#why is there water dripping from under the tile?? it is a Mystery

[andreeds]

gonna invent a time machine to go back in time, find every single person whos ever told teenager me that "it gets better" and kill them with my own bare hands

[hyuuukais]

⋆.˚𖦹°‧✮‧°𖦹˚.⋆ ERROR 404

pairing ~ yang jeongin x fem reader

synopsis ~ y/n starts getting messages from an unknown number after buying a used phone for cheap. as she finds out more about the boy she's talking to, it turns out there's much more to this than a wrong number --- he died, and she's talking to his spirit, yet he has no idea what happened to him. will y/n have what it takes to solve the mystery of his death? or will the boy's spirit remained trapped in his phone?

warnings ~ gen, blood, pregnancy/giving birth (not in detail), minor character death (does it count if it's a memory? lol)

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CH 6 - RELIVING THE PAST (3.1k + 2 screenshots)

You once again find yourself flipping the sign on the flower shop door to 'closed' as you wait for Minho. This time, you're waiting in the back room; you may as well get some work done to pass the time. Another order came in last night, right before close. Changbin almost refused it, but the way the person spoke convinced him somehow, he didn't elaborate much. It was a beautiful arrangement of deep, richly coloured black dahlias with monkshood for a purple accent, all neatly tied with a purple ribbon. Although you loved the end product, you couldn't help the sinister feeling creeping up your spine

There's a chill in the air, but when you turn away from your workstation, there's nothing. Of course there isn't, you're closed. What were you expecting, another ghost? Jeongin, maybe? A part of you was hoping to see Jeongin, no sign of him since the last texts, but you know he's spent a lot of energy seeing you so often. You stay turned around on your stool, leaning against your workstation as you close your eyes and exhale loudly. It's silent, save for a faint dripping from a leak somewhere in the greenhouse connected to the workroom.

Standing, you decide to take a walk through the greenhouse; it's been a while since you took some time to just be with the plants and relax, letting your fingers graze petals and leaves of all shapes, colours, and sizes. You stop at the end, noticing one bunch wilting right under the leak, and you look up. Changbin put an order in to get it fixed, but it's clear you'll need a temporary solution before it kills your iris plant. Although it should be just water leaking, so you're unsure why it's having this effect...

"Y/n? Are you still back here?" You can hear Changbin bounding down the stairs, calling your name. "Where'd you go...?"

"In the greenhouse!" You shout, giving one last look to the flowers before heading back inside. "I'm here."

"Minho is here, I told him to wait in the front," Changbin announces, shifting uncomfortably. You can tell he's unsure of Minho's presence, having not spoken to him in so long.

"I'll go bring him back here," You say, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Feel free to escape upstairs."

He scoffs at your light teasing, a small smile on his face. "I'll wait at the front desk in case you need me to toss him or something."

You laugh a bit at that, the image of Changbin picking up Minho and throwing him out of the store. The two of you enter the storefront, Changbin moving to sit behind the counter, and you moving to greet Minho. He catches your eye before you get too close, and you offer a smile; he nods in return and waits for you to lead him away. When you re-enter the backroom, you sit on your stool and lean against the wooden workstation, letting him choose a seat.

The workplace isn't huge, with your desk on one side and Changbins on the other, a small, rectangular wooden table in between to place finished works on. There's a bit of an overhang to the table on one end that flips up, a spare stool underneath that Minho slides out and sits on, mimicking your posture against the table behind him. You watch him move his head to look at the painted table, teal and chipping to match the rest of the room, the black tiled floor tying it together. His fingers brush over a raw spot, and you wonder if he has anything to do with the chunk of wood missing from that part of the table, knowing it's been there longer than you've worked here.

"So, this favour," Minho doesn't look away from the table as he speaks. "What is it?"

"I need you to look into someone," You clear your throat. "Find someone, really. My brother."

"You have a brother?" Now, his head shoots up toward you, and so do his eyebrows.

"Apparently," You shrug, barely holding his intense stare. "Maybe you could look into birth records or something."

"Maybe," Minho agrees, hand curling away from the piece of wood.

After an uncomfortably long period of staring at each other, you speak again. "So, what is it you need me to do?"

"Ah," Minho readjusts on the stool, crossing his arms against his chest and briefly looking away. "That, right. Can you use your abilities on command?"

"Not really-"

"Can you try?" He cuts you off, and you sense a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Is this about your partner?" You ask, squinting at him. When he doesn't reply immediately, you have your answer. "You want me to find him, don't you?"

"Not exactly. I wanted to bring you back to where he and I were undercover and find the people who took him." You give him a look to ask, why me?, and he sighs. "Everyone left, but three men stayed behind to finish me off when I came looking for Jisu- Detective Han, but clearly their plan fell through because I'm still here. If we go back, maybe you can see them and we can force them to tell me where they took him."

You blink at him. "Do you forget that I'm not a detective of like, any kind? Interrogation skills are not something I possess, and besides, why would they tell you literally anything if they're already dead? What are the consequences for them?"

All the questions you pose register behind Minho's eyes, you can see the gears turning as he tries and fails to come up with an answer, leaning further back on the chipped table. He looks down, smirking and shaking his head, and you want to take him by the shoulders and shake the rest of him. After more silence, he looks back up at you.

"You're right, they won't want to tell me," He says, standing from his stool and walking toward you. Minho places a hand on either side of you, resting on your workstation. "Which is why you have to bring your friend, Jeongin."

"What's he going to do?" You ask, trying not to get intimidated by the closeness of his face to yours, or the way his eyes bore into you.

"I'm sure he can think of something," Minho only backs away slightly, hands still caging you in. "Now, will you do it? This, in exchange for the birth records?"

You grit your teeth. As much as you want Minho to just help you, no strings attached, you know it's not fair, especially with something so big. With him no longer being with any kind of department, you're sure him getting caught snooping through those records would have him in serious trouble, trouble you got him into that wouldn't have happened if he never agreed to help you in the first place. This is the least you can do for him.

"Fine," You agree, voice low.

"Thank you," Minho exhales, finally stepping away from you, his hands finding his pockets again. "And I have a suggestion for your part, but I don't know how much good it will do if you can't summon your ability yourself."

"What is it?"

"Changbin told me you've been going to places to visit Jeongin's memories and essentially reliving them, why don't you try that for your mother?"

"Okay, hold on. You and Changbin have been talking again?" He shrugs, clearly not thinking anything of it, but you can't believe Changbin didn't tell you. "Whatever. What do you mean by trying it with my mom? Like, going back to the graveyard? Because I'm pretty sure there's a super angry spirit that lowkey controls the place, and I'm not trying to get all of my energy sucked up."

"No, but going somewhere she might have memories of you and your brother," He says, blinking at you.

"She died during childbirth, she has no memories of us." But then you clue in, eyes widening. "She died during childbirth... the hospital, maybe, where we were born! Oh my god, you're a genius!"

You want to jump up and squeeze Minho in a hug, but that's both unlike you and you think he'd threaten you if you tried to. Instead, you rub your hands on your thighs and take a deep breath, standing up to retrieve your bag which is hanging by the greenhouse door. Putting it over your shoulder, you turn and see not only Minho now standing, but Changbin in the doorway. Changbin is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a worried expression on his face.

"You're not going alone," At the sound of his voice, Minho turns around, but Changbin keeps his eyes on you.

"Jeongin will be there too, Bin," You try to reassure him, but you know what he's going to say next.

"I'm coming with you, no arguments," Changbin props himself up straight, hands on his hips. "You told me before the hospital is shut down, so it's gonna be hard to get in there and I'm not letting you do that alone after all the close calls you've had! Besides, you need someone cute to distract any security."

Laughing at his last comment, you move past him and head to the front door. Night is setting in when you walk out, a cold breeze sending a chill through your body as you unlock your car. Changbin locks up after Minho comes out and you watch him head to his own vehicle, Changbin watching as he comes down the steps and puts a hand on the passenger's side door. As Minho drives off, you look at Changbin, unable to read the mixed look on his face, but not wanting to press about it either.

~

By the time you reach the hospital, it's completely dark out, the moon high in the sky and obscured by clouds. There doesn't seem to be any security, surprisingly, but there is a big metal fence surrounding the perimeter. The once busy area is a ghost town, but you hope not literally, all the buildings closed down and boarded up with washed out signs offering a lease. Approaching the main gate, you see the bolt has already been cut, the chain very loosely put back in place, probably by some teenagers who wanted to explore.

An eerie feeling washes over you when you cross the threshold onto the property, immediately sensing the tragedies that had to have occurred here for it to be shut down only a few years after opening. This whole area was assumed to be cursed, making you even more nervous as you walked up the steps and gently opened the creaky door, Changbin right behind you as you go inside. There's been no sign of Jeongin all day; you hope he's okay. You're immediately greeted by a nurse, her pale complexion telling.

"Hi there, are you here to visit someone?" She asks from behind the desk, ghostly fingers running over the keyboard to a dead computer. "I'll check you in in just a moment, okay? Sit tight, you can sit on one of those chairs."

She waves to an area behind you, but there are no chairs, only empty space. When you look back to her, she's focused on the device in front of her and you can see the dark circles under her eyes and the way she moves her neck uncomfortably, wondering how she died. Perhaps her unfinished business is her job, all of the patients left untreated once the hospital closed. You also wonder why she's working the front desk when she's not a receptionist, but maybe things don't have to make sense in the afterlife.

After a few minutes have passed, she stands and exhales, plastering a tired smile on her face as she nods you over. Telling her your mother's name, she begins to lead you down several corridors until you reach the maternity ward, which is almost completely silent compared to the groans and moans you heard behind closed doors on the way over. Whether that's more unsettling or comforting, you can't decide.

"Here she is!" The nurse opens the door, and you look around the empty room. As soon as you turn back around, she's shutting the door quickly with that same tired smile on her face. You panic, rushing up to the door and trying to open it, but it won't budge.

"Let me," Changbin moves you aside gently, sensing your rising nerves when the door won't open, but it doesn't move for him either.

A noise from behind you startles you, turning quickly to see a woman in bed, a man holding her hand from the side and using a towel to wipe the sweat from her forehead. You immediately recognize your mother, and although you don't know him, you recognize your father as well. This is the first time you've seen his face, but the feeling of familiarity is overwhelming.

He's whispering encouraging thoughts into her ears and she shouts once the doctor at the end of the bed tells her to push, the sound of crying filling the room. Your mother has tears of her own starting to stream down her face, urging your father to take the baby from the nurse once she's done with him, a large smile on his face. Suddenly, the expression on your mother turns from elation to pain, and you can tell something is wrong when the nurse delivering the second baby calls for backup. As she's working, your mother's head lolls to the side, and a loud monotone beep sounds.

Now, there are doctors and nurses rushing around the room trying to save the baby and the mother, and you can't seem to tear your eyes away from the scene. There's a mass amount of blood pooling at her legs, no baby to be seen. Your eyes flicker back up when you hear the monotone beep turn back to normal, your own tears welling as you watch your mother open her eyes, but only for a moment until they're screwed up in pain again. The doctor is urging for a c-section, but she's already pushing before the decision is final, the other baby coming out in no time. She's breathing too heavily, shaking and sweating, and the baby doesn't cry this time. You watch her whisper something in her husband's ear, watch as he holds onto her sobbing when the line goes flat again, watch as he's pushed to the side to let the doctors work, and watch as the doctors slowly stop, announcing the time of death right as the baby cries.

Your father backs away when the nurse approaches with the second baby, telling him it's a girl, and he can barely even look her in the eye. He's holding the baby in his arms tightly, the one you assume is your brother, and shakes his head before his expression turns angry.

"She's cursed," He says, loudly enough to make you flinch. "I don't want her. Take her away!"

His voice raises with each word, and you shrink into yourself. Once the nurse backs away, you can see your father look down at the baby in his arms fondly, but there's still a hint of disdain lingering in his features as he cradles and soothes the baby's cries. As the nurse takes the other baby out, you watch her leave, and when you turn back around, the scene has changed back to what you walked into, nothing.

There are arms around you in an instant as you crumble to the ground, knees giving out under you and a loud sob heaving from your chest. You can't stop crying, hands out in front of you holding onto the floor and the only thing keeping you from curling into yourself is the hold Changbin has on you. It's like you can't breathe all of a sudden, the sobs rattling your body, drowning from your own tears. Eventually, you find Changbin has moved your back against him, rocking you back and forth until your eyes have run dry, but the soft hand that wipes the remaining tears away isn't his.

"Y/n," Jeongin says gently, taking your face in his hands. "Shhh, you're okay."

With the comfort of Jeongin and Changbin, you can feel your energy returning to you slowly. The memory still lingers in your mind as you hand Changbin your keys and let him drive you home, offering to stay the night. You stay silent, shaking your head and heading inside, catching Jeongin in reflections as you walk through the dark house. There's not enough strength in your legs to carry you to your room, opting to flop onto your couch instead. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you don't answer, closing your eyes and letting sleep take you.

~

Minho sits across from you at your dining table, leaning forward slightly. He's damp from the rain outside, his coat hanging on a hook by your door. Rain hits your window aggressively, wind howling and whistling. You're staring at him with wide eyes, trying to process his words.

"It's Hyunjin. Your brother is Hyunjin."

Jeongin is pacing behind you, the chair next to you skewed from when he stood up. It doesn't make sense to you at first, but then you start to really think about it. Your adoptive family lived in the same area, but you never crossed paths, and being kept in all-girls schools until you moved across the city now making sense. And your mother being buried there too, somewhere close to the both of you. Thinking of your father's rejection still stings, but you remember the look on his face as he cradled Hyunjin in his arms, the hidden contempt well masked. You don't want to think about the childhood he had.

"You're sure?" You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

"Positive," Minho keeps his voice low.

You remember the dream you had, back in a house you didn't recognize; the ruined family photos, the candlelit pathway, all leading to him. Hyunjin. And you realize something, something you should have thought of when you found out you even had a brother.

"He has the same ability, I think," You say, locking eyes with Minho, and you can hear Jeongin stop moving. You explain the dream quickly. "I think he's trying to figure out what happened to Jeongin too."

~

notes ~ chapter !!!!!! woo !!!!!!!!! i am actually so excited to write the next one though, there's one scene i literally cannot wait to share aaaaa!!!!!

taglist ~ @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @bloomingstay @sona1800

@dollschan @defnotfertilizedtoesw @thisisnotjacinta @kayleigh-28 @kayleefriedchicken

@lailac13 @linocvp1d @ilov3jeong1n @mooseung @kkamismom12

reply or send an ask to be added (18+)^^^ green means i can't tag you

[winterapocalypse]

Winter Apocalypse

Chapter 51: Ramsay Bolton

In no time at all they were in the men's room in Slytherin tower, where Ramsay used to spend his time in the darkness dealing a drug obtained from the processing of some Omega Mart products which he himself had called "skinfucker", because apparently taking too much caused every single layer of skin to fall off. Once they entered the bathroom, Emily reached the back wall and pushed two tiles, which magically made the entire wall open, revealing a dark, damp tunnel with an uneven floor. Water seemed to drip from the narrow ceiling of the tunnel, only redder and more viscous. In fact, it was blood. Eddie instinctively clung to the goth Slytherin girl's arm, scared.

"I was making you a little braver, with the fame you have…" Emily giggled amusedly.

"Look, first of all what I deal is natural and good for you, I'm not that big of a criminal. And then I've never seen a ceiling that bleeds, holy Luchereus!" Eddie didn't pray often, but when he did he was referring to the legendary Luchereus, a Sothoryosian hero who was rumored by many to be his ancestor. Not that he believed it.

A passage opened in front of them that took them into a dark and damp room, in which huge quantities of smoke hovered. He was blasting fast, violent music at a high volume. Around the room, decorated with torture scenes on the walls and various posters of magical horror films such as "A Notherian Movie" or "Westeros Saw", several mysterious-looking boys sat on the various peeling black leather sofas. Immediately everyone turned to look at them, their eyes bloodshot.

"Emily Bolton Way Blackwood…" a boy with dirty platinum blonde hair muttered with a sneer. He was wearing a significant amount of earrings, a chain around his neck, a T-shirt with a symbol of a heart with horns, ultra-tight latex pants and a leather jacket with a piece of fabric with embroidered on it safety pins attached to the back. a flayed man. A twisted whip was attached to his studded belt. "How nice to see you in our little den."

"Damon…where's my cousin?" Emily replied with a smile on her doll face.

Damon blew a piercing whistle, and from a heavy wooden door inlaid with rusty iron appeared the man, the legend of the slums: Ramsay Bolton.

He was a senior, which he probably had to repeat several times, with the same icy eyes as his cousin, also made up with a fair amount of eyeliner. One of the two was swollen and purple, because apparently one of his favorite pastimes was fighting random people and sometimes even wild boars in the forest. He was pale and his hair looked dirty and pitch black, and like his friend he was wearing a black leather jacket with the same symbol of his house on the back. His shirt, however, was shocking pink, with various blood and grease stains on it. He was also wearing black trousers covered in buckles, two pairs of belts and crumpled black boots with thick soles studded with metal plates. There was blood on his toes. She greeted them by burping, then crumpled a can of beer in her hands and threw it onto the floor with a loud crash, and glaring at the Sothoryos boy with a furious look.

“Cousin, you brought me some fresh meat.” she grinned with her crooked teeth. Eddie clung to the goth girl's arm again.

"Oh no, this is my friend, he's fine." Emily smiled toothily. She could feel tension in the air.

"What a shame, he has a nice face." Ramsay got dangerously close to the Sothoryos boy's face, which nearly slipped under his enhanced cloak.

"I found you something more fun to do, don't worry. I need you to make a mess somewhere and distract more or less the entire faculty, especially the red hen. Can you do that?" Emily asked, crossing her arms. A strange red light lit up in her icy eyes.

"And why would I do that?" Ramsay grunted as he lit a dope cigarette. "Let's do this, you leave me this nice little toy and I'll go make a mess."

"Your father asked me, though…" Emily put a hand before her lips, innocently.

