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minty-mumbles · 3 years ago

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To Honor, In Ink

Summary: While the chain is staying in the Karakara Bazaar, Wild heads off to Gerudo town for the day. He comes back sporting a new tattoo.

Author's Note: This was inspired by some people talking about the boys getting tattoos, specifically @gaylactic-fire. Really, only the second half of this is about tattoos... oh well

Read on AO3 Here

EDIT: You can see Wild’s Tattoo Here

EDIT 2: @bunnyambushed drew Wild's tattoo as well! Check it out here

~~~

The group had stumbled in the KaraKara Bazaar late last night. So late that it had nearly been morning. The entire group was exhausted. They had come across a particularly vicious pack of infected Keese a few hours before they arrived, and it hadn’t turned out well for them.

Keese, even the infected ones, weren't that difficult to take down. Unfortunately, there had been a lot of them. The swarm had been at least a hundred strong, and the old verbiage that there was strength in numbers had some truth to it. Especially when there were a couple bokoblins hidden in the swarm you didn't know about.

Sky had ended up with an arrow in his arm, courtesy of those same bokoblins. The rest of the group had been quick to take them down, and at that point, Time had given Warriors permission to use the fire rod that Legend had lent him. That had taken care of the keese nicely. Legend had to wonder why they hadn’t just done that in the first place.

He groaned, pushing himself up from his comfortable bed. Wild had taken one glance back at the exhausted group yesterday, and silently slid the extra rupees across the counter to pay for the extra soft beds. Usually, there would have been an argument about one of their own spending extra rupees on the others unnecessarily, but they were all too exhausted to care. Wind had already fallen asleep on Warriors back. Hyrule had been swaying side to side, and Sky was only staying upright because Twilight was supporting him.

No one had protested the thought of even more comfortable beds.

Legend had to admit, the extra soft beds did wonders. That had been perhaps one of the most satisfying nights of sleep he’s had since they had been at his own house in his own Hyrule. He had been sharing the bed with Four last night, which he had internally rejoiced at. Many of the others had a tendency to take up more than their share of the bed space. Four was the opposite, liking to curl into a little ball to sleep.

The small hero was already gone from the bed when Legend woke. In fact, most of the group was already gone from their beds. The only ones still in bed were Twilight, and Sky, who was awake and propped up in bed, reading a book. He’d likely been confined to bed rest by Hyrule, at least for the mourning.

They had managed to heal the worst of Sky’s injury, but it wasn’t perfect, and he would need extra rest to be up to traveling again.

Legend suspected that they would be staying in the Bazaar for a few days. Not that he was complaining. These beds were damn comfortable.

He stood, nodding at Sky as he put his outer tunic and boots back on. Clasping his belt around his waist, he stepped out into the morning sun.

The sun couldn’t have been up for an hour yet, but Legend could tell it was already shaping up to be a scorching hot day. As they were in the desert, that was to be expected. Legend predicted that most of them would be shedding their outer layers before noon.

He could see Four and Time over by some merchant stands that were set up in the shade of the tree. Four looked like he was haggling over some fruit, while Time was chatting with some other customers.

Wind was already in the water, swimming around like a dolphin in the shallow pool in the middle of the Bazaar. Warriors were nearby, keeping an eye on him, dipping his feet in the pool as well.

Legend looked around curiously, not spotting either the cook or the traveler anywhere. He swallowed the reflexive panic that rose in his throat. The champion could be reckless sometimes, but even he was not blasé enough to say someplace was safe when it wasn’t, and he had assured them last night that no one needed to stay awake to keep watch.

Anyways, none of the others were panicking at all, so it was probably fine.

And now that he was paying attention, Legend could hear Hyrule’s voice coming from around the corner of the building. As he rounded the corner to investigate, he found not only Hyrule, but also Wild, and a man wearing a frankly astoundingly large pack.

Hyrule was bartering with the man over what sounded to be the price of some bugs. Legend recalled that Wild had pointed this kind of bugs out to the group, and called them Cold Darners. Apparently, they were very useful in the making of heat-resistance potions.

Legend knew he was usually one of the only ones of the group that paid attention when Wild spouted off random bug facts. Not that the others were trying to be offensive, and Wild never seemed disappointed when no one but Legend was listening to his lecture about different types of fish or flowers

Legend figured that the information just went in one ear and out the other for the rest of the group. He, on the other hand, paid strict attention when Wild spoke about the natural flora and fauna of his Hyrule.

These portals were unreliable, and if Legend ever got stranded in Wild’s Hyrule without the champion, he wanted to be prepared. This was the kind of information that you wanted to absorb when you could. He knew from experience that he might end up thanking himself for it later.

Apparently, Hyrule had also been listening to what Wild had been saying yesterday, because he was now forking over enough rupees to buy enough of the bugs to make heat-resistance potions for all of them. Legend was impressed by his forethought. Legend himself probably wouldn’t have thought of potions until he himself was already halfway to sunburned.

As the merchant wandered away, Hyrule offered the bugs for Wild to store in his slate until they were ready to make the potions.

Wild waved him off, and the three started moving back to where the rest of the group, including a groggy-eyed Twilight, was gathered around the pool. “I actually have some things to do in town today. I have a few things I need to get, and I have an appointment I need to make. I had thought I would need to reschedule due to all the, well...” Here he gestured vaguely to the group, and the rest of them hummed in understanding. ”But, ehh, we're here, so might as well go…”

He trailed off, pulling out his slate, considering its contents. After a moment, he shrugged off his thoughts. “Anyways, you’ll want to keep a hold of those things yourself, Hyrule.”

Time spoke up from where he and Twilight had joined Warriors in dipping their feet in the pool. Twilight and Warriors had already shed their outer layers to try and combat the heat, and Time apparently hadn’t even bothered to put on his armor at all. “Do they have a leader you could ask about any sighting of black blooded monsters? You might as well ask while you’re there.”

Wild nodded, a smile overcoming his face. “Yeah! I’m on pretty good terms with the Chieftess, Riju. We go sand seal racing sometimes.”

“Well,” Time began, “take one of the others, and ask her, and then do what you need to after.”

“Ahh,” Wild winced. “I’m probably going to take a while, and you guys won’t be able to get in, remember? Women only.”

“So how do you get in?” Warriors asked, brow quirked.

Wild snorted at that. “You’ve already gotten a hint, though. It shouldn’t be that hard for eight heroes of courage to figure it out, should it?”

“Hold on,” Warriors protested, ”since when have we gotten a hint?”

That actually got a laugh out of Wild. “You’ve held what I’ve used in your hands before, Wars. Figure it out.”

With that, he tapped on his slate, dissipating in strands of blue light before Warriors could protest.

~~~

Wild was gone for most of the rest of the day. Hyrule sat down shortly after he departed, and made the heat-resistance potions, which everyone had been thankful for.

Legend had been right in thinking it would be a hot day. The Gerudo scattered around the plaza seemed unaffected, but all the Hylians were sweating buckets. By mid-day, everyone had shed their outer tunics. Those of them who were able to tan, and didn’t burn after an hour in the sun even took off their under-tunics to try and cool off that little bit more. Legend himself would rather not look like a cooked lobster, so he had kept his tunic on.

Many of the younger heroes joined Wind in the pool, as well as Twilight. (Legend sighed internally when he saw that, and braced himself for the inn to smell like wet dog that night.)

Wild was gone for both lunch and supper, and the only one who had been willing to cook was Hyrule, they had bought some fruit and pre-cooked meat from the stands, and made a meal out of that.

It had been decent, but not as good as what they had seen the champion cook before. Legend had particularly enjoyed the bananas, but when he went back to buy a few more, the seller had glared at him suspiciously. Eyeing the way she was fingering her blade, Legend decided to go with another slice of hydromelon instead. The seller calmed down after that.

Warriors sat around for a good hour or two, trying to figure out how exactly the champion was getting into town. Legend didn’t really care one way or the other, but the puzzle of what he was using to get into town was good, and Legend couldn’t resist a good puzzle. He had run through all the weapons he had seen Wild use, and the items he had in that slate of his but he couldn’t come up with anything. The paraglider, maybe, but Legend didn’t think Warriors had ever held that. Warriors wasn’t able to think of anything either, by his dejected expression.

After the worst heat of the day was over, Warriors convinced Wind and Hyrule to come try sneaking into town with him. Legend tagged along, eager to see what shenanigans the three would get into. The look Time sent him told Legend that he would also be bailing them out of jail if they got in any trouble.

