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cherubispunk · 10 months ago

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CHERUB (PART III) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering.

a note from Lucy: Well, this is it folks. The third and final instalment of the unholy trinity that is cherub. The fic that i had no idea would get this amount of traction. The fic that gave me my username, blog theme, the majority of my mutuals and the freedom to explore more taboo areas of writing that I never felt comfortable with doing before. I just wanted to thank you all for all the kind words you’ve shared with me. Comments, reblogs, messages, they all mean the utter world. But i also want to specifically thank @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin who was such a huge help for motivation when wrting each of these. She's been there since the first day of cherub and always let me obsess over dealer!joel with her. Ange, i love you baby. Out of all my fandom experiences, this has definitely been one of the best. I know this sounds a lot like a goodbye completely, but it's not i swear! I just never really knew where this was going, but I think this is a pretty good way to end the series and I hope you agree too. Part of me isn't ready to let go after such a short run, but I honestly have no idea where to go from here so I think I did it as much justice as I could. Regardless, Cherub and Dealer!Joel will forever have a place in my heart all thanks to you lovely lot! Your love means the world to me and you are all so easy to share this with, you've given me an environment to flourish creatively and I'm eternally grateful for that. I wish you all the love, hugs, kisses, and angel wishes in the world!

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wc: 5548 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, plot? what plot? we all know we're here for the porn anyway, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his late 50s), gore imagry, religious imagry, Smut, very dubcon in theory but both want it bad, grafic smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl i beg of you), teasing, sort of edging? (idk what to call it but he doesnt fuck you until you beg for it lol). nipple play, biting biting biting!!!!!, references to domestic violence, use of pet names, manipulative! joel, stupid stupid cherub, stockholm syndrome, oral (f receiving), cum eating, pussy slapping, Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, overstimulation. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile vile vile porn I have written thus far…with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, i have my own circle now. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

The danger didn't lie in his hands. It didn't sit in his closed first to be suffocated. Choked out until the life of it was compressed. Until its face was blue, then purple and its eyes were bloodshot and streaked with red. The danger lay in your heart. And it thrived off the beating.

What is ‘it’, you ask? Mania.

The Greeks had it nailed down when they split love seven different ways. To the crucifix through its punctured and bleeding palms. All equal, but different. They understood that one love is different to the other. That love can be either obsession, or lingering in the quiet parts of a person's mind. You cannot hold up a mirror to one and deceive into believing it is another. No matter how sweet the lie seeps into the ear. They don't work that way. You were not Lucifer, you had no forked tongue. And your mania wasn't Eve. There was no apple to devour. Only the strong arm of Joel Miller to cling to like a noose.

Some love passionately. Find it in the scathing friction of flesh upon flesh. The heat two bodies make only in sex. You were no body anymore. Merely a corpse for him to dig up and breathe life into whenever he needed relief. So it was not Eros. Some love playfully. In the back and forth of a conversation that makes the mind and heart float in the clouds among the soul. Entwine them together until you are too sedated to know the difference between the three pillars of personal holy trinity. There was nothing lighthearted about Joel Miller. So there was no Ludus. Affection. The subtle, it-is-there-even-when-it-is-not weight of lovers hand in lovers hand. Joel clutched your throat with his heavy hand. He didn't lace your fingers in his like tapestry threads. And he was anything but friendly. So it could never be Philia. He was not unconditional. Familial. Constant. Committed. Long lasting. Selfless. He crept in through the backdoor and took. Then slipped back out. So the thick blood red line was drawn through Storge. Agape. Pragma. The love you had was not for yourself. Without him you hated yourself. Hated how you didn’t feel needed. Or wanted. So Philautia was buried six feet under hot earth, the final nail in the coffin that was lowered into the rotting, thick-with-decaying-mulch, stenching ground. By none other than Mania.

This was something you came to realise as you stumbled from his truck back to your room. His come dribbling down your leg. Luke asleep on the sofa. Months passed of the same thing. He’d take you home from work, only letting you go once he'd had his fill. Played out the sick fantasy from mind to matter, let it bleed through his fingers into fruition. You let it happen for mania. It was the thing inside you that kept you going. Before you thought mania fed off your heartbeat. But now you realised mania fed your heartbeat. The kick it got every second fired the next muted pulse. That's what kept it alive. Energy for energy. You were never one to bite the hand that feeds. That’s a sinner's duty.

—

The usual sight of Luke slumped in his lazy boy, guzzling beer was what you expected. The liquor once again swigged past his lips and dribbling down his stubbled chin. Wiry greying hair greasy on his head, balding. Thinning. Residue from a line on the coffee table. You were never tempted by it before. And you were determined never be a Angel dust statistic like him.

Instead, you opened the flimsy door of your trailer to see him hunched over a small collapsible table. His hand running over his sunken eyes, dragging purple eye bags down with his fingertips in shame. Cards in his other. It had your breath catching in your throat like a hare in a wire snare trap. This time around the small collapsible round table. Cards in his hand. And two other men shared a knowing glance and a grim smile of satisfaction. Him.

Joel Miller.

The tension was thicker than molasses in the room. You only wished it was as sweet. You swallowed it down thickly. It stretched your throat. You watched in morbid fascination when he lay his hand on the table in a fan for all to horror at, a sly smirk slithering over his lips and curling the one corner of it up like a scorpion's tail.

“Full house.”

“Fuck!” And Luke’s hand slapped the tabletop as he folded.

The door clicked. All three looked up to see you. Luke, Joel, and the man who held a familiar resemblance to your own personal devil. With eyes on you, you felt more like that hare in the snare than ever. Clapping eyes on the hungry wolf as mutton dripped bloody from his sneer. Cruel and hungry. You imagined him as that wolf, hyde thick and bristled under your soft fingers as he led you to some deep, dark, thorny place. A place only lit by the eyes of owls who observed while he had his way with you. Ripped your stockings to get to sweet fruit.

“Great, the cunt is home.” Luke spat to the room but you, looking over the table again as he bit his thumb nervously to the edge of the hangnail. “Get me a beer.” Your nostrils flared in defiance at his demand, knuckles pale as fingers furled into a fist. An army of goosebumps had stood to attention all along your arms and the back of your neck. A shiver shattering down your spine. Your heart had enough of its prison of your ribcage in your anger, ramming into it over and over in a frantic hammering. And when that wasn't enough, you felt it in your throat. Among the tightening of your airways. “You hear me girl?” He asked, looking at you. He stood, chair scraping against the floor and you staggered back to the point your shoulderblades hit the door. While he was a thin, wiry man, he had a vicious backhand that stung. Like a vengeful aftertaste. “Y’need me to beat some sense inta ya girl, huh?!” You dared to spare a glance at Joel who was too busy collecting his winnings. You soon to be among them.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, looking to the floor and cowering off to the kitchen to get him his beer.

“Y’short, Luke.” You heard from the doorway, straining to hear the tail end of the conversation. Something about your uncle having it by monday. And then Joel telling him he shouldn’t raise a bet he doesn't have the dough to cover.

It took a second to catch your breath. Tears strung in your eyes and your chest threatened to split in two. Your sternum felt like it was cracking down the middle into clean halves under the weight of your chest. A hand clasped over your quivering lips to bite back a horrible sob and muffle it. Only your palm could know you were crying miserably. So you took a beer from the fridge, heard the hiss as the lid gave way and popped off. It clattered to the linoleum and you bared your teeth at the grating sound, picking it up and tossing it in the bin.

“Here.” You mumbled, placing it unceremoniously on the table in front of Luke.

“Y’got any spare cash on you, girl?” Luke asked, beady eyes staring you down as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. You grimaced inwardly at the sight of his yellow teeth when he made a satisfied sigh.

“No.”

Joel’s brow raised. You should know by now not to lie to a man who can read you like a book. That's the thing about narcissists. They have a way of being able to understand you like a one word sentence on paper. A quick glance and you’re unravelling with concealed meaning and connotation.

“C’mon, Cherub…gotta have something from workin’ this late in that diner of yours…” You dared to challenge Joel with a look. A look that retreated soon after the advance of the glare of his eye. The same glare of the hungry wolf. Of the cheated man. It was unkind, and unyielding, and did not hold mercy upon the souls of the enthralled, the damned, or the harrowed. You might try to cross through the sentence, or turn the page. Or shut the book entirely. But the truth is still the truth even when you chose not to look. This was the man that knew your mind. Knew your body. And coaxed his will out of you each time. His word was all it took to cave, so you took the folded bills from your apron, flicking through them with a bitten back scowl,

“How much does he owe you?” Joel smiled with amusement, counting through his winnings to see what was short.

“Ninety-eight.”

‘What?” you asked, eyes wide, hurt. Disheartened. Fingers stilling halfway through the small stack. And Joel smirked.

“You heard me, Cherub.”

“Give Joel his money.” Luke warned.

“But it’s not his money! And it’s not yours to give!” You tried, and saw the warning tick of your uncle's narrow jaw. It was always set on edge before he threw a hand. Cast a palm across your cheek in a brandishing. It had you cowering. Relenting. Tossing the money in front of him. If it fell to the floor in its flurry he could pick it up and grovel about it. But Joel never grovelled. Only relished. Then reminded Luke of the money he still owed for the drugs.

And you walked back to the kitchen, biting into your lip again. With the devil and your demon in the next room over, you were sure this could be hell. A buzz filled your ears. Like the constant thrum of flies over roadkill. In festering flesh wounds where broken white of bone poked through gaping, bleeding holes. Blood matted in the hyde of the animal helpless and scattered across the road. A leg here, smashed teeth there. You were the roadkill. Joel was at the wheel of that which mowed you down. Luke was howling in the passenger side.

His boots thumped clumsily over the linoleum and he let out a huff through his nose while he adjusted his low slung jeans in the doorway.

“Cherub?” He asked, clearing his throat huskily — a consequence of the smokes he used religiously. You stood with your back to him, palms flat to the countertop and head hung low to fight the sting of tears simmering from within.

“He threatened to hit me.” You whispered, not turning to face him. If you mattered his ears would strain to meet you halfway. “And you did nothing.”

“Come on, Cherub…don't be like that.” he sighed, and you imagined him pinching the bridge of his hooked nose.

“He took my money. You took my money. How am I gonna get out of here without it?” You croaked, your tired eyes seeing faces of gaping mouths and slate black eyes in the speckled linoleum of the counter.

No reply came from the door. And when you turned it was empty. He had left. The other man had left. The tv was on again with the scream of a woman murdered. And Luke fell asleep in his lazy boy.

—

Another day, another shift. And more horror ensued. At first, what set the nerves thrumming was there was no sign of Luke. His truck was gone from its spot. No drunk slumped on the worn leather settee. No scream or grotesque image on the TV. Merely an empty bottle on the coffee table.

You swallowed, shutting the door cautiously with a muffled click of the latch. You didn't dare call his name. Just pushed it down into your stomach for it to churn the thought up in acid. But the horror jumped back up your throat into a lurid scream at the sight of your mattress tossed to the side. The moth bitten pillowcase on the floor, void of money. Your money. Gone. Someone had rifled through your belongings. Turned your only space into a mess. Strewn clothes, bed sheets, pillows in their haste. All your work. All the nights of living off bitter coffee from the pot at work, scrounging together tips. It made you seethe. The heat was an inferno at your fingertips, nails embedding crescents into your palms. You searched all over for it. But to no avail.

When Uncle Luke came home, he smelled of hard liquor. It was a miracle – or curse – he hadn't wrapped his car around a tree. He gloated, and sneered, and shoved it down your throat in his intoxication that he’d found it under the mattress. Joel had called him, told him you planned on leaving. And he connected the dots. Ransacked your room. Oh, how the man would hate his loose lips when you gave him hellfire.

You expected Luke’s reaction. You knew if he were to ever find out he’d snatch it up in his greedy, grimy hands and take it for himself. He spent all of it. Paid his debt to Joel, gambled some on bad luck bets, drank with the rest. Slugged liquor down his throat and got drunk off your labour. And then left you on your floor with tear stained cheeks and a heart of heavy lead.

You wanted your money. But would you take from the man who gave you your everything? Your sense of being. A religion and faith. You believed in nothing more than the way he held your name between his teeth. You forgot what your real name felt like in the same place. And it occurred to you that he had never said it. Did he know it? You weren't them anymore. You were Cherub.

The sweet and mourning lamb in you wanted to go over just to be his again, and not carry out the plan of taking back what was yours. That which he would see as sin. You felt guilt claw up your throat at the thought alone. It seemed blasphemous to conspire against him. Why do you insist on protecting yourself. You who was the sacrificial lamb?

If you did go – and you let him have you again – you were whole. But at what cost? Could you stand another night of temporary hell under the guise of heaven. Of touch so cold, like ivory or black ice. To have him thumb your skin with blunt endearments and the croon of ‘cherub’ past his chapped lips. Definite like black and white. No escape. What he’d do and how. Whispering them in the stone deaf shells of your ears like they were a sculpture. Pygmalion’s Bride. He’d made you all you were today. Took chisel to marble and carved out his masterpiece. Cherub.

You were soft, and pliable. Wax heated by his flame. You kissed back. You moaned for him. Begged him for his release and not your own. Bruised with his handprint. The warmth of life under flesh. But without him…you returned to marble. Another pretty thing to be gawked at. He tempted you with it because he knew more than anyone, more than god himself who watches these exchanges, that you can't live without him. It was like telling a child not to slip off to the woods in the dead of night. That was a pointless warning. You knew what lay there anyway, what threat it would be. That wolf in his thick bristled hyde. Curled up in his den. You would see it as innocence and vulnerability if you weren't so scared. But you knew when he woke up the teeth would shine again. And they’d tear flesh. Let blood. Gnash bone. Dripping from the glaring white once he finished with your carcass. Your matter between them and your crimson lacing his gums. Who knew being eaten alive could be so pleasurable.

But then again, how could bering alone really be hell if the devil wasn't there?

There is mania in your body. But you can't get it out. It rattles in your head and lungs and glues to the backs of your gnashers. No matter how much you wish to spit it out. It infects your tongue. It welds itself to the matter of your bones. Melts into the cracks between your teeth. Claggy against your tongue. All to show the sweetest of words have the bitterest of tastes. You can feel it swell underneath your skin. In the gap between muscles where it festers and heats you up. Like fever it burns, like the fire that consumes and the pillars that hold the temple up crack, the ground shakes, and the beast rears its ugly head at you. You’re losing your body to him. It's a fight you try to win. You dare to. You give your all, tooth and nail each time in the gaps between. In the silence and hollow that nestles in the middle of the meetings. In the quiet, where no one is around but the cracked plaster of your room. You stopped caring who fired the gun first. You were always the one who got shot down in the end. Right in the stomach. Blood gurgling up your throat in a grotesque plea for help.

All these weeks you had shrunk yourself to the size of a bird in his hands, sang a sweet sweet song of his name, until the squeeze of his first closest off your throat. And the sound stopped altogether. Laid there after the warning. Patient while you had your wings clipped and your freedom taken. And he took more. Took the beating of your heart with his teeth. Took the will to want. The will to love. The will to need anything else, as well as the need to have better. Below you were the foundations. Only now you saw them for what they were, a decaying mess of fragments, the stench of wood rot hot in your nose. A musk like no other. His musk. So in your anger you took an axe to a willow to see how it would weep. You slipped past the sleeping drunk you call Uncle Luke. Out the door, over gravel, past the truck he coaxed you to without the need of a sweet treat. You’d yank the axe from the bark of the weeping willow, its sob echoing in the wind that rustled its drapery of lush green leaves. Leaves that will wilt as sap bleeds from its severed trunk. Take the axe to the wolf. Cut him. Scrotum to throat.

Take back what was yours. And leave those woods skipping.

—

Your knocks descend upon his door in quick raps until he opened it with a grumble. Then a smirk. “Evenin’, Cherub.”

No salvation. No going back. No space among the clouds. Just the fall. You pushed past him into his front room. “Where is it?’ You hissed, tossing the cushions of the couch up. Nothing there. So you left them on the floor and did the same for the airchair. Nothing there either.

“Woah, calm down, girl!’ Joel huffed, reaching for your arm, which you tugged back from him in a new found strength surging you forward, out of his arms. “Where’s what?”

“My damn money, Miller!” You bit back with venom laced spit. A hunger for revenge making you salivate like a bad dog.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, dickhead!” And he recoiled at your bared teeth, your verbal assault and battery, but went in for his own.

“Watch your damn foul language, girl!” He warned, reaching the end of his already short tether.

“You know how much he stole from me? Three hundred dollars of my hard earned chash. Forget my fucking ticket out of this shithole, I ain’t even paying rent now! And for what? Your god awful drugs!” His nostrils flared, and you watched the vein in his neck bulge under the sweltering heat of his own anger. Coiling inside him. Wounded bitch about to bite back.

“You didn’t have much of a probelm with my drugs after I fucked that pretty little hole of yours. All dumb and needy f’me, Cherub.” You grimaced at the sneer. But the feeling made your knees buckle. The name again. Cherub. You were Cherub. His cherub. “You want ya money back, huh? You can have it.”

That made you stutter. Thoughts skidding to halt at the sight of a brick wall. Crumpled matter as it smashed into it anyway. “What?”

“I ain't giving it to you for free though.”

“You're sick! It’s my fucking money!”

“Not in the eyes of the law its not.” And he folded his great oaks of arms over his chest in satisfaction. Once again one upping you.

“The eyes of the law? Says the fucking drug dealer. I bet you got way worse than coke in duffel over there. Wonder what the law would say about that?” It was said dismissively over your shoulder as you turned to leave. Alas, once again his large hand encompassed your wrist and squeezed. Pulled you back flush to his broad chest. His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered sweetly into your ear.

“Come on now, Cherub. You wouldn't do me in like that would ya? Not when I love ya…”

The way he said it…it didn't seem real. It was false. Comforting but not real. You knew it was a lie. This wasn't love. He didnt love. If he loved you he'd ask for your number then call you. Take you out. Let you cry on his shoulder and drive you home after. Kiss you in the dark for only the walls to see. Let you stay a night or two, or a whole damn week. Give you your damn money back. Stand up to Luke with a closed fist to the face. Leave swelling and a deep bruise on his cheekbone as a first and final warning.

“You love me?” You asked, voice small and hollow in your chest.

“Yeah, Cherub. I love you too.” He cooed, as if he knew you loved him already. All this and nose running over the curve of the side of your neck, tongue trailing hot in pursuit, it had you keeling over in confession at his feet. “You’re so cute when you're angry. Come on now, lemme make those tears go away…and you can have your money back, and we can forget this ever happened.” That tone…it was patronising. It made the sense in you rattle the cage of your ribs. Claw at the bars of bone and run into them like a caged animal. Because that’s what it was. A caged animal. But your heart was holding its hand over its mouth in a trance as it let his words ebb deeper. Somewhere between desperate and divine. But what was his motive?

God, Jesus, all above that is holy, you didn't care! After all this time, it was still no secret, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt.

He still had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Still ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper. Always would. Always will.

It's what got you here. It would end you if it could. Snuff out your heartbeat and the fire inside of you. All he need do was lick his fingers and press them to the wick. And leave the smoke to string out and curl. You thought you were hungry for love before. But now you realised you were just hungry for the sight of your blood on his lips. The gnashing of you between his teeth. The curl you made of his brow. If it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. And he took again, and again.

So you let him ‘make it up to you’. Let him claw at your clothes until they were scraps on the floor. Tore your stockings. Showed you those gleaming teeth. The wolf. And you, his sacrificial lamb. His Cherub.

“Feel that?’ He asked, with the slow drag back and forth of him inside you, parting you. This wasn’t fast, or rough. This was slow. And it made you need more. Need it faster. Need him hurtling you towards the edge of harrowing oblivion. He knew that. It’s why he took his time with it this time around. “Yeah. You do.” Joel answered for you. You never had to answer. But often he made you say it from your own quivering lips. Just to have the taste of the words from your tongue bleed into his. The neverending praise. “Why would you wanna leave that Cherub?” You couldn't answer, only let out a soft sob. “Huh? Answer me, Cherub. Why’d you wanna fuckin’ leave that?” And he punctuated it with pulling out to the bulbous head of his clock, then slamming back in with one sharp thrust. And then he was still.

You whined a shallow gasp into his mouth. But he didn’t kiss you. Joel never kissed you. His teeth sinking into your bottom lip shut you right up before his tongue delved deeper into it. The thumb of the hand that slithered between your legs rolled over your clit, making you mewl over the buzz of electricity causing you to clamp down on his thick, full cock. You were so eager for more. Anything more than what he was giving you. He smirked into your mouth when he felt your hips buck forward, trying your damn hardest to push his cock deeper into you. Silly little cherub. You should know better than to defy God. “See? Felt good didn’t it?” You nodded as much as you could in your current piston.

“Mhm.”

“See what you can have if you stay. Why fight it cherub?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You gonna listen then, Cherub?”

“Yes. Yes! I’ll listen, just-” You shuddered at the thought of it, tears brimming at the the threshold of your eye. ”Please.”

“Say it.” He waited, wanting you to beg for it in the pretty way he knew you could. The choir voice. The songbirds hymn. The whole time his eyes did nothing but stare you down hungry at the sight of you falling apart from nothing but a hand to your throat and a single his throbbing dick buried in your aching cunt. It all pooled down into your centre, creating a rush your head had trouble keeping up with. “Tell me why you wanted to leave.”

“I dunno-” You stuttered, once again rolling your hips up. His hand at your throat pressed into your skin again, harder. It choked you. It had you drawing in a sharp, meagre breath. And he pulled out, running the underside of himself through the hot, drooling seam of your cunt. You shivered when the tip brushed up to your clit momentarily. The bead of precome at his slit smearing into your sex, mixing with your slick. “I dunno, Joel. I- I just wanted my money. I just wanted out. I hate it.” You babbled through closed eyes, chest heaving with sobs, and hot tears ran thick down your flushed cheeks.