"Daddy?! You could have fucking told me right away. People, come on, we're going to fuck shit up!" the infamous criminal shouted loudly, and in no time the whole gang was gathered on their death-black brooms, except Ramsay's which had the neon pink straw, and immediately they were out at the speed of light with the roar of the engine of their souped-up brooms.

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[littledemondani]

just this once | duncan shepherd x fem!reader x andy dolan

kinktober day 2: threesome

warnings: m/m/f threesome, cunnilingus, blowjob, fingering, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, orgy, double penetration, pwp

word count: 2.8K

a/n: this turned out way longer than i ever intended it to be and i'm not even sorry. i had been sitting on the idea of andy x reader x duncan for a long time and i really hope you all like what i came up with!

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

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Y/N asked her bf, Andy. “I mean..you don’t think we��ll regret this?”

They stood in the doorway of the mansion they had walked into, drinking in the sight before them.

People. Lots of people. Completely naked. Some fucking, some chatting.

When Andy first spilled the details of getting invited to a sex party at an undisclosed location in Hollywood, Y/N laughed. She didn’t take him seriously. And why would she?

They had been through a lot over the past couple of months — with Andy’s addiction and fall from grace. There was no way going to a sex party was going to make things better for Andy’s reputation.

Yet, here they were, standing before a sea of recognizable and not so recognizable faces.

Andy takes Y/N’s hand, rubbing soothe circles along the back with his thumb. “It’s going to be fine. If you’re uncomfortable, then we can leave. I promise.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Okay. I’d say let’s get a few drinks, but.”

Andy chuckles lightly, nodding as he does so. “That wouldn’t be a disaster.”

He leads her through the crowd of people, hoping to find an empty space where they could sit for a moment. Along the way, they came across two men making out, while another knelt between one of their legs and sucked on their cock. The scene made Andy’s cock harden slightly under his pants and he reaches down to palm himself slightly, chewing the corner of his lip at the contact.

He began to imagine another man sucking his cock while Y/N sat on his face, her nails gripping tightly onto his hair like a vice. It had been a while since he was involved with a man, or even had a threesome, since before Y/N came into his life. He decided to approach the subject with her once they sat down.

They sat on a love seat in one of the formal living areas. It was one of the places untouched by the other members and the perfect spot for them.

Y/N looked to Andy, her E/C eyes finding solace in his familiarity. “So. What are you thinking so far?”

It was as if she knew what was going through his mind. And she did. She knew Andy was sexually experienced. It showed in the way he fucked her, touched her, and made her cum harder than anyone else has done before. She also knew that he was hypersexual and that enjoyed having multiple partners at a time — a part of himself that he repressed when he met and fell in love with her.

“I think…,” he says, his voice trailing off. He looks around, his darkened blue eyes falling on a woman standing up, being held from behind by a man as she gets her pussy eaten. He swallows thickly, licking his lips before turning his gaze back to Y/N. “I think this night is going to be very interesting.

Not the answer Y/N was expecting, but, she nods in agreement. Her own gaze falls on the same throuple and she can’t help the moan that lodges itself in her throat.

The woman’s head rests on the man’s shoulders, his large hands grabbing at her breasts and tweaking her hardened nipples between his fingers. Her face is contorted in pleasure and soon enough she cums, grinding erratically on the face of the person eating her out.

Y/N is overcome with arousal, heat flooding throughout her body. She tears her eyes from them to Andy.

He, too, has his eyes on them, his chest visibly rising and falling as his breathing becomes ragged. Y/N scoots closer to him, placing her hand on his thigh.

“Did that turn you on, baby?” she whispers into his ear.

Andy nods, swallowing once more. “Yeah,” he says, his voice low and dripping with lust.

“Tell me what you want,” she says, tugging his lobe between her teeth. “And you’ll get it.”

He shivers at the close proximity of her, his eyes rolling back a little. “I want to eat that fucking tight pussy of yours,” he says. “And I want you to suck some other guy’s cock while I do it. Then I want us both to fuck you senseless.”

His words go straight to her core, causing fresh arousal to pool on the gusset of her thong. She brings her hand to his cock, moaning at the feel of the prominent bulge straining against his pants. “What else do you want?”

He groans, tipping his head back as her hand massages and cups his erection. “I want you to take your fucking clothes off. Now.”

Y/N smirks and stands in front of him, blocking his view of the party. She slowly slides the zipper of her short, black dress and lets it fall around her feet, leaving her in nothing but a black thong that left very little to the imagination, and her black Louboutins. She steps out of the dress and stands between Andy’s legs.

His hungry eyes rake over her body before meeting her own eyes. He reaches out to touch her, ghosting his fingers along the expanse of her stomach, admiring the goosebumps that form in their wake. “Get on your knees. I want you to suck my cock.”

Without hesitation, she drops to her knees. She leans forward, mouthing at his cock over his pants. Andy releases a soft moan, his hand immediately finding purchase in her hair.

Y/N takes her time teasing him, relishing in the power she has over him in that moment. She controls how worked up he gets, and how much attention she wants to give him. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to get him to beg for her to finally take his cock in her mouth.

She flicks her gaze up to him, lashes fluttering as she takes in the sight of him. His button up his opened to his chest, brunette curls draped over his forehead as he looks down at her, his pupils blown with intense arousal.

“You want me to suck you off in front of all these people? ” She asks, unzipping his pants at an agonizingly slow pace. “Show them how fucking good I make you feel?”

He nods rapidly, unable to form a coherent sentence from how hazy his mind has become with lust.

Y/N pulls his pants off of him and discards them with her dress, moaning at the sight of his cock as it bobs free. It’s thick, with protruding veins that make Y/N’s mouth water, a perfect mushroom-shaped head, and just the right length to where it isn’t uncomfortable for her.

She takes his cock in her hand, licking her lips as the precum leaks with each pump she makes. She darts her tongue out and swirls all along the crown, keeping her eyes on Andy.

He grips her hair tightly, eyes rolling back at the feeling of her wet mouth on his cock. When he opens them, he’s met with a similar pair of crystal eyes from across the room.

A tall, lean man with similar brunette curls to Andy watches them both intently. Andy recognizes him as the one who ate that girl’s pussy and he shoots him a wink before smirking softly.

Y/N bobs her head along his shaft, inching him all the way down until her nose is flush with his pelvis. She holds still for a moment, savoring the erotic moans spilling from Andy’s lips.

He keeps eye contact with the mysterious stranger, guiding Y/N’s head up and down his cock as he does so.

The man makes his way over to them, and Andy suddenly feels his cock swelling in her mouth, growing impossibly harder. He comes around them and sits next to Andy, not saying a word as he leans in and presses his lips to Andy’s.

Y/N notices the man, her eyes glued to him and Andy as they make out. Her cunt pulses with need and she reaches her hand down on top of the thin fabric of her thong. She drags a finger along the dampened fabric several times, teasing herself until she can’t take it anymore. She pulls the fabric to the side, moaning around Andy’s cock as she rubs the wetness over her throbbing clit.

Andy moans into the kiss at the vibration of the sounds Y/N makes, bucking his hips against her slowly. He pulls away from him, trailing his eyes from his lips back to his eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Duncan,” he says, reaching over to finish unbuttoning Andy’s shirt. “Duncan Shepherd.”

Andy introduces himself and Y/N, all while Duncan slips the shirt off of him and tosses it onto the tile floor.

Duncan leans down, taking Andy’s left nipple into his mouth. He flicks his tongue a few times before gently scraping his teeth over it. Andy squirms a little, his plump lips parted as a long, exasperated moan tears itself from his chest. “Mm…fuck that feels good.”

Y/N continues her movements along Andy’s cock, keeping perfect rhythm as she pumps two fingers inside of her soaked cunt. Arousal coats her palm and drips down her thighs, making an obscene sloshing sound with each thrust of her hand.

She pulls him from her mouth and removes her fingers from her pussy, gasping for breath as she does so. Andy looks to her at the loss of her warm throat, making a ‘come here’ motion at her. She stands, straddling his thigh with one leg as she leans down and kisses him hungrily. Andy groans against her lips, rubbing his hand along her side.

Duncan kisses up Andy’s chest, over his jaw, and meets his lips with Y/N’s. She pulls away from Andy and capture’s Duncan’s lips. The kiss is a lot softer than she was anticipating. But his mouth moved seamlessly with hers — as if they had done this a thousand times before. Andy groans at the sight of them, grabbing at Y/N’s breasts before tweaking her hardened nipples. She moans into Duncan’s mouth, deepening the kiss as she brings her hand to the back of his head and pushes him closer to her.

Andy manages to get the rest of his clothing off, stroking his cock as the two continue kissing above him. Duncan pulls away, his breathing ragged as he looks between the two of them. “Shall we move this somewhere that has more room?”

“Lead the way,” Andy breathes, giving his cock one last pump before helping Y/N off of him.

-

Y/N lies on the California king bed, her back half propped against the many pillows. Andy and Duncan take turns lapping at her pussy, both men eating her out like she’s the best meal they’ve ever tasted. Andy sucks her clit into his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to rub the protruding head. Duncan swirls his tongue around her entrance a few times, teasing her before penetrating her.

Her back arches off the pillows, pulling Andy’s hair roughly as she does so. He groans against her pussy, and sucks on her clit with fervor. Duncan removes his tongue and replaces them with his fingers, licking his lips as they slide in and out of her cunt with ease. “Look at how wet you are for us,” he groans, keeping his eyes on her pussy. “You’ve practically soaked the sheets.”

Y/N lifts herself on her elbow, propping herself to get a better view. A moan escapes her at the sight of the two hot men licking and sucking her pussy. “Oh fuck…,” she breathes. “Mm..”

Duncan removes his fingers and climbs over her, straddling her face. He brings the tip of his cock to her lips and she eagerly takes him inside, bobbing her head eagerly along his shaft.

His cock is different than Andy’s — it’s longer, curved, with not as much girth. But she feels full, and begins to wonder what his cock would feel like in her pussy, or ass. The thought makes her clit throb in Andy’s mouth.

He suckles for a moment longer before pulling back and lining his cock up with her entrance. He slowly sinks inside of her, tipping his head back with a loud groan as her wet, warm walls envelop him. “Fuckkk,” he hisses, thrusting slow and shallow as he eases himself all the way inside of her.

Duncan braces his hands on the headboard, using it to help him thrust inside of her throat. “That’s it,” he moans, locking his eyes with hers. “Taking my cock so well.”

Y/N brings her hand to her sensitive clit, rubbing tight, soft circles. Andy stills once he’s fully seated, allowing her some time to adjust to his size. He watches as she plays with herself, his cock twitching inside of her. “Who knew my baby girl was so naughty,” he teases, slowly beginning to thrust. “Wanting to have two dicks inside of her filthy holes.”

She moans, increasing the pressure on her clit as she does so. She loves when Andy degrades her, and even more so when he does it in a way that’s masked behind that sweet, honey voice of his. Her walls clench repeatedly around him and he pushes her hand away, not wanting her to cum just yet.

Duncan thrusts himself further down her throat, holding her head in place so she can deepthroat him. She gags, tears springing to her eyes as she struggles to breathe. He releases her after a moment, setting a rough, fast pace as he fucks into her throat.

Andy picks up the pace as well, his own is steady and not as brutal as Duncan’s. The contrast between the two of them has Y/N’s head spinning. Where Duncan is rough, Andy is gentle. The perfect combination that she didn’t know she ever needed.

Almost as if they were communication telepathically, both men remove themselves from her. Duncan sits on the bed and helps Y/N on top of him, turning her so her back is flush with his chest. He holds her up by her thighs and Andy squirts some lube onto his cock, stroking it to coat it entirely. Once it’s good and ready, Duncan carefully eases into her ass. Y/N moans filthily, the sound almost pornographic as Duncan’s cock stretches her open. She gazes up at Andy, her face contorted in pleasure.

Andy pumps his cock, leaning down to kiss her with need. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging a little before biting down softly. He situates himself at her entrance and pushes in, groaning as he does so.

Duncan bottoms out, his cock throbbing with how tight her grip on him is. He waits for Andy to settle before he begins to thrust against her.

Y/N moans loudly. Her thoughts are clouded as the coil in her stomach begins to tighten with each thrust they make. All she can focus on his how fucking good Andy’s cock feels in her cunt, hitting her sweet spot with ease and making her cream all over him — and Duncan in her ass, his cockhead hitting against Andy’s, sending shivers down her spine.

Duncan lifts her up a little higher, getting a better grip on her thighs. “So tight,” he groans. “Fuck you’re so tight.” He thrusts a little faster, causing his heavy balls to slap against her cheeks.

The sound of skin on skin, heavy pants, and loud moans fills the room, egging each of them closer and closer to their peaks. Duncan cums first, a warning barely past his lips as he shoots ropes of hot cum into her ass. He keeps thrusting through his high, drawing it out as much as possible, his fingers pressing hard against her skin.

Andy holds back his own release, wanting Y/N to cum before him. “Go ahead and cum. Soak my fucking cock like I know you can.”

Y/N cums before Andy can finish his sentence. Her orgasm rocks through her, sending wave after wave of intense pleasure all throughout her body. Her release triggers Andy’s, and he cums hard, painting her walls with his seed. “Oh fuck!”

The three of them ride out their highs until they can’t anymore, collapsing together on the massive bed. They don’t say a word, not until they all collectively come down from their orgasms.

Andy looks to Y/N, his eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she nods, giving him a soft smile, totally blissed out. “Are you?”

“Yeah.”

Duncan is the first to sit up, turning his attention to the two of them.

“I really enjoyed this,” he says, brushing a hand through his messed up curls. “If you’re up to do this again, I’m staying at the Waldorf Astoria in Beverly Hills until the end of the week.”

He gets up and leaves the room before either of them can answer, smirking to himself as he walks out.

-

tagging: @fckinsupreme @wroteclassicaly @lovelylangdonx @with-dandelions-in-her-hands @sojournmichael @angelicmichael @xavierplymptons @instinctsxbaby @dailylangdon @confettucini @ferndolan

[sunshinesukuna]

codename: agent k

✯  pairing: spy!kuroo x reader

✯  genre: flangst

✯  tw: guns, mentions of assassination and organized crime.

✯  summary: you’re a spy trying to capture a mysterious person by the identity of “agent k.” who would’ve thought you’d be catching feelings instead?

✯  inspired by: 特務J (Agent J) - jolin tsai, goodnight n go - ariana grande, my oh my - camilla cabello 

✯  nnyeyeahahldalsalsa i feel like a british royal after writing this omggg. and hey, crossover pt. 2! worked really hard on this, so i hope you like it!

Venice, 22:16 CET (GMT+2)

The stench of the rich was never as pungent as this moment right now. Wine glasses caught the twinkling shine of the diamond chandelier above as the people below mingled with one another. Ornate masks decorated with all manner of feathers and rhinestones obscured the identities of the rich elite atendees.

You had to give it to the organizer, the party was sort of fun. You would have definitely joined in, if you hadn’t had a job to do. By the grace of the government’s connections, you had managed to score an invitation. Not without intention of course. You weren’t here to get drunk and bathe in jewels, no.

The Fukurodani Syndicate was a group of organized crime groups that converged into one, taking the name of the original syndicate. They consisted of Nekoma, Fukurodani, and Karasuno. With new leads coming in over the course of several months, the government had reason to believe that one of the leaders of the Syndicate would be here. His name was Agent K, and he would be your target tonight.

“Ah! Marie!” a voice called out from behind you. You did a double take. But you remembered that you were not (Y/N), you were a woman named Marie Sourice.

The invitation you had obtained was addressed to a French businesswoman named Marie Sourice. The real Marie would have no clue that she was invited to the event, much less that someone had gone in her stead.

So you turned around and smiled graciously. The organizer of the event was a stout old man that had a taste for the Venetian arts of mask making. Thus the masquerade theme. Despite all the obscured identities, the man was easily recognizable through his booming voice and his name tag that read “Giovanni.”

“Giovanni!” you called out, doing your best to match a French accent. Giovanni gave you two kisses on the cheek. 

“’Ow ‘ave you been, my old friend?” you asked. Giovanni replied with a bubble of laughter and something that couldn’t register in your ear because you were transfixed with the tall figure next to him.

“Meet the son of a good friend of mine.” The figure came to a halt right next to Giovanni. “His name is—”

“Mr. Bakugou Katsuki.” The figure’s voice was deep with a ringing timbre that would suit an opera singer.  You eyed his wild black hair. Was this Agent K? Agent K was never really one to disguise himself in any of his little encounters. But the mask and the lavish clothes made it hard to tell. Something warm landed on your hand. This man was kissing your hand. 

“Mademoiselle,” he said. Mysterious ebullience danced in his eyes. Perhaps there was more emotion in his face, but his bejeweled mask hid it all. Secrets danced in between the garnets like they did in a sinning man’s heart.

“He works in the IT industry,” Giovanni said.  “Who knows, maybe you two could strike up a deal, grow your companies,” he cupped his hands around his lips, “light a new flame.” Giovanni’s show whispering was awkward at best. You flashed both of them a reluctant smile. 

Giovanni took a look at his sparkling golden watch that did not go with that mask of his. “Look at the time! My other guests shall be arriving soon.” He turned over to Bakugou. 

“Shall I leave you two alone? The music will start at twelve o’clock. I assure you, no Cinderellas will be here.” 

“Of course, sir,” Bakugou said. 

This man is Agent K, a voice speaks in the back of your mind. But the others tamper it down as reason takes over. Agent K was a fast worker, and any objective of his should be in the process of being fulfilled, or is already fulfilled by now. Was this man just having fun with you? Or was he part of a larger plan? 

But time only confirmed your suspicions. He talked exactly like Agent K, he moved exactly like Agent K, he even smelled like Agent K. The same poison that laced Agent K’s words dripped off the ones from this man.

“Miss Sourice?” he asked. 

“Yes, Mr. Bakugou?”

“Have you ever experienced a first love?”

“I—” You catch yourself as you are about to answer. “Yes.”

“Care to elaborate?” Amusement crawls up his face, but there are hints of longing, and perhaps... mourning? 

“It was... unlike anything you could ever imagine.”

Your job as a spy was to lie, lie, lie all the way through. But your words dripped in pure candor as old memories came flooding back.