They didn’t have any luck, and were back at the bazaar in time for dinner, Legend’s wallet thankfully as full as it had been when they left.

~~~

Wild only showed up after dinner was over. The sun had already set when he finally made it back. Legend wondered what had taken him so long. He had mentioned an appointment, but hadn’t specified, so the group was left in the dark.

Wild strolled leisurely into camp, and plopped himself down at their fire. Legend could see, even in the dark, that he had switched out of his normal clothing into something that looked much more appropriate for the heat, if a little revealing. He barely wore anything except a pair of pants and a pauldron on his shoulder.

“You took a long time,” Twilight noted, “run into any trouble?”

“Nah,” Wild shook his head, then changed the subject. “I didn’t see any of you in town. Couldn’t figure it out?” He shot a smirk at Warriors, who had to shake his head in defeat.

“He tried sneaking over the walls plenty of times,” Legend supplied, smirking. “They eventually placed a guard on him, so he had to give up.”

Wild gave a grin at the mental image of Warriors sulking while under the strict gaze of one of the gate guards. “I could have told you that. I can’t tell you the number of times I got thrown back over the wall before I figured it out.” Legend could have told Warriors that too. He had, in fact, but the captain had seemingly taken that as a challenge. Legend hadn’t minded, as it was amusing to watch.

Eventually, he had gotten bored, though, and had struck up a conversation with the guards, hoping to wrangle some information out of them. Unfortunately, the guards did not; have anything to tell him. They had just insisted that there were no exceptions to the rule, not even the Hero of Hyrule. They insisted that they hadn’t even seen the man in a few weeks.

When he told Wild this, he unexpectedly chuckled, waving him off. “Yeah, they would say that, wouldn't they? They definitely saw me, they just wouldn’t have told you. Besides, where else could I have gotten this done? The artist there is the best one I know.” He stood, turning to display his bare back, and the fresh tattoo that was inked there.

Wind was the first up, nearly bouncing in excitement. “Wow! Did it hurt?”

Wild laughed “Yeah, getting a tattoo hurts. Thankfully I don't have any scars where it’s placed, so it was easier for the artist, and less painful for me.”

The rest of the group slowly gathered around to admire the design. It was placed along the upper half of his spine, between his shoulder blades. It was relatively simple, as it would have to be to get it done in one day. Four colored spheres in a neat row, with an animal within each one. The top one was blue, with an elephant. Then there was a red one with a lizard, a green one with a bird, and the last yellow with a camel. Vines with blue flowers that Legend had heard Wild call Silent Princesses wrapped around the outside of the design. It was simple but elegant.

“I got it in memory of the champions,” Wild explained unnecessarily. They all knew the tale of the other champions and their divine beasts. The symbolism was obvious. “The flowers are Zelda’s favorite, but they're also, uh, common symbols of mourning....” Here, he trailed off, looking like he was lost in memories. Legend cringed.

Ugh, feelings.

Now Wild was upset. Legend never knew how to fix these types of situations, but as the silence dragged on with none of the others saying anything, Legend drew himself up to interject. None of the Links were particularly good with words, or subtle, and even those who were the best with words, like Warriors or Twilight, could stick their foot in their mouth easily.

This meant that they, more often than not, choose to leave the talking to someone else. Unfortunately, there was no one else this time, and one of them would need to break the awkward silence that was no doubt only making the champion feel worse.

“Wow!” Wind, bless his good timing, chimed in before anyone could say anything. “It looks so cool! I want a tattoo too. Granny said I could get on when I turned sixteen, but she wouldn’t know. Will you take me? Please!”

Wild, thankfully looking less uncomfortable, smiled at the sailor. “I don’t think that you’d have the time. I talked to the chieftess while I was there, and got some information about increased Yiga attacks. As long as Sky is feeling better, we’ll probably leave tomorrow.” When Wind sighed in disappointment, Wild pointed out “And besides, you weren't able to make it into the town anyway, and the tattoo artist doesn't do out-of-town appointments.”

“Oh, right…” Wind trailed off, obviously thinking of other places he could possibly fulfill his goal of getting ink injected into his skin.

Personally, Legend could see the appeal in getting inked. Wild’s designs were beautiful, and had significant meaning to him. Legend thought he might not mind having a small hibiscus flower tattooed somewhere.

However, he couldn’t imagine why anyone would willingly put themselves through the pain of getting a small needle jammed into them hundreds of times. It seemed like an unnecessary pain to go through, and Legend wasn’t one to intentionally put himself in pain.

When he said such out loud, Warriors laughed. “What, are you too tender-skinned for that?”

Legend scoffed. “Well, I don’t see you with any tattoos either, pretty boy.”

“I do have some,” Warriors smirked. “Just not where you can see. Army regulations.” He stood, stripping off his tunic. Across his chest, detailed in a bright gold that glimmered in the firelight, was the crest of Hyrule. On his back was a depiction of the master sword in black and white along his spine.

“That\’s impressive work,” Sky hummed. “Not many people get tattoos in Skyloft. The rocks we need to make the ink with are rare, so people don’t usually bother. Only a couple of people actually know how to tattoo.”

“That makes sense,” Warriors said, shrugging his shirt back on. “I guess rocks are hard to come by on a floating island. They're a finite resource.”

Wild nodded. “The tattoo artist I went to requires you to bring the materials that she needs with you. She‘s good enough that people come from all over to get tattooed there, and she can demand you bring your own materials. Mostly a lot of charcoal, but also some plants and other kinds of rocks to make the ink colored.”

Hyrule piped up from where he was sitting. “Do you have any, Sky? Being a chosen hero of Hylia seems like it would be special enough to warrant a tattoo.”

Sky nodded, but didn’t elaborate, and the rest of them left it be. When someone in the group didn’t choose to elaborate on something, the rest of them knew better than to push them. They had learned that lesson the hard way. Even something as innocent as a tattoo could have bad memories attached to it for the heroes.

“What about you two?” Wind questioned, gesturing towards Twilight and Time. “You guys both have tattoos, obviously.”

Time replied with a completely straight face, staring at Wind. “These aren't tattoos. They’re scars, a gift from a demon I… encountered.” He said it with such a blank face that Legend could see even Twilight couldn't tell if he was being serious.

“Ah.” Wind said, squinting at the old man suspiciously, before he seemingly decided that it wasn't worth asking more questions. He turned to Twilight. “What about you? Your tattoos actually kind of look like the markings on Wolfie. He’s your pet, right? Did you get them in honor of him?”

Legend couldn’t help but snicker as he watched Twilight trying to sputter out an answer to that.

Four took pity on Twilight, and started to show off his own tattoos to change the topic of conversation- a cluster of four swords surrounding his right forearm. Each had a different color gemstone in its hilt, Green, Blue, Purple, and Red.

As the conversation moved on, visions of small hibiscus tattoos floated in the back of his mind. Maybe getting one wouldn’t be so bad, in an inconspicuous place.

Putting yourself in pain on purpose did sound stupid. But Legend had done a lot of stupid things in the past. Getting a tattoo in memory of someone, to honor them, didn’t sound like it would even begin to stack up against the other idiotic things he’s done.

And besides, he’d been in plenty of pain before. He was sure he could handle a needle, right?

#mint’s writing #my writing #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu fanficiton #lu wild #lu legend #lu warriors #lu time #lu twilight #lu wind #lu hyrule #lu sky #lu four #lu marin #lu #tattoos

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7wanderingpaws · 4 years ago

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Mess We Made - second (m)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: arranged marriage au (not bbh), doctor AU, university AU (this chapter only), fluff, ANGST

Words: 12K

WARNINGS: language, unprotected sex, terrible family relations, stalking

Quick A/N: Goodness. This is long. I need to sleep! ENJOY! And thank you for patiently waiting ❤

tags: @byunfirstlady @blackon @puppyeoliepop @in3vitably3v3 @mangobaek @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @exortedgoods @gureuma ( if you want to be tagged/untagged please reply to this post)

>> A very special shoutout to @byunfirstlady because she rocks and deserves all the best! ><

parts: first -- second -- third -- fourth (last)

Mess We Made, part 2

Gentle puffs of hot air were hitting the shell of your ear as he was whispering something to you. The tip of his nose was poking you in the side of your cheek and you giggled, squirming away from him but his hand under your shirt and on your hip were preventing you from doing so.

“Where are you off to,” he whispered teasingly again, smiling widely as he bit your earlobe gently while his arm tightened around you. He wasn’t letting you squirm away that easily. “It’s too early.”

“You literally didn’t let us sleep the whole night,” you whispered back, still shimmying under his wandering hand. “It’s basically time to get up and my eyes are stinging from having no rest,” you pouted, blinking them a few times to prove a point. You were lying on your back while Baekhyun was propped on one elbow, hovering over you. Baekhyun’s shirt was the only piece of clothing on you. While he was completely naked, it seemed to be his second nature by now. After so much time together, his personality and preferences were more than familiar to you.

“Because I want to enjoy you as much as I can. And because I don’t want you to go,” he whined quietly and you giggled again, turning on your side to face him, hiding in his chest. “I really don’t want you to go, love. What do I do?”

You kissed his chest and looked up at him with a small smile. “I won’t go then.”

Baekhyun returned the smile but there was something in his eyes- that something giving you slight uneasiness. He was hesitating. Usually, he would immediately agree and it wasn’t like he had to beg you to stay; if anything, you had to beg him to kick you out because there was no way you would willingly leave his place and his warmth by your own choice.

“But I will have to go,” you added, verbalizing the sentence he secretly wished to hear but wouldn’t voice it. “Since my parents are waiting for me.” You didn’t give two damns about your parents. You really, really didn’t. But Baekhyun did. So you should, too.

Baekhyun caressed your hip bone, his hand sliding over your tummy where he tickled you, causing you to squirm once again under his touch. “I will meet you later, if you want,” he said, smiling when he saw your lips widely stretched in a silent laugh. “We can go to the coffee shop and be a little productive.”

You groaned, hiding your face in his chest again. Baekhyun let his hand slide over your back, enjoying the warmth your skin was emitting. “I don’t want to study. I want to cuddle you and kiss you and just feel you.”

Baekhyun’s chuckle was quiet but so handsome. He kissed your neck lovingly, puckering his lips three, four times. His lips were so smooth and soft; you wished you could stop the time now and live in the moment forever. “You felt me the whole night, didn’t you?” he rasped.

“Besides,” you added and leaned back a bit to look at his affectionate gaze. “We have some free time now before university starts.” His messy hair was falling over his eyes and you hummed, sliding your fingers through the strands, brushing them back and revealing his forehead. “Let’s make the most out of that. Just you and me.”

The air in the room felt warm. Whether it was from the activities you did the whole night or because you simply couldn’t not blush under his hooded eyes, you wouldn’t know. But when he leaned in to kiss you, unable to hold back any longer, you knew it was simply Baekhyun’s presence that was keeping you hot inside. With his hand on your naked skin, with his tongue teasing your lips or just a simple smile was what kept you burning hot, passion swallowing you and blinding you at the same time. If you were to keep walking, it was because of him. Thanks to him.

There were no cars parked in front of your house as you typed in the code for the tall wooden gate. Usually, there was some guest present but it was unusually peaceful. It almost made you excited because you naively believed your parents wouldn’t be home. Them not being home equaled time to yourself and more time to think through how you would approach the upcoming (dreader) discussion.

Stupid marriage, you thought unhappily as you entered the house. Making a beeline towards the kitchen, you were surprised yet again to find it empty. Wasn't it almost lunch time? Where were the maids? And the cooks?

It was all too strange which made you walk around, what was an obviously empty, house in order to find someone. Sure, your house was huge, and getting easily lost in it was a common issue for guests who were not hosted well, but this was beyond everything you expected.

Making the final decision to check your father’s office, you stopped in front of the sturdy wooden door. No sounds were coming from there, but the wood was too thick anyways. Clearing your throat gently, you opened the door and walked in the spacious room. It was also vacant, his chair turned to the side as if someone stood up from it in a hasty manner. Some documents were scattered around his otherwise well-organized table, so there wasn't anything out of ordinary until you felt a presence behind you, and you turned. You let out a shocked gasp when you saw your mother’s strict, emotionless face while standing straight with her arms crossed on her chest. She was, as per usual, well-dressed, her make-up one shade too light for her darker skin making her seem almost lifeless. You shuddered, but before you could react, she snapped.

“Do you like what you see? Empty house, no maids to run around you nor your family to welcome you?”

This time, you were really startled by her words. “What?”

“This is what will happen if you continue disobeying us, dear daughter. There won't be anyone to tend to your needs, no one to cook for you, to clean for you, not even me and your father will be there if you continue meeting that boy.”

You snorted, disbelief written all of your face as you sent daggers with your eyes. She dared to attack and mention Baekhyun again? “What is wrong with you-”

“Where were you last night until now?”

Scrambling to compose your still shocked state, you muttered: “You know where I was.”

She let out a humorless laugh and you noticed her jaw clenching. “What do you think you are doing? What were you even doing?” She reached out to the collar of your dress and yanked it sideways, revealing your collarbones along with your shoulder. Even though you didn't see exactly what she was looking at, you knew very well what she found there. You felt your heart jump in fear.

“Fooling around with him in bed?” she grumbled and snapped her cold eyes at you. “Letting him mark you? You little bitch.” The back of her hand landed with your cheek, the sting bringing tears to your eyes as your head snapped to the side, your hair covering half of your face from the strong blow. “How stupid must you be to be this irresponsible?!”

You held the abused cheek, biting your lip hard to prevent you from letting out a sob. You turned at her. “How dare you! I told you I will not comply and let that other man touch me-”

Her hand landed again on your cheek; the other one. “Wrong answer.”

You stepped away from her before she could hit you again, now letting the tears fall from your eyes. “You're crazy, mother,” you whispered, “you and father are both crazy.”

“That other man is your future husband,” she seethed, making a menacing step closer to you which prompted you to step back. “And he won't accept you cheating behind his back with some kid-”

“Stop talking about him like he is a no one!” you screeched loudly, losing your calm, surprising your mother and yourself in the process. Seeing your mother was finally silenced, you added: “He is the one I love, mum! I already said I will marry the guy, but you cannot take Baekhyun away from me! He is the only good thing I have in my life,” you cried. Your tears were scorching hot on your already reddened cheeks, just like Baekhyun's warmth that you were supposed to leave behind.

“The only good thing?” she repeated, disgusted. “After everything we have provided for you - you always had food and luxury! The least you can do to repay us is to do as we say!” she shouted, swishing her hands in the air. “I didn't even tell you off when you kept bringing bad grades home. I didn't bother. After all, you went to a useless, regular high school with no reputation. But right now, when I am telling you to do as I say, you decide to go against me?! I won't tolerate it! You will break up with him, and you will marry Mr Kwon. I made arrangements already, and he won’t impregnate you until you are done with university.”

Your gasp was loud, overwhelming the both of you, but your mother was faster to brush it off and continue with her nonsense. Her words were like a cut of a dagger; precise, because she knew your weak points, and very painful, because her goal was to wound you and eventually destroy you, leaving you in pain that would make you surrender to her orders.

“Impregnate?” you finally let out, voice trembling. “What the actual hell! I TOLD YOU. I am not letting him touch me.”

“Well,” she pressed an ugly, wrinkly smile, “you will have to. We need an heir. A boy.”

Sick. You were sick to your stomach at the idea of Mr Kwon smiling at you, let alone touch you at your most private parts and let him take you. The idea was maddening, and you desperately wanted to pull at your hair, hoping it would be a good enough sign for your mother to understand you didn't want to be part of an arranged marriage.

“Mum,” you whimpered finally, letting more tears fall as you connected your hands in front of your chest, pleading. “Mum, please. Don't do this. I will… I will do anything else you want me to, but please… You can't simply let him sleep with me.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You're acting as if you haven't been bedded already,” she said through gritted teeth. She was so disgusted by you, you couldn't help but take the hurt. Family was supposed to support you, be warm and kind and helpful, but her and your father were anything but. However, it never ceased to hurt you; the way she looked impersonal towards you, and right now, disgusted. As if you were some trash; someone unworthy of love and understanding.

“Please,” you whispered, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Wash up,” she grumbled resolutely before her eyes fell on the still exposed shoulder, “and hide that stupid mark with some make-up. Mr Kwon will be over for dinner-”

“NO!” you screeched, stomping your foot. “I WILL NOT MEET HIM!”

“Unless you want me to beat you up until your pretty-for-nothing face is marked just like he marked your neck, then I advise you to go. Wash. Up.” She turned around and walked away with resolute steps.

There was a crack within you; it literally felt like a knife slashing through your weak organ that was your heart.

“You’re cruel, mother!” you shouted after her, despite her not paying you any more attention, and you ran out of the office and up the wide staircase that would lead you to the only place you could hide in. Your room.

Shaky hands grabbed at the hair tie, yanking it out of your hair and throwing it across the spacious room. It was followed by your dress, also thrown to the other side while you stomped to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Its surface was cold on the skin of your naked back as you slid down, sobbing.

How many times have you been in this position already? How many times have you cried like this, despair pooling in the pit of your stomach, hoping, praying that things would somehow magically turn over and you’d feel some sort of relief? That relief never came and your misery would only worsen. Maybe it was exactly because of your high hopes, you thought as your sobbing slowly ceased, leaving you with only quiet whimpers and a throbbing headache. Maybe it was because, at the end of the day, you’d have Baekhyun who would bring out all the best and kindest and the most positive parts out of your suffering soul.

The thought of him made you only weep again, but you became determined as well. For him, you’d do anything. Anything.

He said to obey.

And you would.

Just before the main guest would arrive, your mother pushed a familiar pink gift bag into your hand. “You didn’t even open this ever since you decided to grace us with your presence,” she pressed through her gritted teeth, holding back from raising her voice. As much as she wished to smack you, she also didn’t want to cause a ruckus just before Mr Kwon would arrive. She needed you to look your best, which you did. “Open it and make sure to mention the gift,” she ordered and took a sharp look-over at your dressed up figure.

As promised, you hid all the hickeys Baekhyun left on you blinded by his passion and desire last night. The polite black dress was hugging your curves just in the gentlest ways, not too much but still leaving a good image of what you were hiding underneath. The colour of your stockings was of your skin, but with a glistening touch, making your legs look more desirable. Hair politely combed, wavy at the ends and tucked behind your ears. Perfect.

“Finally you know how to dress up properly to your age,” mumbled your mother. When you didn’t respond and averted your gaze to the ground, she hesitated before heaving out a sigh. “He’ll be here soon,” she turned around to leave your room. “Prepare.”

You were surprised when your mother shut the door quietly behind herself, giving you the necessary time to actually get ready and collect your thoughts.

The bag, just as yesterday, felt heavy in your fingers and you decided to finally take out the small, cream-coloured box, most probably promising a pricey gift. Sitting down at the edge of your bed, you quickly opened it to find a pretty set of earrings and a necklace. Earrings consisted of two pearls while the necklace was a simple silver necklace with a single pearl in the middle.

Noticing their unusual shape, you could tell right away that they were real pearls. Each piece of irregular shape made the actual stone throw all kinds of colors of the rainbow. It was beautiful, it really was, but not something you’d expect from someone you had never met. It strengthened the idea that what was about to go down in the future was, in fact, real. He was pursuing you.

Sighing tiredly, you felt your eyes burning up once again but was abruptly stopped when your phone vibrated on the vanity where you left it. Quickly moving to take it, you instantly smiled when you saw Baekhyun’s picture and his caller ID on display.

“Baby,” you sighed breathily, eager to hear his voice.

First you heard his handsome chuckle before he spoke: “My princess. Just wanted to check on you. I told you to text me once you’re home,” he scolded gently.

You bit your lip before quickly releasing it, remembering you had lipstick on. “Sorry I got… busy,” you murmured eventually. Not sure whether to tell him about the dinner, you decided to keep quiet. If he heard your uncertainty, he’d know something was up right away.

He hummed. “There was no trouble, right?” His voice was careful, hesitant. He always trusted you but he also knew you would lie if he asked.

You lied anyway. “Of course. You know I’m not that easily breakable, right? There is no need to worry, Baekhyun.”

He sighed. “I always worry about you.” And about your family hurting you. He kept that to himself though. “But as long as I hear your voice and know your fine, it’s more than enough.”

You closed your eyes, desperately wishing you could be with him, in his bed, while he studied and you’d observe him. Anything would be better than the situation you were in now. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” he was fast to reply. “Always. I missed you even before you left this morning.”

You giggled, covering your mouth even though no one saw you. “I’ll gladly sneak out tonight.”

“No. Stay home. Don’t want you getting into trouble-“

“You know I’d do it even with you disapproving.”

“Oh, I know you would, sweetheart. I know.”

“I’d do anything for you, Baekhyun,” you whispered, “in a heartbeat.”

He was silent for a moment. You weren’t sure why he wasn’t replying, but then again, your words bore quite a powerful meaning. “And I’d do anything to protect you and keep you happy.”

Burning tears came to life when you heard his low voice, sending shocks down your body. “Then never leave me.”

Silence again.

“Baekhyun,” you muttered, “promise me you won’t leave me.”

Why wasn’t he replying as fast as he did just a few moments ago? Were you asking for too much? Were you crossing boundaries? That made you scoff. You and him had such a strong and intimate relationship, there was no space for any boundaries. Your relationship seemed to be limitless.

“I won’t leave you, love,” was his answer finally. “I love you too fucking much for me to leave you.”

“Then that’s enough,” you sighed shakily, knowing it was time for you to hang up and face the dreaded. “As long as I know you love me and won’t leave me, all will be well.”

The silence in the dining room was one of the worst things your life had put you through. The chewing sounds, clinking of the cutlery along with slurping were the only noises that you heard physically, while your mind was about to explode with your thoughts.

Mr Kwon was sitting directly opposite you, to your misfortune, while your parents were seated in their usual spots, your father being at the head of the table. It was almost the absolute end of you when the servers put octopuses on the table as the main dish. Shooting them a horrified glare, they could only widen their eyes at you, silently asking for your forgiveness when they knew octopuses made you puke your guts out. Just the sight triggered your gag reflex and you ended up swallowing the rice through the wrong pipe, causing you to start a spree of aggressive coughing. Definitely not lady-like.

“Oh my, look at you,” chided your mother who was next to you, tapping your back with good enough power. “You eat too fast, darling,” she said knowingly and when you turned to glare at her, she only chuckled, taking in your red face.

“Maybe have octopuses,” suggested Mr Kwon with a chuckle as he reached for one right away. “They certainly won't make you suffocate.”

Your presence alone is suffocating enough, you thought bitterly but made sure to break a smile to show respect even though it was killing you. Quickly reaching for a jar with water, you wanted to pour yourself some very much needed liquid when you saw the man's hand in your line of vision, and he poured you water.

“Eat carefully, miss,” he murmured, giving you the slightest of honest smiles.

You bowed your head in gratitude before gulping down. It gave you the relief you desperately seeked, but the sight of the octopuses was creating an uncomfortable bulge in your stomach.

“So, now that we enjoyed the main dishes, we shall talk about some business, what do you say, Mr Kwon?” suggested your father in a friendly manner, connecting his fingers as he rested his elbows on the table.

Mr Kwon nodded. “Oh, yes, we shall do that. The meal was terrific, by the way.”

“Thank you, I will make sure to tell the kitchen staff,” smiled brightly your mother, hiding her grin behind her hand. You tried not to shudder at the tense, over-polite atmosphere, but on the other hand you were dying to find out more about your fate. With Baekhyun on your mind, you braced yourself, ready to fight for whatever was to come.

Your father gave you a brief glance before facing the expectant Mr Kwon. “Well, I suppose we should set a wedding date. Given we discussed most of the business part, we should now focus on you and our daughter.”

“Yes, yes. I would like to suggest marriage once she enters university,” proposed Mr Kwon importantly and you felt blood leaving your face immediately. “As you know, I would also like to get to know her better and I believe that if we will start our marriage early on, we both can earn ourselves some valuable time before starting a family. I also do not want her to steer away from me too much.”

No. No, no, no. “Actually, may I say-”

“No, you may not,” muttered your mother, squeezing your thigh under the table. She quickly looked at Mr Kwon who had a questioning look. “Would you like the ceremony when her first semester starts? You see, she is a good student, so I'd like her not to steer away from her studies too much.”

Surprised, you stole a glance at your mother, but she was facing your future husband. Your heartbeat was frantic in your chest and you swore you would pass out at the idea of your mother trying to protect you in some twisted manner, despite her fighting you like a wild bull.

“What do you suggest, then?” asked Mr Kwon, his attention fully on your mother.

She took a deep breath and her hand left your thigh, leaving behind a warm, but uncomfortable feeling on your skin. “Marriage after graduation.”

The man in question raised his eyebrows slowly, thinking over the suggested idea. Meticulously, he scrutinized your mother before his eyes fell on your wavering gaze. It was almost scorching, and you couldn't help but look down at your lap where your hands were politely connected. Noticing the sickeningly white skin of your knuckles, you didn't realize you were squeezing them together in order to fight the nerves.

“Alright,” he rasped eventually, causing you to raise your head in hope. “Under some conditions, though.”

Your heart died a little bit at that, but it didn't matter. You had four years ahead. Four years of freedom. With Baekhyun. “I am to do what my initial plan was,” he started, “and that is to get to know my future wife well. I do respect her needs, however I would like to visit her on various occasions and take her out, too. She shouldn't be a newbie to the house where I live in, so I demand to have at least one night with her-”

“Oh, Mr Kwon,” chimed in your mother nonchalantly, while your father shot her a warning look, “let me remind you that we would like our daughter to finish her bachelor degree on time. Which means we wouldn't want unwelcome pregnancies or such.”

Your throat went dry and you almost whimpered at the horrific idea.

“Are you suggesting no physical contact until after marriage?”

“Excuse me,” you said in a tiny tone, withering under the adults' strict gazes, “but this is my life and my body we talk about here.” You bravely looked at Mr Kwon's face. “As much as I understand and respect your request, I do not wish to do anything more until we know each other well enough,” you hesitated, before adding, “until I feel ready. You know yourself that I am still young and have a desire to live a little bit before I will settle down with you.”

“By living a little bit I hope you do not mean finding other boyfriends,” he cut in, the slightest of scoffs tinting his voice. “From this moment on, you are to tend to me only.”

“Actually-”

“Actually,” this time your mother cut in, her hand back on your thigh, wordlessly silencing you, “we understand your request.” She paused and you held your breath. “We agree, of course. She shouldn't be seeing anyone else besides you.”

“And has she been seeing anyone else before?” quipped Mr Kwon, leaning back in his chair, his stance somehow lazy. “Does she have experience? Has she been bedded before?”

You winced and your head snapped to your father, your eyes pleading with him to do something.

“I'd rather not…” your father trailed off, obvious discomfort on his face, “talk about this. We promised you our daughter and we are willing to make the wedding ceremony once she graduates in four years. Until then, you are to pursue her,” he decided, authority now dripping from his voice. “Feel free to contact her, but our conditions are as I stated just now. Marriage after graduation. Otherwise, we comply with your requests to be with her. She won't be seeing anyone else. Do not worry, Mr Kwon.”

Mr Kwon was watching you and that scared you. Was the fact that you were in a relationship written all over your face? You hoped not, even though you desperately wanted to tell him that yes, indeed, you had a boyfriend. You already had someone who occupied every possible space in your heart and in your mind.

“Alright,” said the guest, “may I suggest a little talk face to face here with our young miss?”

“But of course!” agreed your mother without hesitation and in no time, her and your father were gone, both of them shooting you warning glares. If only they could support you for once. Was that too much to ask for? Though you had to be honest. You were satisfied that you still had something you could hold for yourself.

“Miss,” Mr Kwon snapped you out of your thoughts. He stood up and walked over to you, motioning for you to stand up as well. You hastily did, quickly adjusting your skirt, which didn't go unnoticed by his sharp eyes. Feeling your cheeks reddening, you didn't look up.

He was quiet for a little while longer before softly muttering: “My gift looks very pretty on you. I have to say, I feel baffled that you decided to wear the pearls for me.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you still refused to look up at him. It was anything but for him.

“I assume you must be startled by the events, but I assure you I won't harm you. In the adult world, it is only normal to follow natural instincts though,” he murmured again as he made a step closer. “And you are definitely a breath-takingly beautiful young woman.” Suppressing the shivers, you nodded to show you were listening. He chuckled lowly. “No need to be shy around me. I prefer my women brave and confident. Like they know what they want.”

You raised your head now, reciprocating the eye contact. “In that case - I am still eighteen, Mr Kwon. I would appreciate it if you respect that.”

“I didn't even do anything,” he laughed again, shaking his head, taking your words as a joke. “But I like it. Okay. You got me. I will ask your parents for your telephone number and from now on,” he paused and leaned in a little closer, his strong cologne hitting your nose, “we shall deal with everything privately. Just the two of us.” He leaned back, checking your face for some reaction. You were shaken. “Alright?”

You nodded, wanting it to be quickly over. “Alright.”

“I'll make sure no one else will roam around you, miss. From today on, you are mine.”

It was yet another of the many times that you cried in your bed. Guilty feelings eating you away, the creeping sense of disgust at everything that you had to listen to and become part of sooner than later.

You were trying to think your situation over - how you could trick Mr Kwon to make him believe you weren't seeing anyone. In a way, you were thankful your mother and father never mentioned you already having a boyfriend as much as you wanted to shout it to the whole world. It was better to keep Baekhyun a secret which was basically one step to being in a relationship you didn't want to be. Baekhyun already became a forbidden fruit and you wondered what would happen if Mr Kwon found out.

You never told Baekhyun what was the deal between your parents and Mr Kwon. As much as he knew you were secretive and he tried to be the same Baekhyun as before, you couldn’t help the lurking feeling of your relationship's dynamics suddenly changing.

It shifted.

Unfortunately, in the wrong direction.

It’s been almost four years now that you’ve been attending university, meaning the sacred time to part was coming up, and you saw your boyfriend less and less. Even if the weather was nice and all you’ve asked was five minutes of his precious time, Baekhyun slowly but surely refused to give it to you. He would make sure to make it up later but the slightest hint of distance was palpable in his eyes and his touches.

In the beginning, you still enjoyed each other as much as you used to. He would bring you along to parties and show everyone you were together. You would bring him along to your get-togethers and make sure all the ladies knew he was yours. You slept at his place whenever you could and you were still just as crazy about each other as you used to be.