“You hate it, huh?” He mocked and crooned, still catching your clit with the tip of his cock, hips waxing and waning in a slow roll. “You hate me too?” He knew the answer. But again, it was the satisfaction of knowing you were wrapped around his finger. Ready to bend over backwards for him. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you. Your back arched like the lofty roof of a chapel, legs parting like its heavy doors. He followed you with hunger. You opened your mouth to speak but he squeezed momentarily on your throat again, oxygen starvation and the smell of him dizzying you. He relished in the whimper that he garnered from you. That and how he left you breathless just from his cruel touch.

“No.” You garbled as his thumb unhinged your jaw. Saliva in your mouth pooling while his thumb pressed your tongue down, bitter with a smokers telltale tobacco staining. It slipped past your lips, dribbled down his digits making a sticky mess at the curve of his thick wrist. He drew up a glob of saliva in his throat, watching as it drooled thickly, gluttonously, past his lips into your waiting mouth. He watched as you gagged on it, and then he let your jaw go so you could close your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste on your tongue. For what did it matter anymore? One day, you’ll be nothing but dust. Bronchioles in lungs will mimic roots. Navels will copy trunks. Organs will feed worms. Ribs will fossilise and lips that are kissed will mould back to Mother Nature. It's all you have ever been. Quick. Convenient. Easy to please, eager to help. Waiting lips, wanting cunt. Warm, never warm enough. But he kept you like a butterfly in a glass jar. He let you see freedom but never experience it. Why need it when you had the stretch of him inside you. The feeling of him, heat to heat with your sex.

“You want this, cherub? Wanna be stuffed full of me again?”

“Always wanted it, Joel.” You mumbled into his mouth, sniffing back the last this spurt of tears, hypnotised. His hand wrapped around his cock, the large splay of his palm did nothing to dwarf its size with he jacked himself once, twice, three times to the sight of you. He squeezed the base with hiss, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth after cursing under his bated breath. He was thick, flushed, the tip swollen and leaking, drooling greedily with a rivulet of precum down the underside of his length. He trod a path with his hands down to your breasts, kneading each one between his palms with a pinch before guiding himself back into the mouth of your heat, your cunt swallowing him down to the base. The needy roll of your hips into his showed just how desperate you were. He groaned at the start of the friction between you, and slowly dragged back out of you, moving just as slowly back inside. He repeated this twice, and then he let loose. The motion turned into a needy clash of his hips to yours. Again. Again. Again. Somewhere along the sting of passion and heat, his hand wrapped around your throat, feeling the flex of it as you swallowed under his palm. He bit down into your neck, reaching out from you as his hips slammed erratically. His heavy balls slapping against your ass with each rut forward of his unrelenting. The way he fucked you, was like holding a knife to your throat. It grounded you in the most harrowing way to each of his breaths. His panting in your ear. It swallowed you whole. Mad your legs wrap around his waist and your hips keen up into him.

Your cunt drooled down his shaft, down to the base, down the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and hissed in your ear, teeth closing around your earlobe, his hand dragging back up and grip tightening around your neck. Getting off on the feeling of your pulse under his thumb.

You felt the knot tighten. And tighten. Right in the pit of your stomach, deep in your sopping wet cunt where the mouth of your cervix met his fucking. The walls of your cunt sucking him back in as the angle of his hips snapped up into the spot that had you seeing entire constellations. They darted to and fro across your vision. It blurred the edge, spots of dark matter, deep black, the colour of oblivion slinging over the back of your eyes that now burned with tears of pleasure. His fingers dug deeper into malleable flesh, gripped tightly at your hip with his free hand, thumb brushing over your hip bone down your mound to toy with your clit after a slap to it. And it was the action that sent you spiralling, babbling his name nonsensically among a string of curse words. So pretty and fucked out beneath him. Joel couldn’t help but stare smugly as your eyes rolled back into your head when your orgasm hit like a freight train. He came undone soon after, his climax hitting a crescendo with a growl bitten into your shoulder, bruising and brandishing you with his mark again.

He pulled back, leaving you to the mercy of the cold. Watching was his hips moved again to fuck his release back into you. Your hole quivered in protest, and you squirmed under him. “Don’t be fucking ungreatful now, Cherub.” You relented, going still and boneless on the mattress. Limbs unfurling from their tension. “That's it. Take it. Take it all.” He groaned smoothly. Just like the roll of his hips. He fucked it slowly back into you. And you took his release inside you to keep. “Good girl, Cherub.” He whispered, kissing your lips in a tender dichotomy. Not letting you rest until he was satisfied you took every drop of him. Afterall, it was all you’d have left of him until he next chose to pick you up. All the while, he trailed his tongue back down to your breasts, pressing the flat of it to your nipple, drawing it with a sharp suck into his mouth. Pressing the blunt of his teeth into your flesh. Letting the taste melt on his tongue. Salty with your sweat. He did the same to the others. When he went soft inside of you, and his hips stilled. He slipped out of you with hitched breath, the pad of his fingertips tracing your abused, used sex. Your legs twitching when he rolled your clit under two fingers. “I said stop squirming.” He grunted, landing another slap to your pussy. It made an obscene wet sound. His come dribbling out slowly.

“Open your mouth.” Joel commanded, and you did. Waiting for whatever he had planned. He licked a hot strip from your asshole to your cunt, pressing his tongue in to drag out some of his release. And he climbed back up to spit it into your mouth. A hand clamping down on your jaw. “Don’t swallow. Close your mouth.” And you did with the side of his thumb clamping it shut for you. “Taste that?” You nodded in response. It was hot, heavy and thick and salty to taste. Divine. “Show me.” You opened again, his creamy spend diluted amongst your saliva and he smirked. Clamping your jaw shut again. “Swallow.”

Joel watched in open mouthed amusement as the delicate column of your throat rippled under muscle contract. “Good girl, Cherub. Remember that taste next time y’feel like leaving again.” He warned in a growl. And you nodded, swallowing your pride. Your fear. Your mania aiding in shoving it down your throat to dissolve in acid. Once again you were in those deep dark woods. The one where the wolf lay. Remnants of you in his teeth. The willow is still weeping, slashed in half. The axe free of his bloodshed by the entrance of his den. The owls' eyes still lit the scene of sin where overhead the starlight was snuffed out by the tangle of branches thick in their black greenery.

You never got your money back. Maybe one day you'd get out of this town. But the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering. Even angels can’t resist a slice of that heaven. Fallen angel. Wounded bitch. Cherub.

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kpop-stories-21 · 1 year ago

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Sci-fi Section | Among The Stars

Group: ATEEZ

Pairing: Yunho x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Rating: 18-21+

Genres + AUs: Non-Idol AU, Space AU, Aliens, Smut

Content & Trigger Warnings: Alien!Yunho, Space Pirate!Reader, explosions, injuries, reader & crew are presumed dead, unprotected sex(wrap that shit up kids), size kink, pet names, dirty talk, fisting, oral sex(f receiving), double penetration, orgasm denial

Summary: You just wanted this job to go down without a hitch so you could take a long overdue vacation. You weren't planning to end up in bed with a hot alien dead-set on making you scream his name for the whole planet to hear.

Tags: @kpop---scenarios @stardragongalaxy @jeonrose @skittlez-area512 @mybiasisexo @skeletor-ify @biaswreckingfics @anyamaris @liliesofdreamsskz @rdiamond2727 @naturalogre @thelargefrye @yoonguurt @bxffietheblxxdy

If you want to be added to my taglist, click here

Network pings: @cacaokpop-fics | @kdiarynet

MDNI banner courtesy of @cafekitsune

Event Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When you entered the Sci-fi section you were surprised to find the glowing book right away. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you pulled the book from the shelf and opened it. White light filled your vision before fading to black.

"Y/N, wake up! We're here!"

Sitting up with a start, it took you a moment to remember that you were in the captain's quarters of your beloved little ship Desire. You'd been having a strange dream about a library and some kind of trial you were supposed to complete. Shaking your head to clear it, you dressed and exited your room.

Yeonjun was waiting for you in the cockpit with the rest of your crew. You smiled at them, a sense of relief filling you as you gazed at the large blue planet Azerulas. Once this shipment was delivered, you would have the money to expand both your clientele and the reach of your travels. All six of you were praying to whomever might be listening that everything would go over without a hitch.

Taking your place in the pilot's seat, you turned off the autopilot and expertly steered the ship into the queue to await your turn at the security gate that hovered above the planet.

You'd never been to this planet, but many of the foods and drinks you enjoyed on Earth originated from here, so you hoped you'd have time to enjoy the sights and tastes.

When you reached the gate, you were surprised to see a human officer instead of an Azerulan. The exhausted-looking female gave your phoney information a mere cursory glance after discovering the credits embedded in the code of the documents. A quick tap had the money landing in her personal account without trace and she waved you on through.

The grin on your face was wide as you docked in the designated hangar and turned to your crew.

"We've been planning this for months now, everyone knows where they're going and what they're doing. Don't forget, if things look suspicious, say the codeword through our private comm line and we'll retreat back here. Any questions?"

Five pairs of eager eyes watched you excitedly, but none voiced any concerns.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road."

As you disembarked the bright silver of Azerulas' three moons lit the hangar bay like it was daytime. Gazing around in awe, it took mere seconds for you to realise that most of the things you'd heard about this planet's inhabitants were the results of misinformation.

The Azerulans were far less humanoid than you'd been told, each alien bearing two extra arms and glowing multi-coloured eyes. They sported a variety of different skin colours and wore minimal clothing. Mouthfuls of sharp needle-like teeth flashed around you in conversation or laughter, and long forked tongues darted out to moisten dry lips. They were also incredibly tall, the shortest in your immediate sight measuring a good seven feet.

Taking a deep breath, you locked down your ship and activated the theft alarms. Then you set out, your crew falling in behind you as you exited the hangar bay and entered the city.

Your senses were immediately assailed with bright flashing lights and an overwhelming mix of smells that made your eyes water. This had not been at all what you were expecting of the calm-looking blue planet, and it caught you off guard slightly.

Recovering quickly, you turned and spoke to the others in a low voice.

"This place is far busier than we were planning for, so make sure you stay with your partner at all times. We can't afford for anyone to get lost, especially if we have to make a hasty retreat. Got it?"

Everyone nodded and you smiled. "Now, let's get this show on the road!"

The others dispersed as blonde-haired Soobin fell in beside you. You smiled at him but neither of you spoke, fully focused on the task at hand.

After a good half-mile trek through the massive city, you reached your destination: a bar named Star 1117. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The bar was surprisingly empty for this hour of the evening, you'd thought the place would be bustling. Perhaps your client was rich enough to buy the place out for the night and keep your transaction completely private.

You could almost feel the tension radiating off of Soobin and knew that he was just as uneasy as you. Something about all this just didn't feel right, like you were walking into a trap. So you both kept a hand on your guns, ready to pull them out at a moment's notice.

"There you are!" A familiar voice declared as you stepped into the bar's expansive storage room. "I was wondering if you were actually going to show up."

The masked face of your client, who had only ever given his name as JK, greeted you with a sharp smile. His dark eyes glittered with some indiscernible emotion.

"My apologies." You and Soobin bowed smoothly in greeting. "There was quite a line at the security gate."

JK chuckled. "Understandable. Azerulas is approaching peak tourist season, so traffic is picking up. Now, do you have what I asked for?"

You nodded. "I do. My crew has it ready to bring in as soon as I see you've brought the money."

"Pretty AND smart! I'm looking forward to doing more business with you."

JK motioned to one of the men behind him who stepped forward and opened the digipak on the table. The pak's holoscreen lit up, showing that it did indeed hold the promised three thousand credits.

"Satisfied?" JK asked, running a hand through his vivid purple hair.

You smiled. "I am." Tapping the watch on your wrist, you opened the private comm line and called for Yeonjun and Huening Kai to bring the package.

A few moments later the duo arrived, a large steel crate swinging between them.

"Two shock guns, a dozen untraceable bombs, and a sniper laser gun. It's all here, just as you requested."

"Very good. You've given me such good service, I almost hate to do this…." JK's voice trailed off as a metal door slid down in front of him.

Before any of you could even think of moving, an explosion sounded immediately in front of you, followed by another to your left, a third to your right, and a fourth from behind you. Heat blossomed everywhere, rapidly filling the room with fire, and you dazedly felt yourself fall to the concrete. Your ears rang as the flames steadily grew, and smoke began to gather in your lungs. You coughed dryly, trying to find your crew as you felt your consciousness begin to fade. You saw Soobin and Yeonjun lying together in a heap, with an arm sticking out from beneath them that you desperately hoped belonged to Huening Kai. Spots danced before your eyes, blending together into a dark curtain that shrouded your vision as you passed out.

You were brought back to wakefulness by a hand pressing gently against your forehead. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, vision blurry until you blinked a few times. You were greeted by the startling sight of an Azerulan male’s face mere inches from your own and jerked back slightly, a hoarse cry scraping your raw throat. The male looked at you apologetically, leaning back to give you space.

“Wh-Where am I?” You asked, afraid that the alien was an associate of JK. “Where’s my crew?”

"They are safe. Do not worry, my friends are tending them as we speak." The Azerulan smiled and continued. "My name is Yunho. My friends and I saw you go in before the explosions, so when they went off and none of you had come back out we grew concerned and ran to see if you needed assistance."

Gratitude filled you as you smiled back at him. "Thank you Yunho. My name is Y/N, and it seems my crew and I owe our lives to you and your friends."

Yunho stood from his seat, all four hands raised in protest. "Nonsense, we were simply doing what any respectable citizens would do. Though I will say, it's not every day I get to rescue a pretty little human."

You blushed, not used to such compliments. Yunho excused himself to go see how his friends were faring with your crew, leaving you alone to process the recent chain of events.

It was clear now JK had set you up from the start, probably itching to get his hands on the bounties for the six of you. Space pirates were a scourge across all the universes, but you and your crew were the most notorious ones to ever exist. This was mainly due to the fact that the government could never catch you no matter how hard they tried, and so the rewards for proof of your death had skyrocketed the longer you evaded capture.

Unbidden, your thoughts suddenly turned to Yunho, and you wondered if his friends were as attractive as he was. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't fleetingly considered jumping his bones once you got over your initial shock of seeing him.

At six feet tall Yunho was the shortest Azerulan you'd seen so far, but he was by far the best looking in your opinion. His skin was a rich forest green with lighter green undertones and hints of brown in shadowed places. His eyes were a mix of blue and yellow with slit pupils and he wore only a long moss-green loincloth, leaving his sculpted torso bare. Elegant gold tattoos sprawled across his chest, arms and legs; an indicator that he held a fairly high position in Azerulas' society.

You shook your head, trying to clear it of the not-so-innocent thoughts floating through it. Yunho had saved you and your crew from death, tended your injuries and given you a place to stay. It would be incredibly inappropriate to repay those kindnesses by trying to get with him. Besides, he probably already had a girlfriend. There was no way a hottie like him was still single.

The next day Yeonjun and Huening Kai both woke up, and you were able to go visit them. That same morning Taehyun and Beomgyu had run into one of Yunho's friends and were brought back to the place you were staying. You were beyond thrilled to see them, relieved that they'd been unharmed. It was during reunion visit that Yunho came to inform you what was going on in the aftermath of the explosions.

JK had slipped from the burning building unseen, then went around telling everyone he'd dispatched the most infamous pirates. He'd even somehow managed to come up with some convincing photographic proof and ran off to some distant planet with the reward money.

You weren't quite sure how you felt, being presumed dead and all. None of you were actually, and it seemed Yunho could tell this, as he said the six of you could stay until you figured out what was next.

You never imagined you'd want to give up pirating so easily, but all of you had just been handed fresh starts on a golden platter and you would all be fools not to take them. So when Soobin woke up a few days later, you all sat down to figure out what to do.

Huening Kai had never gotten to fulfil his dream of going to college, so he decided that he'd like to finally go through with it. Beomgyu liked this idea as well, and said that he'd tag along.

Yeonjun and Soobin, who'd been dancing around their feelings for each other for an unbearably long time, finally decided to take the plunge and start dating. They weren't quite sure where they would go, but said they'd figure it out together.

Taehyun wanted to go back and visit his family, then travel to some of the places he'd always wanted to see.

As for you, you had no clue at all what you wanted to do with your life. You had no family to speak of, and no real ambitions that had been put on hold. Yunho, ever the gracious host, allowed you to continue staying even after the boys had all left.

In the silent days that followed, your initial attraction to Yunho grew stronger. And though you were no expert on alien behaviours, you started seeing some signs that maybe he was starting to feel something for you too.

It all came to a head one day when you accidentally left the bathroom door unlocked while you were taking a shower. You were taking your time under the steamy water, letting your thoughts run wild, when you heard a gasp from the doorway.

Your head whipped around, realising your mistake as soon as you saw Yunho frozen in surprise, a dark blush colouring his cheeks. Your hands flew to cover your private areas, silently cursing yourself for not double-checking that the door was locked.

You could clearly see the conflicting emotions in Yunho's eyes as he tried to figure out how to handle the situation. From somewhere deep inside of you came the mental image of him taking you in the shower, and it had your thighs pressing together.

Movement pulled your attention back to Yunho and you felt your heart lurch at the sight of him stalking towards you, yellow-blue eyes darkened with lust. He ripped his loincloth off in one smooth motion, the action sending a wave of heat straight to your core.

He flung the shower door open so violently it snapped off its hinges and clattered to the floor. Yunho's bulk filled the shower, pressing you against the back wall. You looked up, feeling incredibly small as he towered over you. One hand came up to caress your cheek as he began to speak.

"I've tried to hold back my feelings, you are a guest in my house and I do not wish to disrespect you. It became harder when it seemed that you reciprocated those feelings. But this…this was the final straw. If you are amenable, allow me to express my feelings to you."

You could feel your body practically vibrating with want. You'd never craved for anyone as much as you did for Yunho in this moment. And so you spoke the words he waited to hear.

"Please, Yunho, make me yours."

The Azerulan needed no further provocation, two of his arms immediately lifting you off your feet so he could claim your mouth in a searing kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed back, a thrill fluttering through you when his sharp teeth grazed your lower lip.

"The shower is not an appropriate place for such activities, little one. You will get sick when the water turns cold. Come, let me take you somewhere more suitable."

You nodded your assent, and he began to carry you out of the bathroom. As he walked, his other two hands began exploring your body. One cupped your breast, tweaking and pinching your nipple. The other slipped two fingers inside you, punching a moan from your lungs as your head flew back.

Yunho chuckled. "Your moans are as cute as the rest of you. Don't hold back, let me hear all of them."

His mouth found yours again as he pushed into his room and laid you on the bed. A forked tongue poked at your lips and you parted them, allowing him in.

After a bit you had to part for air, a string of saliva extending between the two of you.

"May I taste you, sweet one?"

"Yes, p-please!" You begged, desperate to know how his tongue would feel.

A smirk crossed his face and two hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs and kneeling on the floor. As you looked on, you saw him do something you'd had no idea he could do: His tongue, which was far longer than any human's, suddenly split down its centre, effectively creating two tongues.

A gasp fell from your lips as you felt one slip into each of your holes, going further than any fingers ever could. You could feel your high rapidly approaching and choked out a warning to Yunho, who immediately stopped eating you out.

You opened your mouth to complain, but he shushed you.

"Surely you're stronger than that. You can be a good human and hold out till I cum, can't you?"

You'd never held back your orgasm before, but for Yunho you would catch the moon if he asked, so you were certainly going to try.

"Yes, I'll h-hold it! Please I need you inside me!"

"As you wish, little one."

Without further preamble, Yunho began to slowly slide into you. The cry that left you was akin to a scream, his girth bigger than anything you'd taken before. The skin of his length was covered with bumps and ridges that offered extra pleasure as he began to thrust into you at a steady pace.

"Oh g-god, you're so big, gonna break me."

Yunho leaned over, engulfing your smaller frame as he did so. One half of his tongue slid out to curl around the shell of your ear.

"You love being stuffed full like this, don't you? You'd love to be split open on my dick, wouldn't you?"

Goosebumps rose all over your body and you felt your high rushing forward once more.

"Harder Yunho, please. Want you to ruin me!"

At your words Yunho let out a growl that would have been utterly terrifying in any other situation, but in this instance only served to pull a loud moan from you as he began pounding into you so hard the bed started to bang against the wall.

In the midst of all this, you felt something prodding your other hole and realised it was one of his hands slipping inside. One finger went in, then another and another, until finally his entire fist was shoved inside you and began to move. At this you did scream, eyes rolling back as your mind went blank and all remaining thoughts turned fuzzy.

By the time Yunho's hips began to stutter, you had been reduced to a babbling mess incapable of producing any kind of coherent sentence. Once more he leaned over you and whispered into your ear.

"You can cum now, little one. Cum all over my cock for me."

Your mouth stretched wide in a silent scream, your body locking up as the world went white and the most intense orgasm you'd ever had washed over you. You barely registered the sound of Yunho cursing and the feeling of his seed spreading inside you, too lost in the post-orgasmic bliss.

When you came back to yourself you found Yunho lying beside you, gently rubbing your side where a strange mark now rested.

"Wha's that?" You asked, words slurring as though you were drunk.

Yunho smiled softly. "It is a special symbol among our people, a sign of our love-bond to each other. It is very similar to the human concept of marriage, though we do not hold such grand ceremonies to celebrate it."

Your smile mirrored his as you curled into him and felt all four arms wrap around you.

"I think I like this better." You murmured sleepily. "Who needs some expensive ceremony anyway?"

Yunho laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before joining you in blissful slumber.

Jolting awake you bolted into a sitting position, eyes darting about wildly. Where were you? What had happened to Yunho? Why were you in a library?

Then reality came rushing back and the fear left your body. Seonghwa had spoken rightly when he said you would forget what was real the deeper you went. Even now, a part of you wanted to dive right back into the book and find Yunho.

Shaking your head, you lifted the key that had appeared in your palm. It was gold, decorated with deep green emeralds. It joined the first two and you stood, catching your breath as you pondered your next move.

Perhaps it would be best to get the worst over with before you were fully sucked into the false realities. Yes, you decided, the Horror section would be next.

