#oh the joys of having a lover whos jaw does not get tired. a lover who doesnt need to eat but is always hungry for you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

no-droids · 4 years ago

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Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

Warnings/Tags: DUBCON/NONCON elements, fuckboy Poe (OOC), Enemies to Lovers, degradation/humiliation, mentions of oral sex, SMUUUTTTTTTTT also I’m not sorry for what I did but you’re not allowed to read if you’re gonna get mad at me okay byeeee

***

This.

This shit, right here.

If the question was ever, “What’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever let Poe Dameron somehow talk you into doing?” then the answer is this stupid shit, right the fuck here. This is like. You remember that one game, Mercy? The one where you’d dig your nails in and twist arms and just needlessly inflict pain on each other as children until one of you cried uncle because someone somewhere once decided to turn torture into a matter of pride?

You always thought those games were fucking ridiculous. Who can hold their breath the longest, who can handle a lit deathstick against their flesh the longest, who can take the hardest punch—who cares? It’s child’s play. It’s self-inflicted agony for the sake of bragging rights and even as a youngling, you refused to fall for it.

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

You know those people that… they don’t just rub you the wrong way, but literally every single aspect about their personality is sandpaper against wet skin and your whole entire being feels chafed raw just by existing in their general vicinity for an extended period of time?

You’re… you’re not usually a competitive—much less aggressive person. You never have been. It’s just not part of your nature. If you ever excel at anything in life, it isn’t because of some secret, deep-seated desire to win or be better than anyone else. You just… do you. You do whatever you do, and if it’s good, it’s good. And if it’s bad, it’s good. Because at the end of the day at least it’s still you, and you’re okay with that.

But this?

This shit? Right here?

“This is fucking dumb,” you say, because you know it’s what you both must be thinking so you may as well just get it out in the open. “This is the dumbest fucking thing, Dameron. What are we doing? Why are we doing this?”

The grumpy, orange-jumpsuited figure sitting behind you just sighs heavily and slumps even further down in his bucket seat, as if it isn’t the first time you’ve tried asking this incredibly valid question (it totally is), bringing a palm down to thunk the top of the guidance controls between his legs in a quiet irritation you’re almost certain has everything to do with the very topic you’re trying to bring up.

“Because,” comes that infuriating drawl. You can only see his face from this angle by looking at his reflection in the transparisteel barrier directly in front of you, but even just imagining the way his mouth moves while he rounds out the words makes your jaw clench. “The coordinates we picked up were scrambled and this rendezvous could be going down at any one of thirty-six locat—?”

“No,” you interrupt him with a scowl, “not why I’ve been floating in dead space in this Maker-forsaken ship with you for eight fucking hours a day since… fuck, what’s today? Thursday? Friday? Nope, can’t be Friday, Friday’s our off-day. Thursday, then. …Thursday?” You shake your head. “Ugh, see? Time doesn’t exist when I’m not allowed to cum, life is like one never-ending nightmare.”

“Oh.” He takes a second to think about it in silence, the calloused tips of his fingers scratching the side of his face while he considers. It wouldn’t usually be as loud as it is right now. Maybe it’s the haunting quiet of space surrounding the ancient powered down hunk of metal you’re both stuck in, inadvertently isolating and amplifying the sound—or maybe it’s because your copilot’s jaw is currently covered in a thick, dark beard that you swear barely took his testosterone-overloaded ass a fucking week or two to grow, if that. Regardless, the dark bristles crunch loudly under his short fingernails and it takes you about a grand total of five whole uninterrupted seconds of the scraping sound to realize you’re grinding your teeth along with it. “Well,” he finally says, “that was your stupid idea.”

“Hmmmmmmmno,” you contest firmly, wiggling your elbow back to poke at his shin with your index finger once, twice, thrice, until he finally slaps your hand away in quiet irritation. To the misfortune of you both—and likely the other hundred or so pilots concurrently taking rotating shifts in these tandem x-wings in a glorified mass stakeout, the cockpit of this ship is just way too fucking small. Your arm is squeezed uncomfortably against machinery and electronics to get to him from this angle and a light slap isn’t going to stop you now that you’re here. “You—” (poke) “—have a superiority complex and decided to turn it into a competition, not—” (poke) “—me.”

“Oh, I have a superiority complex, okay,” he scowls and nods in vehement, fake agreement, finally giving up and letting you poke at will, but the appeal is lost as soon as you realize he’s over it and your arm eases back into your lap. You watch his reflection look out of the viewport and scan the empty void of space for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, clearly just as desperate to get back to base as you are. “So what is it you call saying—wait, no no, not even saying, loudly declaring—‘Of course I can go longer without sex than “wham bam thank you ma’am” Dameron, you brainless fucks, it’s a simple fact!’”

“Alright—I don’t sound like that, fuck you very much,” you return, in reference to his shrieking, high-pitched impression of you surrounded by your fellow pilots in the rec room when you’ve had a bit too much to drink. “Also, you don’t have to finger-quote literally every single syllable of my fucking sentence, Dameron. First and last word, that’s all it takes. And if it’s so superiority complex-ey of me to state simple facts, then what is it you call saying ‘betcha two weeks worth of pay you can’t, pretty baby’?”

“Uh, easy credits?” He immediately asks, side-eyeing your reflection through the transparisteel. “ Easy credits. Just begging for it. Two weeks of your slutty, sexy, easy fucking credits just begging to be taken and used— ”

“You need to get laid,” you cut in to tell him bluntly, scrunching your nose in what you hope looks like disgust. As per protocol, the power to the x-wing was cut at the beginning of your shift—what feels like a fucking eternity ago—as a preventative maneuver in case the target falls out of hyperspace unexpectedly. Avoiding the scanners of a fleet that may never actually show means it’s cold and dimly lit in here—just starlight in front of either you, but you’re hoping he can gauge the severity of your revulsion with your back to him. “You just turned my money into a sex object. It was vile. I feel violated on its behalf.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get laid,” he tosses carelessly back at you, and you roll your eyes with as much sass as you can physically muster, so tired of all the dodging. You know this hasn’t been easy for him either, he just has too much pride to admit it. “Besides, you’ve gotta be past the withdrawal stage by now. Is it really all that bad?”

“The fuck you mean, ‘Is it really all that bad’?” You snap at him, shuffling around grumpily in your seat, hating the way the bulky weapons controls sit right between your thighs and prevent you from closing them. Withdrawal stage, ha. “Of course it’s all that bad. It’s horrible. It’s the fucking worst. And more importantly, how are you not having any trouble with this? Oh, wait—that’s right,” you answer yourself before he has a chance to. “Because you cheated.”

“I did not cheat,” Dameron’s reflection immediately challenges with an accusatory finger pointed at you. “I did not. When the fuck did I cheat? I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half—all because you don’t believe in the honor system—just so you could tell me I fucking cheated?”

You scoff, feeling your annoyance spark even more. He’s always been able to get under your skin, but the neglect you’ve been forcing your body to endure is just throwing gasoline on an already roaring fire. “Okay, first of all? Rude. I am a fucking joy to have as a roomie, alright? I put up with your snoring, your 2:00 AM dinners, you blasting your radio while I’m trying to sleep, I barely complain about your body odor—”

“My snoring is adorable, I get snacky at night, only sad people with fucked up lives hate music, I smell amazing,” Dameron casually lists off on his fingers, the self-confidence so easy and unshakeable that you swear he’s almost preening at the compliments he just gave himself by the time he’s finished rebutting everything you can think to throw at him. And, while you’d never admit it, he does smell good. He smells… unbelievably fucking good. Always. Something dark and woodsy, you can never quite put your finger on. It pisses you off, so much that you’ve made a habit of pulling a face of disgust whenever the warm, rich scent noticeably reaches you, hoping it deflates his ego just a little bit. No such luck so far.

“Whatever. The point is I’m a good fucking neighbor, alright, I’m neighborly as fuck,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “And don’t make it sound like I’m putting a chastity lock on your balls every night, because you can fuck anyone you want. In fact, I strongly fucking encourage it—I just want to know about it when it happens.”

Dameron smirks and you groan, already knowing what’s coming. “You wanna hear it?”

Yep, there it is. “Second of all—”

“Feel the whole bunk rock with it?” He goes on, completely ignoring you. “Use the excuse that you’re trapped up top so you can just stay there the whole time and listen? You know you can do a lot more than just—”

“Second of all,” you project over him, “you’re seriously telling me you haven’t had any wet dreams then, hm? No snorgasms? Hmmm? No happy naps? No captain midnights? No mattress fracking? Hmmmmmm???”

His voice very quickly sounds… shocked. “How many fucking euphemisms—?”

“Wait wait, one more—” you quickly interrupt, too much momentum to stop now, “—sleepskeet.”

You watch in immense satisfaction as his expression seems to progress through all five stages of grief, before he exhales a long, unamused sigh and scratches his beard again. You want to pluck each strand of it out of his face one by one. “Anyways. Wet dreams are totally different and don’t count.”

“It’s not different!” You burst out, unable to help yourself, “it’s an orgasm, and rule number three is no orgas—”

“I know what the rules were, Gold-Ten,” he returns calmly, and it infuriates you, how he’s always able to make it seem like you’re the instigator who’s overreacting. And he knows exactly what he’s doing by calling you by your flight designation, and it pisses you off even more because calling him Black-Leader in any other situation besides active warfare just feels like an unnecessary reminder of his skills. Why he’s currently behind you manning the guidance controls and why you’re currently stuck in the front seat with the bulkier weapons systems. “The question is if you’re seriously that bad enough of a sport to automatically disqualify me because of something that happens to any human with a dick indiscriminately when we blueball ourselves.”

“But that’s the entire fucking point, Dameron!” You shrill, throwing your hands in the air in pure exasperation. “There it is! You need it more than I do, you just said it yourself! Not to mention I said I can go longer without sex than you can— sex , not orgasms, but as it turns out I win at both. Now can we please call this shit off so I can finally cum? This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Nope,” he says immediately, popping the P with a bit too much hard emphasis to be genuinely amused. He’s frustrated, too—his voice is too pleased, too fake to not be masking irritation underneath. “Sorry. But this was also your stupid idea, so.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, anger flaring equal to his, just way more… verbal. And descriptive. “Wet dreams don’t count, fucking right. Tell that to the oceans of Kamino I got going on down there, huh? I move on this seat wrong and I’ll slide off it—”

A loud slam of a palm against the controls suddenly echoes throughout the small cockpit, causing you to jump slightly.

“Don’t,” Dameron snarls, “... say shit like that to me. Not right now. Not right now, fuck .”

You go quiet for a moment, not expecting that much of an outburst at something you considered to be a throwaway remark, but then… oh. Something occurs to you, something… sinister. Oh, well, now there’s an idea.

Everything inside you immediately surges up and burns at the thought—the mere whisper of a way out of all of this, quickly, without giving in and letting him hold your surrender over you for Maker knows how long. It’s so fucking simple, you don’t know why you didn’t think of it before. You don’t have to wait him out at all; instead, you just need to… entice him into giving in first.

Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t know what he’s thinking (nothing, probably—a dry tumbleweed bouncing across an empty desert landscape, you imagine) but you take the dip in conversation to consider a plan. You can’t go at it too outright, it’ll be too big of a turnaround and he’ll see it coming lightyears away. A halfhearted joke about your pussy tossed out without thinking is what catalyzed the most substantial reaction from him you’ve seen, so… maybe you can keep steering the conversation towards the idea.

“How many wet dreams have you had?” You suddenly ask, your heart beginning to pick up in your chest as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“Excuse me?” Dameron grunts from behind you, and you catch his reflection raising a thick eyebrow at you.

You take a deep breath and disguise it by stretching your back out just a little bit, lifting your shoulder blades and arching the sore muscles there, before settling back down in your normal crappy posture once more. “Now many times did you cum in your sleep? Had to at least been once for you to claim they don’t count.”

“Why does it matter?” He asks, completely sidestepping the question for the second time. “It was involuntary.”

You shrug. “Just so I know how many freebies I can get tonight.”

“No,” Dameron instantly counters, his voice dead serious. “Not fucking allowed.”

“Why not?” You ask, and this time, there’s significantly less challenge than you’d typically deliver it with. Instead, your voice is soft, questioning. Not argumentative, but curious, and there’s just enough of your point left unsaid that it’ll seem like he conjured the rest of the image himself.

There’s silence while he considers his response to the perfectly executed bait. You assume you’re both picturing the same thing, because it’s what you’ve pictured almost every single night spent in this celibate hellscape. The cool darkness of your shared quarters, the standard-issue sheets that still feel crispy and rough on your skin no matter how many nights you’ve slept in them, with one of your hands pressed tight over your mouth and two of your fingers circle your clit.

“You only get to do it if I’m in the room,” he poses instead, and you swallow thickly, feeling your body tighten with an unintentional drop of pure heat through your tummy at the thought. Maker, it must be really bad if Poe fucking Dameron is getting to you like this. The bane of your existence shouldn’t make your insides twist in on themselves—at least, not in a good way.

“Not like I’d have much choice,” you eventually respond, keeping it purposefully ambiguous. “It’s your room, too. Unfortunately.”

Stars, it’s been so long since you’ve done this, since you’ve walked the fine line between flirtation and seduction, wanting to turn on the charm slowly—gradually ease it up like a hyperdrive lever under your fingertips so that you’re at maximum by the time he realizes you’re even there. You take a moment to glance at his reflection, watching Dameron look back at you curiously, a flash of interest in his eyes.

“By the way, how does that one girl feel about us doing this?” You ask out of nowhere, suddenly remembering the existence of his pretty little number. You’ve seen her under his arm around base at least a few times, which is more than you can say for the rest of them. “Red-Six. Tall brunette with the tattoos—I don’t bother learning names, they all come and go.”

“Nihla,” Dameron nods with a wistful sigh, tilting his head to rest against his shoulder. “Or, wait… Neah. No—it was… Nalal. Yeah, Nalal, I think that’s right…”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter. “One of the greatest mysteries of the universe is how many people get in line for you, I’ll never fucking understand it.”

“They just want me for my cock,” he tells you without missing a single beat, sounding like he’s not joking in the slightest. “It was starting to get obnoxious. Glad I finally have an excuse to turn them down.”

“Unbelievable,” you repeat, stunned by how truly, mind-blowingly full of himself he is. “You’re… fucking…”

You end up just staring at him and making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, at a complete loss for words, and Dameron eventually shrugs and continues on after you fail to form a coherent thought in the allotted time frame he provides.

“Now I can just tell them I’m in a long-running bet with Gold-Ten over who can sexually deprive themselves the longest and weirdly enough, they don’t seem all that interested anymore,” he remarks, tilting his chin up and rubbing at his beard again, and for some reason… the sound of it bothers you somewhat less now, the way he phrased that resonating deeper inside you than it should. Lower than it should. You blink a few times, almost shocked by your body’s unprecedented response to his admission—Poe Dameron uses you as an excuse to turn down sex with pretty girls? Happily?—and your mind goes blank for a second while he watches you through the transparisteel. “It’s alright,” he eventually goes on, tilting his head. “Sometimes a sabbatical is good. I do really miss pussy, though.”

“Well,” you finally tell him, oddly not having much else to offer at the moment. “I’m sorry? And… you’re welcome. I guess.”

Dameron shrugs once more and makes an apathetic sound without opening his mouth, and you drop your stare down to the machinery between your spread thighs after feeling like you were looking at each other for too long. The position started uncomfortable and seven hours later, it’s still fucking uncomfortable. At first the discomfort twinged at your hips and lower back, but now the sensation seems to be… centering itself a bit more, finding a spot right between your legs, especially when his words echo through your subconscious and make you naturally want to push your thighs together. I do really miss pussy, though.

You try to snap out of it a bit, try to stop hyperfixating on the way your underwear has felt sticky and wet for fucking hours now, but it’s so fucking difficult to chill yourself out when your body already went into this whole situation with a month and a half long stumbling block. He’s not really doing anything at all—he’s leant back in his chair and staring out the window into the black emptiness of space when you steal a look once more, but something about how his casual responses are affecting you makes it seem like he’s the one currently seducing you.

Maker, you have to focus. You have to control yourself. You’re starting to feel a little warm in your thick jumpsuit—a particular shade of orange that does not compliment your complexion but you normally rejoice in wearing regardless. It’s baggy and uniform and hides most of your curves and most importantly, it keeps you toasty on missions like this. Space is cold —especially this far out in the Cauper Void, and there’s no fucking reason this powered down hunk of floating metal should feel as muggy and stifling as it does in here.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you suddenly hear yourself say, spontaneously, no thought put into it whatsoever. One last try, one last attempt to avoid it, a last-ditch go at flight before he gives you no choice and you’re left with this one remaining option. “This isn’t a good idea. It’s… not healthy. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

This gets a small chuckle out of him. “I know you don’t, pretty baby.”

“Then let’s just call the whole thing off,” you propose once again, trying to lighten your tone, make it a… a friendly thing. It sounds so fake, even to your own ears—since when would you be desperate enough to let the dreaded petname slide?—but granted, you know what they say about time and measures and all that shit. “We can call it a tie, just go back to the way things were befo—”

He cuts you off and pins you with his gaze through the reflection. “You realize that you begging me to put an end to your suffering is—ridiculously hot, mostly—but also only an incentive to make me keep pushing until you finally give in?”

You groan and comb some of your hair off your forehead, not liking the way it’s getting just the slightest bit damp. “Fine, we won’t call it off, but can we at least just stop—” You immediately catch yourself, not wanting to unintentionally push this too far too quickly, but your hesitation is clear and compelling enough for him to prompt you.

“At least just stop what?” Dameron asks, and though you don’t think it’s intentional or even noticeable from his perspective, something about the way his voice sounds… husky. Low to the ground.

“Stop dragging it out,” you breathe, your heart pounding. Why is your heart pounding so fucking fast? This is a fucking sting op, a facade, so why are you getting so caught up in the lie you’ve spun for yourself? “Finish it. Sooner, rather than later. Quit being masochists about it, just fucking put it to—”

Maker, your eyes instinctively snap to his at your poor choice of wording, having almost said bed on complete accident. Genuinely, you didn’t mean to phrase it that way, but at the same time, the thought of it almost burns you alive. Fuck. Dameron, and you, in bed. It could be mean. It could be rough. A fight for dominance more than anything. He’s bigger than you and he could make it fucking hurt, especially after going without it for as long as you have, but something about how double-edged that type of relief would be isn’t really sinking in for you right now. Like a person slowly dying of thirst that’s fantasizing about drowning. Regardless, the idea of a night with him and the sudden assortment of vivid imagery it provides is enough to get you to shut up and take a deep breath, just wait with your mouth shut for whatever his response is.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to wait long at all.

“This is cute,” he suddenly tells you, and you jerk back and sputter a bunch of consonants stupidly like he smacked you.

“Fuck you?” Are the first recognizable words that can be heard. “I’m not—this isn’t fucking— cute?”

“It’s cute,” Dameron repeats, hiding a soft smile from you with a few of his fingers pressed to his lips. “You,” he says as he points at your reflection, twirling his finger around in circles, “trying to be all sneaky about it, go about your little performance. It’s like… watching a little kid just blatantly fuck up a magic trick but they’re naive enough to think it’s working. Keep going, I’m enthralled.”

You hold still for just a second as ice suddenly sinks through your tummy and clears away any trace of warmth you may have once felt from before. Of course. Stupid. Stupid, you shouldn’t have even tried something like that, you don’t know why you thought…

Horrifyingly, you go dead silent and the lack of an immediate response from you hangs awkwardly in the still air. You’re usually so quick with him, so fiery, letting the things he throws at you just glide right off you, but for some insane reason, you’re actually fucking… embarrassed? A little bit?

You should say something, but your whole body is just frustratingly blank, almost buzzing in mortification, and it gets worse and worse the longer you stay quiet. You don’t usually put yourself in a position to be compromised, and you certainly didn’t think the place he decided to jab this time had particularly thin skin.

You… you’d forgotten what it’s like to have someone laugh at you when you’re genuinely trying your best to flirt.

Well, it’s too late to say anything now, you think. Now it’s just uncomfortable in here—true discomfort, not the typical angry silences. You’re used to that, you’re used to huffing and crossing your arms and ticking your jaw through the breaks in conversation, refusing to say a word because you’re beyond pissed off. This is different. This quiet sits different in the air, this emotion hits different in your chest, somewhere vulnerable. A crack in your armor he found without even necessarily intending to, but at this point, the stupid way you can’t seem to hide the wound from him is just as much to blame.

“So, uh…” Dameron clears his throat as you shut your eyes tight against the awkwardness, but you can still feel a strange little shift in the air from behind you. There’s something about the enclosed space, the quiet darkness surrounding you both, you feel… too close to him. Sharing his air, feeling the energy when it’s cramped and you’re not able to just get up and storm away from him like normal. You don’t like it. You don’t like that you can immediately tell something has changed without being able to see him, that type of intimacy between you is pushing a boundary you can’t quite pinpoint but know exists.

You snap your eyes open and look over at Dameron’s reflection when he’s quiet for too long, and though you try to glare as fiercely as possible at him while you do it, the look on his face almost stops you dead. The pure intensity raging in his expression, the way he’s got his eyes narrowed, flicking back and forth between yours, carefully studying you, wondering if perhaps he may have gotten it all wrong. “I mean, y’know. Theoretically speaking, and all. If I broke, you’d let me fuck you?”

You… aren’t expecting that.

You don’t know why but your heart suddenly starts to race again, but it’s not the same as before. Before it was speeding up and at an angle, like a rocket trying to escape a body’s gravitational pull, to go somewhere, search for something. This time it just feels like it’s ricketing downhill, unsteady and out of control, about to break apart with every single pothole that rattles and slams through you. Shit. You didn’t expect the ultimatum would be presented to you so up front like that—you thought there’d be… some resistance, at least.

Fuck, you take way too fucking long thinking about it, and your face feels warmer and warmer the more you mentally pick apart his specific phrasing, wondering where you should even begin. You still haven’t said anything, but the damage is already done. What should've been a firm, instantaneous go fuck yourself is left suspended, unanswered, open for interpretation. You miss your window of opportunity to shut him down, you overshoot it by a longshot, and then you feel that spark of a what-if flare deep down once more.

No, fucking stop it. Stop it. Maker, your eyes do everything they can to not look at him while you concentrate and work to tap into your anger, stoking the flames of your fire to avoid feeling… temptation. How dare he? How fucking dare he do this to you, especially when there’s no chance to get out of here, to abort mission and cut your losses? You clench your jaw and isolate that fury, magnify it until it’s the only thing you can feel anymore.

“My turn now,” Dameron eventually breaks the silence to clarify, blinking at you, and by this point you’re so fucking pissed off that you don’t recognize that isn’t actually a question.

“No,” you immediately snap, strung far too thin to deal with this new, treacherous territory with him. Defaulting to normal is best, it’s easier. “No, it’s not your turn, and fuck no, you can’t fuck me, not even if it means I win this stupid bet. No to everything that has anything to fucking do with you, alright? Don’t talk to me. You’re lucky if I agree to sleep in the same fucking room as you tonight. And—and?—I think your beard looks dumb.”

Okay, so maybe the last part was just a little bit childish, but you’re in such a bad fucking mood and you want to insult something he’s clearly just trying out for right now, hasn’t yet solidified as part of his usual appearance and unshakeable confidence in it. It’s a downright lie—you think he might look more attractive with it than he ever has. Effortlessly rugged and masculine, framing his face and making his eyes all the more piercing.

You don’t think it works, but regardless, he heeds your sharp words and says nothing for a good few minutes at least. You had hoped the break in interaction would allow you the ability to reset a little bit, give yourself time to work through it, but it’s like the pressure in the air steadily increases regardless of how silent it is in here—or perhaps, because of it.

You can’t help it. You flick your eyes to the transparisteel in front of you once more and catch his reflection staring directly at you, unmoving. It jars you as much as it sparks your anger, and you glare down at your hands and give him a few seconds. A few seconds of grace, of mercy, before you try again.

Sure enough, he’s still got his dark eyes pinned to you when you go to check once more, like he’s actually fucking thinking about something right now, which is just… astounding, for obvious reasons. Mainly, the nerve of him. The fucking nerve of him to be able to look at you like that, like he’s just entitled to study your every feature, searching your eyes for things you’ve never looked deep enough to find within yourself, making incredibly loud assumptions with his mind that he has absolutely no right to be making.

“Shut up,” You snap at him defensively, feeling like you’re sweating buckets even in the freezing emptiness of dead space. You can’t figure out if it’s a cold sweat or if your body is legitimately just malfunctioning under his stare. “Shut up.”

You watch as his reflection suddenly drops his head back against the seat and rolls out the stiffness of his neck, blinking his eyes shut and raising his eyebrows like you’re completely overreacting, like he has absolutely no idea. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re not that dumb,” you challenge. “You’re… plotting. Evil plotting.”

A thick eyebrow drops so that only one is quirked up, and a grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re right,” Dameron admits casually after a moment with his eyes still closed, his voice pitched low in the cramped ship. “I was thinking about what it’s gonna take to get you to lose.”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, starting to unintentionally bounce one of your legs up and down without even realizing it. Fuck, this ship is small, it’s too fucking small in here—you gaze wistfully out at the vast endlessness of space, wanting to grit your teeth at the irony of being surrounded by the one thing you so desperately wish you had.

“I just have to find a weakness,” he shifts forward in his seat and reveals to you, bewilderingly shameless in his honesty. Like all of a sudden you’re an accomplice to this endeavor instead of its target, as if he isn’t spoiling the secret by letting you in on it. “Something that you like, that gets you going. Something that riles you up, gets you all hot and bothered down there—”

“So you can exploit it,” you huff, slouching over a bit and trying not to sound like you’re pouting.