Tokyo, 13:00 JST (GMT+9) 9 years prior

The air was rich with the scent of chocolate and sugar. He set his bag down near the couch and followed the source of the scent to the kitchen. You were stooped over the counter. A tray was set over to the side filled with chocolate covered strawberries drizzled in more chocolate.

“Are you going to eat that?” he asks. He swoops in for the catch, to find himself firmly rebuffed by a swat on the wrist.

“Hands. Off! I. Put. My. Blood. Sweat. And. Tears. Into—” Each word is followed by a fist on his back. He shields his body with his arms from the raining torrent of ruthless punches.

“Ow! Ow! Stop it, you violent woman!” You don’t stop. With each playful punch, you corner him over to the couch, where he collapses in defeat. You sit down next to him and take off your apron. 

“You started it!” you said.

“Didn’t I earn it?” Before you know it, he’s suddenly on top of you. His warm breath, mixed with the heating inside the house. draws sweat from your skin. He cocks his head to the side, as if challenging you.  Your shoulders rise up from the couch at the provocation, but he pushes them back down to the soft leather ever so easily.

“Miss Second Place,” he whispers, lips oh so close to your ears. You gasp at the reminder of your devastating defeat to him last week during finals. That’s enough. You raise your hips up from under him. But he’s faster and stronger than you. As your knee rises up to kick him, he shoves them down with immense force. He reasserts his position above you.

���Besides, it’s Valentine’s tomorrow,”  he says. You sigh. Even if you gave him just one, there would be no guarantee that he would stop at just one. 

“One. Just one.” you say. He pulls himself off of you and sashays over to the kitchen. Keeping an eye on him is pointless, but you do have to finish decorating the rest of the strawberries anyways. He makes it a point to exaggerate his gestures and facial expressions. You want to slap him all the same.

He notices your irritated face.  “I wasn’t going to give any of them to you,” you say. 

“Oh? Then who are they for?”

“People that are not you.” He lets out a groan and puts a hand over his heart.

“I’m hurt,” he complains. You roll your eyes as he buckles to the ground in pain, holding his crotch.

Osaka, 21:00 JST (GMT+9) 8 years prior

The dingy motel’s lights blinked from inside your room. Water dripped down onto the tiled floors as you closed the door. The roar of the torrents of rain enveloped Osaka. Which is what led you to take shelter in this motel for the night. 

It seemed a little shady, since the only room you both had been able to get was one with a small queen bed. And that was ok, actually. There was a whimsical feeling about running through the streets in heavy rain, troubles washed away like dirt on the road. What you weren’t keen on was the person that you would be sharing that bed with.

“I call dibs!” he shouted. He dropped his luggage to the ground as you collapsed on the couch. Your wet hair was splayed out on the couch, turning it soggy. Sighing, you got up and decided to make yourself comfortable.

He didn’t take long to shower. Steam came out of the bathroom, shrouding the shirtless figure that walked out of it. A soft white towel rested around his neck, and another sat on his hips.

Six years of volleyball could do wonders to a man’s body. Muscles cultivated from the sport finally found their place in the limelight of your eyes. You could feel your mouth water a bit. A sheen of sweat started forming on your temples.

He saw your reflection in the mirror in front of the bed. “Like what you see?” he asked.

You scoff and roll your eyes as you continue taking your stuff out of the luggage. The bed groans under his weight as he sits down. 

“I’ve seen you shirtless a lot of times before,” you said. At least that was true. You think back to bathing together as kids, putting gauze on his chest when he got into a fight. “I’m okay with it, why shouldn’t I be? It doesn’t gross me out.”

There is a loud bang, and now your body is sandwiched between the wall and his body, still dripping with water from the shower. He doesn’t smell any different than usual, but your nose cannot help but pick up the soft tangs that make up his scent. Sweat. Grilled salted mackerel pike that he loved so much. The orange flavored hotel soap.

Common sense is screaming for you to keep your eyes on his, but the wonder that is his body after puberty lures you in deeply. His smoldering gaze locks you in place in between his arms. 

“Do you not see me as a man?” 

The question is short, but it encapsulates everything going on between you two. “Am i still the kid that pushed you off your bike back in 2nd grade? You still see me as a kid?”

Did you? A small inkling inside of you said yes — the same part that would cry when pushed over the edge and still couldn’t fend for herself. He would forever be the bumbling kid that knew no better to that part of you. The other voice said the opposite. You could only stare blankly at him as your heartbeat got faster every second.

“Would you like for me to see you as a man?” you asked. He cocked his head to the side.

“Yes.” No one dared move an inch. The atmosphere was Pandora’s box, ready to be opened and the evil inside unleashed.

He lowered his head so that his lips were on the same level as yours. His breath tickled your nose. “May I?” he asked.

Without giving him an answer, you pressed your lips onto his.

Venice, 23:34 CET (GMT+2)

“Shall we dance?” he asks. 

He’s cunning, not even giving you anytime to think. He’s pinched you in between the incoming stream of guests. Either you’re forced to carry out this twisted dance with him, or risk losing all your leads on him. 

“Why of course, I love to dance!” You swear your brain is on autopilot right now. His hands are suddenly on your waist and shoulder. The music starts.

The light of the chandelier reflects red figures on his face from the garnets on his mask. His smile and eyes are the only windows to his mind, and even those are kept shut with a lock of mischievousness.  

The conductor raises his baton. Like a well-oiled machine, the dance floor becomes alive. It’s a dizzying array of whisks, twists, and turns. Fortunately, this Kozume man has enough grace to keep both of you on your feet. 

“And who is this acquaintance, lucky enough to grace the heart of a man like you?”

“Her name is (Y/N) (L/N).”

That was all it took for you to confirm everything about this man. It was Agent K in the flesh, no doubt. He flashes you a smile from under his mask. To the sane person, it would simply look like a normal smile, but after years of running after Agent K.... you were sure that debonair smile belonged to him.

Making you feel like you have him cornered, then disappearing again. It’s a reiterating game of cat and mouse.  You swore to yourself that you would end it tonight.

The music’s tempo changes. You’re suddenly thrust into the arms of another man in a mask. Agent K is just a few feet away from you, a new woman in his grasp. He shoots you a glance before continuing his dance.

But the trills of a flute breaks the silence, and he’s disappeared from the room. Classic Agent K. The woman that was his dance partner also looks around in confusion, but she is quickly distracted by what seems to be her third bottle of wine of the night. You swear you spot Agent K’s garnet encrusted mask on the other side of the room. But the cellos play their euphony again, and Agent K is gone.

You mutter a few apologies to your dance partner and stalk off. Agent K’s coattails flap in the wind as he turns a corner. His footsteps reverb against the wooden walls. They turn silent as he treads over the velvet carpets. 

No one is in vicinity by now. The cheerful chatter was left behind in the ballroom, as your target leads you up a winding staircase. Whistling noises come from several flights above you. He knows you are here. 

Paintings on the wall stare at you accusingly. Their eyes on you only accentuate the adrenaline that is building up in your bloodstream. You pay them no mind and fix your eyes on Agent K’s ascending figure. 

The creak of a door alerts you to his sudden movement. Is he escaping into a room? But a gust of cold wind and the sounds of the city welcome you to the rooftop of the building.

The only source of light was a dingy bulb covered by moth eggs. You could barely make out his figure in the dark, but his spiky black hair meant that that was definitely Agent K.

No one was on the rooftop at this time of night. It was just you and him then. This was your chance. 

The original plan was to slip something in his drink, but you knew from experience that he would never fall for that. You glance at the city, sound asleep below. Traffic lights blink here and there. The perfect opportunity. A simple push from this height would do it. 

“So we meet again,” he said. You take the high heels off your feet and stalk over towards him. He’s leaning over the railing, head on the edge like he’s tired but still wants to enjoy the scenery. He makes no sudden moves of attack. You assume the same position, cupping your head in your hands.

“What does Bokuto want from me this time?” Bokuto was one of the leaders of the Fukurodani Syndicate, and a childhood friend of Agent K. The one that created it all. And the one you would have to take out after you took Agent K out.

“Must we burden our enemies every time we meet?” Agent K turned around to meet your eyes. His fingers ran over the smooth stone of the railing.  “That crazy owl doesn’t want anything this time. He just wants me to get to you before Ushiwaka or Oikawa do.” 

You raised an eyebrow before rolling your eyes. “Pssh. Hurry up and kill me.” To emphasize your point, you put your hands up in mock surrender.

Agent K smirked before moving closer to you. The lock of hair in your eyes, brought there by the wind, was moved to the side by his gloved fingers. The garnet mask that was the only barrier between a huge lead and potential failure stood tantalizingly before you. You had half a heart to tear it off his face. No. You needed to draw this out.

“Not before I indulge in a conversation with the subject of my affections.” Classic Agent K. Agent of Mischief both in and out of the bedroom, they said. You tilted your head to the side.

“Quite the suave man, aren’t you?”

His laughter was a boyish chuckle that did wonders to his usually intimidating face. He had a dimple on his left side, you noticed. What fun were you having, fraternizing with the enemy. But you couldn’t seem to pull away from him.

“I do enjoy thinking of my self as such, my lady,” he replied. You folded your hands over your chest.

“How many women have snuggled their way into your bed with that silver tongue of yours?” 

It was an open secret that he was a ladies man, the rumors only being more and more obvious as he was spotted at the many red light districts he was spotted at.

“None.” Well that was new. He could be lying, though. 

“Then... how many women do you intend to court with your smooth words?”

“Just one, sweetheart.” The words rolled off his tongue like they were made to be said by him, and only him. 

“And who might that be?” 

“You. Miss (Y/N) (L/N)” You scoff. No way were you about to be put on that long list of women. You walked closer to him.

“As if. When you manage to kill me, and thwart the—” Agent K was chuckling as you rambled on, trying to prolong the interaction. He put a finger over your lips. 

“That is merely a misbegotten attempt to humiliate the both of us. Does it really look like that from the sidelines?” 

What? This was Agent K. Known for his ability in twisting, turning, and confusing the hell out of his enemies. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Humiliate? I— what else would it be?”

“Well,” he peeled his mask back, “being sent out to eliminate your first love isn’t quite a job for the lily-livered, isn’t it?”

Under the mask, there was the familiar mischievous smile, the observant eyes, and the same smirk from years ago. He discarded the garnet mask over the railing. 

“Kuroo?” The sheer shock at his revelation was enough to send you stumbling back. “You’re... Agent K?” 

"I wouldn’t be anyone else, darling.”

Hands reach out from behind you to find something to hold on to. The knot in your stomach has only gotten tighter and tighter since this whole ordeal started. You don’t know how to process the feelings racing through your heart right now. How could he? Leave you all those years, then come back to you like this? How dare he? But the sounds of the party are coming closer and closer to the rooftop, and a police siren is wailing down below. Kuroo notices it too.

“I do hope that we can meet again, under, ah,” he adjusted his gloves, “more appropriate circumstances.”

“Until then,” he said. He inched his body closer to yours. The scent of old wine and cologne clung to his body. Kuroo pressed his lips onto your forehead.  “goodnight, little angel.”

He tips his lanky body ever so close to the edge of the building, before succumbing to the effects of gravity. Strangely enough, you find yourself reaching out to him. His name on the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out. 

The wind whips through his hair as he falls through the night air. Then suddenly, he’s not there anymore. The roar of a helicopter from above indicates Kuroo’s savior has come. Kuroo’s suit clad figure hangs from a dangling ladder below the aircraft. He catches your eye for a moment. A gallant smile graces his lips, but it strikes you as rather...disingenuous. 

Kuroo climbs up the ladder and disappears inside the helicopter. The blinking lights fade into the stars above as the wind leaves your lungs. Damn you, Kuroo, you curse in your mind. The fresh air does little to clear the haze in your mind at the situation that just unfolded. Several minutes pass by, with you trying to take deep breaths. You pick up your discarded mask and put it back on. As you leave the roof, you swear his cologne still lingers in your nose.

[indestinatus]

Yellow Brick Road

TIVATOBER 2020 // DAY 17

↳ prompt: Scarecrow - rated T (1,726 words)

summary: Alone in the hideout from Sahar, Ziva finds herself doing something she didn’t expect, which brings back memories from the past. 

A/N: also known as - if you chose to read one story of this whole series, please let this be the one.

read it on AO3 🌾

Heavy rain poured down on the gray tiles of the sidewalk. There was enough water on the street to reflect the blurry traffic lights and undefined skylines, at least until a car passed by and splashed it all over the closed stores. Umbrellas piled up in front of a popular restaurant and some moved across the street, but Ziva’s vision was out of focus enough to only distinguish them as blurs of color, disappearing quickly.

It had been hours since she had passed the point of tiredness, now breathing only out of instinct. Her eyelids burned but she kept them open, watching the skies fall. 

It was rare for her to need a break like this, though it was turning even more frequent these days. She could only track Sahar down for so long - with just a name, the mysterious woman quickly vanished only to reappear again in another city a few weeks later - and after so many failed attempts of getting to her, Ziva decided to wait until they came to her instead. 

That usually didn’t take long. 

A taxi stopped just in front of her and a man rushed to open the door, motioning for a woman just behind him to enter ahead. She did so hurriedly, holding what looked like the man’s suit over her head as she disappeared into the backseat of the car. 

A second later, the man did the same, hastily running a hand through his wet hair before disappearing. Ziva thought she saw him smile to himself, but the car sped up and she lost track of them before she could confirm. 

Two strangers she would never see again, nor hear the end of their story. 

She didn’t really process how or why, but suddenly she found her reflection staring back at her, heavy bags under her eyes and hair dripping wet. Ziva blinked, realizing she had crossed the street and now stood in front of the glass door she’d been watching from the opposite side all evening.

Before she could change her mind, Ziva’s hands moved on their own accord and pulled the door open. Blaming the tiredness for her poor choices, she stepped into the movie theater, searching for the ticket booth.

The air conditioning of the room made her soaked clothes feel cold. She picked a spot near the exit, blending into the shadows. In a second she had memorized all viable routes of escape, but it had been more out of habit than from a real necessity. 

Her heart was in her throat when the main title started to play. It was this loud melody with a classic tune to it, the high notes revealing the passage of time. As the title appeared, nostalgia burned in her chest. It had been too long since she’d last seen it, way too long.

“I thought this was a colored one.”

“Do you really want me to spoil it to you, woman?”

“I’ve read the book, you know.”

“Then how come you always manage to quote it wrong?”

“How do you know they’re the right lines? Perhaps they’re different in the book.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Yes. Exactly. You would not know.”

“Don’t brag now. You’re the one who hasn't seen a movie that’s seventy years old.”

“I had other things to do.”

“That’s older than Gibbs.”

“That’s older than you.”

“Miss David. You hurt me this way.”

“Shush. It’s about to start.”

“You… Wicked Witch of the West.”

“Hm… Doesn’t she die?”

“You’ll have to watch and see.”

It knocked the breath out of her. She already knew it was coming, but the sudden change from sepia to technicolor was still a marvelous thing to see. Bright colors invited the viewer to enter this brand new world, and Ziva let herself get lost in the songs and the details. 

The room was almost empty, some people scattered across the rows ahead. She wondered if they had seen this movie before. Probably, considering how old it was. Though she knew the story by heart, it was because she’d read the book a dozen times while growing up, it being a classic in her mother’s personal library. 

He had teased her the whole day when he discovered she’d never watched it. She remembered it clearly—quoting lines and singing lyrics, he’d succeeded in driving her crazy enough for her to give in, which led to them renting a DVD copy on a free Friday night. She brought the beers and he led the place, the one between them who had a television at home. 

Tony’s selective memory always surprised her, though his insistence in getting under her skin was a force on its own. He would bug her until he got what he wanted, and she was used to it—most times great at fighting back—but some days she just wanted to give in and see that typical smile of his, the one that stretched over his face until the corners of his eyes got wrinkled. 

She could picture it so clearly, the image still imprinted under her eyelids.

It was a memory she visited often, that day. It had been one of those moments no one could know it would become a memory until it did. Their laughter, the sureness of safety and the genuine feeling of happiness were things that still warmed her heart, whenever she thought of it. They were so young and worry-free, she always felt a sting of regret for not cherishing the moment more when it was happening. 

Dorothy reached a crossroad, unsure of which path to go next. When the Scarecrow changed the arm that pointed where to go, some people chuckled, and Ziva smiled weakly. He had always been her favorite one of the group. There was something really endearing about his clumsiness and care. He was smarter than he would ever know, and it was a charming quality she rarely saw in people.

“How can you talk if you haven’t got a brain?” quizzed Dorothy, tilting her head.  

“I don’t know,” replied the Scarecrow. “But some people without brains do an awful lot of talking, don't you think?”

“Yes!”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah… Right.”

“What? It’s true. Plus, he’s cute.”

“He’s a scarecrow.”

“So…?”

“Don’t tell me you’re turned on by a scarecrow.”

“I did not say I was ‘turned on’. You are wiggling my words.”

“Twisting.”

“I thought it had been a twister.”

“Just… Watch. See? Now your scarecrow is also part of the narrative.”

“I like him.”

“Sometimes I just can’t respect you.”

“He talks a lot.”

“You say that to me all the time!”

“Well, you do talk a lot.”

“Are you admitting to like me, David?”

“I will call Ducky right away. We finally solved it - your brain is there, only it is made out of straw.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“Hm.”

Ziva felt her heart clench when the thought of Tony showing it to Tali crossed her mind. Had he done the same? Was he excited over little details and quoted its famous lines just like he did with her? Or did it remind him of them? Did they ever get the chance to watch it together or he avoided it? She certainly stared at the movie theater marquise for hours before she gave in, the tiredness making her too vulnerable. 

She missed him so much her bones ached from it. 

Ziva wondered if she would ever feel the same again. That flickering in her chest whenever they spoke in riddles, both of them catching each other’s stolen glances more frequently than not. They had always been good in sharing non-verbal cues, and even if they bickered until one of them got tired, the silence was the one thing she missed the most. 

To be able to be understood like that by someone else, it was the closest she had ever been to love.

