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mhysa-leesi · 3 years ago

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𝕄𝕣𝕤. 𝔸𝕝𝕝-𝔸𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕟

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers 𝒳 (femme) Reader ⭐.

Summary: “Steve Rogers deserves nothing less than an All-American Apple Pie Life, with his Miss America. And he’ll stop at nothing to have it.”

Word Count: 3,472

TW‼: Drugging, Kidnapping, Non-Con, Smut, Minor Stockholm Syndrome, Minor Misogynistic Themes, and 1940′s Housewife Themes. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼

AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

AN Cont.: If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION.

Steve Rogers is a hero who’s sacrificed so much for the greater good of the world. He’s been fighting his entire life, a constant cycle of getting knocked down, just to get back up and do it all again the next day. A constant blur of black and blue, of broken bones, and bloodied knuckles. Steve didn’t complain too often, he enjoyed waking up every morning and saving the world. He was grateful for the life he led, a life of justice and liberty. So, why did he feel so unfulfilled? Unaccomplished? Incomplete?

Steve would catch himself daydreaming during briefings, dreaming of his childhood. He dreamt about Coney Island, about the smell of popcorn, and the sticky feel of melting popsicles on his fingers. He was stuck in the past and he knew it, maybe he truly was “The Man Out of Time”. He’d journal his thoughts, sketching his memories in charcoal and faded colors. Mostly he’d sketch faces of his past, but there has only been one face as of late that lived within the thick pages. (Y/N). The newest Avenger, his Miss America.

He found himself fantasizing about her with every gentle curve of his pencil, imagining it was his hands running over her hips and not his graphite. The front of his jeans tightened as he shaded her breasts, and he wondered if they were as soft and supple as he made them look on paper. He captured her eyes, adding that sparkle and depth that seemed to become her. Her hair, the unruly hairs, and the ones always perfectly in place. He colored her skin, his heart skipping as he imagined running his lips over the skin of her thighs. Her star-spangled leotard left little to the imagination, so Steve found other things to imagine. The sound of her moans and whimpers, how she’d look as he took her apart one lick and thrust at a time, and how she’d look with him dripping from in-between her legs.

Steve groaned as he threw down his pencil, running his graphite-stained hands over his face in frustration before closing his sketchbook with a soft thump. He needed a distraction--and a cold shower…

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Today was Lila, Clint’s daughter’s birthday, and all of the Avengers were invited to the festivities. Steve sat next to Bucky, both of them donning bright pink party hats with the words “Happy Birthday” on them in glitter swirls. Bucky was telling Steve about a girl he had recently met at some café or something--truth be told Steve wasn’t listening to his best friend. His attention was elsewhere, across the room, to be exact.

You were in a green tonal dress that perfectly complemented your skin tone, with puff sleeves and floral print. Steve was entranced as he watched you bounce baby Nathaniel on your hip. And he watched as the baby babbled and yanked your hair, making you laugh and wince as you handed him back to his mother. He knew at that moment what he had been missing, what he had been deprived of--what he had deserved after all this time. A family, a white-picket fence… You.

It all suddenly made sense as if he had just completed a puzzle he’d been working on since he woke up from the ice. That was what he wanted--no… It was what he needed, what he deserved. All of his life he had made sacrifice after sacrifice, the world owed him this one thing, and he’d have it. No matter the cost.

You were perfect. A nice girl with a strong head on your shoulders and a good heart, who better to start a life with? There was no question, you’d be his wife, the mother of his children. You’d see it in time, but he couldn’t wait for you. He was a man out of time, after all…

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It had been almost a month since his revelation, but it was all due in good time. He had made the arrangements, he had been meticulous in his planning. He made sure to get every single detail right, his and your future depended on his perfection. The trap had been set, now he just needed to go hunting for his prey.

You were just coming back from training with Natasha, your skin sheen with sweat and kissed with soft purple bruises from sparring with the Widow. You were laughing at something she had said, giving Steve a small wave before making your way to the communal fridge. He patiently watched as you grabbed your water bottle, your name written in sharpie with stickers on the front. He fidgeted as you took three big gulps, smacking your lips as water dribbled down your chin and onto your chest.

Steve watched as you made your way to your bedroom, he smiled as he noticed a slight stumble in your steps. The drug took faster than he had expected. He waited until he heard the click of the closing door, but it never came. Like a silent shadow, he crept down the hall to the threshold of your room. You were splayed out on the edge of your bed, legs dangling, and your hair a mess.

He couldn’t help himself. He nudged your arm for a response and nothing; you were out cold. A dangerous smirk crossed his face as he knelt down above you, his shadow consuming you in every delicious way possible. He touched your cheek, tracing down to your jaw, and up to your lips. They were so soft, so plump, and oh, so kissable. He tasted you then, molding his lips to yours in a one-sided dance. Steve shivered as he explored your unconscious body, he groped, squeezed, and tasted your salty skin.

He stopped himself. He only had three hours to move you, six tops if his hunch about you skipping breakfast that morning was right. So, he picked up your unconscious body and began the next steps to his plan…

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When you awoke your limbs were stiff and mind foggy. You stretched away the stiffness and rolled onto your side, blindly reaching for your bottle of water. When your hand failed to meet your nightstand, you froze. What the hell? Confused, you reached out again; telling yourself you just misjudged the distance. But when your hand once again met an empty space, you sat up with a start. You looked around the unfamiliar bedroom. The walls were striped, the floor a godawful floral carpet, and the bed had a wooden frame and a blue blanket tucked into the corners. You blinked, thinking that this room would magically melt into your bedroom at the Tower, and when it remained the same, you blinked again for good measure. You stood on shaky legs and looked around the room once more, disbelief clouding your better judgment. The bedroom looked straight out of a 1940’s catalog.

When the lock on the bedroom door jiggled, you whirled around with your fists raised to meet your captor. You were prepared to see a HYDRA Agent or some other villain with a vendetta against you. What you weren’t prepared for was Steve Rogers. He stood dressed in his old military uniform, his hair neatly combed, and his face clean-shaven.

“Steve? What’s going on?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

What do I mean? “This,” you gesture wildly with your hands in disbelief, “Where are we?”

“Home,” he said calmly.

“Whose home?”

“Ours, honey,”

You narrowed your eyes at the man before you. This couldn’t be your Steve Rogers, this wasn’t your Captain or friend. This was… someone else. You took a tentative step forward, searching for an eerie glow to his blue eyes, for an explanation for his weird behavior. This had to be mind-control, some elaborate HYDRA plot to disarm the Avengers. This wasn’t Steve, right?

“Steve,” you said carefully, “this isn’t our home. We live at the Tower, remember? With Nat, Sam, and Bucky?”

Steve’s frown deepened as you continued to speak to him like an incompetent child, “No. This is our new home, (Y/N). I made it just for us.”

You nodded along as you slowly crept forward toward the door. He shyly stuffed his hands in his pockets as he continued speaking, confessing. When you were close enough, you bolted past him. But you weren’t faster than Steve Rogers. He caught you by the ponytail and threw you back into the bedroom on the floor, kicking the door shut behind him. You scrambled to your feet and into a defensive position as Steve made another grab for you. You twisted and threw a right hook to his jaw, the strength of your powered punch was enough to send him stumbling backward, but it wasn’t enough to win against him. The same serum that made him had made you, too. But you’d be a goddamn idiot to think that you were stronger than Steve Rogers.

You made another run for the exit, but you didn’t get very far as Steve caught you yet again by your ankle. You kicked, punched, scratched, and flailed as he overpowered you. The man straddled your wriggling form and placed his hands around your throat. Squeezing and squeezing until the oxygen caught in your throat and your limbs began to relax. Your arms and legs went lax as your vision began to dot and blacken. When you let out the last wisp of air from your lungs is when Steve released you. You wheezed and gasped like a fish out of the water as you struggled to breathe, to fill your lungs with oxygen once again. You massaged your throat and glared up at Steve who was straightening and dusting off his uniform.

“I’ll only tell you this once, (Y/N). If you disobey me, in any way shape, or form, you’ll be punished. Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warned, “Now, get cleaned up. Dinner is almost ready.”

He opened the closet and pulled out a baby blue dress with silver embroidered star details around the off-shoulder neckline, and set it on the bed before you. You sat on the floor, just silently glaring and snarling as he knelt down in front of you with a small velvet box and diamond ring in hand. He grabbed your left hand and went to place it on your ring finger, but before he could slide the diamond on your finger, you wrenched your hand away and cracked him across the cheek. The slap seemed to echo throughout the room as his jaw ticked in silent anger. Before you could react, Steve pulled his hand back and returned the slap. The impact sent your head whipping sharply to the side, and caused your eyes to water with prickling, unshed tears. Your cheek stung when you touched it.

“I told you, (Y/N),” he sighed, “You made me do that.”

“I didn’t make you do shit, Rogers,” you spit.

You flinched as he pointed an angry and threatening finger in your face, “Language.”

He left you then after reminding you of dinner. Alone in the bedroom, you scowled at the dress that seemed to mock you. You threw it onto the floor and stomped out of the room, fueled by anger and hatred.

You found him in the kitchen, knife in hand as he carved a glazed turkey. His smile dropped as he took in your dress-less form. You were still in your gym clothes from earlier. Steve’s nostrils flared as he set the knife down, he stared at the turkey before turning his gaze to you.

“You’re not wearing the dress,”

“No,” you said flatly.

“And why not?”

You scoffed at him, “Why do you think, Steve?”

He moved his head to the side as he grumbled something under his breath. His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the kitchen counter. You smirked triumphantly, you didn’t know why, but getting under his skin was satisfying. You weren’t going to make this easy for him, and you sure as hell wouldn’t be wearing that damn dress.

As if he had read your mind, he looked back at you with an ominous smile. He rounded the counter and stood in front of you, his large frame so much bigger than yours. In any other scenario, it would’ve been intimidating--having your Captain looming over you so threateningly. But right now, at this moment, you couldn’t care less. You wanted to piss him off, to knock him down off his pedestal. You’d be damned if you bent to his sick will.

Your eyes darted behind Steve to the counter where the knife waited for you. Before he could track your movements, you made a dive for it. Rolling over the island as you quickly readied the knife. You slashed and stabbed at Steve, growling in frustration as he effortlessly blocked and dodged all of your attacks. In one quick and fluid movement, Steve grabbed and twisted your wrist; forcing you to drop the knife. Your heart breaking with the loud clatter as it hits the floor.

Steve dragged you to the table by the back of your neck and slammed your cheek down onto the wood. Empty wine glasses and plates clattered with the impact. You grunted and kicked out your legs blindly, settling for a shin kick--anything. Steve slammed your head against the table once more as you continued to fight against him. He did it again, and again, and again until your vision blurred and your blood splattered against the polished wood. You weakly clawed at the plates and silverware around you, desperately trying to cling onto something. When your fingers wrapped around on a fork, you didn’t hesitate. You stabbed Steve’s thigh and summoned all of your remaining strength to throw him into the wall.

You fell back as you panted for breath, arming yourself with another piece of random cutlery. You threw a steak knife, missing him by just an inch. Steve growled as he dragged you by your kicking legs, hauling you up, just to slam you down onto the table once more. He held your face down as he growled in your ear.

“You have a lot of fight in you, (Y/N). Breaking you is going to be so much fun, honey,”

Slam.

“I’ll beat that spark out of you, if you make me, (Y/N). So why don’t you just be a good girl for me, hmm?”

Steve took hold of your neck once more as he guided you up the stairs and into the bedroom. He shoved you down onto the bed, and you landed on your stomach with a bounce. Your head was throbbing with an uncomfortable fog that settled over your thoughts. You murmured weakly in protest as Steve began to undress you. You felt the blood from your head drip down to your ear and down your neck.

Panic set your heart in motion as you felt him tug your leggings down your legs. Your brain and body kicked into a desperate overdrive as you writhed beneath him. You tried to shove him away, you summoned all of your super strength and thrashed, but you were simply no match for him--you were utterly powerless and at his mercy. His hands explored your thighs, dipping between them and squeezing that soft, supple inner skin. You scrambled to your knees, inadvertently pressing and grinding your ass to his front. He groaned as he moved his hands to your hips, angling them up as he ground down onto you with a silent promise of what was to come.

His hand dipped down and he held his prize within his hand. He groped and you grunted as you clawed blindly at his forearms, grabbing his wrists as he yanked down your cotton panties past your knees. You screamed as he shoved his fingers inside you, forcing his knuckles past your folds. You kicked and cursed him, hoping your struggle would be enough for him to let you go. You screamed louder than you had ever screamed before, so loud your head ached and lungs burned. With an annoyed grunt, Steve wrapped his thick arm around your neck in a chokehold to shut you up. You babbled breathlessly as you slapped at his arm.

“Steve,” you choked, “Please…”

He gave you one last strong warning squeeze before letting you fall flat on your back, coughing and gasping for breath.

“All you had to do was be good for me, (Y/N). I told you, bad girls get punished,”

He withdrew as he undid his fly. You swallowed thickly, wincing as your throat burned from his assault. You grabbed at his wrists, but he just batted your weak hands away as he held you down with one hand. The other gripping his thick, swollen length. You saw the muscles of his stomach tighten as he parted your legs. His grip on the back of your knees was bruising as he held them apart, lining himself up to your entrance. You tried once more to shimmy away, but he had you where he wanted you; vulnerable and open to him. He bent over you, his eyes black with lust, as he invited himself inside of you. He pushed himself inside, agonizingly slow, inch by inch, just relishing in the grip of you. You were too dry, too unwelcoming, but it didn’t matter to him. You were perfect, warm, and tight. He moaned then, as he forced himself deeper into you, pushing and pushing until his pelvis touched yours.

“Steve, please,” you sobbed, “please, stop…”

He shushed your pleas as his face scrunched in pleasure with every shallow thrust. You gritted your teeth to keep yourself silent, you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. But he didn’t seem to notice as he tilted your hips up, finding his own slow, steady rhythm as he fucked into you. He cupped your face and forced his lips onto yours, his tongue swiping and exploring your mouth. You slapped at his head, but he never relented, never pulled back from his searing kiss. He moaned into your mouth as his hips skipped a beat. You took that opportunity, the falter of his hips, to bite down on his tongue. Then, did he finally relent.

He pulled away from you, his hips stilling inside of you. He carefully touched his tender tongue, scowling as he pulled away bloodied fingers. Steve drew back his hand and slapped you across the face. The smack of flesh striking flesh echoed throughout the room. You sneered at him and he frowned in disappointment before cracking you once more. You yelped as he held you down by your neck. Steve had found a new rhythm, and it was relentless. His tempo was fast, and he made sure to never miss a beat as he hammered into your abused cunt. He put pressure on your throat, but not enough to send you into a pool of cold unconsciousness. No… he wanted you awake for this, lucid, and remembering.

His groans and moans grew louder, duetting with the lewd notes of your squelching pussy and his skin slapping against yours. The repulsive symphony he had conducted finally reached its ungodly climax. You sobbed as you felt his warmth flood within you, as he shamelessly emptied himself deep inside of you. He sat back on his haunches, gently pulling himself from your wet grip. Your body instantly curled in on itself, shielding you from the man before you. The man you had once admired. You lay there, just shaking, whether it was from shock or anger, you didn’t know.

You felt as he dropped the baby blue dress with the silver embroidered stars next to you. You sniffled as you looked at the dress in defeat, silently dressing in the blue cotton. When you were dressed, Steve helped you to your feet, holding you against his chest as he gently swayed you. He caressed your head, embracing you gently as if he hadn’t just used your body, as if he was your sweet and loving husband, as if this was normal.

“Dinner is probably cold by now,” he sighed, “It’s okay, though. You can try again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” your voice was smaller now, weaker, afraid.

He hummed, “It’s a wife’s duty to cook and care for her husband, (Y/N). I think I’d like meatloaf for dinner, and apple pie for dessert. What do you think, honey?”

You hesitated, you wanted to spit at him, to curse, to smack, punch, and kick, but your body was frozen against his. When you didn’t reply, his grip on you tightened threateningly, making you flinch.

“Yes, that sounds good, Steve,” you whispered. He kissed your head as he gently swayed you, his warm release slowly dripping down your shaking legs.

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corpsedaydream · 4 years ago

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Hi! I dont know if you write this, but can i request for angsty-fluff imagine for corpse? Maybe when you’re jealous? Thank u❤️ love ur writings

u ask for jealousy and angst, and i said hell fucking yeah

hope u enjoy!

word count: 1.6k

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it’s fine

Corpse was ever so charismatic. It was something about him that was impossible to deny. Even when he would get misjudged by people, thinking he may be this intimidating presence purely because of how he dressed and sounded, it would only take a few exchanges of sentences between him and a stranger for them to instantly change their mind and feel drawn to him, instead. You knew this better than anyone, after all, it had been one of the factors in what had made you fall for him so hard and so fast.

The only issue was that, sometimes, he could have the same effect on others and, sometimes, when you caught someone else clearly having some heart eyes for your man, that brought forth the little green monster inside of you. He was magnetic, and as happy as you were that the world was so intrigued by him and he was having all the success he deserved, you couldn’t deny that there was a part of you that wished that magnetic pull only worked on you.

It seemed there were certain days when Corpse managed to turn on this charismatic side of him even more so. Today had happened to be one of those days. It was good, because it was a day the two of you had planned to spend together. But when you went out to lunch and the server definitely let her hand rest on his arm a little too long and said things a little too flirtatious and hardly acknowledged your presence, you started to lose that good feeling.

You didn’t say anything about it, even though you kind of wished he would have figured that him giving the girl a back and forth was encouraging her more and upsetting you further. But you were determined to have a good day with your boyfriend, you didn’t want to start any drama with him.

He asked you if you were okay on the way back to his place, noticing you were being quiet. You told him you were and left it at that, even if you did want to say more.

Finally, in the safety of his home that was like a bubble in which was just for the two of you, you were feeling better. Quality time was your love language and his was physical touch, something you could both give each other with ease when there was no outside interruption. Between the little talks, the exploration of hands over each other, the giggles that turned into wiping tears of laughter from your face and shared kisses, you swore you could spend the rest of your life like this and be happy.

And then the bubble burst.

“Ah, shit, (Y/N).” He began, and the mood between you instantly changed.

“What?”

“They need a tenth player right now and no one else can get online.” He had promised that today was about you. And usually, you would be completely okay with him going and joining in on the streams, often you loved sitting by him and watching him get so invested in the games. Except lately, you’d been feeling at an arms length from him and you hated it. You wanted his undivided attention today.

“And?” You were being short with him, you wanted him to know you weren’t okay with this right now.

“It’ll just be a few games...”

You let out a huff and turned your head to the side, looking away from him. You were being stubborn. You didn’t want to tell him what to do, you wanted him to figure it out on his own, that you didn’t want him to play and wanted him to stay right here in this moment with you.

“You can come sit with me?” He spoke again as you remained silent, seemed as if he wasn’t figuring it out.

“Just go play. It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine.

Sitting on your own now, you felt bare without your limbs being all tangled with his beneath the blanket like they were earlier. You had tried to turn on the television to watch something, but everything on just seemed to annoy you.

With a sigh, you pressed your hands to your knees and stood up, walking towards Corpses gaming room. At first, you were going to walk in, giving in to the want that was craving to be by his side, but upon hearing a number of female voices, that jealousy appeared inside you again and you walked away.

It was slightly irrational, you knew these people were his friends, but today had really gotten to you.

At an attempt to distract yourself, you opened up Tik Tok, but all your for you page seemed to be was more girls wanting your boyfriend.

“Fucking hell.” You said out loud, closing the app and opening up Twitter next. But you should’ve known it would’ve been worse on there, Corpse seemed to be trending every day on that app, you told yourself you really should have known better for that one.

However, the next social media app click was deliberate. You knew that Corpse had been reposting stories of people using his song and you decided on treating yourself to some more sweet torture. And sure enough, his story was filled with more girls. Firing that jealousy and insecurity you had been feeling today even more.

“Fuck this.” You announced, standing to your feet and feeling tears of frustration build in your eyes.

Once you had finished gathering your belongings, you were just about to make an exit when that crazy thing of timing pulled a fast one on you as Corpse emerged from his gaming room.

“What are you doing?” He questioned you, spotting your hand gripping the handle on his front door.

Seeing him should’ve made you feel better, but it only caused more tears to well up, so you quickly looked away from him.

“I’m going home.”

“What-no, why?” He came closer to you then and you turned more towards the door.

“Because you obviously don’t want me here.”

“What the fuck? (Y/N), of course I do. What are you even saying right now?” He was by your side now, grabbing your hand from the handle and holding it in his. His other went up to cup your cheek, tilting your head up to face him and that’s when he saw the glaze of tears in your eyes. “Hey, baby,” Worry sparked up in him. “You’re upset...” He stated the obvious and you shook your head out of his grip, directing your vision to the ground.

You thought he might create some distance between you both when you did that, but instead, he did the opposite. He pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapping snugly around your waist and his other hand resting on the back of your head to encourage you against him.

“Don’t, I’m going.” You spoke, but your words were meek, you didn’t actually want to leave and he knew that.

“No. You’re not.” He argued back, his arms pulling you in even closer. “I want you here.” He told you and that’s what made you snap.

“No you don’t!” Your voice got louder, matching the movements of you bracing your arms against him and pushing him back, breaking the human contact. He was in shock, watching you with cautious eyes. “If you did, you would’ve spent time with me and only me today. You wouldn’t have left me alone!” You became more emotional as you spoke, a few tears managing to spill onto your cheeks.

“Baby-”

“No!” You cut him off. “Don’t ‘baby’ me right now.” You took a moment to wipe under your eyes before continuing because you knew this next admission would cause you some more tears. “You know how hard it is to compete it with every other girl who’s all about you right now? They’re everywhere, and they’re all so fucking beautiful. I know you see them, I’m not them, Corpse.” Your voice broke into a sob as his name left your lips and he felt his heart break to see you in that state.

He wasn’t sure if you still needed space, but he couldn’t stand in front of you while you cried and not do anything. So instead, he once again brought his arms around you, but this time he scooped you up, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips so he could carry you.

You continued to cry against his neck as he walked the both of you to his room and when he placed you down onto his bed, he was instantly beside you, cradling you against him.

“I need you to listen me,” He began once you had started to calm down, he wanted to make sure you paid attention. “You are so important to me. So fucking important to me, (Y/N).” His eyes were boring into yours and he brought his hand up to wipe the wetness from your cheeks before continuing. “I don’t want you to be anyone else.” He was speaking with force, but it wasn’t aggressive, he was wanting to make sure that you really understood the depth to his words.

“It’s just, everyone seems to want you and I’m just-”

“Don’t you dare put yourself down.” Corpse cut you off before you could finish. For a moment, he pressed his lips to your forehead before moving his face back so he could look at you again. “I only want you. You’re it for me, baby.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“With my whole fucking heart.”

“I love you, I really love you.” You told him, your emotions were still running high, but you were feeling a whole lot better.

“I love you, too.”

#corpse husband #corpse imagine #corpse husband imagine #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #writing #mine #request #okay its almost 3am and wew i just finished this #not doing tag list rn im too tired #ill self reblog and do it when i wake up #Anonymous #answered #1k

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brax-was-here · 3 years ago

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“I can still hear the screams. The carnage. Never had I seen such horrors. And I have seen a lot in my life. The brisk cold air sapped our breath and our strength. Baz the Man was the first. He tried to perform a fancy jump maneuver only to misjudge the distance. I watched him fall unto the white fog below us. He never uttered a hint of a scream. Just total silence. Alice Sin was the next. I think the cold got to her. She just…just… jumped off into space and disappeared. No trace of her anywhere. The rest of us soldiered on. We were fine until…the floating presents. The floating boxes, suspended in mid air by an unseen force. A sylvari simply named Catherine. She didn’t make it. We lost her to the fog as well as she slipped on a bow wrapped around one of the boxes. It disappeared out from under her. We crested the ridge, looking ahead to the incline that would be our path out of this frozen nightmare. Giant boulders of ice and snow slowly rolled their way down the path. We had to plan our path carefully. We crossed the bridge, careful not to lose our footing. As one of the giant sphere of ice rolled by, we quickly made haste up the path. Another ball of ice. We all jumped to the side to let it pass. All of us except Cakepounder. He tried to dodge passed it. He wasn’t lucky. The garbled scream his body released as the ice rolled over him. I watched as it slowly rolled down the hill, his body stuck to the sphere, rolling over and over. We journeyed on, our goal in our sight. Unholy Lover sadly didn’t make it. An ice projectile from a group of malicious skritt exploded right on top of her, sending her body falling into the abyss. Her scream. Her scream. So high pitched it pierced my ears. I managed to make it to the exit. The exit from this nightmare.

I can still hear the screams.”

Excerpt from the journal of Brom Silvertooth, Vigil Warmaster

#Guild Wars 2 #GW2 #Wintersday

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quarantinevibes2020 · 3 years ago

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LoveDrug

Summary: That trope where someone's eyes dilate when they see someone they love. That's it. That's the whole fic. OR Virgil and his accomplice play matchmakers for some literal star-crossed lovers.

Word count: 2198

Pairing: Romantic Roman/ Logan (college AU)

Warnings: drinking (not underage), other drugs mentioned but no one uses any

Yes this happened to me. Hush and let me project

AO3 Link

Roman was going to murder his roommate. Or at least shave an eyebrow off in his sleep.

He had been trying to navigate a small apartment decorated in polaroids and newspaper paintings, crowded with people he didn’t know. He had done his best flitting around from group to group: parties weren’t exactly a foreign entity to him and usually he would relish in the chance to make new friends. However, he had been looking for a particularly stormy visage among the sea of people.

He locked eyes with his target: Virgil Kross, aforementioned roommate who had dragged him here in the beginning of the night and told him to stay close before uncharacteristically darting off.

The get together was for everyone in Virgil’s physics class and when Roman found him, Virgil was propped up against a wall and sitting on some steps, swirling around a cider and talking to someone in square glasses and an almost comically over-formal button down.

Virgil caught his eye and lifted an eyebrow. Roman shook his head in a restrained don’t you dare Virgil I swear sort of way. Virgil either didn’t see it or outright ignored him. He waved Roman over, made some sort of excuse that Roman didn’t hear, and left the two alone.

Roman was going to fill Virgil’s pillowcase with popcorn kernels. He was going to tape his toothbrush to the ceiling. He was going to hide his socks in the freezer. He was going to-

“Roman?”

Roman sucked in a breath, litany of threats against his horrible, no good roommate suddenly coming to a halt.

In front of him sat Logan Nova, Virgil’s study partner from when he had taken astronomy a semester ago and also, less important, the person Roman had been pining for ever since Virgil had dragged them on their fieldtrip in September. The class was supposed to map out the stars they saw, identify them, and measure their distances or something. Roman didn’t really keep track of the details. He wasn’t even too interested in looking at the stars, coming from a city where they were mostly blocked out by the light pollution.

And sure, they were pretty in the open sky, but not prettier than the wide eyes that drank them in, than the elated expression that same face had when Roman asked him a question about the class since Virgil was off probably shotgunning a beer with their professor and Roman was bored out of his mind. Logan had shown Roman his star maps and pulled out a worn out textbook with tenderly placed bookmarks of his favorite constellations. Roman had been fascinated by the stories behind them and the two spent the night going through the book, cover to cover.

By the end, Roman was sure he never thought the stars were beautiful until he saw them reflected in Logan’s eyes.

Virgil continued to bring Logan over, even after their astronomy classes had ended, sometimes completely unannounced, before flouncing off to run some errands with his art major friends (how Virgil managed to double major never ceased to amaze Roman, especially given that both those majors were so hard). And for the past six months, Roman had gone from crushing to something close to besotted. It wasn’t something very easy to hide so the next time Roman caught that spider he was going to put ice down his back and-

“Um, there aren’t anymore seats. I can move if you’d like?”

Logan’s voice brought Roman back to the present. He took an extra swig of his drink, hoping that Logan wouldn’t notice how he almost downed it for the courage, and shook his head.

“Scooch on over, Specs, we can share,” Roman said, the burn behind his sternum fueling his words.

Logan laughed, a little bubbly and Roman guessed that his cup was full of something with a similar texture, and moved for Roman to balance on half the seat.

Roman took another sip, looking out over the room of people.

“So this is what you physics people do on a Friday night, huh?” Roman asked, a little teasingly, “not bad.”

Logan bumped him and Roman barely kept his heart from fluttering out of his chest like a frantic dove.

“Did you see how drunk half the class got at the Meteor Fields?”

Roman snorted, “Fair. We almost had to carry Virgil back to the room.”

“You almost had to carry him. I did carry him.”

Roman made a noise of offense, “Excuse me! I am a knight in shining armor! Not a carriage!”

Logan laughed and Roman finally turned to look at him, startling when his face was much closer than he had anticipated.

“I don’t appreciate that I am the carriage in this metaphor,” Logan said with a faux-pout. Roman wanted to quip something back, but he had something of an elephant-sized lump in his throat. Logan tilted his head before leaning in. Roman just barely managed not to squeak.

“Goodness,” Logan said, “your eyes are so dilated!”

Roman blinked, taking another sip of his drink and trying to will a blush down.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Logan exclaimed back, leaning in even more and woo-boy was he close.

Roman looked to his drink slightly, not able to hold Logan’s wide eyes for a second without turning cherry-red.

“It’s pretty bright in here, they shouldn’t be,” Roman said, trying to ‘science it out’ like Logan loved to do. Logan, mercifully to Roman’s thundering pulse, sat back a bit: considering.

“Well. Quite a few things can cause one’s pupils to dilate. Lack of light. Opiate withdrawal. Looking at someone you’re attracted to. Love. Parasympathetic activat-”

“Coke,” Roman nearly choked out. Logan paused in the list he was rattling off and blinked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Coke. I did coke. Just- whole line of cocaine all in one gulp.”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t drink cocaine, Roman. Furthermore-”

Roman didn’t hear the rest of Logan’s sentence. He pushed off the wire seating, sputtering out something about refilling his drink, and made a beeline for the back exit.

When he got to the balcony, he nearly slammed his head into the corner of the railing.

Well Roman thought miserably better for him to think you’re on drugs than hopelessly in love with him. Really dodged a bullet there.

The thought didn’t help. Roman let out a groan and let himself slump. He poked his legs between the columns of the balcony and swung his feet. Above him, the sky was hazy. The moon was barely visible as it peeked through a curtain of clouds. Not a star in the sky. A part of Roman thought that was rather fitting given how royally he had just messed up.

A door opened and closed behind him. For a moment, Roman thought it was Virgil from how quiet the footsteps were and was about to get up and tell him he was heading out when he turned around.

Logan Nova, adorable wavy black hair and now slightly-crumpled but still endearing button down, was staring back at him. Clutching his drink a little as he moved to sit next to Roman. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then-

“Whoever your dealer is, I don’t think they gave you cocaine,” he finally said.

Roman swiveled around to meet his eyes. Logan’s eyebrows furrowed even further.

“Your eyes are dilated again. And while that is a symptom of its ingestion, your behavior otherwise does not indicate its use.”

Something bubbled out of Roman’s throat. For a horrifying moment, Roman thought it was his drink trying to take revenge, but no- it was laughter. Croaky at first, but rapidly devolving into full-bellied howling.

“Perhaps I misjudged?” Logan said after Roman’s guffaws continued, Roman shook his head, trying to stop the shake in his shoulders as Logan, obviously more than a little concerned at Roman’s ‘illicit drug use’, got more and more worried by the minute.

“I didn’t do any drugs, Logan,” Roman finally got out between heaving breaths. Logan stuck out his bottom lip a little.

“But you said..?”

Roman waved at him, he must have misjudged the distance because his hand caught Logan’s shoulder but Roman didn’t feel like moving it.

“I know what I said,” Roman said, laughter trickling, “I know, it was stupid, I promise though. I haven’t had anything besides this crappy beer and,” Roman took in a breath, now or never he guessed, “maybe a little love,” he finished quietly, not sure whether he should thank the alcohol or curse it for letting him say it.

Logan’s eyebrows shot up, “Lovedrug? Like ecstacy?!”

“What?!” Roman shot back, looking incredulous before rubbing his face, “NO, not- not lovedrug you-UGH- how are you smart but so dense??”

Logan only blinked in return. Roman supposed he deserved that.

“Lo,” Roman said, taking his legs out of the balcony and setting them in a lazy kneel, “what were the things you listed off for making someone’s eyes dilate?”

Logan’s nose scrunched, “Em. Parasympathetic activation?”

“Keep going,” Roman said, exasperated but woefully fond.

“Ecstasy would certainly be on the list.”

“Logan.”

Logan huffed, “Ah. I believe I also said looking at someone you’re attract-”

Logan stopped. His expression almost sent Roman into hysterics again but he didn’t give in because if he did he might have ended up crying.

“Oh,” Logan said in a small voice.

“Yeah, oh” Roman echoed softly, “sorry I lied, I kind of just. Panicked. A little.”

“So you led me to believe you had taken a bad strain of cocaine?” Logan replied, voice strained but still shocked out of emotion.

Roman squirmed. “Yee. My bad, you don’t- you know. Have to say anything though. I know you don’t- I just wanted you to know since you seemed a little freaked that I was having a bad drug reaction.”

“You know I don’t what?” Logan asked suddenly as he spun to face Roman. Roman looked down and scratched his nose.

“You don’t-ugh. Don’t make me say it dude, you know what I mean.”

“Roman, look at me.”

Boy, Logan was not making it easy. But he supposed if he was going to get rejected, he should look at him straight in the eyes. At least he’d retain some of his dignity then. Roman lifted his chin.

“What color are my eyes?”

Roman blinked, a little caught off-guard from the question. Was it that obvious that Roman had been waxing poetic about Logan’s eyes in his own mind from the moment he had met him? How they caught the light and sucked it in, like two galaxies swirling in his irises. How his lashes curled naturally, almost touching his brow bone when they were alight with wonder. How it didn’t even matter now that he couldn’t see a star in the sky because they were all caught in Logan’s eyes. They were a force of gravity pulling him in and everything else with them.

“…black?” Roman said, tamping down on his raging thoughts. Logan cocked his head.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked.

Roman almost would have been offended if Logan hadn’t chosen that moment to tug Roman’s chin towards him.

“Look closer,” Logan said.

Breathe, dumbass Roman’s brain said. He listened to both as he squinted.

There were still the swirling galaxies in the middle. The soft gaze did nothing to curb that, but there- Roman tilted his head as he saw something else. Like the sun brimming over the earth, a honey brown at the very edges. Logan must have seen Roman’s expression as he realized it.

“My eyes are amber, Roman.”

There was something in Logan’s voice, it was the same one he used when he was helping Roman with his GenEd calc class. Like he was trying to lead him somewhere. If Logan’s eyes were amber, then his pupils must have been massive because they took up the majority of the…oh.

“But-I-I don’t,” Roman stuttered.

“What were the reasons for someone’s eyes to dilate?” Logan pushed.

“Didn’t take you for a coke guy,” Roman said, trying for cool but bordering on watery. Logan huffed, his face was so close that Roman could feel the breath.

Then, Logan’s lips were on his own and suddenly Roman could care less about eyes.

“Logan,” Roman breathed, smiling when he pulled him forward into another kiss. He turned to pepper more along his jaw bone. Logan giggled. Roman tried to stamp the sound into his brain.

“You’re amazing, you know. Amazing, smart, beautiful, so beautiful,” Roman whispered, half out of his mind as he tugged on the hair at the nape of Logan’s neck.

“Are you sure that’s not the alcohol talking?” Logan managed, though it came out a bit garbled.

“Nothing can addle my brain more than your beauty already has,” Roman replied instantly, pulling Logan in again.

Behind the window of the balcony, a blue sweater clad boy adjusted his round glasses and gleefully took a five dollar bill from a pouting spider.

“I told you all they needed was a little push,” whispered the glasses boy.

“Fucking finally,” replied the spider, not missing his five dollars all that much.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #logince #ts roman #ts logan #fluff #all the fluff #only fluff #I did my boy Logan dirty in the last fic so #I wrote this

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junicai · 4 years ago

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Learn the Alphabet with Aria + Friends ;

273,175 views • 15 Mar 2021 • uploaded by [haechanieski]

A is for: “Adios”

Filming a JCC episode was always something Aria looked forward to - either because she got to watch it later and laugh, or she was a guest star herself. Johnny had taken it upon himself to uphold the communication part of his series name, and asked Aria to teach Czennie some Irish while she was around.

“And how do you say goodbye?”

“Adios!” Aria spoke with full confidence, a beaming smile directed to the camera.

Johnny behind her snorted. “Adios?”

Aria blinked, before spluttering. “Oh no not adios that’s the wrong - that’s not Irish.”

“Isn’t that Spanish?”

“...yeah.”

B is for: “Baby~”

Aria was leant forward her knees, eyes fixated on the laptop in front of her that was playing the 90s Love music video. It was the first time she had seen it edited and polished, and she was anxiously anticipating her own scenes.

An Aria appeared on the screen, running her tongue over her top teeth before scrunching her nose and giving the camera a wink. She spun on her heel, tossing a jacket over her shoulder and tilted her head so her sultry smirk was visible to the camera.

The boys around her clamored loudly, and Aria cringed away from the video - right into Ten’s awaiting embrace who clasped her head in his grip and stopped her from turning her head away from the laptop.

“Baby~” Ten sang, curling his arms around Aria. “My baby is all grown up~”

Aria whined, thrashing weakly in Ten’s grip in an attempt to shake the boy off. “Nooo.”

“My baby~”

C is for: “Chewing Gum”

“Yes! It’s been a long time since we performed our debut song.” Aria took over from Chenle who had been speaking into the phone cradled in his hands. The voice-only vlive had been unplanned, and neither idol had been willing to put their messy bedheads on video for their fans to immortalize on twitter.

Chenle snickered. “Noona is just thankful that she gets to wear things other than pajamas on stage now,” He teased, jostling the phone as he leant over to poke her.

“That’s not true! Bubblegum will always have a special place in my heart.” Aria defended herself, crossing her arms in front of her stomach to protect it.

Chenle retracted his hand to stare up at Aria with a disbelieving face. She looked back at him, as the boy burst into laughter.

“Bubblegum?”

“Chewing gum! I said chewing gum. You misheard me.”

“Bubblegum-” Chenle was wheezing, hand gripping Aria’s arm tightly.

“I’m a foreigner! I have an accent!”

“Noona, that’s in English?!”

D is for: “Deicide”

“Jaemin! Leave me alon- ow.” Aria’s attempts to fight off a cuddly boy proved ineffective, the boy in question succeeding in drawing the squirming girl onto his lap and securing her in position with his arms around her waist.

Aria let out a long-suffering sigh, closing her eyes in resignation.

“Okay, yes, okay. Fine. I’m done you win.”

Jaemin smiled, satisfied, and tucked his head into the crook of Aria’s neck, humming to himself. His content mood was quickly yanked away from him however, as Aria leant down to whisper in his ear.

“Jaeminne. If you don’t let me go to finish doing my hair, I’m going to remind you of the fact that I have zero qualms with deicide, and you have yet to reach god-like standards.”

Paling slightly, he retracted his hands and Aria pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before hopping off his thigh.

E is for: “Eomma”

Aria squealed as she was tackled down, hitting the ground with a thunk as Jaehyun leapt for her from across the room. “No no no I’m sorry I take it back I take it back-”

Jaehyun was grinning down at her as he slid his hands up her sides and began to tickle her, pinning down her flailing arms as she tried to hit him. “Oh yeah? You’re sorry now?”

“Yes! Yes I’m sorry I promise - you’re not - I didn’t mean it -” Aria struggled to get the words out, unable to catch her breath.

“Eomma!” She cried out, face red and hurting with how much she was laughing. “Help mee~”

F is for: “Fudge”

Stumbling around the dorm in the dark was never a good idea, but it was late and the other members besides herself and Donghyuck were already asleep. Aria hadn’t wanted to disturb them, so the only lighting the pair had was the fading light from their phone flashlights.

“I can’t see it, but I know I put it down here somewhere? Do you think it’s behind the tab- FU-dge. I like fudge, do you like fudge?” Aria leant over the table to rest her arm on Donghyuck’s shoulder, peering at him curiously.

Her eyes were pinched with pain, and she was hopping slightly.

“Did you stub your toe on the table?”

“Psh, no! This is a serious question Hyuck. Fudge preferences are serious business.”

G is for: “Gorgeous”

“Oh! Gorgeous dahling. Positively stunning.” Aria spoke in a pompous voice, face pulled down with pinched lips and squinted eyes and obnoxiously raised eyebrows. She fluttered her hand around in an aggressively dramatic hand gesture, before spinning on her heel to flounce out of the room.

Mark and Taeyong exchanged a wide eyed glance. Clearly the ‘Greek God’ inspired video had gone more to her head than they had previously anticipated.

H is for: *intense heavy breathing*

Jungwoo took one look at Aria lying on the practice room floor, and immediately proceeded to flop down - belly first - onto the unsuspecting girl. Aria let out an oof, choking slightly at the sudden weight on her chest.

“Jung-w-oo,” She coughed out, slapping weakly at the weight of the older boy.

He only hummed in response, not moving from his position, despite the fact that Aria’s zip on her hoodie was digging into his cheek. He swung his arms up to cover her shoulders, and soon he was lying completely on top of her, obscuring the smaller girl from view.

All was quiet for a moment, before Aria broke the silence with exaggerated, heavy breathing, panting for air. Her eyes widened comically, and she was smiling despite the fact that Jungwoo was actually crushing her lungs slightly.

Still, no attempt was made to get off her, and she slowly resigned herself to her fate.

I is for: “I surrender”

The camera was set up a safe distance away, so that when the bag of flour fell to the ground and poofed up in the inevitable cloud of white dust - the piece of equipment was unharmed. Because of this, it was given a perfect view of the sequence of events that immediately followed:

Aria, grip-less in her socked feet stepped backwards out of the flour coating the floor, misjudged the circumference of the circular cloud that had by then settled, and promptly slipped over, clattering to the ground with a thud and disappearing behind the counter with a half-formed yelp.

The screen was empty for a moment, still, before a hand shot up from behind the counter, coated in the white flour.

“I surrender,” Aria waved her hand back and forth like a flag, commiserating with the now ruined flour lining the tiled floor.

J is for: “Jesus Christ”

The walls were lined with fake and real cobwebs alike, barely visible in the complete lack of light offered from the red blinking lights of the cameras that recorded each NCT 127 member as they crawled their way tentatively through the haunted house’s hallways.

Aria shuffled past old beams that looked far too close to collapse for comfort, sneezing after her nose was ticked by a hanging vine that she hadn’t seen before it was already brushing her nose as she scooted past.

The hallways were quiet, only the sound of her own breathing audible to her heightened senses. That was, until a hand shot out from behind a load-bearing beam, gnarled nails reaching to grab at her skin.

She jumped back, letting out a vocal-chord ripping shriek. “Jesus Christ!”

K is for: *Kiss*

“So, Aria is not a lover of skinship?” The question was posed to Taeyong, the leader having been given the choice to choose his member’s punishment after losing the game they had been playing.