It was only once Mr Kwon started to take you out, asking for dinner dates and sometimes even making unannounced visits, was when your relationship started to break. You hated that word dearly; to break. You hated to use that word in the same sentence with Baekhyun's name. But you got the hunch that Baekhyun was suspicious. He knew something was up, he was not dumb. Suddenly, it was you rejecting his advances, it was you busy and with little time to spare. So you made sure he wouldn't get the hint and masked everything. Mr Kwon was not allowed to give you unannounced visits and you had to meet him somewhere far away from campus (it was convenient since he always treated you to expensive, tasteless food in Gangnam).

Over those few years, you and Baekhyun developed a routine; at the beginning of each semester, both of you exchanged your timetables. But in your final year, despite you knowing about Baekhyun's whereabouts, he would either stay later in school or hang out with his classmates. Thankfully, he took you many times with him - to lunches and dinners and get-togethers. Many of his friends there had girlfriends and you were never surprised that Baekhyun managed to win over almost everyone in his year. Because even if you were there as his girlfriend, his hand on your thigh to prove it, there were still so many girls, younger and older, swallowing him up with dark, hungry eyes.

Just where did the good old days go? In the good old days, you would be inseparable. There was no one who could stay between you two, even if it was your evil parents. He would kiss you, you would hug him, he would caress you and you would lay your head on his shoulder. You’d sneak out to see him, and he would create a new, safe home for you even if it meant just for a night. You risked so much to be with him; even now when you were under a scrutinizing watch of Mr Kwon, you’d always go and try to see Baekhyun.

So why was Baekhyun acting like this? With every passing day, he would drift away from you and you felt like you were trying to grasp onto him desperately, preventing him from leaving your side. Baekhyun was always by your side. He belonged there.

You were in your final year now, the beginning of a brand new, and last, semester when you decided to sign up for a fashion design class. You weren’t sure why you did it; the constant doodling as a way to get rid of your negative emotions, you grew to love grabbing a pencil and just let the sharp tip of it slide on the crisp surface of the paper. Fashion was something you always had to excel at given your reputation so when you found yourself sketching some pretty lingerie, you decided it wouldn’t be a bad move to attend a class that you actually liked, unlike the rest.

“But why does it have to be in the evening?” whined Baekhyun who was walking you to the seminar room. His hair was messy and it wasn’t because of your fingers. Apparently he had been in the library since 6am.

You sighed, and hugged your books closer to your chest, the chilly autumn evening catching you unprepared. You loved the deep red dress you wore today, but not only you were cold, but the heels were killing your feet too. “You’re always busy, Baekhyun. Why is it suddenly so difficult for you to accept that I will be busy one evening out of seven?”

He went silent and you knew you hit a sensitive spot. “You’re right.”

That made you feel… disappointed. He wouldn’t even try to fight anymore.

“Let’s talk after your class,” he suggested when you stopped in front of the classroom. There was some movement inside, most probably the professor preparing the materials for the seminar.

Baekhyun’s words left you feeling uneasy. “About what?”

He looked at you but his gaze was unreadable. He didn’t smile but didn’t frown either, until you saw the slightest clench of his jaw before he relaxed it. “About us.”

You instantly had tears in your eyes but you pressed your lips together, praying you wouldn’t start wailing now. Despite that, you shivered. “Maybe another time,” you tried.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I really need to talk to you.”

“So when you want to talk to me I need to have time but when I was chasing you the past years, you couldn’t even give me five goddamn minutes of your precious time!”

He was taken aback at the raise of your voice but didn’t comment on it, nor did he act upon it. “I think you know that we have too many unresolved issues.”

“I don’t want to solve them,” you replied stubbornly.

He frowned. “What? What’s the matter with you?” he asked, exasperated. “You’ve been acting so strange,” he added, saying your name with so much seriousness it made you shiver again. “All I want is to talk.”

“But you will break up with me,” you said, voice low now and your chin trembling. “I know it. And I don’t want to.”

“No,” he was fast to whisper, shaking his head as he stepped closer to you, “I don’t want to break up with you, angel,” he whispered into your ear now, his hands gently cradling your head as he hugged you to him.

You whimpered, dropping your books so you could squeeze his slim waist and hide your face in his chest. His sweater had a pleasant scent of his detergent and it made you feel instantly at home. “Then what is it,” you gritted your teeth to prevent yourself from sobbing.

He sighed, knowing how he must have shattered you over the time. He grew distant, he was aware of that. But Baekhyun was also a perfectionist. He had to excel in classes, he had to make sure he knew what he was doing in order to become a qualified doctor as he always dreamed about. However, him being meticulous with his studies made him lose someone who was very special to him - you. “I miss you,” he whispered. “I just want to make sure we are in the clear. I want to spend more time with you. But I want to talk.”

“I’ve been missing you for so long,” you mumbled, ignoring the few students who were passing by and entering your classroom. He had a sad look on his face and you weren’t sure you wanted to know why. “I’ll come to your place. Will the other guys be out?”

He grasped your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I don’t know. I don’t care. Just head straight to my place, alright?” he said, attempting to smile.

Baekhyun was sharing an apartment with his friends just across the campus so it was convenient for him and for you. Even though they could be annoying sometimes, they knew not to play around you too much, given how ignorant you were towards anyone that wasn’t a Byun Baekhyun.

You nodded and Baekhyun hummed in acknowledgment, leaning in to kiss your forehead. You sighed, satisfied.

“Enjoy your class,” he murmured, his lips still brushing your skin. “I'll be waiting for you.”

Before he could let go of your hand and walk away, you pulled him towards you, ignoring his questioning gaze and stood on your tiptoes, pressing your lips together. You felt him heave out a soft breath before he cradled your face and angled you up to have better access as he teased you with his tongue.

Someone cleared their throat out of nowhere and you gasped, disattaching from Baekhyun's lips a smooch that made you blush. He let go of you when he zoomed in on someone and you turned to find a young professor standing in the doorway to the seminar room. “Are you joining my class?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Quickly bowing to him, you nodded, apologizing as you made your way to the classroom. Before the doors could completely close, you looked at Baekhyun who gave you a supportive smile.

You could smell cigarettes in the corridor as you stood in front of Baekhyun's apartment door. It wasn't the nicest building; some weird people lurking here and there, but you knew he worked hard to earn the place so you never told him how you actually felt about the place.

You typed in the code, letting yourself enter and quickly took off your heels, chasing the very much needed relief in your aching feet.

“You came.” Baekhyun appeared from his room, a big grey hoodie and black pants looking extra comfortable and cuddly on him.

He walked over to you and this time he initiated the small kiss. “How was class?” he asked, taking your bag from your hand as he moved to the kitchen. He was about to lift it up when your sketchbook fell out, the pages messily opening and splattering on the floor.

“It went very well,” you answered, watching him slowly pick up the sketch book, his eyes drinking in what he was seemingly missing out on the past year. Your sketches.

“Did you…” he trailed off, swallowing before looking up at you, “did you draw this? Did you come up with this?”

“Well, I had to present something to the teacher so that I wouldn't look too lost in his fashion class,” you smiled cheekily, sensing the unease Baekhyun was suddenly full of. He let his eyes follow you as you stepped towards him, taking the sketchbook from his frozen hand. “This is my personal favourite,” you said in a low voice, turning the pages until there were no more left. The last page was the only sketch you didn't show to your professor. Baekhyun was silent, but his eyes were sharp. They flickered from your face to the lingerie sketches that you were showing him.

Slowly, he took a deep breath, eyes scanning the figure that was resembling yours unlike the regular ones that you sketched before, for anyone's eyes. This one was meant for Baekhyun's eyes only and he was assured of it when he saw the small “unlock, bbh” under the sketch.

You knew Baekhyun loved wearing black colours despite his favourite one being red. So you decided to combine the dark with a deep, sultry red that oozed sexiness and confidence. Lace was so thinly sketched, it almost seemed like your skin was tattered with it. You never liked wearing thongs, so you made sure the underwear would be comfortable for you, instead filling the space with lace and silk.

It was a luxurious piece that you were confident you could actually wear one day if you would be determined enough to bring it to life.

“You see,” you started when silence was too much to bear, the growing tension made you feel all sorts of strong emotions, “I made it like a game for you, Baekhyun.” You took his index finger and pointed it at the paper where your left shoulder bra strap was drawn. “You won't unlock me until you find out one crucial point of this set. If you do, you'll unlock the entire outfit,” you told him, your voice low. “And what do I mean by unlock?” you asked, letting go of his finger and he looked at you from his side. “You'll get to see me in my whole glory. Just a simple click can give you access to everything that I am.”

Baekhyun was thinking about your words even though it had been a while since he spoke. Eventually, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to control something you weren't aware of. “Is this what you did in your class?”

You snorted a laugh. “No, Baekhyun. This is just for you. My present to you,” you smiled at the idea. “One day.”

“How can you be so fucking sexy inside and out?” he grumbled and with one arm swiftly brought you to his chest, his hand tightly gripping your waist. His eyes flickered all over your features, taking in the make-up and the red lipstick that you knew he adored so much. How could he let himself ignore you when you were a full meal, a huge prey for any man with bad and good intentions? How could he not appreciate you every single day and tell you that he loved you and wanted to make love to you every single time he saw you?

You smiled up at him and he lost it. Despite the trouble and negative tension he created, you still dared to smile at him?

He claimed your lips, catching you by surprise but you moaned instantly when you felt his hands drag downwards over your hips and bum until reaching the backside of your thighs. Both of you were so familiar with each other's actions, that Baekhyun didn't have to tell you to jump anymore. You did so without his order and when he had you in his arms, you felt him right at your center instantly. You gasped, reacting to his body as you tried to shimmy your middle over him and he grunted into the kiss.

“Jesus, what are you doing to me, woman,” he breathed, his lips glistening with your mixed saliva before cradling your cheek with one hand, bringing you in for another dirty kiss.

You whined, growing wet right away. Squeezing his waist with your legs, he clumsily put you on the counter, accidentally knocking over some cups, but neither of you cared. Baekhyun was kissing your jaw, slowly making his way to your ear into which he whispered: “I need to fuck you right now.” He bit your earlobe and you moaned, wanting to close your legs but his hands were already pushing them apart. Your dress hiked up to your hips, revealing your underwear and you fumbled with his pants, your hands already inside to bring him out. Upon touching him, you gasped, looking at your boyfriend. He was hard.

“It's what you do to me all the damn time,” he whispered, panting when he felt your light touch. “I told you years ago, didn't I?” he smirked and pushed your hand away, instead his hands grabbing you under your knees and yanking you to the edge so he could have better access. You whimpered, clenching around nothing when he pushed the crotch of your panties aside and felt his middle finger teasing you by letting it dip but not quite enter. “So wet,” he breathed, looking at your blushed face. “Let’s dive, shall we?” he murmured, grabbing himself. You circled your arms around his neck, face buried in his neck as you felt him poke you. Lubricating himself he made sure to spread your arousal all over your womanhood. You whimpered and he finally pushed in. Both of you moaned in unison, the stretch so pleasurable it made you almost see stars.

“Mmhhmm, you feel so good,” you moaned, closing your eyes and biting his earlobe. He was quick to reply when he set up a fast pace, chasing his release.

Both of you were panting, neither of you speaking as you were indulged in each other. Feeling the sweat prickling around your hairline, you kissed Baekhyun, who grunted, pushing extra deep and hitting your g-spot. You let go of the kiss with a smooch, moaning loudly into his mouth which he swallowed, his forehead pressed to yours. “Is it good? Am I making you feel good?” he breathed, puffs of air hitting your lips.

“Yes, yes, you do,” you exhaled harshly as he slowed down, circling his hips to make sure he was touching every corner of you. You arched your back, your head hitting the cupboards you forgot were behind you. Just like that, both of you were laughing like crazy, Baekhyun smiling widely as he kissed your exposed neck while still deep inside you.

You cursed, still giggling. Bringing your face back, you took his face into your hands and kissed him as he took himself out of you completely and then slammed back in right away.

“I’m so fucking close,” he whispered between messy kisses. “I swear I'm gonna cum right now, princess.”

You wanted to tell him to wait for you, but instead you lead him on. “Then cum.”

“Should I pull out?” The urgency of his voice as he kept thrusting into you made you momentarily dizzy. He felt so good. “No, don’t pull out,” you breathed and he groaned loudly, hiding his face in your chest as was his habit when he was releasing. Exactly then, you felt hot spurts pumping into you. You felt so full but the satisfaction was anywhere near. You chose not to act up on your frustration, instead deciding to enjoy seeing Baekhyun in a bliss.

“I don't remember when was the last time I came this hard,” he told you, stilling completely, his breath fanning your lips as he was slowly coming down from his high. After a few moments, he kissed you sweetly. “Sorry, baby. Let me-”

“No, don’t,” you said, the wetness leaking out of you and on the counter. His hand hovered above your bundle of nerves just above where he disappeared inside you. “It's fine.”

“But you didn’t cum,” he muttered, embarrassed. “Sorry… this is so ridiculous.”

“Don't be silly,” you said with a gentle tone and brushed his hair out of his sweaty forehead and leaned in to kiss it. “You're so gorgeous, Baekyhun,” you told him when he finally focused his shy gaze on you. In response, he squeezed your thighs he was holding onto the whole time. The iron grip eased up into a gentle hold. You were sure you would bruise but damn, you didn't care.

He smiled and that was your biggest present. His smile that was meant for you. “The one who is gorgeous is you. You made me cum so fast with just the idea of you wearing that lingerie… I'll make it up to you, I promise,” he whispered, kissing you again as he pulled out of you, once again causing you to moan at the friction.

Baekhyun cleaned up the mess quickly and sent you to wash up but before you could saunter off, he held your hand. “Stay over tonight,” he requested softly.

Feeling yourself smile even wider, you gratefully accepted.

After eating dinner, it was already too late, so both of you moved to Baekhyun's room, deciding to talk like you wanted to.

He lent you his clothes and you relished in the feeling of getting lost in his hoodie. When he lied down, he opened his arms for you to find comfort in and you were fast to jump at him, causing him to grunt at the impact which made you giggle.

“Are you trying to say I’m heavy!” you shrieked in mock anger, hitting his chest gently, and Baekhyun laughed.

“No, never,” he hummed when you settled in, resting your head on his chest. His heartbeat sounded a little irregular.

Your mood instantly deflated. “So,” you started, drawing circles on his pectoral with your finger. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

He sighed gently and you felt his breath on your forehead. “I don’t know how to begin.”

“From the start.”

Baekhyun clicked his tongue at your reply and you smiled though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You’re a teasing little thing, aren’t you, my love.”

My love.

If he called you his love it meant he wouldn’t break up with you, right?

“I just feel like …” he trailed off, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “You’re in your final year.”

That sentence spoke volumes to you. The meaning behind it meant only one thing and it was that only thing you’d been trying to fight against and refuse to accept. Your time with Baekhyun was almost up.

“Won’t you say something?” he asked softly when there was no answer from you.

This time you were the one who sighed and gently pushed yourself out of his grasp, to sit up facing him.

He mirrored you and sat opposite you. “Baby, what is going to happen?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured, lowering your head. “I mean-“ you looked up. “I won’t leave you, that’s all I know for sure.”

Baekhyun wasn’t satisfied with your answer. After all, you had the same answer years ago. He called your name. “We cannot do this forever, you know? Both of us deserve to know where we stand. It’s weird that you’ve been promised to that man but there is no news about when you are supposed to get married?” he rumbled though his voice wasn’t accusative.

Biting your lip, you avoided his eyes again by looking down.

“You know stuff, don’t you.”

You grit your teeth.

“What aren’t you telling me, hm?” He waited for a moment and when you still refused to talk, he took a deep breath. “I can’t believe you’ve known stuff and not tell me!”

This time, he sounded angry. “No, Baek, it’s not like that! I- yes, I’m supposed to be marrying him after I graduate but-“

“There is no but. There is only a period. You are marrying him after you graduate. Period.”

Your heart broke into two. Baekhyun was frowning, hurt flashing in his eyes as his jaw pulsed with how hard he was clenching it. His lips, those lips, were set into a hard line and there was no way to make him look happy like he once used to when he was with you.

“Baekhyun,” you tried, voice thin, “I already told you I’m not letting you go.”

“You seriously think about yourself only, don’t you,” he responded coldly, disbelief painting his voice. “You really don’t care what it means for me to sneak behind some rich dude who can give you anything you point at! I have my own pride. I can’t bear to share you with someone-“

“Baekhyun, I won’t let him touch me! I won’t let him do anything! You won’t be sharing me with anyone! My heart belongs to you and you know it,” you said, tears burning up in your eyes. “I love you so much,” you whispered before your voice could break.

Baekhyun was holding back, you could tell. His lips quivered but he didn’t make any effort to reach out for you. His eyes glistened. “Don’t marry him.”

You groaned inwardly. “You know I can’t do that.”

“So you’ve been going behind your parents the entire time, seeing me despite their protests and when I ask you not to marry him, you suddenly want to comply?”

“It’s for business,” you reminded him, “I didn’t choose this myself if that’s what you’ve been thinking.”

“I don’t care! I’ll give you everything. I’ll give you more than he can ever give you,” he said hurriedly and you let out a small gasp because Baekhyun was usually anything but desperate. He was the collected one, but now he was anything but.

“I’ll never leave you,” you promised shuffling to him, taking his face in your cold hands. “Please know that, Baekhyun. I won’t let him do anything. It’s just a status. That's all.”

His eyes were frantically flickering between yours, as if searching for something more than there was. “How can you just marry him when you barely ever saw him?”

And now was the time where you could start feeling guilty. It was on you. This was your fault and given how well Baekhyun knew you, he would read right into it. It got confirmed when he pulled away from you, your hands dropping.

“What else aren't you telling me?” he said in a low voice now completely withdrawing away from you and pushing himself up against the headboard.

“Baekhyun-”

“Just tell me already!”

You winced, quickly shutting your mouth. “We sometimes meet because he… eh, he just wants to get to know me better. That's it, he just asks me questions an-and I answer,” you replied shakily, brushing your hair behind your ear. “There is nothing, I swear. I deserve to know what kind of man I am marrying, too,” you added, looking up at your boyfriend whose gaze was set somewhere behind you.

“Has this been happening the entire time?” he asked quietly.

“Since the start of the uni.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fucking awesome. Congratulations.”

“Baekhyun,” you said, this time strictly. “What the hell is wrong with you? I've been begging to meet you the whole past year and you always found some bullshit excuse for studying and actually you know what? Who knows what you'd been doing during those times!” you exclaimed, the idea of him being with someone else sending you into a rage.

“The fuck? As if I would cheat on you!” he shouted back, sending daggers your way. “I've been in a relationship with someone who was never supposed to be mine! Tell me, sweetcheeks, how does that sound to you? I'm saving myself for you while I know the entire time that I'll be on the loose end. I'm the pathetic one. I am the one who will lose. Not you,” he said in a menacing tone. “So before you start to throw shit at me, I would look in the mirror if I were you.”

“Byun Baekhyun!” you shouted.

He raised an eyebrow. “What. You don't like to hear the truth? Well, this is it. And I have lost my mind, finally. I've been too goddamn blinded by your hope when I knew the whole time it would be fruitless. I cannot do this anymore!”

By then you were sobbing. The last sentence sent you into fits of cries that you couldn't suppress no matter how hard you tried, and it hurt. Byun Baekhyun's words hurt like hell. Hiding your face in your hands, you felt the wetness of your tears pooling in your palms, hoping he would stop being angry with you and just take you in his arms and take his words back.

It didn't happen.

Slowly, you moved your hands away to see him stare at you, hard gaze, lips sealed tightly. “Baby,” you tried, reaching for him. More tears fell from your eyes but you didn't care anymore. He had seen you cry so many times and he was always there to comfort you. This time you were crying because of him and he wouldn't even move a finger for you. “Baby, please.”

“You said you deserve to know him better, too,” he said. “So it is that important to you - that you need to know him.”

“Of course,” you replied with a nasal voice, “what if he is a psychopath.”

He laughed bitterly. “Right. What if he is. How the fuck would you know - you are marrying him anyway! So why is it so important to you to let him get to know you? And you him?”

“It's just the way the deal went, okay?”

“No, it's not okay,” he spat. “You're going against your own word. “You told me there would be nothing happening until you graduate and you were with him behind my back.”

It was your turn to scoff now, though your face was splotchy. “Because you were waiting for me so much!”

“Don't you dare turn this against me,” he muttered in a low tone which left you shocked. This was the first time Baekhyun used that kind of tone with you. In fact, this was your first time fighting this ugly. “This is about you. About your fucking family. About them wanting to destroy us!”

“And it's obviously working!” You threw your hands up. “Just look at you now! You're doing exactly what they want you to be doing! They so desperately wish for you to hurt me so I could dump you,” you shouted, more tears rolling down your hot cheeks. “I guess they were right after all.”

“Right in what,” he snapped again, glaring at you.

You stood up, unable to keep fighting with him. He watched you wordlessly as you picked up your bag where you had your school books. “You're just using me. I guess I was just money to you as well!” You were seething as you yanked his door open and rushed straight for the door.

Sensing someone in the kitchen, you stopped abruptly for a moment, seeing Park Chanyeol staring at you in shock while he took in your state.

You shook your head, not bothering to say hi to him as you went to grab your shoes just to realize you came in heels. “Fuck,” you muttered. Well, Baekhyun's vans would have to do. Grabbing them, you tied both shoes tightly so you wouldn't fall as you rushed to grab the door when you felt a hand grab your wrist instead.

You looked back, making out Baekhyun's features through tears. “Let go,” you snapped, trying to shake him off.

“Where are you going this late?!”

“Anywhere is better than here with you! I cannot stay with you, Baekhyun!” you shouted, finally yanking him off harshly enough so his hand slipped.

You slammed the door shut and Baekyhun was met with silence. Throwing a single, helpless gaze at his friend was enough for Chanyeol to nod and move. “I'll go after her,” he reassured Baekhyun who seemed to be on the verge of mental breakdown.

Baekhyun just nodded, watching Chanyeol leave and hoping you wouldn't actually break up with him.

You were marching down the dark street, ignoring the anxiety creeping in from the silent, empty streets. They were eerie and scary and you hated walking down them at such a late hour but there was no way you could stay at Baekhyun's.

Fast steps brought you back to the present and your heart almost jumped out of your rib cage when you felt someone taking your wrist again. Hope spiked up, expecting to see Baekhyun but it was Park Chanyeol.

He turned you to him gently, little out of breath from trying to catch up with you. “You sure walk fast,” he commented.

He let go of your wrist and you sighed, looking at him with expectation. “What do you want, Park?”

“I just wanted to make sure you're fine,” he said rather shyly.

“I'm just fine,” you insisted, “I will go home now. Go back, it's late.”

“I'll take you home,” he said and to prove a point he clinked with his car keys. “Though it's not the best car out there, it will do the job.”

You rolled your eyes. “I always knew all of you were judging me for my status. And don't bother. I know you're only doing this because of Baekhyun. Well, you don't need to do this.”

“He would skin me alive,” he whispered, horrified. “And he is now too good with the scalpel. I wouldn’t dare.”

“I don't want your help unless it's something you actually want to do, Park Chanyeol,” you muttered through gritted teeth, feeling another wave of tears threatening to spill. “You just made it worse. Leave.”

“It’s late.”

“I don't care. I need to be alone right now.”

“For your information, we all know how much he cherishes you,” he started. “Whenever he would reject you, he would study but not really focus. He keeps talking only about you. We don’t judge you for money but for how much you occupy our space even if you aren't there. That dude is just bewitched by you and I don't know how you managed to do it, to be honest. He is the coldest guy to any other opposite sex beside you.”

“What are you trying to say, Park Chanyeol?”

He sighed and gave you a pointed look. “Baekhyun sacrificed a lot for you. He is so loyal to you despite all the matters you guys have. He never told us but we have a hunch. Just… don’t go breaking his heart.”

“I am not breaking his heart!” you said loudly, tears rolling down your cheeks. “He doubts my feelings.”

“He doesn't. He is insecure.”

“How can he be insecure? All I ever wanted was to be with him.”

Chanyeol stepped closer to you, causing you to tilt your head back further. “Then go back and amend the mess you made.”

“It's not just my mess. It's ours. We made it. He should know what he told me was wrong.”

“All he ever did was listen to you! What makes you think that guy has unlimited patience? He doesn't! So go back, and make it right again!”

You let out a loud groan, turning away from him. You tapped your foot on the concrete, thinking hard though you were close to exasperation. Turning back to Baekhyun's friend, you muttered: “Since you brought those keys, take me on a drive. I’ll sponsor the gas.”

It was already late when you returned back but at least you managed to clear up your mind. Quietly slipping back inside his dark room, you saw him lying in bed, his back turned to you. Putting your bag quietly down on the floor, you slipped under the comforter, your arms and legs hugging him like a koala bear.

You thought he was asleep or worse, that he’d ignore you, but he moved almost as soon as you hugged him, turning in your embrace, pushing his leg between yours and his hand circling your waist, his hand on the skin of your lower back. It was pitch black in the room, but once you felt his hot breath on your mouth and then the moisture of his lips on yours, you didn't need to see. You just felt. He kissed you and poured all of his apologies, regrets and forgiveness in the kiss. You returned the kiss just as fervently, feeling his warm hand on your cheek, his fingers in your hair while his thumb smoothed the skin under your eye. He shuffled himself closer and hummed when you darted out your tongue. He sucked on your lip a little longer before opening his mouth to let you in, and you took your time in exploring him, twirling and sucking on his tongue while you felt his arm tightening around you, his hand under your hoodie as he caressed you under your breast. In the quietness of his room there were just the slick sounds of your making out.

When you couldn't keep going anymore, you separated, your mouth fully wet from your mixed saliva as you panted loudly. You felt him pressing his forehead to yours and you sighed in relief.

“I'm so sorry, princess,” he whispered, nuzzling your nose gently, dragging his leg up so he could rest it on your thigh. “I was a fool.”

“No,” you whispered back, wishing you could see him better. “You merely stated the facts. It's all on me.”

“We both screwed up,” he added, “but fuck.” He gave your cheek a small, open-mouthed kiss, sending shivers down your spine, “I can't imagine you leaving me and being with him. I can't.”

You wanted to reply to him and to ease his mind that you wouldn't, but you would lie. The more you would keep to yourself, the more you would end up hurting the most precious person in your life.

“I'm so sorry. None of what I said is true,” you managed to blurt, unable to come up with anything more. “I keep breaking you. I'm so sorry.”

“Shh, baby,” he whispered urgently, his hand that was resting on your cheek slipping to the back of your head to bring you closer. You hid your face in his chest while he hid his in your neck. “You're not breaking me. You're breaking me if I'm not with you.”

You snuggled closer to him and he sighed, hugging you tighter. “My precious gem, I love you,” he whispered into your ear. To make your body contact more intimate, you also hid your hands under his hoodie, feeling his muscles contracting at your delicate touch. “You're mine.”

Few days later you received a message. It was from Mr Kwon and you groaned, stopping on your way to another class.

I request a lunch with you today

My driver will pick you up at 12

I know you're not supposed to be having classes

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you pushed your phone back into your bag and headed inside the classroom. Even if you would reject him, he wouldn't accept it, so you might as well not bother with replying.

However, you were shocked when the driver came all the way to your classroom as all the students were pouring out and heading for lunch. You knew Mr Kwon's driver and even though he was polite, you didn't like the looks he was giving you whenever he saw you wearing skirts, like for instance, now.

He escorted you to the expensive restaurant where they were already waiting for you. Upon spotting you, the staff rushed towards you and led you to Mr Kwon who was already seated, his hands clasped together as his elbows rested on the table. He stood up, giving you a polite bow as he helped you sit down.

When he was opposite you, he said: “Pleasure to see you. How have you been the past few days we didn't see each other?”

You suppress a tired sigh. “I've been fine, thank you.”

“Oh, have you, now?” he questioned, his eyebrow lifting. His eyes were telling you something he wasn't verbalizing and it put you into unease right away.

Smiling, you muttered: “Yes, but thank you for your concern.”

“No issues with your friends?”

His stupid inquisition was starting to annoy you. “Excuse me? Could you please speak more explicitly?”

“I thought you'd never ask,” he smirked and took out an envelope from the inside of his cardigan and handed it to you over the table.

With uncertainty, you accepted it and opened it, not wasting time in trying to understand his mysterious words. There were photos. Frowning, you inspected them better and you were shocked when you saw it was you with a tall male. Park Chanyeol. It must have been that night when you fought with Baekhyun. Your breath hitched in your throat when you realized this man had you followed by someone.

You opened your mouth to talk but he cut through like a knife. “I was wondering where did you receive such a - how shall I put it - passionate bruise on your neck the last time I saw you. Turns out you're sleeping around with someone.”

It felt like he just threw a bucket of icy cold water on you. The idea of him having you followed, of him not trusting you and rudely breaking into your privacy as if you were some object he could manipulate and decide whom to meet and whom to not meet was driving you up the wall.

“You don't have anything to defend yourself?” he asked sharply. “How long have you been seeing that man?”

You swallowed on a dry throat. Mr Kwon thought your boyfriend was Park Chanyeol? That was good. As long as he had no knowledge about Baekhyun, you didn't care. “I… it's been…”

“Jesus Christ, I really didn't think you would be a whore,” he snickered, eyeing you up and his eyes eventually resting on your cleavage. “You were acting all innocent and brave just a few years ago and attending university changed you so much. I wanted to be the only one who would bed you,” he sneered and you felt a bile rising in your stomach.

“What- Excuse me?! Who do you think you are?!” you exclaimed, horrified. “Don't you dare think of me that way.” You stood up and wanted to scream when you saw his eyes drinking up your thighs that got revealed as your skirt hiked up. “A deal is a deal. You don't have any rights to treat me like this. And you can bet you aren't going to boss me around once we are married. I'll easily reject the marriage, too.”

Mr Kwon was fast up on his feet to walk over to you. “Well, if you do, your parents are as good as dead. Their business is in shackles, young lady. So unless you want them to be able to afford some food and have a roof over their heads, I advise you to respect me,” he was talking so fast you could barely register his touch on your hip and on your backside. Gasping, you slapped his hand away and dared to push him from you. He snickered.

“Watch your hands, Mr Kwon,” you spat. “This is a private property.”