“Oh,” confided Dorothy to the Scarecrow, “I think I’ll miss you most of all.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, saying goodbye. Both of them were too emotional to say anything else, Dorothy wiping the tears with her hand and him giving her a sad smile. There was something incredibly bittersweet to have known it would have come to this all along. 

Ziva struggled to breathe. She didn’t recall when exactly she had started crying, but she couldn’t see a thing now. There were only blurs. 

She tried to remember the last time she did cry. Her chest ached from keeping it silent, the loud beating of her heart the only thing she could hear. She knew it would happen as soon as she bought that ticket, but there was something quite soothing about being in a dark room where no one else knew her. 

She could finally be free, even if for a brief moment.

Ziva stood up before the credits started rolling. Hastily wiping the tears from her face, she exited to the street, hoping for once that she was really invisible, and no one would approach her now. 

The rain had stopped. It was much darker now, though the street lights seemed brighter. The line of people outside of the restaurant had disappeared, probably already inside. Some taxis were available at the other side of the street, but she preferred walking. She couldn’t take any risks now, knowing she could quickly become the prey. 

Ziva looked up to the sky, clenching her jaw. Letting the cold air inundate her lungs, she tried to ease her breathing. Tony and Tali were somewhere safe, far away from there, but at least they were under the very same sky. She wondered if it was raining there. She wondered if they were okay. 

Closing her eyes, she pictured them again. Happy. She needed them happy, even if it meant they had found happiness without her. There was no other way to keep her going, other than to imagine them alive. Even if it looked like nothing more than a dream, she needed them there, safe, tucked away in her heart.

When Ziva opened her eyes again, the sadness had already been buried. 

With Dorothy’s words still ringing in her mind, she ducked her head, following the gray brick road into an adjacent alleyway. 

There is no place like home, she had said. 

And wishing for nothing more than a pair of ruby slippers, Ziva David disappeared into the shadows. 

[greyswritingagain-ohhell]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔫 ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰

*yeets this at you and runs* PRINXIETY FAIRYTAIL SOULMATE AU-

The compass… What a beautiful creation. Burned into one’s little arms at birth, the red pin always pointing at destiny. Destiny one must travel to, a type of destiny named love.

Roman Sanders X Virgil Sanders

Word count: 2,393

TW: Blood mention, vague mention of sex (i guess?), threats, mentions of an unhappy father-son relationship. Msg if there is more.

★-----☾-----❍-----☽-----★

The compass… What a beautiful creation. Burned into one’s little arms at birth, the red pin always pointing at destiny. Destiny one must travel to, a type of destiny named love. The blissful romance of twirling skirts and melodic laughing from a young story of either woe or contentment. Though destiny is not entirely glitter and kisses, it is and will never be the work of fiction we all wish it be. It is also a raging storm against a raft in violent gunmetal waters, smashed plates and wine glasses once filled stained with tears and tragedy as cries and whimpers fill the lonely grey room that withheld an untold tale of sorrow.

Destiny, as mystifying as it is, can be merciless.

Though… maybe not in this case. Maybe not in the case of the poor little prince in his depressing creamy marble balcony. His glimmering jade eyes were devoid of the usual passion and joy they once shined with. Passion and joy were replaced with longing and unfulfilled urge. Urge to find his soulmate. His soulmate. He has built a reputation for himself for finding his citizen’s one and only, why couldn’t he find his? Why not a quest for the brave prince with a promise of a fairytail ending?

Simple. His father. The man who insisted he stay locked up inside, only seen when needed, only for the fair young maidens to coo and swoon at upon sight. All his services had been classified, hidden away within the palace walls, never to be dug up. But of course, that was only dust on his shoulder that he will eventually brush off. Because the one thing in his mind was them. His rare focus was on what he had considered will be his best achievement. His missing piece. The one he will treat like royalty then proceed to make them royalty.

His soulmate.

Though their meet was delayed many times, today, he was finally going to find them, see their sparkling eyes twinkle in the natural warm sunlight, witness their face contort from confused to… hopefully something positive. Today he will set off to the depths of the unknown and finally, finally, without any form of hesitation or restraint, be free from the chains of the limelight of their watchful gazes on him. Because as much as he loved his kingdom, he didn’t mind the morning breeze flowing through a woodland cottage as his love lied next to him, breathing softly and peacefully like an angel sent from the heavens. He didn’t mind the playful ribbons of the sunset reflecting on the diamond windows, endearing touches slowly becoming a burning sensation that lasts midnight when the stars bless their love.

But alas, father dearest must foil his plans once more when Roman Kingsley heard the familiar thudding of leather boots on the porcelain tiles, not even an attempt to sneak up.

“Father?”

At the unceremonious acknowledgement, his father came closer, crossing his arms as his eyebrows furrowed, “Roman.”

Roman only heaved a heavy sigh, his brown hair teasing his forehead as he ran a hand through them to tame the flying strands. They seemed to shine in the sun, glowing a divine gold over the hues of brown, a halo of a prince. A prince fit for the role of a protagonist, a hero in fiction. Too good to be true, too perfect for such an icy hell called Earth, a forgery for the monsters and myths. A place of fire and ice, uniting to let their twisted gift see the light, the most merciless craft of the gods all creation feared as their result of boredom wrecked havoc over the paradise they so generously provided. And yet there he was, gleaming gold and red, a divinity in the midst of the madness.

Gold in the sand dunes, he'd say.

“What do you need from me, father?” He pondered, raising an eyebrow. There was no denying the slight hurt bubbling in his chest. The weight that rivalled Earth itself was pressing down harshly on his tired shoulders, a warning like defying gravity to never let go. Handling pain had always been his forte, a duel of clashing bronze and gold in the air. But dealing with muffled, inconveniencing pain from someone he had once considered his own father? He'd rather be thrown to the wolves.

“Morgana's at it again. This time worse than usual.”

Contrary to popular belief, he was rather fond of the treacherous shape shifter. Sure, they both had their moments of malice and graceful of fiction-worthy battles, but nonetheless, she was one of good company. Maybe even a friend. Though Roman was positive she'd never admit it. She always struck up a conversation, even the first time they met. Throwing blasts of flames and questions about him and then proceeding to vent to him about the stupidity his father must’ve had to send a 15 year old to “slay” a dragon. His agreement and addition to the topic had unknowingly blossomed a purple and red friendship, flourishing in the snow while dripping vicious, warm blood on the contrasting temperature. If anything, he was thankful his father had sent him on those missions.

But one thing stuck out from his father's sentence.

Worse than usual?

“Will you take care of her?” He deadpanned, placing a large, heavy hand on his shoulder. It was of the most brief displays of what his father called “affection”. Please. Even the stalactites in the dark of the caves nearby loved him better. That is, if constantly falling and almost gifting him a concussion is loving in one's words. Which apparently was to the stalactites. But what did he expect? Kisses on foreheads and ‘we love you's?

“You know I will.”

Its not like he had anything better to do.

Well, there was one mystery at hand. Er, wrist. Because no matter where he turned, the compass pointed the tip of the silver dagger north. It didn’t, not once, change direction. A cliché, yes, but one can only assume his soulmate takes solitude in the brutally icy snowy mountains, freezing for their own life. Or maybe thriving. Who knows, this fair lass or lad may be a hunter, shooting silvery bits of moonlight to puncture any stags nearby. A life they see worth living over their humanity. It was grave, yes. But Understandable. It was ironic, really. Because north was where Morgana set camp that day. Just his lucky day.

The trot of the thoroughbred echoed widely in the evergreen willow forests, tiny little warm white stars shining and illuminating the strip of a path towards his usual Sunday evening. Towards the steep, rocky mountains of Ragana. Could’ve done a better job at naming the damn thing but hey, it's her mountain after all. He had no jurisdiction to interfere with her property.

But the peak of the mountain showed way, standing in all its shimmering glory in the afternoon sun.

“Morgana? My dear, I appreciate the need to see me, but I am on a quest! I must find my soulmate! Can this please wait?-“

“What do you want with my mother?”

He froze, his begging paused. His hands grow stiff as a tree in the air, his hair brushing his forehead teasingly against the cold wind the white snow tinted. The voice had slightly shocked him, foreign and quite… mystifying. He says foreign, through there was a silver lever snapping in his mind, saying it is a familiar melody in his ears. Dark, surely a male's, unwavering, and very, very attractive. How does one tell if another is attractive through their voice?

Another detail caught his attention. His compass, rock solid. Normally a compass' pin will vibrate, jitter, yet still keep its direction clear. The silver end was ice, now burning his arm once more ever since the day of his birth, the tip of the pin now locked on the engraved N. He never recalled any but one knowledge of the compass freezing mid-encounter.

The compass speaks.

Was this young lad his bound? The end of the red string…? His.. Destiny…?

“Hey! Prince guy! I was talking to you-“ the voice died, now silent. The only thing that passed his ears were the slapping of the drooping Willow trees nearby that served him a dreamy backdrop and the blowing winds, gentle and smelling of the oddly comforting breeze of winter.

His body regained its motioning state, his hand dropping to his side, brushing his white blazer. His eyes scanned the scene, remembering the direction the voice came from. It came from under the dark overhang of stone, untouched by the snowflakes. Morgana's humble abode, he'd say. And since when did she have a son? Assuming it’s a man.

“I-She's been wrecking havoc amongst Acelina. We cannot afford any more wreckage, we cannot spend money so carelessly to clean up her messes. She must be stopped.” He said, his head held high. One could take one look at his poised form and think that he was actually confident, brave as he faced the man. But no. His head was screaming. His legs felt like stiff jelly. He was weak for just a dark and mysterious voice. Sue him.

“And? Must you kill her? What proposes that need?”

He squawked in surprise and offend, “I never said she must perish! I simply need to talk-“

“Oh? Then why a sword? Why the need to bring a rash weapon when all you need to do is talk?”

If this was his soulmate, his guards better prim his deathbed soon for this hiding man will be the cause of his delicate demise.

Everything evaporated into the wind, a heavy silence falling and pressing on their slouched shoulders, a force like defying physics. And as every second ticks by in the hourglass, the weight started to gain, pound by pound as they helplessly watch themselves almost get wordlessly sink into a rabbit hole of deep tension.

Almost all else was lost into the marine depths of the Pacific till Roman heard footfalls against the 2inch thick snow. Till the small clouds of breaths from the other brushed softly against his flushed cheeks. Till he felt something cold and sharp press against his chest.

Oh no.

“Listen, prince, I don’t care who you are, what you want, or what your intentions are, all I want you to do is to not—touch—my—mother.”

Though the icy silence was the only solace he could’ve confided in, he had to reply. And he had to do it carefully. One wrong spin, one wrong puff of air, one wrong gesture, and the dagger drives violently through his panicking heart and he will be left to die in the clutches of the dark, mysterious lad without even a glimpse of his face.

“I have no intention or need to hurt your mother. She and I are… acquaintances. And I wish to speak to her.”

The lad lifted his head, his purple velvet hood now falling off as Roman was sure his heart had stopped and screamed at the sight…

His eyes. Those wretched, silver and coffee eyes will be the death of him. Sunlight flooded in them, the numerous similar shades of iron and dirt violently popping against porcelain skin. His hair was a tint of purple, blending in with midnight spikes flopping on his head. His lips were tight and sealed, a menacing scowl stretching his sharp features.

“Acquaintances, huh?-“

“Virgil!” a new voice broke through the sharp silence, stern and feminine. They both recognized it immediately.

“Mom?”

“Morgana!”

The woman was insanely beautiful, he had to say, what with the curled umber hair and the piercing gold eyes against equally pale skin as her son. The threaded hem of her slim burgundy dress was damp against the snow, her black velvet cloak waving against the wind.

“Virgil Anxolia Black, what on earth were you about to do?” she loudly proclaimed, pulling him by the arm and releasing the tight pressure ‘Virgil' so graciously put him under. He released a breath, swallowing lightly. Virgil, however, looked outraged, a cold, hard determination in his eyes. His gloved hand seemed to tighten around the knife the second Roman began to speak.

“Fret not, Morgana, he was simply-“

The knife was raised, another step falling onto the snow as he heard the crunch of it under Virgil's boot, “what’d I say about my mother?!”

Perhaps it was the strong tone of his voice or the alluring gleam of his wide, steely eyes, but Roman had just felt his heart skip a sobbing beat. His beauty was radiant, a rose against the crowded leaves, a lit candle amidst a hurricane, a stray shadow in the room of light. And with a knife pointed and a lethal scream of his heart, Virgil Black was truly an unmistakable Adonis in his jade eyes.

The scene went still, a brush of the wind setting tiny movements for the three. A chill ran down Roman's spine at it. Silence was never an area of expertise of his. Silence turns into tension, tension into impulsiveness, impulsiveness into absentminded decisions that lead to blood being drawn and late night regrets to weep for. He was not a fan.

But alas, before tension turned into a form of impulsiveness, the woman in the cloak stepped forward, gently taking her son's wrist, “your compass…”

Virgil raised an eyebrow, taking his wrist down, therefor lowering the knife and allowing Roman a few seconds of oxygen, “what’s wrong with it…?”

His mother huffed in gleeful disbelief, her golden eyes glimmering, “its still! Your soulmate must be in your presence!”

Contrasting the unusual cheery expression of the shape shifter, Virgil stilled, his hand once again a lethal grip on the bronze dagger, his eyes flat with no emotion, “someone's here.”

This only made Roman's skipping heart seemingly beat faster in lovesick adrenaline as he slowly connected the dots.

Mine doesn’t work either…

And it was clear that Morgana thought the same as she dragged Virgil's wrist forwards closer to him, careful not to impale the flinching prince, and took his own wrist, lining both their compasses up until both North and South are parallel points.

Everything seemed to click in the two men's minds, mismatched eyes meeting jade.

Oh boy, this will be a ride.

★-----☾-----❍-----☽-----★

[black-king-white-knight]

Cyber Files AU - Chapter One:

A/N: Okay, here’s Chapter One. I have no idea when other chapters will be coming, but I hope you enjoy and if anyone has any question, feel free to hit me up.

Warnings: Swearing, Death mentions, Medical mentions... I think that’s all for this chapter? But please let me know if anyone wants anything else tagged or if I missed anything.

“In steel as in flesh. Corpses leave clues.”

Dear You,

The body you are currently wearing used to be mine. The scar on the inner left thigh is there because you fell out of a window and impaled your leg running away from Badges at the age of nine. The four fillings are a result of you avoiding the dentist for most of your life. But the physical past of our shared body isn’t important to you right now.

I’m writing this letter for you to read in the future. Wondering why anyone would do such a thing? The answer is… both simple and complicated. The simple answer is because I knew it would be necessary.

The complicated answer is… rather twisted.

Do you know the name of the body you are in? It’s Remy. Remy Saros. It was my name, but it comes with the body, so I suppose it’s yours now. Changing it would be… unwise. But we’ll get to that later.

Before I tell you the story, there are a few things I need you to be aware of. First, you’re deathly allergic to bee stings. If you get stung and do not take quick action, you will die. I’ve always hoarded all the epi-pens I could find. Check all the glove compartments of cars, backpacks and jacket pockets you now own. If you get stung, flick the lid off, orange to the thigh, blue to the sky, wait for the click, hold for three seconds and remove. You’ll feel like shit, but you’ll survive.

Apart from that, you’re a non-photosensitive epileptic. There should be a sleeve of meds in the front right pocket of your trousers. Repeat scripts are loaded onto your Eye and spare meds will be available later when you need them.

Now, hopefully, you still retain your right hand, and everything it provides.

The fuck? Someone would have stolen my hand!? They thought to themselves, glancing down at their right hand and clenched it in relief before turning their attention back to the words hanging in the rain in front of them.

In your immediate future, the three most important are a Social Identity Card, Bank Chit, Medi-Sys Card, all of them belonging to Remy Saros. Except for four. Those physical cards in your wallet are, right now, the most important. Tucked away in there are a Chit linked to a different bank, a driver’s licence, a Medi-Sys Card and a Social Identity Card belonging to Alexandyr Morgan, a name that will not be linked to you.

The personal identification number for all of them is 160100. That’s my birthday, followed by how old you are. You’re a newborn! Get somewhere dry and safe, find a secure hotel, and check in. The AM accounts will have more than enough to cover.

You are doubtless aware of the next part already, since if you’re reading this you’ve already survived several immediate threats, but you are in danger. Just because you are not me does not make you safe. Along with this body, you have inherited certain problems and responsibilities. Go find a safe place, and the second letter will be waiting for you when you arrive.

Sincerely,

Remy Saros.

They stood shivering in the rain, watching the words on the holographic display dissolve into the downpour. Their hair was dripping, licking their lips under the face mask gave a burst of saltiness, and everything ached. Under the lights of reflected neon, the figure had automatically flicked their right hand out in a muscle-memory gesture to bring up the main menu on their Eyeformer Operation System, looking for some clue as to… anything.

When the Eye booted up a message simply titled To You had been sitting there in the main menu, blinking gently, waiting to be opened.

They shook their head angrily, but the spike in throbbing quickly diffused their anger. They looked up at the sky, watching the rain come down and lightning fork across the sky. Rummaging through the other pockets of their outfit turned up nothing other than a long, thin plastic box with medical instructions, chemical information, and a label printed on it. REMY SAROS.

The Epi-Pen, they thought, staring at it before returning it to the interior jacket pocket it had come from, patting it a couple of times for reassurance. Then they dropped a hand into their front right pocket and pulled out a fresh packet of red and white capsules in a standard plastic and foil medical sleeve. Epilepsy meds, I guess.

So this is who I am, they thought, unsure of how they felt. I don’t get the uncertainty of not knowing what my name is, but I’m not being given control over my own life. Whoever Remy Saros was, they managed to get me in a whole lot of trouble. They sniffed and brushed a dark lump out of their left eye. Wet hair slapped against their skin and Remy cringed slightly.

Ugh, okay, rain first. Get out of the rain, then… get a car, I guess. Yeah, find a car, find a hotel.

Remy looked around, searching for shelter, but since they were standing on a bridge, nothing was immediately available. Just expansive, smoke filled blackness all around, only broken by strings of indistinct neon in all directions and the sounds of sky-borne cargo lifters. Finally spotting an undercover shop doorway at the end of the bridge, Remy stepped out of the slight crater in the middle of the road, and over the ring of bodies that ringed it. They were all motionless, and wearing latex gloves.

