#invited him to live with us because he bragged about his “dark and twisted mind”

[mydarlingathena]

.

[after-witch]

Suburban Dreams [White Picket Fence Part 2] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title:  Suburban Dreams [White Picket Fence Part 2] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: Your captor  lover surprises you with something you’ve been dreaming about. Are dreams ever as good as you wish they’d be?

For request: 

Fic continuation to white picket fence but in the future when darling is "ready"? I wanna see if our yandere is actually gonna stay true to his word

Word Count: 2800ish

notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome, written in bed this past week while i’ve been dealing with blood pressure issues

You keep your eyes closed and grip Kai's gloved hand firmly. He leads you gingerly along, having told you to keep your eyes closed no matter what. And you listen, you do, because a surprise this big must be truly important. A car ride and a keep-your-eyes-closed surprise all in one day? You feel giddy--and it's almost overwhelming to your senses.

It feels like an occasion, like Christmas, a candy coated ribbon-wrapped Christmas, and you're the child flying down the stairs in the morning to see what gifts Santa left under the tree. But you're not a child, you remind yourself, you're a grown adult with responsibilities. Keeping Kai happy. Making lunches and sometimes dinner, unless Kai says otherwise. Bathing. Keeping yourself occupied while Kai is busy with his work and his goals and his dreams. Ensuring that you're presentable.

"Open them."

You do, practically breathless and--it's... a room. No, not just a room. It's a living room. With an open floor plan. Beyond, you can see a dining room with a kitchen, a real one, with appliances and cabinets and counter space. Not the hot plate and mini fridge you've been (not to brag) doing wonders with over the past year and a half that Kai’s granted you cooking privileges.

You can feel your breath hitching in your chest. It's just... so much. It's so much bigger than anything you've seen in years, actually, you realize; but you don't dwell on this, because you've learned to live in the present. Yet you feel a grin tugging at your lips because you know what this actually means: you're ready, for life and more responsibilities and a future that spans out far beyond those little rooms, office, bedroom, bathroom, clinic.

Kai clears his throat and oh, oops. In your reverie, in your giddy once-over of this glorious space, you practically forgot about Kai. You pivot on your foot, almost running into his arms as you squeeze him tightly in true-blue excitement. He usually likes a warning before you do this (not that you do running hugs often) but you know he'll forgive you, because he's already wrapping his arms around you and giving you a quick, tight squeeze.

You pull back and survey the room again and it's just as wonderful the second time. Your mind seems to run a thousand miles a minute as you imagine the place all filled out, all decorated and pretty and filled with signs of use and maybe--maybe something more.

"Do you like it?"

You turn back to Kai and his expression is concerned and ah, you realize that you're crying. When did that start? You can't remember the last time you cried--well, okay, you absolutely lost it during movie night a few weeks ago, but that was Coco for heaven's sake. You chuckle, and the tears keep coming down, and then you laugh.

Kai stares at you, but his expression has become unreadable. You stop your laughter mid-syllable, because the sight makes your stomach twist. You don't like it when you can't tell how he's feeling, because you've taken it upon yourself to understand every glance and gesture and sigh. You want to lighten his load. He has such stressful days and nights, lately, and isn't it the least you can do to keep him relaxed?

"I'm okay," you say, wiping away your tears with your thumb. You make a mental note to wash your hands as soon as you can. "It's--I love it. It's just overwhelming, I think."

He nods, and sighs--and you do, too. He's okay. You're okay. No, no, actually, you're better than okay because just look at this place! You grin, lopsided and giddy, and hold out your hand. Kai--gloved, thank goodness, you wouldn't want your tear germs to bother him--and you tug playfully.  "Let's go see the rest!"

You pull him along the soft carpeting, making a beeline for the open kitchen. It's a nice kitchen, really nice, lots of space to cook. You wonder how Kai will handle seeing flour on the counter tops. You wonder if you still remember how to cook on a real stove without looking up recipes. 

You tug on his hand again, but stop for a moment to marvel at the window over the sink; you imagine throwing open those dark, closed curtains to let the daylight in. Flowers would like nice on the windowsill. And in the spring, when it was warm enough to open it up, it would let in such a pretty, warm, scent-filled breeze. The thought propels you forward happily and you continue your exploration.

Little things are big things now, you realize. Would you have ever cared about a linen closet before? Yet the little closer for towels and sheets and who-knows-what-else makes your heart thud. There's a spare bedroom, but Kai's already worked on turning it into an office; there's a desk and some papers and his familiar office chair. The empty room next door is an open possibility, one that Kai suggests filling with your crafts, your scraps, the odds-and-ends of hobbies you've collected over time. It's a good idea. 

There's even a staircase, but you don't ascend; Kai says it's two empty bedrooms and a bathroom, you can both check it out after you’ve settled in. You don't say anything, but your heart does a little pitterpatter all the same. Kidskidskidskids.

All the rooms are bare-bones furnished, which is fine for now. You can add your own touches later on--well, as long as Kai approves. But you don't imagine he cares all that much about interior decorating and besides, isn't taking the burden of decorating just what a good partner--you brush a wooden door frame with your knuckle and give them a rap--maybe even fiancé?--would do?

You round the corner to what appears to be a bedroom and glance back at Kai. He hasn't said much, but he doesn't need to: he's looking at you so proudly and it makes your heart flutter. You push open the last door and oh, oh, oh. It's a big, beautiful bedroom--a master bedroom--with a large bed and an attached bathroom and the bed is made for two and the fluttering has dropped from your heart to your stomach and down below. You almost feel bold enough to ask Kai to cuddle right now.

His eyes crinkle and you imagine he’s smiling under the mask. Maybe he’s thinking about that, too. And more. 

You turn to leave, ready to explore the last few rooms--dare you hope for a laundry room so you can wash your own clothes?--and make a note to ask Kai for new curtains in the bedroom. Maybe sheer ones to go over the thick, light-blocking ones currently tightly shut together? Those can be shoved aside, opened during the day and some pretty sheer ones will provide a little privacy while letting in the daylight.

But something tugs at you. Something catches up with your eye. The bedroom curtains are shut tight. Just like the curtains in the kitchen. And the office. And the other rooms. Maybe for privacy. After all, you weren’t exactly moved in yet and you can’t imagine Kai wants anyone seeing inside your precious home.

You feel your stomach twist. What if, what if... No, that would be silly. Kai is staring and you give a flat smile. “Sorry, I was just wondering…” thinkthinkthink. “Is there somewhere we can put our books?”

“The living room is big enough for shelves.”

You bite your lip. Should you ask about the curtains…? He can sense you want to say something, you can see it in his eyes, that knowing look that says “(Y/N) is worried.” In a moment he’ll ask about the curtains, of course, and you can express your concerns and he’ll relieve them like he always does.

“Don’t worry,” he says, a chuckling lilt in his voice. Curtains-curtains-curtains. “I’ll have a chair in the office so you can still read with me while I work.”

Ah. Well.

You nod, slightly shaken. If he didn’t ask bout the curtains, okay, clearly there’s nothing wrong. You’re being silly. You’re silly, sometimes, about things like this.

You find yourself daydreaming while you walk, and you have to remind yourself to stay alert for Kai’s sake. You don’t want him to feel like you’re drifting again (even though you are--it’s a habit, one that’s hard to break). You imagine stocking bookshelves in the living room, curling up on a sofa in Kai’s office (old habits, again); organizing your own hobby room so it looks magazine perfect.

You think about making meals on the counter, wiping up oopsie-spills; there is a laundry room and the thought of washing your own clothes for the first time in years makes you forget about little details you don’t like, a meh shade of carpet, more too-dark curtains, a truly outdated wallpaper in the bathroom so ugly that even Kai laughs when you immediately ask if you’re allowed to paint. (You are. Just ask. And you’re wearing protective gear when you do it.) 

Your heart thuds when you walk by the staircase again on your way back to the beautiful open kitchen-dining-living room. One day one day one day.

When you make it back into the kitchen, Kai stops you. 

“What do you think?” He wants to know your opinion. He doesn't ask your opinion unless he actually wants it, since most of the time he knows what’s best for your needs, so you take this for what it is: an actual invitation to express yourself.

You take a breath and sigh and collect your thoughts before smiling. You’re almost beaming. “I really love it. It’s so…” You look around, as if you can’t believe it still, and part of you can’t. “Big. There’s so many rooms! And things to decorate,” you glance at him, and add, “I mean, if that’s okay. I was just thinking little things. Like the curtains. And decorations.”

Kai chuckles, short and low. “I don’t mind. I would rather you decorate. It’s not my thing.”

You pull on your bottom lip with your teeth because you’re so damn happy and what used to be a nervous gesture is now something you do when you get something you want.

“So,” you say, feeling giddy, words coming out quickly and with little thought, “the open space is so nice and pretty, so I want to get lots of light. I was thinking lighter curtains, well not just here but in the bedroom too.” You gesture towards the dark blue kitchen curtains. “Like these, maybe we can get light.. gauzy white ones, instead?”

“We could even put flowers in this window!” Without stopping, you quickly pace over to the kitchen window; out of the corner of your eye you see Kai start to move, see him look at you funny, but you are too lost in your thoughts of curtains and vases and light that you ignore it and throw open the dark curtains to let in the--

Concrete wall.

And that’s what you feel like. Like you’ve hit a concrete wall. Like someone has punched you in the stomach with concrete. Like you’ve swallowed it and suddenly it’s hard to breathe and things spin out and you hear Kai saying your name through cotton in your ears and it’s dark--

When you come out of your faint, you’re in his arms.

He's saying your name, you think. He's mouthing something and you can't quite hear, there's a steady roar that makes you dizzy and you almost close your eyes to go back to sleep when his hand taps your cheek.

"Wake up. Wake up now, there we are."

Tap tap tap.

The sensation is enough to forcibly drag you out of the clouds, out of the thick air your mind has been resting in. You blink and everything is confusing. What happened?

"You fainted when you opened the curtains," Kai says. And it all comes flooding back, too fast and too painful. The curtains. The window. No, the not-window. The concrete wall. You're not in a house, not a regular one. Are you even above ground? The thought of being underneath the Earth makes you feel heavy and stale and terrified.

"Why..." Your throat is tight and you clear it and lick your lips, then cringe. Kai hates it when you do that. But you're not as concerned about that right now, considering... the window. "Why can't I see outside?" Tell me, don't tell me, tell me, don't tell me. What if the answer is worse than the concrete wall, you think.

Kai's eyes narrow, just a little, and you know you said something silly. But he doesn't sound annoyed when he answers you, which is, at least, something.

"To keep you safe. It's not safe for you to live in some... ordinary house, (Y/N)."

You swallow, your throat hard and thick and prickling with emotion that wants to spring out. "But I want to live in an ordinary house." Your words are tight, practically a whisper. Thoughts of previous conversations spring to mind, promises, whispers, kisses. Where was your white picket fence and dog and neighbors and children and--

"(Y/N)." Ah, you were thinking too long again. Kai doesn't continue until your eyes are clear and you're looking at him. "You fainted when you opened the curtains. Do you really think you're ready to live out there, with the rest of the filthy world?"

It's... offensive. It hurts. You don't like to think about it, but you do hate it when he treats you like you're helpless. Weak. Pathetic. You feel your shoulders tighten defensively. "I can handle living in real house, Kai. You said we could, you said--"

"You get overwhelmed so easily, dearest.” He interrupts you, and you don't have the strength to interrupt him back. "What would happen if we did have neighbors?" I'd ask them over for dinner. "What if they didn't like something you did, and they yelled at you?" I'd uninvite them from our Christmas party. "What if they had some... large, nasty dog who tried to attack you or our children?"

"They wouldn't have--" you say, out loud, finally annoyed enough to spit out an interruption. But his last words freeze your tongue. Children? Our children? Does that mean, does he mean--

"We can--we're going to..." You can't finish, thoughts and images and emotions swirling around making it difficult to focus. Children, family. You and Kai. The king-sized bedroom. The empty upstairs, waiting to be filled.

Kai reaches out and begins to stroke your cheek. "Not... yet. Not until I've made more progress on my work."

You feel yourself instantly shrinking, deflating like a balloon stuck in the corner of a bedroom, forgotten after a party. Tears prick at your eyes and you don’t care if they come down or not. You focus on the feeling of his finger strokes and realize that he's taken off his gloves. Oh. He must have really been worried about you, then. The finger finally tucks itself under your chin and lifts up your sad, sad face.

"Do you think I moved you into a home with empty rooms for no reason?"

You bite your lip--nervous?--and shake your head. "No, Kai." He isn't wasteful like that.

"Do you think I am a good judge of what you can--and can't--handle?"

You nod your head. "Yes, Kai." He is--he is, he is. He's proven that enough. You shouldn't doubt him. What is wrong with you? He gives you a beautiful home, one that considers your needs, and you freak out because of a window not-window. You really are ungrateful, sometimes. You’re glad Kai never says it out loud, because it would hurt too much to hear it from his lips. 

He releases your chin and you maintain his gaze, but for once, he is the first one to look away. He takes on an odd expression that you can't place, but it makes you confused rather than nervous. It's new.

"(Y/N)... sometimes, even I doubt my capabilities. Will you be able to handle living here? With this--" he gestures towards the window, but you can't imagine looking at the grey slab in between the cheery white window frame and the dark curtains--"... limitation?" Your heart is hammering in your chest and his voice seems low and slow and imposing. "Should we go back to our old place?"

The feeling of concrete, hard and heavy and unforgiving, returns.

"No!" You reach forward, clasping Kai's ungloved hand with a tight squeeze. Your voice is breathless, shrieky. "I can--I can handle it!" And you look at it now, at the hateful concrete and everything it represents. "It's, it's okay. I can wait for the real house. I can wait. Let's wait."

He says nothing, and your stomach twists, but then he pulls you up to your feet in a quick, strong gesture. He puts his arms around you and squeezes and you sigh in relief. You won't lose your rooms and empty spaces and your staircase with its promises.

"You're my brave little thing, you know that, don't you?" You nod, sheepish now, and smile. Your stomach still has an edge of sourness, an edge of curdle, and you push it down down down where it belongs. You stare at the concrete and think about asking if you can paint it. Anything but grey is fine. Anything. And other things, too, might help it feel less... imposing.

"Kai?"

"Mm?"

“Can we still… get pretty curtains for the window?”

“Of course.”

[serendipityunho]

Cheat Codes (M)

❀ Genre: smut, angst, college au ❀ Pairing: dom!Seonghwa x brat!Reader (fem.) ❀ Word Count: 5.3k ❀ Warnings: explicit language, intoxication, brat taming, hair-pulling, fingering, biting kink, blowjob, teasing, clit play, dirty talk, begging, explicit sexual intercourse, a little bit of a fight between seonghwa and yunho, yunho got his feelings hurt :( 

❀ Synopsis: "This party's boring, wanna get out of here?", may have perhaps led you to make the biggest mistake of your life by sleeping with your best friend's other best friend, your best friend who happens to be in love with you.

Another year, another number changed on his age. Despite that change, Yunho would always remain a child at heart, getting excited and wide-eyed at the birthday cake you’d always bake him. But for the past couple of years, there’s been a twist, he was able to drink legally. Since then, parties and gatherings were always wild, bringing a new meaning to the word ‘celebration’.

