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oddinary4bts · 1 year ago

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Chasing Cars | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: a power outage, Jungkook being a menace as per always, getting stood up for Valentine's Day, falling on a patch of ice, alcohol, curses, peach, OC gets a little jealous, explicit content: teasing?, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, sex toy (vibrator), male and female masturbation, praising, cum play (don't be stupid), fingering

☆word count: 13.2k

☆a/n: this is like one of my fav chapters in this whole series, and also the one inspired by jungkook's iconic live with the candle and the white dress shirt and oof :') hope you enjoy it!! Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, February 14th

Sometimes, the universe aligns to create such a shitty day that you think your life is a joke. A cruel joke, and you’re just the sitcom character that people use to make themselves feel better.

Today has been one of those days. You woke up late, somehow not hearing your alarm, and got to your midterm so late you didn’t have time to finish. At least you were confident in the answers that you did write down, so you think there’s a chance you’ll still pass.

Then, you forgot your student ID, and the lady at the cafeteria refused to let you eat even though she’s seen you almost every day of the semester so far. Nabi offered you some of her salad, but you felt bad and barely ate.

Then the rain started – freezing rain at that – and you had to run to the other building for your genetics class, ending with your hair half frozen and the knowledge that you’re going to get sick by tomorrow.

Genetics class in and of itself is fine. Your stomach gurgling all through the class isn’t, and you’ve noticed people looking at you where you’re sitting, every time your stomach thinks it’s a whale and it needs to sing to its fellow mates.

During break, someone offers you a protein bar, and you take it with cheeks burning, thanking them profusely. Though you hate the taste of protein bars, and you struggle to finish it without puking on the desk. You power through, and then the class resumes, and you try to focus. It’s hard, and when you receive a text from Hoseok, you stop pretending that you’re listening.

[2:47 pm] Hobi: have u seen the weather outside? [2:47 pm] You: yeah it’s trash. I think I’m still half frozen [2:49 pm] Hobi: don’t have power at my place anymore [2:50 pm] Hobi: and it looks dangerous to drive

You know exactly what’s coming. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise – you don’t know why you agreed to meet up on Valentine’s Day. Yet, you’ve been looking forward to it all day, perhaps because it’s been so shit even hanging out with Hoseok on this day of celebration of love seemed better.

[2:50 pm] Hobi: any chance I can get a raincheck?

You want to bash your head on the desk, and of course, the professor chooses this exact moment to call you out for being on your phone. You flush a deep red, mumbling an apology as you put your phone face down on the desk. Everyone’s looking at you, and from where you’re sitting at the back of the class you can see that half the people aren’t even taking notes. You think they’re full of shit for glaring at you, but you can’t help the way you turn crimson, and Nabi stifles a laugh next to you.

“Shut up,” you whisper through gritted teeth, elbowing her in the ribs.

She shrugs innocently, and then her eyes slide back to the professor as he resumes the class. Not wanting to risk it, you focus too, and it seems the shame is what you need to finally concentrate because you find yourself typing away on the computer, describing the pictures in the PowerPoint slides so you can understand them later.

The lights go out five minutes before the end of the class. The projector shuts down in time, a clear indication that the college has run out of power too – something that rarely ever happens unless it’s the end of the world outside.

There’s a series of gasps, and the professor looks so jaded at the front of the class that you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made of the actual precious stone. He looks towards the door, where you can see that the light has also gone out in the hallway.

Without even a glance at the class, he slams his laptop shut, heaving out a sigh.

“Class dismissed for today, we don’t have enough time left to wait for the power to come back on.”

It doesn’t even take half a second before everyone is starting to put their stuff away, the class suddenly overcome with a cacophony of sounds, and Nabi turns to you.

“Who were you texting during class?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut up.” You put your laptop in your bag, chugging the rest of your water bottle before you stuff it next to the laptop. “Hobi cancelled on me.”

Of course the whole friend group now knows about you two. You have Hoseok to blame for that, and his incredibly good idea to have sex at a party last week, where Yoongi walked in on the two of you. You’ve never seen Yoongi look more uncomfortable before in your life and, to your surprise, he’s been teased about the situation a lot more than you or Hoseok. It’s still a relief because you were afraid the friend group would go to shit if people knew, but now it seems it’s only solidified it even more.

“Bruh,” Nabi lets out. “Why?”

You motion to the dead neon lights over your heads. “The weather. He doesn’t have power anymore.”

“Shit.” You finish packing your stuff and you’re walking out of the class when she continues, “That’s wild though, didn’t think the freezing rain would hit that bad.”

A girl in front of you turns as if summoned. “They’re saying it’s going to be the worst storm of the century.” She points her phone towards you and Nabi, screen first. “Look, tons of trees have already fallen.”

Your eyes widen, because indeed she’s showing a picture from a group chat, of a tree having fallen on someone’s poor car. You wince in time with Nabi.

“RIP to whoever’s car that is,” you answer.

The girl nods, a wistful expression taking over her features. “That would be my boyfriend’s.”

You don’t talk more after that, and she jogs to join her friends closer to the stairs. You take that as an opportunity to finally reply to Hoseok, grabbing your phone out of the pocket of your coat.

[3:59 pm] You: power even went out in college so yeah, np!

Hoseok is quicker to reply than you’ve expected, saying that he’d like to meet up some time this weekend if you can. You don’t promise him anything, though you don’t really have plans as of right now.

You’ve just got a feeling that, if the storm is going to be the storm of the century, you won’t be hanging out for at least a few days. And the moment you step outside, you realize that it might even take more than a few days.

Trees have fallen everywhere. The sidewalk is entirely iced, and just by the time you’ve made it to the bus stop in front of the building, you’ve seen a car accident, both cars unable to stop at a stop sign. You figure taking the bus would be dangerous right now, and you settle on aiming for the pedestrian trail that leads to a park near your apartment, while Nabi parts to head towards the dorm, where apparently the power is still on. She tells you to let her know if you have power at home, and then you turn to head towards home, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

At least it’s not raining heavily as you walk. It’s the only positive thing in your day, and you hold onto your phone, sending a text to Taehyung to inform him of the situation.

You’re two minutes from home when you slip on a slab of ice, and you fall in a puddle of mud that stains your pale pants. You don’t even know how there can be mud when everything else is frozen, but of course, you had to fall in it. You assess yourself for a second, making sure nothing hurts too bad and then you mutter, “Of fucking course.”

You don’t even feel like getting up. If it wasn’t for the fact that the mud in which you’re sitting is freezing, you think you’d sit there until you died. You feel drained, and the weight of the day finally hits you head-on, bringing tears to your eyes.

Or maybe it’s just the embarrassment of walking home with your favourite pair of pants ruined. You don’t even know anymore; too much has happened in just a few hours for your brain to accept to be working anymore. You angrily blink the tears away, knowing you’ll break down the second you step inside your own home.

You can only hope that Jungkook is not going to be there. You hold onto that hope as you get to the building, and when you see the lights are out, the tears win against you. You carefully walk up the stairs – even they are covered in a thick sheet of ice – and surprisingly, you make it to the top unscathed.

You try to unlock the door with shaky fingers, struggling to find the hole through the blurriness of your tears, and you almost consider breaking the door down when it suddenly swings open in front of you.

“Peach?”

You’re aware that you’ve got fat tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re aware that you probably look a mess – you are a mess – but all you can do is stare at Jungkook.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, voice laced with concern as he steps aside to let you in.

You put your bag down, shrugging as he shuts the door behind him carefully, eyeing you as if you’re a specimen of a rare animal that’s going to run if he startles it. You refuse to meet his gaze, refuse to speak lest you embarrass yourself with crying even more. All you do is angrily wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Hey,” he says, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

You motion around. “What’s wrong?” You scoff, and out of spite, you force down the wave of tears that is threatening to meet the ones you’ve just dried on your cheeks. “Everything is fucking wrong.”

You glance at Jungkook, and he’s just watching, eyes widened. He seems startled by your outburst, and you think you see him gulp.

“Do you…” he trails off, glancing at the door. You only then realize that he’s clad in his winter coat, and he was probably on his way out when you arrived. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head no, hating yourself for the way your bottom lip trembles.

His hand is still on your shoulder, and it slowly slides to your arm. “Did you hurt yourself?” he asks.

He’s only then realized that you’re half-covered in mud.

“I fell on a patch of ice,” you answer.

He makes you turn, assessing the damage. “If you soak your pants in water, I can get the stain out.”

“There’s no power.”

He turns you back around, offering you a small smile as he cocks an eyebrow arrogantly. “Astute.”

You want to punch him so bad, but what you do is laugh, which makes you think you’ve gone crazy.

“Water still runs, though,” he points out. “I’ll take care of it when the power comes back on. Doesn’t even need to be warm. You can save what’s left of the hot water for a shower if you want?”

He says it like a question, and you shrug your shoulders. A new tear rolls on your cheek, and to your surprise, Jungkook dries it with his thumb. He then points to your shoes.

“Take these off. You’re going to take a shower before the neighbours steal the water.”

“I don’t…” you trail off, as he’s just staring at you as if what you were going to say was going to be the stupidest shit he’s ever heard. As much as you want to hate him right now, the way his hand feels on your arm is making the anxiety lessen, until you realize that it’s going to be okay.

You can head to Ria and Nabi’s dorm right after a quick shower.

“M’kay,” you finally accept. “But you can go, you don’t have to stay.”

He shrugs, and when he lets go of your arm, you almost want to grab his hand and put it back there. “I was just going to charge my phone in my car. It can wait.”

You hold his gaze, feeling swallowed by his big doe eyes. It finishes drying the tears on your waterline, and you take a deep steadying breath. “M’kay,” you repeat.

At that he smirks, nodding his head once. He kicks off his shoes as you carefully take yours off, and then he makes grabby hands at you.

“What?” you ask.

“Your coat,” he answers. “I’ll put it in the closet for you.”

You slightly frown. “Why?”

“Because I’m trying to be nice?” When you remain silent, he chuckles. “You think I’m just going to let my best friend’s sister cry when she gets home?”

The words hurt, even though they’re just a statement of what you are to him. “You’re so random.”

He looks somehow offended. “Just give me your coat, peach.” He’s stern, and you have half a thought to mimic him, but you resist. When you hand him the coat, he offers you a grin. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Once again you surprise yourself by laughing, and the grin on his lips softens in a way that makes you warm inside.

“You’re annoying,” you whine.

He shrugs as he opens the closet. “Just go take a quick shower. Make sure to soak the pants too.”

“Yes, mom.”

He chokes on a snort. “Oof, no, don’t call me mom.”

You stifle a laugh, but a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. He faces you again, and you startle as he pinches your cheek. You push him off, as all he does is offer you a wide grin that makes dimples appear on his cheeks.

You’ve never really seen those dimples before, not while he’s smiling. You have to force yourself to look away, and as entrancing as they are, you manage to have your gaze drop to a random spot on the floor. “Alright then, I’ll grab my stuff. You can charge your phone while I’m in the shower.”

“All good, I’m at 65%,” he says. “I just checked online, and the power outage will likely last through the night so… figured I didn’t have anything better to do.”

You purse your lips. “Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence before he motions to the bathroom. “Aren’t you going?”

Your cheeks burn, and you nod once before heading towards your room as he snorts behind you, evidently laughing at you. You ignore him, quickly grabbing a change of clothes and bringing them to the bathroom. Jungkook’s moved to the couch, and to your surprise you see him with a book in hand.

“You read?”

The question is out before you realize, and Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction.

“It’s for a class.”

You nod once. “Right.” You then scrape your throat, glance at the bathroom and then settle your eyes on him again. “I’ll be right back.”

He smiles at you, and it’s the last thing you see before you walk into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind you. Luckily enough, it’s still light enough outside for you to be able to shower without being in the dark, and as Jungkook advertised, there’s still hot water.

You take the fastest shower of your life, not wanting to risk running out of hot water, and then you put your dirty pants in the sink, soaking them in cold water. You put your clean clothes on – nothing impressive, just a pair of black sweatpants with a white t-shirt. You take one look at yourself in the mirror – you look like you’ve gone through hell, but at least you’re refreshed.

With a steadying breath, you walk out of the bathroom, and your eyes immediately find Jungkook where he’s still sitting on the couch, looking like he hasn’t moved an inch. He glances at you before resuming his attention on his book. You feel awkward, yet you still walk in his direction because, frankly, what else is there for you to do when there’s no power?

“What’s the book about?” you enquire.

He raises it for you to see as you sit next to him. He moves too fast, and all you can see is something about trickle-down economy before the book is back in his lap.

“Looks boring.”

He laughs. “It is. Plus, trickle-down economics is bullshit.”

You nod wisely, even though your knowledge in the economy and business field is little to zero. All you know is that trickle-down economics is what rich people use to defend their actions, which immediately makes it so you don’t trust it one bit.

Eat the rich and all that.

“Right,” you let out.

Jungkook throws you a glance. “Feeling better?”

You don’t know how to answer. Because, yes, you feel somehow better now that you are clean and warmed from the shower, but you’re still very aware that the power is out, you’ve likely failed a midterm, and your date was cancelled.

“Sort of,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders. “Today was just a shitshow.”

He says nothing, but his big eyes on you entice you to open up to him, making you feel more at ease than you’ve ever been around him.

Maybe because you just need someone to vent to after all.

“Like… I woke up late this morning,” you tell him. “Arrived so late to my midterm that I couldn’t finish. Then realized that I forgot my wallet here and couldn’t eat lunch. Got stood up for a date tonight, and now no power here? This day has been the worst.”

You sit back on the couch after you’ve finished your tirade, and Jungkook just looks at you curiously. You don’t register you’ve called hanging out with Hoseok a date until Jungkook says, “You had a Valentine’s Day date?”

You shut your eyes, pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale loudly. “Sort of. Not really a date.”

“How can it not really be a date?”

You entirely miss the teasing in his voice, mostly because you’re appalled at yourself for the slipping. “It’s just… my friend with benefits, so not a date.”

“Damn, peach,” he says, and he bursts out laughing. You crack an eye open, your heart feeling like it’s been stabbed as Jungkook grins at you. “Didn’t think you were one to have a friend with benefits.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and his gaze slides away from you as his brows furrow slightly. “You’re Tae’s sister, and the way he talks about you I just… I don’t know.”

Annoyance creeps into you as you cock an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t listen to what Taehyung says about me. He still thinks I’m twelve.”

Jungkook snorts, and to your surprise, it makes you smile, right as he glances at you.

“Are you not?”

“Yah!” You punch him in the shoulder, and he laughs as he massages the spot. “I’ll have you know I’m an adult.”

His features turn somber, and he plays with his piercing for a time before he answers. “I’m starting to realize it, trust me.”

In the somberness of his eyes, a spark ignites, and you feel as if electricity is running on every inch of your body. You wish it would run into the building instead, bringing the power back on but unfortunately, you’re the only victim, and all you can do is hold his gaze.

The moment stretches until you grow uncomfortable, and your eyes slide to the Switch under the TV, as if it’ll find solace there.

“Anyway,” you say, scraping your throat. “Apparently there’s still power at the dorms so I think I’ll head over there.”

“You’ll abandon me?” he says, faking offence. “Right when I offered to take care of your pants? The nerves on you.”

You roll your eyes as the awkwardness fades to be replaced by the annoyance Jungkook usually brings out of you. “You’re a big boy, you don’t need me.”

“You sure you want to walk all the way there though? What if you fall again?”

You push him as he smiles wickedly, satisfied that he’s annoyed you. “I hate you.”

“You know what you hate even more than me?”

Your brow creases in confusion. “What?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a smirk growing on his lips. “You’ll have to stay for me to answer.”

You sigh deeply, folding your arms on your chest. You gauge him, watch as his smirk only widens while you ponder staying here. And you don’t even know why you’re considering it in the first place. There’s just something about being able to talk to Jungkook like this, about being comfortable next to him that makes you want to stay.

“Name a single reason why I should stay,” you finally say.

His smirk turns victorious. “I’ll cook something for you.”

“The power is out,” you feel the need to remind him.

He throws you a no-bullshit look. “Really, peach, you need to find a bit of creativity in your life.”

“What?”

“The stove doesn’t run on electricity, it runs on gas.”

You look up at the ceiling. “How was I supposed to know that, I barely ever cook.”

“I cook!” he bursts, waving the book around. You didn’t realize he was still holding it, and you laugh as the pages flutter around. “And you usually steal my food, so just let me make something for you tonight.”

You purse your lips, meeting his gaze as he looks at you, faking annoyance. “What do you want to cook?”

“I have chicken that I need to cook tonight if I don’t want it to go bad,” he says. “I can make noodles with it.”

It takes you all but two seconds before you realize that there’s no way you’re going to leave when Jungkook is suggesting to cook for you. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” You nod, and Jungkook beams. “You won’t regret it.”

You laugh, slightly shaking your head as he puts the book away and gets up. He offers you his hand, the one with the tattoos on the back of it, and you furrow your brows. “What?”

“Go get changed,” he says, hand still extended between you. “I’ll give you a Valentine’s Day date, but you’re going to have to play the part too.”

Something stops in your chest – your heart, most likely – and you’re hit with the thought that this is a bad idea. That whatever Jungkook means by that is going to be the mistake of the century, yet you still find yourself accepting his extended hand.

He pulls you to your feet, and he doesn’t let go of your hand for a moment, big doe eyes widening slightly as he looks at you.

“You…” you trail off, scraping your throat as you look away from his eyes.

It’s all you can do not to get lost in his gaze.

“I?” he presses, voice low.

“You should dress up too,” you mumble, cheeks burning. “So I’m not alone.”

He lets go of your hand, and your fingers twitch as it falls to your side. When his index finds your chin, you think your blood stops in your veins. He makes you tilt your head back, enough so that you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“I will.” His voice is grave, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart to your lips once as they part. “I’m going to make this worth it. You deserve it after such a shit day, don’t you?”

You gulp. “Yeah?”

He pats your cheek. “Yeah, you do.”

And then he’s walking away. You’re left standing there, heart racing in your chest, feeling so warm you think you’re about to catch fire. You watch him disappear into his room, and it’s only when he’s out of sight that you manage to move, making your way to your own room.

You shut the door behind you, resting against it as you take deep breaths to calm down. You’re not sure if it’s doing you any good, because this is Jungkook. Jungkook, with his tattoo sleeve and piercings, your older brother’s best friend. Your roommate, the man that’s been playing with you for weeks, for months, like you’re just some playdough. You think he’s doing it on purpose. He has to – he’s trying to make your life miserable because you’re Taehyung’s sister. You don’t see what else it could be. Because why the fuck would Jungkook act like this with you?

You’re not stupid enough to believe it isn’t your fault. Because you were there the night of The Incident, and you reckon things have changed with Jungkook since that night.

You take a deep, steadying breath before pushing up from the door. No matter what it is that is making Jungkook act like this, you’re still curious to see what he’s preparing for you. Spending time with him like this, with no power and nothing else to do than talk…

Maybe it’s going to help you understand what’s happening in that thick skull of his. So you search for something to wear, something warm since the heating is also down. You settle on brown dress pants that you know make your ass look amazing, and you pair them with a pale beige wool turtleneck. You tuck the shirt in your pants, putting a belt on to make sure it stays in place, and then you take a good look at yourself in your standing mirror. Satisfied with your outfit, you make to move out of your room, but you stop with your hand halfway to the knob.

You can hear Jungkook humming in his room, a soft melody that’s making you think he’s taking a long time in there. Is he actually dressing up? It makes something terribly warm and soft settle in your chest, and you turn back around, grab your makeup pouch and head to your desk.

If this is a date, or whatever it is that Jungkook considers dates to be, you want to look good for it. So you put a little bit of makeup on, trusting your instinct to make it look great even though the light of your small mirror doesn’t turn on since there’s still no power. You hear Jungkook get out of his room before you’re done, and you hope he doesn’t decide to come here.

You doubt he would, but you somehow feel awkward as you’re getting ready. Because he’s your older brother’s best friend, because he’s a college fuckboy, because he’s been making you feel too many things lately – most of them you repress as if your life depends on it. And you think, your life does depend on it. Because nothing can happen between you and Jungkook; you wouldn’t do that to Taehyung. And mostly, you wouldn’t do that to Jungkook, because you know Taehyung would hate him if something did happen.

You sigh. It comes out shakily, a clear indication that you’re growing anxious, and you almost want to laugh at yourself. You want to tell yourself to get a grip, to just play along for things are bound to go back to normality when the power comes back.

You only stop feeling anxious when Taehyung texts you, your phone lighting up where you’ve put it down on your desk.

[5:02 pm] bröther👽: jk texted me the same thing! Glad u won’t be alone tonight [5:02 pm] You: he’s gonna cook dinner [5:03 pm] bröther👽: lmao, jk doesn’t cook for girls, feel lucky

With that you realize that, indeed, you should feel lucky. Because Jungkook can be a friend, if not anything else. It’s reassuring, and you finish getting ready feeling lighter than you’ve felt all day, as if the hell that today was is all forgotten.

You spray some perfume on the inside of your wrists, dabbing it on your neck before you finally declare yourself ready to head out of your room. You hope Jungkook won’t make fun of you – he’d be the kind of guy to make fun of you for this, you just know it – and you make your way to the kitchen, where you can hear him busying himself.

He’s brought his portable speaker out of his room. The one that also has a projector in it, and it shines northern lights on the walls and on the ceiling of the kitchen, giving it a cozy atmosphere. No music is playing as of right now, yet Jungkook is still humming, voice low yet melodious.

You rarely hear him sing, but anytime you do, you feel like your ears are blessed by an angel.

He reappears from where he was hidden in the fridge, and his mouth falls open as he catches sight of you.

He’s wearing a white dress shirt. You think it’s made of linen – it doesn’t look particularly fancy. Yet the way he’s rolled it on his forearms is weirdly attractive, even though he’s only wearing grey sweatpants with it. It’s a look, a look you think only he can pull off. He’s taken the time to style his hair back, and he’s put on earrings you’ve only seen him wear a couple of times during parties.

He eyes you up and down, his doe eyes crinkling in appreciation. “You look good, peach.”

The compliment makes you blush, and you offer him a small smile. He echoes it right away, and he holds up a bottle of rosé that you bought two months ago and forgot all about since then.

“Wine?” you let out as you stop in front of him. You feel awkward because, obviously, it’s wine, but you still hold his gaze as he nods.

“It’s yours but…” He shrugs, glancing at the label. “I figured it’d work well with the chicken.”

You nod once. “Sure, we can drink it.”

It makes him happy. You can see it in the way he beams, and then he puts it down on the counter with the rest of the ingredients. When he moves, you catch a whiff of his cologne, and you feel your cheeks burn again. You glance outside – the rain has stopped, but grey clouds are still looming in the sky as the world slowly darkens. You wonder if they’ll go away some time tonight – without the light pollution, you reckon you’d be able to stargaze.

You end up helping Jungkook with the cooking, chopping some vegetables as he takes care of the meat. You’re not particularly hungry, so you take your time, talking about everything and nothing. Jungkook is good at this, you realize. He’s good at changing your mind, at making sure it doesn’t wander back to your midterm and to the rest of your shitty day. He makes you laugh, cracking stupid jokes whenever you do something, smirking at you when you roll your eyes.

Being with him like this also makes you understand why he’s Taehyung’s friend. He feels more natural this way, less fuckboy-ish, and it’s a side of him you’ve never really seen before.

You sit at the kitchen table, sharing a glass of the rosé wine while the food simmers on the stove. Jungkook’s put on an indie music playlist before you started cooking – something you teased him about. Who knew Jeon Jungkook likes indie music?

“How was Tae before college?” Jungkook asks all of a sudden when there’s a lull in the conversation. “He barely talks about high school.”

You know the exact reason why, and her name is Youna. Taehyung’s ex, his high school sweetheart. The one that moved to the other side of the country without ever once looking back.

“He was an idiot,” you answer, and Jungkook laughs. “No, seriously. He dated the same girl all through high school. Was convinced he was going to marry her.”

“That sounds on brand with Tae,” Jungkook says, nodding his head wisely. “He said that about every girl he’s dated in college, but most of them don’t last more than a few weeks.”

You wince. “Remember Hailey from last semester?”

She lasted about three weeks, but she spent most of those at the apartment. It was the only three weeks where Jungkook and you had talked more than just small talk – or his usual teasing. Mostly because you kept complaining about her, and Jungkook kept saying you were cute when you were mad.

Come to think of it, it still was teasing.

“Fuck, her voice,” Jungkook lets out, shaking his head. “I’m sure she was faking having such a high voice. I don’t know how Taehyung could deal with that.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and Jungkook smiles as he watches you. “I swear to God, I was about to kick Tae out of the apartment,” you say. “I’m glad she didn’t last.”

“Agreed.”

There’s another silence as the song switches on Jungkook’s speaker. You take a sip of wine, appreciating the taste, and Jungkook gets up to check the food on the stove. He comes back a moment later, sitting back next to you.

You think he’s closer. He feels closer, and the smell of his cologne fills your nose again.

“You put on some cologne,” you state, and it startles you somehow. You weren’t expecting to say that and, clearly, Jungkook wasn’t expecting it either.

“Yeah.” He looks down at himself as if the cologne is visible on him. “Do you like it?”

You gulp. “Yeah, you smell good.”

He smirks, nodding his head. “You too, peach. I love the vanilla scent.”

You don’t know what to do with the compliment. You mutter a thank you before taking a large sip of wine, and Jungkook chuckles before following your lead.

“Do you think Tae and that girl in France will last?” you ask. “He still hasn’t told me who she is.”

Indeed, he’s remained evasive whenever you’ve asked. You stalked the people that are with him on the semester abroad, and you think two of the girls could be your brother’s type, but it’s hard to tell.

“Oh,” Jungkook lets out. He grabs his phone, resting his forearms on the table as he opens it. He goes on Instagram, and as it loads, he glances at you. “He’s told me. Let me show you.”

“What!” you exclaim. “How come he told you and not me?”

Jungkook chuckles. “No idea. But here.”

He shows you the girl’s profile, and you take his phone as you scroll through the pictures. To your surprise, she’s not one of the two girls you stalked. She looks shy, barely showing her face in her pictures, most of them being of nature anyway. Come to think of it, you do get a romantic vibe from her feed, and you reckon that would work well with Taehyung.

You’re about to give Jungkook his phone back when it vibrates in your hand, a notification appearing at the top.

[6:05 pm] Shelly 💦🍒: are u gonna be here soon?

It’s not your fault that you read it, and your gaze widens as you look up from the device. Jungkook hasn’t noticed, and he smiles at you, seemingly expectant.

“So?” he asks.

“You had a date tonight?”

His mouth falls open. He looks guilty, eyes widening and taking a sheepish expression. He remains silent, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his head as he thinks of what to answer.

You don’t know how to feel. You feel bad for the girl – Shelly – who’s clearly waiting for Jungkook somewhere. You feel bad that he chose to stay with you because you were upset, but mostly you feel strange that he’s doing all of this for you when there’s someone waiting for him.

The emojis next to her name are enough of an explanation of what she is to Jungkook. Still, you feel increasingly uncomfortable, even more so as he says nothing.

“What the fuck, JK?”

“She’s no one,” he says when you get up. “Trust me, I’ve only hung out with her a couple of times.”

You laugh, and it’s somehow void of joy. “Why would I care?”

He looks at the glasses of wine, and then at the food on the stove. “I don’t know… because we’re…” He motions between you, and then at said glasses of wine and food. “I just forgot to tell her I wasn’t going to come over.”

It’s enough of a reminder that Jungkook, for all his current kindness, is a renowned college fuckboy. It reminds you of all the times you’ve heard him fuck – was Shelly one of the girls? You feel disgusted, and you walk out of the kitchen, not wanting to look at Jungkook right now.

“Peach,” he says as he follows you out in the darkness of the living room.

The living room is also strangely cold, and you shiver as you turn towards him. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “But why are you even reacting like this?”

You scoff. “I don’t know, Jungkook, you tell me.”

You can’t see his expression. But when he takes a step closer to you, you feel the heat of his body radiating in the space between you.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, and you hear the smirk in his voice.

“No,” you say, and you scoff again. “I’m weirded out.”

“Because I was going to fuck someone tonight?” It’s his turn to scoff when you remain silent. “Weren’t you going to fuck that dude? Hoseok?”

You don’t know how he remembers Hoseok’s name, but he’s got a point. You wet your lips, tongue poking your cheek next. “Right.”

“Come on, peach, just come back in the kitchen,” he says. He grabs your hand, and your breath gets caught in your throat as he escorts you back to the chair where you were sitting. You begrudgingly follow, and when you’re seated he towers over you.

You tilt your head back. “What?”

He flicks your nose, and you dodge a second too late. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “I wasn’t jealous I was just weirded out.”

He smiles at you wickedly. “Of course, peach. Of course.”

He sounds so cocky you want to hate him, but all you can do is glare at the table. He pushes your wine glass towards you as he sits back next to you and you wordlessly take it to chug it.

“Now that that’s done,” he says once you’ve put it back on the table, “what do you think of Tae’s girl?”

You had all but forgotten why you were holding Jungkook’s phone in the first place. You recall her Instagram to the forefront of your mind, pursing your lips.

“She looks chill,” you answer.

Jungkook pouts. “Just that?”

You shrug. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Well,” Jungkook starts. “For one I can’t believe she’s Tae’s type. She looks nothing like the girls he dated here. Like just think about Hailey?”

You just nod, because in truth you fully agree with him.

“Her Instagram is a vibe though,” Jungkook continues. “Tae is big on vibes so… maybe it works?”

You nod once more, tilting your head to the side as you really think about it. Because frankly you’d like for Taehyung to find someone that lasts. As much as you know he’s been having fun in college, you know his happiness usually lies in a healthy relationship like the one he had with his ex.

“Hopefully it does,” you finally say. “Tae deserves it.”

Jungkook looks at you, somber expression on his features as he plays with his piercing. It makes your heart cease in your chest, and you busy yourself with refilling the wine glasses as he remains silent.

“He does,” Jungkook eventually replies. “He actually really does.”

He sounds so serious you throw him a questioning glance. “Yeah?”

He blinks once, as if stepping out of a daze before flashing his infuriating smirk at you again. “Definitely.”

There’s an awkward silence, and you watch as he takes a sip of wine before getting up to check on the food. He deems it ready, and makes two bowls, one for you and one for him. He sets yours in front of you, a proud smile on his lips.

“Smells good,” you compliment him as he sits.

He winks at you. “Wait till you taste.”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, and you take a tentative bite, holding his gaze as he expectantly waits.

“Shit,” you let out, and you fan your mouth with your hand. “Why is it so spicy?”

“Don’t tell me you’re like your brother and can’t stand spicy food,” he complains as you take a long sip of wine.

You put your wine glass back down, wincing as it clinks against the bowl. It fortunately doesn’t break, and you push it away from the dish as you chuckle. “What’s wrong with not liking spicy food?”

He pouts. “You guys are so weak.”

You fake-glare at him. “This shit is so spicy it would wake the dead.”

He snorts, stifling his laugh until you meet his gaze and you burst out laughing at the same time. You think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him guffaw like this. His laugh is contagious, pretty, and you’re convinced it can have healing effects.

You’re convinced it has healing effects. Indeed, in that instant, you finally really forget about the day, the heaviness it left behind dwindling into nothingness. It’s replaced with happiness, and chatter with Jungkook becomes easier, more natural.

You realize he smiles a lot. You make him laugh a lot too, and whenever he does you feel your heart flutter in your chest. You don’t like the feeling, know it’s a mistake, but with the wine, all you can do is try to make him laugh some more, and smile whenever he does.