They darted from shelter to shelter, staying in the dark wherever they could, contact lenses glowing due to the low-level night vision function built into the Eyes’ Pathfinder app. The only sounds in the smoke-filled night were the gradually fading sounds of main street traffic around the bridge, and the ever-present sounds of cargo lifters and the occasional Fire Bird.

Remy was hugging themself and shivering by the time they got off the main roads, and spent a minute shaking off as best as their throbbing head would allow. Reactivating the Eye, they opened one of the ride call apps and scrolled through. If the accounts contained as much money as the mysterious message said, Remy would gladly pay for the quiet and convenience of an automated cab.

Opening a new tab and selecting the bank account under Alexandyr Morgan’s name, Remy used the login details stored in an in-Eye app to log in, and looked at the account total and withdrawal amount. Both numbers almost short-circuited Remy’s newly born brain. There was… five million in the account. Even given the inflation of various economic crashes, that was a lot of money. Whoever Remy had been in that previous life… they clearly had a lot of cash to splash around.

Recalling the letter’s multiple warnings about finding somewhere safe, Remy kept scanning both ends of the street, as well as all the doorways and windows they could make out while waiting for the summoned car to appear. When it did, they scrambled inside, shut the door, and scanned their hand on the Chit reader built into the back of the “driver’s” seat. Remy then selected “Evasive Mode” from the drop-down menu in the app, clicked the seat belt in and sprawled as much as they could across plush seats that automatically warmed up in response to Remy’s wet frame. 

They briefly considered not sprawling like this, since it would give Future!Remy all sorts of aches, but Present!Remy was too comfy, so they just shut their eyes and let the swinging turns and passing neon lull them into a fitful, exhaustion-driven doze.

Remy’s Eye suddenly came to life and started to ping with alerts that they’d arrived at the marked destination, the messages dislodging the slew of automated ads from the earlier apps. They jerked upright then hissed in pain. The journey had been nearly half an hour to the other side and a deeper level of the city, bordering on one of the old mine shafts, turned closed off corporate enclaves when the mine was turned into a city.

Remy’s decision to sprawl all over the back of the car meant that climbing out was a flurry of spasms, aches and pins and needles. Mumbling in irritation as they got out of the car and wishing Past!Remy hadn’t been such a selfish asshole, they stumbled towards the five-star hotel. 

The hotel management students who had been unlucky enough to get saddled with door-duty on the graveyard shift stared at Remy’s face without moving a muscle as they opened the doors for Remy, who passed through with an exhausted nod at them both and walked through the gorgeous foyer.

The impeccably dressed and coiffed desk clerk (at three in the morning?! What. The. Fuck. Are you some kind of hideous automaton, man?) politely stifled a yawn and barely widened his eyes at the soaking wet person on the other side of the desk who had just left a wide trail of dirty water across the marble tiles and was now checking in as Alexandyr Morgan.

The hotel porter who appeared did a poor job of appearing awake, but still managed to guide Remy to the appointed room without incident. By now, especially after a heated nap in the taxi, Remy was so sleepy that they’d practically given up on all vigilance, barely remembering to thank and tip the porter before entering the room and searching for the bed. Having found something large and soft, Remy dropped, content to sleep on it until…

Remy was asleep too quickly to even finish the thought.

Notes: That’s all there is for now. I just wanna say a huge thanks to @milomeepit, and @pipapatton for helping me work out ideas and acting as soundboards, and @lucifer-in-my-head for designing artwork for it, which I’ll add next chapter as the art becomes relevant to the story.

[sanjee-chan]

Cold Hands: ShigarakixReader: PT13

FIRST || PREVIOUS

Your smile grew wider, he had given you something more than a look - he was nice to you. You sat there and closed your eyes, smiling to yourself for a good couple of minutes before a great idea manifested itself in your mind. 

You chewed the inside of your cheek in a sorry attempt to keep your ever growing smile from breaking your face in half. “This is such a stupid idea.”  

But you never listened to good advice. You stood up, legs nearly buckling under your weight due to how giddy you were feeling, and walked to the kitchen. Before slapping yourself on the forehead for leaving your phone behind. You ran back to retrieve the forgotten device, opened your contacts list and typed in your friend’s name. You noted the time as your finger hovered over his icon, hesitating.

“Oh, it’s not like that man sleeps anyway.” You tapped on the little green icon and the screen flashed to show the dial animation. When he didn’t pick up on the first two rings, you left your phone on the kitchen table and took a cup from the dish rack. As you filled it with water from the tap, you heard the ringback stop and you rushed back to the table, spilling water all over the floor and yourself. You picked up the phone but your wet hands made it slip, flying out of your grasp and hitting the tiles with the screen up. Had it been any other day you would have fussed over it but you couldn’t care any less right now. So you left it where it was and sat down to slide one wet finger over the receive widget.

You bent down to put your ear next to the speaker just in time to hear your friend’s voice come through in an annoyed and tired tone. “Girl, I thought I said to text me, not ca - ”

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!” you screamed right into the receiver, still bent over. You couldn’t help it, your heart felt close to bursting.

When your screaming started to fade, your friend took it as his signal to talk. “Hey are you alright? What happened?” you could practically hear the concern dripping from his voice and it would have made you laugh had you the capacity to. “You sound,” he pauses, unsure. “Kinda tense?”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” you squealed into the phone, finally picking it up from the floor and cradling it close to your face. You don’t bother standing up, instead you lay down on the somewhat clean kitchen floor and flailed your legs around as you tore your throat with your shouting.

“Ohkay, not the answer I’m looking for.”

Another scream from you.

“If you’re just gonna scream my head off - ”

More flailing and screaming.

“I’m going back to sleep. Alone.” He pauses again and you quiet down. “Coz you didn’t wanna sleep over.”

You could hear his pout all the way from the other side of town and you laughed, but your throat was so brutally thrashed by your screaming that it came out as a cough. Silence followed as you attempted to regain control of your breathing and abused vocal chords. Your friend was kind enough to wait patiently without saying anything.

“I talked to him today,” you whispered into your phone.

“Huh?”

“You know...” you trailed off, suddenly getting shy because he didn’t figure out who you were referring to.

“Who?” he asked again, pitch raising slightly.

“The guy on the bus.”

He says nothing and you can just imagine the clueless look on his face. You roll over onto your stomach and let out an exasperated sigh.

“You know, the guy with the light blue hair and the red eyes?” you gestured at your own hair and eyes, despite knowing that your friend couldn’t see you.

There’s another pause but it’s short and it’s punctuated with an audible gasp. “You mean the grungy dude who has scars all over his face?”

You huffed. “Now you’re just being rude.”

“I don’t know what kind of men you’re into.” He lied.

“I don’t have a type,” you argued weakly.

“Oh yeah sure,” he faked a cough. “Mysterious, stitches, scars.”

You laughed and faked a hurt tone. “I don’t even know why I called you!”

“Fangirl?” he knowingly suggested and you could almost see him with his huge grin and wiggling eyebrows.

“YES!”

NEXT

[bijvoorbeeldja]

Swimmer!Sander AU Part Three

Part 1/Part 2

......

Sander had been texting Robbe all weekend. 

He’d just gotten home after that first swim lesson, taking a quick shower to rinse the chlorine out of his hair. When he’d tiptoed back into his room (Jens was already asleep and Robbe could hear the low hum of his snores through their shared wall), Robbe’s phone lit up and buzzed on the bed. Rubbing the towel through his hair, Robbe opened the message.

Sander: Good work today. You’ll be beating me in no time! ;-)

Robbe had smiled, shaking his head. The whole evening hadn’t felt real somehow. But in his head, the images of Sander holding his hands, helping him patiently through the water….those were all too real. He couldn’t have dreamt them. 

His fingers hovered over his keys, trying to decide how fast to respond. He didn’t want to seem overeager. Even though...he was. He really was.

He started typing.

Robbe: Yeah, it doesn’t matter HOW many lessons you give me. I’ll never be as good as you! 

Almost immediately, Sander was typing back, the three dots dancing on his screen. Robbe waited, breathless. Then, a buzz.

Sander: It’s true! You’re a fast learner.

He was typing again.

Sander: But to be honest, I don’t want you to learn too fast…

Robbe swallowed, trying to coat the dryness in his throat and quell the butterflies leaping in his stomach.

Robbe: Why’s that?

Sander: You know why.

Robbe just sat down on his bed, holding the phone to his chest.

You know why.

……..

“Whoa, you look nice. You going out tonight?” Jens was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, leaning against the frame, watching as Robbe was patting down his hair, trying to tame the rogue strands into submission. 

Robbe smiled, embarrassed now. 

“It’s nothing,” Robbe said, but his voice betrayed him on the word, ensuring that he hoped it was going to be much more than nothing. “Just getting drinks.”

“With who?” Jens asked, enthusiastically curious now. 

Robbe hesitated. If he told Jens who it was, he’d have to explain about the swim lessons and he was not prepared for the level of teasing he knew would come. 

“Just somebody I met last week,” Robbe said nonchalantly, wetting his fingers under the faucet and going at his hair again. “We’ll see if it goes anywhere.”

“Hmmm,” Jens answered, smirking. “Okay, keep your new man a mystery. Just make sure you two...play it safe.” He winked at Robbe, who blushed crimson. 

“Jens!” Robbe whined at him as he turned and headed back to his room, still smiling. 

Glancing one more time at his reflection, he took a deep breath and pulled out his chat with Sander.

Robbe: Leaving now. See you in 10?

Sander responded quickly.

Sander: See you in 10. Can’t wait. 

…..

Outside the bar, Robbe locked his bike and wiped his clammy hands on his pants, trying to level his breathing. The closer he’d gotten to the bar, the more nervous he felt. But excited, too.

Heading to the entrance, he spotted Sander through the window, seated at a table. When he saw Robbe, his face lit up in a warm smile. God, he was just as cute with clothes on, Robbe thought before he could stop himself.

“Hey, there,” Sander said, as Robbe approached the table. He bit his lip as he glanced lightning-quick at Robbe head to toe.

“Hey,” Robbe said, his voice cracking slightly. “Have you been waiting here long?”

“Not long,” Sander smiled again. He was wearing blue jeans and his leather jacket, a white shirt tucked in underneath. His bleached hair was still slightly damp and Robbe tried to look away from where his eyes were naturally wandering — the way his clothes pulled tight over his muscles, the lean lines of his jaw. And damn, he smelled so good. 

“So, are you sore?” Sander asked, breaking Robbe’s gaze.

“Er...what?” He asked, blinking.

Sander laughed. “From the lessons? Are you sore?”

“Oh, right,” Robbe said, nodding, trying to focus. “No, not too sore. Maybe a little stiff in my arms, but not bad.”

Sander smiled, “Good. I hope I wasn’t too hard on you.”

Robbe swallowed. Why was this conversation making him sweat?

“No,” he said, meeting Sander’s gaze. “You weren’t t-too hard.”

“Good,” Sander said, smiling again. Robbe couldn’t look away. It was like Sander’s smile was holding him hostage and he couldn't breathe.

“So how about that beer?” Sander spoke again, smiling at Robbe through his daze.

“Right, yeah,” Robbe said, turning to walk towards the counter. “I did promise you a drink. I’m on it.”

“Oh, and IJzermans?” Sander said, calling back to him as he walked away.

“Yeah?” Robbe said, turning back. 

“You look good tonight.”

…….

By Friday night, the night of their next swimming lesson, Robbe had replayed every moment of their date in his mind a thousand times. 

He couldn’t think about anything else except the way Sander smiled at everything Robbe said, flashing perfect teeth and glittering green eyes, or the way his touch was warm when Robbe handed him his drink and their fingers brushed. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about how easy and comfortable it was talking to Sander, how they’d eased so naturally into a back-and-forth with no hint of uncomfortable or awkward silence. Sander had told Robbe about how he’d started swimming as a kid, and always dreamed of the Olympics. But the older he got, and the more intense the training became, the less joy he felt in the water. He’d noticeably blushed when he’d revealed that his swimming lesson with Robbe had been the most relaxed he’d felt in a long time.

Reliving their conversations in his mind still made Robbe smile, warmth spreading through his body as he remembered. He was still smiling as he entered the pool building, pulling his bag tighter over his shoulder. He couldn’t wait to get back in the water. 

He’d gotten there a few minutes early, and decided to get in the pool and warm up before Sander arrived, eager to practice the strokes from the first lesson. Stripping to his swimsuit, he jumped in. 

The coldness of the water shocked him again, but only for a brief moment before his body adjusted and he let the fluidity calm him. As he pushed off the side of the pool, he struggled for a moment to find his stroke. His limbs felt awkward, and his breath not yet rhythmic the way Sander had shown him. But he kept going, using the strength of his arms to propel him forward. Finally, he found his stride, gliding effortlessly now. It felt so good.

Robbe continued back and forth across the pool lane until his arms ached and he was out of breath. He held on to the edge, catching his breath. Still no sign of Sander. He glanced at the clock on the wall, which displayed a bright 21:20. 

I hope he’s okay, Robbe thought, trying to ignore the worry creeping inside of him. He tried to keep practicing his strokes, but he only got in one more lap before he pulled himself out of the pool and checked his phone. No messages from Sander.

He opened their chat and fired off a quick message.

Robbe: Hey, everything okay? I’m here

Robbe held the phone, waiting. Water dripped off of his hair and limbs, pooling on the tile beneath him. He started to shiver as the room’s AC chilled his damp skin. The message was left unread and Robbe sat down to wrap himself in a towel. Minutes went by, and still nothing. 

Robbe: I’m fine to reschedule our lesson if something came up. I just want to make sure you’re okay?

God, way to look desperate, Robbe, he scolded himself. As the minutes ticked by, Robbe felt more anxious, trying to keep himself from shaking. Finally, he stood up and started to pull his clothes on, his swimsuit underneath instantly dampening them. It was no use waiting here. Sander wasn’t coming.

…….

“Robbe, don’t be lame!” Amber whined, pouting as the rest of the group looked on.

It was Sunday and his friends were going to another swim meet, eager to watch Sander again. Just thinking his name made Robbe’s stomach drop. 

“You have to come, man,” Jens said, clapping him on the shoulder. He was trying to be enthusiastic, but his voice was soft as he looked at Robbe. He had noticed how down Robbe had been around their flat the last day or two and didn’t want to leave him alone to wallow. “We want you to come with us. It won’t be the same without you.”

Robbe appreciated Jen’s sensitivity, but he just didn’t think he could face Sander now. He’d never responded to Robbe’s messages on Friday, and since then, a host of destructive thoughts were taking over his mind. Surely, Sander had second-guessed the time they’d spent together and had to get away.

Sander was too busy to spend time with some stupid boy.

Robbe had freaked him out on their date (had it even been a date?) and didn’t want to see him again.

Robbe was acting too desperate. 

Surely Sander thought Robbe was stalking him.

He was just giving you swim lessons. Nothing more. 

These thoughts were playing on a painful loop inside Robbe’s mind and he couldn’t escape them. He felt so stupid. He couldn’t even tell his friends what was really wrong. They’d never believe him. And if they did, they’d get mad at him for somehow managing to ruin his chance with Sander.

His chance. He’d never even had that in the first place.

“So c’mon, we’re going,” Jana spoke up suddenly, pulling Robbe by the shoulder. “We’ll get you food after, Jens’ treat.”

“Hey!” Jens said, laughing as he caught up to them.

……

Robbe was wringing his hands so violently he had to stuff them in his pockets to stop. Walking into the pool again made his stomach drop, violently twisting as the memories of him and Sander here, in the dark of the night, flooded over him like a wave. He’d never be able to think about this place the same way again.

He followed behind his friends, trying to let their excited chatter about the meet distract him. He kept his head low, avoiding anyone’s gaze and forcing himself to not to do precisely the thing he wanted to: look for the tall, blonde-haired boy. 

Claiming a spot on the bleachers, he tucked himself into a row behind the girls, who were now discussing who Sander’s competition in the race would be. 

“....doesn’t even have a chance,” he heard Jana say, finishing her thought confidently. 

“But it really sucks,” Jana said, continuing. “Sander’s performance might be off today.”

Robbe looked up at her, trying to understand. He couldn’t help himself.

“Why do you say that?” He asked Jana, trying to mask his deep interest.

Jana turned to him. “Didn’t you hear?” As if he were as well-versed in Sander’s private life as every girl (and probably every boy) in their town was. As Robbe wished he was.  

But she continued. “Sander’s coach found out he went out on a date last week. He’s not supposed to date during his training because it’s supposedly ‘distracting,’” she did air quotes with her fingers, looking annoyed. “So when his coach found out, he put him on an even more intense training schedule and took away his phone. I swear, that guy is such a dictator. Maybe Sander doesn’t even want to go to the Olympics…”

Robbe didn’t know how Jana knew that information, but hearing it made Robbe’s skin go cold. That’s why Sander hadn’t shown up, or answered his messages. And now things were worse for Sander, and it was his fault.

Without thinking, he looked up at the starting lanes where the swimmers were starting to gather, focusing hard as their coaches hyped them up with enthusiastic pep talks. 

Immediately, a pair of eyes met his. Sander. Fierce and intense, Sander was staring directly at Robbe, silently trying to communicate across the room. He knew his friends were noticing this, but he couldn’t look away.

“Is he...is Sander looking over here?” Jana asked, questioning. “It looks like he’s looking at you...Robbe.”

Well, Robbe thought, I guess I have some explaining to do.

…...

[indianamoonshine]

solo’s copilot ♡ chapter three / “velvet things”

summary: she huffs with amusement, shaking her hand. "You're gonna get dicked down so good tonight." | the process of sex isn’t easy. and you had no idea what you’re doing. how the fuck do you avoid razor burn?

rating: m

"Ben Solo, don't you dare drop me!"

You try to sound as assertive as you could, but it was nearly impossible with the cackling erupting from you. It was the flirtatious kind of laughter - the giggles that only a partner could conjure from their lover. You squealed playfully and protested weakly by thumping your measly fists against his back. Once or twice he's had to settle you into place, grabbing ahold of your hips, and tugging you forward from eating dirt.