Let's get this over with.

#cultofdionysusnet #library of illusion event #kdiarynet #cacaokpop #ateez #yunho x reader #ateez smut #ateez yunho #yunho smut #maturefanfic #21+#au #fanfic

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camelliagwerm · 1 month ago

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AEDUCAN II • DEEP ROADS

for veilguard30 day 5 — deep roads | with jerrik dace | 472 words | full collection here

An eerie giggle echoes through the thaig’s antechamber, making the hairs on their neck stand on end. The squelch of merged flesh dogs every footstep, keeping to shadows cast by flickering lyrium lights, a tail curling around ruins as it watches, waits to see what its new prey might do. Let the feast begin —

Magni clutches his greatsword tighter, keeping the blade at the ready. His eyes narrow as he taps into the senses bestowed to him by both the Stone and the Joining, and all he hears is quiet. Too much quiet, aside from the echoes and groans of old chains and the thudding of the runic golem behind him.

In the corner of the chamber, a dwarf drenched in blue light trembles and shakes, whispering and giggling to itself. Jerrik Dace, axes trembling in sweat-slickened hands, approaches, his breathing heavy. Horror sinks into his face, his shoulders as realisation kicks in — the dwarf could be a doppelganger, if just a few years younger. Brogan Dace.

“What’s wrong with him?” he murmurs to himself as he reaches out to touch him. But his fingers find no purchase in flesh, bathing them in the same blue light. “Whatever this magic, this light is… I can’t touch him. Brogan..?”

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. Listen for shadows. They whisper. They watch. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.

Jerrik frowns. “What is this? Some kind of surfacer curse?”

“The sort of magic I’ve seen topside or even from the emissaries in other parts of the Deep Roads haven’t been like this,” Magni replies. Something crawls its way from underneath rubble, a forked tongue licking non-existent lips, beady eyes training on the dwarves, almost within reach. “We need to move quickly. No point in lingering.”

The spectre twitches, trembles, jerking its head side to side as it tries to shrink away from Jerrik, a fear alight in its eyes, mumbling under its breath again and again about the shadows in between giggles and gasps.

“But he’s here, Paragon, I can see him. He’s still alive! We have to—”

Magni puts a firm hand on Jerrik’s shoulder, a gauntleted hand digging into the leather duster. “And I said, we need to move on. He’s beyond help and I can sense something’s watching us.”

“Darkspawn?”

Magni shakes his head. It is a rare time that any sane person, Warden or no, would want to fight darkspawn, but at least he knows how to fight darkspawn. Whatever it is… an unseen enemy is the most dangerous of them all. “No, but it’s nothing good. Don’t make me pull rank on you.”

“I’m going to save you, little brother—” The sound of flesh, claws scraping up a wall, teeth baring in a wet hiss interrupts them, and the spectral form of Brogan Dace retreats. “I promise.”

No, no, no, no, run-run-run, pitter-patter, pitter-patter, listen-listen-listen for shadows.

#*writing #*veilguard30 #oc: magni #i need the deep roads to get to amgarrak levels of fucked up again ngl

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sheepwithspecs · 7 days ago

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F or Tune: Chapter 1 Preview

For #FirstDraftFall (one of the many answers to writers who do not want to participate in NaNo after seeing their pro-AI posts) I am working on an original story I've been wanting to write for years. I plan to release it as a serialized (weekly?) post once it's finished, and I wanted to share the first chapter with everyone. I'm open to CC and honest feedback, especially if this chapter piqued your interest in the rest! If not, what could be different? What is it missing? Reminder: it's still in the draft stage, so be kind!

Deirdre Forst was thirty-five years old to the day when she discovered a dryad in the family well.

On most days, the well was never high enough to see anything clearly, and certainly too deep to house something as flighty as a dryad. Dryads, impulsive little imps that they were, thrived best in the shallows. They loved nothing more than to lurk just beneath the water's surface, lying in wait for unsuspecting travelers. But the rains had been plentiful that spring, and this particular morning the water was close enough to the mouth of the well that Deirdre could see her features outlined in a perfect circle of fieldstone.

That was what gave her pause, when on any other day she might have dropped the wooden bucket and went about her business. For the most part, her reflection was normal enough: rounded cheeks, large ears, crooked nose, thin lips. Any discrepancies were subtle enough that, had she not been observant in nature, she might have overlooked it entirely. But her brown eyes were a pale blue, her white cap sat askew on her skull, and the corners of her mouth were quirked a little too high to be natural.

She leaned into the mouth of the well, squinting at her rippling reflection, and was instantly rewarded with a thorough drenching of icy water. She was left sputtering and choking, wiping fruitlessly at her face with sopping sleeves. The serene morning was broken at once by a grating, wooden sort of laughter. The dryad lifted its head from the water, shaking back tendrils of soggy hair to better view its victim.

"You should have seen the look on your face!" It practically squealed with mirth, tail slapping the water's surface. Bare arms draped over the stone wall as it continued to cackle, delighted at its own juvenile prank. Like all dryads, it resembled the wood of its mother tree; it was all gnarled limbs and spindly fingers, each sporting an extra jointed knuckle. Its small breasts were two knots of wood on an oaken torso, piercing eyes lined with white whorls of lichen. There was no nose or lips to speak of, only a gaping maw filled with jagged brown teeth.

"Yes, yes. Very funny." The dryad stuck out its tongue, forked end flicking in the open air. It was hideous to look at, but Deirdre knew better than to be frightened. Lesser fae were childlike, silly creatures, too preoccupied with making mischief to be of any real danger. When it came to the fae, everyone knew the prettiest ones posed the highest risk. They were far more likely to go about stealing unwatched babes from the cradle… or souls from the corpse.

“You’ve had your fun,” she coughed, wiping her nose on the sodden shoulder of her kirtle. She fished around for the bucket at her feet, lifting with an expression that demanded obedience. “Now get out of my way, lest I give you a taste of your own medicine.” She shooed the dryad from the mouth of the well, keeping one eye on it as she attached the bucket to the winch and let it drop into the water.

“You’re no fun at all!” The dryad slumped against the base of the well, plucking sullenly at the moss growing on the rough stones. “It was such a nice bit of fun, too. You might have at least pretended to laugh.”

“Some of us have work to do, you know.” Deirdre gently smacked aside its sinuous tail, shuddering at the texture of algae slime against her knuckles. “Off with you, now. With all these pools and puddles, you’ve no business in the wells of honest folk.”

“And where’s the fun in that? The lanes are too muddy for pilgrims, and you’re the only humans on this side of the forest.”

“Then you’ll have to go bother those on the other side,” she replied stoutly, beginning the laborious process of drawing the water back out of the well. Wasted breath, she scolded herself as she fought the winch. A dryad would no more stray from its mother tree than she would leave the clearing that housed her family’s cottage.

“They’re no fun, either. Most people don’t notice me until it’s too late,” the dryad preened. “I might’ve splashed the lot of them in the time it took me to trick you.”

“Is that so?” When no answer came, Deirdre glanced up to find herself being watched. The dryad’s eyes were large and wide-set, made for viewing things from beneath the water’s surface. It looked her over from head to toe and back again, tail flicking water onto the mossy earth. She held her tongue, knowing better than to ask what it was staring at. The chances of a straightforward answer were slim to none. Fae kept their own counsel, their thoughts strung together in ways that only served to befuddle mortal minds.

“I see!” it exclaimed at last. “You’re one of us, aren’t you?”

“Ought t’be,” Deirdre scoffed, swallowing back a trickle of unease. “I was raised in the forest all my life.”

“You know what I mean.” The dryad graced her with a revolting smile. “Tell me, forest child: where did your human parents discover you? Were you nestled in a hollow stump, or on a bed of willow leaves? Did you blossom from a fruit, or a flower? Or perhaps you’re nothing more than a changeling, masquerading in human skin?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Deny it if you like.” The dryad cocked its head, weedlike hair falling across its knobby shoulders. “But you are of the forest, same as I.”

“If I am,” Deirdre grunted, turning the crank by degrees, “I don’t know it, and I don’t care to know. I’m myself, and naught else.”

“Tell me true, forest child.” It tucked its long fingers beneath its chin, peering over the mouth of the well to watch the bucket rise slowly from the depths. “Have you ever considered finding your fortune?”

“My—!” Startled, Deirdre’s hands slipped on the crank. The rope whistled as it unwound itself once more, the bucket falling back into the water with a mighty splash. She fought the urge to let out any number of oaths, hands balled into fists at her side. “What kind of foolish question is that?!” she managed, the words hissing out one by one between clenched teeth.

“Is it foolish?” the dryad replied simply. “How strange… you barely flinch when I accuse you of being fae, yet tremble like a newborn fawn when I mention leaving the forest. Why should that be? You’re no dryad, nor unicorn, nor fairie. There’s nothing tying you to this place.”

“Do I look like a plucky youth to you?” she huffed, narrowing her eyes at the brazen creature. “I’m no maiden, nor am I an old crone with nothing better to do than wander up and down the lane. Of course I’ve no intention of finding my fortune! I’m content with my life, and know better than to leave it behind on a whim.”

“But what of your dear mortal parents? Do you not wish for their comfort?”

“If you must know, they’ve comfort enough to last several lifetimes.” Deirdre hurriedly turned the crank, lest she be somehow forced to exert herself a third time. “My brother found his fortune and was back home by the time he was two and twenty.”

And ought to have, she added smartly to herself, seeing as he was the eldest son of a poor woodcutter. His fortune was practically laid out for the taking.

“I think you should go, too.” The dryad ran its long fingers through its hair, the extra joint curling the ends. They fell to its wooden skin with a wet slap. “If you were to venture out into the world, you would certainly find fortune.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” she replied dryly, filling her vessel with fresh, clean water. “Now, off with you!” She swung the empty bucket at the dryad’s head, purposefully falling short of her mark. It flicked its tail at her, falling backwards over the stones and back down the well shaft. “You’d best be gone by the time I get back!” she called down after it, her stern voice echoing back at her. Its wooden giggle faded into silence, dry and crackling as old lumber when put to the flame.

Finding my fortune. Shaking her head, Deirdre shouldered the vessel and turned to make the dreaded uphill climb back to the cottage in the clearing. What a notion! Me, a woman grown! Adventures are for knight-hungry maidens and… woodcutter’s sons, she thought again, her mind on her brother.

For all her posturing, the dryad had been right about one thing: Deirdre wasa forest child. It was Timothy who had discovered her in the forest all those years ago, playing by himself while her parents cut wood in the timber. Perhaps something had befallen her birth parents on the road. Perhaps they were on a pilgrimage and had lost their way. Or perhaps they had simply left an unwanted child to the mercy of the fairies. Such things often happened, in the forest.

In any case, there was no trace of family to be had, and so they raised her as their own. And, in her opinion, she was all the better for it. The life of a woodcutter suited her far better than that of a pilgrim, or a noble lady, or a merchant’s daughter. Why would she ever want to leave?

If you were to venture out into the world….

Had she been ten or fifteen years younger, she might have considered the dryad’s words a portent. To go into the world in search of fortune was one thing, but being certain of finding fortune was another. Many an adventurer would happily give their sword arm for that sort of luck. Yet here she was, throwing it away under the pretense of being too old.

“You’re not actually considering it, are you?” she mumbled to herself, struggling to climb the well-trodden footpath. The forest was her home, the only world she’d ever known. Even after Timothy’s triumphant return, she’d never cared to set foot beyond its leafy borders. He had been young, foolhardy, and resilient enough to face the dangers of the wider world head-on. Meanwhile, she was now older than her mother had been at the time of his leaving. To go running off in search of fortune was almost unthinkable.

And yet… if she was guaranteed success… would it not be foolish to ignore the call?

#noaiwrimo #firstdraftfall #it's hard for me to gauge my own writing sometimes #well... most of the time #f or tune #OC: Deirdre #original writing #my writing

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herculesgarcia · 1 year ago

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Starter for @astuteknaves, wonderland AU

'Why me?'

Hércules asked once again, and not for the first time, wincing at the pain that shoot up his left leg every single time he took a step. Which he couldn't stop doing, as he was anxiously pacing up and down in his Commander's tent. His older sister. Andrómeda. Also known as the Jabberwock. A fearful monster, like that of legends, with a forked tongue, snake-like eyes, dark scaly wings and hands that ended in sharp, menacing claws. One that had sang him lullabies and slept with him during thunderstorms. One that had been by his side when he had cried, that had dried his tears, that had raised him like a parent when that role wasn't supposed to belong to her.

'You're the only person I trust.' Andro hissed, like a serpent would.

'I'm too old for this.'

'You're twenty-four.'

He was, yes, but he should have retired from this war business long ago. He shouldn't have even begun, in the first place. Now, instead of a dodgy knee and a backpack full of shame at what he had done, he would have a beautiful wife, maybe even a baby or two, a nice house. He would be sitting at his porch with a glass of whiskey and ice in his hand, watching his children play, smelling the air; roasted potatoes and spiced beef, his favorite, coming from the open window of the kitchen, where the love of his life was making them dinner. The sun setting, submerging in the sea... as did corpses. The corpses of those they killed in yesterday's skirmish, that they had disposed of in the nearest body of water ― a small river, the water in it no longer blue and crystalline, but crimson red and reeking of death.

'I don't want to do it.'

'I'm not giving you a choice.'

───⋆☆─────────────

His boots were dirty with mud, blood, and other body fluids. Grass and other plants were clutching on to them, as if telling him don't go, you won't find anything of use there, you're just about to get yourself in more trouble... but he didn't have a choice, did he? He'd do it. For Andro. For Cass.

Every time he thought of her, the White Queen turned Mad Hatter, he felt his heart thumping and pounding not only in his chest, but also in his ears. And it had nothing to do with the fact that he was out of shape after living what could be considered by most a comfortable life and they had been climbing a slippery slope for the last half an hour. They ― him and his soldiers. Pawns in this chess game that had little to gain and everything to lose, but that were here because... of what? Loyalty to a Queen who was no longer sane? Who could no longer be relied upon? Because they felt that she had been wronged and wanted to make it right? Cass was his sister, and he needed no more motive than that. But the others...?

Far away, now that he was on leveled ground, he saw the faint glow of a campfire. The wind was growling angry, but he could still hear the animated chatter going on around the source of light; as if those men were not fighting a war, but friends who had gathered to share stories, drinks, and food. Their voices brought a wave of fear at what he was doing. He was taking a big risk, but it was a risk Andro had bestowed upon him, and that had been enough to convince him. That, and the promise that if he didn't do as his superior desired, he'd join the mountains of corpses looming everywhere, an oath he knew his beloved sister was not going to fulfill, but that had still sent shivers down his spine. Only the dead knew how this would end, and he wasn't in the mood to join their ranks just to find out.

So, after checking that every piece of his armor was still in place, including helmet he walked towards them. As his eyes adjusted, he counted the figures wrapped in furs and frayed coats. Seven of them. The lucky number. Both men and women, most with scarred faces, worried looks or almost-friendly smiles. Shields, swords, axes and other weapons. Weapons that could find their new home in his skull if he didn't choose his words properly.

'Good night!' He yelled, approaching them with both his arms lifted, palms of his hands looking towards them, his sword sheathed, resting on its scabbard. Of course, the opposite faction warriors' own hands moved towards their blades, or whatever tool was nearest to them, faces turning in their direction. 'I'm here... to parley.'

#astuteknaves #wonderland au #wondarkland au

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pascalepalaces · 4 months ago

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"Problem Areas" in misplacement magazine:

Also published in: littledeathlit, Issue 5: Life in Limbo (2020, Online) The Hallowzine, Issue 2 (2021, Digital)

Transcript:

Something had been different ever since the eye transplant. She’d been offered the list of possible side effects: dryness, graininess, the occasional floating aura. Yet there is nothing to the effect of “I don’t recognize myself in the mirror” in the information packet, nor online.

And the doctor is only taking phone calls, from home, because of the virus.

“We’re not a mental health office,” adds the receptionist.

In other regards, Laurie is lucky to have acquired such young and healthy eyes. They’re young, anyway, in comparison to the standard; she’d been told that most recipients had accepted their poor vision as ‘better than the alternative’. Yet Harold Splinter from Dayton, Ohio had died at 34, and he hadn’t even worn glasses. His cancer had been in his colon, too: all the way at the other end of his body.

Now she would have fresh eyes, the time to make revisions to her novel. She’d spent the last of her savings on her short leave; to stay home with her rent on pause is a chance that she’ll never have again. Everyone else is writing about how suffocated they’ll feel in self-quarantine—

yet having had a hole in her vision for months, she only feels free.

No distractions. She pulls her router from the wall, cancels her Netflix billing. She takes down every mirror in the apartment, having been poking into every crevice of herself with her new eyes.

She’d been lightly disappointed that, like her old ones, they’re blue.

But hair becomes her biggest problem. Each moment before she presses the power button on her computer, it’s all that she sees: bright in the reflection of the dark screen, its grayness especially apparent, always messy in several directions.

As she goes on to try to read her chapters, her hair in more than one way takes root at the back of her head. She feels as if she’s been invaded, penetrated. It’s a canker sore that the tongue can’t leave alone—and, in the same way, Laurie often feels her hands slipping upwards.

On the fourth day, leaning over the kitchen counter and eating liquorice from a bag, she stares at the piles below her chair. It’ll soon reach her knees: a taunting manifestation of each wasted minute, of every unwritten word.

No one will see her for at least three months, anyway, she begins to think.

It might even be smart. Everyone’s freaking out about not being able to get haircuts.

The next day she throws all of her hair—picked and shaved—down the garbage chute. This will motivate her to finish the book earlier, she decides. If she doesn’t, she’ll have to tell everyone she underwent chemo.

Work comes easy, for a while, after that. Yet the more that Laurie types, the more conscious she becomes of her hands. It’s the skin around her nails that bothers her, really: the way that it hardens and whitens, victim of the winter air and harsh sanitizers. She re-attaches the router to order a luxe hand cream—but it’s a thin wall which she always digs through. Gloves are the same.

What purpose do nails have, anyway?, is the nascent thought. She doesn’t need them to type.

They grow back in four to six months. That’s just how long everyone will be isolated.

Later, noticing how quickly the skin on her lips grows back, too, after she becomes too aware of it—she sees it, always, in the reflection of her forks—she figures that they’ll just as easily grow back as a whole.

They’re just flaps of skin, after all, she rationalizes. Just more skin.

Peeling at them without nails takes too much time.

She won’t be speaking to anyone for a long while.

She’s more comfortable, after that, and her couch her creative caucus. One might just have to destroy a bit to create, she thinks, as she fills another page. She’s had to suffer, a little, for her art: to overcome the challenge of distraction.

It wasn’t like she’d been self-harming, anyway—merely chipping away at her edges.

And the evening that she sits in her nightgown, cross-legged, is when she comes across the hideousness of knees. Hers are uneven, and knobby, and they protrude from her legs like faces.

Since skin grows back, she thinks, it’ll be better to remove the whole thing; if she secures her calves back to her thighs, she might even get around without too much struggle. It’ll keep her sitting, working.

But she wakes the next day, to her truculent horror, sensing overgrowth. Her eyes open to a long head of hair, full nails, fleshy knees. She must have dreamt all of her auto-surgeries, she thinks, until she finds chunks of herself in the freezer.

Every morning becomes a routine of shaving, ripping, of sawing at herself before she can sit with her manuscript. The acts become as casual, to her, as setting down her keys. She stops noticing the lengths of hair along the floors—the knees atop the dresser, the counter, the couch.

Yet one dripping morning, as she’s bringing the knife down onto her lips, she looks to herself in the reflection.

Her eyes would probably regenerate brand new, too, she realizes. Maybe they’ve even been ready, this whole time, and waiting behind these ones like adult teeth.

She finds that she’s wrong; yet without sight of her body, Laurie can only think about her book. She gets through with voice-to-text commandment faster than she’s ever typed.

Finally, she thinks, stretching herself outward. I can relax.

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scottybrock · 3 years ago

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The Show - Beck/Jade/Reader

A/N: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING A FIC THAT HAS A POLY COUPLE IN IT, PLS DON’T ROAST ME

“Move,” Jade ordered, slamming her lunch tray on the table. Tori glared at her, but Jade was unfazed. “You kissed Beck during your first week here,” Jade reminded the thin brunette. Beck scrunched his nose at the reminder, subconsciously lifting a hand to wipe at his lips. “That was because you poured coffee on my head!” Tori whined.

You glanced at Jade, who smirked. “Be glad it was iced coffee,” Jade responded, roughly shoving her way between you and Tori. “If you ever try to put your dry lips near my girlfriend, you’ll have to worry about more than a cup of coffee.” Tori yelped as Jade slammed her hip against hers, but you welcomed the contact, leaning closer to your girlfriend. A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips. “Hey,” You grinned. Jade’s bright blue eyes lit up, and her expression softened. “Yeah, hey,” She grumbled. Beck shifted closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Hey babe,” He greeted. Jade rolled her eyes at him, but a soft smile spread across her face. “Whatever.” She grumbled.

Tori tilted her head, her brows furrowing. “How is it that Jade has not one, but two significant others, and I’m single?!” She whined. You exchanged a look with Beck, then rolled your eyes. Jade glared at Tori. “What’re you trying to say, Vega? That I’m hideous, so therefore I deserve to die alone?” She snapped. You nuzzled your face into the crook of her neck, pressing a light kiss to her neck.

Her glare softened as she turned to you. “Excuse me, I’m trying to scare the wazz out of Vega,” She murmured, trying to stop the giggles that were building up in her chest. You pressed another soft kiss to her neck, and she sighed, her tense posture relaxing, leaning against you. Beck leaned over and brushed his lips over Jade’s. “Yeah, but there are more… pleasant things that we can be doing with that time,” He smirked. You lifted your head from its comfy place to turn around and kiss him, your tongue pressing against the seam of his lips.