You’d do anything for your best friend, and he’d do anything for you. Yunho was there for you since you could remember, he was the first to show up with a bandaid when you fell off your bike or when you tripped over the rock chasing him around his house. It was an unbreakable bond, everyone knew it, they could see it, how close the two of you are. 

“One time for the birthday bitch- Ow! What was that for?” Mingi shot Yunho a hurtful look as he rubbed his arm from Yunho’s warning punch.

“Call me a bitch one more time and let’s see where that leads you,” he was obviously kidding, who in their right mind would ever dare to harm Mingi? All he does is just vibe in his own little world, smiling at every living thing.

This year, it was a whole lot more different compared to his usual birthday bashes. The girls, the beer kegs, the rave lights, the party animals? Not a single one in sight. Yunho thought it was time for a change in the annual scenery, it definitely let the both of you breathe a little bit more.

To be honest, it felt quite unusual without the booming music and sweaty bodies sexually grinding against one another. Not that you were complaining, it was a relief not to witness any more wild scenes.

Last time, San had to get stitches on his head as a result of slipping off the diving board. And Mingi? Let’s spare the details and just say his chest was in pain from a Hennessy-drunk-Wooyoung trying to vacuum his ‘tiddies’. Don’t ask how he managed to secure a vacuum in the first place. 

“Happy birthday, shithead,” was the first thing you say to him, pulling yourself onto one of the kitchen stools as you watch him gulp down a cup of whatever mix of alcohol he had swirling in there.

“Thank you, shithead, want a drink?” Yunho always offered you drinks whenever he had the chance, getting you drunk was always his favourite thing to do. Why? It was so he could freely express his feelings for you without the fear of you remembering it the next day. 

How did you know that? Yunho had once underestimated your drinking ability. It was quite a night to remember when Yunho mistook your fuller cup of alcohol for his, making him spew out the most cooing confession you’ve ever heard.

It honestly didn’t come as a surprise. One of you was doomed to fall for the other, he just happened to be the first. 

“No thanks, we’re keeping it calm this time, remember?”

“Right, right. Calm.” 

Several of his friends had been invited to Yunho’s little birthday gathering. They had just been as confused as you were when you were told there was no big party this year. But, of course, none of them questioned the birthday boy of his intentions.

You’ve familiarised yourself with their faces around campus, but San and Wooyoung were the only two you’ve actually brought yourself to talk to beside Mingi occasionally. The two were tight-knit, maybe even more so than Yunho and yourself. A pair who wreak chaos and havoc everywhere they go. No one could ever forget the time Wooyoung walked the walk of shame with nothing but a pizza box covering his lower region and San’s beanie on his head. 

“You never told me what’s with the sudden change,” no one had really asked Yunho, maybe that’s what he liked about them, the suppressed urge to ask a million questions. “No girls accepted your party invites? Shocking.”

“No, it’s not that,” Yunho sighed, leaning back against the counter with his hand wrapped on the edge. “I can’t have big loud parties for the rest of my life, you know?” 

“And what about it?”

“Don’t know, I just felt like having people I actually care about here,” it was rare to have a friend like Yunho, sure he was easy to talk to but that doesn’t automatically make someone his friend. “A time where I don’t have to fake a smile for an entire night because that shit just makes my face cramp.”

“Oh, please, don’t get all soft on me now. It’s your birthday, cheer up a bit, yeah?” You punched his shoulder playfully before hopping off the stool, grabbing his hand to lead him to the yelling boys in the backyard. 

“Pftt- I’m not getting soft, you know it’s the Vodka.” oh, the excuses always amazed you.

You could feel goosebumps poking out from under your cold skin, the night was chilly with a few waves of shivering breezes, you couldn’t help but mentally scold yourself for forgetting to bring a jumper with you. Yunho probably had none left considering you’ve stolen almost all of them to bring home.

It was a mystery how none of these boys reacted the way you did to the cold, it was as if their skin was ice itself. They just continued yelling and throwing arms around each other like it wasn’t a single care in the world. The brooding effects of alcohol, you could say.

Yunho wasn’t particularly a wild drunk, but when he was, it was something that needed to be recorded and watched the morning after. He was never wildly drunk at his big birthday bashes but tonight was, as said, different. Drowning himself in bottles of soju until his pale skin flushed bright red, Jongho could probably mistake it for an apple and break his skull. God hopes that doesn’t happen.

Despite familiarising yourself with the new crew, there was one who you couldn’t help but pay attention to more. He wasn’t like the others, he didn’t give off San and Wooyoung’s chaotic behaviour, he didn’t carry Hongjoong’s talkative manner and he definitely doesn’t seem like he would replicate Mingi’s clumsiness or Jongho’s bright personality.

The best you could assume from this boy was that he would probably share the same bluntness as Yeosang. Cold and blunt. Nothing else.

Park Seonghwa.

There was something about him. Maybe it was the sense of mystery that caused him to occupy most of your headspace. He looks like he holds a lot of mystery, mysteries you were eager to explore. 

You didn’t even realise you were staring blankly at him until the brooding pair of dark brown eyes met yours from across the circle of fold-out chairs, making you choke on the cheap liquor before quickly snapping your gaze away from the boy and to the drunken group of boys looking like they were playing ring-around-the-rosie.

It was just the two of you. Sitting in the array of seating with live entertainment before your eyes. Entertainment as in watching Mingi trying to lick his elbow. You could’ve sworn the people in front of you were simply just children in the bodies of grown men. Where did Yunho even find these boys?

Amusement from watching the chaos unfold before you quickly washed away as you kept your seat warm, watching your liquor hitting the sides of your cup as you lazily mixed it. Laughter boomed recurrently throughout the backyard, something that was honestly keeping you awake for the night.

You hate to say it but, you were bored as fuck. 

Sure, it was nice to stray away from Yunho’s regular birthday bashes but a little more entertainment rather than alcohol and snacks would’ve been a little nice. The several bodies of young men seem like they’re having the time of their lives just dancing on the edge of the pool right now, one was surely destined to fall in and cause a chain reaction.

Seeing Yunho so happy and not actually fake smiling was enough to convince you to stay and not drag him to the closest nightclub. What the birthday boy wants, the birthday boy gets.

“Hey,” the voice was nothing like you’d expect, soft and comforting but deep and brooding at the same time, making you snap your attention to the boy sitting down on the chair next to you.

“Hi,” was he as bored as you were? Looked like it. His cup was nearly as empty as yours.

“How long have you known Yunho?” Seonghwa asked, slouching back against the flimsy chair as he downed the last of his drink.

“Since we took our first baby steps. Childhood friend, and you?” 

“Known the big guy since highschool,” that’s weird, Yunho never mentioned a guy named Park Seonghwa once in his life till now. Let alone, you’ve never even seen him around school since the two of you went together.

“I don’t remember him telling me about you until now. Did you go to the same school as us?”

“I studied abroad in Australia, that’s why he never mentioned me. Thought our friendship wouldn’t last by the time I got back so there was no point in bragging about it.”

Well that explains it then.

“Huh, interesting,” despite sitting a few feet away from the pool, the lights had illuminated his face perfectly, showing off his sharp features you were able to admire from up close when he moved seats next to you. There was one thing you were captivated by the most. His eyes.

They were very alluring eyes, it was as if they were hand-sculpted by an almighty deity itself. 

His leather jacket framed his figure perfectly, a beautiful man with a sense of style? Makes you wonder if he has a girlfriend.

“Yeah, look,” Seonghwa sighed, running a hand through his sleek black hair before inching closer to you. “I don’t know how to say this but, this party is getting boring. Wanna get out of here?” 

And so you were right.

“As much as I would like to, I don’t think I should keep him out of my sight.”

“We can just go somewhere more calmer like upstairs if you want?” You wanted to snort at his desperation. It was clear what his intentions were and he obviously wasn’t trying to hide it. Yet, you weren’t willing to hide yours either.

“Yeah,” you smirked, licking your top row of teeth before pushing yourself off the chair. “We can go upstairs.”

Seonghwa didn’t even bat an eye before taking a hold of your hand in his, literally dragging you back inside the house where he discarded his empty solo cup in the trash along with yours. The source of laughter grew quieter as the two of you descended further into the house, silently navigating up the staircase with nothing in mind other than the fact that both of you were obviously desperate for some sort of action.

Your easy agreement probably made it sound like you were one of people who slept with anyone they could, but that wasn’t the case. Turning down boys was practically your profession. But with Park Seonghwa? You wanted a taste of that. 

You wanted a taste of his mystery, you wanted a touch of that tattoo strip on the side of his neck and the ones on his fingers. You just wanted to feel the flexed bicep underneath the tough leather jacket and the alcohol kissed lips against your neck and preferably on every inch of your body.

Who could blame you for wanting to?

“I didn’t think you were the desperate type,” Seonghwa lows, pushing you against the bedroom door as he locked it. 

“I’m not,” your eyes flicker up to his, smirking as you place a hand on the side of his neck, tracing his tattoo with your finger. “You just happened to catch my attention recently.”

“I’m flattered, really,” Seonghwa smirked, eyeing your features with his arms caging you between his body and the door.

“Just fucking kiss me already.”

“Oh, you’re so desperate for me to just fuck you right now aren’t you?” Seonghwa growled, grabbing your waist and pushing you backwards onto the bed until you were flat on your back.

“You’re delusional if you think I’m going to beg for it,” patience wasn’t really on your side, you weren’t gifted with it at all. Especially when it came to fucking.

“Alright, bet.” 

A pair of luscious lips slammed against yours in a matter of seconds, Seonghwa was pushing your body deeper into the mattress as his knee pushed open your legs and hands sliding up from your sides to your hands. It was as if you were kissing nothing but mouldable chocolate that tasted of a faint strawberry chapstick, kissing it so hungrily.

“You think I can’t make you beg? Just watch,” Seonghwa’s lips hovered over yours, barely parted as he pushed your legs further apart with his knee, fingers popping the button of your jeans before pulling down its zipper.

“I don’t give in ea- shit,” your head lurched forward as Seonghwa pressed his fingers against your clit, rubbing it slowly before guiding it down to your folds and cloaking his fingers with your wetness.

“Fuck, what was that? Starting to get wet for me?” 

“Don’t act like you don’t have a stiffy here,” you could feel Seonghwa’s hard-on underneath his jeans rubbing against your thigh, making you smirk before subtly moving your leg.

“Are you trying to make me beg? No, I don’t play like that,” Seonghwa lowered his face against your neck with a low groan, sinking his long fingers into your pussy with ease before pumping them in and out, earning a quiet whine from you.

“Tsk, tsk, I can do this all night, you know?” You could feel a smirk against your neck, the chilling inhales and exhales against your skin sent shivers down your spine as Seonghwa quickened the pace of his fingers pumping in and out of you, causing your knees wanting to shut close.

“Fuck- Seonghwanggha,” he wasn’t kidding when he said he could make you beg. You were literally on the verge of it. His fingers weren’t enough and he knew that, they were just enough.

“Aw, are you getting needy? Hm? Do you want more?” The tease sent your brain into a frenzy, cloaked with a thick film of haze as Seonghwa starts to rub your clit with the palm of his hand while still fucking you with his fingers. 

“Yes, jesus fucking christ- yes!”

“Yes what? Hm? What do you want?” 

“You.”

“I need you to say it.”

“Ohmyfuckinggod- I want you to fuck me.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear that.”

“Fuck me, I want you to fuck me- ughhnah fuck,” a sharp pain brews against your neck, Seonghwa had caught the flesh of your neck between his teeth, biting it while pulling your jeans and panties down to the floor. 

A moan slips out of your mouth as Seonghwa licks the spot on your neck, kissing it before sucking on your jawline. The sudden idea of where you were and what you were doing left your mind like a flash, all you could think of was being touched, touched by Seonghwa and kissing his tattoos on his fingers that were knuckles deep inside of you.

“Told you I would make you beg.”

Underestimation was always your weakness, tonight was a clear sign you should probably stop doing that. 

“You flatter yourself too damn much,” you grit, flipping Seonghwa onto his back before lowering yourself onto the waistband of his black jeans, eyeing his bulging erection with a smirk.

“But was I wrong? I don’t think so,” Seonghwa sits up, holding the side of your face in one of his hands before sliding them up to your hair. Your mouth shoots wide open as Seonghwa suddenly grabs a hold of your hair, pulling it back to expose the bruised skin on your neck.

Oh, how much you wanted to just rip his tongue out for his reckless teasing. It was driving you wild, too insanely wild. But you love it.

His belt unbuckled with ease as you yank his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, freeing his hardened cock that just hit his stomach. Your shirt already found itself discarded onto the floor with the rest of the items pulled off your body, as if they were just another decorative piece on the floor.

The longer he watched you with a cocky smirk, the more you wanted to just slap it off. But you were so turned on. So, so turned on you could practically feel your wetness smearing between your thighs.

A small wince shot out from above you as Seonghwa hissed through his gritted teeth, staring down at his dick in the palm of your hands, squeezing it lightly before slowly pumping. You knew if you decided to tease him, it wouldn’t end well for you, what else could you expect from a man like this?

“Jesus fucking christ,” Seonghwa moans, head falling back as he props himself up with his elbows. The tip of his dick was itching to hit the back of your throat any second now, just waiting for him to buck his hip up into your mouth.

It was the brief groan from the back of your throat that sent Seonghwa’s thighs squirming and abdomen tensing hard. You could tell he was enjoying the way your tongue swirled around the base of his cock, pressing against his length with enough pressure to have him gripping your hair.

Just the sound of him reacting to your mouth sent your head into a cloud full of lust. You wanted more and the best you could do at the moment was just rub your thighs together in anticipation as your eyes shot up to Seonghwa’s, droopy and filled with nothing but desperation.

“Fuck, you’re good,” his scrunched up face said it all. “Come here.” 

You remove your lips from his throbbing length with a kissing sound before climbing on top of him only to be flipped right around, wrists pinned down on either side of your head. It was impressive how he could do that so nonchalantly with nothing but a cocky smirk.

“I should’ve guessed you were a brat,” Seonghwa hissed, brushing his tip against your clit. The urge to just buck your hips against his was killing you but you knew it would only do more harm than pleasure.

“Then I guess you better fuck me like one.”

The fire in his eyes was more than any sentence. His desire was fuming inside him, eager to cloud his judgement the moment your hole stretched from his length suddenly sliding into you.

He sure knew how to work his dick right when a grunt outed from your mouth as Seonghwa hooked his hips at an angle before thrusting. The eye-rolling pleasure only lasted a few seconds before Seonghwa quickened his pace, starting to snap his hips into you as he hooked both of your legs over his shoulders.

Fuck, you wanted to kiss him, but he knew what he was doing to you. He was doing it on purpose. There was no way he was going to let you kiss him. No way to busy your mouth as moans escape it recklessly.

“Ohffuck-” your head was growing lighter and lighter by the second, back arched off the mattress by now if it wasn’t for Seonghwa pushing your knees against your chest.

It was quite embarrassing hearing just your moans bouncing off the walls of this room as Seonghwa was pile-driving you deep into the bed, it only made you more desperate to crash your lips onto Seonghwa’s to deafen them. You really didn’t want to bite down on your arm, but you were more desperate than ever.