He's been walking leisurely back to base while tottering you over his shoulder, snickering also coming from him in a throaty way. "I'm not gonna drop you!" he returns and swats your ass for the third time. It evokes a yelp and a heated blush. He knows it, too.

"You don't know that!" you simper. "How many drinks have you had?"

Ben scoffs. "You do realize I have reflexes better than anyone you know, right?" he pauses, pleased with himself. And while you can't see his expression (from facing the ground, which very unfortunately obstructs your view), you can tell he's smirking. His voice becomes more lazy when he does and an octave lower; it's his ace-in-the-hand, but you'd never tell him that. "And besides, I'm gonna need you to be in your best condition tonight."

This elicits an instinctual whimper.

"Oh ho oh," Ben teases. "What was that?"

You pout, coquettishly of course, and wriggle in his arms. "You're making me blush."

"I intend to," he hums.

The hangar of the base is pitch-black, the only light illuminating from it from the hallway leading to the quarters. Everyone on base slept in a dormitory which was a little too crowded and, thus, woke everyone up from the slightest bit of noise. Maybe this wasn't the most ideal place to have sex - maybe this is why they made it so congested. Sex wasn't against regulation, but pregnancy got you kicked out of the Resistance and the majority didn't want to risk it. Not to say they didn't wander into the woods, disappear for a few hours, and then come back with flushed face.

Ben must've been thinking the same thing. "Should we go to the Falcon? Is that okay with you?" he pauses. "I mean, it being your first time and all..."

You try your best to swing forward to face him, but after a few attempts you give up with a sigh. He tries to contain his laughter while swinging you around and then lifting you against his chest. His forehead presses to yours and he kisses you slowly, deeply. It takes a lot for you to pull back and answer him.

"I just want you," you whisper against him.

You swear you feel his breath catch before he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. "That's what I wanted to hear," he mumbles, voice thick and skin burning beneath you. His hands grip your thighs more firmly, surely pressing his fingers into the fat so roughly that you'd bruise. Good.

You smile against his mouth. "I need to use the shower really quick."

He nods. "Of course," he breathes, heart accelerating in his chest. A wicked part of you hoped he was picturing you naked, skin wet, and flushed from heat.

"Don't take too long."

♡ ♡

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit."

As soon as you'd entered your dorm, you've stripped of your clothing and abandoned them on the floor while sprinting to the refresher. No time to waste. If you took too long you feared he'd loose interest and save it for a rainy day. Time was of the essence and that time was ticking away so loudly that you swore you could hear it. If you cracked open your head while sliding across the tile, so be it.

The shower was hot and it melted all the grime and grease you've accumulated throughout the day. You tried to focus on cleaning every crevice of your body. Every nook, every cranny - even the spots that were pretty much impossible to reach. You prayed that the sweet fragrance of the gel might cover any kind of hidden body odor you might not notice. You'd even used the gel strictly used for vaginal purposes, despite how many times you convinced yourself it was bad for you. And maybe it was, but the idea that you could smell there was almost unbearable.

The razor was taunting you as it lay on the shelf. Maybe Tasha was right - maybe you should shave. You weren't a stranger to the process, but it was a pain in the ass to deal with. You'd always gotten some sort of rash or bumps that made the entire ordeal simply fruitless so you vowed to stay away from it by whatever means. But you had this urge - this desire - to impress Ben that you were willing to go through the painfully detailed process.

Maybe Tasha had a way of avoiding razor burn. So you did the only thing you could think of.

Once stepped outside of the shower, you search for Tasha's contact on the commlink with fumbling hands. It takes a moment to connect and each beep sends a jolt of fear in your abdomen; what if she didn't answer? Who the fuck could you go to if Tasha wasn't available?

You almost give up just before she sounds at the other end of the line.

"Hey, you okay?" she asks, concern etching her tone. In the background is the raging noise of the The Water Hole. She probably thought you and Ben decided not to go through with it - at this point, you weren't sure if you'd be more disappointed or she would.

You groan, hands covering your face. "Tasha, I need help."

"What's up? Are you guys still..." she begins.

You cut her off. "Yes, yes. I'm trying to get ready and I have no idea how to avoid razor burn or whatever."

She can tell you're terrified by the way you interrupt her, your words stringing together so quickly that it was nearly impossible to understand what you were saying. She knew you well enough to know you were probably having the biggest panic attack of your life so she doesn't ask anymore questions.

"I'll be right there."

♡ ♡ ♡

Tasha has the passcode to your room so she waltzes in without buzzing.

She immediately gets to work, rummaging around your drawers and shelves as you sit in the center of the room, knees brought up to your chest. The towel is now dripping wet from your sopping head of hair, causing you to shiver from the dampness. Once she finds a bottle of oil, she tosses it to you and you manage to catch it as she fetches a jar of lotion, bacta gel, and the razor.

She kneels in front of you, presenting the two items. "Pirum oil stops bumps. Bacta gel avoids rash. And lotion makes it smooth." She sets the items on the ground. "Draw a bath real quick and shave underneath the water."

"Okay..." you say, heading to the tub and turning the knob. When you find her leaving for your bedroom you fearfully shriek, "Where are you going?!"

Tasha yells from the other room. "Do you have a t-shirt of Ben's?!"

"Uh..." you think for a minute, slipping into the water and begin to prep like she said to. "I don't think so."

You hear her groan a little, drawers slamming shut, and the mechanics of your closet doors opening. "What about a.." she stops short and then chuckles manically.

"What?!" you ask, cringing as you begin to shave. What a mess.

Tasha says cheerfully, "You're such a fuckin' liar!"

Any and all ideas as to what she means swim through your mind. What the hell was she talking about? "I don't...what?!" Maybe you did have a t-shirt of his?

"Ah ha!" she jubilantly exclaims. "You're more of a minx as you let on!"

You're becoming annoyed by how she dances around her mysterious finding. You growl, "Shut up and tell me!"

Footsteps quickly sound about the room and she returns with a pair of panties and a bra you'd never seen before in your life. They were brand new too, the security tag hanging limply and the price on it proclaiming a whopping 229 credits. It was a matching set, emerald green, with the thick straps holding up the cups graced with delicate lace. The panties were high waisted, lacy as well, but velvet and incredibly soft. By the cost alone you knew it was high end, but the fabric was stunning - you knew the difference between cheap and...well...not so cheap.

Your jaw drops and you almost cut yourself with the blade in your hand. "What the fuck."

Tasha giggles with excitement as you sit still in the water, body paralyzed with something you've never experienced before, and heart thumping violently against your ribcage. Were you having a heart attack? Is this what cardiac arrest feels like? She hands you a piece of parchment paper that's folded neatly with your name written on it by a skilled hand. Parchment. Calligraphy. Ben.

You blush. It creeps on your cheeks before you can even control it. You take a deep, unstable breath and carefully peel open the letter. You bite your lip as you read his message, his handwriting flawless and legible:

For when the time is right.

As you stare at the letter, you gulp and pray that Tasha can't see the drool of your pussy beneath the water. You fold the note closed and give it back to her with trembling hands as your way of giving her permission to read it. She does, eyes scanning the simple promise, and raises a hand to cover her mouth in awe. It takes a lot to impress Tasha, so you know that you're not overreacting when she raises her eyebrows and chuckles under her breath.

She huffs with amusement, shaking her hand. "You're gonna get dicked down so good tonight."

You want to interject but you can't. She's right and there's no use in denying it. Your fear has risen to inhumane levels and you imagine sirens going off in your head, your nerves alighting with an all consuming fire. He's about to give you a fucking orgasm and he hasn't even touched you yet. How could you possibly live up to his expectations? His experience was way out of your league and his ability to swoon you by just a handwritten note - something that wasn't ever practiced in society anymore - was overwhelming. He'd taken his time out to pick out this lingerie, to sit down and write you a goddamned letter, and you're, what? Shaving for him?

Tasha urges you with the wave of her hands. "Come on! Hurry up! You cannot keep this man waiting any longer."

So you do. And, strangely enough, you're satisfied with the result. Tasha's hoe-tip had actually worked and you were smooth as baby's bottom. Before she left, she picked out the perfume you "absolutely had to wear", kissed you on the cheek and said, "Tonight is gonna turn you into a slut and I cannot wait!" while walking out the door.

And then you were alone.

All is silent. Tasha can't hype you up anymore - that was solely up to you now. You stare at the lingerie laid out on the bed in all its exorbitant glory while feeling ridiculously inadequate of putting it on your body. You wanted to wear - really. But could you pull it off well enough to alight something in Ben? You try to convince yourself you could - that he bought you this with you in mind. He'd never seen you naked before, so how the hell would he know? What if his idea of you was way off? It probably was. Ben's laid with many women, including Rey, who had the kind of body that one saw in Twi'lek porn.

"Don't be a fucking coward," you scold yourself, reaching for the set.

You slip it on carefully to avoid any kind of rip in the seam and it hits you then that Ben had guessed your size and he'd guessed it...perfectly. Had he figured out your measurements just by watching you move? Had he gawked over you enough that he did the math in his head until he was satisfied? Did this mean he was aware of what you may look like underneath your clothes? Surely he had. And you didn't know what to think of that; how Ben's eyes have wandered and studied the way your ass curved or how your breasts filled out your tops.

Oh, gods. He knew your fucking body before laying bared hands on it.

But this swells you with pride. Suddenly, you felt more beautiful than you had in your life, like you were some sort of ethereal being that he worshipped silently. You tug on the bra as quickly as you can without damaging it and, sure enough, your breasts fit perfectly within the cups; no spillage or tightness that caused overflow on your back. The mirror against your wall reflects back at you a woman you didn't recognize because she looked confident. Satisfied. Even your skin glowed, all imperfections seemed to have disappeared along with the damage of your hair. It was luscious, full, and rich in color even after drying it on the highest temperature. Your eyes sparkled bright and bushy tailed as you gawk over your own reflection.

You couldn't wait anymore. You grab your robe (which is literally the most inconspicuous piece of clothing you wore, as it was littered with holes and frayed string) and sprint out into the hangar.

It was there where The Falcon sat alight, glowing with warmth, and waiting impatiently for your arrival.

[shadowsfascination]

Rewrite: Sonic YAAU - ch 3

I’m currently re-structuring my story about the Sonic gang in their young adulthood. When I came across this chapter, I HAD to rewrite it. I felt like in the original chapter, Shadow and Amy were out of character. I’d love to get some feedback.

YAAU: Young Adults AU

I hope you enjoy (:

____________________________________________

“Come on. I’ll take you home.” “Huh?” “You’re exhausted. You should get some rest.” Amy Rose nodded at him, agreeing. Even though she still was unable to reflect on the entire situation, let alone reflect on how she was feeling right now. Shadow knelt next to her on the grass and lifted her up in his arms. Her body felt a little heavy and numb and she only watched him to let this situation happen the way that it did. “Work with me, okay?” he said while he was trying to lift her. The muscles in his arms tightened. “What?” He sighed when he looked at her face and concluded she had no clue at all what he was talking about. His sense of responsibility came up when Amy subsided in the grass and it sharpened his senses. “Never mind. Pull your arms around me and hold on tight.” “Okaaay.” He dashed off into the distance with a high speed that she was used to because Sonic ran with her in his arms this fast many times before, but this… This was different. This time, there was no threat from an enemy to fight against like the many, many times in the past with Sonic. Shadow’s movement was fairly smooth as he dashed through the endlessly seeming dark night sky and the cold night breeze cooled her heated body. It was like she was dreaming. Everything felt so serene: the starry skies, the quiet calm of the night, the speed they were traveling at. She found herself oddly drawn to him. His smell, the lines that formed his silhouette and that attitude of him that made him so mysterious… Amy caught herself on the urge to break through the wall he built up and had felt like that for a long time. She just couldn’t stand it that anyone wouldn’t want to be friends with her, whoever it may be. She always tried to be friendly to others and not only sometimes Amy pushed too far in attempt to get close to them. Whilst pondering she played a little with his chest fur. I can feel his heartbeat.. Slowly she shifted her gaze to look at him. The warmth of his breath while exhaling created small damp clouds against the cold of the night that vanished as quickly as they had appeared. “Your heart rate is fast.” “Needless to say under the circumstances.” He calmly stated, eyes uninterruptedly focussed on the path before him. But while he seemed calm on the outside, his heartbeat sped up. “It’s increasing.” She whispered. He rolled his eyes at her. “Because you’re making me feeling highly uncomfortable.” He hissed and placed her back on her own two feet, having arrived at her house. “And why do you think that is?” … “Because you ran a couple of miles with me in your arms?” Amy guessed when she grew impatient. “But I’m not out of breath, now am I?” Amy thought about it: his condition was so good, he’d barely ever run out of breath. Suddenly it hit her. “Might it be… me?” She asked almost inaudible. He looked away from her and remained silent, cheeks reddening instantly and shoulders stiffening. “Shadow?” “You should get some rest, Amy.” Shadow let the chilly breeze cool down his flustered muzzle and scratched his squills in discomfort. Amy grasped his hands and thereby forced him to look at her. “I want you to stay.”

Suddenly they both felt stone cold sober again. “I can’t.” “Why?” “Just because.” “That’s not good enough, Shadow. Give me a proper reason.” “Amy, you’re drunk and I feel like I’ve drank too much as well. I can’t… you know? It’s not right.” “You’re the one who kissed me in the first place!” The agitation in her voice rose. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” “You’re sorry?!” – she questioned in dismay, volume of her voice running up. “Listen, Shadow, I don’t want to force you to come with me if that’s not what you want, but I don’t believe you don’t want to. We don’t have to… I mean… I’m not asking you to… sleep with me.” “Of course you’re not!” He blunted at her. Neither of them spoke. Time seemed frozen and her head spun a little. It was like she had a fever, flushing from hot to cold and back again. She then realized what it was and gagged. “Blast!” Amy rushed inside to make it in time for the bathroom and was followed by Shadows footsteps. How inconvenient to follow me at this time. But there wasn’t enough time for her to shout to leave her alone. The door stayed closed though until the sound the doorknob disturbed the one of the flushing toilet and running water she rinsed her face with. “You all right?” He put a hand on her back and softly rubbed it. Looking up to him, her face was dripping, her eyes prickly and red. He grabbed a towel for her, but found his attempts to dry her face for her were interrupted. “Give me that.” She took it from him, took a seat on the edge of the bathtub and sighed when she observed herself in the mirror. She felt horrible and now also looked it. “Sorry. That wasn’t necessary. I just wished that you didn’t have to see me like this.” “I don’t mind.”

For a minute she wanted to protest, insulted by the insinuation that he didn’t mind her feeling sick, but then swallowed it. Knowing him, this was probably a poor choice of words and maybe it meant that he wasn’t disturbed by this side of her. It didn’t drive him away. Amy freshened herself up a little and flushed her mouth with eucalyptus-flavoured mouthwash to rid herself of the bad taste of vomit. Shadow leaned against the tiled wall of her bathroom in silence, eyeing her in discretion.

“Shadow, why did you kiss me tonight?”

“We hit the glass too hard.” He raised one eyebrow and smirked at her.

“You’re avoiding my question. Try again, hedgehog.”

“I gues… You’re pleasant to be around. I seem to enjoy your company lately. I didn’t mean for it to happen.” “Honestly? I didn’t notice until tonight.” “I knew you didn’t. I’m sorry for kissing you out of the blue… but when you returned my gestures…” “It’s okay. I like spending time with you as well.”

“Okay you say.” He sounded somewhat disappointed. “Until tonight, I never really thought about you like this, but suddenly there was this tension…” “I already told you: we both drank too much.” “Not that!” In a gust she closed in on him. Chaos, she smelled great! “Let me try something here.” She then slowly closed in on his face, her hot breath provoking just enough sensation to call it ticklish on his lips. She softly kissed them, pressing her body against him smoothly. He spontaneously forgot how to breathe for a second and let an ‘wow’ escape his lips, followed by a chuckle.   “What?!”

“Nothing.” Shadow whispered in between a breath to place his hands behind her back to kiss her again- with more confidence this time. He now eagerly kissed her lips, leaving her longing for more of him. Playing with his chestfur again, Amy worked her lips down to his jawline and neck, her fingertips firmly alongside the quills on his back. She noticed his breathing became irregular and could feel his heartrate increase again. Just when she wondered if the tension would push them to take a next step, he opened his mouth: “Amy…” “Huh?” “Let’s go sleeping for now.” An almost inaudible ‘oh’ escaped her lips. “Let’s take things slow. I want to treat you with the respect you deserve. And that means that we have to stop right here, not in the last place because you look exhausted and I have to admit: even I’m beat.” “Even you?” “Even me.” She smiled at him. Feeling playful, she couldn’t stop herself from kissing him again, but he was quick to break away from it. “Stop that.” His smile vanished, expression replaced with the blank she was used to, even though on the inside he was smug that she couldn’t stop herself from kissing him. “You’re so disciplined!” “Stop teasing me. We need to get some rest.” “You’re secretly such a gentleman.” “Don’t tell anyone, though.” She giggled. “I’ll carry you upstairs.” He put her in bed, pulled the blankets over her to pet her forehead and turned around to leave the bedroom. He kept amazing her with the uncommon way he acted sometimes. It intrigued her. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” “Bu-“ “Amy, I’m in the military. I sleep in odd places all the time. I think I can handle your couch.” “At least know where the blankets are, you stubborn hedgehog.” She said while handing one to him. “Thanks. Sweet dreams.” “You too.”

[seungminity]

Cold Lips | Kim Seungmin

↠ Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Reader (Gender Neutral)

↠ Word Count: 1.8k

↠ Genre: Fluff, Suggestive, Established Relationship Au, hints of College Seungmin

↠ Warnings: Suggestive. Cursing. Mentions of shoving an ice cube down someone's throat, but like, lovingly? There’s a boner in there somewhere.

↠ A/N: i honestly don’t even know what the fonk this is. this is literally just an excuse to write making out with seungmin bc uhmmmmmm, making out with seungmin??? yeah u get it.