“—so I can exploit it,” he finishes happily, collapsing back into his seat like he’s glad you caught on so quick and he doesn’t have to explain further. “Now we can do the whole routine—the bickering, the tension, the undeniable sexual chemistry we have—or we can skip all that and you can just tell me flat out what it’s gonna take to rev that pretty little engine up, because I want it purring.”

And, it’s so fucking weird, because the specific verbiage that would normally make you cringe just hearing it spoken aloud doesn’t inspire the typical response, even though it feels like it should. It feels like you should be grossed out, it feels like a moment you should screw up your facial expression and act offended, but you’re… not. This is actually fucking working, it’s unbelievable. The undeniable fact infuriates you just as much as it stumps you.

“You do realize that everything you say is a game that two can play at, right?” You point out, not really sure where you’re going with this but feeling heated about it all the same. “What’s stopping me from exploiting something you like?”

“See now that’s a great idea,” Dameron announces, clapping his hands together happily and sending you jumping a few inches in your seat at the sudden sound, your hand automatically shooting up to rest on your thumping heart. “I can tell you what I like, and you can just listen.”

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

“How about I tell you what I don’t like,” you snip breathlessly, tucking your hair behind your ear and feeling all the blood rush to your cheeks. Default to normal, default to normal. “Your fucking attitude. Your demeanor. The way you talk down to me. You don’t listen. You walk around like you’re such hot shit just because you’re a good pilot but none of that means anything when you don’t ever fucking listen. You’re terrible at it, doesn’t matter who’s talking—you don’t listen to me, you don’t listen to people who actually like you, you don’t listen to orders, you don’t listen to reason—”

“You think I’m a good pilot?” He suddenly asks, and you have to take a second. This cockpit isn’t designed for anything other than sitting, much less turning all the way around, but you’re sure you can find some way to throttle him from here. He chuckles as you let out the loudest sigh you’ve ever heard yourself make—which, is an incredible feat you think both of you should be congratulated for—before Dameron eventually carries on. “You could tell me that,” he admits with a shrug, a hidden smile on his face that he’s trying to bite back. “Or you could tell me the truth.”

You shouldn’t encourage him, but you just can’t fucking help it. There’s something inside you, something you can only compare to a morbid sort of curiosity. Maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment, even more so than agreeing to this bet has already confirmed. “And that would be—?”

“That you use anger as a defense mechanism because I touch a nerve you didn’t realize you had,” Dameron replies breezily. “Have since the moment we met. And that you maybe want me to touch something else, but you’re too stubborn and proud and committed to hating me to ever admit it. You can admit it, it’s okay, I can touch whatever you need me to tou—”

“How about the emergency eject button?” You hiss, finally feeling your frustration peak. “Pop the top on this bitch. Put me out of my fucking misery, right now. You’ve got such a big head that the blood flow will probably keep your tiny little brain warm enough as long as you strap yourself down beforehand, I’ll wait. And then you can go back to base, alone , and find another poor girl to emotionally torture since you probably don’t get enough of it from the ones you work your way through but can never remember the most basic things about.”

Remarkably, that actually shuts him up. You’re doubtful the jab really hurts him, but you’re not going to feel bad about it either way. He deserved that. You cross your arms over your chest and don’t even bother looking at him, huffing and flushed with the climax of your ferocity, now left feeling strangely exhausted in its wake. Eventually your breathing evens out and disappears into the silence, until nothing at all can be heard.

It’s like that for a moment—only a moment, before the loud tearing of velcro suddenly shreds through the quiet in the cockpit, completely rattling you. Automatically your eyes shoot over to his reflection, watching large hands pull the orange jumpsuit apart at his chest and then shrug it over broad shoulders. It’s not sexual. It can’t be sexual, because there’s just no fucking room to allow it—it takes him forever to pull the long sleeves down his arms, but the way he drags it out somehow just increases your anticipation for an event you should have absolutely no interest in spectating. He’s wearing a white sleeveless undershirt underneath and the jumpsuit bunches at his waist, making him look all the longer and more defined as he finally collapses back into his seat and reclines in it, the distant constellations bathing his lean torso in dim speckles of starlight.

Your gaze catches on every good part of him—it falls down the muscular lines of his neck and follows the thin gold chain wrapped around it, disappearing into the white of his scooping neckline. His toned body finds a place to rest and stretch out without looking awkward or uncomfortable, coarse hair darkening his jaw and dusting the strong lines of his forearms—but it’s his eyes that make your heart stutter. They’re endlessly deep and dark and knowing , and you can’t seem to look away from him, not even when he opens his mouth to address you.

“You’re always so fucking mean to me,” Dameron remarks, and for just a split second—just a split second, you feel a stab of regret. “I should eat you out tonight.”

Fuck, he hits the nail right on the head on his very first try, and just hearing the words come out of his mouth so effortlessly makes your pussy clench in on itself in need. Nothing about his inflection changed from one sentence to the next, nothing in his voice made it seem like he just flipped the fucking galaxy upside down with just a few words. To an onlooker who doesn’t speak Basic, they’d have absolutely no hint as to why your face is suddenly radiating heat at an industrial capacity, blazing hot enough to warm the whole cockpit. You feel like you’re literally burning up with it. You have to put a palm to your cheek to make sure it’s not actually on fucking fire. “What— what did you just say to me?”

“That’s what you need,” he drawls, unbothered by the sharpness of your tone. “What you’ve needed, ever since I can remember. Should’ve done it a long fucking time ago, now that I’m thinking about it. How long’s it been? Tell me the truth, I know it’s been awhile.”

You feel like you’re being roasted alive like one of those hairy little Kowakian monkey-lizards that you’re pretty sure have sentient designation but are the first to be skewered and cooked over the firepit regardless. Your heart is slamming against your sternum and you scramble to come up with an even slightly clever response after such an ambush.

“This is your plan?” You raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your temple and onto the corner of your lashes. Oh fuck, be cool, be cool. “You think this is gonna work? Ask me if I want a weak orgasm and rugburn on my thighs?”

“I can shave,” Dameron proposes quietly, lifting his chin and gently scrubbing the side of his cheek. The sound of the thick bristles against his fingers makes you swallow thickly and push back very vivid thoughts of how his face would feel between your legs. How soft and wet his mouth would feel at the center of that thick, coarse beard. “Tonight, I’ll shave it off. Make it nice and smooth for you.”

Something inside you surges up to assure him he absolutely should not shave, and you actually have to bite your tongue to keep it buried at the last second. Stars, that was a close one, what the fuck prompted that?

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” you quickly return, resisting the urge to wipe your brow. “Beard or no beard, makes no difference. Foreplay is overrated, I’m not big on wasting time.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he immediately laments—so quick , and the worst part is that the sympathy in his voice actually sounds sincere. You’re having trouble looking him in the eyes right now, hearing the genuine pity come through in his tone. “Who… who did this to you?”

“You said you want to figure out what I like, what turns me on,” you return, tucking your hair behind your ear once more and trying not to sound self-conscious. Maker, how long until your shift is over? You need to get out of here, this shit is… way out of your league. “I’m not into it, so try again.”

“Really?” Dameron takes a moment to look at you, furrow his thick eyebrows at you in barely concealed curiosity, before his head tilts sideways and drops to his shoulder. “Normally I’d respect that, but I meant it when I said you need it.”

“We fucking hate each other, Dameron,” you hiss, a reminder to him as much as it is to yourself. Fuck, you really don’t like where this is going. “You don’t know anything about me, you don’t know what the I n—”

“I bet you think we’d fuck hard,” he murmurs, low enough that you have to take an unsteady breath and physically brace yourself for whatever is going to come from that dirty mouth next. “You think that maybe I’d throw you around a little, give it to you from behind, teach you a fucking lesson for always talking back to me. But that’s primitive shit, Gold-Ten, that’s not for you.”

Resist. Resist . You’re part of the fucking Resistance, for Maker’s sake, you’re taught to hold out until death in torture scenarios. Since when did this tin can suddenly become a new POW camp simulation you have to train for?

“I want to take you apart so slow that you can’t talk at all,” Dameron continues quietly, and you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting. “We don’t even have to fuck—I mean, I want to, but mostly I just want to taste you. Go nice and slow. I want you on your back, so I can look in your eyes and see all that anger just… fade away. I want to watch you try to fight how fucking good I’ll make it. How hot it’s gonna be when you can’t glare at me anymore, when your pretty doll eyes go all soft and sweet and you finally realize that I’ve never hated you at all.”

Maker. This is a trick. It’s not a question, it shouldn’t be presented like one—this is a dirty rotten trick , and you’re not gonna fall for it. You can’t fucking fall for it. It’s a low blow, and you refuse to even acknowledge he said anything at all. He’s lying to get your guard down. He laughed at your flirting. He’s a shit person, he’s using you, this isn’t real.

Real or not, you still gulp loud enough for him to hear it.

“We could go back to our room after our shift is over,” he offers out of the blue, and you have no clue why, but when he pauses and lets it hang in the air for a second, you don’t interrupt him. You stay completely silent while he waits for you, waits for your typical snarky comeback. You have it in your head instantly, you know what you’d normally say. Your room. It’s not ‘our’ room, it’s fucking your room that you’re generous enough to let him bunk in, a privilege he’s this fucking close to losing—but you can’t find it in yourself to say it right now. Your anger is gradually losing the war to your arousal and you’re forced to watch every single small defeat inside you happen from the sidelines.

His reflection blinks at you through the transparisteel, his eyebrows raising just slightly at your prolonged silence, before he suddenly sits up a little and leans forward.

“And I could lock the door,” Dameron continues, lowering his voice, both in volume and register. “The lights in there are way too fucking bright but I don’t want to be in complete darkness, so maybe we can turn them off and open the port shade, let just enough light come through to see. I could turn on the radio, find something quiet, easy to listen to. Something you like, I’ll let you pick it out. And then… Wait, hang on, which bed?”

You clench your jaw and purposefully say nothing even as your pussy squeezes, glaring right through his reflection into the black void of space.

“Mmm. Your bed,” he eventually decides. “I want you comfortable. You shower at night. Your hair will be wet and you’ll be in those baggy pajamas that you think I can’t see your nipples through, the ones that I know you take off under your covers and then put on in the morning when you think I’m still asleep. That’s good, I want you relaxed, so that maybe… maybe you’d let me take your panties off at some point. And you could lay back and open your legs, and I could go down on you for a little while. However long you need.”

Fuck.

No, this isn’t fucking happening. Your lower muscles aren’t twisting in so hard that it actually fucking hurts, your pussy isn’t leaking through two layers of fabric under your jumpsuit, your body isn’t outright revolting against the sheer neglect you’ve put it through. Maker, it’s fucking painful. You have to clench your hands into fists and dig your fingernails into your palms before you can open your mouth.

“You want to know what I need?” You nearly wheeze, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck this time. Your body feels like it’s three sizes too big for this cockpit and your skin feels like it’s three sizes too small for your body. “I need you to shut the fuck u—”

“What you need,” Dameron purrs, sliding up closer behind your seat and sighing soft against the worn material of your headrest, “is a warm mouth to cum in. Don’t be shy, pretty baby, you can tell me.”

You growl out his last name as threateningly as you possibly can before he purrs yours right back in your ear, and fuck, you’ve never heard it sound so sexual before. Last names allow pilots to maintain a respectful distance from each other. Flight designations are Resistance-wide, but last names are just… allies. Not friends, not companions, but a vast network of people brought together by a common enemy. It hurts to lose a first name. But the way yours sounds rolling off of Dameron’s tongue is just too sinful, too intimate when calling you that is meant to sever intimacy by design. He says it slow and makes it dirty, muddies it in the back of his throat as he slides up even closer to you, until his face is right next to yours as you stare at each other through the transparisteel.

“I’m really…” he pauses, before exhaling through his nose and swallowing thick enough to make his Adam’s apple drop and bounce up again, his tongue coming out to wet his plush lips as he blinks slowly at you with a heavy gaze, “… really good at it. Call me Poe and I’ll do it for you all night.”

Shit, your pussy is just a fucking mess right now. It feels like it’s melting sweet and syrupy all over your thighs, throbbing and pounding and clamping up and screaming at you to do something, at least press your hand down there to alleviate some of the aching tensi—

No— stars, no touching yourself is rule number two. You drop your hands to your thighs and squeeze them, trying to reign yourself back in.

“I think you’re—just projecting,” you try, but turns out responding in general is just an all-around bad idea. Nothing about it comes out right. The ‘just’ sounds like your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and your voice cracks on the word ‘projecting,’ but you don’t even have time to be self-conscious or embarrassed at how much you’re giving yourself away—all your energy has to go towards fighting the tightness between your open legs, how you’re so fucking turned on that you’re worried you’ll cum without even touching yourself. Oh Maker, can you imagine? How fucking proud of himself he’d be? You can’t let that happen, but fuck, holding back something so appealing is so much harder than it sounds.

Tap into that anger, tap into that anger—only, you can’t suddenly find it. Where’d it go? Fuck, doesn’t matter, conjure it. Quick, before it’s too late, get mad —don’t let him lure you into a… a false…

Dameron tilts his chin down towards the line of your shoulder and then slowly turns his head towards your neck, breathing you in gently.

A false sense of…

His soft exhale makes goosebumps break out all the way down your arms.

… What?

“Maybe you’re right,” Dameron acknowledges, talking just under your ear. You watch his eyelids dip and the dark beard brushes against your skin and you catch just a hint of that woodsy, spicy scent engulfing you. Like… teakwood, maybe? Stars, you don’t know, you think you’re starting to lose your mind. What the fuck does teakwood even smell like? “Maybe it’s just what I need. You should exploit it, chances are I’ll still cum first.”

That rockets another painful spasm down low. It hurts so fucking bad—fuck, maybe you could… rub yourself up against these weapons controls? Just a little bit? That joystick, right there, just ease yourself up against it just to nurse this wound a little bit…?

No, fucking— bad. That’s bad, you have to stop—

“This isn’t real, this isn’t—y-you just…” You flutter your eyelashes shut, digging your fingernails into your thighs like it’ll help break through the fog of his lulling voice, how fucking amazing he smells right now. “You just want to win th-the b—”

“ Fuck the bet,” he tells you quietly, his head dipped low enough now that his lips brush against your neck, and you shudder so hard at the sensation that your shoulder almost knocks into his chin with it. “You really think I’m doing all this for a fucking bet?”

Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, don’t—

Your deep breath is so stuttery and uneven that it’s technically just a series of shallow inhales all anxiously strung together, too desperate for oxygen to go about it legato. It’s painfully obvious to him by now, it has to be, but you very quickly miss the shaky breathing as soon as he takes away your ability to do it all together.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking with how gentle it is, how it sounds like it flips in and out of his register when he speaks this low. “Right now, let’s make it real, let m—I know you have to be soaking fucking wet, baby, just let me try a little bit of it, please—I’m… holy shit, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“You c-can’t,” you stammer, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. At him, at the situation, at the painful throb of emptiness between your legs. “Fuck, it’s not allowed, it’s against the rules—”

“It won’t be,” he assures you, and you hiccup when you suddenly feel his hand brush against your side, strong fingers branching out to curve against your ribcage. “You don’t have to do anything, you can stay just like this. Just a few seconds and then I’ll stop, I promise.”

Oh, Maker, it’s on the very top of your tongue, so unbelievably close to telling him something—but you don’t know what it should be. You’re right at the tipping point, on a tightrope right between what you want and what you should want. And, knowing you’re this close to giving in, Dameron slowly eases his hand down your side and starts to trail it inwards, and just the lightest brush of his warm tongue against your neck shatters any composure you have left.

You whimper and instinctively try to close your legs, but you fucking can’t— your knees are forced wide apart by controls and your whole body freezes when his hand slides down and folds gently along the curve of your pussy through the thick fabric of your jumpsuit.

The feeling of being held like this by him is just too good , cradled so perfectly in his palm as he opens his mouth and flutters his tongue out to taste your skin again, giving you a little more of it this time and letting you feel the roughness of his beard with the way his lips move. Your breath catches, then he hooks his fingertips up just the slightest bit and pulls back, and you suddenly have to smack your whole hand over your face in a terrible attempt to stifle your loud gasp.

“Oh, Maker, I c-can’t,” you stammer against your fingers, not being able to trust him or your own body. You continue to protest even after he moves back up, resting his palm low on your abdomen, letting the heat bleed through the fabric and transfer directly to your floor muscles as he lifts his head up from your shoulder. “I can’t, we can’t, I…”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s looking at you. He’s staring right at you through the reflection, studying the way you’re hiding your face from him, how you’re still melting, still losing your composure just from the warm palm pressed tight your tummy.

His touch leaves you for a second. But then the deafening sound of velcro ripping at the crotch of your jumpsuit has you dragging your hand down your mouth and your eyelids dipping.

“Dameron,” you breathe into your fingers, just as his carefully slip into the small opening and begin to work at the button to your pants. “Dameron, this isn’t—you don’t want—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I don’t want,” he grunts at you, and you try not to bite yourself at the sound of him unzipping things and yanking fabric to the side. “What I really fucking want is the real thing, but I guess this’ll have to do for now.”

“I—” Your mind whirs desperately, trying to process when his fingers wedge under your panties and down. But he doesn’t give you a single fucking second. As soon as the tip of his middle finger reaches your slit, he’s dropping it and sliding it through your slick, hot, unbearably neglected cunt.

“Fuck,” he spits, and you feel like you might be about to break your own fucking jaw with how hard you’re clutching it, trying so desperately not to make a noise. The pad of his finger is rough and calloused as it drags against your clit in slow, tight circles, and you clamp your eyes shut and try to breathe normally, but it’s no use. Fuck , it’s been so long . You’ve been aching for it for a full fucking month and a half now and you know that even if he couldn’t feel it, he can hear how drenched you are right now. It’s making an obscene sound as he steadily masturbates you with one heavenly finger, giving your body what it’s desperately craved for so many weeks. “Fuck, baby’s pussy got fucking wet hearing me talk about how good I’d lick it, huh?”

That sends a bright flare launching through you and you gasp raggedly, both hands whipping out to snatch at his forearm where it disappears between your legs. “No, shit, wait, stopstopstopstop stop , I—”

His hand slips out immediately and yet you continue to tremble like his finger is still right there, like your clit is just imagining it so vividly that it’s successfully convincing itself of the illusion. The aching bit of flesh is burning, that good burn, the one that’s searing and bright that makes your muscles continue to chase the sensation long after the stimulation is gone. Fuck, he almost made you cum. He barely touched you for a few seconds and yet your fingers have to tighten into claws to slow your body down the fuck down, flexing against your thighs and trying your best to halt the impending climax.

By the time you’re able to wrangle yourself back from the edge and look at his reflection, his middle finger is already in his mouth and he’s blinking slowly at you, his pupils blown wide. You’re breathing hard at him, staring open-mouthed at the way his lips are closed below his second knuckle, how he takes forever dragging it back out again. You have to close your eyes. You have to clamp them shut and keep them that way, knowing you won’t be able to look at him through whatever he’s going to say next.

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his mouth to your neck once more. “Shhhit. I…”

Your eyes snap open in sudden, blind panic when he doesn’t continue, horrified at the possibility that he doesn’t like it. Dameron always has something to say, he doesn’t go speechless. “Oh—Maker, is it not—?”

“Mmmfuck, just—” he grits, panting hot air against your skin, “—fuck. Give me a second.”

You can only see the crown of his head with the way he’s angled, but you can see his shoulders a little further back. They start… moving slightly. Just the littlest bit, a smooth motion, like his whole body is slowly easing back and forth—

The nav controls are between his legs, you immediately realize. He’s grinding up against them with how close he is to you and your seat.

And suddenly, it’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. A ray of sunshine that breaks through the raging storm. Dameron might cum in his pants like this. Which means you’ll win, and arguably more importantly, you’ll finally be able to cum. You don’t even take a moment to consider the potential consequences—how you’re going to have to withstand the stimulation until he succumbs to it, how you’ll have to outlast—but you’re not thinking straight. You’re not really thinking at all.

“You can…” you suddenly hear yourself whisper, and your heart pounds in your throat when he instantly stops moving. “One… one more. If you want. You can put your finger inside this time, it’s where I’m the… w-wettest.”

“Fuck,” Dameron croaks into the crook of your neck, his voice scraping low and rough and sending a tremor through you. “Fuck, okay, yeah—”

His hand slides across your hip and down, but you catch him just in time.

“But don’t touch my clit.” You try to sound as firm as possible through the breathlessness, still trying to put your foot down even when you’re giving in, and Dameron’s teeth come out as he stifles a soft groan into your neck in response.

“Yes, baby,” he murmurs obediently as his hand sinks down once more, and so diligently, he avoids it altogether. His fingers slide under your panties and fall straight down to your entrance, down to where you know you’re the hottest, where your pussy is flexing and pushing wetness out with a steady, wicked throb. The pad of his middle finger presses gently against the tight muscles there, rubs just the slightest bit to feel that resistance, and then the length of it eases inside you so slowly that your knees rattle against bulky metal.

“Fucking Maker , ” he hisses as he slides it in, his body making a sudden jerk against the controls.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of something inside you after so long, after such a torturous buildup, and you grasp at his forearm again when it curls naturally up against searing pleasure. Oh, it’s so good, it’s so good, your hands shake while he very carefully moves it in and out, the raw sparks of heat threatening to incinerate you as your muscles cling to every ridge of his finger. He gets it sopping wet, bathes it so completely in your slick that you’re almost certain it’ll come out pruny and drenched.

“Shit, okay,” you pant, squeezing desperately around his finger, “o-okay, fuck, that’s enough.”

His hand pulls out… slower this time. He slips his finger out of you quick enough, but he drags the tip of it through your folds as he retreats, just barely grazing your clit and making you jolt in your seat. Shit, you don’t know if it felt intentional enough to fault him for it—mostly it just excites you, thrills you to have him edge you like this without really needing to put any effort at all into it.

Dameron lifts his head to sink his finger deep into his mouth once more, and you tremble as you watch him enjoy it, staring at the way his shoulders seem to relax as soon as your taste is on his tongue, how his face goes soft with it and he almost slumps.

Relief. Genuine, not embellished. He still doesn’t say anything after he slowly slides it out and blinks at you, no sugar sweet drawl telling you how amazing you taste, no candied words to make you give in and let him have another go. You’re both breathing hard at each other, staring, waiting to see who will break first.

Stars, you… fucking like this. You want him to keep going, but you can’t offer it again. It’s just too exposing, too revealing to let him you’re actually really fucking enjoying this, you can’t—

“Do you w—?” Your voice automatically comes out through the silence without your permission, sounding just absolutely fucking wrecked by this point, but his palm is already slithering back down as soon as you speak, and you make the softest little submissive noise in your throat at him taking immediate initiative like that. He’s not as careful about it this time—his hand finds its target with less frill, his finger slides in quicker, sinking deep into your heat with little hesitation, lighting you on fire from the inside out, and you bite the meat of your thumb to stay quiet.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” he suddenly breathes next to your ear while your legs spasm and you gasp brokenly. “This is so—fuck, pretty baby letting me do this to her, I can’t fucking believe—”

Dameron eases a second finger inside you this time, letting you feel that delicious stretch from this angle, unable to lift your legs or shuffle around to help and subsequently resigned to simply experience it the way he gives it to you. Your teeth have probably permanently indented your bottom lip from how hard you’re clamped down, a testament to how much you’re trying to hold back the loud moan you miraculously haven’t released yet. Somehow it makes it sexier, not letting him hear you, not having your own noises to drown out the spark of urgency in his voice beginning to peek through.

Shit, it’s too much. You can only let him touch you a few seconds at a time before you feel that familiar tug towards mind-numbing bliss, and the more he does it, the more appealing that feeling then becomes. It’s teasing you, floating right in front of you and calling into question what could possibly be so bad about just reaching out to meet it? You could. You could cum right now. What’s two weeks of pay? You could cum all night long if you want, that is a thing you can do—

Quickly snapping out of your hypnotic downfall, your trembling hands snatch at his forearm once more, and Dameron, the fucker, drags his fingers slowly over your clit on the way out— so not accidental, not even close to it this time, but the sensation makes your hips stutter upwards and chase it nonetheless.

“Fuck you,” you groan at his audacity, your chest arching as you drop your head back, “I said don’t touch my—” but two wet fingers slipping past your lips and onto your tongue muffle the rest of your sentence. Your heart does half a somersault before slamming down early, the taste of your pussy filling your mouth as you automatically start sucking on them.

“None of that,” Dameron tells you softly, massaging his fingers along your tongue before pressing a sweet kiss under your ear. “Be nice. I’m being nice.”

You should bite him. Instead, you just close your eyes and mphh weakly around his fingers, your body sagging as you give into it and let him explore your mouth with them, your lower muscles cramping up in painful desperation even when he’s not anywhere near that part of your body right now. Your tongue even comes up to lick between them, swirl around them so soft compared to how hard you’re puffing through your nose.

Dameron slowly inches his fingers out, letting the tips of them rest against your bottom lip for just a brief moment, before his hand is moving again. Not down, but back and around, so he can open his mouth and taste you another way this time.

Shit, you feel like you’re dying. You need air. Your hands clench into fists and you use the back of one to wipe the sweat from the bridge of your nose while he takes his time sampling you like this. If anything, he looks just as blissed out as before, continuing to rub his crotch up against the solid metal between his legs and teasing you with it as much as he’s teasing himself.

“Maker, let me do this for real tonight, okay,” Dameron pants after dropping his fingers from his mouth, sounding like he’s fighting for his breath while you can’t find yours at all. Your eyes flick down to watch the way his hand disappears behind the chair to grab the controls and push his cock up against them even harder, how he drops his forehead to your neck like he just can’t fucking handle it anymore. “Fuck, I’ll shave, I’ll do anything you want, just let me—”

“Cum,” you gasp out before you can stop yourself, and there’s a moment after it where his hips suddenly stutter against the controls, and you both freeze.

Shit. Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

No, you very quickly realize, his body isn’t spasming like it would if he finally emptied his load after a month and a half. He’s just… holding there, his head buried in your neck, completely still.

You didn’t mean it like that. Well… fuck, you did, but you didn’t realize you’d be that reckless about it, that upfront about reissuing the challenge.

Dameron pulls back to look at you from the side this time, but it’s too cramped—he keeps his head turned facing you even as his eyes flick up to the transparisteel to take in the finer details of your features, the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, and the slightly alarmed way you’re blinking back at him, worried you just shot your blaster at him in the midst of a mutual ceasefire and you fucking missed.

You see the understanding in his eyes instantly fall into place, and it’s not fucking good. Ohhhhhh no, it’s not good. Your chest starts rising and falling rapidly, suddenly registering the position you just put yourself in. Fuck, you didn’t think—you saw your opening, so clearly, you didn’t have time to think about the consequences.

“D-Dameron…” you try your best to placate.

“Don’t touch your clit?” He asks quietly, the raspiness of his voice ripping a hole through you while his hand suddenly shoves its way back down your body once more.

“Dameron,” you whimper, your heart stuttering in panic as you grasp weakly at his arm reaching between your spread thighs, “Dameron, this is—this is against the r-rules—”

“You keep saying that,” he comments, his fingers easily finding the opening in your jumpsuit no matter how hard you flex your thighs against bulky mechanics to try and close them. “How clearly do you remember the rules? What were the rules again?

You open your mouth to respond but his hand sliding under your panties and down just obliterates any chance you were going to attempt. No words, nothing comes out but a shaky whine as his finger sinks into your soaking heat, going right for the kill.

“Come on, baby, the rules,” Dameron reminds you when you never give him an answer. “Tell me. No fucking, no jerking off, and…?”

You suddenly struggle forwards in a last-ditch attempt at preventing the inevitable, hoping you can scoot up enough in your seat to escape his reach from behind. But fuck, your thighs have been shoved wide open for nearly eight hours—none of the muscles are working the way they should be anymore. There’s just enough room in front of you to get there and you probably would’ve been able to do it at the beginning of the shift, even with his hand between your legs like this, but you’re sluggish and your thighs pull sharp and urgent with the movement. The frantic maneuver enough to veer his fingers off course just slightly, moving one of your lips to the side at an angle, and you keep pushing against the pain no matter how useless it is.

“—No cumming,” he finishes for you, and his other hand is slithering up under your arm and groping one of your breasts through the jumpsuit before shoving you back tight up against your seat once more, totally helpless against it. “Probably have another fifteen minutes or so before our shift ends. Better hold it in, pretty baby, because this one is all you.”

“This—this isn’t fair, this is—” The second the slippery pad of his finger presses hard against your clit, you’re biting your lip to cut off a breathless whimper that slips out. “This is… is sab— sabotage— ”

“Oh, I know,” he moans next to your ear, mocking your high plea of distress with a fake, overly sympathetic whine. “Feels so fucking good though, doesn’t it?”

Fuck, it does. The build feels like an orgasm in itself, just working your way to it. You’re already so unbelievably close after just a few seconds of direct stimulation, an obvious consequence of originally agreeing to such a hardcore edging workout. You’re pouring sweat, so swollen and tight between your legs as you do everything you can to revolt against your body’s needs.

“Oh fuck, stop touching my clit—” you gasp raggedly, heart thundering in panic while your lower muscles start to immediately seize up, “oh—fuckfuckfuck— Poe, take your finger off m—”

Instead of doing it, his hand just slows down until the tip of his finger comes to a halt, maybe less than an inch over top of it. You still can’t catch your breath though, not when you feel yourself throbbing against absolutely nothing, the calloused pad holding perfectly still over the bundle of nerves. The swollen bud still arcs and flares at a steady frequency, building and building, and you choke out a wordless garble, absolutely fucking furious that this is what’s gonna make you cum.

“Don’t make me cum,” you switch up your sentence but not the terrified plead in your voice, the way it’s pitching up and out of control in the dead quiet of space. He doesn’t even acknowledge it. “Don’t make me cum, don—”

“Say it again,” he prompts instead, and lightning arcs up your spine.

“Poe,” you wheeze, the words coming from you without thought, your fingernails digging into his forearm even as your hips jerk up into his touch, “fuck, don’t make me cum, Poe—please don’t make me c—”

“But it’ll be so good,” he counters lowly, and your clit throbs in desperation at the richness of his voice when he speaks like this, saying things from deep in his chest. “It’ll be so fucking good when it happens. Stars, you’ll feel so much better, won’t you? Cum right now and I’ll give you as many as I can until we have to go home.”

“N-No,” you whine, feeling his teeth scrape at the crook of your neck. “No, I can’t—”

“Cum for me,” Dameron raises his voice, sharpening it into a direct order. “Right now. Come on— fucking make yourself lose.”

“But I—I—” you sob, starting to feel your body curl inwards, nearly about to succumb to the burning, the tightening, right on its last breath, “I-I don’t want to cum—”

“And I don’t fucking care,“ he hisses while your hands start flexing unintentionally, grasping helplessly at his immovable forearm where it disappears between your legs, the dark hair sliding under your fingertips as you claw desperately at it. “You’ll fucking cum when I tell you to cum and you’ll like it, you disrespectful, cock-deprived, bratty little—”

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally. The stars disappear.

The cockpit is suddenly shrouded in pitch blackness, and you’re almost certain it’s because you pass out, except then Dameron is all but ripping his hand out of your jumpsuit and cursing repeatedly in alarm. You crumple in on yourself, eyes clamped shut and not hearing anything, right at the peak of your ecstasy and ready to soar into the light completely unassisted, your muscles doing all the work on their own—

“—shit, they’re way too close—” you hear his voice shout, “—we have to turn the engines on—Gold-Ten, baby, turn the fucking eng—”

You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna fucking—

Your first name, roared out in startling, blinding panic.

You don’t often hear it. Just during roll calls mostly, but only if you’re flying with a different squadron and need a new temporary flight designation for the day. First names hurt. You can’t remember a time you’ve ever willingly told anybody yours.

Your head jerks up to look at his reflection but something else beyond the transparisteel takes immediate precedence. Your brain takes about two seconds to catch up before thundering terror slams through you and halts your previously inevitable orgasm in its fucking tracks. A runaway train about to launch off its tracks suddenly slamming directly into a megaton force-field of cold, hard fight or flight instincts.

A staggering fleet of First Order ships silently plunging out of hyperspace on all sides—your powered-down x-wing stationed right in the middle of the drop location.

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

#poe x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #SMUTTTT #reader insert #star wars #fanfic #the formatting on this one is downright horrendous but im so mad that i cant even fix it right now so thatll have to come later im sorry

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un-beel-ievable · 4 years ago

Text

Obey Me! Headcanons - The Demon Brothers react to a MC who owns a golden retriever 🐕

Author’s note: I'm home :3 Feel free to reblog, but please do not repost!! If you enjoy my writing, do leave me a like and/or a comment (and follow me to see similar content in the future :D)!

_____

Lucifer ☕

• When your dog first bounds over to greet Lucifer, it’s difficult to tell if the eldest born is a fan of your four-legged pal or not. The Avatar of Pride scrutinizes the ball of fluff as if he were a judge on a dog show —all the while as your dog vibrates impatiently by the front door with a tennis ball in its mouth. Perhaps it senses the need to be on its best behaviour if it’s to impress Lucifer.

• “A pet is a responsibility, not a novelty. I sincerely hope that you thought long and hard about the obligations of a pet owner before you went ahead with your decision to adopt. That being said, you appear to be doing quite well with your four-legged companion —they’re very well behaved. I have absolutely no qualms with you taking over Cerberus’s care when you return to the House of Lamentation; clearly you’d manage much more elegantly than my brothers. Perhaps Cerberus would enjoy the company of your charming pooch as well…”

• So Lucifer does like your dog. Not an entirely surprising revelation, if you’ve seen how he behaves around Cerberus in private. The strict no-nonsense archdemon turns into the softest dog owner that you’d ever have the pleasure of meeting; he’s all ear scritches and belly rubs. By the end of his visit, your dog is blissfully rolling on the carpet by Lucifer’s feet as the Avatar of Pride informs it over and over again that it is indeed “a good dog”.

• Perhaps you’ll even catch the small —but genuine— smile twitching at the corners of Lucifer’s lips as he does so.

Mammon 💳:

• In hindsight, perhaps giving Mammon a heads up about the presence of your pooch would have been a good idea.

• Despite your numerous attempts to reassure Mammon that the furry ball of enthusiasm barreling towards him is a Good Dog™, the terrified shriek that escapes the Avatar of Greed is shrill and ear-splitting enough to shatter your windows (Metaphorically speaking, of course. Rest assured, no windows were harmed in the writing of this headcanon.). When your dog leaps at him to nudge its head into his hand for scritches™ and headpats™, Mammon’s life flashes before his eyes. The only image that he can bring to mind before he passes out cold on your carpet is Cerberus’s terrifying snarl.

• When Mammon comes to, your dog is sitting on his chest —looking concerned and suitably chastised for accidentally scaring the living daylights out of the demon. (Even though Mammon refuses to come clean about how terrified he was. “The great Mammon? Afraid of a lil’ dog? W-What...What are ya talkin’ about? I wasn’t scared!”) The events that occurred over the last couple of minutes play on a loop in Mammon's mind. It finally dawns on him that your dog isn’t the ferocious beast that his imagination had conjured up, and his cheeks flush scarlet.

• Please give your demon a hug. I think he needs one. Or several.

Leviathan 🎮:

• If Leviathan had a pet ranking system, Henry 1.0 and Henry 2.0 would always claim the highest spots possible —the S-tiered, 5-star gods of the pet world. No golden retriever could ever worm its way to the top and snatch his love for them from under his feet. Sorry. But your dog is pretty cute, he’ll give you that.

• Too cute, maybe. Hey...um...you don’t love your dog more than you love him, right? What? Him, the Avatar of Envy, jealous? No! Of course not! Why would you make such an outrageous assumption? He’s not jealous —an adorable fluff ball of enthusiasm for the outdoors and joy is a way better than an icky otaku, after all. Leviathan doesn’t blame you for choosing your dog over him. Any sane individual would do the same...

• When you finally manage to reassure your demon that your dog is in no way competition for the affection that you hold for him, —he’ll always be your favourite demon, even if you have a dog. Even if you have a hundred dogs. Nothing is going to change that— he begins looking at your pooch in a different light. That’s right —as a potential cosplay partner. There’s this new anime that’s been released recently...Levi was wondering if you had heard of it? It’s titled: My Partner Is The Proud Owner Of A Golden Retriever And I’m An Otaku Who Enjoys The Simple Pleasure Of Collecting Merchandise and Cosplaying. One of the main characters happens to own a golden retriever as well, and if you’re willing to give him your blessing (the irony, I know), perhaps you’d lend him your pooch for an afternoon of cosplay and photography?

Satan 📚:

• Satan is a cultured demon who enjoys the company of four-legged companions, but he’s admittedly a fan of felines...not canines. Still, he prides himself on keeping an open mind towards new experiences, so he agrees to spend an afternoon with you and your dog (Even though he’d much rather be attending the opening day ceremony of the Devildom’s newest cat cafe. The things he does for love.).

• He performs some through research before meeting your dog for the first time; spending afternoon after afternoon in the sanctuary of his room reading about dogs and how to care for them. No number of books could prepare him for the real thing, however. When Satan first comes over to spend the afternoon in your home, he’s stiff and awkward —unsure of what to do with a dog. He ends up spending the first hour on your couch, sipping tea and spouting facts about golden retrievers.

• Show him the rope that your dog enjoys playing tug-of-war with, or the tennis ball that it insists on carrying in its jaws everywhere it goes. It takes a while for Satan to warm up to your pooch, but he’ll gradually learn to love —or at the very least, tolerate— your canine companion, even though he still firmly believes in the superiority of cats. Speaking of which, you’d accompany him on a date to that new cat cafe, right?

Asmodeus 💋:

• Oh! Your golden retriever is absolutely adorable! And gorgeous too —albeit not as beautiful as him, but that’s to be expected. There’s not a single individual in all of the three realms that could match up to his beauty. And your dog has such luscious fur too...dear Diavolo, he’d kill to have a haircare routine that’s as effective on his locks.

• Would you be willing to take a photo of him posing with your pooch? It’s for his Devilgram followers, of course —such beauty must be shared with the world, no? You’re not entirely sure if Asmo’s referring to his beauty, your dog’s beauty, or the shared, collective beauty of him and your dog. It doesn’t particularly matter. The two (three?) of you end up spending the entire afternoon orchestrating an impromptu photoshoot, and then spending the evening editing the photographs from said shoot for Devilgram.

• Generally gets along with your four-legged companion like a house on fire. There’s just one, itsy-bitsy issue.

• Your dog sheds. A ton. No matter how often you brush its fur, or how many boundaries you set about it not being allowed on the furniture, it seems determined to shed every carpet, sofa and bed that you own. Asmo never stops whining about the copious amounts of fur that now decorate every article of clothing he owns, but at least your dog seems happy to be able to leave its mark —on Asmo’s ensembles, of course, but also his heart.

Beelzebub 🍔:

• Corporate has asked you to find the difference between this picture and this picture—

• Asmo gets along well with your dog. Beel gets along with your dog even better. As one of the few only brothers who’s willing to spend any amount of time with Cerberus (granted, most of the time he’s only doing so because he’s been promised free food), Beel has grown into quite the dog lover. Your dog seems thrilled to be in the company of someone who appears to wholeheartedly enjoy its company —your dog is thrilled by the company of anyone who’s willing to give it their time of day, but still— and Beelzebub is thrilled to be in the company of a four-legged companion who appears to wholeheartedly enjoy his company. Beel is happy to spend whole afternoons playing with your dog...interspaced with the occasional snack break, of course.

• Speaking of which, Beel very much struggles with not giving into your golden retriever’s extremely convincing puppy dog eyes. Objectively, he knows that giving your dog human (or demon) food is a terrible idea —the last thing he wants is to be the reason that your dog has to take a trip to the vet. But your dog is so cute! And it’s looking at his food with such an intense longing in its eyes...Beel can relate to that. Surely a little nibble wouldn’t hurt…

• When you find yourself having to tell Beel off, suddenly you find yourself at the receiving end of 2 sets of puppy dog eyes; both Beel and your pupper are very sorry. They swear it’ll never happen again! Please don’t be upset…

• How are you supposed to stay mad at them?

Belphegor 🛏:

• ...listen.

• It’s not that he hates dogs. Honestly! He likes dogs as much as the next demon! But they can be loud and yappy and so incredibly energetic, and your golden retriever is more hyper than most. It always wants to go on walks, or play fetch, or make him throw its favourite tennis ball over and over again but refuse to hand it over so he has to engage in a slobbery game of tug-of-war to steal the ball from it —it’s just too much for the Avatar of Sloth. Just watching your dog zip across the room in a display of its endless amounts of energy is enough to tire Belphie out...is playtime over yet? He just wants to take a nap.

• Makes multiple attempts to talk you into allowing Beel to look after your dog. Just for an afternoon! His twin certainly has the energy to keep your hyperactive pup entertained for the whole day, and since you can be assured that your dog is well taken care of, perhaps the two of you could finally stay inside for once and take a nice, long nap. It’s been too long since he’s gotten to hold you in his arms…

• By the time Beel returns your dog to you, it’s all tuckered out from its day of adventures. As you’re thanking Beel for looking after your dog for the day, you catch him chuckling softly at something over your shoulder —Belphie and your furry friend, dozing off together on the couch. They appear to finally be getting along.

BONUS: I'm still not terribly comfortable with adding the (former) undatables to my writing repertoire, but my partner happens to be very fond of the demon butler...and I happen to be very fond of them. So just this once, just to see how it goes...

Barbatos 🍵:

• Oh? So this is the sweet bundle of fur that he’s heard so much about. It’s a pleasure to meet them at long last. Barbatos has always been fond of dogs, and your dog is quite an endearing creature to say the least...it actually reminds Barbatos of Cerberus when he was a puppy. How time flies.

• Treats your dog as if it were an esteemed guest of the castle. As long as Barbatos is around, you needn’t lift a finger when it comes to the care of your beloved pet. Keeping your dog fed and watered? Barbatos has it covered; the butler seems to have an in built in timer when it comes to feeding your dog —Barbatos serves its meals at exactly 6 in the morning and 6 in the evening. Not a minute early, not a minute late. When taking your dog out on walks, he carries a spare bottle of water for the sole purpose of offering it to your dog if it gets thirsty. Speaking of walks...Barbatos is more than happy to escort your pooch on walks in the event that you’re unavailable to do so yourself. Barbatos generally allows your golden to lead the way on their excursions, and is content with following along behind it to keep it out of trouble for however long it wishes to remain outdoors. If it were to tire itself out, Barbatos takes your dog into his arms and carries it the rest of the way home.

• Your pooch becomes very spoiled very quickly. It’s unclear if you’ve gained a butler...or if your dog has.

#obey me shall we date #obey me game #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date headcanons #headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos

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oddshelbyout · 4 years ago

Text

His Gift // John Shelby X Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s your birthday and you’re celebrating withe the Shelbys. Polly and Ada spoils John’s surpise gift for you.

Word Count: 2289

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s Note:

I’m sure you want to say “Enough Marianne, you only write for John.” but I just can’t hold myself back. Writing John fics are better than daydreaming about him, a fictional dead character.

If you’re looking for a friends to lovers fluff, this is it and I hope you enjoy it.

English is not my first language and I’m not always confident about my work amd don’t edit so please let me know if I make any mistakes or if there’s anything I can fix in my writing.

You can ask to be added to my taglist. You can be tagged to works on a specific character or just any of my works. Please dm me or send your wish to my ask box if you’d like to be added.

Requests are open. You can request any Peaky Blinders related prompts/plots for me write. I’m a minor so I don’t take NSFW requests, please keep that in mind.

———————

Birthdays in the Shelbys were never a big deal. Polly, Arthur and Thomas didn’t even know the exact day of their birth. There were never any celebrations. That fact was what made that day so important.

It was your 25th birthday. Birthdays weren’t a big deal in your family either but at least they were celebrated or they used to be.

Your mother had passed away a year ago and it would be your first birthday without any family members present. They were all already dead but it wasn’t a huge deal because the grief didn’t hold you captive for long.

John, your best friend couldn’t let you spend your birthday alone so he arranged a birthday dinner for you. All the Shelbys would be there, your family. You had known them your entire life and your relationship only grew stronger.

It would be at your own home but you knew the setting wouldn’t make much difference. Polly and Ada had come early to help you cook. You had a whole family to feed.

You were filled with joy. You knew celebrating birthdays was a foreign thing to the Shelbys. Knowing that made you feel extremely cared for.

“Is Tommy going to be here?” you asked while chopping some carrots. Thomas Shelby had been like an older brother for you. Even though you didn’t see him much these days, you still liked to believe you hadn’t lost your connection to him.

“I’m not sure.” Ada mumbled, “He’s been really busy.” you just nodded to her explanation. You wouldn’t take it personally if he hadn’t showed up.

“Maybe Michael will show up as his substitute.” you giggled. Ada giggled with you too. “Don’t make fun of my boy will you!” Polly said strongly. You knew she was just joking just like she knew you were.

“Alright Pol.” Ada said, she couldn’t stop giggling. Polly was tired of you giggling like children while cooking. “Please tell me you have enough drinks Y/N.” Polly said after turning her back to you and heading towards the table to pour herself some wine.

“Of course I do Pol.” you rolled your eyes since she couldn’t see you. “Don’t roll your eyes at me Miss.” Polly said. Ada couldn’t hold herself back from laughing.

“Nothing slips away from you does it?” Ada asked Polly while she sat down on the chair slowly. Polly had given up on cooking, left you and Ada to take care of it.

“So everyone will be here?” you asked once again, trying to be sure you’ll have everyone you love with you on that day. “Of course dear.” Polly let out, “You are our dearest Y/N.” Ada supported her aunt’s words.

It felt so good knowing the people around you genuinely loved you back. Them accepting you as a Shelby even though you were not in the family by blood or marriage was the best thing that happened to you.

They were all so special to you but the most special was John. He was your best friend, the one you shared all your secrets with. Except one special secret because it was about him only.

You liked him, fuck it, you loved him and not in a friendly way. You didn’t know if that counted as a secret because he couldn’t be dumb enough to not notice that.

“When do you think John will be here?” you asked, Polly sighed. You looked at Ada and then Polly, neither said anything. “You’re keeping something from me.” turned to Polly.

“No we’re not!” Ada opposed, you definitely didn’t buy it. “Spill ladies.” you said and raised your eyebrows. “Okay so…” Ada started talking but Polly interrupted, “Ada, you made a promise.” she said.

“Come on Polly, what’s going on?” you asked impatiently. Ada giggled, “He went to London to get you a real nice gift.” your jaw dropped.

“London? Why would he go such a long way for only a simple gift?” you weren’t that excited for his gift. You thought it was unnecessary.

“You’re special to him and we’re celebrating a birthday for once!” Polly said, you nodded. It still made you nervous.

“I didn’t ask for a gift, I didn’t expect a gift.” Ada and Polly didn’t understand why you got upset over a joyful thing.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Polly asked, it was almost like she read your mind. You moved away from the counter and sat on the chair next to Polly.

“Why is he going through the trouble of going to London for a gift? He hasn’t even noticed that I’m interested in him.” you said simply. Polly nodded.

“Oh Y/N, you have to tell him that you love him.” Ada responded. There was a meal to cook and all of you were now sitting around the table, talking about your interest in John.

“I don’t know if I should.” you mumbled. Polly held your hand, “Darling, it’s okay to be scared when you love someone.” you nodded. She was right.

“Who do you love Y/N?” you heard John say and your body filled with sudden panic. You didn’t even hear him come in.

“No one.” you said and Ada gave you a very disappointed look. “So nice of you to join us early John.” Polly said with a dull tone.

“Better be early than late.” he said looking directly at you. He was obviously so blind that he couldn’t see the way you looked at him.

He stood next to you, he supported himself with a one hand on the table. “Tell me Y/N, who is it that has your heart?” you nervously chuckled.

“You wouldn’t know him.” Polly and Ada’s confused eyes locked on you. They thought this would be the moment.

“I’m a Peaky Blinder, I know everyone in this damn city.” he said directly. Polly’s gaze turned to John. She saw something on his impression that you didn’t. It was jealousy.

“He’s not from here.” you lied, you knew that was a mistake. “Okay then, don’t tell me if you don’t want to.” John said and you got up.

You got back to the food with Ada and Polly kept enjoying her wine as she watched you cook. John sat on the chair you were previously sitting on.

“Will you tell me who it is?” John whispered to Polly, she just chuckled loud so you could hear. John was disappointed that nobody was willing to tell him. He was obviously jealous but it was a foreign feeling to him. He didn’t know what he felt was jealousy.

Soon the food was done, the table was ready and everyone was there. Even Tommy had come which made you the happiest. Michael’s arrival had surprised you and you were extremely happy to see Finn come as well.

After eating you went to the living room and settled on the couch. “I think I like this birthday celebration thing.” Arthur said and everyone just laughed, except Tommy. He still had a thing to say though.

“Would it be a celebration without gifts?” he said and you smiled big. “Wait, did we have to buy something?” Finn asked and Polly threw him a killer look.

“You didn’t have to.” you said humbly, you really didn’t want gifts. All that mattered to you was that the Shelbys bothered to celebrate your birthday with you.

Tommy took a little box out of his pocket. “This is from all of us.” he said, he handed it to you. You opened the small box. It had a little pin inside. The pin was shaped as a star, you smiled big.

“This is perfect.” you put the pin on your shirt and stood up to hug all of them. Even Tommy let you hug, he wasn’t a fan of hugs so it meant a lot that he let you do that.

“I’m so lucky to have all of you by my side.” you said, “Damn right you are.” Arthur couldn’t hold himself but say. You laughed, you hadn’t felt this much joy in a long time.

You hugged Michael the last, “Happy birthday.” he told you softly then you sat back at your place. The moment you sat down. You expected John to finally give you his gift.

You hoped he had a seperate gift for you. Tommy did say it was from all of them but if John went all the way to London to buy this, why didn’t he give it himself? You didn’t like that feeling of ambiguity

There was a weird long silence. Everyone looked uncomfortable and you hated that. “Why don’t we get more drinks.” Michael offered to cut the silence. Everyone nodded. You weren’t going to just shut up.

“John, don’t you have a seperate gift for me?” you asked and John’s jaw dropped. He looked horrified. Everyone else just sipped their drinks in silence.

“Why do you ask?” he said, he didn’t look confused. He looked more like he was trying to look confused. “Because you went to London to get me something.” you said it finally.

Ada and Polly seemed to regret that they had told you because they lit a cigarette at the same time when you said it.

“I can’t believe they told you!” John got angry at you and everyone else for no reason. It was obvious he was hiding something and you needed to know what.

“So it’s true.” you asked, he nodded without saying anything. “Where is the gift then?” you stood up in anger.

Your joy had disappeared, John had left you down. You didn’t even want a gift but the thought of him actually travelling to get you something had given you hope. It gave you hope about you and him.

“I think we should leave.” Tommy said, everyone looked at each other and nodded. “Please don’t.” you begged. John did nothing, didn’t even react.

Polly left her seat to come hug you. “Today’s been great dear but I think it’s better if you and John talk alone.” she told you. You got it now, it wasn’t because they wanted to leave. It was because they didn’t want John to leave. You were both getting heated and John tended to run away when he got overwhelmed.

“Okay, see you all later.” you said, everyone hugged you once again and wished you happy birthday. Then you and John were left alone.

He was still sitting the same way, hadn’t even moved a bit. He was looking at you with dull eyes. He looked sad. You didn’t want a great day, your birthday to end like this.

“John, where is the gift you got from London?” you sat down on your knees right before John’s feet. He sighed, his hands moved around his stubbly chin.

“I don’t think I should give it.” John said softly. His voice was low, his tone had so much pain. “Why?” you asked immediately, you had to know.

“Because it’s a fucking ring and you’re in love with someone else!” he yelled. You put your hand on his knee. You laughed loudly. You couldn’t stop laughing.

“You were going to propose to me?” you just thought he was joking. “Yes.” he simply answered, you kept laughing

“No dating phase, you were just going to ask your best friend to marry you.” you heard yourself say and it made you laugh even harder.

“Stop laughing! How is my heartbreak funny?” John’s voice cracked. You finally stopped laughing. “My Johnny Boy, how can you be so blind.” you said. John raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, blind enough to think you would say yes so I went to London and got you a custom made ring.” your eyes opened wide. “No you stupid shit! You're the guy I love, I was talking about you!” you jumped on your feet and yelled.

John took a deep breath, “What?” you laughed again. “John Shelby, I love you and no one else.” you confessed finally, “I only made up someone else because I didn’t know how to tell you.” you finally let it go.

“So you love me the way I love you.” he asked, you smiled and nodded. He stood up too, put his hand in his pocket and took out a box.

“No dating phase because I wanna wake up next to you every morning.” he said as he sat down on one knee. Your eyes teared up, you couldn’t believe your eyes and ears.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you give me the honour to be your husband?” John opened the box to reveal an emerald ring. You were mesmerized by the shine of the ring and also by his proposal.

“Yes, a million times yes!” you shouted, took the ring out yourself and put it on. John dropped the empty box on the floor and hugged you. He hugged you and you never wanted to let go.

“This is going so fast, it’s kind of scary.” you admitted while your head was resting on his shoulder. “Let’s speed it up a little more.” he said and pulled himself back a little. “Kiss me Y/N.” he said and you did what he said.

Your lips met his. They weren’t like how you imagined they would be. They weren’t chapped like they seemed, they were soft and smooth. They were warm, the warmth of his lips heated your whole body.

Your soul was leaving your body to join his. You never thought this would be how you ended up together. It was fast but you knew each other well and long enough to skip the dating.

All you both wished for was each other and nothing more. Your wish was finally true.

#john shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders imagine #john shelby x reader #john shelby x y/n #john shelby x you #john shelby fanfic #john shelby oneshot #john shelby imagine

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pianocat939 · 2 years ago

Note

I just read your yandere kiwi request and loved it so so much! Now...what about...may I request hcs for kiwi with a daredevil motorcyclists s/o? Like an s/o that does super dangerous biker stunts for a living to entertain people? Like stunts that would make even kiwi's jaw drop from how dangerous they are?

I'm so glad I've watched dangerous talent shows before otherwise I would have struggled to write this.

This isn't really a Yandere one since it's more of a general thing. It's just not something you can really put anything into.

Tw: Intense stunts(?)

Wheel Touching

• "Tonight on Xtreme Entertainment there's a cookie who got stunts that'll make you drop all your jellies! It's Y/n cookie! A world class stunt biker that cookies want to close their eyes at when they perform!"

• The announcer is seated on a chair, excitedly waving one hand in the air as they talk to the cameras.

• The audience behind him screams and cheers in joy, unable to wait for the act.

• "Looks like they're starting! Let's watch closely!"

• The scene had quite a few things; ramps, a car, a moving ring of fire, and finally steel containers of gas.

• Y/n cookie adjusted their helmet before hitting the jack to start their motorcycle.

• In an instant they bounce off of a ramp and fly over a moving car, gasps and cheers coming from the crowd from doing so.

• Next they do a few flips and one wheelers before moving on to the ring of fire that sways.

• "Oh I've seen lots of stunt bikers before, but this one makes me one to crumble!"

• Y/n Cookie increases the speed and manages to go through the ring of fire in perfect alignment.

• Finally they arrive at the last trick: A pyramid of steel bottles filled with gas. One miss and it'll cause an explosion.

• As the camera pans towards the frightened audience the stunt biker goes on ahead with no fear or hesitation.

• Using a small ramp they flip over the pyramid, successfully saving themselves from doom.

• "OH MY JELLIES! DID YOU GUYS JUST SEE THAT?! INCREDIBLE!"

• The cookies clap in awe, amazed by the life threatening stunt.

———————————————————

• You get out of the interview room and start to walk to your bike, tired and ready to go home.

• Upon arriving you see another bike next to yours, with a little bird sleeping on the seat.

• "Beautiful isn't it?" A voice calls out, you look to your side to see a green-haired cookie.

• "The bird? Oh yeah, it's cute."

• He laughs and shakes his head, "No no. The bike."

• Kiwi bird wakes up and flies over to its owner, happy to see its friend. Kiwi gets on his bike and starts the engine.

• "I saw your act today, impressed me to the point I couldn't believe it. You really got guts to do that last one."

• "Thank you! Took me a lot of believing to be able to do it."

• You also start your bike.

• "Catch you later Crazy Stunter!"

• He races off, leaving you confused but slightly flustered.

———————————————————

• The audience may be your fans but Kiwi cookie will be your biggest supporter. He'll make sure he goes to each event, holding the most obnoxious banner that says phrases like '1# lover of Y/n Cookie' or 'I love you Crazy Stunter'. (He changes it each time).

• Makes sure you get regular health checks and rest because as much as he loves your craziness he still worries sometimes.

• Dates? Eh. Going over the speed limit together? Hell yeah!

• Would totally get a custom shirt for Kiwi Bird to wear to show his undying love.

———————————————————

I really don't know what I wrote here lmao

- Celina

#cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #kiwi cookie

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dialovers-translations · 4 years ago

Text

Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Sleeping Vampire ー Sakamaki Ayato

Source: Diabolik Lovers Vandead Carnival

Seiyuu: Midorikawa Hikaru

Audio: Here

→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Ayato takes a seat on your bed.

*Thud*

"Che...Oi, wake up, Chichinashi. I don’t mind assaultin’ you in your sleep like usual. But I’m not really hungry, you know. I actually came all the way to your room to have you keep me company, so whatcha sleepin’ for, huh? Geez. Wake up already! (1) It’d be hella dull if you’re just snoozin’ away, right? Come on, look this way!

*Rustle*

“What? You really think you can pretend to be asleep and trick me with that crappy act of yours? Hehe...Well, I don’t mind playin’ along though? You’re basically givin’ me a free pass to do anythin’ I want, right? Hmー... Touchin’ you somewhere you wouldn’t want me to sounds fun...but to your current self, anythin’ I do is basically a reward. You’ve gotten totally used to it...You’re the scary one of us two. You feign ignorance, but you can’t fight back ‘gainst my fangs. If anything...They make you totally happy. ...For real, that’s what makes you fascinatin’, hehe.

Speaking of which, I feel like I haven’t seen you twist your face in fear very much as of late. Even the face you make when in pain...always changes right away? You end up looking at me with a longing expression...Well, that’s not bad either though? Hehe. I won’t let you deny it, you know? ‘Bout the expressions you make to entice men. ...It’s a conscious decision you make, isn’t you?”

You remain quiet.

“Che...You’re really persistin’ ‘bout pretendin’ to be asleep, huh? Fine by me? In that case, I’ll do as I please too. Your expression yearnin’ for pleasure isn’t the only face I wanna see you make after all. Seeing you shake all over like a fool from fear, or even hearing you cry out like an idiot from the pain and sufferin’ would work too. Also...Those eyes full of despair, not even capable of sheddin’ tears are quite the treat as well. ...Aah, makes me wanna see them again for the first time in a while. Say...You don’t mind, do you?

You still give no reaction.

“...Che. Oi, Chichinashi! This is the part where you jump up and make a fool out of yourself by gettin’ mad, no!? The fuck’s up with that reaction? It’s annoyin’! At this rate, I’m actually gonna do it, you know? My fangs only ever make you happy...so I’ll do somethin’ different. ...Hehe. Seems like you think that you’ve been through hell and back already. But that was only the very beginning. I’m more than capable of givin’ you a taste of pain you’ve never experienced before, don’t forget that? I’ll test whether you can...endure it or not.”

You flinch.

“Haha...You’ve got your brows furrowed, you know? (2) Even if you tense up your body, it’ll still hurt...and you’d still suffer...right? Better not regret it? Nn...”

*Smooch*

*Rustle rustle*

You open your eyes.

“Pfft...That face! What are you looking so surprised ‘bout? Haha...Nn...”

*Smooch*

*Rustle rustle*

“You’ve finally woken up, huh?”

*Thud*

“Oi! Don’t be pushin’ me away from the moment you open your eyes! Hehe...Aren’t your cheeks a lil’ flushed?”

You ask him what this is about

“You wanna know what I’m doin’? ...Kissin’ you, duh. I don’t know what you were thinkin’ I’d do...but you like this sorta stuff, don’t you? You had this really dreamy look in your eyes after I kissed you, you know? Well, I’m the one kissin’ you. I guess that’s a given.

You try and explain your reaction.

Even so...Don’t be resistin’ when I’m kissin’ me. Ahー Did you think I’d do somethin’ a little more intense? Say...What were you imaginin’ while layin’ there with your eyes closed?”

You refuse to say.

“I’m askin’ you a question so answer me. You thought I’d do something a little more extreme, didn’t you?”

You avert your gaze.

“Hehe...Oi, what’s your answer? You can shake your head and pretend to be innocent all you want, but I already know what kinda girl you are deep down. You were imaginin’ what horrible things I’d do to you, weren’t you?”

You bite your bottom lip.

“Say...Just a few smooches doesn’t satisfy you, does it?”

You puff out your cheeks.

“Haha...Ahー Geez, shut up. Don’t get your panties in a knot. You’re the one who kept quiet this whole time, and now you’re this wide awake. You’re a hundred years too early to try and defy me.”

You ask him to stop.

“...’Stop’? Hmph. You think you have the right to say that? I’m hurt. I mean, you tried to deceive me just now, didn’t you? Why were you pretendin’ to be asleep?”

You explain.

“Hah? You were actually sleepin’? Are you stupid? No way I’d listen to your excuses!”

*Rustle rustle*

“...Where do you think you’re goin’? Don’t move without my permission.”

You try and blame Ayato for sneaking into your room.

“Haah? I attack you during your sleep all the time though? Why complain about it now?”

You tell him you want to sleep now.

“Fool. You really think I care if you’re tired or not? Why are you so tired anyway? ...Che, were you doin’ somethin’ behind my back? Don’t tell me...You haven’t been bitten by one of the other dudes, right? You know what will happen if you let someone else suck your bloo...Wait, that’s not the case?”

You try and explain yourself.

“You were studyin’ the whole time...Up until this late at night? Well, that’s not my problem tho...”

You point out that Ayato has gotten the same assignment.

“It does? ...Homework? Math problems? ...No idea. I don’t even know which problems you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

You tell him there will be a test as well.

“A test for English class? No clue either. ...Why, you ask? ...I was asleep durin’ class so how do you expect me to remember?”

You sigh.

“Wouldn’t anyone grow sleepy whem havin’ to listen to some teacher recitin’ formulas or English phrases like it’s some sort of spell?”

You tell him it’s important to write that stuff down.

“Haah? Why would I take notes? I don’t need that crap, and even if I do, I can just steal yours.”

You complain.

“Fuck off! Don’t talk all high and mighty for a Chichinashi! You keep on tellin’ me not to snooze during class but who gives a damn? Listenin’ to those borin’ lectures like you do isn’t my cup of tea.”

You tell him he’ll be in trouble for the exams next week.

“...Aah? We’ve got tests next week as well? First thing I hear ‘bout that.”

You scold him.

“...Aah!? Shut up! Who cares ‘bout that trivial crap!?”

You warn Ayato about having to repeat his year.

“...Heeh? You’re worried ‘bout me havin’ to repeat my year, huh? Aah, right. I guess you don’t want us to get separated.”

You shake your head.

“Aah? You wouldn’t like that, no?”

You shrug.

“For example...You’ll no longer be able to beg for my fangs whenever you’re craving them, you know?”

You get flustered again.

“Haha...What? Sometimes you’re the one who asks for it, remember? Being all like ‘I want to be pierced by Ayato-kun’s fangs so badly, I don’t know what to do with myself!’ Even if you don’t voice it out loud, it’s written all over your face, you know?”

You try and deny it.

“Haha...That’s what it looks like to me so can you blame me? For example...Right. You were spacin’ out during last period yesterday, weren’t you?”

You tell him that’s not true.

“Nah, I remember? Your jaw was all slacked (3), I was actually wonderin’ whether you’d start droolin’ or not. ...You were thinkin’ of me, weren’t you?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t lie! Then why did you have that dreamy look in your eyes!? You’ve been tellin’ me off for sleepin’ during class, so there’s no way you’d admit you were sleepy yourself and yawned, right? So, what was the deal, huh?”

You don’t reply.

“...Hehe. Since you’re stayin’ quiet, you’re basically admittin’ it, huh? What were you daydreamin’ ‘bout during class? Come on, tell me. ...Specifyin’ which part of me you were thinkin’ ‘bout is fine as well, you know?”

You tell him to stop since he already saw right through you.

“Shut up! I don’t care if I’m right or not! Answer me...Is it my fangs you like? Or perhaps...”

*Rustle rustle*

*Sluuuurp*

“Nn...This tongue? Haha...You like gettin’ licked, don’t you?”

You flinch.

“Say, does bein’ licked really feel that good? ...Hehe. Ahー I guess it depends on where I lick you? Well, I know all of your sensitive spots tho. You prefer bein’ licked over bein’ carrassed, no? How is it?”

You look away.

“If you don’t give me an answer soon, I’ll only keep on addin’ questions? It’d be in your best interest to stop blushin’ and just honestly tell me, you know?”

You respond.

“...Haha. You should have just genuinely admitted you like it right away. Well, it’s something I already knew though. That you just love me oh-so much.”

You tell Ayato it’s embarrassing to hear him confess his love like that.

“Hehe...You’re the one who confessed, no? You like bein’ licked by my tongue, don’t you?”

You whimper softly.

“...Haha. You’ve totally gotten a taste of it.”

You blink in confusion.

“Of what, you ask? The taste of joy from bein’ toyed ‘round with like this?”

You deny it.

“Hah...? Oi, what didya say just now?”

You repeat it.

“Heeh, you really think you can tell me you hate me and get away with it?”

You retaliate.

“That’s exactly the part of me you dislike? ...What a cruel woman you are. I’m doin’ this to please you tho?”

You frown.

“What? Got a problem with that?”

You reply.

“Heeh...You’ve sure got guts. But you won’t get away talkin’ back to me like that. If you wanna know what I’ll do...For starters, I’ll kick you out from underneath these soft, comfortable covers...How ‘bout payin’ a visit to the torture chamber for the first time in a while? Hehe...I won’t let you say you’ve forgotten ‘bout that place.”

Your eyes widen.

“Hehe...Seems like imaginin’ it gave you a good wake-up call.”

You tell him it’s bed time.

“Shut up. Do you really need to sleep? I’m invitin’ you along to keep me company. You should feel honored?”

You remind Ayato that you have school tomorrow.

“Aah? You really think I’d give a damn ‘bout classes tomorrow? If you get sleepy, you can just snooze there, or you could always skip school as well. ...Hah? Whatcha mean, you’d leave me behind and go to classes? You really think I’d let you? Fool! For one, why are you so damn fussy ‘bout goin’ to class? I take my eyes off you for one second and you’ve run off to some other classroom...Just the other day, you didn’t come back until 3rd period!”

You explain.

“...Off-campus activities? You were participatin’ in that shit? ...What I did in the meantime...? Nothin’, really. When I woke up, the classroom was empty, so I decided to kill time by sleepin’ some more but you just wouldn’t come back...So when I wandered ‘round the hallway for a bit, I messed up and let Reiji find me. I panciked and made a run for it, endin’ up in the broadcastin’ room. Mr. Sleepyhead was snoozin’ soundly there, so I decided to drop one of the vases in the room on the floor. Yet he wouldn’t wake up at all! That dude definitely has some screws loose!”

You tell him off.

“Aah? Who cares ‘bout a stupid vase or two. I was honestly goin’ to throw it at him, but it was heavy so I scratched that idea.”

You tell him that would have hurt Shuu.

“The fuck...? Don’t be worryin’ ‘bout some other guy!”

You ask if he’s upset because you were worried about Shuu.

“Of course. What else could I mean? Geez...I was runnin’ ‘round lookin’ for you ‘cause you had disappeared, remember?”

You explain.

“Fuck off! Whether it’s goin’ to another classroom (4) or havin’ to go change for P.E., you just wander off on your own too often! You really expect me to remember our time table? ...Hmph! You can just drag me along to the next classroom, can’t you? ...It’s dull ‘cause you keep on disappearin’ on me without a word of warning.”

You sigh.

“Hmph. I’m definitely not lettin’ you sleep until it gets dark outside...We’re skippin’ school today.”

You protest.

“Heeh...Then let’s see if you can lull me to sleep instead. Hehe. Give it a try if you dare. However, I slept through most classes except for gym today, so it’s not gonna be easy?”

You ask for a hint.

“A hint? How am I supposed to think of somethin’ when I’m the one who can’t sleep? On top of that, you have to do the work, right? ...Hehe. Altho I feel like I’d only feel even more awake if you were to sing me a lullaby or somethin’. What else...I guess you could read me a book too. Hmー Actually, there’s this book I’ve been curious ‘bout, so read it to me.”

You ask for the title.

“The title? What was it again? ...I don’t remember, but the contents seemed really excitin’. It was somethin’ ‘bout what happens beyond the stuff they teach you in health class (5)...Which means it has a bunch of good stuff written in there, right? I’m sure it teaches you ‘bout the things left out by the textbooks, don’t you think? Hehe, aren’t you curious too? I’m pretty sure I saw it layin’ ‘round in Laito’s room...”

You seem skeptical.

“Hehe...Exactly. I saw it lined up in that freak’s room. Seeing as he kept it on the very back of the shelf, I’m pretty sure the contents are pretty extreme...? Say, doesn’t that pique your interest?”

You tell him it is an anatomy book.

“Ahー A book on the human body? Then, it’d talk ‘bout the different mechanisms of the body too, righ?”

You explain.

“Hah? It has anatomy drawings in it? The different parts of the ‘capillary vessels’...And now in English? (5) Don’t think you can deceive me like that! ...Whatever. I’ll find out once I go fetch it.”

You frown.

“I’m looking forward to it, you know? Especially...the erotic scenes and such? I don’t mind if you teach me directly with your body either? Aah, by the way, you can’t just read it with a monotone voice, okay? Make sure to put some emotion in there. ...While imaginin’ it, okay? If there’s a part you don’t get, I’ll teach you. For example...Like this, perhaps?”

*Rustle rustle*

“Haha...What’s with that...Pfft...lame reaction?”

You get mad.

“Ahー I know! Stop complainin’ and get to business.”

You frown.

“Whatever, just listen to what I say. You want me to fall asleep, don’t you? Then you’ll have to do somethin’ ‘bout that. And who knows, your book-reading might actually do the trick.”

You nod.

“Haha, if you understand...then hurry up and go get the book.”

You open your mouth to protest.

“I’m not listenin’ to what you have to say. Come on, get movin’. Ahー... But, I guess I can’t let you go to that pervert’s room at this hour.”

Ayato moves away

*Rustle*

“I’ll go get it instead so wait here, ‘kay? I’ll choose a really intense one. Once I’ve got my hands on the book, I’ll have you read it out loud no matter what, okay? Hehe.

You tug him back into the bed by his sleeve.

*Rustle*

"That hurt! Che...Grabbin’ me so aggressively, when the fuck did you get that strong?”

You apologize.

“Hehe...Well, this isn’t a big deal. More importantly...What do you want from me to grab me that desperately? You don’t want me to go get the book? But aren’t you the one who said you wanted to put me to bed? Or maybe...Ahー I see. ...Since you’re this frantic, I guess you really don’t want me to leave your bed, huh? If you admit you don’t want us to be apart for even one second, I don’t mind listenin’ to your request? So...Beg me not to leave.”

You whisper.

“...Can’t hear you. Well then, guess I’ll go fetch that pervert’s book...”

You grab hold of his hand.

*Rustle*

“Haha...Didn’t think I’d see you cling onto me like that.”

You try and explain yourself.

“What part am I wrong about? You don’t want me to leave, right? I won’t let you say it’s just ‘cause you don’t wanna read the book. Hehe...Be honest with yourself already. You don’t want to be separated from me, do you?”

You nod.

“Heehー Fine, fine. If you want me to stay close that badly, I’ll embrace you...like this.”

*Rustle rustle*

“...Your heart’s beatin’ way too fast. Are you that happy? Also...Nn...You smell sweet. I wonder why you smell this sweet...?”

You ask if he’ll suck your blood.

“Not really...I’m not gonna suck your blood today.”

You seem puzzled.

“...Since you seem to want it so badly, I won’t.”

You giggle.

“Don’t laugh. Instead...”

*Rustle rustle*

“Mmh...”

*Smooch*

“Hah...Haha, that expression...I can’t get enough of it. What do you mean? ...Exactly like I said. I mean you’re incredibly cute.”

You protest.

“What’s the problem? I feel that way so just honestly accept it.”

You note that Ayato is acting off.

“It’s out-of-character for me...? I don’t go ‘round sayin’ this to just ‘bout anyone, you know? ...Hehe. It’s written all over your face that you’re actually barely containin’ your joy. Well, I guess that’s to be expected since I made an exception to praise you like that. Come on...Cling onto me tighter. Nn...”

*Smooch*

“You should take some initiative as well. While kissin’...I’ll let you do as you please.”

You kiss him.

*Smooch*

“...Pfft. You suck. Press them properly against each other. That wasn’t nearly enough. More...Nn...”

*Smooch*

“Hehe...It’s already night out, huh?”

You seem worried about school.

“...Well, I don’t mind lettin’ you sleep soon. ...If you were to fall asleep now, you’d still be in the land of dreams by the time the limousine leaves after all.”

You shake your head.

“What? You’re gonna go to school without gettin’ any sleep? Che...Don’t be actin’ like such a miss goody-two shoes. Hold up...Oi. Your eyes are already startin’ to look drowsy...Well, fallin’ asleep while kissin’ doesn’t sound half bad either, does it?”

He kisses you again.

“Nn...”

*Smooch*

“Hehe...Dozin’ off while entangled like this might be nice too. The possessive side inside of me will feel satisfied seeing your melted expression, and at some point, I’ll just nod off without realizin’...I thought that was normal but this might be another way to go ‘bout it as well. I’ll kiss you, so just go sleep already...Nn.”

*Smooch*

You try your best to stay awake.

“Just forget ‘bout school. You’d just fall asleep during the test if you were to go, don’t you think? Stop strugglin’ in vain already. Instead of...goin’ to that stupid school, you should just stay with me the whole time...I’m tellin’ you you can sleep in my arms.”

You blush.

“That way, you won’t suddenly disappear on me the second I take my eyes off you. You’re always talkin’ ‘bout havin’ to collect hand-outs or cleanin’ the classroom (7), right? There’s no need for you to do that shit though. You should only ever work for my sake. For one, I don’t like it when you get up from your seat...Actually, why do we have individual seats at school anyway? They should just use sofas instead.”

*Rustle*

“That’d be perfect to keep you locked in my embrace like this...don’t you think? I definitely won’t let you go. ...Hehe, just give up. You can no longer run. Fall asleep already. ...Goodnight.”

You close your eyes.

“...What? You actually fell asleep? ...Pfft. What a silly face. You’ve got your mouth wide open, you know? This kind of expression of yours...It’s not that interesting, but not bad either. Nn...”

*Smooch*

“I didn’t think I’d feel this way...just from connectin’ our lips. Say...How ‘bout you? Che, she’s sound asleep...Guess she won’t wake up anymore now that it’s this late. Hehe...I won’t allow you to dream ‘bout some other guy, okay? Only ever...look at me...”

Ayato closes his eyes as well.

Once you wake up tomorrow morning...You better tell me...what you dreamt about...”

He dozes off.

“Nn...Yui...I love you...Nn...”

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) 目をさます or ‘me o samasu’ literally means ‘to open one’s eyes’, but in English the verb ‘to wake up’ is actually a little more accurate.

(2) Literally he points out that there are ‘wrinkles’ in between her eyebrows.

(3) しまりのない or ‘shimari no nai’ is always tricky for me to translate because it means ‘loose’, ‘lax’ or ‘slack’. I can’t help but feel like it sounds awkward in English though.

(4) At Japanese high schools, the students generally stay in the same classroom while the teachers swap. However, for certain classes such as art, music and science, they may have to move to another classroom which has the right equipment. These are called ‘移動教室’ or ‘idou-kyoushitsu’ which means ‘moving classroom’, literally.

(5) Sex education is also a part of 保健体育 or ‘hoken-taiku’ which is ‘health class’, so I’m sure Ayato is talking about some sort of erotic novel.

(6) Literally he asks her what language she is speaking, implying he has no idea what she is talking about.

(7) Students at Japanese middle & high schools usually help out with several tasks such as cleaning the classroom after classes are over, or collecting print-outs and carrying them to the staff room. Even in the games, there’s a bunch of scenarios where Yui is asked to do that sort of stuff.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ayato sakamaki #vandead carnival #diabolik lovers translation #sleeping vampire

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pippytmi · 5 years ago

Note

ceo!au + enemies to lovers + is that the best you can do. Please thank you

“You have a real mean way about you.”

Click. Click. Click. The lighter refuses to do its job; Lena finally just places the unlit cigarette between her lips and inwardly bemoans her luck. What are the odds—a pissed off Kara Danvers, a lighter that won’t light, and to top it all off, the faint bass from inside sounds suspiciously like the electronic music she’d told the DJ not to play.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” Lena says dryly. “How did you get past security?”

Kara comes up beside her; Lena tracks her in the corner of her eye. “Your security isn’t very good,” she replies simply.

“Figures.” Lena turns, then, and leans as lightly as she can against the metal railing. “Your manners aren’t very good either. No hello?”

“We don’t say hello to each other.” Kara looks more disheveled than Lena has ever seen her. Tie undone, white shirt wrinkled where it tucks into her pants, bun of hair unkempt. For a moment she says nothing more; Lena watches as she rests her elbows against the railing, shoulders taut with tension. “I’m tired,” she declares suddenly. “Of fighting with you.”

Lena sighs, rolls her cigarette between her thumb and forefinger and wishes it were lit. “That's all we do,” she says. “We fight each other. You cause trouble for me, I cause trouble for you…”

“You stole my merger with Edge.” Kara’s voice is quiet, but as bitter as expected. She asks no questions, makes no probing inquiry, just states the fact hollowly.

“I did you a favor,” Lena says flippantly. “He would have severely underpaid you.”

“So you decided to—what, exactly? Make sure he paid you more?” Now there is anger sharpening at the edges of Kara’s words, but not a dangerous kind of anger. It is a muted kind, one more self-directed.

A weariness makes itself known in Lena’s chest, heavy and confusing. “Yes,” she says. She has no qualms of stealing mergers from anyone, but somehow this time…this time, she feels a bit of pity. “He was making a fool out of you, Kara. I stepped in, blackmailed him a little, and then he doubled his offer. That's how business works. You wouldn't know it because you're too naive, but—”

“Oh, I’m naive?” Kara laughs, but unkindly. Her expression is pinched; she makes a move to run her fingers through her hair, but it’s still somewhat upright, so she settles for clenching her hand into a fist. “Forgive me for trying to be a good person and not a cutthroat bitch.”

“There is no place for good people in our line of work.” Lena has long since mastered an impressive poker face, and she tries her best to remain impassive when she adds, “I suggest you get used to it. And while you're at it, you can make your way out of my house.” That seems to spark some kind of guilt—Kara slumps against the railing with a low, empty sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Kara apologizes lowly. “I didn’t mean that. I don’t think you’re a bitch at all.”

“I’ve heard worse.” Lena, in order to not see the look on Kara’s face, tries the lighter again. This time a flame emerges, flickering in the wind, thin and shaking. But it lights her cigarette all the same. “Do you smoke?” Only then does her gaze lift, and she sees Kara watching, now straightened to her full height.

“No.” Kara places her hands in her pockets, shifts sideways slightly. She is taller than Lena, and Lena inwardly berates herself for not wearing heels tonight. “Why?”

“Well I was going to offer you a cigarette, but I guess I won’t.” Lena takes a slow drag, feels her body warm with it. Smoking is a habit she can't seem to quit, and it's her one vice she's actually ashamed about. “Unless you want one anyway.”

Kara shakes her head. “No, I’d probably choke,” she declines. “It wouldn’t be very attractive.” The wind picks up; a few tendrils of hair that have escaped from her bun brush over her forehead, and she makes no move to tuck them away. “Knowing you, you would use that as blackmail for me next.”

Lena inhales smoke and sighs. “I already have enough blackmail material on you, Kara Danvers,” she says. This, too, is a fact.

“You do? Like what?”

“Like…I know you took over your cousin's company because of a kidnapping scandal involving your nephew.” Lena takes immense pleasure in the way Kara's eyes darken dangerously; she has always suspected there was some steel under that goody-goody exterior. “Clark Kent must have paid a pretty penny to the press to keep his little boy out of the papers.”

“That has nothing to do with me,” Kara says sharply.

Lena shrugs. “It's not bad blackmail material,” she points out. “Everyone loves a good sacrifice story. It would make you look heroic if it came to light.”

“It would put Clark and his family in danger.” Kara’s face twists into the harshest kind of disgust—the kind Lena expects.

“Then you better hope I never have a reason to use it against you,” Lena says airily, stubbing her cigarette out; even smoking can’t bring her joy right now. Something about the way Kara stares at her—disappointedly—makes her skin crawl.

Kara takes a step towards Lena. They’ve gravitated close already, but this is deliberate. Her eyes, blue and sharp, are locked entirely on Lena’s. “Right,” she says. “Is that the best you can do? Threaten my family?”

Lena tilts her head up to meet her gaze head-on. “That’s just the surface of the knowledge I have on you,” she warns, and she leans in now, tugging at the undone knot of Kara’s tie. Kara comes when she is pulled, though she swallows hard enough that it’s audible.

“What else?” Kara asks. She breathes in tune with Lena now, their faces mere inches from each other.

“I also know…” Lena has more details about Kara Danvers. She does. But right now there’s one glaring fact right in front of her—one that is all too delicious to pass up. “I know that you want to kiss me right now.”

Kara stiffens; Lena feels it in the resistance of her tie. She jerks away a beat later, cheeks red and jaw clenched, to put some distance between them. “That’s,” she breathes out. “That is—” She can’t seem to be able to string her words together. “There you go again, with the mean streak. It’s not nice.”

“I thought we established I’m not nice,” Lena reminds her, an odd pang settles in the bottom of her stomach. “At least, not to anyone who poses a threat to Luthor Corp.”

“I’m not a threat to you or your company.”

“It’s not personal, Kara,” Lena says, and wishes she hadn’t put out her cigarette. “I have appearances to keep. You understand—it’s politics, all of it. Business politics.”

“So you hate me because I’m your competition?” Kara frowns. “Just like that?”

“I don’t hate you.” And as she confesses it, Lena realizes that it’s true. That maybe—maybe for once—she is also tired of fighting. “Even though I would like to, I don’t.”

“You want to hate me?” Something in Kara’s voice is raw, hopeful, and it hurts to hear. “Why?”

“I’m Lena Luthor. I’m supposed to be selfish and self-centered, remember? That’s the image everyone wants.” Fuck it; Lena reaches for her lighter again. But before she can, Kara’s hand covers hers.

“For the record,” Kara says, “I don’t hate you either.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Lena quips, casting an uncomfortable glance towards the balcony doors. Inside the party rages on, and no one is witnessing this show of weakness, but it doesn’t feel right. Lena feels exposed; there is no coming back from this,

Kara smiles and it’s faint, but a smile nonetheless. And for all her shortcomings—the messy state of her evening wear, the stubborn shade of blue of her eyes—Lena has to suck in a breath when Kara leans in. Her hand rests on Lena’s cheek, her skin frozen and her touch overwhelmingly gentle.

“You were right,” Kara says quietly. “I did want to kiss you tonight.” Her thumb traces a slow, steady path down Lena’s jaw, and Lena feels her heart hiccup. Then Kara surprises her—she leans in enough to brush a kiss to Lena’s cheek softly, cold breath exhaling against her skin. “You can add that to your blackmail list, too,” she says, stepping away, and when she places her hands in her pockets this time it’s with a sense of finality.

Lena almost lets her leave. But her heart thumps loudly in her ears and clouds her judgement entirely; she pulls Kara back, says “Wait—” and not much else, because then Kara is kissing her properly. Or maybe she is kissing Kara, winding her arms around Kara’s neck and squeezing her close because she fears the moment she will have to let go.

Kara is the first to break away. For a moment all she does is gaze down at Lena, bewildered, and says nothing. Then: “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to react.”

Lena bites her lip. “You could exploit this,” she says, “and use it as blackmail against me.”

“Right…or?”

“Or,” and Lena smooths out the collar of Kara’s shirt, which seems to be stained with some kind of liquor. “You could kiss me again.”

“Well, blackmail does sound fun.” And then Kara is smiling, soft and ridiculously wide, and Lena knows everything has changed.

#thank you anon!!#supercorp #i need a fic tag #anonymous #psa: i do not have the range for enemies to lovers im sorry #but i will make a valiant effort #and yes that is a threat

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teknicianwrites · 3 years ago

Note

Welcome to DADWC! How about "I’m tired…I’ll nap. Destroy the universe later" for Sera and Inky?

Thanks for the prompt! Here is some Sera/Adaar, with a small side of Adoribull. Had a lot of fun writing team Chaotic Gay. A little fluff, a little h/c.

@dadrunkwriting

Akeelah rolled out from beneath the falling dragon, the leather of her coat nearly catching in the monster's claws as it crashed into the ground. Hot blood sprayed across her vitaar as she let out a wild cry of triumph.

"That's what I'm fucking talking about!" Bull crowed, whooping out a deep laugh that Akeelah joined with a victorious shout to the sky. Bull bounded to her side and grabbed her shoulder. "Boss. Boss. That was incredible. Tell me we're going to do it again. You feel it too, right? It was amazing."

"That was- it- that-" she tried, utterly incapable of finding words in Common or Qunlat to express the absolute feral joy pumping through her veins.

"That was the hottest friggin' thing I've ever seen!" Sera leapt on her back, nearly making Akeelah overbalance as legs wrapped around her waist and hands gripped her shoulders. Bull steadied her with a knowing grin before stepping back to give them space. Sera gave a light tug at her horns, and Akeelah ignored the pulse of pain from the bruises she'd earned when she'd been too slow with a fade step. "Get that shit off your face so I can kiss you," Sera murmured in her ear.

"Yes, ma'am." Akeelah let Sera pull her head back, shivering at the command and the hungry look in Sera's eyes. She righted herself to search through the pack at her hip and pulled out a clean rag she soaked from her canteen.

Cleaning the poison from her face took an eternity as Sera whispered suggestions of all the things she wanted to do once they were alone at camp. Akeelah whined when Sera proposed sending the others back ahead of them and not waiting for a tent, and firmly reminded herself that Sera would not appreciate surprise hallucinations if she wasn't thorough and kissed her with deathroot on her lips.

"Savages, the lot of you," Dorian called as he picked his way carefully out of the treeline, regarding their display with amusement. Sera broke her litany of lurid fantasies to stick her tongue out at him, and Akeelah used the reprieve to dry her face with a clean cloth, satisfied when it came away with no lingering traces of vitaar.

Bull grinned and strode to Dorian, tugging him by the belt and resting a hand on his ass. "You love it."

"Hm, hardly," Dorian sniffed. Akeelah smiled when he rolled his eyes fondly as Bull pulled him closer. "Ah, no, Sera is quite right. Paint comes off before you get your mouth near me," he tutted, a firm hand to Bull's pauldron. Bull moved in a playful threat like he might try anyway, and chuckled as Dorian slipped free from his grasp.

It made Akeelah feel warm, watching them. She still wanted to beat Halward's face in for the shame he'd instilled in his son. It had taken long months before Dorian had stopped tensing anytime Bull expressed his affection publicly, and though Dorian was still cautious in unfamiliar company, it was gratifying that he felt comfortable around her.

Sera broke her train of thought when she swung around to Akeelah's front and pulled her in for a desperate kiss. Akeelah moaned into her mouth, tasting the bittersweet hint of elfroot that lingered on her lips. Sera gripped her horns for purchase and Akeelah winced.

She broke from the kiss, giving Sera a reassuring smile at her confusion. Normally Akeelah enjoyed Sera's fascination with her horns, which Sera had quickly learned to take advantage of. She tilted her head to the side so Sera could see the bruising above her ear and gently repositioned Sera's hands to her neck.

"You're getting quite skilled with that sword, dear Herald," Dorian said conversationally. Sera made a grumpy sound against her jaw when she turned to him to grimace at the title. He smiled winningly at the reaction to his teasing. Any other man might have looked awkward, standing in a clearing watching two women tangle together shamelessly while waiting for his own lover to finish washing up, but Dorian stood regal as ever. "Soon you'll be giving our Madame de Fer a run for her money."

Sera looked up from where she'd moved to Akeelah's throat. "Oh, piss on Vivvy," she sneered. "Coryphenus better be shaking in his knickers, Buckles can take the whole friggin' world."

Akeelah's vision swam as Sera's animated gestures moved too fast for her eyes to follow. She blinked, trying to focus, and gripped Sera tighter to keep her from falling as she completely let go of her neck to make rude gestures at an imaginary Vivienne.

"Aiming too low there, Sera," a deep voice said from behind her. Akeelah jumped, heart racing at finding a Qunari at her side… but it was Bull. Of course it was Bull. She knew Bull. Bull was her friend. Bull was safe. "With us at her side, I think she can take the universe."

"And destroy it as she does so, with you two at her back," Dorian quipped, twirling his staff lazily. It made Akeelah's stomach turn as it spun, sparking with idle lightning.

Akeelah didn't understand whatever Sera said back. It was too loud, right in her ear. She tried to step back, but Sera came with her. That's right. Sera was wrapped around her. Can't step away. Gotta put her down.

She glanced around for a spot free of dragon blood, and the sunlight glinting off the creature's scales hit her like daggers through her eyes. She snapped them shut and tried to breathe.

Everything was so bright. Everything was so loud. Everything was too much. It all made her dizzy. It was exhausting. She was exhausted.

"I’m tired," she whispered, trying to remember what they were talking about. "I'll nap. Destroy the universe later."

Hands suddenly gripped her coat tight. "Buckles? Hey, woah, Buckles!"

She whined at the voice and opened her eyes. Things looked different. Sera was taller than her. How had that happened?

Oh. Because she was kneeling. She remembered wanting to sit down. She wondered if she'd done it on purpose.

"Boss, you ok?" Bull crouched next to Sera in front of her, his good eye looking at her in concern.

Akeelah tensed at the Ben Hassrath being so close. She felt behind for her staff, panic mounting when she couldn't find it. How did she end up unarmed this close to him?

"M'fine," she lied, fighting back dizziness, unwilling to show weakness to a Qunari.

No. Not Qunari. Not Ben Hassrath. Tal Vashoth. Bull was Tal Vashoth. Why did she keep forgetting? She was fine. She was safe. "Sleepy," she slurred, lowering herself gracelessly into the grass.

"No, no, no, none of that." Warm hands were on her face and she whined when fingertips pulled her eyelids open. Dorian gazed intently into her eyes. "Well, hopefully the universe doesn't hit as hard as a dragon's tail. I do believe our Inquisitor has a concussion."

"Well, fix it!" Sera shouted. Why was she shouting? Shouting made her stomach turn. Akeelah tried to shush her and was ignored. "Wave your magic fingers or whatever and get rid of the concoction!"

Dorian snorted and cupped her cheeks. Warm hands got warmer, and she sighed contentedly at the feeling of his magic against her scalp.

Sera dropped to her knees and stared intently at Akeelah's face, ears twitching as Dorian's fingers prodded gently along her skull. She looked scared. Akeelah didn't want her to be scared.

"You make the best concoctions," Akeelah told her, brushing uneven golden hair from her eyes. "I like it when you throw bees."

Sera's face softened and she caught Akeelah's hand to press a kiss into her palm. "Hey, you're cute like this and all, but you're freaking me out," she said into her skin. "Come on, Dorian, do something!"

"Sera, this thing I'm doing right now?" he asked through gritted teeth. "This is me doing something. I am 'waving my magic fingers' as we speak. Head trauma is not my specialty."

Sera looked ready to yell at him. Akeelah pressed her hand more firmly on Sera's mouth to stop her. "Shhh. Head hurts. Quiet is nice."

Sera bit her lip and resumed her silent vigil, gripping her hand tight. Bull squeezed her shoulder. "It's ok, Sera. Concussions aren't that bad. I've had dozens."

"That explains so much about you," Dorian muttered as his fingers prodded near her left horn. Akeelah winced and he focused his magic there.

Something eased in her head, relieving a pounding tightness she hadn't fully processed until it was eased back. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

Gradually the pain faded to slight pressure. Nausea and dizziness receded, and when she opened her eyes the light no longer felt like an enemy combatant. She let out a breath of relief.

"Ok, I've done what I can," Dorian announced after a last sweep around her head. He stood, brushing leaves and dirt from his knees. "Varric's friend should still be at Skyhold, yes? We'll have him take a look at her when we get back, but I think she'll be fine."

"What do you mean, you think?" Sera demanded as Bull helped Akeelah to her feet.

"I'm a necromancer, not a spirit healer," Dorian explained impatiently. "I'll be of more use after she's dead."

Sera whirled on him, murder in her eyes, and Bull stepped between them.

"She's not going to die, Sera," he placated. "He's being facetious."

Sera halted her advance as her face scrunched in confusion. "There's fish?"

Bull chuckled, and Akeelah was gratified the deep rumble didn't set her ears ringing. "He thinks he's cute."

"Well, it's not! Her maybe dying isn't friggin' cute!" Sera glared at Dorian, who raised his arms in apology or surrender. Akeelah gently pulled her back against her chest.

"You're cute," she told her, kissing her hair. "The cutest. Prettiest woman I know."

Tension melted out of Sera as she leaned into her. "... you're not too bad yourself," she said, turning to wrap Akeelah's waist in a fierce hug. "Don't you die on me, yeah? I'll be real mad if you die on me," she mumbled into her shirt.

Akeelah smiled and bent to give her a proper kiss. "Ok. I won't. I promise. Still got the universe to fight, remember?"

Sera giggled and pulled back, quickly wiping at her eyes. "I'll hold you to that."

"I would advise not holding her horns until Hawke looks at her," Dorian called over. "She still has a head wound. Don't undo all my hard work in a fit of passion."

Akeelah grinned when color rose to Dorian's cheeks as Bull whispered something in his ear. She would put all her money on it being filthy and related to his own affinity for horns, judging by the flustered way Dorian smoothed out his tunic.

She smiled down at Sera and was surprised to see she looked stricken. "What's wrong?"

"I made you worse," Sera told the ground. "You were fine and then I just started grabbing your horns after you got hit in the head and then you fell-"

"Hey, no." Akeelah tilted her chin up and Sera met her gaze reluctantly. "I thought I was fine too. Now we know. No horns after a dragon to the face."

Sera huffed, the corner of her mouth quirking. Akeelah kissed her twitching lips until they stopped fighting to frown. She caressed her cheeks, and Sera grabbed her coat, and Dorian cleared his throat.

"I do hate to interrupt a good time, but I'm not comfortable leaving you behind until you've seen a proper healer, so unless you have a thing for exhibitionism…"

"Spoilsport," Bull laughed. "I wanted to see how long it took them to remember we're here."

Sera made a face. "Pfft, fine. Let's head back to camp," she said grumpily. Akeelah took her hand and Sera squeezed it as they started walking.

Bull put an arm over Dorian's shoulders and pulled him in; Dorian sighed and allowed it. "Come on, the sooner we get back, the sooner we can celebrate. And we've all got a lot of celebrating to do."

#Teknicianfic #dadwc #Adaar/sera #If the prompt doesn't call for whump you can always add your own #Thank you for the prompt!#I love this team

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lu-undy · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 105 - SBT

Here it is!

"Mundy? Mundy, wake up, mon amour, Mundy?"

Lucien was patting Mundy's shoulder repeatedly.

"Uh? Huh…? W-what's wrong?" Mundy opened one eye and frowned.

"It's Perle, I can't find her, please, help me, I-I don't know what to do…!"

Mundy opened his other eye in a flash and blinked repeatedly. Both him and Lucien got out of bed.

"Have you looked everywhere in the house?"

"Oui, I-I cannot find her or Soot… I am terrified, Mundy…!" Lucien's breath was short and fast.

"Alright, let's look together, switch the lights on everywhere. You go and take downstairs, I stay here upstairs, now go…"

Lucien obeyed without a second thought and hurtled down the stairs. In a few seconds, all the house was lit up and as Mundy looked at the alarm clock in their room, he realised it was a few minutes past three in the morning.

"Pearl? Pearl, baby? Sooty boy?" He looked in the room, the cupboards, the bathroom, the cat's room…

"Perle? Perle, ma chérie? Mon bébé? Soot? Où êtes-vous tous les deux?"

[Perle? Perle, my darling? My baby? Soot? Where are you, the both of you?]

Mundy came downstairs to help his lover and found Lucien running from one room to the next. All the cupboards in the kitchen were open and the living-room looked as if it had just been burgled.

"Babies? Where are you…?"

"I cannot find them anywhere, Mundy? Did they leave? Did they just go? But why? And where to?"

Mundy took his lover by the hand and pulled him closer to hug him and comfort him.

"Pearl can't have gone far, she's big and slow…" He frowned to think when-

"Meow!"

Both Lucien and Mundy's head swooshed to the direction the meow had come from. It was a windowsill. The window was open and Soot slithered inside.

"Soot!" Lucien leapt at the cat. "Where is Perle? Is she alright?"

The black cat slithered away and upstairs.

"Soot! Soot, wait!"

Both men rushed after the cat who darted to the bedroom. He bit into one of Lucien's shirts and ran back downstairs, slithering like a shadow.

"Soot!"

Both men ran back downstairs and caught a glimpse of the cat leaping outside, through the open window.

"Let's go, Lu'!"

Mundy unlocked the door and both him and Lucien ran in the dead of night, barefoot in the street and hand in hand. Lucien was in his pyjamas while Mundy was still in a tank top and pair of boxer shorts.

They didn't have to run for long as Soot slipped under the van with the shirt that he had stolen. Lucien and Mundy went on all four and looked underneath the van.

"It's dark as all hell… Wait…"

Mundy ran back home and came back with the van's keys. He unlocked the back door and slipped in. Not a second later, he emerged and lit a flashlight.

"Oh, bugger, baby!"

"Perle!"

Perle was restless under the van, walking in circles in a slow and heavy gait. When she saw Papa and Dad, she pushed herself out of her hiding and meowed long and painful.

"We're here, baby… Lu', it's happenin', oh shit, she's lickin' herself now… Let me carry her to the van." Mundy gently carried her inside. "Quick, Lu', get some towels from the cupboard, now lay them down, perfect, here we go…"

Mundy went to his knees and lowered Perle on the towels that Lucien had placed on the floor.

"Oh, mon Dieu…" Lucien was restless too and on his knees, he was shaking from teeth to toes, "W-what can I do? Perle? Perle, dis-moi, mon bébé…"

[Perle? Perle, tell me, my baby…]

Soot gently put the shirt next to Perle who was laying down and licking her nether regions repeatedly.

"Alright, Lu', listen here, there isn't much we can do. When the babies get born, don't touch them before she does, ok? It'll be messy but she needs to clean them herself, alright?"

Lucien was still shaking, and his teeth were chattering. Mundy switched the light on in the van and closed the door. He came back to sit on the floor, next to Lucien, and pulled him into a comforting hug.

"Why is she licking herself there? Is she hurt? Do we need to take her to the veterinarian? Sh-should we drive her there?"

"No, sshhh… Lu'..." Mundy gently rocked his lover left and right. "Stop worryin', it's not helping her to feel so much tension in you."

"Will she be fine?" Lucien started biting his nails.

"Yeah, have you not been readin' that book of yours?"

"Oui, I have but… I-I don't feel so ready now." Lucien shamefully admitted.

"It's alright, it doesn't matter." Mundy gently brushed Lucien's hair. "Want me to talk you through it?"

"Oui, please." Lucien clawed on his lover's sides and leaned his head on his shoulder, but his eyes never left Perle.

"See how she's lickin' herself?"

"Oui."

"She isn't hurt, she's feelin' it coming. Any second now she - oh, here she is, her water broke. That's why I had you get the towels."

"Can Soot or us help her in any way?"

"Nah. See how even he's keeping his distance?"

"Oui."

"Then we should do the same. Just be here for her, encourage her, but don't disturb anythin'."

"Why did he take one of my shirts?"

Mundy smiled.

"Because that's what brings them comfort, the smell of you. While you were supposedly dead, they slept every night with your jacket and your perfume on it…" He kissed Lucien's head and continued to gently rock him left and right, to comfort him. "And look now, can you see through the fluff there…?"

"Where?" Lucien pulled his neck to see better while keeping his distance with Perle.

"Look there." Mundy pointed.

"Is that…?"

"Yeah, it's the first baby."

"Oh, mon Dieu!" Lucien escaped his lover's arms and looked at Perle, addressing her directly. "Mon bébé, tu peux le faire, allez ma chérie, un petit effort, on peut voir le petit, vas-y ma petite…"

[My baby, you can do it, go on, my darling, a bit more effort, we can see the little one, go on, my baby…]

Mundy put a hand on Lucien's back and brushed him gently.

"Mundy, are you sure I cannot touch her? I would like to hold her hand."

"I'm sure, love, leave her alone."

"Fine…"

"Look, here, baby." Mundy pulled his lover back in his arms and pointed at the first kitten.

"Oh! It's white! It's white like his mother!" Lucien excitedly announced.

"Yeah, but look at the paws…"

Lucien squinted.

"Grand Dieu! It's white with black paws!" Lucien turned to Mundy and hugged him.

"Yeah, and the first one is out now. Great job Pearl, breathe and go for number two, yeah?"

"Mundy, listen…!"

The kitten squeaked.

"Is it hurt? Is it alright?" Lucien asked, worried.

"No, luv', it's normal. Babies squeal and mewl to attract mummy's attention. But see how its eyes are closed?"

Lucien leaned closer.

"Ah, oui, you are right… Is that normal?"

"Yeah, their eyes and ears stay shut for a few days."

"They cannot hear or see anything for days?" Lucien asked.

"Yeah."

"Poor them…"

"And they're very bad at regulatin' their body temperature, that's why they pile up in a mass of fluff, or they stay stuck to their Mum."

It lasted hours of Lucien going through a roller-coaster of emotions. He would explode in joy whenever a kitten made it entirely out and would worry to the bone through the entire process, when the kitten is half in and half out.

"This is it! Four of them!" Lucien chimed, trying again to escape his lover's arms, but Mundy held him back, seeing how much the Frenchman wanted to touch either mother or newborns.

"Yeah, so we got a white one with black paws, a white one with a bit of off-white-ish, a completely black one and a white one with a black tip of the tail."

"They look so… defenseless…! Mon amour… Can we do anything for them or not yet?"

"Not yet, see how Pearl is still bathing them?"

"Oui."

"That means they're not ready for us yet. But y'know what?"

"Hm?"

"Come with me, we'll go and get some water and food for Pearl and Soot."

"May I say something to her first?"

"O'course. D'you want me to leave you alone with her?"

"Non, please." Lucien tightened his hand on Mundy's. He turned to Perle. "Ma chérie, je suis fière de toi. Papa et Dad sont très fiers de toi. Donne-nous une petite minute, on revient tout de suite. Soot, s'il te plaît, veille sur elle."

[My darling, I am proud of you. Papa and Dad are very proud of you. Give us a little minute, we will be back in a second. Soot, please, take care of her.]

Both men exited the van and went back home. Mundy headed straight for the kitchen and Lucien let go of his hand, parting ways in the corridor. He didn't think much of it, he assumed Lucien needed to use the bathroom.

When Mundy finished preparing some food and water for the cats, Lucien appeared at the door.

"Let us go back, shall we?"

"What are you doin' with all that?"

"It's pillows and a blanket. You don't think I will sleep here while Perle is there all alone?" Lucien answered. "Come on, she is waiting…!"

Mundy smiled and followed his lover. A minute later, they were back in the van and Perle had stopped bathing her little ones.

"Here, Pearl, some food and water. Y'need to drink plenty with all that water you lost, eh?"

"Meow…"

"Why does she sound so sad?" Lucien sat on the floor next to her.

"She isn't sad, baby, she's tired."

"Oh, that I can understand. May I touch her now?"

"Let's see if she's ok with that…" Mundy approached his hand to Perle slowly. She smelt his fingers and leaned her head to them. "Yeah, she seems alright, luv'. Just try and not tire her more, eh?"

"Oh, non, of course not." Lucien approached his fingers to her, and Perle looked up at him.

"Meow?"

"Oui, mon bébé?"

[Yes, my baby.]

Perle purred when Lucien scratched her head and her jaw. The Frenchman showered her in words of praise and affection while Mundy switched on the small electric heater before sitting next to them.

"So, Lu'..."

"Oui?"

"We need names for the babies."

"Oh, oui, we do."

"Any ideas?"

"Do we even know if they are male or female?" Lucien asked.

"Let me check… Pearl, is that ok if I have a look, baby?" Perle laid her head in Lucien's hand and closed her eyes for a moment. "Right, so let's start with the white one with black paws… It's a boy."

"He looks like Glovy but with inverted colours." Lucien said.

"Then why not Glovy?"

"Again?" Lucien asked.

"Yeah, but like uh… Glovy the Second?"

"The long dynasty of the Glovies, hm?" Lucien asked with a smile.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Fine, he is now Glovy the Second. Check the next one."

"This white one with slightly off-white patches is a girl."

"Oh, a lady… By the way, isn't it strange that the patches she has are not black?"

"Nah, Pearl and Soot could've had plain ginger cats."

"Really?"

"Yeah, so it's not too surprisin' and no, don't look at her like that, it doesn't mean she did her business with another cat."

"She certainly did not." Lucien answered. "We heard her when they… uhm… conceived those babies."

"Exactly. But yeah, what name shall we go for this one?"

"Any ideas?" Lucien asked.

"Toasty?"

"Really?" Lucien asked, unconvinced.

"She looks like Perle but a bit more uh… cooked? Right, maybe it isn't the best name…"

"What is white and you can toast like that?" Lucien wondered out loud.

"Marshmallow?" Mundy answered and both men locked eyes. "Sounds nice, yeah?"

Lucien smiled and nodded, leaning on Mundy's side. The Aussie wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close.

"Next one, this black one here… He's a boy."

"Look they are starting to dry off. This one is drying fast, he looks quite fuzzy."

"Yeah, he's a lil' ball of black fuzz."

"I know what we will call him." The Frenchman raised his head to his lover and smirked.

"Alright, what then?"

Lucien raised his index finger and tapped the tip of Mundy's nose.

"Bushcat."

"What?!"

"Look at how he squeals, and looks for comfort in his mother. He is exactly like you, only he is a cat. The Bushman, in cat form."

"Bushcat?"

"Bushcat." Lucien confirmed.

"Right then." Mundy kissed his lover's brow. "So we've got Glovy, Marshmallow and Bushkitty. Now, for this last one… It's a she, she's white with a black tip of her tail."

"She looks like she dipped the tip of her tail in ink." Lucien said.

"Inky, then?"

"Oui, Inky."

"So we got Glovy the second, Marshmallow, Bushcat and Inky, right?"

"Oui, I think so." Lucien took Mundy's arm and held on to it like he would a teddy bear. The Aussie smiled and kissed Lucien's hair, on his brow.

"So, we're sleepin' here?" Mundy asked.

"I will but I don't want to force you if you would rather sleep at home."

"What nonsense are you blabberin' about, baby doll…?" Mundy chuckled. "You think I'll leave you alone to sleep in my own van with the rest of the family while I sleep alone in the house? Pfff, c'mon…"

They exchanged a chuckle and a quick peck.

"I'll prepare the bed, you keep an eye on the babies, yeah?"

"Mundy…?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Staying with me here, with us."

"You almost sound like I wouldn't." Mundy said with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Non, I just want to make sure that you don't feel compelled to."

"Of course not." Mundy answered. "Wanna sleep in the bed or on the floor next to her?"

"We can?"

"Well, I'll have to spoon ya, we don't have much space, but if you feel better that way, yeah, sure. Let's put some blankets on the floor first… There… Put the pillows, yeah? Great, now we can lie down, c'mere, you old baby."

Lucien snuggled against Mundy and the Aussie threw a blanket over both of them before lacing an arm around Lucien and pulling him close.

"Thank God for the blanket…" The Aussie said, burying his nose in Lucien's hair. He started closing his eyes.

"Are you feeling cold?"

Mundy gently nodded.

"Oh, viens ici…"

[Oh, come here…]

Lucien rolled to face his lover and pulled him such that Mundy's head was against his chest. The long locks of Lucien's hair softly fell on Mundy's head and face, bringing him an additional source of warmth. The Aussie buried his head there and wrapped his arms around Lucien, pulling him impossibly closer. The Frenchman hooked a leg over his back.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah, I just… I'm happy to be with you for this."

Lucien heard the muffled sounds of kisses on his chest and smiled.

"So am I, mon loup."

"Lu'?"

"Oui?"

"Remember the first time we slept here?"

"Of course, it was the night I confessed my feelings for you." Lucien gently scratched Mundy's head as he hugged it.

"Yeah… It was… It was somethin'. I mean, did you really cling to the ladder at the back when I left you?"

"And did you really leave me in the middle of nowhere to be eaten by the coyotes?" Lucien answered.

"Y'know, right before you joined me in bed and gave me a good scare, I was actually regrettin' it."

"Ah, I feel better." Lucien answered with irony.

"No, seriously, Lu'. I was thinkin' that I'd gone too far and I shouldn't have left you."

"Hm."

"But then I felt somethin' on the bed, I turned and boom. There you were." Lucien smiled, still gently massaging Mundy's scalp. "You were there and I just… Gosh, and you knew I loved you!"

"Oui."

"And you loved me too?"

"Oui."

"Had you been lovin' me for long or…?"

"Quite a while, oui."

"And you knew I loved you but you didn't do anythin'?"

"Non, I didn't."

"You're more shy than I thought." Mundy said.

"Non, I wasn't being timid, I was being realistic. I was convinced that you deserved to be happy, and I would have given a lot to see you feel whole with me, but I was on a job that would surely end up in my death, and of course, I did not want to involve you in that."

"Yeah, I understand… Still, I'm glad we ended up together anyway."

"I did give away a year of my life again, to pay that price." Lucien said. "And I am not getting younger, not at all."

"Neither am I. But if I had to make the choice that you did, basically if I had to choose between losing you for one year but gettin' you in the end, and losin' you forever? Yeah, I'd have chosen the same. I want to live with you, do stuff with you, see stuff with you… I don't know, I just… I feel like things make sense with you, and I can be myself. I don't need to change myself for you to like me or not find me weird."

"Of course not. Playing a role you can do for short periods of time. But pretending to be someone else for a long period of time will affect you, badly so."

"Is that the ex-Spook talkin'?"

"Oui, it is."

"Right." Mundy looked up and Lucien met his eyes. "Professor Ski."

Lucien chuckled and laced his legs between Mundy's.

"It's been a long time since I heard this name."

"And it turned out to be quite good, you are teachin' in the end, yeah?"

"Oui, it is true, although what I teach has nothing to do with skiing."

"Well, can't be that good at predictin' the future. It's like the weather forecast." Mundy chuckled.

"So, if you can see in the future, what do you see for us?" Lucien asked.

Both had their eyes closed and their limbs intertwined with one another.

"That you and I are gonna fall asleep very soon, Lu'."

"Even I could have made that prediction."

"You didn't ask for somethin' that you couldn't predict."

"And what if I do?" Lucien asked.

"Well then, I guess I gotta tell you what I'm gonna do now."

"Pray tell."

"C'mere… I'm gonna hold you close… Like this… And I'm gonna kiss your forehead… Mh, like this, and I'm gonna wish you a good night, baby doll."

"Good night to you too, mon loup."

They both closed their eyes and the squeals of the kittens dissolved in the air as they too fell asleep.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

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swearwolf-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Today Is a Gift - A Monwinn Oneshot

In which Winnie Schott, with his wife, Ayla, and boyfriend, Mon-El, has to deal with the aftermath of New Years Eve

[CROSSPOSTED ON AO3]

----------

The Schott-Ranzz household was a mess.

Their New Year's Eve party had gone well - too well. Mon-El, Winn and Ayla looked wearily at the rubbish scattered here and there, wondering how they were ever going to get everything cleared up.

"I wash, you clean and Mon-El can put Mary to bed?" Winn suggested, looking to his partners.

"Sounds like a plan." Ayla smiled, quickly getting to work. "The faster we get this done, the faster we to get to sleep."

"Which means," Mon-El began, lifting Mary into the air as she giggled loudly, "we gotta put you to bed-"

He was quickly cut off by a loud screech from the small child who promptly jumped away and hid at the mention of her bed. "You have to catch me first!" She ran away laughing, giggling in delight every time Mon-El almost caught her.

"He's really good with her." Ayla smiles, nudging her husband with her arm.

"Yeah" Winn nodded in agreement, watching his boyfriend and daughter play tag, "and she really likes him."

"Why doesn't he take her out for a day? You know, to properly get to know her." At that, Winn sighed and chewed his lower lip.

"He thinks he's overstepping - like, he doesn't want anyone to think he's trying to take your place. I don't know...." Ayla raised her eyebrows at him while putting a few plates in the sink.

"It's the 31st century Winn - poly parents isn't exactly a foreign concept. I think it's something else-" She abruptly cut herself off, mumbling something about the drinks getting her. "Never mind, it's nothing."

"Hey, come on; what's up?" He looked at her with worried eyes.

"I think he's scared of being alone with Mary."

"What d'you mean? He loves Mary."

"But he's only ever here if we are too. I think he worries that she might get hurt or something." Their eyes follow the childish pair running around their lounge as they share a knowing smile.

"I'll talk to him."

"3. 2. 1. Happy new year!" The trio stood outside their house, watching the clocks like everyone else on the street and cheering when the time came. Just as the clocks stuck midnight, Ayla and Mon-El pressed a kiss to each of Winn's cheeks, making them turn a very bright red very quickly. He blushed and grinned brightly, kissing both his partners in return. "I love you guys." He whispered, hugging them both tight.

"We love you too." Mon-El replied, kissing the top of his head as Ayla smiled into his shoulder.

"You see at this point I would say something clever and sexy and mention celebrating but I'm tired as hell so you two have fun - I'm going to bed." Ayla smiled and kissed the pair on cheek, heading off to her room.

"So." Winn began.

"So." Mon-El replied, his hands finding his way to his lover's waist making Winn swat his hands away.

"Serious business first, sexy time later." He smiled, taking one of his hands and leading him to Mon-El's bedroom.

"So what did you wanna talk about?" Mon-El asked curiously, settling himself on his bed as Winn sat beside him.

"Mary."

"Oh I think I know her. Short, cute, has very awesome parents?"

"That's the one." Winn chuckled as his antics. "Ayla and I were wondering if you guys wanted to go on a trip together."

"Like just us-?"

"Yup."

"Nope."

"Okay - can I ask why not?"

"What if she gets hurt on my watch? What if I lose her? I'm not her parent - I don't know what to do in those situations."

"I get that you're scared, believe me, I do. The first time I saw her, I just could not stop crying. I kept thinking, 'I helped make that. That screaming bundle of joy is my little girl.' And then I realised how terrified I was because I was still eating cereal for dinner in my late 20s and I somehow had to raise a child." He let out a slow breath. "Part of me thought, 'Hey if you're always with someone then there'll always be someone who can help if something goes wrong' and then I realised that there's not always going to be someone there to help. That's why superheroes exist - to help when no one else can. When Mary was two, she got excited as she tried to eat all her food at once. She had too much in her mouth and no matter how much I tried she wouldn't let me take it out and then she started choking and at this point I was practically having a heart attack and I kept looking around for Ayla because I didn't know what to do. And then I remembered how to do the Heimlich manoeuvre on babies and she spat it up and threw up all over the table but the point is: I've been where you are and you really don't need to worry because we trust you and so does she. You're our superhero."

Mon-El looked up with teary eyes and a small smile. "Really?"

"Really - she even refers to you as her half-dad." At this Mon-El looked bewildered and incredibly happy, a wide smile spreading across his face. "She said you look after her, you love her and you're dating her dad and therefore you're her half-dad." Mon-El pulled him into a tight hug and buried his face in his neck, breathing in his scent.

"I love you - I never knew what the future was going to bring but I never thought it was going to be family like this. I always thought I was destined to be like my parents-"

"The past is history, the future's a mystery but today is a gift - that's why it's called the present." Winn cut him off. "You are nothing like your parents and I just know your future - our future - is going to be amazing."

"Is that just faith or time-travel?" Mon-El joked, pulling him on to his lap.

"Little bit of both," Winn grinned, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, "it pays to be a time-travelling superhero." Mon-El laughed and pulled his lover down for a deep kiss, Winn breaking away after a minute and kissing along his jaw.

"Was that the serious business then?"

"Mmhmm." Winn mumbled against his throat, lightly sucking marks on to the pale skin.

"Does that make this sexy time then-?" Mon-El cut himself off by biting his lip hard, groaning loudly as Winn rolled his hips against his. "I'll take that as a yes."

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unsettlingshortstories · 4 years ago

Text

Harlequin Valentine

Neil Gaiman (1999)

It is February the Fourteenth, at that hour of the morning when all the children have been taken to school, and the husbands have driven themselves to work, or have been dropped, steambreathing and greatcoated, at the rail station at the edge of the town for the Great Commute, when I pin my heart to Missy’s front door.

The heart is a deep dark red that is almost a brown, the colour of liver. Then I knock on the door, sharply, rat-a-tat-tat!

And I grasp my wand, my stick, my oh-so-thrustable and beribonned lance, and I vanish like cooling steam into the chilly air…

Missy opens the door. She looks tired.

“My Columbine,” I breathe, but she hears not a word. She turns her head, so she takes in the view from one side of the street to the other, but nothing moves.

A truck rumbles in the distance.

She walks back into the kitchen and I dance, silent as a breeze, as a mouse, as a dream, into the kitchen beside her.

Missy takes a plastic sandwich bag from a paper box in the kitchen drawer. She takes a bottle of cleaning spray from under the sink.

She pulls off two sections of kitchen towel from the roll on the kitchen counter. The she walks back to the front door.

She pulls the pin from the painted wood – it was my hat pin, which I had stumbled across… where? I turn the matter over in my head; in Gascony, perhaps? Or Twickenham? Or Prague?

The face on the end of the hat pin is that of a pale Pierrot. She removes the pin from the heart, and puts the heart into the plastic sandwich bag.

She wipes the blood from the door with a squirt of cleaning spray and a rub of paper towel, and she inserts the pin into her lapel, where the little white-faced August face stares out at the cold world with his blind silver eyes and his grave silver lips.

Naples. Now it comes back to me.

I purchased the hat pin in Naples, from an old woman with one eye. She smoked a clay pipe.

This was a long time ago.

Missy puts the cleaning utensils down on the kitchen table, then she thrusts her arms through the sleeves of her old blue coat – which was once her mother’s – then she places the sandwich bag with the heart in it determinedly into her pocket, does up the buttons - one, two, three – and sets off down the street.

Secret, secret, quiet as a mouse I follow her, sometimes creeping, sometimes dancing, and she never sees me, not for a moment, just pulls her blue coat more tightly around her, and she walks through the town, and down the old road that leads past the cemetery.

The wind tugs at my hat, and I regret, for a moment, the loss of my hat pin. But I am in love, and this is Valentine’s Day. Sacrifices must be made.

Missy is remembering in her head the other times she has walked into the cemetery, through the tall iron cemetery gates: when her father died; and when they came here as kids at All Hallows’, the whole school mob and caboodle of them, partying and searing each other; and when a secret lover was killed in a three-car pile-up on the interstate, and she walked until the end of the funeral, when the day was all over and done with, and she came in the evening, just before sunset, and laid a white lily on the fresh grave.

Oh, Missy, shall I sing the body and the blood of you, the lips and the eyes? A thousand hearts I would give you as your valentine.

Proudly I wave my staff in the air and dance, singing silently into the gloriousness of me, as we skip together down Cemetery road.

A low grey building, and Missy pushes open the door.

She says Hi and How’s it going to the girl at the desk, who makes no intelligible reply, fresh out of school, and filling in a crossword from a periodical filled with nothing but crosswords page after page of them…

The girl would be making private phone calls on company time if only she had somebody to call, which she doesn’t, and, I see, plain as elephants, she never will. Her face is a mass of blotchy acne pustules and acne scars and she thinks it matters, and talks to nobody.

I see her life spread out before me: She will die, unmarried, and unmolested, of breast cancer in fifteen years’ time, and will be planted under a stone with her name on it in the meadow by Cemetery Road, and the first hands to have touched her breasts will have been those of the pathologist as he cuts out the cauliflower-like stinking growth and mutters, “Jesus, look at the size of this thing. Why didn’t she tell anyone?” which rather misses the point.

Gently, I kiss her on her spotty cheek, and whisper to her that she is beautiful. Then I tap her once, twice, thrice, on the head with my staff, and wrap her with a ribbon.

She stirs and smiles.

Perhaps tonight she will get drunk and dance and offer up her virginity upon Hymen’s altar, meet a young man who cares more for her breasts than for her face, and will one day, stroking those breasts and sucking and rubbing them, say, “Honey, you seen anybody about that lump?” and by then her spots will be long gone, rubbed and kissed and frottaged into oblivion.

But now I have mislaid Missy…

The stench is unbearable, heavy and rancid and wreathed on the air. The fat man in the stained lab coat wears disposable rubber gloves. A dead man is on the table in front of him.

The fat man has not noticed Missy yet. He has made an incision, and now he peels back the skin with a wet, sucking sound, and how dark the brown of it is on the outside, and how pink, pretty the pink of it is on the inside.

Classical music plays from a portable radio, very loudly. Missy turns the radio off. “Hello,Vernon.”

“Hello, Missy. You come for your old job back?”

This is The Doctor, I decide, for he is too big, too round, too magnificently well-fed to be Pierrot, too unselfconscious to be Pantaloon.

His face creases with delight to see Missy, and she smiles to see him, and I am jealous; I feel a stab of pain shoot through my heart (currently in a plastic sandwich bag in Missy’s coat pocket), sharper than when I stabbed it with my hat pin and stuck it to her door.

And speaking of my own heart…

Missy holds out the plastic bag, “Do you know what this is?”

Vernon peers at it closely. “Heart,” he replied. “Kidneys don’t have the ventricles, and brains are bigger and squishier. Where’d you get it?”

“I was hoping that you could tell me. Doesn’t it come from here? Is it your idea of a valentine’s card, Vernon? A human heart stuck to my front door?”

“Don’t come from here. You want I should call the police?”

Missy shook her head. “I guess not. With my luck, they’ll decide I’m a serial killer and send me to the chair.”

Vernon: “Let’s see… adult, in pretty good shape, took care of his heart, cut out by an expert.”

I smile proudly at this, and bend down to talk to the dead black man on the table, with his chest all open and his calloused string-bass-plucking fingers.

“Go ‘way, Harlequin,” he mutters, quietly, not to offend Missy and his doctor. “Don’t you go causing trouble here.”

“Hush yourself. I will cause trouble wherever I wish,” I tell him. “It is my function. But, for a moment, I feel a void about me; I am wistful, almost Pierrotish , which is a poor thing for a harlequin to be.

Oh, Missy, I saw you yesterday in the street, and followed you into Al’s Super-Valufoods and More, elation and joy rising within me. In you, I recognized someone who could transport me, take me from myself.

In you I recognized my valentine. My Columbine.

I did not sleep last night, and instead I turned the town topsy and turvy, befuddling the unfuddled . I caused three sober bankers to make fools of themselves with drag queens from Madame Zora’s Revue and Bar.

I slid into the bedrooms of the sleeping, unseen and unimagined, slipping the evidence of mysterious and exotic trysts into the pockets and under pillows and into crevices, able only to imagine the fun that would ignite the following days as soiled and spilt-crotch fantasy panties would be found poorly hidden under sofa, cushions and in the inner pockets of respectable suits.

But my heart was not in it, and the only face I could see was Missy’s. Oh, Harlequin in love is a sorry creature.

I wonder what she will do with my gift. Some girls spurn my heart, others touch it, kiss it, caress it, punish it will all manner of endearments before they return it to my keeping. Some never even see it.

Missy: “Shall I incinerate it?”

“Might as well. You know where the incinerator is, and I meant what I said about your old job. I need a good lab assistant.”

I imagine my heart trickling up to the sky as ashes and smoke, covering the world. I do not know what I think of this, but, her jaw set, Missy shakes her head and she bids goodbye to Vernon the pathologist.

She has thrust my heart into her pocket and she is walking out of the building and up Cemetery Road and back into town.

I caper ahead of her. Interaction would be a fine thing, I decide.

Fitting word to deed I disguise myself as a bent old woman on her way to the market, covering the red spangles of my costume with a tattered cloak, hiding my masked face with a voluminous hood, and at the top of Cemetery Road I step out and block her way.

Marvelous, marvelous, marvelous me, and I say to her, in the voice of the oldest of women, “Spare a copper for a bent old woman, dearie, and I’ll tell you a fortune that will make your eyes spin with joy.”

“Here.”

And I have it in my head to tell her all about the mysterious man she will meet, all dressed in red and yellow, with his domino mask, who will thrill her and love her and never, never leave her (for it is not a good thing to tell your Columbine the entire truth), but instead I find myself saying, in a cracked old voice, “Have you ever heard of Harlequin?”

“Yes,” she answers, “character in the Commedia dell’arte . Costume covered in little diamond shapes. Wore a mask. I think he was a clown of some sort, wasn’t he?”

I shake my head, beneath my hood. “No clown,” I tell her. “He was…”

And I find that I am about to tell her the truth, so I choke back the words and pretend that I am having the kind of coughing attack, to which elderly women are particularly susceptible.

I wonder if this could be the power of love.

I do not remember it troubling me with other women I thought I had loved, other Columbines I have encountered over centuries now long gone.

I squint through old woman eyes at Missy; she is in her early twenties, and she has lips like a mermaid’s, full and well-defined and certain, and grey eyes, and a certain intensity to her gaze.

“Are you all right?”

I cough and sputter and cough some more and gasp, “Fine, my dearie-duck. I’m just fine, thank you kindly.”

“So. I thought you were going to tell me my fortune.”

“Harlequin has given you his heart. You must discover its beat yourself.” I hear myself saying these words, angry at my trickster tongue for betraying me.

She stares at me, puzzled. I cannot change or vanish while her eyes are upon me, and I feel frozen.

“Look! A rabbit!”

And she turns, follows my pointing finger, and as she takes her eyes off me I disappear – pop! – like a rabbit down a hole.

When she looks back, there’s not a trace of the old fortune-teller lady, which is to say me.

Missy walks on, and I caper after her, but there is not the spring in my step there was earlier in the morning.

Midday, and Missy has walked to Al’s Super-ValuFoods and More, where she buys a small block of cheese, a carton of unconcentrated orange juice, two avocados, and on to the County One Bank, where she withdraws two hundred and seventy-nine dollars and twenty-two cents, which is the total amount of money in her savings account, and I creep after her sweet as sugar and quiet as the grave.

“’Morning, Missy…” says the owner of the Salt Shaker Café, when Missy enters.

My heart would have skipped a beat if it were not in the sandwich bag in Missy’s pocket, for this man obviously lusts after her, and my confidence, which is legendary, droops and wilts.

I am Harlequin, I tell myself, in my diamond-covered garments, and the world is my harlequinade. I am Harlequin, who rose from the dead to play his pranks upon the living. I am Harlequin, in my mask, with my wand.

I whistle to myself, and my confidence rises, hard and full once more.

Missy was saying: “Hey, Harve. Give me a plate of hash browns, and a bottle of ketchup.” “That all?”

“Yes. That’ll be perfect, and a glass of water.”

I tell myself that the man Harve is Pantaloon, the foolish merchant that I must bamboozle, baffle, confusticate, and confuse.

Perhaps there is a string of sausages in the kitchen.

I resolve to bring delightful, disarray to the world, and to bed luscious Missy before midnight: my Valentine’s present to myself.

I imagine myself kissing her lips.

There are a handful of other diners. I amuse myself by swapping their plates while they are not looking, but I have difficulty finding the fun in it.

The waitress ignores Missy, whom she obviously considers entirely Harve’s preserve.

Missy sits at the table, and pulls the sandwich bag from her pocket. She places it on the table in front of her.

Harve-the-pantaloon struts over to Missy’s table, gives her a glass of water, a plate of hash-browned potatoes, and a bottle of Heinz 57 Varieties Tomato Ketchup.

“And a steak knife,” Missy said. As Harve turned, I stuck out my stick.

He stumbles. He curses, and I feel better, more like the former me.

I goose the waitress as she passes the table of an old man who is reading USA Today while toying with his salad.

She gives the old man a filthy look. I chuckle, and then I find I am feeling most peculiar. I sit down on the floor, suddenly.

“What’s that, honey?” the waitress asks.

“Health food, Charlene,” Missy replies, “Builds up iron.” I peep over the tabletop.

She is slicing up small slices of liver-coloured meat on her plate, liberally doused in tomato sauce, and piling her fork high with hash browns.

Then she chews.

I watch my heart disappearing into her rosebud mouth. My valentine’s jest somehow seems less funny.

She pops another scrap of raw gristle cut small into her mouth, and chews it hard, before swallowing.

Charlene, the waitress, goes past once more, with a pot of steaming coffee. “So what’s with the raw meat? You anemic?”

Missy replies, “Not anymore.”

And as she finishes eating my heart, Missy looks down and sees me sprawled upon the floor.

She nods. “Outside. Now.”

Then she gets up, and leaves ten dollars beside her plate.

She is sitting on a bench on the sidewalk, waiting for me. It is cold, and the street is almost deserted.

I would caper around her, but if feels so foolish now I know someone is watching. “You ate my heart.” I can hear the petulance in my voice, and it irritates me.

“Yes. Is that why I can see you?”

“I guess.” I answered. “Nobody’s ever done it before.” “Take off that domino mask. You look stupid.”

I did.

“Not much improvement,” she says. “Now, give me the hat. And the stick.” “I would prefer not to.”

Missy reaches out and plucks my hat from my head, takes my stick from my hand.

She toys with the hat, her long fingers brushing and bending it. Her nails are painted crimson. Then she stretches and smiles, expansively. The poetry has gone from my soul, and the cold February wind makes me shiver.

“It’s cold,” I say.

“No.” Missy replied. “It’s perfect, magnificent, marvelous, and magical. It’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it? Who could be cold upon Valentine’s Day? What a fine and fabulous time of the year.”

The diamonds are fading from my suit, which is turning ghost-white, Pierrot -white.

“What do I do now?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Fade away, perhaps. Or find another role… a lovelorn swain, perchance, mooning and pining under the pale moon. All you need is a Columbine.”

“You are my Columbine.”

“Not anymore. That’s the joy of the harlequinade, after all, isn’t it? We change our costumes. We change our roles.”

She flashes me such a smile, now.

Then she puts my hat, my own hat, my harlequin-hat, up onto her head. “And you?” I ask.

She tosses the wand into the air: it tumbles and twists in a high arc, red and yellow ribbons twisting and swirling about it, and then it lands neatly, almost silently, back into her hand.

She pushes the tip down to the sidewalk, pushes herself up from the bench in one smooth movement.

She says to me: “I have things to do. Tickets to take. People to dream.” Then she leans over, and kisses me, full, and hard upon the lips.

Somewhere, a car backfired. I turned, startled, and when I looked back, I was alone on the street. I sat there for several moments, on my own.

“Hey, Pete,” Charlene calls from the doorway, “Have you finished out there yet?” “Finished? Finished what, Charlene?”

“C’mon. Harve says your ciggie break is over. And you’ll freeze. Back into the kitchen.” I stared at her. She tossed her pretty hair, and, momentarily, smiled at me.

I adjusted my white clothes, the uniform of the kitchen help, and followed her inside.

It’s Valentine’s Day, I thought.Tell her how you feel. Tell her what you think . But I said nothing, I dared not. I simply followed her inside, a creature of mute longing.

Back in the kitchen, a pile of plates was waiting for me: I began to scrape the leftovers into the pig-bin.

There was a scrap of dark meat on one of the plates, beside some half-finished ketchup-covered hash browns.

It looked almost raw… but I dipped it into the congealing ketchup and, when Harve’s back was turned, I picked it off the plate and chewed it down. It tasted metallic and gristly, but I swallowed it anyhow, and could not have told you why.

A blob of red ketchup dripped from the plate onto the sleeve of my white uniform, forming one perfect diamond.

I called across the kitchen. “Hey, Charlene, happy Valentine’s Day. And then I started to whistle.

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one-leaf-grimoire · 4 years ago

Text

“triad”

Chapter 4: the three votes

AKA the main character manipulates men into doing what she wants.

Link to the full Ao3 work

Three votes.

Three votes, that's all I need.

Yes, the threshold I need to win is actually five votes. But once two of those votes swing my way, the others will follow. Well, maybe I just need two votes now. The one that was withheld last round and one from the pair of rivals.

Fuegoleon and Nozel... to gain both of their votes, I just need to convince one.

My grandparents once told me that the foundation of every Dyad is a strong relationship. It can be that between a husband and wife; lovers; maybe two best friends. But the most interesting yet volatile Dyads came from those formed from two rivals. Admittedly, it's been a long time since I had a true rival. Back when I was a kid, I mentally competed with Horatio. He was strong and powerful, at least for a commoner, and I wanted nothing more than to beat him. But that seems like a lifetime ago. Several lifetimes. I hardly recognize the girl I was back then, as if she's a stranger or just someone I made up in my own head.

The point is... the rivalry between Fuegoleon and Nozel is something I've never fully understood. They push each other to get better in the hopes of one day beating the other to the throne, but the understanding between them was that, at the very least, one of them was worthy of it. And no one else.

Not even me.

So...

In order to defeat them, I have to destroy it. Their rivalry. I'll crush it with everything I can muster. I'm sorry... but I can't let you stand in my way.

I walk for a long time, formulating my plan, until I make my decision. First, I'll go to Fuegoleon. Then, to Nozel. And finally... to William.

William...

My plan to get his vote is not solid. It relies completely on my ability to pull at the well of shame and guilt I know is building inside him.

... I'm sorry.

"Hey, Fuego~"

I find Fuegoleon leaning on the edge of a window, staring down at the city below. He turns quickly at the sound of my voice, and his eyes widen slightly as I approach. However, he can't help the small smile that etches itself on his lips. "Oh... hello." He straightens up, letting go of the edge. "If nothing else, you're surprising us all today."

"What? That sounds like an insult," I tease, walking up next to him and looking out as well. The city is busy with repairs, people moving around the streets like little ants. It's a view I'm used to, one I've known for almost 7 years now. "And surprises are good, right?"

Fuegoleon shrugs, his gaze following mine down to the city. "I suppose..."

We sit there for a long time in silence, just staring out at the Kingdom that one of us will rule by the end of today.

"...Fuegoleon?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember... that time you got turned into a frog?"

Fuegoleon's jaw drops and he makes a surprised noise. It comes out in a choked CROAK, and I can't help but burst out laughing at it. "Wow, I guess old habits die hard!"

"What?! Ah- AHEM!" Fuegoleon blushes as he clears his throat, but the sound of my laugh ensures that his smile stays on his face. "Yes, yes, I remember... although I'd like to forget." He lets out a soft chuckle. "That was so long ago..."

"Yeah, it really was." I shake my head a bit at the memory. "Back before you were captain and I was an advisor. Back when..."

I don't really know what I want to say. Back when things were simple? Before I was disgraced? Back when Julius was alive?

Back when Julius was alive... that wasn't even a week ago.

"I know today has been a big surprise. I know you never expected me to throw my hat into the ring. I guess I'm sorry about that..." I sigh, closing my eyes, the fleeting joy of the last few moments already ebbing away.

Fuegoleon draws in a heavy breath. He's tired, I can feel it, every bone in his body aching and his mind reeling to just stay awake. He woke up from a coma just a few days ago, after all, and has been on his feet ever since. It must have been scary and confusing to wake up in the midst of such a ferocious battle, but he got everything under control at his base and went on to fight inside the shadow palace. At his core, Fuegoleon is a leader, someone strong who can be looked up to and followed without question. I was proud to call him my comrade and captain.

I know in my heart that he would be a great Wizard King. Maybe it's selfish to take it away from him. But I have to.

I promised.

"Don't apologize. I can't pretend I'm not surprised... and a little confused." Fuegoleon glances over at me out of the corner of his eye. "You really haven't been planning this for a while?"

"No, not at all! Do I seem prepared?" I shoot him a little grin to keep things light. "But what is it you're confused about? I thought I made a pretty good case for myself-"

"You did, you did!" Fuegoleon, to my surprise, cuts me off. I look up to see him facing me, smiling despite the challenge I've created for him. "It was a very good case, too."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh? You don't sound like someone that determined to become Wizard King."

Fuegoleon snorts. "No, no, I am... But just because I'm determined, doesn't mean I can't recognize those with worth of your own." I blink, a little confused, as he closes his eyes and smiles. "I think... you would make a fine Wizard King."

He lets the statement hang in the air for a moment before opening his eyes again, his expression turning grim again.

"But, the case you made today... those were just reasons why we should want you to be Wizard King. What I really want to know..."

He narrows his eyes.

"Why do you want to be Wizard King?"

...

I made a promise. I want to continue Julius's legacy. I deserve it. I've worked harder than anyone else. Spite. I want to be the first commoner to do it.

I want to be Wizard King... because I WANT to be Wizard King.

About thirty different reasons flash through my mind at once, blurring and blending into each other all at once. It takes me by surprise, the sudden animosity that wells up in response to the question, like a flame being fed by air... before suddenly sputtering out into nothing.

"...I..."

I feel Fuegoleon's hand on my shoulder, squeezing for a moment. "I meant what I said. I think you would be amazing. You're strong, confident, and people follow you. You're probably more powerful than any of us. And you carry Julius's soul in your own. But..." He lets go. "I don't want you to do this because you think you're expected to. That's too much pressure to bear."

Fuegoleon turns away, starting to walk off down the hallway to leave me alone again.

... I can't give up...

I ball up my fist, and my prior conversation with Marx and Yami.

"I don't think you should keep acting like nothing happened. It has to hurt... right?"

"... too much to bear?"

He pauses at the sound of my voice, which is wavering dangerously on the edge of a void. Slowly, he turns around to still see me staring out the window. My eyes feel hot and wet, but I don't let even a single drop of emotion escape. Sucking in a shaky breath, I finally look up at him, and I see his facade drop.

Look at me... see me. See what I want you to see.

"Do you have any idea... how much pain I'm in right now?"

Fuegoleon's eyes widen, his mouth opening as he realizes what he's done.

He made me cry. Me, the girl who never cries, is letting my eyes tear up in front of him. It's a vulnerability I don't dare show to people, except for those closest to me. Marx, my father, and Julius... I can count the number of people who've seen me cry on one hand. And now, Fuegoleon thinks that he's added himself to that list.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

He steps forward, his non-fire hand reaching out to comfort me, put I pull away before he can touch me. I cover my face, drawing in one long, shallow breath.

"It hurts, Fuegoleon... It's the worst I've ever felt in my life. Everything I ever wanted is gone. Julius..." I gulp thickly, squeezing my eyes shut. "He's gone!"

With each word I speak, I fly closer and closer to the sun. If I fly too far, I'll burn up and fall back down into that dark, deep emptiness.

That emptiness... it engulfs this whole world. It is the world without him.

Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Just speak.

"I'm sorry..." Fuegoleon has no idea what to do, and he's panicking just like I predicted. He steps to my side, then to the other once I turn away again and again, avoiding his gaze. "I-I didn't mean to upset you-"

"It's not you! Don't you get it!" Finally, I let my voice raise, just a little, which silences him again. I let my hands drop to my sides as I look back up at his horrified face. The tears streak down my cheeks now. "I can't make you understand. You and your rivalry... you wouldn't, would you? You don't know what it's like to lose."

Fuegoleon opens his mouth, but he can't possibly have a good response to that. I sniff deliberately, reaching up and starting to wipe off my face.

"I loved him with everything I had... and now I have to replace him, or this void..."

One of my hands clutches my chest, right over my heart.

Yes, it does hurt... but I can't think about it.

I close my eyes for a long moment, and when I open them, they're empty.

"The only think I can replace him with is the Kingdom. I want to be Wizard King, because I want to love something like that again."

The hand outreached to me finally falls, and forms a fist by Fuegoleon's side.

He's making his decision.

The first tightens.

Fuegoleon...

And finally, he lets it relax. His shoulders slump.

He's been defeated. A few tears, a crying friend... and a sincere statement. That's all it took.

You revealed your own weakness. You let yourself consider another option, other than yourself and Nozel. You considered me. And once I came up with my reason...

You can't refuse this last request from a friend, can you?

I'm sorry.

"...I see."

Fuegoleon's voice is soft.

"I... I'll see you back in the conference room. Let me know if you need anything."

"...thank you."

I keep staring at the ground until his footsteps fade out of earshot, and then finally look up at the empty hallway. I reach up and wipe away the lingering moisture, wondering how much of it was real.

Wow... I really am the worst, aren't I?

For a brief moment, I started to fall. The emptiness threatened to consume me. I know it's inevitable at this point, and before long I'll have to get it out of my system, but I don't have that luxury right now. I just have to tough it out until this day is over.

On that subject, there's just one more person to see, now that I basically have Fuegoleon wrapped around my finger. With that one conversation, I'm certain that I've secured two votes. Fuegoleon votes first, and once Nozel sees that his rival has given up...

It's mine. But not yet.

William.

I find him standing by himself outside the conference room. He looks up once he hears my footsteps, giving me a little smile. "...hello."

"Hey." I give him a smile before leaning on the wall next to him. "Are you waiting for everyone to come back?"

"Yeah." He nods slowly, his gaze meeting mine for just a moment before dropping to the ground. Ah. This is going to be hard. It's no secret that, despite what I told him on the night of the attack, William is drowning in guilt. He almost single-handedly destroyed the kingdom, but against me, personally... he committed a crime he'll never forgive himself for.

It's that guilt that I'm betting on now.

"I guess I have the easiest decision... I'm abstaining again." William's eyes close, their lavender shades hidden from my view.

His eyes...

Julius had eyes just like that, too.

"I don't want you to feel like this is a vote against you, though," William turns to me, suddenly very concerned about this point, almost frantic. "I mean- I just feel like-" He starts to stumble. "I think you would be great-" Gee, like I haven't heard that before! "-I just..."

For a brief moment, William looks like he's about to cry.

"I think I gave up my right to vote... when I let Patri kill Julius."

He winces at the sound of his own words, but they bounce right off my skin.

Oh... oh William...

Just like Fuegoleon, William has revealed his weakness.

"That's not true."

With every ounce of strength I have, I extinguish anything warm I feel towards this man.

He just made a mistake. Don't do it, please... It wasn't his fault.

It's just for a moment... but the light extinguishes.

"William..."

His eyes meet mine. There's a flash of fear as he beholds the cold emptiness within them.

"You gave up your right to be silent when you let Patri kill Julius."

Confusion mixes with the fear. "...huh-"

"William. I told you before-" I hold up my hand and point at him accusingly.

"If you want me to forgive you, you'll need to help me. And right now..."

Despite the bitter regret that taints each word I say to my old friend, I smile.

"I need your vote. So... vote for me."

Vote for me.

I say it like I normally would, as if I was just asking a favor of a good friend. Which, in the end, that's all I'm doing. But there's a weight stringed against my words, a weight that drags behind both William and I. If he knows what's going on here, he can't do anything to resist. Because, I have the one thing he wants most: my forgiveness. He doesn't know that I've already given it to him. I'm not stupid- I know that there were otherworldly forces at work, beyond even Patri's command. Patri's hands held the sword, but the Devil was the one who struck down Julius in the end. However...

It doesn't matter if I've already forgiven William; He has no idea if I have. So I'll withhold it until he does what I want.

"I'm going inside... see you soon, William."

His lavender eyes follow me silently as I walk away, the door slamming closed behind me.

And now... it's time to see if my bet pays off.

The final vote occurs and MC/Lisa finds herself at the center of a trial once again... but this time, she has something to say. Next time, chapter 5: the payoff.

#triad #fic #oc: lisa #this was kind of hard to write #when your goal outweighs your friendships aha

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gingerpeachtae · 5 years ago

Text

Concentric [14]

masterlist

Words: 7.1k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: none (maybe just a brief violent description)

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: Reminder that I am moving to a biweekly posting schedule due to classes and work starting up again! Hope you all engoy the chapter! 💙

He remembered the cold landscape invading his body, starting at his fingertips and creeping over his skin until it enwrapped his heart. Turning him empty and barren.

He remembered the black smoke clogging his lungs. The scattered remains of his home burnt to the ground just like his soul. Turning him bitter and savage.

He remembered the glint of moonlight on metal. The yelps and cries of dying wolves. The lack of mercy. Turning him hateful and deadly.

The beginning of his descent into the harsh reality of the world.

His cruel awakening.

Amarok reminisced the euphoria he felt the first time he and his three wolves ransacked a lonely village in the night. The screams of pain and gushing of blood that embraced him and encouraged him to continue. The snapping of his wolves’ jaws. The tearing of flesh. The slicing of muscle and sinew. The squelch of his blade entering warm bodies. The destruction. The chaos.

All for Uzjuk.

He recalled gathering more to serve the cause appointed to him. Bringing in those who had felt the world’s suffering and had a desire to inflict it upon others. Those who knew of Illai’s unfairness. Those who hated the goddess just as he did.

Amarok leaned back in his chair, smiling to himself as he thought of the army he curated for his master. The people willing to expend their lives for the rise of anarchy. The people willing to kill and be killed without hesitation or remorse. The draikensu.

It was dark in his tent, save for two candles lit on a small table in the corner. The bare trace of flickering light being just enough to see the vague outline of the contents within the temporary room.

As he reclined in his seat, the male felt a claw rake against his mind as the darkness around him began to grow murky and curl toward him in wisps. A disturbing, chill-inducing feeling that crept to the very edges of his being. But he no longer shivered at it. Not anymore. It was now a familiar and welcomed sensation that signaled the arrival of his master.

Leaning his head back, Amarok closed his eyes and relished in the darkness coiling around and inside of him.

“What is taking so long?” The deep, guttural voice of his master croaked out.

Amarok sighed, knowing his master would not like his answer. “There have been… complications.”

A searing pain swiftly drilled into Amarok’s mind, causing him to groan and clutch his head. It felt like a heated knife was dragging through the contents of his brain, severing and cutting and cauterizing. His fingers dug into his skull, trying to add pressure to relieve the pain.

“I do not like complications.” His master hissed.

Gasping, Amarok apologized, telling his master that two large groups of draikensu had been sent after the key. The second being a reserve in case the first failed their mission.

The agony bestowed on Amarok’s mind lessened just a smidge as his master contemplated his words. Another minute of painful suffering went by, with the male gritting his teeth and containing his whimpers so as to not appear weak in front of his master. Then, finally, it gradually dissipated until Amarok’s mind was free from the burning, imaginary knife. Letting out a slightly shaky breath, he removed his hands from where they had been clawing at the arm rests of his chair.

“Prepare the rest of the subordinates anyway,” his master uttered throatily, his voice rough and frigid. “If those two little groups of yours do not succeed, then you will personally deal with the boy. The key within the bloodline must be killed. Understood?”

Amarok grinned, a sickening and unsettling thing as his eyes darkened with delight at the thought of being the one to carve out the key’s heart.

The male shut his eyes, envisioning himself thrusting his sword deep into the key’s chest so that he was speared to the earth. “The boy will die soon… I can assure you of that.”

“He better.”

The eldest of the kiela sat down on the ground next to the leader, sighing and leaning his head against a tree while they both observed the mess before them.

Jimin and Jiae were sitting so close their noses were basically touching. Both of them were squishing each other’s cheeks with adoring smiles plastered to their faces.

Mingi was on his back, rolling side to side like an overturned beetle while his eyes darted around frantically.

You were still wrapped in Jungkook’s arms, your back to his chest and his chin on your shoulder. He hummed softly in your ear as he rocked the two of you back and forth in a comforting manner.

Then, there was Tae. The grey-haired Saeni was continuously crawling around; whining that nobody would cuddle with him.

You would have smooshed him to your chest if you weren’t already snatched up in someone else’s arms. Shifting slightly on the ground, you exhaled and lifted your gaze to the swirling mass of treetops above you. You smiled at the whirlpool of stars and leaves and night. Shivered at the contact of Jungkook’s lips brushing against your neck. You kept looking up, you didn’t know exactly how long, but long enough for your head to start spinning with the sky. With a content sigh, you lowered your eyes back down and turned your attention to the two males that seemed different from the rest of the group. You wondered what they were so serious and why they looked so tired.

Maybe their neighbor was throwing a party all night long so they couldn’t sleep…

“Is there really nothing we can do except sit here and wait?” Jin asked the male beside him.

As the raven-haired male continued ogling at the pandemonium, he noticed your eyes on him and sent you a weird, questioning look. In return, you wiggled your fingers at him while your eyes went in and out of focus.

“Not really… unless you would like to pile everyone on your shoulders and carry them back,” Namjoon responded.

You suddenly perked up with a gasp, jolting Jungkook in the process. “You could do it Jin! You know why!? ‘Cuz you got the Better Ingredients. Better Shoulders. Papa Jin’s!”

You fell back into Jungkook as a fit of giggles overtook your body. Though Jin and Namjoon just stared at you in complete befuddlement.

“WAIT. IS THERE PIZZA!?” Jimin screamed at you in excitement, which caused everyone to fall quiet and gawk at the half-Saeni.

Well, everyone except for you. Instead, you pouted and shook your head; giggles fading into silent disappointment.

Jimin’s shoulders slumped with yours, but he still replied in a hopeful tone, “Can we order some, though?”

You went to nod, but your expression quickly morphed into a full frown as you realized that there was no way for you to order it. The Saeni didn’t have cell phones, so you couldn’t call in the order. And even if they did, you doubted they could deliver this far out into the forest. You sniffled at the thought of your delectable yet unattainable pizza pie.

I just want some greasy cheese.

Jungkook, hearing the tiny noise escape past your lips, nuzzled into your neck while murmuring that although he had no idea what you were talking about, he would get you one later. His promising words caused a new grin to appear on your face… but you weren’t sure if it was from Jungkook’s statement or just Jungkook himself. Regardless of the reason, you just leaned further into the male behind you and held onto the arms that protectively caged you in.

“Ugh, how much longer until the toxin is out of their bloodstreams?” You heard Jin ask.

“It should be soon… hopefully.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tae collapse on top of Mingi and order the guard to cuddle him. You tilted your head so it rested on Jungkook’s shoulder as you watched Mingi lay motionless underneath the male the clung to his long body. He stayed that way for several moments until he finally gave in and embraced the Saeni on top of him, causing Tae to squirm and cheer in joy.

“Oh my goddess, please let it be soon.” Jin released a deep, overworked sigh.

Smiling to yourself, you closed your eyes and adjusted so you could lean your head back onto Jungkook’s solid chest. The male resumed his soft humming and the low, pleasant sound vibrated from his body into yours. It felt soothing and comforting. It was so relaxing. Without meaning to, your breaths started to slow… slow… slow down until you slipped into an easy sleep.

You were jostled awake by someone gently shaking you. As your mind was forced to return to reality, you moaned lightly and tried to squeeze your eyes shut.

“I’m sorry…” You heard a voice you recognized whisper in your ear.

The voice said something else, but you were still too groggy to comprehend what it was.

Why does this seem familiar…?

The voice whispered another apology in your ear and gave you another shake.

Familiar. Why is this so familiar? And why do I feel so light like a balloon?

Lips that must be attached to the voice grazed your skin and you felt the ghost of a hand caress your face.

All of the sudden, you remembered, and your eyes snapped open. You remembered the lump forming in your throat, the smoke pulsating toward you, the earth swallowing you whole, his face breaking apart.