“Aw, why are you being so quiet hm? Is this dick not satisfying you enough?” Seonghwa smirks from above you, parting his lips so you could finally hear his staggered breathing.

“Y-Yeah, something like t-that- unghh,” sarcasm was undoubtedly your go-to method to cope with certain situations, but this time it was sarcasm that would get you more than you asked for.

“Oh? You really want to fucking play like that? You’re not going to be able to walk once I’m done with you.”

Emptiness looms in your heat as Seonghwa pulls out, latching either side of your waist before flipping you around on your stomach in a flash. A surprised gasp left your lips as he stingingly squeezed the flesh of your ass with a chuckle, hoisting you onto your knees.

“You really think you’re different from everyone el- mhmmh,” your snarky remark was cut short when you felt a hand push the side of your face against the mattress, legs twitching as Seonghwa thrust himself into you once again.

“You’re getting on my goddamn nerves,” Seonghwa snarls, keeping a tight grip on your hair in his fist as the other hand smoothes over your side.

The pumping pleasure coursing through your body felt electric, making you feel like you were above the clouds with each hard thrust. You could feel your ass bouncing as Seonghwa’s thrusts became sloppy, louder as the room echoed with nothing but a mix of your lewd moans and slapping skin.

“Tsk, I can feel you shaking underneath me. Regretting it yet?” 

“I can fucking handle it, shut up,” you weren’t raised as no weak bitch.

“I really hope so,” well fuck. You could feel your thighs quivering as Seonghwa slowly pushed your legs further apart, stomach falling closer against the mattress. Just barely above it. “Impressive.” 

It was a new angle that had you wanting to cry, with the way his cock hit deep in you and both of his hands either side of you holding him up. You couldn’t help but let your face fall against your arms, breathing as if it were your last and brows furrowed so hard you could feel your face about to cramp.

“Seonghw-aaahhmhm,” your legs twitched, pushing themselves higher off the mattress as your ass hits Seonghwa’s stomach with no choice. You couldn’t hold the position any longer unless you wanted to burst into tears from the burning in your thighs.

“What’s the matter huh? I thought you could handle it.”

“P-Please,” you cry.

“What do you want?”

“Kiss me- just please fucking kiss me,” your voice grew deeper and louder, desperation dripping from your tongue like poison as you push yourself off the mattress and flip Seonghwa onto his back with no time wasted in hoping your soaking wet cunt back on his length.

“Get your pretty lips here then,” your lips crashed harshly onto one another, teeth clashing as saliva coated your lips. The weak taste of his strawberry chapstick was still there and you loved it, love the way his lips moulded perfectly with yours each time as his hips snapped up into yours.

Seonghwa’s hands grip your hips roughly as he tries his best to hold them up with your legs quivering. His hips were snapping up briskly with a slap, shooting immense pleasure through your body like little sparks bottling into a ball in the deepest pit of your stomach.

“Oh fuck, right theremhmmgh right there,” you whisper a moan against his lips before letting your face fall in the nape of his neck, hand cupping the side of his face as the other grips the bedsheets.

Seonghwa just couldn’t control the loudness of his breathing anymore, grunting through gritted teeth as he shut his eyes close and glutes on fire with how rapid he was moving his hips. It was a breath-taking moment with your knuckles turning white and nails on the verge of tearing into the bedsheet as the pleasurable feeling of his cock pounding into you from below just pushing you to the edge of your combustion.

“Uggnghh- shitohmygod!” your fist loosened on the bedsheets before slamming them closer to your body, pushing yourself off of Seonghwa’s chest with a high-pitched moan and wide mouth as your brain turns into mush. Nothing but electrifying pleasure washed over you like a tsunami, making you clench tight around Seonghwa’s cock and gazing into his droopy lust-filled eyes. 

A white film casts over your vision as you lower your lips onto Seonghwa’s, giving him a slow intent kiss as his hips calm down. Legs still quivering with the slightest movement as you lowered yourself with him, making his length slide out of you with ease and just poking at your stomach.

Seconds which felt like minutes went by with nothing but silence. Just basking in your own silent thoughts in your own heads.

You should’ve felt anything. Anything but guilt.

Why guilt? Out of all emotions, why guilt after fucking a stranger you just met? A stranger who was brought to you by your best friend. Your best friend who once confessed he loves you.

“This was a mistake,” you didn’t think twice before scattering to get your clothes, rushingly putting them back onto your body as Seonghwa was left there with confusion written all over his face.

“Wait,” he booms, “what do you mean this was a ‘mistake’?” 

Seonghwa replicated your actions and started putting his clothes back on in a swift, still waiting for an answer after you responded with nothing but silence. He should’ve known, he was Yunho’s best friend too after all. 

“Listen, just forget this ever happened, please,” just thinking about this night would eat you alive, and it would definitely kill Yunho from the inside.

Before Seonghwa could say anything, you dashed out of the bedroom door, skipping down the stairs with your heart pounding like crazy, ready to jump out of your chest. It wasn’t long before you could hear footsteps following you closely behind, which made you even more uneasy as you could tell he was desperate for answers.

“Hey, what the fuck is your problem?” Seonghwa grabs you by the arm, halting you in your escape before letting go with a piercing stare. “You can’t just beg me to fuck you like that and say, oh, ‘this was a mistake’.”

You could tell he was mocking you, but you really couldn’t blame him. The only person to blame here was you. You should’ve known better than to sleep with one of Yunho’s best mates, especially when you knew the boy had deep feelings for you.

“Because it is a mistake,” you grit, “we can’t tell Yunho what happened… it’ll break him.”

In all honesty, it would break you more than him. Guilt was a more deadlier disease than heartbreak, it was worse when it came down to friendships more than love itself.

“Wha-”

“Can’t tell me what?”

Your eyes widen in shock as you snap your attention to the familiar voice behind you, already feeling a pang in your chest as your eyes locked onto Yunho’s innocent ones. Seonghwa kept quiet as you tried to choke out a few words to Yunho, flickering his gaze back and forth between the two of you.

“Um, nothing! Nothing, we were just getting to know each other, that all,” you try your hardest to make your fake smile not obvious, but it clearly wasn’t working with Yunho’s confused gaze turning into a suspicious one.

“Getting to know each other huh?” Yunho poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, running his eyes up and down the two of you.

“Yeah.”

“I could tell,” an octave drop in Yunho’s voice sent you breathing harder as his facial features hardened, soft brown loving eyes turned into a cold glare. “You fucking bastard.”

Yunho’s attention wasn’t on you anymore, it was focused on the person standing behind you. Everything happened so quickly, next thing you know, Yunho was pinning Seonghwa up against the wall by his collar, faces close in proximity with jaws clenched and fists balled.

“You fucking knew,” Yunho snarled, “and yet you still fucked her. I thought you were my best friend, Hwa. What the fuck happened to that huh?”

“H-How?” could he smell Seonghwa’s cologne on you? What the heck.

“Your shirt is inside out.” 

Well, fuck. Not only did he catch you lying straight to his face but he caught his two best friends fucking each other, his best friend and someone who he had poured his heart and soul to.

“Yunho, please. I can ex-”

“You can explain? Yeah, alright go ahead, let’s hear what you have to say and if this motherfucker has anything else to add to it.”

“Yunho, get your hands off of me or we’re going to have a problem,” Seonghwa tries his best to pry Yunho’s grip from his collar, standing on his toes as he faces his deadly glare.

“We already have a problem, Hwa,” Seonghwa drops down with a thud as Yunho finally lets him go, throwing his glare back onto you. “Go ahead, say what you have to say.” 

“I-I… we just… we were desperate, Yunho,” it wasn’t the best and most plausible excuse but it was honestly it.

“Desperate. Out of all people, you choose him? Are you serious? I don’t know if you got my hints, but fuck!”

“Yunho, I am so so sorry. Please, just-” 

“God, I hate being in love with you!” 

It was at that moment, you could see your world crumbling down as Yunho bites back a quiver. His eyes glossy and starting to frame with red as Seonghwa also couldn’t help but wear a remorseful face.

“Hey-”

“Don’t fucking touch me, Hwa,” Yunho aggressively brushed off Seonghwa’s hand on his shoulder, throwing him a side glare as he lowers his head. “Go home.”

“Woah, what is going on?” all three of your heads snapped up to a red flushed, drunk Mingi with a half empty bottle of soju in his hands stopping mid way with a questioning look on his face. Soon enough, the whole group of boys were here, standing behind Mingi with a replicated confused face.

“Everyone, go home. I’m not feeling good tonight,” Yunho pushed through the group of boys, passing to the kitchen where he grabbed a new cold bottle of soju from his fridge.

“Man, you sure? Want us to stay just in case?” Jongho spoke, brows raised as he was concerned for his gloomy looking friend.

“Mingi can stay, I don’t trust him alone at home while he’s drunk. Everyone else go home, please.”

“Yun-”

“I said leave,” you could barely even choke out his name before getting cut off again, guilt slowly but painfully chewing away at bits of your soul.

“Alright, you heard the man. Leave him be,” Yeosang took the liberty to usher everyone out with swaying arm movements, clueless of what had unfolded before everyone had walked in.

Mingi smiled brightly, waving his goodbyes and yelling his goodbyes as he joined a slouched Yunho in the kitchen. You couldn’t help but plaster a fake grin to fuel his happy hour before leaving out the door, embraced by the cold once more. But this time, you weren’t just cold on the outside, you could feel it inside of you. As if you had just turned yourself into a cold-blooded killer.

Murdering whatever trust and happiness Yunho had left in that big body of his.

Like everyone else in the entire world, you had to live with what you got, what you’ve done, what you can’t take back.

-

Copyright © 2020 by serendipityunho

    All Rights Reserved

[yanagi-uxinta]

What Tomorrow Brings Chapter Two

Available on Fanfiction.net on my account Yanagi Uxinta. I’m not posting a link this time since apparently tumblr doesn’t like posts with links in them.

Rating: K+

Status: Two-parter, complete

Pairing: N/A; Blacksun reference in previous chapter, Blake and Weiss gen fic.

Wordcount: ~2,800

Summary: The night of the election, after the Grimm have finally been defeated, Weiss once again finds Blake in the early hours of the morning. This time it isn’t just Adam playing on her mind.

Notes: Though chapter one was written pre-volume 7, this was started after the volume had ended. As you may be able to tell, I wasn’t overwhelmingly impressed with the volume, especially with how Blake���s character was handled (and let’s not mention her new design). Hope you enjoy!

It was three in the morning. The Grimm had finally retreated two hours ago, leaving everyone to pick up the pieces. Ruby had finally fallen asleep clinging to Yang, tears still drying on her cheeks. Weiss had tried to help, but sometimes Ruby just needed her big sister. She understood that, and was quietly relieved – Ruby had spent so long putting on a brave face for everyone else, Weiss had started to worry that nothing would have an impact on her.

Ren and Nora had been tense, quiet, and had gone to bed early. Jaune had taken one look at their dorm door and stayed in the rec room, talking quietly with Marrow. The youngest Ace Operative was supposedly there to check on them all, make sure they were alright, but now he was out of the public eye, Weiss was starting to think he needed their support as much as they needed his. If the mug of coffee he’d been clutching was any indication, he wasn’t planning on sleeping tonight.

And Blake…

Weiss found her in their little kitchenette, sat at the table, head in her hands, ears pinned flat. Weiss pulled out the chair opposite.

Blake barely glanced up.

‘Well, I think we can safely say today was a disaster,’ Weiss said, smoothing her skirts out.

Blake’s mouth tightened, her ears tensing as if she was trying to squeeze them through her skull.

Weiss sighed. Not going to be that easy then. ‘Blake, talk to me. Today was horrible, but it seems to be hitting you much harder than I expected, considering…’

‘Considering I wasn’t there?’

Well, it was progress. Weiss nodded.

Blake’s eyes dropped back to the table, but her fingers relaxed a little. ‘I can’t help but think that if I’d been there… I grew up in political rallies, Weiss. I’ve seen them all – peaceful, hijacked, riots – if I’d been there, maybe I would have seen Tyrian earlier. I know the signs to look out for, for someone who isn’t there to genuinely protest, whether it’s because they’re there just to incite violence, or if they’re actually from the other side to try and make us look bad. Even if not, I can see in the dark. I could have stopped him when the lights went out. I could have at least tried. Maybe I would have slowed him down enough to save the people he killed. Maybe I could have stopped Penny from being framed.’

Weiss slowly tugged off her gloves, considering her words. ‘I don’t blame you for not being there, Blake – no one does. And from what we know about Tyrian, there probably wasn’t much you could have done. I… have to ask why, though. It’s just- back at Beacon, given the choice to go dancing or to go to a political party – especially one as divisive as this one – you wouldn’t have even considered dancing an option.’

Her eyes slid away, and her shoulders hunched. ‘I didn’t see the harm,’ she said, but her voice sounded too soft, too weak. And then, quieter, rushed, like it was meant to be a minor point: ‘And Yang wanted to, so I-’

Weiss held a hand up. ‘Stop,’ she said. For a moment she could have been Marrow; Blake stopped. ‘I asked why you wanted to go, not why Yang did.’

Blake took her hands off her head, only to hug herself, slumped in her chair, still looking away. ‘Team FNKI invited us.’

‘And? Blake, you’re the one who turned down Sun to the dance back at Beacon because you were too caught up in what the White Fang presence meant, criminally and politically. Sun. Who you like far more than Team FNKI, I might add.’

Blake flinched.

She should probably back off, but there was something more to this, and it was worrying her. It had been worrying her, ever since the fight with that Adam Taurus. Blake hadn’t been acting herself. She thought she’d been bad on the way to Argus, constantly looking out for Yang, looking for ways to make up for what Adam had done to her. It had been painful to watch. But this? Rather than recover the relationship they’d had at Beacon, it was like Blake had doubled-down on being there for Yang… only this time, instead of giving Blake the cold shoulder or wanting things to go back to normal, Yang was just… accepting it. Enjoying it, even.

The fight had changed something critical in their relationship, and Weiss wasn’t sure it was for the better.

‘What do you want me to say, Weiss?’ Blake asked. From the old Blake, that would have been a demand. Now it sounded like pleading. ‘That I just wanted to dance? That I wanted a break from politics? That I made a mistake?’

Now was the time to be gentle. ‘I want the truth, Blake. I want you to be able to tell me you honestly wanted to go dancing rather than to an election party, whose outcome would have a massive impact on the Faunus and other oppressed people in Mantle. But I don’t think you can, can you?’

Blake glanced up, just for a moment, and those amber eyes were too bright with tears. She shook her head, lips pressed tight together.

‘So why go?’

Blake closed her eyes, and the tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘Because Yang wanted to.’

‘And you didn’t get a say in the matter?’

Her eyes opened as she shook her head, but she was still staring at the floor, off to the side of the table. ‘It’s not like that. If I’d said something, Yang would have listened, I know she would. But she wanted to go, so I didn’t say anything.’

‘Why though?’ She couldn’t help sounding frustrated. ‘Why not let Yang go dancing, and you go to the election?’