The clock reads 2:34 a.m. the third time you glance at it, which gets under your nerves because time seems to move too quickly considering you’re not yet even halfway done with the 6th out of 10 paragraphs you need to write for this philosophy paper. It’s still due two days from now, but you wanted to finish it by tonight (morning) because when in college, you’ve learned that putting aside an assignment will only lead to piles and piles of paperwork, which will lead to nights and nights of breakdowns and acne. Fun.

Your spine cracks when you lean back to stretch, relieving a bit of the tension, but the stingy pain doesn’t fade away when you retreat back to your original position. Your neck and back hurt, and your bum feels numb from how long you’ve been sitting down.

The words glaring back at you seem to blur together, and a wave of sleepiness washes over you. You mentally scold yourself for putting this off, but at the time, you were too busy binging another k-drama series that your boyfriend, Seungmin, pulled you into. Letting out a big yawn, you reach across the piles of notes for your mug.

It seems to be mysteriously empty, which isn’t all that mysterious considering you’ve been chugging its contents like water for the past 3 hours, but you digress.

“Min-ah, I’m out of coffee!” The e’s drag out, and despite all your huffing and puffing, your boyfriend doesn’t look up from his own laptop. He too procrastinated writing this essay and has decided to spend the night at your apartment so the two of you could work on it together.

“Minnie,” You coo, resting your head on his leg from your spot on the floor. Seungmin instinctively runs his fingers through your hair lovingly before he resumes his typing, not once looking away from his screen.

You call out to him again in hopes that he’ll get the message and walk to the kitchen to make you some more of your precious—what he calls—hot bean water, but he ignores you and continues typing. How dare he?

“I need coffee.” You huff, but he still doesn’t move from his position. You’re feeling cranky and sleepy, and this stupid paper is not magically writing itself, which is just offensive, really. Flopping down on the table, you release a drawn-out whine of coffeeeeeeeeee.

“Baby, just get up and make some,” He seems to contemplate before reaching over for his own mug and placing it in front of you. “Make me some too.”

Technically, it’s his turn to refill your mugs since you both have been alternating back and forth to the kitchen for your coffee fills, so what gives? You voice this to him as a complaint, and his answer does nothing to relieve the dull ache in your eyes. God, do you need coffee.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

Its silent while you wait for him to elaborate. Because, because what? You slap his outstretched thigh in annoyance and he yelps out, finally looking up from his essay to frown at you.

“What was that for?” He complains.

“It’s your turn, Minnie!”

“I’ll go twice in the next rounds.” He proposes, before leaning over and pressing a kiss to your head. He resumes his typing, which is a good thing because then, he can’t see the heat that spreads across your face.

You get up with both of your mugs, giving up on arguing because you’re whipped for Kim Seungmin and will probably do anything he asks of you as long as he repays it with a forehead kiss.

“Seungmin, we’re fucked.”

The boy looks up from his laptop to see you pouting and holding the two mugs like shopping bags, both empty of his hot bean water—he learned the term from Jisung—which concludes that you either broke the coffee machine again, or you really just wanted him to be the one to fill your coffee mugs, which would make no sense because he already said he’d go twice so-

“Were out of coffee!” You announce it like it’s the most horrible thing, and it startles him a bit. Regaining composure, Seungmin assures you that you guys don’t need coffee anyway, you’ve both already consumed about 4 mugs separately.

“It’s easy for you to stay awake without coffee Minnie, you already stay up late playing with Felix, its why your eye bags have grown—hey don’t look at me like that—but I need coffee! My body isn’t used to staying up without caffeine!”

He decides to ignore your comment about his eye bags, you’ll probably force him to wear some kind of face mask anyway, and proceeds to take the mugs out of your hands before you start crankily swinging them around and breaking all of your furniture.

“Just do what you can tonight and finish up tomorrow morning, babe.” He advises, leading you back to your seat on the floor. He never really understood why you preferred doing all your work on the cold tiles rather than the couch, but you once said something about the coldness keeping you awake.

“But I need to finish this essay.” You whine.

Seungmin only smiles knowingly at you before placing another kiss on the space between your eyebrows.

“Google how to stay awake then.”

This prompts you to do just that, and you scroll through different websites of 5 tips on how to stay awake to even a wikiHow guide with pictures.

You finally stumble on a trick that you think might work, and move to venture back into the kitchen.

When you return to your seat, it’s with a cup that holds bits of crushed ice. Piece by piece, you put a small shard in your mouth and chew. Immediately, you feel more awake than when you were just drinking coffee. With this newfound energy, you continue working on your paper, stopping occasionally to plop another piece into your mouth.

crunch crunch crunch

And it is because of this spec-

crunch crunch crunch

specific factor in Kant’s-

crunch crunch crunch

theory are we able to conclude that-

crunch crunch crunch

oh my fhckign god iuwech fvoiumacxiahscmv

Seungmin stares at the keyboard smash on his screen. It’s been about fifteen minutes since you’ve realized this new hack of yours, and now every five seconds, you loudly chew another ice cube.

He doesn’t usually mind loud chewing, and it doesn’t annoy him as much as it annoys you, but ironically, the situation seems to have switched because now all he wants to do is grab another ice cube and shove it down your throat—lovingly of course, because you are the love of his life, but still-

crunch crunch crunch

Oh my god, he cannot do this anymore. Seungmin rips his laptop off of him, scrambling to get up. It’s almost 3 a.m. at this point, and he just wants to finish this stupid essay without the sound of your obnoxious chewing.

He freezes when his eyes settle on you.

Pouring another cube into your mouth from the cup, Seungmin watches as the ice has formed a permanent layer of sheen over your lips. You don’t notice him staring, which is a good thing because now he can’t seem to take his eyes off your mouth. Over time, the hue of your lips has changed into a brighter shade of red due to the coldness of the ice.

Seungmin knows you don’t have sensitive teeth, because you bite your ice cream and he always judges you for it, but the lack of feeling you have in response to the cold in your mouth has enabled you to eat ice cube after ice cube.

With your impatience, he watches as you reach for the cup and put two more pieces into your mouth, and the sight of your cheeks full and the small drips of water spilling from the corner of your lips has Seungmin shifting in his seat to fix the sudden southwards rush of his blood.

Shit.

You don’t notice the predicament you’ve unknowingly placed your boyfriend in. You’re too busy scanning over the ninth paragraph of your essay and looking for any spelling or grammar mistakes. The ice has worked wonders with keeping you awake.

You pour another ice from the cup and start chewing. From the corner of your eyes, you see Seungmin scramble off his seat and settle beside you, but you don’t think too much of it. 

Which is why it comes as a surprise when you feel his hand snake around your jaw and turn your head towards him.

There are no words that can accurately describe the sudden rush of butterflies in your stomach at the sight of your boyfriend staring at your mouth with extreme concentration. The only fitting words seem to be oh fuck, but that doesn't seem romantic enough.

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he tilts your head the slightest bit and slants his lips against your own. There’s an overwhelming sensation of warmth that floods your mouth in contrast to the cold bits of chewed up ice. Seungmins hands snake across your jaw to angle your head, while the other one wraps around your thigh and tugs one leg over his lap.

His teeth nip against your lips, causing you to release a sudden whimper that he just swallows. Your hands smooth over his chest before finding home at the nape of his neck, tugging and pulling at the hairs. His tongue maneuvers into the crevices of your mouth, and you seem to forget the melted ice that gathered below your tongue because before you know you it, drips of water spill from the corners of your lips.

Seungmin grunts at the feeling of water dripping out of your mouth and into his, before pressing you closer, chest to chest and thighs wrapped around him. The pressure of your hips against the stiffness in his sweats makes him grip your jaw tighter.

He lets out a low moan that has your stomach twisting at the sound, and just like every other time you’ve made out with your boyfriend, you conclude that Kim Seungmin will definitely be the death of you.

When he pulls away, his eyes are dark and filled with lust. You’re guessing it mirrors your own.

“Fuck.” He groans.

Your lips are dark and bruised, and confusion of where the hell this all came from fly out the window when he grips your hips down to grind on him. The whine that you let out would embarrass you if you weren’t so preoccupied with the way your nails dig into his shoulders.

Seungmin reaches behind you to take another ice cube. The shuffle of movement allows you to breathe, which isn’t enough (it’s never enough when it comes to him) before he’s back in his original place with you straddling him, centered over his hips. He wipes his thumb over your lips with one hand, and he pulls your mouth apart to shove the ice cube in.

“Bite, baby.”

His voice is low and raspy, and it does things to your insides. You chew a few times, enough for the ice to shatter into tiny bits across your mouth. And then he’s angling your head to roughly connect your lips again.

You never do finish your essay that night.

notes♡: ahah so uhmm... yeah 👉👈 also im pretty sure chewing ice is actually bad for your health so probably ᵈᵒⁿᵗ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃʰᵃʰ

[slashiest-slasher]

So like could I ask for Thomas Hewitt with a breeding kink pretty please? (Love your stuff)

Oh man... I don't exactly have a breeding kink (mostly bc i cant get pregnant), but hoooh, one (1) Thomas Hewitt may do whatever he likes to me.

nsfw fic under cut, fem s/o bc im not a fan of even pretend kinky mpreg

So your new neighbors... They sure are something. Warm, kindly, a bit messed in the head. All ways you could describe them, but it was all a bit more than that. Luda Mae is a strict but motherly woman, and you can respect that. Hoyt is an asshole, but he cares about his family, you can also respect that. Monty's just a poor creep who can't get far in his wheelchair and you're grateful for that. In their trailor, Henrietta is off, but extremely sweet and doting, and Kathryn makes some great tea and is a joy to chat with.

And then there's Thomas. Luda Mae's massive, mysterious son who wore a mask covering the lower half of his face. She snips at you when she catches you staring, saying it's rude and the boy can't help being different. And of course you have to clear up that isn't why you are staring. That Thomas certainly has intense eyes and big, strong arms.

That's when Luda Mae decides to adopt you. You still work over on your dairy farm, but as far as she is concerned, you are always welcome at the Hewitt house, no exception. She even gives you a key to front door.

Maybe it was because there was someone who fancied her son. Maybe it was because she could tell you really didn't care about their dark family secret.

Cannibalism... Well you didn't have any strong feelings either way, so you simply continue on milking cows and hauling hay when you hear screaming from miles away, where their house was. None of your business, really.

When escapees run through your property, it's as simple giving them something to drink to calm them down, then garroting them when they had their back turned. You aren't a fan of having to clean blood off your tile. So you snap their necks and wait for Thomas to come collect the bodies after giving the house a ring.

You don't eat people, but you can't exactly let someone escape and spread news about what the Hewitt's were doing.

And of course, it gives you the perfect opportunity to ogle Thomas' bulky muscles when he hauls them away. Maybe even get him to sit down a moment for some sweet tea or water, since their dead either way. Thomas usually declines, since Hoyt isn't a fan of him taking his sweet time.

But it has been a sweltering day today, and when Thomas stumbles into your kitchen, you can tell it's been a bad day. His shirt's soaked in sweat, it looks like he pulled a muscle, and he is absolutely exhausted. So you offer him a sit down, some sweet tea, and maybe a sandwich.

Which, today, he accepts.

Thomas isn't much of a talker, so you idly chat enough for the both of you. About how the animals and sales are going, and how he has to come and see the calf that just got birthed a few days ago at some point. Thomas just nods and stares.

But today is a day of changes, and what you want to change most of all is how Thomas regards you. Luda Mae has had enough of you tip toeing around how you feel and wants you to confess for Christ sake! She wants to make sure her Tommy's going to be taken care of once she's gone.

So you bat your eyelashes, place a hand on Tommy's arm and ask him if he's seeing anyone.

Which... Okay, it flies right over his head. Clearly, yes, he can see you in front of him. He may be a bit tired from the chase, but his eyes work just fine.

It doesn't even hit him when you sit on the table, and brush his hair from his face and clear up that you're asking if he's dating someone. No, no he's not. You know this, so why are you asking?

He clears his dishes up and goes to living room to get the body, but Jesus Christ you have had enough, so you grab him by the sleeve and tell him that you like him. As in, you wanted to date him, like him.

As in you wanted him to kiss you and fuck you senseless, like you.

Which is when he finally connect two and two, and he jumps back. You? Like him? Of all people? Are you completely sure? Maybe you've just been alone on this farm for too long-

But you tug him forward so he's standing between your spread legs, and run your hands up his body - pausing to grope that meaty chest - and pull him down by his face to kiss you. It's entirely too rough and had too much teeth, but Christ, Thomas jumps right in. His hands shake as they grab you by the waist and pull you closer, one going up to twine in your hair.

You can feel his length get hard and press up against your crotch, and you can't help but rocking your hips and trying to get his fly undone.

Thomas isn't the kind of guy to jump right into things, but this is his first time, and you're so warm and adamant, and make him so... Happy? Is that the right word? No one outside of his family has ever cared for him, and you were always there for the family. One of few people who didn't care. You killed for them.

And now you wanted Thomas to take you up against your kitchen table.

He flips your over, your front pressed down to the table, and pulls your jeans down just enough to get to your pussy. He slips in a finger, to feel how hot and wet you are.

You moan and squirm under his weight when he presses up against your wall, so he adds in another finger and fucks his fingers in and out of you roughly. It leaves you breathless and thrust back against him. Heat surges through your gut when he leans over you, breathing heavily in your ear.

"Thomas," you whine. "I need you, fuck me, please!" Screw extensive foreplay. You could feel how big he was earlier, and you need that in you immediately. And if it's going to hurt, then so be it.

That sets him off, tugging himself out of his pants. He holds his leaking head up to your slit, teasing before thrusting in roughly. It's too big, too much, too fast, but Thomas doesn't care and sets a brutal pace. It's his first time, and he's hitting you in just the right spot, so you can't blame him too much.

"F-fuck, Thomas!" You stutter out, tears welling in the corner of your eyes as you grip your table cloth. The pace he set was brutal, but you don't care.

He wraps his arms around your waist, and makes small noises in your ear. He makes sure to hold you close, and fuck, you can feel all those muscles working.

"O-oh, oh, oh! Fill me up, f-fuck me full of your babies!" It just slips out of your mouth. If that isn't moving too fast, then you don't know what was. Hell, you didn't even want children, but Thomas did things to you. Like wanting him to fuck you hard enough to knock you up.

He pauses for a moment, the words sinking in. And you think he's to going to pull out and head home, but he doesn't. Thomas starts fucking you faster than he was, forceful enough to cause you to choke. His breathing is laboured, and you can hear him trying to moan out something that vaguely sounds like your name.

"C-C'mon Tommy. You're doing me so good," you gasp out a moan as he hits you just right, making your eyes roll back into your head. You can hold off for a little bit, but you're nearly right there. "Fuck! Oh Christ! Cum in me, cum 'til I'm gonna have your kids! Oh! Oh!"

It's that ragged, final thrust, and the feeling of his cum filling you up and spilling out around him that sets out off, sobbing out his name.

Both of you collapse on the table, but Thomas tries to keep himself propped up to avoid crushing you. He doesn't slip you, and keeps pressing forward into you even though he's going soft. When he can no longer keep himself in, a rush of cum follows after.

The sensation of it dripping out of you, down your legs, and pooling around your feet sends shivers down your spine. Thomas holding you open with a finger to watch certainly doesn't help. He rubs a hand along your back, and moves your hair aside to press a kiss to your cheek.

"Y-you go ahead Tommy, I'm going to be here a while," you chuckle, too uncertain to get up on your feet quite yet. "You, sir, have ruined me for any other man. It seems you're stuck with me now."

He makes a warm noise and nuzzles your neck, before standing upright and zipping his pants back up. You walks around before giving you one last kiss, and heads into the living room to get the body.

Christ, you just hope he didn't actually get you pregnant. That'll be one hell of a thing to try and explain to Luda Mae.

[wxlfstxrx]

My Love (Chapter Two)

I gotta admit, I don't really speak French, so thank you to @slytherinqween for helping me out with translations!! I was so nervous to write this, but I hope you guys like it. Special thanks to @gaeilgelupin and @lumxsmywxrld​ for dealing with my anxious ramblings about this fic the past few days <3 and of course @lumosinlove​ for answering questions I had!! :)

Song in this chapter is Mystery of Love by Sufjan Stevens. Sorry, the actual song that inspired this fic will only come in the next chapter HAHAHA.

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

“Uhh, Harz, are you alright?”

Finn turned his head and found a pair of concerned baby blue eyes staring at him from around the corner of the entryway. He swallowed once, twice, and not trusting his own voice, he shook his head. He turned back and thumped his head against the door again before flipping over and sliding down onto the cold floor. 

Leo’s shadow loomed over him as he approached, crouching before him in a perfect Asian squat that would’ve been comical had he not felt so utterly torn apart at that moment.

“You wanna talk about it?” Leo tried to keep his tone light, but the slight waver in his voice at the sight of his flatmate betrayed him.

“No, yes, I don’t know,” Finn choked out. “I’m sorry, you should go eat if you’re hungry, yeah?”

“Ahh, you know I was just teasing you about the book thing, hmm?” Leo ducked his head to try to get Finn to look at him but he was staring at his hands, which he was wringing together desperately. Anything to distract him, to prevent himself from crumbling completely. 

He nodded, biting his lip hard to stop himself from making a sound as the tears slipped down his cheeks. He pulled his knees up to his chest and folded his arms on top of them, burying his face in the crook of his elbow. He was shivering, whether from the cold or the overwhelming emotions he couldn’t tell, but he curled up tighter into himself as he finally gave in to his emotions. He burst into heaving sobs, the pain in his chest agonising as he thought of the boy he loved walking out of the door just minutes ago.

“Mon dieu,” Leo exhaled shakily as he watched Finn break apart, his heart squeezing tightly. He let his knees fall on the ground, ignoring the coldness of the marbled tiles as he placed his hand on Finn’s arm hesitantly. “C’mere, Harz, c’mere.”

He gently pried Finn’s hands away from himself, and pulled him up slightly so he was sitting on his heels, knees between Leo’s, and wrapped his arms around the still crying boy. Finn barely registered the light threading of fingers through his hair, pushing his curls away from his forehead, and the hand that was soothingly rubbing circles on his back as he buried his face in Leo’s soft cotton tee.