You shoved him off you while simultaneously turning around and bracing your hands on the dirt behind you. Jungkook stared at you with worried eyes and confused eyebrows drawn together. He reached a hand out to you, but you lurched backwards with sluggish limbs and a fuzzy mind. You wanted to get away from him before he cracked and became twisted and wrong… but you also wanted to hold him and ward off the smoky darkness. You didn’t know what to do. The world seemed to weave and spin around you, and you looked at the concerned burgundy head with panicking eyes.

You flinched as he tried reaching out to you again, but you didn’t move away. “Is your face gonna sh-shatter again?”

In the moonlight, you saw his green eyes narrow at you as he stopped his hand. You heard the wind blow through the leaves and the wildlife chirp around you. You heard him gently say you name, but all you could focus on was the black expanse behind Jungkook’s head. You just stared at it.

Waiting for it to start.

Terrified it would.

You began to rapidly suck in air as your eyes bore into the darkness. You felt a pain in your heart as all you felt you could do was wait for the black to begin growing and curling around his form. For it to ruin him and infiltrate you.

“Sweetheart…” Jungkook hesitantly said but continued when you didn’t shy away. “You’re okay… you’re just still feeling the effects of the lillaf toxin.”

You cocked your head to the side and brought your eyes back to the male’s face. Why isn’t he crumbling like a Nature Valley bar? And why is talking about leaf toxin? What he should be talking about is Toxic by Britney, bitch.

Before you knew it, he was by your side and was tenderly helping you to your feet. With a small smile, he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and took your hand in his. The action made the corners of your mouth upturn ever so slightly. Then, he slowly began leading you toward a group of Saeni you hadn’t realized was there. Your unfocused eyes made it difficult to see where you were placing your feet and your body wavered side to side as you made your way forward. You let out a small laugh and other random noises with each slip of your feet, but thankfully, Jungkook’s grip helped keep yourself upright and somewhat stable.

“Why is she still like that?” You heard a voice you would know anywhere say.

Your eyes brightened as you took in his apricot head and then the rest of the group. You listened as Jungkook explained that it must be because you were human… whatever that meant. You giggled as their puzzled expressions almost instantaneously transformed into those of understanding while a gust of wind danced through the trees. The cool air caused you to shiver and shuffle closer to Jungkook and the warmth emitting from his strong body.

“Aw, is my little scorja cold? Come here, you!” Tae cooed and tried to gather you in his arms.

But he did not succeed because of one Jeon Jungkook.

The maknae tugged you closer to him, expelling a laugh that didn’t sound like his normal one before turning to Namjoon and JIn. “Time to go, right hyungs?”

The two Saeni just rolled their eyes and nodded; turning around and starting to walk away while muttering about how lucky Yoongi and Chungha were to not have to deal with this.

I wonder what issue they’re dealing with? Everything seems fine to me! It’s all gumdrops and rainbows and stars.

The others began to trail after them, albeit at a much slower pace as they groaned about headaches and queasy stomachs.

“Why do they look so poopy?” You asked the male beside you with a teeny tiny smile at your word choice, but it fell when you noticed him wince and wrap an arm around his torso. “A-Are you okay?”

He flashed you a smile with tired, green eyes and reassured you that he was fine. Then, he gave you a small nudge to signal it was time to start following everyone.

You walked, or more accurately stumbled, after the other Saeni for several minutes. Veering side to side, Jungkook kept having to tug you back to him when you would meander a little too far away and risk pulling your hand out of his. But it was just so hard to keep your path straight and your head up. You could barely keep your eyes open, and when you did, the world was a mass of blurred lines and swirls. Your legs felt heavy and you kept tripping over things since your feet basically dragged along the forest floor.

“You good there, sweetheart?”

“Mhmm. Just… really snoozy…” You whined back almost incoherently. “I want… cuddles.”

You were so drowsy you almost couldn’t move your lips to form words. Everything just felt too cumbersome.

Where’s my cuddle buddy? Where’s my TaeTae?

You practically tumbled over some sort of obstacle on the ground, but Jungkook was quick to catch you. You mumbled a thank you with a sleepy sigh and went to move again but he stopped you.

“Want to get on my back?”

You paused, body tilting and swaying with the trees, but ultimately, you stuck out your bottom lip a bit and slowly nodded. The green-eyed male smiled and asked if you would be able to jump up on his back on your own, which made you rear back and release a tiny scoff.

He doubts my abilities? Who does this cute, handsome, tall glass of water think he is!?

With his eyebrows raised skeptically, he turned around to present you his back and you thumped your hands down on his shoulders to steady yourself. You counted to three out loud before launching yourself at him. He grunted from the sheer, unrestrained force of your jump and scrambled to place his hands underneath your thighs. Once he had a safe and secure grip on you, he bounced you once, twice, and a third time to make sure you were fully hoisted.

“See?” You wrapped your arms around him and interlocked your hands over his chest. “I can do it.”

Jungkook just snorted and began hiking through the trees again.

You settled against him, careful not to bump into the swords strapped to his back as you pressed your cheek to his neck. “You’re warm and comfy. And you smell good.”

Like earth and iron and steel, but also fresh rain and flowers and sunshine.

He chuckled lightly, the sound singing in your ears. “Just go to sleep.”

“M’kay… thank you… Kookie…”

You felt your lids finally droop closed and your muscles completely relax.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he whispered back.

That was the last thing you heard before you drifted off.

When you woke up later that morning, it wasn’t because of someone shaking you or a hand tracing against your skin or a body squishing you flat. It was actually because of a sharp, bright ray of morning light beaming straight down into your face. With your eyes still closed, you deeply inhaled and stretched your arms above your head, enjoying the warmth cascading around you. Once you finished your morning cat stretch, you went to open your eyes but immediately recoiled and brought the blanket over your head.

Fucking hell, that’s bright.

Bracing yourself, you gingerly lowered the blanket and let your eyes adjust to golden rays of late morning through squinted lids.

Hold up… it’s already light out which means… SHIT I’M LATE FOR TRAINING, COCO IS GONNA KILL ME.

You threw the blanket off and sat up quickly, but the abrupt movement caused a wave of nausea to erupt in your stomach. Clutching your tummy, you stumbled to your feet with a moan and began digging through your backpack. As you rifled through the contents for your daily petals, a pounding headache began to steadily build in your noggin.

Great. Just fucking fantastic. That’s exactly what I need right now.

You began muttering to yourself. “Why didn’t anybody wake me up!? Oh bloody hell, training is going to be an absolute bitch now. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Where are they!?”

You paused your search to look around you, finally noting through your panic and headache that you were completely alone. The other Saeni’s belongings were neatly packed and leaning against various trees and rocks, but the owners were nowhere to be found. The bonfire from last night was dead; the remnants still smoking but only in small, tiny wisps.

“Wait. Where is everyone?” You cocked your head to the side for a second before returning to your backpack. “Argh! Why can’t I find these damn motherfucking pe-Yes!”

You snatched up the objects and shoved them into your mouth to let them dissolve. Your body trembled from the magic and it made your headache pulsate even harder. Wincing, you located your bottle of aspirin and popped two pills into your mouth while the galaxies and comforting sense dimmed and disappeared. You swallowed the pills dry, wrinkling your nose a bit when you did so due to the bitter taste.

Not looking up, you swept the ground with your eyes until you spotted your bow a few feet away. You quickly shuffled over to it on your knees while talking to yourself about how you felt like utter crap and how you knew Jungkook wouldn’t show you a hint of mercy because you were late.

As you picked up the bow, you let out a pathetic wail. “I don’t even know where he is! What the heck am I supposed to do!?”

You suddenly heard a snicker from behind you and your entire body froze before slowly turning around. There was the entire kiela, plus Jiae and Mingi, all looking at you in amusement. Chungha, on the other hand, seemed completely disinterested as she picked at her nails. You blinked at them and opened your mouth, but no sound came out.

How did they…? Where did they come from?

Seeing your helplessly confused expression, Hobi laughed. “We’ve been here the whole time, little scorja.”

“It’s later than you usually get up, so yesterday’s petals were expired,” Tae added.

“So, you couldn’t see us because of the glamour,” Namjoon finished.

You crumpled to the ground in sheer embarrassment as your face grew hot. As you did so, another wave of nausea rippled through you and you released a groan.

Resting a hand on your abdomen in hopes the extra body heat would help alleviate some of the pain, you cried out. “Why do I feel like shit?”

Jin walked over to your folded body and offered you an apple with a sweet smile. “That would be your body dealing with the last bits of toxin still in your system.”

Brief memories from last night flashed across your mind. Walking. Screaming. Little red devils. More screaming. Swirling skies. Softness against your fingers. Tears. Humming. Warmth. Sleep.

You sat yourself back up and narrowed you eyes at the Saeni you were with last night. “Why am I the only one feeling, and I’m sure looking, like I was run over by a truck.”

Laboriously, you reached out and grabbed the apple before holding it against your mouth to try to muster the energy to bite into it.

Jungkook shrugged, his peridot eyes glittering in bemusement. “Maybe because you’re human? Chim hyung took longer to snap out of it too, but not as long as you.”

You massaged your temples, grumbling about dumb heightened sense and abilities which apparently included flushing out toxins.

Jungkook continued, his tone almost proud. “Which is why I didn’t wake you up for training. I knew you needed to rest as much as possible.”

Rolling your eyes, you bit into the crunchy apple, and spoke with your mouth full. “Wow, someone give him an award for being considerate.”

Mingi snorted, causing Jungkook to glare at the guard as everyone went back to doing whatever they had been before you roused from your slumber. Jimin came over and helped you to your feet. You munched on the fruit, enjoying the refreshing taste, but not being particularly pleased at how each chew made your head pound even more.

“You look even worse than after that Halloween party that one ye-”

You poked the apricot head in the chest. “We do not speak of that day.”

Your best friend laughed and held his hands up in surrender before running one of them through his hair. He proceeded to tell you that after he sobered up last night, he started feeling another pull toward a draeva. Jiae confirmed this morning that it wasn’t his own connection flaring up either… it was an entirely new feeling.

“It’s different this time. I think it’s my father’s.”

You nodded and took another bite of your fruity breakfast.

Back to GPS Slim Jim, I guess.

You and he talked for a few more minutes about what the pull felt like and how far away he thought it was coming from. Then, after giving your hair a ruffle, he left to go back to Jiae. Once he was gone, you sat down on the ground heavily, praying the aspirin would kick in soon. Moaning a bit at your hurting body, you began to roll your blanket up and gather your belongings to leave.

Hours later, you were strolling next to Yoongi and speaking in a hushed tone as you tried your best to coach him on fixing his flirting. Thankfully, you finally felt normal… no more headache or aching tummy. You were able to enjoy the cool, sunshiny day and give the mint-haired Saeni your full attention.

You skipped around a mass of broken tree limbs that littered the ground. “He said you’ve been acting weird so… I don’t know. Stop that.”

You still never referred to his crush by name, even though he most definitely knew that you knew who it was. But you didn’t want Yoongi to become embarrassed and cease coming to you for help, so you just continued using “him” so the male would feel more comfortable.

His pink eyes swiveled to you and he scowled before whisper-shouting back. “I have not been weird! I’ve been totally and fully calm and collected.”

You met his eyes and raised a single brow as you stepped up and over a half-rotten and moss-covered log.

The Saeni dropped his gaze and tapped his fingers together, causing tiny sparks of blue. “O-okay, so maybe I’ve been muttering a lot and, uh, sort of running away if he touches me.”

Your body slightly spasmed as you pursed your lips and resisted the urge to flick his forehead. “Yeah… you need to stop that. Like immediately.”

He let out a long puff of air, head slumping to look at the ground as he described how he couldn’t help it. He just got so flustered and overthought things every time he was near the other. He ultimately thought it was better to leave than make a fool of himself.

You touched his arm lightly with your fingertips. “But doing that might make him think you’re mad at him.”

His head darted up in panic. “But I’m not!”

You nodded understandingly, but told him that while you knew that, he didn’t.

As you jumped onto a large rock that was basking in the sun, a burst of shouts and giggles to your right caused you to peer through the maze of trees. Through the greenery, you saw Jungkook and Tae holding branches and using them as weapons in a mock sword fight. They rushed through the forest, chasing and attacking each other. You smiled warmly at the duo before hopping down and returning your eyes to the magic user..

You watched as the mint-haired Saeni moved his hands and made little tendrils of blue light grow and fade. He sighed and shook his head while ducking below a bundle of leaves, and you saw his bone earrings shake with the movement.

“This is too much for me to handle. Between you helping me with this and me helping Kook wi-” He suddenly cut off his words so fast you heard his teeth clack together.

You looked at him in confusion as he whipped his head to his youngest brother briefly before bringing his wide eyes to you.

“I-I mean with-nothing… I’m not helping anyone,” he stuttered.

Wait. But didn’t he…?

You pushed your lips forward and raised a palm in question. “I thought Jungkook said you helped him realize why we fight a lot?”

Yoongi sputtered, pressing his hands together. “Oh… oh! You mean that! Yeah, you’re right. I, uh, told him to explain shit to you. That’s it, though. Nothing else.”

“Right… okay…” You slowly nodded and regarded him with squinted eyes.

Brushing some leaves out of the way, Yoongi replied, “Ha ha. Yeah… so, anyways! Um, what should I do besides just ‘stop that?’”

Lifting the same leafy branch out of your way, you said, “Maybe try sitting close to him at dinner. Not like on top of him, you know, but closer than usual.”

The Saeni agreed and proceeded to ask you more questions and inquire what he should do about this and that. You continued trying to answer to the best of your abilities, keeping what you knew about both Yoongi and Hobi in mind as you did. Every once in a while, though, you couldn’t help but look over to the right. To where your dear sweet angel of a friend and your aggravating, but passionate and uplifting… friend… were still playing.

A little while later, Namjoon called for a short break when you broke through the trees and entered a small clearing. You slumped to the ground in a sunlight patch, rubbing your sore and tired legs before stretching them out. Most of the other Saeni were doing the same, although Jungkook and Tae yanked Hobi and Jimin to their feet and pulled them into a game of aggressive tackle tag. You chuckled and shook your head at them, in disbelief that they didn’t want to rest for even a second. As you swept your eyes over the relaxing Saeni, you stopped your gaze on the one person you have yet to hold a substantial conversation with.

Chungha.

Maybe since Mingi and I are cool now, she’ll want to be friends too…

Grunting from your protesting leg muscles, you stood and trekked over to the female guard. She had an expressionless face as she surveyed the area and surrounding environment. Turning to you as you approached, her face morphed into something that looked almost… unimpressed?

Oookay, not a good start.

“Um, hey, Chungha! How, uh, how are you today?”

Her eyes flickered to yours briefly before looking away. “Fine.”

Alright, so that’s strike one for you, Y/N.

“Oh, good! That’s… good.” You forced a laugh and tucked some hair behind your ears. “So, how long have you been a guard?”

The girl let out a bored exhale and flipped her dark green hair over her shoulder. “Longer than Mingi but not as long as Suho had been.”

You bit your lip and nodded. That’s probably strike two.

“Okay, cool! Cool cool cool cool cool. Um, so how-”

“Are we done?” She didn’t say it harshly, just extremely disinterested.

You snapped your jaw closed before rapidly nodding and walking away to leave her be.

Strike three, you’re out. No new friends for you.

You shrugged to yourself as you retreated, not really upset about it. You couldn’t be friends with everyone, so oh well. You did your part and tried at least.

“Don’t take it personally, she’s like that with basically everyone.”

You looked up to see Mingi standing in front of you. His arms were crossed over his chest and his hazel eyes were soft. You smiled and told him you didn’t, and that it was fine. Then, you began laughing uncontrollably as you recalled the events from the previous night. He gave you a questioning look as you tried to calm down.

“It’s just… you didn’t even want to go on a walk last night and then we all got bitten and… and…” You lost yourself in laughter, folding over and wrapping your arms around your middle.

The guard groaned while cracking a smile. “Just… let’s not ever mention that incident to the king. I don’t think he would be happy to hear I wasn’t doing a good job protecting his daughter.”

You sent him a wink. “My lips are sealed, but Tae though…” You tsked. “He tends to be a bit of a blabber mouth so…”

Mingi’s smile fell while his body froze, and you couldn’t contain your serious façade. Smiling again, you fake punched him on the shoulder and said you were just joking… maybe.

The male rolled his hazel eyes and went to say something else but stopped when a certain Saeni appeared out of nowhere and began tugging on your arm.

“Come play with us!” Jungkook pleaded.

You jumped at his sudden proximity before turning your eyes on him. The burgundy male was breathing heavily and repeatedly pulling on your arm, trying to get you to come with him. You heard another voice yelling out, coming closer with each passing second. Looking beyond Jungkook, you saw Hobi barreling toward you as he targeted the green-eyed male beside you. Following your gaze, Jungkook cursed when he saw the kiela’s spy charging after him and he renewed his efforts of persuading you.

“Come on, sweetheart. Please?” He sent you a smile that made you melt while stepping closer to you.

“Uh… okay, yeah, sure,” you said as you stared at the eager boy with the dashing face that was just so close to you.

With a satisfied grunt, Jungkook slid his hand down to yours and took off in the direction away from an arriving Hobi. Which meant you were dragged after him with a yelp.

As you tried to keep up with Jungkook’s strides, you screamed back, “Sorry Mingi! Talk to you later!”

The green-eyed Saeni looked behind him and smiled at you before sending a smirk over your head and gripping your hand tighter.

You, Jungkook, Hobi, and Tae continued your game of tag even after Namjoon told everyone it was time to start moving again. Jimin, unfortunately, was called back up to the front of the group to resume his job as the GPS.

The boys were being generous enough to not body slam you into trees or onto the ground like they would each other. And whenever they would tag you, it was usually just a big smack to your back that caused you to stumble forward, but not lose your footing entirely. Then, they were nice enough to run a bit slower when you were “it” so you would actually have a chance at tagging one of them.

Currently, you were hiding behind a large trunk that provided substantial cover for your entire body. The rest of the group was maybe a good seventy yards ahead of you, but you kept your eyes peeled and ears alert for Jungkook, who was “it.” You were breathing deeply, and your body screamed at you for the unnecessary exertion. But you sent a nice fat mental middle finger to the sore pain thrumming through you because you were really enjoying yourself and having fun.

Peeking around the trunk, you flinched as you heard Tae shriek in the nearby distance, but you didn’t see a single flash of burgundy against the greenery of the forest. Letting out a sigh in relief, you began jogging forward as quietly as you could. You made it about thirty yards when a blur ran past you screeching.

“RUN, LITTLE SCORJA!”

Tae.

You whipped your head in the direction he had come from and saw Jungkook sprinting after him.

Shit!

You pivoted on your feet, gearing to run after Tae and away from the extremely competitive maknae, but it was too late. He’d already noticed you. Smirking, Jungkook changed course, forgetting about his previous target. You watched, sort of like a deer in headlights and almost in awe, as his metal earrings glinted in the sunlight and his muscles flexed with each stride he took toward you.

Toward me? Oh fuck, run you dumb bitch!

You took off, pumping your legs and weaving around trees and vaulting over fallen timber. Obviously, you weren’t faster than he was, and it was only a matter of seconds before he caught you. A small part of you did hope that maybe Hobi or Tae would show up and save you, though.

You sucked air into your lungs and briefly peeked over your shoulder, expecting to see the boy right on your heels.

But he wasn’t there.

You put on the brakes, breathing heavily as you slowed to a stop. Turning your body in a circle numerous times, you tried to find where he went.

A twig snapping you made you still before letting out a defeated sigh. Hesitantly, you swiveled to see Jungkook step out from behind a tree and begin to jog to you with a shit eating grin on his face.

You closed your eyes tightly as you accepted your loss. Feeling his presence come closer and closer, you prepared yourself to be rammed into. You held your breath, waiting for impact.

Your body jolted when you felt something touch your waist, but a slamming force never came. Instead, the weight on your waist began to gently press into you, making you move backwards. Relaxing your face and opening your eyes, you saw Jungkook staring at you with smug, green eyes and a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“H-Hi.”

He kept moving you backwards until your back softly connected with a tree, but he didn’t let you go. Rather, he pressed even further into you so that your chests were flush, and your faces were only centimeters apart. You looked at him with wide eyes as your hands gripped his forearms. He tilted his head to the side and leaned in so that his lips were teasing the shell of your ear. You suddenly had difficulty breathing normally as you waited for him to move or do something.

He let his hot breath fan over you for several heartbeats until he murmured, “You’re it.”

Leaning back, he displayed a cocky smile at your surprised face before letting go of your waist and taking several steps back. Then, he sent you a wink… a bloody wink!... before turning around and striding away. You shook your head and glued your eyes to his back.

Oh, you’re gonna get it!

Quickly, you called after him in the breathiest tone you could muster and moved your feet forward. The male’s steps faltered, and he looked over his shoulder just as you jumped on him and sent both of your bodies tumbling to the ground. As you descended, he twisted so that he landed on his back, not his face. He hit the forest floor with a thud, slightly grunting from the impact. He glared up at you as you sent him a smirk of your own, pleased with yourself. You were straddling his lean waist, one hand braced on the leaves and twigs beside his head and the other resting against his chest. Pushing against him and the dirt, you raised your top half and allowed your hands to move so they settled on his torso.

You raised an eyebrow as you laughed mockingly since you knew it would rile him up. “No, Coco. You’re still it.”

You gave his body a couple pats before going to stand up and run away. Though as you went to move, he narrowed his eyes at you and promptly sat up. Grabbing you, he flipped you down to the ground and rolled on top of you.

He held your wrists firmly above your head. “No. You’re it.”

You shivered involuntarily at the low tone of his voice and awkwardly laughed to hide the heat beginning to rise to your cheeks. The position you were in was not helping you succeed, though. You looked away from his serious eyes and focused on a nearby rock that now seemed extremely fascinating.

“O-Okay. Now please get off.”

He squeezed our wrists a little more. “Not until I hear you say it.”

You rolled your eyes at the rock. He was such a little shit sometimes.

“I’m it. Happy? Okay, now get off.”

You saw him smile in your peripherals before nodding once. “That’s a good girl.”

Oh. You sucked in a breath and fought with yourself to not release it unevenly.

“Alright, up we go.” You heard him say in a soft, yet teasing voice that made your body go limp and gooey.

Geez. What is he doing to me?

Suddenly, something clicked inside of you and it caused you to gasp quietly. Your eyes widened in incredulity as your heart swelled in realization.

Oh, fuck. This can’t be happening.

Then, you were pulled to your feet and you blinked at the male. He laughed, scrunching his nose in such an adorable way, and gave you a solid pat on the head before sprinting away, leaving you in an unmoving, flustered daze.

This can’t be happening.

The days following were a mess. You hadn’t run into any draikensu. Nobody had gotten hurt or sick. Nobody was brewing drama. No, it was none of those things.

It was because of a much more mundane matter. Something that plagued your mind and made you overthink every single detail during the days and nights. Something that both excited you and wrecked you. Something you still weren’t ready to face or accept… for many reasons.

Calm down, Y/N. It is not that. You’re just… sexually frustrated or something.

But as you glanced at a certain Saeni and a warm feeling bubbled up and spread throughout your body, you knew you were fucked. It had been like this since you played that stupid game of tag. You didn’t know why, but after that everything just felt… different. You had always thought he was insanely attractive and… even cute at times… but this was something else. Every time he looked in your direction you felt yourself automatically smiling. Every time he touched you in passing or even merely corrected your form during training, goosebumps raised along your skin and your breath hitched. You always found yourself looking his way and being drawn to his voice.

You chewed on your lip as you walked next to Tae, debating whether you should tell your friend about your recent revelation. You didn’t want him to freak out and start screaming. Not when you knew there wasn’t a chance for anything to happen between you and him. Not when you knew how he felt about you.

Why do I always put myself through this?

You sighed dejectedly and kicked a branch on the ground.

“You okay, little scorja?”

You looked up from the branch and into sharp blue eyes.

Forcing a tiny, half-assed smile, you replied, “Yeah, just thinking about some stuff.”

The grey-haired Saeni frowned and peered at your face. “No, you’re not, but whenever you’re ready to talk just come find me. You know I’m always here for you.”

You pulled the Saeni into an abrupt embrace, squeezing him tightly as he wrapped his arms around you and did the same. “I know. Thank you, TaeTae. I really don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.”

Tae smacked a big kiss to your cheek and grabbed your hand to make you start walking again. You smiled at him before sweeping your eyes over your surroundings. Mingi and Hobi were joking with each other, though the spy kept sneaking glances to his left where Yoongi was. The mint-haired Saeni was strolling with Jin and Namjoon. The latter two were speaking loudly, but Yoongi ignored them in favor of watching the trees and occasionally letting his eyes linger to his right. Behind them, Chungha walked alone, enjoying her solitude. And behind her, Jungkook was animatedly talking to Jimin and Jiae. The burgundy head was using grand gestures to highlight whatever story he was telling, making the others laugh. Without realizing it, you found that the corners of your mouth had upturned as you watched him. You couldn’t help it. Hastily, you wiped the tiny grin off your face by reminding yourself that he had no feelings for you. The thought made you sigh once more and clutch Tae’s hand tigher.

Don’t think of him like that. Don’t think of him like that. Don’t think of him like that. He doesn’t like you. He doesn’t like you. HE DOESN’T LIKE YOU SO STOP THINKING OF HIM LIKE THAT.

You looked at the laughing boy, taking in the way his burgundy hair gleamed in the sunlight, showing off those pink highlights while his peridot eyes glittered with excitement. The way he radiated protection and power and happiness. The way he was so strong yet so caring and tender when he wanted to be.

Before you knew it, you were smiling once more.

Groaning to yourself, you banged the heel of your palm against your forehead. I am so utterly fucked.

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