You’re on your first beer after finishing the wine – and the overly spicy food, which Jungkook congratulated you profusely for finishing. You’ve talked about every subject that’s come to your mind so far, none feeling taboo with Jungkook. He eventually tells you about Shelly – she is indeed one of the girls you’ve heard him sleep with – and you laugh as he admits he’s really happy he didn’t have to see her tonight.

You can’t help but snort. “Jeon Jungkook, saying no to sex? I’ve heard everything.”

“Bruh.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Is your opinion of me so low you think sex is the most important thing to me?”

His eyes are gleaming with mischief in the light of his speaker, which will apparently run out of battery soon. You both don’t care, and you’ve lit a candle in case it does die. Its sweet fragrance has been chasing the smell of the food away, and it’s been giving the kitchen a homey vibe, even as it’s growing chilly.

“Is it not?” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head at you. “Not at all.”

You throw him a no-bullshit look that makes him frown cutely.

“How long can you go without having sex?” you ask him, holding in a laugh.

He narrows his doe eyes at you. “At least a few weeks.”

“A few weeks? That’s nothing!”

“Yah,” he bursts, and he laughs as you snort. “Peach, just because I have casual sex doesn’t mean I can’t stop if I want to.”

“Then stop,” you challenge him.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Give me one reason why I should.”

“To prove a point?”

His eyes narrow further, but if you’ve understood one thing about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he doesn’t step down from a challenge. No, as competitive as he is, you’re pretty sure he’ll do it.

“Peach,” he purrs, and it has something warm form in the pit of your stomach. “Is it really about me proving a point, or is it about you being jealous?”

You choke on the sip of beer you were taking, which only makes him laugh. You think it’s a little condescending, but you know he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. You still punch him in the shoulder for it, unable to resist.

“Why would I be jealous?” you ask. “Hobi fucks me good.”

Jungkook shuts his eyes and his nose scrunches. He shakes his head once before looking at you again. “I didn’t want to know that.”

You smile as if you’ve never done anything wrong in your whole life. “Your loss.”

He laughs at that, gaze dropping to the table. Silence grows between you, but it’s comfortable, not like what silence with Hoseok feels like. With Hoseok you feel the need to speak whenever there’s a lull in the conversation but, right now, you’re content with just sitting back in your chair, sipping on your beer.

To your surprise, Jungkook starts singing over the song, gaze lost in his own glass of beer. His voice settles deep inside of you, resonating in your soul, and you just look at him, awe clouding your mind.

You’re not sure he’s realized he’s singing. Because when he meets your gaze, he lets out a small laugh. “Why are you looking at me like this?”

“You have a beautiful voice,” you whisper.

It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but you’re pretty sure his cheeks have turned pink. “Nah.”

“No, I’m serious,” you insist. “I often hear you hum and… you sing really well.”

His nose scrunches up again. “Stop it.”

“Just take the compliment,” you say, laughing as he plays with his piercing.

You reckon it might be the first time in your life you’ve ever seen Jeon Jungkook shy. Because he clearly is, and he looks away from you, running his hand through his hair. It undoes the hairstyle, and a strand falls on his forehead.

You’ve never felt such a visceral need to brush your hand through someone’s hair before. You manage to resist, busying yourself with holding your beer instead.

“M’kay,” he lets out. “Thanks, peach.”

His voice is soft. Softer than the fur of a puppy, and it makes the warm thing in you grow. You gulp, wetting your lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes glance at your mouth, and he looks conflicted for half a second before he smirks again.

“We should have hung out like this before,” he declares.

“Yeah?” is all you can answer.

You feel yourself leaning in. You haven’t even realized how close you’re sitting to him until you’re leaning in. He does too. He leans forward, tilting his head to the side slightly. He looks surprised, even more so when one of your hands finds the back of his neck, pulling him closer until you’ve erased the distance between you.

You both didn’t close your eyes. And you both look startled from your lips touching, so much so that you let go of him, straightening away from him. He, on the other hand, hasn’t moved, and his gaze goes fully serious before he grabs your arm gently, pulling you closer to him again.

This time, when your mouths meet, you shut your eyes, sighing softly as he kisses you. His piercings press into your lower lip, and as his mouth moves against you, you feel the warm thing inside of you grow so big it bursts. It bursts the same way fireworks do – in an explosion of colours that leaves you waiting for more.

He doesn’t disappoint. He tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss. His hand on your arm moves up until it rests on your shoulder before he decides better and moves it to the side of your neck. His thumb swipes at your jaw, gently, and it’s his turn to sigh in the kiss.

When his tongue darts out of his mouth, you meet it with your own. For a reason unknown, you expect it to make you both grow horny, but the kiss remains soft, slow like you have all of eternity stretched out in front of you.

Even though it’s languid, even though it’s soft, you grow dizzy, head spinning as you taste the beer in Jungkook’s mouth. As his hand moves to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. You rest one hand on his chest, right above his heart, and you feel the organ racing under your fingers. It makes you grab a handful of fabric as if that will anchor you in the present.

As if that will make you forget that you’re kissing your brother’s best friend.

It does, though you reckon it might be the way Jungkook shifts in his chair, moving so that you can straddle him. And he pulls you in, softly, tugging on your arm until you let go of the shirt and drape it over his shoulder. You sit on him, legs on each side of him, your toes barely even touching the floor. Still, your mouths move in unison, his lips petal soft against yours.

Your other arm circles his neck too, until you’re holding him against you. His large hands land on your waist, gently, and his thumbs stroke you, barely even grazing you over the thick fabric of your wool turtleneck.

You don’t know how long you kiss. It just seems like you both don’t want to stop, like you both know the moment you stop will be a wake-up call, one you’d rather avoid while you get stuck in this bubble of eternity with him. The fireworks keep on shining bright, warm summer sun blooming in your heart as if this, this was always meant to be.

Oxygen is futile when you’re kissing Jeon Jungkook. Not needed, as if he breathes air into your lungs. You think he does, and you sigh once more as your hands get lost in the hair on the back of his head.

The next swipe of his tongue is sharper, carries more intent, and you both startle, finally parting from each other. Though you remain a hairsbreadth away, longing for his lips the moment your mouths aren’t connected anymore.

Immobile, you breathe in shakily, and you hear him do it too. He’s still stroking you, gently, and he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in. You rest your head on his shoulder, breathing in the clean laundry smell of his shirt, along with the scent of his cologne as you turn your face towards his neck.

The moment stretches some more, as you listen to the music. His grip around you loosens as you press a soft kiss on the mole you’ve discovered on his neck. He pushes you back, gently, until your back is against the table. Your gazes meet then, and you wonder if his eyes always shine like this. Do they always hold the light of the universe in them, or did you set fire to his gaze?

He gulps and his mouth falls open. His pupils fill with something you can’t quite put your finger on, yet it has clouds taking over the summer sun in your heart until the beating organ goes cold.

“Now you’ve had a fake Valentine’s Day kiss,” he murmurs, and the fireworks burst into a void that tastes like ash as you interpret his gaze.

He’s regretting this. It takes over all of his features, turning his big doe eyes into hearths of remorse. It finishes dousing the sun in your heart until the star goes to sleep, and all that’s left is the echoes of what once was.

“Fake?” is all you manage to let out.

He shuts his eyes, eyelids fluttering close softly. He looks like an angel repenting as he rests his forehead against yours, forcing your own eyes shut from the proximity.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he reminds you, reality sinking into his words.

You nod against him before pulling away. You try to get up, but his hands on your waist hold you in place.

“Let me go,” you whisper.

He does so, albeit reluctantly, arms falling to his sides in a defeated manner. You try to not let yourself think about it too much, try to forget what just happened as you stand up, moving away from him.

Without his body heat you shiver, and you hate yourself for the next words you say.

“We should share a room tonight. It’s going to be cold.”

His eyes shoot open as he turns his head towards you, surprise replacing the reality. As if he thought he ruined everything, and you think maybe he did. Maybe he did ruin everything, but you don’t even want to be thinking about it right now. You just want to go to sleep, to let the night pass.

Maybe the insanity will go with it.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “You know, Taehyung doesn’t have to know everything.”

Jungkook slowly gets up, facing you. You gulp as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, hand going to your chin again. He leans in, forcing you to tilt your head back until his lips find yours again.

It lasts a fraction of a second, yet it leaves you scrambling for breath as he takes a step back. He nods as you meet his gaze, an eyebrow cocked in question.

“We can sleep in your room,” he says. “It’s smaller, it’s going to be easier to keep it warm.”

Right as he finishes his sentence the battery of his speaker dies, and silence surrounds you as the northern lights go to sleep. The light flickers in time with the flame of the candle, and you glance at it.

“Sounds good,” you agree, and you wet your lips as you look at him again. His big doe eyes still shine even with just the candlelight, and you wish the world was different. Wish that he wasn’t Tae’s friend, that you could just grab him and have him kiss you stupid again. But he’s right. You shouldn’t be doing this.

Sharing a bed is only practical. Only because it’s cold, and you have to survive the night. A voice at the very back of your mind tells you that you could head over to the dorms, but you don’t want to.

You want to remain here, in this instant outside of the linear timeline of your life.

“Maybe you should get your bed covers?” you suggest. “So we don’t get cold.”

He smiles, so far from his usual smirk and grin that you feel a pang in your chest. “Yeah. Yes, that’s a good idea.”

All of five minutes later, he meets you in your room. You’ve changed into your previous outfit, and he’s swiped his dress shirt for an oversized white Nike t-shirt. He’s holding his bed cover to his chest, just a white bundle that he offers you as if he’s trying to make peace with you. You motion to your bed, and he nods before walking over to it.

You shut the door behind him, turning to look at him as he debates for a few seconds where to sleep in your bed. He starts by putting his bed cover over yours and then chooses to sit at the foot of the bed, on the side that’s against the wall.

He then turns to meet your gaze, his profile cast in the flickering light of the candle from the kitchen and the few others you’ve lit while waiting for him.

“I think this is the first time I’ve been in this room since Jimin moved out,” he tells you, and his lips stretch into that same soft smile.

You glance around, pursing your lips. “Hope it doesn’t disappoint.”

“It doesn’t,” he reassures you as he imitates your action, observing your room. “It feels like you.”

Not knowing what’s that supposed to mean, you cock an eyebrow. “Does it?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t explain further, and you shrug it off as you move closer to your bed to sit on the edge. The moment you’re in his vicinity your heart picks up in your chest. It’s hard to believe that Jeon Jungkook is in your bed right now, and you have to remind yourself that it’s purely because it currently is freezing in your apartment.

“Should we…” you trail off, motioning at the bed.

He chuckles, a sweet sound that forces you to gaze at him, eyes widening as your heartbeat picks up even more. “You want me in your bed so bad, do you?”

You short-circuit, flushing fully red as you struggle to find something witty to reply with. Falling short on words, you end up shrugging your shoulders as you move under the covers, hoping he won’t tease you further.

You highly doubt you’d survive him teasing you more.

To your relief, Jungkook ends up chuckling again, but he remains silent as he slides in next to you, keeping a safe distance between the two of you. You lie on your back, while he turns to face you, and you feel the weight of his gaze on your profile.

It makes you turn to look at him, and he offers you the same kind smile.

“Shouldn’t we blow the candles out?” he asks, and his gaze darts to where you’ve left the candles on your desk and night table. “Just to make sure we don’t burn the building down.”

“You want to go to sleep right away?”

You hate yourself for saying that. Indeed, a smirk grows on his lips and he jumps on the occasion to say, “You want to do something else?”

Something grows hot inside of you, and it’s not that same summer sun he ignited in you earlier. You wet your lips, burning from the inside out as you remind him, “We shouldn’t.”

He chuckles again. “Didn’t you say he doesn’t need to know?”

You meet his gaze, find the mischief behind his big doe eyes and roll yours. “You’re annoying.”

Right on cue you shiver. It takes you by surprise, because you feel your insides burning, yet the temperature in your room is low, winning against the warmth.

“Are you cold?” he asks, no traces of mischief left in his eyes. Only concern can be found in his pupils, and you want to hate him for it.

“A little,” you admit. “The covers are just cold.”

They actually are, as your bodies have yet to warm them. To your surprise, Jungkook sidles closer to you.

“I can hold you, if you want. I’m always too hot.”

You burn a thousand shades of red as you wet your lips. “You don’t have to.”

“Come on, peach, I won’t let you freeze while I’m right here.”

Yet he doesn’t do anything, waits until you’ve nodded your head to slide even closer, and he loosely wraps his arm around your waist. His warm breath fans the side of your face, and you do your best to ignore it.

“Better?” he asks, voice low as he whispers in your ear.

You shut your eyes as electricity courses through your whole body. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Your brain zeroes in on the weight of his arm on you, and when his fingers start tracing random figures on your waist, you let out a small yelp.

“That tickles,” you tell him.

He does it again, and you try to push him away. Only, Jungkook is far stronger than you, and all you manage to do is end up with your back against him as he holds you firmly to him.

“Stop,” you beg, a little breathlessly.

“It’s warming you up, is it not?”

You roll your eyes, though you reckon it is. You don’t feel nearly as cold anymore, and you can feel the heat growing in you again. As an attempt to get away from him, you shuffle, and it earns you a breathless chuckle from him.

Just to make sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing, you move your hips again. Something twitches in his sweatpants and your mouth falls open.

“You’re…”

“Consequences of the position,” he’s quick to say. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t know how you possibly can not worry about it. It’s all your brain can focus on as you shift again, and this time he hisses.

“Maybe you should not do that.” His voice is low, husky, and it sends shivers all over your body.

You bite your lips. “Why?”

He pulls you back in, flush against his chest. His lips ghost on the side of your neck, and you think you’ve been struck with lightning. “Because we can’t do anything about it.”

“Right.”

He rests his head on the pillow behind you again, sighing deeply. His hand holds you against him, forcing you to feel every inch of his hard body pressing into you.

Of his hard dick too, where it pushes into your ass.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” you say, eyes fluttering shut.

He nods. “We should.”

“I need to blow out the candles.”

His arm loosens around you before he fully lets you go. You prop yourself on an elbow, leaning towards the night table. You blow out the candle you’ve left there, and before you can move you feel Jungkook’s palm resting on your hip.

“Shit, peach,” he whispers.

You look behind yourself. Your position is explicit, as if you’re angling yourself to fuck yourself on him better. It makes you move your hips, and you see the moment something snaps inside of him.

“Why don’t you lie down next to me before we blow the rest of the candles out?”

There’s something stern, authoritative in his voice, and you immediately obey him.

“On your back,” he adds.

You exhale shakily as you turn, not daring to disobey. His hand lands flat on your stomach, and he starts drawing circles around your navel. You inhale sharply as he nudges your cheek with his nose.

“You look stressed.”

“What are you doing?”

You hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “Helping you fall asleep?”

“Jungkook…”

“Peach.”

You fall silent as he keeps tracing circles. He sighs next to you, almost longingly and he rests his forehead against your temple. His lips are so close you think you feel their softness on your cheek.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispers. His fingers still on you, under your navel. Some inch or so over the band of your sweatpants and he pushes your shirt up before resuming his actions directly on your skin.

“We really shouldn’t…” you trail off.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” he asks.

It’s rhetorical – he knows just as well as you that you won’t. “No.”

“It could help you sleep.”

You don’t want to know what the ‘it’ refers to. “Yeah?”

He wets his lips, or maybe he plays with his piercing. But from the proximity, you feel his tongue and you think you’re going to die right then and there.

“Doesn’t it help you sleep when you touch yourself?”

You’re soaking your panties. You’re burning up, caught on fire by every strike of lightning that Jungkook’s words ignite in you.

“Does it help you?” you counter-back, remembering when you heard him watching porn two weeks ago.

“It does. Always sleep soundly after.”

You slowly nod, gulping as his lips close on your jaw, and he sucks gently.

He’s danger in human form. And he knows what he’s doing, he knows how to weave words to cause your undoing. You think he’s already started weeks ago, the night of the Incident.

Taehyung is miles away from your thoughts when you say, “You want to touch me?”

He smirks against you, licks at the spot he just sucked on. “Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself?”

He moves his hand away from your stomach, and you moan softly when he parts your thighs open, resting his palm on the one closest to him as he presses it against his hard dick.

“Shit, Jungkook.”

“I know.”

You hate him. You hate him so much you slide your hand between your legs, pressing a circle on your clit.

“Good girl.”

You moan again, yet you stop your ministrations on yourself. “I want to watch you touch yourself too.”

He grunts, grinds his dick in the side of your thigh once more. “You want to see me come?”

“Want you to finger me with your cum.”

You’ve gone insane. You think there’s an asylum out there for you, yet Jungkook only chuckles manly against your jaw. “Peach, I won’t touch you tonight.” You whine, and he sucks on your jaw again. “You can do it yourself.”

He’s mad. So are you, and you untie the knot of your sweatpants so you can slide your hand in. You moan softly as you find your clit, and you dip two fingers inside of yourself before moving back to the bundle of nerves.

“Jerk yourself off,” you tell him. You try to sound commanding, dominant, but your voice is whiny. It earns you a smirk from him as he turns on his back. He takes off his pants and underwear, clearly not as shy as you. You can’t see his dick when you look down as he’s still under the covers, and you gulp as you imagine it.

Feeling bold, you push the covers off, needing to see him. And the sight doesn’t disappoint. His dick is large. Not excessively long, but the girth makes you understand why he’s got girls screaming whenever he fucks them. His tip is glistening with precum, and he runs his thumb on the slit before spreading the precum on his shaft. Large veins run along the length, from base to top, and you’re struck thinking he’s got the prettiest cock you’ve seen in your life.

“Like what you see?” he teases as he strokes his dick once, slowly but with a firm grip.

“Do you want to see me too?”

You really are bold. Far bolder than you’ve ever been with anyone before. Maybe because all of tonight Jungkook has put you at ease, and you think there’s nothing embarrassing about finally living out your fantasy. Especially not when he’s so pliable to it, willing to follow you into the land of insanity.

Scratch that – he’s the one leading to madness.

“It’s only fair if I see you too, no?” he teases with a smirk on his lips as he looks at you with his dark, intense gaze.

“Yeah.”

It’s all you say before you shimmy out of your pants. You don’t miss the way his eyes go to your hip, where you have a large dragon tattoo. He curses under his breath. “Didn’t know you were tatted.”

“Got it last semester,” you answer with a shaky voice.

He smirks up at you. “Hot.”

You gulp, unable to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds. Shier than him, you keep the panties on. To your surprise, he sits up, runs his hand on the inside of your thigh before he lies down on the other side so he has a view of between your legs. His feet are next to your head, and you angle yourself away from them so that they aren’t in your face anymore.

“Touch yourself, peach.”

You nod, and you draw circles on your clit through the fabric of your underwear. It’s a plain black thong, yet you feel immensely sexy when Jungkook’s doe eyes narrow dangerously as he watches you touching yourself, stroking his dick lazily.

You watch how he touches himself, heart beating out of your chest. You’re on fire, a wildfire raging through you, and you moan softly as you press harder into you.

“Why don’t you touch yourself under your panties, mmh?” he asks, gaze sliding up to meet yours before he goes back between your legs. “Won’t it feel better?”

You can’t resist him. You push your panties to the side, holding them with one hand as you go back to your clit. Your thighs instinctively want to close together, but he holds them open.

“Put your fingers in.”

You do. You push two digits in, arching them as you rub at the sweet spot inside of you. He watches, licking his lips as he increases the pace on his dick. You moan right as he grunts, the sound making shivers course up and down your spine.

“Why don’t you use your vibrator instead?”

You entirely stop moving, digits deep inside of you. “Huh?”

“I’ve heard you use a vibrator,” he explains. “I want to see you bury it in your tight little pussy.”

Your walls clench around your fingers at his crude words, and it doesn’t take any more for you to roll towards your night table so you can grab said vibrator. When you’re settled back in your previous position, you click it on, and the soft buzzing fills your room.

“Wait,” Jungkook says, stopping you before you’ve pushed your panties aside again. “Take this off.”

He pinches the fabric on your hip, over the tattoo, and all you can do is nod once before you do. He licks his lips, looking at you appreciatively through half-lidded eyes. He looks between your legs, where you just know he can see your juices glistening. Before he says anything else, you put the vibrator on your clit, legs twitching as harsh pleasure courses through you.

To your surprise, he moans, a low sound that has your pussy clench hard. Of course he sees, and he’s quick to say, “Put it in, peach.”

You obey, and you let out a breathy sound as you immediately rub your clit with your other hand. The next few minutes are a world of bliss, of pleasure and of Jungkook’s praises and grunts, entwined with your moans. You think your room is burning hot, or maybe it’s just his eyes on you. His balls are tight as he jerks off harder, faster, eyes never once moving away from the spot between your legs, where your vibrator makes squelching sounds as you push it in and out of you.

“You’re doing so well,” Jungkook tells you after you’ve moaned loudly.

You’re nearing your high, but for some reason, you haven’t been able to hit it yet. His words bring you closer, yet it remains just barely out of touch.

“So fucking well,” he adds, breathlessly, and you notice he’s gripping his dick harder, moving so fast you barely can see his hand, except when it slows on his head with a flick of his wrist. He moans, grunts loudly. “You’re so hot, I’m going to come.”

“Fuck,” you curse as you watch him push his shirt up, and you catch sight of his defined muscles. They contract as he jerks himself off, and you think you’re drooling.

Maybe because you’re so close to hitting an orgasm that you can’t do anything other than drool.

He glances at your face once. You meet his gaze, blood boiling as you see his eyebrows almost touching over his eyes, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes loudly. His eyelids flutter close as his eyebrows bunch up over his eyes even more, and then he moans out something that sounds like your name.

Not ‘peach’. Your full name. It makes your eyes water as you observe him, as you watch how he looks in pain. And then he curses, and your eyes fall to his dick to see white spurts of cum coming out, covering the tattoos on the back of his hand as he keeps moving, never once faltering.

Your walls clench tightly around your vibrator. You think you’re about to come, but the orgasm doesn’t want to hit, evading you frustratingly. Your motions grow inconsistent, the push and the pull of the vibrator clearly not enough for you.

As Jungkook comes down from his high, he surveys you once more, features blissed out from coming. He watches you struggle as his hand stops at the base of his dick.

“Look at the mess I made because of you,” he says, and you moan. He tilts his head to the side, pulls at his piercing, and then stops you. Puts his hand over yours between your legs as the vibrator rests deep inside of you. “Do you need help?”

You feel some of his cum as it spills from his hand to yours. You keep rubbing on your clit, meeting his gaze as he awaits your answer. “Yes.”

He smirks, and you let him grab your vibrator. He pulls it out of you, watches your juice on it with a hungry look on his features before he hands it to you again. “Put this on your clit.”

You obey, and you sigh in pleasure as he covers two of his fingers with his cum, even picking some up where it fell on his abdomen, decorating his defined abs. You know exactly what he’s going to do before he does, and it makes you curse.

He meets your gaze. “Are you on the pill?”

“IUD.”

He smirks. “Good girl.”

And then he pushes his cum-covered fingers inside of you, arching them to expertly play with your g-spot. You cry out, throwing your head back in pleasure. He fucks you with his digits for a while, and you press your vibrator hard on your clit, as if it’s going to make you come faster.

All it does is make you close your thighs on his wrist. He pulls his fingers out, forces you to spread your legs wide open again, and then circles your entrance with one finger.

“It’s so hot, to watch my cum dripping out of you.”

His digits are in again before you can reply, and he fucks you so well, you crash right into your orgasm, walls spasming around his fingers. You moan, loudly so, and tears prick at your eyes as the waves of your orgasm drown everything in you, making you shake with pleasure.

You ride the high for a long time. Longer than you’ve ever had before, and Jungkook whispers filthy praises to you all through it, until you cringe with oversensitivity and turn off the vibrator. You put it down next to you, and Jungkook pushes in and out twice more before he pulls his fingers out of you.

You remain silent for a while, both of you regaining your breath. Once you stop feeling like you’re seconds away from passing out, you prop yourself on your elbows, watching him. He’s still looking between your legs, and you instinctively close them.

His eyes shoot to your face, and he smirks. “You have no idea how hot you are with my cum dripping out of you, peach.”

You bite your lip, so hard you think you taste blood. “Shit.”

“I know.”

“What did we do?”

He shrugs, sucking on his piercing. “We made sure we’ll sleep well, that’s all.”

You sigh, nodding once before you lie back down on the bed. “Shit,” you repeat.

This time he laughs. It’s a soft sound, something that makes your heart squeeze in your chest. For some reason, it reminds you of the kiss in the kitchen, and butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Even more so as he says, “Let me go get something to clean you up with.”

He pulls his boxers up and then gets up. You miss the way he winces as his feet hit the cold floor, and he’s back with a washcloth before you’ve had time to realize he was gone.

“I’m sorry, there was no hot water left.”

“Oh,” you let out.

He chuckles as he sits next to you. “Do you want to do it or…?”

You nod, and you grab the washcloth out of his hands before cleaning yourself up. It really is cold, and you wince, one eye shutting as you make sure you’re clean before handing it back to him.

“What do you want me to do with this?” he asks, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I don’t know?”

He laughs, still grabbing it before throwing it in your hamper. “Did you want to pee before going to bed?”

You nod again. “I should.”

“Are you okay to get there?”

You roll your eyes, finally finding some of your usual defiance. “You didn’t fuck me, Jungkook, I can still use my legs.”

“Right,” he lets out before chuckling. “I’ll wait for you here then.”

The trip to the bathroom is the worst you’ve ever experienced, with how cold it is in the rest of the apartment. You’re pleased that your room is warm when you come back, and your heart squeezes in your chest as you see Jungkook lying on his side, looking at you as you enter and shut the door behind you.

He smiles warmly at you. “Better?”

“Why is it so cold?” you complain, which makes him laugh that cute, giggly laugh of his. You immediately look away from him, not wanting him to see the blush on your cheeks.

You blow the rest of the candles out, and in the dark, you make your way to your bed. You slide under the covers, sighing at how warm they are now.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Jungkook says as you settle next to him.

You gulp. “What?”

“You said you were going to go to the dorms,” he reminds you, even though that was an eternity ago. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Oh,” you let out. You’re happy it’s dark because your cheeks burn so much you imagine you’ve turned purple. “I’m glad I stayed too.”

He sighs, and you feel the mattress move as he shifts. “Do you want to cuddle?” he asks. “For warmth.”

You snort, and even though you’re in the dark, you nod.

“Sure.”

A few seconds later, you’re the small spoon again, and he holds you close to him. He sighs once more, and it ends with a yawn that has you laugh softly.

“Tired?” you tease him.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, nuzzling his face in your hair. “I’m going to sleep like a rock.”

So are you. Even if you shouldn’t, even if you and Jungkook probably committed a big mistake tonight, you still know you’re going to sleep soundly.

Especially as his breathing evens out behind you, interrupted by soft snores here and there. It forms a melody that lulls you to the land of dreams, to a land where you can forget that he’s Taehyung’s best friend, and where you can imagine that he’s yours after all. It’s idyllic, unreal, yet your sleeping form clings to it like it’s a lifeline in a storm.

You just know that reality is bound to hit again soon.

Prev | Chapter 3.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Oooooof yep. They really did that hehehe. What did you guys think? Did you like it? Let me know!!

#chasing cars ch 3 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

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prythiansprincess · 2 years ago

Text

the crush theory.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: london boy by taylor swift.

author’s note: this is just a cute indulgent coffee shop! au with my sweetheart enzo. majorly inspired by all the boyfriend vibes louis has been serving with miss olivia lately. let’s not even talk about the ass grab with his big hands and rings…🫣

Enzo Berkshire never quite managed to master the language of love.

Despite being a polyglot and a linguistics major, romance remained a complete mystery to him. It wasn't like he could craft a conjugation chart to help him not make a fool of himself in front of the girl of his dreams. When it came to matters of the heart, Enzo often found himself at a loss for words. Perhaps that was the reason why he never mustered up the courage to speak to you.

Until that one fateful fall morning.

The kiss of autumn arrived on campus a few weeks into the semester, freeing the city from the grips of the summer heat and bringing with it the changing of leaves and the distinct scent of cinnamon and apples. Enzo shoved his hands into the pockets of his burnt orange corduroy trousers and savored the sound of the jewel toned leaves crunching underneath his loafers. As the wind picked up, he wrapped his chunky knit cardigan tighter around himself to shield against the chilly breeze.

The ivy covered brick buildings and cobblestone streets faded into the background as he walked past the quad. Deja Brew, the little hole in the wall cafe that Enzo frequented, greeted him like an old friend. The coffee shop was located on the outskirts of campus and was only a short walk from his dorm, which made it the ideal place to conduct his tutoring sessions. Not only was it convenient, but the cozy and quiet ambience provided the perfect setting for Enzo to teach his fellow struggling students.

As time went on, the choice of location became less about convenience and more about catching a glimpse of you—the surly barista that worked the morning shift. For the past few months, Enzo developed a rather embarrassing crush on you. There was something about your scowl and no bullshit attitude that drew him to you like a moth to a flame. Though in his case, Enzo was perfectly content to hover a safe distance from the proverbial light of your fancy French cigarette lest he get burned.

Upon first glance, anyone would have been intimidated by you. With your faded band tees, ripped jeans, and scuffed leather boots, Enzo was well aware that a girl like you would never be interested in a bloke who's wardrobe consisted of sweaters with elbow patches, floral print button downs, and neatly pressed pleated trousers. Needless to say, you were way too cool for him.

Enzo was resigned to merely admiring you from afar, but fate seemed to have other ideas. The bell above the door tinkled softly as he made his way into Deja Brew only to stop dead in his tracks when he spotted you at the register. Usually, you were behind the bar manning the espresso machine during the early morning rush, but not today.

Today, you were front and center.

Part of him considered walking out the door, but given the fact that the shop was nearly empty, a hasty exit would definitely not go unnoticed. Enzo had no choice but to suck it up and approach the register with resignation. The minute he opened his mouth, he was sure he’d muck things up.

Enzo swallowed thickly and pushed his round framed glasses further up the bridge of his nose; a nervous habit he developed when he was younger. The erratic beat of his heart echoed in Enzo’s ears as his gaze flickered up to your face, expecting to be greeted with a frown. To his surprise, your lips curved into a small smile once you spotted him.

“Lemon balm tea with two pumps of peach syrup and a dollop of honey, right?”

Enzo blinked at the melodious sound of your voice, nearly missing the fact that you’d recited his exact order, which shouldn’t have been surprising given the fact that you’ve been making it for him for months. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little warm inside as you looked at him expectantly. He stared in stunned silence for a moment.

You furrowed your brow in doubt. “Did I get that wrong?”

“No, no, it’s right. It’s great. It’s perfect—“ Enzo cleared his throat, mentally kicking himself for rambling. “I’m just surprised that you remembered it.”

“Of course I remember it, you’re one of my regulars. I’d be a pretty shit barista if I forgot your order.” You cocked your head, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “Speaking of which, do you want your croissant warmed up, Lorenzo?”

“You know my name?”

Enzo hadn’t meant to sound so starstruck, but hearing his name come out of your mouth made his heart skip a beat.

“And your social security number too,” you deadpanned. Enzo’s eyes widened, which made you chuckle. “I’m just having a laugh. I promise I won’t commit identity theft against you. Unless you piss me off.”

You accompanied the statement with a cheeky wink, which only made Enzo even more nervous.

"Don't look so nervous, peach. I swear I don't bite."

“Right. Sure. Of course,” he stammered. “The tea and the croissant sounds good, Y/N.” The realization that you’ve never told him your name came a beat too late. “It’s on your chest. The name tag, I mean. I wasn’t just staring at your chest. Though I’m sure it’s very nice. Bloody hell, I’ll stop talking now.”

Enzo cringed at himself, but eased when you laughed. “You’re a strange bloke, Lorenzo.” You said as you began making his drink. “But I’ve got to admit, it’s oddly charming.”

He chuckled, trying to hide the flush coloring his cheeks. “That seems to be my sweet spot.”

"As sweet as peaches," you retorted as you added two pumps of peach syrup into his tea. "You'll have to excuse the fruit references. Before I knew your name, I referred to you solely as the peach guy."

"Is that good or bad?"

Enzo hiked his backpack over his shoulder and meandered down the end of the counter where you were topping off his tea with a dollop of honey. You swirled it into a heart pattern before sliding the warm cup into a sleeve.

"Well, I've never met anyone who's preferred drink could constitute as a dessert, so it's certainly something. You're an enigma, Lorenzo," you said thoughtfully. "Though I think I like peach better. You don't really strike me as a Lorenzo."

“You can call me Enzo. I prefer it over my full name. It sounds so stuffy.”

“We certainly can’t have that,” you said with a smirk. “Enzo. I like it. It’s rather becoming. Not stuffy at all.” He chuckled as you handed him a brown bag. "I might still call you peach from time to time. Force of habit. You understand, right?"

"Of course," Enzo replied. "El loro viejo no aprende a hablar."

"You kiss your mum with that mouth, peach?"

Enzo flushed. "It's Spanish for the old parrot does not learn to talk. Basically their equivalent of you can't teach an old dog new tricks." He shifted his weight onto his other foot. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't mind if you call me peach or Enzo or whatever else you'd like."

"You're giving me way too much freedom, Enzo. I intend on taking full advantage." You winked as you slid his drink over to him. “Enjoy your croissant. I put a little something extra in there for you.”

Enzo peered into the bag and saw an extra pastry wrapped in black cellophane next to his croissant. The brownie didn’t look like any of the ones behind the counter, which meant that it was probably homemade. Strange, he wouldn’t have pegged you for a baker.

“Oh, you really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense,” you countered, waving off his protests. “Really, you’d be doing me a favor. It’s an experimental recipe of mine, which makes you my guinea pig. As payment, I expect a full report on the brownie tomorrow morning. Don’t hold back either, peach. I want a brutally honest review.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Enzo said in reassurance. “In any case, your guinea pig will take ample notes.”

“That would be much appreciated,” you said with a serious nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Enzo-not-Lorenzo.”

Enzo couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

Enzo rubbed his temples, willing the headache forming behind his eyes to vanish. Unfortunately for him, his last tutoring session with Flint seemed to have left a permanent mark. While Enzo usually enjoyed teaching French, Marcus was proving to be a rather difficult case. Not only was Flint unwilling to do the work, the knobhead also spent the entire session leering at you instead of studying the conjugation chart that Enzo poured his blood, sweat, and tears on.

“Merlin, I have no idea how you deal with rich, smarmy arseholes all day.”

Enzo looked up to find you seated across the table, sliding a sandwich, a fruit cup, and a bag of crisps towards him without missing a beat. He hadn’t even realized it was already an hour past lunch until his stomach grumbled at the sight of food.

“One could argue that I’m also a rich, smarmy arsehole,” Enzo countered, picking up a grape and popping it into his mouth with a slight smile. “Yet you seem to have no problems dealing with me.”

“Yes, well, everyone knows I’m just using you for your body. Specifically, your taste buds.” Enzo shook his head in amusement before taking a bite out of the sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly, his favorite. “Besides, how else am I supposed to learn new insults in different languages if I hadn’t met you? Speaking of which, I believe I’m completely justified in saying that Flint is a total gehirnverweigerer.”

“Marcus isn’t so bad. He just needs a bit of a push,” Enzo replied rather unconvincingly.

“If by a push you mean my boot against his arse, then I wholeheartedly agree.”

“The French have this saying, petit à petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. In English, it roughly translates to: little by little, the bird builds its nest.”

“Except Flint isn’t a bird, he’s a twat,” you deadpanned. “The bloke was too busy staring at my arse to even pick up a lick of French. To think, you even made this cute little chart and everything. You have the patience of a saint, Enz.”

“One of us has to,” Enzo replied as he tore open the bag of wotsits. “Given your proclivity to violence.”

“Don’t make me take your crisps away, Lorenzo.”

Shielding his wotsits from your vengeful wrath, Enzo flashed you a saccharine smile. For good measure, he even batted his pretty honey eyes at you. The audacity. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person in the whole entire world?”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Berkshire. Now finish your lunch or else I’ll be very cross with you.”

Enzo smiled to himself, wondering at the fact you were complete strangers until a few weeks ago. Ever since you gifted him with the best brownie he’s ever tasted in his entire life, he became your designated taste tester. Every morning, Enzo would start his day off with his usual lemon tea and whatever new pastry recipe you had chosen to tackle that week. Between the scones and muffins, Enzo learned that you intended on opening your own bakery after uni. Hence, his very important role of reviewing your recipes.

Granted, Enzo didn’t know how much of a help he actually was given the fact that he thought everything you made was amazing. Still, the novelty of finding a fresh pastry in his bag with a handwritten note from you never failed to brighten his morning. Especially since you signed each one with a crimson kiss print that made him blush every time he laid his eyes upon it. It was safe to say his crush had only gotten worse the more he got to know you.

As you settled behind the counter to help with the afternoon rush, Enzo attempted to get some work done before classes started for the day. With finals fast approaching, he was caught up on making sure he had everything in order. It wasn’t until Enzo heard a familiar voice when he finally tore his gaze away from his laptop screen.

Enzo froze as he watched one of his best mates saunter up to the counter. Even from his seat by the window, he could tell that Mattheo was flirting with you. In hindsight, his friend seemed exactly like the type of guy you would go for. The broody bad boy who probably listened to all the obscure bands that you often talked to him about. As Mattheo directed his smoldering gaze at you, Enzo thought he might be violently ill.

Squinting across the coffee shop, Enzo angrily shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers in an attempt to keep himself from strangling his curly headed friend.

In a tone that was at least an octave deeper than his regular voice, Mattheo drawled a question at you. “What’s good here?”

You stared at him pointedly before waving a hand towards the menu. “There’s coffee, there’s pastries. It’s really not rocket science.”

The deadpan delivery combined with the utterly unenthused expression on your face nearly made Enzo snort out loud. It might’ve been an arsehole move to rejoice at Mattheo’s fumble, but he found it immensely satisfying that you seemed to be immune to the infamous Riddle charm.

“A bit feisty today aren’t we, love? I just wanted to see what the pretty lady behind the counter recommends.”

Enzo watched in amusement as you slipped on your signature scowl, the one that made him fall for you in the first place. “The pretty lady recommends that you stop holding up the line so she can get to the other customers who actually know what they want.”

Hiding his smirk, Enzo feigned surprise as a dejected Mattheo plopped down across from him. “Merlin, that was brutal. Is the barista always this mean? I complimented her pins and she stared at me like I’d grown an extra head.”

“Y/N isn’t really a people person,” Enzo supplied.

“No shit, Berkshire.” Mattheo tapped his fingers on the counter. “Let’s just get to class before I embarrass myself any further.”

“That’s probably for the best,” replied Enzo.

Ignoring Mattheo’s glare, Enzo packed up his laptop and put his tray away. He followed his mate through the throng of people, which had thinned out once more. They were a few steps away from the door when you called out his name. With a raised brow, you held out a pink box. Enzo smiled sheepishly in return. He couldn’t believe he’d almost forgotten the dessert of the day.

“One lemon berry scone. Less tart, per your critique last week.” He took the box from your hands, blushing furiously when your fingers brushed against his. “Have a good class, peach.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll have your full report ready tomorrow.”

“You better.” Enzo nearly dropped the box when you winked at him. “Later, Berkshire.”

Smiling to himself, Enzo came face to face with a gaping Mattheo. “For Salazar’s sake, it’s like I don’t even exist.” He muttered before breaking out into a grin. “No wonder my moves had no effect. Mate, she obviously fancies you.”

Enzo’s cheeks immediately heated as he pushed out into the quad. “What? No. Y/N and I are just really good friends.”

“Now I understand why you come here so often,” Mattheo remarked. “If the mean hot barista plied me with baked goods and called me peach, I’d be coming here every day.”

“It's an inside joke about my drink order..." Enzo tried to explain. "The point is, Y/N isn’t mean. She’s actually really nice.”

“Yeah, because she likes you.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Does too.” Mattheo countered. “Why else would she bake you a scone?”

“She wants to own a bakery someday. Obviously, that means she needs someone to test her recipes out on,” Enzo explained. “It’s how we became friends.”

“Right,” Mattheo said with a shit eating grin. “Friends.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “Can we just please get to class?”

“Whatever you say, peach.”

“I have a theory,” Mattheo announced.

Enzo sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Not this again, mate.”

The rest of their friends perked up, abandoning their laptop screens and textbooks in favor of the newest piece of gossip. The little corner of the library that their group had claimed was fairly quiet, which was supposed to be optimal for revising, but Mattheo couldn’t seem to let his conspiracy theory go. He'd been badgering Enzo about it for a week.

“Berkshire here refuses to believe me, but I have it on good authority that Y/N has a crush on him.

“Y/N,” Theo started, “You mean his mean barista friend? She’s proper fit.”

“Don’t call her fit,” Enzo replied rather defensively.

“A little touchy there, Berkshire.” Regulus said with a chuckle. “Is that jealousy I sense?”

“For the millionth time, Y/N and I are just friends.”

“Is that the same friend that makes all those tasty pastries for you?” Draco asked with a raised brow. “I’ve seen the cute little notes she leaves for you posted all around your dorm. With the adorable kiss prints and hearts. Seems to me like Mattheo’s right. Y/N’s sweet on you, cousin.”

“Do me a favour and stop being a snooping twat, cousin.” Enzo retorted with a frown. “Y/N’s just being nice. It’s what friends do.”

“None of my mates have ever gone out of their way to bake me a bloody thing,” Blaise declared in feigned offense as he wrapped an arm around Pansy.

“Yes, well, none of your mates even know where the oven is located, let alone how to operate it,” replied his girlfriend. Pansy smiled at Enzo. “Besides, I think their friendship is sweet.”

“Thanks, Pans.”

“So you don’t fancy Y/N?” Theo asked. Enzo opened his mouth then closed it. He was well aware that his friend was baiting him, but he refused to fall into Theo’s trap.

“Like I said, we’re friends.”

“In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I asked for her number, right?”

As a matter of fact, Enzo did fucking mind. He minded very much. Too much, probably. But he couldn’t very well say that out loud. Instead, he masked his scowl and returned his attention to revising.

“Knock yourself out, mate.”

Theo smirked. “Alright then, let’s go.”

“Go where?” Enzo asked disinterestedly, flipping through his study sheet for Latin.

“To Deja Brew,” Theo replied smugly. “We all need a study break, anyways.”

“You want to go there? Right now?” With each question, Enzo’s death grip tightened on his notes. “To ask for Y/N’s number?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, right? In fact, maybe you could introduce us.”

Enzo would rather walk on hot coals. “I think I'll pass. I've already seen her turn Mattheo down and that was brutal enough as it is. I don’t need an encore.”

“Riddle’s probably not her type.”

Mattheo frowned, crossing his arms. “I’m everyone’s type.”

Theo chuckled. “Apparently not hers. Perhaps she’d prefer a handsome Italian, no?”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “In your dreams, Nott.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” exclaimed Blaise. “I’d never miss an opportunity to witness Theodore get humbled. Are you sure you’re ready for a woman like Y/N, Nott?”

“Please,” Theo scoffed. “I was born ready.”

Against his will, Enzo found himself at Deja Brew ten minutes later. In his usual corner by the window, he brooded like a petulant child. This was a horrible, terrible, and idiotic idea. All he wanted to do was revise and now his study session had been hijacked just so he could watch Theo flirt with the girl he fancied.

“You know, you can put a stop to this any time you’d like,” Mattheo said in a sing-songy voice. “Just admit that my theory is right. Y/N has a crush on you and I’m willing to bet that the feeling is mutual. Isn’t it, Berkshire?”

Enzo crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. Instead of giving into Mattheo’s childish pursuits, he opened his laptop and pretended to be immersed with Russian translations.

“Have it your way, Enzo.” Regulus declared, nodding towards the register. “Nott’s about to give us a show.”

As irritated as he was with his friends, Enzo couldn’t tear his gaze away. Theo marched up to the counter with swagger and confidence, slipping on his signature smirk. You looked up from your phone screen, giving the tall and lanky boy a sweeping gaze. The unenthused expression on your face screamed that you weren’t at all impressed.

“Y/N, is it?” Theo drawled, squinting at the nametag pinned to your apron. “A pretty name for a pretty lady.”

“Thanks,” you deadpanned. “My parents gave it to me. Now what can I get started for you?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me for my name?”

“I know who you are,” you replied dismissively. “One of Enzo’s friends, right? I heard about your little stunt in the fountain. You know, December’s not really a smart time to go skinny dipping.” Theo flushed as your eyes trailed down to his crotch. “Certain parts shrivel in the cold, Nott.”

“I assure you, my parts were perfectly intact.”

“That’s not what Katie Bell said,” you countered, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “I believe I heard something about shrinkage.” Theo opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. “I’ll tell you what, Theodore. Why don’t I fix you up a cappuccino? It’ll help keep you and your parts warm and cozy.”

Enzo bit his lip to keep himself from bursting into laughter. The rest of his friends snickered as they watched a dejected Theo return to the table.

Regulus snorted as he sat back down in defeat. “Merlin, that was hard to watch. Absolutely brutal, really.”

Theo glared at Regulus in response. “I’d like to see you do better, Black.”

Regulus winked. “Watch and learn, boys.”

The older boy had about as much luck as Theo. Though the attempts had put him in a foul mood at first, Enzo was absolutely elated as he watched you turn down his friends. Regulus received an eye roll while Draco reeled from the head to toe once-over that humbled the absolute hell out of him.

“It’s useless,�� his cousin mumbled. “She hates everyone.”

“Or maybe Y/N just doesn’t appreciate random blokes chatting her up while she’s trying to do her job,” Pansy said with an eye roll.

“Oh bloody hell, here she comes.” Regulus muttered under his breath. “I don’t think my ego can take another hit.”

The boys cowered as you came closer, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Instead, you set a fresh mug of tea and a lemon scone down in front of Enzo.

“Last one, I promise. It’s finally perfect this time.”

“You said that the last three times,” Enzo said with a chuckle. “They were all brilliant, by the way. Not that you listen to my well crafted reviews.”

“You say that about everything I make, Enz. Honestly, a girl bakes you a couple of treats and suddenly I’m the best thing since sliced bread.”

“I’m just being honest,” he replied with a shrug. “You couldn’t bake a single bad pastry if you tried.”

“I’d like to try a pastry,” Mattheo interjected.

You tore your attention away from Enzo. The smile that you reserved for him transformed into a scowl, your entire body language turning stern. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?”

“Riddle,” Mattheo supplied. “Mattheo Riddle.”

“Right,” you said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “My pastries aren’t for sale. You’re more than welcome to try the day-old brownie behind the counter though. If you can manage to chew through it.”

Mattheo sputtered, but you paid no mind to his aghast expression. Enzo fought the urge to kiss you right then and there.

“Closing again tonight?” he asked, ignoring the blatant stares from the rest of his friends.

“Unfortunately. Diggory bailed again. Probably too busy snogging Cho to come in for his shift,” you said with an eye roll.

“Leave those lovebirds alone,” Enzo quipped back. “They’re in their honeymoon phase.”

“I can’t for the life of me understand how they aren’t sick of each other by now.”

“That’s because you’re a mean old grump.” You glared at him, which only made Enzo smile. “Luckily for you, that doesn’t deter me. I’ll come keep you company if you want. I promise to be way more entertaining than Cedric.”

“It’s not a hard task to accomplish, but I’ll take you up on it nonetheless.”

“I thought you might say that,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll meet you back here after my last class. Pad Thai tonight?”

You nodded and grinned back. “This is why you’re my favorite, peach.”

The boys gaped as you ruffled his hair in parting. They waited until you were out of earshot before launching into a tirade.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Just friends my arse.”

“I can’t believe she actually smiled at you!”

“It’s strange how treating Y/N like an actual human being instead of pestering her while she’s trying to work yields such positive results,” Pansy retorted. “I think you all need to start following Enzo’s example. Clearly he’s had more success than you lot.”

Blaise patted Enzo on the back. “Mate, you might be the most oblivious bloke in all of Britain, but you’d have to be an absolute knobhead not to see what’s right in front of you.”

He hummed in response, glancing up at the exact same time that your gaze met his from across the room. You winked, making him blush furiously. Merlin, you were pretty. It was honestly unfair. Maybe Zabini was onto something.

When it came to you, even Enzo had to agree that he was a total and absolute knobhead.

Later that night, Enzo helped you clear the plates and mugs as the last customers trickled out of Deja Brew. The soft sounds of your perfectly curated playlist trickled over the speakers as you flipped the sign to closed. He watched with a small smile as you hopped up onto the counter and beckoned him over. The fairy lights twinkled above the ceiling, illuminating your smile as Enzo took his place next to you.

The sight of you grinning up at him tugged at his heartstrings. There were coffee stains on your jeans and apron, your thick hair was falling out of its braid, and a cold bowl of Pad Thai awaited in your lap and yet he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Aren’t you glad Cedric bailed?” Enzo teased, knocking his shoulder with yours. “Now you get to enjoy cold noodles with your favorite person.”

You chuckled, nudging him back. “I suppose this is nicer than listening to Diggory ramble on about Quidditch. It’s always bludger this, bludger that. I honestly considered bludgeoning him myself.”

“To be fair, the man could merely breathe and you’d still find a way to be annoyed by it.”

“No one needs to inhale that much oxygen.”

“I rest my case, you mean old grump.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “You know, if anyone else called me that I’d poke their eye out with a fork.” Enzo chuckled as you stabbed into your bowl of noodles. “Besides, I have every right to be grumpy. It’s been a long day. Thanks to your incessant little friends.”

“I’m sorry about the guys,” he said earnestly. “I tried to talk them out of flirting with you, but they’ve got this crazy theory.”

“Oh?” You asked, raising a brow. “What’s the theory, then?”

Enzo flushed, avoiding your gaze. “They uh…” He cleared his throat and stared at his shoes. “They think you fancy me.”

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe they’re not idiots after all. Your friends are right. I do fancy you.”

White noise rushed through his ears. Enzo’s mouth fell open as he met your gaze. Surely, he hadn’t heard you correctly.

“You alright there, peach?”

“You…” Enzo trailed off, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You like me?”

You chuckled. “I have for a bit. Thanks for finally noticing.”

“How?” Enzo muttered. “What?” He cocked his head, trying to search for the proper words. “Why?”

At the moment, it appeared that one syllable words were the full extent of his vocabulary. All those languages in his head and yet he couldn’t form a single coherent sentence.

“Enz, I know your drink order by heart,” you explained softly. “I make you cupcakes and muffins. I write you notes every day. I thought I made myself pretty obvious.”

“Gods,” he breathed, silently reprimanding himself. “I really am the most oblivious bloke in Britain.” Enzo licked his lips, turning over to look at you. “I just thought you were being nice.”

“Lorenzo, when have I ever been nice to anyone?”

“I am a bloody idiot.”

“You never made a move, so I just thought you didn’t see me that way. Which is fine, by the way. I don’t mind being friends.”

Enzo turned so fast he nearly smacked into the register. “Are you kidding? I’ve had a crush on you for months. You’re the best part of my day. Waking up and knowing that I get to see you every morning is the only thing that gets me out of bed.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You’re out of my league. You’re smart and funny and not to mention way too cool. Honestly, I thought you’d go for someone like Mattheo or Theo or literally anyone else but me. Someone a little more…” he trailed off, waving a hand over you.

“Scary?”

“No! Well, yes. Someone more confident and intimidating.”

“Bad boys aren’t really my type.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. “They’re not?”

“No,” you said, setting down your food and turning over to face him. “My type is a nerdy linguistics major who teaches me how to curse in six different languages and who makes cute little conjugation charts and orders drinks that should quite frankly classify as a dessert.”

Enzo’s smile grew wider. "I like you too, you know. A lot. Like, embarrassingly so. With your grumpy little scowl and all black wardrobe and dry humor. I like all of it."

You beamed as Enzo leaned closer, tracing your lips like he was trying to commit the curves of your smile to his memory. His heart pounded in his chest as your eyes flickered up to meet his.

"Then kiss me like you mean it, Enzo."

Despite your confidence, the air left your lungs as soon as Enzo cradled your face in his hands. The twinkling lights made his brown eyes shimmer like pools of honey in the dark. The tension stretched between you as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours ever so gently. They briefly closed around yours—tasting, testing, taunting. Then the dam broke free.

Enzo pressed you closer and kissed you like his life depended on it. You smiled against his lips, melting into his touch as he tilted your head back for more. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as Enzo sighed into your mouth, his lips molding perfectly against yours. The once shy and experimental kisses turned needy and passionate, making you feel slightly lightheaded. Enzo savored your soft sighs, kissing you over and over again to elicit more.

It wasn't until you felt like the air had been depleted from your lungs when he finally relented. He pressed his forehead against yours, noses brushing as you both grinned at each other. It felt right to be this close. It felt like you were made to do this all along. Enzo brushed his thumb over your cheek, looking dazed as he pulled back to look at you.

“It’s about time, Berkshire.”

“Hey,” Enzo grumbled, pecking at your lips. “You can’t blame me. I couldn’t even look at you without blushing and making a fool of myself. You’re so intimidating.”

“Not so scary now, am I?”

“Oh no, I’m still terrified of you. But I’ve also seen you cry during the Notebook, so I know that deep down inside, you’re just a big softie.”

You started to protest, but Enzo just leaned in and kissed you again. With his lips pressed against yours, you couldn’t even remember what you were about to say. As he pulled you into his lap, you heard cheers coming from outside. Behind the glass window, his friends were cheering and wolf-whistling rather obnoxiously on the street.

Enzo responded by flicking them off and kissing you even harder, pressing your bodies together as you giggled. He hauled you to your feet, his arms circling around your waist as he dipped you for a better angle. Your back hit the counter as you raised to your tiptoes, winding your arms around his neck and mussing up his hair as you arched for more. The hollering only grew more incessant when Enzo grabbed your ass and squeezed. The groan that escaped from his mouth made you dizzy with desire.

If one kiss could elicit such a response out of you, it was almost scary to think what else Enzo had in his arsenal. A cheeky little smile curved against his lips as though he knew exactly what you were thinking. You basked under the warmth of his gaze, feeling flushed and flustered. That pretty face had you entirely fooled. Enzo was far from innocent.

“Gods, I really fucking fancy you.”

With a smile, you kissed the tip of his nose. “I really fucking fancy you too, peach.”

Despite the many languages in Enzo's arsenal, no phrase or saying could convey how he felt better than his lips against yours. Maybe he hadn't quite mastered the language of love, but he had a feeling that you'd be more than willing to teach him.

#my pretty boy give me coffee shop shy enzo #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire smut #lorenzo berkshire fluff

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lilbunnis · 2 years ago

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❛ ♡. gif credit. ⎯⎯ 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐬. ❜

★ ⎯⎯ big brother!aemond is used to your sweet moans and whimpers, though he is reaching his breaking point--- he must have you, no matter the consequences.

author’s note᛬ hii! first time posting on here--- this is obvi a new acc (personal reasons) but i also just wanna strictly post my writing on this blog. first time writing incest, too! oh, & im in my witchy era. anyways, if u’re a minor then do not fuckin interact, thx.

warnings᛬ mdni! smut, angst, dubious consent, dark!aemond, profanity, she/her pronouns, afab reader, innocence kink, corruption kink, manipulation, pussy whipped!aemond, incestuous relationships, breeding kink, cunnilingus, fingering, obsessive & possessive behavior, pet names. any grammatical errors are my own--- in advance, i sincerely apologize.

word count᛬ 1.5k

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘.

oh, how sweet her lips were, so soft and plump, like the ripest of peaches during the middle of summer, ready to be kissed. gods, her eyes… so dark and tempting, yet warm and doe-like, a gift from their mother, the queen. her skin was pure and soft and untainted, almost whispering to him to touch, touch, touch--- touch her!

she was his--- since she was torn from their mother’s womb, bloody and screaming, a dragon come forth, his darling little sister.

he loved, he loved, he loved her.

the very epitome of a true born targaryen, made for him.

he knew since the day that she came into this cruel world that she would belong to him, that she would be his.

his, his, his.

“b-brother! no, n-no, i- nghh.. ‘m gonna—“ she babbled cutely, her voice like sweet music to his ears, a siren’s call, begging him to take her maidenhead.

the voices in his head were insistent and loud, screaming venomously at him, luring him to kiss, to touch, to take--- she was rightfully his by birthright, why shouldn’t he indulge?

yes, they hissed, encouraging him with their sweet, persuasive voices inside of his head--- had he finally gone mad? were the rumors of the targaryen madness true?

even so, he did not give a fuck.

his sweet baby sister was his, she always would be, and the way she clawed at his wrist, begging him to fuck her with his deft fingers faster, faster, faster!

or, perhaps… trying to push his hand away--- no, no. she loves him, and he loves her!

it was destiny, their destiny, to be together as husband and wife and bring forth a whole new bloodline of true born targaryens!

yes, his sweet little sister would give him so many babes, he’d fill her up and watch her as she’d grow round and fat with his many sons and daughters.

fire and blood, fire and blood, fire and blood---

then, a scream--- oh, so feminine and sweet; how he just adored his sweet little sister, his little darling.

aemond heard her cry out, the sweetest wail, fat tears falling down her flushed cheeks as he continued burying his long, nimble fingers inside of her sweet, drooling cunny, preparing her for his cock.

meanwhile, he kept pressing against that little patch of nerves inside of her that she could never reach by herself, stroking relentlessly--- meanly.

poor, sweet little lamb.

aemond was panting heavily, watching as her sweet little cunt sucked in his fingers greedily, making his lips twitch in amusement--- he could barely withdraw his fingers due to how fucking tight she was.

uncaringly, yet so lovingly, he would cruelly plunge them back inside of her, wet noises and her sweet, breathy little moans and whimpers filling his chambers.

“that’s it,” he cooed softly, his voice a raspy baritone, so convincing, “—doing so fucking well for your big brother, issa jorrāelagon.”

quietly, he continued into the night, moonlight spilling in through the glass windows of his chambers, his amethyst colored eye was fully blown wide and focused solely on her squelching cunt, watching as her little clit twitched and practically begged him for attention.

and who was he to deny his little sister such sweet, sinful pleasure?

not a second later, aemond moved to settle between his sister’s thighs, lowering his head until his breath ghosted over her wet, puffy folds, allowing him to inhale her feminine scent--- causing him to release a low, satisfied groan.

then, the prince nuzzled his sharp, prominent nose against her little, fleshy bundle of nerves, breathing her in further as two of his long fingers continued to wildly fuck her little virgin fuck-hole.

“b-bro-brotherrr! please, please! need.. n-need to--- please!” came her sweet, girlish voice which was higher in pitch than usual, making him let out a soft, amused hum.

“as you wish, sweetling,” he murmured against her clit, the vibrations from his deep voice causing her to squirm impatiently, before finally, she felt his plush, naturally curved lips wrap around her aching, throbbing clit, causing her to wail brokenly and clutch the silk sheets with tiny fists.

aemond, the kinslayer, could never deny her, could never say no to her--- perhaps, he should be furious at how weak she made him feel, but he could never find it in his cold, blackened heart to ever feel any sort of anger towards her.

his sweet beloved.

it was maddening how helpless he was against her, how deep his devotion to her was--- possibly, others would call it obsession, sinful, an abomination, but aemond knew the truth; dragons did not concern themselves with the likes of sheep.

oh, how he loved her, how he wished to possess her, to be the only person she would ever love, to be her one and only like she was his.

passionately and glowing, burningly real, her nude skin glistened in the moonlight, the few candles that were slowly dying out around his chambers and the burning fire in his fireplace teased shadows from the corner of his eye, the ghosts that still haunted the red keep were always watching and judging them viciously for their sins.

and oh, how their intertwined souls would burn in the brightest of flames, always together, even in the deepest pits of the seven hells, for all of time; for eternity.

still, he ignores the demons--- too drunk by the sweet taste of his little sister’s cunt.

“mine,” he purrs against her cute, twitching clit, suckling the nub into his watering mouth, which made his cock leak even more pre into his small-clothes, causing him to groan and harshly grind his loins down against his bed.

“say it, sweetling--- tell me that you’re mine,” he murmured, wrapping one of his massive hands around his sister’s smooth, left thigh, digging the tips of his calloused fingertips into the meaty skin possessively, holding her in place.

“ah, ah, ah— aemond, nghh..! oh-hmm, ‘m yours,” she babbled sweetly, her words slurring slightly as she began reaching her sixth peak of the night, causing more tears to spill down the sides of her face as she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her blurry vision as she felt her big brother scissoring her weeping cunt open.

wailing in despair, she felt her brother’s skilled tongue flicking and rolling her clit into his eager mouth again, suckling at it and nipping at the little nub mercilessly.

gently, with such cruel, bloodstained hands, aemond squeezed his sister’s thigh harshly, causing her to squeal and thrash her head around on his feathered pillow, her back arching like a bowstring as she finally reached her sixth peak, crying out and babbling her big brother’s name over and over and over--- pleadingly.

“oh, oh, ohhh..! f-feels so--- so good,” she sobbed brokenly, her thighs shaking and clenching around his head, making him continue to dig his neatly trimmed fingernails into the pillowy skin of her left thigh that he was still clutching, while moving his head quickly back and forth, stimulating her little nub until his little sister saw stars.

aemond knew it was sinful, having his sister gush and leak and drool all over his fingers and tongue as he continued suckling at her now overstimulated clit, her skin glistening with sweat, making her skin shine so beautifully against his silk bedsheets--- she was ethereal, an angel, his.

“sweet girl, you’ve done so good for me this evening--- so fucking perfect, little darling,” he praised tenderly, removing his mouth from her clit, while still gently nuzzling the twitching bud with the tip of the cleft of his nose, his fingers still moving almost lazily inside of her cunt, curling his fingers inside of her.

…as if he wished to stay inside of her; forever.

a soft hum escaped him in content, while he continued to gently fuck her with his fingers, more slowly as he heard her soft, girlish pleas--- more like sweet little mewls of his name.

“i think you’re ready for my cock now, don’t you?” he questioned darkly lovingly, pressing soft kisses against her engorged clit, allowing his slightly swollen lips to trail open-mouthed kisses all across the soft curls covering her mound, then across her inner thighs which were covered in her slick, watching as they continued trembling in his strong, possessive grasp.

silently, he gazed up at her longingly, a low purr rumbling deeply inside of his bare chest, the thought of plunging his furiously hard, weeping cock into his sister’s tight little cunny was almost too much to bear for the kinslayer.

oh, and how all of my devotion turns violent, aemond thought wickedly to himself, but no--- not with his sweet, beloved little sister…he would take her as his lady wife, to love and cherish and breed her nightly with loads of his seed until she was pregnant with many of his babes.

even then, aemond would never stop, how could he? she was his everything, and whether or not she was too fucked out by him feasting on her cunny for hours was no matter, because he already knew.

she loved him just the same, even if she truly did not know it just yet, his innocent little sister.

hm, what a sick little head he had, how his love turned into obsession, into possession--- but nonetheless, it was still love.

pure, undying love.

fin.

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ahanarhorse · 3 months ago

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Heros of the Winds!

@christian-zelda 's Cracks Across Time Wind!

Love the guy, love his hair too, it's very sandy and nice. Also I remembered the bandanna this time.

@magiowlio 's Call Of Hylia AU Waker!

He just looks like a silly little guy, an absolute gremlin, a mischief maker perhaps. Also your art style is beautiful, makes him even more gremlin looking.