“Je suis là, hmm Harz? Cry it out, it’s okay,” Leo whispered into Finn’s ear as he held him tighter. “Je suis là, I’ve got you.”

******

Finn wasn’t sure how much time had passed before his knees started hurting, and he resigned himself to standing up, tugging Leo up with him. His legs were wobbly and he just stood there for a moment, clutching onto Leo’s arms. 

Wordlessly, he broke apart and nodded his head towards the bathroom, not waiting for a response as he shuffled out of the freezing entryway, sniffling. As he shut the door with a click, he heard Leo moving towards the kitchen to heat up their already cold dinner. 

He braced his hands on the edge of the sink, looking at his quickly bruising knuckles under the bright white light. Lifting his gaze to the mirror on the wall in front of him, he gasped softly. He looked a right mess. His face was blotchy and red, almost completely hiding the freckles littered over his cheeks and nose. His eyes were puffy and swollen, and the bright amber was muted into a dull brown. His lips had been bitten raw and his hair was sticking up in all directions, even more untameable than Pots’. 

Staring at his reflection, he bit back another sob as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. His vision swam. He lifted a palm to clamp down over his mouth and another to his chest, pressing in as hard as he could. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to calm down.

After several minutes of heavy breathing, he turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his face, again and again until he felt his fringe dripping wet. He lifted his thin singlet to dry his face clumsily, not caring that it got damp, and unlocked the bathroom door. 

When he approached the table, he saw that Leo had reheated their takeout and was seated on one of the chairs, plate empty in front of him. His legs were crossed on the chair and his right elbow was resting on the table, his head leaning into his palm. With his left hand, he was using his phone seemingly casually, but the way his right hand was roughly carding through his messy sandy hair, as well as his tense shoulders told Finn otherwise.

He took the seat opposite Leo’s, and the younger boy placed his phone face down on the table. His furrowed brows and darting eyes sent a wave of guilt cascading through Finn, and he attempted a smile, which was frankly more of a fractional upwards pull at the corner of his mouth. Still, Leo’s pursed lips softened into a smile, and he nodded at Finn, scooping some food onto the redhead’s plate, for which he nodded in thanks. 

“Eat, Harz.”

They ate in almost complete silence, save for Leo’s Spotify playlist that was playing through the speaker on top of the television console. As Mystery of Love wafted from the living room through the apartment, Finn whispered a barely audible “Thanks, Leo”. He received a glass of whiskey on the rocks from across the table in response.

“Aren’t drinking, are you, big boy?” He raised an eyebrow at the other boy, pointedly looking at the identical glass in his hand. “You know you aren’t legal yet.”

Leo leaned forward and smirked, “At least I can hold my liquor better than you, big boy.”

Finn couldn’t help but break into a smile at Leo’s cheek and raised his glass to meet his, finding some comfort in the soft clink that followed.

“It’s… It’s alright if you don’t wanna talk about it, yeah? We can, you know, put on a movie, or you can go have an early night if you want to,” Leo suggested a few minutes later, through a mouthful of spaghetti. He swallowed before continuing, “On me doit pas parler de cela maintenant.” 

Finn gave Leo a withering look, while secretly trying to control the rising hormones in him from hearing Leo speak his first language, “You know I don’t speak French.”

Leo hid his bashful smile behind his glass. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”

Finn’s features relaxed and he gave a weak smile, shrugging and returning his gaze to his spaghetti, prodding it with his fork.

Conversation flowed slightly easier between the two boys after that, though Leo tactfully avoided mentioning Logan or the events from earlier that evening.

After their usual routine of washing up, they retreated to the couch to watch Sherlock on Finn’s Netflix account, clutching their glasses of whiskey. Despite the fact that they actually had a decently sized couch, Finn realised that Leo had planted himself at a decently close proximity to him, although they didn’t actually have any contact between them.

Not even ten minutes into the episode, Finn struggled to stay focused, mind drifting to the events that had transpired just two hours ago.

If he hadn’t known for sure earlier before he had kissed Logan, he knew for sure now what the other boy meant to him. The ball of fire that blazed within him at the thought of Logan collided harshly with the shards of ice that pierced his chest when he had left, and Finn knew for sure that with everything he had, he loved the boy with the mahogany curls, often squashed flat under a cap, with the lopsided grin that appeared whenever they were laughing at some inside joke, with the green eyes that reminded him of glimmering emeralds, especially when they caught the sunlight.

Breaking out of his trance for a moment, he glanced surreptitiously at Leo from the corner of his eyes, and found that he was staring right back.

He shifted his gaze back to the television, heart pounding. Was Logan right, then? Did Leo really have feelings for him? I— I see the way he looks at you too, you know? Was this what he had meant? 

Leo had only ever been a teammate to him. Nothing more than friendly. At least, that’s what he had thought.

Suddenly, all the times he had happened to catch Leo’s eye before the other boy turned away quickly made sense. All the times in the locker rooms after games that he had injured himself, and Leo was always hovering nearby, with Logan as Remus assessed his injuries. All the times on the ice, as Finn and Logan had behaved their usual boisterous selves, and Leo had just watched on silently. It all sort of made sense in that moment. 

Leo had moved into Finn’s apartment only recently, when he had secretly admitted to not having enough savings to stay in a hotel, as most rookies usually did. Finn all but grabbed Leo’s bags and drove them to his place after training that day. He simply couldn’t allow the baby of their team to be homeless, not on his watch. Since then, these incidents had occurred more frequently, and Finn had felt some sort of unspoken tension between the two of them, although for the life of him he couldn’t understand why. 

They had developed a comfortable routine, and sometimes while doing the dishes together, Leo’s hands would brush his as they passed the dishes between them to be dried and kept. Other times, they’d be watching shows on the television, not unlike what they were doing then, and Leo would sit less than a foot away from him, propping his feet up on the small coffee table in front of them, ankles crossed. More times than he could count, Finn had fallen asleep on the couch, and woken up in the mornings to a blanket draped over him, and his phone plugged into his charger on top of the television console. 

Finn had always just assumed that Leo was being his usual friendly self, and repaying him back for giving him a roof over his head. Then again, now that he thought about it, it was strikingly obvious. 

He supposed he should’ve been shocked, and perhaps a tad awkward or uncomfortable, but he realised with a start that a violent blush had spread through his face. He brought a hand up to his cheek, feeling its warmth. He quickly picked up his forgotten glass on the coffee table and lifted it to his lips.

Leo tore his gaze away from the television screen to glance at him, and quirked an eyebrow. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Finn choked on his big gulp of his drink, pounding his fist into his chest to alleviate the sudden burning sensation spreading through him. 

Coughing a few times, he got off the couch and stepped over Leo’s feet carefully, heading to the kitchen to get two glasses of water. He returned back to the couch, offering Leo a glass, who took it appreciatively.

The blonde boy paused the episode of Sherlock, but stayed silent, giving him time to organise his thoughts. 

“I—” Finn started, then paused again, taking a sip of water to calm his nerves. “I don’t know,” sigh, “it’s just, things with— with Logan, y’know? I can barely comprehend what he…what’s going on. Sometimes he acts all interested in girls that we meet at parties, drapes himself all over them and dances with them, yeah? But then sometimes, he— Sometimes it seems like there’s something there. I don’t know.”

He paused in his tirade and hung his head, feeling embarrassed and very, very guilty for confiding in Leo about Logan, especially now knowing that the other boy had taken interest in him. 

He shook his head, mumbling, “I’m sorry. I don’t think you’d want to hear all this. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

There was a pause, and then, “Harz, mon chéri… I— god.” Finn turned his head slowly to see Leo lean against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling.

Finn watched Leo’s blonde hair falling over his blue eyes, like sandy shores taming the crashing waves of the ocean. He watched his long lashes flutter as he blinked against the harsh light above them, watched as he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, following the lines and planes of his still boyish but increasingly maturing features down, down to his exposed neck. He watched the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, and then the shaky rise and fall of his chest.

Leo was beautiful. Try as he might, Finn couldn’t deny his feelings for the younger boy.

“You… You love him, don’t you?” Leo lolled his head to the side, still resting on the back of the couch but now looking directly at Finn. He could see the pain in his eyes, clear as day.

“Yeah,” came his reply, instantly, but so soft that he wasn’t sure Leo actually heard it, until he heard the other boy’s exhale.

“Oui, oui… I guessed so,” Leo smiled sadly. “I just… I— I get it.”

“Nutty, I… You… You’re wonderful. You’re so, so kind, and so, so funny. God, you make me laugh so much. You— You take care of me, though I’m the one almost turning twenty-one here,” Leo chuckled wetly as Finn snorted, his lips pulling into a small smile. “Really, I used to be… I used to be lonely before you moved in, y’know? It was a mess between— between Lo and I. I was so happy when he got drafted, and then— then he chose to stay with Dumo, and I was… Well. But then, you came up to me one day, saying you needed a place to stay,” Finn smiled at the memory, “And I was so happy to have you move in. I wouldn’t have wished for it to be anyone else.” 

He looked up from his lap, and saw Leo seated cross legged on the couch, facing him. His eyes were bright with tears, but he held them back, staring back unwaveringly.

“But… But you don’t like me, oui?” Leo looked so heartbroken that Finn wanted to… He didn’t know what he wanted to do, but he wanted to make the pain go away, somehow. But how could he help Leo, if he didn’t even know how to fix the gaping hole in his own heart? Leo lifted his chin, almost challengingly, “I’m not stupid, I know where this is going.”

“No, but… But here’s the thing. I do,” Finn whispered, unable to meet Leo’s gaze. He just kept wringing his hands together in his lap, digging his nails into his skin hard enough to leave crescent shaped marks. “I like you.”

“Hein?”

“You’re right. Logan and I go way back. We’ve been best friends for four years, and— and I’ve loved him since I met him. But you, Nut,” Finn ran his fingers through his own auburn hair, “You are— I can’t stop thinking about you. Leo,” The other boy’s breath hitched, “Why does something that seems so wrong, feel so so right? Am I wrong? Am I… Am I wrong for feeling this way? Why can’t I get you out of my head?”

Finn stared at Leo with such an intensity, his huge amber eyes searching with desperation for some sort of answer, that Leo couldn’t help himself.

“Oh, Finn,” He pulled the shorter boy into an embrace, inhaling deeply and catching the faint scent of his shampoo. Finn was tucked into Leo’s chest, with his legs resting on top of Leo’s left thigh and dangling over the edge of the couch. Leo’s right leg was bent at an angle, squished awkwardly between the back of the couch and Finn’s back.

Despite the uncomfortable position they were in, they stayed that way for a while, neither of them wanting to break apart.

“Harz,” Leo’s voice was soft, buried in Finn’s red locks, “I… Since I joined the Lions, it was always you. You have no idea, mon chéri. I was drawn to you instantly. Your flaming red hair, your ridiculous game traditions, the way you can’t hold your liquor to save your fucking life.”

Both boys snorted at that.

“I never… I never dared to tell you. Especially when you offered me a place to stay. I couldn’t fuck that up by letting my feelings run wild. I didn’t even— I didn’t even know if you swung the same way, yeah? I was so afraid. But then I saw the way you’d look at Tremzy when you thought nobody was looking. I saw. And it ruined me, but then sometimes you acted… I wondered. I wondered if I’d ever have a chance. I wondered about what it’d be like if you gave me a chance.”

Leo’s hand stilled in Finn’s hair, simply holding him for several heartbeats. Eventually, he sighed, dropping his hands to Finn’s shoulders and pushing him back slightly, holding him at arm’s length, so they could look each other in the eyes.

“Finn, there’s nothing wrong with having feelings for two people at the same time. At least, not completely, not exactly,” He shrugged, “I think that… I think it’s perfectly reasonable. As long as there’s proper— y’know, communication, between the involved parties, and there’s some sort of consensus or compromise, hmm? Communication and understanding are always key, for sure.”

Leo smiled fondly at Finn, and he felt the ice in his heart melt.

“Love is love, is what I always believe in. If you have feelings for two people at the same time, so be it. But do things the right way, oui? There’s always something worth fighting for.”

It was only much later that night that Finn managed to fall asleep, Leo’s words and Mystery of Love resounding in his ears.

******

The sound of his phone ringing on his nightstand woke Finn up abruptly in the middle of a particularly strange dream. Rubbing his eyes, he pushed himself up on one elbow and leaned over, wincing as he felt his back crack.

Hoping that the ringing wasn’t too loud that it would wake Leo up in the next room, he unplugged his phone from the charger, eyes still half-closed. It was five forty-eight in the morning. What on earth…? Finn hit the answer button.

“‘Lo?” His voice was raspy, a combination of the crying, whiskey and sleep. How wonderful.

“Harzy, have you seen Logan?” Dumo’s worried voice crackled through the phone. “Is he with you?”

“Nnnnnnnnnnnngh… No, he isn’t,” Finn said through a yawn, “Why? Didn’t he go home last night?”

“I don’t know, Katie’s sick so we all went to bed early. Usually he lets himself in— he’s got a key, but he’s not in the basement and his room is a mess,” Dumo scoffed, “Well, more of a mess than it usually is anyway. He’s upturned his entire wardrobe.”

“Mmmmmm…. Maybe he went out for a run?” He yawned again. He wouldn’t put it past Logan to be running laps around the block at this time of the morning. Back when they were in Harvard, he would be woken up by Logan at the crack of dawn daily to run with him before classes. Gotta keep in shape, Harz. Not everyone’s blessed with a naturally sexy body, you know? He had rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to respond with a snarky comment, until he had seen Logan’s eyes roaming over his body. That had shut him right up. 

“I don’t know, mon gars, something seems off here,” There was a shuffling sound over on Dumo’s end of the phone, as though he were looking through Logan’s room. Finn found himself drifting back to sleep, though a nagging thought in his mind prevented him from falling asleep completely.

Without warning, Dumo let out a curse in French, loud enough for Finn to jerk away from the phone, hitting his head on his headboard in the process.

“Ow…. What is it, Dumo?”

“His passport is gone. He left.”

[atomic-taco-muffin]

The Lost Princess Chapter 11

Warnings: angst/fluff

Rating: SFW

In a room full of darkness, a group with equally dark intentions gaze at an image of you and the trio on a round table. 

“Those little squirts took down that Heartless! Who’d have thought it?” someone said. The fiery man looked over to a thin man with a staff, who replied:

“Such is the power of the Keyblade. The child’s strength is not his own. And a spirit has woken from its slumber. I thought that we have destroyed all the spirits.” The large woman next to him gazed down cunningly at the image, water dripping off her many appendages. 

“Why don’t we turn them into Heartless?” she asked as she cackled. 

“That’ll settle things quick enough,” she said. A man standing next to her piped up. 

“And the brat’s friends are the king’s lackeys. Swoggle me eyes, they’re all bilge rats by the look of them,” he said. 

“You’re no prize yourself,” someone said. A ghostly figure beside the man laughed loudly and the man brandished a silver hook as his left hand. 

“Shut up!” the man said. 

“Enough!” someone said. The villains looked over to a tall woman in a black cloak. She gazed through narrow eyes at the image on the table, her green skin echoing its pale light. Her long fingers curved around the staff in her hand. 

“The Keyblade has chosen him. And a spirit has risen. Will it be them who conquers the darkness? Or will the darkness swallow them? Either way, they could be quite useful,” she said. 

You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy traveled to Wonderland and entered by way of Rabbit Hole. Slowly you drifted downward, past clocks and tables and fireplaces, Goofy lying on his back enjoying the ride. When you reach the bottom, You, Sora and Donald landed softly on your feet, while Goofy fell over with a big thump. 

“This world is so cool! I can’t wait to explore it,” you said. You suddenly heard  the quick pattering of feet as a white rabbit in a waistcoat carrying a large clock dashed past you. 

“Oh, my fur and whiskers! I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!” the white rabbit said as he panted heavily. 

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! I’m here, I should be there,” he said. You and Sora watched him scurry away. 

“I’m late, I’m late, I’m late! The queen, she’ll have my head for sure!” the rabbit said. You and the trio decided to follow him down the hall, where you reached a door, which revealed a smaller door underneath. You and the trio entered the Bizarre Room and saw the White Rabbit scurrying across the tiled floor, several sizes smaller than before. The ticking sounds of a multitude of clocks lining the walls filled your ears as you watched the rabbit run through a small wooden door with a large door knob on the edge of the room. Sora walked over to the door and knelt down in front of it. 

“How did he get so small?” he asked. 

“No, you’re simply too big,” the doorknob said. You and Donald jumped from hearing him talk. 

“It talks!” Donald said. You looked at it in surprise and confusion as the doorknob yawned. 

“Must you be so loud? You woke me up,” it said. 

“Good morning,” Goofy said cheerfully.

“Good night! I need a bit more sleep,” it said. It yawned again as Sora got closer. 

“Wait, what do we have to do to grow small?” he asked. 

“Remember, (Y/N) can shape shift. Maybe if you use your powers, you become smaller,” Donald said. 

“There is also a bottle over there,” the doorknob said. The four of you look at the table and saw two bottles appear on the table. The trio drink from the blue bottle and shrunk down to the size of the door while you used your powers to become tiny. Heartless appeared and you and the trio defeated them, but by that time, the doorknob has gone back to sleep and the door would not open. You soon found another entrance to the Queen’s Castle. Several soldiers stood guard as a trial was in progress inside a large hedge maze. Several roses lined the hedges, some red and some white. A procession of cards parted to allow you the trio to enter as a small blond girl in a blue pinafore dress was standing at a defendant’s table. She looked up to the bench and was addressed by a large scary woman wearing a crown. The White Rabbit ran up a podium and caught his breath before sounding a note with a trumpet. 

“Court is now in session!” he said. 

“I’m on trial? But why?” Alice asked. 

“Her Majesty, the Queen of Hearts, presiding!” the rabbit said. The queen sat at the bench frowning in a red and black gown, holding a heart-shaped fan. 

“This girl is the culprit. There’s no doubt about it. And the reason is...because, I say so, that’s why!” she said. 

“That is so unfair!” Alice said. The queen tapped her fan like a gavel.

“Well, have you anything to say in your defense?” the queen asked. 

“Of course! I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong!” