#in the off chance he gets to settle a vendetta | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

callme-darling · 1 year ago

Text

work tensions

or; you’re a prosecutor working a trial vincent is defending and your colleagues get the feeling there’s some underlying tension between the way you’re at each others throats

word count: 3.3k

warnings: smut, like genuinely filthy shit, fem reader, hate sex (kinda), sex in the workplace (so like semi-public ig), vincent and y/n are rivals/enemies, this actually somewhat has a plot lmao, hellllaaaaa tension, so much teasing, degradation (he say slut once), cocky vincent, begging if you squint, throat holding/light choking, fingering, no protection, p-in-v, not proofread, friendly ending (bc i’m a big softie)

a/n: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY LADIES!!!! hope you enjoy🤍🤍

you were amongst the youngest of the attorneys in the city courthouse. you were fortunate in the opportunities afforded to you, but you also worked your ass off to get where you were today. which is why you, for the life of yourself, can’t understand what the hell you did to earn the contempt of vincent renzi.

from the first time you both stood in the same courtroom, it seemed like his eyes were always set in a hard glare when they saw you. so whose to blame you for reciprocating the hostility? your colleagues usually give you well-intentioned advice to at least talk to him, something you haven’t even done outside of casework. who knows, they’d shrug, maybe it’s just ill-concealed intrigue.

you were young, but you weren’t naive enough to think the esteemed defense attorney didn’t absolutely hate your guts.

some of your colleagues, however, seemed hellbent on taking matters into their own hands after a minor scuffle that left the judge’s office suspended in a tense battle of wills. the case wasn’t even that serious—just a petty case of ‘he-said, she-said’ neighbor dispute. but the simple judge’s meeting quickly fell apart to a dispute that devolved to obviously personal jabs.

when the judge finally had enough, she dismissed both you and vincent from the room with the stern instruction to “talk out whatever issues you two obviously have, and get your shit together”.

you’re on vincent’s heels as he speeds out of the room. as soon as you hear the door click shut behind you, you’re glancing up and down the hallway. vincent runs a hand through his hair, annoyance etched across his features.

“what the hell is your problem?”

you gawk at him, “MY problem?!” you chuckle at his audacity. “you’re the one who started all this-“ you wave your hands in the space between you two like some enigmatic boundary separated you.

his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek, and a roll of his eyes had you seeing red. before you had a chance to properly rip his throat out, an older man poked his head out from another room, face stern as he recommended you find somewhere else to continue whatever dispute you deigned important enough to have a tempermental yelling match in the middle of the office.

with a noise that could only be chalked up at pure irritation, vincent began strutting down the hall. you were quick behind him, wordlessly keeping in step with his long strides. you weren’t done with your conversation, and you’ll be damned if you let him walk away now.

you were in an unfamiliar, and rather desolate, wing of the building when he spun around to face you, his face inches from yours as he ducked down slightly to glare into your eyes. “quit following me like a damn dog!”

your eyes widened before a hard scowl settled on your face. “not until you tell me what your problem with me is.” you fume, “ever since i got here, you have had some personal vendetta against me. you’re going to tell me why.”

his jaw clenched as his eyes scanned your face. “your feelings are hurt because i don’t like you, is that what this is?”

you roll your eyes. “that’s bullshit and we both know it. the truth. now.”

“i need a reason to dislike you?”

“you can make one up for all i care, but i’m tired of your attitude fucking with my job.”

he chuckles dryly, “oh, i see. that’s what this is about.”

your brows scrunch together. at your look of confusion, he takes a step closer, breath fanning your face as he whispers through tight lips, “it’s my attitude fucking with your job, hm? that’s what drives me so fucking crazy- you’re so blind.” he rubs a hand over his mouth, taking a breath before his eyes are hard set on you again. “don’t think i don’t see it—the way you’ve charmed our colleagues, how you bat your pretty little eyes at the judges to get your way-“

you cut him off, disbelief dripping from your words. “excuse me?”

he scoffs, “oh don’t be coy.”

“you know what, vincent,” you clench your fists, nails biting into your palms as they shook, “you can fuck right off.”

you go to turn and walk away, but a thought of venom penetrates your mind and you whip right back around, nearly nose-to-nose as you whisper low, “just say you’re threatened by me next time.”

you watch as something akin to rage flash across vincent’s face. he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but his eyes bore into yours with a silent threat that chills your spine. his tone is low, dangerous. the rasp makes the hair along your arms stand on end. “i suggest you choose your next words wisely, y/n.”

maybe it was your stubbornness, or a fleeting air of confidence, but you hold his stare, your own voice quieter but just as menacing. “vincent renzi is threatened by the fresh-faced competition and can’t stand the thought that i may be the better attorney.” were you being childish in taunting him? yes, probably. but the months of tension were reaching critical mass, and whatever thoughts crossed your mind were being said.

what had just slipped through your lips, though, was definitely the wrong thing to have said.

a hand harshly grips your bicep as he drags you to the nearest room. he flicks on one set of lights and slams the door shut. he’s fuming, you note. however, you don’t fully register just how angry he is.

he’s silent for a pregnant moment, the air suffocating as he watches you with an analytical glare, his body seemed almost animalistic in how he stalked towards with with silent strides. you feel a new form of anxiety quicken your breathing.

he’s close now, so close you can smell his day-old cologne like it were freshly applied. his voice is quiet, but it makes you jolt under his intense gaze. “you want to know why i hate you so much?”

you feel as though you’re trapped in a stupor, your mind dizzy with this newfound suspense. you give him a small nod, not trusting your voice to remain firm in this intensity.

you swear you feel his lips just barely ghost over your cheek as he speaks, nearly growling in your ear. “i hate you because you’re so infuriating.” he pauses. “the way you walk around the courtroom like it’s yours to own, how you always make the most nit-picky points. and what pisses me off the most, is how i’m so attracted to you because of it.”

you were holding your breath. you felt your mind reeling as silence settled over the room. only the sound of your own breathing and the blood rushing through your veins reached your ears as you held vincent’s gaze.

his ferocity seemed to have diminished a fraction, but his jaw remained clenched. words escaped your brain as you tried to wrack together some coherent response, anything to quell the heat burning you from the inside out.

when no such words came, you decided ‘to hell with it’.

your eyes flicked to vincent’s lips, rubbed a pretty red from his hands and teeth. then you looked back into his eyes. an exchange that required no voice.

‘do it then,’ you silently dared. do it.

and so, he did.

his palm was warm on your cheek, fingers wrapping around the back of your head as he crashed his lips to yours. the force of the kiss had you stumbling back before vincent’s other hand caught your hip.

impatient. that was the best word to describe the way vincent kissed you. you tasted his lips on yours, body humming as you become acutely aware just who you’re kissing. and the mere thought has your thighs clenching together.

there was no room to speak with the way his mouth trailed down your chin, dipping into the curve of your neck. a shudder rushes through your muscles when you feel his teeth nip at the skin of your throat, eliciting a soft gasp to fall from your kiss-swollen lips.

you can feel the faint press of a grin to your collarbone. he coaxed your legs to walk back a few steps, securing your body between the table and his own.

his breath was warm as he spoke against your shoulder, “tell me to stop.” the featherlight touch of his fingers sent jolts of electricity through you as they skimmed down your arms and over your waist. “tell me you don’t want this, and i’ll let you walk out that door.”

your lungs burned when you finally released your breath. you could feel the heat pooling in your stomach, and the deep octave of his voice was doing little to soothe it. you were surprised by your own voice’s clarity, “shut up and kiss me again.”

you felt his body melt deeper into yours as your palms pulled him in by the side of his neck. you allowed yourself to be more eager, greedier, as your tongue teased his bottom lip.

he pressed his hips firmly against yours, his rasping moan nearly making you whimper in response. he was breathless when he pulled away. the pad of his thumb stroked your bottom lip, his own shining with a mixture of yours and his spit.

“i’m going to ruin you..” he murmured, leaning down again, his lips brushing over yours as his thumb holds your chin in place.

you prop your hand on the table behind you, not trusting your legs to hold you for much longer. your voice is meeker this time as you whisper against his touch, “you can try.”

vincent kisses you with an assured hunger. his touch dominating as he grips your hips, the fabric of your skirt gradually bunching in his hold. you can sense the apprehension in him, his internal battle of morals. your hand cradles the back of his head, nails stroking his scalp as you use your other to guide his hand under your blouse. blue eyes meet yours as you chide, “you don’t have to play nice with me, vincent.” the lull of his name from your lips paired with the way you brought his palm to grope at your chest, he needed no more convincing.

“such a little fuckin’ minx.” he muttered under his breath. your skirt was bunched up to your waist, your panties shoved down your legs. he had your back flat on the tabletop, hips slotted between your thighs as his eyes raked over you.

you could feel yourself slowly dripping onto the table below you, cheeks flushed with both lust and embarrassment.

vincent smirked. seeing you laid out like this, on display for him has his dick twitching in his pants. he appraised your needy pussy, a tentative two fingers teasing your folds as your thighs trembled. he watched how you grew shy, hand hovering over your mouth as you whine at the fleeting touch.

finally, you feel the pair of fingers slide into your soaking cunt. a whimper escapes you when he’s knuckle-deep in your clenching heat, the palm of his hand grazing your clit.

his gaze is attentive as he makes note of every little reaction you have to each stroke of his fingers. he bites his lip as he witnesses your eyes softly roll back when his fingers find the spot that has your chest heaving and hips shuddering. he leans down so his ear is next to your mouth, intent on hearing every single needy little whine he lures from you. he presses his lips to yours when he feels you creep up to your climax. “are you going to come on my hand?” his eyes find yours, half-lidded and glassy, and the sight alone makes him groan as his cock aches.

“is this all it takes to have you all pretty and compliant?” the teasing lilt in his voice only makes your cunt flutter around his fingers. “not so smart now when i have two fingers in this little pussy of yours, hm?”

you swear you felt like you were going to pass out. the combination of his fingers and palm against your pussy, his degrading mocking, and taunting eyes has you keening under him in a newfound desperation as you teetered precariously on the edge. so, so close to being rendered incoherent with only two fingers.

his touch leaves you.

you whine loudly, pouting as you attempt to catch your stolen breath. you move to sit up, but a large firm hand across your collarbones keeps you sprawled on the table. you squirm under his hold. “vincent.. why?” under any other circumstances, the needy pitch of your voice would’ve made you cringe, but your depravity gave you little to care about aside from satisfying your incessant lust right now.

his voice was sickeningly taunting as he cooed down at you, his other hand brushing the hair from your face. “come on, you have to work for it.”

you could feel that familiar animosity sit on your tongue, but you hold it. though, based on the sly smile looking down at you, you got the sense he could feel it too.

“how ‘bout this..” he sighs instead. his eyes trailed over your face, blue irises harboring a certain warmth that had anticipation swirling in your stomach. “if you say a simple, little sentence, i’ll give you what you want.”

you chew on your bottom lip, mulling over what was no doubt a trap. “what would you have me say?”

the way his smile widened had your pussy clenching around nothing, the cold air making you shiver. “i want you to say: ‘only vincent renzi can make my pussy this wet’.

“oh fuck y-“

his hand catches your jaw before you could finish your crude remark. his fingers lightly dig into your cheeks as he comes nose-to-nose with you. his voice is dangerously low but a softness keeps to the edges. “would you rather me leave you here, like this? your pussy is practically weeping.” as if to reinforce his words, a hand lightly slaps against your folds. the wet sound had your face turning a new shade of red, lips pouting as his other hand still holds your face close to his.

you don’t say anything, internally battling with yourself. the tip of vincent’s tongue pokes out to wet his lips, your eyes following the minute movement with bated breaths. then his soft voice buzzes in your ear. “c’mon.. just say how i make you drip like a needy slut. let me hear that pretty voice of yours, the one you like to use so much.”

you felt a whine croak in your throat as the hand between your thighs gave your clit another tap. “i’ll give you three seconds.” his low tone warned.

“three..”

you felt your breath stutter, eyes searching his. there’s no way he’s serious.

“two..”

he wouldn’t actually leave you like this, would he?”

“on-“

“okay.” you cut him off, words rushed as you grip the wrist of the hand holding your face.

he peers down at you expectantly. the corner of his lips upturned slightly, and you hated how attractive it was.

“only vincent can make me this wet..” he’s never seen you so timid and meek than in that moment, something that only added to the building heat of the room.

“now, was that so hard?” he quirked a brow, fingers playing with your aching cunt as he notes the way your slick soaks his palm. “you’ve done your part, so be a good girl and take what i give you, yeah?”

you nod dumbly as his hand drops from your jaw. your body felt like it was buzzing, heart hammering in your chest as you watched him fumble with his pants, pulling his leather belt off with one hand.

he plants a searing kiss to your lips, a trained dominance permeating his movements. you moan against him, hips twitching as his pants brush against your bare core. a hand slides between your bodies to free his leaking cock from his slacks. you swallow any sounds he makes as his hand strokes his dick a few times. “you got to stay quiet. think you can handle that?”

you ignore the obvious taunt, hand on the back of his neck as you pull at the ends of his hair. “just fuck me already, vince.”

he chuckles dryly, but you sense the anticipation crawling under his skin. next time, you’ll be the one making him beg.

a drawn out gasp fills the room as you feel him slowly begin to sink into your tight heat. fuck, you felt dizzy as your cunt pulsed, sucking him in deeper.

you both moan in with quiet sighs when he bottoms out. he starts slow, but eventually finds a rhythm that has you whining with each thrust, your whimpers gradually growing in volume as his thumb toyed with your sore clit. he curses under his breath, a large hand gripping the sides of your throat.

his voice was labored but firm, “you want the entire firm to hear how you sound with my dick in you? be quiet.” he warns again.

you try, you really do. your hand is over your mouth, eyes watering with unshed tears as his pace quickens. your other hand flies to his shoulder, nails biting into his shirt in a silent plea. his voice floats back to you. “but staying quiet was never your strong suit, was it?”

“fuck, oh shit-“ you whimper, eyes screwing shut when you feel the start of your orgasm wrack through you. “vincent, please, oh-“ your eyes fluttered as his grip around your neck tightened a fraction.

“i told you, you would eventually start begging.”

you can barely hear him over the erratic pulsing in your ears. your entire body tenses, cunt clenching around his dick like a vice. he hisses above you, teeth gritted as he watches you come undone.

he pulls out of you, stroking himself a few more times before he’s coming on your pussy and thighs.

you lay on the table, breathing hard as you come down from the orgasmic high. you stare at vincent who’s already watching you, breaths sharing a calming rhythm. when you feel more like yourself, you start to sit up. he hands you a box of tissues, eyes daring to glance at the mess he made on you.

you attempt to straighten your blouse, the collar of which looks as though it had gone through a windstorm. your eyes scan the floor for your panties.

vincent’s palm offers the small ball of satin into your fingers. your gaze catches his as he suppresses a grin. “wouldn’t want to be caught without these, would you?”

you glare at him, though it’s void of the usual hostility. you finish straightening your clothes, blouse retucked into your smoothed-out skirt. you turn back to vincent who’s been put back together for a couple minutes already, leaning against the wall idly.

your mind screamed at you to fill the silence, to say something to settle the oncoming disquiet.

to your surprise, it was vincent who broke the silence first. “who would have thought that this is something you’re into?” his eyes appraised you again. there was no adversity in his jest, only a gentle prodding.

“you can’t say that like you didn’t just fuck me the same.”

he nods, toothy grin starting to crack through his lips. you can see the way his fingers twitch, itching to hold a cigarette between them.

“want a smoke?” you offer, testing the waters.

his eyes catch yours, and he holds your gaze for a moment. then the first genuine, true smile you’ve seen from him is directed at you.

“i’d like that, yes.”

#♱₊˚✧ filth .#swann arlaud #anatomy of a fall #anatomie d'une chute #vincent renzi #anatomy of a fall vincent

621 notes · View notes

killedpink · 2 years ago

Text

이 펠릭스 | come as you are.

🎧 masterlist !?

💭 synopsis: after a confrontation with your least favourite person on campus, you realise your grudge had been based off of nothing but an error. with no reason left to hate felix, you decide to fuck him instead — it's not like your relationship could get any messier.

🎤 word count: 11.4K

📂 contains: dom felix / sub reader, enemies to lovers, miscommunication, college au, mentions of other members, possessive felix, flirting, alcohol consumption, lowkey grunge felix, mentions of virginity, hookup culture, jealous felix, aggressive mutual pining, wet dreams, masturbation, angry sex, hate sex, car sex, spit kink, hair pulling, a lot of marking, multiple orgasms, oral sex, unprotected sex, cum consumption.

it was no secret of your distaste for felix lee, rolling your eyes every time you heard his baritone, sultry voice. you scowled at him at every chance you got. and most importantly you avoided him as best you could, like he was the plague, tuning out any conversation where his name would be brought up, loitering in your class just a bit too long to avoid crossing his way on campus.

if you had to describe your relationship with him using a singular word, it would be trivial. you brought no benefit to him and he to you. so how was it you always caught him staring? why was it you dreamt of him, in erotic situations and in heart-fluttering, butterfly-in-the-stomach inducing ways? so why was it you woke up one particular morning, with an uncomfortable stickiness between your legs, your hair a mess and your face burning — all the while with felix lee’s name in your mind. you thought about him, brain teetering between consciousness and unconsciousness. you thought about him in detail, his soft pink lips with that sharp cupid’s bow, his even softer hair like black smoke through your fingers, his pixie ears adorned in earrings, his almond shaped eyes with his dark bronze eyes that very often looked like obsidian when it was starved of light, and his warm, tanned skin that made the freckles littered on his face look even darker.

you let your mind wander, imagining how felix would sound above you, how he would smell, what he would say — so much so, that you had actually forgotten about your vendetta against the man, that you wore so proudly on your sleeve anyone would think you were a paid actor if they saw you that morning. your hands were between your thighs, manoeuvring your underwear from your sex, slick with your arousal, your fingers stroking your slit and smearing your aching clit with your slick. a small, content sigh left your mouth, cheek nuzzling against your pillow with your eyes closed blissfully. your eyes grew wide. you were not thinking about felix. that was not happening. you shrugged yourself off, springing out of bed and feeling straight towards your shower. a feeling of disgust settled in your gut, disgust with yourself for thinking about him and disgust towards the man of the hour himself. he was too arrogant, too sure of himself, and way too serious to ever, ever get with you. when pigs fly, sure. not a moment sooner.

considering that was the start to your day, you figured it could only go up from there. wrong.

felix was in a special mood today, finding any opportunity he could to make conversation with you or just exist near you. it was maddening. for the usual reasons, of course, but because you couldn't stop yourself from wondering how he was in bed. was he gentle or harsh? was he vocal, like how he was annoyingly chatty? whatever you tried to do to appease this insanity in your head, he was always one step ahead. always right behind the corner you were turning, or in front of you in the line to return whatever library book you convinced yourself you'd read. with every growing second you lost your patience, your sanity and your decorum. you were irritated, so much so you didn't even converse with your friends in the café nearby.

"so, are you all going to the party tonight?" what? you looked up from your mostly empty cup, "what party?" hyunjin laughed, of course he did — it was hyunjin, "the hottest party of the semester. keep up!" he wasn't serious, just a testy asshole. your eyes narrowed, "and why would i go to that?" it wasn't uncommon for you to attend parties, tending to show up for a few hours before getting bored and leaving, or being roped into driving the drunks home early because they couldn't walk straight. but you tended to stray from huge gatherings — there wasn't much to do unless you wanted to catch several sexual diseases. which, you didn't. hyunjin, ever the martyr, rolled his eyes at your response. "because i'm going, so im going to need my token virgin friend to come, too." your eyes went wide, mouth opening in a mixture of offence and shock. "hyunjin, i'm not a virgin — not that my sex life is any of your business — thank you very much."

"yes, you are." seungmin joined, matter-of-factly turning to you; seemingly taking a sudden interest in your conversation. hyunjin couldn't contain himself, letting out a loud cackle that drowned out amongst the busy chatter of the afternoon rush hour café. "why do you all care so much? if you're into me you can say, you know." you deflected, setting down your finished and now empty china cup. "we just don't like it when you get cocky and think you can lie to your best friends." hyunjin grinned. fuck him. "fuck you, man." you crossed your arms, collecting your things to start leaving. "anyway, i gotta go, see you assholes later." you stood up, slinging your bag on your shoulder as you looked at your friends still sat at the table.

"later? you're going, then?" seungmin caught on, of course. when did anything get past him? you sighed heavily, "yes, i'll go. because im nice and i know one of you are bound to get blackout drunk." hyunjin chuckled dryly, aware it was aimed at him, "not because a certain someone will be there?" he looked up at you. scowling, you answered quickly, "i don't care if felix goes – its not like i'll talk to that asshole." he raised a brow, "who said anything about felix?" you blinked, stunned. "oh whatever, fuck all you guys." you walked out quickly, determined to hide your deteriorating composure from your relentless friends, their laughter following you outside.

it was a house party. a very nice house, as a matter of fact. it was incredibly spacious, even when it was filled with probably a few hundred drunken college kids. the music was loud, so loud it reverberated in your bones, feeling the bass notes in your entire body, unwillingly thrumming along with the beat of the music. people were crowding around each other, yelling loudly in excitement and laughing over something that would probably be mundane if they were sober. although finding the location hard to navigate through, you had spotted hyunjin easily, noticing his bright red hair a mile away, even in such dim lighting. "have you had anything to drink, yet?" he asked you, a cup of whatever liquor he could find in his non-dominant hand. you shook your head, "i want to stay sober, i'm driving." hyunjin raised his brows at this, "what's the fun in that? live a little." he urged, elbowing you softly in your side. "hyunjin, i am driving." you repeated, level-headed. he only wanted you to relax, you knew that, but you wouldn't risk yours and others' safety for a night you won't remember and a pounding headache the next day. he shrugged, "you're no fun." he pouted, taking a gulp of his drink. "yeah, whatever. go ditch me to chat up some girl." you shooed him away, watching with a smile on your face as he left your company and scanned the huge room for a girl who looked somewhat sober.

"it's nice to see you here." your eye almost twitched. "what do you want, felix." you deadpanned, giving him an unamused look, glaring at him through your lashes. he chuckled, his chest moving from his stupidly attractive laugh, "aren't you chipper?" for fucks sake. "i'm not interested, felix. fuck off." it was so hard remaining indifferent, because no matter how annoying he was you still couldn't deny you were attracted to him. his brows furrowed slightly, "then i'm just going to have to convince you otherwise." you hate him. you hate him and his australian accent. you hate the way his hair falls on both sides of his head, giving him a halo effect because he was so fucking far from being angelic. you hate how persistent he was, you hated how easily he shook your insults off. you hated his smirk, you hated his obnoxiously loud laugh; everything about him irked you.

so why were you following him to the kitchen, your eyes boring holes in his toned back, but following where he went nonetheless. felix handed you a glass cup filled with a clear liquor, catching the light that hung above the both of you and reflecting it back to you. "cheers," he spoke, his voice smoky in such a unique way it gave you shivers. you held the glass rim to your lips. vodka. good vodka at that — someone here had taste. what happened to staying sober? how are you getting home, now? why on earth are you listening to felix? he grimaced at the taste, sharp and bitter on his tongue, no doubt. the warm, spicy aftertaste caught you off guard, urging you to take another sip to combat it.

felix leaned the outside of his forearms on the countertop, putting most his weight on his elbows as he stared at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes. "what?" you asked, setting your drink down to your right. his blank face didn't last long, an amused smile quickly being presented to you, his gaze falling to the floor for a moment, "nothing, it's just, well, i think this is the longest conversation we've had with each other in.. what? two years?" he pondered. you scowled, "and whose fucking fault is that?" you barked, after taking a much needed gulp of your drink. felix's eyes widened, "i didn't mean it like that. fuck, 'm sorry." he winced, giving you what seemed like a genuinely apologetic look. fuck that, you're not falling for his act again. you shook your head, hand swiping at your half-drunken drink, preparing to leave without exchanging another word. that is, until felix's silver ring adorned hands rest on your hips, caging you in and suddenly inches away from your face. your spine straightens — from this proximity you can see his dilated pupils below his deep brown eyes. you blink, guiding your own gaze away from his. "what did i do to make you hate me?" he muttered, his eyes searching yours for any giveaway of your emotion. you swallowed thickly, feeling your palms grow clammy.

"you didn't pick up, felix. it's cruel to make me say this to you.." you answered, emotion catching in your throat against your will. it seemed two years worth of upset caught up to you in a single moment, surrounded by most of your drunken peers. your hands bend behind you, grabbing onto the island you were caged onto, desperate to hold onto something to appease your racing heart. felix's brows knitted together, his eyes narrowing, "i didn't pick up..?" you were in disbelief, "are you fucking serious? you don't even remember what happened?" your heart felt as it it was being crushed, blinking any obvious sign of tears away from your likely glassy eyes. felix's gaze softened, "hey.. don't cry. i'm sorry for being such an idiot," his voice was gentle, caring almost. "after that night i called you and you didn't pick up. i really thought we had something special, but i guess not. now, let me go." you said, though gritted teeth. felix looked as if he didn't follow. was he that unbothered? "you didn't call me back. i didn't hear anything from you for days and when i tried talking to you.." he licked his lips, deciding on the right words, "you've been like this ever since." he muttered, the tips of his ears reddening.

your eyebrows lowered, jaw clenching. "yes." you paused, "i fucking did." you urged. "i wouldn't lie to you about this — you didn't call me." felix answered. how was he that sure of himself? you were done with this, with felix, with this fucking back and forth conversation as if you were fucking fourteen. your hand went to your back pocket to pull out your phone, ignoring felix when he asked what you were doing, determined to scroll back in your contacts to show him the phone call he's so sure he didn't receive. you'll fucking show him. "what's this, then?" you presented your phone screen to him, watching as his expression turned from confused to shocked. thought so. "that isn't my number." he looked up, eyes locked onto yours. "what." you deadpanned, in disbelief. did you seriously hold a two year grudge over a wrong number? felix couldn't help the laugh that escaped his pink lips, his nose scrunching up and his body physically rocking from the strength of his chuckles. lost for words, you followed his lead, letting your own defeated laughter hit your ears. you put your phone away, hand coming up to hold your mouth as your laugh died down.

"i'm such a fucking moron." you shook your head, mildly embarrassed and partially relieved. "on the bright side, at least i'm not an asshole who won't return phone calls," felix's hand released the grip on your waist, moving to run through his hair and brush it out of his eyes. you chuckled dryly, "lucky you," the smile on your face was undeniable, a weight being released from your shoulders. although the incident was imaginary water under an imaginary bridge, you still harboured those volatile feelings of hate towards felix. maybe it was because you were drunk, or because you still remember how he bothered you non-stop for months? you weren't sure. you looked him up and down, he'd changed a lot. and in a good way, too. he gained a bit of muscle, and let his hair grow out like you suggested that night many months ago. he looked good, you had to admit that you wanted him all over again. he'd changed so much you're sure he's improved in bed, too.

"there you ar— oh?" both of your heads darted to see hyunjin, stumbling and flushed and hair a mess, his jacket gone and his shirt no longer tucked in. suddenly aware of your compromising position, felix stepped back and let you move, going over to hyunjin without a second word. oddly enough, you were displeased that you no longer felt his hand on your hip, steadying your body and warming you up at the same time. "you need a ride home?" you asked, pressing the backs of your hands to his red hot cheeks. he nodded slowly, a grimace on his face. "get seungmin to do it, i've been drinking," you explained, leading him out of the kitchen to where you knew seungmin would be. "is that why you were actually talking to felix? as in: your mortal enemy felix? as in: the man who we all know you have a thing for felix?" hyunjin all but taunted. you felt blessed when you saw seungmin's brown mop of hair, bobbing as he threw the ping-pong ball into the cup on the table. "take him home, will you?" you motioned to hyunjin, who was bouncing a stray ball on the table rather unceremoniously. seungmin raised a brow, "i thought you were driving?" you huffed, "yes. well — no, i-i mean, i was supposed to, but i've been drinking, so i can't." you spluttered. he nodded slowly in understanding, "don't worry, it's good you're finally letting loose." he smiled at you, before turning to hyunjin, "come on, you drunk."

and with that, you were alone once more. until you weren't. "are you playing in seungmin's place?" jisung asked you. he and you weren't exactly close, but you shared a few mutual friends and the same literary class a year back. you shook your head, a dopey smile on your face, "ah, no, sorry, i'm no good at beer pong." you explained with a small shrug. jisung gave you a quizzical look, "so what? c'mere, play with me and i'll show you," he moved to the side, giving you room to squeeze in. figuring you have nothing better to do, you press your side against his, noticing the way his free arm snakes around your waist. you had never been this close to him before, but he was actually quite cute. he had chubby cheeks, rounding out his face and making his eyes look even softer and bigger, his skin was bronzed and warm, and he had a habit of puckering his pink, round lips when he concentrated. once it was your turn, you scooped a ball in the palm of your hand and held it up to the opposing side's cups. they didn't have many left, but your team was still in the lead. jisung's hand wrapped around your wrist, helping you line it up with changbin and minho's two remaining cups, his fingers brushing against yours as he muttered in your ear how to throw it to ensure a win.

it was actually thrilling, watching the other team discuss the best technique to land a ping-pong ball into your cup, despite how boring you initially assumed it was. you felt your heartbeat quicken when they missed all three chances, now up to you and jisung to land their last cup. once more, he pressed himself into your back, feeling his bulge against your ass and his breath on the nape of your neck, the palm of his hand climbing up your extended arm, adjusting your position and murmuring words of encouragement in your ear. he gave you butterflies; intentionally or not, they were there and mixed with the alcohol in your system, you felt fucking invincible. when you actually landed the ball in their cup, you were overjoyed. you and jisung triumphed, holding onto each other and jumping frantically while changbin and minho groaned in dismay. jisung's lips were on yours. he was kissing you. and you kissed back. he was good at it, too, his lips were warm and wet from the beer. you broke apart, wide eyed and breath frantic.