@layraket 's @linkbetweensoulsau Sea!

He's just a little guy, he has the biggest eyes and smile, he's so so so very cute, I love him. Also I love the little detail with the shirt stitching right where his scars are, that was so clever I love how you added that.

@plateapus 's @linked-across-dimensions Wind!

Another gremlin, I can see plotting in those eyes. Love his dramatic eye patch, definitely pirateyy. Also his hair is so floofy, very very floofy.

@sleepyy-27 's @heroes-of-courage Sailor!

I love his little bandanna, it looks so good on him. Also his shirt, you made it a turtle I'm guessing? Anyway, looks amazing, love your guys.

@the-sage-of-aura-and-shadows 's @the-auras-of-light Tide!

I did not do all the design justice, your designs are so so pretty, they're absolutely gorgeous with all the little details you put into each one of them.

@minart-was-taken 's @minas-linkverse Wind!

A little guy, a little squishy guy, I love your characters so much and your art style is so cute!!!

@the-phantom-peach 's Rift in Time AU Wind!

I love Wind's little tooth gap, had to make him smile to show it off. He is so cute, he's absolutely adorable I can't!!! Also your art style is squishy, and so cute, your art is adorable.

And myy @the-chain-of-fate Wind!

Love my guy, sadly did not draw him as I wished.

This was so much fun!!! Hope I did all your guys justice, they're such amazing characters!

#ahanar's art #cracks across time #call of hylia au #link between souls #linked across dimensions #heroes of courage #the auras of light #minas linkverse #rift in time au #the chain of fate #wind waker link

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wri0thesley · 2 years ago

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famous last words - dottore x reader x dainsleif (9.6k)

you can take care of yourself.

cw: dead dove, do not eat. not sfw, minors dni. non-con, drugging, syringes, mind control. yandere dottore and yandere dainsleif. reader is the traveller and has been travelling with dain. bondage, restraints, misuse of the akasha system, reader is traumatised and taken advantage of by dainsleif after being at dottore's mercy. reader wears a dress and has breasts/a vagina, but is referred to by they/them pronouns. please please heed the warnings.

a/n: please please (i am repeating it!) read the warnings on this one. one of my favourite yandere/dark content tropes is actually 'reader has a horrible experience and then a character who is supposed to take care of them takes advantage of them', and i don't think i've ever written it before, so this was super interesting to write!

this was a commissioned work.

Dainsleif has been on edge since the two of you crossed Sumeru’s borders.

He doesn’t say it out loud - you have learnt, over the time the two of you have spent travelling together, that Dainsleif is a man of very few words even at the best of times - but you know his small quirks and foibles well enough now that you sense it. It’s in the set of his shoulders and the line of his mouth, the way his eyes are constantly darting about wherever you go.

It’s somewhat in the way he walks closer to you, his height casting a shadow over your own, as if he can protect you merely by being near you. It makes a muscle in your jaw twitch - you are grateful for his care, of course, but surely he knows by now that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself? You have gotten used to the feeling of a sword in your hand over your search for your twin - you have made a name for yourself in every nation you’ve traversed, and only some of the time has Dainsleif been by your side.

You suppose that the newfound relationship between the two of you is clouding his judgement somewhat too--

Well.

‘Relationship’ might be too strong of a word.

Dainsleif is hesitant with you even now; checks with you, twice and three times, before he so much as touches your shoulder. But you hope you have made it clear he does not need to, with the way you have let your hand entangle with his and the way you have smiled at him when nobody else is looking, the soft confessions to him at camp overnight that he’s one of only two people in this world you would trust whole-heartedly . . .

All of that, perhaps, has made Dain even more protective over you than he was before, despite the truth of the matter being that you are almost equal in swordsmanship and combat ability. And he’s said enough to you, too, that you understand his hesitance. Other people he has loved have been taken from him - a whole nation, in fact. Dain has had to struggle on for years all alone, and walls built over such a long time do not crumble so easily--

But still. You wish he would not fret so when you walk away from him in Sumeru City to investigate an interesting looking fruit and to ask the stallholder some questions about their wares.

You’re startled out of your reverie - handling the Zaytun peaches that lay in plump piles in round baskets upon this particular stall - by Dain murmuring your name. He has attracted some attention - he is tall and handsome and blond, an air of mystery and exoticism emanating off of him - but he is unaware of the giggles behind other people’s hands, his gaze set firmly on you.

He has always been like that - those piercing blue eyes, even through his mask-like patch - never fail to make you feel as though you are the only person in the world. You have woken up in the night at camp plenty of times, too, and felt safe in the knowledge that Dainsleif is there and his gaze will not falter.

You toss some Mora to the stallholder and turn to Dainsleif, proffering one of the peaches to him. He takes it like a precious treasure.

“Is something wrong?” You ask him, before you take a bite. His brow is furrowed - you sense something brewing in the wind. A kind of unease that lies hot and heavy in the humid Sumeru air. Dain sighs softly.

“I have some things I must do,” he says to you, his voice soft and low. “I don’t want to leave you alone, but . . .”

“I’ll be fine,” you tell him, smiling. You wonder what it is that he does not want to take you along with, but you do not push - Dainsleif will tell you in his own time, you are sure. You have no desire to push him too far when his hope seems such a fragile thing still. “I’ll meet you tonight, here?”

His shoulders untense, just a touch.

“Will you stay in the City?” He asks you, and you laugh.

“Dain,” you say, smiling, just a touch of reproach in your voice. “I can take care of myself, you know! Go and do what you need to do. I will be absolutely fine. You know that! When have I not been?”

Dain does not look entirely convinced, but whatever it is that he has a need to do has a hold on him - he looks at you with those serious, piercing eyes and takes your hand. Your cheeks go hot all over as he bends to press a chivalrous kiss upon the back of it. The crowd of admirers that Dain has amassed are all atwitter over this - you cannot blame them. If you’d seen it happen to someone else you’re sure you’d be swooning. Even now, your heart is beating a double time march against your ribcage as you wonder how you got so lucky.

“You promise me?” He asks. You can sense he is barely holding back the urgency in his voice; anxiety that tugs at the syllables like it is weighing them down. This errand he has to run . . . your curiosity runs rampant at what it might be that it is so clearly important to him.

“I promise I’ll be more than fine,” you say to him, smiling. There is the slightest snick of irritation, in the back of your mind - have you not fought dragons? Have you not befriended Archons? His concern is sweet, but he does not need to fret about you so. You say to him, trying to make sure your voice is as reasonable and convincing as possible; “You don’t have to worry about me.”

As it turns out, this proclamation will come back to haunt you.

They will become what are referred to in some places as ‘famous last words’.

You notice the earpieces that the Sumeru citizens wear as you wander around; when you ask someone about it, they look baffled as to your own lack of them.

“Usually you’re given one when you come into the city,” the young woman explains, as she kindly guides you back towards the entrance of Sumeru City. This explains it; Dainsleif always prefers to take the least populated way into anywhere, and most of the time you are happy to agree with him. Your exploits across Teyvat so far have occasionally resulted in some notoriety that isn’t always conducive to exploring new nations; you’re not surprised that Dainsleif had avoided the grand entrance of Sumeru City proper. Still, you’re beaming as the young woman brazenly walks up to one of the men standing at the entrance greeting newcomers.

He has dark hair and a moustache, and is wearing the robes that you recognise as marking him out as a member of the Sumeru Akademiya; as the young woman explains that you two are without the devices - she calls them an ‘Akasha’ - you smile at him, as bright and hopeful and friendly as you can manage.

He nods thoughtfully, and raises a hand to his own Akasha system.

“Just a moment,” he tells you, “I’m scanning the system for any information on you - just to ensure we don’t go around letting in criminals, you see?”

As he does that, you ask a few more questions of the young woman - what it is that the Akasha system does, and whether your . . . unusual physiology (a far easier way to explain it, you’ve surmised over weeks of practise, than explaining that you are a traveller from beyond the realms of Teyvat) will effect it in any way. She is effluent with her praise - the Akasha, she tells you with a wide smile and genuine pride in her voice, has truly revolutionised what it is like to be a citizen of Sumeru.

“This is unusual,” the man says, finally taking his hand from the complicated earpiece of the Akasha system. “I’m terribly sorry, but . . .”

“Is everything alright?”

You hadn’t wanted to mention it, of course - but you’d been afraid when he’d said he was scanning for information on you. Though you have mostly made peace with the nations you’ve travelled through, there have been plenty of misunderstandings too - and there are an unfortunate amount of activities that may be considered criminal in your past. Your heart beats just a little too quickly, as you carry on smiling and hope that your nervousness isn’t written too plain on your face.

You’d hate to get yourself into trouble after promising Dainsleif you would be absolutely fine on your own.

“I’m sure there’s no problem at all,” the man assures you, as he tries to return your smile. “It’s simply that we do have a record of you - oh, please don’t worry, it doesn’t name you as a wanted criminal or some such thing! It merely asks that you be shown to the Akademiya to meet with one of our trusted scholars, if you are to set foot in Sumeru City.”

This sounds a little more understandable, you think, as you let loose a small sigh of relief. Your reputation precedes you in several places - and this scholar would be far from the first person who has sought your help with matters. It’s strange that they couldn’t manage it alone with all of the resources of Sumeru behind them, but you are not in a position to judge.

“Is it just me?” You ask. “I usually travel with another man, a different blond--”

He checks, the vine-like contraption of the Akasha pulsing over his ear, but then he shakes his head.

“No,” he says, as he offers you his arm. “The only information we have is on you.” Another smile, clearly meant to reassure. “I really did mean it about not worrying; if you were a danger, I’m certain that this would not all be so civil. Sumeru maintains several forces of Eremite mercenaries to keep the peace, and the Akademiya itself has the Matra . . . If you were about to be in trouble, there would be far more of a guard than simply me.”

You still consider running. You let your eyes flash over the surrounding area to map out all possible escape routes, to see who you might have to fight if you need to - but in the end, you take the proffered arm. No matter how much Dainsleif might want you to lie low and not attract attention, you can’t help thinking that causing a scene like that would be far worse than going along with whatever it is you’re wanted for up in the Akademiya.

You do not know it at the time, but it turns out to be just another decision that will come back to bite you.

As the two of you walk, Panah - that is the man’s name, you find out - sends a message up to the Akademiya proper via the system, to let them know that the two of you are coming. He seems almost giddy when he is done, a smile playing beneath the moustache.

“I was permitted to speak to him myself,” he says, and you gather from the excitement in his voice that whatever man it is you’re about to meet occupies a place of high honour within the walls of the Akademiya. You’re impressed by the technology; you can’t help thinking how useful it would be, if you and Dainsleif had such a way to communicate when you were apart.

He’s not going to be happy about all of this - but with any luck, this will be a quick thing for you to deal with and you’ll be able to rake in some glory and reputation in Sumeru so the two of you don’t have to worry so much on your journey. A lost dog, perhaps. A band of Treasure Hoarders who need to be taken out--

If you had one of those Akasha systems, you think, you wouldn’t need to be trailing up all of these steps. You bring this up to Panah, and he laughs, still riding a high from speaking to whoever it was he was permitted to speak to.

“Ah, don’t worry about that! You’re going to be very lucky - he told me he even has an Akasha terminal set aside especially for you, with a couple of brand new features he’s been wanting to test out--”

Later on, you’ll curse yourself for these words not setting alarm bells off in your head. But right then, under the bright Sumeru sun and with the freedom of a day in Sumeru without Dain’s occasionally too protective presence, you just laugh brightly and daydream about the knowledge your very own Akasha will place at your fingertips.

There’s a little bit of pomp and ceremony when you make it to the Akademiya proper; the other staff members and workers and students who have been assigned to help you are all excited and chattering as they wave Panah off and begin to lead you into the labyrinthine halls. It’s a beautiful building, to be sure - but it’s deceptively large, and after going through lifts and corridors and being taken through door after door you begin to lose sense of where exactly it is you are. You feel a brief flare of panic inside; you much prefer to be in places where you have an idea of how to escape, should the need arise--

But everyone around you remains excited about the great scholar you’re about to meet, and their smiles and pats and their wistful proclamations about how lucky you are serve to soothe the fear, just a little.

“Here we are,” says one of them, stopping outside a great wooden door with a complicated series of locks on it; some of them are easy to understand (you know what a padlock looks like, after all), but others seem to be rather more high-tech than you’re used to. Whatever it is behind this door, you think, it must either be very important or very expensive. “Oh! We have your Akasha terminal--”

He reaches into the folds of his robe to produce one of the vine-like contraptions that everyone in Sumeru wears on their ears.

“This one was designed by him specifically,” the man tells you in awe, as he reaches over and affixes it onto your ear. “It has a few brand new functions that he wants help testing out, and he said that your experience would be a huge boon in working out all of the kinks--”

Ah. So that’s what he wanted your help with. You wonder which of your exploits it is that has made this scholar think you’d be a good fit for this kind of testing; you wonder, too, why Dainsleif wasn’t included in this idea. The two of you have done so much together, after all--

You feel a brief electric zap that seems to flash over your vision and down to your spine. A little noise in your ear, a sense of heat that lasts barely a moment - and then, the man is stepping away from you and giving a strange little bow.

“It’s working, I think,” he says, as he reaches into his pocket to turn a key, swipe a card, as his own Akasha pulses to life and some of the locks upon the door respond in kind. “Ah - I’m afraid we’ll be leaving you. His temperament can be a little unpredictable, and I’m sure he’d rather meet you alone--”

“That’s alright,” you say, smiling. You wonder what kind of brand new functions this Akasha system is going to have; perhaps something for combat capabilities? Wilderness scanning, to be able to identify poisonous herbs and dangerous animals? The big wooden door slowly creaks open, as the entourage who have guided you into the bowels of the Akademiya all disperse, leaving you alone.

“Come in,” calls a voice.

The voice is familiar; somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know that you recognise it. A kind of low, smooth drawl of a voice, that shivers with suggestion as it calls out to you. But it is not enough to deter you, now you’ve made it all the way here.

You step into the room, walking further and further into it to see that it’s a . . . workshop, of some sort. There are a few tables scattered with various tools, deconstructed machinery lolling on the floor and propped against walls. There are a couple of remains of Ruin Guards, but in Sumeru this is hardly a surprising sight--

The door slams closed behind you. You hear the click and the whirr of the locks resetting themselves, trapping you in here, but even then you still do not panic just yet. You are in the Sumeru Akademiya, after all - what horror could possibly befall you at the hands of someone so well-regarded, in such a beacon of wisdom and hope in the nation?

That’s when you spot the bed in the middle of the room.

Sterile white sheets, white metal frame, restraints at the head and at the feet. An IV standing proudly beside it; a table to one side that is scattered with, instead of tools and screwdrivers, medical equipment. Needles and scalpels and pill bottles. Your throat goes dry.

“Ah,” there’s that voice again, and out of the shadows steps a figure. Your brain snaps into action sickeningly quickly; this is indeed a man you recognise. This figure, in his doctor’s coat and long boots, with his hair falling over a masked face-- “You’re just as lovely as I remembered you.”

You crouch, your body primed, your position ready to jump to attention at any moment. You reach behind you to will your sword into your hand - if you incapacitate Dottore quickly enough, perhaps you can knock him out whilst you search his workshop for tools to help you break the locks--

“Oh, my,” he says. “Such an unwelcome reception, my dear. Still. That won’t be for long.”

“Open the door,” you snarl, through gritted teeth. “Let me out, and I won’t ram my blade through your throat.”

He smiles beneath the mask, the tilt of his lips almost fond.

“There’s that lovely fire,” he says to you, in a pleased purr. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for you for what seems like forever.”

“I’m warning you--” Your fingers wrap around the hilt of your sword. Your breath comes short; your heart pounds.

You do not truly know if you could take Dottore in a fight - he is ranked second of the Harbingers, after all, and you do not think such a position would be granted without some combat capability. But you have to hold fast to your hope - and without Dainsleif here, all you have to rely on is your own skills. What might happen if he does overpower you doesn’t bear thinking about--

(You’d noticed, the last time the two of you had met, the way his gaze behind the mask had lingered on the shape of your body. The way he had spoken silky smooth, shivering with intent, when he had addressed you. The way his leather gloved hands had felt, on your shoulders, lingering there as if they wished they could be somewhere else--)

“Ah, ah,” he clicks his tongue, chiding. “Now, darling. That won’t do at all.”

You realise too late that the Doctor himself is not wearing an Akasha system earpiece - but you are.

And as you feel it pulse into life, as bright colours flash against your vision and you stumble, your sword slipping through your fingers . . .

Everything goes black.

“Now,” Dottore’s voice cuts through the blackness, as everything seems to slowly fall back into place like a jigsaw puzzle being re-assembled. “This might hurt a touch. Just a sharp scratch, my dear--”

You’ve been strapped onto the medical bed, just as you had feared. The straps are wrapped around your ankles and your wrists, binding you spread-eagle upon the thin little mattress. You can still feel the vines of the Akasha system wrapped around your ear, and your throat clogs with the fear of it - if it could knock you out stone cold, what else could it do? Your eyes flutter open, and Dottore pauses--

He’s leaning over you with a syringe in his hand, the liquid within glowing with the same blue glow as the earring he wears. As he sees that you’re awake, his mouth opens into a wide smile with just a hint of too sharp teeth.

“Oh!” He exclaims in delight. “You’re finally awake! My, you’ve missed quite the little drama.”

He carefully places the syringe down upon the metal table as he reaches over you and fiddles with some kind of control on the side of the bed. Slowly, it creaks upwards, propping you up a little so you are bent at the waist.

“That’s better,” Dottore coos. “Now we can all see one another. Look, darling. Your knight in shining armour.”

Dainsleif.

How long have you been out cold? How easy was it for Dottore to strap you onto this operating table - how deeply did the Akasha knock you out?

Long enough for Dain to realise you were missing. Long enough for him to track you down - long enough for he, too, to be overpowered by the second Harbinger and find himself entirely at the Doctor’s mercy.

Your travelling companion sits across from the bed you are restrained upon, ropes tied around his broad chest to keep him lashed to a rusted metal chair. A gag has been crudely shoved into his mouth so all he can do is make a soft little distressed noise at the predicament you have found himself in; more ropes bind his ankles to each leg of the chair, just to ensure that he’s fully unable to so much as wriggle in his bindings. He stares at you, agonised.

“We’ve been talking about everything I’m going to do to you,” Dottore hums - and something hot and sour crawls into your throat as he leans over, and his leather gloves caress your face like a lover and not like a madman. “Ah, sweet little traveller . . . I’ve barely been able to wait to get my hands on you. A pretty face like that, and that fighting spirit . . . Ah! You stick in a man’s mind.” His smile is just as wide and unhinged as ever as he taps your cheek fondly. “I don’t think your poor knight is going to enjoy it, but . . . well. I’m sure you will.”

You struggle in the bonds, as your strength returns to you. You try and use your not inconsiderable strength to see if you can loosen the leather around your wrists, as fear of the undercurrent of desire in Dottore’s words and anger at Dainsleif finding you like this and worry about Dain himself all war at once within you like a churning whirlpool.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you seethe at Dottore, tugging hard. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but it would be better for everyone if you just let me go now, and we can pretend none of this happened--”

Dottore throws his head back and laughs.

“Oh,” he practically purrs at you. “You’re so lovely when you’re enraged. But . . . ah. No, I don’t think I shall. Now, my dear. How shall we start? A kiss, perhaps? Your lips have been haunting my dreams recently--”

“I’ll bite your tongue off,” you snarl, and though you cannot see Dottore’s eyes you can tell from the way that his face moves that he has raised his eyebrows. He lets out a low, silky chuckle.

“Ah. So that’s how it’s going to be. Well, if so . . .”

He reaches back over to the metal table, and in his hands now he lifts the syringe once more. He taps the barrel of glowing blue liquid once, twice, that infuriatingly calm and smooth smile returning to his face.

“This won’t knock you out,” he tells you. “I want you to be aware of everything we do together, darling, so you remember how good it makes you feel . . . how much we belong together. But it shall . . . how should I put this? Take a bit of the edge out of you.” He leans in; finding the crook of your elbow, thumb smoothing softly and almost lovingly over the patch of skin. “I’d hate for all of your fire to go missing, but . . . perhaps we should at least dull your teeth a little, hmm?”

Dainsleif makes some awful noise; a whimper crossed with a moan, a kind of noise you’ve never heard the stoic Twilight Sword make before, as the needle sinks into your skin with a sharp scratch. Panic flares in your mind white hot at whatever kind of concoction is being injected directly into your veins--

But the panic quickly dulls, as you feel the drug beginning to take effect.

It adds a muzzy kind of quality to everything. You see Dottore and Dain before you - the Doctor smiling, Dain agonised behind his patch and gag and rope. You know that there is something terribly wrong with this scene, but your mind is too hazy to pull up the specifics. You go to open your mouth and put word to a question, but nothing comes out - your tongue is too heavy, your teeth feeling as though they’re in the wrong place in your mouth.

“Oh, lovely,” says Dottore with relish. “My, you took to that sedative better than even I hoped you would! Sweet dear thing, will you let me kiss you now?”

You know, in that hazy mess of your mind, that you do not want this man to kiss you - but as he leans forward, you cannot remember why. You cannot make your tongue move to say no, and before you know it a pair of lips have firmly pressed to your own, tasting of the smell of antiseptic and peppermint. Dottore kisses you as thoroughly as he does everything else - his mouth working against yours, sharp teeth tugging at your lower lip, his tongue slipping into your mouth and laying claim to the shape of it as if he is an explorer mapping out newly conquered territory.

From somewhere that seems very far away, you hear another angry noise, half groan and half moan.

Dottore pulls back, his tongue tracing his lips as if he’s savouring the taste of you left on them.

“Even better than I imagined,” he murmurs. “But . . . ah, my dear, don’t you want to kiss me back?”

There’s a pulse by your ear. Your mind short-circuits - and then Dottore is leaning in again for another kiss, and without you sending a single signal to your body you are kissing Dottore back, your mouth working against his, your tongues twining with one another as if possessed by an unknown force. Dottore groans into your mouth, at the same time as one of his gloved hands comes to land on your thigh, bare beneath your skirt.

You realise dully that it is the Akasha, taking control of your body; doing exactly what Dottore tells you to do.

If you hadn’t been drugged with the sedative that the Doctor had used, perhaps this realisation would make horror rise in you - it clearly does in Dainsleif, who struggles desperately against his bonds. But to you, in your current state . . . it is merely a realisation that washes over you like a cool stream. An inevitability.

“Ah,” Dottore says, and he smiles something horrific and tender down at you. “We’re going to enjoy ourselves, aren’t we?”

Those gloved fingers slide higher and higher up your thigh, the touch remaining soft. You think it would be better if he started pawing at you like an animal; if he ripped and tore at your clothes. Something about the softness of how his thumb moves over your inner thigh, the soft untouched skin there - something about the gentle way his thumb brushes over your underwear . . . that feels a hundred times worse than you could ever imagine.

He sighs in pleasure. All you can do is lay there and take it; your wrists and ankles bound, your entire body prone, your veins numbed with sedatives. Your eyes seek out Dain’s across the room - and he looks at you, so broken that you think you will cry.

Dottore’s other hand reaches up to the catches down the side of your dress. They are there to make it easier to dress yourself - catches and buttons up your spine are not helpful when you are alone or injured, and since you have found yourself in Teyvat you have been both of those things more often than you’d like to have - but you curse them, now, as Dottore’s other hand gently (oh-so-gently) peels them from your body and you are almost bare before him. Your nipples pebble in the cool air; your cheeks flush hot at how he tilts his head to look down at you.

If you could see his eyes, what would you see written in them?

“Oh,” Dottore is quiet when he speaks; appreciation dripping off every syllable. He moves his other hand away from where he’s been constantly petting at your sex through your underwear in order to turn all of his attention to your newly bared chest; you feel the hot flush across your collarbones at the sheer admiration that seems to ghost every movement. “You’re even more lovely than I could have thought.”

His leather-clad palms reach down, taking a handful of the soft curve of your chest; squeezing the half-globes in his hand, sighing happily at how they fit in his grip. His thumb and forefinger find the nub of your nipples, pinching one each until they stiffen and pucker beneath the attention and you squirm, a hot little bolt of lightning going straight from the place Dottore is pinching to the place between your thighs.

“You like that?” He murmurs, not missing the way you shudder beneath the attention. “Ah, sweet thing - has your knight not done this for you? Have you been saving yourself for me?”

Again, you can’t make your tongue form words; all you can do is let out a little whimpering moan of a noise that makes Dottore chuckle. It sounds far too close to affirmation for your liking, but what can you really do, as Dottore continues to pinch and pluck at your nipples and the warm zaps of pleasure and excitement continue to run hot in your veins?

You can hear the way your breath is starting to come out in little pants; how it shudders in the air, heat coalescing between the bots of you as Dottore’s insistent pinches further cloud your mind. You can’t help the noise that falls from your mouth as he bends his head and applies his tongue just so upon one of the buds; as it swirls around it, suckling the nipple into his mouth, lathing it with attention that makes your back arch involuntarily.

Dainsleif, still bound across the room, fights against the ropes once again and lets out a muffled noise of anger; words caught in the gag, vitriol spewed at the Doctor as he does whatever he wants to with your body. It is all for nothing, though.

Dottore’s thumbs are hooking into your underwear. The thin cotton tears at the seams at only the flimsiest tug from the second ranked Harbinger, and then Dottore is looking down at your spread thighs and the folds of your sex on display for him and cooing at you so sweetly that it cloys.

“Oh, darling,” he says to you. “You’re this wet for me?”

It’s not fair.

Frustrated tears rise to your eyes. In your current state, drugged and confused, under all of Dottore’s touches . . . your body has betrayed you. You know you’re wet; you can feel your own slick, oozing out of you, your folds wet with droplets of arousal. Desire to be touched warring with disgust for the man before you inside of you - frustration that you cannot so much as speak to put voice to your anger. Not even to beg him to stop.

Hand on your thigh. Two fingers, deftly parting the lips of your labia so cool air hits the sensitive inner folds; the swollen bud of your clit, waiting to be touched, thrumming with excitement. A whine catches in your throat at the sensation of being studied like this; the way that Dottore is looking down at you like a wolf about to thoroughly enjoy his meal.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, again. “So much lovelier in the flesh.” He turns his head without turning his body, catching Dainsleif’s gaze. “Look, Twilight Sword. Ah. Don’t you wish you were in my position now? Aren’t you simply longing to have your wicked way with our sweet little Traveller?”

Dain struggles desperately, the muscles of his shoulders flexing, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth working at the gag firmly pressed within it. You know that he wants to help you; that Dain would tear Dottore limb for limb for what he is clearly about to do to you, if only he could get himself free.

But, too, there’s something in his eye that you do not want to admit to.

Shining bright behind the agonised blue is a palpable lust; a desire to be in Dottore’s place. You know that Dain would never hurt you - would never strap you to a table and use you against your will, you’re sure of it - but that look in his eyes makes you shiver.

“Don’t worry,” Dottore assures him, turning back to you with that wicked smile on his face. “I’ll make sure you get to watch.”

He eases the way his fingers are keeping you spread apart in order to be able to slowly slide his index finger through the valley of your sex; to wet his glove on all of the slick, to let it gather on his fingertip. He raises that gloved finger to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste you as he tilts his chin back to savour it.

“Ah,” he says, as he tugs his glove off with his teeth. “Forgive me, my dear - I simply must feel you without them.”

His fingertips feel just as cold, as he touches you with them instead of the gloves. Your back arches again, though your own restraints keep you on the bed and stop you from being able to wriggle away from Dottore’s questing fingers even if the sedative hadn’t filled your limbs with honey.

Dottore lets out a soft chuckle at the way your body moves, another chiding click of his tongue.

“Breathe out,” he advises you, as his finger circles your entrance, as his thumb finds the swollen pearl of your clit and begins to draw slow, firm circles over it. “It will make it easier, sweet thing--”

One of his fingers swiftly presses inside of you, punching the air out of your chest. You hate it, you think - you hate the feel of his slender digits pressing further and further inside of you, the feel of him crooking his knuckle just so that the bone rubs against a spot inside of you that makes you see stars--

It feels good, too. You don’t want it to. You don’t like how the feeling of him inside of you seems to satiate an ache that had started when he had rubbed over the seam of your underwear and kissed you and toyed with your chest. You don’t like that, as a second finger rubs around your entrance in preparation to be put inside of you, your breath catches in excitement at the thought of being stretched further.

“That’s right,” Dottore is murmuring, his own voice a little breathless now as excitement leaks into his tone. “Oh, you’re doing so well, lovely thing. Ah-- you have no idea how good you feel. Like silk . . . Thinking about doing this to you doesn’t at all measure up to the real thing.”

The thought of Dottore having these thoughts about you makes your heart twist. You close your eyes, just so you don’t have to see Dainsleif sitting across from you, watching you with agonised eyes as Dottore’s fingers make you feel a way you didn’t know you could.

A few more months and perhaps you would have imagined Dain himself doing this to you - something more intimate than the shy, awkward kisses the two of you have so far shared, as Dainsleif silently agonises and worries about his body being tainted and his curse ruining everything that shimmers between the two of you like fragile gossamer. Perhaps then, it would have been slow and careful - Dain waiting for you to give the go-ahead, letting you lead . . .

That choice has been taken from you, now, as two of Dottore’s fingers scissor inside of you to open you up wide and his thumb continues to rub over your clit in firm, sure circles. The way that Dottore touches you would almost be clinical - designed solely to make you feel good, to prepare you for the inevitable stretch of his cock, to make sure that your slickness would provide adequate lubrication for the glide of the same - were it not for the bright mania that fills his grin as he stares down at you, watching your sex swallow his fingers with every wet, slick pump of his wrist.

That is the look of a man very much enjoying what he’s doing to you.

“Sweet Traveller,” he murmurs, low and cajoling. “I think you’re going to come for me.”

You have just enough control of your body to toss your head weakly, shaking it from side to side, your hair falling over your face. It does not hide the fact that your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are bright, that your chest is heaving as every rub of his fingers sends brand new sparks of pleasure careening to the middle of your stomach into a hot, tight ball.

“Oh,” Dottore’s voice is laced with faux sympathy. “That wasn’t me asking, darling. Come for me.”

Another zing; a zap, a pulse, where the Akasha terminal is wrapped about your ear--

And your body twitches and pulses under his command, as the hot tight ball of want inside of you seems to get a signal from the terminal that now is the time to explode. You don’t know how to explain it; the way that your mind seems to contract at the same time as your body, and then you are panting and whining helplessly as shivers rack you underneath Dottore’s twisting wrist, his insistent thumb.

He lets out a sigh of pleasure as he pulls back, his fingers glimmering wetly with your own orgasm. Again, he lifts them to his mouth; again, you see a sharp flash of teeth as his tongue traces his own digits and he savours the way you taste on his tongue.

“That’s more than enough,” he says, pleasantly. He looks at Dainsleif, the blond all wide-eyed and desperate and seething with hatred, and gives him another smile that is like the edge of a knife. “Don’t you think so, knight? Ah. Don’t you think it’s time for me to take them fully?”

Dainsleif struggles again, and Dottore laughs like a creaked, rusting hinge on a sharp iron gate.

“I don’t want to hurt them,” he says, syrupy sweet. “Oh, they mean more to me than that. I merely want them to understand how badly I need them . . . and how good I could be for them, too.”

The sedatives in your system do not allow you to fight back; to bare your teeth and growl and tell him you could never imagine how he could possibly be good for you. But though your mind churns with these thoughts, your body is still not quick enough to respond - your veins still weighed down with honey. Too tenderly, Dottore reaches for your face; traces his thumb over your cheekbone.

“We are going to consummate our mutual adoration,” he tells you, and he reaches for his fly. You hear the buttons of his placket undo as if you are somewhere very far away, button sliding through button hole. Dottore sighs happily as he repositions the table and himself, making sure that Dainsleif has an even better view of the way that he slots himself between your thighs. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel Dottore’s cock slap against the bare skin; the wet, slick head of him, as he rubs it over your own soft inner thighs. You burn with humiliation, as the wet pap of him slapping the cockhead against your cunt echoes in Dottore’s workshop, and the Doctor keeps smiling as if he’s enjoying himself terribly.

“How about,” he says, loud enough for Dainsleif to hear it, “before we begin, you tell me what I want to hear, Traveller?”

You blink at him slowly, as he pushes his hips forward, and the head of his cock catches on the ring of your entrance; as your body clenches and puckers, waiting for him to move further forward. You wish he would just get on with it, but at the same time you wish that this wouldn’t happen. If you were fully in control of your body, you’re certain you would be struggling and sobbing and spitting - but you are not.

“Oh,” he murmurs, syrupy sweet. “You don’t know what I mean? Darling, let me say it a little simpler whilst you’re still all addled from me making you come . . . Loud enough for the Twilight Sword to hear, now. Why don’t you tell me you love me?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence.

It’s not really silent; there’s a buzzing in your ears, there’s a constant hum from the machinery that surrounds you both, there’s the sound of three people breathing within the room, panting and seething and hating . . . but that’s how it feels.

You would never tell this monster you loved him.

But Dottore is still looking at you, his cock still pressing against your entrance, his head still tilted to one side, his mouth still quirked in a smile - and there’s an eager kind of obsession in his gaze, as if he thinks you might actually get the words out--

The pulsing in your ear. The flash across your brain. You can’t breathe; you can’t think, through anything but the sudden desire to tell the Doctor who’s about to ruin you that you love him.

Your tongue is slow. Heavy. Your voice echoes too loud around the room.

“Doctor . . .” Dainsleif lets out a pained whine behind the gag. “I-- I love you--”

“Oh, good-- well done--!”

Dottore pants in wild pleasure at the sound of your voice, the way it sounds desperate and reedy not with hate, but with feeling. He cants his hips forward, still too wild - and your head falls back, a whine escaping your slow-tongued mouth as his entire cock sheaths itself inside of you in excitement.

It’s easier to close your eyes.

You do not want to see Dainsleif, over Dottore’s shoulder - the disappointment and horror and despair that’s written clear across his handsome face. He must have seen the Akasha pulse, he must know that you would never say such a thing of your own volition - but that doesn’t stop the fact that you did say it, and he did hear it. Eyes squeezed shut, the feel of him inside you is all the worse; the way you can sense your body tightening around him, the feel of being stretched wider than you’ve been stretched before.

Dottore’s pants do not let up; there’s a desperation in him that you would never have thought the Doctor possible of - bringing a horrifying kind of truth to all of those things he had said, all of the ways he had stared at you. Perhaps it is more than just lust--

And that makes it all the worse.

His hips judder against yours in desperation, his white coat rustling as it rubs against your own bare body. One of his hands explores your chest, even as he keeps rutting into you; thumbs pinching at your nipples, palming at your hips and your waist and your chest, as if he cannot truly believe this is happening.

He is undone, like this; and you cannot quite believe he is letting you see some of those walls fall down. There is no more the strong, smooth Doctor - the one who could raze cities to the ground if he so chose. There is a man; a man who is fucking into you, a man who wants to have as much of your body as he can, a man who seems to want to devour you.

You cannot believe he made you say that you love him. The Akasha upon your ear feels like a parasite, worming its way into your psyche, taking complete control of you. You think of Dainsleif, forced to watch, and a juddering sob manages to tear itself from your throat.

Dottore kisses your cheek, the tears catching on his lips, his tongue tracing the saltwater tracks.

“Don’t fret so, darling,” Dottore murmurs, against the apple of your cheek. “It’s alright . . . Doesn’t it feel good?”

It doesn’t - and it does. You don’t want to admit to the way that his constant thrusting and the grinding of his pelvis against your still-swollen clit are working together to make your insides churn, your body feverishly hot and confused. Your breath comes out in pants that match Dottore’s own. You can’t come for him again, you simply can’t - it doesn’t matter, you try and tell yourself, that there is heat bursting anew in your stomach. That it is not really because of Dottore, but natural biology--

You came earlier, yes, but Dottore told you to; used the Akasha against you. If you came now, without him forcing you to, it does not bear to think about - it doesn’t bear to think about how Dain might react, if he watched you come of your own volition under Dottore’s fucking--

No matter how sternly you try to speak to yourself, one cannot stop biology in its tracks.

Dottore’s pelvis batters against your clit; Dottore’s cock bullies itself mercilessly into you, as if it is trying to make you mould to the shape of him. With each thrust, it rubs against spots inside of you that your own fingers have never been able to reach; ones you had never realised would feel so good. You try and tell yourself, over and over and over, that you will not let yourself come for Dottore.

But your body betrays you.

Your body betrays both yourself and Dain, a man who you had always thought would be the only one to ever do this to you, though you had not let your fantasies yet get further than a hand over your dress, skimming your bare thigh. You come for the second Fatui Harbinger, as he continues to fuck into you with wild abandon - and this time, you do not even have the Akasha to blame it upon.

Your wrists are still held either side of your head by restraints; all you can do, as the spasms of pleasure resonate out from your sex and into every other part of you, is dig your nails into your palms. All you can do is let out a heavy, slurred whine-moan escape from your parted lips. All you can do is take it - come for the Doctor, the way he always knew you were going to.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his hips double their speed, desperately rutting into you. “I didn’t even have to tell you to, that time - you want me just as badly, don’t you? Oh, sweet thing, don’t worry, I’ll give you everything I have--”

His words are slurred too; he is too far gone within the euphoria of finally being inside of you. His hips rock into you, harder and harder, his cock twitching wildly as he hisses out your name.

He comes inside of you with a wild bite into your bare shoulder, grunting and groaning, more animal than scientist - proof that, beneath it all, he is just a man. He remains there, humming into your skin, his cock softening inside of you. His tongue licks across the bite on your shoulder as if he wants to remember the taste of you.

“Why,” he says, a pleased hum in the back of his throat. His cock twitches. “I think I might even do that again--”

There’s a knock on the door.

You are still too out of it after what Dottore did to you to register much beyond his frustration that he is being called back to Snezhnaya, now of all times. An awkward assistant, unsure of what they’re supposed to be doing, lingers by Dottore’s side as the Doctor grumbles under his breath and pulls your clothes back on over your bruised body, his come still leaking out from between your thighs.

“I’ll see you again,” Dottore says to you, with a smile, as he brandishes another syringe. “Oh, I won’t be forgetting about how much we shared any time soon, darling. You’ll keep me warm many a cold Snezhnayan night.”

The syringe is brought up to your elbow; the liquid injected directly into the vein once again. You barely have time to wonder what he is injecting you with this time before the heaviness of unconsciousness begins to blur the corners of your vision.

Dottore strides across the room to Dainsleif, another syringe glowing within his gloved fingers.

Before you slip into oblivion, you watch Dottore roll up Dainsleif’s sleeve, and you hear him say this;

“Now, I’m sending them back with you, Knight - but you won’t soon forget, will you, that they told me that they loved me?”

You slip into the abyss.

You wake back up at the camp you and Dainsleif had established, on the edges of Sumeru, as safe as the two of you could find - as if absolutely nothing has happened.

Oh, there’s the lingering reminder of Dottore - there’s a soreness to your thighs, there are bites on your shoulders, there’s a muzzy headache from the drugs and the way he had used the Akasha upon you . . . but other than that, there’s nothing. The system itself isn’t even attached to your ear any longer.

Dain, too, has reminders of the ordeal upon him - rope burn on his wrists. A burning look in his eyes when his gaze falls upon you that makes your insides crawl in fear, lest he be disgusted by you now - lest he never want to look at you again. Perhaps, you think wildly, he is going to cast you away - say that the two of you can no longer travel together, accuse you of being damaged goods . . .

It does not end that way.

Dainsleif stares at you across the clearing after waking up, as if he is trying to sort all of his thoughts out. His fingers twitch, his eyes raking over you desperately - and then he has moved, lightning quick, and his arms have wrapped around you and you are being crushed against the weight of his chest.

“I thought . . .” He whispers into your ear, his voice so broken it makes you ache. “Oh, I can’t believe he would . . . I’m so sorry--”

“You couldn’t have done anything,” you whisper to him - relieved to find that your tongue and your throat are once more capable of working. You reach up to touch his face, and Dain groans, torn between leaning into the touch and pulling away as he so often does, so worried that he’s somehow going to taint you.

You’re not sure if you could ever feel more tainted than you do right now.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” his voice cracks. Dainsleif is normally so stoic and solid; you cling to him as you journey through Teyvat, relying on him. Seeing him like this makes you ache.

“You won’t,” you reach for his hand, take it gently and place it over your collarbone, shivering at the touch of his glove on your skin. “See? I’m still here.”

Dain sighs again, his lashes fluttering closed against his sculpted cheekbones. He murmurs your name again, so softly you can barely hear it; and his fingers slide along the imprint of that same collarbone, to your shoulder, until they find the place Dottore had bitten into when he had come.

“I can’t bear seeing his marks on you,” he whispers. “I want to scrub you free of every touch.”

You close your own eyes and let yourself be lulled into Dainsleif’s arms; you let your head rest against his chest, you let yourself be comforted by the familiar scent of him. His fingers don’t stop tracing the bite marks, his touch getting more and more agitated.

“Dain--” You murmur. You’re suddenly so tired. You know you were just unconscious, but that’s not the same as getting real rest. This morning - or was it this morning? How long were the two of you really with Dottore? How long had it been before Dainsleif had come to find you? Whatever the case, it seems a hundred years ago now.

You wonder if Dainsleif would mind if you fell asleep on him, right here.

“Please,” Dain’s lowered his head now. His breath flutters against your ear; delicately tickling your ear. “Let me . . . Let me make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you murmur, but it clearly means a lot to Dainsleif, and you do not mind the gentle touch of his hands as they smooth softly over the places Dottore has bitten, the places you have bruised. Dainsleif has lost so many people, after all - you do not blame him for wanting to check on you. You nestle your head under Dain’s chin and he takes a shuddering breath, inhaling the scent of your hair. “Do I still smell like myself?”

“Don’t joke,” his voice breaks. You don’t know how else to cope with it; the thought of Dottore’s hands all over you, the reminder of what the Doctor took from you. Dain’s hand slips under the bodice of your dress.

You go all-over cold, all-over still.

Dainsleif doesn’t even notice. His hand gently travels further down, further down, squeezing the weight of your breast in his hand. Your fingers twitch where they lay against him, cradled as you are in his arms - but Dainsleif is still murmuring to himself now, lost in a frenzy of his own thoughts, and for the first time you feel afraid of him.

“Dain--” You try to say, throat clogged. “Dain, don’t--”

“Please,” he repeats, ragged. “I just . . . I need to touch you. I need to know you’re here. I need to know he didn’t--”

You can’t do this. Your heart jumps into your throat, a sickening thumping beat as Dain’s thumb rubs a circle over your nipple and traitorous body, it responds to him just as it had to Dottore.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you,” Dainsleif whispers, broken into your ear. “Let me . . . I won’t hurt you . . .”

His other hand, pulling you further into his lap. Holding you spoon-fashion against him, like a lover.

You wouldn’t complain, ordinarily.

But now . . .

All you want is for him to hold you. All you want is for him, you think, to kiss your forehead and reassure you and take care of you. The way his hands keep travelling over your skin - the other is kneading at the flesh of your thigh now, his breath coming in those same great shuddering pants as if he doesn’t have full control over his own body right now. You whimper aloud as his hand brushes further, further--

You’re not wearing underwear. Not after Dottore had torn it at the seams.

Dainsleif sighs.

“It killed me seeing him touch you,” he whispers into your hair, dropping a kiss onto the top of your head, disgustingly tender. His fingers are petting at your folds, his arms iron-tight like the ropes that had wrapped around him earlier. He doesn’t notice that you’re trembling; he ignores the soft little entreaties you do manage to get out.

“I can’t,” you say, as Dainsleif tugs at your nipples.

“Dain--” you whimper, his fingers spreading the lips of your sex apart.

“Not yet,” you beg, as he drops a kiss over the bruising bites Dottore left on your shoulders.

“I wish I could cover you with myself,” Dainsleif says, as he continues to use his mouth and his fingers and acts as though he does not hear a word. “But . . . oh, I don’t deserve you . . . Not yet . . . Please, let me make sure you never think of him again--”

It’s too much. Too much, too soon, your body churning with feelings and your mind churning with thoughts that you can’t yet put in place, because Dainsleif is touching you and not listening to you and you wonder if this makes him just like Dottore, in his way.

You think about yourself, in Sumeru City, your smile bright, laughing off his concern - and you think about Dainsleif now, his touch so possessive and so desperate that he’s going to cover the bruises Dottore left with bruises of his own.

“I’ll be fine,” you had said. I can take care of myself.

Dainsleif takes care of you, when you cannot; when you are injured or sick or lost. You have always had him to rely on; your travelling companion through Teyvat, as you desperately tried to make sense of the world that you have found yourself in.

Here, though . . .

You think, as the tears roll down your face, you could do without Dainsleif taking care of you like this.

#writing #dark content for ts #non con for ts #dead dove do not eat #mind control for ts #dub con for ts #genshin impact posting #commissioned work #not sfw text

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quitealotofsodapop · 5 months ago

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shadowpeach Valentine’s Day headcannons!!….please.

(It can be for any AU or cannon)

Better late than never!

Wukong has been aware of modern romantic holidays & traditions like Valentine's Day, White Day, and even the lovey side of Xmas ever since they reached China. He doesn't have much of an emotional conection to them as the traditional holidays like Qixi (Magpie-Crossing Festival) or the Mid-Autumn Festival - but he finds it sweet! Humans finding new occassions to openly show affection for eachother!!

Macaque had no idea about the modern festivals until he wandered past a shop selling love hearts and roses. He got very confused. He doesn't really celebrate the traditional festivals, other than spending Mid-Autumn with his sister Chang'e, so it was interesting for him to discover new holidays.

Wukong LOVES big gaudy shows of affection - give this man all the flowers, fruits, and goofy cards he could ever want!

Macaque's tastes in gifts are more refined; wine, expensive toiletries, rose petals leading to the nest... he still goes red like a schoolgirl if Wukong gives him a card with a silly joke in it though.

They are no strangers to date nights. Wukong dislikes being the centre of attention, but can enjoy himself at public events where he can blend in with the crowd. Cinema and sporting events are always great choice for him! Macaque on the otherhand, is perfectly happy to keep his Peaches all for himself; whether at home watching tv, at the island's hot springs, or walking through the garden.

Once romance is established/re-established; these monkeys about to get arrested for excess PDA. They can't keep their hands off of eachother most days! Not even for naughty reasons, Wukong is just a cuddly guy, and Macaque likes combing through his fur.

If they got kids, don't expect them to tone it down. Perhaps it even gets worse! Catch them whispering praises into eachother's ears and nuzzling eachother's necks as their cubs cover their eyes with mortification.

Macaque leaves bite marks. Wukong leaves claw marks. Both bruise up the other's neck like heck. They do spend some after time tending to these wounds. You know why. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Wukong becomes mortified whenever Macaque tries serenading him in public, mainly because of all the attention gets shifted to him. So as a adaptation, Macaque has thrown his love a glance/wink during a ballad-filled moment in his plays, ensuring that even in the crowd Wukong knows Mac's words of love are only for him.

Despite being the one dispensing the grand guestures, Macaque is always shocked to recieve one back! ("Peaches, what do you mean you've prepared a romantic picnic for us!? Who told you to do that?")

Sometimes romance is kissing and words of affection. Sometimes its picking dirt and bugs out if eachother's fur. Sometimes it's a regularlly scheduled couple's brawl to keep your strength up.

Both are physically and emotiomally unable to romance another person. One of them may have tried to move on, but they just can't shake their feelings for the other. The other is their true other half. No attraction to anyone else. Wukong swore off romance when he thought he lost Macaque for good. Macaque attempted romance with fellow actors before, but simply couldn't stop thinking about his then-ex-mate. Both are very touched that the other stayed loyal.

They do require some couple's therapy to work out stuff that happened in the past. In Aus where they've been married many years, they still have rough patches that they have help getting through but not as bad as when they first got back together.

Hope you liked these! Reply with your ideas too!

#happy holidays #valentines day #shadowpeach #sun wukong #liu er mihou #six eared macaque #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk hcs #lmk headcanons

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jerzwriter · 24 days ago

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A/N: Day 24's prompt in @creativepromptsforwriting 30-Day Writing Challenge is to write a story using the words: crown, dance, and smile. I decided to write something for my Eli x Zoe x Troy headcanon from Wake the Dead—a triad I've been wanting to explore more for a while now. I hope you enjoy this short story!

Book: Wake the Dead, Pixelberry Choices Pairing: Eli Sipes x Zoe Rivera (MC) x Troy Hassan Rating: Teen Words: ~1,500 Summary: A day of scavenging doesn't go as planned, but a treasure is found all the same.

Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations (Fics of the Week), @choicesmonthlychallenge (saphires, rubies), @choicesprompts (pride month) and @polyamships

30-Day Challenge Masterlist | Wake the Dead Masterlist | Full Masterlist

Troy leaped out of the van with childlike glee barely a second after Eli shifted it into park. He was already rushing up the wooded hill when Zoe grabbed the back of his leather jacket.

“Easy there, Hassan,” she said softly, not eager to attract the attention of any undead that might be lurking nearby. “Safety first, remember?”

Eli approached from behind, his eyes already rolling. “You act like you’re new to living in a post-apocalyptic hellscape,” he muttered, then turned to Zoe. “I told you we should’ve brought Angel and left him back at Olympus.”

“But then I would have missed the castle!” Troy whined.

It wasn’t exactly a castle, and the estate perched at the top of the hill had clearly seen better days. Ivy clawed through its shattered stained-glass windows, and grimy marble tiles buckled beneath years of abandonment. But the old structure still held an air of majesty. If you closed your eyes, it would be easy to imagine a prince and princess, or perhaps a smug venture capitalist or two, descending the grand staircase in front of the towering oak doors.

“We can’t blame him for being excited,” Zoe offered, trying to keep the peace.

But Eli wasn't moved. “Yes, I can,” he shot back before she even finished.

Zoe gave them both a pointedly amused look. “Well, I can’t blame him... but we still have to stick together and stay quiet. Rules still apply.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Troy replied with a salacious grin, waggling his brows. “I love when you get bossy.”

Eli dragged a hand down his face. “Correction: I should’ve stayed back at Olympus.”

"Stop," Zoe laughed. "You would have missed us terribly!" Linking arms with both of them, she led them up the hill. “Come on, boys. “Let’s see if this place is as impressive on the inside as it is on the out.”

They were greeted with the thick scent of moss and damp wood - and it was quiet, too quiet, as if even the slightest creak might wake whatever ghosts still lingered within. There didn’t seem to be much left to find; the place had clearly been picked over. But that wasn’t going to stop them. They’d long since learned that sometimes a can of peaches or a sealed bottle of iodine could be hiding where you least expected it.

Zoe moved cautiously through the old ballroom, a blade strapped to her thigh, ready for whatever might come. But even as she kicked aside a chunk of fallen plaster, she was enchanted. “This place must’ve been something back in its day,” she whispered.

That’s when Troy popped his head out from behind an ornate cabinet, grinning like a child who’d just found where his parents hid the stash of Christmas gifts. “I found our new currency,” he beamed.

Eli didn’t even look up. “If it’s another scary porcelain doll, I swear to God...”

Troy ignored him and walked dramatically toward Zoe. “My lady,” he said with an exaggerated bow. Then he revealed it - an old, slightly tarnished crown. It still glittered softly despite its obvious age and several missing jewels.

“Wow,” Zoe blinked, taking it in.

“It might be real gold... the sapphires and rubies are probably fake, but it’s still a beauty.” Troy looked pleased with himself. “I found it in a busted display case. We can’t eat it, it can’t patch a roof or clean a wound, but you have to admit - it’s got style.”

Zoe took it from his hands; it was much heavier than expected.

“Who do you think it belonged to?” she asked.

“A fallen aristocrat,” Troy guessed. “The last of her line. She probably escaped to America after World War II. She was expected to marry well and keep the bloodline going, but ended up living out her days in quiet exile after the discovery of her scandalous affair with her stable boy.”

“You’re wrong on all counts,” Zoe declared. “It belonged to the fiercest queen in the land. She fearlessly defended her people before running off with not one but two lovers, then she built a new world from the burnt ashes.”

Troy raised a brow. “Huh. That story sounds oddly familiar.”

Zoe nudged him with her elbow. Then, without a hint of ceremony, Troy retrieved the crown and plopped it onto her head.

“It’s crooked,” she wailed.

“It’s perfect,” Troy smiled. “Just like you.”

Eli finally glanced over. Surprisingly, he didn’t have a sarcastic retort - just a soft glance with a hint of something warm in his eyes.

Zoe stood up straighter and assumed a commanding air, smoothing her grease-covered jeans as if they were a flowing silk ball gown. “I believe,” she said, spinning slowly, “that it is proper to bow before your queen before requesting a dance.”

Troy immediately dropped into a deep, absurd bow.

Eli was unamused. “We’re supposed to be scavenging.”

Zoe glared in his direction in mock horror. “Do you dare to deny your queen?” She circled him, her low tsk-tsk-tsks echoing off the cavernous walls. “Do you not remember the first time you danced with me, Lord Eli?”

“Barely,” he grumbled - but the small, involuntary smile that tugged at his lips was betraying his stony facade.

“It was right after we settled into the lodge,” she went on. “You barely knew me at the time. But you still danced with me.”

“Yep,” he muttered. “And I told you then what I’m telling you now – I knew better than to say no to you. You would have just kept pushing until I gave in.”

“Correct!” She beamed. “You were a smart man back then, but you’re denying me now?”

Troy stepped behind her, voice dripping with mischief. “Get him, Your Majesty! I’m sure we could find a dungeon and leave him here.”

Zoe stifled a laugh. “Duke Troy, I'm afraid you’d miss him terribly if we did."

Troy leaned his head on her shoulder, studying Eli in mock consideration. “I don't know," he said, rubbing his chin. "It depends on what kind of dungeon we’re talking about.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Eli grumbled. Knowing he was outnumbered and secretly wanting to play along, he stepped forward, giving the world’s most reluctant bow. “May I have this dance?”

“Your Majesty,” Zoe corrected, as Eli smirked.

“May I have this dance... Your Majesty,” he repeated.

“You may,” Zoe replied regally and took his hand.

They moved slowly through the dusty ballroom, workboots scuffing across the cracked tile. Troy started to hum some ridiculous waltz, and Eli shot him a look.

“If you keep that up, I’m stopping.”

Troy sauntered over, his hand resting on Eli’s before he pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Zoe chuckled while twirling into Eli's embrace. "Duk Troy? Do you care to cut in?”

“With pleasure,” he grinned, nudging Eli aside with theatrical flair. “I get a slow dance!”

"Yeah," Eli rubbed the back of his neck. “But I’m not humming for you.”

“Rude!”

Zoe winked at Troy, stopping the moment they waltzed in front of Eli. With a grin, she removed the crown and placed it on top of Eli’s head.

“What are you doing?” he asked, a touch of worry in his eyes.

“I – Queen Zoe – am crowning you King.”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “King of what?”

“King of our hearts, of course,” she declared sweetly, her voice full of sincerity.

Troy barked out a laugh. “Now I have to dance with you, King Eli. I mean, you look hot as hell in that crown.”

“God help me,” Eli muttered, but he allowed it. “Again - just to shut you up.”

“Remember this, Queen Zoe!” Troy hollered as he twirled Eli around the room. “As long as we keep yapping, we can get this man to do anything we want!”

"Duly noted!" She grinned, placing a hand over her overflowing heart. She could have watched them all day - Eli stiff and grumbling, Troy obnoxious yet graceful. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this much joy.

After allowing them to have their moment, she stepped in, falling into their eagerly awaiting arms. The three swayed together in the silence, and despite Eli’s usual reluctance, even he didn’t want to stop.

“You know,” she teased, “the ‘music’ stopped a while ago. But here we are - still holding on to each other.”

Eli placed a kiss on the top of her head, a warm smile on his lips. “We don’t need music for that.”

Troy kissed Zoe’s cheek, then leaned over and kissed Eli’s temple. She turned and kissed them both in turn, then closed her eyes and simply breathed, wishing to commit this precious moment to memory.

Eventually, Eli gently removed the crown and tucked it into his bag. “Come on,” he said. “As nice as this is, it’s going to get dark soon, and I want to get us home safely.”

He gave one last look inside a nearby cabinet and shook his head. “Not much of a haul today.”

Zoe stepped up beside him and laced her fingers through his. “I don’t know about that. I think this was one of our best finds yet.”

Troy slung an arm around both of them. “Yeah. Being here with the two of you today – it was worth more than a thousand cans of peaches.”

“And pineapples,” Zoe added with a smile.

“Hey – let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Eli chuckled.

They walked through the long, faded corridor together as the sunlight quickly faded, making it back to the van just before dusk. Zoe gave the estate one last look over her shoulder.

“Let’s go, boys,” she smiled. “Olympus awaits.”

And with the crown packed safely among bandages and a few loose batteries, they drove back toward the only kingdom that mattered – the one where they had each other.

#wake the dead #wake the dead fanfic #eli sipes #troy hassan #eli x troy x f!mc #eli x zoe x troy #choices #choices fanfic #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices stories you play #writers on tumblr

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shad0wvisi0n · 3 months ago

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Chapter 3 New Roommates

AU Created by @b-r-i-n-g-x and @shygirl4991 All art belongs to the rightful artist do not repost Artist for Chapter @anartisticalniche and @b-r-i-n-g-x Shoutout to @merp0515 our other assistant!

Next Chapter Last Chapter Liko studies Page 1 Liko Studies Page 2 Recent Side Story : Caffeinated Monster

Tag: Fluff, humor, found family, falling in love, love confession, slow burn, ptsd

SV3 ran as fast as he could in the darkness, he looked around the area hoping to find someone, anyone that could help him out of the darkness. He falls to his knees as his eyes water, suddenly he hears a loud roar behind him, he turns, seeing down the dark path something was moving towards him. Panicked he gets up and starts to run, he could feel his legs starting to feel weak as he falls to the floor, he attempts to get up as the roaring gets closer. As he looks up his tears finally escape as he cries, fear overpowering him as the creature gets closer. He closes his eyes feeling his strength leaving him, he knew this was the end and no one would care what would happen to him.

Then a voice echoes through the darkness, one he has come to know very well “Come on pumpkin, this is no place for someone like you.” He opens his eyes and through his tears he sees a yellow blur, he lets out a gasp as he quickly wipes his tears. There in front of him was SV4, the man smiles as he stretches out his hand offering to pick him up. SV3 blushes as he takes the man’s hand, 4 lifts him up and holds 3 close “SV4? You’re okay! You don't have a wound, what's going on?” SV4 looks behind 3 and glares at the creature running up to them. SV4 lets go of 3 as he steps in front of the man, SV3 watches as 4 stares down the creature “Don’t be scared, your hero is here after all!” SV3 eyes go wide as he watches his partner charge at the monster, once they clash the darkness is gone, they are now in the woods revealing the creature that was after him to be Princess Peach. 3 gasp seeing the fight, as SV4 slams Princess Peach down SV3 couldn't stop himself from running towards 4.

SV3 covers his mouth about to cry again seeing the slash through SV4's eye, he turns holding his eye as his static blood drips down. SV3 hugs 4 breaking down crying “I…I did this to you, i got you hurt!” SV4 lets out a chuckle as he pats SV3 head “Did you forget 3? I don't hate you, this wound I have is nothing compared to losing someone like you.” Hearing his words got SV3 to slowly let go of him, as he looked at 4’s face the eye patch was now on his face, 3 frowns as he gently touches the man's face “But…” SV4 rolled his eyes as he flicked 3’s head making him pout “SV3 can't you see? I need you in my life.” SV3 blushes looking wide-eyed at 4, that's when he notices SV4 closing his eye and leaning close. The moment their lips were to touch a loud roar ranged out causing SV3 to jolt awake in his bed, he looked around the room breathing heavily “A…dream?” SV3 touches his face, it was warm just like the other times he had dreams of his partner these days. He places his hand on his chest feeling his racing heart, he attempts to calm his breathing hoping it will help slow his heart. He must have caught something during the battle with the princess, since that day he kept having strange dreams and had been struggling to look at his partner for long before his face went red. Or perhaps the events of that day was the cause of these symptoms, he stares at the spot next to him in his bed. He still remembers when SV4 came to his room shaken up over a nightmare, it was comforting knowing he wasn't the only one being haunted by the events. He felt himself relax as he remembered their vows to each other “I make an oath to you, SV4 that with the power of the TV world I will protect you. Never again will I let you get hurt.”

Feeling more relaxed he gets out of bed and looks at his reflection, with a soft smile he grabs what he needs for a shower. As he looks through his closet his eyes drop down looking at his dirty overalls, there were dried stains of SV4 static blood. He felt his stomach drop at the thought if 4 was any slower one of them could have died, shaking his head he grabs new overalls then slams his closet door shut. “Oh static…please give us good news on his eye.” —--------------------------------------------------------------------- SV4 sighs as he pauses the game he is playing, it is getting on his nerves how his skill has gone down the drain thanks to seeing through one eye. He turns off the console only to see his reflection, slowly he takes off the eyepatch and stares at the bandages. He looks at his phone to see the date “Today is the day, then no more eye patch and hopefully no more SV3 babying me.” Since the injury his partner wouldn't stop bothering him, he understood that things could have been worse he just wished his partner would stop blaming himself. He made his choice, not to mention he knows who was the real monster behind the whole mess.

He hears a knock on the door, putting his eye patch back on, he gets out of bed to open the door. He steps out of his room to see Mr Puzzle standing there, SV4 growls glaring at the man before looking at the plate in his hands. His anger turns to confusion as he stares at the cake, Mr Puzzle fixes the chef hat on his head with his free hand then gives a bright smile to SV4 “Hello SV4! I just happened to hear who your favorite character is and oh what a coincidence! I just happened to make you a solid snake cake just for you without any reason!” Mr Puzzles then offers the cake, his screen still showing a bright smile “Do you like it?” SV4 looked at the cake and silently looked up at Mr Puzzle, he stared at the man with blank expression as he reached for the cake. Mr Puzzles gets excited seeing the man reach for the cake only for anger to flash in 4’s eyes, as he takes the cake he then chucks at Mr Puzzle. The cake hits the screen as SV4 proceeds to flip the man off as he turns and goes back to his room.

Mr Puzzle sighs as he wipes the cake off his screen, Liko shakes her head at the sight as she stands in front of him “Wow cake, you really thought that would work?” Mr Puzzle’s screen flickers showing an annoyed expression before changing into a more depressing expression “In the movies apologizing looked much easier, grand gestures always worked!” Liko sighs as he pinches the bridge of her nose “Hey i don't know if you know this but THIS ISN'T A MOVIE! This isn't your world, this is the real world, and in it no cake will make up for almost killing him and his partner!” Liko then looks at the cake on the floor before whispering her thoughts “Did you do the same with SV3?” Mr Puzzles scoffs as he finishes cleaning his screen “Why? SV3 isn't the one staring daggers at me, not to mention 4 is the face of the channel! We can't lose our main star.” Liko bites her lip holding back her anger from his words “Why..do you only care about SV4, isn't SV3 now a part of the face for this channel?” Mr Puzzle lets out a chuckle “Because we can replace SV3, it wouldn't be so hard to pluck something from SMG3 but SV4. Well the man has something that can't be replaced if we lose him.” With those words he passes by an upset Liko and locks himself in his offices, Liko looks at SV4 door “Something that you can't replace..” Ignoring her conflicting emotions she leaves the studio and gets in her car, she needed to make sure her lab was ready for the big day. After all the waiting she finally can remove the bandages, she was hoping for good news and that all the man gets is a scar and nothing worse. She also had to start planning the caffeine training with SV3 now that she will have more free time. —-------------------------------------------------- Mr Puzzle sits at his desk thinking over the events that happen, looking out the window he notices the sun is coming out. He looked at the time and knew what he had to do. He gets up, leaving his office to catch SV3 on his way to the bathroom. Mr Puzzle lets out a sigh before waving at the man “SV3! Could I perhaps have a small chat with you?” SV3 smiles at him as he walks over “Sure thing Mr Puzzle, is something the matter?” Seeing the man so cheerful made him feel good about apologizing to him, now more confident he gives a bright smile at 3. “SV3 I wanted to say I'm terribly sorry for what happened at the pit. I hope you accept my humble and sincerest apology.” SV3 eyes go wide as static flickers in his eyes, he relaxes as he gives a gentle smile “It’s alright Mr Puzzles, I accept your apology! After all we are all fine and alive, that's what matters.” Mr Puzzle then felt a shift in the air, the lights flickering as he heard static coming from his computer behind him. He looks around confused then looks at SV3, he gasps as he sees a dark expression on the man's face ”Just one more thing, the next time you offer a place for thinking you better make sure it won't bring any harm to SV4 again!” With that he lets out a dark chuckle as everything returns to normal, with a hum he turns around and walks to the bathroom. Mr Puzzle stands there watching the man walking away in shock “Jesus christ.”

“You really do need to keep an eye on the quiet ones,” he mumbles to himself as he walks back to his office. Now that he had SV3 forgiveness with a fun threat on the side he needed to figure out a plan to get his real star to forgive him. He sits at his desk scrolling around SMG4 channel, seeing all the thumbnails it slowly clicks just how many annoyed pests really were. That's when an idea hits him, he clicks on a random video and laughs to himself as he stares at Meggy and Tari. —---------------------------- SV4 opens the door slowly as he looks around, he had to make sure Mr puzzle wasn't around. While he had a sweet tooth he rather dropped dead on the spot before tasting anything that man made, seeing it was clear he leaves his room as he runs to the kitchen. SV4 starts opening cabinets looking for his stash of sweets, SV3 comes out of the bathroom pleased with how his make up came out. He walks down the hall to notice SV4 in the kitchen, he walks up to the man and taps his shoulder. SV4 jumps letting out a scream that surprised 3, they stare at each other for a moment before 3 lets out a sheepish smile “Ah sorry, I didn't mean to scare I just thought…well you felt me last time..”

SV3 frowns looking down. He felt guilty for giving the man a scare, seeing this SV4 lets out a soft smile as he gently taps 3’s head “You know me and sweets, I get in the zone so it's okay.” SV3 lets out a bright smile making SV4 roll his eyes as he lets out a soft chuckle, he reaches back into the cabinet hitting the back wall to reveal a box. SV3 watches in awe as the man takes out the box and opens it “You need me for something? Is this another check up cause as you can see im fine, if this is another attempt on me getting air and socializing cause of what happened remember i bite.” SV3 giggles, shaking his head as he shows his phone, SV4 takes a bite out of a cookie as he reads the text “When I was putting on my makeup Ms. Liko texted me, it's time to see how your eye looks!” SV4 finishes reading the text and lets out a sigh as he sadly looks at his treat’s “Sorry guys next time.”

He puts the box away then smirks at SV3 “Well then shall we head out?” he grabs SV4 hand making the 3 blush. As they walked to the TV room, 3 couldn't stop himself from staring at their hands. It felt warm and safe, he intertwined his fingers without thinking, wanting to feel closer to 4. To his surprise SV4 did the same as they kept walking “What…are we doing 4?” SV4 lets out an excited giggle that 3 only hears when it comes to him getting a new game, he pulls 3 closer as they stand in front of the television. SV4 wraps his arm around SV3 waist making the man's heart race “Well since i learn how to teleport using televisions thought why not take a shortcut.” He tightens his grip on SV3 making 3 wrap his arms around 4, with a nod SV4 places his hand on the screen “Ready to make it to Liko’s?” SV3 nods as he tightens his hold, SV4 eyes turn to static as he focuses on his target. The moment he felt the connection with Liko the pair vanished. —---------------------------------------- SMG4 nervously walked down an all too familiar path, Three turns to check on him “SMG4 relax, i'm sure we don't have to go down that pit again. And if we do, I'm leaving. That adventure was hell and I'm sure the princess wouldn't be a fan of seeing us again.” SMG4 looks down frowning, he takes out his phone reading the text they received. According to SMG1 and 2 there was a strange power surge by the pit, the idea of going near that area is enough to make Four turns and leave Three to handle it. Only reason he was able to go in the pit before was the consuming guilt of almost killing everyone, he lets out a soft smile reminding himself that he kept his promise on making a new home.

As they arrive they see SMG1 scanning around the pit with a concerned expression, while SMG2 had a bag filled with parts of a keyboard. As the pair get closer Four holds his breath seeing the cursed keyboard in pieces, Three looks around seeing marks on the floor “Did someone drag something here?” SMG1 shakes his head as he walks up to Three “From the looks of things a battle took place, the energy matches the amount of energy we guardian’s release.” Three’s eyes go wide as he looks around. “You have to be kidding me, please don't tell me this is another zero.” SMG1 stares at the spikes in the meter, he then looks at the bag in SMG2 hand. “I'm not sure, that's what worries me the most. If there is something out there with powers like ours, then our world could be in danger again.” SMG4 slowly walks up to 2, he stares at the bag as his mind goes back to that day. He wanted to prove to his viewers, to his friends, that he was popular. He felt jealous that his ex rival was doing better than him, he couldn't let Three enjoy his stream without shoving himself in the mix. He should have learned from the youtube arc, yet he keeps making the same mistake, seeing SMG4 staring at the bag SMG2 offers it to him. Seeing the bag closer to him he reaches for the bag, his hand shakes as he grabs it staring at the keyboard pieces. He looks closely and sees a strange liquid on it, he opens up the bag and reaches in to touch the keyboard.

Four made sure the others weren't looking at him as he let out a shaky breath, he reached into the bag the moment his fingers brushed the keyboard energy surge through Four. He pulled back surprised, he started to shake remembering the familiar power that filled his body. He closes the bag and puts it under his hat, as he attempts to steady his breathing. Three felt his fingers sting causing him to turn to Four, seeing Four shaking he ran over “Hey, you doing good over there? You're shaking like Mario when he sees spaghetti.” SMG1 joins them frowning “If being here is too much perhaps you can go into town and get me these books?” Four looks at the slip of paper and takes it “Look i’m fine, if i can go in the pit to get a power star i can look around here for clues.” Three sighs “Hey idiot you were attacked by a monster down there, you almost died twice here. No one is blaming you for being off, not to mention beside what those two told us so far nothing new has been found.” Four frowns looking at the paper, SMG1 gently places his hand on Four shoulder “We called you two over in hopes you can sense anything, yet it seems you two only see the same thing me and SMG2 have found. Three is right, it's best you two continue on with your day and if anything new is discovered we will call.”

Four takes a deep breath and lets out a smile “Alright, I will be back in the castle in no time!” As he runs off, Three looks around the area. SMG1 looks at the meter and frowns. With No idea what to look for along with the world's current meme guardians not sensing anything, they have officially hit a dead end. Three finishes his last look around saying his goodbyes to the pair as he annoyingly walks away, SMG1 couldn't blame the pair for not being happy with them. Not only did they bring up unwanted memories, nothing new was discovered. SMG2 walks up and takes SMG1's hand “Hey it's okay 1, i'm sure we will figure it out in no time!” They smile brightly at him making the older guardian chuckle “Yes, that's what meme guardians are for.” They smile at each other before going back to work. —----------------------- SV4 leans back on a chair with a smirk “Come on that shortcut you have to admit is way better, plus i get more gaming time if i can zap myself to places quickly.” Liko sighs as she checks on her fiance “Are you doing better sweetie?” SV3 looked at Flor with concern “We didn't mean to scare you like that I’m so sorry Ms Flor!” She smiles at the pair and nods before her eyes land on SV4, he awkwardly moves his hands as he attempts to sign ‘My bad’ before looking away. Flor smiles and takes out a notepad letting Liko and 3 know she is fine, Liko walks back to 4 and glares at him “Text if you have to do something like this again.” SV4 waves his hand then points to the eyepatch, with a nod Liko grabs a bag of supplies “We don't know how your eye is going to be, so don't overwork it the last thing you want is to worsen your eye.” SV3 takes a seat next to 4 taking his hand, 4 squeezes 3 hand as he watches Liko take out scissors. Liko gently starts removing the bandages, SV3 gasps seeing the scar on his eye. SV4 slowly opens it, he didn't realize how much he truly missed seeing through both eyes till now. Liko grabs a nearby mirror and shows him “Told you that if you didn't quickly go in your pod you wouldnt heal completely.”

He looks at his reflection and stares at the scar, SV3 feels his eyes water as he stares at SV4 eye. This was his fault all because he had to go to the pit, because he wasn't strong enough. 4 notice 3 letting go of his hand making him turn, seeing the horror on his face SV4 puts the mirror down “I made my choice, I don't have regrets in helping my friend be a part of the channel. Plus all the cool characters in gaming have badass scars.” SV3 gives him a small smile as he lets go of SV4's hand and gently touches his face, Liko stares at SV3 as she takes out a notebook and starts writing down notes. “Oh you never did get snacks, let me go out and get a quick snack while Liko checks to make sure your eye doesn't have any other damage to it!” Before SV4 can say anything 3 started to run to the front door, Liko grabs 3’s arm causing him to turn looking at her curiously “I think we have something to talk about,” SV3 tilts his head looking at her confused “You mean that training you want to do with me and coffee?” Liko shakes her head “No, just on when did you start giving puppy eyes to SV4?” SV3 felt his heart race as he pulls away from Liko, he grabs the door handle and lets out a nervous chuckle “SNACKS AWAY!” he dashes out leaving Liko at the front door smirking at him. SV3 walked into the town thinking over Liko’s words “Puppy…eyes I mean he is my friend and I'm worried, that must be why I look at him like that. Man, my face is starting to feel warm dum cold.” As he talks to himself, someone bumps into him, the force of the push surprised him as he fell down “Oh memes I’m sorry i was lost in thought!” SV3 rubs his backside as he looks up to see who was the culprit, he lets out a gasp seeing SMG4 offering his hand. The moment their eyes met, Four couldn't stop looking “You…have a black eye.” SV3 lets out a chuckle getting up on his own, he pats the dust from the ground off of himself “Ah yeah, heterochromia wasn't enough, birth defects can be a fun thing!” SMG4 frowned, feeling guilty at his comment, as he was going to apologize SV3 started to walk away “Sorry to crash and run but i need to finish grabbing snacks for my friend, later SMG4!” Four stands there surprised for a moment at how the man knew his name, only for him to chuckle, guessing SV3 was a fan of his. SV3 kept walking to the store thinking over what to get SV4, as he explored the store his eyes noticed a box of chocolates. Excited, he grabs the box remembering how much the other man loves chocolates. He runs to check out hoping to hurry back to Liko’s place, finally purchasing the sweets he runs to the lab. “And you can go fuck yourself!” SV4 growled, hearing this SV3 quickly walks into the lab to see Mr Puzzle in the room now “What…did i miss?” he tilts his head. SV4 sighs as he glares at Mr Puzzle “Boxhead has an idea to send one of us undercover to SMG4 castle, cause he wants to make more stars for our channel.” Mr. Puzzle screen shows a bright smile as he looks at SV3 “Aren't you two bored of each other, wouldn't it be great to have other friends to be with? We could make more channel content and you both could have friends to go do whatever it is you two do!” SV3 smiles at the idea while SV4 keeps glaring at the man.

“That could be fun! Don't you think SV4, we can have more friends and you won't have to wear all the dresses I make!” While he knew the man didn't care about clothing, it would be nice to make clothing and have the right model for the design. SV4 rolls his eyes as he looks at SV3, Mr Puzzle claps hearing the approval from SV3 “Perfect! Liko go get the lab ready, as for who we need samples from I have their folders right here.” The boys open the folders looking through it, SV3 eyes sparkle in excitement while SV4 looks over everything suspiciously. SV3 looks up at Mr Puzzle “who will be the one to go in?” Hearing the question Mr Puzzle taps his head, he needed to figure out how to lure one of the guardians in order for their copy to walk in. SV4 sits on the computer chair in the lab taking out his psp “Welp, unless we have one of the SMG’s away from the castle, this plan is over.” SV3 snaps his fingers as he walks up to SV4 showing him the chocolates he bought, SV4 eyes sparkle seeing the treats. As he reaches for it, SV3 lightly taps his hand away “I saw SMG4 walking around in town!” Mr. Puzzle screen flickers with a surprise expression as he walks over to the pair “I can throw some things his way to keep him longer away from the castle then, SV4 looks like you will be our man on the inside.” SV4 excitement for his treat vanishes as he looks at the two in shock, before his face returns to his normal stoic nature “So i get the chocolate only if i do this, is that what your saying 3?” SV3 frowns as he holds the treats close to himself “Unless you don't want to,” Mr Puzzle groans taking the treats from 3, he then walks to the front door “He won't do it but I will, have fun getting the DNA we need!”

SV4 glares at the man as he leaves the lab, 4 crosses his arms “And he wonders why I hate him.” SV4 stands up and stretches as he looks at 3 “I know i shouldnt strain my eye, but looks like we have a mission to do. Ready to transform me into SMG4?” SV3 smiles and nods before looking around them, SV4 grabs 3’s hand making him blush. In a flash SV4 teleports them back to the studio, SV3 gets excited at the thought of making a costume. SV4 watches as 3 runs off to his room, SV4 continues to play as he catches up with his partner. “Okay your hair is pretty long so i will have to style it, hmm oh i know how we can make the outfit quickly. Which leaves make up, take that headband and lay on my bed. I need to cover up that scar and put on contacts.” SV4 walks over to 3’s bed and throws himself on it, he saves his game and shuts down the psp as he puts on the headband. SV3 walks over with a small kit, he climbs on top of SV4 and starts to work. Taking out blue contacts he gently put them in SV4 eyes, the man blinked at the feeling “That is a weird feeling.” SV3 chuckles “Yeah if you're not used to them it can be odd at the start, now it will take a bit to cover the scar so don't mind me!”

SV3 leans close to 4’s face as he starts doing the mans make up, noticing how close the pair is makes SV3 blush. He sits up more straight attempting to keep his face away from the man's face. “Ahem you know i never notice how doing other peoples makeup can feel…intimate.” SV3 takes a deep breath trying to relax, 4 hums thinking over what 3 said “Guess it can be, I mean we are extremely close together.” SV3 pauses on doing 4’s makeup to look at the man's face, he wondered if he was losing it or if SV4 truly was giving him a soft look. What he did know was he needed to finish before he blew up, this illness he had kept making his face warm at the thought of getting closer to his partner's face.

SV3 smiles as he manages to cover up the scar, he gets off of SV4 still blushing as he hands over the outfit. While SV4 goes to change SV3 sits at his desk putting the hat together, he hums as he puts his talent to work. SV4 returns to see SV3 spin in the chair with a smirk as he shows off the hat, he tosses it to SV4 who catches it “You are enjoying this aren't you?” SV3 giggles as he gets temporary dyes and hair spray “Of course, who doesn't dream of giving someone a whole makeover!” SV4 sits down as he watches his partner look at his hair, after a few moments he starts to style it. He did his best to make the hair look shorter and keep his bangs more out of his face, carefully, he colored over the blue highlights. Once he looks proudly at 4 only to frown “Oh man…what are we going to do with your teeth?” SV4 puts his hat on looking at his reflection “I made youtube videos right? I’m sure there is a new trending vampire meme around, one that I want to try to make a video out of.”

SV3 smiles at how clever his partner is, he looks down at the laptop with SMG4 channel open. 4 turns around shutting off the laptop, they don't know how long it took them to get him ready he knew they had to get moving. As SV4 starts to leave the room SV3 grabs him “Wait! SV4…you just got better from your eye, please be careful. I don't know what I would do if you hurt it again. Or if the SMG friends learn about what you're doing, I can't bear to see you hurt again.” SV4 smiles at 3 “Hey now, we made a vow to each other remember? Plus nothing can take me down. These guys are idiots; they won't even notice something is off.” SV3 nods as they both leave the room, he holds on to SV4 as they walk to the nearest TV teleporting back to Liko’s lab.

As SV4 says his goodbyes and casually leaves the lab Liko gently places a hand on 3 “He seems to be getting better control of his powers, speaking of lets have a chat.” SV3 turns fidgeting with his sweater “Um is this about the…coffee?” He smiles sheepishly only for Liko to shake her head, she sits on the couch and pats the spot next to her. Nervously he sits next to Liko “Before you say anything yeah i might be sick, but i have been making sure to take it easy and rest!” Liko stares at SV3 confused before giggling at the man's confession, SV3 pouts at her reaction not finding him being sick to be amusing. Liko clears her throat as she leans back, she wasn't sure why she was doing this then again why did she do anything for her creations. She looks at her fiance as she begins to talk “You're not sick SV3, you have a crush and it most likely happened cause he saved you. Who doesn't want to be saved by a dashing person.” She turns to see a stunned SV3, he looks down taking everything in as Liko continued “Listen having crushes is fun but they don't go anywhere trust me, I…I’m telling you this cause something similar happened to me in the past. If it wasn't for meeting Flor who knows, just..don't get hurt falling for something that will never happen.”

SV3 stays silent for a moment before shaking his head, his voice low “I…there is nothing romantic with us, I thank you for the concern but there is no way…” Liko sighs as she pats SV3 back “Nothing wrong with a crush, just hold back on those feelings. It's better in the end.” she gets up as she walks over to her computer, she starts connecting with SV4 as SV3 looks out the window. SV3 sighs as he takes out his phone and looks at a photo of the two he took when they had their celebration party, he felt his face grow warm as he looked at SV4 “baka…” —-------------------------------------------

SV4 stares at the castle and shakes his head “Dear static, someone has an ego to make a whole castle themed on himself.” “SV4 you there? Using SV3 as a connector I’m able to speak to you every so often, remember to grab any kind of DNA then leave!” Liko walks over to SV3 to make sure he is doing okay, getting the thumbs up as he holds onto the cable she returns. SV4 starts walking towards the castle “Yeah yeah i know, im hanging up now!” As he cuts the connection he walks into the castle where he smells something burning, he turns to the kitchen and walks over to it. His eyes go wide seeing Meggy panicking with a pan, acting quick he runs to get an extinguisher. Once the fire is off Meggy lets out a breath of relief “Thanks SMG4, I was trying to follow Tari’s instructions and I don't know what went wrong.” SV4 pinches the bridge of his nose “Maybe let me do the cooking?” Meggy chuckles smacking SV4 back “Look I swear I have gotten better with cooking!”

SV4 looked at the burned food then back at Meggy, he couldn't understand why on earth Mr Puzzle thought someone like her would be a good addition. He had a feeling she will just bring more chaos to their relaxed home, Meggy tilts her head looking at him “Going to a costume party with those teeth?” SV4 blinks for a moment as her question breaks his train of thought. “Oh haha it's for a new vampire meme, want to be a part of it?” He smiles at her, causing her to wave her hands. “No thanks when you get that look i know we might end up in jail like last time,” SV4 chuckles at her comment, before putting on an innocent face that made her giggle. Meggy then frowns at the pan “Man…I just wanted to make nachos.” SV4 stares at her with wide eyes “NACHOS?!”

He stares at the pan horrified before taking a breath to get back in character “You know you could have just bought the dipping cheese?” Meggy rubs the back of her neck “Haha yeah but…Tari was going to try this new game and I thought freshly made nachos would be a great snack!” SV4 shakes his head as he goes into the fridge and takes out a few ingredients “Okay how about I watch over you cooking to stop the fire?” Meggy nods as she puts on a chef hat, once she grabs the knife and cuts the cheese it bursts into flames. SV4 never thought he would die from cooking, he turns off the fire with Meggy jumping in excitement “This time i got it!” Five fires later Meggy gave up cooking and agreed to use canned cheese for the nachos. They sit at the bar in the kitchen drinking soda, SV4 casually sips his drink as Meggy stares “Okay so the teeth may be more stuck then i like to admit please stop staring!” SV4 attempts to let out a cheerful laugh, Meggy shakes her head “Knew it, man i thought you would be pretty down after going to the pit today.” SV4 pauses as he stares at his drink “I mean you almost died twice…heck after all the stuff that went down at the castle I don't blame you if you were off.” Meggy gives him a gentle smile as she places her hand on his shoulder “Just…please come to your friends when you feel like that again, i swear you always keep things to yourself.” She gets up and leaves the kitchen to get things ready for Tari’s arrival, SV4 grabs the empty can of soda. Seeing the straw he carefully takes it out and bags it, now he needs something from Tari to leave.

SV4 sends a small signal to let the others know he is okay before he leaves the kitchen, he turns his head to notice a boarded up door. He stares at it feeling something call out to him, he reaches for the door only to fall in. He rubs his head as he looks around, slowly he gets up looking at conspiracies all over the wall “What? Avatars…the god of the world, wait what?” He starts looking at all the notes reading it over, his eyes go wide as he puts the stack of notes down on the table “If guardians are here to take care of memes and the avatar…what do me and SV3 do?” He shakes his head, he needs to focus on the mission he could look into things more later. He slowly touches the door and slips out, he stares at the door confused on how it worked. Before he could look more into it his second target walks in, Meggy seeing Tari return runs to the kitchen to grab the snacks “Hello SMG4, would you like to check out my new game?” SV4 was going to reject when his eyes went wide, in her hands was the new solid snake remake. He felt himself slowly walk over to her staring at the game in awe, Tari smiles “You're more than welcome to watch!” SV4 badly wanted to take the game from her hands and run, though he knew he had a mission and time limit to get what was needed. He nods as he follows her to the game room, he could take this chance to perhaps get some of her hair while she is distracted. As they walk in the room, SV4 pauses to see the collection of games in the room. “Oh my static…this is heaven.”

Tari looks at him concerned “You okay SMG4?” SV4 clears his throat forgetting he wasn't a gamer right now, he had to be boring SMG4. He needed to think of memes, he did his best to smile before turning around “I’m fine, I just had an editing idea and lost my thought.” Tari nods as she takes a seat to get ready to play, he watches her set everything up “So how did the video go?” SV4 looks at her confused “Your um…teeth?” SV4 light taps his head trying to be goofy “Right! Well without Mario to help the meme’s out we weren't able to do much.” SV4 looks around for something sharp, he inches closer to a pair of scissors by the table. Meggy comes in with a tray of snacks and lays them on the table, she sits down excited to see what Tari was going to play. Tari sits down, turning on the playstation excited to play, while the pair is distracted setting things up, SV4 grabs some of Tari’s hair. He carefully cuts it then puts the hair in a bag, he takes out his cellphone and lets out a surprise gasp “Oh shoot sorry guys i forgot i had a greet and meet set up going on, I will catch you guys later!” He leaves the castle and drops his smile “Geez I don't know how SV3 can do it, all the talking and smiling. Pretty sure I'm done with people for life.” As he walks towards the forest he hears a girlish scream, it sounded familiar to him. He walks to the cafe forgetting to send a signal back to the lab, he peeks in the window to see SMG3 had his drink spilled on him. Eggdog bounced around in excitement as Three patted Eggdog, with a sigh he slowly removed his shirt. SV4 eyes go wide at the sight, his face going bright red, his ears go flat, unable to look away from the man. Three turns his head and notices SV4 “OI SMG4 WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SPYING ON ME!?” SV4 squeaks as he turns trying to walk away, he feels his legs shake as he tilts his hat down trying to cover the sight of the man. SMG3 burst out of his cafe “RUNNING AWAY HUH? SO YOU WERE SPYING ON ME LIKE A PERVERT!” SV4 stops walking flustered at the man's words, he turns “I WASN'T SPYING I HEARD A WOMAN'S SCREAM,” he clears his throat remembering what Mr puzzle told him. Still blushing he looks off to the side trying to calm his racing heart, Three growls glaring at SV4 “I have a manly scream!” SV4 lets out a snort “So manly I'm sure all the prince charmings went running looking for a damsel.” Three kept screaming at him as SV4 walked away as fast as he could, his mind swirling as the image of SMG3 shirtless kept playing in his head.

—----------------------------------------------- SV3 was getting worried, he looked at the time then at Liko’s notes seeing how long it's been since SV4 let them know he is okay. Getting up from his seat he lets go of the cable, he touches the TV in the room and thinks of SV4. Liko watches as the screen comes to life showing SV4 blushing as he teases and fights with SMG3, Liko chuckles at the sight “Well I be damn, SV4 can find an interest like that in people.” SV3 glares at the sight as he gets up and kicks the TV making it lose its signal, Liko looks over at SV3 concern “SV3-” he puts a finger up “I don't want to talk about it.”

He sits back on the chair holding the cable, his anger over charging the connection. Liko makes a note of it before she turns to SV3 “Hey..maybe it's a good sign that SV4 might be interested in men?” SV3 looks away as he glares at the floor, his mind wandering over how flustered he was at SMG3. If he could look at SMG3 like that was there a chance for him, he did come from that DNA. As he gets lost in thought SV4 walks into the lab “Never again i'm doing that, god those people were too much. Here are your samples, shall we get this over with?” Liko nods as she scans them, as she waits for the scan she calls up Mr Puzzles “I got this covered you two head back.” SV4 changes back into his normal clothes and nods “Sure, I need to figure out how to remove my contacts and make up without making my eye itch more.” Hearing this, SV3 held back his anger as he ran to check on SV4, with a nod he took SV4 to the television for them to go back home. Once gone Liko turns back to her computer “You do know when we clone these girls your power will change them, just like those two. Not to mention this one the Meggy one, she has dormant inkling DNA.” Mr Puzzle hums in excitement hearing the information “Is there a way to wake it up? An inkling might be what we need to spice the cast up!”

Liko looks over the DNA, she frowns as she gets a closer look at the strand “Not sure it will work, it looks damaged. As if something traumatic happened, I could do my best but I make no promise that she will be a full inkling. “ She begins the process as she sets everything needed on the machine, she smiles as she works while Flor watches in the distance. —-------------------------------------------- SV4 was running as SV3 attempted to corner him “4 you need eyedrops in your eye!” SV4 hisses at him as he attempts to find an exit. The moment he looks away SV3 tackles SV4, he pins the man down ready to use the eye drops when Mr Puzzles slams open the door “COME ONE AND ALL! Today we welcome two new stars, Becky and Laurie!” The boys watch as the two girls come out from behind him, they look around in awe of the studio as Mr Puzzle waves his hands “Lets all get along now!”

#smg4 #shygirl4991 #b r i n g x #smg4 au #shadow vision #projectsv #smg34 #sv34 #sv3 #sv4 #smg3

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peachdues · 2 months ago

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Peach, is there any physical aspect of the mermaid that would be, I don't know, considered a little monstrous? Because, okay, she has fangs. A long forked tongue, perhaps? Claws? Webbed fingers? Eyelids with nictitating membranes? Bioluminescence?

She has lots of the above! For example — she has four fangs (top and bottom incisors) and webbed fingers in the water. The webs disappear when her hands are out of the water.

Her nails are longer and sharper than average, but I wouldn’t call them “claws” per se — though she can scratch tf out of Sanemi’s back with them.

Gills on either side of her neck, and patches of a faint, scale like pattern on her cheeks and arms.

As for her tail color…that’s a secret for now! And for plot reasons!

#🍑’s asks

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girlsdads · 4 months ago

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hi karri! how are you doing? with absolute zero pressure I just wanted to tell you that I was thinking about 💦🚽fic this morning, so I went back to reread the snippets and found out I am just as obsessed with it today as I was months ago. No matter if it ever gets finished or not, thank you for sharing what you did!

ahhhh it really means the world to me that there are people out there thinking about my writing, truly one of the few things that have been keeping me going recently so thank you so much for the lovely comments 😭🥺 i have been having a rough several months honestly, but things are looking up now and i've actually had the mental energy to write a few sentences over the past week or so.... not a ton but it's a start 😂

here's a little more for you, as a treat 🫶 i might have posted some of this before, but the few bits at the end are recently penned 🫡

Back in the bedroom, Max is just as Daniel left him--hands and knees, shaking like a fucking leaf. His little cock is hanging mostly soft within the frame of his plush thighs, aimed down toward a new wet patch on the sheet like an arrow pointing to all of Daniel’s sickest desires. He stands there in the doorway and watches, stunned, as another spurt of piss leaks from Max’s flushed tip, adding to the puddle on the bed. Max is heaving breaths that sound almost painful. Daniel’s cock throbs so hard he nearly falls over.

“Daniel, it’s--I can’t--” Max’s voice warbles, then breaks off in a sob.

“I’m here, baby, I’m here,” Daniel croaks, carefully climbing onto the bed behind Max, trying not to jostle him too much. He strokes Max’s hip with his free hand, hoping to ground them both. “Can you kneel up for me?”

Max whines, but does, unfolding himself slowly and stiffly while Daniel winds an arm around his torso. Daniel knee-shuffles closer, has a millisecond of uncertainty before--fuck it, he’s already said he’s into it--pressing his re-invigorated boner to the small of Max’s back. Max’s skin is fever-hot and so soft against him; it’s with Herculean effort Daniel doesn’t just rub himself off like that, let Max piss all over the bed while Daniel dirties him up from behind. Another time, perhaps. A shivery thrill shoots up his spine at the thought.

Daniel sets the trophy down in front of Max.

“Daniel, what--’’

“It’s, uh. You can--use this.” Daniel’s tongue feels like it might crumble to dust inside his mouth. “I’ll clean it after.”

“Use it?” Max sounds like he’s going to start hyperventilating. “Like. Use it like--”

Fuck. Max has to know what Daniel means. There’s no way he doesn’t know. He wants me to say it. Fuck--Daniel’s going to burn alive. He presses his lips to the petal-soft skin of Max’s ear, feels the peach fuzz there as he whispers, “Like a toilet, Max.”

Max gasps, a guttural sound like his vocal cords have shredded themselves making it. His hands fly up from where he’d been squeezing the base of his cock to grip Daniel’s forearm across his chest. Daniel can feel the blunt indents of his neatly trimmed fingernails. He watches over Max’s shoulder as his cock twitches like it’s been hit with an electric charge. Daniel pictures his dick hooked up to a bunch of wires and electrodes, Frankenstein-style. He’s aliiive, Maxy.

Daniel isn’t entirely certain he didn’t say that last bit out loud, hears Max hiccup a small giggle before he heaves a sigh that seems to melt him, finally--blessedly. Daniel has the wherewithal to wrap his free hand around Max’s cock, aiming him squarely at the trophy’s welcoming maw just as Max’s bladder lets go.

#ask #dearly beloved pee fic i have not forgotten you!#need to keep working on my mental health so i can finally finish my magnum opus #my fic #💦🚽

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uas-fics · 4 months ago

Text

Title: Festival Preparations

Rating: T

Summary: Aym barely wanted to go to this foolish festival in the first place, and then The Lamb goes and forces him to help with preparations along with a cute panda girl that makes him feel warm all over. How is he suppose to handle this by himself? Will he be able to convince his Master to help him with these new, complicated feelings, and what's this about a scheme The Lamb is planning?