This time, Blake replied faster, sharper. ‘Because I made a promise, Weiss!’

Weiss stared, momentarily speechless. Only momentarily. ‘You’re taking that literally? Blake, why?’

Blake took a deep, shuddering breath, but at least there was that fire in her eyes again, that will. ‘Because I hurt her, Weiss. I left without a word, knowing her history, and didn’t even leave a note to explain myself. Even Adam brought it up; how I promised to stay by his side, only to leave when he went too far. That’s all I’ve ever done, Weiss. I made promises to stay, I broke them, I left, and the people I abandoned were devastated, but I never had to face that, so I never had to deal with the consequences until now. I don’t want to leave again. I want to break that cycle for good. Is it so wrong to want to make up for that mistake?’

‘When it comes at the cost of being your own person? Yes! Blake, listen-’ she said, reaching out across the table to her when Blake turned her head away. ‘These past several weeks, ever since the fight, you have been different. You’ve barely left Yang’s side for a moment; you cater to her every whim, and she’s letting you! What happens if she wants to do something you don’t? And I don’t just mean something trivial like going clubbing; none of us could have known how tonight was going to go. I mean something you are not comfortable with, that you do not want to do, but she does. What then?’

Blake rolled her eyes, but her shoulders were tight. ‘That’s hardly likely to happen!’

‘Why, because you’re not allowed to disagree anymore?’

Blake glared at her. ‘Because I can’t think of anything that divisive that we’d disagree on.’

‘Oh, so if tonight had been a Faunus rights march instead of an election? Or if Robyn were a Faunus going up against my father? And Yang still wanted to go dancing?’

Blake scoffed. ‘This is Atlas, Weiss. We can’t even go into half the buildings, in Atlas or Mantle. Any Faunus running for a council seat is a fantasy. The context doesn’t work.’

‘Oh, so the Faunus rights march doesn’t either?’ Weiss asked, slipping into her fake-sweet tone she still couldn’t shake when she was annoyed, damn her mother’s influence.

Blake threw her hands up, the most open she’d looked all night. ‘Then I’d talk to her!’

‘Would you? Because from what I’ve seen, it looks like Yang’s been calling all the shots, and you’ve been placidly going along with them. Even in conversation! You laugh at anything she says, even if it isn’t funny! And for her part, she gets insulted if anyone even insinuates you shouldn’t be glued at the hip! I heard her bragging about ‘showing Marrow’, when he said you should work with other people. What would be so wrong about working with other people in your team?’

Blake’s hand slapped the top of the table, the other propping up her forehead. Those fingers splayed away as she spoke, letting Weiss see her eyes. ‘So what would you have me do, Weiss? Ignore her? Leave her alone?’

Oh, if she wanted to snap at her, fine. ‘I’d have you get your self-esteem back!’

Blake stopped.

Tone it down then. ‘Look, I know Adam must have got to you. I know you’re grateful to Yang for being there. But you’re letting what he said rule your life. You’re so scared that Yang will decide he was right after all, you’re so convinced that you owe her; that you’re not living for yourself, you’re living for her. And that’s not you, Blake. That’s never been you. You’ve always done what you thought was right, what was just. But you’ve twisted that into ‘anything Yang does or says is right’, or, ‘Yang deserves it’, just so you can justify going along with it, even if you don’t want to.’

Blake was looking down again, but all the tension had gone out of her frame. One hand rose to tug at her shortened hair, twisting a strand around her finger – mimicking the curls that used to frame her face.

She was getting through to her, but there was one more thing that concerned her. ‘What if she kissed you?’

Blake froze.

The question hung in the air, until Blake found her lungs and finally breathed. ‘I- I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, huddling in on herself again.

Yes she did. ‘What if Yang kissed you; and you didn’t want her to? All those little touches, Blake, all those times she’s touched you without any real reason. Are you really surprised?’

Blake’s ears folded back, and she shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.

Weiss nodded. ‘And is that because you like her back? Or because you don’t know if you’d be able to say no to her?’

Blake stared at her, eyes hurting and scared, and Weiss knew the answer.

‘I don’t know how she would react,’ Blake said quietly. ‘I’d… I’d like to think she’d take it well. That we’d go back to normal. But what if she sees that as just another rejection? One more time I’ll abandon her? Because once this is all over, if we survive it, if I don’t want to be with her, then I won’t be able to keep my promise, right? So it’s just a matter of time before I break her trust again. I don’t want to hurt her like that, Weiss, but… I don’t want to be trapped in a relationship ever again.’ She met her eyes then, and though she was crying silently, her gaze was steady, open.

Weiss held her hand out, and Blake slowly took it, wiping her cheeks with her other sleeve. ‘If it helps, I don’t think Yang would take it that way. I think she’d accept you don’t feel the same way, and would leave it there, even if it hurt. But this promise, Blake, it isn’t healthy. That is why I’ve been so worried.’

‘I just…’ Blake broke off, looking up at the ceiling and blinking rapidly. ‘Yes, he got into my head, again. I know that. But… I can’t help but feel like I have to prove him wrong. Like that’s the only way I’ll get to move on, because otherwise he wins. I don’t want that to ruin my relationship with Yang further; I don’t want a future where every time I look at her, I’m reminded of him – I’m reminded that he was right. But I don’t know how to do that without Yang thinking I’m leaving her again, whether that’s now or in the future.’ She stopped, sleeve pressed to her cheek, her grip so tight on Weiss’ hand. Then, like it had burst out of her without her consent: ‘And she’s acting like nothing happened, and that everything is back to normal, and it’s not! How can it be? Adam became a monster, yes, but Yang’s acting as though all she’s killed – all I’ve killed – is a Grimm. Something to just forget about and move on! And I’m trying so hard to do the same, because if this is how she’s acting then she won’t understand why I don’t feel like she does. And it… it scares me that she can just… forget that he was a person. I know; I know logically she hasn’t, she can’t have done, that’s not the kind of person she is, but that’s how it feels. She hasn’t once brought it up, or shown any kind of… of worry that she killed someone, or regret, or sadness. She’s just… normal Yang. And I’m trying so hard to be normal for her, but I don’t think I can keep this up for much longer.’

Weiss squeezed her hand, taking a moment to let Blake compose herself and to choose her words.

‘I think you and Yang need to talk things over properly – your relationship, what happened with Adam, everything. By all means, be there for her, support her, but don’t sacrifice your own wellbeing for her, especially when it isn’t life or death. She wouldn’t want that. And you say you’ve been trying to be normal for her – maybe you’ll find out she’d been doing the same for you. Maybe killing Adam does bother her. Either way, the only way this will be resolved is for you both to talk, and set boundaries. I think you’ll feel a lot better for it once you have, because you’ll know where she stands, and you’ll be able to tell her what you want as well.’

Blake sniffled and nodded. ‘I know. There just… hasn’t been time, with everything going on. And I’m scared to suddenly change my behaviour without talking with her, in case she thinks she’s done something wrong, or that I’m going to leave again.  I want to talk with her; I just need the right time.’

Weiss squeezed her hand. ‘I understand that. Quite when that chance will happen is another matter entirely. I get the feeling we’re going to be working non-stop after this.’

Blake managed a tremulous smile. ‘Thank you, Weiss. You shouldn’t have to keep doing this for me.’

Weiss gave an overly-dramatic put-upon sigh, her free hand splaying across her chest as she stuck her nose in the air. ‘I’m just that good.’ Relaxing, she added, ‘what was it a certain Faunus said? You should always get your friends involved? Besides, now that Father’s won I don’t doubt I’m going to need you to return the favour soon enough. Fair?’

Blake chuckled. ‘Fair.’

The clock read twenty past three. Ironwood wanted them in a meeting at eight tomorrow morning. Given how long it took everyone to get ready considering the four of them were sharing a bathroom, they had maybe three and a half hours before they had to get up.

Weiss sighed. ‘Tempting as it is to grab a coffee and just not go to sleep tonight, I think we’d both suffer for that tomorrow. Are you ready for bed, or do you want to stay up a bit longer?’

Blake finally released her hand, using the navy belts around her wrists to wipe her eyes and hide the mascara stains. ‘No, I’m ready. You’re right – we need to get some sleep for tomorrow.’

When they slipped into the dorm, Yang was sprawled out on Ruby’s bed, leg dangling over the edge, Ruby resting her head on Yang’s shoulder, the rest of her obscured by the cloak she hadn’t taken off.

As they got changed, Blake kept glancing over at Yang, a pensive look on her face. It was in her hands now though, there wasn’t much more Weiss could do to help. Some things Blake would have to do herself.

Could this break the team up? Maybe, but they’d been fractured before – they hadn’t been fixed, they’d just stuck a band aid over it and pretended that was the same. It might break again, or this might be the nudge it needed to really start to heal.

Weiss really hoped it would be the latter, because if their team broke irrevocably, she couldn’t say which way she would go.

[greenninjagal-blog]

White Lily Guardian (pt2)

Summary: Virgil shows up at a funeral for his distance cousin, but someone forgot to tell him Remy named him the next-in-line guardian of his son Thomas. And taking care of a kid might just been the least of Virgil’s problems when Thomas’s (unpleasant) grandmother is in the mix.

Words: 3035

Part One

Featuring: Virgil, kid!Thomas, Emile Picani, and mentions of the dreaded dragon witch and best dad!remy (along with a car crash)

Taglist: @background-noise-headache @prplzorua @pumpkinminette @puns-and-patton 

General Taglist: @felicianoromano @jemthebookworm

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Picani says, with a hint was resentment in his tone, about an hour after Madam Hydrus had removed herself from the property.

Virgil doesn’t say anything, but he agrees with the older man so much its nearly overwhelming. His mind is alarmingly quiet, his shoulders hunched in anticipation for the onslaught of pure, unadulterated panic he knows is coming: it feels a lot like he’s walking right next to a cliffside with a blindfold on—why is he doing this, why can’t he just take the blind fold off, why can’t he just walk away? Or better yet, why can’t he just fall already?

Then Picani will see that he is unfit to be a parent and he’ll be able to move Thomas to the next family member Remy picked out, someone who isn’t that awful snakelike lady that had made Thomas cry so hard. Thomas doesn’t deserve this, any of it.

He didn’t deserve to have his father taken away so suddenly, to have all these people look down on him with pity, to have someone who terrifies him very nearly take him away. He certainly doesn’t deserve to have someone as awful as Virgil come through and try to make up for everything he lost.

Virgil doesn’t even know what kind of person Remy was, much less what kind of dad. Was he the kind that wanted to be involved in every aspect of Thomas’s life? Did he bake cookies in the kitchen and show up to the PTA meetings and brag about how amazing Thomas was until every other parent hated him? Or was he a recluse? Did he let Thomas come to him with questions rather than go asking for them and never respond to teacher emails or show up to meetings because he knew everything that was important about Thomas already?

Virgil looks down at Thomas, who was tucked into his chest. Virgil is by no means the type of guy who works out, but even then, he can still carry Thomas from the front lawn into the house with only a mild amount of strain (Did Remy carry him like that? Oh, fuck, what if he was carrying the kid wrong?). The house is strangely quiet, and tense and the same feeling settles over them like a knife poised just between Virgil’s shoulder blades. Even Thomas’s sobs become breathless hiccups. Picani motions Virgil to follow him up the stairs and he’s struck by the strange amount of familiarity that the man has for this place.

Who was he again?

A lawyer of some sort? Someone who had access to Remy’s will at least.

Virgil doesn’t remember the upstairs of the house, which is really no surprise. He’d never dare exploring a house that wasn’t his even as an adult. There was something about it that his shoulders tense, waiting for someone to pop out of the rooms and ask him what he was doing. Even with Picani leading the way and Thomas in his arms, Virgil could feel the walls judging him.

There are pictures on the walls, but Picani doesn’t bother turning on the lights and its too dark to see what they are. Somehow that doesn’t help Virgil’s anxiety much.

They come to a room which Picani pushes open and turns on the light. Virgil hesitates to follow. He’s not sure why, because the room is far more inviting than the dark, dreary hallway. Thomas buries his head into Virgil’s shoulder, and it’s a little uncomfortable but he can’t bring himself to complain about it.

Inside the room it’s warm—in all senses of the word. Virgil feels like he stepped into a sauna the second his shoes slip through the doorway. It surprises him, slightly, because he hadn’t realized how cold he was until then. Beside that, its decorated like a kid’s paradise: action figures from several cartoons all over the place—some of which Virgil vaguely remembers from years and years ago with a tiny smile—poster from video games and Disney, and a coffee table had construction papers, glitter, and glue. Picani quickly walks to a rather large wooden desk (decorated in children’s crayon drawings of houses and dogs and blobs that probably meant something to a kid somewhere) and rifles through a stack of papers on the top of it.

When he turns back around, he’s holding a packet of papers that makes Virgil’s insides a little squeamish; it looks like a every instructional manual Virgil has ever been handed. Was this “How To Tell When Someone Is an Unfit Parent for Dummies”? Because Virgil could save them both time and just announce to him that he was the least fit person to be taking care of a kid. He had come to the funeral in a rented suit because he didn’t have one himself, there’s still paint on his knuckles that he couldn’t wash off in time for the service, and he forgets to eat at least twice a day.

Virgil’s childhood was limited to the tabulations of his parents’ moods towards him, but even he knows that he couldn’t take care of a small living human being when he could barely take care of himself most days. It isn’t fair to Thomas.

“Oh, uh,” Picani says, and vaguely motions to a couch that was decorated in handmade quilts, “You can, uh, set him down.”

Virgil feels more than stupid as he shuffles towards the couch and juggles the armful of Thomas that he has in order to set him on the couch. Especially when Thomas doesn’t let go of him and instead tightens his arms around Virgil’s neck.

“Don’t!” Thomas gasps between his hiccups.

“Thomas—” Virgil says softly, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right next to you.”

He shakes with his whole body, and for a long moment Virgil worries that Thomas will never let him go again and they’ll be stuck together like a parasite and it’s host.

“Promise?” Thomas’s voice cracks Virgil’s heart right in half. He can feel the shards of it puncturing his lungs.

“How about this, you can hold my hand while we sit, okay?” Virgil suggests even though his own skin feels feverish and his neck itches where Thomas’s wrists had pressed against him. He can’t remember the last time he let someone touch him (it might have been Remy himself for all he knew).

Thomas’s arms move away, slowly, slowly, and then he buries his head in a blanket before Virgil can even see the tear tracks on his bright red cheeks. Virgil sits down right next to him and its only a second more before pudgy little kid fingers squeeze around his.

Virgil glances up at Picani to find the man watching the two of them with a painful smile. He wipes his eye with the sleeve his dress jacket and resets his glasses with a deep breath.

“I’m really sorry you had to find out this way.” He says again. “Remy was going to contact you this weekend to ask your permission, but he insisted that he needed it written legally sooner than that.”

“Why?” Virgil asks and even he isn’t sure what he means. Why did Remy choose him? Why didn’t Remy tell him sooner? Why did Remy get it legal written down in his will before he asked? Why was Virgil so scared right now?

Picani sighs heavily. He taps two fingers on the packet. “I wish I knew, Mr. Quies.”