"do you wanna dance?" jisung asked, his voice uncertain, breathy and so fucking cute. you weren't entirely sure, but you realised you had nothing else to do. shrugging, you took his hand in yours, "why not?" you smiled, noticing his black painted nails. it was hot, you couldn't deny that, your grip on his hand tightening at the thoughts running rampant in your borderline tipsy mind. he beamed, his round lips parting to let his white teeth peek through his pink mouth. the impromptu dance floor wasn't too far away, being in the centre of the house and surrounded by crowds of people. you couldn't tell what the song was exactly, but it had a latin feel to it, heavy on the electric guitar and fast paced, yet still erotic enough to get your body moving sensually. jisung stood behind you, his hands on your waist, pinky fingers touching the swell of your hips, holding onto you as you swayed from left to right, your own hands holding onto his arms, painfully aware of the curve of his bicep and the bulge of his veins.

you felt every inch of him, his toned chest flush against your back, his pelvis rocking into your ass each time you rolled and danced to the music. you twisted in his arms, face to face with each other, the both of you grinning like idiots, every sense of logic lost in his doe eyes, noticing the way his warm, bronze skin glowed in the dim lights. you let him sway you, your hands resting above his shoulders, not so subtly fondling his bicep muscles. his face angled down to look at you, his wet lips catching your eye, leaning into his already tiny bubble of space to press another kiss to his lips, in which he happily returned, his lips lining up with yours perfectly. as if on cue, the song ended, and the both of you were too spent to dance much longer.

despite kissing him, jisung didn't make anything awkward — it didn't feel awkward, either. it just happened in the heat of the moment, and the both of you were completely fine with that. there was no need to rush out embarrassed, nor to kiss him again and try making a night out of it. the two of you broke apart, going your separate ways, while you sat on the staircase to see if seungmin would come back. you hoped so, considering he was great company to have when around drunk people, and he left his jacket here, so you wanted to be sure he wasn't coming back when you took it home with you to return to him the following monday morning. "what the fuck was that about?" your head turned to see felix, hair in his face and an obvious frown on his lips. "what was what about?" you answered, eyeing him warily. he scoffed, rolling his eyes before looking back at you. "is this how you're gonna play it?" your brows furrowed at this, "i don't have time for this. communicate your feelings like a normal person or fuck off somewhere else." you turned away from him, focusing on the car pulling up outside, hoping it was seungmin. "why are you kissing and dancing with jisung?" felix asked pointedly, voice stern and unyielding. he had some fucking nerve. "because i can. is that all?" "no, that's not all! i thought we had something?" "no, we had sex. one time — two years ago, felix. i'm not yours and i never was."

the distance between the both of you shrank drastically, felix's frame towering over you as he looked down at you. a shiver crawled up your spine, unable to look away. "we'll see about that." you wanted to kiss him. you wanted to shut him up, make him want you the way you wanted him. instead, you shook your head and looked down, "you're too late, felix." you weren't trying to argue this time, your voice soft and certain. his body came into view, kneeling below you as if he were worshipping you, his eyes soft and his face inches away from yours. his hand cupped your chin, urging you to look up, which you did. "better late than never." he spoke, voice raspy and husky as he whispered like a prayer fell from his plump, sharply carved lips.

you leaned into him, your mouth by his pierced ear, just about brushing on the cool metal spiked earrings he wore. "felix," you breathed, completely taken by lust for him to think logically. fuck this party, fuck seungmin's jacket, and most importantly fuck felix. with the proximity, you heard his breath hitch and you saw the way the hair on the back of his neck stood up from your warm breath on his skin, a sharp contrast to the cool, silky black leather jacket he sported. "i know, love." he stood up, "c'mon, we're getting out of here." he walked down the few steps backwards seamlessly, making it look easy. your body was on autopilot, following felix out like a moth to light. he held the door open for you, watching with a triumphant smirk as you walked out the door, leaving the party behind you.

an involuntary shiver creeped up your spine once your body hit the chilly midnight air, goosebumps erupting on your skin and cringing at the feeling of the breeze passing through you. felix moved to stand in front of you, shielding you from the wind, shrugging off his jacket and guiding it on your shoulders, where it sat heavily. you could smell him on it, the musky scent of smoke and cinnamon on his leather jacket, making you crave him even more. his hand fell at your hip, guiding you to his sleek, black aston martin. you narrowed your eyes once you were seated comfortably, "where are we going?" you asked, pulling his jacket tighter around your body as the cold seats hit the bare skin of your legs. felix didn't even look at you, instead focusing completely on the deserted road, "nowhere," he answered, speeding up, feeling the engine purring in your body.

why did you fucking agree to this? is that all it takes to get you in a car? some deep voiced, australian man with a leather jacket and earrings? shame burned in your veins, along with a deadly shot of uncertainty and lust. if by some miracle you're not going to get murdered tonight, you're sure you're never talking to felix again: wrong number or not. you arrive at some abandoned parking lot, surrounded by hundreds of rows of empty car slots and concrete pillars. in the middle of the night. felix unbuckled your seatbelt for you, watching you silently. he wanted you to make the first move? that's new. "why did you bring me here, felix?" he turned away from you, his head tipping back to lean on the headrest, his face towards the ceiling, his black hair cascading down the sides of his head, kissing the tips of his ears while the hair at the nape of his neck curled inwards towards his collarbones. "i love the way you say my name." he muttered, the alcohol in his system causing him to slur more than usual, despite his lazy australian accent doing most of the work. he knew just what to say to make the words in your head die in your throat, mind vacant and fuzzy from the cadence alone of his sultry voice. god, you hated him.

he sighed slowly, "i drove you out here because i didn't want you at that party," felix's eyes lazily opened, staring holes into the interior's ceiling. "what?" you turned in your seat to face him, "why not?" you added, eyeing him intently, trying to read his body language. he was so aloof at the worst times, as if he intentionally wanted to confuse you, always leave you second guessing. felix took a deep breath in, "i was jealous of jisung." he admitted, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. your brows creased together in disbelief, "why are you jealous of jisung?" you pressed. felix turned to you, his hands falling on his thighs, spread so wide his knee was inches away from yours. "because it took him a few fucking kind words to get you sucking faces with him." he hissed, jaw clenched. you were left speechless. he huffed, exasperated, "you drive me crazy. you're fucking maddening," felix emphasised, sitting up straight in his seat. you rolled your eyes, "i'm so tired of this. i'm so tired of you!" the emotion was gathering in your voice, tears welling up in your eyes. "felix! you need to stop this. you're not in love with me, you just want to fuck someone and i'm the only girl still stupid enough to believe you a second time." your voice broke, furiously wiping the angrier tears from your eyes, refusing to compromise the mascara you carefully applied a few hours ago. "give it up. please, i'm tired of this. i can't do this again." you turned away from him, gaze moving to look out the window as if your view wasn't solid stone and concrete.

"then don't." you looked at felix, your body still. you watched him out of the corner of your eyes, hugging your middle as a way to console yourself. he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face, "it's hard talking to you about this. i always use the wrong words and i end up saying things i don't mean. i know that, so please give me a chance here. i'm trying.. so hard, to communicate with you, i fucking swear." you remained silent, moving your head to face him, otherwise unmoving. i'm not using you. i really, really like you. even when you'd take the book i returned to give me a late fee, even when you'd scoff and roll your eyes every time i spoke, even when you'd go against an opinion you believed just to disagree with me. even when you hate me, i like you so much it turns me into — this! you turn me into a rambling idiot. i don't hate you, and not a single bone in my body is trying to use you, or break your heart." felix took in a deep, shaky breath, preparing himself to say more; but you've heard enough. more than enough, actually.

your lips slammed into his, eyes squeezed closed, trying to convey everything you wanted to say to felix but couldn't through your kiss. you put most your weight onto your arm, in-between felix's thighs that were still spread wide, his hand gravitating to your hip once more. he didn't flinch, he didn't hesitate, he didn't even gasp. felix instead completely accepted you, his lips pressed against yours firmly, his warm, wet tongue tracing over your lip, getting a mouthful of your fruity lipgloss. it was messy, sandwiching felix's top lip with your own, taking your bottom lip into his hot mouth. it was teeth grazing against each other, nibbling on each other's lips, filling each other's mouths with needy groans, his noises infectiously ravishing on your tongue. his rosy lips parted, your tongue meeting his, the taste of vodka heavy on his tongue, and burning on yours, your wet lips gliding over his, noses bumping together as you leaned further into his relaxed, warm body, hypnotised by his scent. you breathed it into your lungs, adopting his own exhale as your inhale, letting him invade you entirely; your foggy mind still debating if that fact was heavenly or hellish.

it was hard to break apart, yet it had to be done, your chests heaving and your heartbeat frantic, glowing with lust and a sense of accomplishment. felix's fingers brushed against the curve of your throat, dipping as they followed the well of your collarbones, all the while staring at you in awe, his lips parted. "i've been fantasising about that for two years," his voice was breathy, husky and smoky all at once, having the same effect on you as a siren did a sailor. you laughed dryly, "i'm sure other girls have kissed you like that." your index finger tapped felix's bottom lip tauntingly, easily sliding on his wet lip, feeling the dip of where your teeth caught it under the pad of your fingertip. you felt him smirk, staring at you through half-lidded eyes and lust blown pupils, playfully pretending to bite your finger, your skin narrowly missing his white teeth. "i've kissed other girls, yeah," he admitted, a little too casually for your liking, a burning jealousy sizzling in your gut. "but none of them ever compare to you." he whispered, voice raspy and his accent so charming it made you swoon.

felix caught on that you were jealous, chuckling amusedly, "it's not like you haven't kissed other men." he cooed, thumb stroking the swell of your hip. your eyes rolled, unable to express your discontent in any other way. "that's different," you defended, your hand caressing his inky black hair. "why? because you did it to make me jealous?" felix leaned into your touch. "yes," you hummed, eyes widening, "um — i mean, no?" there was no way you salvaged that one. he didn't seem to mind, however, a playful smirk on his lips as he shook his head in disbelief. "you did it to make me jealous, because you know," he paused to kiss your wrist, purposefully leaving you in suspense, anticipating what he would say next. "you know no man can satisfy you like i do. not a million." you lifted an eyebrow, "really?" you tested, voice doubtful. "really." felix sounded sure of himself — completely certain, in fact. "prove it." you looked up at him through your lashes, challenging him with your gaze alone. his expression changed, grinning at you like a shark, the grip he had on your hip tightening significantly.

he nudged his head in the direction of the backseat, an empty row of seats sitting silently in the dim light. without exchanging a word, you climbed around to sit there, looking at him expectantly. you weren't entirely sure what he was planning, but you wanted to see how far he would go with this, a morbid curiosity getting the better of you. felix came crawling back to you: literally, you watched as he slid into the seat next to you. "c'mere, sweetheart," he urged, staring you down as you mentally debated obeying him. despite having him before, felix had changed a lot since then, so much so he appeared like a different person to you; swapping out the cozy hoodies and relaxed demeanour for spiked earrings and leather jackets. it was as if time had just stopped working, the whole world still and silent, as if it was watching the both of you, awaiting your next moves wickedly. like everyone else had disappeared; and it was just the both of you there, as if felix was the only other person in the world besides you. he definitely looked at you that way — like he purely saw you, and nothing but you. maybe he always looked at you like that, even before you spent the night together.

shaking the thoughts out of your dazed mind, you crawled next to him and sat on his leg, your side pressed against his chest. you felt the damp slide of his scalding tongue across your skin. you felt the sting of his teeth, gliding across your throat. his touch was foreign, as if you had never felt him to begin with, comparing his touch to all those times you fantasised about him. you held your breath, heartbeat quickening and pounding against your ribcage as you felt the cold sting of his rings on your flesh, his hand on the small of your back and rounding out at your waist and hips, fingers groping the waistband of your underwear, his leather jacket still miraculously on your body. were you really doing this again? what if felix was only doing this because he knew he could? was he trying to get back at jisung? was jisung in on it? you tore your eyes away from felix, unsure about everything that had happened.

he noticed, "you okay?" he held you, tenderly, as if you'd shatter if a breeze caught you, his free hand cupping your cheek. fuck, you wanted him. you wanted him so desperately that you were easily turned into a babbling mess before him. "i hate you," your honeyed tone of voice was betraying you, brows pulled taut toward each other. "no, you don't," felix's tone was relaxed; far too nonchalant about the situation unfolding in front of him. it was all his fault, anyway. "i should," you turned your head to the side, burying it into his chest, refusing to show him the frustrated tears brimming at the edges of your eyes. "we'll see." you looked up at him, his actions mirroring yours by looking down at you, his brows raised expectantly. you took his bottom lip into your mouth, lips fitting together so perfectly you're surprised you're not made for each other, like a key fitting into it's lock.

felix's hands held you, pressing your chest into his eagerly, his kiss hungry and forceful, as if he had baited you into it. the palms of your hands found purchase on his toned shoulders, your mouth being invaded by felix's tongue, hot and forceful, painting your lips and mouth with his spit, sending shivers down your spine. he swallowed your whine, carnal and high-pitched. you felt felix's hands grope you, experimentally fondling the flesh of your ass in his palms, the feeling of his heartbeat against your skin maddening. felix was an erotic, mean kisser, pushing all he could give onto you as if he were trying to crush you. he released you, your mouth gravitating to his neck, felix squeezing you into him so flush you could feel his stiff, cold belt buckle against your abdomen. your teeth pressed into the warm skin of his tanned body, suckling his skin as if you were a vampire, drunk on his smoky, arousing cologne.

you released him, angling your mouth against the shell of his warm, blushed ear, "i want you," you whispered against him, pressing a needful kiss against the ball of his jaw. he shuddered, and not so subtly withdrew his hips in on himself as a way to conceal his erection, pushing through his jeans desperately. you giggled into him, your hand falling between his legs to paw at his bulge, smiling sinfully as you felt his cock twitch at the sensation, hearing him sighing pleased hums in your ear at the feeling. you pecked the side of felix's golden, tanned face, all the while breathless and yearning, happily observing felix as he reacted unashamedly to your touch. his hand caught on yours, bringing it up from his crotch, "i want you to feel good," he rasped, australian accent thick and catching on his low voice. you hummed in understanding, "i always feel good around you," you poured your heart out to him, your voice quiet and steady.

chuckling, he shook his head, "then, i want you to feel better than that," he mumbled, into your neck, his hand resting on your thigh. his hot breath ghosted your skin of your neck, your hair standing up, your spine straightening. you leaned into him, subconsciously grinding yourself on his leg, pressing your chest against his. "how good?" you murmured into his skin, unable to be content with your imagination alone, urging him to continue, watching as felix turned his shoulders to lean into you. "lay on your back, and i'll show you." there it was again. that delicious accent, the sultry voice, the filthy words, and that unfathomable arrogance. how could anyone in their right mind deny that?

you moved off of his leg and onto the opposite end of the seat, never taking your eyes off of his — not even once, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fought off a smile, anticipating what felix would do next. he turned to face you, on his knees, a devoted worshipper, his usually soft, expressive eyes now staring you down with an undeniably lustful, almost dangerous glint in his deep, brown eyes. you almost wanted to move away, but there was just something about felix that always left you wanting more. more of his teasing, of his kisses, of his cruelly smug grin when he caught you staring. if you wanted to stay level headed you should never let him cross your mind, always succeeding in making you compliant for him. you hated it: how easy he made it to submit to him, how easy it was to obey and please him, or let him please you. but it was addictive, so much so that it was maddening.

felix ran his hands up your thighs, your breath hitching at the contradiction between his burning hot skin and the icy stinging of his silver rings. felix inhaled sharply, eyes fixed on the blatant, vulgar wet patch of your underwear, solely existing because of him. and he knew, grinning arrogantly, wickedly at the sight. you could imagine how it looked to him, the girl that's hated you since you fucked her laying obediently in the backseat of your aston martin, her legs spread wide and her face burning hot, all because of you. he was probably celebrating his triumph right now, taking great pleasure in the sight before him. when you first fucked, he got to explore you, corrupt you and desecrate you. but this time, he gets to conquer you, overthrow you, and to dominate you. as sickening as it was, you felt downright degenerate for wanting it — more than anything, you wanted felix to fuck the hate out of you, to conquer it and defeat you.

a shiver ran down your spine, the cool air on your scalding cunt was frenzying, as you had to resist the urge to close your legs, effectively trapping felix between your thighs. nothing about him was gentle, he was all bruising kisses one your lower lips and teeth grazing against your clit, the pad of his thumb pressed against the hood of your clit, exposing more of the swelling nerve for him to take into his searing mouth, tongue flicking over it and his front teeth catching against it. you couldn't contain the whine that escaped your parted lips, which turned into a scowl when you felt the smirk between your legs, his stretching deliriously over your sopping cunt as your thighs trembled. his hands, fuck, his hands, fingers digging into your skin, holding your ass in the palms of his hands. it was all happening too fast, and then too slow, always changing his pace just to keep you guessing. his eyes were dark, obscured by the even darker hair in his eyes, his hands too occupied to brush it out of his face, the tip of his nose scrunched up as it bumped against your clit.

it was nothing if not brutal, sinful and so incredibly obscene. felix kissed your slit just as dirtily as he kissed you, staining you with his spit, shoving his blazing tongue into your hole earning a full bodied moan from you, only spurring him on further as he hummed smugly. he pulled away from your sex, leaning back onto his elbows, tipping his head back, his murky black hair falling in his eyes, on both sides of his face, behind his shoulders, neck on full display. you almost cried out, cursing at him for being so cruel, until you realised what he was doing. warm, thick spit drizzled between your legs, following the natural trail of your slit, your legs quivered. felix's long, hot tongue lapped up your arousal from top to bottom, gathering the taste of you on his tongue, savouring it with a smug grin that infuriated you. your hands clung to felix's hair, tufts of inky black hair sticking out from between your fingers from where you grabbed handfuls of his hair so aggressively you felt him groan into your cunt, the vibrations mimicking lightning searing up your spine.

he pulled away from your throbbing sex, chest heaving for air, his eyes falling to look at you with a devilishly conceited grin on his equally as conceited, stunning face. "y' think jisung can eat you out this good?" felix's voice was lower than before, cocky and arrogant and so annoyingly intoxicating. and you were helpless, intoxicated by the sweetness of his cruelty, tormented by his every touch. "no, i don't," you started, a pleased smile on your face at his smirk, "i think he could do better." you tightened your grip on his hair, savouring the way he grunted, his cock twitching at the feeling. "oh, sweetheart, you've no idea, do you?" felix cooed into your cunt, nipping at your inner thigh. your act slipped, "what do you mean?" you stammered, hips bucking into his touch. you felt felix shake his head, nose rubbing your clit side to side as he did so, "you got lucky having me be your first," he muttered nonchalantly, the flat of his tongue dragging lazily up your cunt, earning a squeal from your throat, "i taught him everything he knows." he spoke slowly, letting the weight of his words really settle. you hiked a leg up onto his shoulder, the inside of your knee snug above his shoulder blade, "and he's still better than you, lix."

something told you that you'd regret saying that.

your cunt fluttered at the feeling of felix's swollen lips on your ravaged hole, fucked nerveless by him. "maybe i should let him fuck you instead, and cut this short," felix thought out loud, prodding your slit with the pads of his fingers. you wanted to call his bluff, but from the way he was looking at you, and the way he was inching further away, you felt he wasn't bluffing. was he really that cruel? your hands pulled on his hair, urging him to look up to gaze into your eyes, noticing the way his eyes trailed from yours to your cheeks, your messy hair and the way your chest heaved with breathlessness. "felix, please don't. i.. i need you." you felt pathetic — begging for a man's touch like this. he made you feel so small, so meek. it was strangely invigorating, and you came crawling back to feel it each time, like an addict.

felix hummed, pleased. he returned between your thighs, "i thought so," he murmured, while you shivered involuntarily at the feeling of his warm breath dispersing on your sex. lust sizzles low in your gut, your eyes fluttering closed to keep the tears from flowing down your face, your thighs trying to close around felix as he sucked on your clit, open-mouthed and with vicious purpose. his hands tightened their grip on your skin, so intensely that it was sure to leave bruises once he was finished. your heart was heavy and intense, like a burning feeling inside of your ribcage, earning a loud gasp from your mouth, in awe at the skill felix possessed. you're only encouraged to get louder, to tremble harder by the way felix's tongue lapped up your slick, his lewd mouth scorching on your already feverish skin. it's so pornographic that you come alive, rolling your hips in his face eagerly as he tongue-fucks new life into you.

the wild glare in his eyes never faded, only intensified as time went on, his heavy brown eyes rolling into the back of his head as you bucked your sex into his face, legs tightening around him and tugging at the roots of his hair. felix fucked into nothing, rutting his hips in an attempt to appease the throbbing ache of his cock, spurred on by the carnal whines you let escape your throat, as well as the lewd squelching of spit and drool and cum bubbling in-between your sex and his pink mouth. the majority of felix's face was obscured by your cunt, but you could easily see the crease between his brows, put there by a mixture of frustration and concentration, as well as his long lashes, making his hair twitch each time his eyes flicked up to glare at you smugly. you essentially fucked your hips onto his mouth, crying out hysterically each time his tongue smothers the inside of your cunt vulgarly, back arching in a desperate attempt in following his deliciously talented mouth.

"'m close," you mewl, voice brittle and slurred, high and so needy you feel felix chuckle raptly into your sobbing cunt, tender from being fucked raw by felix's corrupt mouth. "hm, i know," he breathed, voice raspy and husky from his assault on your cunt. he moves from your sex, his pink, swollen lips glossy from your slit, slouched on his knees and calves from the sheer effort. he pants, desperate to catch his breath — his head lolling back and facing the ceiling, letting you watch as his adam's apple bobbed, licking his lips and savouring your taste on his lips. you could hear his groans, his chest panting slowly as he took in greedy gulps of air, his tanned, bronze skin shining in the dim lights outside of the car from the eager sheen of sweat on his skin. it's without a doubt the most pornographic, erotic thing you've ever witnessed, only spurring the arousal in your gut even further.

you shake your head, "please don't stop," your hands grope around to find felix's hands, giving them a squeeze to really deliver it. his eyes widened, his smirk growing bigger by the second, showing one side of his teeth first before the rest followed, peeking through his swollen, pink lips, the shadow on his cupid's bow becoming more defined as it curled into a wicked grin. he reached over to press a kiss to your lips, tongue sliding in your mouth the same way it slid into your hole: vulgarly and so lustfully, spreading your taste into your mouth. you hummed in delight, your hands finding purchase on his biceps, fondling the sturdy muscle beneath his blazing hot skin, mouth widening to whine into felix's mouth. he broke your hungry kiss, chuckling when you chased his lips, the back of his hand on your sternum to keep you down. "just remember whose name you're moaning," he muttered, teeth nipping at your hipbone as he sunk back between your thighs, one hand keeping a firm grip on your inner thigh to keep you from closing them, the other splayed in the juncture where your leg met your hip; affectionately stroking the feverishly warm skin.

he pressed an eager kiss to your swollen clit, your knees buckling when his tongue kitten licked the pearly bud, flicking the muscle all around your slit, his upper lip touching the base of his nose as he fucked you open-mouthedly, the top row of his teeth often catching on your clit. your thighs trembled, hips bucking into his mouth, your hands flying all over his toned back, once more entangling themselves into his inky black hair, fingers clutching at his silky hair so hard it hurt you, your fingernails digging into the palms of your hands. you don't doubt that felix is enjoying this more than you, groaning into your cunt unashamedly, drinking you in, savouring the taste of you on his tongue. something about his yearning for you makes you even wetter, your sex throbbing and your hole tensing, clenching around nothing, a dizzying burning feeling spreading all through your body. another pool of warm spit coats your cunt, courtesy of felix's smirking mouth, watching you unfold before him as he delivers you so deliciously close to your orgasm, tears prickling at your eyes and your vision going blurry, sobbing his name out so loudly that it tasted delightful on your tongue.

slowly, as if he were putting on a show, felix leaned back onto his calves, stretching, his body tight and sore from staying in that position for so long. he lifted his arms, fixing his disheveled hair, and rolling his shoulders, showing off his ab muscles, the waistband of his undone jeans slipping further down his waist. he spread his legs, further opening his fly, his clothed, hard cock catching your eye — a solid, firm bulge causing his boxers to stretch, his length straining to break free from the cloth. he shuffled closer to you, his ringed fingers tapping your bottom lip, "open up, love," he cooed. and with that voice, with that accent, you couldn't deny him, your lips slowly parting as you stared at him, loving the way his hair framed his face, all because of your own handiwork.

you watch as felix settles between your thighs, his sinful mouth gathering your orgasm on his equally as sinful tongue. it earns a squeal from you, back winding tighter and arching into him, muscles feeling like jelly as he caressed your spent cunt with his mouth. felix's eyes flickered up to watch you, his intense brown eyes still gleaming with desire, his hand petting your hair before taking a fistful into his palm, letting it weave between his fingers. felix strokes your puffy cunt tenderly, rising up to be level with you, leaning into your bubble, the pads of his fingers ghosting your bottom lip. taking it as a sign he wants you to open your mouth wider, you do just that, and you're quickly greeted with the profane sound of squelching in his mouth, felix's own lips parting as he lets spit drizzle out of his mouth and land on your tongue. you gasp, your cunt throbbing at the feeling, and especially at the sight of felix depositing his spit into your mouth, his lust-blown pupils obscured by his ebony, wispy hair, his eyes only decipherable by the way they reflected the light, otherwise hidden beneath his hair.

dipping a thumb into your mouth, the cool metal of his ring kissed the inside of your bottom lip, his warm digit carefully thumbing the mixture of your cum and your shared spit, spreading it onto your bottom lip, gleaming in the dim light. felix brought his thumb back to him, suckling on the pad of his thumb, the flat of his tongue lapping up what he took from your mouth; all the while maintaining eye contact with you. "don't swallow it, just keep it in your mouth, sweetheart," felix instructed, so casually that it shocked you, turning away from you to strip his shirt off of his body, allowing you to fully see his toned body. he did the same with his pants, already having gotten rid of both of your shoes, likely when he was giving you the best oral sex of your life. not that you'd actually admit that to him — felix was smug about it as is, he didn't need you to add to it. "c'mere," he muttered, as he threw his shirt into the front seat, turning his head to face you expectantly.

quietly, you crawled an inch closer to him, your knee touching his bare thigh. "strip for me," felix watched you through his lashes, through his messy black hair, pressing a kiss to your lips. your hands shrugged his jacket off of your body, showing your back to him, hoping he catches on. he does, thankfully, and unzips your dress, pressing a bruising kiss to the base of your neck, giving your skin goosebumps. you heard felix chuckle at the sight, his sultry voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand up in protest, his warm breath fanning your clammy skin. you let your dress hit the floor of the footwell with an inaudible 'thump', while moving to face him once more. felix greeted you with a grin, eager eyes falling to your naked body and greedily lapping up the view before him.

"open," felix tapped your lips, gaze trained completely on them and nothing else. you felt your heart skip a beat inside of your chest. you parted your lips, your hand holding his wrist as he held your face in his hand, a tender notion with a harsh grip. your tongue came out of your mouth, sitting adjacent with your bottom lip as you watched him with curious, insatiable eyes. the pad of felix's thumb collected the wetness on his finger, spreading it onto your lips lewdly. you drew in a breath, sharply, in awe of his forwardness, eyes fluttering closed as felix's hair tickled the side of your cheek, his pink tongue peeking out from his mouth to lap up the spit on your tongue. you could feel the drool pooling in the back of your mouth, lips shiny and glistening the same way felix's were, inflicting fleeting kisses onto your mouth. it was sensual, felix was slow — deciding to take his time as he savoured the taste, tracing over your tongue, your lips, your teeth, everything you had to offer, felix gratefully savoured it in some wild, primal way, without restrain or decorum.

he moved away from your mouth, lips parted and chest rising and falling like rhythmic waves as his lungs gasped for oxygen. your hands clung to his figure, holding his arms, shoulders, face — anything you could get your hands on. you couldn't hold enough of felix in your eager hands. "i hate you," you say, hands wrapping around his neck as you pull him into you. your lips slam against his, as you kiss him again and again and again, trapped in a frenzy of wanting him — of needing him. and felix kisses you back each time, just as hungrily and just as deeply. his hand gropes your thigh, fingers clenching a bit too tight around your skin, fondling the flesh of your ass as you rut into every inch of him, delirious and drunk off of his electrifying touch. the car windows fog up entirely with your aggression, obscuring and stilling the outside world around you, as if you and felix shared your own world for as long as you remained in his car.

your hand falls in-between his thighs, feeling his heavy, clothed cock in the palm of your hand. felix groans into your mouth, his hips involuntarily bucking to chase your hand, desperately chasing the pleasure you bestowed onto him. "wanna taste you, felix, please?" you ask, breathless and so pathetically it makes felix's cock twitch in excitement. he nods, "of course, love," his fingers hook the waistband of his boxers, letting you claw at the cloth as he dragged it down his legs, kicking them off carelessly. you're not even ashamed that your eyes immediately soak up felix's cock, carefully taking him in your hand as the pad of your finger traces up his slit, smearing the precum that sticks to your skin all over his leaking head. from the proximity you hear him bite back a moan, his breath hitching and his abs trembling, eyes screwing shut as he allows himself to get so, so lost at your touch. you pull your hand away, licking the precum on your finger, spreading the taste throughout your mouth, leaning into his cock to taste more.

there was an obvious blush on his face, felix's cheeks and ears burning as you flattened your tongue to lick from the base of his cock to the very tip, filling your mouth with his taste. he was warm; so incredibly warm that you thought you'd catch fire from simply being so close to him. you take an inch of him into your wet mouth, your drool mixing with his precum as your tongue explored felix's heavy cock, sitting proudly in your mouth, your finger ghosting over the blueish veins poking through his cock, spanning the entire length of him, from his head to his hilt, you traced them and fondled him and appreciated every inch of him.

you were losing yourself in the task, and just as you realised that, felix's hands wound into your hair, tugging you away from his neglected cock that was in desperate need of release, by the roots of your hair. your eyes met his, "i don't wanna come if it's not inside of you," felix's voice was husky, low and full of breathlessness, his australian accent making it seem like he slurred the words out, and it was so sexy you mindlessly agreed to whatever it was he said. you kissed his throat, body trembling in excitement, your lips pressed so hard into his warm skin that you were convinced you'd bruise him. you wanted your kiss to bruise, you wanted your touch to linger on his tanned skin long after this night, and whenever he touched the tender spot on his skin, his heart would swell with the memory of you and this night you spent together.

"then fuck me," you murmured, teeth nipping at his skin. "put my jacket back on and i'll fuck you however you want it, love." felix smirked, kissing your jaw to sweeten the deal. it was a strangely possessive request, but you couldn't deny that it excited you. it didn't take long to find it, and you let felix carefully put it onto your body, guiding your hands and arms through the cold material of the leather, his scent still overwhelmingly present on the jacket. the next thing you know, your back was pressed flush against the seats, felix hovering above you with a teasing smile on his face, his throat pink and bruising, his hair a fluffed up mess and his naked chest glittering with sweat. felix's lips were on your throat, then the well of your collarbones, and then on where your fluttering heart resided. "try not to scream too loud," he teased, licking the base of one of your breasts, his hand securing your thigh in place, fingers just about brushing your swollen clit. a gasp escaped your lips when you felt felix's head rut against your slit, gathering the slick leaking from your entrance as he did so. you unfolded into his touch, your hands wrapping around his shoulders as you pulled him closer to you, eager and so, so desperate.

too slowly for your liking, felix's cockhead enters you, sinking the rest of his length just as slowly into your sopping wet cunt. you cry out his name in the dark, so loudly that the air between the both of you could start a fire, catching on your red hot passion and igniting like the fireworks behind your eyes, in your veins and buried deep within your tender heart. your fingernails dig into his skin, trying to steady yourself as felix's cock buries into your fluttering, needy sex, as felix fucks the air out of your lungs, stretching you out so deliciously you see white spots in your vision. he was everything you dreamt about and beyond — he was so much better than your brain could ever imagine, he was so much better than your memory could ever recall.

you and he blur into each other, your skin sticking together and his cock buried so deep into you that it excited your whole being. felix pushed himself inside of you until he reached his hilt, greeting you with a burning, sharp and downright filthy sensation in your cunt, sizzling into your gut. your pelvis flush against his as your hips rutted against his length, eager to feel him fuck into you. you swear you hear ringing in your ears, eyes squeezing shut as to not overwhelm yourself. you moved like you were magnetic; when felix inched forward, you mirrored him, and when he rutted into you, you rutted right back, your hips meeting his as you chased the feeling you're sure you could get drunk on.

with every inch felix sank into your sex, you realised you had been craving this for weeks, months, years. as soon as felix stopped touching you, your body was trapped in an endless cycle of want; you wanted him so desperately that you despised him for not touching you, or laying next to you. and it was only now, two years later, were you finally being fed what you were starved for, and it tasted exquisite. you were tired of playing cat and mouse, tired of pretending you didn't fantasise about felix's touch, tired of pretending that night was a mistake, when it was actually one of the best decisions of your life, and now you were finally getting the opportunity to relax into felix, his touch like an electrifying poison. one that made all the thoughts swarming in your head melt into his name, one that made all your grudges and aspirations pause as you fully took all of him in. and you were intoxicated by his poison, by his sweet cruelty, so much so that your hands squeezed his skin, pushing felix into you as if you couldn't bear to part.

the sounds of your feverish, sensual moans collided with one another, each desperate sound louder than the other, melting into each other to create such a beautiful medley of sound. felix pulled most of his length out of you, taking that gloriously filling heat with him, and when he rolled his hips back into your cunt you let out such a loud whine sitting at the top of your throat that you nearly missed the vulgar squelch of your shared arousal being fucked back into you. when felix speaks your name, disguised as a primal groan from his mouth, he speaks it like a prayer, like he found a new religion in his throat, cradling it in-between your bodies like it would shatter any second.

you gasped when felix's girthy cock stretched you open at the same time his head rocked into your cervix, your cunt fluttering around his length as your thighs tensed wildly. "you're so perfect, fuck.." felix all but moaned, tightening the grip he had on your thigh, to which you rewarded with another needy, throaty whine. "y'think jisung could fuck you the way i do? hm?" he was rambling at this point, maddened by the feeling of your dripping sex greedily clenching his cock. one of your hands climbed his toned shoulder to the base of his neck, groping for a fistful of his ebony, silky hair as you clutched onto him for dear life, as he railed what felt like the breath out of you. a desperate, mindless cry tore from your lips when felix slapped your clit, puffy and slippery, your back arching off of the seat below you and into his middle. "i expect you to answer me when i talk, love."

was he not as mindless as you? was he not brimming on the edge of his orgasm? gathering as much strength as you possibly had left, you feebly hummed in agreement, "nobody can fuck me like you, felix. no one, especially not jisung," forming a full sentence was challenging, having to speak through your moans and cries and ignore the glorious pleasure felix hammered into you, again and again. his dark, lust-blown eyes glitter with pride and satisfaction, his orgasm gnawing at the fire in his gut. with every crazed, rhythmic slam of his hips into yours, your body trembles harder each time. "funny, how desperate he wanted to fuck you tonight," felix interrupts himself with a viciously loud groan, his head seemingly rolling off his shoulders entirely, "but instead the one making you feel this good is me." he hissed, free hand clinging onto the headrest to his left, knuckles turning white at the sheer force he used to grab onto the plush seat.

you agreed, nodding your head frantically, delirious and eager to please him. "just you, felix." you cried, thigh wrapping around his waist to cage him in, "only you," you added, softer, quieter, despite the strength felix used to mercilessly fuck into you. your entire body trembled, your cunt squeezing his filling cock as tightly as it could, head tipping back and fingernails clawing at felix's toned back, muscles pulled taut as he tensed with his own orgasm, your hands above his spine, arms wrapped desperately around him as if he was your anchor in a sea of raging storms. your blood was quick and insistent in your body, your heart quicker and frantic. it felt as if everything stopped for a moment, suspended in a time loop of a few seconds, the only thing cementing you to real life was felix. his panicked cry, the way his hips fiercely and furiously rutted into you as cruelly as his body could muster, until you couldn't tell where you stopped and he started.

he buried his teeth into the crook of your neck, winding inwards on himself as his heavy cock shot ropes of thick, scorching hot cum inside of you, so vehemently you thought you'd split in two, sobbing his name out like he would save you. you felt his cock throb from deep within you, and you felt the tremble of your torso as you struggled to accommodate any more of him. your orgasms came flooding out of your cunt, in the shape of a milky white ring that clung around the base of felix's cock like a halo. salt invaded your mouth, plaguing your tongue with your euphoric tears, tormented hands clutching felix so harshly you heard the wild groan escape his pink, sex-swollen lips. you lied there in unison, catching your breath and reluctant to part.

felix pulled out of you, slowly, all too aware of your tender, throbbing sex. he sat comfortably onto the seat, hand absentmindedly stroking your thigh to console you and coax you out of that post-orgasmic haze. once you gathered your bearings and stopped seeing stars in your vision, you carefully moved over to him, letting felix hold you so softly in his arms that you felt as fragile as he saw you. in the dark, you lay together, breathing and hearts beating slower with every thump in your chest, and it was more intimate than any second you spent fucking.

2K notes · View notes

royalsunshinehotel · 10 months ago

Text

The Kid (SFW Alphabet)

SFW alphabet template

A/N: two days until we meet the Kid 🐒🐒🐒🐒

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He's not the most affectionate boy, he's got a vendetta he hasn't got the time. if he did feel comfortable enough to show affection, I think it would be minor, like leaving notes for you if he wakes up before you do.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The Kid is a solid best friend, if not a bit weird. You actually have a reputation for feeding stray cats in the neighborhood, and one day, you catch him taking some of the cat food for himself.

Unacceptable. You take him in and share some scraps you brought home from your job at a kitchen in the hotel. It's undying loyalty after that.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

I fear the Kid loves cuddling. He's erring on the side of 'touch-starved', so when the two of you get more physically intimate, he'll have to have skin-to-skin contact as much as possible. I can see the two of you in bed, and he'd rather pick you up and take you with him than have to go do a random chore by himself.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He's a survivor, first and foremost. He's never let himself think more than 2 days ahead of what he's doing at that present moment. If he had the luxury of daydreaming, he'd be married to you already. But he doesn't, so he won't.

I think he's alright with cooking, and okay with cleaning. He's hardly ever home to do it, though.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would ghost. Not before staring sadly at you, and making sure you 'know' what he's doing [leaving for good]. He's not a big talker, but he won't leave you in the dark.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Getting married is for rich people, he's just gonna stay with you forever and be yours.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He's more rigid and businesslike when you start going together, but you've got to show him about being gentle- lead by example.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

The Kid is a stranger to hugs, but once you introduce him to the delights of physical contact, he's all about it. He hugs you hello/goodbye, and if you guys are ever out with friends, he'll be hanging off you too. His hugs can range from intense, to comfortable- like he's trying to be a favorite sweater or hoodie.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

The Kid doesn't say it until the two of you are in a situation where he thinks he might not get the chance to say it to you again. 🥺

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He gets pretty jealous, but he doesn't do much about it unless you give him a signal that you want out of the situation. He loves you, and he trusts your mind.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I worry that his kisses are either soft and chaste, or absolutely firey and all-consuming. It depends on the day he's had - you're somehow always surprised. He likes to kiss your lovely mouth and your forehead. He's a fan of when you go after the area by his ear, he's absolutely weak for it (and you).

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I think he is pretty comfortable. He's kind of the type that can observe even the smallest details, but kids are perceptive - and can tell he's not a threat. 👁️👁️

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

I think he likes to sleep in. 'Early' for him is like 9am-10, but this is only because he's out until 2-3am. Things are slow, comfortable, and the two of you like your long mornings together.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)\

I think he's usually at work, depending on what you do, whether you're working with him, or nearby. It's pretty bright and busy in the city at night, and he likes to be at least one block away from you at all times, in case you need him (or he needs you).

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I truly think he's never gonna do that. You know him by his actions, and by how he treats you and makes you feel. Maybe you'll get a first name one day, but that's not the main goal for the two of you right now.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I feel like he's not the type to fly off the handle unless he's been sitting on it for fifteen years, and he's planning to assassinate his mother's murderer, it's okay. Like anger really isn't in his daily range of emotion.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

I suppose it depends on how chatty you are with him. I think if it's words you say- he might as well get it tattooed on his chest. We know that Kid has a sharp memory, and this applies to you, the same as everything else.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship

I think it's gotta be the time you formally asked him on a date. Once again, I think he maybe forgot he didn't say yes verbally. He just kind of stared at you, until you said "yes?" It was the first time in the long time he hadn't been stuck in his head in a long time.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Oh you guys are young and poor in a big bad city, he's so protective it's almost embarrassing if it wasn't warranted. He's very much the type who would want you to have a gun or weapon with you (and he'd show you how to use it), as well as possibly putting a tracking app on your phone (and you his, ofc). He doesn't want protection!!! He wants to protect you !!! Ahhh!!!

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

I think once he gets a grip on what a 'date' and 'relationship' is, he's all about it. He'll be writing, making lists, and making sure he has things organized how he wants it, because he loves you ! And this is what you do for people you love!

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He needs to stop leaving piles all over the apartment. Piles of towels, piles of clothes, piles of groceries. This man needs to learn to put things away!

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

I think he probably hasn't seen himself in like a year. He's seen himself in reflections in the kitchen, but other than minding his hair and making sure there aren't any knots, he's not really concerned with his looks or general well-being at all.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Oh, you're a part of his soul. He didn't realize it, but you were always there.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

We see a little of this in the trailer, but i do think that Kid has a gang of street cats that he feeds. They love him and they tend to group up when he's around. They follow him home, they watch in the dark whenever he's out. The cats love kid.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I think he's perceptive and he won't enjoy someone extroverted. Careless or malicious with your actions is a big no as well.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

I don’t know how else to say it, but I think majority of the nights, he’s the little spoon. In some form, you’ve got to have your arms around him.

#dev patel #monkey man #the kid #monkey man 2024 #the kid monkey man #the kid sfw alphabet #sfw alphabet

107 notes · View notes

lunaroserites · 11 months ago

Text

Art and Ice

Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Characters: Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, Loki, Bucky, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, a lot of the avengers cast is mentioned.

Summery: This might a 2 or 3 parter. College AU, our boy Bucky is on the hockey team, and reader is an art major (because I love that troupe and couldn't help myself)

Warnings: Not beta'd! All mistakes are my own. Friends fluff, swearing I think, mentions of college students being college students. Bit of friendly harmless flirting between friends. Derogatory use of the word puck bunny. Bucky is a playboy. There is not interaction be MC and Bucky quite yet.

Word Court: 1935

Likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated!

Please do not repost, translate or otherwise copy my work elsewhere, thank you! Lunaroserites on tumblr and ao3

“I don’t know what to do,” you groaned as you threw your head back against the worn couch.

“I want the project to focus on movement, but lifelike movement. Human movement.” You mocked your professor. It not being nature themed had to be a jab just for you. All your projects were nature related or still motion.

“Professor Grace wasn’t targeting you,” Wanda said, letting out a chuckle at your dramatics.

“Are you sure you’re not a drama major?” Pietro laughed as he threw a butter packet at you.

“You two are the worst,” you sighed as you threw your arm over your eyes. Twins, why did my best friends have to be twins. The world is cruel, your thoughts drift.

“Why don’t you come to the track and draw me?” Pietro wiggled his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes in response.

“Eh,” you sighed. You didn’t want a solution at the moment. You just wanted to complain.

“She just wants to vent guys,” Natasha said as she came through the door holding a couple bags of takeout and a box of wine. “And I doubt she wants to see you and the rest of the track team in those tiny little running shorts you call clothing,” she sassed at Pietro. He just laughed, and stuck a pose with his leg up on the bar stool next to the island counter causing you all to laugh with him.

“Thank you,” you exclaimed as she handed you your food. You threw a 10 at her and settled back down into the couch.

“You know, you could come by the rink and draw a couple of the guys,” Nat mentioned. Her long term boyfriend was on the hockey team, Clint, a sharpshooting winger nicknamed Hawkeye.

“Pfft,” you scoffed. “I’m not going to have them think I’m one of those, puck kitties, or whatever they’re called.”

“Puck bunny,” Wanda chimed in, you pointed your chopstick at her and smiled.

Natasha let out a loud laugh, one of those full bodied ones, “god they won’t think that.” You raised your eyebrow at her and gave her an incredulous look.

“I can’t have them showing off because I’m there. I need to get them in their element. Not focused on what I’m doing,” you groaned again. “Biggest issue is I will need permission from the person or people. So they’ll have to know.”

“Like I said Princessa, draw me. You have my permission,” Pietro winked, you rolled your eyes at him.

“You’re too obvious of a choice. And as much as Wanda insists that Professor Grace doesn’t have a personal vendetta against me, she’ll love pointing out I picked the safe option,” you whined.

“Wanda, you haven’t seen Grace in class. She will take any chance to criticize her pieces. Nitpicking to the extreme.” Natasha chimed in, “if it wasn’t for Dr. Rain I think our resident artist would've failed out of this course by now.” Dr. Rain was the head of the art department and after a wholly undergraded piece you submitted last semester Prof. Grace was on thin ice. So she graded you fairly but took every chance to tear you apart in front of the class.

“I’ll think about the hockey team. It would be the least expected from me anyway,” you signed and got up from the couch taking everyone’s garbage and throwing it out. Football season was over, but the hockey season was in full swing right now and our team was top of the league.

“They have practice tomorrow night, you should come by and look at it,” Nat said, giving you a knowing look.

~The Next Day~

That's how you ended up in the rink. Underdressed because you didn’t realize how cold an ice rink would be in the stands. You were right though, about the type of girls that hung out there, they were scantily dressed and leaning over the tunnel that the players exited and entered from. How they weren’t frozen baffled you.

Nat was sitting reading a chemistry book across from you near the bench, as you didn’t want the team knowing you knew her. Well everyone but Clint. You’ve hung out quite a few times over the past couple years. You took a seat a few rows up opposite the bench near what Nat called the Sin bin (penalty box.) It gave an excellent undisrupted view of the rink and the players as they practiced.

The sounds of skates gliding over fresh ice and sticks bouncing off it was an almost soothing sound. The puck skittered across the ice as it was passed between teammates and shot toward the empty net. The goalie, a guy named Quill, was performing some kind of ritual at the opposite end of the rink. Nat mentioned he was a bit of an odd duck. But according to her all goalies were odd in their own ways.

The movement was fluid and easy to follow. How these giant men moved so weightlessly across the ice left you in awe. The Captain of the team was a blonde center named Steve Rogers, better known as Cap. Most of the school knew him, he was in a few of your art classes over the semesters. His girlfriend Peggy, was the student union president.

The star of the team was his blurry best friend James “Bucky” Barnes. He was a “winger,” with good prospects for the NHL according to Nat as she gave you a lowdown of the team as you guys went there just after practice started. He was nicknamed the White Wolf. How a man of his size moved that easily was mesmerizing, he almost floated over the ice and it looked like he was dancing. He was sinfully handsome as well. Every other week he had a new girl hanging off his arm. Undoubtedly one of those puck bunnies as they were called. He was the talk of the school after the football season concluded.

It made you dislike him on principle. The sports were definitely more priority in the school and the art department lacked thanks to these overgrown toddlers on skates. But you couldn’t deny his natural handsomeness, he looked effortlessly handsome and it was almost unfair.

You looked down at your sketch pad that you had been absently scratching at. Bucky seemed to be your muse because you couldn’t take your eyes off him as he effortlessly skated around the rink. You were in danger and you knew it. You gulped and closed the book before quickly gathering your things and leaving.

It didn’t take Nat long to text you and ask where you went. You sent her a quick message back saying you were cold. Not that Bucky, the school's playboy, had quickly become the muse of your piece.

“Nat, I thought you said your friend was coming by,” Clint asked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“She did, she left because she was cold,” Nat chuckled.

“Anyone know the pretty one watching by the sin bin?” She overheard Wilson ask. “And what she was doing?”

“I think I was in a couple art classes with her,” Steve mentioned missing your name.

“I won’t complain if she comes by again,” Barnes said. Wilson raised a brow at him.

“What, so you can break her heart well?”

“Look doll, it’s not you,”

“It’s me.” Wilson and Stark said together. Barnes shot both men a glare. Then the high pitched whine of Barnes newest fling squealed his name and that was Clint and Nat’s queue to hightail it out of there. The collective groans from the rest of the team matched her thoughts.

~A couple days later~

“Loki, I don’t know what I’m going to do, this project is worth too much for me to go safe,” you sighed as you laid your head on his lap. He was reading some classic novel for his English class in the student commons. His fingers nimbly moved through your hair as he held the book in the other hand.

“Darling, just go back to the ice rink,” he knew almost immediately when something was up when you were walking together a couple days later. The perspective bastard. Loki was your best friend since middle school, his brother Thor was the star quarterback for the football team in both high school and here.

“Why would I do that,” you pouted.

“Because you clearly want to draw this man, and it will ruin you for months just like that piece you did of Helena,” he said shortly. Helena or Hela was his big sister and she was absolutely stunning. You had pined over drawing her for a piece for months before Loki forced you to ask her. It fixed everything and life back to normal after you painted the piece.

“I hate when you do that,” you whined, his eyes flicking down to your face.

“Hate what darling,” he mused.

“That, being reasonable and knowing what I need before I admit what I need to do.” He laughed and ruffled your hair affectionately.

“Comes with years of experience,” he sighed and placed his book down next to his leg. “Do bundle up this time will you,” he called as you walked away, you quickly flipped him the bird as you rounded the corner.

And there you were back at the rink again. Although tonight was a game night and the rink was packed. “20 dollars,” a nasally boy said as he pushed his glasses up, he looked bored out of his mind.

“Pardon?” You asked, looking at him.

“It’s 20 dollars to get in the game,” he said in an annoyed tone.

“Oh, I’m a student,” you showed your ID card, he rolled his eyes, “5 dollars.” You nodded and placed the five down. Only partners of the team got in free. Perk of fucking one of the team members you guessed, that must have outweighed the fear of them cheating or getting bored. You knew that wasn’t fair. At least two of the guys were in committed relationships and one was in an on again off again relationship. The rest though you weren’t sure, you shock your head at the thought.

You caught the flaming red hair of Nat in her reserved seat next to the bench, Peggy was next to her. There were a few open seats at the top of the rink, not great from getting a good view of what you needed to draw. But it would have to do. Instantly your eyes were drawn to Barnes, number 17, flying up the ice leaving the opposing team in the dust, snow? With a quick flick of his wrist the puck was shot sideways and Barton scored. The crowd stood and cheered loudly. You wished you had ear plugs now. The buzzer was insanely loud and made your ears ring. How Nat enjoyed this you’d never understand. Barton. You thought, Nat wasn’t big on sports, but she was big on her sweet boyfriend.

You focused on Barnes as he showboated around the rink, celebrating his assist. He moved so fluidly, you were mesmerized. You drew many little pieces focusing on the movement trying to capture the effortlessness of him skating. You were startled from your drawing when the buzzer screeched again the crowd roared in applause. The team scored again and it seemed to be Barnes that scored this time. Hats flew onto the ice as he skated around. That was odd, you squinted at the action. His eyes caught yours for a split second as he rushed past and it felt like eternity.

Read Chapter 2 here

Feel free you send me a message if you have a request or would like more <3

#bucky imagine #bucky barnes #fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #marvel imagine #college!bucky #college au #loki #natasha x clint #bucky fanfic #white wolf #hockey fic #artist fic #hockeyplayer!bucky x artist!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader

144 notes · View notes

dragon-queen21 · 2 months ago

Text

Air Jail

Summary: In which Tanner is sure that everyone hates him human (they don't) and only just tolerates him when he's in the mindset and form of a cat Aka Just a silly pet regression fic with one of my oc's who's a shapeshifter