He laughed and leaned in. “Oh, are you like this with him too? Then I can't wait to have the full rights. The only one with rights. Soon, little tiger.” You moved to push him away when he added: “You better end this little thingy you have with the boy. Because if I find out who he is, I will destroy him and any perspectives he could have for the future.”

Even though he didn't know about Byun Baekhyun, you could not risk it.

You had to break up with him.

// // // // //

Drop me a message! ^^ CuriousCat

#exowritersnet #baekhyun fanfiction #exo fanfiction #superm fanfiction #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fic #MWM #mywritings

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astringofmadhousefloozies · 4 years ago

Text

Magicam Live

Vil’s guest is a pest. Contains coarse language, people being catty bitches, and more telling than showing.

You want more, check my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag. If you liked it, let me know!

~*~*~*~

Transcript of Last Week's Magicam Live From *schoenheit_official

Vil: Hello my dearest fans! As promised, I will be showing off my newest capsule makeup collection, to be released this Monday exclusively at Feathersweep Cosmetics. However, due to high demand, instead of simply demonstrating on myself, I thought I would show that anyone could be half as beautiful as me with these!

[He holds a hand out to the side.]

V: Please welcome my fellow student at Night's Raven College, Yuu.

Yuu: Yo.

[A girl with short, dark hair and tired eyes sits down beside him. Spotty and plump, with a notable double chin. She's notably underdressed, compared to Vil.]

Y: I am she. I'm *donegotisekaid, if you haven't seen yet. Full of genuine memes from another universe, as well as me figuring this place out, and pictures of my not-cat.

V: She's simply been begging me for a makeover!

Y: He asked me if I'd do it, actually.

[Vil stops and takes a deep breath, clearly irritated.]

V: Yes, well. You've prepared?

Y: I scrubbed my face real good and managed to leave most of my pimples alone, if that's what you mean.

[Vil sighs]

V: As much as you're capable of, clearly. We'll start with the primer.

Y: [with a smile] Didn't you already give me one on how to act in this?

[Vil pinched the bridge of his nose, regret pouring from every cell in his body.]

V: Just lie back and be quiet until I'm done with you.

[Yuu looks at the camera, but says nothing. There's an audible snicker from behind the camera.]

[There are a few quiet minutes where Vil prepares her face, before selecting a foundation.]

V: So, is there a reason you don't wear makeup? You could look quite nice with it.

Y: Few reasons. It's a lot of effort, and I tire easily. I don't really like the feel of it on my face, and I tend to touch my face a lot anyways, so it doesn't last. It's a lot of money, and I break out very easily.

V: I can see that. Don't you use face wash?

Y: You should have seen me when I did use it! Much worse.

V: Ugh. I'll give you something later. And none of these have a good tone for you.

Y: Just pick the closest! I'll end up wrecking it by a few hours from now anyways.

[Vil rolled his eyes.]

V: Rook, any questions from the chat?

[A familiar accented voice from offscreen]

Rook: *stellargems wants to know how Yuu found herself at NRC.

Y: Transdimensional bullshit. I'm here until we figure out how I can get home. It's not bad, I don't miss it much.

V: Yuu even has her own dorm so she doesn't have to bother anyone.

Y: Not that it stops me.

V: [sotto voce] Don't we all know.

Y: If they kept you in a building with four usable rooms total and no electricity, you'd be out and about too. At least the ghosts there are really nice and help me out.

V: Do you kiss these ones too, or was that a one time thing?

Y: If I hadn't kissed her we'd be down a student and you and half the people I hang out with would be paralyzed, so don't make fun.

[Vil stops to regard the camera.]

V: To clarify, there was an incident with a ghost princess causing a lot of trouble at the school a few months ago. Yuu decided to kiss her to fix everything, because she's both stupid and deeply strange.

Y: It was really fun until I started dying.

V: All her blood was on the outside. It was disgusting.

Y: It did work though!

V: Keep telling yourself that, you didn't kiss the one you really wanted to.

[Yuu gives him the finger, and Vil shoves her hand down.]

R: *vilpleasefathermychildren asks-

[Yuu sputters with laughter. Vil just winks at the camera with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.]

R: They want to know if there'll be a coupon code for the new release.

V: There will! It'll be released via the official fanclub email Sunday night.

Y: It'll be a whole three percent off and you have to pay to access it.

V: Stop that.

Y: [sweetly] No.

Rook: *getterbackback wants to know what your shirt says?

Y: Yeah, hold on.

[She stands and pulls the shirt out to be seen better. It says in large letters, I'M CUTE AND I BITE]

Y: You can do one yourself if you take a dark shirt, tape the parts you want covered, and scorch the area around it with diluted bleach. I've done a few of these, a few designs more than once.

V: Destroyed them?

Y: Nah, Lil wants at least one of every one I do.

V: [to the camera] That would be our fellow student Lilia Vanrouge, from Diasomnia.

Y: He's pretty great. He's *elderbatbrat if you want to look him up.

V: Sit back down so I can figure out which blush to use.

Y: Pinks and corals work best for my skin tone.

V: I thought you didn't wear makeup?

Y: Why do you think I know wearing it tires me out? It's not something I ever did a lot because of the effort.

Y: Except for highlighter. it's basically sparkles and it's light, so I like that.

V: You remember that, but not your proper name?

Y: Ain't life grand.

R: I'm getting several questions about that. Would you care to elabourate for the chat?

Y: Yeah. I don't remember a lot about where I'm from. Culturally? Lots. What I like? What I don't like? Everything. Names and places specific to who I was? No. And don't ask me to think about it too hard, I get the worst fucking headache and I stop seeing right.

V: You've never seen right in your life.

Y: Oh, fuck off, Vil.

[Vil stops blushing one cheek to point.]

V: Stop that.

[Yuu responds by biting at his finger with an audible click when her teeth meet, laughing hysterically as Vil pulls back in shock.]

V: !!! Dreadful little monster!

Y: Yeah, but you're the one who thought you'd get more views if I was here.

R: We indeed just surged another 20,000 views and counting! Excellent work, Yuu.

Y: Thank you, Rook.

[Vil looks ready to explode.]

Y: I won't bite again, that was just too easy. Please continue, I do want to see what magic you can do.

V: This is regular makeup.

Y: Metaphorically, you jackass.

R: *rosemassacre wants to know if you're always like this.

V: She's always this horrible.

Y: Vil first saw me and called me a dumpy little potato. I told him it's because I'm great all ways and everyone wants a taste, and slapped my ass at him. He's been obsessed with me ever since.

V: I am not obsessed with you.

R: You go into a rage over her at least once a week.

V: She can't go a week without being a pest.

Y: I went three after you kicked me out of the movie club.

V: You can't just project violence on the walls of Pomfiore because I said we weren't going to watch it!

Y: Vil, it was The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, and it is art.

V: A man gets sawed in half in the first ten minutes.

Y: To an absolutely bangin' soundtrack. Oh that reminds me. Ad time, hold on.

[She wiggles a little before puting on her best customer service face.]

Y: If you want to access media that is quite literally from another world, please go to MonstroMedia dot com and sign up! There's ebooks, movies, tv, music, and more. Much of it is horror, sci-fi and fantasy, as it's from my person collection of media brought with me on my laptop and backup drives. You can use the code SHOENHEITSAYSWHAT for the first month free!

[She put her hand up and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone.]

Y: I completely understand piracy, but I'd appreciate if you paid because this is the only way I get spending money, and I can only bat my eyes at these boys so much before they expect something in return for gifts.

V: How'd Ashengrotto talk you into that one?

Y: He was going to make me start paying for all the food I eat if I didn't.

R: *waterwitchesbetgitches says, and I quote, "so like if ur the only gal at NRC how many boyfs you have"

Y: So many. At least twenty. Even more if there were girls here.

V: That is a gross exaggeration. She has maybe three, if we're being very generous on the definition.

Y: [points] And he's mad he's not one of them.

V: [squinting] You are absolutely dreadful and I can't understand how you're so popular.

Y: I like you too, Vil.

[Vil pauses, visibly taken aback.]

V: ... Thank you.

V: You know you're going to have paparazzi on your tail now, right?

Y: Aw, shit.

R: *insertmagicamhandlehere wants to know what's on your neck.

V: An antique chain with an attached charm specially made for me by Soleil Atelier.

R: I believe that was for Yuu.

[Yuu snickers, as Vil looks for himself. When her collar is pulled down, it fully reveals a vicious set of hickeys with visible toothmarks.]

V: Eww.

Y: You should see the other guy.

V: Eww!

[Vil takes a moment to recover, while Yuu laughs.]

Y: That could be a second part! Everyone needs that tutorial. "Bruise Coverup How-to by Vil Shoenheit: For when you just can't keep them off of you."

[Vil mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like "nerds shouldn't be allowed to fuck"]

Y: Then where would your fans be?

V: At least there's only setting spray after this and then you can leave.

Y: Won't you get bored without me here?

R: One last question! *shroudstreaming has asked... well, there's a lengthy keysmash and an all-caps "why".

Y: Ah. Hi, babe!

Y: Hey, everyone go follow him, he's a total fucking babe and he refuses to take my word for it, no matter what I do to him-

[Vil sprays setting spray directly in her face, leading to Yuu coughing.]

V: No taste at all, and gross to boot.

Y: Asshole.

[Vil offers a mirror]

V: No. Miracle worker.

[Yuu looks... well, the same, but with an even, well made-up face.]

Y: ... Aww. You remembered I like sparkles.

V: Less likely to scrub it off if you actually like it.

[Yuu's admiring herself for a few moments in silence, with Vil watching, quite pleased.]

Y: Hey, can I do you next?

V: Absolutely not.

Y: Ask the chat.

V: No.

R: Chat says yes.

V: [With a visible eye roll] Ugh, fine.

Y: Aight. Take your shirt off.

V: What.

[Yuu brings up a case and flips it open. Inside is a magazine with a gory cover, and various things like fake blood and liquid latex.]

Y: Alright kiddies. You wanna learn how to slit a man's throat?

[Vil gets up and walks away without another word.]

Y: You said I could! Get back here!

[Yuu follows. Rook emerges from behind the camera.]

R: That's it for tonight, ma belles. Next time.

[Magicam Live ends, but not before audible yelling and scuffling, quickly cut off.]

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #vil schoenheit

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nightowlfandom · 4 years ago

Text

Eren Yeager- The Right Type Of Wrong (Part 2/2)

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

2/2 LEGGO BITCH

Like I said this is half AU/Half Not Really

Leggo!

...

(FLASHBACK)

“What do you think is outside the wall?” you asked innocently. You and Eren had snuck out after curfew (before you were granted immunity to go/do whatever you want). You two snuck out to the tallest building and sat on the roof, staring into the night. “When this whole Titan thing is taken care of...if it ever get’s taken care of, what do you think is out there?”

“Who knows.” Eren said. “I do know this though...freedom is one hell of a drug. We’re not gonna know what to do with ourselves.” he lazily drew lines onto your hand with his fingertips. “I mean I do what I want anyways, but knowing I can do what I want without worrying about being chased around all day, it’s gonna be nice.”

“We’re gonna travel one day.” you giggled. “We’re gonna pack up everything and camp in the mountains for a few days.” you said determined. “You hear that universe! Make it happen!” you playfully threatened the night sky.

You had noticed Eren was quiet. “Hey...everything good?”

“Hm? Oh...Yeah I’m fine...just thinking...Come here.” He wrapped his arms around you and took you in a warm hug.

“Hey look!” you pointed at the sky, pointing out the brightest star. “That can be our star!” you clapped excitedly.

“Yeah...our star”

(Flashback end)

...

You tapped against the counter filled with boredom. It was 7:57 already. Three more minutes and you were out of there. You were ready to leave already. You silently hoped Eren was at least a second late so you could up and leave.

You had no idea why you decided to dress up for this. You weren’t even the least bit excited for this. This wasn’t worth ditching your uniform, not by a longshot. Whatever Eren had to say, he had better make it quick. You hadn’t even bothered ordering a drink, you were sure your stomach couldn’t handle it in the first place.

7:58

“Two more minutes.” you mumbled to yourself. “Ugh, I’m wasting my time.” you leaned against the counter, looking around the cozy looking pub. Why did you even agree to this!? Were you stupid?

Yes, yes you were.

7:59...

“Alright, I’m out of here.” you scoffed. “Wasting my god-damn time.”

“I believe I still had one minute left.” a voice startled you. “How rude.”

“We’ll you and timing aren’t exactly the best of friends, you can’t blame me for thinking the worst.” you replied, turning towards Eren.

“Sorry, darling. Car needed gas but I’m here now, aren’t I?” He winked, taking a seat next to you. “Hey Barkeep! Get me my usual! Hope you can still hold your liquor.”

“What do you think.” you yawned. “We’re here to talk...”

“Can’t we catch up first?” he feigned hurt. “Damn Y/N, I haven’t even been back a day and you’re already eager to get rid of me...how you been?”

“Busy.” you huffed. “Training, teaching, and fighting.” you replied. “Not in that particular order.”

“Hm...any boyfriend to speak of?”

“No.” you cut him off. “I haven’t had time for dating...”

“Oh, really?” he smirked. “Wonder why that would be.”

“You know why...” you snapped. “No guy that knows you has even tried to come near me, and incase you haven’t noticed, is pretty much everyone.”

“Oh baby, I’m just messing with you.” he threw an arm around your waist. “I know you could never be with anyone else.” he kissed the side of your head.

“Where were you?” you narrowed your eyes.

“...I had to leave.” Eren replied, suddenly glowering. “I had some thinking to do...I had to get myself together.” he took his arm back, leaning on the counter. “I wanted to tell you-”

“This one’s on me Eren, welcome back.” the bartender came back with two glasses and stalked off. He gave you a short look, almost asking with his own eyes, ‘Are you sure about this guy?”

“Yet you didn’t, you didn’t tell me.” you ignored him and rolled your eyes focusing back on Eren. “So what is it, then?” you raised an eyebrow. “You left, so why did you come back? Care to enlighten me on why you didn’t stay gone? You left every single one of your peers behind and for what? Why didn’t you stay in the hole you crawled into!” you got louder and louder, not caring if the other patrons could hear. “Care to explain?”

“I came back because of you, Y/N.” he replied. “I wanted to better myself...for you...I just hope it isn’t too late.”

“Bullshit.” you laughed harshly, taking the glass off the counter. “If you wanted to escape the corps, just say that.” you boredly drank. “You don’t have to tell me some dumbass story.”

“I didn’t want to escape the corps.” he denied the idea. “I’m being honest, Y/N.”

“If there’s one thing I know about you...it’s that when you say you’re being honest, I have to assume the opposite.” you sighed.

“You have to believe me.” he raised his hand to caress your cheek. “You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Trust me, I believe a lot of things about you and I definitely don’t know what you would and wouldn’t do to me.” you huffed, placing the glass back on the counter. “I believe that you’re a selfish little-”

You didn’t have time to finish your insult because Eren swooped in and kissed you. Like he used to, he rested his palm on the base of your neck while he slithered his other arm around your waist. You practically melted into his touch, ignoring the disapproving glares of the other patrons. They’d never try to pull you apart though. Eren pulled away, still holding you.

“That’s not fair.” you pouted, feeling your old self reach the surface. “You can’t do that.”

“You missed me.” he ignored your complaints. “You so fucking missed me.”

“Maybe a little...” you gave in. “Maybe a lot.”

“Good...good girl.”

“You left me.” you clenched your jaw, trying not to let your emotions show. “With a fucking note, Eren.”

“Yet you’re still wearing the dog-tags I left with said note.” he smirked at the chain that was peeking out from your jacket. You were sure you managed to hide them well.

Eren found the necklace when he was out battling a titan once, it had burped out the necklace and he didn’t see the point in leaving it...so he took it, polished it and kept it. (Yo if this is offensive I am soooo sorry dude.)

He would up getting it engraved before he left it for you, like that would help.

Then again you wore them everywhere you went...so who was the moron?

“S-shut up...” you felt your face heat up violently.

... (NSFW themes ahead)

Your back hit the seat with a thud as Eren crawled over you, slamming the car door behind him.

You were used to being acquainted with the backseat of Eren’s cars (whether they were his or not.) Your lips crashed together as he pinned your arms above your head.

“Eren, we’re still in public!” you moaned as he trailed his mouth down your jawline. “I’m pretty sure people know what we’re doing here.” you whimpered.

“So? They sure as fuck won’t try and stop us.” he laughed. “Fuck I missed you, I missed you too much.” he groaned. “I thought about you every fucking day I was gone.” He ghosted his fingers under your shirt. “The only thing keeping me going was coming back for you.” he kissed up your exposed stomach, trailing his tongue along your scorching hot skin. “All our memories.” He bit his lip.

“Memories?”

“Remember when we used to fuck on that asshole Ackerman’s desk when he wasn’t there?”

“Yeah?” you trailed off. “Then we almost got caught -”

“Remember when you sucked my dick under the tables at our meetings and no one suspected a thing?”

“Eren, that’s so dirty.” you shyly covered your face with your hands.

“Remember when we’d fuck in the alleyways when we were supposed to be on guard, or all times we’d sneak out after curfew to do what we’re doing right now?” he bought up all the memories. He laced his fingertips into yours. “I don’t think that pussy of yours forgot...” he laughed darkly. “If I recall you convinced me a few times.”

Eren kissed you again as he lifted your shirt over your head. “I stared at our star every night, wishing I could be closer to you.” he spoke in hushed tones. “Fuck Y/N, I missed you.” he groaned.

You frantically unbuttoned his shirt, feeling his warm body collide with yours. The small space in the back seat only forced your two to get closer.

...

You laid on his check, basking in the afterglow of this moment. His chest rose and fell gracefully. His heart was racing...yours was too.

Your clothes are thrown in the front seat with the exception of his jacket which was being used as a mini blanket to cover your back.

“ We shook the car.” Eren commented with a laugh. “I’m sure people know what we’ve been up to.”

“So what happens now?” you breathlessly asked.

“Well...I’m gonna get yelled at by Ackerman...probably get my ass kicked by our friends. Rejoin the corps...” he listed.

“So you’re staying permanently?” You looked up at him, a glint of hope in your eye.

“Of course.” he winked. “Course I gotta stay. Show these losers who the best titan killer is...and I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you.” he tightened his arms around you.

“Good...because if you leave me again...we’re done for good.”

“Ouch...what happened to my innocent Y/N?” he scoffed with laughter.

“I took a page out of your book.” you giggled before giving out a long yawn.

You soon fell asleep to the sound of Eren breathing.

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my-name-stitch · 3 years ago

Text

Copy the first few lines of your last ten fics, note any fun observations, then tag a few more friends.

tagged by @anonthenullifier i write in bursts so lmao i legit only have 13 works on ao3. technically i have long untouched wips (including many doctor/river things rip) between all of these bc of said bursts but... these are the ones i finished and posted.

1. Peak Bagging (1/2022 BatCat one-shot, spiciest thing I’ve ever posted lol)

Beneath the covers, Selina stirred, vaguely aware that something was off. There were no arms around her, no chest pressed to her back, no legs tangled with hers – hell, even the bare minimum, she had both of her hands free since someone wasn’t holding at least one of them. It was wrong.

It was never a good thing when Selina woke up without Bruce because it usually meant he never made it to bed in the first place, and she could always tell because of how they slept together: some part of him was always touching her. The stubborn ass would never admit to it, nor would he call it cuddling himself, but Selina was prone to ignore his opinion on the matter because he was touch starved, socially inept, and regularly denied himself what he truly wanted (she was working on all three with Alfred’s guidance). Selina decided it was cuddling, so cuddling it was. And Bruce loved it.

2. Felt with Both Hands (11/2021 BatCat soulmate au one-shot that’s not the usual soulmate au)

The night sky, devoid of stars but smattered with the lights of airplanes and the odd helicopter, was usually a comforting blanket that wrapped around her like a second skin (hell, Selina has a second skin for the nighttime). Usually. Sometimes it felt too vast and lifeless, like in the dead of winter when winds carved through streets and howled over rooftops. On those nights, she stayed in with a real blanket wrapped around her and a hot chocolate to keep her hands warm.

Other nights, that vastness was caused by the knowledge that there were over eight million people in Gotham alone, and she was just one of those literal millions, nothing more than a spec of dust in the city that was just a crumb of the whole world.

3. Dear Fellow Traveler: It Was Written that I Would Love You (7/2019 Aziraphale/Crowley loosely connected one-shot)

Aziraphale pressed his palms to his thighs, hoping his robes would soak up some of his shame while beads of sweat rolled down his neck to his back like traitorous little signals that he’d done wrong. They left cold trails downward, which isn’t a direction Aziraphale liked. Nothing downwards was any good. The fingers of his right hand, freed from the burden of a deceptively heavy flaming sword, stretched outwards before curling into the rough fabric and holding it as tightly as they once held the sword.

Had he done the wrong thing? It certainly felt like it. Aziraphale had given away his literal God given sword, a weapon that scorched demons and angels alike, though it could only discorporate demons while it made angels… die.

4. Dear Fellow Traveler: If I Could Be Over You When the Sky Starts Falling, Would You Be Happy Under Me? (Same as #3)

Demons weren’t meant to love. They were incapable of it, actually. It went against their internal design, that’s what they said. But as a breeze, heavy with the scent of salt from the ocean roaring a few meters away, swept across his face, Crawly couldn’t help but wonder.

What if they were wrong?

5. Task Number One (5/2018 Scarlet Vision one-shot)

There was a heaviness to her soul that dragged and dragged and dragged her down like a lead weight. Some days, she could lift it higher than others, but it was constantly there, curving her shoulders inwards from its weight. Air felt stale in her never quite full lungs, and her head felt almost impossibly like a broken bobblehead, forever tilted downwards, on the worst days. Pietro’s presence used to help her, especially on those terrible days, but his death meant Wanda was constantly alone (though she was never alone with her own thoughts, not since a year ago). Instead of helping her, he was now part of the weight making her sink down into the depths, drowning her. But ever since coming to the Avengers Compound, she hadn’t been left physically alone no matter how much she pushed them away (except, of course, for Stark – and she was grateful for it).

6. Felt with Both Hands (BatCat soulmate au one-shot that’s not the usual soulmate au)

7. But Does He? (8/2017 Scarlet Vision one-shot that’s the... crackiest thing I’ve written since I was like 13)

Vision wondered if he would ever understand his teammates desire for alcohol, which, from what he could tell from Google searches, was not unusual for humans. He was curious how being drunk felt, but the repercussions seemed to outweigh whatever drunken fun could happen (if it was even remembered in the morning). Wanda had also been interested in testing her tolerance level and getting drunk, having never had the chance to even drink good alcohol before. She’d had some shitty, watered down beer Pietro had “liberated” for them, but hadn’t drank enough to get buzzed, because being unaware of one’s surroundings in the streets of Sokovia was dangerous.

8. Broken Camouflage (8/2017 Scarlet Vision one-shot)

There's something about silence in a place where there used to be constant noise. Low voices of people talking, the television as it played everything from cartoons to the daily news, perhaps dripping water as a pot of coffee brewed, or bubbling as water was boiled for tea, the sharp thwack of a knife hitting wood as vegetables got chopped, sometimes even the softened thump of a dart hitting the bullseye on the dartboard.

Now... there was nothing.

9. Error 404 (7/2017 Scarlet Vision one-shot)

"Woah! You're that robot - The Vision, right?"

The high-pitched voice surprised Vision. What shocked him even more was the lack of the snarl from his side saying, "He is not a robot, you imbecile." Some unknown factor made his chest throb with heat, and Vision filed it away to ruminate on later. He blinked at the... child, for the lack of a more apt word, in front of him that was positively radiating exultance. Vision's chest gave another scorched throb.

10. Relativity (7/2017 Scarlet Vision one-shot)

His kisses make time stop. Sometimes, she wonders if it's the Infinity Stone in his forehead until she remembers his is the Mind Stone, not the Time Stone. Then she wonders, since all of time isn't stopping, if her time is stopping. The Earth still spun and clocks still ticked, but she was stuck somewhere else, somewhere with him and his lips pressed to hers, and that's okay.

fun observations: uuhhhh it’s always sad boi hours here even on fluff pieces lol? (i haven’t been able to do anything but whump ever since i got back into writing around 2015). i’ve got a thing for long, flowery sentences - but that’s something i’ve been aware of for like 13 years now lol.

idk anyone to tag. if anyone else wants to dig through their fics, by all means, do this and tag me so i can see! ngl it’s fun (if a bit embarrassing for those of us who our most recent 10 fics include ones from 5 years ago lol) to go back bc i usually don’t look back.

#about stitch #about me #i'll use both bc i'm fr not sure which i used before #stitch's writing #i did both chaps of dear fellow traveler bc i was NOT about to drag up fairy tail fic on here in 2022 #love gajevy still but i ain't about to do that in 2022 when i've been out of the fandom for almost 6 years

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cinebration · 4 years ago

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Cordial (Napoleon Solo x Reader) [Part 5]

At the Louvre.

Tagged: @ly–canthrope, @maan24, @eefjedegraaf, @omgkatinka, @illbegoinhome

Warnings: none

Gif Source: dianahprince

Solo was looking forward to the evening. Not for the usual reasons, but because he hoped for a battle. One in which he hoped to win. He had already decided how he was going to approach the issue of the bed. It required some finesse on his part, but he was confident in his skills.

As evening arrived, however, he discovered you had changed your clothes into something elegant, though a tier below ballroom attire. You emerged from the bathroom just as he was ready to point out the bed issue.

Solo blinked once, twice.

The beautiful dark-green dress, shimmering like satin—probably satin, he mused—accentuated your features, from your eyes and skin tone to the shape of your body.

You smirked. “Didn’t I say you would approve?”

Solo’s lips pulled back from his teeth. “Everything looks nice when it’s hiding what’s underneath.”

An eyebrow arching, you snorted to yourself and waved your hand at him as you stepped into the salon of the room. “Put on the black suit.”

“Where are we going?”

“The Louvre, honey.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“We’re in Paris. We ought to spend a night on the town, no? Treat ourselves to its sites before we dirty ourselves with the criminal element

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “For this mission, we are the criminal element.”

“Well, then, I suppose that means we should cavort like they do.”

Solo felt his mouth go dry. He met your gaze briefly, enough to see the amused expression gleaming in your eyes. Tearing his attention away, he glanced at the wet bar, wondering if another scotch was in order.

“The black suit,” you prompted. “Hurry on, now.”

He bit back the no forming on his tongue. As much as he disliked you ordering him around, a trip to the Louvre would be nice. Seeing the paintings would grease all the gears in his mind that appreciated the finer things in life. In doing so, it would, he hoped, distract him from your insufferable attitude. If he was lucky, he might be able to slip away and find someone more to his liking to while away the evening.

With a slight nod of faux acquiescence, he plucked the black suit off its hanger and proceeded into the bathroom to change.

Summer in Paris was warm but not intolerable. You knew that well, having grown up in the hotter parts of the United States. For the height of the summer to only reach eighty degrees at most was nearly a godsend in comparison to the sweltering humidity of the south or the scorching heat of the southwest.

For Solo, it wasn’t something he even thought about.

A light breeze toyed with the thin fabric of your dress as you sauntered down the expansive pavement before the museum’s entrance. Much to Solo’s dismay, you had insisted the taxi drop you off a block away from the Louvre to allow you both to approach it on foot.

While it was nice to behold, it wasn’t the first time Solo had seen the Louvre, though judging by the look on your face and the slowing of your steps, he guessed it was your first time. A light dawned on your face as you approached the entrance, your attention drawn up the building’s facade. Though lacking the glass pyramid that would make its exterior iconic in 1989, the large building was still a marvel to behold, not least of all for being the house of amazing treasures.

Solo found himself staring into the enraptured look in your face. He realized sharply that looking at your reaction was almost like seeing the Louvre for the first time himself.

Clearing his throat quietly, he asked, “Shall we go in?”

You nodded, too awed for words. His years of affecting a gentleman’s manners prompted him to place your arm through his and guide you toward the entrance.

“Miss Rydell?”

Solo felt you stiffen. The reaction was gone in a moment, your arm relaxing suddenly, as you turned with a perplexed expression fixed on your face.

A thin man with flat hair and small eyes behind wire-frame glasses hesitantly approached. With horror, Solo realized the man’s brown suit looked exactly like the one hanging up in the hotel room’s closet.

“It is you!” The man broke out in a grin. To Solo’s surprise, it had a rat-like quality about it—incongruous to otherwise mousy impression he had made of the man.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your American accent more pronounced, “you must have me confused with someone else.”

“I should think not. If so, you’re an exact replica of her.” He squinted, peering into your face with an intensity that even made Solo’s skin crawl.

“It happens. If you’ll excuse me—”

The man stepped into your path, lips pulling back in that rattish smile again. “I didn’t expect to see you again. Not around these parts, anyway. Tell me, how is the business?”

“Sir, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He nodded jerkily. “Yes, yes, I can’t be that direct about it. I understand the need for secrecy. But I could use your expertise.”

Fumbling around in his suit jacket, he retrieved a battered business card and presented it to you. With a grimace, you plucked it out of his tight fingers and said, “I’m sorry I’m not who you were looking for, Mr.…” You glanced at the card. “Mr. Schwartz.”

He laughed. The sound stuttered out of him loudly, drawing the attention of an elderly couple emerging from the museum. Tapping his temple, he nodded and backed away, shaking his head. “Call me!”

Solo turned to you. “What was that?”

“A case of mistaken identity,” you answered. If it weren’t for his trained ear, Solo almost wouldn’t have heard the nigh-imperceptible quickness of the response.

You crumpled the business card and tossed it behind you, avoiding Solo’s gaze. With quickened strides, your arm relinquishing his, you headed for the entrance.

Solo glanced over his shoulder. The man had disappeared from sight behind the verdant courtyard. Something clicked into place in his mind.

Scooping up the business card, he pocketed it for later and followed you into the building.

#Napoleon Solo x Reader #Napoleon Solo #Napoleon Solo imagine #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill imagine #Henry Cavill x Reader #The Man from UNCLE #The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

Text

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 10 (Mafia AU)

Summary: We left off with Edge and Rus on a cliffhanger, let's see where they go from there!

Tags: Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

~~*~~

Read on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Rus knew what he looked like. Tall, gangling skeleton and his bones were thin, almost delicate. Most people probably thought a stiff breeze would send him off like a tumbleweed and they were sort of right. He would’ve had more than a couple scars from a childhood from tripping over his own feet if his brother wasn’t such a good healer.

But if you took his innate clumsiness out of the equation, it was a load of bullshit, really. He’d helped his brother set up their garden, hauled bags of soil and manure, lugged oversized flowerpots, carried fencing and poles. He wasn’t weak, thank you very much, but even he had to admit, holding up a Monster of Edge’s size for any length of time was pushing him to his limits.

Luckily, he didn’t have to manage long. Edge caught his balance quickly, rocked unsteadily back to his feet and once Rus wasn’t completely blanketed by tall skeleton, he got a better view of the Dogs standing on either side of him, helping hold him up. Okay, they were at least part of the reason Edge hadn’t fallen on him, so what, he was pretty sure he did his part.

More Dogs, wow, did they buy these guys by the six pack? They were pretty good at the stoic, almost as good as Edge, but Rus didn’t miss their brief, amused tail wags. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, watching him trying to catch Edge must’ve been a funny sight, like a meek village fool trying to catch a crumbling mountain.

But watching them immediately school their expressions to bland seriousness when Edge looked at them was even better.

Large hands settled on his shoulders, drawing his attention back to Edge and more to the point, his face, holy fuck—

“I’m all right,” Edge started, and no, just no.

“you certainly don’t look like it!” Rus snapped. He took hold of one of Edge’s sleeves, flinching at sight of the charred fray that was all that remained of his gloves. “come on, for pity’s sake, come sit down!”

Edge didn’t really resist, bemusedly letting Rus lead the way down the hallway. Only for Rus to stop a few steps in, turning back to admit sheepishly. “um. i’m not sure where you were going?”

He hadn’t heard any of the Dogs speak yet, but that wasn’t entirely unusual, some Monsters didn’t use a verbal language. It didn’t stop one of them from letting out a snicker, hastily quelled when Edge slanted him a dour look.

“This way, flower shop.” Edge took the lead and stayed on his feet mostly under his own steam with the occasional steadying hand from one of the Dogs. He led the way to another of the thousand doors, only this one had a panel that opened to reveal a keypad. Rus pointedly didn’t watch as Edge punched in the code and went inside.

But it wasn’t an infirmary of any sort or even a bathroom. Inside was a large bedroom, dominated by an enormous four poster bed that was covered in an fluffy comforter and huge pillows, with actual curtains hung around it, like they’d taken an accidental trip with the Ghost of Gyftmas Past and wandered into the bedroom of Ebeneezer Scrooge. Rus hovered awkwardly by the door as the Dogs helped Edge to one of the wide sofas set in a half-circle in a sort of open-air sitting room.

Once Edge was settled, the Dogs took their leave and Rus didn’t miss the wink one of them sent his way.

Well, it seemed they were expecting him to play nurse, not exactly a role he’d had much experience in. One look at Edge had him setting his shoulders, ready to step up and give it his best shot, though if there were any cracks about him putting on a little white dress, he was out.

Or maybe he was fooling himself, because he couldn’t possibly leave Edge alone like this. His clothes were streaked with burnt marks, the fine suit from that morning looked like it only recently stopped smoldering. Worse of all, the bone all down one side of his face was scorched and blackened, and Rus supposed it was a small mercy that the damage was on the already injured side of his skull.

Just looking at it made nausea lurch up into his throat. Rus swallowed it down and walked over, biting the tip of his tongue and focusing on that tiny hurt while he inspected the damages.

It must be painful, but Edge didn’t flinch from Rus’s timid prodding as he tried to decide if he actually could help or if he needed to find a phone to call for someone more qualified. So much soot and who knew what damage beneath it. Rus blinked hard as sympathetic tears welled; he’d always hated seeing anything hurt, Rus was the one getting teased for rescuing worms from the sidewalks after a storm and giving the pigeons in the park the crusts from his sandwiches. A thumb grazed underneath his socket, wiping away the trickle of tears, and Rus could smell the smoky char on Edge’s ruined gloves.

“It’s not that bad, flower shop,” Edge murmured. “I’m only a little crisp around the edges.” If he were trying for lightness, he failed, and Rus could feel wetness escaping from around his touch, trickling down his cheekbones. “Don’t,” Edge tried, “You don’t need to—"

“this is about us, isn’t it?” Rus interrupted softly. He wasn’t sure what kind of fool Edge thought he was, but he could at least manage to put 2 and 2 together and know that a vengeful fire monster who was prone to kidnappings likely matched up with fresh burns.

Edge said nothing and that was all the answer Rus needed.

“then i think i do.” Rus drew away, wiping impatiently at his damp cheeks bones with his sleeve. “where’s the bathroom?”

He followed where Edge pointed and one step inside was enough to stifle his remaining tears. If he thought his own lavatory was opulent, this one seemed to belong more in a palace than above a strip club in the red-light district, all of it gleaming dark marble streaked with gold. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and sighed. All his efforts to obey his brother’s scold to keep his new clothes clean ruined by smudges of soot streaked all down his shirt and a full set of handprints impressed on his shoulders.

Welp, guess it was a good thing he probably wasn’t going to be doing the laundry.

Under the sink was a basin that he filled halfway with cool water, along with a well-appointed first aid kit. Rus snagged both along with a couple clean washcloths and clumsily carried the lot of it out, only spilling a couple splashes of water to disappear in the lush carpet.

Edge hadn’t moved, only watched him with an intensity that sent an odd prickle down Rus’s spine. Whatever, let him stare. Rus ignored it to set his newfound supplies on the coffee table and sat on the sofa next to him to get to work. First, wetting a washcloth and very gently washing away the layers of soot to reveal the chalky, damaged bone beneath. It actually wasn’t too bad, he was relieved to see, at least Edge was right about that. Most of it was filth, the only real damage seemed to be to the very side of his face, a ragged line that ran from his forehead nearly to his chin. Edge never made a sound even when Rus had to really scrub to clear away the sooty blackness. The friction must have hurt terribly, but he allowed Rus to clean him up as he muttering vague apologies the entire time, because honestly, if he’d been the one hurt, Rus would have been howling for mercy by now.

The silence grew to be too much, nothing but the splash of water as he wrung out the cloth again and Edge’s crimson eye lights following his every move. Luckily, filling silences with nervous chatter was one of Rus’s greatest skills.

“i’m glad the bathroom was close,” Rus admitted with a self-deprecating laugh, “if it was in the hallway, i would’ve been a while. i’m not sure if i could find anything in this labyrinth.”

“It’s not as big as it seems,” Edge’s sockets fell half-closed as Rus gingerly cleaned around the delicate, damaged rim, showing only a bare gleam of crimson. “You only think it is because of the Dogs.”

That gave Rus a pause. "what do you mean?”

Edge offered him that little half-smile of his, "The hallways are designed like a labyrinth and my brother has the Dogs lead people through the same ones several times. Even the artwork is designed to change the picture when someone walks past it, to make it seem larger and more confusing than it is.”

“seriously? what kind of low-rent james bond villain bullshit is that?" Rus blurted. He winced at his own words, shit, calling Red a villain wasn’t exactly what his brother would call good manners, but Edge's slight smile only widened.

"I prefer the term frugal.”

“hmmph,” Rus huffed, deciding not to argue the point. If Red wanted a subplot of being a cheapskate, that was his problem. “are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked, dabbing gingerly at a particularly darkened spot. The bone beneath was slightly pitted and he could only hiss in sympathy, imagining how much it must hurt.

That little smile faded. “I went to see Blaze in a neutral location, to negotiate.”

“looks like negotiations went south.”

Edge grunted in agreement, closing his sockets entirely as Rus finished cleaning his skull with a last gentle wipe. He dropped the washcloth into the dingy basin water before digging through the first aid kit for burn ointment. With the soot cleaned away, the burns matched Edge’s assessment of not too bad. They should heal fine, probably wouldn’t even scar if Edge kept it clean and well treated. Of course, there was another option.

Rus carefully set the ointment aside, reaching out instead with a cautious bare hand, “you were right, it isn’t too bad. i’m not as good as my brother, but if you let me heal you—”

The hand that caught his wrist moved so quickly Rus barely saw it. He yelped in surprise and automatically tried to pull away. Uselessly, that grip tightened painlessly as Edge said, firmly, “No.”

Even sitting, Edge was taller than him, especially when he wasn’t slumped back on the sofa. Taller than him, larger than him in every way and even sitting here in a ridiculously lavish bedroom in his ruined suit, Edge seemed larger than life, nearly a force of nature. And Rus looked up directly into his hurt face and asked boldly, “why not?”

The flick of his crimson tongue over his teeth nearly distracted Rus from his words. “Because having someone else use their magic on me outside of a fight is entirely too intimate for my tastes.”

Intimate. That was the problem? Considering that Rus was in possession of a shivery memory of Edge’s weight on top of him, pressing him into the cushioned plush of the rug with the heat of the fireplace pouring over them as Edge’s gloved hand skimmed against his bare hip…um…better to stop there. Anyway, considering all that, it seemed silly to him for Edge to suffer through days of discomfort when a little healing magic could ease it.

Exasperated, Rus pointed out, “you were willing to have sex with me but won’t let me heal you?” It was only after he said it that Rus belatedly remembered that actually, Edge hadn’t been willing to have sex with him, that was sort of where their awkwardness this morning came from and he looked away, a miserable blush rising in his cheekbones, like an echo of Edge’s burns.

To his shameful relief, Edge didn’t comment on that, only ran his thumb over the delicate, interlocked bones at the inside of Rus’s wrist. “It’s not the same. Magic involves souls, sex is only as intimate as you allow it to be. Anyone can take your body, flower shop.”

“yes, thank you for that reminder,” Rus muttered unhappily. He couldn’t hold back a shudder, remembering Blaze’s unbearably sweltering hands on him, forcing his touch on Rus as he whispered horrible things, cruelly teasing threats about Rus’s mouth and what he might do to it.

Edge’s voice jarred him from the unpleasant memory, cushioned in gentleness. “You’re safe here. This club is as well protected as it could possibly be. Aside from basic security precautions, we’ve been layering on every sort of protection spell possible over it since we got to the surface.”

That was a comfort to know, for now. But what about when he left, they left, him and Blue heading back to their shop and their lives without an ounce of protection surrounding them.

“i want to go home.” The words slipped out, small and miserable. And true, their home was small and a bit cramped, but it was home.

“I know,” Edge said, softly. He offered no promises about getting Rus there and he wondered wanly if he should be grateful for that honesty. Rus reached up and took hold of the large hand still holding his other wrist as his gaze searched Edge’s face, eye lights skimming from the untouched side to the one stark with darkened burns. With a tug, Edge brought their joined hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss against them and murmuring, “I’m working on it.”

There was something in his voice, something coldly dark beneath that tender touch and Rus swallowed hard, “you’re going to try to kill him, aren’t you.”

“Don’t ask questions that you don’t want answered.”

“aren’t you?” Rus persisted.

Edge let out a small frustrated sound, "It's the only way to end this. The only way you'll get your life back."

Rus shook his head, helplessly. That couldn’t be true, the only answer simply couldn’t be tainting Edge’s soul with XP, racking a LV onto Edge’s conscious in the name of their wellbeing, his and Blue’s and Rus knew without question that his brother would agree. “there has to be another way.”

“Are you willing to bet your life on that, flower shop?” Edge countered, “What about your brother’s?”

“there has to be! i can’t let you—” kill someone. Rus choked on the words, felt the ache of tears welling up again.

Again, that thumb rubbed a soothing little circle against Rus’s wrist. “Why do you care so much?”

“I…” Rus swallowed nervously. “it’s…it’s the right thing to do!”

“Of course,” Edge said wryly. “And you always do the right thing, don’t you.” He let go of Rus’s wrist and sank back into the cushions. “Go on, then.”

“huh?” Rus blinked, confused, ready to argue that he wasn’t about to leave with this debate still between them.

“Go on,” Edge repeated, “Heal me.” A sardonic slash of a smile tipped up the undamaged side of his mouth. “Since it’s the right thing to do.”

Oh. Rus had to kneel up to reach, leaning across Edge’s torso to settle his bare hand lightly against the side of his skull. It was a matter of moments to focus his magic, calling up the tingling warmth of healing and concentrating it on the burns. He certainly didn’t miss Edge’s relieved sigh; it must’ve hurt something awful and honestly, fussing about intimacy when the alternative was days of pain? He really couldn’t understand these people.

When Rus finally stopped, the bone beneath his hand was smooth and unblemished, at least as much as previously cracked bone could be. All signs of any burns were gone and Rus beamed at Edge, pleased.

“there,” he said triumphantly. “isn’t that bett—oh!”

The way Rus was leaning already put him off balance and the sudden, strong arm winding around his waist sent him nearly sprawling into Edge’s lap. A rough chuckle greeted his twisting and squirms until he was sitting across Edge’s femurs, looking up into his newly healed face with wide sockets.

“Yes,” Edge agreed softly, “This is much better.” He lightly bit the tip of one of his fingers, tugging off his glove and spitting it aside before reaching out to brush bare fingertips lightly over Rus’s mouth, cautious of the sharpened tips. Rus sat frozen beneath that touch as it slid lower, broad knuckles curling beneath his chin. “To tell the truth, I’m at a loss,” Edge murmured, low, like a confession. “Even if I deal with Blaze, you’re irrevocably linked to me now. Do I let it be? Or do I embrace it?”

That…that sounded…Rus wasn’t sure, his thoughts were in wild turmoil, caught up between Edge’s words and his embrace, “what about what i want?” he asked, weakly.

A soft chuckle gusted over him like a caress and Edge’s face was close to his own, as he said, “Pretty flower, you’ve wanted me since the day I walked into your shop.”

Rus wanted to deny it, but what was the point? It was true, he couldn’t possibly have been more obvious. He didn’t move as Edge leaned in, every possible protest twittering out of his mind even as Edge said, his deep voice raw with the barest of regrets, “Just remember, I tried to let you go.”

His mouth was achingly gentle, coaxingly sweet and Rus parted his teeth with a watery sigh as he met it with his own. Parted his teeth to timidly meet the slide of a clever tongue with his own. He was surrounded, Edge around him, beneath him, the arms that circled him held Rus close. Safe, he realized, he was safe, and Rus groaned shakily, clinging to Edge’s broad chest as those dizzying kisses deepened, teeth scraping with tantalizingly deliberate roughness as a low growl rumbled out from deep within Edge’s chest.

In the back of his mind, Rus was hyperaware of the enormous bed behind them, equal parts inviting and terrifying to consider Edge carrying him to it the same way as he had to the rug. His heavy weight again between Rus’s femurs, the hard press of his hips, and the senseless magic settling in Rus’s pelvis wanted that, wanted even more. He could feel his magic taking form, embarrassingly eager wetness dampening his undershorts. His mind might well be unsettled, but his body was making its wants known to them both and he couldn’t help wriggling again, already feeling the response of Edge’s body beneath his pelvis.

The door bursting opened shattered any burgeoning arousal and Rus jerked back, scrambling away even as Edge reluctantly let him go.

Red didn’t even seem to notice them yet, kicking the door shut as he groused, “dogs said you and blaze got into it, bro, you okay—” he stopped, staring blankly at his brother, eye lights gliding over where Edge’s joints were flushed and his jaw clenched. Then flicking to Rus who was curled up far on the other side of the sofa with a burning blush high on his cheekbones. Red chewing on the end of his cigar furiously, saying acidly around it, “might need to have a word with ‘em, since they didn’t see fit to mention this lil’ tête-à-tête.”

“Perhaps they thought they didn’t need to,” Edge said, coolly, “There is this charming social construct called knocking, you should consider trying it sometime.”

“uh huh, you know me, all up in the social constructs.” Red turned his sour look back on Rus, who only cringed harder, “sorry to interrupt, but i’m fresh outta social constructs right now. me and my bro need to talk, hit bricks.”

Edge crossed his arms over his chest, “No, he can stay.”

Yeah, because Rus was all about hanging around Red with his magic still uncomfortably roused between his legs. “i really don’t mind, i can go.”

Neither of them paid him any mind, both brother’s glaring. Finally, Red shrugged, “i was gonna talk business, but if you wanna scar your pretty lil’ flower, ain’t no skin off my bones.”

That seemed to give Edge a pause. He frowned, considering, then sighed out, “Go, Rus.”

Rus wobbled to his feet, all ready to head for the door. Only to have Edge catch his wrist, reeling him in. He didn’t try to take a kiss, thankfully, no attempt at a little pda in front of his brother. He only studied Rus’s face as if drinking in the sight of him, then tapped him lightly on the nasal aperture as he said, sternly, “Behave.”

That made him remember that morning, sneaking downstairs to chat with the ladies in the break room. Rus gave him a wobbly nod, and said, “i always do,” hoping his guilt didn’t show on his face as he slipped away and headed towards the door.

He skirted widely around Red and even that didn’t keep Rus from hearing him mutter, “if that’s you behavin’ flower shop, can’t wait to see ya bein’ bad.”

Outside the door one of the Dogs was waiting and Rus was about to ask them to show him back to his room, preferably without the extra mileage, when his eye lights caught on a long line of blistered redness along their muzzle.

“did you get burned, too,” Rus gasped, appalled, “that must hurt, do you want me to heal…it?” He trailed off awkwardly, expecting to be brushed off. But the Dog only whined and lowered their head, their dark brown eyes hopeful.

The little wound was even easier to heal than Edge’s and the Dog heaved a sigh of relief when Rus was finished, offering him a slightly slobbery grin, along with something else that had been sitting unnoticed by their feet. They held it out in offering and Rus took it, uncomprehending at first until the familiar jangle made him look down in disbelief.

It was his backpack, somewhat sooty and Spongebob was more than a little worse for wear, but it was his, with all his pins still attached.

“how did you—” Rus started, dumbly. There was only one answer and Rus glanced at the door speculatively, wondering if he’d gotten the backpack before, after, or during getting burnt to a crisp. Questions for later and he added it to his list as the Dog led him back to his room.

The moment he opened the door, a loud shout almost sent him tumbling head over heels back out.

“Where have you been!?”

Rus sighed to himself and shut the door, bracing himself to face his brother.

Where was a kidnapping when you really needed one.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underwap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #mafia AU

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leavetwn · 4 years ago

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* AMANDA CAMPANA, NOBINARY + SHE/HER/THEY/THEM | you know RAMONA GALLO, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, TWENTY-THREE YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to CRYING ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR BY MUNA like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole COLD PIZZA AS A HANGOVER CURE, TALKING SHIT ABOUT CUSTOMERS IN THE BREAKROOM, LONGING FOR WHAT COULD'VE BEEN, thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 17TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( claire, 22, est, she/her )

HEY , BESTIES ! happy new year (the way it’s 11:55pm here so barely) !! my name’s claire and i’m 22. i’m livin in the est timezone, and my pronouns are she/her. i’m bringing y’all a mess of a muse 😈 because well ,,, it’s what i’m best at. if you’re feelin ramona & wanna plot, just go ahead and like this & i’ll hit you up. i usually plot on discord, but if you prefer the tumblr ims, that’s no problem at all. anyway, lemme stop waistin time and get to introducing you to ramona. * tw: mentions of cheating & alcohol.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

full name: ramona gallo. nickname(s): anything your muse wants to call her tbh. age: twenty-three. date of birth: august 17th. zodiac sign: leo. gender/pronouns: non-binary, she/her/they/them. sexual orientation: bisexual. romantic orientation: biromantic. hometown: irving, north carolina. current residence: irving, north carolina. occupation: employee at zoinkies currently, a lifeguard during the summer. eye color: brown. hair color/style: had long hair up until her breakup then had one of those breakdowns and cut her own hair into a bob and then her own bangs. i bet it was a mess lol so she probably called her friends or went to a salon the very next day to get it fixed. also highlighted the ends red but her natural color is brown. height : 5′5″. clothing style: simple and comfortable. t-shirts, croptops, turtlenecks, all usually paired with either jean shorts or jeans in general. she prefers to feel cozy rather than cute. tattoos: yes. a small one on her wrist. wants more eventually. piercings: both ears peirced & a navel piercing that she did herself against better judgement lol.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 .

you were born on a scorching hot day in irving , your father says so, anyway. you’re convinced he’s being dramatic. your birth went smoothly; after two previous children, your parents had become disillusioned by childbirth. just another one to add to the bunch, and one that was meant to save a dying marriage. still, they loved you nonetheless. your father, to this day. your mother, until you were ten, and then she up and left without a warning.

your father keeps food on the table by fixing cars. you spend your days in the hot sun watching him replace parts and continuously try to crank vehicles until they run. he fist pumps every time one does. ‘ how lame, ’ you think, but it’s inspiring how hard he works to take care of three kids. and he does a good job.

therefore , you spend much of your early life trying to make him proud. you’re smart as a whip, and all your teachers have good things to say about you when it comes to academics. you’re a bit of a troublemaker, though. your father doesn’t mind that too much; he was the same at your age. and he’s proud — proud to see you work so hard.

you spend your teenage years doing much of the same. though , you begin to come home a bit later than usual, and your excuse is that you’ve been at ashley’s or samantha’s, but really all three of you were out partying. you don’t think your father would care (your grades are fine & he wants you to live like a normal teenager) , but you still lie about it. why ? well, who knows, maybe you like the adrenaline rush it gives you. like most things, you do them for the thrill.

you join the swim team. you’re kind of bad , but that’s okay. just like always , you work hard, and you realize that you’re kind of a natural. your father cheers louder than anyone else in the stands. it pushes you to do better. with your good grades and athletics , your guidance counselor tells you you’re a shoo in for a scholarship from whatever university you want. you apply to several. if it’s one thing you hate, its this town. you can’t wait to make it out, and you figure, this might be your only way.

you’re eighteen, and you’re in love. it’s crazy how love can make you see things differently. suddenly , this town doesn’t seem half bad. all your friends find it cute , and you tell them everything. the things he tells you or the way he makes you feel. it’s a crazy feeling; you never want it to end.

you throw your cap in the air. finally , high school is over. college is looming. you’ve been accepted to several & received scholarships from at least a few. you lie in bed thinking about it. now, you suddenly don’t want to leave so bad. don’t want to leave him behind. how could someone leave another they love so easily? it makes you hate your mother more.

for the first time, you disappoint your father. you don’t go to college. you don’t give a damn. you want to stay where love is. you’re addicted to the feeling. this lasts for three years. now, you’re twenty-one; you’ve gotten a job at zoinkies, and that keeps you away for most of the day. you randomly decide to visit your boyfriend during a lunch break one day. you find him in bed with someone else. suddenly , you realize love isn’t as addicting as you once thought. what once made the world beautiful now made it hideous. what once made you feel so high had somehow made you feel so low. it was horrible, and you’d realized your mistakes.

you threw away your future for love. something as rotten and twisted as love. something you swore you’d never let yourself feel again. something that you put away in a locked box with no key. irving was the same place you’d always known it to be. boring, drab, familiar. at least you had your family. that was barely enough to keep you sane, though, and it was hard to feel normal.

you turned to the thing that help. alcohol, partying, any escape at all. you lacked coping skills — that much was clear, but you didn’t care. you blamed it on something else entirely. just as your teachers had said, you’re a bit of a troublemaker. you do anything to make yourself feel alive, to make yourself feel free of the hurt.

it’s two years later now. you’re still not over it in some ways, as regret turns to anger and resentment. you’re bitter. who wouldn’t be? but you feel like you’ve had time to mourn. maybe it’s because you never acknowledged it in the way you should’ve ( it’s still locked away in that box. ) you still have your bad habits. you still work at your stupid job that you hate. you’re lost, but you’ll figure it out. you always do. so, you continue to float , seemingly stuck in the town that you never let go of, and you wonder what comes next. only time will tell.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 .

still swims but doesn’t have as much time for it. probably not as good, but since she spends the summer lifeguarding, she uses that time to practice & try to get back to where she was. also kinda jaded asf so even if she says she wants to get back into it, she probably won’t lmaoo.

is a horrible driver. how did she get a license ?? not even she knows. def the type to like have a leg up on the dash board, hand out the window, and only one hand on the wheel while speedin idk how she makes it out alive

can take a car apart and put it back together again thanks to her dad. also changes her own tires so let her change your tires. im just sayin

stays up way too late & would sleep until 2 pm everyday if she didn’t have to work. should probably work on being an adult and going to bed at a normal time but just half the time doesn’t give a fuck so she’s probably sleep deprived a lot. therefore also has a

character parallels: alice ayres/jane jones (closer, 2004) , clementine (eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, 2004) , fiona gallagher (shameless, 2011-present) , more to be added.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

ok but plots really do be making my world go ‘round. 😳 i love em, so literally hmu with anything you’re feeling, and i’ll be down. just wanna plot & write with everyone 💕 but here’s a couple of wanted connections for y’all. i’ll prolly have a most wanted tag sooner or later & i’ma be make a plot page soon.

* the unholy trinity — these two are the friends she cherishes most. i’m assuming they’ve been friends since at least early high school , maybe earlier. they went through a lot together. these two were with her through all her relationship troubles. true ride or dies. she’s do absolutely anything for them, and she trusts that they feel the same way. they’re rowdy & wild, do whatever they want, and have a damn good time doin it. also have a gc where they just talk shit and send tiktoks idk just gimme this plsss 🥺

* friends with benefits / one night stands — this would probably be the extent of ramona. clearly not over what happened to her the last time 😭, so she’d have plenty of these tbh. she probably wouldn’t think too much about it, but it could be awkward for you muse maybe, etc.

* unrequited love / crush — here’s a toast to the ones who crush on ramona. it would be an absolute tragedy lmaoo. she’s not really mean about it, but she is 100% certain she’s not looking for any type of relationship. could be really dramatic and messy and those are tha best kind. literally this

* former friends / enemies — she’s lived here her whole life, so she’s at least got one. these two just don’t get along/no longer get along for whatever reason that can be plotted out.

* coworkers — she works zoinkies throughout the year and picks up shifts as a lifeguard during the summer so your muses could know her from that. could delve into a close friend territory too lmao. they probably just sit in break rooms and talk about rude customers or bossy managers lmaooo.

* literally anything your heart desires — a lot could work. we could even just start from nowhere & have them meet for the first time if they’re newer/just to town.

#irvingintro #tw alcohol #tw cheating #it is so sick & twisted that i have another one to write i can't believe lol #but it must be done #hi luv me plot with me

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dylan-o-yumm · 5 years ago

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Parting Ways - (Vergil x Reader)

A/N: This is technically for my OC, Dylan, but I made it a reader insert so all you lovely people could enjoy it for yourselves. I’m also drawing Dylan atm so if you wanna see some of that action… let me know? Also just FYI, I tried to make this gender neutral but knowing me I didn’t edit properly so there could be hints of male reader in here.

Word count: 1.6k

Black ash and flaking wallpaper peel off the already charcoal coloured walls. Whether it was your mind playing tricks on you or not, you swore you could smell the fire still burning, flames tickling your nose, slipping down your throat, choking on smoke. The sight alone was enough to make your mind fill in the gaps, imagining what it must have looked like before…

It was eerily quiet, no crickets chirping, nor an owl hooting into the night. It should have been a disturbing thought… being alone, completely and utterly alone. No one to hear or witness what about to happen on this night… on this hill, in this burned and broken house. However, it was comforting in a way, lifted a weight off your chest. Nothing would be able to stop him now.

Leaves crunched under your boots, contrasting the second they entered through the threshold of the damaged house. The clunking of boots against wooden floorboards quickly replaced the crushing of dry leaves as you walked… followed by a struggling, stubborn, broken man, wheezing and gasping for breath like an old man who just climbed a flight of stairs. “You sure you wanna do this?” You question. “Surely you are not stupid enough to ask me that again.”

You huff and roll your eyes, stuffing your hands into your jeans pockets to keep them warm as you finally come to a stop. Refusing to look at the shattered, struggling man, you look up.

Gold edges border a portrait. Black scorch marks from the fire that happened an unknown amount of years ago, damage the painting, blocking bits and pieces from your view. A family of four stare back at you… A man sitting in a chair with a blonde woman standing behind him, though her face was covered by ash and soot… And two young boys with light, silver hair… They looked quite similar, twins maybe? However, the way they held themselves made them look like complete opposites.

Was one of them Vergil?

Speaking of… he hadn’t told you a thing of his past. You never bothered to ask either. It didn’t take a genius to know he wouldn’t open up to you. Maybe if you had gotten to know him a little better, he would have broken down at least one of his many walls he keeps up, offered you some insight into his mind, his past, his private life…

However, you were just as stubborn as him. Why should he get to know anything about your past when he didn’t bother to share a lick of his own? Though, knowing him for what felt like a year, but in reality was a few more years than that… you did share a few little parts of your life. Accidentally of course, and you never went too in detail. It was just more than he had cared to tell you, that’s for sure.

The long, drawn-out whistle of a blade being unsheathed pulls your attention back to the man beside you. The moonlight peering in through the broken door bounce off the clean, sharp metal of the Yamato, further illuminating the dark, charred foyer.

“Leave now. I no longer need you.”

He always did that. Spoke as if he were so high and mighty that he could say anything he wanted. Not that you cared, it was oddly refreshing. You liked how blunt and cruel he could be, how unforgiving and confident he was. Maybe because you had similar traits…

One of you— either of you, had to crack and open up first. You just hoped it would have been him. Too bad this was a goodbye. So many lost opportunities.

“Oh, so you did need me.” You respond blankly, your eyes faintly giving away that you were only teasing — which Vergil caught, but anyone else would have thought you were pissed off. Admittedly you were, but you weren’t going to tell Vergil that — if he didn’t already know. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing he could get under your skin so easily.

It doesn’t matter, for he doesn’t bother answering, not that he needs too. Not even the shadows on his face can hide the annoyance in his eyes. Which is why you looked away, burning under his stone cold gaze as you averted your eyes back to the portrait.

“I suggest you leave now, or you can serve under me for the rest of your worthless life.” You blinked, having not expected him to speak again. You had no idea how his somewhat-nasally voice could sound so threatening and intimidating, not that you were intimidated by any means. Though when you first met him it was a different story.

You look back to him, biting the inside of your cheek when you realise he never once took his cold eyes off of you. The hood of his old, brown coat hid most of his face, the only indication that he was even looking at you was the moonlight catching on his blue, almost silver, iris’s as his head tilted in you direction ever so slightly.

You didn’t want to leave. You were surprised he even let you come this far. While the two of you spend most of your time together in silence, it was undeniable that some kind of bond had formed. Just the fact that Vergil got your ass out of Hell with him, let you tag along this whole time, even let you step into the odd teleportation void he summoned with the Yamato after ripping that kids arm off… Yet here you were. Still at his side… Sadly this is where you part ways.

All you (and you assumed Vergil) knew, was that the Yamato could be used to separate man from devil. And that’s what Vergil was preparing to do. His human side was far too weak, causing him to crumble apart right in front of you. His skin was flaking and cracked. The only thing you feared was that a gust of wind would come along and turn him to dust.

He’s weak, he’s breaking, he’s dying… he needs to do this. “Alright. I’m going.” You sigh heavily, bringing a hand up and running it through your hair, a little hesitant to actually do as you say. You give him one last, lingering gaze, trying to spot any hesitation on his face, any sign of him maybe wanting you to stay, anything that might give away his composure and reputation to remain vigilant. However, he was just as hard to read as always.

Finally spinning on your heel and turning your back to him, your feet carry you to the front of the house, boots softly tapping against the wooden flooring with your light footfalls. With each step, it dawns on you that you will most likely never see him again, not in person anyway. You expect to maybe see him on the news within a couple hours. Though he probably wont look the same.

You should be thankful to finally part ways with him. He’s a complete ass. A cold, stubborn, power-hungry, dick bag. Why would you want to stay with him any longer than you have too? Because he saved your life? Maybe… You cuss yourself for stopping. Just a few more steps and you’d never have to see him again. However, your feet stuck to the floor as if they were covered in glue.

“Hey, Vergil…?” You bow your head as you speak, resting your hand against the doorframe, soot and ash staining your skin. You look over your shoulder. One corner of your lips tug upward slightly, head tilting to the side… you wait until his eyes slowly scan over the room before they fall on you. Piercing right into your very soul, it feels. So blue, almost a crystal-like silver.

He’d at least be proud to know his eyes were intimidating.

“Give me a five minute head start.” You all but wink, staying still a moment longer to watch for his reaction.

Everything about you would indicate you were calm, fearless of what was about to come. The smirk on your lips and humour shining in your eyes convey that you were only joking… Though, you would like to get at least a few feet away before he…

You had a vague idea as to what was about to happen, and you didn’t want to wait to meet the demon within…

“Hm.”

That’s all you receive from him. A hum, avoiding whether to agree or deny your request.

You don’t bother asking him to elaborate, don’t bother waiting to see the outcome. Both would just be stupid, you’d probably end up dead or hurt. He didn’t have time to wait any longer, he was crumbling right before you. Maybe you were selfish to ask him for a head start, but you also needed to look out for your own skin. Couldn’t get torn to shreds by a demon simply because you were too slow.

You are human, he is half devil. You are more than certain it was his human half that had kept you alive all this time. So whats to say his demonic side wont hesitate to strike you down the moment he lays eyes on you?

With that in mind, you stuff your hands into your pockets, rubbing the soot between your fingertips as a reminder while your feet carry you further and further away from the house, from Vergil. The demon who saved your life and broke you out of Hell.

Part 2 where V is bought into the equation? Let me know : )

#vergil x reader #vergil #dmc #devil may cry #reader insert #vergil dmc #dmc vergil #dmc x reader #vergil imagine #dmc imagine #oc insert #oc inspired

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purplehairedwonder · 4 years ago

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Inside a Broken Dream Chapter 4

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen, brief hint of Lawlu that you can ignore Words: 3445 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Penguin, Donquixote Doflamingo, Smoker, Tashigi, Nami, Chopper Note: Story title comes from the Vertical Horizon song “Shackled.” Character and relationship tags reflect the current chapter. Obviously this is canon-divergent ;)

Summary: Two years after Wano, peace on the Grand Line is fragile. Trafalgar Law and the Heart Pirates are doing their best to help maintain the peace, but the return of a figure from Law’s past might shatter the balance of power entirely.

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

The walk back to the brig was quiet as Law turned over what had just happened; Doflamingo had the uncanny ability to keep Law off-balance, even after all these years. As he chewed on the unexpected conversation, he could feel the swordswoman’s eyes on him. He looked back at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Well?” he demanded. “Spit it out.”

She started, pink rising in her cheeks. “W-what?”

“You’re staring. You obviously have something you want to say.”

Tashigi pursed her lips in annoyance but replied, “You said on Punk Hazard that you once worked for Doflamingo. But there was more to it than that, wasn’t there?”

Law shrugged his unwounded shoulder but didn’t elaborate. Let her make of that conversation what she would. It didn’t matter.

Tashigi huffed irritably. “There’s obviously a long history there. After getting out of Impel Down, he went after you rather than simply escape, even though he could have. That tells me the hard feelings go both ways.”

Law smirked, unable to resist prodding, “Getting caught up in the affairs of pirates, Captain?”

“I’m as much a captive as you are, Trafalgar. I’d at least like to know what I’ve gotten myself into,” she snapped. “And if knowing whatever is going on between you and Doflamingo can help us escape, then yes, I’ll get involved in the affairs of damn pirates!”

Surprised, Law stopped and studied the woman. She was glaring at him, cheeks still tinged pink. She’d had that same fire back on Punk Hazard, though she hadn’t been strong enough to back up her words back then. That was two years ago, though. Maybe he could make use of her—especially if Doflamingo was keeping her close.

They eyed each other for a moment before Tashigi jerked awkwardly, the strings pressing her into motion again. She pushed at Law to get him to start walking again, and Law hissed as her hand knocked into his shoulder.

After several steps, Law said, “You’re right. It’s a long and ugly story, and it’s personal on both sides.” He looked back at her. “If you want to get out of this, we need to work together.”

“What do you want?”

“Information.”

“What kind of information?”

“Where we’re going, for starters,” Law listed. “Whether he has more allies we’ll need to account for. Anything about what he wants.”

“Revenge?” Tashigi suggested as if Law were an idiot to have not considered it. Law barely suppressed an eye roll.

“Having a chat over breakfast rather than him beating the shit out of me would indicate something… else. More. I don’t know.” Law couldn’t help but feel like the meeting had been an assessment. Of what, Law had no idea. And that made him uneasy.

“So, what? You want me to spy on him for you?”

“Consider it to be for yourself. And your men,” Law countered. Then he went for it: “And your boss.”

Tashigi inhaled sharply, and Law knew he had her. She’d been the one to push Smoker to work with Law and Luffy on Punk Hazard, after all. She was the practical one of that pair.

“Fine,” she agreed coldly, coming to a stop outside the brig door. “I’ll find out whatever I can.”

Law nodded and she opened the door. She shoved him inside and into his cell. Once Law’s cell door was locked, Tashigi turned to Smoker.

“Smoker-san…”

“Stay alive, Tashigi,” the Vice Admiral replied brusquely, cutting her off. “Whatever it takes. You hear me?”

Tashigi glanced back at Law briefly before nodding at Smoker. “You too,” she replied before being forced to retreat from the brig. The door shut with a clang behind her.

“Captain!” Penguin exclaimed, scurrying toward their shared cell bars. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Law replied, sitting down against the wall once more. He ran his hands tiredly over his face. “He just wanted to talk.”

“What?” Penguin sounded skeptical, and Law didn’t blame him. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting when he’d been taken from his cell either.

“I don’t know what he wants, but it doesn’t seem like it’s just revenge.” Law didn’t doubt revenge was part of whatever Doflamingo was up to, but there was something else. Something he wasn’t seeing yet.

“Now what?”

Law’s lips twisted up as he shifted to dig around in his pocket. “How do you feel about a bit of field surgery, Peng?”

-----

“You think he’s okay?”

Nami looked up from the map she’d been studying to see Chopper on the other side of the table. She smiled wanly at the reindeer, who was frowning worriedly. “Who, Torao?”

Over the years, Chopper and Law had developed an unexpected friendship as doctors; Nami thought it would never stop looking odd to see the two of them together, poring over journals or debating animatedly about something medical no one else could understand. But it made a certain kind of sense. Chopper pushed Law to remember the humanity behind medicine while Law pushed Chopper to challenge himself in ways he’d never thought he could manage. (And, Nami supposed, Law’s best friend was a polar bear mink, so who was to say what was odd?)

Nami looked at the vivre card on the table; after the initial scorching they’d discovered on the paper the day the Heart Pirates had called them for help, it had remained undamaged. That had been a good sign as they’d used it to track down their ally—no, friend.

Their alliance had technically run its course after Kaido’s defeat two years earlier, but Luffy had refused to let Law dissolve it, and Law hadn’t put up much more than token resistance. Though their situations had changed, especially with Law’s rise to Emperor and his decision to take over protecting territory Doflamingo and Kaido had left behind, the two crews had remained allies because of the friendships that had developed between them—and especially their captains. While Law had chosen, like most of the previous Emperors, to establish a territory with a home base, Luffy would not be tied down in his search for One Piece, so any islands he took under his protection ended up, by proxy, protected by Law as well, since Law was usually in a better position to send aid.

The Straw Hats had been in constant contact with the Heart Pirates after that first call; between Bepo’s and Nami’s calculations, they’d figured they’d been about two days apart at the time of Law’s capture so decided they’d make the best time if they both followed their portions of Law’s vivre card until they met up—or found Law.

“No. Well, yes,” Chopper replied, correcting himself. “I am worried about Torao, but we know he’s still alive from his vivre card, right?” Nami nodded. Chopper glanced out the window toward the deck. “I’m worried about Luffy.”

Nami turned and followed the little doctor’s gaze toward Luffy, who was sitting on the figurehead. She knew what Chopper meant; Luffy’s typical frenetic, playful energy had been subdued since the call from the Hearts. He hadn’t said much, other than to check with Nami on their progress and get food from Sanji, and spent most of his time on the figurehead, staring out toward the horizon. Nami knew from years of experience with her captain that he became serious when his loved ones were in danger, but she couldn’t help but feel there was more going on here.

According to her crewmates who had been in Dressrosa, something had happened between Law and Luffy on the castle rooftop when they were fighting Doflamingo that had brought the two men close. Robin seemed to have the best idea, but even she didn’t know the full story. In Wano and in the years after, Nami seen that connection in the way Luffy had glued himself to Law whenever they were together and in the way Law didn’t stop him, in shared smiles and hidden laughs, in shared food and lingering touches. She’d commented on it to Bepo once, and he’d nodded knowingly; the Hearts had noticed it too.

And now, Law was in danger from Doflamingo once more, and whatever had happened on the roof seemed to be coming back to Luffy. For all his openness, Luffy tended to keep personal worries to himself, and this seemed to be another case of that.

“I think he’s worried about Torao, too,” Nami said finally. She turned back to Chopper and forced herself to smile. “But it’ll fine be!”

“You think so?”

“Between those two idiot captains? And their highly competent crews? Doflamingo doesn’t stand a chance.”

Chopper huffed a laugh, and Nami spared one final glance for her idiot captain before returning to her map. She had another idiot captain to find.

-----

Law slumped wearily against the brig wall, sweat drenched and woozy with pain but free of the bullet in his shoulder. He’d awkwardly pressed himself as close to the Seastone bars separating his cell from Penguin’s as he could without touching them, biting down on his shirt to keep from crying out as Penguin used the tools in the surgical kit to dig out the Seastone bullet in Law’s shoulder (sans anesthesia). Penguin’s movements were awkward with the strange angle he’d been forced to work at and his own restraints limiting his movements, but he’d pushed through at Law’s encouragement.

Once Penguin had removed the bullet—and thankfully it was still whole—Law had nearly collapsed from the return of feeling, as though color had come back into his vision, after the Seastone had dulled his senses so acutely. Penguin had then stitched up the wound as best he could, refusing to let Law further risk infection the longer they sat in the dank, dirty brig. It was ugly and would scar, but Law had just nodded his thanks to his friend. Penguin, meanwhile, muttered darkly under his breath about having his captain’s blood on his hands.

The shackles on Law’s wrists still suppressed his powers, but the brain fog had lifted. Law could think again. And they would have an element of surprise on Doflamingo, as long as he thought Law bound twice over by Seastone.

Still, the pain from the makeshift surgery was intense, so Law spent the day drifting in and out of consciousness as his body forced him to rest to start healing as best it could in the face of the draining effects of the Seastone. Penguin woke him up every few hours to check in on him but otherwise let him be.

A heaviness sat on the air among the four prisoners as they waited to see when they’d garner their captor’s attention once more.

-----

The next evening, the brig door opened and Tashigi entered, flanked by two Marines. The soldiers unlocked Law’s cell and pulled him to his feet. Though the bullet in his shoulder was now gone, Law didn’t have to fake the grunt of pain as the healing wound was jostled.

“He wants to see you,” Tashigi said as Law exited his cell.

“I figured,” he replied dryly.

“Captain,” Penguin said. Law looked back at him. “Be careful.” There was an edge to his voice, and Law could understand his worry.

Law nodded and allowed himself to be led out of the brig. He glanced at Tashigi, wondering if she’d picked up any useful information since their conversation the day before, but her eyes flicked at the other two Marines before shaking her head minutely.

Interesting. She didn’t trust these men enough to share anything in front of them. Either they were being forced to report on one another or they were voluntarily helping Doflamingo.

Law frowned as they passed the door that had taken him to the deck the day before and instead up another set of stairs and down a hallway. Tashigi brushed past Law to knock on the door at the end of the hall.

“Herrenlos,” she whispered by his ear as she moved by him.

Law stiffened in surprise. The swordswoman had apparently picked up some information after all. But what was Herrenlos? Something niggled in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“Enter,” Doflamingo called at the knock, and Law’s hands clenched into fists and unclenched in front of him.

Tashigi opened the door, and Law’s guards nudged him inside. He’d been taken to the captain’s quarters. There was a neatly-made bed, a dresser, a desk covered with scattered papers and maps, and a table with two chairs. Law’s eyes widened and a growl rose in his throat when he saw his hat on the dresser and Kikoku propped against the wall next to the bed. Doflamingo reclined in one of the chairs with one arm thrown casually over the back, the other holding some papers that the former Warlord watched Law over with a knowing smirk; he’d gotten the exact reaction he’d hoped for.

Law was going to make the bastard regret displaying Law’s belongings like trophies. But for now, he had to make sure the man believed he was completely helpless.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” he drawled.

Doflamingo’s lips twitched before he dismissed Law’s guards. “Wait outside the door,” he told Tashigi. She nodded jerkily, not that she had a choice as she exited the room with one final look at Law. The word she’d whispered to him was obviously important, but what was it? Why did it sound so familiar?

“Sit,” Doflamingo directed in an uncomfortable echo of the previous morning. “Dinner will be here soon.”

Law contemplated resisting for only a moment before sitting of his own volition rather than let Doflamingo force his compliance. No, he needed to use this as an information-gathering operation, and getting into a spat over something so small wouldn’t help with that.

“And here I thought you’d forgotten about me,” Law said, doing his best to lounge in the chair casually despite his restraints.

Doflamingo’s smirk widened. “Never.”

Law felt an uncomfortable chill run down his spine, the implication clear; Doflamingo had never forgotten about Law, not after Minion Island, not after Dressrosa, and not now. They were forever linked. Law schooled his features.

Doflamingo eyed Law for another moment, as if making sure his message had been received, before returning his attention to the papers in his hand. If that was the way he was going to play this… Law looked around the room. He clenched his jaw as his eyes went to Kikoku, but he forced himself to keep looking. The papers and maps on the desk were obviously of the most interest, but he couldn’t make out what was on them from his current position.

After several silent minutes, there was a knock at the door. Doflamingo looked up. “That’ll be dinner,” he told Law before calling, “Enter.” Doflamingo rose and discarded the paper he’d been reading on the desk as two Marines entered with several trays of food. Law pushed himself up from his seat while Doflamingo’s back was turned to try to get a look at the desk but was unable to see more than the unfamiliar outlines of a few islands on a map that Doflamingo’s paper soon covered. Law sat back down, and the Marines quickly set the table with plates and silverware and placed several dishes in the middle before departing. Doflamingo returned to his chair and gestured at the food.

“Eat.”

Law still didn’t know what the other man was up to, but there was no point in weakening himself further by refusing food. He served himself a fish entree and vegetable side and set to awkwardly eating with the shackles still around his wrists. The food might not be Sanji’s, but it was significantly better than the scraps they’d been given in the brig. The two men ate in silence, Law unwilling to give the other man the satisfaction of speaking first.

“You know, Law,” Doflamingo said once both of their plates were empty. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve been following your rise over the last two years.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “They let you have the paper in Impel Down?”

“Fufufu, of course. One of my few luxuries as a prisoner. But the paper hasn’t been my only source.”

Law frowned, considering the soldiers Tashigi hadn’t wanted to speak in front of. “Some of the men on this ship are working for you.”

Doflamingo’s smirk simply widened. Law had his own sources within the Marines, so he wasn’t surprised Doflamingo did too, even after Vergo’s fall. He was starting to understand how Doflamingo’s takeover of the ship had happened after Smoker’s version of the story.

“How’s your alliance with Straw Hat?” Doflamingo asked after a moment.

Law’s eyes narrowed at the change in subject, but he didn’t say anything.

“Pirate alliances rarely last as long as yours has,” Doflamingo added. “I must congratulate you. But you did tell me once that Straw Hat can perform miracles.”

And Law had been right. Luffy was the reason Law was still alive today, not having died on Dressrosa as he’d expected to.

“What of it?” Law didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking.

“I only wonder if they’ll be able to perform yet another one.”

Law frowned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“My source has their ship about a day out, moving very quickly in our direction.” Law’s eyes widened. His crew had called the Straw Hats?

Of course they had. It was the smart thing to do.

Doflamingo had been defeated by Luffy on Dressrosa, and Luffy had only grown stronger in the intervening years. Yet Doflamingo didn’t seem concerned at all.

In fact, he seemed pleased.

“You wanted them to come.”

“Very good,” Doflamingo replied. “I have a debt to settle with Straw Hat. But don’t worry, Law. I won’t kill them. Or your men.”

Law started. “What?”

“I have use for your men when they come for you, Law. They’re not far out either, by the way.” His smirk was practically feral. “But the Straw Hats? Well, how many Family members do you think Akainu will exchange for them?”

“Not a single member of your Family is worth one toenail of any of the Straw Hats,” Law hissed.

Doflamingo growled angrily, strings flying from his hand, binding Law to the chair. The inertia from the strings threw Law backwards, knocking the chair over and sending Law onto his back with a surprised oof as he was suddenly staring up at the ceiling and unable to move. The larger man rose from his chair, posture predatory as he rounded the table to tower over Law.

Doflamingo stepped one leg over Law’s chest and knelt, straddling him. Law recoiled from the invasion of his space, and Doflamingo reached down to grasp Law’s shoulder. He pressed hard as his thumb found the bullet wound. Law gasped, vision darkening around the edges, as the pressure increased and Doflamingo dug into the stitches and broke the wound open again.

“What?” Doflamingo frowned, and Law realized with a jolt that of course the string Fruit user would notice the messy stitches in his shoulder. Shit.

Doflamingo grabbed Law’s shirt and pulled the collar down to the side, revealing Law’s bare shoulder and the freshly bleeding wound. His thumb jabbed into the blood and rubbed around the wound, Law struggling not to writhe under the pressure, until he found the broken stitches. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

“You removed the bullet,” Doflamingo noted. “I should have known not to leave you on your own for too long. You’ve always been too clever for your own good, Law.” He rose and stepped back from his captive, pulling that familiar pistol from his waistband. He twirled it in his fingers a few times before aiming it at Law. Law went cold. “I should put another bullet in you, somewhere it won’t be so easily removed. Make sure you won’t cause any more trouble.”

“Why don’t you just kill me?” Law was getting sick of playing by the other man’s rules when he didn’t even know what game they were playing.

Doflamingo tilted his head, as if surprised by the question. “I need you alive, Law.”

“Why?”

“There’s something only you can do for me.”

Of course. Law huffed a laugh, remembering a similar moment on the castle roof in Dressrosa, putting as much disdain into it as he could manage. “How many times do I need to tell you? I’m not going to perform the Eternal Youth Surgery on you, you son of a bitch.”

“That’s not what I need you for.”

Law blinked. “Then wha—”

Doflamingo cut him off. “I’m dying. And you’re going to fix it.”

#Caitlin's fic #One Piece fanfiction #One Piece fanfic #Trafalgar Law #Donquixote Doflamingo #Heart Pirates

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star-spangled-eyes · 5 years ago

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Winner Take All: Part 2: The Pizza Place

This alternate universe fan fiction uses characters created and owned by Pixelberry Studios. Character names, descriptions and likenesses are owned by Pixelberry Studios. The MC, Bragnae Bennett, and story is created and owned by this author.

Book: The Royal Romance (Alternate Universe)

Alternate Universe Theme: Senior Year of College for Drake, Leo, Bragnae and Madeleine in the United States

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC / Leo Reese x MC (Bragnae Bennett – *pronounced Brawn-yah)

Warnings for this series: NSFW, Adult content, suggestive and strong language, sex

Series Description: Bragnae Bennett sought adventure when she first went off to college. Now, navigating through her senior year, she finds herself befriending two gorgeous guys, Drake Walker and Leo Reese, who engage in a seemingly innocent bet with her during a game of pool that leads to a surprising threesome.

Their intimate evening prompts deeper feelings than they all expected to arise, and Bragnae is suddenly swept up in both of their charms, unique to each man himself. Through the pressures of college, work and maintaining a social life, which man will prevail and win Bragnae's heart?

Master List

A/N: I wrote this originally as a HOT one shot back in February, but my brain kept the story going. I think I can have some fun with this, so I’m continuing the story of Winner Take All. The second part continues immediately after the first part ends. If you need a refresher, please click on the master list and read the first part: The Bet. I hope you enjoy the ensuing love triangle between Drake and Bragnae and Leo.

Also, I listed a few people under the series tags that liked my original post for Winner Take All. I thought you might like to see the continuation. If you’re not interested in being on the series tag list, just let me know and I’ll remove you. Thanks!

Warnings for this chapter: NSFW, Adult content, the aftermath of their threesome is discussed, suggestive and strong language

Word Count for this chapter: 3175

Setting for this chapter: What happens once the passion and excitement of the three way returns to reality?

Permatags: @burnsoslow @cora-nova @dcbbw @thorfosterlove @emceesynonymroll @edgiestwinter @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @msjr0119 @notoriouscs @drakewalker04 @pedudley @desiree-0816 @choices-lurker @kingliam2019 @loveellamae @drakexnadira @flutistbyday2020 @indiana-jr @moonlightgem7

Series Tags: @yukinagato2012 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @nomadics-stuff @ravenpuff02 @texaskitten30 @themadhatter1029 @randomfandomteacher

Part 2: The Pizza Place

“I’m going to jump in your shower, Bragnae.” Leo pulled himself out of her, giving her a quick swat on her bottom before retrieving his clothes and heading to the bathroom.

There was immediate relief from the fullness she felt before now that Leo had vacated her back door. Without an extra set of hands to help hold her up, Drake shifted his arms to support her entirely. She gave him an impressed, sensual look before wrapping her legs around his waist to assist him.

Bragnae felt like putty in his arms. She had just had one of the best sexual experiences of her life, and even though the men did most of the work – okay, all of it, she could barely move except to hold onto Drake’s neck and shoulders as he walked over to her bed.

Drake slowly lowered them both to the lavender bedspread. She unhooked her legs as he finally broke their intimate connection. She already missed the feeling of him being inside her.

When she thought he’d stand up again, Drake surprised her by dipping down to kiss her, slowly and with a tenderness that could soften steel. Bragnae ran a hand through his chestnut hair, and pressed her palm into his back to hold him close.

After another moment of getting lost in his gentle but deep kisses, he raised his head again, keeping his eyes on hers.

“How do you feel?” He whispered.

A slow, dazed smile crossed over her lips. “Wonderful.” She felt ravaged, and definitely sore, but her answer came from the warm and beautiful moment she just shared with Drake. The way he thoughtfully carried her to the bed instead of just letting her awkwardly dismount from his arms meant something. He was sweet, considerate, and something about him told her his feelings ran deeper than just wanting to engage in an impromptu threesome with her.

He grinned. “Me too.” His eyes flicked to her lips, and just as he leaned in for another kiss, the sound of the shower’s faucet turning off caught their attention.

She watched Drake’s eyes look to the bathroom with a sudden alertness before he returned his attention to her. “I better get dressed.” He stood, taking a blanket from the foot of the bed and draping it over her before he reached for his clothes.

Bragnae gripped the blanket to keep herself covered as she sat up against the pillows. Drake got dressed in silence, looking over at her once his lower half was clothed. He opened his mouth to speak just as Leo reemerged into the room fully dressed. Drake immediately looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Damn, bro, you take a long time to get dressed.” Leo said as he traipsed over towards the bed. Drake ignored his comment and proceeded to put the rest of his clothes on.

Leo tossed himself on the bed next to her, bouncing both of them on the mattress, making her giggle at his child-like behavior. “I had a great time tonight, Bragnae.” He moved a lock of hair out of her face. “Was it everything you thought it could be?”

“It was better than anything I could have imagined. You two are very talented.”

Leo patted her leg over the blanket. “I knew you’d like it. I’m certainly glad I suggested it. You are one scorching hot babe.” He leaned in to capture her lips, catching her a little off guard. When he pulled away, Bragnae noticed Drake looking at them with uncertainty in his eyes. Leo blew out a whistle. “Love those full lips, too. Damn.”

Leo kissed her again before abruptly leaping off the bed. “Come on, Drake. You ready? Let’s get something to eat on the way home.”

The vibe Drake was giving off made Bragnae unexpectedly feel guilty for the way Leo kissed her. Just minutes ago, the act of having a threesome with the two men, kissing them both and letting them share her was acceptable. But now, it seemed as if that was no longer appropriate, or at least to Drake it wasn’t.

The way Drake had kissed her while Leo was in the shower was incredible and definitely resembled more than just a post-coital kiss still wrapped up in the passion of it all. It had gravity. It meant something. Whereas Leo’s just now was playful and light-hearted. A drastic difference just like everything else they had showcased that night.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” Drake sighed.

Bragnae got off the bed, wrapped the blanket tightly around her, and walked the guys to the front door.

“Later, Bragnae,” Leo said before leaving her apartment.

Drake’s stride was slower than usual as he reached the door. She wanted him to stay, even if it was a few seconds longer, so she’d try her best to draw it out. She ran a gentle hand down his back. “Be safe driving home.”

He turned his head to look at her. Hesitation struck. “Thanks for having us over.”

She didn’t know what to say. The usual response to that statement ‘anytime’ seemed wrong at the moment, not to mention she wasn’t sure she wanted to welcome that kind of attention to herself again. One threesome in her life was plenty. She wasn’t the type of girl to engage in sex with two partners at once on a regular basis. She agreed to do this thinking it’d be a one-time thing, among other reasons.

Bragnae nodded and smiled awkwardly. They stared at each other for another moment, saying nothing. She wouldn’t have minded another kiss from Drake, but wasn’t sure how he’d take it. Would he assume she was just indulging in him because of what they just did? Or would he know that a kiss between them would mean more? She decided not to pursue it.

“I’ll talk to you soon. Goodnight, Bennett.”

“Goodnight, Drake.” With one last look, he turned to leave.

The next day, Bragnae stopped at the campus cafeteria to grab a drink before her next class. It was Friday, and luckily she only had Astronomy left to attend before she could start her three day weekend. It was her favorite class this semester, and she loved her professor. Although, she’d told Madeleine she’d cover the first half of her shift at the pizza parlor where they both worked, which prohibited her from getting a jump on the weekend. Luckily, she enjoyed her job, so it wasn’t such a burden.

As she rifled through her purse for some change, she heard a familiar voice call her name. She looked up to see Drake approaching her.

“Hey, Drake. How’s it going?” She smiled at him casually, but felt flush suddenly remembering their intimate experience last night. She wasn’t sure if things would be awkward with him, but she was at least glad he was coming up to speak with her now.

“Good. Just finished a test in Chemistry. Shit was hard.” He adjusted his backpack that hung on one of his broad shoulders. “You done for the day?”

She shook her head. “I have to do a presentation on the moon in Astronomy, but then I’m finished. I was just going to grab a drink before class.”

“Oh, I’ll walk with you, if that’s cool. Chemistry was my last class, so I’m done,” Drake offered.

“That’d be nice.” Bragnae reached into her purse to finish collecting a few quarters that had fallen to the bottom, and walked over to a cooler pulling out a vitamin water. After paying for it, she and Drake headed out of the cafeteria.

There was still another twenty minutes before her class began giving Bragnae a nice opportunity to talk with Drake. Ever since he left last night, he had been on her mind. The threesome she had with Leo and Drake was intense and amazing, but it was completely out of character for her.

She was in college now, her senior year – theirs too, and she wrote it off as sewing wild oats. With both gorgeous men staring her down across the pool table last night willing her to agree to Leo’s bright idea, it was hard to say no. She made a deal with herself before leaving for college that she’d be more adventurous and open to new ideas. That just so happened to translate to sleeping with two men at the same time.

Bragnae didn’t regret it, but she did feel different. She liked both guys, and had wanted to get close to either of them, but until last night, neither one had made a move. Drake and Leo were good friends and roommates, so she didn’t feel right going after one and not the other. Turned out they compromised and shared her anyway – for last night at least. How would she navigate it now if they both had wanted more?

“So,” she began. “Do you have any fun plans for the weekend?”

“I just have an early shift at the rink tomorrow. Other than that, not much going on.” Drake worked at the local ice rink. He bounced around doing different jobs like monitoring skaters on the ice and driving the Zamboni in between events. He was a hockey player, so the owner would give him time to practice on the rink during breaks and after hours. Bragnae had gone to hang out with him a few times.

“That’s good. It’s nice to have a low-key weekend every now and then.” Drake held the door for her as they stepped inside the Science Building. Bragnae’s classroom was right around the corner. She stopped in the middle of the pathway where a few benches were and turned to face him.

“So, do work tonight?” He asked.

“I do, but only until 8:00pm. I’m covering for Madeleine. I took the rest of the weekend off so I could enjoy three days of no work and no school.” She watched as Drake nodded, looking down at the ground as if he was disappointed. “Did you want to do something tonight? With me, I mean.”

His eyes lit up as they found hers again. He rubbed the back of his neck as he prepared a response. “Actually, I was going to ask you if you wanted to hang out. Maybe watch a movie or something. But you’ll probably be tired from work.”

“No, it’s fine. Why don’t you come over to my place around 8:30pm, and we can check out what Netflix has to offer. I’ll even bring a pizza home with me. Sound good?”

Drake grinned. “That sounds perfect.”

“Great. Any particular pizza you’re hoping for?”

“Whatever you bring home is fine. Thanks.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight, then.” There was an awkward vibe suddenly. Bragnae wanted to stand there with him for a few more minutes, but she did have to prepare some notes before her presentation. And Drake didn’t seem to want to go either.

“Looking forward to it. Good luck with your presentation.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, slowly turning away from him. Bragnae was glad Drake wanted to spend time with her again so soon. She feared everything would be awkward after last night, but she was grateful he wasn’t letting it stand in the way of their friendship… or whatever their status was now. She’d hoped to find out soon.

Michelangelo’s was packed like it was every Friday night. It was in the heart of the college town where students could walk or drive to it easily from their dorms or apartments. Bragnae usually waited on tables and answered the phone, but would occasionally help make the pizzas if they were short staffed. She had worked there ever since she was a freshmen, so she had gotten to know each position of the restaurant very well. Tonight, she had to cover it all.

The pizza parlor was quaint. There were ten tables inside with a small patio in the back that had more seating. Michelangelo’s served beer and soda, and prided themselves on having the best brick oven pizza in town. The owner was a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fan, hence the name of the restaurant, so there were turtle action figures in display cases, comic book covers and other décor that hung on the walls. It was a popular establishment earning the loving nickname of ‘Mikey’s’ from the locals.

It was 7:30pm and the dinner rush was in full force. For such a tiny building, it could hold a lot of people and a lot of noise. Bragnae popped in the kitchen to place her pizza order to take home, and ran back out to take a new table’s order.

As she walked through the crowd she came up to a table with two guys. The one she could see had shorter brown hair that was styled into a nice faux-hawk. She hadn’t seen him before, but he was cute.

“Hey, welcome to Mikey’s. My name is Bragnae. What can I get you to drink?”

“Bragnae!”

She looked to the second guy who had been hidden by the tall booth before. “Leo! Hey!” She wore a bright smile that he reciprocated.

“I didn’t know you were working tonight,” he said, letting his eyes trail down her body.

“Yeah, I’m covering for Madeleine for the next,” she tilted her wrist, “twenty-five minutes.”

Leo shifted in the booth leaning against the wall and relaxing an arm on the table top. “Well, then you should join us when you’re finished. Oh! This is my friend Maxwell. Maxwell meet Bragnae.”

She extended her hand to shake his. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Bragnae turned her attention back to Leo. “I’d love to, but I have plans once I’m done here.”

“What a shame,” he said, truly looking like he was disappointed. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Grinning, she answered, “I haven’t decided yet.”

Leo leaned forward in the booth. “Well, maybe I’ll call you, and we can find something fun to do.”

“Sure, I’d like that.” She and Leo smiled at each other for another moment until Maxwell cleared his throat. Bragnae chuckled at herself. “So, what can I get you guys?”

“Two beers and a large sausage,” Leo told her, then looked across the table. “What will you have Maxwell?”

Bragnae guffawed. “Where the hell do you put all that, Leo?” She shook her head in amazement as he playfully shrugged, then looked to Maxwell.

“I’ll have the same, but make mine pepperoni.”

“Sounds great. I’ll be right back with your beers.” She gave them each a smile, and headed back to the kitchen to place their order before going to the bar to fill the drinks herself.

Placing the four beers on a tray, she carefully maneuvered her way back to Leo and Maxwell’s table. After she transferred them all to the wooden surface she picked up her tray, and felt a hard slap on her butt. Before she could react, Leo flew out of the booth. Bragnae turned in time to see him grabbing some guy by his shirt before slugging him in the face.

She gasped as the guy fell to the ground looking dazed. Leo bent down to pick him up again. Both fists gripping the fabric of his shirt.

“Don’t touch her again, asshole.” Leo gave him a violent shove towards the door. The guy’s friends followed him out of the restaurant, looking back at Leo with awe and disgust. They had obviously been drinking and chose the wise course of not pursuing any retaliation.

Leo’s hands lightly cupped her waist, standing close to her because of the crowd. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said without really thinking about it. Then she nodded. “Thank you. Unfortunately, that happens about once a week.”

“That’s fucked up. What do you do about it when I’m not around?” His hands tightened around her making her feel utterly safe.

“Not that. If the manager sees it, he’ll kick them out, but I usually tell them to fuck off. Then, I keep my distance.” She swallowed looking up into his bright blue eyes.

“Well, you need to do more than that. I’ll teach you sometime.”

“Okay, thanks.” She smiled. It was nice to have someone stand up for her like that, and even nicer to feel Leo’s hands on her.

“You’re welcome.” He moved to sit down in the booth again.

“I’ll go check on your pizzas.” Bragnae stopped by a few other tables before making her way back to the kitchen. It was almost time to go.

Madeleine walked through the back door, stringing an apron around her waist before walking over to Bragnae. “Thanks for covering for me. Any tables I need to finish out for you?”

Bragnae removed her own apron, and boxed the pizza she was bringing home. “Yeah. Leo’s here with a friend. They’re waiting on a large pepperoni and sausage at table 3. And tables 5, 8, and 10 have their checks.”

“Okay, cool. I’ll bring your tips home later. It’ll be after midnight though,” Madeleine told her as she checked on the two pizzas for Leo’s table. Madeleine was Bragnae’s roommate, and had been since they were able to move out of the dorms sophomore year. They were very different in a lot of ways, but she had become a good friend to Bragnae. Reliable and fun even if she was a little self-centered sometimes.

“Thanks, girl! I’ll grab it from you tomorrow.” Bragnae grabbed the pizza box and her purse and walked out towards the front. She swung by Leo’s table to say goodbye, and left the restaurant.

The pizza parlor was a two minute drive back to her apartment. She could have walked, and sometimes she did, but she was always cautious about walking the streets at night especially on the weekends when the drinks were plenty and lots of guys were looking to get laid. She’d had an instance of a few guys catcalling her one night when she walked home, and they got a little too close for comfort. It was then she decided not to take any chances.

Her apartment was on the first floor, which she appreciated after long days at work and school. Once inside, she sat the pizza on the kitchen counter, and rushed to change out of her work t-shirt and jeans, and into a teal spaghetti strap top and black leggings. She took her hair down, primping it to add more volume, and spritz some perfume on her chest and at the base of her neck under her hair.

She was grateful for the extra time to prepare for Drake’s arrival. The man was always punctual. Touching up her make-up, she heard a knock at the door. She quickly rolled some gloss over her lips and went to door, opening it to see Drake standing there wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, and a six-pack of beer in his hand.

His eyes traveled down her body as a soft smile began to appear. “Hey, Bennett.”

#trr #trr drake #the royal romance #the royal romance drake #the royal romance fanfic #trr fanfic #drake x mc #leo x mc #drake x bragnae #drake walker #leo reese #bragnae bennett #trr love triangle #TRR Winner Take All Fanfic #TMNT #Mikey's #pizza

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bubonickitten · 5 years ago

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Summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Chapter 3 is up!

Chapter 1 (tumblr // AO3) | Chapter 2 (tumblr // AO3)

Full text + content warnings under the cut.

CW: brief claustrophobia; some grief and loss stuff; a few more instances of casual misgendering (not malicious; just some wrong pronouns here and there due to the speaking-in-statements thing, but thought I'd mention it just in case); a single LORGE spider. Also, Jon gets to do one (1) swear, as a treat. SPOILERS through MAG 169.

Chapter 3: Rift

Jon doesn’t remember the hill being this steep.

Or maybe he’s just winded from the long trek through the wasteland. He’d had to pass through a long stretch of territory fought over by the Buried and the Vast. The ground there was practically a minefield, pockmarked with sinkholes. They would start out as quicksand traps and suffocating tunnel entrances, only to be hollowed out into yawning chasms and cenotes, then ultimately collapsed all over again by a retaliation-minded Choke. It was an endless cycle of petty rivalry and animosity, and passing so near their battlegrounds left Jon breathless with a discordant mix of claustrophobia and agoraphobia.

Worse was when the Dark managed to sneak its way into the mix. Whether it was Too Close I Cannot Breathe or the Vast’s abyss, the Dark could always find a way to exploit subterranean spaces – and it could never resist reaching out to needle at an Avatar of the Eye, no matter how inadvisable it was to cross the Archive these days.

As Jon drew closer to Hill Top Road, he left the warzone behind for a mostly featureless landscape punctuated with the occasional foxholes of the Slaughter and pockets of the Forsaken’s fog. Eventually those too gave way to a seemingly endless dust bowl of soot and ash – a sprawling domain claimed by the Lightless Flame.

The house at Hill Top Road is the only thing still standing in the midst of kilometres of Desolation-scorched earth. The charred terrain stops abruptly at the foot of the hill, a stark line demarcating the boundary between the Blackened Earth and the territory that Annabelle Cane has staked out as her own. Jon had half-expected an invisible barrier to stop him there as well – the last time he was here, Annabelle had forbidden him from returning – but there had been no resistance when he stepped over the border.

As he hikes up the incline now, he finds himself worrying over what that might mean. Is Annabelle expecting him, inviting him in? Is she simply tolerating his presence, curious to see what he’s up to? Could he be powerful enough now that even she cannot stop him? Or is he once again wrapped up in the Web’s machinations, doing exactly what the Mother of Puppets wants?

He shakes his head. No. He and Martin talked about this. There’s no point in obsessing over the Web’s motivations, letting the memory of Annabelle’s statement paralyze him with indecision. Better to just… keep moving forward.

And it’s not like he has anything left to lose.

Jon continues up the hill, increasingly winded, his bad leg throbbing angrily, and he thinks to himself again: he really, really doesn’t remember it being this steep.

Before long, he’s standing at the threshold of the house at Hill Top Road. The dread permeating the place is just as palpable as he remembered.

He waits for the Distortion’s inevitable appearance, determined not to let her startle him this time. As if on cue, a door creaks open on the ceiling above him.

“Interesting.” Without preamble, Helen lands noiselessly on her feet beside Jon and peers around curiously. “I wondered whether Annabelle would let me in.”

So did Jon. Maybe he should be concerned about – no. He shuts down that train of thought before it can pull out of the station.

“You still haven’t explained what exactly you plan on doing here.”

Honestly, that’s mostly because Jon hasn’t figured it out yet, either. He only Knows that this is where he needs to be.

The Eye wants things to change – as much as it can be said to want anything. Setting the question of its sentience or lack thereof aside, at the Panopticon he had been able to Know things that the Beholding had previously withheld from him. He might be stronger than the other Avatars and monsters lurking about the world, but he’s not arrogant enough to believe he could overpower any of the Fears themselves. If the Ceaseless Watcher gives him access to knowledge, it’s because his Knowing will facilitate – or at least not inhibit – its plans, which means that he must have the Eye’s… blessing, to be here? He shakes his head; he’s getting caught up on semantics again.

Point is: he Asked a question and – as usual – he was given a scrap of an answer and left to puzzle the rest out for himself. All he Knows for certain is what he wants to happen, and that this is where he needs to be in order to make it happen.

“Jonathan.” Helen says his name with a playful lilt and leans further into his personal space. “Are you going to share with the class?”

Without a word, he sidesteps around her and walks further into the house. In her statement, Anya Villette had mentioned a door under the stairs leading to the basement, but the last time Jon was here, it was nowhere to be seen. He hopes it’s there this time.

“What are you looking for?”

Jon drags one hand down his face and sighs. Having Helen tag along is like taking a road trip through hell with an easily bored and… well, deeply annoying child. Huh.

“I won’t be ignored, Jon –”

Jon bristles, redirects his gaze, and stares daggers at her with a few more eyes than strictly necessary. “Some magically appearing door.”

“You aren’t being very kind to me right now, you know.” She tries to sound wounded, but really she just sounds pleased to have gotten a reaction from him.

Jon gives an irritated huff and continues forward through the entrance hall. He treads softly, all too aware of every subtle creak of a floorboard. He doesn’t know why he’s bothering muffling his footsteps. It doesn’t matter how quiet he is; Annabelle will know – probably already knows – that he’s here regardless. Still, there’s just something about the house that demands a certain amount of fearful reverence. Disturbing the silence just feels like a bad idea.

Helen doesn’t appear to have the same concerns. In fact, it almost seems like she’s going out of her way to announce their presence. Of course.

Jon catches a glimpse of the staircase as he rounds the corner and – yes, there’s a door under the stairs. A plain, painted white door with a brass handle, otherwise unremarkable and entirely unassuming.

And yet…

As he tries to approach it, he finds himself rooted to the spot, overcome with a sense of trepidation. He feels his breath coming faster, shallower; feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Every one of the Archive’s eyes locks onto the doorknob and for a moment he swears he feels tiny, feather-light legs scurrying down his spine. He pulls his pack tight against him, using the physical weight of it to dampen the tactile hallucination.

“I hate it,” Helen says darkly. Jon jumps just slightly at the break in the silence, and a few of the Archive’s eyes suspend their rapt scrutiny of the door handle to glance in her direction. Her posture is tense where she stands, staring warily at the door as if it might lunge at them. Jon has never seen the Distortion look so… unsettled.

She’s right, though. The door is wrong. More than that, it’s the exact same flavor of wrongness that he felt the first time he saw A Guest for Mr. Spider, and again when he reached out to knock on the monster’s door.

Back then, he hadn’t known that the concept of wrongness could be broken down into so many distinct subtypes: the uncanny disquietude of the Stranger feels fundamentally different from the compulsion of the coffin, the sensation of worms tunneling through flesh, the Distortion’s nonsensical corridors, the Lonely’s suffocating fog.

The pull of the Web is in a class of its own, and the sight of the door in front of him drops him right back into the memory of the day he opened the book – the day he took the first step on the winding path that led him, inevitably, to this exact moment. It’s such a fitting parallel, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was orchestrated down to the finest detail. He knows the Web plays a long game, but precisely how much of what has happened was in perfect accordance with the Web’s plans? What even is the Web’s –

No. Stop fixating on the Spider, he reprimands himself for the umpteenth time this… day? Whatever; it’s not important. He forces his legs to move.

“You’re sticking your hand in a bear trap, I hope you know.”

“I knew opening the door was a stupid thing to do,” Jon says, nonchalant. “So I opened the door.”

Helen breathes a surprised laugh. “Was that a joke?”

“The idea that this is all some grand cosmic joke,” Jon rattles off drily, “thousands of us running around spread horror and sabotaging each other pointlessly while these impossible unknowing things just lurk out there, feeding off the misery we caused –”

“Terrible.” Helen groans and puts her head in her hands. “Here I was, ready to compliment you on finally finding a sense of humor, and you have to ruin the moment with – with existentialist brooding.”

Jon chuckles quietly to himself and takes another step forward.

“Wait.” Helen reaches one long-fingered hand in Jon’s direction, then falters and pulls back. For a moment, she seems to wrestle with whether or not to continue. “What’s behind the door?”

“A scar in reality –”

“Yes, I know about the rift. What do you expect to find in it? An answer? An escape? A means of suicide?”

“A metaphysical quirk of this new reality’s divorce from the traditional concept of time.”

Jon pauses, chewing on his bottom lip as he looks inward and browses through his catalog.

“It bends and twists and returns to what it was,” he settles on eventually.

“I told you not to use my words.” Helen gives him a warning look, but it’s fleeting, because a moment later his meaning sinks in and she huffs out a short laugh of disbelief. “Wait – wait, wait, wait. You think you can… what, turn back time?”

Jon grimaces and makes a noncommittal seesawing motion with one hand.

“…could emerge back into the world that she remembered.”

Helen starts laughing in earnest now. “You think you can time travel?”

Jon just shrugs, unashamed. He knows he should feel embarrassed – back when he first took the position as Head Archivist, he would have scoffed at anyone making such a suggestion – but at this point, is it any more or less unrealistic than anything else that’s happened?

“Alright,” Helen says, stifling another giggle, “I’ll grant you that there’s a rift in space and time. People have traveled through it before.”

Jon gives an enthusiastic nod. After her encounter with the crack in the house's foundation, Anya Villette had found herself temporally displaced. What would stop Jon from also –

“However,” Helen continues, “what makes you think you’ll just rewind your position on this timeline? It could just take you to a parallel world, leaving this one behind to suffer and decay. Would you abandon what remains of humanity like that?”

Seeing as Anya Villette appeared to have also been spatially displaced, Jon has already considered this possibility. Helen probably knows that, too – she’s well-acquainted with his tendency to overthink things. She’s just trying to tap into his chronic self-loathing, demoralize him, make him doubt his own perceptions. It’s a familiar pattern, one Jon used to submit to far too easily.

“…better than staying here with this strange woman.”

“Ouch.” Helen brings a hand to her chest in mock offense. “You’re being awfully cruel today.”

Jon flashes an entirely unapologetic smile.

“I was being serious, you know.” A knowing mischief creeps into Helen’s eyes. “You’ve always been selfish, but would you really run away from your mistakes, save yourself and damn the rest?”

Unfortunately for Helen, she’s arrived too late to this particular debate. Jon already spent the entire trip here berating himself and second-guessing his conclusions, and he’s just about gotten it out of his system for the time being. Self-recrimination as an inoculation against the Distortion’s manipulations – now there’s a concept, he thinks wryly.

“Do you honestly believe you deserve to escape an apocalypse that you brought about?”

God, she’s persistent.

“Now there’s only one thing I have left that I value,” he says simply. “That I love. And I cannot lose him.”

It’s the truth: the final deciding factor for him was, as it so often is, Martin.

“You would potentially forsake this entire world just to reverse your own loss?”

“There was nothing left to save.”

It never gets easier to admit it out loud, but that doesn’t change the truth of it. This world is already forsaken. Humanity is dying out, slowly but surely, and Jon harbors a guilty feeling of relief that their torment will not be eternal after all. As far as he can See, there’s no way for him to save the ones who remain. There never was.

His power was never meant to help anyone. For a long time, the only action within his grasp was to hurt – and so, he went after those who deserved to be hurt, because the only other option was doing nothing at all. But seeking revenge never saved anyone, never even made himself feel any better. If anything, it only made him feel emptier, more and more alienated from whatever human part of him still lingered – and that was a very dangerous place to be.

And when he and Martin decided together that he needed to slow down, to maintain some distance between himself and the Eye? Well… nothing substantial changed in the slightest. He didn’t get any worse, but he also didn’t get better. The world continued to suffer just as much as if he were to sit down and take no action at all. Nothing he did or did not do made any impact whatsoever.

He Knows intimately that he cannot banish the Entities from this world as long as one person remains to feel fear. Once that last person dies, there will be no one left to save. Hell, depending on how human he still is by that time, he may very well be that last person, and the Dread Powers will just have to ration him. And why shouldn’t they? They’ve all had a taste of him more than once. He’s an unfinished meal. They could just resume hacking away at him, demanding their respective pounds of flesh one after the other until nothing remains – until finally, mercifully, the Fears themselves would wither and die as well. He just doesn’t want to consider how long that could take – no. Best not to dwell on it.

The point is, there is no future for this world. There is nothing left for him to do here. His only hope is to prevent all of this from coming to pass in the first place, and this… this is the only lead he has. And besides, Martin –

“You do realize that you have a vanishingly small chance of seeing him again, don’t you?”

“I decided to take a risk and try it anyway.”

Helen looks put out at his easy dismissal, but she really ought to know better by now, Jon thinks. He might be chronically plagued by self-hate and a visceral fear of being controlled, but Martin is his anchor in more ways than one. Their relationship is proof of Jon’s own capacity for free will, and his decision to go after Martin in the Lonely remains one of the only things he’s done where he’s never once wondered whether he made the right choice. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more confident about anything than he is about their love for each other, even if he doesn’t always feel like he deserves it. Helen really couldn’t pick a worse seed with which to sow self-doubt.

When she sees that Jon isn’t taking the bait, she changes tack.

“And assuming this scheme somehow works as you hope it does, and doesn’t just get you shunted to some hellish pocket dimension – which it almost certainly will – you do realize that your little scene with Jonah Magnus will mean nothing, don’t you? This future will be erased, he will not suffer for eternity – he won’t even remember that it was ever a possibility.”

“For all her anger, there was no thirst for revenge in the Archivist, only an eagerness to expunge an infection that had gone unnoticed for too long.”

“Then why bother confronting him? I know it wasn’t for closure – if you were at all capable of letting go or moving on, you would never have been a candidate for the Beholding in the first place, and we wouldn’t be here now.” Jon just barely manages to not flinch at that. Luckily, Helen doesn’t seem to notice that she struck a nerve, instead staring up at the ceiling in contemplation, as if trying to decipher Jon’s motivations on her own. “So, why? All those messy emotions it dredged up and for what – the drama of it all?”

“I live for the monologue,” he deadpans.

“Jonathan!” Helen gapes at him in exaggerated shock. “Was that another joke?”

She could stand to tone down the condescension, Jon thinks. It isn’t his fault if people overlook his sense of humor just because they never think to listen for it.

“Are you certain about this, Archivist? You have a history of reaching these points of no return and choosing the worst imaginable path.”

Even at the very end, the Distortion just can’t resist one last chance at undermining his confidence. Despite the cockiness underlying her taunt, Helen has a hungry, almost pleading look in her eye – desperate, like everything else in this place that feeds on fear, for scraps in the midst of a famine that will never be remedied.

Jon reaches out and grips the doorknob with one hand.

“Even the end of the world can’t stop you throwing yourself on a grenade. Can’t say I’m surprised. I’m not following you in there, though.”

“Thank heaven for small mercies, I suppose.”

“I am trying to have a heartfelt goodbye, Jonathan,” Helen says, not sounding sincere in the slightest. “I doubt this will go as you hope it will, but I’m fairly certain that no matter what happens, I won’t be seeing you again. I won’t wish you luck, but… well, it will be interesting to see whether one of your half-assed plans might pan out for once – not that they ever have gone according to plan.” When Jon’s resolve remains strong, Helen sighs – and this time, her disappointment does sound genuine. “Well, if you’re sure…” She trails off, giving him one last hopeful look – once last chance to fall apart under her skillful denigrations – before her shoulders slump in resignation.

Not content to leave it at that, though, she does offer one last parting shot: “Do say hello to the Spider for me, won’t you?”

An involuntary shudder courses down Jon’s spine as he remembers Anya Villette’s statement – the massive spider legs reaching up to pull her into the crack in the foundation – and compares it with his own memory of the book, the door, and the monster lurking within. Helen breathes a contented sigh at his ripple of unease – basically a snack for her, at Jon’s expense. Fine. She can have that last little morsel of fear from him, as a parting gift.

“Sometimes you just have to leave,” Jon says firmly, turning the handle. “Even if what’s on the other side scares you.”

And, oh, it does.

Miraculously, Helen allows him to have the last word. As he pushes open the door to the basement, he hears Helen’s door creak open in unison. By the time he’s staring down the stairs into the dark, her door has snapped shut and popped out of existence.

The staircase pitches down, down, down, stretching far deeper than it should. It’s too dark to see much of anything, and it takes a full minute of descent until he notices that there’s a slight curve to it. With every step, the air grows warmer and more stifling. The revolting sensation of walking through cobwebs becomes a constant, but any time he reaches up to brush away the web clinging to him, he feels nothing but his own bare skin.

A few minutes in, his bad leg starts twinging again, and he holds on to the wall to steady himself. Before long, his mind begins to wander to the horrifying possibility that the staircase is interminable, and he’s overcome by an image of a funnel web spider waiting patiently for unsuspecting prey. He tries to push the thought away. Just keep moving.

Between the lack of visibility and being lost in his own head, he doesn’t notice the sharp turn in the staircase until he plows right into the wall, a sharp pain erupting in his left shoulder from the collision. He throws one hand back to steady himself and only barely manages to stay on his feet, his bad leg protesting as he throws his weight into it. After briefly taking inventory of himself and experimentally putting weight on his leg again – painful, but not unbearable – he gropes blindly for the wall again and uses it to guide himself forward, more slowly this time. It isn’t long before the stone of the wall gives way to cool, damp earth, and he shivers with the memory of the Buried.

After several more sharp, nearly 90-degree twists and turns, a faint glow starts to permeate the darkness. A few minutes later, the staircase opens up into a large, dimly-lit space, garlanded with spider silk. The ceiling, walls, and floor are composed of tightly-packed dirt, and Jon has to fight back a rush of claustrophobic panic at the thought of being surrounded on all sides by the crushing earth. It’s short-lived, as it’s crowded out by a much deeper, more primal fear when he sees the fissure in the ground ahead.

It’s a repulsive, crooked thing, oozing with a pervasive, tangible feeling of wrongness. It should not be there. It cannot be there. And yet there it is, boldly existing where it has no right or reason to be, a gnawing, open, inflamed wound in the fabric of reality, pulling him toward it like a black hole. It’s a compulsion stronger than the coffin, an abomination more uncanny than the Stranger, a malice deeper than any Dark, an inevitability on par with Terminus itself.

Jon hates it. At his first glimpse of it, every one of the Archive’s eyes fly open, greedily drinking in the oppressive presence of something so unfamiliar and anomalous, leeching off of Jon’s terror as he beholds it. The scrutiny is fleeting, though, as the sight of it turns corrosive and blistering; all at once, the eyes shrink away and retreat, like a school of fish spotting a bird of prey swooping down for a meal. It takes some of the edge off, having fewer eyes with which to see the thing, but it still weighs him down with dread and revulsion.

Jon doesn’t know how long he’s stood there, staring unblinkingly at the fault line, before he senses a presence – something colossal and hungry and wrong, malevolence and foreboding given physical form – climbing inexorably toward him. He hears a faint rustling, the whisper of tiny avalanches of dirt scraped loose and sent sliding down the walls of the crevice. He knows exactly what to expect, and still he isn’t prepared when the first of the spider’s legs peeks up over the lip of the fissure.

How is it that after a lifetime to process a childhood trauma, it still throttles his heart and squeezes the air from his lungs at the mere thought of it? How is it that, despite being the most formidable thing in this world outside of Fear itself, he feels as small and helpless now as he did on the day he met his first of many monsters? Why is he just standing here, letting those hairy, spindly limbs hover and curl around him like an enormous clawed hand, waiting for a fate that is as unknowable as it is inevitable?

Focus, Jon thinks to himself. Listen to the quiet.

He slowly reaches into his jacket and breathes a sigh of relief as his fingers close around the notebook safeguarded there. It’s Martin’s, full of poems and sketches and stream-of-consciousness journal entries. Jon has had it with him for a long time now, but he’s never been able to bring himself to look inside it. Martin would occasionally share its contents with him – mostly completed poems, and only occasionally works in progress, as he was always self-conscious about his creative process – but Jon doesn’t want to accidentally see something that Martin would have preferred to keep to himself. Martin might not be beside him right now, but he still deserves to have his privacy respected.

Still, for Jon, just having it with him is a physical reminder of his anchor, and running his thumb over the cover grounds him in the present. He closes his eyes and looks inward.

The Archive gropes blindly for something solid amidst the noise, some elemental truth to serve as a starting point in the chaotic tangle choking this place. The edges of his mind brush against thread after thread and none of them are what he’s looking for. They stick to him, filling his head with cotton, making him sluggish and confused, obfuscating his sight. The Spider watches as he flails, becoming more and more snarled in the web.

“I closed my eyes and remembered in as much detail and with as much love as I could muster in my despair,” he whispers to himself, anchoring himself in the truth of the statement. He swallows a terrified whimper as something coarse and fuzzy brushes against his face, and he weaves a command into his next words: “Eventually, I opened my eyes again –”

The Archive obeys, hundreds of eyes materializing on his skin and blinking open in the space around him, grotesque satellites of varying sizes all seizing on single question, and suddenly he can See –

There.

A single thread, out of place among the rest, pulled taut and leading down into the deep gloom of the chasm. He spares a brief thought as to its origin point – Is its anchor here, now, or do its roots begin on the other side? – before silencing it. It’s not a question that needs answering right now. The Beholding objects; Jon reflexively shuts it down and takes an aggravated swipe at the nearest cluster of eyes he can reach, like swatting at a swarm of mosquitoes. He doesn’t think it actually does anything concrete, but when they disperse it brings him a small measure of satisfaction all the same.

He gives an experimental tug on the thread and – it feels right. That’s good, right? Well, he supposes it could be the Web trying to trick him into –

God, he’s like a dog with a bone. He could be trapped in a burning building and find part of his mind wandering off to idly ponder the melting point of steel –

…around 1370 °C for carbon steel; between 1400 and 1530°C for stainless steel, depending on the specific alloy and grade…

– which, yes, he has done. It’s a good way to dissociate from a crisis. Unfortunately, it’s also a good way to get killed, and the giant spider is still there, Jonathan, focus.

He holds fast to the thread – make a path for yourself, tune it to the frequency you need –

“Everything about being with him felt so natural that when he told me he loved me,” he tells himself, louder this time, “it only came as a surprise to realize that we hadn’t said it already.”

– and he follows it, stepping carefully around and between the spider’s legs. He has no idea why it isn’t attacking him – what if this is exactly what Annabelle – no. He shakes his head as if it will jostle the thought loose. Just be thankful for it and keep moving before the damn thing changes its mind.

Moments or hours or perhaps days later, he’s standing at the precipice of the fissure and looking down. Several eyes are riveted on the massive hairy form poised above him, but most are staring into the unknowable darkness with a gnawing, longing fascination. He stands frozen in place, torn between an overwhelming urge to flee and an overpowering need to Know what’s down there: something new, something fresh, something different – any reprieve at all from the excruciating monotony of this nightmare world.

The spider shifts above him. It’s now or never. He has nothing to lose, and if there’s any chance at all of changing this doomed future – of seeing Martin again…

“Sometimes you just have to leave,” he reminds himself, shutting his human eyes tight, one hand clutching the notebook and the other clenching into a fist until the fingernails cut into the palm. “Even if what’s on the other side scares you.”

He takes one last deep breath, thinks of Martin – safe hands, warm eyes, gentle touch – and he takes a leap of faith.

Jon can’t see anything. He can’t See, either. There is an incessant, high-pitched whine screaming in his ears and drowning out his thoughts. When he moves to put his hands over his ears, he realizes all at once that he can’t feel his body. He has no sense of up or down, no fingers to flex, no breath to hold, and – and he can’t See.

It’s… terrifying. It’s liberating. It hurts, but in the same way that his first gulp of fresh air hurt after three days asphyxiating in the Buried.

He doesn’t know how long he floats there in that near-senseless limbo, but between one moment and the next a blanket of fog drops over him and the shrill static is muffled. Through the haze, he can just barely make out a voice, coming from so far away – like he’s drowning, and someone is speaking to him from above the water’s surface. He drifts and listens in a daze as the voice cuts in and out.

“– just – thought I’d – by. Check in – how you’re –”

It’s a nice voice.

“– really need you –”

A safe voice.

“– Jon.”

Wait.

“– bad. I – how much longer we can –”

Wait, it’s – that’s Martin’s voice.

“We – I need you.”

It’s Martin. Martin!

Martin is here, he’s here – Jon doesn’t know where here is, but it doesn’t matter, because Martin is here, and – and Jon is so overwhelmed with euphoria that he isn’t actually processing what’s being said. Calm down, focus – focus on the words –

“And I – I know that you’re not –”

Oh.

“I know there’s no way to –”

Oh, no.

“But we need you, Jon.”

All at once, Jon knows where – when he is.

“Jon, please, just – please.”

No. No, no, no, no –

“If – if there’s anything left in you that can still see us, or –”

Martin, I’m here!

“– or some power that you’ve still got, or –”

I’m here, I’m here, I’m here –

“– or, or something, anything, please! Please.”

Martin’s voice breaks, and Jon’s heart fractures with it.

“I – I can’t –”

Jon can just barely make out the buzz of a phone and – oh.

“I’m – I’m actually with him now.”

Martin!

“You were right.” A pause, and a heavy sigh. “I – will they be safe?”

Peter Lukas. It’s Peter Lukas. Peter Lukas is still alive, Peter Lukas is hunting Martin, Peter Lukas wants to feed him to the Lonely, Peter Lukas is –

“Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.”

Martin, don’t –

“Yeah. Sure thing.”

Martin!

“I’m sorry.”

Jon tries to scream, to reach out, to do anything at all, but he doesn’t have a body and he doesn’t have a voice and he can’t See –

“Goodbye, Jon.”

Martin, look at me! Hear me, please - see me!

He tries to thread a command through the words, but the compulsion doesn't come through, and -

Jon hears the rustle of clothing as Martin stands to leave, followed by the soft click of the door as it closes behind him.

Fuck.

End Notes:

me: i could go into some long-winded exposition about the space-time continuum also me: OR, alternatively, i can handwave it and say It's The Power Of Love, Don't Even Worry About It

anyway, my gay little heart knows what it's about.

- Jon’s dialogue is taken from the statements in the following episodes: MAG 146; 054; 151; 139; 168; 101; 134; 010; 037; 008; 019; 167; 108; 103; 146; 048; 013; 146.

- Jon gets some original verbal dialogue starting next chapter. Thought I'd mention it just in case anyone is getting tired of the Archive-speak (though there will still be some of that). :P

- Psst, if you want to read a detour about Jon and Martin's talk about Annabelle and free will and Not Obsessing Over The Web, I wrote that here. (I'm linking it here because it actually originally started as part of this fic but I decided to make it its own thing because my ADHD brain ran with it and it was waaaaay too much of a tangent sdsdhshgh)

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #jonmartin #long post #spoilers through MAG 169 #tma spoilers

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bangtansmysuperhero · 5 years ago

Text

take me home - chapter 1

take me home (best friend AU) | ongoing updates

I was going to break up with him, I really was. I even told you that yesterday, that I was going to break up with him. But I couldn’t. Not even for you, Kim Taehyung.

prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | epilogue

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chapter 1

present-day

“Are we still on for tonight? 7:00?” I asked my best friend, Taehyung, over the phone as I tried to balance myself on one foot to take off the other heel.

“You know I’ll be there. Just you and me, right?”

“You, me and Joonie,” I pursed my lips, not liking where this was headed.

“Ah, Kim Namjoon. The imaginary boyfriend whomst the great Y/N has been dating for the past few months-”

I rolled my eyes. “27 months. 2 years.”

“Whomst I have met maybe twice-”

“You’ve met him-”

“Once. It was just once wasn’t it?”

“No-”

“Whomst made you cry because- wait why did the fucker make you cry again?”

“Whomst isn’t even a word! Taehyung-ah!”

“Y/N-ah.”

“Yes, Tae?”

“Why are you still with him?” I let out a huge huff of air and stared at the clock on my stovetop. 5:42.

Why was I still with him? “I have to start making dinner now,” I said defeatedly as my eyes wandered to the note on the fridge and hung up.

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I mindlessly stirred the spinach in the pan to sauté it. Looks like Taehyung was going to be right again: Namjoon wouldn’t be able to make it to dinner again. It would seem that Namjoon cancelling on dinners with Taehyung was a normal reoccurrence, but Namjoon cancelling on dinners with me was no different. The countless nights I spent sitting in our apartment in silence, watching the food get cold, definitely outweighed Tae’s count and it wasn’t even a number’s game that I wanted to win.

Tae was annoyed and annoyed for me. Yet I couldn’t even get annoyed if I wanted to. Joonie had been working overtime these past few quarters to make sure he had the results to prove that he was worthy of a promotion. “I’m doing this for us,” Joonie murmured against my lips as he held my face in his hands. “We could move out and into a better apartment if I get promoted. And maybe even start a family. Don’t you want that?” I had no choice but to nod at the time. He was trying to give us a better life, was I supposed to oppose that? “I love you, Y/N-ah. Please be patient with me.” He kissed my forehead and then gazed into my eyes. “Please, baby.”

“Love you too, Joonie.”

I did. Despite spending many nights alone waiting for him to come home and have dinner with me, I really did love Namjoon. He was the perfect boyfriend. He remembered all of my preferences, changed most of his to suit mine, always knew how to make me feel better, never looked at other girls, and he never made me feel insecure. But best of all, he saw a future with me: a future he was working very hard at, for me. He was the perfect boyfriend when he was around.

However, those late nights didn’t always end up in an embrace. The lock clicked and the doorknob turned, the front door opened to welcome a staggering Namjoon into our apartment. Our eyes met as I was clearing off the dinner table. “Y/N-ah, were you waiting for me? You shouldn’t have.”

“Where were you?”

His grin dropped and he scoffed while wrestling with his tie. “At work. Where else would I be?”

“You were drinking at work?” My brows furrowed in disbelief and I turned around from the fridge.

“We had to entertain some clients tonight.”

“Right… And you couldn’t have told me that?” I slammed the fridge door closed and went to clear off the rest of the dinner I made.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. Y/N-ah,” Joonie cooed as he walked towards me and the food I made for our anniversary. “Did you make this?” His dimples showed as he leaned over me and tasted the food. “Ah, brisket?” The hand on my hip gave me a familiar squeeze. He licked his fingers and said, “It’s delicious. A little cold though.”

“Of course it’s cold, it’s been sitting on the table for a few hours now!” I gritted my teeth and set the food back down on the table, pushing him away from me and stalked to our bedroom. It was going to be my room tonight.

Namjoon’s footsteps followed mine and he tried to grab my arm to stop me but he wasn’t fast enough. “Why? It’s late. You should’ve-”

“I was waiting for you!” With that, I slammed the door in his face and locked it.

At least he left me a note this time: Don’t wait up - Namjoon. “Asshole,” I muttered. Suddenly I felt hands on my waist and lips hovering my ear, causing me to shriek at the contact.

“Are you going to stir that? It’s burning.” I whipped my head around to look at the assailant and saw Taehyung raise an eyebrow at our dinner and then back at me.

I put my spatula down and whacked my best friend’s arm. “You scared the shit out of me, Taehyung-ah!”

“I did knock,” he pouted as I wriggled out of his hold.

“How did you get in anyway?” I poured the rest of the ingredients into the pan, hoping that the spinach was still edible.

“You left your door unlocked again.” Tae spun me around and had a stern look on his face. “How many times do I have to remind you to lock your door? Hmm?” He tucked some of my bangs behind my ear and surveyed my eyes and briefly my lips as I bit them, nervously awaiting a reprimand for my carelessness. When I didn’t answer him, he pulled me into a hug and kissed the top of my head. “Did you miss me?”

I looked up from his chest and hastily nodded. “Did you miss me? Or were you too busy in Los Angeles to remember your best friend? Hmm?” I placed my head back on his chest where his heart beated heavily and poked his ribs when he least expected it, making him shudder and groan.

“Y/N-ah! Aish! Why would I have been too busy in LA?” He rubbed where I poked him and began to wail dramatically. “You’re my best friend and-”

“I’m your only friend,” I looked up at him with a blatant poker face, earning me a glare.

“You’re my best friend and the only one I care to talk to,” he declared.

“That is such a lie, Tae!” I scoffed, hitting his chest.

“What?! How is that a lie? You are my best friend and the only one-”

“Remember Tania?” I tried to escape his embrace to cross my arms but failed as Tae tightened his embrace of me.

“Who?” His face contorted in a genuine state of confusion, trying to remember who Tania of our summer ‘19 New York City trip was. “Tana-”

“No, not Tana. Tania!” He furrowed his eyebrows and still had no clue who I was referring to. “We went to New York last summer, you guys met at a Starbucks, and had me third-wheeling for the entirety of our trip!”

“Tania?” I nodded with affirmation. “You mean Tina?” Who? “You weren’t third-wheeling-”

“Oh yeah, I sure as heck wasn’t third-wheeling you guys when she was all like, ‘TaeTae, can you come in here and help me with this dress? I think the tag got caught with the zipper,’” I raised my voice an octave higher and channelled my inner valley girl, flipping my hair from side-to-side.

“I sure as heck am sure that I most definitely came that day,” he grinned and wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

“Oh my god!” I hit Taehyung’s chest again in disbelief. “You’re so gross! Let go of me!”

“Come on, Y/N-ah. You know you love it,” I was almost out of his hold when he turned us around and trapped me between him and my kitchen counter.

“No, I don’t!” I squealed and wriggled. My back was against his front and a very prominent bump on his front was against my back. I froze but my breathing became more frantic at the sudden realization that I was essentially grinding on his dick. What a dick it was… Oh my god! Y/N, what are you doing?!

“Really?” Taehyung swept my hair back and held it in his hand while stroking the side of my neck with his thumb. I couldn’t answer him. What was he even asking? I wanted to say something, anything, but I couldn’t. “I asked you a question, Y/N-ah,” Tae’s voice dropped an octave and I felt my legs begin to weaken their stance.

“Huh-uh,” I swallowed. Oh my god, am I salivating right now? His close proximity allowed the scent of his cologne, shampoo, or maybe even his aftershave to fill my nose. Mmm. Me likey. So woodsy and masculine, just so Tae. I felt myself pulse, but that was just my body telling me that I’m alive right? Right?!

“So answer the question then, sweetheart.” He murmured into my ear, his soft lips brushing against my earlobe before he dipped his head into the skin he cleared from my hair and planted a chaste kiss behind my ear. And I shuddered internally and externally. Fucking hell, what is he doing?! Stop this, Y/N!

“W-what was the question?” I closed my eyes and my lips parted carefully not to make any sounds that I wasn’t supposed to make. My best friend didn’t answer me. Instead, Taehyung placed another chaste kiss on me, this time a little lower than the last and with more suction. And another. And another. And another. And then his lips backtracked on my skin, lingering once they reached the sensitive skin behind my ear. “T-taehyung-ah…” Fucking hell, just fuck me.

“I’m not sure Namu would appreciate that,” Taehyung’s lips lifted off of me briefly.

“Huh..?” Wait, what? Put those suckers back where they belong, I demand it!

“But I’m not here for him, am I?” Him? Oh my god, Namjoon! My boyfr- Taehyung sucked on my sensitive spot harder than before and I screamed.

“Tae!” My hand came down from gripping onto his arm as I threw my head back into him and made accidental contact with the pan. Shit, my hand! “Fuck! Taehyung, stop!”

He stopped immediately as if he was the one whose hand got scorched and growled, “Why?!”

“The spinach!” It was definitely not edible.

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author’s note: what do y’all think of our little incident here? a case of too many cooks in the kitchen? please follow, reblog & like this story if you’d like to see where this goes!!! it really does help with motivating me in the writing process <3 the next chapters will be at least doubled in length for some character development. also, i love me some joonie irl but he’s not the ideal man for Y/N in this fic... or is he? xxx, LALA Jan. 28/20

word count: 1747

#BTS #BTS SMUT #BTS FANFIC #BTS READER #BTS CHEATING #BTS BEST FRIENDS #KIM TAEHYUNG SMUT #KIM TAEHYUNG FANFIC #KIM TAEHYUNG X READER #KIM NAMJOON SMUT #KIM NAMJOON FANFIC #KIM NAMJOON X READER #KIM TAEHYUNG IMAGINE #KIM NAMJOON IMAGINE #BTS SCENARIOS #BTS IMAGINES #CHEATING AU #BEST FRIENDS AU

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notapaladin · 4 years ago

Text

don’t confess none of your sins, pt 1

this is 1000% @bleed-peroxide’s fault for tagging me in a meme to post a line from a fake WIP, because i immediately uh...failed step one. and steps 3-10000.

Teomitl shows up late one night at Acatl’s house with illegal pulque and an offer. After some hesitation, Acatl takes it...eagerly. There’s porn in this!

Also on AO3. Part 2 is here

Teomitl was in his courtyard. For a long moment, all Acatl could manage to do was stare at him, the image stubbornly refusing to compute in his head. This late at night, this early in the morning, Teomitl should absolutely be at home sleeping off the banquet they’d been forced to attend, instead of sprawled lazily under Acatl’s cedar tree with his eyes gleaming. He was still wearing much of his finery, though he’d had the sense to wash the paint from his face and switch out his gold-hemmed cape for a plainer one. Acatl, still in his own regalia with his skull mask tied to his belt, felt overdressed and off-balance in comparison.

He dragged his eyes up from where they’d settled somewhere around Teomitl’s broad shoulders. “Hello, my student who does not live here.”

Teomitl shrugged carelessly, which didn’t help. There was a faint, hazy smile hovering around the corner of his mouth. “...I wanted to see you.”

“You saw me at the banquet.” It seemed inadequate. They’d both been at the banquet, but there hadn’t been a chance to exchange more than long-suffering nods. Teomitl had been sitting with his brothers, smiling tightly at whatever they’d been saying; once or twice Acatl was sure he’d seen a pleading look thrown his way, but his own irritation at their seating arrangements hadn’t left him with much ability to effect an intervention. Quenami had been particularly annoying with his regrettable tendency to open his mouth and have words come out.

Teomitl waved a dismissive hand. “I saw you sitting between Acamapichtli and Quenami, trying not to knock their heads into the soup bowls. That doesn’t count.” He bit his lip, looking suddenly shy. “I thought you could use some cheering up after that.”

Something fluttered traitorously in his chest. He hadn’t thought Teomitl would notice, never mind care. The boy had his own worries, surely, even if he disliked the other High Priests nearly as much as Acatl did. And here he is, thinking about me. “And you think you can do that?”

Long lashes flickered as Teomitl looked up at him, smug as a well-fed jaguar, and Acatl had to swallow roughly as he nodded at him. “Mm.”

He took a breath, willing himself to stay calm even as the breeze brought the faint scents of the banquet back to him—incense, perfume, spiced food. That hazy smile was back, and it was wreaking serious havoc on his nerves. Sternly, he reminded himself that Teomitl was his student, a youth of imperial blood, a proud young warrior—and that he, Acatl, should absolutely not be noticing the light in his eyes. Besides which, Teomitl really had some gall to invite himself in like that. “...How?”

Teomitl grinned at him, fast and bright and wicked; he was so dazzled by it that he almost missed the rustle of fabric as Teomitl reached under his cloak to pull out a stoppered jar. Expertly, he popped the lid off, and the smell of strong pulque hit Acatl like a fist. “I brought this.”

Acatl stared. For a fleeting moment he wished desperately that he was sitting down, the better to absorb the shock. “...Are you drunk?” It came out in a squawk. ‘Scandalized’ was too mild a word—for a nobleman or a priest to be drunk in public meant death, and even in private the punishments would be severe. How Teomitl had managed to make it all the way to his courtyard undetected was a mystery he didn’t want to solve. And as for why...to cheer me up? Really, Teomitl? Reckless—irresponsible—have I taught you nothing? He firmly tamped down the part of his mind that also seemed to be finding it touching.

It was made more difficult by the fact that Teomitl—who, now that he looked with a discerning eye, was a tad flushed—was frowning at him as though he’d had the nerve to take offense. “I am not! I think…” He studied the jar for a moment. “I might be a little tipsy. But I am not drunk. I think I’d be much more wobbly on my feet if I were drunk.”

He turned his face away, folding his arms across his chest and hating himself for being unable to repress the smile that was making its treacherous way across his lips. It was hard to stay angry in the face of such sincerity. “Hmph. I should confiscate that.”

Teomitl cocked his head like a bird. “Are you going to?” He didn’t sound particularly worried by the prospect.

“...No.” He should. He knew he should. But Teomitl was looking up at him, and he was weak.

And now he was smiling knowingly and raising the jar to his lips. “Oh. Good.”

Knowing it was a bad idea even as he did it, Acatl made a terrible decision. “But if you’re going to drink that, you’ll do it inside.” Where nobody except me will see you, and I’ll never tell.

“Mmm,” Teomitl murmured.

But he didn’t move, and so Acatl crossed the distance between them and held out a hand. “Come on—oh.” Teomitl was hauling himself to his feet with a worrying sway; instinctively Acatl reached to steady him, and for a dizzying moment all his world narrowed to the feel of the man in his arms. He was deliciously warm, muscles like stone under the soft cotton of his cloak, and when he half-leaned against his shoulder the scent of alcohol burned through Acatl’s lungs.

He exhaled, trying to force his head to clear. At least one of them should be sober. Sober and focused and not—not enjoying this, gods. He’s my student. He’s not for me. I have to remember that.

Teomitl seemed determined to make it hard. His voice was a teasing huff in Acatl’s ear. “I can walk, you know. But if you want to carry me, I wouldn’t mind. Just don’t spill the pulque!”

He took a breath, pushing down his sudden awareness of his own heartbeat. “Let’s just go in.”

Teomitl’s assessment of his own state turned out to be surprisingly accurate; though he wouldn’t be making any sudden movements, he was still steady enough on his feet to follow Acatl into the darkness of the house. The moonlight streaming through the window caught the edge of a high cheekbone and the curve of his mouth, and Acatl couldn’t look away from him as he murmured, “You’re right. This is much better.”

And then he sat down on the mat, tugging Acatl down with him before he could pull away. Acatl made a noise he refused—even in the privacy of his own head—to term a squeak as he hit the ground, managing at least to arrange himself into a vaguely dignified sitting position. An objection hovered on the tip of his tongue, only to flee in the next heartbeat along with his thoughts.

Teomitl pressed against him from shoulder to hip, bare skin like a brand where it met Acatl’s. It was just possible to make out the motion of one hand lifting the jar of pulque to his mouth; the sound of his swallowing sounded very loud in the stillness. It was almost a shock when he hummed contentedly and breathed, “I don’t know about you, but I’m happy.”

“You.” He wet his lips and tried again. Teomitl’s fingers were just barely brushing against his thigh, and his veins felt like they were on fire. “I’m sure that’s just the pulque talking.”

Reeds crackled lightly under the weight as Teomitl shifted; it was all the warning he got before a head came to rest on his shoulder and Teomitl’s voice sounded from just under his ear. There was no trace of a slur to it, but the purring drawl was somehow worse. “Maybe it is. Maybe. But I don’t think so. I think it’s because I’m here with you.”

Acatl inhaled, closing his eyes. It didn’t help; the air was full of the mingled scents of alcohol and Teomitl’s skin, and with his eyes shut there was no distraction from how close they were. His blood thrummed relentlessly through his veins. Stop. Stop saying things like that, Teomitl. You make me want what I shouldn’t. “It’s the pulque. Trust me. You’ll regret this in the morning.” He set a hand on Teomitl’s arm, intending to put space between them, but something in his brain seemed to be confused at this very simple objective because he wound up squeezing lightly at his bicep instead. Teomitl really had very nice arms.

“Hmm.” It was a thoughtful sort of sound; when he looked into Teomitl’s face, he found him smirking wickedly. “I might regret drinking. But I won’t regret this.”

He swallowed, dropping his hand. “Regret—what?”

“Getting to see you like this.” Teomitl’s voice was hushed, as though he shared a great secret, but his eyes were alight with what could not be desire. “You are very...very handsome, Acatl-tzin.”

“I am what.” His voice cracked midsentence, making his face flame, but it was a drop in the ocean compared to the pulse-pounding heat of Teomitl’s words in his ears.

There was a hand on his knee, scattering his thoughts. Teomitl lowered his voice to the barest whisper. “You really have no idea what seeing you in your regalia does to me, do you? It’s devastating.”

Empty flattery, came his first reaction, but he knew he was lying to himself even as the words crossed his mind. Teomitl was never anything but honest, and it knocked the air from his lungs. He’s drunk—but that was a lie, too. He knew he should move—should pull away, take the rest of the pulque from Teomitl’s hands, put the boy to bed and make sure he’d be alright in the morning—but he was frozen to the mat. “Ngk,” he said intelligently.

The hand slid slowly, inexorably upwards, scorching a path over his skin. Where fingers curled around to the soft skin of his inner thigh, he could feel callouses where no one had ever touched him before. All awareness of anything else in the room faded away; there was only this hand on him, Teomitl’s solid presence the weight at the center of his world. Then the sloshing of an open jar caught his attention, and he registered that Teomitl was holding it out to him with a hot little smile. “Want some, Acatl-tzin? It’s quite good.”

I shouldn’t. I absolutely should not. But… But there was Teomitl all but draped over him, shamelessly roaming fingers starting to trace a meaningless pattern on his thigh, and his heart was hammering frantically against his ribcage. Only his own reflexively clenched fists were stopping him from—well. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he started touching Teomitl in return, but he knew it was something he wouldn’t come back from. He wasn’t sure it was something he’d want to come back from. I am High Priest of Lord and Lady Death. I am a servant of the gods, a keeper of the boundaries. And I…

Warm hands. A sunny smile. A body that moved like a jaguar through his mind when he closed his eyes to sleep. The knowledge that this was something he could never have, as untouchable as the heavens.

He snatched the jar from Teomitl’s hand and took a swig.

It burned. It burned, and he almost choked, but he made himself swallow anyway. The sensation faded from his mouth and tongue after a moment, but he could still feel it burning on its way down his throat. He took a breath and felt dizzy, but he wasn’t sure if that was the pulque—surely one sip couldn’t affect him so much?—or something within his own head. Tizoc-tzin would have me killed for this, came the thought in his head. Drinking with his young, impressionable brother, even in the privacy of my own home? My head would roll before I even had time to put the jar down. He thought he should probably be more afraid of that, but somehow the fear seemed far away. When he blinked, the world sharpened.

“Do you like it?” Teomitl’s smile was sweet, but his hand was still resting midway up Acatl’s thigh.

He had to clear his throat twice before he could manage words. “I—I do.” Maybe the pulque was hitting him already; his limbs were starting to feel distinctly unreal compared to the anchoring pressure of Teomitl’s hand.

“Good. Oh…” Teomitl tilted his head, eyes sharp. “Hold still.”

He froze.

He stayed frozen as that hand came up, calloused thumb impossibly soft as it brushed against the corner of his mouth. His breath ghosted against it, the only indication that he was in fact still breathing. He could almost taste his skin. Teomitl was smiling at him from entirely too close, voice taking on a teasing lilt as he murmured, “You’ve got something...here.” When he drew back, there was a tiny droplet of pulque clinging to his thumb, and he held Acatl’s gaze as he licked it away.

Duality save me, he thought, but he knew the Duality wasn’t listening. There wasn’t a god that could help him now. He could feel his own heartbeat in his throat, in his gut, in the first stirrings of shamefully sharp arousal. “Teomitl,” he whispered, wide-eyed. It seemed to be the only thing he could say.

“Doesn’t it taste good, Acatl-tzin?” Teomitl’s tone was almost—almost—innocent, and Acatl might have been fooled if it wasn’t for the wicked smile on his face.

“I…” He’s enjoying this. Taunting me—no, worse. Toying with me. His face burned, and he wrenched his gaze away. Arousal be damned, he wouldn’t throw himself after someone who viewed it as a game. “Hrmph.”

Teomitl didn’t seem to notice his irritation. Strong fingers plucked the jar of pulque out of Acatl’s unresisting hands, and he sloshed it about meditatively to check how much was left. “Hmm. I think I’ll have some more.”

He didn’t look. He didn’t want to see. But he could feel the heat of Teomitl’s body still pressed against his side, all lean and solid and strong. They were so close together that he wasn’t sure which of their heartbeats he was feeling, though his own seemed fit to escape his chest. And then he heard Teomitl swallow, and the satisfied near-moan that escaped him pulsed through Acatl’s veins and straight to his cock.

Against all his better judgement, he looked back. Teomitl still had the jar to his lips, head tilted back as he took another long gulp. Moonlight outlined the curve of his cheekbones and the line of his nose, turning his short hair to black ink where it sank into the strands. A thin trickle of pulque was escaping the seal of his mouth, outlining the curve of his throat as it descended. Acatl felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He must have made a sound, because Teomitl cast him a sly, sideways glance as he lowered the jar and wiped his mouth off on his arm.

“I could feel you staring at my drink. You must be thirsty, Acatl-tzin. Want to finish it off?”

It’s not the jar I’m staring at. Not trusting himself to speak, he grabbed the jar and tossed back a mouthful. It burned less this time, settling in his stomach with an unfamiliar warmth. He decided he liked the taste; it was a realization that made him suddenly glad that Teomitl had already drunk most of it, because if Teomitl kept playing with him like he’d been since arriving he would be deeply, deeply tempted to—drink himself insensate was his first thought, but hard on its heels came a mental image that made him almost dizzy. He could do it. Teomitl had called him handsome, had been touching him like that all evening.

My student. A member of the imperial family. But there were fingers tracing the pattern of his cloak, close enough to press over the line of his hip, and all his very good and moral objections blew away like dust in the wind. If he was going to die anyway—and if Tizoc ever found out about this he would absolutely be very dead—he might as well go all the way.

Acatl took another long swallow of pulque, feeling it burn all the way down his throat, and kissed Teomitl on the mouth.

Teomitl’s reaction was immediate and electrifying. Acatl had very little idea what he was doing, but that didn’t seem to matter; Teomitl made the kiss hot and open-mouthed and filthy, his moan reverberating into Acatl’s own mouth. Hands slid under Acatl’s cloak, making their way up his chest and leaving fire behind. Gods, yes. Teomitl scraped a thumbnail lightly over one nipple, and he had to break away with a gasp at the new discovery that he liked that.

Teomitl breathed, “Well, that took you long enough,” and Acatl felt something in his head snap.

His muscles knew what he was doing before his brain did; faster than he could think it over, he’d grabbed Teomitl and shoved him down onto the mat, seizing his mouth in a ferocious kiss. Teomitl groaned desperately into it, burying his hands in his hair like a lifeline and scrabbling at the cord holding it back until it spilled over both of them. Now it was his turn to touch, pulling Teomitl’s cloak aside to run his hands over the firm muscles that had been tempting him for months. When he pressed his thumbs in hard enough to bruise just above Teomitl’s hips, he was rewarded with an eager little whine. He likes it like that. Rough, like that. His cock throbbed.

Teomitl made a noise that might have been words; when Acatl left his mouth to devote attention to his jaw instead, moving down over his throat, he panted, “You have no idea—how long—ah!”

Encouraged, he scraped his teeth over the same spot again and felt Teomitl arch under him. It sent a shudder down his own spine, and he had to brace himself for a moment with his fist wrapped around a corner of the mat. He was more aroused than he’d ever been in his life. “You,” he growled against Teomitl’s skin, barely recognizing his own voice, “are trying to drive me mad.”

Teomitl sucked in a shaky breath, but the grin that flashed across his face was the same bright, confident one that had stolen Acatl’s heart. When he shifted under him, grinding just long enough to tease, it was Acatl’s turn to moan, and the grin took on an edge. “Is it working?” His eyes gleamed hungrily, and Acatl’s pulse pounded.

“What do you think?” He was done dreaming and wanting. Teomitl was offering himself on a silver platter, and he was going to take. He grabbed for Teomitl’s rear and hauled their hips together, giving the flesh a thorough squeeze as he reveled in the hard press of Teomitl’s erection against his own. Nails dug into his shoulderblades, the sting making him growl. Gods, yes. Mark me, mark me, make sure I remember this in the morning.

When he rolled his hips, Teomitl shuddered and writhed in his grasp. “Oh—Acatl-tzin.” The sound of his voice—half-wrecked already as he sobbed his name, and Acatl had barely done anything—sent such a wave of desire through him it was almost painful.

“I.” Words were the hardest thing he’d ever managed in his life, but he managed to get out “I want to touch you,” and Teomitl at least must have understood him because he was surging up, kissing him inexpertly but with great enthusiasm as he worked blindly at the knot holding his own loincloth shut.

There was no graceful way to do this in the dark; Teomitl’s knee knocked painfully into his thigh and a crash from behind them let him know one of them had managed to kick over the pulque jar, but none of that mattered when he was exposed to the night air with Teomitl spread out on his cloak like a feast under him, flushed and hard and looking at him with his heart in his eyes. “Like what you see, Acatl-tzin?”

Acatl kissed him again. It was the only possible response. Teomitl moaned into it; spurred on by the response, he cradled the back of Teomitl’s head with one hand to keep him there while he kissed a trail down his neck. The mark he’d left on the other side might bruise in the morning, but Acatl couldn’t bring himself to care about that. Far more important were the noises Teomitl was making, wordless little cries turning to gasps when he nipped sharply at the skin.

And then, though clearly no less effected, Teomitl found his equilibrium and slid his hands over Acatl’s chest and down to his stomach. He shivered at the sensation, letting out a sound that turned into a moan against Teomitl’s collarbone when fingers found his cock and wrapped firmly around it. Teomitl’s voice was breathlessly smug in his ear. “Mm, do you like that?”

It was entirely different from the scant times he touched himself, but that didn’t make it any less of a shock to his system. Pleasure built slow with each upstroke, making him shudder and rock into it. It took him a moment to realize Teomitl had even asked a question. “Y—yes…”

Teomitl arched in a motion that dragged their cocks against each other, sending sparks up and down his spine. And that clever hand would—not—stop—working him. “Mmm, good.” His fingers rippled, and Acatl muffled a groan against his neck that made his voice hitch as he breathed, “I’ve wanted to get my hands on you for so long.”

He still sounded maddeningly composed, and Acatl snarled at it. “Is that why you came here? Tormenting me all night?” Teasing me. Showing up at my doorstep like that, sharing your pulque, touching me— It made his pulse race, and he rolled up and into Teomitl’s hands to claim his mouth again.

When he broke away—he still hadn’t really gotten the hang of remembering to breathe while they kissed—Teomitl huffed out a noise that might have been a laugh. “Maybe. Maybe I wanted to see if you’d—oh.” Acatl had managed to get a hand between them; now he was putting it to good use. Teomitl’s cock was hot and hard and absolutely perfect in his grip, and when he rolled his thumb over the head his whole body shuddered down to his bones.

“If I’d do this?” He stroked harder, and Teomitl thrust into his fist with an inarticulate noise. “Is this how you like it?” Now it was his turn to be relentless. Teomitl’s own ministrations had slowed a bit with this new pleasure, so he could focus on devoting further attention to his lover’s skin—there was a spot just where neck met collarbone that pulled out the sweetest sounds—while he pumped his cock. I want to feel you fall apart.

When he nipped experimentally on his skin, Teomitl keened and bucked into his grasp, pulling his head down onto his chest. “Yes.” Nails scraped down his back, and he shuddered and redoubled his efforts to hear Teomitl rock into him with desperate little punched-out gasps. He was achingly close, pressure building at the base of his spine, but his lover was more important. He bit down on his collarbone and felt Teomitl jolt, voice cracking with his cry of “Duality, Acatl, don’t stop—“

He sucked in a breath that burned his lungs. “I won’t.” Teomitl was so sweet, so hot, it made his head swim. I want— He had to close his eyes, shuddering. Gods, I want to wreck you.

He’d worked out a rhythm of twisting his wrist just so, and it must have worked; Teomitl surged under him, fingers raking all the way down his spine and catching in the tangles in his loose hair, and came so hard that he had to muffle a scream with a bite to Acatl’s shoulder. It made his nerves sing; for a dizzying moment he saw white, thought he was about to orgasm, and then Teomitl whispered “Acatl” like an obscene prayer and did something with his wrist and the pad of his thumb that sent him over the rest of the way with a groan.

He nearly collapsed onto Teomitl’s chest, catching himself on his elbows and breathing hard. For a long moment, he couldn’t think. The first thought that made its way through the fog and out of his mouth was a breathless, “Fuck,” which seemed entirely unsuited to the enormity of the situation. Teomitl had removed his hand from his cock, but it lingered gently on his hip as a visceral reminder.

“Nghm.” Teomitl still seemed to be searching for words himself, but the lilting hum and the smirk tugging at his lips suggested that that could easily be a possibility, if Acatl wanted.

He wanted. Gods, he wanted. Sex and alcohol still burned through his veins, desire itching to be sated. But even the thought brought an unpleasant twinge with it that let him know in no uncertain terms that he would, at the very least, need to rest first. He breathed out slowly, shaking his head; with space to think, he realized he was oversensitive and a little sore. He hadn’t thought it was possible to come so hard your stomach hurt, but apparently he’d been wrong.

Then again...he’d been wrong about a lot of things tonight. Like the likelihood of Teomitl seducing me. With effort, he found his voice. “We should...clean up.” The sticky mess between them would be unbearably itchy if they didn’t.

“Nghh.” Teomitl did not seem to want to clean up. Or move, for that matter. He let his head fall limply back on the mat, though a hand came up to card through Acatl’s hair. It was a strangely tender gesture. “Later. You wore me out, Acatl-tzin.”

He felt his face flush at the reminder of how he’d acted. Duality, Teomitl would have marks the next morning. So would he, and he could only hope his cloak would hide them. He should apologize, he knew, but he couldn’t make his mouth form the words. Teomitl came to me. I have nothing to apologize for. “You’ll know better next time, won’t you?” He only realized what he’d said after the words were already out of his mouth, too late to call them back. Next time. Presuming there was a next time, that it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment fluke brought on by pulque and Teomitl’s teasing touches.

Teomitl’s eyes shone soft in the moonlight, and Acatl’s heart skipped a beat. Then he spoke, light and teasing. “I wasn’t expecting you to be such a jaguar on the mat.”

“Teomitl!” Acatl glared down at him. The love bites on his throat were already darkening, and it sent a possessive thrill through him. I did that. And he liked it. He’d thought he was spent, but if Teomitl kept teasing him… “You enjoy riling me up.”

Teomitl’s grin was sleepily radiant, eyes already fluttering shut. “You like it.”

Irritation drained out of him. He could feel the steady thump of Teomitl’s heartbeat, soothing him to sleep and making something go soft in his chest. I do. Gods help me, I do. He heaved a sigh. Cleanup could wait until later; his own bones felt like solid rock. It was far easier to simply roll off Teomitl, curl around him with his head on his shoulder—yes, that was as comfortable as it looked—and let his eyes drift closed.

In the morning, he knew they’d have to talk about this. In the morning, he knew he’d wake up with a head full of regrets and pain. But for tonight, he slept.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #teocatl #paladin writes stuff #not work safe

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