Virgil flinches at the use of his last name. He never uses it if he can help it; too many bad memories growing up as part of the Quies family. He never fit in with them, never quite lived up to be anything other than a disappointment for his parents, never enjoyed the way it rolled of so many people’s tongues in a derogatory manner. When he had moved out—and away—he had started using the surname Storm. Virgil Storm sounded better, and it didn’t come with emotional baggage.

Virgil makes a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between clearing it and trying to say something but not knowing what. He glances at Thomas.

“Picani—”

“Emile, actually, if you please,” He says with a wince.

“Emile,” Virgil corrects himself, “I don’t—Remy and I—I can’t….” He twists his bangs out of his face just to do something with his hand. The man in the half lenses waits patiently for Virgil to articulate himself. “I’ve never taken care of a kid.”

Thomas squeezes his hand tightly. Virgil thinks he lost feeling in two fingers, but he doesn’t try move.

“I’m not the best fit for Thomas’s caretaker. I didn’t even know Remy. We talked one time when we were kids. Are you sure it was me on that will and not someone else?”

Emile leans back against his desk, still careful not to crush any of the drawings. “I’m honestly not sure I’m the right person to ask. Remy and I were good friends, but even then we didn’t talk about everything. When he announced that he was changing his will to remove me as Thomas’s next-in-line guardian I thought it was a joke--”

Virgil’s stomach drops out at the comment. He feels sick again, the rolling nausea sweeping over him like a wave. That sounded right—all of it sounded right. Virgil didn’t know why someone would joke about that, but Remy had to have been joking because Emile was a well put together man, who Thomas knew better than he knew Virgil.

“Thank goodness it wasn’t.” Emile continues, much like a wrecking ball to the train of thought in Virgil’s head. It leaves his ears ringing.

“What?”

This time Emile looks at him with those dark eyes, “I love Thomas. I really do. But I can’t be his caretaker. I’d lose him.”

“Lose him?” Virgil repeats, remembering every time his parents had forgotten him at the supermarket or in the mall and the weekends were he just didn’t go home and no one was suspicious of it.

“Yes, um,” He fixes his glasses, “Due to a few infractions of the law in my childhood, I can’t legally adopt a child. I can run a therapist office,” He waves a hand around the room, “but I can’t have one of my own. Especially not Thomas.”

Virgil isn’t entirely unsure of what to make of that comment. First off Emile Picani looks a lot like a single breeze might knock him down, and the way he had shriveled up at the sight of Madam Hydrus wasn’t helping his case. However, he was also admitting that he at some point broke several laws? Laws that prevented him from taking care of a kid?

But this was Thomas.

“Madam Hydrus,” Emile says lightly. He picks up a figurine of Ursula from his desk and considers it. “She is Thomas’s mother’s mother. Extremely high class. Had she found out her daughter and Remy had been a thing back from Thomas’s birth, she undoubtedly would have put a stop to it. Her daughter—Thomas’s mother and Remy’s girlfriend at the time—died in childbirth due to a complication. Remy took it hard. Madam Hydrus took it harder.”

Emile sets the figurine back down. “She has been trying to gain custody of Thomas since his birth, declaring Remy an unfit parent. Every other week she had lawyers harassing them. I’m not sure what Thomas’s mother told Remy about her, but Remy refused to let her see him, refused to leave his son’s side when the woman was anywhere near.

“I believe her intention was to keeping sending lawyers in an attempt to run Remy out of money. When he no longer could support a child the judge would have to rule in her favor. However, Remy was a business major who knew how to maintain and predict the stock market.” Emile pauses, “That’s how we met actually. I asked him to help me learn the stock market. I’m a terrible student. But Remy tried, so hard. He was a good person. He really was. When my landlord kicked me out, he immediately offered me a few spare rooms here as long as I paid rent.”

Virgil nods, the sick feeling in his stomach bubbling. Beside him Thomas shifts again, quiet, oh-so-quiet. The warmth of the room makes his dress shirt collar stick to his neck.

“When Thomas turned three, Remy asked me to take guardianship of Thomas should anything happen to him. He was paranoid that Madam Hydrus would get tired of sending lawyers and might escalate to sending not-so-polite people. He wanted to make sure that if he did pass unexpectedly there would be someone else lined up to take in Thomas that was not Madam Hydrus.”

Virgil tenses, “What?”

“He—”

“Are you saying Madam Hydrus paid someone to kill Remy?” Virgil says. Oh, and there’s the panic: his foot has slipped off the steady edge of the metaphorical cliff and Virgil is free falling to his death. His lungs feel two sizes too small for his chest, and all the oxygen in the world doesn’t seem to be able to fill them. He rips his hand from Thomas’s and claws at his collar, struggles with the tie that is acting as a noose around his neck.

Remy was dead—Remy was dead because Madam Hydrus had him killed. Madam Hydrus was the same woman that Virgil just told off and then announced he would be taking in Thomas. What was stopping her from having him killed? Virgil was going to end up dead. By this time next week Virgil would be decorated with white lilies and people would be standing in his living room talking about how sad it was that he was gone.

“Mr. Quies! Virgil!” Emile is suddenly by kneeling by his side, “Virgil I need you to breathe with me. Breathe—In, yes hold it! Out….”

Virgil’s had panic attacks before. They normally leave him curled in the corner of his apartment with his own nails clawing through his hair, and his chest aching from too short of breaths. It’s another reason why he’s not fit to be a parent, because how can he take care of a kid when he can suddenly shut down like this. What if there was an emergency and Virgil wasn’t able to protect Thomas?

“In….” Emile says again, and Virgil strains to force his lungs to follow the instruction. “hold….Out….”

It takes a few minutes to calm him back down. It feels like hours. Actually the whole day has felt like eternity, drawing on and on and on. Virgil is suddenly aware that Emile in kneeling in front of him, speaking soothing words that mean absolutely nothing to him.

Thomas…

Virgil glances to his left where the kid had been, fully expecting Thomas to have bolted the second Virgil started acting weird. But he didn’t. Thomas is sitting there beside him, watery eyes and a nose fully of snot that he wipes on his arm.

“Dad… does that too,” Thomas says, between the sniffles.

Oh good, Virgil shares exactly one thing with Remy and it’s his panic attacks.

“Thomas,” Emile says quietly, “Can you grab a cup of water?”

Virgil has half a mind to tell them he doesn’t need a cup of water (He needs to have a chat with Remy and ask him what the hell he was thinking), but Thomas is already up and dashing out of the room. Virgil sinks back into the couch.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Quies—”

“Virgil.” He rasps out because the name is causing him to flinch and he doesn’t have the energy to suppress it anymore. “Virgil, or Storm, or anything that isn’t that name.”

“Virgil,” Emile nods like it isn’t weird at all, “That was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention to my words. Madam Hydrus did not so anything…illegal. The police found no sign of foul play. Remy was driving on too little sleep and he slid off the road, into a tree.”

Which Virgil had read all about in the obituaries online during the flight here. Which he knew was the truth. Which didn’t stop the feeling in his gut from twisting over and over like some mutant alien parasite.

“Remy was paranoid,” Emile says with a sad frown, “But he made up his mind. He wanted someone he trusted who didn’t have a record that Madam Hydrus could exploit in court.”

“Am I…the only one?” Virgil asks.

Emile makes a face that tells him the answer. Of course, he is. That’s why they’re having this conversation. That’s why it’s Virgil’s name on the will and not anyone else’s.

“He left you most of his finances,” Emile says, “As long as you agree to take care of Thomas.”

“I am the least fit person to take care of any kid, Emile,” Virgil reiterates because all the money in the world won’t change that fact.

Thomas scoots back into the room, with a bathroom cup of water that he’s trying very hard no to spill. He gives it to Virgil, before climbing up on the couch next to him again. Before Virgil knows what he’s doing he runs his hand through Thomas’s hair, and the kid almost flops into him.

Emile watches the entire thing with a miniscule smile on his lips.

“I beg to differ, Virgil,” He says, “I think you are the most fit person.”

Virgil isn’t sure what it is about the other man, about the room, about Thomas, but sitting there, exhausted out of his mind, he thinks that Emile isn’t entire right (because after all Remy was the best person to take care of his kid), but Virgil might just be willing to try.

“I’ll get in contact with Remy’s lawyers.” Emile promises.

Virgil nods to show that he heard, but all he can really focus on is the softness of Thomas hair and the weight of the kid on his shoulder. He sinks back into the couch.

“You should get some sleep.”

Virgil is way ahead of him.

[katedoesfics]

Shadows of the Yiga | Chapter 22

Revali leaned back in the large, leather chair. He rolled himself away from the table, spun himself around, then rolled back, kicking his feet up on the table as he did so. He folded his hands together behind his head as he rocked slightly. “This is nice. Why don't we do this more often?”

“Because this is not a place to hang out,” Zelda hissed. As she walked behind him, she pushed against his chair, forcing him to sit upright, his legs sliding off the table and back onto the floor. “Need I remind you that I am your queen.”

Revali mocked her quietly, folding his arms together and turning his nose up at her. “Most loyal subjects have not seen their queen in her underwear.”

Zelda threw a book angrily at him, and he ducked with a snicker at the last minute. The Champions were all gathered around the table, per Zelda’s request, and were anxiously waiting for answers.

“Can we get with the program?” Riju said, jabbing her finger into the table.

“Why are you here, anyway?” Revali sneered. “You're not a Champion.”

“Sorry,” Urbosa said, rolling her eyes. “You know she's too young to stay home alone. I had no choice.”

“Shut up, Urbosa!” She elbowed her sister. “I'm twenty-four!”

“Remember when you were little and cute?” Revali said with a wide grin.

“That little girl could kick your ass,” Daruk said with a slightly disinterested tone. “In fact, I'm quite sure she has.”

“Can it, Steroids.”

Daruk flexed his arms. “All natural. Don't be jealous.”

“You wanna take this outside?” Revali stood, his palms against the table. “'Cuz I'll take this outside!”

Daruk stood over him and grinned. Though Revali was barely of average height, Daruk was very large, and he almost towered over him. Revali slunk back in his chair, defeated.

“It wouldn't be a fair fight,” he muttered. “You and your super freakish strength.”

Zelda sat at the end of the table, shaking her head in her hands.

“It seems they're still stuck in high school,” Riju said. “Bragging about whose superpower is better.”

“At least we have 'em,” Revali said with a grin, but to his surprise, Riju reached over and shocked him lightly on the nose.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Guess it runs in the family,” Urbosa said with a yawn. “Play nice, Riju.”

“I've never read a comic where the super heroes argue like teenage girls,” Daruk said.

Riju snorted. “What comics are you reading?”

“Speaking of super heroes,” Revali said, turning to Link who had been oddly silent through the whole thing. “If this is a superhero meeting, why is this loser here?”

“Hero of Hyrule,” Riju said. “Duh!”

“Hero of Hyrule with no more super sword, if I remember correctly,” Revali pointed out.

Link slunk into his chair, ignoring Revali's teasing gaze.

“What's the matter, Mr. Hero? Out of comebacks?”

“Don't piss him off,” Aryll said as she came around the corner. She wiggled her fingers in the air. “He has super evil dark powers now.”

“Aryll,” Zelda started. “I don't recall giving you an invite.”

She sat in the empty chair beside her brother. “And here I was thinking it got lost in the mail.”

“Aryll,” Zelda warned. “This is -”

“A super secret meeting about Dark Link. Yeah, I know.”

The room fell silent.

“What's Dark Link?” Daruk asked.

“Dark Link is gonna get ya in your sleep,” Aryll taunted.

“Aryll,” Mipha started. “This isn't something to joke about.”

Aryll shrugged. “If we don't learn to laugh at how fucked up our lives are, we'll only go crazy.”

“What's Dark Link,” Revali asked, “and how do I get to kick his ass?”

“Look,” Zelda started fiercely. “I'm reinstating your titles of Champions. I hope you all enjoyed your vacation, because you're all about to go fight some more fucked up shit that wants to destroy us all.”

“I didn't reenlist,” Revali said. “I never signed on the dotted line.”

“We destroyed Ganondorf,” Urbosa said.

“ I destroyed Ganondorf,” Link muttered.

She ignored him. “What more could there possibly be?”

“The Yiga Clan,” Zelda said. “It seems they have plans to break the seal and give him possession of the Triforce.”

“I knew it,” Revali muttered. He turned to Link. “I called that, didn’t I?”

“We all know that won't work,” Daruk said. “You and Link have the other two pieces, and if he tries to get his hands on the whole thing, it will only shatter.”

“Well, fun fact, they found a way.”

The room was quiet for a moment more.

“So,” Revali said, breaking the silence. “Who's Dark Link?”

“I told you,” Aryll said. “Piss him off and you'll find out.” She wiggled her fingers once more.

Zelda continued before Aryll could say anything further. “The Yiga Clan believe that if the other two pieces – our pieces – are no longer pure, then Ganondorf will be able to wield the full power of the Triforce without it shattering.” Zelda hesitated, her gaze falling on Link. “Unfortunately, it seems that they've already worked their dark power into one of the pieces. They'll be after mine next.”

“Wait,” Daruk started. “How did that happen?”

“Link got himself kidnapped,” Aryll said. “They gave him some evil go-go juice, and voila, Dark Link.”

“I'm not evil,” Link muttered. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Not yet,” Aryll pointed out.

“The Yiga Clan apparently has a large supply of this-” Zelda sighed, “-evil go-go juice. They've used it to create an undead army, and they used it on Link to -”

“Turn him to the dark side,” Aryll finished.

Revali peered at Link. “He doesn't look dark or evil,” he said. “Nope, definitely still as much as a wuss as the day I met him.”

“Watch it,” Link snarled.

“Release the Kracken!”

“Knock it off, Aryll,” Mipha warned.

“When I turn, I'm going after you, first.” Link pressed a finger to his sister's nose, his lips twisted in an angry snarl.

“That's not funny!”

“Then shut the fuck up!”

Mipha pulled on Link's shirt, pulling him back into his seat where he fumed quietly.

“What is happening!” Riju shouted.

“Link gets super angry,” Aryll said. “And when he gets super angry, he turns into the hulk, except with these red, evil eyes, and he kills everything in his way.”

“Is this a joke?” Urbosa muttered.

“Mipha and I saw it ourselves.”

Urbosa stood abruptly and leaned across the table. Her fingers twisted in his shirt as she pulled Link forward. “Did you fucking touch them?” she hissed.

Link pulled himself out of her grip. “No!” He turned his gaze away quickly as he fell back into the chair. He dragged his palms down his face, but let them stay for a moment.

Urbosa turned her gaze to Mipha, who echoed his response. She remained standing, her hard gaze on Link. “So, you're telling us that you go all hulk and have no control over what you do?”

“Yup,” Aryll answered for him.

“And then what? You go back to normal after you rage kill everything?”

“Yup.”

“And eventually you'll turn on us?”

When Aryll did not answer for him, Link looked up and met Urbosa's gaze. “To the dark side,” he muttered. “And then you can kill me.”

Urbosa hesitated for a moment before returning to her seat.

“Wait a second,” Aryll said, standing suddenly. “We didn't agree to that. We said we'd fix this.”

“You're not even supposed to be here,” Link hissed.

“You lied to me!” She punched him in the shoulder. “You promised me we would fix it!”