Ships: AymxJalala

Content Warnings: N/A

Chapters:1/2

Read on AO3

---

If Aym knew he would be put to work, he would not have come.

He followed the vile usurp—err, The Lamb--as they spoke animatedly about the upcoming festival. They gestured to a large pole covered in vines and flowers as they babbled on about the dancing and singing that would happen.

If his master still had the crown—as he rightfully should—Aym doubted precious time would be wasted on such a frivolous idea.

"You're one of the strongest followers I've ever had," The Lamb said, smiling at him. Aym tried not to roll his eyes. Flattery would not make Aym like The Lamb more, but perhaps he could use this opportunity to remind The Lamb with whom his loyalties will always lie.

"Master trained me well when I was under his tutelage," Aym replied, puffing out his chest with pride. In the years he and his brother spent with their master, Master expanded greatly on the basic training they received before being sent to him. He and Baal had the privilege to be trained in the merciless ways of death by Death himself, the true barer of The Red Crown.

"Oh, don't I know it," The Lamb mumbled, rubbing a spot on their arm were Aym had slashed into their flesh a century ago. The Lamb continued, louder, "Since you're as strong as you are, I need you to help take some flour and sugar to the kitchen."

The Lamb skipped up the steps at the entrance of the cult grounds. At the top, they gestured to a pile of burlap sacks, stacked as high as The Lamb was tall. Beside the sacks sat many baskets of fruit: peaches, apples, pears, and others Aym could not name.

"The cooks in the kitchen are making lots of deserts for the festival. If there is a dessert you or Baal particularly enjoy, I would be more than happy to ask them to make it for you." The Lamb picked up a peach and sniffed it. They sighed contently before returning it to the basket.

"I don't care for sweets," Aym lied. In truth, he loved apples baked with herbs and spices in a flaky crust with freshly whipped cream, but he refused to let The Lamb know that. Besides, the cooks in the kitchen could never make it as well as his mother could. Why even waste the ingredients to try?

"And Baal?"

Aym shook his head. Baal enjoyed sweet cakes with sugary fruit syrups, but since he was traveling with Mother, he would not even be hungry when they arrived. Mother always cooked the most delicious and filling foods whenever they visited her, and Baal would have a week of it.

A small flare of jealousy sparked in Aym's stomach that he hadn't chosen to join Baal and Mother, but it extinguished quickly. It had been his choice to journey alone, after all.

The Lamb shrugged. "That's alright. There will be other, savory offerings as well."

Aym grunted, walking over to the sacks. He slipped his hands under the top one and gave it a small, test lift. It would be heavy for any of The Lamb's other, weak followers, but it should be no trouble for Aym.

"I'm sorry I'm late!" A voice cried.

Aym turned to see a small follower jog up the steps. When she came to the top, she doubled over, panting, with her hands on her knees.

He furrowed his brows. Admittedly, Aym was not as worldly as he would like and did not know the names of every type of creature in the lands, but he could confidently say he had never seen creature quite like her before.

She appeared like a bear but with a muzzle shorter and wider than any he had ever seen. She had dark fur on her round ears, arms, and legs, and patches that circled her eyes. The rest of her soft fur was an off white color.

The follower finally looked up at The Lamb and Aym with big, clear, blue eyes. Aym's heart stuttered for a beat. He'd never seen such pretty eyes before.

As The Lamb went to greet the new comer, Aym shook his head at his involuntary reaction. He would have to train his focus and fortitude after this festival ended. Clearly, he had been slacking.

"Aym," The Lamb returned with their hand on the follower's shoulder, "This is Jalala. Jalala, this is Aym. He is a devoted follower of The Red Crown and used to live here for a time."

Aym nodded stiffly. Because the follower was so short, only up to Aym's chest, she had to crane her neck to look him in the face. She made a small squeak of surprise and averted her eyes.

Her reaction to the scar that tore over his eye was not unusual. He had grown used to it in the time since he returned to the land of the living. Most folks had the tact to not ask him around it the moment they met, at least, and this Jalala was no exception.

"H-Hello," she bobbed her head, "I'm Jalala. It's nice to meet you." She spoke with an accent not unlike the one the travelers from the mainland had.

"That is what The Lamb said," Aym replied. Even more embarrassed, Jalala bent her chin down to her chest.

The Lamb clapped their hands. "Since introductions are finished..." They gestured to the pile of sacks and baskets. "Jalala, please help Aym take these deliveries from Rakshasa to the kitchen. Don't worry about the flour and sugar; Aym will take care of those."

Jalala nodded and watched as The Lamb left back to the cult grounds. She shuffled a moment, looking at her feet, as Aym sighed quietly. Even those with tact would ask him about his scar when they were alone together.

"I got it as a child in an accident," Aym said at the same time as Jalala exclaimed, "I'm a panda!"

The two exchanged brief, awkward looks before turning away from each other. Aym's skin burned with embarrassment under his dark fur.

Jalala coughed. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, still not looking at him. "Most people ask me what creature I am when we're alone. I'm a panda. I'm not from this island."

"I wasn't..." Aym shook himself. "We should get started." He spun around on his heel. In an effortless motion, he took the top sack and threw it over his shoulder. He could handle two, of course, but if he finished early, who knows what The Lamb would have him do next.

Jalala picked up a basket, holding it to her chest. Aym strode past her. He couldn't risk making a fool of himself again by trying to make small talk. This task could and would be done in silence.

Jalala rushed to keep up with him on her short legs.

As they made their way to the kitchen, Aym kept his face forward, even though he didn't know exactly where he was going. The cult grounds had changed in the two years since he and Baal were reunited with Mother. Many of the single person homes were torn down and reconstructed for multiple people. The prison had been moved farther from the entrance, near the demon summoning circle and graveyard. The crown statues, monuments to the Bishops' defeats, which once stood vigil on either side of the temple, now cowered in the shadow of a magnificent statue of his master.

Aym felt a soft hand on his arm.

"Um, the kitchen is this way?" Jalala nodded in the opposite direction Aym had been heading. With his ears down turned, he followed her past the shrine in the middle of the grounds, near the gardens, to the kitchen.

The kitchen bustled with activity. Followers chopped beets, pumpkins, and cauliflower on tables set up outside. They scraped the cubes of vegetables into pots at their feet. Near a roaring fire, some others lopped the heads off fish, plucked the feathers from small birds, and gutted squirrels. When they completed their work, some of the meat was taken into the kitchen itself; some was tossed into vats of marinate, while the rest were placed on a grill grate over the fire.

Jalala went to the front of the kitchen. She called in, "Hello? Disciple Lena?"

"What is it? I'm very busy--" A shrew popped her head out with an annoyed expression that faded when she saw the basket in Jalala's arms. "Oh! The delivery is here!"

Lena rushed outside the kitchen. She wiped her sweaty face on her apron. She took the basket from Jalala, balanced it on one hip, took one of the peaches, and examined it with a critical eye.

After a moment, she nodded. "They'll do." She handed the basket back and gestured to the followers chopping vegetables. "Take the fruit over there. Juty will know what to do with them."

While Jalala left to deliver the basket, Lena turned her attention to Aym.

Aym remembered her. When he lived in the cult, she had not been a disciple, though, but she was head of the kitchen then, too, running the cooking and food production of the cult with the strictness of a Silk Cradle Drill Sargent. She made sure meals happened at the same times everyday, each recipe followed to the letter, and no one took more than their share.

"Oh, you've come back, eh?" She sniffed. "Well, at least, you're earning your keep. Take that flour into the kitchen. The rest set here." She gestured to a spot near the kitchen wall. "Take the first sack of sugar inside as we--"

"Disciple Lena!" Another follower called from the kitchen. "The thief stole a loaf of bread again!"

Her shoulders fell and she let out a heavy sigh. "Scratch that, bring two flours inside."

---

Aym and Jalala took several more trips back and forth, but barely made a dent in the delivery. Finally, Jalala sat on the steps, breathing heavily.

"Let's take a break. Just for a minute?" She asked, holding up one finger. Though Aym was no where near tired, he agreed and sat a few steps up from her.

As he gazed over the grounds, he wondered when Baal and Mother would be there. The festival was in two days, so they had plenty of time. The Lamb had invited Mother personally a month ago, and she, inturn, requested that her sons be invited as well.

"They said you two are always welcome to come visit!" Mother had laughed, setting a bowl of hearty stew down in front of Aym. "Their heart is filled with such kindness!"

Aym and Baal had exchanged a look behind their mother's back. No matter how kind the Lamb seemed, neither of them could forget the ferocity of which The Lamb battled for control of The Crown in The Gateway.

Mother had a few stops to make before heading to the festival. She offered that both boys may stay and travel with her. Baal agreed, but Aym decided against it. He loved traveling with Mother and Baal, of course, but he found Mother's business matters extremely boring.

Baal enjoyed making friends and hearing others' stories, but Aym preferred action. He liked to travel into the deepest depths of the lands and face off against the beasts that lurked there. He liked defeating the remains of the Bishops' cults and spreading the word of The Red Crown, even if it rest on the brow of an unworthy host.

So he decided to make his own way back to the cult grounds, a much faster and more direct way than the curving roads Baal and Mother followed.

Jalala cleared her throat. "So, The Leader said you used to live here? I didn't know we were allowed to leave." She quickly added, "Not that I would ever want to leave Paradise, of course!"

"My recruitment was under unusual circumstances," Aym said, fiddling with the skull shaped clasp on his robes.

He could still remember the feeling, right before he was returned from the life beyond. A tugging at his neck, like a collar, pulling him through the endless numbing darkness of death to the sounds of voices chanting and the flicker of candle flames, then the sudden squeeze of the world after's creatures fighting to pull him back.

"Oh," Jalala twiddled her fingers, "mine was too."

He doubted it, but nodded for her to continue.

"I was trying to find this place, Paradise, with my friend Rinor, when a large skull monster, creature, thing attacked us! It planned to sacrifice us to the Bishop of Silk Cradle, um, Sh...Sher..."

"Shamura," Aym supplied then spat at the ground to remove the taste of Master's vile imprisoner from his mouth.

Jalala cringed, scooting away from where he spat. "Yeah, them, but before the monster could sacrifice us, The Lamb swooped in and saved us." Her eyes sparkled. "They were so brave and cool."

Aym scoffed. He was far braver than The Lamb. The Lamb didn't need to fear death, sloppy as their control over it was, while Aym had to fight hard in every battle to stay alive. He knew he was much cooler, too, just by virtue of his service to Master.

"And besides saving us, The Lamb brought me back to my big brother," Jalala continued. "He was the one who told me to come here. I knew I missed him, but I didn't know how much until I saw him again."

That was a feeling Aym knew well. He had missed his mother since the day he and Baal were taken from her. When The Lamb brought him back to her, his heart nearly burst with joy and longing for her embrace.

"I have an older brother as well, Baal." Aym replied.

"Aym and Baal..." Jalala repeated, her brows furrowing a moment before her eyebrows shot up. "Are you Ms. Forneus' son?"

Aym tensed, shocked that this little creature knew his and Mother's relationship.

At his reaction, she frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry. When I was traveling with Rinor, I ran into Ms. Forneus. She gushed about her sons, and I thought she said their names were Aym and Baal, too. I must be mistaken."

"You are not," he said, a little too quickly. "Forneus is indeed my mother."

"That's wonderful then!" Jalala smiled, and Aym felt his temperature rise. "Your mother is a very kind and amazing person."

He nodded, about to speak, when he noticed the smoke from the kitchen curling into the sky. He pushed himself off the steps.

"We should get back to work."

After he had another sack of flour on his shoulder and she another basket in hand, the two made their way down the steps. At the bottom, Aym coughed into his hand.

"What exactly did Mother say about me?" He asked. "When you met her, I mean."

Jalala giggled, a cute, musical sound. "Well, alright, I'll tell you, but it's a little embarrassing..."

---

The Lamb slumped down against the side of the temple wall. They wiped sweat from their brow. The festival seemed like a good idea a month ago, before the chaos of preparation. For every idea that went right, two more went wrong.

A fresh chunk of bread was shoved under their nose.

"I do not miss dealing with all this." Narinder dropped the bread into their lap. He took a large bite out of a half eaten loaf.

The Lamb took the bread and nibbled on it. As a god, they did not need food or drink anymore, but the action itself was a comfort to focus on for a moment.

"It will be worth it for the festival tomorrow." The Lamb lifted the bread up. "They all will have so much fun and make such good memories, they will never want to leave my flock."

"Not all of them," Narinder replied idly. He pointed with the loaf.

Aym with a sack over his shoulder and Jalala with a basket in her arms waited for a group pushing several overloaded wheel barrows of fire wood some ways away. Once the final wheel barrow had passed, the two continued their delivery.

The Lamb shrugged. Both Baal and Aym's mother and past master wanted the boys to have the freedom to forge their own paths, and The Lamb respected that, allowing the boys to come and go as they pleased.

It had been a long time since Baal last visited, and Aym never visited by himself, so when Forneus asked if she could bring her children with her, The Lamb agreed.

"Have you spoken to him yet?" They asked, chewing on another bite.

"For only a moment," Narinder said. "Without Baal around, Aym reverts quickly to his past role, and I would rather not have him following my every move, so I sent him to you."

"Ah. That's why he was so agreeable earlier."

The two continued to watch Aym and Jalala carry their cargo to the kitchen. Even from a distance, The Lamb could tell the two chatted cheerfully with each other. Aym laughed at something Jalala said as a big smile spread across her face.

They seemed to like each other. And weren't they about the same age? The Lamb wondered, if Aym had a special friend there, he would be more likely to visit? And if he visited more often, The Lamb could make use of his strength. And...

Narinder flicked the Lamb's ear.

"I do not care for the expression you are making towards Aym." Narinder narrowed his eyes. "It is your scheming expression."

The Lamb waved him off. "Scheming? Me? Never. I was just thinking, don't those two make a cute couple? Forneus told me she thought Jalala and Rinor were sweet girls when she met them, so she would approve if the two had a little case of puppy love with each other."

"Do not insult Aym's fine feline heritage like that." Narinder's tail flicked irritably.

"Kitten love then," The Lamb corrected. "But, come on, Nari, they're cute, right?"

He grunted. "I suppose, but I still want you to leave him alone."

The Lamb rolled their eyes. "Fine, fine, I will leave him alone." They stood, brushed the back of their fleece off, and shoved the rest of the bread in their mouth. "I have to go check on things. And you" they pointed at Narinder, "and to stop stealing bread from the kitchen. Lena is gonna figure out it's you one of these days and make you eat gruel for a week."

Narinder took a large, slow bite before he turned and walked away.

---

Jalala collapsed onto the bed in her shared home, exhausted. It had taken the rest of the afternoon to deliver all the fruit, flour, and sugar to the kitchen. Her legs ached from what felt like the thousand leagues she walked.

At least Disciple Lena gave Jalala and Aym an extra scoop of stew in their bowls when they finished. She wasn't sure if Disciple Lena did that out of gratitude or because she gave everyone who had worked on festival preparations extra.

Though tiring, the day itself had not been a bad one. In the morning, she helped arrange flowers for the festival decorations until The Leader called for her to help Aym.

Jalala rolled to her back, holding her pillow to her chest. Her cheeks went hot. Maybe not at first, but Aym ended up being a joy to talk to. She smiled, remembering the embarrassment on his face when she told him what his mother had said about him and the pride in his voice when he talked about his brother. She promised to introduce Aym to Yarlen and Rinor at the festival while he promised to introduce her to Baal.

Rinor pushed open the flap to the shelter. The smell of sweat and lumber clung to her as she flopped next to Jalala.

"Tired..." She moaned. "I think next year we should just eat raw vegetables. No firewood required."

Jalala gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. No matter how tired she was, at least she hadn't ended up assigned to the lumberyard like Rinor. Rinor pushed herself up and slowly crawled to the bucket of water in the corner. She dunked a cloth into it and began washing the dirt and grime from her face and arms.

"So," she dragged out the word, "you had to make deliveries today, huh?"

Jalala propped herself up on her elbow. "Yes. Mr. Rakshasa brought bulk ingredients for the festival. We had to run back and forth at least a dozen times."

Rinor paused, the cloth on her arm. "'We'?" A sly smile crossed her face. "Do you mean you and that boy?"

Jalala frowned. The lumberyard was pretty far away from the entrance and kitchen. How had Rinor seen them? Her mouth shaped into an 'o' as she realized Rinor must have been in one of the teams delivering firewood to the kitchen. Though, it was unusual for Rinor not to say hello. She must have been too busy.

"Yeah, that was Aym." Jalala picked at a loose thread of her bed roll. "He is one of Ms. Forneus' sons."

"No way!" Rinor wrung out the cloth again, leaving the once clean water a yellow-brown color. "Is he the older one who brought back a beast to be a pet or the younger one who chased a bird fifty feet up a tree and got stuck?"

"Younger." Jalala laughed. "Baal is the older brother. Aym was really nice. He let me rest, even when I knew he wasn't tired at all." She sighed. "He's really strong, too."

Rinor patted the saw dust from her hair before crawling back over to Jalala. She poked her in the side.

"Nice, huh? That's good, but....Well, I didn't get a good look. Is he cute?"

Jalala pushed her hand away, then sat up properly. "Why do you care?"

Rinor tapped her nose. "Nosy." She shook Jalala's shoulder. "Now answer! Is he?"

Jalala hugged her pillow, blushing. "A little, yeah."

He was handsome, in a boyish sort of way. The scar on his face scared her a little at first, but she soon grew used to seeing it on their many trips back and forth. He had broad shoulders and long limbs, which shouldn't match well, but somehow, looked well proportioned on him. His fur was a dark gray, only a few shades lighter than Ms. Forneus' black coat, and thick. She never got to touch it, but it looked silky and smooth.

Rinor squealed in delight. "Jalala has a crush! How adorable!" She announced in a sing song voice.

Before Jalala could defend herself, Yarlen pushed open the door. He stank of dead fish. Poor Yarlen had been assigned to taking the fish bones and whatever other scraps of food Disciple Lena decided against saving for broth to the compose heap.

Rinor reeled back, holding her nose while Jalala pulled her robes over hers. Yarlen's shoulders slumped.

"Is it that bad? I stopped smelling it a few hours ago."

Jalala nodded. A quick wash like Rinor did would not rid her brother of the stench. He groaned then quickly stepped inside just to grab a new change of clothes.

"I'll go drop these clothes off at the laundry."

Rinor called, "You can try dunking yourself in the fountain, too!" as he left.

---

Narinder strolled through the evening air, enjoying the silence that began to over take the grounds now that everyone had headed to bed.

He had avoided doing any of the preparation work during the day by virtue of never staying in one place long enough to be recruited to help.

He turned his gaze over to the kitchen. The fire for cooking meats had died down to embers after dinner completed, but the fire inside the kitchen still glowed. He could not sneak in and steal a midnight snack tonight. That shrew Lena already suspected him of stealing bread, and he knew The Lamb would give her permission to feed him gruel if he were to be caught.

Narinder took the final chunk of bread he stole and popped it in his mouth. A thousand years of imprisonment, and sometimes he wanted to enjoy the yeasty taste of bread. There was nothing wrong with that.

In the dying light, Narinder spotted a familiar feline shape walking across the grounds towards the temple.

He had not spoken to Aym for more than a few moments when he arrived before shooing him off. It was not that he did not care to hear the boy's tales of his battles and travels, but Aym still had not yet broken his habit of falling in step behind Narinder when they walked together, nor his habit of glowering at anyone who dared near his ex-master.

While Narinder did enjoy the occasional privileges that came from his past station, being guarded was not one of them.

Maybe after a day of hard work, Aym would be too tired to act as his servant, and they could have a normal chat.

Aym stared up at the twinkling stars above him. Aym's ear twitched as Narinder neared. The boy tensed for a moment before his gaze fell from the stars to Narinder.

Narinder raised a hand in greeting as Aym's posture softened.

"Good evening."

"Yes! Good evening, Ma—Lord Narinder." Aym caught himself, though saying Narinder's real name caused a small cringe to cross his face. Narinder let the mistake pass with out comment. He went to Aym's side then craned his neck to look at the sky.

"It is nice, is it not?" He gestured to it.

"It is." Aym agreed. "Mother taught Baal and me how to identify the constellations, so we would always know how to find our way while we traveled." He pointed to a cluster of stars, connecting them with his finger. "That's the twin fish. It raises in the East this time of year."

Narinder narrowed his eyes at the stars, frowning. "Twin fish? Hmm. I learned it was one of the Old Ones, a founding goddess of some kind or another. That constellation included that dim star there as well, though." He rubbed his chin.

"I'm sorry. I think I can see a lady up there." Aym squinted his eyes at the stars.

Narinder's tail flicked irritably. He snapped, "If twin fish are what you see, then that is fine. After a thousand years, I am not surprised that mortals draw different lines between the stars."

"Apologies," Aym muttered. When he was embarrassed, he looked even more like a small child to Narinder, with his ears lowered and his eyes averted.

Well, since he was already embarrassed, Narinder decided now was his time to pry.

He knew The Lamb well after all this time. They already had a plan in motion to exploit some loophole or another in their promise to leave Aym alone.

Narinder needed to know, at least, how annoyed he should be at them.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Enough of the night sky for now. Tell me, what menial task did The Lamb assign you?"

Aym's ears perked back up. He puffed out his chest as he spoke: "I carried bags of flour and sugar to the kitchen. It took no effort, of course, with how strong your training made me."

Narinder nodded. "If I recall correctly, did that one monochrome bear not also help carry things?"

"She's a panda!" Aym corrected, a little too enthusiastically. Seeing Narinder quirk one eyebrow up at his reaction, Aym coughed into his fist and replied, "I mean, that is what she told me. She is a panda. Her name is Jalala."

Narinder gestured for him to continue, keeping a close eye on his face.

"Oh, well, she carried baskets of fruit since she isn't as strong as me. She even needed more than one break, but Mother always says if someone needs a break, you should let them rest." Aym smiled to himself. "She was fun to talk to, and she liked my stories I told her. And!" He turned, his eyes shining. "She didn't even ask about my scar. Everyone asks about my scar after a little while! I don't think she even cares about it."

Narinder did not doubt that. There were enough followers with scars or wounds that never healed quite right that most people there were desensitized by such things.

Though, being used to scars did not make anyone less curious about them. Narinder himself had asked about the scar not long after the boys were gifted to him.

"That is quiet a scar you have there," Narinder remembered saying, drawing his skeletal finger over his own eye. "Pray tell, child, were did you acquire such a thing?"

Aym had nervously spun his staff back and forth in his clenched hands. He swallowed hard, opened his mouth, but no words came out. Beside him, Baal held out a hand to their new master.

"It was an accident when he was very young," Baal offered. "He--"

"I did not ask you." Narinder sliced a massive hand between the two, obscuring their view of each other. "I asked him. Speak."

Aym started to look to his side, to peak through the gaps in Narinder's bones, but Baal quickly shook his head, then gestured to the god before them. Aym took another breath and slowly hissed it out between his teeth.

"I, uh, I got it when one of Mother's customers got upset," he explained, his voice shaking and ears pinned to his head. "He, um, didn't like Mother's prices, and tried to steal from her. I tried to stop him by grabbing his robe."

"He attacked you, did he? An adult knifing a child; truly, those Bishops have let the world fall into such horrid corruption." Narinder interrupted, mostly to watch the teenager before him squirm uncomfortably.

"No, I mean, yes, I mean, ah...he pushed me. The person who stole from Mother's shop," Aym continued, his tail wrapping around his ankles. "I fell back into a barrel, and a knife fell from the barrel top and..." He made a slashing motion over his blind eye. "I haven't been able to see out of it since." With a sudden burst of confidence, he stated, "But I'm a good fighter! I swear I am. I don't need my eye to be of service to you."

He had then bowed deeply and that was when Narinder began to appreciate the gifts he had been given.

"And you did not ask her anything rude?" Narinder wanted to know. Unfortunately, he had not been able to offer much training to the boys in the way of tactfulness, as they had only the occasional vessel as visitors. It was something he had planned to do once free when he ruled over the lands, though that plan did not work out.

"I don't think so." Aym's tail wrapped around his ankles. "I hope I didn't. What if I did? How would I know? I don't want to have insulted her. She's so nice and sweet and pret...te...te-teal! Her eyes! They're teal, well blue, really, but I've not seen many people with eyes like that either!"

Narinder covered a smile with his hand. He hated to admit it, but The Lamb had been right. Aym and Jalala did seem like a nice couple, and Aym certainly liked the young lady. Narinder wondered if she liked him back, though. Had Aym, in his time returned to the mortal world, experienced heart break or even romantic love? Was he even mature enough to understand the implications?

Narinder hummed to himself as he mulled how best to proceed. He knew he didn't have to proceed at all. Aym was no longer his charge, and he had no desire to take the role of sagely master back up again, but Narinder had had Aym and Baal as his only company for so long, and they in turn had been loyal to him right until--and after--their final breaths, he felt as though he ought to offer some sort of advice.

"I am sure you did not insult her. That said..." He put a hand on the younger cat's shoulder and squeezed. "Do not...jump into anything too abruptly, even if it feels good at the time."

What sound advice he gave--short, straight to the point, and not embarrassing for either party to hear or say. If Aym did not hurry into a relationship with the little panda before he truly knew her, he could not have his heart broken. Simple as that.

Aym furrowed his brow. He went to open his mouth, but Narinder cut him off with a flick of his wrist.

"You should get some sleep." Narinder nodded to the temple, where guests often slept. "You will be asked to help with something else tomorrow, I am sure."

Before Aym could wish Narinder a good night, Narinder turned on his heels and walked away, proud of his excellent and straight forward advice.

---

Rinor crept away from her shelter, quiet as the dead, and guided by the light of the half moon. She knew, of course, if Jalala or Yarlen woke up, she could make the excuse that she needed to use the outhouse, but she had been ordered to be sneaky on this mission!

As she tiptoed past the shrine, she heard talking. She stiffened and pressed herself against the cool statue. Under the watchful stone eye of her leader, she peaked out towards the voices. She squinted.

Disciple Narinder stood next to someone Rinor couldn't make out. Whomever they were, they were taller than Disciple Narinder. Disciple Narinder placed his hand on the other person's shoulder for a moment before turning and walking away.

The other person waited for a bit before they went inside the temple. Once the temple's door shut, Rinor rushed across the open expanse between the shrine and the leader's tent.

Her legs yelled in protest. They had already spent the whole day running loads and loads of wood from one place to another, and now she expected them to carry her that far, that fast?

<i>This is important!</i> She thought to her legs, pushing herself a little faster.

She doubled over near the leader's tent, rubbing the tops of her thighs, promising her legs it would all be worth it.

"Rinor?"

She jumped as Leader stepped out from their tent. She used honoring her god as an excuse to fall to her knees in a bow.

"Great Lamb, I did what you asked of me!" Rinor looked up at them with bright eyes. The Lamb grinned at her. They held out their hands to help her up, much to her hidden disappointment. They ushered her into their tent. The earthy smell of her holy leader filled her nose as they gestured for her to sit down on a pillow.

Rinor took a grateful seat while Leader sat cross legged in front of her. They leaned forward with their hands on their knees.

"Tell me, what did you find out?" Their eyes sparkled as they asked.

"You were definitely right!" Rinor vibrated with excitement. "Jalala really does like that guy! She kept going on and on about him, well, until Yarlen came back in, anyway." Rinor wrinkled her nose as the memory of Yarlen's fishy smell came back to her.

"What did she say?" Leader clapped their palms together and pointed their finger tips at her.

"Um, Jalala thinks he's cute, really nice but just a bit awkward, and really strong," Rinor explained. "While Yarlen was changing out of his stinky clothes, she told me she hopes she gets to dance with him at the festival!"

Rinor wondered if Jalala knew how lucky she was. It's not everyone who had their god play matchmaker for them.

As she hauled herself towards her shelter early that evening, Leader had grabbed her by her arm and pulled her aside. Rinor would never say no to her leader's request, but especially not a request that was for the betterment of her best friend's life! This Aym fellow better be as good as Leader and Jalala claimed.

Leader chuckled. "Wonderful! Simply wonderful! Thank you, Rinor." They stood. "Now, sneak back and remember, this is our little secret." They put their finger to their lips.

Rinor stood and started towards the door when the tent flap opened. Disciple Narinder looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. He stepped around her towards Leader.

"Lamb, there is a topic we ought to discuss," he said, idly picking at his claws. "You need not sleep, so I know you have time to speak."

"Just because I don't need to doesn't mean I don't want to. Unlike you, I still have dreams," The Lamb playfully countered.

"Oh, hush, little godling," he snorted back.

It never ceased to amazing Rinor that Disciple Narinder could talk so casually to their god. It was almost like the two were old friends. Rinor hoped one day, if she ever earned the title of disciple, she, too, could walk up to the leader's tent at night for a chat the same way Disciple Narinder did.

Leader rolled their eyes. To her, they said, "Rinor, go, have a pleasant night."

Rinor took only a single step out into the cool air when Leader put a hand on her shoulder. They asked her, "As a reward for your investigation work, what job do you want to do tomorrow? You don't need to be in the lumberyard."

Rinor's legs cried out in joy.

---

The master sat on the ground next to Aym as he told tale of one of his latest battles. He jabbed his spoon forward as he spoke of how he countered the blade of one of The Yellow Crown's followers before spinning around and dispatching them with a slash to the throat.

"Impressive." Master pulled the meat from his breakfast's fishy bones. "I appreciate you going out of your way to cull Heket's remaining followers. My dear sister is rolling in her grave." He cackled.

Aym beamed with pride. "I'm only doing as expected of me. It would be wrong of me to allow a heretic to live. Only The Red Crown can be worshiped in these lands."

Master nodded in approval as he tossed the last of his meal into his mouth. Aym followed suit, slurping up the last of his leftover stew. Master craned his neck to look up at the sky, not unlike he did the night before. Aym copied him, gazing at the pale blue sky.

Master hummed. "It's going to rain." He pointed towards the horizon where heavy gray-green clouds gathered. "I think it should go to the east, though."

"If it rains, will the festival be canceled?" Aym asked, his tail flicking nervously.

Originally, he had not cared much about the festival. He came because Mother asked him to and because it was an excuse to see his master, but after his afternoon working with Jalala, he found himself excited for it. He wanted Jalala to introduce him to her brother and best friend. He wanted to introduce her to Baal. He wanted to eat the food with them all, even if it wouldn't be as good as Mother's, and play games and, maybe, even dance with...

His face flushed.

Master shook his head. "Probably not. It may be delayed or taken into the temple, but after all the work The Lamb has put into it, I doubt they would cancel it."

Aym sighed in relief. "Good." When Master looked at him with an unreadable expression, he quickly added, "I would hate for all my hard work to go to waste."

Master nodded. "That is true, I suppose."

"Aym!"

The two cats' heads jerked up as The Lamb trotted over. They smiled a little too brightly for Aym's taste, and he clenched his fist, his face twisting into a grimace. Master patted Aym's arm, soothing the fur that bristled up.

"Good morning, Lamb," Master greeted. He turned to Aym and gestured his hand towards the Lamb.

Aym reluctantly muttered a "morning" to them.

"And a good morning to both of you." The Lamb bobbed their head. "Narinder, do you mind if I borrow Aym from you again today?"

Master waved his hand. "He is not mine to give or take. If he wishes to help you, he may."

Aym felt a small pang in his gut. He knew Master didn't mean any harm saying Aym was not his anymore, but it still hurt a little.

The Lamb put their hands on their hips. "Well, that's true." They turned to Aym. "Aym, could you run an errand for me?"

"Perhaps," Aym replied coldly. "What is the errand?"

They rocked on their heels. "It seems that I forgot to ask Rakshasa for some spices. Lena needs them for a recipe. Normally, I would go track him down myself, but," they gestured to the ongoing festival preparations around them, "I can't really leave right now."