His response was immediate; he gripped your hips with bruising force, pulling you onto his lap. Jade leaned over to scatter rough kisses along your neck, biting lightly at your soft skin. “Guys,” Tori cleared her throat. You ignored the waifish brunette, running your hands along Beck’s back, pulling him impossibly closer. Jade’s kisses and Beck’s tongue were doing things to you that weren’t entirely appropriate in a school setting.

With great reluctance, you slid off of Beck’s lap. His hands gripped your hips as if to hold you there, but seeing the determined expression on your face, he relented and gave your hips a final squeeze. Jade’s kisses tapered off, and you finally looked at the table. While you’d been occupied with your boyfriend and girlfriend, Andre, Robbie (plus Rex, but you couldn’t stand the puppet), and Cat had all found their way to the table. “Whoa,” Rex said. If he could, he’d be grinning like the little leper he was. “That was hot, babe.”

Jade’s brows furrowed, a thunderstorm of emotions flickering over her flawless face. “Call my girlfriend babe again and you’ll lose an arm,” She snarled. Robbie shielded Rex protectively as Andre snickered. Tori looked on with an amused expression, a subtle smile curving her lips. Cat let out a high pitched giggle. “One time, my brother…” She started, then adopted an offended expression when your friends all groaned, nearly at the same time. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” She exclaimed. Jade ignored her, turning to Beck. “Get me coffee,” She demanded. You perked up, giving your boyfriend a hopeful look. Beck caved almost instantly. “What’s the magic word?” He asked playfully.

Jade’s glare sharpened. “Now!” She snapped at the same time that you shouted “Please!” and offered your boyfriend a charming smile. Beck rolled his eyes at Jade, but bent down to press a firm kiss to her lips. Her expression softened, and she looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes and uttered in a soft, sweet tone that she reserved only for you and Beck. “Please?” She requested.

Beck’s handsome face lit up, a toothy grin settling on his lips. “Be back in a minute.” He acquiesced. As he walked away, Jade shouted after him, “Two sugars!” He turned back and gave her a thumbs up. Jade turned to her salad and began violently stabbing it as hard as the plastic fork would allow. You didn’t bother reminding Beck of your coffee order; after all, he’d been your boyfriend for almost three years. He knew what to do.

You were broken out of your reverie by Tori asking Jade if she could have a cucumber from her salad. Jade glared at her frenemy. “No,” She snapped. Tori pouted, sticking her lower lip out. “C’mon, I just want an itty-bitty piece of cucumber,” Tori whined. Jade rolled her eyes, then picked up her entire salad, aiming it at Tori. Tori shrieked, ducking for cover. Andre immediately grabbed his backpack, ready to make a run for it. Cat was oblivious, eating her pizza without a care in the world. Robbie let out a whimper. You just watched, waiting to see what your beautiful girlfriend was going to do.

Much to your amusement, she didn’t throw the salad at Tori. She chucked her half-eaten salad directly at Rex, and by extension, Robbie. The salad hit the two of them, landing with soggy splat. Robbie’s jaw hung open, his eyes wide. Jade glared at him. “That’s for calling my girlfriend babe,” She snarled. Robbie glared back at her, then immediately cowered away from her when he realized what he’d done. Without another word, he grabbed his backpack and his puppet and hightailed it away from the table.

Andre and Tori laughed. You snickered, which brought a small smile to Jade’s flawless face. Jade raised an eyebrow at them. “I think you should leave,” She said, her tone matter of fact. Andre was well aware that when Jade used that tone, she wasn’t asking- she was telling. “Alright,” He acquiesced. “See you guys in Sikowitz’s class,” He stood, but Tori stopped him, furrowing her brows once more. “Why do we have to leave?” The songstress complained. Jade’s smirk sharpened. “Because,” She drawled. “While I no longer have a salad to throw at you, I have these,” With that statement, she whipped a pair of scissors out of one of her boots.

Tori had a look of absolute horror on her face as she fled the table, with Andre following close behind her shouting, “Why’d you hafta ask why?!” Cat followed behind them, gleefully proclaiming, “Weee! I love running!” You giggled, pressing a soft kiss to Jade’s lips. “Wanna tell me the real reason you scared everyone away?” You asked, your voice teasing. Jade’s perfect lips curled into a soft smirk. “Maybe I just want to spend time alone with my boyfriend and girlfriend,” She replied, shifting so that you could pull her closer, your legs brushing against hers, then finally entwining. You pressed a hand to your chest, your voice playfully mocking. “Jade West, whatever do you plan on doing with me?”

Jade’s gorgeous face lit up, her smile roguish. “Oh, I plan on doing a lot with you,” She murmured. Your cheeks flushed, and you nudged her. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You teased, your lips brushing gently over the shell of her ear. She shivered. “Maybe when Beck gets back… We can go to the janitor's closet and ditch fifth period,” You suggested. Jade’s cheeks flushed, the redness contrasting quite lovely with the paleness of her skin. Her smile was uncharacteristically shy. “I’d like that,” She replied softly.

Beck returned, balancing three coffee cups. “Where’d everyone go?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow at the blush on Jade’s cheeks. You reached for your coffee, taking a quick sip. “That’s not of importance right now,” You replied, a devilish smirk appearing on your face. Beck’s other eyebrow rose; he knew when you had that look on your face, trouble wasn’t far behind. “Oh yeah?” He asked, handing Jade, who looked rather flustered, her coffee. “Then what is of importance right now?”

Your smirk grew and you glanced over at Jade, who was squirming in her seat. “The important thing right now is that our girl has some needs that need to be taken care of.” You replied. A matching smirk flashed over Beck’s face. He turned to Jade. “Is that so?” He looked unbelievably smug. How could he not be, when he knew that he was about to fuck two of the most gorgeous girls? “Well, babe. How about we move this somewhere else? Wouldn’t wanna give anyone a show, would we?”

You shrugged, your eyes glinting playfully. “What if I would?” You teased. Beck’s eyes darkened, and Jade whimpered in the background. Beck set his cup of coffee down and pulled you to him, his hands gripping your hips tightly once more. “Fuck the janitor’s closet,” Beck’s voice was low and gravelly. “We’re ditching for the rest of the day. I’ll give you and Jade a show you won’t soon forget.”

Jade stood on shaky legs, and you and Beck pulled her in close, so that you formed a small circle. Jade’s fingers ran up and down your leg, causing you to shiver. “I don’t doubt that,” Jade smirked. “Never had a reason to complain before.” You nodded in agreement. Beck growled lowly, moving one of his hands to grip one of Jade’s hips as well. “I’ve got no complaints on my end either,” Beck remarked, his dark brown eyes practically pitch black with lust. “Now get your sweet asses to the truck so we can get to the RV, and I can fuck you both into the mattress until the sun comes up.”

You grinned slyly at him, then glanced at Jade. “Can I fuck Jade into the mattress, too? You can watch.” Jade shifted slightly, letting out a soft whine. She loved that idea, and it was obvious Beck did too, as he pulled you into a bruising kiss. You nipped at his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him. “Get to the truck now,” Beck growled. “I’m gonna call us in sick. I want both of you in the truck and ready to go by the time I get back.”

“I’m already ready to go,” Jade grinned. Beck let out a soft groan. “Let me go call us in sick, stop tempting me.” Jade’s grin sharpened, and she collected the abandoned coffee cups. “We’re most certainly going to need energy to go until the sun rises,” Jade shrugged innocently. Beck grinned, then hurried back to the school. The lunch period was long over, but the fun was just about to begin.

“Don’t take too long, or we’ll start without you!” You called after him. Jade laced her fingers with yours, and the two of you began walking to the truck. Her smirk would have made the devil proud. “I like the way you think.”

You grinned at her. “And I like the way you taste.” Jade’s cheeks flushed once more. “Ditto. I like the way you taste. Now stop talking, or we’re really going to have to start without Beck.” She grunted, opening the door for you. You pressed a soft kiss to her lips in thanks, then slid into the car. Jade joined you seconds later, resting her head on your shoulder. You wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer. She inhaled deeply, then snuggled closer.

The driver’s side door opened, and Beck slid in. “We’re all set,” He told you and Jade. His dark eyes glinted with the promise of pleasure and love. “Are you ready?” Jade made a soft noise of affirmation. You grinned back at him, your eyes twinkling. “Always.” You replied.

Beck’s smile widened. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

#beck oliver #jade west #jade west x reader #jade west fanfic #jade x reader #jade west fanfiction #beck oliver x reader #beck oliver x jade west x reader #victorious #cat valentine #andre harris #robbie shapiro

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obae-me · 4 years ago

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Upside Down CH-1

Author’s Note: Hi, yes, hello, welcome to the fic series that no one asked for! Do I have other things I need to finish? Yes! But has this been the only thing on my mind for the past four days? Also yes! For some reason I was incapable of writing anything else! Thanks, brain, for this out of the blue obsession!

Tags: Reverse AU

Word Count: 4587

Next Chapter

Hell Away From Hell

Wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was a mistake. It had to be. Although, with every clink of your restraints, your reality was becoming ever clearer. The chains rattled, echoing down the hall like a set of twisted wind chimes. Ones that sung of your dismal fortune. The demon ahead of you yanked the lead attached to your cuffs, sending you stumbling forward. You bit your lip to keep from cursing. Steading your body, you took their less-than-subtle message and picked up the pace. Keeping your eyes glued towards your destination, your stomach sank to your knees. Why? Why had you been brought to the castle? You hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, not anything to warrant being escorted by the palace guards in chains. And as they led you silently inside, past the polished halls and gaudy antiques, your fate pounded just fervently in your mind as your heart was in your chest.

They were going to present you in front of the prince.

It was torture in and of itself just making it to the throne room. The worst part about it all was your rampant imagination. You could only imagine what type of horrific techniques the prince was aware of. Halting in front of the large double doors, the demon behind you moved to open the entrance. Holding it open, the guard tugging you along guided you in. You managed to take only a few steps inside the room before you were practically thrown inside, your body tumbling over the ground. Both the guards smirked at you, flashing their pointed fangs in their conceited gestures before shutting the door, leaving you alone inside.

“MC.” All the air inside your lungs had conveniently escaped. Lifting your chest off the ground, you tightened your lips as you met his gaze. Those glistening emerald eyes pierced right through you. Quickly, you lowered your eyes, attempting to show as much respect as you could to gain his favor.

“M-my lord.”

The melodic note that left his throat was a mix between a laugh and a coo. “Now, now, none of that groveling. I had you brought here to ask you a favor!” You could hear him stand to his feet, and you watched his shoes approach, clicking against the marbled tile. Then, you felt the smooth skin of his hand caress your right horn. The sudden sensitive feeling had your tail rapidly twitch and tuck under your leg. He pushed your horns back, raising your chin so you could look up at him. His dark hair drifted down across his forehead, curling around his horns that curved above his head like a broken halo, his face soft and inviting, and yet your gut wouldn’t let you believe it. “Please, from now on, just call me Simeon.”

Simeon hummed as he lifted his tea cup to his lips. He had been hospitable enough, but you still couldn’t shake this feeling of unease. Plus...what he had brought you in to ask you was...well, something short of insanity. You continued to rub your wrists where your constraints had been. And as much as the prince of hell apologized for his guard’s brutish behavior, you had a feeling it was purposeful. A message of sorts. Even now, as he had his little servant bring in sweets and tea as sickly sweet as it could get, it all tasted bitter to your tongue. “So let me get this straight,” you started. “You want me to be a member of this…”

The prince tilted his head, eyes practically shining. “Restoration program.”

You cleared your throat after the little scone this blonde demon had given you made your throat run dry. “R-right. And I’m assuming I don’t have a choice in the matter?”

His voice was soft, but the light reflecting off his horns and his fangs suggested another answer. “We all have choices, MC.”

Swallowing your nervousness, you lowered your head again. “But, with all due respect, sir...why? Why a restoration program?”

Another voice chuckled behind your figure. “Because, why not?” You strained your neck, getting a view at the newcomer behind you. White hair, a mischievous smile, and something unknown swimming at the back of those dark eyes. Not only that, but the figure was wearing clothes as pure as clouds, with a certain glow to him.

Simeon stood, hand out to greet this person as if they were an old friend-and for all you knew, they might’ve been. “Solomon, how good to see you.”

The new guest-now known to you as Solomon-beamed. “Likewise. You’re looking well.” He turned, giving you a once-over to take you in before nodding. “And you are MC, yes?”

Glaring, already feeling your skin about to burn, you leaned away from him. “And you’re an angel.” Your distrustful attitude let him frown for just a moment, but whether it was just his angelic nature or his personality, that smile was right back on his face.

“Yes, well, the plan requires an angel, so Simeon personally asked me for my hand in this matter.”

The both of them could tell that you were unbelievably confused, so Simeon gestured for the angel to take a seat at the table. “Luke.” The prince gestured to his small servant, the one who had not only brought you sweets but had taken the liberty to be staring you down the entire time. Finally, he turned his attention away from you. “Please do me a favor and get our new guest some refreshments.” The lesser demon squinted at you, nearly growled at the angel, and then took his leave with rapid little steps. Simeon laughed quietly to himself. “Don’t worry about him, he’s not used to others quite yet. But, MC.” With your name mentioned, you straightened your posture. “I’ve been planning this for quite some time. It’s been a desire of mine to bring the three realms closer together.” You couldn’t help but wonder why, what purpose it served, but you kept your mouth shut. “And while I’ve started to make decent progress fixing the old wounds between the Devildom and Celestial Realm, most of my kingdom and Solomon’s people refuse to make connections with the humans.”

Mortals...even just the mention managed to leave a heavy pit in your stomach. “If I may speak.” You waited for the prince’s go-ahead before speaking your mind. “What would be the point of connecting with the humans? They serve little purpose. They’re either so corrupt they destroy their own kind or they think they’re so pure they isolate themselves or get themselves killed in the name of their twisted justice.” Speaking so passionately against the idea, you didn’t realize your nails had grown into talons, leaving marks in the wooden table. You took a breath, reclaiming your typical form. “They can’t even do themselves any good, what makes you think they’d be good for our realms?”

Solomon, an expression of understanding mixed with pity, bounced a little in his seat. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” He turned his head to Simeon, who was nodding at you with a bit of approval.

“That’s what this plan is all about. Testing them, observing them. We’ll be watching these humans, and at the end of this project, we’ll be able to determine if they’re ready and worthy of being brought together with us.” The ruler crossed one leg over the other, his tone making it sound as it was as simple as eating pie.

Setting down the fork to your pastry, you felt a sense of dread wash over you. “And by we you mean?”

“Why, you and Solomon of course! A demon and an angel, both working together to restore the bond between the human world and ours! The Demonic and Angelic Restoration program! Or D.A.R. -dare- for short.” If it weren’t for the horns, you’d almost think this demon was an angel with the way he eagerly talked about restoring bonds and bettering the nature of the realms. But, then you felt nauseous.

“What...what exactly do you need me to do to help with this...program? And why me?”

It was actually the angel that spoke up. “I’m sure you’re aware of the Morningstars?”

It was such a silly question, you ended up scoffing. “Who doesn’t down here? Those brothers are filled with so much corruption and chaos they end up fueling about half the lesser demons down here...why?”

They both straight up ignored your question and instead asked you some of their own. Simeon leaned forward, looking at you intently. “It took me quite a bit of time to find you MC. Most people don’t know you exist, and those that do hardly know your name. You simply are known to most as Isolation. Is it true that you’ve never made a pact with a human? Rumor is that you even refuse to subsist off their sins. And you’ve never taken a soul? That’s typically unheard of nowadays.”

Shifting in your seat, you gave it to them straight. “It’s true. I do whatever I can to avoid contact. Haven’t even seen a human in the past millennia. Haven’t talked to one in about twice that time.”

Clapping his hands together, Simeon let out an amazed sigh. “Perfect. You will be able to have a fresh eye! A clean slate. An unbiased--well, mostly unbiased opinion. You won’t be tempted to corrupt them, you’ll give me honest answers.”

“Plus,” the angel agreed, “if you have the strength and willpower to live without human sustenance and influence for this long, you probably will have the patience to keep from killing them. If anyone could manage to live with the Morningstars, it would be you, from what I’ve heard.”

You were grateful you had put down your drink a while ago. Your breath caught in your throat. “Wait, excuse me, what did you say? Live...with the…”

“Mr. Morningstar!” A laugh, a handshake, even a pat on the shoulder, it nearly made you ill watching the upcoming king of the Devildom greet a human like this so casually. You couldn’t help but sneak glances at this mortal...one of the Morningstars, the eldest. The one who fueled the most demons without even knowing about it. People down in the Devildom called him by Pride. A human world CEO-whatever that meant. He was powerful, influential, not to mention ridiculously rich. And he’d do whatever it took to keep his status, even at the misfortune of plenty of other people. His suit and posture told you pretty much all you needed to know about him. A fancy well tailored pitch black suit, a striking red tie with a subtle but regal diamond design, diamond cufflinks, the works. It was as if dust and winkles knew to avoid him entirely. His hair was as dark as his suit, save for the ends which were greying. He didn’t seem that old, so you wondered if it was intentional or simply stress. You thought you heard someone say that once, that humans could get grey hair from stress. Did they all possess capabilities to change their hair based on their emotions? That human lady you saw outside the building with the blue hair must’ve been feeling something intense.

“Mr-” The human you had come to see was cut off.

“Please, you know to call me Simeon by now!”

The mortal cleared his throat. “Simeon…” The human glanced at you, and raised his chin as he took Simeon by the shoulders and brought him away from you. If you had been a human, it would’ve been a decent tactic to keep you out of earshot. Unfortunately, you could still hear everything they were saying. “I know you have good standing with the company, and I’m pleased to know you respect and trust me with such a task, but...this is far from business.” You could feel his eyes on you. “I have to respectfully decline your request. I don’t think I can allow them to live with us for a year. You know my family.”

“It would only be for a year, and I know you have plenty of room in that house of yours!” Simeon laughed a bit and then lowered his voice. You could feel the alluring pull of his influence flood the space. The human stiffened, his intuition picking up on a shift in the room. “Besides, Lucifer. You know I wouldn’t ask for a favor like this without some proper and well deserved remuneration. Listen...I happen to have something on the head of that business owner that’s been butting heads with your company. Wouldn’t it be nice to have them completely out of the picture? Not only is that increasing your profit, but if they happen to...I don’t know, completely go bankrupt, that little building of theirs on the corner of Main is some prime real estate.” Reaching into his pocket, Simeon pulled out a small...plastic...rectangle of sorts, with metal on one end. “I got everything right here.” Smiling, one hand firmly against Lucifer’s upper back, he looked him right in the eyes and whispered something you knew would have this human caught. “You can’t let them bother you like this. You need to show them and everyone else who you are, and that you’re not to be messed with.”

It took the mortal a moment of internal struggle. Decline the offer and figure things out himself without assistance? Or swallow the smallest bit of ego for self satisfaction? Either way, this mortal was past helping. Already drowning in pride. Eventually, he gripped the object, tucking it into a pocket beneath his suit jacket. Despite being handed assistance, he still found a way to be demanding. “Alright, but no more than a year, and if I feel like anything is going awry, I’m sending them away. Is it really too unreasonable to just set them up on their own? Surely for you it’s no problem.”

Backing up slightly after his incentive worked, Simeon shook his head. “I would feel endlessly guilty leaving alone, desolate, isolated, after what happened. Poor thing...they haven’t even said a word to me in days.” That last part wasn’t a lie. You’d nearly refused to say anything to him since being dragged to the human world. Prince or no prince. “My poor cousin, suddenly losing all their family like that. It’s tragic, isn’t it? Losing people you love?”

Lucifer, with his arms folded, let his hand tightly grip the fabric of one of his sleeves. His eyes lowered the slightest touch, his jaw tightening. “It...is...I know it all too well.” You caught a hint of some emotion from the mortal.

“Then you know that what would be best for them right now is company. Trust me, I wouldn’t have brought them to you if I didn’t think it would help. Besides, this is a win for all parties involved, right?” Simeon gestured to the gift Lucifer had tucked away, and the last string of resistance had been snipped.

Sighing, the human looked at the luxurious watch on his wrist. “I’ll take them home. Let my brothers know what’s happening. Is it too much to assume they’ll be better behaved with a guest in the house?”

Laughing once more, the prince shrugged. If only Lucifer knew who he was in the presence of. “You’ll all just have to find out!” Patting the other man on the shoulder, Simeon then came over to you with his arms outstretched. “It’s all settled, MC!” He pulled you into a hug, taking the time to speak quietly to you. “Remember to keep your identity a secret. I’ll be checking up on you and Solomon once a month for a report. Keep them safe. Play nice.” He pulled apart, coming around behind you and settling his hands on your shoulders. “And remember, what Mr. Morningstar is doing is unbelievably nice, so make sure to thank him and keep yourself out of trouble.”

You broke your vow of silence out of irritation. “I’m not a child you’re sending away to school. I know how to keep my own head on my shoulders.” You attempted to brush his hands off but the grip was tightened. Swallowing your frustration, you kept yourself from grimacing, looking at the fabled Lucifer Morningstar. “Thank you...for letting me live with you.”

For a human, he had a tenacity for picking up on things. He noticed your lie, giving you a stare down of his own before grabbing his phone. You only recently figured out what those devices were. Simeon had made sure he gifted you one of your own, since apparently it was the main source of communication in this realm. Too strange, but you picked it up fairly quickly. Lucifer just raised his head and pressed his cell against his ear. “Just make sure you refrain from being as irksome as my brothers.” The line he was dialing picked up. “Yes, have a driver prepare to come pick me up. And someone please contact my brothers for me so they know I’m bringing home a...guest.”

It was going to be a long year…

The...metal contraption rumbled, making your head feel light. Without magic to get around, they had to use...these things. The movement slowed till it came to a stop. Looking out the pane of glass, you peered forward to see what the issue was. A big red circular light shone a bright crimson in front of the lane. Was it a threat? If so, why was the world seemingly filled with them? Then the eye turned green and the long carriage rumbled back to life. It was completely different than the last time you had been here.