“There's no we!” Link shouted at her. “You don't get a say!”

Aryll looked taken aback. “I don't get a say? I'm you're fucking sister! You're my brother! You're all I have left!”

Once more, the room fell silent. Link got to his feet and, without another word, left the room, slamming the door behind him. Aryll remained standing, her lips pinched together as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Mipha moved towards her, taking her hands and pulling her quickly out of the room.

“This is fucked up,” Revali muttered.

Daruk's brows knit together. “How long does he have?”

“I don't know,” Zelda admitted, her voice soft. “And I don't know how we can fix this. If he completely turns, we'll have no choice but to... there's no coming back if that happens.”

“What about the Yiga Clan?” Urbosa asked. “We’ll need to take them out, too.”

Zelda hesitated. “I think our prime objective will be to do what we can to fix Link,” she said slowly. “Otherwise, we won’t stand a chance against him and the Yiga.”

“We’ll need to do both,” Daruk said. “We need to be proactive in stopping the Yiga Clan before they can do any more damage.”

“Regardless,” Zelda said quickly. “We’ll need to be on guard. I’ll do what I can to find out more about the Yiga Clan, and how to fix Link before it’s too late.”

“So, what?” Revali started. “We’re supposed to just wait around until we have a plan? Why not make a plan now?”

“Zelda’s right,” Urbosa said. She held a careful gaze on the queen. “We need to be careful about how we deal with the Yiga Clan. We have the two people they need to get their hands on. The more details we have, the better off we’ll be.”

*****

Link paced the empty hallway, his mind racing, his heart aching for the pain he caused his sister. He cursed at himself over and over for letting everything happen to them. If only he had the sword – if only he had more power, like the rest of his friends – he could have stopped it. He could have saved them all. He could have stopped the Yiga Clan before they could even begin their evil plans. If only he were better.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, turning to meet Teba's gaze. His brows knit together in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“Zelda called me.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Said she needed my help.”

Link snorted. “Your help?”

“I may not have any cool powers like you guys,” he said with a grin, “but that doesn't mean you guys get to have all the fun.”

“Remind me when the fun started?”

Teba ignored him. “I know the rumors, but what's your side?”

Link hesitated. “That depends. What are the rumors?”

“The best one I've heard is that you've gone crazy and betrayed us all. Hyrule's Hero turned traitor.”

“Oh, is that all?” Link sneered.

“Alright, alright,” Teba said. “Guess I hit a nerve.”

“Remind me why Zelda wants you?”

“Well,” he started, “I do command part of her army.”

“Since when?”

Teba shrugged. “Enlisting seemed like a good idea. Saki isn't too thrilled about it, though.”

“Right.” He hadn't realized how long it had been since he had seen Teba or Saki. He supposed he should act like a decent human being, at least for as long as he was human. “How is she?”

“She's good.”

Link could feel Teba's gaze on him, but he did not turn to him. “You should go get filled in, then.”

Teba patted Link's shoulder as he stepped around him and into the room. Link turned his attention to Mipha as she walked toward him.

“When did you become so cold and heartless?” Mipha hissed at him.

“I don’t know,” Link said. “Probably around the time Kohga decided to turn me into one of his fucking minions.”

Mipha pulled her gaze away from him. “Aryll left.”

Link’s hard gaze softened. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know.”

“And you let her go?”

“She doesn’t need to be here.” She glanced at him. “And she certainly doesn’t need to deal with your shit.”

Link averted her gaze. His brows furrowed. “She needs to face the reality of the situation,” he said firmly.

“What? That her brother is just going to let this happen? Let himself die?” Her voice raised. “You’re all she has left!” Her voice broke toward the end, and when she spoke again, it was softer. “You can’t… you can’t do that to her. You can’t do that to me.”

“I’m not going to let it happen,” he said slowly. “But if we can’t fix this soon… Goddesses, Mipha, it’s not like I wanted this!” His jaw tightened. “But I can’t let myself live if I’m only going to put everyone in danger. The same danger I did everything I could to stop. The same danger my father died trying to stop.” He met her gaze. “You both need to understand that. This is what needs to be done.”

“Well,” Mipha started softly. “If it comes down to that, we can deal with it then. But Aryll needs you. I need you. We need you here, and now. You need to fight for your damn life.”

“To the end.”

“We won’t let it come to that. I won’t let it come to that.”

Link pressed his lips together. He needed to find his sister. He fished his keys out of his pocket, then pressed his lips against Mipha’s before jogging down the hall and outside to find Aryll.

[lenific]

@thedarkcheessmaster prompted: R is for Remember.

Set in All About Lacey

---

Lacey twirled her keychain around her fingers before flinging it into the little bowl on the closest side table, where it jingled as it settled next to a couple earrings and about three dollars in change. Rumpelstiltskin was irked at her use of an antique to hold knick-knacks, but she'd pointed out that if the pink, over-stuffed mansion was to be her home, then he had to make a few sacrifices to help her feel comfortable.

Oh, there had been resistance. Particularly against the idea of dinner in the living room, shoes off and away from the stiff formality of the imposing dinner table. Even after Lacey promised not to turn on the TV while they ate, Rumpelstiltskin had loudly protested.

Only the remark that a full stomach often left her sleepy - and wasn't it easier to cuddle up to him if they were already on the couch - had moved him to given in 

He fulfilled his preference for a formal setting by taking Lacey out often, and she, of course, approved of the compromise.

Tonight, however, seemed destined to be spent at home. Rumpelstiltskin glanced up as soon as she came into the living room, and Lacey could see the take-out bags he had put on the low table. "Chinese again?"

It never ceased to amuse her that the man who could conjure banquets with a gesture, was content with noodles and shrimp.

Rumpelstiltskin gave a little shrug, well aware of her bafflement but just as certain that she shared his tastes, and motioned at her to join him on the couch. "You just missed the delivery guy."

The memory of the tall, broad-shouldered boy, perhaps a couple years younger than her but who blushed like a fourteen-year-old at a peek of a bra strap, made Lacey grin. "Pity," she said cheekily. "I like young Po."

"And he's more terrified of you than he's of me, so congratulations on that feat, sweetheart."

Lacey responded with a light kiss on his lips, both a greeting and a thank you at the compliment.

There was a pause as the food was distributed, and once the containers were opened and their chopsticks at the ready, Rumpelstiltskin made the question Lacey had been expecting from the moment she stepped through the door:

"How was your day?"

Or a variation of it.

Without another lecture on recklessness, defending her right to make her own choices would be a waste of breath. He looked genuinely curious, rather than angry as she'd expected. Lacey picked up a bite of pork, and chewed as she shifted her strategy.  

"Oh, you know. The usual housework." She waved around the room as if to take credit for its tidy state. "Washed up the dishes from breakfast, cleaned the bathrooms, did the laundry..."

She couldn't continue as his increasingly amused face prompted her to giggle. Only a couple of months ago, the joke would have left him broody, but he seemed to be finally getting over it.

"All right," she relented. "So I slept in; then it was practice, practice, lunch, and practice." She made a point of counting on the fingers of her left hand, then wiggled her thumb as if searching for a fifth action. "Oh! Then I went out for a coffee!"

Rumpelstiltskin hooked a finger around that thumb, pulling her hand toward him. "Coffee, huh."

"Didn't I tell you about it?" She copied him and left her dinner on the table, unconcerned that it would get cold. Magic was better than a microwave, and such a simple spell would be within her abilities. "I know I sent you a text because the last time you came home and didn't find me, you made such a fuss that the Sheriff is still whining about it."

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. Not a surprise, since describing a magical duel between the Dark One and the Evil Queen as 'a fuss' had been meant to amuse him. "You don't care about Miss Swan," he said.

"Well, no," Lacey admitted with ease. "But I do care about not putting up with more whining."

"Smart enough," he conceded. "Had a good time, then?"

"Free caffeine, free entertainment; so not too bad. Oh, and before I forget, Zelena says hi."

His mouth twisted into a scowl, but the grasp on her hand didn't alter. He wasn't angry, just concerned. "Lace... Just because she's at odds with Regina, it doesn't make Zelena our friend," he told her, then relaxed at her unsurprised reaction. "But you've seen that already, of course."

One of the reasons she had stuck with Rumpelstiltskin, despite the awkwardness of their situation, was that he never doubted her intelligence. "Subtlety isn't her forte," she explained. "She's so obsessed with you, it made me blush. Not to mention that she'd have happily poisoned my drink if she could get away with it."

He didn't react at her first assessment, but the second had him showing his teeth in anger. "If she ever threatens you..."

"Come on, Rumple. You'd never have taken her as a student if she were that stupid." Lacey frowned. It certainly would be easier to get rid of the woman if Zelena acted on her hate openly. One move to hurt Lacey, and Rumpelstiltskin would send the witch back to Oz in a coffin - with Regina's blessing or not. "She did all the right things: called up to invite me over, mentioned how she felt uncomfortable going to you directly, and maybe I could help her instead?"

"Help with what?"

"Kill Regina, what else. She didn't go into specifics once she realized I wouldn't become her little spy." Lacey shook her head. "You should have heard her go on and on about how we, overlooked branches of Henry's family tree, should stick together."

A roll of her eyes made clear what she thought of that approach. Rumpelstiltskin was ecstatic with whatever attention his son gave him, and as Henry's safety was the main subject he and Baelfire discussed, he made a point of spending time with the boy.

Lacey was glad for him. Truly. She even swallowed her more cutting remarks within hearing of Henry's maternal side. However, that her boyfriend enjoyed his role as grandfather did not give Lacey even the slightest urge to play grandmother.

"You are not overlooked, Lacey," Rumpelstiltskin said, his thought process apparently having traveled down a different path. "Not ever."  

She had no need of the reassurance, but it made her smile anyway.

Meanwhile Rumpelstiltskin had his lips pursed, mind running through his options. "Lace..." he started slowly, "what do you think of learning new tricks from the woman who swears she's surpassed her old teacher?"

Lacey raised an eyebrow. His intent was clear, and pleased as she was at his trust, there was her sanity to consider. "And listen as she brags about it ceaselessly? No."

"Think about it, sweetheart. Please." Rumpelstiltskin met her eye, his gaze intense. "Zelena must have a plan. She doesn't have the patience to hang around and plot, when she could be leveling the town to draw Regina into a fight."

Lacey shrugged with genuine disregard. "What's it to us?"

"If it includes Henry, I must know."

"She wouldn't risk that. To entangle you in her one-sided sibling feud?" Lacey shook her head. "She wants you to fuck her, Rumple, not to slice her neck for hurting the kid."

Rumpelstiltskin considered that. "Still. I am... uneasy... with her pretense of retreat - especially if she's recruiting allies already. In power, Zelena is stronger than Regina. An open duel should be everything she needs - yet she demurs." He squeezed her hand.  "The girl thought nothing of murdering Regina in her bedchamber once. I must know what's stopping her now."

"Better wards?"

Rumpelstiltskin's laugh explained better than words his opinion on Regina's chances to best her sister. "If only it were that simple." Then he glanced at her, his eyes hopeful. "You could help me, love."

"Not like that," she said simply. "I won't spy for you either, Rumple."

"Lace..."

"I won't hide behind lies, no. If you want me to draw the truth out of that witch, I'll figure out a way; but I won't pretend I'm her friend."

"It would be safer."

Lacey huffed. "I'm a terrible liar, Rumple."

Rumpelstiltskin's expression softened, and after a moment he nodded and lifted her hand to kiss the back of it. "Of course," he said. "Honesty suits you well, my love. I remember now."

The End 01/11/17

[fyeahcaptn]

kc canon-ish + sure they're "just friends then" and she wasn't q u i t e ready for him to show her the world (yet), but she was hungry and that girl that she saw get a bit too handsey with klaus at the bar looked delicious okay??

okay, this turned out wayy longer than planned. almost 4k for something that was supposed to be around 1k. eh. bonnie and caroline friendship! post 5x11. no babies. actually includes some plot. smut, so nsfw.

ff. ao3.

Caroline hadn’t planned on coming to New Orleans after she’d left Mystic Falls. Not for a very long time, at the very least. She knew she would eventually. Knew she’d seek him out, but she wanted a few decades, if not more, to roam the world first. She wanted to figure out who she was.

However, she’d barely had time to enjoy all New York had to offer, when Bonnie had appeared, with wild hair and bright eyes, as she’d been roaming around the streets.

The witch had almost startled her, which was… weird, to say the least.

“Bonnie,” she’d exclaimed, before her lips curled upwards, a grin splitting her face. “What are you-”

“Are you busy?” Bonnie had cut in.

“Um…”

“I’m headed to New Orleans,” Bonnie had told her, “and I was hoping that my partner in crime would want to follow me.”

“New Orleans?” She’d raised an eyebrow, her voice raising slightly. “What the hell are you doing there?”

“My grams came to me in a dream,” she’d murmured, her eyes flicking up to Caroline’s, and Caroline had seen the hesitation in them.

Caroline raised an eyebrow.

“A witchy dream?”

“I think so,” she’d murmured. “We have some relatives there. In New Orleans. And she thinks they’re in trouble. She wants me to help, and she said that they could help me too. That they were very powerful, could teach me things she never got the chance to.”

So, Caroline had agreed. Despite her better judgement.

She’d smiled at her friend, because no way was she letting Bonnie face that city alone.

“Do I have time to pack?”

Bonnie had just grinned at her.

“Please, as though you’d leave without at least half of your closet. And besides, this is New York. We could get in a few hours shopping, before. I’ve already booked our flight.”

She’d be annoyed if she didn’t appreciate preparedness so much.

Bonnie knows it too, from the grin she gives Caroline.

So, really, it should be no surprise, that from the minute she lands, she senses vampires (and hybrids, if she’s not mistaken) on her tail. She doesn’t say anything to Bonnie, merely aims to get them back to their hotel room, where she can pretend they aren’t there.

Bonnie, bless her heart, had booked them two rooms. Said they were already paid for, once they’d got to the reception area.

“I know you like your own space now and again,” the brunette had told her. “And besides, who knows what you'll… get up to,” she settles on, “while you’re here.”

She hears what Bonnie doesn’t say. Has to admit that her own mind had drifted back to him, once or twice, on the way over here, and she knows Bonnie’s probably has too, considering what she’d told her, after that day in the woods.

“I doubt that’ll be a problem,” she grits her teeth. “But, thank you.”

Bonnie gives her a wolfish grin, and she almost wants to hit her.

“Just give me a heads up, if I’m not to expect you for a few days.” A poke in her ribs, that has her glaring. “You’re not the only one who worries, Care.”

Caroline had snorted, rolling her eyes.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Bon. I have no plans of seeing anyone while we’re here.”

She swore she saw Bonnie’s lips twist up.

“We’ll see,” her friend tells her.

Their rooms are up on the seventh floor, and honestly, she doesn’t even remember the name of the hotel, but Bonnie tells her to get some sleep.

“We’ll start tomorrow. I think I have a good idea of where to start,” Bonnie murmurs, before she shrugs. “At the very least, we can do some sight seeing. Try and get our footing around here.”

“Sure thing,” she sighs.

She intends to do what Bonnie suggested; maybe get in a nice, warm bath, and wipe the travelling grime off her, and get a good, few hours sleep, before they venture into the city. It’s her first time out of Virginia, and she fully intends to enjoy it.

That is, until there’s a knock at the door.

And really, she knows who it is, even before she opens the door. Still, she sighs, as she opens it.

He’s there. Dressed in his casual henleys, usual smirk in place, and his too blue eyes gazing down at her, just as they always use to. He’s posed casually, one arm wrapped around his back, as his other stays tucked into the front pocket of his jeans.

“Hello, Caroline,” he greets, his smile smug.

“Klaus.”

It comes out a little breathier than she intended it to, as her breath catches. And the bastard notices it, before he chuckles.

“Miss me already?” he grins.

She rolls her eyes, as she pops her hip against the door frame.

“Please.” She even bats her eyes at him.

His grin widens, even if possible.

“Are you going to invite me in?” he requests, cordial and all.

She raises an eyebrow in response.

“It’s a hotel room,” she tells him in that duh tone of hers. “You don’t need an invitation to enter, Klaus, or have you not been paying attention in the last millennium of your life?”

He laughs.

“Not necessary, but certainly appreciated,” he murmurs, as he pushes off, until there are less than a few centimetres between them.

She rolls her eyes.

“What are you doing here, Klaus?”

He gives her a look that she can’t quite read before he responds.

“I think the better question is what are you doing here, Caroline? This is my city, after all. I’m sure you remember,” he brags.

She knows what he’s implying. Thinking that she’s here for him, decades, centuries even, before he’d expected her, because she knew he had. She expected her to be here, so she can’t imagine that he doesn’t. Just a while before he was expecting her.

“I’m here with Bonnie,” she tells him, and it sounds defensive even to her own ears. “Sorry to break your bubble, buddy, but I’m not here for you.” A pause and then, “I didn’t come to screw up the life you have here, I promise. Bonnie has some witchy business. I wasn’t about to throw her to the wolves alone.”

Because like he said, it is his city, and she feels like she owes him that much.

“Yes,” he says, voice tight, and she can tell she’s struck a nerve. “So I’ve heard.”

“…okaay?”

She really should expect his next words.

“Why don’t you come stay at the compound?” The with me is implied, and she bites her lip. “Bring your friend.”

She cocks her head, as though she’s contemplating it.

“I think we’ll pass,” she tells him, her voice hard.

His eyes turn dark.

“You’re not safe here,” he insists. “There’s more going on in this city than you realise, Caroline. You’re safest with me.”

She snorts, “And what? You’re just gonna keep an eye on me twenty-four-seven?”

“It certainly wouldn’t be a hardship,” he murmurs.

She narrows her eyes.

“Maybe it would be for me,” she spits, a little more aggressively than need be, even she admits that, and she sighs. “Look, Klaus. I won’t be here long. Just until Bonnie’s wrapped her business up, and I’ll be out of your hair. I doubt anyone would want to hurt little ol’ me.”

“You’d be surprised,” he murmurs, and he takes a step towards her, “what people would do to get their hands on what they perceive is my weakness.”

Caroline’s not quite sure how to take that

“I’m not your anything,” she tells him firmly.

He looks more amused than anything, and he shakes his head.

“Do you really want to stay at this sub-par accommodation, Caroline? I can assure you, my property can offer you more comfort.” A pause, as he grits his teeth, and then, “You needn’t spend time with me if you don’t wish it. I do, obviously. That goes without saying. I just want you to be safe.”

She falters slightly at that, and damn him, because it works. He knows it works.

So, she sighs.

“Fine.”

His eyes light up his entire face.

“But, I am leaving New Orleans as soon as Bonnie is ready,” she warns him.

He just smiles.

“Maybe,” he murmurs. “But, just wait until you see the rest of the city. I’m sure you’ll fall in love with it, as have I.”

And that’s how she ends up (temporarily, it is really) living with Klaus. And his siblings.

(Rebekah is still a pain in the ass, but Kol is mainly amusing, and she finds she likes Freya. Freya is nice and kind, unlike the rest of the Mikaelsons, and she even offers to help Bonnie out, giving Caroline one thing less to worry about.)

-/-

Bonnie, as it turns out, is actually one to fall in love with the city. She likes that it’s so populated with witches, people like her, and she’s even managed to strike a deal with Klaus about the treatment of witches in the city. Well, she had made Caroline banter it out, but details. So, she decides to stay.

“You don’t have to stay,” she tells Caroline one night, when Caroline had come to her room.

“Huh?”

Caroline looks puzzled.

“I know you weren’t planning on staying that long, that you wanted to travel. So, you can take off. If you’d like,” Bonnie murmurs. “I know what I’m dealing with now, and I feel settled now. It almost feels like home.”

Caroline looks suspicious, but she doesn’t comment on that, and she sighs.

“Where are you gonna live?”

Bonnie laughs, because that is so Caroline. Practical to the end.

“Sophie’s been helping me find a place,” she reveals. “I can move in next week. It’s a studio apartment, and I’ve offered to do shifts at Rousseau’s to help fund for it. She said she could do with the help.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, if you wanna stay for another few days, and help me move in, I’d super appreciate it. And you could come back and visit me all the time! I know you’ve liked it here too,” Bonnie encourages. “But I know that you’ve been itching to travel too.”

“Yeah,” Caroline smiles. “I’ll figure something out.”

They don’t talk about it for the rest of the night, but Freya’s head pops around the door after a very brief knock a couple of hours later.

“Hey.”

“Freya,” Caroline grins.

“You girls interested in some cocktails?”

Caroline gives her a look, and Bonnie laughs.

“Do you even have to ask?” it’s Caroline who speaks up.

Freya’s devilish grin definitely matches that of her siblings when she smiles.

“Excellent. Everyone else is going too. Wasn’t sure whether to bother you, but there’s only so much of my family I can handle in one night.” She smiles, after an eye roll. “So get ready.”

And that’s how Caroline finds herself in her current complication.

They’d decided to get in one car, and the driver (they actually have a driver, so pretentious, though she doesn’t say anything) always asks “Mr. Klaus” when he’d like to be picked up. Klaus had grinned at her eye roll. The entire way to the club, Klaus had sat next to her, and she’d gulped at the feeling of his thigh pressed against her bare skin.

They’d grown closer since she’d moved (still temporarily) into his compound, and she’d spent some time with him. He’d shown her his favourite sights of the city, his favourite restaurant, his favourite bar, and she can admit that she gets why he loves it here so much. She could stand to stay longer.

It’s when they get to the club, and she and Bonnie go to the ladies that the problem occurs.

They’ve just walked out, when she sees him. Except this time, he’s got a brunette attached to him. What she isn’t prepared for is the tightening of her stomach, the emotion that swells in her throat, as she swallows.

Bonnie cocks her head, when Caroline’s fingernails dig into her palms.

“Everything okay over there?” She sounds amused.

“Just fine.” Caroline grits her teeth. “Why don’t we get a drink?”

Bonnie still looks amused, even as she lets Caroline lead her over to the bar.

“You could interrupt, you know,” Bonnie murmurs. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

She wants to, she really does.

“What Klaus does is his business,” Caroline says firmly, even if she doesn’t quite believe it. “I have no right to control over who he wants to see.”

“If that’s what you want to believe,” Bonnie mutters.

Caroline glares, but she doesn’t comment. Instead, she puts on her best fake smile.

“So, are we doing shots or not?”

She’s not sure how many shots she takes that night. It’s definitely a lot, and she’s definitely drunker than she has been in a while. And she’s soon alone, when a (witchy) guy Bonnie knows convinces her into a dance. She looks hesitant at Caroline, though.

“Go,” Caroline encourages. “I can handle myself. I’ll see if I can find Freya.”

She doesn’t, but at least Bonnie won’t worry.

She keeps her eye on Klaus, her eyes burning a hole through his companion’s back, as she grins up at him, her hand strategically placed on his chest, and he smiles down at her, with that smile he usually saved for her.

She wishes she could deny the feeling coursing through her, but she knows it’s jealousy. And it isn’t long before the glass in her hand is smashed, and she swears under her breath.

When she looks up, she sees Klaus'… thing walking away, and she swears he’s baiting her, but she pounces, following the girl out of the door.

Well? She was hungry. It had been days since she’d fed. And she had been feeding from the vein lately, especially since she’d come to New Orleans, where blood bags were sparse. If it was someone Klaus had been feeling up, well, that was nobody’s business.

She flashes outside, and the girl is startled for a minute, before she relaxes.

“Oh, it’s you. You’re Klaus’ friend, aren’t you?” the girl asks.

She snaps at friend, and her eyes dilate.

“Don’t struggle. Don’t scream.”

And then, her fangs are buried in her neck.

She counts to ten, as she drinks, like Stefan had taught her, but she doesn’t want to stop when she starts. Blood is pumping through her veins, and she presses the girl against the wall behind the club, her fingers curling in her red hair.

She doesn’t stop, not even when she feels a presence behind her. Followed by a lean chest pressing to hers, and a hand brushing her hair to the side. Because she knows that presence. Knows the feel of his hands. Has had specific dreams of them for weeks now.

A chuckle is pressed against her neck, and she feels the vibrations race through her

“Easy, sweetheart,” the words are almost whispered in the night. “Wouldn’t want to kill her now, would we?”

His words spur her back into the present, and she lets the girl drop, unsurprised when she scatters away, as the compulsion breaks. The second she’s gone, she’s twisted around, as Klaus picks her up, and her back is against the wall, her legs curled around his hips, as he presses against her. His smirk is in place just as always.

His eyes are wild, as he looks at her, and they soon dart down to her blood-stained lips. She curls her fingers around his neck in response, trying to encourage him to kiss her. And he does, for a few short minutes. His lips moving enthusiastically against hers, his tongue flicking out against the blood on her lips.

She swallows his groan, when she grinds her hips into his. Even more so, when his tongue sweeps into the hot cave of her mouth, but it’s all for naught, when he pulls away a few moments later.

“Not so fast, love,” he tells her.

She actually growls at him.

“Just fuck me,” she tells him, and watches as his eyes dilate in lust, before he shakes his head.

“Gladly,” he murmurs. “Just as soon as you admit that you were jealous.”

She snorts, though she can’t exactly deny it at this point.

“Please.”

“Because I want you,” he murmurs, and his erection digs into her thigh, that has her rocking against him for more. “God, do I want you. But not until you admit this. Admit that there is something between us, and you’re not just planning to run away as soon as possible. That you were jealous because she laid a hand on what was yours. Because I am yours, Caroline. I’ve been yours for longer than I care to admit. Just as you are mine.”

It’s the swivel of his hips that does it really, as she aches for more, gasping.

“Fine,” she gasps. “I was jealous. And I wanted to kill her. Happy?”

“Completely,” he agrees.

Her underwear is torn a minute later, and she growls again.

“I’m going to start billing you,” she tells him, her eyes narrowed.

He grins, and she hears the ruffle of fabric as he undoes his jeans, followed by the ripping of her dress.

“I’m fairly certain you won’t care by the time I’m through with you, Caroline.”

And then he thrusts into her, in one perfect move, and she groans, and decides that she probably does agree with him. Even if he is an ass.

She gasps, her head falling back, when he starts a rhythm that has her rocking against him in response, his hand under her ass, pulling her back onto him, when he pulls away. Her hands are underneath his arms, scratching at his back, with marks that heal almost simultaneously. Her eyes soon drift closed, but Klaus decides that isn’t enough.

“No,” he growls, and it’s pure sex, that has her clenching around him. “Eyes on me,” he demands, and she’s helpless to disagree.

In another move, he has her hands pinned above her head, with one of his, whilst his other grips her waist, as he fucks her. Hard and fast, like they need it. They have time for slow and deep later, but right now? She just needs him.

“God, Klaus,” she lets out, when he hits the perfect spot.

He knows it and smirks, pressing himself closer to her, her breasts crushed against his chest.

“Anyone could find us at any moment. You realise that, don’t you?” he muses, though she’s pleased to note his breathing is heavy too, as he thrusts back into her.

“Don’t care,” she gasps. “Just don’t stop.”

He just raises an eyebrow, and his thrusts pause.

“Don’t care? Tell me, Caroline, do you like it? Does it turn you on?”

She grits her teeth at him.

“If you’re not going to fuck me, I can do it myself,” she snarls.

“As satisfying as me?”

He’s got her there.

“Yes,” she snarls. “I

She manages to get out of his grip, and she reaches for his neck, pulling forward, until he kisses her, her tongue swiping against his lower lip, until he opens up for her, and his hips soon imitate the movement of his lips, making her smirk against him.

"Good to know,” he tells her.

She wants to know what he means by that, but his thrusting back into her, with a speed and force that she very much appreciates, and it’s not long before she’s nearly there. Klaus knows it too, angles his hips at the right time, and slides his thumb against her clit, right before she falls apart, clenching around him.

“Klaus,” his name is long and drawn out, and very much loud, considering where they were.

Her head tips back, and this time he doesn’t stop her, as his lips attach themselves to her neck, when he groans her name. He lets her ride out her orgasm, and she draws his own from him, his back arching, as his neck stiffens, before he collapses against her, holding them against the wall.

“Seriously?” she mutters, when they both come back too.

Klaus separates them, pulling out of her with a wince, as he tries to right his clothing.

“What’s that, love?” he asks distractedly.

“My dress,” she moans. “How am I supposed to go home like this?”

He smirks, “I rather like you like this.”

“You would,” she mutters. “But I don’t particularly want to show the good china off to every person who walks by.”

“Neither do I,” he agrees. “You are for my eyes only.”

She rolls her eyes.

“And you are a possessive ass,” she tells him.

“I’m a wolf, Caroline,” he reminds her, as though she needs it. “I’m possessive by nature. And even my wolf knows that you are mine.” She doesn’t comment, and he raises an eyebrow, “Can you handle that?”

She let’s that settle for a moment, before she steps up to him, presses herself against him, and curls her hand around his neck.

“Why don’t you call James to get us home?” she asks him, her eyes flicking down to his lips, before they land back on his eyes, “and I’ll show you exactly what I can handle.”

His smile is blinding, and it’s still there, as she manages to somehow right her dress so it covers the important parts, when James pulls up, and they get into the car.

“What?” she mutters.

He just grins, “Nothing, love.” And then, “I have a balcony you know,” he murmurs, as he cranes his neck, dropping kisses to her neck, his hand tracing over her thigh. “We could use it to test your exhibition streak.”

“I was thinking we could test your shower out actually,” she says, her hand dropping to his thigh, and palming his half-hard erection. “I had a bet with Bonnie that you’d stole the best one. And I have many plans. After we test out your bed.”

He groans, and tells James to step on it.

(She’d called New Orleans home.)

[mvssmallow]

Cloudy With A Chance

Part 14: …of fire.

Masterlist

1930pm, September 5th

The club is hot and smells like last night’s dry ice and spilled beer. Every dim corner is filled with trendy young people wearing flashes on ink on their skin and baring sharp teeth under their smiles. They stand in groups, laughing loudly and talking about things that Hanbin doesn’t really understand.

He feels like an outsider. This isn’t his scene. This is Jiwon’s scene and Jiwon’s people. Despite the sinking feeling in his stomach, he promises to make an effort tonight.

Yoyo squeezes his shoulder firmly and in a manner than Hanbin can only assume is meant to be comforting.

“You okay?”

He nods as his stomach flip-flops around.

June chuckles. “First time seeing him perform like this huh?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s terrible. Such an amateur. Don’t expect anything spectacular because he’s just going to disappoint you.” 

Yoyo snorts quietly beside him and Hanbin can tell that Jiwon’s friends have a own language of their own too. If there was such a thing as a Silent-High-Five, they have definitely mastered it.

“You must be so used to that now anyway.” Yoyo says with another sympathetic pat on his back.

Despite his nerves, he ends up laughing and following them to the bar for a few drinks. His relationship with alcohol is unpredictable at best and disastrous at worst. As long as he sticks to clear liquor and doesn’t have a panic attack in the middle of it, everything will be okay.

Hopefully.

At five to eight, the lights dim and the stage is lit up with bright spotlights. The talking becomes a muted hum and when the MC steps out onto the stage there’s a round of applause and cheers.

He swallows the last of his lime gin and just lets the nerves wash over him. He’s long accepted the fact that he just has to live with anxiety for the rest of his life, even when it’s the good-kind-of-anxiety, like it is tonight. He never expected for it to magically disappear and truthfully, the older he gets, the easier it is to own that dark part of himself. Without all his problems, he’d be a different person and who knows if that person would have ever met Jiwon.

So no, he wouldn’t ever want to change anything. It wasn’t worth the risk.

He also never really expected to inherit Yoyo and June along the way either but here they were, standing on either side of him like human barriers and making enough jokes to keep him distracted from the chaotic thoughts in his head.

And then the show starts.

The first rapper is a baby-faced kid, still shy and so stilted on stage that they could all see how inexperienced he was. Hanbin can spot those guys a mile away (it takes one to know one). He watches the kid deliver a brilliant rhyme before forgetting the rest of his lyrics in the next breath. Still, the kid has guts to get up there and swing at the ball with the other more seasoned rappers. Hanbin silently wishes him all the luck in the world.  

The next three rappers are loud but forgettable. All posturing and gesturing but no actual skill. The catchphrases and moves probably ripped straight from a recent american hip-hop video. He judges the obnoxious trio in his head but June has no problem heckling them out loud.

Then it’s the one they call Mino.

He could tell by the sudden burst of cheering and yelling coming from the crowd. Mino turns out to be good, a little too good, and definitely miles better than everyone before him.

Where Jiwon can sound rough and ragged, Mino was smooth and controlled, with thoughtful lyrical content that somehow makes sense in a hot crowded club. Hanbin will dislike him out of loyalty to Jiwon but it’s hard to deny real talent when you see it, even when you’re too busy frowning at it leaving the stage.

So busy in fact that he almost misses the MC announcing the next rapper. Some guy called Bobby.

It goes without saying that he really doesn’t like surprises. He doesn’t like not knowing what’s coming and not having enough time to mentally prepare for it. So when he sees the familiar tiger tattoo and flash of dirty blonde hair, the shock completely disorientates him.

“The return of the prodigal son!” The MC shouts with glee.

Yoyo and June nudge at his shoulder and the crowd around them is as loud for Bobby as they were for Mino.

He feels like he’s standing still in the middle of a storm. So many thoughts flood his head in that moment: Just how deep did Jiwon get into rap?  Why is he called Bobby? Why do so many people already know him? If he was so popular, why did he leave? If he was so popular, what is he doing with Hanbin?

The pessimism eats away at his edges, like the way fire slowly burns a piece of paper.

The Jiwon that steps out of the shadows and onto the stage is not his Jiwon. It’s some alternate version: all raw energy and live wires sparking in a sweaty electric body-an unstoppable force coming to pull him out of his dark mind. 

He wishes he could remember every detail that follows but when the beat drops, he can’t think of a single thing.

There comes a day in your life when you wanna kick back Straw hat on the porch when you old perhaps Wanna gather your thoughts, have a cold one Brag, to your grandkids about how life is golden So I will light a cigar in the corridor of the crib Pictures on the wall of all the things that I did

When was the last time you heard a real anthem Bobby, the millionaire, the mansion When was the last time you heard your boy B rhyme Never on schedule, but always on time

-Nas

He’s jostled side to side, back and forth, but like everyone else in the room his eyes never leave Jiwon’s face. He hears the mistakes, the missed beats, the slurred words to cover up the flaws and he watches, with some kind of soft envy, the way Jiwon just casually shrugs and pokes his tongue out when he knows he’s messed up. 

Nobody seems to care about the mistakes anyway. The energy and occasion more than making up for the lack of professionalism and flow that Mino had. It was so typical of Jiwon; owning his flaws unashamedly, turning mistakes into a funny trademark and making the most of an unfortunate situation. 

The audience is so loud and he can hear the most abrasive of laughs bouncing off the walls. When his 3 minutes is up, Hanbin watches Jiwon jump into the crowd to high-five and shoulder-hug everyone who wants one.  

The center of attention. It’s where he truly belongs. 

Just as he’s feeling out of place again, just as he thinks about leaving, he sees Jiwon pausing at the edge of the stage, eyes focused as they scan and search through the crowd. The twist in his stomach surprises him. 

He’s looking for me.

When their eyes finally meet, the lopsided wink and toothy smile that breaks across Jiwon’s face makes him want to burst into a ball of fire and forget about ever doubting any of this. 

This is his Jiwon and he is so proud of him.

Maybe it’s that thought, and the sheer relief of knowing that Jiwon hasn’t forgotten about him, that drives him forward and headfirst into the crowd of loud strangers. His parents might never accept them being together but right in that moment, he’s too drunk on alcohol, rebellion and rap to care. 

He doesn’t make it far before a familiar hand closes over his right wrist and leads him to the side of the stage that’s obscured by curtains.

“Looking for someone?” 

“Yeah, have you seen Bobby?”

“No, he’s left the building.”

“Has he? I guess I’ll settle for you instead.”

Jiwon pulls him closer until he can smell the sweat and coconut shampoo. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“So….what did you think?”

There’s just enough light filtering through the thin black curtains to illuminate shiny eyes, bunny teeth and the sharp angle of cheekbones. 

“I think….you’re the only one who can make a mistake and still probably win.”

Jiwon laughs. “Don’t think the judges will be as forgiving as you.”

“What’s the prize?” He asks, fingers itching do something.

“Money, women, power. The usual.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Yeah. You got a better prize for me baby?” Maybe Jiwon had meant it light-heartedly but the way it actually comes out, in that rough ragged voice, just makes him want to do something reckless and crazy. 

In his peripheral vision he can see the other rappers and their girlfriends hovering around the drinks table and there are more than a few curious stares thrown in their direction. Despite the alarms going off in his head and his anxiety warning him to hold him back, he lets himself get pulled into the gravitational field between them. He doesn’t wait for Jiwon to stop talking, just reaches up to grab the back of his neck and drag him down for a kiss, open-mouthed and mid sentence. 

It doesn’t last long but it’s hard, hungry and full of desperation, invitation and promise.

He can’t read Jiwon’s reaction clearly enough but he feels the thick questioning silence between them and he can see those shiny eyes wide in surprise. He finds more of his courage in the darkness and doesn’t let it go to waste.

“You want that? That’s your prize.” He murmurs quietly, hoping it comes out more confident than he actually feels saying it. 

“Wait….what…what do you mean?” Jiwon stammers and steps back to put distance between them, like Hanbin was suddenly a fire that was burning his hands.

They just stare at each other after that. Neither really knowing what to say. 

“AND NOW, THE RUNNER-UP. WELCOME HIM BACK: IT’S BOBBY!” The MC’s voice cuts through the dark silence and they both turn towards the curtain, briefly disorientated before remembering where they are and what was happening in the real world outside of their private bubble. 

Some of the rappers yell out their congratulations from across the room but nobody is brave enough to come near them. When he looks down, his fingers are twisted in Jiwon’s t-shirt and there’s a calloused hand resting on his back. He knows what they must look like, even in the dim lighting. Well, he wouldn’t be brave enough to approach them either. 

The MC announces Bobby’s name again and makes a joke about him disappearing before he’s even made a proper comeback. 

He shakes Jiwon’s shoulders gently. “Hey, you okay? They’re calling for you out there.”

Jiwon is still in a daze, murmuring and muttering, seemingly to himself. “Yeah….but you just….”

He leans in to press his lips against an impossibly sharp jawline before pushing Jiwon towards the stage. “You have to go out there. They’re calling for you. I’ll see you afterwards, okay?”

“Uh…okay.” 

He watches as Jiwon stumbles past the curtains onto the stage, almost tripping over his shoe laces and headbutting a laughing Mino. Bobby really did leave the building. This was all 100% his Jiwon. 

June and Yoyo take them out for a celebratory dinner after it all ends, probably so they could tease them relentlessly. 

“I love you man but shit, you looked so dumb getting back on-stage.” June shakes his head with an amused chuckle. “What the hell was wrong with you? Did you smoke something backstage?” 

Jiwon blushes pink, something so rare than June mutters a quiet ‘oh my god’ under his breath and Yoyo puts down his chopsticks to shoot them an accusatory glare.

“Okay. What did you do?” 

“Nothing!” They both say in unison.

He watches as Jiwon laughs and argues with his friends, perfectly content to just be there, not minding at all that he’s not a part of the conversation.

He takes a sip of water but just as his glass hits the table there’s a hand sliding down his right thigh. He tenses on reflex and slowly looks across in Jiwon’s direction but he’s still arguing with June.

There’s a tight squeeze that makes him squirm and when the hand creeps its way higher and higher, he’s holding his breath, frozen in his chair and probably looking as white as a ghost. 

June notices but doesn’t say anything. Sometimes he loves Jiwon’s friends. 

It goes on throughout the entire meal, stealthily and sneakily, like a really nice form of torture. It’s a relief when it finally ends and they are hugging June and Yoyo goodnight. He waits until they start walking towards the train station before punching Jiwon on the arm. 

“OW! What was that for?!” Jiwon cries out, rubbing his arm like it even remotely hurts. 

“You’re an evil jerk, you know that?” He replies coldly.

And Jiwon, with his bright happy face, just shrugs and gives him that childish toothy smile because they both know exactly what he did.

He rolls his eyes, pretends to be pissed off because it’s not fair that Jiwon can get away with everything. 

“Aww, come on. Nobody saw it.”

“Except God.”

Jiwon waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, he wasn’t looking. Satan probably did though because he’s a creep.”

He can’t even stop the giggle that comes out of his mouth. Jiwon pokes at his dimple with a smirk. “Yeah you’re not even mad about it are you?”

He swats Jiwon’s hand away. “Only on principle.”

“You and your principles.”

“Well, one of us should have some and you’re a rapper so I guess it’ll be me.”

Jiwon starts laughing but it dies down quickly, like he’s suddenly just remembered something. 

“Hey, um. What did you mean before?”

“About what?”

Jiwon makes an irritated noise. “You know what! What you said backstage. What did you mean?”

They reach the main intersection where there are swarms of people standing at the traffic lights. He waits for the crowds to disperse after they cross the street before he replies. 

“I don’t know why I said that. It sounded better in my head. But I mean, I guess, if you want something….you should just ask for it.” His voice wavers and he really wishes it didn’t.

Jiwon tugs at his sleeve to slow him down. “Ask for what? What do you mean? Do you want something?”

He looks at his feet hitting the ground. His face feels hot and he curses himself for starting this whole thing in public.

“Do we really have to talk about this right here?”

Jiwon squeezes his hand before putting some distance between them. “No we don’t have to. But….I’m probably going to ask you later.”

He nods as they board the train. Once seated, he leans against the window and stares out at the night lights. He can see Jiwon looking at him through the reflection in the window. 

The train ride back to his apartment is mostly silent, only punctuated by the occasional buzz of Jiwon’s phone. When a group of rowdy teenagers come to sit across the aisle from them, Jiwon shifts closer, legs and body repositioning themselves to create some kind of protective barrier between them and the noise. He wonders if Jiwon even knows when his body does things like that. The thought kills him inside and he tells himself that he really has to try and meet Jiwon half-way tonight. 

*** It was a bad-good night.

Mino is still beating him after all these years. That was bad.

But Hanbin actually kissed him. Twice. In a room with other people in it. That was good.

The start of the night was already a blur. He remembers performing, the noise and adrenaline, but mostly, he remembers looking into the crowd and finding that one smiling face. It’s his favourite face. 

Hanbin.

That guy is killing him slower than the Fugees song. 

The thought makes him smile to himself as he replies to all his text messages on their train ride home.

Maybe the touching under the table at the restaurant was too much but their kiss backstage was no ordinary kiss. Sure, it was brief (way too brief), but there was enough time for him to feel Hanbin’s tongue licking into his mouth and the way those sharp teeth bit his lip on the way out. 

Well, Hanbin said that he was ready for new things and Jiwon was ready to believe him. But as much as he wants to ask for more, he knows he needs to be patient. So he sits on the train, hands to himself, checking his messages as Hanbin looks out the window, probably thinking whatever faraway thoughts that he likes to think about.

He’s in the middle of replying to his brother’s message when Hanbin suddenly leans against him, lips next to his right ear and fingers playing nervously with the edge of his tshirt.

“I want it too. Just so you know.”

And just like that he’s leaning away and looking out the window again, like he just told Jiwon something mundane about the weather. Like it was no big deal.

“Okay…..but what do you want?” He asks in a quiet, cautious voice.

Hanbin looks at him through the reflection in the window. “Whatever you want.”

“What do I want?”

“Everything.”

Maybe he can’t surprise Hanbin like he used to but Hanbin still surprises him all the time. Just shocks and knocks him off his feet like a category 5 storm.

He opens his mouth but doesn’t know how to respond. What do you say to something like that? He’s never had this kind of conversation before. With anyone. 

He turns his phone back on.  

[yeah i do want everything with you. thank you for telling me]

He watches Hanbin take out his own phone and look at the screen for a long time before replying.

[thank you for being here]

[wasn’t going to let you walk home by yourself]

[That’s not what I meant. Thank you for still being here.]

Still.

It’s that one word that sets him alight with overwhelming fondness and makes his mind scream with the thought that maybe maybe maybe…..he can finally stop looking for other people. That maybe he did something right. That maybe This Is It. That maybe there is nobody else after this because there doesn’t need to be anybody else. 

[its where i wanna be]

[me too]

And then he’s textless.

Speechless and textless.

It’s a small miracle that they even make it to Hanbin’s apartment without getting lost or mugged because they’re still five levels deep inside their heads when they finally reach the front door.

He watches Hanbin drop the keys and bite at his bottom lip in frustration when he can’t find the right one. It gets him on edge, like he was somehow meeting Hanbin for the first time again. 

It’s dim when they finally push into the apartment, the only light coming from the streetlamps peaking through the gaps in Hanbin’s curtains. He turns to find the light switch but there’s a firm grip on his arm.

“Jiwon?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to stay the night?”

In the darkness he can see the wide hopeful eyes and hear the nerves in that shy quiet voice. It makes him want to burn from the inside out.

“Yeah. I do.”