Tw: animal death (like in the sense of a cat hunting a mouse), unknowing ableism, unreliable narrator

~~~

Tristan is an asshole Tanner's decided. He still hasn't been quite sold on the idea of the two high elves joining their group, though at least Tristan's younger sister is more tolerable.

At least she doesn't openly stare and gawk. Doesn't act high and mighty lie her brother. Zara actually talks to him unlike Tristan, who instead acts like he's about to say something- before thinking better of it- and ignoring Tanner all together.

It reminds him of when he was a child. Another number in a system, overlooked and overshadowed. The proof of his existence etched onto the numbered barcodes on his neck, and the markings of black that licked their way up his arms no matter how Tanner changed his form.

It's infuriating. A feeling he swore he wouldn't let someone make him feel again.

If the shapeshifter could wipe the look off the smug bastards face he would, with claws and teeth and a spitfire of words. Because everything was fine until the elf got a little too close. Cared just enough to label him as 'unworthy' and then act as though he never existed.

Tanner can't fight back of course. Because his pride refuses to let himself be looked down at like some unruly child who's acting out because the world seems unfair.

Tanner does feel the world is unfair, greatly in fact, but he isn't going to be voicing that opinion any time soon. Not when things have finally have gotten better.

Timothy tells him to get to know the other. Something about the two growing up together that Tanner couldn't bother to listen to. Timothy could be such a sap about people and he hated it. To give him a chance, and everything else that comes from someone who's far to soft spoken and far too easily swayed. Easy for him to say. The red head might be the only other person on board that Tristan doesn't look down upon completely.

Tanner doesn't know why the elf sticks around when he seems to think he's so clearly above everyone else.

Even now, staying on deck makes his skin itch, watching as Tristan's sister is the one to drag him along, to where the group is trying to get a game of cards going. The elder elf looking for all the world that he rather be anywhere else. Tanner doesn't blame him.

Despite only two of them previously knowing the rules to whatever card game Dustin is attempting to get started, explaining the rules again and again to a group of bored teenagers, Tanner feels too outcast to bother staying.

So he heads below deck, because no one stops him.

Why would they?

And better yet...

Why should he care?

He slinks down the hallways, slowly letting his form melt, ink like blackness pooling over his skin till there's nothing more than a small black cat stepping out of the darkness. Does shapeshifting only further the clear vendetta the rest of the team have against him? Maybe? But staying for a second more in a not quite human form, and he thinks he might literally go mad.

This form is sleek and elegant. Perfected from the creatures he's observed. Lean and nimble like the alley cats he saw as a child, scrambling for food and fighting with one another. Sleek and good looking, like the cat's the higher ups would keep as pets. Pedigree standards that while he could copy to a perfect degree, he wouldn't dare.

Tanner settles on something in between the two. He is no pure thing after all. Stained in the murk of his own tainted creation. In the black pools of ink he leaves, paw prints pressed into the wooden floor. They will disappear when he changes back. At least he hopes they will.

The shapeshifter chases mice around, enjoying hunting in such confined spaces where his prey can't get away from him so easily. Not that he needs to hunt. He's had more food to eat now than he's seen in years.

Still it's enjoyable, and chases away the boredom. Plus there's the bonus of leaving 'presents' for the crew members, snickering at their reactions at the dead corpses of animals he leaves, blaming instincts the whole time.

Sure he might get scolded later, but it's worth it. Every time.

Of course in this form he is a touch more animal than human, but to what extent he's never bothered with trying to figure out. Only that it's comfortable like this when human emotions don't make sense like they should.

The cat prances into the captain's quarters, mouse held in between his jaws. If he can manage it, he'll find a way to hide it behind one of Captain Spurgeon's beloved bottled ships.

Though he's aware it's not the captain's fault they've been stuck on the air ship for literally weeks without stop, Tanner still feels like being petty.

His plans are ruined however as the man sits there is his chair, working on... charts or something. Whatever it is that sea captains do when they aren't ordering a crew around.

If the elder could hear him Tanner would be rebuked that, running a ship and directing a crew was not the same as 'ordering them around.' The shapeshifter of course would say there was no difference.

He doesn't have the time to slink out before he's spotted. Or well he thinks he's spotted, sensed might be a better word, for the man in front of his doesn't even bother looking up from what he's working on.

"Tanner, what do you have in your mouth? Whatever it is don't you dare take another step into this room with it."

See? Ordering.

He drops the 'gift' on the floor, paws at it softly... waiting... before wacking it across the floor with all his might.

That got Spurgeon's attention.

He didn't take another step, so therefore he can't be scolded. Take that!

He hears the elder groan, getting up to examine the 'damage' done to his desk. Tanner leaps up onto said desk, mouse forgotten by now, and mews up in greeting.

He's ready to be pushed off, maybe picked up by the scruff like an actual cat, told to leave in no uncertain conditions.

Instead he's greeted by calloused fingers scratching at his head and a sigh. "Whatever will I do with you?"

Throw him out maybe? Completely? At least that way he might be able to get off this stinking ship.

"So do you actually eat the prey you catch," The captain asks, picking the mouse up by the tail, "or just toy with your food?"

Tanner mews, nipping at the creature with tiny fangs.

In a moment he's ripping through fur and crunching through birttle bones to get to the meat inside.

"I didn't mean on my desk... you know what," there's a shuffling of papers, "You do you kid."

The cat scrunches his nose up in distaste.

He finishes his food none the less. Licking at his paws till their clean, or as clean as ink stained magic will leave them, and watches the other.

The Captain is still writing. How he stays this still for so long Tanner doesn't know.

He does know that if Spurgeon doesn't move... maybe he can..

The cat crouches down, wiggles his haunches, waiting... and then jumps onto the captain's shoulders.

"What the-"

He purrs, loud enough to drown out the elder's curses.

"Stupid cat."

That's a better nickname. He purrs louder.

Rewarded by more skritches to the fluff on his chest, and a finger that tries to tickle at his ear.

"Are you settled now? Will you let me work?"

The feline nips at the bandana tied around Spurgeon's head in response.

"Ten more minutes, then my attention is all on you."

They barely last five.

It's not his fault that a pen quill looks just like a toy. Not his fault that as Captain Spurgeon moves to write further and further down the page that he starts to bat at the wispy white fluff that comes just within his reach.

And it certainly isn't his fault if the dumb human moves to re-dip the quill and he goes tumbling off his shoulder's as a result of forgetting how to balance momentarily and ruins an hours worth of work as the ink pot spills.

Of course not. He's just a kitten. And how could one possibly blame a kitten?

"Nope. You're in time out. Air jail." Captain Suprgeon says, because he's the kind of arse that can blame a kitten apparently, lifting the cat into the air above his head with a long winded sigh.

Tanner mews in protest. They are on. a flying. ship. This is already air jail!

"Are you going to continue being a manace?" Tanner meows. "Or are you going to be nice?" He meows again.

"Kid. Are you even aware enough like to this to understand me or do I have to wait until your human again?"

Tanner tilts his head to the side. Picture of innocence.

He must do something right for the captain to chuckle softly.

He's brought down towards the elder's chest, a hand running over his head.

"Yeah I know."

What the Captain is talking about Tanner has no clue. Only that he's warm, and the affection is nice, and maybe if he just rests his eyes for the moment he can forget the reason why he was upset enough to change into this form in the first place.

"It's hard being out at sea so long. Happens to us all... just sleep kitten, we have you now."

"You are aware your allowed to come into my office." Well obviously, he's sitting here now after all. "Without being a cat."

The shapeshifter frowns. Or he would, if cats could. But changing out of this form feels more like a bother than anything. Unhelpful. Unwanted. Or maybe Suprgeon is tried of him this way too.

Tired of them all as he so often complains. Who wants the company of misfit teenagers?

Slowly black ink gathers, shifting over his form and slowly emerges the form of a teenage boy from before. He's not sure if this is the how he should look, or the image he's grown too used to using after a life time of mimicking others.

Blond hair kept short and spiked as though layered with gel he's never bothered to use. His eyes lavender, skin pale, limbs long and toned, fingers slim and nails sharp. Sometimes his face is freckled, when he stares to long at Timothy or Zara. Though he won't admit to that out loud ever, less he also admit to maybe perhaps growing attached to anyone in this rag tag group of wanna be heroes.

"There you are kid."

He grumbles something incoherent.

"Talk to me."

"Just... It's so stupid- I..." He swallows, clearly he's not feeling quite all there yet if he's talking so easily. "I feel like I'm being replaced..."

Tristan's hands are practically flying. Waving around in a pattern that makes the shapeshifter's head spin. Still he watches transfixed, because he's always been interested in other species, in humans, no matter how much he tells himself he shouldn't be.

"Oh, gotcha!" Zara beams, as though she read her brother's mind or something. Maybe it's an elf thing, Tanner sure doesn't know.

"Tristan says that we..."

He tunes her out. Tunes out everyone.

"What was that... thing he was doing?" Tanner asks, turning his hands oddly in front of him, trying to mimic without meaning too.

"You mean sign language?" Dustin questions, because of course mister 'high society' would know multiple languages, including a mystery hand language.

"Why though? Why wouldn't you just, talk?"

Zara stares at him. Blinks. Why does he even bother anymor-

"Tanner? You are aware that my brother is selectively mute right?"

He... does not know that. Didn't even have that thought cross his mind.

"That explains..." he furrows his brow, "so much."

Zara giggles, Tristan looks bemused, and okay yeah now he can see it. The fondness for his sister, the humor and willinness to fit in but not knowing how to. Not being understood. A high elf who can't always speak...

"So then you don't hate me?" He's given a very strange look, before Tristan shakes his head. He doesn't need Zara's translations to know what he must be thinking.

"I kind of thought you hated me for months... you just kind stare and usually people who do that..." he scratches at the back of his neck, at barcode lines that hide beneath the fabric of his tunic.

There's another wave of hand motions, so fast that Zara has to actually scold her brother to slow down.

"He says that he's just an absolute idiot who doesn't think about how he affects others and without his darling sister he would be helpless and that's why she's the best!"

"Umm..." Tanner gets the feeling that is not at all what Tristan was trying to say, by the fact that he is now actively glaring his sister down at her teasing.

Zara beams. "He does think your cool! And don't worry though, I talk enough for the both of us."

Tanner smiles nervously, he doesn't doubt that.

#pet regression #age regression #sfw agere #my ocs #agere ocs #agere story #agere writing #tw animal death #just sharing more of my babies :3 #in the full story this whole thing would be a complete arc or at least be in the background for a lot longer #so condensed one shot version hehe

4 notes · View notes

ladyanaconda · 4 months ago

Text

Cassiora's Backstory

Just so you know, it's not a happy one T-T.

But I might add some random headcanons about her too.

She was born in a litter of six. However, when the cubs began shedding their lanugo coats, her parents were stunned that one of their daughters had a red coat, unlike her littermates, who were in shades of cold colors, like their parents.

The father accused the mother of being unfaithful and gave her an ultimatum: either abandon the 'bastard' cub, or he'd expose her 'unfaithfulness' to the tribe, which means she'd be cast out. Ultimately, Cassiora's mother abandoned her in the woods as soon as she was weaned from the pouch. Cassiora was two years old at the time.

Surprisingly, a waterbear who lost her calf adopted the abandoned Dorcean cub. Cassiora grew up in the wild with the waterbear herd, but occasionally she'd encounter other Dorceans when they were hunting in the woods. This is how she learned how to speak and interact.

Unlike many Dorcean hunters, she was primarily self-taught. She'd watch hunters' lessons with their apprentices and practice—however, over time she began adapting the knowledge of said lessons to her own taste. This means that she often got hurt in putting said methods to practice.

Until she died, Cassiora refused to hunt waterbears.

While she was a good huntress, her skill didn't quite match Besteel's, who was raised to be a hunter by his father Vamphyr, a legendary hunter back in the day. When they began hunting together, he helped her polish her technique and, in turn, learned a few tricks or two regarding animal behavior.

She had a personal vendetta with Broken Tooth, the albino vipanther, who hunted her adoptive waterbear mother when Cassiora was 25.

She only met her biological family once—and was rejected. Cassiora hasn't bothered reaching out to them ever since.

After her adoptive mother's death, Cassiora traveled and settled at the Northern Wandering Forest, where she'd meet her future husband, Besteel. Her campsite was not too far from his tribe's settlement.

A bit of headcanons on her birth family.

She has a younger sister from her litter who made it to adulthood, Irkana, who's been quite spoiled by her father. She feels nothing but contempt against her 'wild' sister raised by wild animals, especially as those in their tribe often pointed out that Cassiora's red fur made her more 'beautiful.'

Her mother eventually regretted what she'd done to Cassiora after her mate died. However, Besteel felt no sympathy for his 'mother-in-law' and refused to let her meet Fayluna or even tell her where he'd buried Cassiora.

Like many females, when Besteel's prowess as a hunter reached Irkana's ears, she wished he'd take her as a mate. In her case, she believed herself to be the only one worthy of being the mate of the greatest hunter in Orbona. She was particularly pissed off that the female he'd picked was none other than Cassiora, the 'crimson huntress.'

Another survivor from Cassiora's litter, Gormak, worked as a carpenter. Unlike the rest of his family, he cared about Cassiora and even attended her and Besteel's wedding.

Irkana is none other than 'treacherous slitherfang'. She started a relationship with Redimus to get closer to Besteel. Needless to say, both brothers were pissed when Irkana tried seducing him, but Redimus was more heartbroken than angry. This destroyed any chances Irkana might have had of ever winning Besteel over.

Despite never meeting her niece, Irkana despises Fayluna because she's the fruit of the love between Cassiora and Besteel, essentially representing everything Irkana craved and could never have.

#wondla #dorceans #the wondla trilogy #besteel #cassiora #redimus #wondla oc #papa wolf besteel au

2 notes · View notes

toastess-with-the-mostess · 1 year ago

Text

Panya History - The Present

This is the second part of a bigger post about Pidge and Anya's history together. The last post was about Pidge and Anya before the events of Voltron Force, this one will deal with them during it <3

The other parts: The Past, The Present (here), The Future

Anya's skills as Royal Advisor have grown now, she's still in training, but she's able to take on jobs by herself that normally Coran would take instead. While on a job, staying at a far town from the castle of lions, she watches the destruction of the city of Chozzerai, the closest city of the castle, as 9th kingdom soldiers attack her home on live news. The Galaxy Garrison arrives quickly, too quickly she notices, but don't seem to stand a chance against whatever upgrade the kingdom has now, and then saw the robeast, and soon after the lions. Her eyes landed on green, and she knew she had to go home asap. After the fight was said and done, Anya's only focus was work and getting the soonest flight possible.

When she landed she was nervous, she hadn't seen the boys in two years, only visiting them once during their five-year sentence. She knew it was them because Allura would refuse to let anyone else touch the lions, so she knew she was going to see him again. The fractal door lowered and Pidge was the first person she saw, and the first person she ran to after the ramp settled on the ground. Pidge had heard of her landing and ran out the door before she was even off the fractal, not wanting to waste any time he'd have with her.

And that was how it was for about a year, she got settled as the cadets' etiquette teacher, being diplomats isn't enough when you're in the presence of royalty, and checked in with Pidge every day since she got back. Pidge made sure to spend a break with her, most of the time it was lunch, they both had bad habits of not eating good meals and worked instead. Anya had never seen Pidge, or the team, go out on missions, so every time he went out was terrifying for her. She trusted all of them but seeing the people she cared about off in war isn't a nice thing. But they always came back, and they would take a break if they had the chance.

Then Allura, Larmina, and Coran got trapped, and the horror and anger on the boys faces as Anya saw their own trauma as gladiators being pushed onto them let her know she wasn't going to be calm any time soon. They had taken her with them this time, if anything happened to Allura and Coran then Larmina would need her help on the royal side. But they were ok, and even signed a treaty with the planet Ebb, Pidge kept teasing Anya for doing her first big royal advisor job with the team active.

A few weeks later, Anya kept her mouth shut, Keith and Lance were effectively on a rampage after what Wade had done to an innocent planet and streaming Allura's gladiator fight to the entire universe. He was done for, and she couldn't stop them from going. Pidge was mad too, sure, but he was madder at those two for fighting with the princess and making it look like taking down Wade was for a personal vendetta for Allura. She refused to leave, and they took off without her anyway, giving Anya a headache from the high blood pressure that came with worry.

They came home and Pidge was hurt, she knew it. He was hiding it until she poked his back and heard him hiss in pain. The second he looked at her all he saw was anger, frustration and glossy eyes. He didn't fight it when she dragged him to the medical wing of the castle, and effectively threatened when she mentioned pushing on his wound again if he didn't go. It was unfortunate that Baltons produced so much excess blood, the inside of his suit was covered, and it looked like it was only a miracle for Pidge to still be alive. Medbay patched him up, but before he was discharged, Anya ran. She hated crying and after staring at how hurt Pidge was for too long, she couldn't stop herself. She found an empty balcony and tried to calm down, only for Pidge to bust through the doors when she finally controlled herself. He didn't do a good job calming her down, instead making her angrier as she told him she loved him. That was one of the happiest moments of his life, after she calmed down again and agreed to start a relationship.

The missions would still freak Anya out, especially the one where they lost Vince and also lost power in Voltron. They were stuck on Poseidon for almost an entire day, and Anya was going through an anxiety attack by the time they got back. Pidge couldn't promise it wouldn't happen again, but he did promise to calm her down every time. Though sometimes he couldn't really do that if he was stuck in medbay, like after he returned from Ariel suffering from electric shock.

Eventually, Anya was sent off for extra schooling that Coran nor Arus could supply for Royal Advisors, and she was gone for a good bit. Neither of them liked the distance, but this was her last step to fully becoming an advisor, so it had to happen. She had heard from him that Allura had officially stepped down, choosing to take up her mantle as queen as she was born to do. Vince took over blue for her, which Anya agreed was a good choice because of his affinity for magic. On her coronation, Anya came home. She helped Coran set up the details, and she would help direct it once she landed. Pidge rushed to her side again, like when he first heard of her return to the castle that long time ago. She was home with him, and that was how he liked it.

#voltron #voltron force #vforce11 #voltron force 2011 #vf pidge #darrell pidge stoker #voltron oc #anya nadel #voltron rant #toast talks #oc x canon #if you haven't noticed it already #this is just #pre vf #during vf #post vf #not a totally linear timeline but it's something

6 notes · View notes

theroastedwretch · 2 years ago

Text

Between the Lines- Ep. 5

Warnings- PG-13 due to Swearing and Explicit Language, Mature Themes, possible Violent References

Index Ep. 4

I knew for sure that I’d cracked once the angry hecklers started rolling in and I just felt a sense of amusement. At this point, I wished that the case was as simple to solve as “the creepy strangers did it”. Maybe then I’d get my own life back.

Fuck, I should have just let her win the vote. If they really wanted me to go, why should I fight it? She wasn’t my friend, it really wasn’t my problem. I should just send her what I had and tell her to have fun. She could deal with her sister’s secret sins and I’ll go back to watching cat videos in all of my abundant spare time.

Frankly, Duskwood had brought me nothing but problems so far.

I snarked back at some of the strangers’ messages and when Dan accused Jake of running, I bit my tongue to prevent saying that the Hacker had started running before any of this started. I knew the accusations had the potential to become a real issue for me eventually, but why fight it? Jake was the only one who could do anything, and he’d decided to have nothing to do with me.

It’d take a while to become an issue for me anyway. Lilly didn’t know anything about me outside of my name and number and I wasn’t sure how long it would take for a video from a girl in Germany to make its way to the Mid-Western US but I suspected it’d be a bit, if at all. If she hadn’t linked the video in the chat, there was a chance I wouldn’t have seen it before I started getting attacked.

I was pretty surprised she knew Jake’s name though. Maybe he really had been Hannah’s lover, if her sister knew about him. Guess that would explain why he’d think it’s wrong— flirting with a random chick while investigating the disappearance of your secret girlfriend was impressively gross.

I distantly appreciated Richy’s attempts to cheer me up and Jessy asking for time off for a surprise. I played along despite myself, letting him think it was helping while thinking about how I’d have to get Jake to turn off spy mode at some point, I wouldn’t need it anymore. I didn’t really want to read about their lives once I was no longer involved.

When he did log on, I was distracted from asking him to do that by my surprise that he didn’t already know. Guess avoiding me extended as far as reading my chats. He agreed to take care of it, and that was that. Professional, cool, just like he wanted.

I felt my first real emotion since I’d cried my heart out to Annie, and it was rage. It swept over me with a force I didn’t know was possible. After everything, everything that I had given and done, for him… he told Lilly something about himself. Something he refused to share with the rest of the class.

I knew, what? That his hair was black, and he liked his islands to have internet. I’d thought knowing his name was special but apparently fucking not. And now, she’d thrown us under the bus to protect her friends and because of that, she got to know something I didn’t.

I couldn’t help myself, demanding he tell me. After all the time I’d spent making myself do little more than gently prod, teasingly, and accepting it when he’d deflect. I could barely see straight as I made it clear I was done waiting.

And though I didn’t tell him this, when he admitted he was wanted, part of me wasn’t at all surprised, considering it felt like the most obvious thing in the world. Nothing else fit his behavior, really, unless he really was a 17 year old Edgelord with a V for Vendetta fetish.

Despite the fact that I, on some level, already knew what he was telling me, the confession tamped down on some of my rage. Unfortunately, that only made room for the fear that his disappearance would cause. I didn’t know if it was fear for him, for me, for Hannah. But dread had settled in my chest, and I suspected it would stay for a while

___

Asking Dan about Jennifer was either a really good, or really bad idea. Only time would tell which. But I had my reasons. He’d proven to me with his drunken ramblings that he at least cared— giving me the info on the bracelet, admitting to helping Thomas get into Hannah’s apartment. He was bored enough at the hospital that despite his protests, I knew he’d make time to talk. Finally, he was the least likely to pull his punches. Jessy might be less likely to lie to me, but more likely to be careful about how she said things. Dan probably wouldn’t think before he talked.

He didn’t know much, but since he mentioned it as being a long time ago, similar to Hannah, I figured that for anyone who didn’t have the same level of trauma she seemed to have surrounding the event it was the first time they’d thought about it in ages.

I didn’t know if I believed that the killer wasn’t from Duskwood. It seemed to me a bit more likely that the decision was made out of discomfort, the same way that the news of the body had been tucked away in the paper.

Hannah would be too young to have likely been capable of murder, especially of an adult. It seemed more likely to me that her guilt stemmed from hiding something— maybe she’d witnessed it, or even helped cover it up.

Other than knowing for sure that Jennifer was dead, I didn’t get much to go on. Still, Dan seemed to enjoy the ego stroke of being the one I asked, so it wasn’t totally pointless. He was a big part of why I’d been allowed to stay, after all.

Richy trying to keep us from confronting Thomas about his toy trampling rage was either really sweet, or really suspicious. I couldn’t really decide which. Either way, Thomas definitely seemed to be losing it a bit. I was worried that confronting him might just make it worse, especially considering he’d already voted against me with Lilly. If he was even half as destructive as she was, it wasn’t worth the risk. Besides, I could definitely empathize with the desire to lose it right about now.

I couldn’t hold myself back from confiding in Richy and Jessy about the calls. I knew it was stupid, those should be something I keep close to my chest since I didn’t want to tip off the culprit that they were getting to me, but I just wanted some damn sympathy already. Jake had his reasons for not taking them seriously, and I knew that, but I needed someone to talk about Poor MC for a minute and let me whine.

Jessy, as always, was a superstar about it, immediately supporting me. And the solidarity from Richy made me smile, even if Jessy didn’t appreciate our coping methods.

Still, the fact that she immediately picked up on the fact that the caller was one of the group was surprising. She was by no means dumb, just a bit oblivious and I was surprised to see her doubt her friends unprompted. I’d wondered before if her willingness to believe the legend was at all related to the hope that no one she knew was guilty, so I hadn’t expected her to acknowledge any proof that implied otherwise.

Still, I didn’t know if letting that slip was a good idea, so I was mildly glad that Richy seemed to reject the idea. Not because I agreed, but because I’d been trying to keep the group from splintering and this would risk those efforts.

Dan’s attempts to deny responsibility for his accident got under my skin, but I clamped down on that and considered my response carefully. Of course I didn’t believe him, his story didn’t fit the M.O. in the slightest. There were no ties to the legend, no stalking or markings. So far, the kidnapper had been more direct, kidnapping Hannah, dumping the unknown body. They risked no ambiguity and took responsibility for their deeds-- at least behind the mask.

Still. I’d barely just started to make leeway with Dan. Did it make sense to feed into us delusions, let him pretend he didn’t make a stupid choice that endangered others and he was lucky to survive?

As a “friend”, and a person who generally cared? No, not at all. As an investigator, though. And with Jake gone and not reading along, I had to play both roles, so I bit back my more sarcastic retort and forced myself to smile at my phone.

“I believe you, Dan.”

And my BS came in handy, since not long after that he gave me Jennifer’s last name.

___

Annie had been managing the impressive feat of both avoiding me while somehow hovering. It was like being followed by a ghost— she said very little to me, maybe afraid of another emotional outburst, but always seemed to be keeping an eye on me.

Frankly, it was making me want to pull my hair out. I nearly snapped at her to leave me alone several times, but whenever I caught sight of her face—very worried and tense— I’d sigh and let it go.

So I was pleasantly surprised when she let me know she was going out one Wednesday afternoon just as I logged out of work. She explained it away as an appointment and errands, and I smiled in a way that probably didn’t reach my eyes as I waved her away with promises that I’d be fine.

Not twenty minutes later, it became clear why she’d been okay leaving me alone as a knock on the door pulled me from my podcast and mindless doodling. Opening the door without looking resulted in the air rushing out of me completely and a pair of sunglasses knocking me in the forehead before they fell off the top of my sister’s head.

“Em Em!” She cried excitedly, and my eyes widened in shock.

“Paige? What are you doing here?” I automatically moved aside to let her in, noticing the suitcase and extra large purse. We lived a bit far apart for a day visit, but the sheer size of her luggage made me suspicious.

“Can’t a girl visit her big sister?” She teased, batting her eyes as she set down her bags and retrieved her fallen sunglasses. Plopping them on the top of her head to push back her hair in a way that showcased her effortless beauty, she ran an appraising eye up and down my body. “You look like shit.”

“Gee, love you too, P.”

She shook her head and waved her hand dismissively at me as she started into the living room to get comfortable on the couch. “You know what I’m saying.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, not yet moving from my place by the door. “Right, not like you’ve ever insulted my looks before.”

She had the grace to look chagrined even though I’d been harassing her about it for years. She’d been rather tactless as a teenager, and had once asked me whether “all sisters considered themselves the ‘pretty one’” or was it just her. It was still something I thought about when I felt insecure, but I’d forgiven her for it long ago.

“You’re lovely,” she assured me. I knew I wasn’t grotesque, but I was far more plump than conventionally attractive, without the defined waist she’d been blessed with, and rather plain features. My most remarkable trait was my pile of curly brown hair that I considered a nuisance, but Paige had always envied compared to her fine, sleek hair that refused to hold a curl no matter how hard she worked at it.

Rolling my eyes, I finally moved away from the door and busied myself making tea rather than coffee since it was late enough in the day to make the latter a bit risky for mere mortals like her. “You’re not distracting me, flattery only gets you so far. Let me guess, Annie called you?”

“She was worried,” she grumbled by way of admission. “She said you’ve been down and acting weird. I’ve barely heard from you in weeks, and Dad said the same.”

I waved my hands in annoyance, the teabags flapping in the air with the movement. “How would he know? He replies once a month. If that.”

She shrugged. “Right, but you usually try.”

Despite knowing she was right, I felt irritation flash across my features. “Well excuse me if I got tired of my own father ignoring me. He’s off doing who the fuck knows what, and you’re not the most reliable at responding either you know. Why should I reach out if it’s pointless?” I snapped hotly.

She came over and wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, pushing up on her toes slightly to rest her chin on my shoulder. “M. It’s not like that.”

“No?” I asked. “How often do you reach out first if it’s not to ask for help with something?”

“I’m sorry. I know I should try harder. It’s just…”

I knew what it was. In her teen years, I’d become a weird mom-sister hybrid. Even once I’d moved away, she still saw me as something of an authority figure despite our three year difference starting to mean less and less in terms of the disparity in our life experience. Between that and her busy schedule, I mostly heard from her when she crashed her car or needed to find a doctor for something, as well as the occasional drunk dial when she was trying to avoid calling her ex.

In the last year, she’d finally been able to move from working at a makeup counter and doing prom looks to getting more gigs around her real passion. She’d landed a few low-budget indie films, some photo shoots where she’d been given more creative control, and local plays with larger audiences. That meant her work hours were pretty chaotic, and since I normally had the sleep needs of your average 80-year-old, it made it hard to find time we were both available. I usually tried to text something every now and then for her to see when she woke up, and she would send me pictures of new looks she was experimenting with.

In her off time she wore little-to-no makeup herself, quoting an airy “if you’re good at something, never do it for free,” but I knew that really it was at least partially because she much preferred techniques that were dramatic rather than pretty. When we were young, she’d always whine until I let her do my makeup for any costume party, silly event or Halloween, and as we got older it went from face paint whiskers to dramatic interpretations of sea creatures and mystical spirits. They weren’t always very nice looking, one or two could even be considered grotesque, but they always impressed at the parties I went to.

She’d also fooled my dad into letting her skip school several times using her “pale and drawn” look, which subsequently had become one of her most practiced by the time she graduated.

I, meanwhile, was still working on keeping liquid eyeliner marginally straight.

