â
âI havenât dated anyone since then. And I havenât had sex with someone since the summer before I turned twenty.âÂ
âThatâs seven years, isnât it?â You ask, making sure you remember his age correctly.Â
âIt is.â
You whistle, impressed. âThatâs⊠She really mess you up.âÂ
âI just changed lifestyle. No sex, no smoking, no heavy drinking. Just me, my plants, nature, my job. I love it. It fulfills me.âÂ
âAnd no writing? You donât miss it?âÂ
He shrugs, and it looks like heâs trying very hard to act like he doesnât care. But he so blatantly does care. âYou canât miss something youâve never had.âÂ
âI think you had it, though. And I think it will come back for you.â
He sighs. âI wonât hold my breath.â
You shake your head.Â
âSheâs engaged to one of my high school classmates now.â His laugh is bitter. âHe proposed last Christmas. Getting married this summer.â
You hesitate around his fingers. Is he still hung up on her?
His eyes meet yours. âAnd I get mad because I think a part of me still thinks it was supposed to be me. And I hate that part of me. I also hate the part of me that is still hurt over what she did. The part of me that remembers all that sex, and wonders whether it was ever real.â He bites his lip, and he looks mad, truly. âAll of this means, Iâve been hurt before, ____, and that messes with my head sometimes. The day I met you, I was attracted to you almost instantly, and that made me trust myself less around you, and it made me doubt you too. I was terrified at how much I wanted you, and the way my body reacted to yours. The way I dreamt of you. And knowing you wanted me tooâ It terrified me and electrified me at the same time. Youâve been the first woman Iâve wanted, really wanted, in years. And Iâm sorry if Iâve seemed hot and cold, but I donât know what to do with myself. Youâve been nothing but transparent with me, and I know this thing with me and you can hardly go anywhereââ
You go impossibly still next to him and he notices, also in the way your fingers get rigid and seem to retract from his touch.Â
âThis is all to say, I really want to thank you for being so honest with me so far. And Iâm sorry for any weird behaviour Iâve had. Itâs just that her betrayal messed with me more than Iâd like to admit. And I donât like people getting too close, but I couldnât help it with you, and Iâm not too happy with the idea that this is temporary.â
You try to align your thoughts correctly, trying to make them make sense. âWhat do you mean?âÂ
Namjoon inches closer. âWith what?âÂ
âYouâre not okay with this being temporary?â You paraphrase.Â
Namjoon grips both your hands, then gets even closer. âYouâre here on holiday, weâve known each other for days, and Iâm scared that again itâs just sex pulling me to you. Just some infatuation. I mean, you canât start having feelings for someone in days. Or maybe you can, maybe I do feel something for you, just the roughest draft of a feeling, but itâs okay if you donât. Iâve always been pretty sensitive and impressionable, especially with emotions.â He stares at you, really does, like heâs trying to read your mind. âI donât know whether thereâs solid evidence that this could be something more than a holiday fling. I just think itâs precious that I found you, that I got to feel this with you. Iâm grateful for it, were it to end, or were it to turn into something deeper, something more structured, more lasting.âÂ
âNamjoon,â you whisper. Silence hoovers heavily on top of you.
âIâm sorry, I⊠I exaggerated. Iâm too much. Too fast.â He inched away from you, closing off, already hating himself for scaring you off.Â
âNo,â you murmur kindly, stretching to reach his face, pulling him back closer. âI want you. Want this. Letting go will hurt, but as you said, Iâm grateful too for this. This will be bittersweet, but it can teach us something.â Does it make sense, wanting to let go of everything for three very excellent fucks? This must be the sex. It must be the very excellent sex. The orgasms, and the hormones, and the dopamine, and all the stress youâve been collecting like star stickers from your working at the restaurant. Maybe the long overdue hours of sleep and fucking you need to catch up on.Â
You canât be thinking this while sober, go figure talking about it. âIâm considering making some changes in my life. Maybe this could be the beginning of something different.âÂ
âIt feels unsafe that both of us are truly considering this.â Namjoon speaks like heâs pulling back, except his body is caving in, molding to yours. âIf you donât pull back, Iâll go all in.âÂ
âYou know when we finished yesterday,â and then you add, cheeks hot with shame âin the restroom.â
He hums, his hand on your waist, pulling you closer, and you refuse to resist it. âI remember some bits of it, yes.â His leg slots deliciously between yours, and you follow his lead, purring at the pressure, delicious pressure where your core throbs.Â
âIt felt like you were taking care of me, for a second. At the pond in the woods too. Youâre so caring, and it would be so easy to let myself lean in, get attached. It terrifies me. Because this is supposed to be just a fling, right?âÂ
âExcept we could let it mean more. Invest more in this.â Your bodies are already doing that. Your brains too, because neither of you might be showing their cards, but you both are calculating how much adjusting would need to be done in order for this to work, doing the math of meeting halfway and spending one weekend here, one weekend there, and whatâs a two hours drive when you can finally start using your paid leave days, the amount of which has turned insurmountable at this point.Â
âIs it worth it? Or are we just high on hormones?â You wonder, but words are starting to come difficult on you, especially with the way his hand is tracing your spine under your shirt.Â
âSee, thatâs what I was wondering too.â Namjoon has pinned your hands above your head, and youâre on your back now, his body strong above you, his heartbeat loud, his chest glued to yours, and his thigh firm between your core, hot and pulsing and wet. âSo maybe we should sweat some of these hormones off and see if we still think about this once weâre a little more⊠sober.â
You nod, as if stunned and hypnotised at the same time.Â
âPlum, tell me what you need,â he whispered.Â
âInside. I want you inside.â You lowered your hands to his shorts, undoing the ribbon there. âI never thought Iâd be a sucker for being filled to the brim. But you, youâŠâ you shake your head, frustration all over your face. âClenching around you, squeezing you⊠I could come from that alone. I wake up from dreams of what we did in the woods. We do it here. We do it in the shower. We do it by the pool. By the lake. In the woods, again, and against the wall. I think about sex with you all the time.â
Namjoon slips two fingers in his mouth as you talk, wetting them, but also using his spit to roughly, rudimentarily get rid of some bacteria.Â
He slides his fingers inside you effortlessly and you gasp, then grind on him immediately. He grins like a madman at your reaction and feels himself growing harder too.Â
âDoes sex with me make you feel dirty, like it did with her?â You ask him, the previous conversation making its comeback on your mind.
âOh, Plum. Sex with you is the holiest thing Iâve ever done. Sex with her felt like a sin, but this? You said sex to you was like a naked handshake. You canât go to hell for something like that. But for this? Plum, Iâd go to hell for this, and still, Iâd choose this on any fucking lifetime I get.â
You slam your lips to his, and thereâs nothing kind, nothing polite, nothing romantic about it. Yet, itâs the most romantic kiss youâve ever had. Itâs frantic, and desperate and needy, and his fingers scissor inside you, stretching you as best and as quick as they can. He canât wait to be inside you either.Â
âThat was poetry,â you tell him. âYou just spoke in poetry. We had naked handshakes. Now we get this. We get naked poetry.â He sucks at your neck and you bloom even more open for him. âIâm going to make such good love to you that you wonât help writing fucking cheesy pop ballads about it.â
He laughed against you, the sound so beautiful you swore your heart could glow golden with joy.Â
âAlright, bet.â
Navi: (comĂŹng soon)
#natural connection#small town swoons#namjoon fanfiction#kim namjoon x reader#bts blog#52hertz#houseofddaeng
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Basic Training Ch 3
A response to the prompt: "You're staring." Thanks to my harem cohort @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally @powerofelvis and @whositmcwhatsit
Summary: Bess heads to the dance the Morale, Welfare and Recreation Committee for the 37th armored tank division is throwing, and manages to avoid dancing with the most notorious soldier on post, who cannot seem to take his eyes off her.
Warnings: None! Wait, kissing. Swear words. This may be the slowest burn yet. Probably typos, I wrote about 1K words over the last three days and then the rest in a fever dream. So.... may not make sense. Also I am pretty sure the first phase of basic training would not have them in tanks yet, but....I am playing fast and loose with Army life in this one.
Word Count: 5. 3 K
This is my newest WIP, please like, comment, reblog and tag and let me know what you think. Thank you for reading.
You can catch up on the previous chapters here
Basic Training Chapter 3: Just Kiss Me
Saturday, April 5, 1958
7:30 p.m.
The Schwartz Residence, Killeen
Just as her shoe hit the bottom stair, Bess realized she had left her lipstick in her room and was turning back around to grab it when she saw Kay sitting in the living room, dressed in a pink cocktail dress. Her puffy crinoline skirt was gathered in a heap around her as she shifted in place, adjusting her pearl necklace.
âUm, where do you think you are going?â
Kay looked up, tucking her brown hair behind her ear as she eyed the tight, fitted sheath dress Bess was wearing. She smiled at how the white sequins and embroidered red flowers glowed iridescent in the dim light and whistled low.
âWho are you dressing up for? The guy who you snuck in last weekend?â
âWhat makes you think thereâs a guy, Katherine, honestly. I donât sneak men into our house.â
âUh huh, so youâre all gussied up in your favorite dress just for a bunch of enlisted soldiers?â
Kay grabbed her purse and followed her sister to the door.
âWhy are you being weird Bess, I always come with you? Youâve been going to army dances since you were sixteen. Iâm about to graduate, plus, I told Dickey Iâd meet him there.â
Bess sighed, thinking of Kayâs latest boyfriend. She supposed that she should be happy because he seemed like a harmless nerd, and, according to the files she had pulled on him, was not married, inbred or bankrupt.
âI just - we - I didnât invite you to this dance because itâs an enlisted platoon. I didnât think you were coming.â
âWow, you must really like who ever it is, if you donât want me to see you with him. Too bad. Dori called earlier and told me to come. Sheâs been trying to reach you all day, by the way.â
Bess locked the door, and they got into her car.
âCan you believe her date?â
âMmmhmmm.â
âOf course, then it all made sense why you guys would be messing around with an enlisted tank unit. How did Dori even get involved with their MWR Committee.â
Bess rolled up her skirt so she could comfortably drive, and shifted into reverse, arching her eye bow at her younger sister as she did.
âHow do you think? She asked to be reassigned to it two weeks ago.â
âMan oh man, she really is lucky. I wonder if weâll all get to dance with Elvis?â
âLook, Kay, they sent out a memo to everyone, do NOT make a spectacle over Private Presley. Just act like heâs any other soliderâ
âOf course Bessie bushka. Iâm on my best behavior.â
Bess looked Kay in the eyes as they pulled through the base gate.
âI am just going because I told Dori I would, I donât wanna stay too late. So maybe Dickey Rooney can drive you home if you wanna swing all night?â
âYeah, sure, ja volt. You donât have to be ein klafte, Elisabet.â
**************************************************************
The tight cloth of her dress didnât have much give, and Bess regretted her choice as she tried to keep up and hold on as she danced
âLook, this is tactical move that requires delicate maneuversââ
âIâm not spiking the punch, Jim.â
Bess huffed and got into her rhythm as they kept up with the bandâs rendition of âTutti Fruity.â If she let her self relax and swing into each step, it was almost like old times when she, Jim and Ben used to go out dancing in Austin or Killeen and sheâd take turns dancing with her fiancee and his best friend all night. They had been the three musketeers. But that was last year, when she had a fiancee. And a different future peering back at her from her crystal ball.
The music brought her out of her silent reverie, and Bess looked to her where the band was performing on stage. The lead singerâs voice reverberated through the building, echoing up into the tin ceiling and back down again, making the room buzz with energy. There were six people in the all-Black Flapjacks: drums, guitar, bass, trumpet and then a male and female vocalist. The men wore matching silver dinner jackets and black bow ties, and the beautiful, Black woman had on a gorgeous silver dress with tulle flowers at the bust.
Bess took a deep breath, her attention shifted back to Jim, whose hands were always steady, but never needy. She was grateful he had agreed to come when she called last night and asked. A year ago they had spent almost all their free time together. Stalwart, an honorable prankster, Jim wasnât shipping out to the Army Intelligence station in Heidelberg for another two months and Bess wondered if their friendship would end. If Benâs new German wife would win him over and, like his friend before him, Jim would forget all about the last three years of shared adventures and promises of a lifelong friendship. Men mean it in the moment, Bess thought, I suppose women do to. Forever. What a meaningless word. How can we plan forever when we cannot know the future? The song ended and Jim escorted her off to the side. She looked for her sister, and found her swaying with her beau towards the back, hands clasped together between the lock-eyed look of first love.
âI forgot how good a dancer you are, Schwartz. And in that dress, whoowee! Youâre a knock out tonight.â
âYou can cut the flattery, Jameson, still not spiking the punch.â
âSânot flattery, how dare you insinuate that I would be disingenuous? You look good all dolled up, s'nice to see you this way. Itâs almost like fun Bess is back, though a year ago she wudda helped me spike the punch.â
He took out his large, dark leather flask and handed it to her after taking a nip. Bessâ face scrunched up in distaste as the vodka burned down her throat, but she greedily held on and took another long drink.
âA year ago I didnât work here, I was just hanging out with some of the reprobates from the German language division. Now it would be bad form for a Front Office secretary to spike the punch.â
âLook around, Bessie, this crowd needs to relax. Theyâre alllllll keyed up waiting for that Hound Dog.â
Jim was right, a heightened sense of anticipation pervaded the warehouse, even the strings of colorful paper lanterns seemed to sway with anxious excitement above them. Bess looked over at the big bowl of punch, next to the trays of deviled eggs, brisket sliders, the lime jello mold filled with seafood salad, pineapple upside down cake and more. She was sizing up the punch and checking her breath as they waited for the next song when she heard a wave of hushed murmurs ripple through the large room and turned to see Elvis, Dori and a few other soldiers in dress uniform enter the dance together. Bessâ eyes narrowed as Elvisâ looked at her.
Jim followed her gaze, then met Bessâ eyes.
âThere he is, as handsome as he looks in the movies.â
Bessâ grimace could have cut through glass as she turned to her friend and elbowed him.
âNot you too?â
âWhat, art thou so high above us mere mortals that you donât find Elvis Presley attractive, Schwartz? To gouache for a scholar like you?â
âItâs Private Presley now. And Iâm not made of marble, Captain. Of course I recognize his attractive features. He just isnât my type.â
She sniffed, and grabbed the flask from inside Jimâs uniform, the breath coming out of her nose forcefully as she drank a long draught.
âIâve met him, actually, already. I was there.â Bess took another drink, tipping the flask back again and noticing that the liquid didnât burn so much this time. âWhen he asked Dori out. Iâm happy for her.â
Elvis and Dori began walking toward them, and Jim noticed how Bessâ stance changed as she crossed her arms and pursed her lips, suggesting that she what felt was the opposite of 'happy for Dori.'
âWell, I was at the press conference his first day here, at least four reporters asked if he has a girlfriend. Said he was playing the field so many times, sounded like a broken record.â
Bess straightened as she watched Elvisâ hand tighten around Doriâs waist and push under her bust while the blonde leaned into it and introduced Elvis to some of the eager MWR committee members who had stopped them.
âYeah, that would be the alternate version of Hound Dog, itâs on the B side.â
Jim chuckled at Bessâ joke, but she didnât notice, she was busy watching the Hound Dog himself, and caught Elvis glance over at her and give a little nod before his lips bent into a smirk. She realized she was frowning and plastered a big smile on her face. Jim watched this exchange with interest as Bess turned back when he spoke.
âYeah, I see what you mean. Definitely not your type.â
Bess scowled and whispered for him to stop as Elvis, Dori and another soldier approached them.
âWhy Captain Daniels, how nice to see ya over at this little olâ dance for the 37th, are you Bessâ date ta night? Or sneaking in to try and meet you-know-who?â
Dori giggled and playfully tapped Elvisâ chest. In case, you know, they didnât get whom she was referencing.
Jim nodded and shook his hand to stop Elvis and the other soldier from saluting him.
âOh, neither, actually, Iâm just here to make sure Schwartz doesnât spike the punch.â
âDonât believe a word the Captain here says. This is a great introduction, by the way. Captain Daniels, meet Private Presley, you know Doreen of course, and then, well, I cannot say weâre acquainted.â
The liquor had loosened Bess up and she giddily put out her hand to the other soldier, as Elvis fiddled with the blue dress uniform cap under his right arm and took charge of the conversation.
âThis is Rexadus, I mean, uh, Private Mansfield, heâs in the 37th wit me, another Mephisss boy, we were inducted ta gather, actually." Now Elvis was turning his hat over and examining it, speaking with confidence, almost as if from a script he had rehearsed in his head. "Heâs a solid, solid, guy. He really is. Guess Iâm lucky, since heâs spending all his time stuck in a metal box with my ass - I mean stuck with my behind.â
Rex her shook their hands with tight, swift grip and a warm smile. Jim raised his eyebrows at Bess.
âAnd how do you find the Army, so far, Privates?â
âWell, it was easy ta find, just follow all the tanks.â Elvis smiled and looked down. âNah, well, speakingâ jus for me, I mean, I was real honored when President Eisenhower sent me an invitation to this here costume party, and all the boys are real nice."
There was that scripted voice again, Bess mused. She had seen under the hood and Elvis' attitude toward being drafted had not struck her as honored and grateful.
"Itâs not easy, golly, I tell you, itâs really whooping my - uh - caboose. But I never felt I earned my supper so well, thatâs the Godâs honest truth.â
Dori giggled like Elvis was the wittiest man in the world, but he barely noticed, his eyes were focused on Bess and she coughed, uncomfortably. It was hard not stare back. She almost forgot to breathe, and exhaled deeply as she forced herself to look over at the band.
Her eyes trailed over to the food, and she looked back at Elvis with concern, knowing he rarely actually went to the mess hall. He had been meeting her at her back stairwell every evening at 5:15, opening her car door and getting in without even asking. As if it were his own car and sliding across her seat was the most normal thing in the world. It actually did seem normal now, and had become part of her daily routine these last three days. They sat there in their own private enclave, and every time, as he laid his head between her thighs and rubbed her waist, she told him that they were just friends hanging out. Yesterday theyâd talked past dinner hours and sheâd ask him if he didnât want to go to get food, prompting Elvis to share how someone had yelled out in line at him Monday, asking if he missed his teddy bears, and he hadnât gone back since. Sergeant Norwoodâs wife, apparently, was providing him with a loafâs worth of peanut butter sandwiches every night. But that wouldnât have happened this evening and Bess thoughtfully looked over at the food table.
âYou must be hungry. All of you, I mean.â Bess stuttered, trying not to stare at Elvis, which, for some reason, backfired, because consciously trying not to made her think about him even more and she failed horribly at being able to stray from his blue eyes for very long. âBecause you just got here. Of course.â
Dori smiled and took this as her cue to play hostess and lead Elvis away to the refreshments.
âYes, of course, of course, yâall must be hungry, doing those tank exercises all day. I made the seafood dip over there in the jello mold, itâs a recipe from Ladiesâ Home Journal, you simply must try it and tell me what you think.â
âAw, darlinâ, I donât, donât eat seafood.â
âThe brisket is pretty good.â Bess chimed in.
Dori smiled even deeper.
âHmm, well, I suppose itâs probably ok for a Yankee like ya self, Bess honey.â
She pulled her arm tighter around Elvis, leading him to to the brisket as Bess heard her say, âPersonally, I find Millieâs brisket a little bland and dried out, but come on, youâre a growinâ boy, need to refresh ya energy.â
Doriâs giggle trilled back as she walked him away and Bess frowned again when Elvis turned back over his shoulder, clearly grinning deeper as he took in Bessâ eyes following him.
She made small talk with Rex, mentioning how the last time she had heard this band, The Flapjackâs, they had played all of Elvisâ big hits and there had been none tonight.
âHe bribed them.â
Rex whispered, looking over at where Elvis and Dori stood, as she fed him a deviled egg and then a brisket slider, sticking her finger in his mouth to lick the barbecue sauce off. Her high laugh echoed all throughout he warehouse, prompting Bess to roll her eyes.
âBribed them?â
âYeah,â Rex continued. âNot to play âHound Dog,â not to play any of âem. And he bought cases of cigarettes for all the guys in our unit. He wants to make sure tonight is nice, smooth, and normal. As it can be for him, I suppose.â
Before she had the opportunity to inquire further Bess was distracted by the band as they started up a new song, a rendition of Johnny Mathisâ âChances Are,â and she watched Dori squeal that she loved this song.
 Bess smiled at Rex.
âWell Private, want to cut a rug?â
He hesitated. âUh, I think -" he looked over at Elvis, who was making his way to the corner of the dance floor. âProbably better if I donât, gonna go check out the chow.â
âCâmon, you little Yankee, Iâll dance with you, even if you have no taste in brisket.â Jim took her hand and raised his eyebrow. âBy the way, Elvis Presley is in love with you Bess.â
âStop it, Jameson.â
âDid you see how his buddy hardly touched you?â
âHow would he know? These boys donât talk about their crushes in their bunks at night. âSides,he is here with a date.â
âOh fooey! Elvis doesnât have to tell him anything, all Rexadus, or anyone need do, is clock how that boy looks at you and, man, thatâs all she wrote. You donât dance with another soldierâs girl, itâs the code. Dori doesnât stand a chance, honey, heâs just too polite to turn her down. I bet his mama is just like her. Which is probably why he likes you.â
Bess gave him a stare.
âOk, maybe not exactly like Dori. I cannot see the good Mrs. Presley making you go all the way to Dallas so she can dress shop at the boutiques. They were share croppers, right?â
Bess nodded at Jim as she swayed with him, attempting very hard not to look over at where Elvis and Dori slowly danced.
âSomething like that. Very very poor. But Jim, you dance with me, and I was your friendâs girl for two years.â
âThatâs different Bess, I hate most women.â Jim looked back over at Rex and his voice trailed off. "Most people, actually. You are saving me from all the eager beavers here looking to snag an officer as a husband.â
âWell, looking around, some of them would probably settle for snagging just a night with an officer.â
They laughed and Jim led her around the dance floor in perhaps the most chaste slow grip of any of any officer or gentleman that danced a slow dance that evening.
The song ended, and the band kept going with their version of Sam Cookeâs hit âYou Send Me.â
Bess could not help herself, and found her eyes move to watch Dori press her cheek to Elvisâ and it made Bessâ stomach clench inadvertently. Elvisâ eyes locked on hers while he pulled Dori tighter to him, tilting his head with a smirk. Something in his eyes told Bess he could tell how much she envied her girlfriend, a fact she refused to even concede to herself as she looked away, scanning the room for her sister. To her dismay, Kay was now kissing her dweeby young lieutenant toward the back of the warehouse, not so much dancing as staggering back and forth in place.
Hitting someoneâs shoulder, Bess turned to apologize until she saw Elvis had moved Dori right behind them. She stepped hard on Elvisâ foot, then apologized loudly and profusely. That didnât get him to scout off and they remained dancing next to each other as Jim ignored Bessâs pinches at his wrists clearly signaling for him to lead her away.
âWhy hello there, Moo Moo, fancy bumping into you here?â
Dori smiled big and pushed her hands further up around Elvis neck as she swayed to the rhythm.
âMoo Moo? Yâall are gonna havta tell me bout thatâ Dori giggled. âAnd look at you Bessie, honey, I just LOVE your dress.â Her eyes moved to Jim. âYâall having fun?â
Bess stepped closer to Jim, nodding and avoiding the coy irreverence in Elvisâ dark blue eyes as she slyly tried to navigate her partner away from them. She kicked Jimâs shin to let him know that if he did not politely guide her away this very instant she would begin to kick harder.
*******************************************************
Leaning against the wall during a ballad, Bess found herself making a mental note that Elvisâ seemed to avoid dancing to the faster songs. During this one, he had gone off to get some punch and then started walking in her direction only to be assaulted by a troop of MWR committee members, offering him samples of the desserts they had baked as a pretext to come and talk to him. Bess smiled as one asked him to dance, then turned at Mabelâs voice, observing the rosy glow of the other secretaryâs cheeks.
âMhmmm, the punch is good tonight.â
Bess smiled, then leaned in to smell Mabelâs glass.
âHow many of these have you had, Mabel?â
The older woman replied without missing a beat. âFive.â
âIâm cutting you off, I think itâs been spiked.â
âOf course it has. By me.â Mabel took her glass back, gulping the rest down with a wink. âSomeone needed to liven up this funeral. Hold this for me, wonât you?â She asked, and Bessâ jaw dropped a bit as she watched Mabel cut in on Dori.
Bess wondered if Mabel still preferred Burt Lancaster to the movie star she currently leaned her head against, happily watching her colleague cozily nuzzle into Elvis tall frame. He was a good sport, joking and swaying with Mabel for a second dance, then stepping to the side and chatting with another swarm of woman who tried to contain their eagerness as they brought him another tribute of dessert platters.
Bess danced to The Flapjacks performance of âJambalaya,â but quit as the music turned toward more and more ballads while the night went on. It was late, the people on the dance floor seemed to have coupled up and the decorum had slowly fallen to the wayside as the senior personnel disappeared. The air fell thick with a heady, hazy lust provoked by the swell of sweet, slow rhythm and blues and the release dancing provided from the stress of barracks life. Jim had ducked out, and Bess wished she had given Kay her keys and gone with him. She managed to stay as far away from Elvis as she could through he evening, which wasnât hard. If Dori was not monopolizing him, he only made it a few feet before another woman tapped on his shoulder. During this time, Dori had cornered her and begun drilling Bess for information, asking why she didnât pick up her phone anymore, and what the deal was with Elvis.
âMoo Moo? Is that a nick name? Are you sure yâall are just friends? Honey, say the word, and I will be on my way. I do not throw myself at men.â
Thinking of their double date last week, Bess restrained herself from explaining that this seemed to be Doriâs primary hobby.
âI promise, itâs a silly nick name, Moo Moo is what he called his childhood cow named, get this, Bess. Iâm telling you, Doreen, weâve just accidentally stumbled into a very casual friendship.â She rubbed her friendâs shoulder, and looked out at Elvis laughing with his dance partner.
âHe's lonely, and just jives more with women. You saw him with Mabel in the office. Iâm not saying I see wedding bells in your future either. But then again, Dori, you donât want to get romantically involved with Elvis Presley, do you? I can only imagine the havoc he is going to wreak on the girls in this town once he gets his bearing and into phase two. That boy is a fast operator, so fast you donât even know what happened and boom, youâre asking him out.â
Dori narrowed her eyes. âMmmhmm. Well, honestly I donât want to marry him, Bessie Boo. I just want to experience him. He is so soft, Bess. That jaw! And those eyes. Ufffff. And when he kisses you, oh, itâs like having lightening strike your cheek. Iâm fixinâ to get more before the night is over, hopefully with my mouth.â
She winked as the song ended, and strode off to get him back. Bess had to giggle at the glare Dori shot a younger girl from the switchboard office who looked like she was about to ask Elvis to dance.
Lonely, awkward, and ready to be done, Bess rolled off the wall and told Kay she was ready to leave. Her sister politely told her to get bent, promising Dickey would drive her home. So Bess subtlety slipped out of the side door next to the stage and made her way towards her car, ambling slowly in the cool evening air. Bess found it a sweet respite from the crowded, stuffy ware house stuffy. Out here, it was peaceful, and she savored the darkness as she looked up into the black sky. The stars and moon were hidden by some clouds, and Bess tried to get lost in the murky shadows as she wandered away from the sounds of the dance. She begged the wind to tamp down the anxious buzzing in her head. It was then, when she paused in the passage way between two tall buildings, that she heard the sound of footsteps following her, and turned to see a tall, dark figure striding toward her with purposeful, swift steps. His shoulders were back and his hands were out and he slowed when he heard Bess speak.
âAll dressed up and marching in a hurry, huh? Loose your parade, Tupelo?â
Elvisâ gait turned into a wide swagger and Bess stumbled into the building backing away from the force of Elvisâ magnetism. It was not a smart escape strategy because he followed in step, his hands on his waist as he looked her over.
âAl - al - always, the smart ass, huh?â
âIâve been a smart ass my whole life, Tupelo. Try to keep up.â
Elvis shook his head, chuckling low.
âYouâre staring. Stop it.â
âHoney, if you didnât want me to stare at you, shoulda worn a different dress.â
She gasped, and Elvis stepped closer, his right arm up against the wall while his left moved over her waist and he whispered into her forehead, his voice was low, teasing, almost babyish.
âBe honest, Moo Moo, did you come out here cuz you wanted me to chase you?â
Bess looked at the eaves of the building above her, she could hear the faint sound of the band back at the dance playing âThe Girl Canât Help Itâ and Elvis hips swayed very slowly at half time with the beat.
âNope, I, I was leaving, actually.â
âHow could you leave without dancing with me, baby. Not even once. An ya hardly even talked to me all night. Every other girl in there is ready and rearin' ta pounce on me, but you make me come chase after you?â
âIâm - Iâm not like very other girl, Elvis. Iâm not trying - trying to âŠ.â
The way his thumb trailed up her arm made Bess shudder and she lost her train of thought.
âHmmm. Not tryinâ to what, Moo, huh?â
He leaned into her ear as he spoke, and the skin on her bare shoulder prickled as his thumb rubbed over it while he whispered softly.
His voice was warm on her neck, and it reminded her of the first summer Mama drove her and Kay down to Galveston spontaneously for a week. They had stayed in a cheap motel across from the beach and enjoyed the warm Gulf water while eating fried shrimp and hush puppies and getting sunburnt. There, in the golden sun of the Texas Gulf, Bess had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to move through the world. No, standing where the sun met the surf had set her free, and she had become a wild animal dancing in the water and screaming into the waves while the sand crabs tickled her feet.
Elvisâ breath on her neck had the same effect. She felt wild, relaxed, totally at the whim of her body as she bit her bottom lip and looked up at his half-lidded eyes. She wanted to pull him close and scream into his mouth, howl at the untamed force of nature that rippled beneath his cheeks. He tightened his hand at her waist and kissed her neck, but then stepped back at her shudder.
âYa scared not scared of me, Moo Moo, are you?â
She shook her head, but trembled as Elvis fingers feathered lightly down her arm.
âYou donât never have to be scared of me, baby, I wonât ever hurt you.â
âElvis, I -â
He kissed her neck again, murmuring into her skin. The top of his cap rubbed into her hair. âWanna get out of here? Go somewhere we can jus⊠Talk?ââ
Just as Bess began to answer, she felt a light sprinkle of water on her nose and looked up as it started to drizzle down on them. The rain brought her wits back to her and she gently pushed Elvis away, feeling the water increase and her hair slip down over her face. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.
âYou are here on a date with someone else, and I have to go home.â Squeezing him in a tight hug, she kissed his cheek one last time as he nodded, before removing her heels and sprinting off through the puddles to find her car.
**************************************************
Bess had managed to wash her face and get her dress off before she succumbed to the extreme need for a pot of hot tea. Now she stood in her kitchen, towel drying her hair and shivering as she waited for the kettle to boil. Hearing a knock at the door, she yelled out hurrying to the front of the house.
âKay, the door is open! Or is numbnuts a catching disorder -Â shit.â
There was Elvis, hat in hand, on her front doorstep.
âNumbnuts?â
She swayed to the side, watching the back of a white Studebaker whirl around the corner. A white Studebaker very much like the one Mabel owned.
âMy sisterâs boyfriend is not the sharpest shooter in his platoon.â She held her robe closed as she looked down at her thin, white silk night gown. The thin matching robe didnât do much, but she felt more decorous pulling it over herself.
âDid Mabel sneak you off post?â
Elvis grinned mischievously and strode past her into the house
âHello to you too, Bessie, whatcha cookin, good lookin'?â
Closing the door, she shoved him as he walked backwards down the hallway.
âDonât you hello me, what are you doing here?â
Elvis unbuttoned his jacket, and draped it around her shivering body.
âStill cold honey?â He drew her in, rubbing her shoulders. âLet me see if I can warm ya up.â
His jacket was still cozy with the heat of his body as he drew Bess into him. Breathless, she let him enclose her in his embrace, folding her arms into his chest as she lifted her chin up to gaze into his eyes.
âThere she is, thereâs a good lil Moo Moo.â
Elvis leaned down to bundle her further into him, his hands moving inside her open robe to caress the sides of her body, his nose stroking hers as she closed her eyes and whispered into his jaw.
âElvis, you shouldnât be here.â
âI know honey.â He pulled her closer, kissing her cheek at the fold of her earlobe as Bess crushed into his.
Her mind was racing, racing the with knowledge that at any moment her 17 year old sister would come home and probably know how to work the door knob. Racing with the knowledge that her father and mother were flying back to Waco tomorrow and she needed to be rested and alert when she drove to pick them up. Racing with the knowledge that Elvis Presley was the absolutely worst choice for a romantic entanglement or fling, not just because he was famous, handsome, rich and probably already dating any number of women in Los Angeles, Memphis and God knows where else. And therefore, an unimaginable person to be seen with publicly or explain to her family.
But it was worse than that, she could already tell, from the way her mind bent towards him all through the day when he wasnât around, and directed itself to him with an intense, buzzing focus when he was. For these reasons, she knew he would be the worst kind of all-consuming distraction that she could possible let herself get involved with right now.
Her mouth had other plans. Namely, how could it find his mouth?
âElvis.â She mumbled as her lips brushed the nape of his neck and her hands wrapped around his body.
âYes Bess?â
He looked down at her as she tried to find the words she wanted to say.
âI - I - Iâ
âI know honey, you donât date soldiers.â
She smiled a lazy, goofy half smile.
âMmmhmmm.â
He gripped her tighter, pinching the flesh at her sides.
âHoney, dating is not the word on my mind right now. I am not interested in asking you on a date.â
He kissed her forehead.
âI do not have no intention of driving up to your house in my pink Cadillac.â
He kissed her nose.
âI donâ wanna have to come meet ya mama and shake your daddyâs hand.â
He kissed her cupidâs bow.
âAnd I definitely ainât about to take you out to fancy restaurant and buy you dinner.â
He kissed her lightly on the top of her mouth, his teeth grating over her lip.
âI do not want to date you, Bess.â
âGood, because I donât want to date you either.â
âSo donât date me, baby. Jus kiss me.â
**********************************************************
Click here to read Chapter Four: Dance
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The Complete Idiotâs Guide to Dating Your Ex - ch 9
Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirstâ
When Marcus unexpectedly runs into his ex-wife he is plunged into a world of complications where rekindled attraction and deep-seated insecurities reign. Unfortunately for him, it is also a world where his ex-wife is not the only âexâ around, as a new case crosses his desk that will require all hands on deck. âšđInspired by and based upon absurdthirstâs Tequila. đâš Â
Rating: Mature, but this blog is always18+ Word Count: 8.5k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this series include: divorce, break ups, collegiate Greek life, underage drinking, food/alcohol consumption.** Summary: Paris may be tumultuous at first, but itâs the City of Love for a very good reason. Guys, I have no defense for this one. I just really love Paris and want to go there so fucking badly... Notes: Thank you so, so, so much to everyone who came along for this wonderful ride with us! Next week weâll be posting the epilogue for this story and then rolling right into something new immediately. The wheels of chaos in our minds never stop rolling so the fics just keep on coming. đ§Ąđ§Ą
Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7Â ~ Ch 8
Thanks to the overnight flight and the comfort of being able to sleep in first class, when you and Marcus touch down in Paris at 8:30 the next morning, you pretty much manage to avoid the fuzzy feeling of jetlag. It's been years since you've been back here but everything feels just the same, giving you a satisfying feeling of homecoming as you set out through the airport toward the taxi stand to ride out to his colleague's office.
"Sorry." Marcus tosses you a small, apologetic look as the taxi drives erratically through the city. "I'll see what's up and then if you want to go to the hotel, we can see about checking in." He knows you might not be up for hitting the ground running and he can carry this alone if he needs to.
âNo, no, itâs okay.â As the city passes by the taxi windows you sink back and allow yourself an indulgent smile. You might be working, but itâs nice to be back. âLetâs go and be briefed for the case and all of that. Find out what weâre working with.â
âThank you.â Marcus picks up your hand and kisses the back of it. âFor coming with me. Saves me from having to choose an agent to bring with me.â
âI hope Iâm half as effective as any of your team members are.â You kiss the back of his hand in turn and give it a supportive squeeze. The people youâve met from his department have all been friendly and kind, and his stories paint them to be very good at their jobs on top of being nice people. âPlus, Iâm infinitely more fun to play dress up with.â
âAnd I wonât feel exceedingly guilty if I had to pretend to be romantic with a co-worker.â Marcus knows there will be a time, but he doesnât want to do that so early in your renewed relationship.
âWork is work.â Of all the problems you ever did have, jealousy or worry about infidelity was never one of them. You and Marcus are both loyal people to the core.
âI know.â The fact that your belief in him doesnât waver is incredible. âBut right now, work has you playing my wife.â He winks at you. âYou might be good at that role.â
"It's almost like method acting," you tease, briefly sticking your tongue out at him as the taxi winds its way toward the nondescript office where his colleagues are waiting.
Marcus helps you out and tips the driver, hauling the luggage up the stairs after shooting you a dirty look when you protest that you can get your own bag. âGet the door.â He huffs at you.
âStubborn.â You chide him teasingly, and slip past him to open the door. The woman at the desk seems pleasantly surprised that you speak much better French than Marcus, but switches to English for ease. She directs you to the second floor and gives you an office number, assuring Marcus that he is expected.
âMonsieur Pike.â The Interpol agent immediately greets you at the elevator, obviously being given a heads up about your arrival. âThank you for coming so quickly.â
Marcus nods, adjusting bags so he can shake hands. âHappy to help, this is Dr. Pike. She is a director at the Smithsonian.â He introduces you, looking at you with quiet pride.
âPike?â Ducasse looks between you, at the suitcases Marcus wonât let you carry and how you stand close together, keeping each other in your line of sight despite not always being focused on the same thing. Confident but not showing off. âI did not know you had gotten married. Welcome, Madame. Your expertise will be invaluable.â
Marcus catches your eye, tilting his head to communicate that he will follow your lead on how to explain your relationship to these people. Not wanting to embarrass you or to make you feel as if you are pressed to answer dozens of questions.
âWe are divorced, but reconciled. A story for another time, perhaps.â Honesty, above all, especially when dealing with his colleagues, and you shake the manâs hand politely before allowing yourself to be ushered into a nearby office. âI am happy to extend my expertise to the FBI and to INTERPOL.â
âThat will be a story to hear.â Ducasseâs brows shoot up in intrigue but he doesnât press, instead motioning to you towards a seat and taking one of the bags from Marcus to stack the luggage in the corner of a cluttered office.
âWhat can you tell us about this case?â Marcus ask, shifting the conversation to the matter at hand. âHow did you come to know about the art and this auction?â
"We had a tip that one of the warehouses that the local police were monitoring has seen some substantial movement and pursued several leads before finding the location of the auction. There is a mansion in Faubourg Saint-Germain currently owned by an alias of Jean-Luc Poitiers." The quick-speaking INTERPOL agent begins to point out photographs on the pin board lining one wall of the crowded room. "Poitiers has been underground long enough for any of the heat from his competition to die down, and it appears that this is where he has been suffering his isolation." Ducasse rolls his eyes as though considering a mansion in the gorgeous Seventh Arrdonissement a place to suffer is the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. "The auction is extremely exclusive, by invitation only, but we have taken care of that while you were in the air."
âYou got us an invite.â Marcus grins. âWho are we pretending to be?â
"A married couple, conveniently." Ducasse pulls a file out from under several other things on the desk beside him and hands it to Marcus to peruse. "Mr. and Mrs. Luke Martinez of New York City. Second house in the Hamptons, eight figure annual income from real estate holdings and investments. You will be asked to submit banking details upon your arrival, we will supply you with the numbers and the false funds." He leans back, half-sitting on the edge of his desk. "We will surround the building, ready to lock it down for arrests and to seize the stolen art, but we need you to actually put eyes on those paintings."
âWhat I wouldnât give to have that be our lives.â Marcus jokes as he flips through the files and skims the background on the couple. âWe will need to buy some clothes that reflect this.â
"You can attend to that this afternoon. There is some budget to be spared for it." Ducasse had made sure of it, not wanting to leave anything to chance.
"Does Mrs. Martinez have a listed career or am I a housewife?" You don't peak over Marcus's arm at the file in case there are things that aren't meant to be shared with civilians. You just want to have your story straight. "Or, um...a first name?"
âThereâs nothing here you canât see as a consultant on this case.â Marcus provides and grins at you. âYour name is Penelope.â He explains as he hands the file over.
"Well of course, why wouldn't it be?" The file has pages of background information and numbers that you hope you can memorize, but as you start to flip through the pages you practically feel your heart stop. There is a photograph of two men walking down the street side by side, one talking into a cell phone and the other checking his watch. The man on his phone is tall and lean, with curly brown hair and bright green eyes, and a jawline only slightly less defined than Marcus's. The crisp, blue suit is nothing like you remember, but his face is unmistakable. "Whâwho is this?" You ask, pointing at the image like you're afraid the man might jump out of the photograph and attack.
âThatââ Ducasse snorts and taps the photo. âIs Henri Aubel.â He informs you. âHe has been in Interpolâs sights for a long time, but we have been unable to pinpoint the crimes on him, unfortunately.â
"I..." Looking between Marcus and Ducasse, you can feel your stomach drop and a wave of nausea hits you out of nowhere. "I know him," you murmur, reaching for Marcus's hand like a security blanket. "I mean...weâwe dated. While I was living here...years ago." The man you had known then was bright and seemingly sincere. Incredibly charming, yes, but you had never had any kind of inclination whatsoever that he was a criminal.
âShit.â Marcus immediately frowns, aware that your cover wonât work. âThen we need a new game plan. Because if he recognizes her, âPenelope Martinezâ will be in danger.â The last thing he wants or is willing to do, it put you in danger for a case.
âWas it a close relationship?â Typically not a man to pry for personal information from new acquaintances, the rules have just changed for Ducasse since this is related to his case. He flies around to the other side of his desk to sit down, immediately tapping away at his keyboard to bring up the file on Henri Aubel. âWhat did you know of him then?â
The irony isnât lost on you. To have just left a case with Marcusâs ex-fiancĂ©e behind only last night and for this one to now include your ex-boyfriend? The universe is having a nice laugh at your expense. âI met him at a gallery opening while I was a student at the Sorbonne. WeâŠwe were on and off for about two years, but I never had any idea that what he was involved in was criminal. I just thought he was an artist with a wealthy family.â Although, now that you know that he is wanted by INTERPOL, youâll be combing back through every memory you have of him to see what you can glean. You squeeze Marcusâs hand gently, feeling like a child who has been caught being naughty. âIâm sorry,â you murmur under your breath, knowing that you have made this all incredibly awkward.
Marcus frowns and shakes his head. âIt was ten years ago.â He reminds you. âItâs hard to know who people will become when you are a college student.â The only thing heâs worried about is your safety. âBut maybe this is better.â He offers. âWe donât go in as the Martinezâs, didâ did Henri know about me? Or that Pike was your married name?â
âYes.â Swallowing is harsh and almost painful, like the lump in your throat is very real. âBut back then you were going to be in marketing. I never had any idea you would go into law enforcement.â
âGood.â Marcus flashes you a supportive smile, aware that your guilt is amplified right now. He turns towards Ducasse. âSo we pose as ourselves, justâ fictional images of them. Is that doable with the invitations?â He asks seriously. Neither one of you are on social media, so it wasnât like accounts would have to be modified.
âIt should be.â Ducasse is nodding as types rather furiously. âAt the risk of being indelicate, Madame, this may work to our advantage. A surprise like this can throw off even the most careful of men.â He looks up at you, eyebrows raised slightly, and tilts his head. âHenri Aubel is a dangerous man. If you did not know that about him, then you did not know the real him.â
âThen I guess I didnât know him as well as I thought I did.â There is an empty chair nearby, and you sit down in it with the case file still in your hands. âI think it will surprise him, though, to see me. We wereâŠwell, I thought we were very close. But obviously he was never entirely honest with me.â
Marcus takes the file from your hand, turning towards you and giving you his full attention. âListen to me, baby,â he begs you softly, seeing the hurt and turmoil in your eyes. âMen like Aubel have been taught from a young age to hide who they truly are. He never had any intention of you finding out who he is. Took advantage of you being unfamiliar with his family, with France. That makes him manipulative, you did nothing wrong.â
âThank you.â Even though your voice is quiet itâs clear, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders to squeeze tightly and murmur a soft âI love youâ in his ear. It feels heavy, and wrong, and like youâre in trouble, but you know thatâs just the shock of discovery.
âSo we say that Iâmâ fuck, I was a hedge fund manager who made it big and wants to indulge in art?â Marcus tosses out, looking over at Ducasse. âHow does that sound? New money, and my wife knows art?â
âThat will work.â The INTERPOL agent nods, looking back at his screen before looking over at Marcus again. âUse New York City as your base, but use whatever details of your past suit you. The banking details are an offshore account in order not to raise any red flags, and I will simply change the name on the false account to reflect your real name. There is jewelry in the evidence lock up that you can use as props.â He sees nothing on either of your fingers now, so obviously it will be needed. âWhen you are out today getting your clothing for tomorrow night, please be as obviously affectionate as you feel comfortable with. On the off chance that Aubel has been watching to see if Dr. Pike will come back to Paris, we want your cover to hold up.â
Marcus nods, looking back at you again. âAre you okay with this?â He asks softly. âI can still find someone else if you donât want to see him again.â
âIt would be slightly hypocritical to back out when you just had to spend three weeks with a case with your ex.â You remind him. âAndâŠand Monsieur Ducasse seems to think it could help.â You shake your head, offering Marcus a smile when you can summon it up. âIâll be okay. As long as youâre with me, Iâll be okay.â
"I won't leave your side." Marcus promises, sure that he will stick to you like glue in the first undercover op you've ever participated in. His own need to make sure you are safe wouldn't allow it, even if he thought this Aubel wouldn't hurt you.
âWe will do everything in our power to make sure no harm comes to you.â Ducasse assures you earnestly. âIf I thought this would be more dangerous for you for knowing Aubel, I would not send you in. But I must ask, Madame. Do you know how to use a gun?â
The question makes you shiver a little, not being a big fan of firearms, but you nod. âMarcus has taken me to the firing range. We have one in the house, so Iâve learned.â
Ducasse nods and his eyes flicker over towards the FBI agent. He can tell that the man who had previously worked on a case with INTERPOL isn't exactly comfortable with his wife being in harmâs way. Not that he blames him, but this is a fortuitous situation and he will use everything in his power to get Aubel behind bars. He's wasted too many hours on chasing him to give up because your ex is the suspect. "I doubt you will need to, but we always send in our operatives armed." He allows.
âWhy donât you tell us more of what weâll need to know for tomorrow?â With a whole day and night to prepare, you know that there will be plenty to learn and plenty of time to ask questions, but also plenty of time to build an alibi by being seen in the city. If what Ducasse says is true, people may be watching.
******
Hours later, Marcus sighs in relief when you are able to get to your rooms. With the knowledge that people might be watching, the bags had been delivered and you along with Marcus had started a very loving shopping trip along some of the more upscale stores in Paris. Now he's happy to just be alone with you and not worry about someone photographing you or approaching.
âI never thought shopping on the Champs-ĂlysĂ©es would be stressful.â Wrapped up in his arms in the exquisite suite, you and Marcus both sigh heavily and absorb the calm of being alone for a little while.
"It doesn't help when you are wondering when your ex is going to pop out from behind a bush." Marcus pulls you into his arms and sighs. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I didn't know. I wouldn't have put you in the middle of this if I had."
âYou didnât know?â You huff at him, perching your chin on his chest to look up at him. âI didnât know! I feel like such an idiot never realizing he was lying to me for two whole years. And honeyâŠâ Fingers gently tracing his face, you cup his cheek in your palm and offer him a smile. âI would never let you face this alone if there is even the tiniest possibility that I can help.â
âI appreciate that.â He sighs softly. âSo much for romance in Paris.â He canât help but chuckle. âNot exactly turning out how I wanted.â
âRenĂ© suggested we spend some of tomorrow doing romantic or touristy things, so we can still have some fun.â The INTERPOL agent had turned out to be a very kind and likable man, and by the time lunch came you and he had been joking together over tartine. âI know itâs not perfect, but maybe we can squeeze an extra day of paperwork,â you say the word in air quotes, âout after this is over and have a day to ourselves?â
âThat would work.â Marcus admits, âtaking in the sights before we buy stolen artwork.â
âI could take you to my old neighborhood?â Itâs something you wanted to do anyway, and might feel a little less like being on display. âWalk around, grab lunch, maybe go in and out of some shops?â
"Whatever you want to do." Marcus promises. Despite the curve ball, he wants this trip to be one of fond memories when you look back on it years from now. Especially since he will be able to propose in the city that you had always loved.
âI had a couple of places that I always thought you would love.â And that just makes you hug him a little tighter, knowing that something good will come out of this trip no matter what happens with the case - although you know Marcus will see it through to the best possible outcome.
"I will love them." Marcus promises. "Because I will be with you."
âI love you, too.â Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bring him down for a kiss and let it linger in the privacy of your quiet suite of rooms. âWhat do you want to do before dinner?â Ducasse had suggested a visible night on the town just in case Henri or his people were having you watched - either as his ex or as an attendee of the auction.
"I will leave it up to you." Marcus leans back and shoots you a grin. "This is your city, baby." He sends you a wink. "Show me the sights."
âThen weâre going to Harryâs after dinner.â Harryâs New York Bar is a legendary hangout of the Lost Generation, and given his love of all things F Scott Fitzgerald, it will be the perfect place for celebrating tonight. âYouâll love it. I mean, I hope you will.â
"Harry's?" Marcus looks at you skeptically. "That sounds like a nice place to drink." He hums and slides his hands down to caress your ass. "You want to get ready to go out?"
"You just want to get me into one of those slinky dresses we bought today." You wiggle your ass in his hand and grin, giggling when he raises an eyebrow at you like that should have been obvious. "Should we eat dinner someplace swanky to keep up appearances?"
"What is the swankiest place we can get reservations at the last minute?" He asks, smirking at you because there is nothing he wants more than you to put on a slinky dress and go have a fabulous meal before he proposes in one of the most romantic cities in the world. The ring in his pocket is burning a hole in it and he wants to see it on your finger.
âI bet if we had the concierge call it would do better than if one of us tried.â Your eyes flick up to his with mischief shining in them, wondering if you could even pull this idea off. âMadame Brasserie or Jules Verne? Ă la Tour Eiffel?â
"Whichever one you've never been too and always wanted to try." He tells you indulgently.
"Madame Brasserie is the newer of the two restaurants in the Eiffel Tower, so it might be harder. But I wouldn't mind eating at either one." There's something altogether too indulgent about the idea and you sigh a little dreamily. "I'll call down to the front desk and see what they can do."
"I'm going to jump in the shower." Marcus offers. "We've been going nonstop since we got here and I at least want to wash off the travel before dinner tonight."
"That sounds like a plan." You reach up to kiss him again before letting him out of your arms. "I'll shower after you. Otherwise we'll be having room service because we can't keep our hands off each other."
"You know that's exactly what would happen." Marcus winks at you and grabs his bag so he can get his toiletry kit out. "Make your calls and I'll be getting sudsy in there."
******
About an hour and a half later you're both finally ready and barely keeping your hands off of each other despite showering separately. The blue velvet dress you chose for tonight hugs all of Marcus's favourite parts of your body and the perfectly fitted charcoal gray suit he settled on is elegant and easy, making him look even more effortlessly handsome than usual. "The concierge said he would have a car waiting for us." You tell him, taking one step toward the door of your suite before he can pounce and trying to swallow down your nerves over the little blue box in the bottom of your purse. "Jules Verne had one reservation left for tonight and we got in just in time." And because you told the concierge about your plans, he had made sure to arrange for a few things to be waiting for you in your room when you returned tonight.
"Perfect." Marcus has heard of the restaurant and he wants nothing more than for this to be the perfect night. Regardless of what happens on the case, he wants you to have a night you can look back at dreamily. His first proposal had been sweet and earnest, not exactly fancy, but now the need for a grand gesture is almost compulsory. "We still have the elevator ride down to be handsy."
"Let's hope we get it to ourselves then." You throw him a wink over your shoulder before heading out the door, knowing Marcus will be close on your heels.
"Jesus, Paris you is saucy" Marcus chuckles as he hustles after you. "I like it."
"I've decided to enjoy the trip and make the most of it." The door clicks shut behind him and his arm slips around your waist as you walk down the hallway together, just a few feet to the corner and then the elevators, but still far enough for you to get cozy while you walk. "My favourite city in the world with my favourite person is not something to waste."
âFavorite person huh?â The proud grin stretches across his face and he edges closer when you reach the elevator, then he leans forward to call the car to your floor. âI am honored. Especially since youâre my favorite person.â
"I think honoured might be a stretch," you tease, leaning against the wall while you wait for the elevator together. "All I want is for you to be happy, baby. To be the one that makes you happy."
âBaby â youâve always made me happy.â That is something that he can promise. Right up until you wanted out, Marcus had been the happiest he had ever been in his life. He reaches up and caresses your neck. âAlways.â
"I love you so much." Wishing you could go back and erase the years apart won't change anything, but you lean up to kiss him now without hesitation. The future is what matters now. Your future together.
âI love you too.â The promise is simple, heartfelt and the look in your eyes has him wanting to drop down to his knee right now, but he knows itâs not time.
"Come on, love." The soft ding of the elevator interrupts you, but it doesn't matter. There will be plenty more sweet moments before the night is over.
Marcus allows you to pull him into the elevator and hums when he finds the car empty. âShould I wait to kiss you?â He asks, smirking slightly. âDonât want to mess up your lipstick.â
The eyebrow you raise at him is incredulous, and you shake your head at him as the door closes to leave you alone for at least another minute. "Kiss proof," you inform him, as though it were ridiculous that you would wear anything else around him.
Thank God for whoever invented 'kiss proof' lipstick. Marcus has always loved you without makeup, straight out of the bed, but there is something so sexy when you are dressed up. Even if it's not technically for him, he feels like it is. Just like you love when he puts on cologne. Tugging you closer, he grins at you. "Well, we need to test that." He hums, "we haven't kissed with this lipstick color on."
âItâs a new brand, too.â Heâs drawing you into him so easily you feel like a moth going to a spectacularly handsome flame. âHow will know theyâre telling the truth unless we test it?â
âIndeed.â Marcus makes it slow, gentle. Taking his time like the car isnât slowing down as it reaches the ground floor.
Itâs so easy to wrap up in each other. To let yourselves get carried away with affection and the romance of being in Paris together. The passionate kiss is intentionally and immediately intense â deep and luxurious and would probably be borderline pornographic if anyone was watching.
The doors open and there is a discreet cough before Marcus pulls away. Smiling apologetically as he finds a couple waiting to come onto the car. âDĂ©solĂ© pour ça.â Sorry about that. The apology is perfunctory, because heâs not sorry at all.
You can hear the woman muttering about Americans as you and Marcus stroll out through the lobby and itâs all you can do to contain your giggles. âSorry not sorry.â You whisper, beaming at him. The concierge is waiting to load you into the car that he has ordered on your behalf, and you swear you feel like youâre in a movie. It might be a crime thriller, but itâs still elegant and passionate, and you love it.
"I'm not sorry either." Marcus keeps his hand on your back until you are sliding into the car and he is slipping in beside you. Allowing you to tell the driver where you are going since you are better familiar with the area.
Fortunately for tonightâs plans, you arenât far from the Eiffel Tour. Itâs an easy sight from the windows of your suite and a straightforward drive that only takes a few minutes - though the walk would be uncomfortable in heels. Youâre grateful to have the driver and will certainly be tipping him at the end of the night even though it isnât a necessity here the way it is in the US. When he lets you out at the edge of the park that surrounds the monument, Marcus slips out first and you happily accept his hand to maintain a little propriety while climbing out of the car in a skirt much shorter than your usual. âNow we go up,â you tell Marcus, practically sighing as you look up through the layers and layers of metal that compose the Eiffel Tower. Some people say theyâre disappointed the first time they see it, but youâve never understood why. Itâs remarkable - an architectural triumph that stands out in the Paris skyline like a beacon.
âDid you know that the tower only took two years, two months and five days to build?â Marcus asks, nearly giddy as he climbs out of the car and offers you his hand. âNot bad for something thatâs stood for over one hundred years.â
âI thought you might like to see it up close.â Yes, he has been to Paris for work, but you doubt heâs taken any extra leisure time for himself in all of that. âI came here my very first night in the city. I dropped off my bags at my little student apartment, and started walking across the city. Bought a crepe from a vendor on the street and sat onâŠâ It takes you a second to find it, but as your eyes comb the area, they land on a bench a few yards away. âThat bench, and looked up at the Tour Eiffel as I ate my dinner.â
âWhat did you think about while you were looking up at her?â Marcus asks curiously, wanting to know about your time here. Even if he wasnât a part of it, you had history here.
"That she made me feel less lonely." You thread your fingers through his gently and give them a soft squeeze. It might sound like a sentimental answer, but you know that Marcus will understand. "If I was sitting here looking up at her, surely I wasn't the only one. So...it sort of became tradition. Any time I felt lonely I would come sit and spend time with her. And I knew that she was keeping other lonely people company. So I was automatically less alone."
âI understand that.â Marcus does, he had found plenty of little parks or monuments where he had been living to visit. Wanting to feel surrounded. It had always been that way since you had left.
"Come on, love." A small tug on his hand has both of you smiling at each other, but you nod toward the monument. "There's a special elevator for people having dinner at Jules Verne."
âHow touristy is it that we are having dinner here?â He asks as you drag him closer to you. It might be incredibly clichĂ©, but heâs thinking about proposing after dinner. Asking you if you will go up to the observation deck with him.
âExtremely.â And it doesnât bother you in the least. In fact, itâs sweet. Sharing the city with Marcus means playing tourist in the best way possible. âBut I think thatâs a good thing. Itâs a first for both of us and itâs going to be a beautiful meal.â
âItâs something Iâve always wanted to do.â Marcus admits, staring at you like you hung the moon. âThe last time I was here, IâI couldnât make myself come here.â
You turn back to him after hitting the button for the elevator, a soft but serious expression drawn on your face as you reach to touch his cheek. âNeither of us ever has to face anything along again, Marc.â You can promise him that. Wholeheartedly and without hesitation. âFrom now on, each chapter of our lives will have two main characters.â
âI love you.â Marcus whispers, knowing that down to the very fiber of his being. Heâs never stopped, never. Not even when he convinced himself that he had moved on. You were just ingrained in his being like the hair color on his head or the way he has to lay on his right side to really sleep.
âI love you too.â Through all the ups and downs, the hardest struggles and the clearest days, itâs always been him. âAlways.â
The ride up to the restaurant is shared with a young couple who are obviously on their honeymoon, making Marcus grin at the display of young love. âDonât act like thatâs not exactly how we are,â you murmur under your breath to him once the other couple has moved ahead of you to the maĂźtreâd stand. The couple are probably barely older than you were the first time you got married and youâre all the exact same level of handsy.
âExactly.â Marcus steps up to the maĂźtreâd stand once they are being led off to be seat. âThe couple in front of us?â He gestures towards the couple. âChampagne? To their table? And I will pay their bill.â He decides, wanting them to have a magical night.
âOui, monsieurâŠâ The gentleman provides ample space for Marcus to say his last name, and smiles in polite acknowledgment at the name Pike. He knows this reservation. Took it himself barely two hours ago. âRight this way,â he says in clear English, gracefully motioning for you to follow.
âAfter you.â Marcus lets you walk in front of him, so he can help you sit and so he can glance down at your ass in the gorgeous dress you are wearing. Reminding himself of exactly what is underneath.
The indulgent mood youâre both in extends to deciding on the seven-course menu with all the recommended wine pairings, and settling in at your table in the corner with a perfect view of Paris below from the window beside you.
âThis is probably better than anything we could have imagined when we were their age.â Marcus had seen the surprise and delight in the younger coupleâs faces when the champagne had been delivered. Looking around to see who had gifted them such a thing, Marcus hadnât let them know. Hoping that one day, they would do the same to another young couple starting out.
âI hope theyâre so excited for everything to come.â You reach across the table to link your fingers together and run your thumb over the back of Marcusâs hand. âTheyâre starting a whole new chapter of their lives.â
âYes, they are.â Marcus looks down at your joined hands and smiles. Fully aware that the same can be said for you. The ring in his pocket is making him eager for the dinner to be over. You are wearing a ring that is a part of the mission tomorrow, but tonight, he wants you to wear his.
âSpeaking of which.â The smile you flash him is bright and bubbly, and you hang onto his hand like a lifeline. âI want to talk to you about a dream I had on the flight over last night.â Itâs just a silly thing, but itâs about sharing those silly thoughts and future plans with him. Something that you had trouble with years ago.
âOh?â Marcus ticks his brow up in curiosity. âWhat kind of dream is this? I promise I didnât leave the toilet seat up or cheat on you with your non-existent cousin.â
âNo, it was nothing like that.â Although the idea of being cross with him over a dream about leaving the toilet seat up makes you laugh. âIt was a coming-home-from-work dream.â
âOh yeah?â He shuffles closer, getting the hint that this is one of those âwant to make this happenâ dreams. âComing home to me, I hope?â
âAnd the kids.â When you nod itâs with heated cheeks and a shy smile. âIn the dream it was some kind of holiday? I couldnât tell what, but I came home and you had been decorating the house with the kids all day to surprise me.â
âHalloween.â Marcus guesses, knowing how much you love the spooky holiday.
âMaybe.â The fact that heâs playing along has you lighting up as you smile at him. âBut I came home, and you told me that before we had dinner, that the kids had a surprise for me.â In the dream you remember being incredulous until Marcus had supported this surprise - a fact which reassured you that it wasnât a brand new crayon mural on the living wall or something like that. âAnd that surprise was a very cute and tiny little kitten.â
âA kitten, huh?â Marcus grins and shakes his head in amusement. Heâs had a mild cat allergy but luckily the medications had improved since he was a child. âA smokey grey one or a black cat?â
âI was thinking one of the breeds thatâs kinder to allergies,â you admit sheepishly, knowing he would probably be a little extra sneezy when the dear cat sheds seasonally. âIn the dream it was a Siamese, but I donât know how they are for shedding.â
âWe can always look into that. I think they are better?â He tilts his head. âBut honestly...â he twists his fingers around and pulls your hand closer. âI like the idea of having to introduce the baby to the cat when we bring them home from the hospital? Give them a little guardian from the start?â
âSo youâd rather have the cat first?â For some reason that thrills you - as if it were a validation that the steps youâve been taking to solidify your relationship ship are working. âWe can do that.â Youâre practically squeaking at the idea, so itâs fairly obvious that you like it. âHave our first baby be the fur baby?â
âPractice, right?â Marcus laughs. âIf we can keep a cat alive, we graduate to a miniature human?â
âThat sounds like a good plan to me.â Though you both laugh easily together, youâre practically vibrating with excitement in your seat. âI just think we arenât home enough for a puppy. And cats are so sweet.â
âCats are moreâŠindependent.â Marcus allows, grinning softly. âMaybe after we get back, we could visit a shelter. See if itâs kitten season? Or maybe even an older, sweet soul who wants a home for their twilight years?â
âWe can absolutely start looking around shelters.â It was really just an idea that you were throwing out there - something that made you smile and gave you that feeling of making your house into more of a home. But in true Marcus fashion, he has turned it into something sweet and spectacular. âAlthough I insist that if we get a kitten, they have a silly name.â
âAbsolutely.â Marcus grins, nodding in agreement. âSomething that will sound adorable and be completely opposite the personality.â
âBonus points if it is something will sound completely bizarre being called out at the vetâs office.â It absolutely tickles you that heâs going with you on this, knowing that his childhood dog was innocuously named Buddy. âSomething long and elaborate that will be extremely silly when scolding them. We need to get all the comical naming impulses out of us before the kids are born.â
âMr. Fuzzlesworth.â Marcus tosses out with a grin, enjoying the idea of planning with you. Obviously you would need to get home before choosing a pet, but this is what relationships are about, planning.
âSir Fuzzbutt de Fluffington.â You nearly double over, giggling at the table. âAlthough, Mr. Fuzzlesworth kind of sounds like a Dickens character and I love it.â
Marcus chuckles, enchanted by your enthusiasm for this. Hating that the two of you have to break apart when the first course is served. It looks delicious and it's obvious that the waitstaff tries to make this an experience for those who dine with them.
"Cheers." Raising your glass to him when the plates have been set down and the wine has been poured, you have nothing but love in your eyes when you look across the table at Marcus. This is a far more eventful night than just this same time yesterday, and hopefully the food will be just as exquisite - if not even more so. "To us."
"To us." He will never not toast to that. "I think we are getting spoiled with nice dinners." He hums as he taps his glass to yours softly. "How will we go back to eating Thai takeout or Chinese on our couch?"
"Easy." You waggle your eyebrows at him salaciously and lower your voice. "The incentive is that we can do that naked."
"You got me there." Marcus smirks and nods. "That's a good incentive."
The courses are exquisite. Crab, scallops with caviar, langoustine ravioli, cod poached in consommé with fennel. Every plate is like a dance, and it genuinely might be the best meal you've ever had in your entire life. "We're coming back here," you tell Marcus when he groans happily at the chicken course that's been cooked with black truffles and wine you know for sure is too expensive for weeknight drinking. "The first night of our honeymoon, we have to come back."
"I have no objections to that." Marcus takes another bite and closes his eyes in pure bliss. "None."
Hopefully there will be a more sentimental reason to come back to this place on your honeymoon, but you have to keep that close to you for just a little while longer. Instead you just smirk and tilt your head at him. "Although the hotel might be a bit of a stretch. I'm enjoying that for what it's worth on this trip."
"That hotel room is a dream." He rolls his eyes dramatically. "I never get rooms that good on cases. We are stuck in something like a Days Inn. Not that they are bad, but it's not...this."
"Maybe I'm magic?" You tease, knowing that dealing with your former flame on a case isn't exactly magical. But at least it's come with something positive for him. "Like a flashy good luck charm you can keep on your arm."
"I'd keep you in my pocket if I could." He chuckles, winking at you playfully. "But on my arm is okay too. I guess."
"That would be a very big pocket to whole a whole adult person." Although the image is fairly adorable, you'll give him that. "But I'll tell you what. If you ever find one big enough, I'll hop right in."
"You know they make huge pocket blankets for being lazy on a couch all weekend, right?" Marcus grins at you, knowing he will order you one for Christmas now.
"I actually did not know that." You grin at him over the last few bites of this fifth course. "Sounds great for cuddling."
Chuckling softly, Marcus manages to get through the rest of the dinner without giving away that every course makes him even more jittery. Eager to get to the best part of the night in his opinion. Getting to propose to you and show you how much he loves you and wants to make this forever.
The last two courses are sweet - lemon and then chocolate - leaving both you and Marcus feeling more full than you've felt in ages but independently anxious and excited without the other having any clue. If you had known in that moment that you had the very same plan in mind it might have made you laugh or even rethink the occasion to try to surprise the other one all over again. But as it is, when you step out of the restaurant after your sensational dinner, you look up at Marcus and smile softly. "Do you want to see the best view of Paris you'll ever have in your life?"
"You read my mind, baby." Marcus answers with an indulgent smile of his own and he couldn't get closer to you if he tried as he leans in. Wanting to keep the moment as intimate as possible.
"Come here." There is almost no one on the observation deck at this time of night, and you've never been so grateful for coincidences in your entire life. The last two people looking out over the city in this area wander away toward the restaurant to enjoy their dinner as you and Marcus choose a place to stand, and for a moment you're sure that the strangers bolted from the scene because they could hear how hard your heart is beating. Surely if the pounding in your ears is as loud as your heart, then the whole world around you can hear it, too.
"It's a perfect night." Marcus has done this before and yet his heart still beats wildly and he can feel the slight moisture of nerves dampening the shirt under his suit jacket. Coming over to you and taking your hand gently as he turns to make a show of looking out over the city of Paris under the gorgeously full moon.
"It's the perfect view." Paris is secondary to everything, right now, although it's the perfect backdrop for what you're about to do. While Marcus is looking out over the city, and despite how hard you're shaking, you manage to hold his hand while carefully extracting the ring box from your purse and exhaling deeply. Kneeling down in heels is an exacting task, but your dress cooperates, and you manage to not make a sound as you do.
Sighing softly, Marcus knows that this is the moment. Sure there have been thousands of proposals right here, or on the ground below, but he wants to add one more. âI need to ask you someââ Turning, Marcus stops mid word when he sees you kneeling in front of him. ââthing. Whatââ he canât even ask you what is going on, eyes wide and focused on you and the small box in your hand.
"Here's the thing, Marc." You're already on the verge of tears as soon as you open your mouth, but that's okay. This is the first time you've ever done this and hopefully it will be the last, and Marcus knows that feeling all too well. "I know this is...nontraditional. And you're a traditionalist in a lot of ways. But I need to ask you something. Because for ten years, anytime something big happened in my life, the first thing I wanted to do was call you. Whenever something bad happened, I wanted to find the doorstep of whatever house you were living in and make sure that you were okay. I thought about you every single day that we were apart, and now that we're together again I just can't..." you sniffle, breaking out into a smile at the overwhelming joy in your heart. "I can't help but be excited that I won't have to call you if something good happens. Or worry about you when something goes wrong as things inevitably do in life. Because youâll be right there with me. I love you more than anything or anyone in the world, Marcus Pike. And there is nothing more that I want than to come home to you. To share our joys and sorrows with each other and to build the life of our dreams together." The little box in your hand is slightly damp with the nervous sweat from your palm but neither of you notice, too focused on the way the lid snaps back to reveal the stunning rung that you picked out just yesterday. "Would you do me the immense honour of marrying me again?"