“Before you even step foot in my home, we need to set some ground rules.” Even just the sound of his voice almost physically rubbed you the wrong way. You bit the inside of your cheek. Play nice, the prince had said. How long could you keep your patience around these mortals? You looked up at him, feeling him stare you down to the corrupt depths of your soul. “Since you’re going to be living with us for so long, you’re going to have to follow the same rules I give my brothers? Understand?”

Was this all worth it? Would having your soul be torn to shreds be that bad? “Yes.”

He nodded, then decided his attention would be better focused towards whatever he had on that electronic device of his. He gave you orders without even looking at you. No wonder all the lesser demons who fawned after him were so pretentious. “No parties. No pets. You can stay up however long you want, but you must be back at the house no later than midnight. You can have your own room but you must keep it clean, don’t expect me to hire a maid for you. You’re responsible for looking after yourself. I might be providing a roof over your head, but anything you need is up to you. You break anything, you’re responsible for replacing it. Just use the basic level of common sense and we should have no trouble. Hopefully the year will be over before we—oh excuse me.” Without another word he picked another call, his third one since you’d been blackmailed into this ride. You just gave a gentle sigh and stared out the window. Just a few days ago you’d still existed in your botherless existence. A personal utopia of your own making. Now you were in this...hell away from hell, the scent of smog and exhaust still burning the inside of your nose.

The rest of the ride was spent with you trying to think of ways to escape this fate, but finding none in sight. You didn’t need to fully see the building to get this overwhelming wave of impurity. The tempting allure of sin. Practically a demon buffet. These morons were just screaming to be killed or worse, eaten. Even just approaching the gate to the driveway, you could see remnants of spirits, demons without full forms clawing at the fence. Wisps of black sinking into their sidewalk. But not even those, you could smell the presence of other lesser demons...but more dangerous ones. Outside the gate were small crowds, not too many, but enough to safely conceal their presence. Photographers, journalists, fans, wherever they were, they were eager to get in. And amongst the rabble stood demons pretending to be mortals in an attempt to sink their fangs into one of the Morningstars. You slunk down in your seat, trying to conceal your presence, but you were sure they’d be able to feel you. The car slipped past all of them, approaching the first set of gates. Whoever was patrolling the vehicle pressed their fingers against a small pad attached to a pillar by the gate. It waited for a moment, then made an affirming noise before the gate swung open. The cries of mortal and hidden demons alike pleading for the smallest sliver of attention from this human made you feel sick.

Despite having nearly ignored you the whole time, Lucifer scoffed. “You’ll get used to it.” The curved metal fence shut behind you, and the sound of the crowd slowly faded as you pulled up in front of the massive house. If anything, it reminded you a little of home. It was an old fashioned looking house, but fanciful nonetheless. With dark stone, piercing towers, arched windows, and an overall gothic aesthetic. You managed to take a moment to breathe. At least there was one silver lining. Lucifer stepped out of the idle vehicle first, paying you no mind as he approached the steps to the door. Slightly panicking, you tried simply pushing the door before noticing the small handle. Pulling it unlocked it, and you rapidly exited, feeling the motion sickness fade with your feet on the ground. You followed the mortal to the door, and was slightly pleased when he put his phone away to open the door, leaving it open for you. Lucifer shut the door, a small high pitched noise ringing through your ears. You turned and watched him mess with a little panel near the door. “Our security is top of the market. I make sure the code is changed every day, so if you’re not inside by midnight, I hope you enjoy camping.”

You were about to speak up about that, but both of you were bombarded with noise. A noise you would later learn to get used to. “Oi! Lucifer!” A bundle of energy came racing down the stairs. Wild hair, dark skin, rings on nearly every finger, you recognized this individual without having to ask his name. You could feel the influence. Greed. Demons almost loved this brother more than Pride, because from what you’d heard, he’d make deals impulsively with demons without knowing their true intentions. As long as money or something expensive was in front of him, he’d jump for anything. It had gotten him in more than enough trouble, and it made him too much of a prime target. At least Lucifer knew how to look over his shoulder. The second brother confronted the eldest. He didn’t even glance at you. “Hey, I need some cash! For some reason my card keeps declining...you can spot me right?”

Lucifer didn’t even hesitate. “No.”

“Eh? Why not?! I did that thing the other day for you, remember?”

“Hm?” Lucifer tilted his head, taking the time to recall-or pretending to. “Which thing would that be? Would it have been before or after you stole and immediately maxed out my card?” Lowering his eyes, the older one gave off a menacing smile.

Mammon took a step back, muttering. “O-oh you found about that, huh?”

The smile turned into a full on yell. “Of course I found out! I got a call from the bank as soon as they saw the purchase! What exactly do you need a golden tiger statue for, Mammon? Seriously, you’re absolutely ridiculous! I returned it by the way, and in the meantime I cancelled all your cards.” Mammon went to open his mouth in anger but didn’t have the chance to say anything. “You can try to find some extra work to pay off all the bills you’ve left me with. And if I think you’re ready, I’ll reopen your accounts in two months.” The effort of shouting sent Pride’s eye twitching. He lifted a hand to press against his forehead, the blood draining from his face. You shifted ever so slightly in your spot and he groaned. “Right, you’re here. Mammon, this is MC.”

Eyebrows raised, he jumped a little when he finally spotted you were in the room. “Wait, wait, wait, that whole thing with someone staying with us for a year wasn’t a joke?”

“No.” Although the slight warble to his voice seemed that that fact was just now settling in. “It wasn’t. And since you’ve so kindly volunteered yourself, you can take their bags and show them to their room.” He simply turned. No welcome, no tour, no warmth in those cold eyes of his.

“Hey! Come back here!” Yet the younger sibling showed no signs of chasing after him. “Lucifer!” His older brother just quickly headed up the stairs and disappeared into the house. Was it really going to require a full year of observation? Just from what you were seeing right now, you wanted nothing to do with humans. Nothing. Mammon ran a hand through his hair, one of his strands getting stuck in one of his rings, but he tugged it out without noticing, like it was a daily occurrence. “I can’t believe this.” You could watch as the anger started to swell within him. “Screw this, I’m out of here!” You were ready for him to leave, to give into his emotions. He had wrapped his hand around the door handle before he stopped. Pausing, he just tutted to himself before shoving his hands in his jacket-pockets, looking in your direction but not fully at you. “You want the guest room we have upstairs or down?” Loud, brash, rude in some ways, but there was a weird sort of innocence about him. You simply shrugged. He nodded, grasping one of your bags suddenly, gesturing you to follow. “I’ll give you the downstairs one. Most of our rooms are on the second floor, so it’s a bit quieter down here, plus it stays cooler.” He led you past the entrance hall and back into the rest of the house. “Plus, it’s easier to sneak out from here, but you didn’t hear that from me. I’m guessing Lucifer gave you the whole rule spiel?”

You restrained the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah.”

He hissed in air through his teeth. “Sucks, man, are you sure you want to stay here?”

The pain around your wrists was still too prominent. Etched into your skin was a mark, a line of runes and symbols around your wrists. Who knew demons could give temporary pacts to other demons? Simeon ensured you a small fraction of his power, just in case you ran into trouble. But in exchange he had a hold on you, able to summon you to him whenever he needed you. It was your chain keeping you imprisoned here. There was no running. There was no hiding. “I didn’t have a choice.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke

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stars-and-darkness · 4 months ago

Note

oh, and here's a snippet:

Caroline violently stabs her fork into a piece of meat on her plate, then gives Elena and Stefan a smile so wide it pulls uncomfortably on her face. “Do you have more stories of your own, my lord? Preferably those in which you embarrass yourself?”

Stefan tips his head back to laugh. “A plethora, my lady, I assure you,” he tells her. “It seems I had a unique proclivity for embarrassing myself when I was younger.”

“When you were younger?” Prince Niklaus asks him idly.

Stefan laughs again. “If we are going to be technical, I was younger than I am now this morning.”

“Ah yes, this morning, when you tripped over the edge of a carpet in front of my sister and me.”

Elena hides a giggle behind her hand.

Stefan frowns dubiously. “I’m still not sure you had nothing to do with that.”

“Me? Goddess, Stefan, what would I have to gain from tripping you on the carpet? No, I assure you, you did it all by yourself.” He looks a picture of innocence, wide-eyed and angelic, hand on his heart—or he would have, if said hand were not tipped by iron-clawed gauntlets.

Caroline frowns.

“To make Rebekah laugh, of course,” Stefan answers him matter-of-factly.

“You think I would put my best friend in harm’s way just to make her laugh? You wound me, Stefan.” The corner of his lip quirks up.

“Rebekah is your best friend,” Stefan dismisses easily. “Besides …” And here, he turns his gaze to the other end of the table. “Bekah!”

The High Priestess narrows her eyes at him, but the princess turns. “Yes?”

She seems to be the only one of her siblings other than her half-brother—and the dead little Freya, Caroline supposes—to have inherited their mother’s fair colouring. Her golden hair is braided around the circlet upon her head, dress as black as night, with shades of deep red revealed with every movement. Her face is rounded with last remnants of girlhood, eyes blue and glimmering with the sort of edge that could only be honed in the cold and ruthless Winter Court.

“This morning, was Nik the one to trip me?” Stefan asks of her.

Her gaze edges towards her brother, and she gets a mean little glint in her eye. “What will you give me for that information, Stefan?”

“Now, now, Bekah,” the prince says quickly, “you wouldn’t try to exploit your dear friend like this, would you?”

“Hush now, Nik—Stefan? When is your bitch to have her puppies?”

Lord Stefan angles his head. “A week or two, give or take a few days.”

Princess Rebekah nods. “I wish to have first pick of the litter.”

“Very well,” Stefan agrees without hassle. “Now—”

“You would betray your own brother for a puppy?”

She smiles sweetly at Niklaus. “Have you ever gotten me a puppy? The answer is no.”

He raises both eyebrows. “Need I remind you that I was the one to gift you Eskelana for your birthday last year?”

“Eskelana is a horse,” Rebekah dismisses with a casual wave of her hand. Her fingers are heavy with rubies. “I should like a dog, I think.”

“Unbelievable,” her brother mutters, with an unmistakeable underlying fondness.

“Well?” Stefan prompts her.

“Oh? Oh, that. Yes, of course, he told me so himself. I was upset; the gardeners had practically butchered the hedges in the western gardens, and snow hadn’t yet fallen to hide that atrocity.” She clicks the talons of her thumb and middle finger together. “And a day before your wedding, no less.”

Caroline can’t help but stare incredulously at her. Then the rest of what she’s saying finally filters into her brain, and her head snaps towards Prince Niklaus.

“You can lie?” she blurts out without thinking.

He smirks at her.

“Who, me? Not at all. That being said, you have the most stunning raven hair, as black as the colours of my House.”

Instinctively, her fingers wrap around one of the ringlets Mother had left out of her bun to see for herself that it’s still golden, then she stares at him in disbelief.

There are no more humans in Fairfold, to weave lies with their mortal tongues.

But there is him.

Next to her, Elena shakes her head and the glimmer of the amethysts in her hair shakes Caroline out of whatever trance she’d been in. “That was the strangest thing I’ve ever heard,” she says, sounding a little high on excitement.

Prince Niklaus gives another dimpled smile, but no more lies pass his lips. At least no more obvious ones.

She’ll have to keep this in mind in the future, she decides.

tell me more about faerie au! curious what your spin is on fae

(or point me to the last post you had on this if someone already asked)

the faerie au is this massive, massive au that draws from tfota and acotar and every other ya faerie thing i've ever read. caroline is like, a noble from the summer court, klaus is one of the many many princes of the winter court, and they meet at elena and stefan's wedding. things kind of spiral from there.

the funniest thing about it is that i have to use regular anglophone names for faerie characters. it goes against everything i believe in. a faerie. named tyler. who allowed this.

it's not very high priority for me atm as alicia has forbidden me from working on anything that's not the amnesia au, but it's probably one of my favourite wips that i have going on. one beautiful day, when the amnesia au (my white whale) is done, i think this is the one i'd like to focus on.

wip tag game

#faerie au #tvd #klaroline #ella writes

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llamagoddessofficial · 4 years ago

Text

Got hit by my first wave of inspiration for a while, and decided to ride it out instead of fighting it. So, for anyone who wants it... have Mc’s first meeting with Zoo!Naga Skull. (Yes, the one that ended in kidnapping ;) )

Nervous was an understatement.

“Keep track of him at all times. Always make sure you can get to the door, never let him cut you off. Don’t underestimate him just because he’s blindfolded.”

You could feel your heart hammering in your chest so loudly it was getting hard to pay full attention to Maggie, the senior zoo staff member in front of you, hard to keep a grip on the large and heavy bucket of meat clenched tightly in one hand and the hooked feeding pole in the other. You weren’t even supposed to be doing this, you were too low down on the zoo staff ladder... you should’ve been feeding the little snakes or the herbivores, you should be years away from this level of care! The naga were already leagues above your pay grade, and now they wanted you to feed the biggest one of them all!?

I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be doing this. You cringed- but I can’t refuse, I need this job!

“Talk to him, move loudly, make sure he knows where you are because the last thing you want is to spook him. I know you’ve had good experiences with the other two naga but that doesn’t mean you should ever let your guard down, understand?”

“... Yes.” You said, voice barely above a whisper, grip sweaty on the feeding pole. You couldn’t help it, your eyes flicked down to her left hand- the one she didn’t have anymore, the one that had just a wrist stump remaining.

“... You’ll be fine. We’ll all be watching, if something does happen for some reason we can get in and help you.” She took on a slightly more comforting tone, noticing your line of sight. Her injury was the reason she wasn’t the one bringing the naga his food, given her senior position and superior experience. “I got this when I was young and cocky, and because I followed the safety protocol I lost a hand and not a neck. So long as you stick to the rules and don’t do anything stupid, you won’t have a problem with him. Ok?”

“A-are you sure I’m...”

“Yes, you’re ready. You’ve dealt with the other two.” She cut over you, turning you by the shoulder. “Now go, before Skull gets hungrier.”

And just like that, you were pushed through the door of the enclosure, that shut firmly behind you. The secondary door opened... and despite the fact that every part of you was cold and shaking, you had no choice but to go forward. As scared as you were, someone needed to get the naga fed... someone needed to go straight into the beast’s den.

... You stepped into the enclosure.

It was built to resemble a near-surface cave; the walls and floor were made of slightly uneven smoothed stone, with a few windowed ‘cracks’ in the fake stalactite ceiling providing enough daylight to see by. There were some interesting objects to provide a little enrichment, like ‘boulders’, patches of fake grass, a little filtered waterfall dribbling into a relatively shallow pool... and a small tunnel, leading to a den with no windows he could juuust about curl up in so he could have some privacy.

... Inside that den, you could see a hint of a steely blue-grey... scales.

... You sucked in a tiny breath through your nose, and stepped further forward, following the zoo protocol of tapping the metal end of the pole lightly against the bucket of food to let him know it was feeding time. It took a moment for there to be a reaction, but... slowly, surely, the mass of muscle resting inside the den began to shift.

Giant claws hooked over the stone edges of the den entrance, bone hands as big as your head... the thing about Red and Sans is they were very vocal naga, Sans regularly hissing and snarling and Red making curious rattling and purring sounds. But with Skull... there was nothing but the low sliding sound of scales against rock, that sounded long and oh-so heavy.

... He emerged, head moving into the light, vicious cranium crack and tight fitted black blindfold plain to see... with just his skeletal torso out he was already almost as big as you. A shot of panic doused your system and you had to clench your teeth together to stop yourself from crying, or dropping everything and bolting back through the door. The rest of him followed after; the long snake tail that made up over three quarters of his body length coiling behind him as he raised himself up, gathering like a loosened rope, thicker than you were wide... faded blue and littered with scars that just didn’t seem to catch the light in the same way the other two nagas did.

He was... huge. You knew this already, but there was something different about seeing him with nothing in the way.

... You had to swallow the terror again, no longer able to tap on the food bucket as your hands were shaking too much. I’m fine. I’m fine. The door is right behind me.

... He was keeping his distance from you, head turned downward slightly, facing in the direction of the bucket. A flash of blue around his mouth- his forked tongue flickering rapidly, which could either signal curiosity, hunger or both. The pounding in your chest became more intense.

“... H-hey, big guy.” You stammered, keeping your voice as gentle as possible, as low and soft as you could in order to not spook him. He reacted immediately, his head cocking a little, raising to face directly at you instead of the bucket as if making eye contact despite the blindfold- just get this over with, (y/n), just get this over with. “... I-I’m... supposed to talk to you, to let you know where I am... talking worked with the other two, I... h-hope it works with you, too.”

You put the bucket on the ground, sliding a decently heavy chunk of the special treated naga-friendly meat onto it. Skull had a unique feeding hook; it was much longer than usual, slightly difficult to handle, but reinforced along the inside to facilitate easier feeding from a distance. You raised the pole with the hung meat and slid it slowly closer to him, keeping careful watch of the way his tongue would flicker toward the food... you were so ready to bolt. You just needed to get this done.

“I’m, uhm...” You felt like an idiot. You could feel all the other staff members watching. “The food’s on the hook. You probably know that already, but...”

... He moved forward and caught the chunk straight off the hook, swallowing it without any chewing or pausing, then going immediately back to sitting there, patiently, watching. Waiting for more. You brought the hook back, putting on another piece, moving it toward him again... careful to keep hold on the pole despite your sweaty palms.

... He was eating as quickly as your unpractised snail-pace would allow, but most notably.. without issue. You finally felt a droplet of relief in the sea of fear; he was eating normally, he wasn’t being aggressive or trying to approach... this was going pretty well, for your first time feeding the moodiest naga in the zoo.

“... There we go. Good, this is going good. Please don’t eat me.” You half-joked, repeating the process. Retract pole, hook meat, offer it out. Starting to get into a rhythm. “... I hope you’re always this relaxed with me. That would be really helpful.”

He took the meat again, obediently. You let out a tiny sigh; the more he just did what he was supposed to, the calmer and more comfortable you felt. He’d probably learned by now that it was just best to get the food offered, instead of biting the hand that was feeding him.

... Or biting it off.

“... Everyone’s watching. I think they’re waiting for me to mess up. Do something dumb and get kicked out.” You mumbled. You felt... surprisingly not-awkward? Sometimes, when you spoke to the animals, you felt weird because they clearly didn’t care... but in this case, you got a strange feeling from the way his head would twitch and follow you despite the meat, how his tongue would flicker only when you’d stopped talking. It felt like he was... actually listening?

Besides. Nobody could fault you for talking to the naga to keep it calm and not-murderous as you passed him food from as large a distance as possible, right? If it worked, it worked, and you kept your limbs.

“... There we go.” You said, as you passed him the last piece- you then tapped the side of the empty bucket with the hook like you’d been told to, so he’d hear the hollow sound and understand there was no more food, before you picked it up again. You felt... a lot less terrified? Still nervous, but not like you were about to throw up.

“... Uhm... thank you.” Your voice was still pretty small. “For... being calm. I appreciate it.”

... He stayed where he was. You felt, again, like he was watching you, despite him having no vision.

...

You took a step back, ready to go back through the door and throw up... but as soon as your foot sounded against the stone floor...

Everything about him changed.

His lips and teeth parted... and the most powerful hiss you’d ever heard filtered out, filling the room, tearing through the air and right through your body. Like someone had set off a huge firework but it just kept hissing and hissing and hissing, deep and loud and intertwined with an open-mouthed growl, it echoed off the walls and shook everything inside. It was as if someone had flipped a switch in his head, something inside him had snapped; his shoulders rose, tail beginning to move across the floor and rearrange itself. It sounded like... a warning.

You froze, heart dropping into your stomach, all the warmth and colour draining from your face.

...Oh no.

... The hissing stopped, but he kept his new position. He’d stopped in a more aggressive, coiled posture like a tightened spring, tongue now flickering constantly.

...

“... Maggie.” You said, voice cracking, essentially calling for help. Your eyes were locked onto him, you couldn’t remember any of the safety protocols for aggressive naga, every part of you was petrified, you couldn’t feel your hands or toes you could only feel the pounding in your own head. You were afraid to blink- it was going TOO well, I’ve used up my luck, it’s all gonna go wrong now!

“... Okay, just relax.” You heard her voice over the exhibit speaker system but you daren’t turn your head away to look at where she was. “He probably just doesn’t trust you yet, and is getting possessive over food he thinks might still be in the bucket. Okay? Use the pole to push the bucket toward him.”

You swallowed, following her advice; you set the bucket down without taking your gaze off him as if your feet were glued to the earth, and then used the end of the pole to push the bucket across the floor. It made an ugly scraping/rattling sound as it moved.

... He wasn’t even turning toward it. He wasn’t paying attention to it. His attention seemed steadfastly on you, if his head direction was any way to tell. You were sweating, your neck hairs were prickling.

“Alright. Now back away slowly.”

... One step back.

He immediately started hissing again, even louder this time, with deafening aggravation... he lowered his head.

A strike position.

You didn’t hear Maggie’s shout over the speaker system, you could hear nothing but your heart and his hissing. The rabbit-like urge to RUN overtook your whole body, something in you shattered, and you staggered backward with the intent to turn and dive for the door.

... The speed at which he crossed the entire enclosure would’ve been incredible in any other circumstance.

He lurched with all the power readied in the wound muscles in his tail, striking forward so quickly it was like he vanished from his spot, and suddenly you were screaming as the pole was knocked out of your hands. Suddenly something huge and hard was gripping you and your clothes and your legs went out from under you, the world was dark and turning and you brought your hands up over your head in an instinctive defensive posture, you faintly heard the sound of dozens of voices shouting out in synchrony but everything was ringing, the heels of your boots were dragging so quickly across the floor it felt like the friction was going to burn through them and kicking your legs into nothingness as a pathetic attempt at attack/escape did genuinely nothing, you cried out...

... And then just like that, your body came to a halt; you’d stopped moving.

You opened your eyes, forcing in deep terrified breaths, finding yourself in almost total darkness and taking only a few milliseconds to realise you were inside his den. It was so cramped and the floor and walls were moving, why were they moving, you put out a hand to try and steady yourself or get to your feet...

...

That wasn’t the floor or walls. Your hand landed on smooth, hard scales.

You were on him. You were on his coiled tail.

You made a sound you could only describe as a broken whimper-cry of fear and tried to sit up and get some control, but it was almost impossible as he was still moving, his body shifting and writhing underneath you and forcing you to only sink deeper into his scales, deeper into his hold. Something wound around you, starting from your chest and moving down to your knees, binding your legs together- and the scariest part was that you could feel the power as he shifted, you could feel the strength behind the scales when they pressed against you. He was a living muscle, and with little more than a flex he could squeeze, and you’d go squish.

That’s what’s going to happen. He’s going to constrict me to death! Your breathing was getting so fast your chest was heaving, you tried to push the coils on your middle but it was like pushing the unmoving floor, you were getting dizzy with panic, you started to beat them with your fists, S-someone help me-!

His face came into view. Hovering over you, only just silhouetted by the light creeping into the entrance of the den.

... Once again, everything in your body just... stopped.

All thought, all movement, everything froze, as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

... He’d removed his own blindfold. A bright, blood red ring was gazing down at you... fuzzy around the edges, the hole in the centre nothing but a dot.

... His own movements were slowing, as he apparently settled on the position he was in. You were almost horizontal, your head lifted up ever-so-slightly, everything lower than your chest totally bound and covered and crushed under more of his body. He was so close.

...

He was warm. Like summer’s day. And he was... just staring.

...

You could hear absolute havoc breaking outside of his den. But even so, your breathing was slowing... you were calming, despite it all. Something about his eye... the way he was hanging his head... how his tongue just ever-so-slightly peeked out of his mouth, as if only curious...

... How he hadn’t killed you yet. He wasn’t squeezing. You felt so, so very tiny, trapped in the coils of a giant naga...

Why hasn’t he...?

...

A single, sharp phalange moved over to your face. You naturally flinched leaned away at the sight of such huge claws coming close, sucking in a breath... and as soon as you did, he... paused? He took a moment, with his your-head-sized hand just hanging there...

... Like he was giving you a second? He held your eye.

... When he started moving again, he moved so slowly. So gently... and he turned the hand over, brushing the back of his thick knuckle across your cheek with a feather-light touch. His hands were warm, too.

...

It was a like a cat, the way his eyelight widened, blowing to fill his whole socket.

He seemed to lose whatever self control was making him move slowly, and instead his massive head leant in, before you could so much as muster the energy or presence of mind to squeak he pressed his face flush against the side of yours with his teeth just under your ear. Instead you just let in another tiny breath of shock and felt a shiver travel across the whole length of your body- he was nuzzling, with an unmistakable joy, parts of his tail moving ever-so-slightly like he just couldn’t contain himself. In amongst the gleeful nuzzling he took a few inquisitive breaths in your hair, his tongue flickering out and surprising you with how ticklish it was- you brought your shoulder up in defence but he seemed to like that tiny reaction and did it again, chasing your sensitive spots.

“G- ah, stop!” You said, but less out of fear and more out of ticklishness- you couldn’t get away from him, it was like being fussed by a giant overly affectionate puppy. He was breathing right down your ear, and his breath and tongue made everything prickle, you tried to put your hands over your neck but he wasn’t having it. “... G-guys? Guys, are you out there?!”

You distinctly heard someone mutter ‘oh my God, she’s alive’, before a sharp “Play dead! We’re coming to get you!” sounded pretty close to the den.

... You saw Skull’s reaction- and by saw, you meant heard and felt. As soon as he seemed to realise they were approaching the entrance to his hide, he stopped nuzzling, face still against your neck... and a slow, upset snarl began to filter out of his chest, and seeing as you were surrounded by him it was deep and so close it was vibrating your insides. At the same time, his snake body shifted and started to tighten, slowly moving to cover you more, bring you in further into his coils... trap you underneath.

“N-no, no!” You said, panic at possibly being constricted to death rearing its head again. “Don’t come any closer without sedatives, please!”

“... What the hell’s going on in there?!”

“H-he’s just... he’s just got me wrapped up.” You stammered, swallowing, wishing you could see them instead of the den ceiling right now; your voice had a strange, echoing quality inside the small space. “I-I can’t move. When you come closer it agitates him and he squeezes. Don’t come closer. Please just go get sedatives.”

“... Are you sure you’re okay in there?” You could hear them backing up, thank fuck. And he could definitely hear them too, noticeably relaxing. “It’s gonna take us a while to get anything strong enough for him.”

... Skull let out a strange, deathly soft hiss, apparently really liking your hair... so quiet, only the two of you could hear it. His scales were warm, and although you were trapped, it almost felt like he’d deliberately trapped you in this reclined position in order to make sure you were comfortable in his grip.

...

“Y-yeah, I... I think I’m fine for now. Just please don’t take too long.”

#llamagines #llama writes #naga au #naga sanses #heeee #local monster just wants to kiss pretty face- please stop running

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dadsbongos · 3 years ago

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[golden squid chapter 2 - honeycomb] series masterlist i like this game and couldn't find a more accurate replacement for it to keep setting. so that's my bad, sorry :(

_____

Morning comes and you snag Izuku, Tenya, and Ochaco into line with you for breakfast. An egg and some water.

“Huh…?” you eye the egg in your palm, “You’d think that for a game running almost fifty million yen, the breakfast would be a little nicer.”

Tenya hums quietly to your statement, “Even so, I think it’s decent they’re feeding us…”

“Don’t be nice to them, Iida,” Ochaco frowns, “They’re only feeding us cuz we’d starve otherwise and couldn’t be in their game.”

He nods but you can tell there's more on his tongue.

Tenya’s a nice man, you’re certain of that. Parts of you wish you’d met him outside of this room and in the real world. Same with Izuku. And Ochaco.

You feel bad they’re here.

“Do any of you have ideas on what the next game could be?” Izuku looks at each of you in the group. He’s antsy as he asks because he knows there isn’t a way any of you have any more information than you did last night, “Maybe sleeping on it helped.”

“It seems to be children’s games,” Ochaco shakes her head, “But I don’t really have a clue other than that.”

“Could be otedama, in that case,” Tenya mutters.

“Or hanetsuki.”

“Shogi?”

“Do you really play shogi as a kid though?”

“Whatever it is,” you interrupt the trio, “We need to make sure we’re the winners. Our odds are better if we can all stay while others drop off.”

All this talk about the games is driving your nerves up a wall.

As breakfast came to a wrap, the guards herd all remaining players into a new room painted to look like a blue sky overlooking a playground with four doors lining one of the walls. Green circle. Red triangle. Yellow star. Blue umbrella. The speaker comes to life and tells all the players to choose a shape and your group turns to look at each other.

“Should we all pick the same shape…?” Izuku asks, voice slightly shaky with his nerves, “Or split up?”

“Well, I assume we’ll have to make the shape out of something,” you murmur, “Why else would they make us pick a shape?”

“So then we should avoid more difficult shapes like the star and umbrella,” Tenya pitches in.

“Right,” you nod.

Ochaco wrings her hands nervously as she speaks, “Then, I think two should take the circle and two take the triangle.”

“Does anybody have a preference for either shape?”

Izuku shyly raises his hand, “If it isn’t trouble, I would want the circle.”

When there’s no objections, Tenya decides to tackle the circle as well. The boys line up with the other players already choosing the circle as their shape. You head for the end of the triangle line with Ochaco as the undecided players assign themselves to whichever shape pleases them most.

The same voice from yesterday cuts over the speakers, “The time to choose your shape has ended. I will now explain the rules of the next game. All players, please take one case each from the table at the front of your line.”

You shake the case gently by your ear, hearing the faintest clinking from inside as you and Ochaco move inside the playground-style room and settle by the slide. Tenya and Izuku sit down near you two with their own cases.

“Please take a moment to open the case and check its contents,” you open the tin lid and your lip catches between your teeth at the sight of dalgona candy and a slim needle, “The second game is sugar honeycombs. The shape you’ve chosen is the shape you must remove from the honeycomb. You will pass if you remove the shape from the honeycomb within ten minutes without cracking or breaking it. With that, let the game begin.”

“Fuck,” you hiss, placing the tin to the ground and dragging your needle through the lines of the triangle.

You remember playing this game as a child. With your siblings. Your grandmother would make the dalgona and whichever one of your siblings broke theirs would have to fork over three hundred yen they’d stolen from father to the others. Touya would always lose first. He was too hasty and would rush to get his shapes out as fast as possible. It was always an upside as a kid because you’d watch where he went wrong and do the opposite. You’d also win one hundred yen.

Now, in this death game, you’re praying that Dabi has learned to be patient with his honeycomb. Please, let his hand be steady. Please, let him be soft with his needle. Please. Please. Please.

The sound of a honeycomb cracking echoes in the silent room and everyone studies their shape to ensure it isn’t them. A gunshot is heard only seconds after.

A man by the swingset flinches - breaking his own shape and earning a bullet between the eyes.

You focus yourself on your shape, only occasionally peeking up to check that one of the gunshots wasn’t the sound of your brother being put out of this game.

Izuku’s hands are shaky while he attempts to bring out the circle from his honeycomb, carefully lifting it with wide eyes - as though he can hardly believe he’d gotten through the round. He holds it up to the guard, giving you, Ochaco, and Tenya an uneasy glance back while he leaves the room.

Ochaco is up next. Nearly laughing in her shock of managing to get out the triangle.

Tenya looks over at your honeycomb when yet another crack is heard in the room, inspecting it for damage while you look over and try to see inside Dabi’s tin.

“He’ll be fine,” Tenya mutters, and when all you give him is a quizzing glance, he continues, “I saw the man - 345 - sneak him a lighter to burn through his shape.”

You nod before burying your head in your work and continuing on. A trick from childhood comes to you and as you carefully lift your honeycomb out of the tin there’s saliva gathering on your tongue.

The saliva moistens the candy enough for your needle drags to break apart without splitting the rest of the comb.

You pop your triangle out while Tenya carefully snaps off the last jagged edges of his circle - both of you holding up your shapes at the same time. Over the speaker comes that same feminine voice, “Players 331 and 069, pass.”

“Oh, thank goodness you made it,” Ochaco cheers, taking your shoulders in her hand with a relieved grin, “I was so worried.”

“We all got the easier shapes, I’m worried about the people who picked stars and umbrellas,” Izuku mumbles.

“That guy you know,” you began, nodding over towards the doors, “I think he was in the triangle line with Uraraka and I, so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Soon after you finish speaking, you see the doors open again and your head snaps over to watch who comes through them.

That guy with the shaggy hair your brother was with is immediately heading for the blond with a scar down his forehead that’d lent your brother the lighter.

“You guys settle back in. I got a question about the lighter trade 345 pulled.”

“Lighter trade?” Ochaco quirked a brow.

You don’t bother answering her question as you make your way to the two men.

“Hey, you, 345,” you call to the man, “that guy you leant the lighter to - 14 - what was his shape? Did you see it?”

Before he can answer, the other guy is stepping in, red eyes narrowed at you, “What does it matter to you?”

“Just let him answer the question and I’ll fuck off.”

345 glances over at the other man before replying, “He had an umbrella.”

You just barely manage to catch your tongue before screaming. All you give is a stiff nod before walking away to your group.

“We should start sleeping as a group. I don’t trust those guys.”

“But don’t we have assigned beds?” it’s Izuku that raises the potential problem.

“They’re killing us off in groves, I highly doubt that they care much about us switching around beds,” you eye the three guards standing at the front of the room.

Izuku nods hesitantly before pointing out his bed nearby.

Guards begin clearing out empty beds for deceased players - yours and Ochaco’s being among the list when neither of you is in them.

Every time those doors open, you and Izuku whip your heads over to see if either player 014 or 189 have returned yet. 189 is out first. Nobody chooses to point out the way Izuku visibly relaxes at his presence.

Time’s cutting short and Dabi - Touya - has yet to return from the game room.

Your hands wring nervously as more and more players with no resemblance to your brother come in.

“I’m sure he’ll be okay,” Tenya whispers, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“You don’t even know my connection to him.”

“I don’t have to. I can sense how worried you are.”

A pair approaches your quartet. The older has long, black hair and a scar under his right eye - the younger with lavender hair. Both of them visibly weary with full eyebags.

“You’re in our beds.”

You look at two beds nearby, “I think the owners of those two got shot in the face. If you’re desperate to stick together.”

Tenya, Izuku, and Ochaco stay silent - just you’d expect. People like them don’t usually get into conflicts.

The younger one - 412 - sighs before moving to one of the beds you pointed out, when the older - 216 - makes no such move, he speaks, “Dad. Come on, it isn’t worth it.”

“You remind me of someone,” 216 says, continuing to stare down at you.

“Is that all or will you say something productive, old man?”

He shakes his head, “I know you. I worked for you.”

“Hey, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” you snap, coming to a stand before the man.

Upon closer look, you recognize him. That familiar scar. Those dead eyes. Your old tutor from childhood.

“I remember you,” he nods, “He’s here too. I never would’ve thought my brightest student would end up here of all places. Especially since you’re a Todoroki.”

412 turns, “Dad, you know, it looks bad that we’re here too. Don’t try and intimidate her.”

“I wasn’t trying to intimidate her,” 216 - Aizawa, Shota - turns back to go over to his son - Hitoshi.

You remember playing in the courtyard with Hitoshi when Shota would bring him over. You’d play nim most of the time - because he knew a trick to winning every single time. Start the game by picking two and then take the opposite number of whatever the other player chose out of one or two.

“You…” Ochaco trailed off.

Izuku picked up where she’d left, “You’re a Todoroki?”

“I thought I recognized that man,” Tenya nodded, “Todoroki, Touya. And you’re- “

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you huff, sitting on the bed you’d taken, “If it makes you wanna leave the team cuz I didn’t say anything then you’re welcome to go now.”

Nobody stands up - people like Tenya, Ochaco, and Izuku wouldn’t have, but offering them the opportunity helped.

“If I was a Todoroki, I probably wouldn’t have said anything either,” Ochaco nods, “I get it.”

The door swings open once again. Touya comes through with furrowed brows, still shaken up from having just scratched through the game.

You can see the man, 456, looking around at other players. His stare makes you uneasy. It’s like a nightmare peeking at the innermost corners of your mind and picking out the exact terrors you dread most.

His eyes meet yours and he still stares forward, right at you.

You break eye contact first and look over to the trio beside you, “I think that guy’s gonna try something tonight.”

You’re on the bed between Tenya and Ochaco when the lights shut off for nighttime. You’re certain that none of your quartet is even close to sleep. You’re certain that Dabi’s group of “friends” is also wide awake.

It’s hard to believe that the good-natured big brother you grew up with was making friends with people like 456, even in here. You can’t imagine what kinds of people he’s with on the outside.

“I can’t sleep,” Ochaco turns to you, whispering, “I’m too nervous. About what you said.”

“Sorry for scaring you,” you whisper back, scooting over on the mattress to be closer to her, “I just don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

She seems almost taken aback, at least from what you can make out in the dark, before a smile stretches over her lips, “Aw, that’s the most genuine you’ve been yet, 69.”

Your brows pinch downward at her statement, “You’re still gonna call me that?”

“It’s what you wanted us to call you,” she reasons, “I’ll respect that.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study Ochaco’s face in the darkness.

“Thanks, Uraraka.”

There’s the sound of a muffled scream and you shoot up from your bed.

The lights are flickering between on and off while people begin fighting for their lives. Touya isn’t a physically strong man - he’s scrawny and can only throw around so much weight before he injures himself.

You tug on Ochaco and Izuku’s arms, leading them into the closest corner with Tenya following after. The four of you lock yourselves into the corner and watch as other players scramble for either cover or a victim. You watch as Hitoshi falls to the ground and under his bed, Shota is attempting the same but he’s too slow - he’s grabbed.

“Come on, I know you know this. Don't play dumb.”

“Hey, insulting students isn’t very good teacher etiquette.”

“And getting your sister to do your homework isn’t very honest.”

“You’re such an uptight guy…”

“Because a student cheating is definitely something to just wave off.”

He was hired by your father when you were just at the age to enter schooling. Touya was expecting to be able to burn through this tutor just as he had the last few.

But Shota stayed. He was kind despite his roughened edges.

He tried getting you and your siblings out of the Todoroki household when he discovered that the business mogul every child with an interest in advancing technology was told to look up to - ended up being a monster. He ended up being fired for that. When he tried speaking out, your father made sure to sue for trying to damage his reputation. You’re only left to assume that it was your father’s doing that put Shota and his son here.

Your body is moving before you even register it.

You rush the man grabbing your former teacher and take him to the ground. There’s a fist flying into the attacker’s face and you can’t manage to pull yourself off from beating him.

Shota was kind.

Shota cared about all five Todoroki kids. More than Enji ever did.

Shota didn’t deserve to be here.

Hitoshi didn’t deserve to be here.

Neither of them should be here.

You can feel the man’s blood on your knuckles.

You can’t pull yourself off the man. So you’re being dragged away by another person.

Your eyes are wildly searching the room in the sporadic flicks of light for the face of whoever’s got you. For the face of Shota. For the faces of your team. For the face of Touya. Dabi.

The lights come on one final time and stay on.

You look up and see green curls with a freckled face. It’s Izuku’s arms wrapped around you. It’s Izuku pulling you back from the bloodied pulp of the man in front of you.

You see his chest rising and falling as he breathes. He isn’t dead.

More guards come in, carrying large black boxes with pink ribbons atop of them. Izuku’s holding you. You know it’s just to keep you back, but it feels warm and comforting. It feels like he cares.

You want out.

#bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bnha au #squid game au #tenya iida x reader #tenya iida x y/n #tenya iida x you #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x you #deku x reader #ochaco uraraka x reader #uraraka x reader #golden squid

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 3 years ago

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Fic: What We Don't Know Can't Hurt Us

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Librarian!Reader (cishet female) meet-cute

Warnings: No warnings really, some language and mention of masturbation and sex. Reader doesn't like kids. Yearning. Frankie is a TOTAL DILF SWEETHEART. Sad ending.

Summary: Reader is a librarian who has to temp at the kids' section desk from time to time which is a pain because she doesn't like kids. And who is a regular if not a very hot, scruffy-looking dad with the very polite and mild-mannered daughter? Sparks fly but some things maybe aren't meant to be.

Words: 5,155

a/n: Just to be clear, this one doesn't end well. I just wanted to write something sad, I guess.

Oh, shit, there he is again. The Hot Dad.

You straighten a little in your chair and once again curse the fact that you’re working in the children’s section at the library: the only desk that isn’t adjustable. You prefer to do your service desk duties standing up, not only for ergonomic reasons but because you hate how patrons look down on you – literally – when you’re seated by the desk. Also, you tend to slouch and it’s not an attractive look. And at the kids’ section, you’re all supposed to work on the same level as the little tykes. And you’re not particularly keen on those.

You are, however, keen on hot dads. God knows you only get them once in a blue moon and if they show up, it’s usually in tow of a whole clan of children and a wife. But this dad has been in once before when you’ve had desk duty and you saw him stop at the shelf for picture books about divorce and pick out a few. You also heard him tell his little girl that she shouldn’t bring the books she chose to her mom’s. Divorcee, so fantasizing was even more allowed – although he probably had a girlfriend. Guys like that always do.

“You don’t want to lose them, sweetie,” he had explained patiently to his daughter. “You can keep them in your room at my place but if you take them to your mom’s there’s a risk you lose them and that means I have to pay for them. You see, we’re only borrowing these books, that’s what you do in a library.”

You had smiled an inwards smile when listening to him. There was nothing you loved more than parents who actually seemed to understand that all the material in the library was free at one simple condition: return it in time, in the same condition as you borrowed it. A lot of people did not seem to grasp this and made a huge deal when they failed to meet these conditions and were faced with late fees or even had to compensate for lost books. But when parents who knew how to use a library include their offspring, explain how it all works for them, well, that’s how you foster a new generation of good library patrons.

This dad did just that. And he was very careful with the books, prompting his daughter to be the same. Every book she pulled out of the stacks, he helped her put back in the right place. That’s practically marriage material right there and it was enough to make you weak at the knees, to be honest. After almost ten years working in a public library, you were disillusioned about people in general and their intelligence in particular. Sure, you liked your job enough to not cry in the mornings when you had to leave bed, and you did enjoy the work itself (mostly), but… having to deal with people was exhausting. Having to deal with little people even more so, and the worst was having to deal with adult people who had little people with them. Parents.

Hence your absolute obsession with Hot Dad who was soft-spoken, really good with his kid, understood to appreciate the library and its services, nodded his hello to you when passing by the desk, didn’t make a mess, clearly read to his kid regularly and encouraged her to read for herself. You just didn’t get to see people like that so often, and it triggered your interest. You allowed yourself to daydream about him.

Francisco Morales. You remember his name from his last visit, when he and the kid came up to the desk with their haul. You always encouraged patrons to use the self-service check-out (the less you had to do deal with them, the better), but for this guy you were more than willing to go the extra service mile, even with the kid staring at your every move from across the desk as you registered all the loans. You silently gave her plus points for not trying to “help” like some kids did, and for the quiet but clear Thank you she gave you without prompting from her father.

You’re busying yourself with the returns, loading them onto a cart, when you hear a soft, deep voice go Excuse me behind your back. You twirl around and see Morales, pulling his baseball cap off his head to reveal curls that would make any hair model cry of envy.

“Sorry to bother you,” he offers. Take me now, you think to yourself but instead, you give him your brightest customer service smile, the one you rarely give patrons.

“No worries, how can I help?”

“We’re looking for picture books about farm animals. You don’t happen to have those separated? I noticed you have some subject areas separated.” He gestures back towards the picture book stacks where his daughter is quietly perusing.

“We don’t, but I think we have some Julia Donaldsons available, let me come and have a look.”

You don’t always offer. With most patrons, you’d tell them to look under D for Donaldson and then smile sweetly and ask them if they’re okay to do it themselves. You can’t do everything for everyone, that way they’ll never learn. But for Francisco Morales and his well-behaved little girl, you’re absolutely willing to make an exception.

There are some Donaldsons that the girl, whose name you learn is Sofia, eagerly accepts when you present her with them.

“I love fawm animals,” she sighs happily as she browses the first one. “Do you?”

“Who doesn’t love animals?” You make the effort to small talk although communicating with kids usually makes you awkward.

“What’s youw favowite? Mine is bunny. And howses. And lambs.”

“Goats! I love goats, they’re so cute and sweet and playful.” You almost add something about goats being the devil’s favorite animal as well but manage to stop yourself in time.

“Is there something else you want to ask the librarian?” Morales asks his daughter. “If not, I’m sure she has a lot of work to do, and we shouldn’t keep her any longer.”

“I’m here to help,” you shrug and give him a little smile: not a polite, impersonal one that you’d give a patron, but a more intimate one. A flirty smile. “You just need to ask.”

The smile he gives you back is warm and grateful, and you realize that he doesn’t have different facial expressions for different people. He doesn’t work in customer service because if he did, he’d know the difference. Not that you ever thought he worked in retail or anything like that, well, maybe a hardware store, but no. He just doesn’t seem like the type. The way he moves his body suggests something a lot more physical.

Oh, you’d like to get physical with him, alright…

All the sucky library-themed pick-up lines flash through your head. Can I check you out as an overnight loan? Can I insert my private collection into your empty stacks? My reference desk or yours? Am I being too loud, well, you’ll just have to shush me with your lips. You’re like an overdue library book because you have fine written all over you.

Worst part is, if Hot Dad Morales tried any of these on you, you’d probably forgive him and go for it. Maybe. You’re really not that simple, but a girl can dream, right?

The kid thanks you and you return to the relative safety of the desk and the mundane task of alphabetizing returns. You need to calm the fuck down and act professional. Daydreaming is fine but you’re barely toeing the line.

God, you need to get laid. As if that’s something that one can remedy just by walking into a store and ordering a medium dick with a side of hands and tongue.

📚📚📚

The next time you see Francisco and Sofia Morales, you’re taking your lunch break in the small park outside the library. It’s a sunny day and you didn’t fancy sitting in the breakroom with your salad, listening to colleagues talking about who cares what. So you took your lunch box, fork, and water bottle, and went to sit on the park bench the furthest away from the swing set and sandbox. The weather is nice and you enjoy yourself and your break from the library’s chat service. You never know what you’re gonna get when you work the chat: a stupid question about opening hours which anyone could google the answer to, or something more complicated like requests for books with partial or no titles, rarities, or subject areas that you don’t know much about. That’s when you get to use your whole competence and really dig deep, think outside the box, solve problems. You love it but it’s challenging at times, and takes a lot of energy. Your outdoor break is welcome.

“Hi!”

You hadn’t noticed the girl walking up to you and the greeting startles you.

“Oh, hi.”

“We’we wetuwning the animal books,” Sofia informs you seriously. You have to smile.

“Good job. You want more of those or something else this time?”

“Mowe. Will you help me find some?”

“I’m not working the desk at the children’s section today but my colleague there will absolutely help you. Just ask her.”

Now you see Morales walking towards you from the swing set, carrying the large, flowery canvas tote that says “book bag” he always brings to the library.

“Hello,” he nods with that warm smile that he definitely gives everyone. “Sofia, don’t disturb the lady on her break. I’m sure she wants some peace and quiet before she has to go back to work.”

Jesus fucking Christ. How does this man just know shit like this?

“I’m sowwy,” Sofia immediately offers. “I wanted to say hello.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” you allow, although technically, he’s not wrong. “I’m almost done. It was nice to see you. I hope you have a good visit to the library.”

“Thank you!” She skips along and Morales chuckles as he takes off his baseball cap and scratches his head, swipes his long locks out of his forehead, then puts the hat back on.

“You’re her favorite, you know,” he tells you. When you raise your eyebrow, not comprehending, he hurries to elaborate. “Of the librarians. She says you’re the best.”

“Thank you, but whatever for?” You know you do a good enough job at your usual position and that your regulars appreciate you, but you are also very aware of not being at your finest in the kids’ section.

“You have to ask her,” Morales grins as he looks out for his kid, who has returned to the swing set and is pumping her legs on the swing, brows knitted in concentration. “But she’s very taken with you. I think it’s because you’re very calm and focused with her.”

Calm and focused??? You almost laugh out loud. That’s everything you’re not when you’re at the kids’ desk.

“Thanks,” you manage, because you have to say something.

“She’s also really interested in your tattoos and I definitely think she wants to get her nose pierced now,” Morales goes on. “I told her that we don’t comment on people’s appearance, but just a heads up, she might ask you about those.”

Ah, the unpredictability of children.

“I appreciate it.” You really do. You don’t mind talking about your tattoos or the septum ring you have but if a kid suddenly asks about it, you’d rather be prepared.

“Anyway, sorry to intrude on your lunch.”

“No worries,” you reassure him. “You can… sit down for a while if you want to? I have ten minutes left.”

Your heart beats faster at your proposal. It’s not exactly appropriate but you just want to enjoy his company for a moment. And discreetly sniff him because he smells so fucking good, woodsy and smokey but with a hint of… vanilla? You’re terrible at recognizing smells but it reminds you of some aroma reeds you had a couple of years ago that smelled like a wood cabin with vanilla sugar spilled on the floor. You loved it but like everything you love, it was discontinued.

Morales looks over at his daughter before nodding, the book bag slipping down from his shoulder as he places it next to the bench.

“If you’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

He likes your straightforward answer, you can tell from how his eyes crinkle a little and how relaxed his body language is when he sits down.

“I’m Frankie, by the way,” he says, like he just remembered that introductions are a normal part of human interaction. He extends his right hand to you and as you accept it and tell him your name, you can’t help but marvel at how huge his hand is. Big, warm, slightly damp but not in a weird way.

“Nice to meet you, Frankie.” Frankie. Francisco Morales is Frankie. It suits him better than Francisco, to be honest.

“And that’s Sofia.” He points to the girl who seems content swinging by herself. You realize you’re expected to say something nice about her to the proud dad.

“She seems sweet.”

“Yeah, she’s awesome. And she loves coming to the library, it’s all she talks about when I have her.” He clears his throat and adds: “Her mother and I got divorced quite recently. I only get her five days every other week.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Shit, it’s divorce and custody talk from the start. You have no idea how to respond to that.

“That’s life,” he shrugs, “but I figured that going to the library every time I get her could be a good routine to ground her. And then we have books that we can read together for her entire stay.”

It’s definitely a good routine as far as you can tell.

“When I was between nine and thirteen years old, my dad would take me to the local library every Monday evening,” you tell him, smiling at the memory. “My dad never opened a book in his life but he patiently read the auto and tech magazines while I collected half the kids’ section with me. When I went to tell him that I was done, he always pretended to object to the amounts, but then he’d help me carry it all to the car.”

As you tell him this, you’re looking at him, no, staring at the patchy, grey-splashed beard he’s sporting. It’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen. What’s the story there, why doesn’t it grow evenly? Is this a thing? You don’t have enough experience in the field of facial hair. Is it genetic? Is it always like this?

He keeps looking at his daughter as he listens to you with a small smile on his face, clearly enjoying your little anecdote.

“That’s lovely,” he says, turning his attention back to you when you’re finished. “Dads and daughters, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

You pick up your phone to check the time. Shit. You have to return to the chat.

“I gotta go. Lunch break’s over.”

You collect your things and stand up, brushing off your skirt. Frankie stands up as well and picks up the book bag.

“I’ll see you in there?”

“I’m not a the desk today.”

“Oh.” He seems disappointed, his eyes flickering from you to the ground. “That’s too bad.”

“And the kids' section isn't my primary department.”

“The bad news just keep on coming, don't they,” he jokes as the two of you start to walk towards the entrance. Sofia jumps from the swing and comes running.

“She's not at the desk today, daddy,” she tells Frankie precociously.

“I know, mija. We'll have to ask someone else about the animal books, okay?”

Sofia doesn't seem too happy with this solution but nods. You take your leave before she has the opportunity to ask about your body modifications, and disappear through a door marked “Staff Only”.

📚📚📚

The following weeks you seem to see Frankie everywhere. You run into him at the supermarket and get drafted into advicing him on what cereal to buy for his kid. “Something healthy, but good so she'll actually eat it.” How the hell should I know? you want to scoff, but you're simping for him enough to help him choose something you'd never in a thousand years touch yourself. You see him in town one afternoon when you're running errands and he suggests you grab a coffee - holy hell, in your book that's a fucking date - but you decline as kindly as you can, citing a busy schedule when in fact you're mostly just scared out of your mind. The daydream is becoming a little too real and you're absolutely not ready for that, especially not because of the kid. If it wasn't for Sofia, you could have dared the leap, but dating a guy relatively fresh out of a marriage, and with a kid to boot? No, that's asking for trouble and you don't want trouble.

One afternoon at the kids' desk, you once again get to help Sofia find books, this time on sharks.

“She went from farm animals to sharks in one week,” Frankie confides in you when the girl is sitting quietly in a reading nook, carefully studying every page and occasionally widening her eyes at what you suspect is pictures of shark teeth. “It's sharks this and sharks that. She asks if there are sharks in every body of water she sees, from the pond in the park to the ditch outside my parents' house.”

“Have her watch Jaws and she will never want to think about sharks ever again,” you suggest, earning a laugh although the idea was probably a little bit on the morbid side.

“Maybe, but that would probably scar her for life. I actually want her to learn how to swim.”

“Then best not.”

You pick up a couple of books someone else left behind on a table and make a gesture that says I have to re-shelve these, come with and Frankie follows you to the right shelf.

“You know, she talks about you as her friend at the library.”

Now, some people would find that adorable but you don't. You're not friends with this kid, you're in a position where you could possibly influence her keenness to literature and literacy but you will always risk critique from her guardians. Being a children's librarian is like a hybrid between being in customer service, and being a teacher. You get to form young malleable minds but you are always subjected to criticism, even when you've done nothing wrong. Kids are patrons, like adults, and to have them see you as friends is only going to complicate things.

“That's nice,” you reply carefully, not really sure what else to say. It's so hard to talk to parents sometimes, one wrong words and you're basically Satan, you can't know because you don't have kids yourself, how dare you not worship the ground my offspring just vomited all over?

“You're definitely her favorite librarian.”

That you can take. You have a couple of adult patrons who come in regularly and prefer to get their reading recommendations from you. They always have time to discuss literature and they bring you a box of chocolates for Christmas.

“Well, she's easy to help. She always knows what she wants and she's polite. And quite easy to please,” you smile, meaning every word. You don't mention that the only time you like kids is when they're like Sofia is right now: reading quietly in a corner, handling the books with care.

“You're my favorite librarian as well,” Frankie adds, and now that sweet smile he's always wearing when you see him is shy. There's definitely a red tinge on his cheekbones as well and it makes you want to lean forward and kiss him on his goddamn mouth with that goddamn full lower lip that he sometimes sucks into his mouth or fucking licks...

“How many librarians do you know?” you ask and manage to sound easy-going, or at least you think so. The laugh Frankie produces is low and rolling and it makes your stomach coil in on itself. Fuck him and that deep voice he rode in on!

“Got me there. It's basically you and Mrs Wilkerson, the school librarian who scared the shit out of me when I was in elementary school. She made sure I didn't step foot in a library until, well, now.”

“Oh, I so wanted to be a librarian like that when I was a kid!” You grin at Frankie's horrified expression. “No, no, hear me out! I always had this idea that those librarians led these super rich, fulfilling lives as night-time vigilantes or that they were actually millionaires who spent their free time floating around in pools with fancy drinks in hand.”

“Were you... a normal child, besides these illusions?” Frankie teases you and before you can stop yourself, you're slapping his arm playfully. Like a girlfriend would. Or someone more intimate than a Favorite Librarian, at any rate.

“I'll have you know that the voices in my head are saying that we had a very normal and healthy childhood,” you reply with as much dignity as you can muster, while desperately wishing for the phone to ring or another patron to ask for your help. But no, the ones present seem to be managing on their own - except for one mom who seemed to have overheard your joke because she is now staring at you with hesitation in her eyes.

It's Sofia who comes to your rescue with her request of being taken to the bathroom. By the time she and Frankie are done there, your colleague has come to relieve you of your duties at the children's section.

📚📚📚

You knew of course that it was coming. You may not be that experienced in the terms of dating and relationships but you weren't stupid and you had some experience: Frankie was going to ask you out. It had to happen. Technically, it had already happened that afternoon in town when he asked you out for coffee. He maybe didn't see it as a date, but you certainly did.

It happened when you had just started your shift in the children's section and it was a fucking mess. A class of kindergarteners had just left and the teachers hadn't bothered to keep them in check, so there were not only books on every available surface, they were also put in the wrong way and in the wrong places. Your colleague who you were relieving stayed behind to help you, feeling too bad to leave it all to you.

That's when Daddy and Daughter Morales showed up. You weren't really happy about the existence of kids in the first place but made an effort for Sofia, who brought you a drawing she had made in preschool that day. It featured some figures in green, slightly reminiscent of animals and one human but you wouldn't be able to tell. Luckily, Frankie explained it to you.

“She's waited all day to give you this drawing of you with goats.”

“Wow,” you manage. “Thank you, Sofia, this was so kind of you.”

The girl is beaming with pride. “Will you put it on the wall?”

“Super probably!”

“I can see you're busy,” Frankie notes and ushers Sofia along. “We won't distract you. Come on, honey, let her do her job now and maybe you'll get to talk to her later.”

You nod your thanks and focus on cleaning up the entire department before you colleague leaves and Frankie and Sofia come to the desk to borrow this week' picks. Sofia seems uncharacteristically giddy.

“Do you want to come with us to the awbowetum?” she asks with a wide, expectant smile. Fuck shit ass hell.

“We're going on Saturday,” Frankie fills in, “and we were both hoping you'd want to join?”

Saturday. Thank goodness.

“Sorry, I work on Saturday,” you say, trying to sound rueful. It's true and you're relieved about not having to lie. “But thanks, it's sweet of you to ask.”

Sofia is clearly disappointed and so is Frankie, but he masks it better.

“Some other time, yeah?”

If it were only him, you'd tell him it wasn't a good idea. But you can't say that with the kid right in front of you. You may not like kids but that doesn't mean you want to scar them for life.

“Yeah, maybe.”

You loan them the books and as they leave, Sofia waves happily at you and Frankie shoots you one last smile that makes you press your thighs together in your seat.

Come Saturday, you're by your usual desk in the section for adult fiction and you almost fall off your chair when you see Frankie come up the stairs and straight up to the desk.

“Hi.” He's had a haircut and a shave and looks different. Still good, but very different. The dark locks of his hair are more tamed. The mustache is still there but you miss the patchy beard.

“Um, hi? Where's Sofia?”

“In the car, with a friend. We're going to the arboretum.”

“Right. I hope you have a good time, the arboretum's lovely.” You still don't understand what he's doing here and he seems to have some difficulty in telling you. Moving his weight from one foot to the other, he scratches his neck and looks down - why does he have to be so freaking cute? - before looking up at you.

“About that... I wanted to apologize. I wasn't sure it was a good idea to ask you to come with, but Sofia was so persistent. She likes you so much. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I'm sorry.”

“That's alright,” you brush it off because there's not really anything else you can say. “Don't think about it, just go have a good day.”

“I also wanted to ask if you wanted to go grab a drink with me. Just me. Maybe next week when Sofia's at her mother's.”

Fuck, there it is. His hopeful face makes you hate yourself for the answer you have to give.

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Frankie,” you begin carefully. “I'm really flattered, but you're... recently divorced with a kid. That's a lot of baggage and things could get complicated. I don't want to get caught up in that.”

You've practiced this speech at home but it still breaks your fucking heart because Frankie is so good-looking, kind, funny, and sweet. You would've asked him out yourself already if it wasn't for the baggage. Fuck, you masturbate to the thought of him, for crying out loud! You imagine what it would be like to be with him, to make dinner together and watch movies and go to bed and wake up in each other's arms. You think about sex with him a lot. You make an effort with your appearance those days you know he'll show up at the library, you don't even mind the kids' section that much anymore because you get to talk to him.

You are fucking in love with him, or at least the idea of him because you don't know much about him, only that he used to be a pilot in the special forces but now he trains new pilots, he has best friends who are like uncles to Sofia (and who have been asking about this mystery librarian she always keeps talking about), he likes cooking and loves baking with his daughter, he hates working out but knows he should take better care of himself, hell, you even know what brand of milk he buys.

He's clearly disappointed but keeps a brave face, one that you can see right through because he wears his heart on his sleeve.

“I understand that,” he says quietly, mildly. “I'm sorry, I hope I didn't embarrass you.”

Jesus fucking Christ can this man not???

“No, don't worry. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the answer you wanted. It's just... not a good time.”

Shit. You shouldn't have said that. Now he might think it could be a better time later.

Frankie nods and smiles sadly. “Yeah, you're probably right.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He clears his throat and nods. “I better be going. You have a good weekend now.”

“You too.”

He shoots you one final smile before he turns around and leaves. As you watch him go down the stairs to the exit level, you just want to call his name, do your run through the airport and hurry after him, throw yourself into his arms, kiss him, Jesus, imagine that somewhere there's someone who'll get to kiss him some day, tell him that you made a huge mistake and you want to go out with him, you want to have drinks with him and dinner and breakfast and lunch for the rest of your lives because nothing would make you happier than making him happy. You want to be the reason his eyes crinkle and his cheek displays that little dimple that makes you lose your train of thought every time you see it.

But it's not for you. People with kids need to prioritize their kids and you know that you can't be anyone's number two. You don't want to get caught up in custody disputes, you don't want to be "your father's new slut", you don't want to be anyone's stepmom. You don't want to have to spend five days a week in the same house as a five-year-old. Being in a relationship is difficult enough as it is and if you can make choices that avoid some of the problems, you're going to make them, no matter how much it hurts.

And it hurts. A lot. But so much in life hurts and you've made it through before.

He must already be out the door, probably in the car. Does he say something about this to his daughter and friend? Is it a female friend? No, it must be one of his army buddies, probably one of the brothers.

You pull up Frankie's profile in the library database and see his phone number. You could call him anytime. Or send a text. Keep talking to him, flirting.

Shit. It's a bad idea.

A patron approaches the desk and you force yourself to look mild and service-minded.

“Hi, do you have Hate To Want You by someone called... Ray, I think?”

“Please hold a moment, I'll check.” You stifle the sigh that threatens to escape you and hope that the day will be busy so you won't have time to think about Francisco Morales again.

#my fic #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader

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brittledame · 4 years ago

Text

Characters: Ushijima Wakatoshi, Tendou Satori, Yamagata Hayato, Reon Oohira, Semi Eita, Shirabu Kenjirou, Kawanishi Taichi, Goshiki Tsutomu

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags: SFW, gender neutral reader, first date nerves, fluff, ages not specified

Notes: I did this instead of working on the other projects bc I wanted some fluff and here it is!

Ushijima:

On a visit with his grandmother is when he’s told about a local pottery masterclass happening the following weekend, piquing his interest

After some research, he comes to learnt that pottery is the perfect relaxing hobby with the added benefit of fine tuning his dexterity

It didn’t take much else to convince him to go

It was only after talking to a friend that he realises he should probably invite someone to tag along

After his grandmother politely declines, he follows her coy suggestion of inviting someone he likes

He invites you seemingly out of the blue

You’ve known him for a great deal of time and done some activities with him that could be construed as “romantic” and only started dating when Ushijima stated your relationship status to his team nearly a month ago

The look on your face when you found out at the exact moment as his team was priceless

After that, Ushijima left your relationship status on no uncertain terms and practically broadcasted it in his own unique way

This pottery class serves as another way to spend more time with you

After a few minutes of the pottery teacher painstakingly going through the motions to make a basic pot, a whirring noise followed by wet splattering steals your attention away from the clump of clay that is slowly taking form.

You glance over to find Ushijima looking at you, nonplussed at the mess of what was his pot now decorating his mock and forearms, his face is not left unmarked with the few splotches painting his cheek

You gape at him as he blinks as if coming out of a daze and looks down at the poor clump of clay and murmurs a small, “Oh.”

You didn’t mean to laugh, not really, but the utter surprise in his tone topped you over

After a mild scolding from the teacher and a new clump of clay, the two of you were good to go once again

The both of you took longer than most of the class, you with fussing about the tiny bumps you just couldn’t seem to smooth out and Ushijima with his second try

The class seemed to have unlocked his innate mastery of the ancient craft, as the pot looked near store-quality, you note with an ounce of envy

The group takes a break over some snacks and drinks as the pots are loaded into the kiln

Ushijima meticulously picks through the various glazes they had to offer, seeking your assistance after you picked your own out

You suggest the purple as homage to Shiratorizawa, where you two met, and the dark-rich brown, claiming it reminded you of his eyes

He considers you for a moment, a long enough pause for you to think over your words and begin to regret them before he nods decidedly and proudly presents the glazes he picked to the lady

With the class wrapping up, the lady running the class pops up as you two inspect your creations.

“Do you mind if I take a picture to post on our social media?”

Ushijima shakes his head as you answer, “We don’t mind.”

She flashes a wide smile and aims her phone in your direction. “Great! Say ‘pottery’.”

On cue you plaster on smile and brandish the clay creation as the camera clicks.

The lady, who is somehow even more dirtied than Ushijima, inspects the picture.

“You two are so cute together!” She fawns over the two of you. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your date together.”

She disappears before either of you can correct her.

You blurt out, "Is this a date?"

A pause. Then a hum, "I suppose it is."

A shared smile, you leave the studio with linked hands.

When you get home, you prowl through the studio’s page and find the picture and break out into gut-clutching laughter at the almost-pained looking smile Ushijima makes, tiny pot perched in his large hands adding a comedic effect.

After you recover, you end up saving it and making it your screen saver.

Tendou:

For all his casual confidence, you’re the one to ask him out and he’s the one to officially declare it the “big” first date

The plan was to go manga/book shopping and eat at the in-store cafe

It sounded like a pretty cut-and-dry standard date but with Tendou anything can turn into an adventure

Ecstatic is an understatement on how excited Tendou was for the weekend

He was nearly berated a dozen times for not paying enough attention to what he was doing and almost caused a small fire at one stage

You didn’t fare much better, either

The pair of you got a great deal of laughter from relaying it to one another in the late night hours before meeting up

Although underneath it all lurked the residual anxiety he tried to fight away, so he reminds you during the call, just to check that you didn’t regret inviting him out

As much as he despised the thought, the dark voice whispering at him that you would stand him up were quickly silenced when you show up with a bright smile and his name on your lips

Tendou reckons it’s the sweetest noise he’s ever heard, right after your laughter that he coaxes out with the little melodies he sings to himself as the two of you make way to the popular bookstore

After arriving, you wonder apart to check out separate sections and end up meeting at again the in-store café with books in hand

Over the chocolate cake slice Tendou brought to share, you take turns to gush over the selected choices spread across the tabletop

“I mean it isn’t that over done.” You argue, popping another forkful of the overly-sweet cake into your mouth.

Tendou throws his hands into the air. “Are you serious? Hero meets bad guy, then they fight a whole bunch, bad guy kills a bunch of people and the hero never kills the guy because he ‘doesn’t want to stoop to their level’,” You don’t mask your laughter at the overexaggerated deep voice Tendou imitates. “It’s not fair to the people that the bad guy goes to hurt later on.”

“Oh, I entirely agree with you there.” You take a moment to wonder how Tendou has eaten nearly half the thing to himself already, you’ve barely been seated for longer than a few minutes. “When done wrong, the whole ‘taking the high ground’ troupe is really tacky.”

Tendou blinks at you like he didn’t expect you to respond. You raise a brow at him as a toothy grin spreads over his face, a slight pink painted across his pale cheeks.

“What?”

“Nothing. I like talking to someone that knows their stuff, is all. Don’t get me wrong, miracle boy is great company, but I can only try to convince him to read more than the ads they run for so long before I go insane.” He chuckles under his breath, words heartfelt enough that a matching heat spreads across your cheeks.

“I enjoy this too.”

A wide grin overtakes his face at your admittance.

“Well then, let’s not stop!” He offers, stretching his hand towards yours. You clasp it, feeling delicate against his larger one. “I still have to tell you about the whole ‘boy is given power he doesn’t know how to control and needs to find a grumpy mentor’ troupe next!”

You squeeze his hand. “I’d love to hear your thoughts on that one.”

Tendou clicks his tongue and wags his finger at you. “It’s not necessarily about my thoughts, it’s the conspiracy I think the troupe ties into.”

The seriousness in his tone made you pause, looks like you were in for a long one.

Amongst him linking the heroes journey and the innate desire for power over others, you marvel at the way his whole body comes alive when talking about something he loves.

It’s much later on, when he’s introducing you to his friends at a reunion, that you notice the bubbly and animated way he presents you to his friends, love evident in each and every word.

Semi:

Now you would think he’d be the calm and collected one after knowing each other for half a decade and dating for a month

Nope.

He's the type to plan to ask you at the perfect time, and will be in a pissy mood if he misses the "perfect" opportunity to ask

When he does finally pose the question, you’ll say yes and he’s ecstatic

Though, he will play it cool and be like, "Ok I'll text you the details later." And flash you the biggest smile that has you melting inside just a little

When he's trying to sleep that night it finally hits him

Oh shit he has to plan a date with the girl he’s been hopelessly pining for

After one text from you confirming you don’t mind where he picks, he’s both relieved and more stressed because now he has to analyse every little thing he knows about you and eventually starts doubting himself

In the end, he decides to play it safe and go with the popular, family owned cafe that plays live music Saturday afternoons

It was perfect, the music act would be quiet enough to still talk if you two wanted or serve as a mediator to break any awkward silence should it pop up

It is honestly the perfect date, in his mind

Comes the day and he swings around your place after agreeing to walk to the café together

The walk is characterised with the brisk autumn wind and catching each other up on what’s been going on during the week

The conversation doesn’t stop from there – something Semi could cry happily over

After ordering and grabbing a seat close to a stage set-up to the side, you note how bright and talkative Semi is and vow to yourself to see this more often

As he takes a sip in the middle of explaining the difference pick positions affects plucking sounds, you comment on his excitement

Even with the flush on his cheeks, he holds a suave facade and merely says that it’s hard to unwind when his friends can be so chaotic when they get together

From there he starts opening up and imparting little facts about himself that you commit to memory

You come to learn that his favourite colour was corn-silk yellow before he went to Shiratorizawa, now it’s royal purple. He loves tekka maki and boasts his mum’s hand-made ones to be the best in the world and offers to share it with you next time she makes them

All of these things slot into what you know about Semi, filed alongside the nuance’s you’ve noticed yourself.

When he’s unsure or embarrassed, he tousles his hair. And when he talks about something he’s passionate with, his hands start gesturing all about the place

You could’ve spent the whole afternoon like that, in the intimately-lit café, hidden amongst the dull chatter of the surrounding patrons, just listening to Semi’s soothing timbre

But life had other plans

The lights on the stage brighten as someone wearing comfortable clothes strolls on and perches up on the stool set-up in front of a lone microphone. She didn’t give off any signs of discomfort at being stared at as she sets up her guitar, giving a few testing strums before introducing herself and launching into her music.

It was only then that conversation broke and ushered in a lilting voice floating on gentle notes.

“They’re amazing.” You breath, eyes not leaving the stage until the musician dismounts from the stage.

“That’s what I want to do one day.”

You turn to him. “Really?”

“Yeah.” The corner of Semi’s lips quirk up a bit, a secret shared unto himself.

“Why?”

Genuine curiosity spurs you to ask, to know. While you could picture Semi perched on the same stool with a guitar all too easy, you never really thought Semi would pursue a career in the industry.

Semi finally turns to you, a fire in his eyes that was normally caused by volleyball and a good challenge. “I want to make people happy and sad - all the emotions really. I want someone to look at me like you did to that girl.”

Tilting your head you say, “Looking at her like what?”

Semi audible swallows. “Like someone that loves the music I make.”

Reaching over the table, you run your thumb over the backs of his knuckles, a comforting gesture. “Semi, I already love talking to you and hanging out, so why wouldn’t I like the music you write?”

The resultant blush on Semi’s face was answer enough to that, even though he tries to hide it behind his cup.

After that, meeting up at the café ends up becoming a weekly occurrence, an oasis that you both look forward to in the midst of life’s chaos.

Yamagata:

Yamagata actually is the smoothest out of them all

After a two weeks of dating, he bounces up to you after a particularly hard day and offers to take you somewhere fun the next day

Your definition of ‘fun’ varies from his, as you soon find out

Where Yamagata believes the best way to get to know someone and have fun simultaneously is putting them through challenges, whereas you believe sitting down and chatting to be the most optimal method

Unfortunately for him and fortunately for you, the paint ball range is closed

Amusement park it is

He leaves it as a surprise and doesn’t tell you until you question the sign of the park he visited frequently as a kid

Overall, you have an absolute ball with him, never a dull moment

Especially after the ferris wheel when Hayato goes to reach for his phone to check the time and finds it missing

The only reason he had it out in the plastic swinging booth was to take a sneaky picture of you looking carefree and relaxed as you gazed down at the park – not that he admitted to that when you asked just how it escaped his pocket

Obviously, it was a very slippery phone since this was the third time this week alone he lost it

After tracking it down with the help of the kind but tired ride operator, the two of you were on your merry way to the next ride, but not without a few light-hearted digs at Yamagata’s forgetfulness

You get to learn a lot about each other personally while waiting in line and over lunch after recovering

At the end of the day, your cheeks ache from much smiled

“I don’t remember it being that crazy as a kid.” Yamagata says, looking pale and breathing shallowly, as if to keep himself from being sick.

You couldn’t blame him, the rollercoaster he convinced you to go on under the guise of “This was my favourite one as a kid! You wouldn’t deny a man from reliving his childhood, would you?”

And like a fool you caved under the pout like a badly cooked soufflé. Now you wished you put up a bit of a fight against going on it. The screams of the riders before you were not exaggerated in the slightest.

“I don’t know how they allow kids on that.” Is all you supply, feeling a little green as well.

Yamagata directs you to the nearest bench and you follow his lead and slump into the seat.

“I don’t know how I forgot how much that thing threw me around. I must’ve just about fell off as a tiny kid. Remind me to thank my dad for coming on with me.”

You try not to laugh at the image of a tiny Yamagata ecstatically cheering as the ride swings around corners at full speed as his dad frantically tries to keep his clueless son from getting tossed out of the cart.

“Your dad is a brave man to go on that thing wilfully.”

Yamagata grimaces. “Brave is a nice way of putting it. I’d call it being insane to put up with me wanting to ride it eight times over.”

This time you do laugh.

“It must be hard saying no to your own kid, though, so cut him some slack.” You joke, knocking your elbow against his side.

He playfully pushes you away, widely grinning once again. The heat from the sun blaring ahead suddenly floods into your cheeks. The sensation of your heart feeling too large for your ribcage seizes you.

And the feeling doesn’t leave, it sticks with you as he laughs, as he drops his ice cream and pouts like a child. It intensifies as a dreamy look enters his eyes as he recalls a fond memory associated with a ride.

You hope that one day that he makes the same expression when he recalls this day spent with you.

Reon:

For some reason, Reon seems like the kind of guy to be inherently talented with gardening

He’s the resident green thumb alongside Ushijima, people pass their dying plants into Reon’s hands for magical resurrection

So it was a no-brainer for him to take you to the local botanical gardens

Rife with both native and exotic flora, there were many scenic walks available, thus was the perfect place for a first date to Reon

Reon meets you at the gates with a soft greeting and an outstretched hand – you two walk through the park with your hand intertwined like that for the rest of the day

Throughout the walk, he points out flowers and gives you their common name and their meanings, along with the meanings he gave them as a kid

It was entirely too cute for your poor heart

“And those are yellow carnation.” He points to a patch of bright yellow flowers with soft-looking ruffled petals. “They represent dislike and disappointment towards the person you give them to, but as a kid I thought they meant that she was my sunshine because of the colour. My mum got quite the kick out of it when I gave them to her for her birthday.”

You burst into laughter, unable to smother it even with Reon’s apparent embarrassment at the event

If your allergies start to play up too badly, Reon will take you to his favourite part, a densely packed section of the gardens filled with trees, concealing a secluded tiny red bridge stretched across a large koi pond with the largest and most colourful koi you’ve seen

Everything within you wanted to stretch this moment out, you could easily live in this moment forever. The buzzing of cicadas in the distance, the grass blades tickling the palms of your hands from where you sat, the soothing rumble of Reon’s voice – this is your personal slice Elysian peace

You did not want to give this up

It’s there that he finally unlinks your hands and brings out the packed lunch he made.

“You made all this?” You gape, taking in the diverse range of food he brought out of his bag.

From seared fish placed neatly atop seasoned rice, to perfectly rounded onigiri. In the next box he opens sat seasoned chicken and beef slices that made your mouth water. Not to mention the salad of rich greens, reds, and yellows that called your name.

Reon chuckles at your awe. “Yeah, I did. I thought it would be nice to eat something home-made while out here, but if you wan to grab something else-“

You cut him off immediately. “Definitely not! This looks and smells amazing. It would be a crime not to eat it.”

The corners of Reon’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I did try not to burn it, so I hope it tastes nice.”

“If it tastes even half as good as it smells, you’ll have to fight me to stop eating.” You reply, accepting the plate he holds out and give thanks as he starts loading your plate.

“I’d never stop you from eating,” he clicks his tongue in false sternness, to which you grin at. “If you’re hungry, I’ll feed you until your happy.”

“I’m happy right now, but I definitely still want the food.” You cheekily fire back.

Reon shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Well then, eat to your heart’s content.”

Taking a bite, you startle Reon with your enthusiastic reaction.

“This tastes better than I imagined.” You gush after swallowing, immediately scooping up another forkful and eating it.

Reon brushes off your compliment in favour for leaning forward and brushing some crumbs off your face. The proximity as your breath stalling in your throat as he lingers for a heartbeat longer, then withdraws.

“I hope we can do this more often. This is the most fun I’ve had in a while.” He quietly admits, the mood taking an intimate turn even with the shouts of kids playing in the distance.

“Me too. I don’t want this date to end.”

Shirabu:

This man prides himself on being observant and not oblivious like how his friends are

And yet, contrary to this, it takes him several trips to realise that he’s been on what would count as a date with you

You'll talk about needing a new jumper for winter and Shirabu will ask to tag along. You wanted to watch a movie? Shirabu is coming too. Like having someone besides you while studying? Shirabu was your go-to study buddy, whether in silence or as a conversation partner when your brain was overloaded

Out of the blue, he asks with no certain amount of panic, "Were those trips I went on with you dates?"

"I never really gave it much thought…” You match Shirabu’s expression as you consider his question. "I didn’t want to be presumptuous and assume that they were, and you never brought it up, so I left it be."

"Let me have a re-do." Determination flares in his usually guarded eyes and you couldn't refute.

“Gladly.”

Shirabu glances away from your face, unable to bear looking at the fond expression you wore for too long without his heart suffering. “I want to take you somewhere nice.”

“Everywhere I go with you is nice, Shirabu. It’s less about the place and more about the person.” You rebuke.

Shirabu looks away before you catch the full extent of his blush at your words. “No, I mean I want to take you somewhere that can become special for the both of us.”

You catch his hand in yours, tugging it for him to turn back towards you. Gone was the characteristic impassive façade, now replaced with a tenderness that makes you near melt.

Your first official date with him is a picnic in a park on top a hill to watch the sunset

Something he thinks is extremely cheesy and overdone but the look of excitement on your face immediately silenced his rebuttals

There was no way in hell that he was going to be the reason for your disappointment if he can help it

As such, he went all out

Hiring the gazebo and ordering food to be delivered from a restaurant he knows that you’ve wanted to try out for the longest time

Not that he actually tells you, but it wasn’t hard to deduce his excitement when he waits for you at the gazebo with a small smile, dressed nicely in pressed slacks and a dress shirt with a bundle of flowers

Upon the wide-eyed stare he receives from you, he spends the first minutes of the date describing what the florist thought best for him

A bunch of camellias ranging from a deep and vivid red to the first blush of love pink to the innocence of white gathered in a golden ribbon. He doesn’t exactly tell you their meanings other than a short, “Flowers are flowers, all I want them to show is that I love you.”

What he didn’t know was that the florist had the foresight to hide a card detailing the meaning of each flower amongst the paper holding them

White camellias meaning “You’re adorable” to red camellias meaning “You’re a flame in my heart” (something you blush at in the security of your own home) and the pink one representing longing

As the meal arrives and the two of you eat, the conversation drifts from current events to bits and pieces of everything and anything

The highlight of conversation was Kenjirou’s answer to the question “What do you think you’ll see first: a ghost or an alien?”

Apparently Kenjirou was secretly a space-lover

From the lecture he launched into about the statistics of it all and you come away from that conversation with more knowledge of possibility of E.T's versus spectres than you would’ve thought

The afternoon starts fading into dusk quicker than you realised, too wrapped up trading short anecdotes of your respective families

Shirabu only realises the fading light once the fairy lights decorating the space become brighter, and it is only then that Shirabu like a gentleman, brings out a blanket and escorts you to the grassy knoll besides the gazebo

Laying out the blanket, you notice it’s the perfect position to watch the sun set and you can’t help but give him a quick hug in gratitude before you sit down and make yourself comfortable

It floored you how much effort and consideration he put into this one afternoon amongst all his classes and assignments – it made you feel incredibly warm against the cool night air creeping in

As you shift to get comfortable, your hand lands on top of his. You’re just about to whisk it away, but he shoots you a soft smile and twists his hand in your grasp and gives it a squeeze

Your hands stayed intertwined as the blues faded into pinks and oranges, then into purples and the deep satiny blue of the night sky

The sunny photos with matching smiles from that afternoon soon decorate your wall

Kawanishi:

Unlike the others, Taichi really doesn’t care about being seen as “basic” for taking you out to watch a movie and grab dinner afterwards

He asked you out so casually, you agreed without it even hitting you that it was a date until he grinned at you and cheekily replied, “Great, it’s a date then.”

The movie in question was one you’ve been waiting forward for its release and Taichi was interested in it as well, so really it was an excuse for the both of you to watch the movie together instead of alone.

It went great, asides from the old couple staring the two of you in line, not so quietly reminiscing their first date

Embarrassment aside, Taichi was sweet throughout the entirety of it

Arguing to pay until reluctantly splitting the bill when you argued that it wasn’t fair

Waiting outside for it to start, Taichi and yourself bide the time by guessing what the other movies were about by their posters and making each other laugh

Once the movie starts, the chatter between you two dies down, yet the casual intimacy doesn’t fade in the slightest

Sharing an arm rest, the both of you exchange glances at one another throughout the movie, and bump elbows when something interesting or funny happens

It was a far-cry from the intimacy of the other’s dates, but it was perfect for the two of you

By now, the two of you have been friends much longer than you have been dating

Neither of you wanted to rush things, happy to take it as it comes and retain that familiarity from years of friendship stay untainted from the innate awkwardness of new love

Coming out of the theatre, Taichi is the most talkative you’ve seen him yet as he offers his opinion on the film

You avidly listen without a word of complaint

It was nice to hear what went through Taichi’s mind when he always kept his emotions close to his heart, you felt damn-near jubilant over him coming out of his shell – even after all the years of friendship

He offers to grab dinner and after a mild debate over which place is better, you end up flipping a coin and grabbing some fast food and eating it at a near-by park

Eating the meal in relative silence, it was only broken to point out the ducks and giving them names. It was laid-back and you were enjoying yourself, yet Taichi remained stiff by your side.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly the most romantic date.” Taichi rubs at the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes.

You quirk a brow at him. “How isn’t this a romantic date?”

Taichi finally looks at you, although in confusion. “Because I should’ve taken you to a nice, fancy restaurant for our first date.”

“I work on the belief that anywhere is romantic if you make it so. It depends on the company.” You shrug.

Taichi’s mouth curves into a smirk. “Oh? So you wouldn’t mind having our next one at a cemetery?”

You dig an elbow into his side and roll your eyes at the performance he puts on.

“That’s not what I meant, smartass.”

Taichi stops the pouting and slumps into the seat. Hating the sombre mood he’s in, you curl your arm through his and tuck into his side.

“Besides, you can always make it up to me in the future. I want the place to be so expensive that the proportions are baby-sized.”

Taichi’s rich laugh rumbles through you. It was a losing battle against the rapid thrum of your heart and the thoughts of warmth that consume you with his proximity.

You also didn’t try to fight the urge to cuddle further into his side, something he gladly accepted as he wraps his arm even tighter around you.

“I promise.” He sighs, a happy noise as he rests his head against yours, two bodies becoming one whole on that one spring afternoon.

Goshiki:

Not everything in life is a competition, yet Goshiki couldn’t thrive without it

Besides, if he thought too long and hard about it (which he did) an arcade date was the best option

It presented the perfect chance to show off his skills and impress you

When he finally works up the courage to ask you, it had been a while since you’ve been, so you were more than happy to accept

Goshiki deflated with relief because a back-up option didn’t exist

Even after dating for over a month by this point, this would be the first official date he’s taken you out on

After worrying that it was too childish or not at all romantic for a first date, you spent the better half of the afternoon before it convincing him otherwise

At the arcade, Goshiki takes your hand and guides you around the place, pointing out games he bested as a teenager before finally settling on war-cross-zombie two player shooting game

With the growing win streak, the two of you continue playing the game until Goshiki accidentally gets his player killed

Pouting, he suggests a different game to soothe his bruised ego

The pout disappears as he finds a different game he’s decent at, tickets flying out as the points rack up

He glows as you praise his skill

It was too easy to bait him into playing hoop games, which he surprisingly sucked at

You discovered him to be especially gifted at reflex games, where the both of you won the most tickets

With each claw game he stubbornly refuses to “eat his hard-earned money”, he proudly passes off each plushie to you

Goshiki wins whatever prize your eyes linger over, no matter how frustrated it makes him

With each one, you promise to keep and inwardly muse that you’ll have to install a new shelf for them

A few hours deep, you had managed to win him an eagle. It’s the only prize you had won big enough to portray the amount of affection you held towards the bowl-cut male.

It was a bit mishappen and looked more fit to be the mascot for a horror game than a children’s show, however you still offered it to him.

His eyes grow wide. “Really?”

“I mean, I can get you something better if you give me a few minutes…” You frown at the plushie as Goshiki holds it up. It’s even uglier in the light. Why the hell would they have this as a prize?

You reach out to grab it from him and Goshiki snatches it away from your grasp, pressing it into his chest and curling around it protectively. “No!”

You stand there, stunned, as Goshiki flushes at the looks he got from the shout and starts stumbling over his words.

“I mean, it’s fine and not creepy at all – No, I mean it’s cute,” he unconvincingly amends at your wince. “It’s something that you worked hard to get. I’ll treasure it forever, I swear.”

The conviction in his voice was enough to ease your concern.

“I could get you a better one, though. One that’s less creepy.” You offer, gesturing towards the wide array of claw machines boasting figurines and cuter plushies.

“No thank you. I like this one.” Goshiki is stubborn and you should’ve expected that.

You sigh, lips unsurely pulling upwards. “If you’re sure?”

Goshiki gives a sharp nod, and you know that that’s the end of that. He would not budge.

Yet you couldn’t find it within yourself to be exasperated at the awe-filled look he gives the plushie as you two leave the arcade, holding it like it was made of expensive finery instead of cheap thread and fabric.

Months later you got to see the monstrosity again, tucked up on the shelf above his bed, proudly sitting between medals he’s won through the years.

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