I was proud of her, how could I not be? But I’d often been jealous of her passion, and how easily she’d found what she wanted to do with her life. Getting there was hard work, but figuring it out had been simple. I’d so far only discovered what I didn’t want to do, and a couple of things I didn’t totally hate.

The tea steeped as we stood there together, and once I snapped out of my reverie and decided it had brewed enough, I moved both mugs to the counter and pulled up a bar stool. She grabbed herself the milk and sugar and mixed her tea to her liking as I began to sip mine plain.

She let me muse into my tea as long as she could— she was the only person I knew who was worse at silence than I was. “I planned for a week visit if that’s okay with you. Annie already ok’d it, I asked when she called since I knew you guys used to fight about her having people over too much.”

I raised my eyebrows. I don’t think she’d spent a week with me total since I’d moved nearly ten years before. What had Annie told her?

“I also promised plenty of gifts to bribe her with. Some makeup samples, booze, some random autographs I planned to use as Christmas gifts when I felt like being cheap.” She grinned at me, knowing that my roommate was easily swayed by fashion and men.

I snorted and rolled my eyes, thinking back to the times she and Annie had gotten drunk together over the few visits she’d made out here.

Seizing on that tiny crack in my mood, she ran over to my side of the counter and took my hand with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Come on, I want to try a new look your coloring is perfect for.”

Leaving no room for argument, she dragged me out of the kitchen.

___

I should have figured there was some kind of ulterior motive, because as soon as I was seated and she’d set up all of the products she wanted me to use, she started in on me.

“So you gunna tell me what has Annie all worked up?”

I tried to look away but she grabbed my chin and pulled me back into the correct position as she started rubbing something onto my skin.

“I’m just stressed Paige,” I said, knowing she’d never believe it if I tried to say nothing. “Work is rough lately and I don’t know, I just haven’t been in the best mood.”

“Right but she said you cried. Breakdown level cried. Are you still taking your meds? What about therapy?”

I had to mumble to talk without moving my jaw as she painted on something to “sharpen my lines”, whatever that means. “Meds, yes, therapy, no,” I answered briefly to keep my movements to a minimum.

She backed up for a second and eyed her progress at different angles. “Think you maybe should do therapy again?”

I shrugged, earning a small tap on my shoulder in reproach. “It’s situational. I cried once, Paige. I’m not having a crisis.”

“Aren’t you? Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. I’m just… worried, okay? I remember how you got back then and I know how easy it would be to go back there.”

“I’m older now, and stronger. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Even to my own ears it rang false.

She closed her eyes for a second and sighed— it looked like she was trying to steady herself. “MC. I’m not calling you weak. But I know you. You complain more when you’re healthy, it’s when things are bad that you hide. I know you think of me as a kid. Hell, I act like it sometimes. But I can take it, please.”

I searched her face. My heart broke at the sadness and hurt I saw in it. There was fear there, too. I hadn’t realized that my bad depressive episode had impacted her that badly. I’d thought she was too young to really grasp it at the time, but she was right, I had always seen her as a kid. And she hadn’t been for a while.

Looking up at my beautiful, impulsive, creative sister and finally seeing an adult, I carefully started speaking.

I glossed over some things, especially where Jake was concerned, just saying that the guy I’d been working closely with had been put in danger by the video and he had to stop investigating for a while. I downplayed some of the threats I’d gotten, too, not wanting to scare her too much.

But I told her about Jessy and her ready acceptance of me. Of how the rest of the group regarded me with suspicion even though they’d brought me in, but she took almost no time to befriend me. I told her about the flirting with Jake, how it started mostly teasing but I got attached. How it seemed like he felt the same but said it wouldn’t work. I attributed it to the distance and the case, but the sting of rejection still rang clear in my voice.

I told her about Hannah, and the things I’d found (luckily she didn’t ask how I’d found them, tech wasn’t her thing either) and how I felt like I was learning things she never wanted anyone to know. How I felt like she was taking over my life but I was too invested to stop now. We went over Dan’s accident, Richy getting marked, Cleo being harassed. By the time I finished, my mouth was dry from talking so much, and she’d stopped working on my face to just stare at me with something akin to horror.

Her concern was palpable, and I couldn’t blame her. Saying everything out loud only made it more clear just how deep I’d gotten myself, and how little sense it made.

“They have… police… in Germany. Right?” She asked haltingly.

“Well, yes,” I acknowledged. “But there doesn’t seem to have been any progress for a while, and her friends are really worried. If I can help, why shouldn’t I?”

She knelt down in front of me, compassion filling her eyes. “MC, I mean this with all of the love in the world. But why should you? There are thousands of missing women in the world right now. Millions, maybe. You can’t save them all. You probably can’t save any of them. It’s wearing you down, and you know it.”

“I’m too far in for that, P. I know how it looks. And I should have left when it started, but I didn’t. It’s too late now.”

She wanted to argue more— we spent our teen years doing little else beyond fighting so I’d probably seen that look on her face more than any other at this point— but something in my tone, or maybe the set of my jaw, made her shoulders sag in resignation.

She picked her brush back up instead. “Alright, then. Let’s get you finished here and we’ll chat about the guy instead.”

___

It took another hour to finish, though at least some of that was because she had to stop more than once to laugh at me (or him) for just how bad we were at it.

“What the hell happened to you, M? You’ve always been awkward, but this is just a whole new level.”

I shrugged, my eyes closed to keep them safe from the setting spray she was spritzing. “I think I got worse at it as we went, actually.”

She turned me a bit and started twisting my hair into something that almost looked like a braid. She didn’t work with hair professionally, she just hated my constant messy bun. “You know, that makes a lot of sense for you. Originally you didn’t give a fuck. That’s when you’re most charming. Remember Andrew?”

I felt my face heat up under what seemed like the amount of makeup I normally wore in a year. “I THOUGHT WE WERE KIDDING!” I nearly shouted.

She chuckled at my embarrassment. “I know, and yet you ruined that poor boy. He still asks about you sometimes.”

I’d have buried my face in my hands if she hadn’t tightened her fist into a death grip around my hair when she felt me start to tip my head down. “Don’t you dare!” She scolded, tying off the ends and doing a final once-over to make sure she was pleased. She must have been, because she stood me up and turned me toward the mirror.

I gasped as I looked at myself. True to norm whenever she was able to do what she wanted, no one would ever be able to call the look pretty. But it was breathtaking. She’d somehow managed to make my normally round, chubby features look sharp, harsh. The only overt references to the ice motif she’d planned were two small snowflakes she’d drawn, one over my left eyebrow and one on my jaw, just below where the right side of my lips ended.

The majority of the makeup was various shades of white, including my lashes, but my lips were a metallic silver. I was shocked to see that my eye makeup transitioned between a dark blue into jade, rather than the lighter blue or silver I’d have expected.

She saw me inspect the eyes and grinned. “I did some research on icebergs. In Antarctica they’ve found green ones. They think it has to do with the amount of iron in the area. It changes the way the ice absorbs different colors of light.”

“So I’m the nerd, but you just… research icebergs for fun?”

She laughed and nudged me with her hip. “Do you like it?”

I nodded. “It’s amazing. I don’t look anything like me, I have no clue how you do it. But didn’t you say my colors were “fall and earthy” or some shit? Why am I perfect for this?”

She smirked. “Mainly because you never leave the house or get sun, so I had to use less of the base on you.”

Smacking her arm lightly, I reached for my phone to take a few pictures. She took it out of my hand and started trying to pose me how she liked it best, adjusting the lighting to get the shadows to cast the way she liked.

Once she was finally pleased with the pictures she got, she sent some to herself for her portfolio and handed me back my phone, which I used to order takeout. We got along much better than we used to, but all it took was one of us becoming hangry to reduce us to squabbling teens again, and I suspected Annie wouldn’t be amused to return to a WWF match.

While we waited for the food, we sat on the couch and I turned on some music. We mainly scrolled on our phones, but it was nice to not be alone.

“It needs a lot of work,” she grumbled, looking at the pictures for the fourth time in the last ten minutes. “It really only works in print right now, since the shading on your jaw and cheekbones isn’t dynamic. If you move, it completely destroys the effect.”

I shrugged. “Most of your models will also have the jaws and cheekbones to make it more convincing. I’ve just got a baby-face. Though at my age I’m pretty sure it’s not baby fat anymore no matter what Mom said…”

“Sure, but the part I like is the transformation.” Her eyes sparkled as she flipped through her picture to show me more examples, many of which I’d seen on her professional account already. She had a modest, but rather faithful following, myself included. I’d long since stopped being her main model, but I did still pop up in some progress posts or the occasional Throwback Thursday. “It’s not just about the end result, it’s about how dramatic the difference is.”

I jumped up at the knock on the door, but couldn’t resist a retort over my shoulder. “You always were all about the drama.”

She snorted. “Am I the one in love with a literal stranger who I maybe know what country he’s in?”

The moment was temporarily broken by the alarmed look on the poor delivery driver’s face. It took me a moment to realize it wasn’t at Paige’s words, but my face. I’d forgotten that I hadn’t washed it off yet. “Sorry,” I mumbled as he quickly retreated with one last glance over his shoulder.

“Guess people don’t usually answer the door in costume when it’s months before Halloween,” she teased.

“You didn’t remind me on purpose!” I accused while I plopped the pizza box on the kitchen counter.

After that, we were mostly quiet for a while as we ate. She occasionally tutted at me when I’d get pizza on my face and come away with makeup on my napkin, but other than making fun of me for eating like a child, she didn’t say much else.

It wasn’t until I was rinsing the dishes that she spoke up. “His name is Jake, then?”

I whirled around and gaped at her. “What?”

She held up her phone, showing a still of Lilly’s video. It wasn’t on YouTube, but I didn’t recognize the site she was on. Someone must have downloaded the video before Jake convinced her to delete it.

“You said she included your number, and the missing girl’s name was Hannah. Made for a pretty easy search, really.”

“Since when are you a detective?” I grumbled.

“I could ask the same of you, M.”

I guess I couldn’t argue there. But it was disturbing how quickly she found it. I’d thought having it taken down would be a bit more like it hadn’t happened. Richy had said that the views were up to 4k or so, and as surprising as it was that it got that many that fast, that was still a small number. But things on the internet were sticky, and it only took one person to keep it alive.

“Right, well. Yes. His name is Jake.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And he’s clearly involved in some… stuff. He sounds a bit different here than you made him seem.”

“I mean, I sound pretty different through Lilly’s eyes, too. Look. I wont say he’s nice, or that he’s not weird, or even a little creepy. And yes, some of the things we’ve been doing aren’t the most… legal. But it’s not like it’s the first time that’s been true.”

“MC, this isn’t smoking some pot and running around after curfew. Have you read some of the comments on this?”

I cringed. “I tried not to after the ones on the original video. But I imagine the ones about him are about as accurate as the ones about me. I apparently run an international prostitution organization, you know.” I tried to say that one casually, since that had been one of the more ridiculous accusations I had thrown at me.

“Right, but several of these are saying he’s wanted. And you told me yourself he’s disappeared because of the video. You said it put him in danger.”

I blanched. His wanted status being publicly discussed probably wasn’t good. And not just because my sister was staring at me like I’d grown an extra head. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye as I decided that I may as well wash the dishes now.

“You knew,” she accused, coming over to the sink. “You knew he was on the run.”

“Only after the video,” I admitted in a tiny voice, not looking up from the sponge in my hands.

“I thought you were done with this,” she exploded, and I stared at her in shock. “It made sense in high school, okay? Running around with the bad boys in combat boots and Mohawks. But do you remember the shit you got into sometimes? Now you’re involved with a fugitive and you can’t even pretend you don’t know better!”

“We’re not involved!” I yelled back. “I told you he rejected me. Well, this is why. He said it was too dangerous.”

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well at least one of you might not be a total idiot, then.”

I bit the inside of my cheek as I scrubbed circles over the over washed plate. My eyes blurred with tears and I tried to blink them away.

“MC,” she started again, but was interrupted by me bursting into tears without warning. Forgetting her anger, she walked over to me and took me in her arms, muttering soothing words as she led me away from the sink.

___

She was playing with my hair, my head in her lap, when she finally spoke up. “I can pull some strings, if you want. It’d take some convincing, I’d owe a few favors. But I still talk amiably enough to some of my old clients. We could fight fire with fire, post a response video.”

I thought for a minute. It’d feel great to fight back. I hadn’t realized just how angry I was at Lilly until I saw her video again and heard about what people were saying. I hadn’t felt this type of impotent rage since our mom had been diagnosed.

“No,” I said finally, not fully keeping the hesitation out of my voice. “I think at this point that would just make me look more suspicious. Right now, her accusations look ridiculous to anyone with half a brain. She has no proof. She doesn’t even know where I am, exactly. But it would just draw more attention to the first video and probably make things worse for Jake.”

Her eyes narrowed when I brought him up. “He can figure his own shit out. I’m talking about for you.”

“I know, and I love you for it. But I care about him too. I feel bad enough that I told you all this about him, I can’t risk making his life harder.”

She scratched my scalp, then twisted a lock of my hair around her finger. “You didn’t tell me shit, to be fair. She did. Which is part of why I’m worried about it.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

Her laugh was humorless. “Yeah, sure, okay. Look, I won’t pull the trigger yet, but I’m going to reach out to a few people I think might be willing to help. I won’t tell them anything other than I might need a favor. If it gets worse, you need to tell me, and we’ll figure something out. If this gets too bad, you could lose your job. It doesn’t have to be true, just has to make them look bad.”

I didn’t respond, just closing my eyes and enjoying the affection. Despite my rather prickly personality, I had always enjoyed physical contact with the people I was closest to, and that was something I couldn’t get easily from behind a screen.

“I want to meet them,” Paige announced, startling me from my light doze.

“Who?”

“The group. Maybe not Lilly, I’d rather not join you under that bus if I can help it. But the others, at least. I want to have some idea who I can tell the police to talk to if you go missing next.”

I bit my lip. Much like fighting back, it was tempting. My sister was better at people than I was, and it would be nice to get help while Jake was gone. But Jake would also never approve of bringing someone new in. Not to mention, I couldn’t risk her getting the same calls I was or putting her in danger.

That was the part that made me refuse her offer.

“I can’t put you in danger too. Jake thinks it’s one of them and I’m not sure I agree, but it’s hard to totally deny with the timing of things.”

Her fingers stilled. “You’re knowingly talking to a kidnapper, too?”

“Well, not knowingly. I just said we don’t know for sure.”

“But probably!” Her voice had become shrill, I guess she’d finally reached her limit of my bullshit. “This is insane, MC, you’ve gone insane. I get you’re safer because you’re not there, but that’s not safe. It would be expensive for them to get here but not all that hard if they have a passport. And look.”

She typed my name and number in to Google and scrolled to the third result. And there it was. A “people search” website with my address, and a couple of past ones, too. My age, some old phone numbers. Worst of all, under the “related person” section, links to my loved ones: My parents, Paige, even an ex I’d lived with for a while.

“Oh,” I muttered, scrolling through in horror.

I knew these sites existed. Hell, I’d used them years ago, to find contact people for the funeral. But the idea that a murderer with a vendetta could be using them didn’t really occur to me until now.

“You can opt out of these things, right?” I started searching the page for anything related to removal, my hands shaking as I did so.

“MC, MC, calm down!” She took her phone from my hands. “You’re fine, it’s fine. We’ll work on that tonight, and you can ask your hacker boyfriend where else to look.”

I scrunched up my face and mumbled “not my boyfriend” as she locked her phone screen and set it aside.

“I can’t stop you from doing this,” she sighed. “And I know you won’t stop. But please, take care of yourself, okay? And don’t push me away.”

I nodded, and she put her arm around my shoulder, then exhaled dramatically. “Shit, is being the mature one always this stressful?”

I laughed, pushing her away from me. “You mean like the time you got high and were convinced Mrs. Ruth’s bushes were fluffy enough that you could jump off the roof into them and be fine?”

She groaned at the memory and then stuck her tongue out at me. “And yet you’ve managed to out-stupid me with this one. Never thought I’d see the day!”

___

True to her word, once I’d calmed down a bit, we sat on my bed with a bottle of wine and spent the entire night purging as much data as we could. I left my social media mostly alone, since I’d stopped over-sharing personal stuff on those ages ago and had deleted a lot of the old stuff. But anything with addresses, or detailed location information had to go.

My employer was a national company, but I disabled my professional profiles, too, figuring I could always reactivate those when I started looking for a job next.

Paige had decided to take the opportunity to scrub her name, too. She would always need to have a larger online presence than I would, since a lot of her gigs were based on word of mouth and networks, but I felt better knowing that she’d be less at risk now that she knew more about the danger.

She hadn’t brought up wanting to meet everyone again, and I still wasn’t totally sold on throwing her into the line fire. But at this point, I felt confident enough that the culprit was a man that I figured she could probably meet Jessy. Cleo, too, since we’d been getting more friendly.

So I made a new group chat. I’d had enough wine by this point that the idea of naming the chat amused me, but had also had enough that coming up with something clever was difficult. So that was how I ended up making a group chat titled “All The Single Ladies” and adding Jessy, Cleo, and Paige.

Jessy is online.

Jessy: ?

MC: Sooooo MC: My sister found Lilly’s video. MC: You can imagine how hoppy she was. MC: *happy MC: She wanted to meet you guys. MC: I decided to only show her the best of the group to start

Jessy: 🤭

Cleo is online.

Cleo: Hello, MC’s sister.

MC: Oh, she has a name. MC: It’s Paige.

Next to me, Paige snorted.

Paige: Hello, MC’s internet friends. Paige: I’m glad to meet at least some of you.

Jessy: Wait 😤 Jessy: Why are we the Single Ladies??

MC: I mean, aren’t we? 🤣

Paige: 🤦‍♀️

MC: I never said I was good at thinking of things.

Paige: I’m sure the wine isn’t helping that. You’ve had, what, 4 glasses?

MC: YOU POUR SO LITTLE IN.

Paige: That’s how you’re supposed to drink wine.

Cleo: Wait, are you two together?

MC: Yep! She came to visit!

Feeling silly, I took a picture of us and sent it to the chat.

Jessy: Hi Paige! Jessy: I do have to go to work though, so I can’t talk much.

With a jolt, I looked over at my clock and realized it was 1am. Time had flown way faster than I’d thought.

MC: Shit, I have to start work in like 6 hours guys.

Jessy: Ooooh you’re gonna be cranky.

Paige: When isn’t she?

MC: Hey! I’m great.

Paige:😒

MC: ANYWAY. Go do your days guys, I just wanted to do this before I forgot. ❤️

Cleo: Good night!

After downing my glass of wine, I took a quick shower, leaving my hair unwashed. Paige was the morning-shower sort, but I hated waking up earlier than I absolutely had to, even to get clean.

While I was brushing my teeth, I couldn’t get away from the thought that my sister was right. If I was going to spend a chunk of time trying to clean up my information, it didn’t make sense not to ask for advice from the resources I had. I hadn’t wanted to worry him since he had problems of his own, but I could just ask, right?

MC: Hey so my sister knows about Lilly’s video. It’s fine. I mean okay not fine, she’s pissed, but she’ll deal. Anyway we spent the night trying to get rid of my address and stuff online. Those people search sites are bullshit. Anyway I thought you might know what else I could do, since I don’t know how much googling “how to hide from the murderer who is mad at you” would get me. No rush. Thanks!

I hit send and immediately regretted it. Not only was it the longest piece of word vomit I’d sent him by far, it made almost no sense. Hopefully his flaw would keep him from noticing whatever the mess of emotions was that had gone into that. Especially as I couldn’t even decipher them, myself.

I had time to lean over and spit before he replied.

Jake: I will take care of it.

MC: Oh no, I know you’re busy and stuff. You just know the internet a tiny bit better than I do so you might have advice.

Jake: MC. I’ll take care of it.

I had no idea why a silly grin spread across my face at that, but it stayed through the rest of my washing up. Even Paige’s suspicious glances as I crawled back into bed couldn’t get me to fully smother it.

___

I was surprisingly coherent the next day. Getting out of bed took longer than usual, but once I was up, I found myself less drained than I would have expected. Even having Paige there helped me focus on my work a bit better. At least, she could keep me updated on the Single Ladies chat enough that I wouldn’t feel the need to constantly check my phone.

I had the most productive morning I’d had in a long time, working to the soundtrack of my sister’s sarcasm and laughter. She told me stories of her life, ranted about something she found online, and occasionally pestered me just to remind me she was the little sister. Any time I wasn’t actively listening to a call, she filled the silence and it wasn’t nearly as annoying as I normally would have found it.

An hour or so before lunch, she made an excited noise in the back of her throat and turned to smile at me. “Those sites work fast!” She announced. “They already took down your profiles, I can’t find a single one!”

I bit back a smirk and acted surprised as she showed me the missing search results. Hers, too, were gone, and I felt a flood of gratitude at the effort he must have put in, even above what I’d asked.

When she looked away, I typed a quick “thank you”, knowing he’d understand.

___

The rest of the week dragged on a bit more. She mostly worked for herself at this point, so she made her own schedule, but she couldn’t totally vanish or risk missing future jobs. So the more convinced she became that I wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown, the more time she spent on her laptop or taking calls, and in the evening I often ended up covered in makeup again to keep her profiles active.

Unlike Annie, she knew better than to try to force me to go out of the house, but she tried to keep me busy regardless. We cooked, despite neither of us enjoying or being any good at it. We watched movies and played games. The truth is, I hadn’t thought about just how much I’d missed her. We’d had a rocky relationship as kids— we were very different people in ways that had seemed so important when we were younger, and the stress of our chaotic adolescence and there never being enough money to afford enough space for us both had added a lot of tension to our interactions.

But she really had grown up, and even though I was still prickly and unpleasant and she was still a lot more outgoing and loud than I was, we’d learned to read each other better in the intervening years enough that we could have fun.

“Alright you guys, so tell me about this hacker,” she demanded loudly to Jessy and Cleo, whose faces appeared on my tablet, as she blended something on my forehead.

I jumped a little, she hadn’t actually mentioned him in days and I’d been hoping, foolishly, that she’d forgotten.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Cleo screw up her face while Jessy giggled at mine.

“Why would we talk about him?” Cleo asked, bewildered. Right. I guess it had just been Jessy that I’d had that humiliating conversation with.

Paige laughed, pinning her hair back on top of her head to keep it from sliding in her face as she bent over me. “If my sister’s going to be pining after him, I want to get some opinions first.”

“What?!” Cleo shouted, her eyes almost comically wide at the idea.

“Thanks Paige,” I groaned, biting the inside of my cheek to fight the overwhelming urge to hide my face in my hands. Louder, I spoke to the whole group. “I’m not chasing after him. I expressed an interest, he said no, I accepted it. Now we’re just friends, if you can even call it that. We talk about Hannah.”

I could have continued rambling, but Paige chose that moment to take my chin in her hands and hold my face steady enough to work on.

“Accepted it my ass,” she teased, taking advantage of my inability to fight back.

Meanwhile, Cleo’s befuddlement continued. “Wait, he rejected you? The Hacker? The one who took over the group chat just to keep you in it? He said he didn't like you?”

I pulled my jaw from Paige’s grip for a second to reply to that. “You guys read way too much into that vote thing, he’s just put a lot of effort into the investigation and didn’t want to risk having to do it alone if none of you would talk to me anymore. And it wasn’t like he said ew cooties gross. He just made it clear it wasn’t happening.”

Jessy chimed in there, “I’m still pretty sure he’s 60 or something and that’s why. He sure talks like it.”

I rolled my eyes at her, but didn’t bother interrupting or annoying Paige to reply to that one.

“Has he ever even said how he knows Hannah? MC, he had to tell you, right?”

I made a loud noise that I hope sounded enough like “no” to be understood. Luckily, they seemed to get it.

Jessy gasped. “Wait what were the initials on the bracelet? J.H., right? That’s why you asked me? Didn’t Lilly say his name was Jake? MC, what’s his last name?”

Another noise, this time to the tune of “I don’t know”. Then I looked at Paige. “Are we almost done?”

I guess understanding that particular unintelligible murmur was a necessary skill in her trade, because she nodded and started putting away most of the bottles and powders in front of her. “Almost.”

I sighed, and turned back to the video call to take advantage of my temporary freedom. “I don’t know his last name, but honestly, I’m not sure I think he’s much of the wooing-with-jewelry sort.”

Paige nudged me over to face her again. “Good thing you hate jewelry then, huh?” She blotted and spritzed my face with a bit more of a flourish than she’d used in our past sessions, then looked me over with a grin.

I started to stand up to look, but Paige shook her head. “Nu uh, pictures first!”

I eyed her suspiciously— that had never been the process before. Still, I obediently smiled the way she told me and glared at her as she looked over the pictures with a critical expression.

“One of you two should make sure this Hacker guy gets that, see if he regrets saying no!” She exclaimed with a mischievous glance in my direction.

“What??” I squeaked, grabbing my phone to see what she sent.

If I weren’t so annoyed about her underhanded tactics, I’d have been more impressed by what she’d managed to achieve with my face. We’d taken long enough that I’d expected to be a unicorn or something like that. Instead, it actually barely looked like I was wearing anything at all, at least if you didn’t know how I usually looked. My skin tone was unchanged, just smoothed out and brightened the tiniest bit. The lipstick was subtle, but plumping. The most dramatic part was my eyes, but even that mainly just made them pop and look more vibrant than normal.

I wasn’t beautiful, but it was a hell of a lot closer than I usually was.

Jessy’s excited squeal confirmed it for me. “MC, you look so good! But Paige, we don’t have his number or anything. He always just contacts us.”

“That’s right!” I said, relieved. “I’m probably the only one who can message him directly, and no way in hell am I sending him a random picture of myself in full makeup just to sit around my house. I will never be that desperate.” I hoped. But I kept that unsaid.

Cleo chimed in, amused. “You’re assuming he hasn’t already seen it. What was it he said? Be aware that all of your digital activities are monitored and recorded by me.”

Sure enough, he was online. Then again, if he were reading, or even worse, listening, this was the kind of thing he’d definitely have logged off to avoid already.

“He doesn’t bother with personal stuff. There’s no way he’s spending his time reading a chat called All the Single Ladies, okay? He doesn’t care that much about us gossiping.”

Paige stared at me for a long moment as if assessing more than my makeup, and then sighed loudly. “We really need to work on your daddy issues, you know that, right?”

“PAIGE!” I shouted and started hitting her with a folded towel, brandishing it like I would a pillow at a sleepover. She just cackled as she put her hands up to protect her face.

I never did tell her that I took a handful more pictures before washing my face. I couldn’t let her win like that.

___

Paige left the next morning, and Annie was still gone, having tried to make herself scarce during the visit to give us time. I took the day off work to let us hang out before she went, but ultimately found myself unnerved by how quiet the apartment seemed now that she was gone.

I turned on music and cranked it up as loud as I felt comfortable with considering the neighbors, and danced around as I cleaned up the evidence of our irresponsibility over the last week. It was amazing how much of a mess we could make.

When Cleo texted me directly, rather than the group chat, my heart sank. I’d asked her and Jessy both to try to keep Paige out of the scarier parts of the investigation, and while she’d been nosy enough to pull some information out of the group, they’d mostly obliged and kept All the Single Ladies light and teasing, mainly at my expense.

So if she didn’t include anyone else, I knew it wasn’t good. She told me about the ransom-style letter her mother had gotten, and my initial reaction was to roll my eyes. Sometimes it felt like I was dealing with a child imitating a criminal.

Then she sent the pictures that were included.

Those pictures made my heart drop. Paige’s visit had done a lot to make me feel safe and normal, but now the truth came screaming back to me. Neither was true. There was still a kidnapper, still a missing girl, still a dead body.

This was the second time he’d gone for Cleo.

Of course her mom couldn’t just ignore them. The culprit has played dirty here, and hit on the right button. No mother would be willing to risk their child like that. My own would have locked me in the basement if she’d found out about a single one of those calls, let alone received pictures.

Cleo herself seemed more worried for her mother than herself, which I could understand. Wasn’t I more worried for Hannah’s friends, and even Paige, than myself?

While telling the group about the canceled search, I was nearly knocked off my feet by the fact that it was Dan who came to the conclusion that Hannah was in the forest. I’d been underestimating him for a while, it seemed. It wasn’t a hard conclusion to make, necessarily, but I hadn’t even realized he was paying enough attention to see the forest thread. Maybe I’d need to start involving him in things a bit more often.

I put a pin in that to examine later. While he was exonerated from the more recent happenings, he was probably the most physically capable of an abduction of the group. Or had been before he flipped his car, at least. Now he probably couldn’t pee without multiple people knowing, let alone hurt anyone. That made it a bit easier to trust him.

While texting with Jessy, a roller coaster complete with hearing her wish we’d met in another way, then accuse Jake, then get mad at me for keeping his secrets, I found myself retreating back into that numb detachment from before Paige’s visit.

It was an addicting place, I knew from experience. The emotional equivalent of a blanket fort, where the monsters couldn’t get you. Oh, I’d been in therapy long enough to know it for what it was— my brain’s reaction to extreme stress, a protective cocoon to keep me safe from the inevitable breakdown I was flying towards. I’d been given tools to recognize and stop it years ago, after hearing enough times about the dangers of disconnecting like this for long.

As an adult, I’d stopped letting myself risk staying there for any real length of time. Maybe for an hour, enough to get through a difficult confrontation, or hold myself together until I could get somewhere that it was safe to cry. I knew this place was what had some people scrambling to stay high or drunk. Blessed nothing was a godsend to those who felt too much, and it took a will stronger than mine to let it go once it started.

And today I couldn’t bring myself to walk away from it. I tucked the vulnerable parts of myself into bed— the parts that cared, and felt, and hoped— and gave it a small kiss on the forehead. A promise that the rest of me— logical, rational, and disinterested— would take over and keep away the demons.

I could remember where this had led in the past, but with a small, exhausted yawn, the side of me that cared fell asleep and the rest trudged forward.

Luckily, after Jessy had left me with that final plea to keep myself safe from Jake (done, I told myself. Just not how she meant), no one needed anything else from me for the day. As day bled into evening and I felt confident that everyone I knew on the other side of the world had gone to bed, I straightened up my room to clear the mess that my focus on the case— and just general irresponsibility— had left in its wake.

After that was done, I sat at my desk and logged in to work. Office hours were long since over, but I wasn’t tired yet and if I put in some time today, I’d be able to reclaim some of the PTO I’d wasted recently on self-pity and sadness.

I got a lot done compared to usual, without my phone or drifting thoughts I was moving through my tasks faster than I had in ages, almost completely clearing the backlog I’d accumulated over the last several weeks.

I forgot how much energy giving a fuck took, I thought dryly, snorting out loud despite being alone.

The notification lighting up my phone was almost masked by the flicker of my monitors as I powered everything down.

Joe: Hey Joe: been a while, how’s it been?

It had been a while, long enough that the unexpected text almost jolted me out of my safe place. I closed the imaginary door just in time and recovered quickly.

MC: It really has. Work has kept me busy, and my sister was in town this last week and just left today.

Joe: Annie said that this weekend. Are you free tomorrow? Joe: dinner, maybe?

I considered his offer silently, tapping the fingers of my right hand on my desk as I stared at my screen. Truthfully, I had reasons enough to both say yes and no. On one hand, he was nice enough. We hadn’t spent a whole lot of time talking overall, but enough that I had some kind of picture of him. At least I could picture him, I mused. We didn’t have much in common that I’d found so far, but we’d mainly discussed unimportant, surface things.

On the other, life was currently complicated enough, and adding someone new would just make it worse. But it also might be nice to add someone whose motives I didn’t have to question beyond knowing he wanted to get his dick wet.

Before I could reply and say yes, he sensed my hesitation and continued.

Joe: Annie said you’ve been hung up on some guy. I’m not gunna try to get between that if there’s something. Or if you just don’t want to. Joe: just seemed like you were maybe into it at one point so I should ask

I was really going to have to talk to Annie about what she was discussing with people behind my back. But still…

MC: No, um, I thought there was but he made it clear that there wasn’t. MC: I’m still dealing with it a little, though

Joe: totally get it we’ve all been there. Joe: not pressuring you or anything. Just think you’re cute and want to see you again. No expectations Joe: take your time and let me know

He was right. We had all been there. Maybe the circumstances surrounding Jake and I had been somewhat unique, but “girl likes boy, boy can’t/doesn’t want/won’t do anything about it” happened all the time.

Sitting around, sad and pining, didn’t help anyone and just made it that much harder for us to focus on the investigation. The best thing I could do at this point was to do something to clear my mind and make it easier to move on.

MC: You know what? Dinner sounds nice. How’s 7?

___

The work I’d done the night before made my day surprisingly easy, especially for a Friday. By lunch, my queue was clean, I’d organized my inbox, and stared at my screen for a while.

I’d spent so long glued to my phone that my hand strayed over toward it several times while I looked for things to do. I wasn’t avoiding it, exactly, but trying to take the opportunity to just be uninvolved with Duskwood for a bit. It had been quiet since the letter, other than Dan sending memes to everyone and the smaller chat with the Ladies, and I’d avoided engaging with either so far today.

Maybe part of me felt guilty about that, or didn’t know what to do without corpses and mystery hanging over my head, but either way I ended up turning off my music and swapping over to one of my true crime podcasts. I’d been staying away from them ever since my life became one, but I really had always enjoyed them. Getting back to them might make me feel more normal again.

I gave up on pretending to be productive for a while and wandered to my room, getting a head start on deciding what to wear. I had no idea where we were going other than “dinner”. Depending on how much Annie had told him about me already (other than apparently everything), it was possible he knew enough already to avoid taking me anywhere fancy. It wasn’t a “not like other girls” thing so much as generally not being at home in more formal environments and never wanting to go on a date somewhere that I couldn’t comfortably pay my way. The takeout and booze increase over the last week had made that wiggle room a bit smaller, though I would be able to put it on credit if I had to.

My first thought was to message Jessy the way she had done before her date-that-wasn’t, but while I knew Jake was far too busy to read my personal chats right now, I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t go back through the ones from the Duskwood group to see if anything relevant had happened.

So instead, I went with Paige, knowing she’d get a kick out of my cluelessness at least.

MC: PAAAAIGEEE HELPPP MC: I have a date MC: A real one with a man I can see

She replied surprisingly quickly, and I realized she was probably still a bit worried and relieved to hear from me.

Paige: That’s great!

MC: Except not, work from home means I have nothing to wear

Paige: Where are you guys going?

MC: Food.

Paige: What kind of food?

MC: …

Paige: Why are you so bad at this? Paige: Do you have a little black dress?

MC: Not that fits my ever-expanding ass, it’s from before shutdown.

Paige: I doubt it’d be the ass that’s the issue. Your boobs might be a bit more of a challenge if they decide to pop out.

MC: 🙄 MC: Not helpful

Paige: Fine, dark jeans?

MC: Yes!

Paige: Heels?

MC: Please.

Paige: Flats?

MC: Better.

Paige: What color?

I sent her a picture and she walked me through picking a shirt to match. The sun had started setting later and later and I tended to be warm so we picked a dark green top with loose sleeves and an empire waist that I’d gotten a few months ago for the rare days in the office. However, Paige tried to talk me out of wearing the silk cami I usually wore under it to make the rather low V neckline more work-friendly.

MC: I thought we were trying to avoid my boobs escaping?

Paige: Sure, but your cleavage looks great in that kind of neckline with the right bra.

MC: Why are you checking out my cleavage?

Paige: Easy, Lannister, I promise it was totally innocent. I helped you get ready for that wedding last year and they were in my face enough that I’d have to be blind.

MC: Not my fault you’re short.

She wasn’t that much shorter than me, but I’d been wearing borrowed heels at the time to pretend I wasn’t just over 5 feet, and she was a couple inches smaller than me to begin with.

Paige: Not my fault you’re stacked.

MC: it’s one of the few perks of being fat. MC: Can we stop talking about my tits?

Paige: How are you so vulgar with everyone else and such a prude with me?

MC: You're my sister. And 12.

Paige: Only in your head 🙄

MC: Oh shit, makeup.

Paige: You’re fine, your skin was clear so just do some eyeliner and mascara, maybe some gloss. He might as well see what you’re normally like. No dark lipstick, you don’t know what you’ll order and you eat like a heathen.

MC: Last time he saw me I was super done up, I’d let Annie take control.

Paige: Wait is this not a first date?

Right. Guess I’d forgotten to mention my night out while she was here. Just have gotten lost in all of the kidnapping and fugitive talk. Weird how that worked.

MC: Last time we didn’t exactly plan to meet up, I went out with Annie and we went out after.

Paige: How dare you not tell me??? But that means he saw you without makeup in the morning right?

MC: Not exactly?

Paige: WHY ARE YOU SO BAD AT THIS?

MC: Stop being so supportive, my ego might explode.

Paige: ❤️ Paige: But this makes it easier I think. Sure he only saw you done up, but he’s also seen you naked. If he stuck around, he wants to at least do that again.

I wanted to argue with that, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. It wasn’t that I fully believed her, but I also couldn’t pretend he hadn’t gone out of his way to get my number, seemingly asked about me, and spent weeks being patient. That was a lot of effort just to now run because I suck at doing makeup.

MC: I guess.

Paige: If you look that bad, doggy style is a thing.

MC: Nope, not discussing this with you. I’ll send a picture before I go and you will not mention a single sex position, private body part or innuendo for the rest of the day.

Paige: Spoil sport. 😘

Since picking an outfit took much longer than expected, or was reasonable, I decided to hop in the shower early and do some extra conditioning. The humidity lately made it take even longer to tame my curls than usual, and I’d rather it not stand straight up with frizz.

I was surprised to find I wasn’t nervous. Maybe a bit flustered, but that may have been more from Paige than worries about Joe. I was still fragile from Jake’s rejection— that I was going on this date at all was evidence of that. I could only assume it was a symptom of the continuing detachment that I able to keep myself cool-headed.

I used as much product as I normally would in a month (admittedly, that was still less than Annie had the last time I went out) getting my curls to lay more or less the way I wanted. They still expanded and frizzed a bit as they dried, but I was at least okay with the end result.

The makeup was a bit harder, but I tried to take my time with it. I was still a bit ahead of schedule since I’d logged off so early, so I even plucked my eyebrows a little. I was probably just burning time at this point, but it couldn’t hurt, right?

It was six by the time I was fully dressed and had tracked down a purse that wasn’t cat-themed or large enough to double as a grocery bag, and when I checked my phone I was surprised to see that Joe had offered to pick me up at 6:30. On one hand, I hate feeling trapped if I have a bad time, but on the other I also hated driving and Uber existed. So I agreed and sat down to wait.

It was 6:25 when the message I’d been half hoping for, half dreading finally came.

Jake: Hello, MC.

___

Almost immediately, the sweet sense of detachment I’d maintained started wavering. I had to lock my phone and take a few gulps of air before my pounding heart began to slow.

I had plans, which would be here in just a minute. I didn’t have time to talk to him right now, and it wouldn’t be fair to Joe or Jake if I gave either of them half of my attention. I hadn’t opened the message yet, just saw the notification. It wouldn’t show as online until I opened the app, so I could swipe it away and reply later.

This was the logical way to do things. Jake had made his decision clear. I had to respect that, and it freed me up to date anyone I wanted. Joe knew I was interested in someone else. There was no moral ambiguity here, I wasn’t doing wrong by either of them. Ignoring Jake’s message was normal, he’d been too busy to reply to mine several times. It happened.

Still, I made sure not to open the app when Joe messaged to tell me he was out front. Instead, I stood up, put my phone in my purse, and went out to meet him.

___

I was relieved when we pulled up to a pub that looked just on the nicer end of average. He, too, was dressed in what could be considered business casual, with well-fitted jeans and a button-down in a teal color that looked good on him.

On our way to the table, I took my first sober look at him from the corner of my eye. He was probably closer to Annie’s age than mine, but not enough of a gap to make me feel uncomfortable and predatory. He was tall, though after a certain point I stopped being any good at guessing heights since it was just “taller than me”. At least, he’d definitely had to stoop more than I’d realized when we’d kissed on our way to his house last time we'd met.

Once we sat at our booth and were promised a visit from the server shortly, he flashed me a grin that almost didn’t reveal the nerves I’d noticed in the subtle tapping he’d done against the steering wheel as he drove us here. When I returned the smile, he relaxed a bit more.

We chatted lightly while we looked over the menu, pausing only to put in our orders. He told me about work, and I gave a highly edited version of Paige’s visit. He laughed as I showed him some of the pictures she’d taken, lingering a beat longer on the picture she’d taken to send to the chat with Cleo and Jessy.

Neither of us ordered alcohol, since he was driving and I’d had more than enough alcohol for a while. We split our meals— I’d been torn between two and he said they both sounded good and ordered the one I didn’t— and while the table was quieter than it had been before we got our food, we kept a steady conversation going. Paige was right, I realized now that I looked at it more objectively. I was way better at flirting when I wasn’t invested.

The food was good, and we both cleared our plates and then lingered a bit longer. I ordered another iced tea to keep my hands busy, and he fiddled a bit with his napkin but rarely took his eyes from me.

The drive home was less tense than the one there, with a lot less nervous fidgeting on his part. Things got more flirty as we went, and I even giggled a couple of times, which shocked me.

We pulled up to my house, and I tried not to panic when he turned off the car. I hadn’t thought far ahead enough to decide if I was inviting him in or not. It had certainly gone well enough to, it was the best date I’d had in a long while. But it was hard to forget how I’d gotten just seeing Jake’s name on my phone earlier.

He didn’t get out, though, just turning in his seat to face me with an earnest look. “I have a confession. I know our first time didn’t show it, but I’m not like that. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Annie’s boyfriend is a friend from college. I got out of a relationship right before we met and all of my friends were our friends. Steve took pity on me when he heard and started bringing me out more. I’ve heard you aren’t a partier, Annie’s ranted about her hermit nerd roommate before.” Here he flashed me a shy, apologetic smile. “I don’t hate that scene or anything, but this has been really nice. You’re really nice. And you look great tonight. I don’t think I said that yet, sorry.”

His honesty threw me off balance. After spending so long pulling teeth for any degree of connection, I barely remembered how to handle a guy putting so many words together at once, let alone being so open. It took me a bit to find my footing.

“Joe, I…” I searched for the right words for a moment, then pushed forward. “I’m not sure where I’m at right now, to tell you the truth. The other guy, well, it’s weird with him still. We’re still working together on a project for a while longer, and I don’t know how long it’ll be, and every time I talk to him it just makes it complicated...”

I hesitated and sighed loudly, then reached my hand over for him to grab if he’d like. He took it, eyes searching mine for a moment. He seemed to sense I wasn’t done, and waited, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

“I had a good time, too. You’re right, I don’t do clubs or parties or anything like that. I mean, I did when I was younger, I definitely had a wild phase, but I kind of grew out of it. I haven’t gone home with a guy I just met in years. But I’m just not in the place to start something right now, you know?” I laughed without much humor and let my head fall to the headrest behind me. “If you didn’t seem like such a good guy, I think I’d really like letting you distract me for a while, but that’s not fair.”

He chuckled a little, his smile turning a bit wry. “You’re right, I’m not great at not getting attached. Though I’m a bit tempted to try right now.” I saw his eyes flicker down to my neckline for a quick second before he pulled them back to my face, blushing. It was strangely charming, and I leaned forward slowly to kiss him on the cheek, being sure to give him time to pull away or turn in if he preferred either option.

He didn’t move right away, but after my lips left his cheek, he chased after to capture them in a kiss. It was searing, and I felt my stomach flutter as I put the hand he wasn’t currently holding behind his head.

When we finally broke apart, his eyes were half-lidded and I was sure mine looked the same. My thumb caressed his cheek gently as we watched each other silently.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” he whispered, voice a bit rough. Then his brain seemed to catch up and he looked away shyly. “Not to come in, I just think it’s proper after a good date.”

I gave him a reassuring smile. “I’d like that.”

The walk was quiet, and our hands brushed against each other but neither of us moved to link them. Still, at my door, I lingered a second, deliberately turning towards him as I opened my purse for my keys.

Before I found them, he’d pulled me toward him again and I kissed him back, tangling my fingers in his hair with a groan. Standing, our heights made it harder to navigate, at least until I was nudged back a step until my back met the door. He didn’t lift me, but the support from being sandwiched between them made standing up on my toes easier, and he seemed happy enough to lean down the rest of the way to meet my lips.

Eventually, I needed to come up for air and I gently pushed his shoulders to end the kiss. Breathing heavily, I rested my head on his chest for a second and then groaned. “Go, before I change my mind on that distraction thing.”

He chucked, stepped back, and pecked my lips gently when I looked up again. “Probably a good idea,” he said in a voice that told me it wouldn’t have been hard to convince him to stay. But we both knew it was wrong.

When he was halfway down the walkway, I called out, “hey, let me know you got home okay, alright? Drive safe,” and quickly opened my door to slip in before he could reply.

I was ridiculously glad to find Annie still out, and I took another quick shower to wash off the makeup, keeping my hair out of the spray. More than a small part of me regretted letting him leave. Even if Jake changed his mind, we were still half a world apart and he was on the run from the government. He’d never be able to come here, and while I technically could get there, it’d be impossible to do it often enough to really have a relationship without raising suspicions and getting stupidly expensive. Joe was here, interested, and a really good kisser.

My sister said it best— I’m really bad at this.

Once I turned off the water and toweled off, I walked to my room without bothering to get dressed since I was alone. I sent Paige a text telling her that I was home, in my own bed, alone, and promised her details later. I didn’t let myself check to see if Jake was online.

Instead, I opened the message from Joe that I’d gotten while I was in the shower.

Joe: made it home Joe: and I meant what I said by the way, I had a great time. Joe: I hope he realizes what he’s missing out on soon, for his own sake. Joe: goodnight.

I pulled the flat sheet up to my chin, and drifted off slowly.

___

The next morning, I knew I couldn’t put Jake off any longer. I’d enjoyed my night, a lot, but I knew he didn’t get many chances to be in contact at the moment, and we still needed to focus on Hannah. Plus, as much as I didn’t want to, I missed him.

Biting my lip, I gathered my courage and replied. The discussion about what we’d discovered in our time apart went well, straightforward enough, and I was glad I’d waited till morning since we jumped on the phone records right away and calling people at midnight—or worse— wasn’t the quickest way to endear yourself to them.

I needn't have worried on that front, though, since no one probably lived at the garage to be woken up. Still, it would have raised some eyebrows the next morning, even if the people who saw the call were well-used to my bullshit by now.

I hadn’t meant to admit I missed him. I knew I shouldn’t say it even as I sent the message. It was dumb, and just opened up old wounds when he said the same back before logging off without giving me a chance to say anything more, as usual.

Confronting Thomas about having called Hannah the day she went missing went in a direction I hadn’t expected. It made sense that being the main suspect in his own partner’s disappearance would wear him down, but with how little he’d shown, I hadn’t considered it.

Blaming me for our lack of contact was frustrating, though, considering he’d just voted to kick me out. Of course I wasn’t buddying up to him after that. The fact that I was speaking to him at all was a small miracle, guy didn’t realize just how good I was at holding a grudge.

Once the floodgates were open, though, it seemed like he just couldn’t stop them. The way he described Hannah was so different from anything they’d said earlier, much more in line with the woman I’d investigated than the one I’d been introduced to by the group.

I hurt for Thomas, but it was yet another time I felt connected to Hannah. Secrets, hiding, shutting down around someone you love. Wasn’t that exactly what I was doing now? Had done whenever my demons crept back up and the emptiness lurked at the edges of my thoughts.

Whatever it was that had happened, whatever triggered this, it seemed like she was losing the fight with it. I hoped again, for Jessy and Jake’s sake, that we found her soon. If she hadn’t done this to herself, that meant she was out there alone, unmedicated, trapped in her own mind. That was a special kind of hell, I knew.

The bracelet was pretty, I’d always loved emeralds. I was surprised Thomas told me about it with so little prompting, and sent the picture as confirmation. Maybe he was just done. It sounded like he’d been exhausted even before she went missing, so maybe he was just relieved to tell someone.

Even though I had no reason to suspect Jessy had anything to do with it, I mentioned that her initials matched. I couldn’t admit to myself that I was avoiding exactly what Thomas followed up with— pointing out Jake’s name. He didn’t make the same connection I’d been continuing to purposefully ignore— that the H could mean Hannah— but it still hung in the air somehow.

I let myself be distracted from that fear that for a moment by listening to how different Hannah sounded the day of her kidnapping. If Jake hadn’t seen the abduction, that would have actually made me more nervous. People tended to relax once they’d decided to give in to depression, the same way I felt so much better when I let myself close off.

I promised to try to find out if Jake was Hannah’s lover regardless of the churning in my stomach the idea caused. After last night, I had no right to even care, but I couldn’t help it. There was no way I’d ever give Thomas his last name, but if it could get us both the truth, I knew I needed to bring myself to ask.

I didn’t know for sure if I was happy or not that Jake wasn’t online, but pushed myself to message him anyway. He needed to at least know what I’d learned.

I’d never let myself send him that many messages in a row before, and I got more desperate with each one. I hated how pathetic I knew I was coming off by the time I said that I hoped it wasn’t him, so I was the tiniest bit relieved that he stayed offline through my barrage.

___

The security footage I found in the cloud next felt like a nightmare to me, again striking me in that deep place of fear that was aware of just how vulnerable being a woman could be at times. The idea of having something, or someone, coming so close to you in the dead of night made me shiver and wrap my arms around myself. I sent it, as always, but almost cried with relief when Jessy quickly provided a distraction from my dark thoughts.

Her tour idea touched me more than she could know, more than I ever would have expected. The fact that she also seemed angry at Lilly only soothed me, and for the first time in a while I felt my hold on my cold mask loosen considerably.

That sense of affection grew as she sent pictures showing off the town that I knew she wanted to leave, but at the same time seemed to want me to love. And I did feel a pull to it, despite seeing nothing but quick stills of buildings and fountains. I couldn’t picture myself there, but it was so central to my life lately that I couldn’t help but feel connected. I imagined that even if they all stopped talking to me after we found Hannah, I’d want to visit. Maybe I’d bring Paige, we could stay at the motel. Maybe Jake would leave the map on my phone before he, too, left once my usefulness had ended.

Even the man who picked then to harass me didn’t dampen my urge to see it, though it did remind me that Lilly taking down the video hadn’t kept it from continuing to spread, which left my mind a moment to drift to Jake.

But it didn’t last long, and when Jessy showed me the lake, I swore to myself that one day I’d picnic there. Even if it was alone, one day I’d dip my toes into the water and close my eyes with my face to the sun. I wanted to feel the good in this place that had been haunting my nightmares. I wanted to face it and prove I was stronger than the legends it held.

Her story about her mom broke my heart, and I was tempted to tell her about mine but clamped down on the urge. Once I opened that door, there was no way I’d be able to pull back into the peace I was determined to return to shortly. So instead I asked about her brother, and when that only worked for bit and she asked for news, I forced myself to open that can of worms again and show her the bracelet.

I wasn’t expecting her to recognize it, and even less to find out it had been in a pawn shop. Would a lover have gotten a bracelet from there, in such a small town where it would almost certainly be recognized by whoever had pawned it?

Maybe it was from someone she’d used date and she’d pawned it before, but gotten sentimental. Thomas had never seen it before because it’d been hidden, then pawned, but he’d seen it before she was able to hide it again.

But even without knowing enough about it to know the whole story, it made me feel lighter to know that it was unlikely that it was from Jake, at least in the recent past. I could handle them being exes, even though I couldn’t honestly say that I would put so much effort into keeping one of my exes safe. Especially not considering what it was costing him.

Before I could go any further with that thought, Phil messaged Jessy to say that Thomas and Cleo had joined forces in their mission to break into every building in Duskwood, and I raked my hand over my face.

Stop. Being. Stupid. Please. Hannah, help me.

The fact that Phil even gave them a chance before calling the cops didn’t really match up with anything I’d heard from him. I don’t know for sure I’d have waited, but I guess they were his sister’s friends so that could make things a bit different, I supposed. Still, between the discoveries showing Hannah wasn’t the person I’d been told about, and now this, I wondered if maybe Phil was really the bad guy I’d thought.

Maybe I’d need to see if Jake could get ahold of his number soon and get his thoughts on this all.

Jessy requested a call, and I felt a wave of guilt about her being out this late because of me. Here she was trying to cheer me up, when it was her friend missing and her town hiding secrets. I was safely tucked a world away, pitying myself because my crush was unrequited. Man, sometimes I was the worst.

I chatted with her on her walk, happy to help her feel safe. At least until I caught sight of someone walking behind Jessy in the dark, dodging to avoid being seen. I called out a warning, but it was too late. I could only scream as I watched her fall to the attack. The mask man turned the camera to let me see him, and I spit out curses, telling him to come find me instead. Red flooded my vision as he propped the camera up in a way that made it clear I was supposed to watch her suffer. I sobbed loudly as I begged her to get back up. Even when she did, ending the call, I couldn’t stop the tears. NEXT

#duskwood mc #duskwood fanfic #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood #duskwood fandom #duskwood episode 10 #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake #jake x mc

8 notes · View notes

thedamselzelda · 7 months ago

Text

Affections of the Deathly Devotee

Featuring: Dazai Osamu

Summary: Bad ideas don't always have bad consequences, and when questions need answers, you simply have to go to the source. Perhaps your nerves will calm once you get the closure you needed.

word count: 5.6k, nsfw, fem!reader, pm!reader, alluding self harm, choking, unprotected sex, dom(ish) Dazai, reader is kinda a brat, slightly proof read

previous part ~ next part | DBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

You were going on fourteen when you met the curious boy Mori had brought in. You had laughed abnormally loud watching the blood drip from his arm. How could someone want to die so much be utterly incapable of killing themself properly? You were overly intimate with death before the typical age of properly understanding the concept, and it seemed this boy was just as familiar as you.

Then, jealousy had quickly taken root within your thoughts of the boy, as you had always been Mori’s favorite; however, as soon as the boy, who had been introduced to you as Dazai Osamu, had been brought along to witness the execution of the previous Port Mafia boss, you were sure you weren’t overly fond of him. It was his constant attempts, his constant need to flaunt his intellect, but most of all, it was because Mori switched his gaze to him instead of you.

How could Mori do that to you? Mori had aquired you at a young age from your father, a man engrained within the Mafia. Your father, in a time of grief and desperation to pay a debt, handed you off to Mori. That was neither here nor there to you now. You had hardly any memory of the man as a father, only acknowledging him as a subordinate to yourself; all you knew was Mori had taught you, trained you, for the job of being the Port Mafia’s most feared assassin. A Kiss of Death was an ability to be feared, yet Dazai… he didn’t.

While there had been questionable moments with him, he was with you throughout many major moments. Dazai had cared for you, eventually settling that jealousy within you, because he seemed to understand your hatred for life and the mafia seemingly even more than you knew yourself.

That’s why you mentioned him to Oda.

“Do you… like this boy?” Oda raised his eyebrow in question.

You gawked back, looking up from your book, “What?! I can’t mention someone without it meaning something?”

You looked back down to your book, glancing back over the pathology that littered the pages.

You groan as Oda gave a hearty laugh. “I’ve known you for how long? You never mention anyone unless you have a vendetta against them.”

You slam the book shut, “I do not like him.”

Oda shifts uncomfortably against the post of your bedframe, “If you say so.”

He moved to sit on the bed across from you, pawing through the books that were sprawled out on your bed.

“Have you had a chance to look at those books I lent you?”

You simply hum a no in response, scribbling down your thoughts upon the page.

“Okay, well, I’ll leave you to it then. Just, try and give those books a read when you can. I think they’ll be a better read than you expect.”

He moved to leave your room, grasping onto the handle before looking back at you. “Also, you might not wanna hear this from me, but there’s something about this Dazai you’ve mentioned. You’re acting… happier.”

Your gaze shoots up to him. You grasp onto the nearest pillow, chucking it at Oda. “I do not like him! He's simply tolerable!”

You huff out a laugh as you quickly walk. Why did Oda always have to be right? You find yourself wishing he were here right now. Maybe things would be different if he were here.

You anxiously wandered about the dimly lit streets of Yokohama. While no one could touch you without bearing some form of consequence, it was the fact that you were about to be on Dazai’s doorstep. His doorstep, which happened to belong to the Armed Detective Agency, which was the furthest you had gone from Port Mafia territory since arriving back in Japan. His directions were perfect though, pointing out the areas to avoid and what landmarks you should be looking out for.

Soon, you found yourself staring at the weathered door. You smoothed out the black jacket upon your person, reaching to scratch at the fresh bandages you applied before leaving. Suddenly, you began to find your hands sweating, wringing them in anxiety as thoughts swarmed your mind. This was a bad idea.

This was such a good idea, Dazai thought to himself as he leaned his arm against the door frame, smiling as he looked through the peephole at you anxiously wringing your hands. Not a doubt crossed his mind that you would come, even if your messages had been full of resistance. He had been watching since the moment you arrived, wondering how long it would take for you to muster the courage to knock. He knew you were nervous about being outside Mafia territory, and despite your complaints about being invited to his dormitory, it was the safest place he could think of. After all, you were a wanted criminal.

You had taken precautions to disguise yourself, donning ripped jeans, a casual white button-down, and a trench coat from Dazai’s old collection, which sat unevenly on your arms and shoulders. He breathed out contentedly, noticing you still wore the maroon scarf he had sent you. It reflected the hazy shine of the nearly full moon above. This told him he could still reach you; the humanity he knew you were capable of hadn’t been completely tarnished by your role in the Port Mafia.

Raising your fist, you hovered it over the weather-stained wood. He knew you wouldn’t knock—you had already tried once. Instead, you paced back and forth on the balcony, talking to yourself. He watched as you told yourself you shouldn’t be there, repeating that it was a bad idea.

“This won’t go right either way. Still, I need to know. But he’s my enemy now. I’m off Mafia territory, and this could go so badly wrong if the wrong person sees or hears me… I should go. No, I can do this.”

You stopped in front of the door again, itching at the fresh bandages on your right forearm. Dazai wondered if you had gotten hurt recently or if you had been cutting. Probably the latter, he thought. He ran his hand through his brown locks, wondering when you would finally decide to knock. It would probably be on your fourth attempt. He quietly laughed to himself as you raised your fist once more, only to let it fall and slap your palm to your face. A curse escaped your lips as you waved your hands wildly in front of you.

“I’m fucking Izanami. I am a feared assassin. It’s just to go in and talk. Discuss what we need and then leave. He’s done with me, with the Port Mafia. He’s different, he’s happier.”

He frowned as he watched the words form from the lips he constantly found himself craving. What did it even mean, to be happy? Sure, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders when he left the Port Mafia, but another thousand had simply taken its place. He knew he was happiest around people who felt like home. The other detectives were becoming a reason to be happy, but he always thought back to when he was happy with you, Oda, and Ango—even Chūya, though he wouldn’t openly admit it. The relationships he had held with the four of you weren’t always perfect, but they were enough. He was happiest when he was with you.

He watched you take a deep breath, pushing your hands out with the exhale. You were ready. He took a step back, suddenly nervous. What should he do when you knocked? Roll up his sleeves? No, coat off. He had been back for a while and yet never removed it. Vest too? Sure. He haphazardly rushed to place both pieces of clothing down on his futon, then stealthily returned to the door.