As Aym started to decline, The Lamb continued, "You won't be alone, of course. I'm sending Jalala as well."

Aym's heart skipped a beat.

Master snorted. "Oh, so you want him to go as her guard? Is that all you can think of him as?"

The Lamb chuckled, rubbing the back of their head. "Maybe a little bit. Rakshasa hasn't gone far, only a few miles towards one of his usual spots in Anchordeep, but I would feel better if someone with a little battle experience under their belt went with her." They turned that too bright smile to Aym, and he felt like a spotlight was on him.

He swallowed. "Only Lord Narinder has more experience than me." He bit down on his tongue. He hated calling the master by his real name so casually.

"That may be true, but I have no desire to play escort." Master stood, stretching. "Besides, I am out of practice."

Aym twisted his spoon in his fingers. He hadn't been trying to convince Master to go; instead, he had simply pointed out a fact. Out of practice or not, Master held strength and power that any mortal--or The Lamb--could not even imagine.

"I can go," Aym agreed.

The Lamb clapped their hands. "Excellent! I will go get Jalala and meet you at the entrance." The Lamb spun around and started off, humming a tune.

Master rolled his eyes. He took the empty bowl from Aym without asking.

"I shall take these to the kitchen," he said as he stepped away. He paused a moment, then turned back and met Aym's eyes. "Remember what I told you. Look before you leap, child."

Aym reached out, both to take his bowl back and to stop his master from leaving him with such cryptic knowledge, but Master had already disappeared into the crowd preparing for the festival.

---

Jalala wrung her hands nervously as she followed behind The Lamb. They knew she didn't like to leave Paradise, especially not on her own. It took her months to find it the first time, and she had almost lost her life so many times in that short period. Even small trips away by herself made her shake with nerves.

"I wrote down what you need to pick up," The Lamb said, handing her a slip of paper. "Mace and cardamon."

Jalala frowned. She didn't know what either of those were. Wasn't mace a weapon? She wanted to ask about them, but kept her mouth shut. She didn't want to sound like a fool in front of her holy leader.

As they neared the entrance, Jalala noticed Aym. He leaned against one of the large rock walls with a bladed staff by his side, looking up at the sky. Her heart skipped a beat. He must be waiting for Ms. Forneus and his brother to show up.

Jalala hoped she would be back in time to clean up before they arrived. Ms. Forneus had been so kind to her and Rinor when they met. She found them lost in the edges of Darkwood and offered them a ride on her cart. Rinor and Jalala stayed with the motherly cat for a week or so, helping her package her wears and set up her shop. Her sweet nature reminded Jalala of the grannies in her old village. How they would pinch her cheeks and pat her head, telling Jalala what a darling child she was, then slip her treats when no one was looking.

Baal, though, she only knew of through reputation. Ms. Forneus had spoke of his wanderlust and friendly attitude.

"I believe he could make friends with a stone statue," she had told her with a laugh. Everything Aym said yesterday just reinforced this notion. He was a strong fighter, Aym claimed, and could hold his own in a fight, but Baal would rather talk things out when he could.

Jalala hoped Aym and his family would like Yarlen and Rinor when she introduced him to them as well. She told Yarlen after he came back, still smelling slightly of dead fish, about the planned introductions. He seemed happy about finally being able to thank Ms. Forneus for the help she gave his little sister

The Lamb stopped, and Jalala nearly ran into their back.

"And there is your escort," The Lamb said, gesturing to Aym.

"'Escort'?" Jalala yipped.

"Of course," The Lamb flashed her a smile that made her cheeks burn and set a soothing hand on her shoulder. "I would never send you out without someone to protect you, and Aym here is the best person for the job."

Aym pushed himself from the wall. He walked towards them with the confidence of a man who just won in the fight pit. He gave a small nod to The Lamb then turned to Jalala.

"Good morning," he greeted; his good eye seemed to sparkle at her, and the blush under her fur deepen.

The Lamb chuckled and clasped their hands together. "You two better head out. It's supposed to rain a lot in that direction, and I doubt either of you want to get caught in it."

As The Lamb left her and Aym alone, Jalala decided this was either going to be a great day or one of the worst days of her life.

---

The Lamb found Narinder hiding in the graveyard. He rested his back against the mausoleum where the other disciples were entombed. He plucked a flower, spun it in his hand, then tossed it over to a nearby gravestone.

The Lamb picked up the tossed flower and set it on Trebre's grave. They gave the top of the stone a few gentle pats before returning to Narinder.

He looked up at them with a bored expression.

"How did it go?" He asked, shuffling out of the mausoleum shadow into the sun.

"I've sent them off," The Lamb proclaimed, taking Narinder's vacated spot in the shade.

Warming the shade was about all The Lamb expected he would do that day. Narinder claimed not to like parties or festivals, so he rarely helped set them up, but a century with him freed from his chains, The Lamb knew better. The ex-god of death enjoyed a lively get-together and feasting as much as any other, no matter how aloof he tried to be about it.

Narinder picked at the dirt under one of his claws. "Truly, I hate being part of your schemes, but if it makes the boy happy..." He trailed off with a shrug.

"I'm sure this will work out for both of them," The Lamb agreed, still excited about their secret motive of having extra muscle around the grounds. "After all," The Lamb bumped their shoulder against Narinder's, "this was your plan."

They had been surprised when Narinder showed up the night before, right after Rinor came with her report, and said he now wanted to take part in The Lamb's matchmaking plan.

"He does seem to enjoy her company, and the girl, at least, is one of the ones I do not find terribly annoying," he had explained after they shooed off Rinor. "Not that it matters what I think for his life, but of the girls his own age here that he could court, the little panda is the preferred one. Besides, I gave him some excellent relationship advice." Narinder's tail was lifted with pride. "He will be just fine no matter what happened."

Narinder then suggested the best way to ensure the two young people actually liked each enough to peruse a relationship was to send them on a boring, menial task alone together.

With the sun on his face and his eyes shut, Narinder snorted. "I cannot take all the credit for it. Kallamar used to play match-maker with his followers all the damn time." He held out his hands in front of him as he spoke. "Two would just show up at my door with a letter saying 'Use them as free labor for a day or two and send them back with something. I do not care what.'"

He held his forehead in his hand, laughing. "It was so annoying, but, by The First Ones, did it work."

The Lamb smiled softly. How strange it was the ways he spoke of his siblings now that they were gone. Sometimes they wondered if he actually missed them.

"If this works as well for me as it did for him, then I'll have to keep this plan around for the future." They patted Narinder's leg before standing up. "I need to check on the lumberyard. They're down a person today. If you would like to come help..."

Narinder scoffed, "Nope." and pretended to fall asleep.

---

AN: Ah, young love!

Chapter 2.

#cult of the lamb #aymla #cotl #narinder #the lamb #aym #jalala

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nekohime19 · 11 months ago

Text

Mini Mac # 30 : Monkey King growing belly

Mac is mad at Wukong for being reckless!

Macaque was pacing in circles before Wukong, his tail lashing angrily behind him. Every now and then the lil guy would look up at the golden-furred monkey with a furry-filled glare. Wukong flinched and averted his eyes, shame creeping up on him. He hated being looked. at like that by Macaque, it made him feel all wrong.

“I know you're reckless but this is too much, Wukong!” Nagged the black-furred monkey as he threw his hands above his head in exasperation. His lil ears were flapping in frustration.

“B-but I'm fine!” Argued the sage, trying to defend his earlier actions.

“Fine? FINE !? Cutting your own head is not fine!” Roared Macaque, he put his hand on his hips and whipped his head towards Wukong with a disapproving glare, Wukong shrunk down in shame.

“But I'm seven times immortal and I had to win against those false Daoists.” Mumbled the sage as he played with his fingers in nervosity. The rest of the pilgrims were watching the scene unfold with various levels of amusement.

“That doesn't matter. You don't have to put yourself in danger like that, it’s-” Macaque stopped once he caught sight of Wukong's kicked puppy face and sighed, he pinched the bridge of his nose and calmed his frying nerves. “Anyway, come on, follow me. There is a spring nearby. You're gonna wash yourself and I'm gonna see if there aren't any injuries on you.”

“But Mac I don't need a-” Wukong cut himself the moment Macaque whipped his head towards him, the sage wasn't daring enough to anger the lil guy further. Sun Wukong followed Mac que with dropped ears and a sweating tail. Bajie was laughing at his misery while Sanzang was discreetly praying for his mercy. Ao Lie, like the pure heart he was at times, mouthed “good luck” and Wujing threw a thumbs up at him.

Both monkeys quickly arrived at the brewing spring, Wukong stood on the balls of his feet awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

“Take off your clothes.” Sighed Macaque.

“W-what ?” Squeaked Wukong with reddening cheeks, his heart missed a beat at Macaque's words.

“What were you expecting? Come on, I gotta see your injuries.” Wukong wouldn't have minded being naked like a newborn in front of anyone else, but this was Macaque. The sage was conscious of a lot of things when it concerned Macaque and, perhaps, he did gain a lil bit of pudge recently, he didn't want Macaque to see that. Wukong fiddled with the hem of his shirt, eyes darting everywhere but on Macaque

The sage reluctantly took off his shirt and kept on his pants, he curled his tail on his stomach to hide his growing belly. Darn, he really did eat too many peaches. Macaque gestured for him to lower himself and Wukong hesitantly did so. The lil guy immediately jumped on Wukign's chest and began to inspect every corner of his skin with a keen eye.

“You're lucky you're unscathed.” Sighed Macaque as he sat on Wukong's heart-shaped patch of fur.

“I'm seven times immortal…” Mumbled Wukong as he averted his eyes, some part of him frustrated that Macaque saw him as someone so frail.

“Still, I worry about you.” Replied Macaque, he put one of his lil paws on Wukong's snout to convey his seriousness. Wukong couldn't stay mad nor could he deny someone this cute.

“... I'll be more careful.”

“Thanks.” Softly smiled Macaque. “Now ,chop chop, jump in the river. You stink.” Wukong gasped in offense.

“I do not stink.” He answered with false outrage, the lil guy fondly rolled his eyes and played along.

“Yes you do, you stinky monkey.”

“You didn't dare.” Laughed Wukong, the corner of his lips lifting up in joy.

“I did, what are you gonna do about it?” Taunted Macaque.

Wukong chuckled mischievously, he grabbed Macaque in his hands and jumped in the spring. The lil guy shrieked and held his breath. They both emerged looking like wet rats, Wukong bursted out laughing when he saw Macaque being all soggy, with clothes sticking to his body. The lil guy glared playfully at the sage and spit a waterjet at his face. Wukong's face scrunched in disgust and he laughed out loud.

“You lil devil!” Snorted Wukong with a large smile, Macaque snickered like the lil demon he was at time.

They both played in the water for a bit, enjoying the coolness of it. Then Macaque floated closer to Wukong and pawed at his bulging belly.

“You gained some weight.” Observed Macaque, Wukong straightened himself and averted his eyes, nervous. “It looks good on you.” Mumbled the lil guy as he turned his head, the tip of his six-ears reddening.

Wukong felt like he could faint from happiness.

+ cut scenes

Wukong.exe has stopped working

Macaque broke him

Macaque inner thoughts : that was not what I wanted say!! Why did I say this!? It's so awkward!! 😳

Sanzang *later on the same day* : Why is Wukong looking like that? 🤔

Wukong : 😳😮

Sanzang : This is worrying! What if he's under some sort of spell!? 😱

Ao Lie : the spell of love 🥰

Bajie : you mean the spell of pining 🙄

Ch1 / Previous / Next

#shadowpeach #lmk #lego monkie kid #mini mac au #shadowpeach fanfic #sun wukong #lmk macaque #Wukong is a simp!

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semisolidmind · 2 years ago

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I had a train of thought about your Twice as Bad AU. Started with thinking “what if Peaches had a pet cat back at the village and it could see past the monkeys’ disguise?” Then I thought “wait, would it make more sense for her to have a farm animal as a pet? Like a little pig or goat?” And ended with “well I might not have had a pet if I were her but I’d definitely have a garden. And I would be VERY upset about getting stolen away from it. Even if it’s tiny, those are my plant babies!!!!” I guess all of this to say…what if Peaches had a pet? (As always, I love your stories and your art, Semi! Hope you are having a fantastic day! 🌼🌻🌷🌸☀️)

(pfft. 😆 they'd help her transfer her garden to the mountain if she missed it that much)

so, i think that in the beginning, if reader had a pet during the time that the monkey demons were visiting her as little normal monkeys, things probably wouldn't have turned out much differently. my first thought goes to the "sensing demons" thing. for easiness-sake, we'll say reader has a cat or a dog, since both of these pets have been known to be able to sense the paranormal.

when reader brings an injured, disguised macaque back to her home to patch him up, she has to shut the pet outside because of how crazy they're acting. they won't stop barking/meowing, their fur standing on end, and it's scaring reader's little guest. reader just figures the pet doesn't like a new animal in the house.

macaque knows that the pet can tell he's a demon, but he also knows he can just...make it disappear if it gets in his way, so he's not too concerned about it. when reader opens the door to let macaque go after bandaging him, he quickly gets into the trees. the pet hisses/growls at him from the ground, and he hisses right back. the six-eared demon still wants to see reader, but he'll need to distract the little pest if he wants some one-on-one attention from its mistress.

macaque, knowing that reader must love the stupid thing if she actively keeps it near, won't immediately kill it. so, he uses clones to keep the cat/dog busy in the forest during his visits. wukong, once he starts showing up, plans to just kill the stupid thing. ...what, reader has them now! what does she need this thing for? it's not like it's doing its job all that well anyways; he and mac keep coming back, don't they? overall, wukong doesn't care for the nuisance the pet is being; he's got beef with a cat/dog.

that brought up the idea of reader thinking that something might be wrong with her pet and asking around the village for something to calm them. a friendly old farmer listens to her troubles and warns, "If it only acts that way around those monkeys you're feeding, then perhaps it's trying to warn you, girl."

reader didn't know how right he would be.

#twice as bad au #bad end wukong #i dont wanna say they kill the pet #but reader probably doesnt get to keep it

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mahiiimahiiii · 1 year ago

Text

have a little preview as a treat...

wow i am cranking out shit this week, turns out stress is a good motivator to write.

this comes from the office hours wip i posted a few weeks ago, feedback would be greatly appreciated as i never know if gale is written decently lol.

tdlr: rizzard recives, to be loved is to be changed, mentions of having kids, i think gale has a title or authority kink, my vision is blessed with gale with thick thighs and garter bands.

hopefully the full will be posted this weekend!!

nsfw below the cut! minors dni!!!!

You glanced up catching his eyes, he nodded. You unlaced his boxers which crackled at your touch, tugging them off his legs and tossing them somewhere. You exhaled, tail thumping against the cushions in slight excitement. Gale pursed his lips and averted his eyes, pink warming his already rosy cheeks. You kissed down the happy trail that lined his soft stomach, inhaling the scent of him contained by his skin. Rose water, oak, pine and musk, he smelt wonderfully fresh.

He was slightly self-conscious of this newer version of him, a body softened by age like a ripe peach. You thought it fitting- the softness of course- he aged well. You cupped his sides, squeezing them gently. “Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” you ask softly.

“Many times-why do you ask?” he quirked a brow.

You shrug, lifting his thighs around your hips, giving them a firm squeeze again. “Thought I’d remind you.” You mold to his body, thighs rubbing together adding pressure to his already neglected member. Your lips mark their place down his neck, staining his skin a soft pink from your lip balm. You made your way down again, making sure your lips marked every surface of his skin. His hips strained for movement but found none to meet it.

You marred his inner thigh with bite patterns, his skin breaking into patterns of pink and red. Your tongue ran its way up his perineum sending flames to his stomach, a squeeze to his heavy sack had him tensing beneath you.

Your nose buried in his happy trail once more- you let out a contented sigh.

His hips bucked slightly his cock tapping your chin. “my dear- be kind please- “

You grinned “gale, I don’t intend to be kind- perhaps I’m trying to enable your behavior for later.”

He let out a strained moan, his lids scrunching shut. “God id like that so much- please- “

“Like what now gale?” you teased pinching the head of his pink cock, rolling the skin up and down.

His hips strained again, a low hiss through his teeth. “Gods, you know- I don’t want to spell it out, hells.”

You stopped your slow steady strokes to kitten lick the head of his member, his fists began to clench and unclench. “I’d like to hear what you’d like, professor Dekarios. Lecture me- if you will.”

He swore under his breath one open, “you-!” his chest heaved, trying to buck his hips up from under your heavy hand. “Fuck- fine- I want to be in you- I want you to bloat with my seed. Gods-! Want everyone to know your mine- so help me- going to fuck you over my desk-.” His breathing was labored, his thighs clenching under you. His eyes went wide as he covered his mouth, poor gale was surprised by even his own vulgarity.

“you’d like to try for another child Mr. Dekarios?” you squeezed his balls sucking gently on his inner thigh.

“By the weave-! Yes-!” he sounded exasperated, his lip quivering.

“Very well, you’ve been good. I suppose you’ve earned your treat” you lowered your mouth onto him, a groan rolling through his throat. You dragged your tongue against his skin, the salt refreshing to your taste. You found the small spot on his head and rolled your tongue against it. His hands shoved down your head, burying your head into the patch of curls framing his cock. He shuffled his hands moving to your horns squeezing and fondling the base ridges. Your moan reverberated around him, he lifted his hips, the garters that held his socks squeezing the meat of his thighs.

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peaches2217 · 2 years ago

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Traduzione Non Necessarie

*Sequel of sorts to Traduzione, Per Favore?. Y'all are gonna want Google Translate/DeepL/your translation service of choice on hand for this one.

AO3 link!

~~~

Peach pulled in a deep, steady breath, slowing and finally stopping the transfer of her magic. Five seconds. That seemed like a good number, nice and round. Her heart fluttered nervously as she withdrew her hand from Mario’s brow, waiting for a response.

She knew exactly how much magic it took to send him into a deep slumber. Anything before that point was merely guesswork. She could only hope she had guessed correctly.

At present, she didn’t put too much stake into that hope. Mario’s eyes wouldn’t open all the way, it seemed, no matter how hard he tried, and his pupils were blown so wide she could hardly see the blues of his irises. Perhaps the five seconds had still been too much.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

It took him a few moments to respond, his head lolling back and forth as he thought. “Hmm… kinda like…” He exhaled sharply, the rest of his body going into an unsteady sway. “Feel kinda like a big ole’... wet spaghetti noodle, maybe… all dizzy ‘n’... phew…”

Peach rushed to steady him before he lost his balance, planting her feet firmly into the ground so he wouldn’t immediately knock her over if that came to pass.

Too much. She would know to reign it in even further next time.

Still, as she helped him to the ground, he seemed perfectly content. He sprawled out in the fresh summer grass with his arms spread, basking in the sunlight like a photosynthesizing plant.

“Mm.” He nuzzled his cheek into a patch of grass beneath him. “Soft.”

The sight drew a fond, amused smile from Peach, and she made herself comfortable beside him.

This had become a ritual of sorts, one of their many excuses to extend their time in each other’s company. It began as a random suggestion as they chatted one day while awaiting a tardy diplomat, one that hadn’t been entirely serious: Peach’s magic could touch both the body and the mind. She had become skilled in healing, practicing on her own scrapes and bruises as far back as early childhood. Broken skin now mended instantly beneath her touch, and, with a greater deal of effort, she could even reverse infections and heal broken bones.

Her ability to manipulate the mind — or, rather, the sheer scale of that power, the tales of predecessors who had corrupted themselves beyond redemption through its abuse — terrified her. She had distanced herself from that power in response. But it still lay deep within her, whether she wanted it to or not, and the realization that she didn’t even know how to wield it scared her almost as much.

Having confided this in Mario, he had in turn offered himself as a test subject (a “geh-knee-pig,” specifically, some charming otherworldly colloquialism meaning roughly the same thing). Peach had laughed it off, at least until he brought it up again of his own volition the next time they were together.

“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” she had confessed.

“You could try shutting my brain off,” he had suggested back. “And hey! You wouldn’t even have to worry about putting me into a coma, because you could reverse that pretty easily, right?”

He had found his joke quite funny, so she never had the heart to admit she had spent his first slumbering spell obsessively checking his pulse in response. Just in case.

Mercifully it never came to that. She learned to bring him rest with increasing care, and she learned further that the sight of Mario sound asleep, all of his cares far from his mind, was among her favorite sights in the world.

Inducing sleep had become second nature to her. She wanted to practice further control, hone the fine motor skills of her greater magic. So today, she had asked to put Mario into a trance rather than full sleep, and he had happily agreed.

He would be getting sleep anyway, so it seemed.

“Forgive me,” Peach said, slipping off her high heels and setting them to her far side. He was right. The grass was lovely and soft beneath her soles.

“Huh?” was Mario’s well thought-out response.

“It was too much.”

He stretched his arms high above his head, his back arching from the force of it. “‘S’okay, Princess.” He paused to yawn noisily before continuing. “Today, I take a nap! Tomorrow we try again. I win either way!”

Always looking on the bright side. She expected nothing less from him.

She watched him as he made himself comfortable, drinking in every little detail. The pale freckles dotting his tanned skin which she had committed to memory like a star map, the single gray hair in his mustache, his unruly curls exposed from beneath his cap, which had fallen halfway off and was pinned beneath his head. The gentle arch of his thick eyebrows, the thin lines beneath his eyes… lines that were darker and more pronounced than usual, she noticed now.

Peach sighed to herself, fighting against the temptation to run a hand through his dark locks. Perhaps her slip-up was fortuitous after all.

It hadn’t come out of nowhere, Mario’s suggestion that she practice by putting him to sleep. When he wasn’t a beacon of unbridled energy, he was curled up someplace high off the ground, snoozing away. Peach always found it cute, his unabashed fondness for napping. But the more they got to know each other, the more hours they spent in aimless conversation, she had discovered it was no mere quirk. He hadn’t told anyone that he struggled to sleep at night. At least not until he told her.

He would never admit the extent of it to her. He didn’t necessarily hide or deny it, the fact that he wrestled with his own thoughts and memories more often than he cared to admit, the fact that he lived in understated but constant fear of being unavailable to protect those he was charged to protect, the fact that, when he did find sleep on his own, it was often unsteady and filled with nightmares. But he wouldn’t say any of this outright.

In learning to control her magic, Peach could help him. She could give him reprieve where he might not normally have such a luxury. But she wanted to do more. He was her dearest friend, and she loved him as such and far beyond, and she wished more than anything to be a pillar of support for him when he couldn’t support himself. After all, she knew better than to assume him invincible. He was only human.

But he refused to take her up on the offer. His burdens weren’t hers to bear, he would insist. “Not your fault I’ve got too many thoughts bouncing around this big head!” And then he’d tapped his knuckles to his head for emphasis, giving her a cheeky smile. She didn’t find it quite so amusing.

It baffled Peach. He trusted her with the control of his very mind, yet even now she hadn’t earned his full vulnerability. More than once she had wondered if his volunteerism was an invitation, or a request of sorts. Did he want her to know of these things? Did he merely have trouble articulating them? “He’s not always the best with words, you know,” Luigi had said time and again.

It would be so easy. With a single touch, she could know it all. She could see his emotional scars, the images that haunted him most, his deepest, most locked-away secrets. He wouldn’t have to tell her anything; she could just know. How deeply into his mind was she welcome to dig?

That was a line Peach refused to cross, or even entertain with any great gravity, until she was given express permission. And right now, her only permissions were to aid him in rest. She swallowed and wet her lips.

“May I?” She extended her hand to Mario once more, hoping the gesture was clear enough in his hazy state of mind. He peered up at her through heavy lids, but he nodded without hesitation, letting those lids fall shut as she touched his forehead.

Brushing his curls from his face, she closed her eyes, conjured her chosen thoughts, and let the images flow from her fingertips into his subconscious.

Normally she waited until he was asleep to do this part. Once slumber claimed him, she would fill his head with scenes of softness and warmth, vague but peaceful images that might trigger pleasant dreams. But what was the harm in getting an early start? He’d be out cold in five minutes tops anyway.

Today she transferred to him something a bit more specific: memories of their afternoons in her private garden, sharing cakes and tarts and chatting until the light faded from the sky. It was… selfish, perhaps, her hope that he might dream of her. But more than once he had told her that their shared time together meant the world to him. Such memories would no doubt bring him the most serene sleep.

Selfish urges were okay if they aided someone else too. That was her own unsteady justification.

Within moments, a smile spread across Mario’s face. “Ahh…” He turned his head in the direction of her touch, and she followed it, tapering the flow of memories and cupping his cheek. His skin was warm against her palm, the heat permeating her silken gloves. His Firebrand made his body temperature unnaturally high, he had once explained, though rarely did she get to feel the evidence for herself.

How often had she dreamed of cupping his cheek just like this, feeling him blush beneath her? How often did she use sleep as an excuse to escape into a world of fantasy, one in which he loved her just as fiercely as she loved him?

A chuckle jolted Peach back into reality. “W-what?” she asked, cautiously drawing her hand away. A wave of paranoia flooded her when Mario didn’t answer, just laughed some more.

“‘Il mio amico Mario è tondo e peloso,'” he said, and the paranoia lifted at once.

“‘Come una pesca,’” she finished. She hadn’t accidentally broadcast her selfish thoughts to his subconscious, she realized with no shortage of relief. He was remembering.

“Ah, brava, principessa!” He pressed his thumb to his index and middle fingers, his hand bouncing with each upward lilt in intonation. “Il tuo accento migliora di giorno in giorno.”

Peach couldn’t help but giggle with him. “Grazie,” she said, though she hadn’t understood most of the last part. Of all the memories he chose to cling to in his state of near-sleep, he chose the time she had accidentally and all too casually slighted him? (To be fair, it was quite funny, yes, but still.)

Reluctantly, she withdrew her touch once more, watching as he relaxed in the embrace of pleasant memories. The dark shadows beneath his eyes seemed to lighten, though whether this image was real or imagined she couldn’t say for sure.

Peach swallowed again. Her throat felt tight. These shared moments helped ease whatever struggles weighed him down, and for that she was grateful. But why couldn’t he bring those struggles to her before they robbed him of sleep? Why couldn’t he let the world fall from his shoulders long enough to entrust some of that weight to her?

“Mario?”

“Mm?”

She wrung her hands together, making her best effort to separate familiar sounds into still-new words. “Sai che puoi… dirmi… qualsiasi cosa,” she managed at last. You know you can tell me anything.

Mario’s face lit up in recognition, and she couldn’t help but be proud of herself. She’d never said it aloud herself before. It was always him saying it to her during their informal Italian lessons, encouraging her past her embarrassment, egging her on to ask questions no matter how silly she feared they might be.

“Oh, dai, sai che puoi dirmi qualsiasi cosa,” he’d say, nudging her if he was near enough, equal parts teasing and sincere. “Lo so,” she had learned to say in response, nudging him back if she was able.

Maybe she could get through to him this way, speaking to him in his native tongue when he was too tired to put up his guard. Maybe he would give her a “Lo so” of his own, and maybe, just maybe, he would follow through.

But that wasn’t the response Mario gave her. “Mm… davvero?” he said instead, his voice quiet with what Peach presumed was encroaching slumber. “E se ti dicessi che sei il mio sole e stelle? Non ti sconvolgerebbe?”

A few moments passed in silence. Peach didn’t recall practicing any phrase set resembling this. Yet he was looking up at her, fixedly, as though he were expecting an answer to whatever question he had just posed.

There was something… oddly sad in his expression. He didn’t seem distraught, and no tears welled in the corners of his eyes, but his usual cheer was muddied with a sort of melancholy.

She didn’t like this feeling. She didn’t like seeing him like this. Her stomach turned and leapt painfully, as though urging her to do something.

“...Mind repeating that?”

Mario didn’t repeat himself. He redirected his eyes upward, focusing that sad smile on the sky above them, and Peach followed his gaze, a bit miffed. A fluffy cloud passed overhead amidst more modest and wispy offerings. It looked rather like a Jammyfish.

“Peach,” he said after a moment of silent contemplation, and that caught her attention, because she was never Peach. Even when he stood at her side as her trusted guard, even when he took her hands and pulled her from the castle grounds, urging her to follow him to some great sight waiting for her in town, even when they walked privately through rolling fields and let their shared presence ease countless unvoiced burdens, she was always Princess. Sometimes Principessa, rarely Your Highness, but never Peach.

She wanted desperately to hear her name on his voice again.

Closing his eyes, Mario laughed, that giddy, sleepy laugh she knew she could never get enough of, and granted her wish. “Oh, Peach,” he repeated, his coherency rapidly slipping away, “there’s so much I want to tell you.”

That deep and unidentifiable sadness deepend in Peach’s gut. “Then why not tell me?” She startled at the desperation that leaked into her tone, clearing her throat in impulse and praying he hadn’t heard it. Why not trust me when you’re awake as much as you trust me when you’re asleep?

“Mi perdonerei mai,” he slurred.

“Mario, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

He hummed a torpid apology, folding his arms beneath his head. “Well,” he rephrased, “I’m just… I dunno. You know? I am. And that’s not…” He shrugged. “And then you… you’re…”

“I’m…?” Peach pressed, fearing she already knew the answer. You’re a princess. That was one of his very few quirks that frustrated her. Never mind that he was only human, and never mind that she was his best friend. She was a princess, and he was a hero, and it was his sacred duty to internalize anything he feared might burden her, no matter how desperately she wished he would lean on her, be vulnerable with her, trust in her.

His answer was buried beneath a yawn, so quiet she almost didn’t catch it: “You’re everything.”

Birdsong and the distant chatter of groundskeepers carried the silence that ensued.

You’re everything. Those two words swirled around Peach’s brain in a dizzying cyclone. What did that mean? You’re everything, a ruler and a leader and a friend, and I could never bother you with my own problems ? You’re already doing everything you can and telling you about the things you have no sway over just isn’t worth it ?

“You’re everything,” he might say one quiet evening, somewhere in the midst of soft kisses and tender touches, and she would tell him then that he was her everything too.

Peach clenched her teeth.

She had found the courage just a few weeks earlier to ask how one might express love in his native tongue, “like I might say to Toadsworth or you might say to Luigi.”

She hadn’t expected to learn that there was more than one way to say it. “Ti voglio bene,” he told her. “That’s how I’d say it to Luigi or to Toad — or to you!”

And how would your mother have said it to your father? How would I say it to you ? Peach couldn’t even begin to amass that sort of courage.

Mario lay still beside her, his chest rising and falling evenly. Her fingers twitched.

She could dig as deeply as she liked. She could see his every thought and he wouldn’t know, so long as he didn’t wake. She could finally know those things he refused to tell her, she could know his struggles intimately, she could finally begin formulating ways to really and truly help him.

At the very least, she could see for herself what dreams ran through his head at the moment. Was he dreaming of her, just as she dreamed each night of him?

…Perhaps she could sway his mind far deeper still. Perhaps she could make him…

Balling her hands into fists, Peach sighed, laying back in the grass. She understood now more than ever how her predecessors had so easily become drunk on this power. But she wasn’t her predecessors. And she wouldn’t betray what trust Mario had freely given her.

Sei il mio tutto.

Maybe one day she could say as much. Maybe one day she would stop creating fantastical scenarios in her head, and she would stop wanting more than she was already blessed with, and she would stop being so selfish and be content with meeting Mario where he was rather than wishing for more, more, more.

Maybe she could say it then, when she truly deserved to.

#super mario bros #smb #mario #princess peach #mareach #mario x peach #phew! nearly 3k words! longest I've written in a bit #peaches' fancy fics #also I don't think the title is grammatically correct but shhhhhh #I worked hard to make sure the rest is so I'm granting myself that liberty 😆

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