Taeyong let out a short chuckle, seeing where the interviewer was going with their question. “No, no she’s not. Only if we initiate it - and she’ll normally kick us off pretty quickly.”

Aria was shaking her head, making slicing motions in front of her neck to signal Taeyong to stop, no, please anything but that, stop it-

Taeyong paid no mind to her, and soon Aria was settled on a stool in the centre of the studio floor, knees tucked into her chest as Jaemin, Ten, Doyoung and Taeil - the members of her losing team - all gathered around her in a circle.

One by one, they all pressed a single kiss to her cheek, Aria cringing away from Ten’s hold when he went to press another peck to her forehead, and Doyoung coming behind her to hold her still.

When the four boys retreated, Aria was red in the face, the blush adorning her cheeks visible despite the foundation.

L is for: “You don’t love me”

“Hyuck, I have to go.”

“Noooo.” The boy whined from his position sprawled over the mattress, legs spread and hands clutching onto Aria’s wrist to prevent her from leaving. “Stay. M’comfy.”

Aria sighed, tugging at her wrist futilely. “Hyuck, I’m literally going to the bathroom. I’ll be five minutes - less if you let me go now.”

Donghyuck only whined louder, tightening his grip. “No!”

Tossing her head back to the ceiling, Aria yanked her hand out of his grip, plugging her ears against the screech of protest that left Donghyuck’s mouth.

“NO! Come back!”

When Aria made no motion to return, having exited through the doorway hastily, he threw himself back onto the bed. “You don’t love me anymore!”

Her response echoed down the hallway, punctuated by the slamming of the bathroom door. “I do! You’re just a big baby and I needed to go!”

M is for: *Mine*

Aria slid beneath the reaching arm of their maknae, patting him on the side to make him edge a little to the left as she too reached for one of the cookies that were set up on the small snack table.

The white chocolate chips were tempting her, and after staring at the still-full plate for twenty minutes, there was only so much she could do in terms of self restraint.

Scurrying back to her original seat, she settled back in comfortably, bringing the cookie up to her mouth and nibbling at the crunchy edge of the treat.

N is for: “Neo”

“Nono?” Aria bent her neck down to peer at the boy who had entered through the door, dropped his bag, slid off his shoes and then promptly snuggled himself into Aria’s side without so much as a hello.

Jeno nodded in acknowledgement, but made no attempt to explain his curious behaviour.

“Dude,” Aria sighed, hand already moving to run through his hair despite her long-suffering eyeroll, “You’re not being very neo right now.”

O is for: “Ow”

Sitting beside Mark in any context was never a good idea when one wasn’t wearing sleeves or long trousers. He was a very, volatile, laugher, and once he got going it was impossible to stop.

Unfortunately for Aria, her short dress afforded her neither of the aforementioned luxuries, and so she was sure that by the end of the day she was going to be covered in black and purpling bruises from Mark’s non-malicious attacks.

The movie on the screen flickered to a new scene, one that sent Mark into another burst of raucous laughter. His hand raised, and clapped down on Aria’s arm, again, and again, and again.

“Ow, ow, ow ow ow ow, Mark!”

P is for: “Potato juice”

Lucas held up his glass to the camera, grinning as he said, “Apple juice!”

Taeyong bit back a smile as Jungwoo fit himself into the frame, holding his own glass and affirming Lucas’ statement. “Apple juice!”

The camera was spun around, focusing briefly on the apostles of darkness who held up their own glasses of apple juice, before it panned down the row to where Aria was sitting, cradling a glass of clear liquid in her hands that she was taking small sips from.

Taking notice of the camera focusing on her, she took another sip of her glass before holding it up in a cheers. “Potato juice!” She cheered, bringing it back to her lips and paying no mind to the startled cough Doyoung let out, choking on his own apple juice.

Doyoung spun to the camera, gently pulling the glass from Aria’s grasp. “Water. It’s water.” His tone dropped a few decibels, “Did Jaehyun give you this? I’ll kill him.”

Q is for: “Quickly”

“Quickly! Hurry up!” Renjun yelled, rushing over to help Aria into the inflatable costume to begin her run.

“Yah, Renjun! I’m not on your team stop yelling at me!” Aria retorted, pushing his fumbling hands away and pulling up the straps onto her shoulders.

R is for: “Ruff”

The door swung open with a quiet creak, Donghyuck only hearing it when the handle made contact with the wall behind it. He spun around in his chair, eyebrow lifting at the sight of Aria partially in through the doorway. “Hey?”

“Ruff.” Aria blinked at him, unmoving.

“Uh, ruff?” Donghyuck responded in kind, his eyebrows now knitting together in confusion.

Nodding satisfactorily, Aria exited the room with a wave. “Mark! I told you I could get him to bark on live.”

S is for: “Saranghae”

It was a group-wide agreement that in 127, the title for cutest either went to one of the maknaes, or their oldest hyung. Apparently that agreement also spread over stan-twitter, because suddenly Taeil and Aria were being pitted against each other in an aeygo-off. Fan edits and polls were made, and TaeilvsAria was trending on Twitter for nearly a week.

Eager to encourage the trend, it was all too easy for the staff to set the pair up in front of a camera and press record.

Two minutes in, and neither member had broken, both maintaining their stoic faces - although Aria’s lip was slightly red from being bitten, having resorted to pinching the skin between her lips to prevent a smile from breaking out on her face when Taeil had tucked his hands underneath his chin and pouted.

She inhaled, thinking hard on how to end the competition swiftly, exhaling with a small smile as she settled on her next plan of attack.

Spinning around, Aria set her gaze on Taeil, letting her eyes widen and her lips fall into a natural pout.

“Oppa~” She wheedled, moving to clasp his hand in hers. “Saranghae~”

Taeil’s face crumpled, and he closed his eyes in defeat as he dragged Aria into his embrace. “Cheater.”

T is for: “Tough biscuits”

“But what if I don’t want to?” Yangyang argued, pointing at Aria.

“Then, tough biscuits.” Aria stuck out her tongue in retaliation, stealing the game controller from his hands and flicking the game to Minecraft. “I suck at those shooty-games, let me have this.”

U is for: “Unnie”

With her mask pulled up over her nose and lips, Aria was pretty confident that she wasn’t going to be recognized by a member of the public as she strolled down the street towards the coffee shop that had recently opened its doors a few streets over.

She was humming happily, but jolted as she felt an arm snake itself around her waist. Immediately on high-alert, she went to push the unknown person away, before catching a glimpse of their face.

“Unnie!” Aria’s entire demeanor changed, face breaking out into a bright smile beneath the black facemask.

Irene smiled back at her, squeezing her waist lightly. “Hey, angel! How’re you?”

V is for: “Very untrue”

“And Aria normally naps during this time anyway, so we should be happy she’s awake for this.” Jaemin informed the few thousand czennie watching the vlive, phone tucked in between two chairs in the greenroom.

Aria’s mouth dropped open at the obvious betrayal. “Hey! Very untrue! False information! You liar, I do not.”

Jaemin snickered, leaning into the phone. “You can see the marks on her cheek from the arm of the chair too, right czennie?”

The dancer leant over and thumped him on the back of his head for that.

W is for: “Wait wait wait-”

Aria was sprinting down the hallway, phone clutched to her chest and panting. Yuta followed in quick pursuit, rapidly gaining thanks to longer legs and shoes that offered more grip than the tenuous grip offered by Aria’s slippers.

“Wait wait wait, Yuta, no I don’t want to die!” She breathed, pumping her legs faster in an attempt to flee from almost certain death. Perhaps, taking candid photos of the man while he was unconsciously snuggled up to Mark’s side as he slept was, in hindsight, not the best idea.

Yuta was rapidly gaining on her, despite her best efforts.

“Please don’t kill me!”

X is for: “Xièxiè”

Accepting the glass from Kun’s hand, Aria smiled up at the man. “Xièxiè.”

Kun, who was already moving away and back into the kitchen responded in kind, before flinging himself into another bout of conversation; but this time, with a language switch.

Being so used to the constant flip-flopping between languages in the WAYV dorms, he thought nothing of it, but after asking a question and receiving no response, he peered back into the main living area to see Aria sitting there with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Uh, Xièxiè?”

Y is for: “Yessir”

Taeyong explained what it is Aria had to complete for her mission, handing her a small slip of paper that she was to hide from the other team before they came into the makeshift base that had been constructed a few minutes prior.

Aria nodded, completely serious. “Yes sir.”

He waved her away, happy that she understood the level of importance that he had just entrusted her with, and Aria happily departed from the conversation -

By the means of vaulting a table and scrambling over a chair before exiting the door.

Taeyong blinked. And then shrugged, turning his attention elsewhere.

Z is for: *Zzzz*

Snuggled up beneath a blanket is exactly where Aria wanted to be at that very moment - not sitting in the back of a van, squished between Johnny and Yuta. The two men were broad-shoulders, and that left Aria to be batted between the two like a ping-pong ball.

Despite the abrasions to her temple however, Aria found herself slowly drifting off - the lengthy schedules and lack of sleep finally catching up on her.

Her head dropped to the side, first falling forward before it was gently maneuvered onto Yuta’s shoulder, where he tucked her closer and into his side.

Letting out a pleased hum, Aria snuggled closer into his warm coat, sighing softly as she drifted to sleep.

thank you for watching ! - haechanieski

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andontheseventhday · 3 years ago

Text

Still trying to work through writers' block. Sorry if this reads more like word vomit, I needed to get it out of my brain. Slight NSFW implications. Do not read if you don't like/are triggered by predator/prey dynamics.

--------------------------

The long grass lapped at your knees, gently tickling your sensitive skin. Beginnings of an adrenaline high were taking hold, heightening all of your senses. Standing eerily still on the far side of the clearing from you was Barbatos, his pale skin radiant and inhuman in the moonlight.

"Remember, darling, that I will give you a head start and that I will not cheat. But I will find you," his voice rang out clear as day above the whispering of the wind.

You knew the game. And although you had played it a few times, your body reacted in the same way every time. You supposed it was because you were experiencing some base human instinct; one that dated back thousands of years from when giant predators roamed the Earth. Whatever it was, the mixture of raw fear and nervous excitement was absolutely intoxicating. You knew these woods and had been chased in them many times since you were a child; by other children, teenage boys, and even an angry hunter once, but never by a demon. The idea of being chased by a being that could easily snap your body in two with his bare hands had you shaking from both terror and arousal.

"On the count of three then." He spoke as you turned toward the forest and tried to adjust your eyes to the darkness before you. "One." You turned your head to the wind, noting the direction so you could keep yourself downwind. "Two." You knew he had turned around at this point; he was a demon of his word after all, and didn't want to spoil the fun for either of you. "Three."

You took off as quickly as you could, aiming to put as much distance between the two of you as possible in the fifteen minute head start he gave you. Do not trap yourself up a tree. Do not hide where there is only one exit. Do not travel upwind. You repeated your personal rules like a mantra in your head as you ran, trying to remember the layout of the vast forest in front of you. The first few times you had played the game, it had been in the Demon Lord's castle and each time, Barbatos had found you, conquered you, in five minutes flat. But not today. This is the first time you were playing on your turf; leveling the playing field just a little.

Your heart pounded in sync with your feet as you wracked your brain for a spot to rest. There was no water from what you could remember, only dried up ravines. And even though it had rained, you weren't convinced that it was enough to fill a puddle, let alone create a river. Your pace slowed as your breathing got heavier. You needed to collect yourself. You knew that if you kept breathing as loudly as you were, Barbatos would find you much more quickly.

Your head start had to be up by now, and you were no closer to finding a solution. You stopped for a moment and closed your eyes, trying to listen for any sign that he was approaching, but all you could hear was the rustling of the leaves. And then you heard the whisper of his voice in your head, as if his lips were pressed against your ear. "I'm going to find you, my love. And when I do, I'm going to devour you."

Your gut twisted, fear gripping you, and you began to run again without even realizing it. That was when you saw it. You had misjudged where you were entirely. In front of you, right outside of the tree line, was a large cliff face; both too tall to climb and too wide to easily get around. You were trapped. Cornered because of your memory's fallacies. You could have sworn you were heading toward one of the ravines. Mind racing, you advanced toward the rocks, triying to think of an alternative. Climbing a tree was starting to look like your only option.

"Found you, darling." Barbatos' voice sounded from just behind the trees, dark and dripping with triumph. You whipped around, backing up until your back was flush with the stone. He slowly stepped from the darkness and into the moonlight, and the sight of him brought you to your knees.

He was frightening; moreso than he had ever been during your games in the castle. Out here he looked wild. Feral. He was in his demon form, his hair disheveled from the chase. He had discarded his jacket and waistcoat entirely, leaving only a dress shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbow. His tail lashed around like a serpent behind him as he approached you.

"You escaped me for longer than I had imagined. Do you know how long it took me to find you?" You shook your head, eyes wide and voice lost, as you took in his blown pupils and gleaming fangs. "Half an hour." He stopped a few feet from you and sniffed the air, licking his lips with a small sigh. "Do you know how I eventually found you?"

You shook your head again, and slowly began to adjust your feet beneath you in small moment of clarity. You had to time it just right.

"I could smell you. Your panic. Your arousal. There's really nothing quite like it. The taste alone makes me crave more. I'm so hungry, my love." He paused briefly, assessing you, and then lunged.

You dove to the side desperately, scrambling to your feet and taking off at a sprint. You heard a graceless thud as he fell into the dirt, followed by an unearthly, angry roar. You couldn't make this easy for him, if he wanted a chase, you'd give him one.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me barbatos #obey me drabbles

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staysaneathome · 3 years ago

Text

The Collection

(An Entity-swap WIP, where the swap is the places the Entities hold in the world rather than the people who serve them)

“Something happened to you, didn’t it?”

The man asking him this looks too nice to be here. Fancy suit, fancy hair, fancy clean face with a smug smile. Too clean for the miserable day outside the library, where even the patrons who are in teacher and businessman clothing have flyaway hairs and rain on their shoulders and mud on their trousers.

Jon’s hands tense on the book in his hands, crumpling pages about exotic spiders, giant spiders, spiders that hide in the ground and in the trees, but still not big enough, not sinister enough to be the Spider, the one that—that—

He shudders. “Maybe. Why are you asking?”

The man’s smile grows. He looks far too pleased at Jon’s question, more pleased than any other adult has. “Because I recognized it. When something happens to people, something that everyone else says couldn’t have happened, that you must have been making it up, that the things you saw can’t exist.”

The man leans forward. His eyes are so, so, so bright. Jon’s heart is in his throat and he feels slightly sick. “I believe you, Jon. I know what happened to you. Would you like to know, too?”

Jonathan Sims toddles out of Bournemouth Library, following the man who he never told his name to.

His grandmother spends twenty minutes asking, then haranguing, then begging the library staff for the whereabouts of her eight year old grandson.

Even the witnesses who thought they saw the boy coming in and talking to someone can’t recall a detail about when or how he left, as if some magnetic force directed their eyes to look anywhere else. The cameras spool looped footage, the child there and then gone, as if into thin air.

Jonathan Sims is eleven when he escapes the Collection.

The man didn’t lie to him, is the thing. He knows what Mr. Spider is now. Knows about the Web, about all the rest of Smirke’s fourteen. Knows what a Leitner is. Knows what happened to Tommy after he entered that door, knows it with an intimacy that makes him ill when he thinks too long about it.

But the man didn’t tell him until much later that in return for learning, for knowing, Jon wouldn’t be allowed to stop. That he’d have to keep going, and going, and going, until he can hardly think for all of the awful, awful things he now knows, until the only things that can spill from his mouth are all the stories and secrets he’s learned, in voices that barely sound like his.

It’s changed him. He Knows this. Knows he used to only be able to stomach one story a day, when he looked pitiful enough to wheedle someone into telling it to him. Now he only needs to Ask the Right Question (and he somehow always Knows what that is, always) and not even all the horrors and experiences of a person’s whole life feel like enough to him, anymore.

The man likes him best, out of everyone in the collection, everyone who stands before him and recounts what they’ve drawn out of their—their prey, feeding on tales of misery and suffering and fear. He calls Jon “my prized Recorder”.

Elias was the last one who was prized before him. Sallow and shaking, always staring at Jon with an expression like disgust, like resignation, like fury. Jon initially thought the teenager had hated him, when he first arrived, when he didn’t know any better.

Now he’s the one with the fancy suits, fancy hair, fancy clean face but with the wrong bright eyes staring out eagerly, fixated on Jon.

He knows he’s next. That once he’s got enough stories in him, once he knows enough, that the man who was known as James before, and now as Elias, will take him aside to the Head Collector’s office, and it will be his turn to come out with wrong bright eyes and fancy clothes and hair.

He tells this to Sasha James, nineteen years old and the closest thing to his friend here, brought into the Collection at fourteen in trade for the key information her father needed to publish his thesis. She had shivered under the thin blankets they used to share and hugged him tight. “It’s okay Jon. It’ll be okay. I won’t let that happen to you.”

But then Sasha is sent out to gather a specific story, learn all about a certain life, absorbing more and more of it until her face doesn’t look like her own anymore, until her mannerisms and personality are that of a total stranger, until she stares blankly at him and answers only to the name “Alexandra Rhodes, of the Orsinov Institute”. And Jon realizes his friend is gone.

He hopes this realization will make it hurt less when she stops coming back to the Collection altogether. It doesn’t, and he shivers under the thin blanket alone.

He needs to get out.

He’s careful to keep that information embedded among more “harmless” memories of terror that he learns instead of tucked away like he wants to. The Watcher he and the others feed loves uncovering secrets, but it’s possible to hide in plain sight from it, if you pretend like you aren’t hiding what you want to hide at all. It’s hard, since Jon’s never been good at lying, but he tries not to think too much about it and is glad he already had the nervous habit of ripping up things as he tears bits of cloth from his blanket.

The Collection moves around, so its searchers can bring in new stories for their patron. On special occasions before they leave a certain area for a good while, there is always a “live account” from some poor sap in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The man who used to be Elias is the one who asks the Question at these events. Everyone will be just as blindly riveted as he is once the speaking starts, so if Jon can use that...

As the young man named Timothy Stoker opens his mouth and begins recounting every thing that he’s ever seen, thought, wondered, believed, experienced, lived, Jon stuffs the strips of cotton into his ears. The blindfold is tight, and he’s scared he’ll bump into something, that he’s misjudged the distance to the door despite counting it out to himself over and over these past few weeks.

Fourteen steps to the exit. Twist the doorknob, left, then right, then left again to open. Move the big brick in front of it so it will stay closed a little bit longer when it shuts.

Then he’s tearing off down the street, pavement harsh and sharp and wet under his tender soles, not Knowing for once where he’s going or what he’ll do when he gets there.

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years ago

Text

No Cause For Alarm

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki blames himself when you get hurt on a mission. Thor is convinced that the only way to ease his guilt is for him to confess his feelings for you, so he and Peter hatch a plan to get Loki to do just that. Warnings: none I think; a little angst but mainly fluff

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki paced in the waiting area of the hospital wing, anxiously awaiting when the doctor would come out with some information on you. His heart was pounding in his chest, living in the moment of the accident. You’d been on a mission together, supposedly just for reconnaissance, but before long you had to engage in combat. Not that you hadn’t been prepared for things to go that way, per se; it was just overwhelming. Naturally, anytime one spends in the field should be trademarked by a preparedness for things to go south. It's just that your intel had been off, or else the enemy agents had been alerted you were coming. There was supposed to be five guys, max, and only two of them there for muscle. Instead, you were met with nearly thirty burly men, all armed with guns. Though you could protect yourself, you were terribly outnumbered. Loki had done his best to protect you against the impossible odds, but he had failed. And now you were hurt.

“How are they?” he asked as soon as the doctor appeared, fear creeping into his voice.

“They’re going to be fine. The left leg is broken,” they replied, showing Loki the x-ray. “It should heal in about two months.”

“With checkups, of course? To make sure it’s healing properly?” Loki questioned, concerned for your recovery, not even realizing how much he was overreacting.

“Yes. And as I’m sure you know, the Tower is fully handicap-accessible, so you don’t need to worry about them getting around.”

“Good. May I go in and see them?”

The doctor gave him the all clear and pointed in the direction of your room. He hesitated a second before knocking on the door, afraid you’d be angry or disappointed with him. Currently, he felt both of those things toward himself, and he certainly deserved that and much worse after what happened to you.

“Come in,” you called, voice muffled by the door.

“Hello,” he said in a soft voice after slowly pushing open the door. “I am certain I am the last person you want to see right now, but I have to tell you how sorry I am.”

“Loki,” you laughed, an amused smile making its way on your face, though you were trying hard to suppress it. “Cut the doom and gloom. I’m fine, it’s just a broken leg. I’ve been through worse.”

“That may very well be, but this is my fault.”

“No, it’s not. Don’t do that to yourself,” you argued, more distressed by his emotional conflict than your physical pain. “This was the fault of those Hydra agents, whose, I might add, asses we absolutely whooped!”

Loki couldn’t understand your upbeat attitude, but it gave him enough courage to go to your bedside rather than lurking by the door. He knelt down next to you and rested his head on the bed. You played with his hair as you waited for him to say that he forgives himself, ready to reassure him again that it wasn’t his fault. The way you were methodically braiding and unbraiding a few locks of his hair helped him focus on calming down.

“I should have protected you,” he whispered, unable to let the notion go.

“But you did protect me, Loki,” you responded gently, cupping his face. “You did.”

“Ok,” he said after a shaky breath. “If that is what you truly believe, then I will drop it.”

Though he relented, you could still see the remorse in his eyes. He knew you didn’t want him tearing himself apart over this, but he couldn’t help it.

“Good,” was all you whispered, not wanting to upset either of you any further.

Loki opened his mouth to say something else to you, but it was drowned out by Thor’s thundering voice as he burst into the room. Peter followed behind him and they were both carrying balloons and other get-well gifts for you.

“Greetings!” Thor boomed. “How are you feeling?”

Loki hurriedly stood up, not wanting to be caught in this intimate moment with you, regardless of the fact that his brother already knew how he felt. He’d done his best to hide it, but the God of Thunder noticed his longing glances sent your way. According to Thor, you felt the same way, but it was just based on observations he made. Without verbal confirmation from you, Loki would never believe it. After all, why would you like him of all people?

“Pretty good, all things considered,” you answered, shifting your position as much as you could.

“Make sure you take it easy, though,” Peter cautioned, knowing how hyper-active you could be. “You don't want to hurt it more.”

“I know, I know. Jeez, you all need to lighten up.”

You continued to talk with your new visitors and Loki snuck away as to avoid the bright atmosphere that clashed with his gloomy one. Thor noticed and followed him out, stopping him in the hall.

“Brother,” he asked, putting a hand on his shoulder, “what is the matter?”

“They will not admit it, but it is my fault that they are injured.”

“I have already read the mission report, and that is not what happened. You are just thinking this way because of your feelings for them.”

“Don’t patronize me, brother,” he said, jerking away. “You were not there. You do not know what happened.”

“Perhaps if you confessed your feelings, this guilt could clear up.”

“Enough, Thor. Please. Leave me alone.”

Loki stalked off to his room to brood in silence. How could everyone else be so flippant toward such a grave matter? Though, he supposed he did do everything in his power to keep you safe. Still, it wasn’t enough. He resolved to make it up to you any way you would allow. Later, he would go back to your room to take care of you, but right now he knew the best thing to do was stay away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A little over a week later, Loki was still doting on you, though you had almost convinced him that your current predicament was not his fault in the slightest. To be honest, you were a little overwhelmed by the attention he was giving you and wished he’d ease up a little.

“Honestly, Loki, don’t worry. I can handle it,” you chided when he put his arms out as if to catch you when you’d barely even stumbled. “I have the hang of it.”

“I am sure that you do, but one can never be too careful,” Loki scolded right back.

Both of you glared at each other for a minute before laughing. You knew he meant well, and he was doing his best to relax a little, so you shrugged it off.

“I guess you’re right. And, it’s nice to know that if I do fall, you’ll be there to catch me.”

Then you took the weight off your crutches and tipped toward him. Immediately, his arms shot back out and encompassed your body, pressing you to his strong chest. You relaxed against him as he hugged your frame tightly.

Meanwhile, across the room, Thor was watching the scene with sorrow. He was about ready to punch a wall when you laughed at something his brother whispered in your ear. It frustrated him to no end that Loki would not admit how he truly felt. For the love of all things good, you could not have more obviously returned his affections.

“Mr. Thor, are you ok?” Peter asked, wondering why the blonde god was standing off to the side, clenching his fists and muttering to himself.

“No. Can you keep a secret, spiderchild?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, wide-eyed.

“See, it is about Loki,” Thor whispered, leaning in conspiratorially and nodding toward where he was standing with you. “Look over there. They are in love, but they will not admit it!”

“Well, what if we created a situation that brings them so close together, they have to?”

“An intriguing idea. But what situation would that be?”

Peter started racking his brain, casually leaning back to rest against the wall. The only problem was he misjudged the distance and ended up flailing for something to grab onto as he fell back. Thor went to help him, but moved too late, and Peter somehow managed to pull the fire alarm.

“Spiderchild you’re a genius!” Thor shouted over the blaring siren.

“Oh, yeah. I meant to do that,” Peter said with a nervous laugh.

Knowing there was no real danger, the pair stayed and watched as Loki scooped you up in his arms and took off towards the nearest exit. They followed him down the levels of the Tower, eventually being met with a mob of people trying to flee the building. About halfway down, Loki teleported to safety with you, nervous that there would be too many people to get you out in time. By the time Peter and Thor stepped outside, the alarms had been shut off and Tony was talking to you and Loki.

“Are you sure there’s no danger?” they heard you inquire as they neared the spot where you were standing.

“No fires detected,” F.R.I.D.A.Y responded through the tablet in Tony’s hand.

“No malfunctions either. Someone tripped it manually,” Tony added, pointing at the offending alarm on the system map he was looking at.

Thor and Peter halted their progress toward you, and began to turn around. Not before Loki had spotted them, though.

“Were not the two of you standing by this location?” he asked as everyone else was told it was safe to return to the building.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Peter faked, thinking quick. “That’s kind of a confusing map.”

Thor agreed with Peter and, when it was obvious they weren’t going to say anything else, Loki magicked the group back up to the spot where they had been. After setting you on a chair for a second, he went to retrieve your crutches, which you had abandoned during your escape.

“Oh, this alarm,” Peter said in his best shocked tone. “I guess we may have been in the general vicinity.”

“Yes, it really was very hard to tell on that tablet,” Thor added.

“Honestly tell me, did you guys set it off?” Tony interrogated them, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need to know for safety reasons.”

“Yes,” they sighed, finally telling the truth.

“But it was by accident,” Peter added. “Kind of.”

“What do you mean ‘kind of’ spiderling?” Loki asked with growing suspicion.

And then Thor realized that the only situation that would make them own up to their feelings was to call them out on it. So, he told the story of how he and Peter were scheming and ended up triggering the alarm. Tony walked away, muttering about how he was the only sane one in the whole Tower. Loki, on the other hand, was partly furious, partly amused. You, however, were mainly just the latter.

“Listen, it’s a sweet gesture, but an unnecessary one,” you told them.

“It is true. You see, I have already confessed my love.”

Peter happily gasped and started clapping his hands while Thor’s jaw dropped. He stood there for a minute before Loki’s words sank in. Once the surprise wore off, he grabbed Loki in a bear-hug, then gave you a considerably gentler one, being mindful of your injury.

“This is wonderful news, brother! But why did you not tell me?” he asked with sad puppy-dog eyes.

“It is a recent development.”

“Yeah. We were going to tell everyone at dinner tomorrow,” you contributed.

“See Mr. Thor, it’s all good. And now we can celebrate.”

“Indeed! We can have a party tonight,” Thor excitedly said, already making preparations in his mind.

“Not so fast, Thor,” Loki interjected. “It is lovely that we are all happy, yes, but you must stop meddling in my personal life.”

Then he scooped you up and swept you away from the room before Thor had the chance to argue. He should have stuck around, though, because there was no one to stop Thor from beginning to plan your wedding.

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maybankiara · 4 years ago

Text

PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)

04: CHOCOLATE

summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead.

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: real life, my dudes, it’s real life. (well, after a lil texting sequence.) writing drew is actually hard, believe it or not, and i edited this chapter right after finishing chapter 14 -- and the difference is huge. i’m really excited! as always, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, and tell me what you thought!

read on wattpad

previous part | series masterlist

drewstarkey | 10:53am Hey! I’ll be running a little late, so meet you at quarter past noon?

addisonmallory | 11:07am That's okay, I would’ve been late, too lol

drewstarkey | 11:08am Okay cool so it’s not just me hahah

addisonmallory | 11:09am Nope, I’ve got a reputation ngl

drewstarkey | 11:11am Let’s see who’s the worse one, then 😂

addisonmallory | 11:14am It’s on 😎

◇

It takes all in Addie to keep Marianne from tagging along. If the French-Brit is anything, it’s stubborn and persistent, which Addie claims to be the worst two stereotypical traits she could’ve picked up from the two cultures – and they both know she’s right.

‘I won’t bother you,’ says Marianne, looking at Addie through her rose-tinted sunglasses. ‘I’ll just be behind you. You won’t even know I’m there!’

Addie sighs and leans sideways against the doorway. Marianne’s foot is blocking the door from closing, and this is all dragging out way beyond rational.

‘Marianne, I’m going there for literally five minutes. It’s not a big deal.’

‘He’s a famous actor.'

‘He’s not even that famous. I met him in a fucking Tesco, Marianne!’

The look she receives for that statement is scorching – but the edge in the girl’s eyebrow relaxes, and Marianne gives way to one of her quiet sighs. ‘Fine. Whatever. Go have fun.’

‘Thanks,’ says Addie; a weak attempt to keep the bitter tone at bay.

The door shuts with a bang – she waits until she hears faint footsteps disappearing into the heart of the apartment. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Marianne, but the girl usually lives in her own world and tends to disregard the common notions of what would be okay in a situation like this. Addie doesn't hold it against her. She can’t hold who Marianne is against herself.

With this now over and done with, Addie walks down two flights of stairs and exits the building. It’s a sunny day, just like it was yesterday, and she takes some pride in the fact that she’s got her contacts in, and sunglasses, and a face that doesn’t look like somebody tortured her for a week. There’s a spring to her step even if she tries to control it, and really, Addie just feels great.

Although, she still can’t believe she’s about to meet up with Drew Starkey to exchange phones because he got startled and gave her the wrong one.

She doesn’t even have the damn photo they took together.

The thought makes her laugh, and relax a little, and somehow it clicks in her head that Drew really is just a regular guy, susceptible to ridiculous shitty things happening to him just like everyone else. It calms her on her walk down to Tesco, even when it’s a few minutes after they’ve agreed on meeting up and he's still not here.

Expected, really. He did say he’d be late, after all.

When he finally walks out of the car, she doesn’t realise it’s him, at first. The car he’s driving is a silver Toyota, looking a little older than she'd expect. He parks it a couple dozen feet away from her, and the only reason she even takes note of the car is because it’s similar to the one her high school friends used to drive when they were all still back in town. Her eyes land on the dark-haired figure inside the car and recognises him only when the Atlanta sun shines its light on him, making the brown strands appear almost blonde, blonde structure framed by the sun’s gentleness.

Something in Addie flutters. It’s not butterflies, but the feeling of excitement at the prospect of an adventure, or something entirely surreal yet about to happen.

Drew’s face breaks into a smile as warm as summer itself at the sight of her. She gives a little wave, clutching his phone in her hands. It takes him a couple of seconds to cross the distance between them, and he joins her under the shade.

‘Hi,’ he says.

‘Hi.’ Addie grins back, the sheer lack of knowing what to do bringing heat to her cheeks. ‘Nice car you got there. My friend had the same one.’

He glances at the car with pride in his eyes, nodding. ‘Yeah, she’s a badass. Stuck with me through thick and thin.’

‘You got the AC?’

‘Yeah, I had it installed a few years back, when I moved here. Your friend didn’t?’

‘Nope.’ Addie shakes her head, sighing at the mere thought of the days she spent roasting in that car during midsummer roadtrips. ‘Some AC would be good right now. I walked here and honestly, I pretty much melted off. Even wearing this.’

The girl grabs a handful of the dress below her waist, the lower part of the lightest fabric she could find in her closet. It’s an ordinary summer dress meant for beaches and walks under the Mediterranean sun, light blue with flowers scattered all over it, and reaching just to her knees when still. The day is windy, so the fabric sways on the wind, pulling itself a little higher, instead.

Drew chuckles at her comment and makes one about misjudging the temperature and choosing to wear long jeans instead of shorts, and stops himself mid sentence. ‘Ah, fuck.’

Addie recognises the sigh and the eyeroll, and figures something’s up even before he runs his fingers through his hair, saying, 'I forgot something. I'll be right back.'

Before she manages to mutter ‘Okay’, he’s making a beeline for his car. She watches him take something out of the glove compartment and he’s back within seconds, holding one of the biggest Hershey’s chocolate bars Addie has ever seen, and her phone is on top of it. She lets out a small chuckle, feeling her eyebrows come closer.

Drew holds the two in front of her, scratching the back of his neck with the other hand. ‘This is a little something for the inconvenience. And – and as congratulations, you know, for getting the internship.’

‘Oh my god, you didn’t need to buy me a chocolate,’ Addie says, voice high pitched in a combination of laughter and disbelief.

‘No, I did. Just – just take it, okay?’

‘Okay, thanks.’

Addie’s fingers wrap around the chocolate and she slips her phone into her pocket, handing him his. It feels odd—this whole interaction does—and she has the stupidly childish need to stare at her feet, but she makes herself look up at him, and he does the same once he glances briefly at his phone, putting it into the back pocket of his jeans. He’s squinting a little, and she can’t tell if it’s because of the sun and the fact that he’s not wearing sunglasses, or because that way it's easier to mask the awkwardness she knows he’s also feeling.

She offers him a smile, earnest as he can, and sees his shoulders drop a little.

The smile he gives in return is so genuinely apologetic that Addie finds it sweet – contagious, too.

‘Look, I really am sorry about this whole thing. I know I keep apologising, but I mean it. The chocolate was the least I could’ve done.’

‘And it’s more than enough,’ she reassures him. ‘Honestly. You’re all good. It’s not like you tried to steal my phone.’ She squints at him, jokingly, and crosses her arms on her chest. ‘Unless...?’

It makes him laugh, wide and bright, and his hair moves gently as his head shakes. ‘Fuck no. I’m not skilled enough for that.’

‘Yeah, you’re driving an old Toyota that does’'t even come with an AC. Not good enough for a thief.’

Drew’s laughter persists, and Addie lets herself relax a little. She leans against the tree with the side of her body, a little tired of being on her feet for so long, one of her hands stuck in her pocket and the other holding onto the chocolate that's getting softer between her fingers and her palm.

The man in front of her glances around with an edge to it, just like he did back inside the supermarket.

‘I should get going,’ he says. ‘It’s an interview week, so…’

Addie smiles. ‘Yeah, it’s cool. Thanks for bringing my phone back.’

‘Once again, I’m really—’

‘Okay. It was nice seeing you again. I can’t hear you apologise one more time so I’m going to leave.’

She considers turning on her heel and pretending to walk away, but she only takes a single step back and gives him a cheeky grin, instead. Drew is staring at her, squinting a little, probably because she’s all in the sun now and her dress is more than a little reflective.

He raises two fingers, gives her a little salute. ‘Bye, then.’

Addie repeats the word, mimicking his gesture.

Drew grins at that and it’s the last she sees of his face, as he turns toward his car and walks away. He waves at her driving out of the parking lot, while Addie fumbles with her headphones and her phone, and she waves back.

The moment he’s out of sight, she walks back under the tree, completely leaning her back against it. The breeze is enjoyable now, something between comfortable and warm, and Addie feels her heart thumping in her chest. Her eyes flutter and a shaky breath leaves her lungs, lips curling into a smile. Her hands may not be sweaty, but she feels sweaty all around, and knows she should be getting home as fast as possible because of the chocolate she’s holding, but she just... she can’t.

It’s not like Addie Mallory to get her head spinning at the sight of a boy – far from it. In fact, she likes to think of herself as an experienced person with a level-headed, realistic perspective on life and everything that constitutes. She’s put her career and future first for years now, and this is the first time she feels like she’s taking baby steps when talking to someone new, instead of striding.

Except, be as it is, Drew Starkey isn’t just someone new. Even if Addie is used to meeting people of far more importance than her, it’s usually in her line of business, and it’s usually people she knows what to expect from. This is someone who she feels like she knows what to expect from except he breaks all those expectations with ease.

It’s far from being the same, so Addie allows herself to be okay with her heart racing, palms sweating, and just getting overall excited like a schoolgirl. This doesn’t make her any less mature or her priorities any less set in stone.

As Addie goes into her text messages, rereads the one from Harry Martin, she realises that her life definitely took a 180 the day before. She texts him back, letting him know she’s available whenever and apologising for the late reply. Her phone rests against her chest, warm and familiar.

She’s glad to have it back.

But, even if she’s having a hard time admitting it, she’s not glad that her story with Drew is over.

◇

05: TOMFOOLERY

tagging. @jjmaybanksbaby @taiter-tots @sacredto @snkkat @drewswannabegirl @yeslifeofateen @rudypnkw @stfukie @x-lulu @sacredto @drewstarkey @butgilinsky @solllaris @hyperactive2411 @chasefreakinstokes @surferkie @jroseron @k-k0129

#drew starkey #outer banks #obx #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x oc #outer banks fanfiction #phone swap series

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hecohansen31 · 5 years ago

Text

Royally Screwed

Ivar+Princess! Reader (Modern AU)

(Secret Project: Happy Birthday Gabi!)

(A/N): Hello there lovelies!

We are all joined here together to celebrate @flowers-in-your-hayr‘s birthday!

So be sure to give the most beautiful and most talented moodboard creator ever a huge hug and wish her ‘Happy Birthday’ because she thoroughly deserve it.

We thought that to celebrate it writing you a few stories based on a few of your most beautiful moodboards (although it was rather difficult, because... I mean... THEY ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL).

I really really hope I have made justice to your beautiful creation!

Also this was a project created by the lovely @maggiescarborough give her a round of applause for her magnificient planning!

WARNINGS: Corny Stuff, Light Mentions to the ‘90s/00s, Not Correct Princess Etiquette and Ivar Just Being a Sassy Asshole).

Moodboard was created and is owned by @flowers-in-your-hayr

It had been a simple Friday night when a princess had entered in Ivar’s life.

But he hadn’t known it, in the slightest.

In the end, he wasn’t anything more than a store clerk at the Blockbuster his uncle Floki owned, since he needed money for college, because not only he had to deal with the absence of his father, but also his mother had recently passed away from a terrible illness, battling with addiction and its hold.

Any guy of his age would have been out, probably hooking up with somebody or taking part in the usual things that boys did when they were carefree and normal.

But Ivar had never been normal.

So, on Friday at 10 p.m. he was looking at the black and white screen of a security camera as he observed the last client of the night, before the typical porno-lovers came crashing in during his night shift.

Honestly, working at a Blockbuster taught you much more about people than a pyschology major could.

And Ivar who was graduating to become a psychanalyst certainly needed all the human expertise he could gain.

Usually at this hour, it was unusual that people entered the store, even more a pretty girl with everything that made her resemble Cher from ‘Clueless’, as she moved across the many sectors, sometimes pushing forward an hand to get a movie, before pushing it back in its place, as if the cover wasn’t what it promised from the plot, noted on its back.

He knew that he was a big creep for checking her out, but he didn’t trust pretty girls like you.

He had caught a few trying to slip DVDs, under their jackets, and it had been awful trying to confront them as they played the ‘dumb blondes’ act, meanwhile he sweated through his shirt because they had this look in them that made him feel beneath them.

It was always like that with pretty girls, for him.

Whether it’d be their pity or disgust, Ivar had never felt himself being treated like an equal.

Which had been all he had wanted, his entire life.

Luckily you didn’t slip anything in your jacket, and he was glad to see you exiting empty handed, probably having been called by your bootie call, at the last moment, because it honestly made no sense for you to be there, alone.

But she didn’t move to the exit door.

No, she moved to him.

Stopping right in front of the cash desk.

In front of him.

“Can I help you with something?” he kind of expected her to ask him some kind of dumb question, because of her entire material girl appeal, but he couldn’t help but notice the slight blush on her cheeks, clearly at unease.

Something the camera hadn’t caught.

“I have been…” she bit her lips, drawing them inside of her mouth, before releasing it in some kind of vapid gesture that would have made everybody else look like an old hag “… I was browsing through the movies and… I might need a hand to choose one”.

He kind of expected you to push him in front of the eternal dilemma of watching for the umpteenth time ‘Spice Girl-The Movie’ or watching some awful corny romantic shit that was so ‘en vogue’ these days.

“… I am more than happy to help” he knew his face said the opposite of what he had told her, but he just wanted to go back to the paper he had been filling for a college class, before you had come there.

Floki had once told me that he should have tried ‘to be nicer’ to clients.

But they all took a good look at Ivar’s legs and they’d be bought.

‘Of course, he is an asshole and shit store clerk…’ they’d say exiting the shop ‘… with those legs… poor him’.

And it just made him be meaner towards clients.

But he was in for a surprise.

Because behind your material girl attitude you exited two movies: ‘Notting Hill’ and ‘Dirty Dancing’, not exactly something that completely distanced you from his initial thoughts of you, but he couldn’t deny that the vintage options definitely surprised him.

“I have never watched either of them” she commented, softly, almost ashamed and Ivar couldn’t help but lower lightly his harsh glare trying to soften its edges.

It was obvious that as much as he hated ‘party girls’, he had misjudged you.

You didn’t seem the type who’d make Ivar life a living hell, if he refused to accept back DVDs smeared with lipsticks.

“Can’t take them both?” he simply blurted out because you seemed loaded from your wardrobe.

“Ahem… I…” she blushed so graciously that Ivar honestly hadn’t the heart to keep the teasing, and lowered his harsh gaze “… my brothers think that I am already a nerd for coming here, if I came back with more than one movie, well they…”.

“I do know something about brothers teasing you” he muttered, as she smiled so openly that it made him smirk lightly and he then proceeded to shift his attention away from your pretty naïve expression, because it was making him feel lightly sweaty…

… and blushy.

“I’d tell you that ‘Dirty Dancing’ is a classic, undoubtedly one of the trashest things to pass a night…” he couldn’t help but adore the light giggle she let out, as she moved a finger in her hair, lightly twisting a strand of hair against it, and ok…

… Ivar had always hated it when girls did, but Gosh… you were adorable.

“… but?” you asked, softly, understanding that he was stalling, as he grabbed ‘Notting Hill’ from you.

“But this is the real shit” he commented.

He knew that he didn’t seem the type who enjoyed those movies, but one some days of his job he was left with nothing to do and he had watched an awful lot of movies, starting to develop a certain passion for a few of them.

Some even that certainly wouldn’t have been approved by the Lothbrock clan.

But she was a stranger, somebody he wouldn’t have ever seen again.

So, he could confess her all the qualities of Notting Hill, meanwhile she looked at him truly enthralled by what he said.

“… boy meets girl, except she is just a superstar actress, and then… they meet again and they fall out and… it certainly gives you a lot of reasons not go out with a public celebrity” he muttered, seeing that tic of biting her lips return, as she grimaced lightly at his words, but eventually she smiled at him, getting the money from her pockets to rent it.

“Ok, you got me hooked up on it”.

He moved to take the money as he registered the loan, but he caught her looking at the ‘Dirty Dancing’ DVD, as if she was extremely sad that she couldn’t take it home, alongside ‘Notting Hill’.

He damned himself for pretty girls and their twirling fingers, having everything wrapped around them.

“What if I push ‘Dirty Dancing’ aside for you?” he asked.

It wasn’t against any policy, but he usually didn’t do any favor to the clients, preferring to simply register their loans or what they had bought.

But he knew what it meant to ache for a little comfort, in life.

For a soft and free gentleness.

“Oh… is that possible?” she seemed honestly surprised he’d do it for her, as if people had never been selflessly gentle with her “Because if it is, I’d love that”.

“Don’t worry” he muttered, as he moved to push the DVD of ‘Dirty Dancing’ under the cash desk, taking a small piece of paper “… just give me a name and phone number”.

She seemed unsure, and he couldn’t blame her: he could be a creep simply asking for a phone number.

But she ended up giving it to him, as he registered it quickly, under her name and he then added the small paper inside the DVD box, again hiding under the cash desk, so that Floki would know that it wasn’t simply a mismatched edition.

“Thank you very much” her tone was again damnably genuine, and Ivar couldn’t fight against the small smirk that appeared on his face.

“Ahh don’t worry, everybody these days, is just interested in the umpteenth rerun of Beverly Hills 90210, so you haven’t made me lose any money” he replied, trying to seem the most detached he could “… just come back next week, letting me know how much your brothers enjoyed it”.

She erupted in a little giddy laughter and he honestly swore that there and then, his heart had stopped for a minute beating, before she took in the bag from his hand, after he had eased off the security measures and given her the small piece of paper with the return date.

“I do think that they’ll cry more than me” she muttered softly before she turned towards the door and Ivar felt like he could breathe again.

And then she twirled another time, the movement lightly making her skirt raise a bit, as he stole a sneaky glance at your thighs.

Gosh, Hvitserk was right, he had a problem.

“Have a nice night!”.

Hadn’t he been smitten with her, already, he’d just have replied something torturously awful, such as ‘thank you, I’ll enjoy having to deal with couples looking a way to spice up their lives with awful porn videos’.

But he simply smiled, the creepiest smile he could deliver since he could see it on the reflecting surface of the glass doors of the shop, as he simply waved slowly his hand to salute her, and then she rushed outside, to an awaiting car.

An awaiting expensive car.

And Ivar fell back on his chair.

And thought about why the heck his heart wouldn’t stop beating that fast.

A few days later he was watching TV with that fucktard of Heahmund, his college roomie.

They hadn’t exactly chosen to be roommates, but Heahmund had been kicked out by too many religious confraternities to have the luxury of a choice.

So, Ivar had been assigned to him, because of his perfect behavior during his college years, hoping it’d influence the other man.

They had begrudgingly set up some rules, and although Ivar hadn’t still got used to Heahmund’s silly faith, they hadn’t killed each other in their sleep yet.

He was watching TV, as he tried to compile an email for his brothers to let them know that they should have worked harder to get back their legacy from Lagertha, who had screwed over their father and mother, and then he saw her, the girl from the store, on TV.

It was definitely because he recognized her thighs.

Gosh, he was a fucking pervert.

She was dressed in an elegant suit, with a tube skirt and an elegant white shirt, matched perfectly with the light blue of the entire ensemble and with your hair brought up in a rather royal hairstyle.

Perfect for the crown nestled on top of her head.

A glimmering tiara on it.

“Turn the fucking volume on” he muttered at a very stoned Heahmund, who was looking half-mindedly the TV, just shooting a confused look at Ivar, who just stole the TV remote from his hand to switch on the audio, catching right when a journalist moved to ask you in the secluded area of what looked like a non-American talk-show with subtitles.

And even your voice corresponded.

“So, you are going to America next week, am I right? Aren’t you excited?” the interviewer asked as if she was the more excited about it of the two, meanwhile the girl from the store (or maybe it was better to say ‘the princess from the store’) smiled awkwardly, definitely not at ease with the affectionate tone of the journalist.

“Yes, of course! I mean it’s America!” the laughter of her reply sounded so fake, that Ivar couldn’t help but be embarrassed at the awkwardness of the situation “… I am just glad to leave home for the first time”.

The last mumble still was sincere, and pretty quickly the interview was cut, bringing it to a more general scheme, which said it all about the mysterious princess of some strange country he had never heard of.

Born and raised inside of a palace, she had two older brothers to whom the crown wouldn’t have been passed down, since the line was transmitted through mother-to-daughter, and she’d be taking the crown at the age of twenty-five, replacing her father’s regency, after her mother’s death.

Why did it have to sound so much like ‘Cinderella’?

Unlike her brothers, she was known for being private about her life, having graduated in a private university in England, early, and being involved in a few humanitarian projects.

She’d be staying in America for a few weeks both to explore the country and to talk about modern matters with a few of politicians, to also expose the openness of her native country.

And Ivar had met you in the shithole of his uncle’s store.

He had always thought that Hugh Grant was a fucking idiot in ‘Notting Hill’ after he had met Julia Roberts’ character, but Gosh… he was glad he hadn’t you in front of him, in that moment, because he’d have probably asked her too if you wanted ‘peaches with honey’.

The focus of the reportage was now onto her again, changed in much more comfortable clothes, although they undoubtedly looked expensive.

She smiled at the camera and then bit her lips, lightly, but definitely showing she wasn’t used to this kind of attention on herself, and he couldn’t blame her, since he had the same problem with barely his family.

‘I really hope to find a second home in America” she closed the interview, waving softly her goodbyes with a soft kiss.

And then Heahmund had to ruin his fantasy.

“You know where you can find a new home? On my…” and before he could complete the awful phrase, Ivar hit him in his head with the remote “… ouch, what the fucking hell?!”.

“Next time be a gentleman” simply mumbled Ivar.

“Is that what your mommy taught you, Ivar dear?” grimaced Heahmund in a sickly sweet tone but Ivar didn’t accept the provocation, simply ignoring his roommate, who went back to his observing of the screen without no noise, as if he was trying to communicate with it.

He should have seriously thought about renting an apartment with Hvitserk, as his brother had suggested.

And he should have thought about having to face her again, with the knowledge that you were a princess.

That Friday night he had been secretly praying she wouldn’t show up, that the phone number was fake and that it was just a big trip of his stupid mind.

But she did show up, this time in a different mise: something like a mixed version between Madonna in her videoclip of ‘Like a Virgin’ and some grunge aesthetic mixed up with the inevitable touch of her ‘material girl’ appearance.

She immediately approached the cash clerk, saluting him as if he was an old friend.

And he, like an idiot, did the waving right back.

‘C’mon, Ivar it isn’t going to be so bad’ he tried to calm himself down ‘… just start a normal conversation, avoid mentioning that she is a princess and give her the damned DVD’.

“Hi” she mumbled softly as he moved to promptly grab the DVD “Thank you for the suggestion! I loved it… the entire interview thing… and ‘I am just a girl…’… but I am blabbering”.

“Ahem no no” he reassured her, shaking his head, as he tried to shake himself out of the stupor of having a princess in his store “… I am glad you liked it”.

“Well, thank you for the suggestion” she shot back, definitely not at ease with awkward silence “… now can I get ‘Dirty Dancing’?”.

“Of course, your highness” it might have passed off as a simple sarcastic joke, but his tone went suddenly serious, and her eyes rushed to his, nervous, obviously even more at unease, after she had been discovered.

“… Gosh… you have seen the shit on TV, haven’t you?”.

He didn’t know whether to be more impressed by the fact that she had read through him immediately or that she had said ‘shit’.

Were princesses even allowed to say that?

“… yeah” he muttered back, as she looked up at the roof, before she uttered down a big huff.

“Please do me a favor and just… don’t tell anybody that I was here”.

“I don’t think that anybody would ever believe me” he shot back, wondering whether he should have respected any etiquette and curtsied to her.

But if she was trying to hide her true identity it probably meant she didn’t want to be treated as a princess.

And she smiled at his comment.

“Thank you, not that I have anything against this place, I honestly like it, and wouldn’t want to move away, again…” she explained calmly, her hands again going to her hair.

“It must be hard” he commented, lightly sarcastic, as he passed the ‘Dirty Dancing’ DVD, unloading the safety on it “… Gosh, don’t you have a better way to pass a Friday night?”.

His tone was harsh, but she didn’t back down, as she held his gaze.

Her tenderness definitely had a limit.

“… I am not one for the parties my brothers attend” she smirked sadly, as she pushed back herself from the counter, lightly adjusting the leather jacket she was wearing over her shoulders “… and every diplomatic event I was supposed to be at, either was too boring or people assumed that I was the waitress”.

“Certainly not because of your impeccable sense of style” he complimented her, a light dash of blush immediately on her cheeks, as she set her eyes on her heeled mary-janes.

“I do have to say that if I walked in dressed like this, they’d probably call security” she mumbled, again giving him a twirl of her skirt “… but thank you for having taste, one of the few things that I like doing in America is dressing as crazily as I want to”.

“If you think that it crazy, sweetheart, you haven’t seen nothing yet” he replied tightly, raising his eyes to meet hers, finding them truly amused, before a sudden light appeared in her eyes, a mischievous light.

“When do you end your shift?” she asked, pushing herself on the rubber tips of her mary-janes as Ivar tried to calm himself down from the fact that a pretty girl, a princess actually, had just asked him out… or so he thought.

“In an hour” Floki had given him a shorter shift, due to the fact that he had told him he’d need a bit of time to study for an important exam, which would be happening on Monday “… but I wouldn’t suggest you hanging out with me, I suck at the conversation stuff”.

“But your taste in movies is good” she retorted as one of her hands moved on the cash desk.

“I could be a psycho”.

“A psycho wouldn’t say that”.

He couldn’t understand the reason behind why she’d want to hang out with him.

She was a princess.

He was a store clerk with a genetic disease and an awful personality.

Things like this only happened in movies and fairytales

“… but if you don’t want to hang out with me, I get it…” she seemed low key used to it, as if it wasn’t unusual for pretty princess like her to get rejected “… just forgive me, I’ll go back and watch ‘Dirty Dancing’, alone…”.

“Don’t make me feel guilty” he muttered under his breath “… I’ll hang with you, but you have to promise me that you’ll watch a few good movies”.

“I have an hour to kill”.

Her smile had him by the balls.

And he knew he was royally screwed.

After waiting for an hour, watching ‘Dirty Dancing’ on the store TV, Ivar finished his turn and he locked the shop beside him, as she waited for him outside, smirking.

She hadn’t seemed too fazed by Ivar’s legs, as she had seen them, and if she was, she didn’t show it on her face and she looked completely at ease, outside, although she pushed the hood of her hoodie over her head, to hide her face.

“Aren’t you seriously worried that I might turn out to be a psycho?” Ivar asked, sure that there would be more behind all of this.

She could actually be the psycho.

And yet he couldn’t push himself away from her.

“I don’t get those vibes from you, and no offense…” she shot a quick look at her legs “…but I was on the run team”.

“Gosh, are you even real?” he threw back, as he led her inside to the nicest fast food chain, still open.

“My brothers say that I am from another era” she joked, as she sat down in front of him meanwhile he busied himself from the menu, more to hide himself than because he needed to check it out, since he basically lived in this place “… one where girls hid behind folding fans and wore petticoats”.

“What the hell is a petticoat?” he mumbled, but they were interrupted by the waitress asking their orders, sending Ivar an impressed look, as he hid further in the menu.

They spent a few more minutes in a comfortable small talk, talking about whatever ran around their mind, in a strange and natural chemistry that flooded, as she muttered of everything in the least princess-y style.

But her impeccable manners immediately came back, as she tried to cut through a burger with her knife and fork, making Ivar inevitably laugh, and he had to explain her that in America ‘eating with your hands is proper’.

“… America is strange” she mumbled lightly.

“You can say so”.

But he was soon distracted by the way she moved to eat the burger, very very much surprised that a princess could be so disgraceful.

“… don’t laugh… please” she mumbled as soon as she realized that he was staring “… my brothers bullied me for it”.

“Something that we have in common” he replied directly.

“You also were bullied by your brothers?” she asked surprisedly.

“Yeah and I hadn’t simply two… but four”.

“Wow, your mother deserves an award”.

“She would have loved that” a slight ghost of pain appeared in his eyes as he shielded them away from her, but she caught it just in time.

“I am sorry” she seemed honestly moved by what he had just said, sending him a soft look.

“Thanks” he muttered, before rushing to shift the attention away “… so do you have any weird habits that I should know of, uptown girl?”.

“Now you are being a psycho” she replied, as she pushed herself up from the drink she was gulping down.

“I told you”.

They both erupted in laughter, which kept happening also after they left the fast food restaurant so Ivar could accompany her back to her hotel.

‘You don’t have to’ she had tried to persuade him, again that expression of surprise at him being nice with her ‘… I’ll just get a taxi’.

‘I do think that you’ll take more to call a taxi than to arrive by feet’ he had shot back ‘… and also, as the true psycho that I am… I have to see where you live so that I can send you black dahlias, each day’.

She had just told him that if he wanted to send her anything, he should have thought about sunflowers.

‘They are my favorites!’.

At the entrance of the expensive hotel, they both were stalling, as if neither of them wanted to leave.

“It was nice…” he muttered, looking down at his doc martens “… I mean…”.

“I totally get it” she stopped him softly “… tonight I had the most fun I have had since I came in America”.

“Gosh, then you seriously had a shitty experience!”.

Again laughter, and then an obnoxious sound trilling through their soft awkward laughs, making her reach out in her pockets and get out a small bedazzled cellphone, making Ivar laugh, as she shushed him with a quick look, before she moved to reply.

“… yeah yeah, I am at the hotel” she muttered quickly in English, before she moved in a softer tone and in a different language, although from her voice, she was annoyed with whoever had called her, eventually ending the call as the other person was still talking to her.

She just sent him a quick look, before shaking her head.

“… my brothers just got back from a party and didn’t find him inside”.

“Don’t you have bodyguards?” he had been surprised by how freely she was allowed to go outside.

“Ahem… I might have sent them to get me food and then escaped the room” he sent you an impressed look “… that is what happens when people think that you aren’t some kind of ‘rebellious party girl’ “.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me” he smirked lightly, making her giggle.

That sound honestly would have lulled him to sleep, that night.

“Thank you…” her mutter was so soft, that he was sure that the light nightly breeze would have swept it away from him “… not solely for keeping the secrets, but also for the good night”.

“It was my pleasure, your highness” he retorted with a haughty look, as she just shot him light smirk before she pushed her shoulder straighter in a truly royal pose.

And she commented before slipping inside.

“It’s your Brilliance, actually”.

And Ivar wasn’t sure if he had just imagined it or it was real.

Either way, he went to sleep with a smile on his face.

She kept on showing up to his work, to the point that Floki asked him, if ‘his crippled ass had finally gotten himself a pretty girl’.

But he had simply replied that she was just somebody who had started sticking around him.

‘Whatever you say, asshole’ had replied Floki with a wink, before she came to gain a few movie suggestions, and as soon as his turn was over, she’d be already waiting, either a leather jacket or a denim one on her shoulders, for them to discover the newest and greasiest fast food, America could offer.

He had once muttered about how he never thought that princesses enjoyed ‘that shit’.

‘I have been feeding on broccolis, since I was five’ she had retorted with a stern look ‘… I’ll take “that shit” over everything else’.

He had discovered that being a princess wasn’t in the slightest as amazing as he had thought, but still she couldn’t deny that many of the chances she got in life were because of her titles.

Which just made it all worse.

‘I never know if people are truly nice with me because they truly like me or if they… do it because I am a princess’ she had been playing with her food, suddenly sated, as she hid her eyes from him ‘… and they want something from me’.

He knew that she was examining him still, almost as if to see in which one of the sections he fell in.

‘Yeah, you know, it’d be nice, if her royal Brilliance paid for her burgers’ he had retorted, as she had giggled lightly, before she had gone one step further and paid for the all the fast food clients of the night, getting a crazed look from their waitress, meanwhile Ivar’s open mouth fell almost to his feet.

They then had to rush off, since it wouldn’t undoubtedly attract curious eyes.

Some days they’d just crack up jokes and talk about movies and sometimes they’d sit in comfortable silence, needing simply a look to be understood.

It took Ivar a whole week to fall in love with a princess.

He couldn’t deny that whenever she’d smile at him, his heart almost wanted to jump out of this chest.

And whenever they’d have to separate, because she had to go back, he’d be left almost dealing with the side effects of it.

But although his feelings were as evident as ever, he had to hide them from her.

Because, although she might have found a perfect jester in Ivar, she wasn’t the type of girl that went for the cripple.

And she had a crown to keep on her head.

So, it was fun while it lasted.

But when it wouldn’t, anymore…

… it’d break his heart.

That day he had noticed that she didn’t look as comfortable as the previous nights, her mind pushed off away from him, almost as if she was hiding it from him, because she knew that her eyes would reveal all the truth.

And her replies were as weak as your laugh.

And he had had enough.

“… did you lose your crown, in all your designer clothes?” he had harshly commented, although he knew that she wouldn’t take it personally.

“I am going back tomorrow” she revealed, finally raising her face, her lips pushed in a grimace, almost as if the words tasted sour in her mouth “… I have nothing more to do, and I’ll go back, since I have more etiquette lessons to attend”.

The joke didn’t sound half as funny as it should have been, almost being choked in her mouth.

And Ivar couldn’t help but say nothing.

He knew that it’d happen…

… but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

And so abruptly.

“I have a flight at 5 p.m., tomorrow, so I don’t think that there’ll be any other nightly rampages” again nothing in her tone sounded as joyful as it should have been.

He was glad he wouldn’t be the only one feeling like shit.

In the first days, he had simply believed that after she’d be leaving him, everything would go back to how it was.

It’d be just ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’.

But right now… he didn’t know if he could go back to a time before her.

If he wanted to go back

Because although it hurt, the thought of having lived those moments.

They almost warmed up his cold and dark heart.

“I’ll miss you” it was the closest he could come to admitting his feelings

And before he knew it, she was bringing him in a tight hug, something wet staining his stupid work uniform, but he didn’t care as he held her tighter

There weren’t many words as you said ‘goodbye’, in a light and soft way, almost as if they both didn’t believe it.

But it had to happen.

And yet, as he woke up that morning, with the beautiful sound of his awful roommate bumping in the coffee table, he couldn’t help but think that he wouldn’t see her lounging annoyedly by the cash desk, asking him with her fluttery eyes whether they’d be leaving soon or she had the time to watch ‘Grease’.

He wouldn’t have anybody to tease, because she could ride horses but still was scared of dogs, hiding behind Ivar.

And he wouldn’t have anybody that truly understood him.

But what was truly eating him inside was the fact that she’d go without knowing truly how he felt about her.

He had hated the main character of any rom-com, who did amazing but stupid things, because they certainly didn’t work in real life.

There were a few thousands reasons why he might have trouble getting past the security measures at the airport, just to tell her ‘I really like you’.

And to be rejected in front of anybody?

He wasn’t Jerry McGuire.

Although you were prettier than Reneé Zellweger.

One more reason not to run at the airport and get dumped there.

And then he heard a knocking on the door.

He hoped it wasn’t Ubbe with his monthly check, because his house smelled like pot and he had some girl’s underwear on his sofa.

But it was worse: it was you.

“Before you accuse me of stalking, Floki gave me your address, yesterday” she commented promptly, decked in definitely a more elegant assemble than the ones you usually wore, with a long trench-coat hiding a lilac sweater and a checkered skirt.

“… I… I’ll kill Floki” he would have definitely.

And then set fire to the fucking store.

“Oh c’mon, he seems a nice boss” she replied, biting her lips, a dash of natural blush on her adorable cheeks.

“… he gave my address to a stranger”.

“A royal stranger” she reminded him “Not that I don’t love talking here, but my heels are killing me, so can I move inside?”.

He took in a deep breath, before pinching his hip, to assure himself this wasn’t a dream, and he ducked his head, inside to see if Heahmund had passed out on the floor or he had reached his room safely.

“Yeah, but just… close your eyes, I’ll guide you”.

“You went back to the creepy questions” but she still closed her eyes as she stepped inside, immediately sniffling the air around “… nice smell”.

“Thank you, it’s pot” he mumbled, rushing in his room, as she giggled beside him.

And when they were both inside, he couldn’t help but realize that he had his own Anna Scott, in his own house.

And he wasn’t acting any better than Hugh Grant.

As he sat down on his bed, she circled his room, curiosity shining in her eyes, as if it was a completely different and exciting world for her.

“Not that I don’t mind seeing your royal ass, but… what are you doing here?” he asked, a bit harsh, because he couldn’t help but feel insecure about this entire situation “… don’t you have an airplane to take?”.

“I couldn’t” she mumbled, almost as if it was the most natural thing “… my brothers are going back, I have… I have asked around and I’ll stick here to be a diplomatic”.

This time it was Ivar who bit his lips, nervously.

‘Don’t think that she has done it for you!’.

“Good! I can give you a proper education on cinematographic masterpieces”.

They both erupted in an awkward laugh, but then she moved closer to him, sitting down beside him on his bed.

That was the closest he had ever come to a woman.

“… I was hoping… but maybe… I got it all wrong…” she stammered through her words “… but I really like spending time with you, and it makes me feel normal…”.

He looked at her as if she was revealing him some universal truth.

“… and that isn’t something that many people have made me feel like…I always… I’d just like to maybe get to know you more than simply for your favorite movies…”.

That still didn’t mean anything.

“Ok” he mumbled “… but we can do it over emails”.

She looked up at the roof of the room, as if she was exasperated that he wasn’t simply getting it.

And finally, she smashed her lips against his.

And his body was definitely faster than his mind, gently bringing him closer as their mouths met again and again, till they were breathless, but she still uttered.

“Can you do that through emails?”.

Five years later, a crown on her head and a ring on her fingers, Ivar was standing at the other end of a big altar in a meek and private church of your native country.

It wasn’t exactly private, if he thought about all the cameras carefully set up everywhere to broadcast the royal wedding live.

But he had married a princess.

So, what could he have truly expected?

His princess had stayed in America for a year, before being called back to your country, but Ivar had moved back to your native country with her, having converted his degree into one that could be followed online.

Except that he hadn’t much to leave behind, starting a great adventure, with her.

His brothers? They would have been fine without him, even better.

His grudge against Lagertha? He could still operate better from another country.

Floki? He, himself, had told him to move the fuck away and get himself the princess.

In the end, there wasn’t anything holding him back and certainly his mother would have just approved.

She would have greatly approved his princess.

Who didn’t approve of this marriage was… her father.

He hadn’t said much when she had come back with a common boy, even more… a cripple.

But he hadn’t been truly problematic till you had mentioned your willingness to marry Ivar, after he had asked you the faithful question.

He hadn’t expected your father’s resistance, although he should have predicted it.

But in a few days the question had moved from a simple ‘no’, to a question of power and dynasty, since her father had stopped her from legally marrying Ivar.

And then she had told him that if he did forbid her from marrying Ivar, she would have gladly forsaken the crown.

Ivar had then told her to just forget about him, almost booked his travel back to America with a heavy heart, but he had thought to make the right choice, the brave one.

And the following day he had found her with her suitcase done and a ticket back to America, with him.

Then her father had started seeing the light, even more because her brothers, who teased Ivar endlessly, had pushed back their own right to the crown, forsaking it, if she ended up being dethroned.

And in the end her father had allowed the wedding.

‘You’ll regret it’ had mumbled her father but she had just smiled.

And Ivar now felt horridly stuck between two fires.

At unease in his elegant designer suit, as Helga held him close, since she had insisted on supporting him, alongside Floki and his brothers, who had come there for it, meeting his soon-to-be-bride a few days before the wedding.

It was useless to say they had all been impressed.

Although his family was more wanted by her, than actually him.

It just made him feel more nervous.

And he had to admit that he had been having a bad case of cold feet since the previous night.

It just…

He wasn’t used to be under the scrutiny of thousands of thousands of people.

They were probably thinking ‘look at this idiotic princess, falling in love with a cripple with anger issues’.

And then she walked in, hand in hand with her father.

He knew that she’d wear something that would look amazingly on her, some tulle atrocity, but in the end, it turned to be even more stunning than he had thought.

The dress didn’t make her seem like a cake, but instead elegantly slid down her body in a long and elegant trail, decorated with trims of lace that hid her face.

But he could still see her energetic smile.

Her honest smile.

And the cold feet melted with the floor under them, as he smiled right back at her, sure of what was going to happen.

Sure, that he wanted this royal wedding.

As she came by his side, silence following him, he finally breathed.

Loudly.

Making her laugh lightly, as she joined their hands, although it wasn’t protocol.

But when had she ever cared about it?

“We are here reunited to join princess (Y/N) of (N/C) and Ivar Lothbrock for the prosperity of the reign”.

Ivar couldn’t listen anymore to judge of peace you had chosen, since Ivar wasn’t catholic, another break in the protocol.

And he did another, as he gently whispered in your hear.

‘You are lovelier now than you have ever been’.

“Don’t be corny” she mumbled keeping her head straighter, as she faked listening to judge.

“I was just quoting Notting Hill” he replied, pouting lightly and faking of being perfectly still for the camera.

“After all... I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her” she retorted, and he cracked up a light laugh.

“Will you leave the ‘don’t put baby in a corner’ for the vows?” he joked, gaining an enormous side-eye by his father-in-law.

“Just you wait, prince Ivar, just you wait”.

---

(Ivar Taglist)

@youbloodymadgenius @alexhandersenx @peaceisadirtyword @fckingdiva

#Ivar #Ivar The Boneless #Ivar Reader #Ivar x Reader #Ivar Imagine #Ivar Fic #Ivar The Boneless Fic #Ivar Fluff #Fluff #Modern! Ivar #Modern AU #Ivar Lothbrock #Ivar Lothbrock Imagine #Ivar Ragnarrson #Ivar Ragnarsson Imagine #Vikings #History Vikings #Vikings Imagine

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shitfics · 4 years ago

Text

Up in the Air; onjongtae; nc-17

Taemin’s friendship with Jinki has been strained for months. When Jinki ditches their evening plans once again without explanation, Taemin follows him to see what Jinki had abandoned him for. He finds Jinki in the arms of a charming air pirate named Jonghyun—and after a few rounds of drinks, finds their relationship even more intriguing than it had first appeared.

AO3 LINK

I started this a few months back when I started replaying Skies of Arcadia. Consider it part of my ‘revisiting the setting of old unrated JRPGs with the Digital Devil Saga inspired fic. ^^ This has always been one of my favorite RPG settings. Though it can be a bit cheesy, it’s wholesome and fun.

I want to apologize/prewarn that this may be pretty low-quality, but hopefully isn’t confusing or riddled with too many errors. I didn’t really have anyone to beta it so I did the proofreading myself, even though I’m terrible at that. Whether or not hammocks can actually be used the way they are in this fic, I have no idea, but I prioritized horniness over physics here.

There is a bit of a hanging ending because I have a semi-complete plot for this verse, though I don’t know if I’ll revisit it since I’m busy with original things. So the open/kinda sad ending here is definitely not the ‘real’ one. Since this is a oneshot, I’ve gone ahead and put the full fic below the cut.

Taemin ran a thumb along the cork of the wine bottle in his lap.

Jinki should’ve shown up by now. This afternoon, Taemin had been late for his daily briefing from the Valuan Armada because he’d slipped away to remind Jinki of their plans. There was no chance Jinki could have forgotten, and it wasn’t as if their plans required any preparations. They were going to meet for drinks and cards after dinner. That was all Taemin had asked for.

And yet, despite all Taemin’s reminders, the plan had fallen through. Taemin set the bottle down on the table hard enough to rattle the still-empty glasses. When was the last time they’d gotten to spend time alone? Months ago?

With every day his mother got older, the court circled closer to him, desperate for some sort of connection before the Empress died and his ass was permanently cemented on the throne. Nobles that had ignored him for years, thinking their efforts at winning favor were better spent on his mother, now acted like his best friend. Taemin pretended not to notice and dismissed them as smoothly as he could. He didn’t want sycophants. If he was ever going to take advice, he wanted it to be from someone that had always been there for him.

Only he didn’t have someone like that anymore. That was becoming more and more apparent.

Tonight wasn’t the first time Jinki had snubbed him. For the past year, Jinki had withdrawn. They no longer shared tables at parties, no longer met in the Armada training yards to hone their swordplay or marksmanship, no longer sent each other suffering looks when an admiral decided to ruin an evening with inflated tales of the latest land they had conquered or air pirate they had apprehended.

Well. Taemin still sent Jinki looks—they just weren’t returned.

Taemin had tried to broach the distance between them. Surely, something had gone wrong to make their friendship to change so drastically. But every time he asked, Jinki would give him that damned glowing smile and insist things were the same—he was just tired, or busy, or distracted. Taemin would feel stupid for worrying and drop it, then feel stupid again once the evening was done and he returned to the royal wing with a knot in his chest.

He gave Jinki another quarter hour. The rapid-fire thwacks as Taemin shuffled his cards drowned out the unrelenting ticks of the grandfather clock, but his eyes never left it.

The quarter hour passed. Five more minutes, he told himself. Then one last shuffle, as if that were a unit of time.

His hands shook—with rage, hurt, or shame, he didn’t know—and when the two stacks of cards interlocked and bent, he misjudged their placement. The edges caught, sending the deck flying out the two neat stacks and across the table.

Taemin swore and stood, leaving the cards scattered.

The door of the lounge slammed behind him. He stomped towards the wing of the palace where Jinki spent most of his nights. Though his family had a mansion a short walk away in Upper City, they kept a suite at the palace, too. His mother and father were heavy enough drinkers that a closer place to crash after parties was prudent.

Taemin rapped a gloved hand against the door. The head servant of their palace staff answered, eyes widening when he recognized Taemin. The poor man wasn’t at fault for Jinki’s failure to appear, so Taemin tried to manage a smile.

“Good evening,” Taemin said. “I’m looking for Jinki. He was supposed to meet me in the Silver Moon lounge for drinks. Is he in there? Is it possible he’s gone to the wrong room for our meeting?”

“I’m sorry, your highness. I wasn’t aware he had a meeting with you. He’s left for the night.”

Taemin froze. “Left?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“And he didn’t tell you what for?”

The man shook his head. “I’m sure it must have been urgent, if he abandoned your appointment without speaking to you first.”

“I’m sure it was.” Taemin crossed his arms and scowled. If Jinki didn’t want to be friends with him any longer, the least he could do was say it. “Thanks for letting me know, at least.”

“Of course, your highness. I apologize again for his absence.”

The servant gave a hasty bow and shut the door with a too-loud click, no doubt eager to escape a pissed-off prince.

Taemin stared at the lacquered oak, then snapped out of his daze and paced the hall as he tried to decide what to do with another night alone. He stopped at one of the palace’s dozen balconies that looked over the grounds and squinted through the fog. Under the yellow moon and its constant storms, even wealth and magic weren’t enough to create the sort of lush and well-tended gardens royalty possessed in books. Instead, their status was displayed through fountains, statues, intricate marble pathways, and electric lamps to make up for the lack of natural color.

Though the rainfall was no more than a drizzle—a rarity—only a few figures strolled the grounds. Taemin propped an elbow against the window ledge and watched. The lights cast everything in a faint, murky yellow, but he could make out the black piping of a familiar coat at a distance.

His jaw flexed in anger. He’d recognize that stupid out of fashion garment anywhere.

Dashing down the stairs, he ran towards an exit that would put him closest to where he’d spotted Jinki.

He needed to see what was so damn important to make Jinki skip out on him.

The way out sent him past one of the palace’s dozen laundry rooms. He grabbed a plain outfit and rain cloak as he passed through, figuring a change of clothes would help him escape notice if he had to tail Jinki further out of the palace grounds.

Jinki’s pace was leisurely, and Taemin’s rush allowed him to catch up with Jinki just as he reached one of the lesser-used and lazily-guarded gates between the palace and the Upper City.

They both passed through without questions. When they reached a crowded strip of brightly-lit theatres, shops, and pubs, Taemin almost lost interest in his pursuit—what could be found in one opulent drinking place that wasn’t found in the palace?—but he continued to follow until Jinki ducked into an alleyway.

The alley was empty when Taemin rounded the corner. He swore, convinced that he’d lost Jinki, then spotted an open manhole cover. He approached the entrance slowly, nose wrinkling at the stink that emitted from inside. After waiting a minute to give Jinki a better lead, he climbed down the ladder.

Grabbing clothes turned out to be a brilliant idea. Taemin changed out of his dinner clothes as he walked along the dark tunnel, heart racing. Judging by its direction and slope, the tunnel led to the Lower City. The new clothes wouldn’t allow him to blend in perfectly, but at least they weren’t silk, and the cloak would cover most of it. He’d only have to worry about his boots.

Finally, he reached an end and another open manhole. Taemin climbed up, worried if he waited too long he’d lose Jinki in the unfamiliar streets above. When he emerged into another alley, all he had to do was step out onto the street to find Jinki again.

Taemin closed the distance between them. The constant rumble of thunder drowned out his heaviest footsteps, and even if Jinki turned, only half of the street lamps worked. The few that did flickered, switching the appearance of those passing beneath them from pallid to jaundiced on a whim. Only the periodic flash of lightning might give away his face, but Jinki never looked back.

They wound their way through the dirty streets of Lower City, until finally, Jinki approached one of the battered buildings that lined the stone-and-cement paths.

A pub.

Taemin let him enter alone. Why would Jinki come here? And why would he refuse to tell anyone about it? If he simply wanted to avoid Taemin or the other nobility and drink alone, it’d make sense, but the visit was hardly illicit. Plenty of nobles enjoyed visiting the Lower City for their less-than-legal affairs or an unrestrained night on the town. If Jinki enjoyed slumming it, Taemin couldn’t imagine why he’d keep it so secret.

One of the pub’s walls was half open, separated from an outside porch by a single counter. A tin veranda protected the crowd and tables that spilled outside from the steady rain. Most of the drinkers appeared to be workers, judging by the soot and ash that covered their arms and breeches. There were others—a few low-ranking soldiers and off-duty servants as well—but one table stood out amongst the rest.

The men and women seated there wore mismatched clothes, some in dresses, vests, scarves, and shirts. All were armed, visibly or otherwise. And each outfit had one thing in common: a touch of blue.

Blue Rogues. Pirates.

Taemin shifted his attention to the entry and exit of the pub and waited. If Jinki stayed inside, Taemin would have to go in to observe him and risk being noticed. Outside, he might have a chance.

After what felt like hours, Jinki reappeared under the veranda with an overflowing mug in hand. He moved through the crowd with ease and a clear destination: the table of Blue Rogues.

Taemin’s eyes widened. Surely, Jinki was meeting with someone Taemin didn’t see—someone behind the pirates and out of view, or some friend that had somehow gotten roped into their lively game of cards—but when Jinki arrived, the entire table of Blue Rogues cheered.

Jinki returned the greetings with half-hugs and laughter as he made his way around the table. Taemin watched, lips parted in shock, when Jinki finally stopped—and climbed into the lap of the eyepatched man at the head of it.

Heat raced to Taemin’s face. Oh, moons.

The man stole a kiss, then steered Jinki around by his hips to face the table and pressed a drink into his hand. The chatter and card games at the table resumed, though a few gazes lingered on the pair.

To Jinki, the whole event was plainly routine. He sipped from his mug, unbothered as the man— pirate— beneath him ran a hand along his ribs.

Taemin weighed his next action. This certainly wasn’t what he expected to find after following Jinki. But if he went back to the palace, what was he going to do? Sleep like normal, as if Jinki hadn’t ditched him and snuck out that very night to fuck a Blue Rogue?

He’d never cared before who Jinki slept with. It wasn’t his business. But Jinki had made this particular man his business by abandoning their plans for this.

Taemin tightened his cloak around himself and marched into the pub.

Immediately, he felt out of place. No primly uniformed server came to greet him at the door and escort him to an exclusive table sectioned off from the others with velvet curtains. The ordering system here was cut-throat. Shouts for drinks and meals rose over the din, with the returned yell from staff shielded from the overflowing drinks and food scraps by only a dirtied apron.

Content to be ignored, Taemin wove through the crowded pub until he reached the door to the patio. He hovered at the threshold, hesitant—this might be his last chance to go unnoticed—and jumped when a man shoved past him.

“Watch it, kid,” the man grumbled. “You’re blocking the whole fucking door.”

Taemin righted himself just before he fell. His heart pounded. He was completely out of his element. But he wasn’t turning back now. Jinki would never expect him to appear here, and maybe that would be the shock the man needed to realize what an ass he’d been for the past few months.

He kept his chin high as he approached the Blue Rogues. If there was one thing he knew about that sort of pirate, it was that they respected confidence. He stopped beside Jinki and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Good evening, Jinki.”

Instantly, he regretted his choice of greeting. Half the table turned to him, some with snickers, some with only a raised brow or puckered lips in mockery of his Upper City accent.

He flushed, but refused to step back. Jinki took his time turning—the pirate under him had been lifting another drink to his lips, and he couldn’t move without spilling the ale all down his front. When Jinki finally managed to look at him, his eyes went wide, but any words remained stuck in his throat.

The eyepatched man took in Jinki’s shock and scanned Taemin, gaze lingering on Taemin’s unworn and well-made boots, before tightening a protective arm around Jinki’s waist. “A friend of yours?”

“Yes,” Jinki said, clipped. “What are you doing here?”

“I think I should be asking what you’re doing here. Or who.”

The pirate snorted. He set his drink aside and leaned around Jinki to extend a hand. “I’m Jonghyun. Captain. Good to meet you.”

“Jonghyun,” Taemin repeated, shocked out of his attention on Jinki. He shook Jonghyun’s hand out of instinct before thinking to refuse. “The son of Eunkyung The Legend?”

“That’s my mom.” Jonghyun gave a mocking salute. “I see you’re up to date on bounties.”

“Yes. Valua sets most of those bounties, and it’s exciting gossip for the nobility.”

“Which you’re one of, I assume—like Jinki. You have a name?”

“Taemin,” he said, and left it at that. Even if he didn’t want to hide who he was, titles felt inappropriate here.

“Taemin,” Jonghyun repeated. “As in...”

“As in the prince,” Jinki finished for him.

“Oh.” Jonghyun inspected Taemin for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to be bothered, before finally shrugging. “Do I still have to pay for your drinks, if you’re joining us as a guest?”

“I think there’s bigger things to worry about,” Jinki muttered, glancing back. He leaned towards Taemin, but Jonghyun’s arm snaked around his waist to stop him from leaving earshot. After a small sigh, Jinki continued anyway, voice low and pleading. “Please don’t tell anyone of this. I don’t care about my reputation, but I don’t want the armada or anyone else finding out that Jonghyun comes here. He could get hurt.”

“I won’t.” Taemin’s eyes kept flicking to where Jonghyun’s hand rested on Jinki’s thigh, keeping him balanced. “I’m not a snitch.”

Jinki’s lips remained a thin line. Jonghyun patted his leg in reassurance.

“I could handle myself even if he did tell the armada, Jinki. I’ve been doing this my whole life. Hell, half the ships we rob are Valuan armada airships. That’s how Blue Rogues work.”

“I know, but...”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Taemin emphasized. “I only wanted to see what you’re doing that’s so important. We had plans tonight. Or did you forget?”

Jinki flushed. “Jonghyun doesn’t get to visit often, so when I heard he was in town...”

“You ditched him?” Jonghyun interjected. “I’m flattered you wanted to see me so badly, but that’s awfully rude of you.”

Jinki buried his face in his hands. “Years of etiquette lessons, and I’m getting lectured on manners by a pirate...”

“You could have at least told me something came up, so I didn’t have to hear some vague excuse from your servant,” Taemin said.

“I was worried you’d see through any lie I came up with.”

“Well, that backfired,” Jonghyun added.

“Clearly,” Taemin said, arms crossed. “I know everything now.”

“I’m sorry,” Jinki said. “I won’t do it again.”

Taemin bit his lip. He was hurt that Jinki had abandoned him. But he was intrigued enough by the reason to ignore the sting. It’d be foolish to come out all this way and not see what sort of romance Jinki had with a pirate.

“It’s fine,” Taemin sighed. “Though you’re definitely going to owe me something after this. Maybe a proper fencing match. Or a dinner from your family’s chef.”

Jinki smiled. “I think I can do that.”

Jonghyun’s hand soothed over Jinki’s knee. “Glad you two were able to kiss and make up.” When Jinki frowned and turned back, Jonghyun tucked Jinki against his neck to muffle his protest. “Since you’re already here, your highness, do you want to join us tonight? I’m not sure what sort of plans you had with Jinki.”

“We were going to play cards. And drink, probably.”

“Conveniently, we can do both of those here,” Jonghyun said. “Take a seat.” He swiped an abandoned deck from a few of his crew that had decided an arm wrestling match was more enticing, then passed it to Jinki.

“Mind shuffling this for us, handsome?”

Jinki sent Taemin an apologetic look before cutting the deck in half. The flutter of cards as he shuffled kept Taemin’s attention, though he felt Jonghyun’s gaze on him. When he finally found the nerve to meet Jonghyun’s eye, the pirate gave him a toothy smile.

“Are we playing for anything? I imagine you have quite deep pockets.”

Taemin licked his lips. He usually made friendly bets with Jinki when they played, so he had brought a small coin purse—and he’d already expected it to be empty by the end of the night. Jinki trounced everyone at court in cards.

“I have some money on me, though it’s probably not as much as you’re hoping for.” Taemin watched Jonghyun warily when Jinki started to hand cards back to Jonghyun, but made no move to leave his lap. “If you can see Jinki’s cards, I’m not sure it’ll be a fair game. You two could gang up on me.”

“Not if he keeps them on his right side.” Jonghyun tapped his eye patch. “This is real. Can’t see shit through it. Or without it, really. Lost it in a ship battle a few years ago with one of your armada vessels.” He held up his drink. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”

Jinki pursed his lips. “Maybe he just wants me out of your lap, Jonghyun. People are never this flagrant about their relationships at the palace.”

“Too bad. I only get to see you twice a month at most. If he’s not going to complain about you being in my lap, you’re staying.”

Jinki rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his lips that stuck as he finished dealing their cards.

“I don’t mind it,” Taemin said, which was true. He’d never seen this side of Jinki before. Maybe it was strange to observe his old friend so closely, but he was fascinated.

He pulled his first hand of cards up to his nose and fought back a scowl. Already, he was off to a bad start.

Their first pot of coins went to Jonghyun. Then the next. After Taemin took a few losses to Jonghyun without complaint, the tension in Jinki’s shoulders eased—probably convinced that Taemin wasn’t about to run and turn Jonghyun over to the armada. As they drank, they talked, and Jinki and Jonghuyn relaxed back into the behavior Taemin assumed was their usual in the dingy pub.

And Taemin watched.

Jonghyun would nose aside the longer hair against the back of Jinki’s neck, exposing his nape for a kiss that made his mouth twitch with a noiseless gasp. Jonghyun’s left hand switched between lifting a tankard to his lips, running along Jinki’s side, and roaming over his stomach. His right stayed on Jinki’s thigh, low towards the knee, but sometimes it moved up. Only then would Jinki push Jonghyun’s hand away—but it was always with a grin and a quiet glance that promised a later.

The thought made Taemin’s blood burn. Jonghyun couldn’t be that posssive. Jinki slept with people at the palace. But all of those affairs happened out of Taemin’s view—he only heard rumors or short mentions—so his image of Jinki had stayed the same through the years, even as Taemin absently noted his attractiveness. They were friends.

Now, though—he wondered at their dynamic, at what Jinki might be like. What was it like when they stole a moment alone? Was it like now, both of Jonghyun’s hands on him, gripping and guiding? Or was that just how the pirate captain acted in public to stake his claim, while in bed he’d lie back and let someone else order him around?

Taemin swallowed back every image with a mouthful of ale. Occasionally, Jonghyun would send what felt like a knowing glance from his single eye, and heat would race through him.

The dozenth time their gazes caught—while Jonghyun’s hand slipped inside Jinki’s pocket—was enough to push Taemin over the edge.

He licked his lips and leaned towards them. He needed to be close if he wanted to be heard over the din that had grown with each glass served.

“I have a question,” he said.

Jinki leaned in to hear him better. Jonghyun shifted Jinki aside until he was only inches behind him. Taemin’s attention flicked between their faces. This close, he could lean forward and kiss either of them if he wanted to.

Taemin inhaled sharply, suddenly needing air. “Do you both sleep around? You’re not exclusive to each other?”

Jinki’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You know the answer to that.”

Jonghyun’s smile widened and grew crooked. “Why, are you interested?”

“Yes,” Taemin said. There was no point in hiding it, and he was tipsy enough to be direct.

Jinki’s eyes widened. “Taemin—“

“I’ve been watching you two grab at each other for hours now,” Taemin interrupted. “Is that not supposed to stoke something in me?”

Jinki froze. Jonghyun’s hand rubbed up his side, along his ribs, before he kissed Jinki’s neck.

“If you’re jealous or uninterested, I’ll stop this now,” Jonghyun whispered to Jinki. If Taemin wasn’t staring to read his lips, he wouldn’t have caught a word. “You always come first.”

“You know I don’t get jealous.”

Jonghyun leaned back to look at him. “Then why are you pouting? Is it different, because he’s a friend?”

“It’s different because he’s the prince ,” Jinki hissed.

Jonghyun grinned. “Is that supposed to make it less exciting?”

“I’m cutting you off,” Jinki said, sliding Jonghyun’s mug away from him. “You’re drunk.”

“As you always do, when I have my best ideas.”

Jinki sent Jonghyun a final, reproaching look before returning his attention to Taemin. “You’ve never said anything about wanting to sleep together.”

“It’s not like you’ve ever made a display of yourself at the palace,” Taemin said. “I never gave it much thought. We’ve been friends all our lives, and we only see each other at parties and ceremonies anymore.”

“I didn’t realize how much that bothered you.”

“Of course it bothered me. I missed you. You’re the only damn person I trust in the palace.”

Jinki’s brow furrowed, though a flush crawled across his cheeks, and his lips remained pursed. In the silence, Jonghyun’s attention bounced between them before he reached out and tugged Taemin towards them by his shirt.

“Why don’t we do something to make up for lost time? I’ll be happy to help you two bond,” Jonghyun offered.

“I don’t want things to get complicated,” Jinki said.

“It’s not complicated,” Taemin protested. “You’re my friend. Anything else, well...” he shrugged. He didn’t care what they did—cards or drinking or simply talking. But it was hard for fucking not to be the first thing on his mind when Jonghyun and Jinki were doing everything but that right in front of him. “I don’t need to spend time with you like that, but I’d enjoy it. And I’m guessing you two planned to spend your night fucking, anyway.”

Jinki licked his lips. He watched intently as Jonghyun balled more of Taemin’s shirt into his hand, forcing him closer, until Jonghyun leaned forward and kissed the corner of his mouth. Though Taemin should have seen it coming, he nearly jolted back at the contact. He’d never been kissed in front of anyone, let alone someone’s lover. His eyes flew up to Jinki, uncertain of what he’d find, then widened. There was no jealousy in his stare. Only heat.

Jonghyun tilted his head back towards Jinki. “I can see your gears turning. You’re thinking about it.”

“Maybe,” Jinki murmured.

“You need more images? Or some ideas?”

“No.” Jinki took the half-empty mug he’d stolen from Jonghyun and downed in a single, long swallow. “I’ve thought about it before, honestly.”

Taemin inhaled. “Me joining you with Jonghyun?”

“Just you. The thinking was...a while ago. Years.”

“Then you should’ve fucked him earlier, because I always love your stories,” Jonghyun said. He patted the side of Jinki’s thigh. “You want to get going? Because I’d like to get going.”

“Where to?” Taemin asked. The pub looked like it had rooms upstairs, but he didn’t know how either of them felt about using them.

“My ship’s best. You’ll get to see it, too. It’s gorgeous,” Jonghyun gloated. He snuck in a squeeze to Jinki’s ass when they stood. “Just got a new cannon.”

Taemin pulled his cloak back on and followed them towards the airship docks. By the time they reached the metal walkways that stuck out over the clouds, they were nearly on the opposite side of Valua from the palace. He’d never been this deep into the Lower City.

Most of the docked airships were decommissioned from the armada, made of steel in typical Valuan style. A few other styles, more likely belonging to traders than pirates, were interspersed throughout, but the ship Jonghyun pointed out—a large, wooden ship with three towering masts that stood proudly against the black clouds—was striking enough that Taemin couldn’t help but gape.

Despite its height, the ship was narrow, slimmer even than the smallest armada ships. They climbed up the gangplank and onto the deck. Jonghyun came up last and leapt onto the deck with his arms spread wide.

“Stylish, yeah? And faster than any hunk of metal.”

Jinki rolled his eyes as Taemin examined the ship. Any ptools for fighting or boarding ships were hidden in the crates or below deck, but rolled up against the main mast was a blue flag, barely concealed. Taemin had to wonder how that ever got past the massive gate and patrols that protected the Valua‘s airspace, but Jonghyun seemed capable of charming his way out of anything, and his mother specialized in robbing people right under their noses.

“It’s gorgeous,” Taemin said.

“The inside is a bit less glamorous, but you better not point that out to my face,” Jonghyun teased. He turned towards a set of stairs that appeared to lead down into the cabin and gestured for Taemin to follow. “Come on. I’ll show you to my space.”

The room Jonghyun led them to was long and wide. A dozen hammocks hung from the ceiling, likely enough for the whole crew, and the one at the back that Jonghyun showed him looked no different than any other.

Taemin blinked at it, caught off guard by its plainness. “I thought you were the captain. Don’t you have a room?”

“I am, and I do. But I prefer to sleep in a hammock sometimes. The bed folds away, and that makes room for more loot.”

Jinki raised a brow. “Uh-huh. And you refuse to have sex in the same place twice in a row.”

Jonghyun grinned. “That too. Used my bed a few days ago, so it’s time to fuck somewhere else.”

Jinki hummed, as if recalling the experience himself, and stepped closer to Jonghyun. As soon as he was within reach, Jonghyun grabbed a fistful of Jinki’s hair, tugging him down to an easier height to kiss.

Taemin froze, fists clenching in the fabric of his cloak when he caught a glimpse of Jinki’s tongue. Watching was new enough that he didn’t know what to do with himself. Jinki’s eyes fluttered open as he glanced back at Taemin. A wave of heat rolled through him when their gazes locked, then again when Jinki’s attention returned to Jonghyun, as if it was perfectly normal for them to have a witness to their kiss.

For all Taemin knew, it could be.

The side of Jonghyun’s grin was just visible as he shifted his mouth to Jinki’s neck and nipped along the vein. With a soft swear, Jinki clutched at Jonghyun’s back, but shoved him away when Jonghyun began to unfasten his shirt.

“You aren’t getting me out of my clothes before we give Taemin some attention.”

Jonghyun tsked, but let his fingers fall from Jinki’s buttons. Taemin swallowed under the weight of their stares . Jinki held out a hand, inviting him to where they stood, but Jonghyun closed the distance between them and kissed him—the same way he’d kissed Jinki, hands buried in his hair—before Taemin could take a single step.

He shivered and gripped back. His thumbs caught in the straps of Jonghyun’s eye patch, earning a laugh that gave him an opportunity to slip his tongue past Jonghyun’s lips. Jonghyun hummed, pleasantly surprised, and relaxed to let Taemin lead.

Taemin was too eager not to take advantage of the chance. He leaned in and kissed Jonghyun harder until he had no choice but to bend back and hold onto Taemin’s shirt for balance. The instant he eased off to breathe, Jonghuyn reached for his belt. The open air of the cabin brought goosebumps to his thighs when Jonghyun shoved down his breeches. Taemin helped him the rest of the way and stepped out of them, refusing to break the kiss a second time until Jonghyun smirked and turned his cheek.

“You think I wouldn’t be surprised by Valuan nobles being decent lovers after Jinki, and yet...”

Taemin scowled. “Why would you assume that makes me bad in bed?”

“Most of you don’t do much. But I suppose that leaves you plenty of time to get good at this.”

“If you thought I would be bad, why invite me?”

“Jinki likes you. You’re pretty.” Jonghyun shrugged. “And that sort of thing can always be taught.”

“I think the only thing I haven’t done is fuck two people at once,” Taemin said. When Jinki gave a skeptical snort beside them, Taemin sent a glare.

“I doubt you’re that worldly, your highness,” Jonghyun said. He squared his shoulders and worked Taemin’s shirt open button-by-button, as if mimicking a personal butler. “You’ve only slept with other Valuans, no? Technically your subjects?”

Taemin bit his lip. “Well...”

“I’m not judging.” Jonghyun shoved his shirt open. “Just doubt they’re willing to get too dirty with you. Rank can come with too much respect. When I was on my mother’s ship, it took ages for me to convince the crew I wasn’t too fragile to be bent over a barrel.”

Taemin’s ears burned. But the words rang true.

Every person he’d slept with had come onto him slowly, with flowery praise or teasing to test the waters, then treated him like he was breakable between the sheets once they were finally there. No matter how hard he gripped at their back in return or egged them on. They concentrated too much on pleasing him. And then after everything was done, there was the pillow talk which inevitably turned into requests for favors.

Once he realized that was how it always ended, Taemin had stopped letting anyone in his bed.

He could already tell Jonghyun would be different. Jinki would, too.

Taemin licked his lips and looked between them. “Well, what’re you planning to do to me?”

Jonghyun grinned and shoved him into the hammock. Taemin swung back. He tried to adjust to keep from barreling feet-first into Jonghyun as his weight returned him forward, but Jinki caught the fabric at the end of his arc and held him still.

Jonghyun’s fingers wrapped slowly over Jinki’s knuckles. He whispered something against Jinki’s cheek that made his eyes cloud with lust.

Their attention shifted down to where Taemin was suspended beneath them. Like this, there was no simple way for them to kiss him. Reaching his mouth or his hips with more than a hand or a cock would require kneeling, hunching over, or some other sort of contortion they had no reason to bother with.

Taemin had an idea of what they wanted.

He licked his lips and let his head hang back. The hammock swung slightly, then slowed into a smaller arc when Jinki grasped the rope tighter. Upside down like this, Taemin imagined he looked ridiculous, but there was no amusement in Jinki’s exhale—only anticipation.

Hands ran up his thighs. He lifted his head to see whose they were—Jonghyun’s—then followed with his eyes as Jinki circled around to the opposite side of the hammock, leaving only Jonghyun between his legs.

When he raised his head, he saw Jonghyun reach into his shirt and pulled free a small vial of oil. He pulled out the cork with his teeth and spat it away, then grinned down at Taemin as he coated his fingers.

“I have another if we need more. I always bring a few when we dock somewhere. You never know what might happen.”

Jonghyun’s hand returned to him, this time going straight for the innermost crease of his thighs. As Jonghyun circled towards his rim, he threw an arm over his mouth to muffle a moan. There was the simple pleasure of it, and the realization: the oil Jonghyun was using had been meant for Jinki that night, or vice versa. And now it was being used on him .

“You can make noise, you know,” Jonghyun teased and pressed in. “That’s half the fun.”

Jinki drew Taemin’s arm away, fingers trailing along the vein of his wrist before shifting to card through his hair. Taemin leaned into the contact and reached up, pressing a palm around the outline of Jinki’s cock in his breeches just as Jonghyun added another finger. His motions were clumsy and distracted, but Jinki didn’t seem to mind—he cupped his hand over Taemin’s to guide it, before finally settling on holding it in place and thrusting against Taemin’s palm.

“You seem ready enough,” Jonghyun said. He spread his fingers, as if to prove how open Taemin was, and drew out a gasp. “Do you need more time?”

‘No,” Taemin’s eyes fluttered shut as Jonghyun brought his fingers back together and curved them. A patch of precome had leaked through Jinki’s breeches and dampened the heel of Taemin’s hand, adding to his desperation. “Please, I want this.”

Jonghyun grinned and gave him an encouraging smack to the thighs that sounded twice as loud as it stung. Taemin bit his lip, pulse pounding in his ears.

“Stay open for me.” Jonghyun slicked himself up, then hitched Taemin’s thighs up around his hips. When he shifted forward, his cock pushed between Taemin’s cheeks, missing his hole but lighting his nerves with anticipation. Jonghyun’s tongue stuck out from the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, realigning them until Taemin felt pressure against his rim.

“There we go,” Jonghyun murmured and pushed forward, slow and unyielding.

Taemin’s nails scratched at the canvas of the hammock. Already, the stretch felt too good. He rocked forward, trying to bring Jonghyun deeper, but the motion hardly moved him at all—Jonghyun had bracketed his hips to keep him steady, and Jinki’s hold on the hammock’s rope was too firm. All Taemin could think of was how exposed he was and how little he could move.

By the time Jonghyun pulled back, Taemin was panting, overheated despite the lack of a body pressed against him. Without any ability to aid the motion, he felt the force of each thrust that much harder.

His cock throbbed, desperate for something, anything, but he held off from touching himself, too caught up in the idea of seeing how Jonghuyn and Jinki might use him to want to satisfy himself. Jinki maneuvered his own laces open with a single hand and kept the other on the knot of the hammock, steadying it as Jonghyun’s pace quickened.

Taemin turned his head and reached for the base of Jinki’s cock. At the awkward angle, the underside ran along his cheek, then bumped against his chin, leaving wetness behind until Jinki steered it directly into his mouth.

Jonghyun’s movements turned lazy, a tease that made Taemin whine even as he closed his lips around the head of Jinki’s cock and glanced back. Jonghyun’s complete attention was on them—on the stretch it took for Taemin’s mouth to fit around Jinki’s girth—distracting him more from his task.

“You sure you two can handle all this happening at once?” Jinki muttered, stroking himself to take over the motion Taemin hadn’t yet managed. “If it’s too much, we can take turns.”

Jonghyun huffed. “I’m not going to apologize for taking my time and enjoying the show.”

With an apologetic hum, Taemin tugged on Jinki’s hips to beckon him deeper. Their eyes met only briefly before Jinki ran a thumb along the edge of Taemin’s tipped-back jaw and tilted his head back further, creating an easy path for his cock to slide over Taemin’s tongue into the start of his throat.

Taemin blinked hard, eyes wet as he fought back a gag, but curled his fingers in the loosened waist of Jinki’s breeches and took him further the next time Jinki fucked into his mouth. Suspended between them as he was, it was easier to let Jinki drive the pace than try and guide it himself.

Encouraged, Jinki shifted one hand into his hair and kept another on his chin, holding Taemin steady through every thrust to better complete his own. Jonghyun’s fingernails dug into Taemin’s thighs as he lost rhythm, alternating between slow and fast before finally halting.

He pressed against Taemin with a small curse, keeping him close through every throb, before finally jerking back. Taemin whimpered as Jonghyun’s cock slipped free, then again when he heard the rustle and clink of Jonghyun tugging up his breeches and refastening his belt. He kept his legs open—he didn’t know how to close them, with such a mess of come and oil between them—and he was hopeful Jonghyun would give him something more.

Jonghyun shifted Taemin’s knees to stand beside him. Taemin watched from the corner of his eye as Jonghyun reached down and ran a single finger along the underside of Taemin’s cock. He gasped at the contact, hips jolting up as he snapped out of the daze he’d fallen into from taking both of them. All he wanted to do was give himself over until they’d had their fill of pleasure, but if Jonghyun granting him pleasure was part of that, he would take it gladly.

Jonghyun traced up his cock again, this time with two fingers. “I can’t believe you’re this hard—I don’t think we’ve even touched you here once. What if we keep you like this until you make Jinki come?”

Unable to speak with Jinki in his mouth, a moan and a full swallow around JInki’s cock was the only way to beg for his own release. Jinki cursed and tightened his fingers against Taemin’s scalp.

“He really wants to come,” Jinki said. “You’re making him work harder.”

Taemin hummed an agreement. Jonghyun took hold of his cock in response, lifting it from where it hovered hard and ignored over his stomach to stroke him smoothly. The short motion was barely anything, but it was enough to bring Taemin close. He shifted his hips, uncertain of whether to pull away before his release or simply let it happen, but Jonghyun didn’t allow either. He stopped just before Taemin’s pleasure reached its crest, producing a groan that made Jinki’s hips stutter. Jinki continued to fuck into his mouth, and again and again, Jonghyun stopped before he could come. Each time he neared his release, Jonghyun’s hand would loosen, and Taemin’s need would grow.

When Jinki finally cursed out a warning, Jonghyun’s grip on Taemin tightened and quickened. Taemin’s muscles tensed, back rising into an arch, but his mouth slackened just enough to let Jinks cock fall free. Come streaked across his lips and cheeks, then into his open mouth. Jinki stroked himself to the end, every movement loud and wet, and nudged his cockhead past Taemin’s lips to shoot the last of his release onto his tongue.

The cabin was silent, save Jinki and Taemin’s rough breathing.

He closed his eyes with a small sigh, letting his head hang upside down as the pleasant warmth of his aftermath rolled through him. When he felt the mess on his chin start to drip down his cheeks, he raised a hand and clenched his fingers in the universal gesture for something to clean with. Jinki passed him a handkerchief and helped him wipe down his face, then balled the cloth into his fist and tossed it aside.

With Jinki’s help, he sat up in the hammock. Jonghyun pulled another rag from somewhere and cleaned his stomach, grinning through the task.

“I assume this means we’re done for the night.”

Taemin nodded. He was tired, and his throat and thighs were sore to a level he was certain he’d feel in the morning.

“I was hoping Jinki wouldn’t clean you up so quickly. It would’ve been nice to take a mental image of what you look like with him on you.”

Taemin gave a breathless laugh. “I wasn’t sure how to get myself up, and I didn’t want anything to get into my eyes.”

“Fair. If you want protection, a blindfold would help next time.”

“How is it you always want to talk more about sex right after we’re done? Haven’t you had your fill?” Jinki complained, though his expression was fond.

“If something’s fun one way, I want to do it again and find other ways of making it fun. Don’t you?”

Jinki grumbled an agreement and leaned around Taemin to kiss Jonghyun. Taemin watched them linger, then pull apart, heart tight in his chest. As brief as their kiss had been, Jinki’s eyes were warm from it, and something about the sight sobered Taemin.

Taemin wasn’t jealous. Or at least the word seemed too simple and petty to fit. He didn’t want to take Jinki’s place. He didn’t want to take Jonghyun’s place. He was happy they had each other. The ache in his chest was because he’d never had anything like they shared, and with where his life was headed, he couldn’t imagine he ever would.

He startled when Jinki dropped a blanket over him. Jinki helped fit it over his shoulders. “If you’re not going to get dressed, you should put this on. It’s colder out here on the airships.”

“Thanks.” Taemin wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. He didn’t want to get dressed yet, if only because the clothes he’d stolen would remind him of the palace.

Jonghyun looked between them with a small smile before fixing his gaze on Taemin. “You’re welcome to linger for a while. You want some more to drink?”

“Sure,” Taemin agreed. Jonghyun patted Taemin’s knee and spun on his heel, then disappeared down a set of stairs that led deeper into the airship.

Jinki and Taemin watched him go. Once his footsteps faded, Jinki crouched beside him.

“This is why I started pulling away, you know,” he whispered. “I worried what would happen if you found out about Jonghyun. You’re getting closer and closer to the throne, and I...haven’t known how to deal with that. Never letting either of you meet seemed like the best way to keep him safe.” His eyes crinkled, the old tell Taemin remembered that came with any confession that made him feel guilty. ”If it’s worth anything, I’ve missed you too.”

“It’s worth a lot,” Taemin said. He reached for Jinki’s hand and squeezed it, then looked to where Jonghyun had disappeared. “What is he to you?”

”Everything, anymore,” Jinki said without hesitation. “I’m going to leave Valua with him someday.”

Taemin’s stomach dropped. “And do what? When?”

“Pirate stuff, I suppose,” Jinki teased. “There’s so much of the sky that hasn’t been charted. He wants to discover as much as he can, once his ships outfitted for stronger currents. I want to be with him for every one.”

Taemin inhaled. “What about your family? And Valua?”

“You know how I feel about our country.”

Taemin’s stomach panted. “And you don’t think I’ll change anything when I’m in charge.”

Jinki winced. “It’s not that I think you have the wrong ideals. But I’m sure you know the problems you’ll bump up against. How much say does your mother have, compared to the armada? She gets to decide how things are run here , but it’s not like we stay in our borders, or like they wouldn’t challenge her if she did something they were opposed to.”

“I know, but...” Taemin reached for a counterpoint, but found nothing. There was no argument to refute Jinki’s words when he’d noticed the same thing.

He hung his head. Was that why he’d been so mad at Jinki? Selfish as it was, it was easier to think of the personal problems that came with the throne—losing friendships, not knowing who to trust—than the responsibilities he’d bear just sitting on it.

“ Please tell me you’re not talking politics, Jinki,” Jonghyun whined, loud enough to be heard up the stairs. He sauntered between them and passed Jinki a handle of rum, then threw himself into the hammock beside Taemin. “I can’t imagine a poorer time for it. It was our first time with a third, too. You should be a little sentimental.”

“I was only explaining why I’m going to leave with you, since Taemin asked,” Jinki said. He took a swig, then held it out to Taemin. “It’s not as if I’m getting philosophical.”

Jonghyun quirked a brow. “I think after how I fucked him tonight, he knows why you’re leaving.”

“It’s alright, really.” Taemin managed to smile for them, but it faltered when he brought the bottle to his lips. He tipped it back, squeezing his eyes against the burn, and swallowed back as much as he could take.

His mother was alive, and Jinki was still here. As prince, he was only an ear until fate decided to shove the empire into his lap. He had time to enjoy himself before he had to worry. And damned if he wasn’t going to soak up every second of it.

When he went for a second drink, Jonghyun pried the bottle from him. “Slow down, your highness. I can’t let you stay here tonight. As nice as it’d be to beat my mother’s record for bounties, I’d rather do it the old fashion way than be accused of kidnapping the prince.”

Taemin laughed. “And you’re not worried that’ll happen when you take Jinki?”

“Not at all. We’ve had a plan for a while.”

“Oh,” Taemin said. “Well, good luck to you both.”

Jonghyun raised the bottle to him in thanks. Jinki cast his eyes down and reached to take the rum, but Jonghyun refused to hand it over until Jinki gave him a kiss. Taemin watched, stomach in knots, as the guilt that twisted Jinki’s mouth melted into an unfettered smile.

Taemin didn’t want to ask if Jinki would have left without saying anything. Judging by the distance Jinki had forced between them, he imagined that had been the plan. And judging by the warmth that seeped into Jinki’s eyes every time he looked Jonghyun’s way, nothing would come between Jinki and leaving Valua.

The knowledge made the future that much darker. But Taemin supposed he’d rather know.

#onjongtae #jongyu #jongtae #ontae #shinee fic #skies of arcadia au #feat inappropriate use of hammocks

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heyiwrotesomethings · 5 years ago

Text

Jealous

Shinobu Kochou x Fem Reader

Shinobu was sitting at her desk in her office when she heard a light knock at her door. She looked up and smiled as one of her estate’s most capable attendants entered the space.

“Good afternoon, Kochou-sama. I’ve brought your tea.” (Y/n) smiled, setting the cup down on the desk.

“Ah, thank you (Y/n).” she replied, taking a sip. Shinobu smiled as the warmth soothed her throat, (Y/n) makes excellent tea.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” (Y/n) asked, sweetly.

“No, this is perfect.” Shinobu looked up at the other woman. “I heard your taking the afternoon off. Any special plans?”

“Yes, I’m going in to town with Giyuu-kun.” (Y/n) replied, brightly.

“Giyuu-kun... Tomioka-san?” Shinobu questioned.

“That’s right. There were some things I wanted to pick up and he offered to take me.”

“Oh, well, I could go with you instead. Tomioka-san isn’t really known for being good company. He’s not one for conversation so you might get bored on such a long trip.”

“That’s kind of you, Kochou-sama, but you have a lot of work to do here, and Giyuu-kun is fine, he’s really funny actually.”

Tomioka-san, funny? Shinobu discreetly pinched her arm, hoping this was just a dream, well a nightmare actually. (Y/n) liked Tomioka enough to go to town with him, and she addressed him so casually as well. Shinobu felt an uncomfortable pulling in her chest. She was not liking this development to say the least.

“If you don’t need anything, I should get going-“

“(Y/n), I just remembered that I wanted to get something in town as well.” Shinobu said, quickly.

“Oh, I can retrieve it for you if you’d like.”

“That won’t be necessary. It’s a complicated order, I’ll just accompany you.” Shinobu pushed herself to a standing position. “I’m ready to go when you are.”

“Okay...” (Y/n) said, tilting her head and gazing at the Hashira a bit warily. “I’m ready too.”

***

The pair exited the Butterfly Estate and Shinobu felt a vein begin to strain against her forehead as she spotted Giyuu leaning against a tree.

“(Y/n), Kochou-san,” he greeted, monotonously.

“Tomioka-san, good afternoon! It seems that I’ll be joining (Y/n) on her errand. It’s not too late to back out if you want~!” Shinobu called cheekily, silently willing Giyuu to turn around and go home.

Giyuu just stared blankly before turning to (Y/n). “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s get going before it gets dark.” (Y/n) replied.

“You don’t have to worry about demons in the darkness with me around, (Y/n). I can protect you. I can’t say the same for Tomioka-san however, he seems to be quite the demon sympathizer.” Shinobu said, alluding to the demon Nezuko situation.

“Um, sure.” (Y/n) answered, uncomfortably. The three continued to walk in silence. To (Y/n), it was the most uncomfortable silence she had ever witnessed. She could handle Giyuu’s silence, but the aura Shinobu was emitting felt hostile despite the smile she was sporting.

“Kochou-sama-“

“Shinobu is fine.” She interjected quickly.

“But, Kochou-sama-“

“Shinobu.”

“Shinobu,” (Y/n) began again. “Is something wrong?”

“Everything is wonderful (Y/n), why do you ask?”

“Well, you just seem... I don’t know, angry?”

“Not at all, (Y/n). Just concentrating on the supply list in my mind.”

“Right, what were you going to get anyway?”

“That’s a secret!” Shinobu responded, playfully. In reality she had nothing she needed so she was just trying to cover her ass with as little specifics as possible. “What are you getting, (Y/n)?

The girl seemed to freeze up a bit and Shinobu almost didn’t notice the faint blush dusting her cheeks. “Actually, that’s a secret too.” (Y/n) answered, punctuating her statement with an awkward laugh and gave Giyuu a subtle look that did not go unnoticed by the Insect Pillar.

Shinobu felt the same uncomfortable squeeze in her chest that she had felt in her office. How did (Y/n) and Tomioka get so close without her noticing? Before today, Shinobu would have bet her entire estate on the belief that (Y/n) had had a crush on her. Now she was uncertain and out of everyone it just had to be Tomioka. Shinobu would be damned if she lost (Y/n) to him of all people, it was time she upped her game.

The three finally made it into town. (Y/n) was glad for the thrum of the busy streets drowning out the stifling silence mixed with the occasional passive aggressive comment from Shinobu that she had been dealing with for the last three miles.

“Great, we’re here. We should split up and get what we need. Want to meet back here in thirty minutes?” (Y/n) asked her companions.

“Sure.” Giyuu shrugged.

(Y/n) began to walk away and jumped a bit at the sudden pressure encompassing her arm.

“You’re heading this way too, (Y/n)?” Shinobu smiled, both arms wrapped around one of (Y/n)’s. “What a coincidence!” It was in fact, not a coincidence. Shinobu noticed that Giyuu was going to be following (Y/n) and she was not going to allow them any time alone together.

“Oh, really?” (Y/n) asked, clearing her throat. “Cool, cool.”

“I’m going on ahead, I’ll meet you back at the entrance later.” Giyuu said. He than dissolved into the crowd, but not before giving (Y/n) a slight nod that made Shinobu’s head pulse.

“Where do you need to go, Kochou-sama?” (Y/n) questioned.

Shinobu hummed, (Y/n)’s arm still wrapped in her own. “We can go wherever you need to go. Unfortunately, it appears that I misjudged the shipment arrival of my supplies.” The Hashira replied, lying flawlessly.

“Alright...” (Y/n) looked around the busy vendors, Shinobu never leaving her side. The thirty minutes was almost up, and Shinobu was suspicious of (Y/n)’s lack of purchases. She had yet to buy anything at all and seemed completely unfocused. When Shinobu questioned her on this, (Y/n) speculated that what she was looking for was delayed too and laughed it off. Before they made it back to the designated meet up point, Shinobu tugged on (Y/n)’s sleeve and pulled her to the side of the path.

“(Y/n),” she began, “be honest with me, are you... are you dating Tomioka-san?” Shinobu asked, saying the words ‘dating’ and ‘Tomioka’ in the same sentence left a bad taste in her mouth, but she needed to know. Perhaps this whole outing was meant to be a date. That would explain why (Y/n) hadn’t actually bought anything.

(Y/n) suddenly looked a lot more lively. “Oh, no! We’re friends, not dating!”

“It’s... it’s okay if you are. I know I haven’t made my dislike of Tomioka-san discreet, but I don’t want you to feel like you need to hide your relationship from me.” The last thing Shinobu wanted was to alienate (Y/n).

“Kochou... Shinobu, I promise you. I only like Giyuu-kun as a friend.”

“So, you aren’t seeing anyone right now?”

“No, I’m not.” (Y/n) replied.

Shinobu felt like a weight was lifted from her chest. She was just short of sighing in relief.

“We should be heading back now.” (Y/n) smiled, warmly. She took Shinobu’s hand in her own and guided her back in the path. Shinobu looked at their connected hands and felt warmth rush to her face. She lightly gripped the hand holding her own and followed after (Y/n).

When they reached the meetup point, Giyuu was already waiting for them, a small paper bag in his hand.

“What do you have there, Tomioka-san?” Shinobu asked, playfully.

“....It’s a secret.” He answered.

(Y/n) laughed, and the trio began the hike back home.

***

They managed to get back a little before sunset. Giyuu headed in the direction of his home while (Y/n) and Shinobu continued in the direction of the Butterfly Estate. The silence was comfortable, only the sound of their footfalls and cricket songs permeated the tranquil evening.

That’s why when Shinobu noticed the absence of footsteps beside her she turned immediately. (Y/n) had stopped.

“What’s wrong, (Y/n)? Why did you stop?” She asked.

(Y/n) shifted the dirt under her feet and slowly stretched her arm out to Shinobu, in her outstretched palm was a small paper bag.

“Isn’t that the bag Tomioka-san was carrying? Why do you have it?” Shinobu questioned.

“Kochou-sama, I lied to you, please forgive me!” (Y/n) said with a bow. “The reason I didn’t get anything in town was because it was meant to be a surprise for you. Giyuu-kun already knew what I wanted so he went off to get it while I distracted you. Please forgive my deception!”

Shinobu stared at the attendant, surprised by her sudden outburst. She gingerly took the bag from (Y/n)’s hand. Inside was a intricate, blue and purple butterfly charm.

“It’s infused with wisteria and is meant to give good luck when encountering demons...” (Y/n) stated, quietly. “Sometimes I’m worried when you go off on missions and they run longer than usual, so I would feel better if you took this with you on missions from now on.”

Shinobu held the charm delicately between her fingers and stepped towards (Y/n) until there was no more than a foot of distance between them. She placed her other hand lightly on (Y/n)’s cheek and turned her face so she was looking at her face directly.

“Thank you, and you have nothing to apologize for.” Shinobu responded softly. “This was very sweet of you and I greatly appreciate this gift.” She lifted herself on her toes to give herself a bit of extra height, enough to reach (Y/n)’s ear. “Next time we go into town, I’d like to return the favor.” She whispered. She then placed a lingering kiss on (Y/n)’s jawline, close to her ear, before lowering her heels back to the ground. “Maybe just the two of us next time?” She added with a smirk.

(Y/n)’s face was as hot as flames and she couldn’t find her voice, she simply nodded and an agreeable sounding hum struggled past her stunned vocal chords.

“Let’s get home, I’m sure the girls have dinner ready by now.” Shinobu said, taking (Y/n) gently by the arm and guiding her back to the warmly lit estate.

#shinobu kocho x reader #shinobu x reader #shinobu kocho #kny oneshots #demon slayer oneshots

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justatiredghost · 4 years ago

Text

Living for the Moment Chapter 2 A series of glimpses at Klaus’ life if he’d met Dave in his mid 20s. His life isn’t magically transformed, love can’t fix either of them when they’re both homeless and in a bad place. They’re not even really ready for a relationship yet. But maybe a supportive friendship can set them on a better path, the two of them inspiring each other to take care of themselves. It’s going to be a long and bumpy ride, and the question is, when will they actually admit to themselves that they have feelings for each other?

Klaus rarely slept well. The most he could hope for most nights was a few hours of unconsciousness by getting blackout drunk or high, which unfortunately wasn’t known for being all that refreshing. This morning was no exception; what he’d taken the night before did the trick, but could only last so long and as it wore off, the voices of the ghosts always waiting at the edge of his mind slowly rose to the full force of their screaming and wailing. It jolted him awake with a start and he scrambled out of bed, breathing heavily, searching for his things and, most importantly, any drugs that he might have hidden away.

“What a beautiful morning,” Ben said, taking Klaus’ spot on the bed

Klaus muttered a curse under his breath as he tried to ignore the concerned or irritated looks of the others trying to sleep at the shelter. He only had a few pills left, that would have to do for now. He flipped Ben off as subtly as he could before heading for the exit. He needed a cigarette. Desperately.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that,” Ben said, suddenly at his side. “You’re so grouchy in the morning. Let’s go do something fun for a change.”

“How about you take your ‘fun’ and--”

Before he could come up with some sort of colorful finish, he nearly walked directly into another man. Looking up, he completely lost his train of thought as he found Dave staring at him in equal surprise. Considering Dave had taken center stage in some of his half-remembered restless dreams, he had a second of wondering if he was just really high or still dreaming. He wished he was high.

“Hey,” Dave said with a smile. “Small world. Good to see you again.”

“Is it?” Klaus asked, legitimately curious as he lit up a cigarette in the doorway. “That’s not usually the reaction I get after standing someone up.”

“That was just kind of a line,” Dave admitted like he was sharing a secret, opening the door so they could both move outside, and probably so Klaus wouldn’t get yelled at for smoking indoors. “But now that you mention it, I had a good time otherwise so it’s not like I can be too annoyed.”

“Sure you can,” Klaus said. “I believe the appropriate reaction is usually anger.”

“Is it? If I had to pick, I’d say a little bummed, maybe,” Dave said with a shrug, pulling out his own cigarette. Klaus whipped out his lighter and held it out for him before he could go looking for his own. “We all got lives, man. You gotta go, you gotta go.”

Ben coughed, only half disguising the word ‘pushover,’ in the middle of it. Klaus ignored him.

“Can’t blame you for enjoying the ‘Klaus Experience,’” Klaus said with a wink. “Although, maybe you’ll get a kick out of this. I actually thought you’d stood me up.”

“Really? Does this mean you’re mad?” Dave asked.

“Hey man, anyone stands me up, it’s their loss,” Klaus said emphatically

“That’s the spirit,” Dave laughed.

“That’s the truth.”

“It certainly is,” Dave said with a much too sincere smile. “But I gotta know, how exactly does that work? You thinking I’d stood you up?”

“Eh, I got a bit high, lost track of time,” Klaus said with a shrug, taking a drag. “You know how it is.”

“I sure do,” Dave said, nodding sagely, although Klaus wasn’t sure if he actually agreed or was just humoring him. “If it wasn’t intentional, any chance you’d let me make it up to you? Promise I won’t stand you up this time.”

“What?” Klaus said in surprise, barely stopping himself from choking on smoke. He hadn’t expected Dave to want anything to do with him after, well, everything.

“Yeah, let me by you a--” he dug around in his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. “A coffee?” He sounded much too hopeful and Klaus was irritated with himself for finding it endearing.

“Well, how can I say no to coffee?” Klaus said, ignoring Ben’s disappointed sigh. Someone who wasn’t likely to get too angry at his antics was definitely someone worth keeping around, he reasoned.

“So,” Klaus said, making himself comfortable on his side of the booth, stretching his legs out. “Do you usually buy coffee for people who stand you up?”

“Depends,” Dave said, immediately pulling out the little sugar packets and making a game out of stacking them, building a little sugar packet house. “Can these people make me laugh so hard alcohol comes out of my nose?

“You have strange standards, but I am hilarious, so I’ll give you that.”

“Besides,” Dave said, handing a sugar packet to Klaus, inviting him to join in. “I had to apologize for making you think I’d stood you up.”

“And yet I’m the one who should be apologizing for actually, if unintentionally, standing you up,” Klaus said, gesturing with the packet before building onto Dave’s little house.

“So? Are you?”

“Am I what?

“Going to apologize.”

“Yeah, sure, I guess I should,” Klaus said, clearing his throat like he was about to give a speech, hand over his heart. “I’m so sorry for standing you up. And for depriving you of all of this.” He gestured to all of himself, winking yet again.

“I’m not sure how I survived,” Dave laughed. “But really, it’s cool. Who hasn’t gotten high and lost track of time before? But what about you? Do you usually go on dates after standing people up?”

“I mean, I did have fun last night, so—” Klaus admitted, because he couldn’t deny that he was a flake and, really, it was probably better that Dave knew that up front.

“I knew it,” Dave exclaimed, apparently missing the point, but Klaus wasn’t going to correct him if he wanted to take the ego boost and leave the rest on the table.

“Don’t get all full of yourself, every party I attend is a good one, so really you can only take half credit.”

“That’s more than enough for me.”

“Hi, Dave,” the waitress said, coming over to their table. “The usual?”

“Yeah, two coffees this time, Cheryl. Thanks.”

“You got it.”

“Come here often, then?” Klaus asked once the waitress left.

“Well, my work is right across the street,” he said, gesturing to a construction yard they could see from their seats. “We’re almost done with this job, though, so it’ll be a bummer to find a new place that won’t kick me out for drinking endless free refills.”

“Pretty face like yours, I’m sure you’ll manage.”

And he actually blushed at that. It was adorable and he would have liked to dwell on it and tease him, but the waitress was back. Dave seemed a bit relieved at the distraction.

“I got some fries for you both, on the house,” she said, setting it down in front of them.

“Oh, wow, thank you,” Dave said, smiling at her.

“I think she has a thing for you,” Klaus whispered across the table to him once they were alone again.

“She’s not really my type,” Dave chuckled. “And to be honest, she’s probably just glad I’m not here alone for a change. I think she was beginning to think I don’t have a social life”

“Well, either way, I’m completely happy to take advantage of your good fortune.”

“All jokes aside, thanks for getting coffee with me,” Dave said, holding his mug up like he was gonna toast him.

“Yeah, apparently I should stand you up more often,” Klaus said with a whink, taking his own drink in hand.

“Or,” Dave said, drawing the word out like he was trying to get his courage up enough to actually finish the sentence. “You could find out how things go if you stick around.”

“Hmm,” Klaus said, acting like he was considering, like he hadn’t already made up his mind the moment he agreed to coffee. “Sure, I’d be willing to see how it goes”

“Are you going out again tonight? We can meet up at the same place. And hopefully we can avoid standing each other up this time.”

“Sure,” Klaus said. “So long as we can skip the preamble. Flirting across the dance floor was fun and all, but I’m pretty sure our night could be better spent.”

Last night, they’d continually gotten distracted from the main reason people usually meet up at clubs. While it had still been fun and another night of the same would have still been enjoyable, Klaus wanted to make sure there was no doubt where he’d like the night to end up even if it was obvious neither of them had a place they could go home to together. There were other ways to have a little fun, after all, and Klaus certainly wasn’t above back alley or bathroom escapades.

He decided that the easiest way to get this across was to reach his foot out, running it along Dave’s ankle and up his calf. Dave’s eyes widened in surprise, but he grinned back, a blush creeping across his face, and attempted to surreptitiously reply in kind. Instead, he misjudged the distance and accidentally kicked his leg, causing Klaus to gasp mock-accusingly and kick back.

From there, things quickly devolved into some sort of competitive game of footsy, the rules unclear. All Klaus knew was that it was taking everything they had to not laugh out loud and disturb the other tables. He wasn’t sure why things with Dave always turned out so ridiculous, but he was having more fun than he had in a long time so it wasn’t like he was going to complain.

The game ended abruptly when Dave banged his knee on the table, nearly spilling their coffee. They both stopped, trying to look innocent, until they made eye contact and immediately descended into giggling, Dave rubbing his tender knee. They got a few glares, but really that only caused them to laugh more, leaning close together conspiratorially.

When Dave eventually announced that he had to get to work, Klaus was once again struck by how easy it was to lose track of time when they were together. And it was strange how disappointed he felt as he headed down the sidewalk after saying his goodbyes. Then again, he’d gotten coffee and had eaten more than he usually did, so maybe that was the only reason he felt so reluctant.

“So, you’re going out again tonight,” Ben said, clearly disappointed as he fell into step beside him.

“I thought you said you liked the guy?” Klaus asked.

“‘Like’ is a strong word. I’d like it more if you didn’t go to clubs at all.”

“Well, we both know that’s not gonna happen,” Klaus said, pulling out another cigarette and grinning at his brother.

“You said you’d take me to that free art gallery,” Ben persisted. “We should go there instead.”

“Sorry, it’ll have to wait,” Klaus said and he really did feel a bit guilty for putting it off for so long. “I gotta resupply. We’ll go another day, okay? Now, help me figure out which dealer might actually give me an advance until I can get my hands on some cash.”

Ben sighed heavily, but at least he didn’t disappear.

#klaus hargreeves #dave katz #klave #the umbrella academy #klaus x dave #umbrella academy #fanfic #living for the moment #my fic

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