Just in time. You began knocking. Four times. A beat passed, and he rolled up his sleeves. His palms began to sweat. Why now? He had been fine before. Fuck it. He grasped the doorknob and opened the door to see you standing with your back to him.

“Buonasera, cara mia.” Dazai casually leaned against the door frame, giving you a sultry smirk as you turned to him. He held the door open with his left hand.

A lump of air caught in his throat as you gave him an unamused look. “Dazai.”

Shit. He was going to have to try way harder to reach you than he originally thought.

“The hatrack catch you on the way out?” He asked, even though he had watched your location through a tracker and watched you pace at his door.

“Chūya went west for an assignment. He won’t be back for a while.” You crossed your arms in irritation. Dazai’s mouth dried. What should he say now?

“Damn, well, I guess I’ll have to find out if he got any taller next time you come.” He wished he could punch himself. Why did he say that? Why use Chūya as the starting topic?

“He hasn’t. I guess that curse you put on him really worked.” You puffed out a short laugh. Your arms relax, and your hands fell to your waist. “Well, are you gonna let me in, or should I just go let another detective know that a Port Mafia exec is outside waiting to be arrested?”

Dazai chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. “They wouldn’t arrest you.” He paused and smiled. “Wait, you got executive?”

You scoffed, bowing under his arm as you walked through the door. “It’s not your spot, but yes. Mori made a special consideration.”

Your hand softly brushed his arm as you went under. He sharply exhaled away so you wouldn’t hear; you hadn’t punched him yet, so it was a good sign. He could feel his heart beating into his throat as he shut the door.

“So, this is what the agency gives its detectives? Not bad, compared to your shipping container.”

He’d prefer your penthouse, honestly, any room with you in it, like right now. He hardly felt comfortable anywhere without you, looking for you when he knew you wouldn't be there. However, he refrained from speaking those thoughts aloud. “Yeah, it’s really not bad. The agency isn’t bad either.”

You hummed softly, and mutter, “So… you’re happy.”

Dazai watches as you stop in the door frame of the adjoining room, the one where his futon lay. You didn’t turn to him, and he simply watched for a moment as you looked about the room. He knew what you were doing. Thoughts were racing, calculating in your head how much he had moved on, ultimately attempting to summarize the events that had occurred from the moment of his defection until now.

Under previous circumstances, he would walk up behind you, snaking his hands around your waist, placing kisses upon the smooth skin of your neck to pull you from your plaguing thoughts. Now, he stood awkwardly away from you, unsure of the correct course of action.

He cleared his throat. “So, uh, what parts did I need to clear up?”

He saw the confused look on your face when you turned. “Well, the reports only had so much detail in them. So, really everything on your part.”

He scrunched his face, equally confused. He reached up to rub his neck. “Well, I explained it in my letters. So, I’m not sure how you could be confused.”

“Letters? The last thing I got from you was this scarf and Oda’s books. That’s it.” You scoffed.

Dazai began making an attempt to reply, but you cut him off. He saw frustration begin to form on your face. “For months I waited, like an idiot. Wondering if I was going to hear from you at all. But I got nothing. Hell, the last time we spoke, you mentioned your worry for Oda, and that was it. Then Mori comes to the villa and hand-delivers this—"

You grasped the very lifeline of Dazai’s feelings for you, and he grimaced as you tore it from your shoulders. You held it out to him, your chest rising and falling heavily. "And tells me the worst news I have ever received in my life! That you defected and the one person in this life who wasn’t afraid of me—that Oda was dead! And I blame you! Nothing else for three years!"

Dazai’s head tilted as he looked at you with a softness in his eyes. He could see what had happened now. Of course, Mori had manipulated the story; he ensured a rift would form between the two of you. Dazai was pretty sure Mori’s vision of his two proteges didn’t include them becoming thick as thieves and falling for one another.

“S-Say something, dammit! I can’t stand it when you always stand there, smiling like a smartass!” You shook the scarf once more, a shimmer from the low light reflecting off the tears forming in your eyes.

Dazai stepped forward, grabbing the scarf from you. He pulled it to his face, feeling the softness of the fabric upon his lips. It no longer smelled of burnt gunpowder and the faint cologne he used to wear; it smelled of you now. He remembered wearing it for weeks underneath his coat before handing the box off to Mori to send to you. He felt your eyes darting about his, which only looked down at the pool of dark red in his hands.

“After you left,” he began, lifting the scarf over your head to lay it back down on your shoulders, “Odasaku and I were miserable. You constantly found your way into our conversations at Bar Lupin. He always wanted to know how you were doing; he was constantly worried about you.”

He began straightening it out and began rubbing the material between his fingers in a soothing manner. He felt you watching him, repeating his words in your head, searching for a lie.

“During our fight with Mimic, the…” He searched for the right words, “The kids, they got taken and were killed. Odasaku… he… he couldn’t bear it.”

He watched you flex your right hand, assuming the bandages were irritating your skin again. His hand slipped from the scarf down to grab your wrist. He pulled it level to him, and you resisted for a moment when you noticed him reaching to undo it. He paused, rubbing his thumb within your palm, and you relaxed again.

He continued speaking as he unwrapped your arm, “Odasaku went and fought the leader of Mimic, a man who had the same ability as him. While it was an even match, neither one could live in the end. Oda knew what he was doing, yet… It was all a calculated loss on Mori’s part.”

He saw your lips part, as if you were about to ask a question, but they closed once again.

“Did Mori ever explain how the Port Mafia now possesses a Skilled Business Permit?”

He looked up from the task into your eyes. They darted between his, tears threatening to breach and fall upon your cheeks. He returned his gaze to your arm, reaching the final bit of cotton.

“Odasaku’s life paid for it. Mori, he… he orchestrated everything, just so he could get the permit.”

The bandage around your arm fell to the floor.

“No…” You whispered. He forlornly examined your arm; fresh cuts littered your skin. The scar he shared with you looked freshly bruised, as if you attempted to rewrite over history itself. He looked away from the fresh wounds on your arm, meeting your eyes once more. “Tell me it’s not true.”

His left hand rose to your face, placing his palm against your cheek. Your face was warm against his skin as you leaned in. The tear finally fell from your eye, but Dazai quickly swiped it with his thumb. He stroked your cheekbone with his thumb after, hoping it would bring you some peace with the news he was telling you.

Dazai softly said your name, “I wrote to you, every day. However, you didn’t miss much than that. I promise I wanted to find some way to get in contact with you, I even thought about roping in Ango… but turns out he was with the government the whole time and that was a whole mess in itself.”

“I did get that bit from the reports.” You breathe out.

He noticed that you had slightly leaned forward more, even taking a step closer. He tilted his face down closer to yours.

“When Odasaku was…” Dazai couldn’t bring himself to say it, so he reworded what he wanted to tell you. He gave a harsh swallow of air, then continued, “Odasaku asked me to ‘become a good person’. So, I sought out Chief Taneda. That’s how I joined the ADA.”

“And are you? A good person?” He felt your hand reach his shirt, resting upon his chest. He wonders to himself if you can feel how fast his heart is racing. “Does living this life finally have meaning?”

He frowned at your words. Are you happy? Without me? Those would’ve been easier questions to answer. He snaked his hand which held yours around your waist, pulling you flush to him. He sought to anchor himself to you. Your right hand now free found its way up to his cheek, which he leaned into just as you had.

“I can't say I'm any better of a person, but…” Dazai began, carefully choosing his words. He hopes to himself he won’t lose you before he’s finished speaking. “My life has undoubtedly improved in a few ways since leaving the Port Mafia. The agency has given me a sense of purpose, a chance to atone for my past. And yet...”

He paused, locking eyes with you as he tenderly brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “Even amidst this newfound clarity, something still feels amiss. It's as though a part of me is incomplete, yearning for the warmth and vibrancy you brought to my world.”

Dazai exhaled shakily, his fingers ghosting along your jawline. "I've found solace in my newfound allies, but their companionship pales in comparison to the relationship we once shared. Life may be better in many respects, but it lacks the brilliance and passion that only you could ignite within me."

He leaned his forehead against yours, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "I'm better, perhaps, but not truly whole – not without you. This oxidizing life truly has no meaning without you in it, I’m sure of that now."

He felt your fingers combed into his hair, falling to the back of his neck, tracing along the edge of the bandages. “I… I can’t be a part of this new life of yours, Osamu.”

Osamu felt a pit form within his stomach. His eyes search yours, hearing the reluctance within your tone.

“I’m not asking you to leave the Port Mafia. I know your goals; I know your desires. I only ask you walk the edge of the knife with me.”

Before you can reply, he softly brushes his lips against yours, inhaling sharply as you grasp the nape of his neck to kiss him. It was all he wanted, since you had left; he had longed for the gentleness of your lips upon his, and here he had it once again. His thumb pressed underneath your chin, angling your face to push his lips to yours needily, as if he couldn't live any longer without sharing the same air you breathe. The taste of your lips, so familiar yet thrillingly new after years apart, ignited a smoldering flame within him. Your fingers combed into his soft brown locks as you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to delicately explore the contours of your mouth, reigniting the searing passion you once shared.

Both of your arms now found purchase around his neck, his hand fell to your waist, pulling you closer, though no room was already left between you. His body pressed against yours, walking you backwards until your back hit the angle of the door frame. His lips left yours as he trailed kisses from your cheek to your jaw, down to your neck.

“Osamu… we shouldn’t…”

Osamu huffed as he laid another kiss upon your neck, bringing his lips to your ear. “Bella… if you want to stop, tell me and I will. Just know,” he knelt down slightly, grabbing onto your plush thighs, hoisting them up to rest around his waist. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Your legs instinctively lock around his slim waist, the hard lines of his body pressing against your softer curves in a delicious friction. You gasped at the thrilling contact, feeling the unmistakable evidence of his desire straining against you. He gave a lowly groan as you pulled his head so you could see his eyes, “Then don’t let me.”

A smirk played at your swollen pink lips, and one appeared upon his in return. Osamu pulled you from the wall, and he balanced you as you swiftly removed his jacket from your body.

“And here I thought all of my things would be burned. But I have to say, that jacket looked way better on you anyway.” The black cloth pooled at the floor and was left behind as he brought you into the adjoining room. He gently knelt down, cradling you against his chest before guiding you onto the plush futon with exquisite care, as if you were the most precious gem. His eyes drank in the vision of you sprawled beneath him - hair tousled, chest heaving, legs invitingly parted - a tempting paradise he'd been deprived of for far too long; this was a sight he had been dreaming of for the past one thousand, five hundred and eighty days—give or take a few.

You laughed out as he leans back down to kiss your neck, finding the spot he remembered made you squirm from him locking his lips around it. He began sucking and softly biting the spot fervently, with every intention of leaving a mark.

“Ahh… I couldn’t let all of your things go. Mori and I argued about it over the phone for half an hour. Ugnn…” You puffed out between gasps as his hands begin to glide to unbutton the shirt preventing him from going lower. His eyes trailed down to the soft swell of your breasts straining against the thin fabric, the gentle rise and fall of your chest causing the buttons to strain enticingly. A devilish smirk played across his lips as he drank in the sight, realizing you must have anticipated this encounter would lead to more than just talking. What a delightful little vixen you were.

His fingers deftly worked the buttons, each one slowly loosening to reveal more of your flushed skin. The fabric whispered open, exposing the lacy light blue bralette cupping your breasts, the delicate fabric a tantalizing contrast against your flushed skin. The sheer lace sculpted to the alluring curves, leaving little to the imagination as it strained against your aroused peaks, begging for his attention. Dazai's breath caught in his throat at the tantalizing glimpse of lace and the promise of the curves hidden beneath. He leaned down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the swell of your breast, feeling your racing pulse fluttering against his lips.

You gasped sharply at the heated contact, back arching instinctively. Dazai hummed in satisfaction, the rumbling vibrating through you and eliciting a shiver. His fingers continued trailing downward, the calloused pads igniting sparks along your sensitive skin.

"So eager," he purred in appreciation, voice dripping like velvet. "You gorgeous little minx, did you wear this pretty little thing just for me?" His thumb traced along the scalloped lace edging, letting it snap back lightly against your skin. "Just couldn't wait to tempt me, could you? And this shirt? It’s from my collection too?” He asks as he continues to unbutton and kiss down your bare chest.

He noticed your breath hitch, causing his eyes to look to you through his lashes.

“It’s actually Chūya’s.”

Dazai stilled, eyes narrowing as his gaze snapped up to meet yours. For a brief moment, your expression was unreadable until he registered the mischievous glint in your eyes. A low rumble of laughter vibrated from his chest as he shook his head.

"You wicked thing," he tsked, though his eyes danced with amusement. "As if I would allow another man's clothes to grace this exquisite body."

With one forceful tug, he ripped the shirt open completely, buttons scattering and clattering across the floor. You gasped at the sudden aggression, cheeks flushing darker as his hungry gaze raked over your exposed torso. Leaning down, he pressed his lips between your exposed breasts, his warm breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

He switched to the melodic lilt of Italian, the words rolling off his tongue in a sultry caress that had you squirming beneath him, aching for their meaning to be inscribed upon your very skin. "I would think you'd know better than that, cara mia," he murmured, voice husky and laced with desire. "Because another man's things should never be anywhere near what's mine."

A shudder rippled through you at the dark possessiveness in his tone. Before you could respond, his mouth was crashing over yours in a searing, demanding kiss that left you dizzy and aching for his touch. He pressed his clothed cock into you, feeling your breath shutter as he groaned into your parted lips.

Your hands deftly reached for his shirt, hastily attempting to remove his shirt from his person. Simultaneously, his hands glided down to the button of your jeans, tugging them from your waist. Just as he had hoped, you had worn the matching panties, which had him salivating. He sat back up onto his heels, peeling the shirt from his body as he watched you unclasp the back of your bralette, allowing the round fullness of your beasts to become exposed, perking up from the sudden change in heat.

“La mia bella ragazza, you spoil me.” He smiles coyly, grasping down to undo his belt. He wouldn’t remove his pants yet, however. Not before he could taste the sweet ambrosa you had to offer. His fingers moved, dancing along the small incisions on your abdomen and down to the lace holding together the thin clothing covering your cunt.

“Mon cher, don’t tease.” You speak up, causing his attention to become diverted. He soaked in this image, one he had only seen within his dreams as of recent; your arms were draped above your head, your breasts exposed and ripe for the taking, your stomach twitching slightly at the lightest touch of his slightly rough fingers, and your panties holding the evidence of your desire to have him. This is everything he wanted, surely this was what life was meant to be like, living for these moments no matter how small they may seem to another. Having you, beg and whine for his touch, for his love… this is what his life was missing in this moment. Now, he could confidently say he has everything.

“I’m sorry, bella. You just look like a work of art. I simply had to take in the view.” He lowered his head down to your awaiting perked breast, his mouth grasping onto the soft skin, his tongue circled and suckling. He paired this with his fingers slipping underneath the delicate fabric to slip two digits within your cunt. The wonton of gasps and moans falling from your lips was the sweetest music to his ears. Your fingers laced into his hair, fingernails scraping along his scalp sending chills down his spine.

“F…fuck, ‘samu…” You moaned between breaths, your fingers grazing the bandages on his neck and forearms. He hummed in satisfaction as he felt your legs widen underneath him, allowing for his fingers to reach deeper into your plush wet walls. He skillfully added his thumb onto your clit, massaging at the bundle of nerves.

“Ah!” You grasped onto Osamu’s hair harder, pushing his face into your chest more. While he couldn’t breathe for a moment, he felt the need to grip onto you harder. It was the only thing he could do to ground himself from climaxing over the thought of sufficating to death while fucking you with his fingers. He grinned upon rising up instead when you finally relaxed, your legs shaking from cumming from the stimulation.

“God,” he sighed, pulling his fingers out of your dripping cunt. “I need to just…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but he wanted to fuck you senseless now, after you deprived him of air. He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean. The nectar of the Gods surely couldn’t compare. He groaned as he saw you remove your panties; he really wanted to rip those off of you himself.

“You are not,” you huffed, “ruining these too.”

He laughed at the fact you read his mind. His hands deftly removed his remaining clothes, his cock revealing itself hard and dripping, seemingly more excited to be ready to enter your warm embrace more than he was.

“Fuck,” he hissed, rubbing his tip along the wet fold of your entrance. “Feels like more than four years I’ve been dying to fuck you.”

A small whine escaped your lips as you lifted your hips to meet the rubbing of his cock along your clit. “’Samu, please.”

“Tell me this first,” he paused, his tip stopping at your entrance.

“Seriously?” You prop yourself up on your elbows. “What now?”

He smirks at you, tilting his head. He hooked his arm underneath you leg, pushing himself into you more.

“How many people did you sleep with in Italy? After you assumed we were done.”

He watched as you tossed your head back, possibly from the question and the slow thrust he was now doing. It was more so for him, as if he had just completely sheathed himself, he wouldn’t have been able to hold himself together. It was just one of the many effects you had over him.

“Really, Osamu?” You bit your lip as he continued. “Fuck, maybe a handful. I—ah!”

He had quickly pushed the rest of his cock into you, making his hips now flush with yours. He wasn’t typically a jealous man, as he had seen you many times flirting with a target, showing off skin, luring them back to a hotel room just to kill them off. However, it was hearing that you actually fucked other men, outside the confounds of Port Mafia business, well, his thoughts were only on making you forget every one of them now.

He rested your leg upon his waist, beginning to rock himself into you, illicting more moans from your pretty lips.

“How many did you imagine were me?” He searched your eyes as they began to glass over. He loved your fucked out face; your eyes puff from trying not to cry, the tears now rolling down your face as he plunged himself into you roughly.

“How many?” he growled, taking a hold of your neck, but not sqeezing enough to cut off your air. Your eyes shimmered with excitement, your lips curling into a smile.

“All of them.” You exaggrated each syllable as you reached up to grab his hair, harshly tugging on his locks to bring him down for a kiss. He inhaled sharply, loudly exhaling a moan.

At this point, he couldn’t care less who heard him or you as he began to thrust into you harder, faster. His teeth bit at your bottom lip, his tongue slipping past once he released your lip to fight against yours. His mouth hovered over, exchanging merely air as he pressed your legs higher to your chest. He could only make out your name within his moans, as if it was a prayer that had finally been answered.

He could feel your walls squeezing around him now, pushing him closer to release.

“How… many…?” You huffed out between each thrust.

Osamu paused his movements, shifting your knees upon his shoulders. “What was that, Bella?”

A smile curled on his face as he saw you squirm from the change of pace.

“I assume, you went back to your womanizing ways,” you reach and grab Osamu’s neck, squeezing harshly as you bring his face down to yours. “So, how many did you fuck and moan my name out to.”

Osamu laughed as he continued to rock roughly into you. He wasn’t going to answer your question just yet. You huffed with each thrust, hand not letting go of his neck. The lack of oxygen for him simply pushed him further and further towards finishing. The nail in the coffin was hearing you loudly moan and your legs falling slack as you came once more.

Your hand loosened from his neck, falling down to his arm. He let your legs slip to his waist as he rushed toward his high. Osamu curled his arm underneath your neck, bringing himself closer to you as he came within you.

His breath fanned over you face as he moaned out your name softly. His face fell in placing a kiss upon the now reddened spot upon your neck. “Those women pale in comparison to you, cara mia. Only your name should slip from my lips, as long as I live.”

He hears you giggle as you bring to lazily graze your nails in mindless shapes upon his back.

“You just say that because they didn't satisfy you.”

He knew what you meant by the comment, but dismissed it as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. He didn’t want to talk about that memory—one he had pushed from his mind since you were angry at him for weeks after.

“Also, Osamu, mon cher, that wasn’t Chūya’s shirt.”

He lifted his face up, giving you a sheepish smile. You only looked back at him with a smile and a pink flush across you face.

“It looked better off of you anyway.”

previous part ~ next part | DBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

Author Notes: Happy Birthday to Dazai!!! I'm not completely satisfied with how I wrote this part, but I still hope it's enjoyable to read. I'm more so excited to write the next part and the teaser, which should also be up by tonight.

Song Inspos (in no particular order):

The Exit-- Conan Gray

Pretty Please-- Dutch Melrose, benny mayne

i love you-- billie eilish

As always, if I missed tagging anything please let me know!

Give it a like and a repost if you feel so inclined! <3 DamzelZelda

#bsd x reader #bsd x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x y/n #bsd #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #dazai smut

140 notes · View notes

newjerseyprelawland-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Taco Bell Bombshell: One Man's Fight Against Serving Sizes

By Gregory Martinez, Rutgers University–New Brunswick Class of 2026

August 10, 2023

If you’ve ever ordered fast food with any sort of consistency, you’ll likely have had some issue with the serving sizes. Although employees are trained on exactly how much of any given ingredient to give each customer for any given meal, human error understandably leads to inconsistencies, and sometimes one is simply dissatisfied with the often meager amount of food on one’s plate. New York resident Frank Siragusa took this dissatisfaction to a new level, claiming in New York Federal Court that Taco Bell has engaged in false advertising after a Mexican Pizza he ordered in September 2022 contained “ approximately half of the beef and bean filling that he expected” [1].

In a class action lawsuit filed on July 31st, Siragusa and his lawyers attack Taco Bell about various items on their menu, namely the “Crunchwrap Supreme”, “Grande Crunchwrap®”, Vegan Crunchwrap®, “Veggie Mexican Pizza”, and the fateful “Mexican Pizza”, that have an alleged disconnect between actual serving size and serving size advertised online and in stores. The complaint cites various photos from real customers found off Reddit and YouTube to argue that Taco Bell repeatedly misrepresents their products. If Siragusa had known the amount of food that was really present in the Mexican Pizza, perhaps he would not have purchased said item, meaning that Taco Bell made financial gain off his misfortune. Siragusa requested $5 million in damages to be split among the class, and the case remains to be given a court date.

While a rather comical story on the surface, Siragusa and similar complaints may have an effect on the way food companies are allowed to represent their product going forward. Siragusa himself has two other pending false advertising lawsuits against Wendy’s and McDonald’s for similar issues, and had yet another complaint against Burger King dismissed last year [2]. Partially just a man with a vendetta and a little too much time on his hands, but also indicative of the general discontent people have with food advertising. The Federal Trade Commission (FTC) is in charge of regulating advertising, and for the most part there is a rather strict hand on what can and cannot be said to promote a product. An advertisement cannot have a “false or misleading label” under the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act, and there are even standards as to the fill of a container [3][4]. In 2019 Kellogg settled for $20 million after a class action lawsuit claimed it advertised cereal containing added sugars as “healthy and nutritious” [5]. However the Kellog case was more the exception than the rule, as most class actions of the sort get dismissed as frivolous due to their often pedantic nature. Nonetheless, the publicity these sorts of cases get lead to a snowball of similar lawsuits, leading to more headaches for corporations and more focus on risk aversion on all levels. In a way it's an expression of democracy, and ordinary citizens exercising their right to seek justice even against these massive corporations. And on the off chance that Siragusa’s claims get traction, it could lead to the most costly Mexican Pizza ever prepared.

______________________________________________________________

[1] New York Supreme Court. Siragusa v. Taco Bell Corp. 31 July 2023.

[2] Stempel, Jonathan. “Taco Bell Is Sued for False Advertising of Crunchwraps, Mexican Pizzas.” Reuters, 31 July 2023, www.reuters.com/legal/taco-bell-is-sued-false-advertising-crunchwraps-mexican-pizzas-2023-07-31/?taid=64c805e14c0e53000146ab49&utm_campaign=trueAnthem%3A%2BTrending%2BContent&utm_medium=trueAnthem&utm_source=twitter.

[3] 21 U.S.C 343a

[4] 21 U.S.C 343h

[5] Devenyns, Jessi. “Kellogg Agrees to $20m Settlement of ‘healthy’ Sugary Cereal Lawsuit.” Food Dive, 25 Oct. 2019, www.fooddive.com/news/kellogg-agrees-to-20m-settlement-of-healthy-sugary-cereal-lawsuit/565796/.

0 notes

not-bcring · 1 year ago

Text

Most criminals would say the worst thing that could happen during a job was getting caught red handed by the police, but Fuyu would beg to differ. It was way worse when you were not only caught by the cops, but caught by your...cop...friend? Could...Fuyu even call him that? Did slipping a bit of intel here and there and keeping the guys boyfriend from being stupid even warrant a friendship? Whatever, it didn't matter, Shuichi had caught the yakuza hook, line and sinker. "...uh, hey?" Smooth. "Remind me to fire those idiots out front after you pinch me, didn't know it took a fucking genius to keep watch..." //whats going on? idk but fuyu isnt even gonna Try to get away lmao - ✩ 「 @the-ultimate-muses 」 ✩

「 ☆ 」 Shuichi hadn't expected this to be a low-stakes arrest. People typically don't rob such influential people unless they're confident in their skills. True, sometimes this confidence amounts to nothing more than misguided cockiness. But more often than not, those people leave far messier trails than the breadcrumbs that led Shuichi to the sprawling estate. With his expectations, the Detective probably shouldn't have entered the premises alone. Strong in mind but not muscle, it would be effortless for an assailant to take him down should they catch him off-guard. But even with that in mind, Shuichi had preferred his chances without the so-called ' aid ' of the co-workers milling about the precinct this time of night.

With the vendetta they have against him, he wouldn't be surprised if they were willing to throw away this entire case just to watch him get a bullet or a beating... So, despite his reservations, Shuichi now greets a familiar face alone. An unfortunately familiar one. High-stakes doesn't even begin to cover what Shuichi has skillfully stumbled into, the emotional repercussions constricting around him as mercilessly as the legal ones he can already feel looming overhead. He is going to get so much shit for this when the others arrive.

❝ Heh... Hey. ❞ Shuichi awkwardly replies with a weak wave of his hand, appearing as if he's greeting an acquaintance— although Shuichi would classify Fuyuhiko as a friend; albeit a one-sided one —rather than confronting a criminal. Nerves tying his tongue, he glances toward the doorway with a grimace. It's unclear whether he's regretting coming through it or wishing that someone else would, if only to offer a new subject to take Fuyu's attention. Awkward air settling heavily in his chest as if trying to suffocate him, Shuichi fidgets from foot to foot, itching to leave despite it being the LAST thing he can do. For more reasons than the guys still standing guard outside. He might have snuck past them once but he's not willing to take that risk again; not with how his luck seems to be going tonight.

❝ Wait- what? ❞ Gaze snapping from faux escape back to Fuyu, wide eyes shine with unmistakable surprise at how easily the other is surrendering. Even though Fuyu has been... helpful when it comes to intel, that's a far cry from practically holding your hands out to be cuffed. A voice in Shuichi's mind, cynical yet reliable from working cases, warns against the show of submission. The tightness in Shuichi's chest however, unreliable as its often proven to be, causes him to offer excuses for the men at risk of losing their illegal jobs ( taking any chance he has of delaying his decision ), ❝ Oh, uh— It's not entirely their fault. I did sneak past them so... ❞

Words faltering through an uncertain smile, he coughs into a fist, cheeks heating up as he looks to the side and lamely adds, ❝ Which uh, I suppose the point of keeping watch is to... prevent. ❞ Not sure where he's going with this thread other than talking for the sake of not forgetting HOW to, he cuts the topic and starts up the more pressing one. Sucking in a steadying breath, shaky as it may be when he exhales, and looking back at Fuyu with a strained smile, ❝ Look- Maybe... I didn't see you. Maybe, when I arrived... whoever was robbing this place was startled and fled. A-After dropping their loot, of course. ❞

Smile dare-say apologetic, Shuichi motions at the bag in Fuyu's grip with a wince and hastily explains, ❝ I can't just let you leave with that. It doesn't belong to you... ❞ Pulling down the brim of his hat and looking back to the door, it'd be so easy for Fuyu to do something while his guard is down but that doesn't stop Shuichi from lowering it anyway, ❝ But I don't want to arrest you. I- ... I owe you more than that and— and you're a good person. I don't... want to arrest a good person who has helped me so much. ❞ Cheeks flush with red and heart hammering more than he'd like ( Fuyu might be a good person, but Shuichi definitely is NOT ), he brings the brim of his hat down lower, ebony hair draped across his face like a desperate curtain.

❝ My co-workers are going to be here soon— I called them shortly after sneaking in, b-before I knew you were here and... Well, they won't be as lenient as I am. ❞ They won't be as willing to break the law in THIS instance. Never mind all the other times they've been willing to sweep things under the rug and Shuichi had to take care of the mess instead. Still, his stomach turns sour every time Shuichi does the same. But this isn't for HIS benefit... It's for Fuyu and Seto; two people who are more than worth a bit of nausea and ridicule and lying. ❝ But if you leave now, I'm sure you can get away before they arrive. ❞

They never are as quick as they could be when coming to Shuichi's aid. 「 ☆ 」

#not-bcring #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ɪꜰ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟᴇꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪɴɢ— ❞ ¦ 「 Shuichi IC 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ɪ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱʜɪᴇʟᴅ ᴛᴏ; ᴏʙꜱᴄᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ❞ ◌ ᴜʟᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴇɴᴛ ᴅᴇᴠ. ᴀᴜ ¦ 「 Shuichi 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴜʟᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴀᴋᴜᴢᴀ ❞ ¦ 「 Fuyuhiko 」#the-ultimate-muses #♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ɪ’ᴍ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴘᴏᴛʟɪɢʜᴛ; ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜱᴍᴏᴋɪɴɢ ɢᴜɴ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ ❞ ¦ 「 Shuichi and Fuyuhiko 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴏʙᴛᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ꜰʀᴀɢᴍᴇɴᴛ ❞ ¦ 「 Answer 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴅɪɴɢ ᴅᴏɴɢ; ʙɪɴɢ ʙᴏɴɢ: ᴀ ʙᴏᴅʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀᴇᴅ! ❞ ¦ 「 Queue 」

1 note · View note

redfoxwritesstuff · 7 months ago

Note

It has come to my attention there are concerns via a Anon in my inbox as well. Their message has been deleted, I don't take kindly to being outright accused of plagiarism.

Let me, the actual writer of the offending series set things straight and it's going to be wordy because I am little else than one wordy bitch with a laptop.

"A Misdemeanor of the Heart" is a direct reference to the illegality of adultery at that time. Frankly, "A Felony of the heart" just doesn't roll the same way off the tongue. 'of the heart' is a reference to the fact that our dear Reader will commit this crime in her heart long before she acts on any feelings for Alastor.

I'm not going to sit here and pretend I've never read misconduct. I have, a while ago but I haven't been keeping up on it. I tend to not read when I'm writing to limit idea bleed over.

Things this Misdemeanor will have in common with Misconduct (And countless other series using this same trope, one of which I'm aware of using it with a human Alastor as well) are having Alastor over for dinner at one point. Having an affair with Alastor. Visiting his mother's gravesite. Being the victim of sexal and physical assult. Buying meat from a butcher (because where else do you buy meat in 1923) is featured as is a visit to the radio station. Alastor provides flowers to the reader at one point.

Why are these things similar? Because we are working with the same source material- a 1920's Alastor. These are common social behaviors and situations a woman would find themselves in. Getting the lady of the house flowers after having been had over for a meal was socially expected. Both meet in shops, because that is where the people are in the 1920s. I don't believe Misconduct's Alastor ever visits a tailor?

Being abused was common. Misogynistic men taking out their frustration over women recently winning to right to the vote was time period specific. Alastor is accepted as a momma's boy so visiting her grave is again, expected.

But if this Anon would have taken the time to read the series, they would find there are fundamental differences. My reader isn't being spirited away to NYC. She's just a young woman trapped a few years into a marriage plagued by abuse that she cannot free herself from.

Reading the first chapter would tell you at Alastor hardly spares Reader a second thought when they first meet, not in a butcher but at the tailors, as he's far too absorbed in his conversation with Mimzy.

You'd see Alastor push back against the idea that he needs to settle down and marry, let alone entertain a partner for anything more than a few weeks. You'd see that Alastor's business dealings are far more than just Radio and murder.

This is not obsession at first sight. This is a slow burn where feelings sneak up on Alastor while he thinks he's in control, where his Demi sexual ass catches feelings while he isn't looking and that is a fundamental difference.

I truly hope this Anon meant well, but as I've been plagued by anon hate in my inbox for years, I wish to apologize to @hurthermore directly on the off chance that this is little more than a long run vendetta taking on a new flavor. If that is the case, you do not deserve to be brought into someone's weird obsession with me.

Hey, I just wanted to let you know I found a fic on Tumblr that seems concerningly similar to 'Misconduct'. The title alone already raised my suspicions, so it thought you should be aware.

https://www.tumblr.com/redfoxwritesstuff/754353821347643392/a-misdemeanor-of-the-heart-chapter-1-alastor-x?source=share

Ahh I see what you mean! I do not mind if people are inspired by misconduct, some tropes are popular so some fics will always have some similarities! I hope it goes well for them!

#Kit responds #Kit steals?#Kit doesn't steal #Misdemeanor of the heart

46 notes · View notes

holding-hands-and-hearts · 3 years ago

Text

Defining the General

Wolffe wasn’t sure what to make of this general guy.

None of the rest of his men were any better off, though, so Wolffe pretended he had the Jedi all figured out, and watched everyone else’s incredulous glances with the air of someone smug and just so slightly self-important.

In all seriousness, though, he’d met General Koon in the middle of a battle and, at the time, had settled into an odd duality - hanging on the man’s every word, and obstinately ignoring him. It was out of intimidation, and Wolffe knew it, but you’d have to pry the admission from his cold, dead lips.

When the general first spoke to him, really spoke to him, it was in the aftermath of Geonosis. Wolffe’s unpainted armor smelled acrid from the ghost of the beating sun, and red dust caked under the general’s strange metal mask. But his voice was kind, maybe. It was low, and slow, made gravelly by what Wolffe could only assume was the product of that strange brand of Jedi omniscience.

“Commander,” he’d said, and waited for Wolffe to look up. “Get some rest.”

“I’m fine, sir.”

General Koon paused, and regarded him. Something felt raw, exposed, but for once Wolffe couldn’t hate the vulnerability of someone trying to stare into his soul. Maybe it was because the Jedi didn’t have to try. He just watched, it seemed, and something unknown whispered to him the secrets of the galaxy.

“Is it true you have names, Commander?”

And Wolffe blinked, shocked. The realization jolted him - Koon had never once referred to them as anything other than their titles.

Commander.

To Wolffe’s men - Sergeant.

Corporal.

Captain.

Lieutenant.

He had never once called them by their numbers, as if that ever-present Jedi omniscience had told him they were something more. Like he knew.

Unfeelingly, Wolffe confirmed it, and told Plo Koon his name.

“Please,” the general said again. “Get some rest, Wolffe.” And the commander couldn’t bring himself to deny the request.

They seemed to come to some kind of understanding, after that. Even if Wolffe hadn’t been able to figure out the general, the general figured out him, able to read his body language and deduce his preferences before Wolffe had a chance to voice them. Koon seemed to simply know - that Wolffe hated pincer maneuvers, and that he lacked patience for incompetence, he was loyal to the point of anger, that after a battle he needed some time to be protective, and that he inked his shinies’ names onto the inside of his chestplate where no one could see them.

Something about it made Koon hard to distrust.

It took Wolffe longer to be able to say he knew the general. Sometimes, he’d think he did, and the next moment the man would be shrouded again in mystery. He had an air that Wolffe couldn’t read, hanging around him like ethereal twists of something beyond description.

But occasionally, Wolffe would catch himself in the act, something automatic already half-done. He’d be putting polishing oil on the manifest, or cataloguing when they’d have access to an antiox room, or something, and of course it was for Koon. He’d sit down and eat a full meal, and halfway through he’d realize that it was because otherwise Plo would stare at him until Wolffe gave in.

Slowly, Wolffe’s mind began to define him. Plo Koon was the man who rested a knowing hand on a grief-stricken back, who never used pincer maneuvers purely because of Wolffe’s vendetta, who didn’t complain at the smell when Boost didn’t bathe and let tired shinies sleep on his shoulders.

When Wolffe woke up in the medbay with searing pain in his eye, Koon was there, with quiet words and quiet strength and an unspoken vow that seemed to soak into Wolffe’s bones.

Maybe Plo Koon wasn’t so difficult to understand because he was a Jedi. Maybe it was because he cared - because he cared, for them. They weren’t supposed to be cared for.

Wolffe never had someone care before.

So he pretended he had this general guy figured out, and, after a while, maybe he did.

*******

I have hit (and now surpassed?!) 104 followers, which is a thing that I completely did not anticipate. I'm kind of in shock that so many people have seen and appreciated the work I do - it inspires me, and warms my heart, that you've enjoyed these bits of twisted language I share.

So, naturally, this was a perfect excuse to post about the Wolfpack. I finally figured them out you guys I'm so excited

Starting, of course, with Plo Koon adopting the entire battalion in front of Wolffe's very eyes.

Love you all 💕

Taglist: @justasigh37 @sexy-rex @handsignals

728 notes · View notes

unholyplumpprincess · 4 years ago

Text

Find Me Again

Wanted to write smth for Pyramid Head since I’ve always loved the big guy!!!

Summary: In an attempt to escape your ex, you crashed the vehicle you two were in. Instead, you wind up in a place that burns and smells of ash. You find an unlikely ally, and beloved companion amidst the nightmare and come to fall in love with that metal-headed executioner. But you wind up separated, only to come back to him in a new game, a new world, hosted by a spider-legged God. Or! In which you and Pyramid Head are a thing in Silent Hill and you get sent back to the outer world. Trying to hunt down Silent Hill again only to find yourself in the realm of Fog. And soon to meet an old friend again.

!!!Minors and ageless blogs do not like or reblog as this is an Adult work, please respect my boundary!!!

Reblogs > Likes! Please Reblog if you leave a like :D Esp if you wanna part two!

Fandom: Dead by daylight / Silent Hill

Relationship: Pyramid Head/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, canon typical violence, mentions of a virginity kink and corruption kink, Pyramid head man handles you (consensually), Reader is gender neutral and ambiguous, implied past abuse from readers ex

Words: 5k

_________

This wasn’t your first nightmare, but you sure hoped it was your last.

This world had rules, it seemed. Fairly simple. A god-like being called The Entity wanted you all to play its twisted game. Even being fair enough to allow you Survivors to come back in one piece. Despite the agony of its spider-like claws and the hook impaling into your backs, forever leaving a scar.

You weren’t helpless, none of you were. It was a fair game laid out. Get out, figure out if you were going to go back and save your teammates, or figure out if escaping was more important. Run from the killers that played your group like you were a sport for them.

Hunters chasing game.

In terms of high stakes, you like to think you’d had worse done to you. You’d been in a dark, foggy world once. You'd assumed it had been on accident as you inhaled the ash-filled world with your head spinning.

~Rest under the cut~

Your ex had not been the kindest, putting it lightly. A sick person they’d been. Gaslighting, abusive, not afraid to get physical with you. You two had been driving. And you remember just being so scared, suddenly so overwhelmed with this fear as they’d spoken to you. Telling you that you were really in for it when the car stopped. Words that sounded like a high shriek in your ears from your fear.

You’d taken the wheel then from their hands, whipping it to the side in the hopes of crashing the vehicle. Unafraid of the death you had expected.

Instead, you��d woken up in an unfamiliar place. Black and white, the taste of ash heavy in the air. You were a bit dizzy getting out of the car, grunting with the effort to shove the door open. Coughing from the taste of the smoke coming from the vehicle.

It’d taken you a minute to get away from the flaming car, only for you to realize that your partner had not been in the car. Their door long since open and their body nowhere to be found. The only hint they had even been there had been the blood on the glass and the footsteps in the ash.

Your heart pulsed in your throat as nausea took over, your eyes looking towards the ground where footsteps were left in the ash beside yours. Tracking towards your window before leaving towards the nearby abandoned town.

Your lips had quivered, your eyes darting towards the street in the hopes you could simply walk back into the woods where you’d remembered you two were. But to your horror and confusion, the bridge had been totally demolished. Disappearing into a thick fog just past its creaking, swinging metal.

So that led to you having to stand up on wobbly legs and find your way into the town. Feeling your hands shake as you watched the footsteps in the ash slowly disappear into nothing nearby a building’s alleyway. As if they’d been taken by something invisible.

The sirens had come later in the day when you’d found a group of women who were screaming at you and calling you impure. A witch. When the black and darkness had taken over, the world decaying around you and these women running for a church-like building, you realized then that this was not a normal town. That this had to be a nightmare, a dream, some sort of other world.

This couldn’t be happening.

That’s all you could think when you heard this god-awful sound of screeching following the siren. A man with a pyramid-like structure had come from seemingly nowhere. His walk wobbled with the sword he was dragging across the ground- something you could only imagine was unbelievably heavy. He seemed to have a vendetta, a path towards the women who were screaming ‘Demon’, ‘Devil’, and ‘Executioner' at the being heading right for them.

You don’t think you could get the image out of your eyes of him picking one up off the stairs of the church and peeling the flesh from her body like a banana. And though he never spoke a word, in your heart you knew he thought this was a way of ‘cleansing’ her. Of removing someone who could hurt something he defended.

You think you had more to fear than just your ex lurking around here.

At some point, you realized this was no longer you trying to find a way out of the town, but rather trying to survive. No one was your friend as far as you were concerned. And anytime you heard those sirens you knew nowhere was safe. The church, assumingly, was safe from the Executioner running around. But anywhere else had more of those creatures.

You learned pretty quickly to avoid the hospitals after getting an eyeful of nurses and far too many cuts on your arms that you worried would become infected. Learning to avoid the Executioner- but not because you had met him.

But because you could see what he could do.

What if he had thought you needed to be cleansed? That’s all you could imagine whenever you caught even a peek of him. How he could lift you up effortlessly and grab your flesh, peel it right from your muscle and toss you aside like yesterday’s trash.

And then one day had come the ultimate decision.

Your ex had found you, and you felt nausea overcoming you in a wave when you’d seen them. Realizing that even in this strange world, that for once you had felt free. Free from the fear they gave you, free from the pain, free to laugh at your own jokes that you told yourself.

They’d practically snarled at you, grabbing your arm and starting to yell at you. Making you feel small all over again as tears welled up in your eyes. Fear making your lips quiver and not having the strength to shake them off.

You remember the loud sound of the siren, how your ex had gone silent as the world began to peel away and fear settled into their eyes. You remember the terrible screech of the blade on the concrete.

You remember for the first time since you’d gotten there, that your first instinct wasn’t to run away.

The pyramid-headed being that you had come to mentally call the Executioner was at the end of the road. You didn’t think as you’d broken from your ex and gone running for him instead, despite the yelling behind you. You remember thinking you didn’t care if that great blade came slamming onto you, or if he’d take you and skin you like he’d done that woman. You just remember thinking-

You just remember thinking...

Anyone but them. Anything but them.

You remember sobbing your eyes out when you’d gotten in front of him. How the Executioner had paused and cocked its helmed head with a loud, groaning creak. You expected the pain, you begged for it, blubbering and not one of your proudest moments. The fearless feeling you’d had when you’d grabbed the steering wheel returning to you. You just wanted to get away from them-

And the blade had slammed down.

Right next to you.

A slow crouch, a kneel of one of his legs and that same groan echoing from his helm. A dirtied hand had cupped your chin, tilting your head this way and that as you sobbed hysterically. Tears poured down your cheeks as you pleaded for him to kill you. Even going so far as to take that large hand and pull it off your chin, sliding it down to your throat where your lips could only form the words and no sound could leave you.

It had all happened so quick. One second you were pleading this Executioner to end you, and the next you’d heard that terrible creak and watched him stand. You wanted the pain, closing your eyes tight and steeling yourself for it.

But instead, he’d kept walking.

Walking right past you and towards your ex.

That same sound you’ll never forget. Of them screaming your name in fear for once. And how, for once, in that moment, you felt a sick sense of glee. To not be the one full of fear, to not be the one standing there in terror and waiting for the agony that was to come. To not be the one wondering what hell would come the next day, but too scared to leave for something worse that would come.

You didn’t watch. You didn’t need to. Not with the screaming and the sounds that echoed behind you.

You expected him to come back and finish the job. After all, maybe he liked the idea of tormenting a soul. Instead, you’d opened your eyes when you heard his heavy breathing to see him standing before you, a hand outstretched to you and almost this confused groan echoing from that pyramid.

You’d taken his hand that day and followed where he led. It’s as if he took a protecting role over you, not allowing anyone else to touch you so long as the world was blackened and decayed. When the world was made of ash, you took your chances in exploring, hoping to find some answers to this world, something that would make sense so you could help in some form or another.

You learned he was a protector, originally to a little girl. And that the women you’d met were a part of a cult that believed them to be the sinners. Specifically, that the little girl had been a witch. More and more information being found led you to believe that because you hadn’t done anything wrong in life, that you weren’t actually supposed to be here.

You guess it was due to you being in the vehicle and causing the accident. But the cause was for good reason, not simply because you were trying to kill someone for the hell of it. That’s what you had come to the conclusion of, at least. Something you open up about when Pyramid Head- something you fondly referred to him as- comes around once again when the sirens go off.

You think he understands when you speak. Though he couldn’t speak back, he could nod or shake his head, making slow gestures with his hands until you could understand him in turn. You still remember feeding him a can of peaches for the first time, watching this long tendril come out and wrap around the whole thing of peaches and zip it underneath his pyramid. The loud crunch of metal heard and yet no knowledge in your mind that he even had a mouth.

You had been there for about two years trying to figure out how to get out. Two years was a long time, and a long time to share time with another person. You’d ended up falling for the big guy, taking comfort in his touch and offering him what you could only assume was the first gentle touches of his life. Kissing his hands, helping wash them, kissing his helm and feeling unafraid if its edges cut your lips.

You’d gotten bold with him. Feeling your confidence that you used to have before you had been with your ex begin showing itself again. A bit flirty in nature.

Sometimes you’d take his hands and wrap one around your throat. Murmuring how he wouldn’t hurt you unless you asked for it. Always delighting in that low sound that would come from him. The low groan and how his fingers would twitch before sliding down your neck and shoulder to squeeze you fondly and keep walking.

Memories of how he’d lead you to showers to cleanse yourself, of feeling his hands on you, of being able to taunt and tease him. You learned quick of his thing about corruption, anytime you found a new outfit of white or reminded him of you being untouched. How his breathing would become heavier, his hands a bit rougher on you, or his loud groans and growls when he could only thrust between your thighs without ever entering you.

Taunting and teasing a being known as a Devil and a God around these parts may not have been your smartest thing to do, but damn if you didn’t get off on the power trip of it. Similarly getting off on how gentle he could be if you warned him to be. How those large hands you’d seen rip people apart would caress your hips with unknown gentleness.

Finding your way out had happened on the second year on accident. Someone had come into this place you’d come to know as Silent Hill. A detective sent to find you and your ex who were deemed missing persons; One of your friends had called it in, telling them that your ex was a danger to you and that you could be found dead and not just missing.

You aren’t sure how the detective found a way out. You remember screaming when he’d taken your hand, ushering you out with him as you’d tried to rip yourself from him. Hearing the loud groan following the sirens overhead. You never even got to see him again, the world all fading to white so quickly.

They labelled you with Foul Play in the end when you’d finally gotten out. They also labelled you delusional, the investigator telling you that you suffered from Stockholm syndrome for the ‘beast’. Not that they believed him either, they labeled him delusional. He was told he’d heard too many of your stories and therefor unfit for the job since he agreed with you. That he couldn’t separate fact from fiction.

What a mess your life had been after that. Each night lying awake in tears because you never got to say Goodbye. Always wondering if Pyramid Head ever thought someone finally had gotten to you before the sirens had gone off and he could find you again.

You had decided to do traveling after that, maybe feeling foolish trying to find your way back into the town. And one night, you thought you had. You thought you’d heard those sirens, feeling a fog washing over you and feeling a sharp glimmer of hope.

And then you’d woken up here, at a camp site with your new found ‘Survivors’ who worried over you and consoled you when you broke down into tears. But not at having to survive another nightmare, no.

That you hadn’t found your way back into the first one.

At least there were people here who sort of understood what you’d explained and the agony that came with it. Some of the Survivors had taken to mingling with the Killers when the designated time came around. The Entity liked the pain of those in love having to hurt each other, but some couples liked the chase. Feng and The Doctor as an example, or Kate with the Huntress. They didn’t get pain from being chased, they liked it.

When the time came for mingling on that one week of every few months, some Survivors would leave to the different realms. Disappearing into the fog in the hopes it would take them to where they wanted the first time. Whether to spend time with a loved one, or to taunt. Some Survivors stayed behind- Quentin and Laurie never left, for fear they’d wander into the fog into the arms of those who craved to do worse than just kill them.

And then one day, Cheryl had come into your camp.

She talked of a school, of a world that tasted of ash, of the creatures with terrible faces. Of the cult-like people she had come across, the death and decay, losing her father-

And a horrible monster that chased her with a groaning triangle upon its shoulders.

You felt your breath still as a few pairs of eyes glanced to you. Your eyes flickered over her, and she must have caught the recognition in your eyes because she’d looked at you with a breath of relief. “You’ve been there too?”

“Yeah,” You managed to croak out. “Was there for a long time, kiddo.”

You bond with her quicker than any of the other Survivors over this. She’s a kid, you learn, just turned 17 not long ago. She’s been through more hardship than anyone her age should have ever faced and you can’t help but feel a sibling-like bond with her. She’s here for a reason, you know, just like all of you. Her surviving qualities were high, her determination just as so.

You bond over what you both had seen, and you admit that the being Cheryl couldn’t figure out if he wanted to protect her or destroy, was someone you had loved just the same a long time ago. You explain your side just as she explains hers, explaining that she might have been the same child he was set to protect, but something good. Maybe not even her own person. She tells you of her pain and confusion, tears spilling down her cheeks as you hold her through it.

You don’t ask her who her designated Killer was. You’re not sure if you want that sort of hope, nor do you want to open any wounds for her.

Like all the Survivors do for the others who join, she’s given explanations and tips to this twisted game. Cheryl insists she’s been through worse, throwing a look your way that makes you feel awful that you knew exactly what she meant. At least in this game of chase, there was always a guarantee to come back, some sort of rhythm to it.

In the world where you two had seen the stuff made of nightmares, you can understand her confidence now. But she’s just a kid, something a majority of all of you look around at each other and to Quentin who was just a teenager himself as well.

When the games begin again and four survivors are chosen, taken from the camp where they shall awaken in a realm they may or may not be familiar with, the rest of you carry on as normal. You lie awake most nights, feeling this strange feeling in your heart as if someone or something was calling you.

Recently you’d been having fitful nights of rest, but not quite nightmares. Where the world tasted of ash, and yet the world was calm all the same. Flashes of metal, flashes of blood, flashes of large hands caressing you and hearing yourself gasp, followed by the low groan of metal.

Sometimes you dream of him. The Investigator’s words of Stockholm syndrome curling in your mind. Even as you dream of how gentle he’d been with you, hands running over you, bringing you cans of food that he found, or even comics or stuffies to entertain you. Memories or dreams. Dreams involving things you never got to do or say. Of where his hands wrap around your throat and you beg him to squeeze harder.

Your current dream is a little different.

You feel like your body is being run through syrup, hard to move your limbs or have any control over them, but you’re walking. The whispers of the Entity and its voice that sounded of 20 people with varying emotions calling to you. It taunts you, as it had taunted many others.

Normally this meant it was choosing you for an upcoming match, preparing you to put on your fighting spirit.

And yet, the whispers come to a halt all of a sudden. The loud groan of metal and the screech of a blade upon the ground, biting into unseen concrete. You can’t speak when doors open in front of you, the blinding light outlining a silhouette. An...awfully familiar one at that.

Your lips part to speak, but nothing comes from you. And when you go to step forward again, you watch the giant metal pyramid atop his shoulders turn for you. A loud groan as it tilts to the side in a hard gesture, one he’d always done to you. You can’t help but smile, outreaching without thinking about it, only to watch in puzzlement as he seems to be glowing a strange orange. The blade suddenly looking more menacing with a slow shake of his pyramid of metal and the blade curling in his grasp to be pointed.

Right at you.

Your eyebrows knit, confused, trying again to call out to him. Your hand outstretches again, and you’re aware of the cage-like bindings around you. Your heart crushing all at once as he suddenly charges you and the blade raising high above his head-

You awake before it makes contact. Gasping as your cheek is set on cold concrete in a dark room full of desks. You sit up with a startle, your head whipping around you in the quiet, only able to hear the shake of your own breath.

You hear once last final whisper of the Entity, a cruel murmur of, “Have fun. And do not forget to thank Us.”

The world comes to you slowly as you’re able to get up, aware of the breathing to your right and look over to find Claudette waking up as well. You two make eye contact, and she scrunches her brows in confusion. A silent question of where you were. You look around with her, swallowing thickly at the sight of decay and hearing the all too familiar loud sound of a siren ringing around you.

You look back at her again, your expression possibly reading all she needs before she’s making a gesture for you to lead the way.

The Entity liked toying with its new survivors and killers alike, bringing familiar surroundings to them. For you, it had been the hospital you had been kept at when they deemed you unfit for society. And it seems like for Cheryl, her unhappy place had been the place you had even tried to go back and search for. Though you knew the school wouldn’t be how you remembered it, nor would it be for her either. Hooks would be placed, new dead ends, twists and turns with only one monster walking about.

You swallow hard, wondering if that dream had been a threat, a warning, or some sort of prediction? If...If your Protector was in here with you, did the Entity change his memories somehow? Or did he not remember you at all anyway? Was there any guarantee what he thought?

What if he did remember, but held a grudge and thought you had abandoned him?

You were so uncertain. Your hands shaking as you work on the wires of the generator with Claudette on the opposite side of you, following the gentle hum of it coming to life. You two work through it pretty well, no increase rate of your heartbeat, no strange humming, no sign of the Shape with how quiet it was.

Nothing.

It’s...eerily quiet, and you’re unsure where the other two are.

With a pop and a click, the lights crank on and the generator is complete. You both stand, sharing a look without words to start working out your next approach.

Then it happens.

All at once, you feel the thrum of your heartbeat increase, watching Claudette share a look with you. She holds a finger to her lips, pointing at the stairs to imply she thinks whoever it is had to be upstairs. You make a motion for her to go ahead on without you.

You watch her nod and head down the hallway into the thick mist to either find teammates or another generator.

You feel foolish as you stand by the lit generator, feeling...You're not entirely sure, hope maybe? If that dream had been some sort of prediction, maybe you could live with him not recognizing you if it meant you could finally tell him you were sorry. To explain you never meant to leave him, that you’d been forced to. That no one understood your desire to find that wretched place again.

That you couldn’t find your way home.

To your left is a long hallway, to your right is the lit-up generator thrumming to life. Your back is to a wall, your eyes on the staircase and feeling your throat tighten. Your body screams at you to run, to hide, to stop being so foolish.

But when he comes down those stairs, a groan to the familiar metal atop his head, and a sword clicking off each staircase? You can’t help but feel relief course through your veins and your lips trembling as they part. He seems dead set on a hunt, a mission towards your generator, before the pyramid atop his shoulders seems to tilt towards you.

All at once, your Protector stops at the bottom of the stairs, looking directly at you with the point of his pyramid aimed at you. Your heartbeat feels like it’s in your throat, your breath shaking and your legs feeling like jelly under you.

Your eyes flicker to the Great sword still with its tip upon the last staircase, but they quickly go up to the pyramid when you hear the low groan of it tilting.

“Hey, big guy,” You croak out, your voice sounding hoarser and thicker than you wanted it to. You watch as his head tilts again, subtly and with yet another groan, his hand gripping tighter on the hilt of his blade.

You swallow thickly, feeling the tension in the air and almost sensing his confusion. “I’m right here, do you remember me?” You start again, your voice wavering just as your eyes betray you and dot with tears. Emotions overwhelm you, and you’re sure the Entity is getting off on its curious desires to see such a dynamic like this. Where agony coursed through you, confusion, mentally begging to see anything on him that said he did remember you.

“Please,” You whimper out, feeling your knees wobbling and your body unable to turn and run. Held perfectly still like a deer in headlights.

He takes a step forward, and your knees finally give out under you as you slide down the wall with tears spilling down your cheeks. Only feeling more pathetic as he comes closer and closer with each slow step.

“Please,” You whimper out again, more desperate as you tilt your head up towards him when he stands in front of you. Your neck strains at this angle, your eyes blurred with tears. You don’t feel scared, you only feel what could only be described as yearning. Longing for this man. Like as if you had been but a teenage romance and one of you had to move away, finally seeing your other half again and feelings coming rushing back.

“Please,” You choke out. Pyramid Head has stopped in front of you now, the low metallic groan heard as you blearily see him through your tears. You reach for him with shaking fingertips, your breathing heavy in your own ears and your heart rate increasing.

You expect your dream to come true. For his great blade to come slamming down onto you or for him to toss you over his shoulder and drag you kicking and screaming to a hook.

You don’t expect his gloved hand to delicately take your outstretched hand.

You tense, waiting for him to yank you. But instead, his hand clasps over yours, his thumb running over your knuckles. You manage to blink your tears away, your breath shaking and looking at him in awe. He has no face to show emotion, not even a voice, but you can feel it in how he touches you. The same way you looked at him.

Disbelief. A dream. Not real.

You’re yanked to your feet and it makes you yelp. But before you can even react, he’s yanking you upwards and over one shoulder. One hand firmly grabbing your ass and the other doing the slow drag of his blade across the ground.

You don’t...feel endangered. Perhaps that is foolish of you, but all you can really concentrate on is how Pyramid Head feels. Seeing the lines of his back through his apron flexing with each step and each press of his fingertips against your ass.

The Entity had told you ‘Have fun and don’t forget to thank us’. Now you think you understand what it means when you are taken to a room and set on top of a desk.

You don’t have to wait for him to do anything before your legs are wound around his waist, taking his hand that grabs onto the curve of your side and guiding it up your body. You press his fingers around your throat, delighting in how you can hear the sound of his metallic groan have an edge of a growl into it. “Did you miss me?”

The press of his hand tells you enough. You give off a breathy, delighted laugh when his hips hump forward against yours. A desperate sort of groan leaving him when you reach up to hook your fingers under the metal of his pyramid and jerk him forward. Gently pressing a kiss to the pointed tip.

“Made you wait long enough, I think. Wanna take me, sweetheart?” You murmur out to him. Another breathy laugh leaving you when Pyramid Head’s hand falls from your throat to grab your hip instead to try and jerk you closer. As if trying to fuck you through your clothes as his hips hump against yours.

Desperate. Wanting you. His sword clattering to the floor so both his hands can grip your hips to try and yank you forward with a low groan.

“Thatta boy.”

You were definitely in for a fun match. Not to mention you save your fellow Survivors some sweat and tears.

You just hope you won’t be too loud...

#Pyramid head #Pyramid head x Reader #Silent Hill #Dead by daylight #dbd #dick by daylight #nsft #lemon #princess writing

602 notes · View notes