He stares for a moment, the shock and warmth of you proposing to him curling into his chest and making his heart burst. Choking out a laugh, a happy one, Marcus hits his knees in front of you, staring at the little blue box that he certainly recognizes. âIâ canâtâ of course Iâm going to marry you again.â He manages, reaching for your hand and digging into his jacket pocket with the other to pull out an identical box.
With both of you crying and laughing you would have looked slightly hysterical to anyone around, but you lean forward to kiss Marcus as he digs in his jacket. Nothing else matters except the fact that he said yes, and for a moment everything in the world stands perfectly still. It isn't until you pull away again that you see him holding an identical Tiffany ring box and you burst out into another round of sobbing giggles. "Of course we both did," you laugh, pulling the platinum band out of the box in your hand to hold out to him. "Can I, love?"
âYes.â He canât help the giddy, bubbly laugh that rumbles out of his chest. Watching as you start to slide the band on his finger. âI canât believe this is what you were buying yesterday.â
"You didn't buy the 'lunch with Angie' story, huh?" The ring fits him perfectly and you can't help but stare at it a little. The last time you put a ring on his finger was years ago, and as wonderful as your first wedding was, this feels so incredibly right tonight.
âI saw you.â Marcus admits with a grin, his thumb rubbing the underside of the band. âI had decided to look for your new ring.â
"You saw us?" It takes a second to refocus, but your eyes flick up to his and you reach to wipe away the tears welling up in his eyes.
âYeah. I thought you were looking at something like a necklace or whatever.â He admits. âThe associate kept bringing me rings so I didnât have to turn around in case you saw me.â
"I was too focused. Although, the store manager now knows our entire love story." You lay kisses on both of his cheeks before you look down again, seeing the ring he's holding out to you in that same, now familiar, blue box. "Marc." The gasp that escapes you almost takes all of your breath with it. "Honey, it's absolutely gorgeous."
âI still have your other rings.â Of course he does and heâs pretty sure you know that too. âBut I wanted to give you a new one, one for our new beginning.â
"Your parents will love this." As he slips that new ring onto your finger, it feels like your sense of balance has been missing that fine tuning for years. Without Marc's ring on your finger, you've been missing something this whole time. "I love you so much, baby. So much. And I can't wait to have our cat and our kids and our life full of dreams."
Marcusâs smile is full of all the love he has to give you. Bringing your hand up to press a soft kiss to the skin just above the new symbol of his commitment to you. âAnd tequila.â He adds, smirking at you as he reaches out to cup your face and draw you in for another kiss. âWe canât forget the tequila.â
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also y'all
does anybody have the original japanese of this line from book 5 ch 27???
bc rereading it i was like. O_O. is he. not talking about vil.
i was thinking like "the first read through you're definitely meant to think so, and vil did absolutely change rook's life, but with context from both book 6 and his halloween vignette, what he's describing here leans more towards the latter" which is like. masterful gaybait i can't even be mad. it's like that post saying "some gaybaiting is like a box propped up with a stick and a block of cheese underneath" except this has all the intricacy of a steampunk clock.
but my VERY shoddy japanese skills r telling me the line translates more to "beauty in your eyes and the darkness, lighting up your entire life for youâin a time in your existence when you'll be able to have [such an experience] (expanding on the prev line where he says they'll be able to understand his ideology in the future)"
^ and i probably mangled this so bad but the main point is i didn't hear him refer to a "someone" like he does in the english tl & i'm wondering if i missed it or if it was in fact added!!!
#txt#how should i tag this to potentially reach ppl who know the answer#twisted wonderland#rook hunt#i was gonna say the sunbeam simile does lean the other way too but iirc he does describe vil as radiant in an earlier scene so that's moot#anyway even if my translation is right you can interpret it as either of the ways i was talking about but it is/would be much more openended#much more cryptic and rookish hahahahaha#japanese is so hard dawg i only had to look up one of the words in this line to understand p much all of them but i still struggled so hard#figuring out what the words meant togetherđđ#& inb4 i'm having monolingual struggles i speak mandarin chinese as a second language which Also uses topic-comment structure#i do have way less experience w japanese though & one sentence of modern japanese can feel like a paragraph of mencius to me.#modern mandarin does not do 5d chess with language quite so much
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IruClarAzz Master Post Part 9
Just collecting all of the cuteness of the Love Trio and adding my commentary. Spoilers ahead very current with the manga but with ch 308 I just HAD to post. (Also warning I may make jabs at the IruAmeri ship here and there just small comparisons showing why I donât like it as much, no hate but if you donât like your ship being talked about even slightly negatively probably look away.)
If you didnât see it Part 1 is here, Part 2 is here, Part 3 here Part 4 here  Part 5 here Part 6 here Part 7 here Part 8 here Bonus here
So Iruma wants to go to super important demon ball but Opera says no after heartbreaker incident so he asked for outside help in persuading them and his choice says a lot
SO he asks Azz, but the thing is Irumaâs mind when he hits this Opera sized wall and thinks about who can rely on. Thing is you gotta wonder why it wasnât his super capable upperclassman who invited him in the first place, Ameri? put a pin in that
Opera acknowledges Azz abilities and his short comings
Which is why his mom is also watching over them. Now to the question I asked earlier you could say this is the reason however Ameriâs dad is also one of the 13 crowns and if you think from a purely practical standpoint youâd consider the guy whoâs basically in charge of the police first wouldnât you?Â
But Iruma asks Azz for help because time and time again Azz has been a consistent place of knowledge and support when heâs in need of help this is where he looks to. You could say âwell Ameriâs dad hates Iruma of course he wouldnât seek him for helpâ however Iruma never considered Amu that was Azzâs thought he swallowed his pride and asked him mom to help them out. (and if that ainât love I donât know what is) So again I ask why Azz? Why did Irumaâs mind immediately go to Azz when it could have just as easily been Ameri? and this is more so if Ameri is the intended love interest wouldnât you want more reason for the two to interact? Just some food for thought.
Why does this look like boyfriend telling girlfriend he canât make date night? cause it does
Clara asks to go with them but they know she canât (side bar I am actually sad we didnât get a training montage of Clara maybe another time)
Iruma describes the difficulty he had to go through and I just adore how Clara offers comfort
Iruma says that even though its tough he doesnt regret his choice and wants to see things through and aww look at Clara I love how they just let her do this and move to support her.
I hate that we donât get love trio but of my god the softness of this yeah its totally drawn like a platonic scene yup what are you talking about thereâs no romantic implication here.
But they both say how they have been thinking of Clara all this time making her captain of the magitools club for the work of the festival since they canât be there.
Iruma compliments Clara on how easily sheâs able to connect with others, and our girl sure haas come far like cause her development isnât as flashy people tend to ignore it.
Azz even agrees that she really is the most suitable for this even though he teases her.Â
Once more the trio are front and center
Side thing Iruma has a dream of those close to him becoming like kalego but whats interesting is that an Ameri fluff isnt here
Hes actually a little disappointed
So at the ball while Iruma does escort Ameri in the two only dance briefly before being pulled apart by the other grandsons in fact Iruma spends more time dancing with him than her. I think heâs also implying here that Iruma goes both ways which facts dude
Making small talk Iruma is asked about demons heâs close with and he once more first goes to Azz and Clara their descriptions top tier.
It almost looks like Azz is holding his hand
Shit goes down and these two just insync working together
I just find this spreads placement interestingÂ
And again gotta question why just Iruma and Azz like Iruma I get but once more I need to question if Ameri is usppose to be the love interest why is she not here?
So Kirrio shows up separates Azz from Iruma and as heâs taunting Iruma with the knowledge he has Azz looses it enough to break through the barrier just saying very much a romantic lead move
And thats a hell of a statement (not sure Ameri could handle that if she were to date Iruma just sayin)
Azz asks a very.....normal question again I wonder why it wasnât Clara along with Azz, also I donât tend to sniff my friends and notice how they smell.
Kirrio threatens to reveal Irumaâs humanity to Azz and heâs so desperate to keep his secret and tell him and clara (Specifically he wants to tell them) on his terms heâs ready to kill Kirrio
And oh my god you donât know how happy this made me cause I knew I just knew
It was Clara, and oh I was missing her, to me at least there was Clara sized hole that couldnt be filled when Iruma is just with Azz. But also Iâve noticed this trend of Clara seems to pop up just when sheâs needed.
She fills Iruma in on whats happening with the club cause she thought the ball was over and her small words set Iruma back to normal.
She brought him back to normal so much that Kirrio is now disappointed.Â
I like the thought that she tells her siblings stories about Iruma and Azz Coughfuturebrotherscough
So after returning and recovering We get our trio back together and oh my god this chapter healed my heart
I like that Clara went to get Azz first before Iruma you can either see this as A: Azzs house is on the way to Irumas from hers, B: she talked to iruma already and wanted to see Azz or C: she wants to keep things even so she got Azz first. No matter what its cute
So this is something Iâve noticed for a while, Iâve seen people question what CLara brings to the trio and this is it.Â
Clara out of all of them has the best empathy she sees Iruma and instantly knows something is wrong and so she figures out a way to help him deal with it and Opera understands that
This is what Clara brings to the trio Azz and Iruma are not good at expressing themselves but Clara isÂ
She turns them into kids and puts them in a place all alone so they can say the things that are bothering them and not feel bad about it. Like both Azz and Ameri either canât read people the way Clara does or canât push like she does and Iruma (and Azz) need that.Â
Like had she been at the ball the other crown wouldnât have needed to step up and while she did help its obvious Clara wouldve helped better
Not only does Iruma let it all out Azz does too.Â
And Clara gets angry for them and its all so sweet
Iruma confesses that he has a secret he wants to tell them but isnât ready
Not only do they tell him its ok they both confess they have something their keeping too. (my guesses Azz its his bloodline magic and Claras is something with her wings)
Awwww they proceed to play to their hearts contentÂ
Opera does as asked and sees the bond the three share, and again yeah this is a totally platonic scene. yup just friends snuggling each other and hold hands in a not at all intimate way yup. Anyway Iâm dead I needed to do this as soon as I saw it but once more we gotta wait.
#iruclarazz#mairimashita! iruma kun#welcome to demon school iruma kun#iruma suzuki#clara valac#asmodeus alice#spoilers#welcome to demon school#long post#manga#love trio
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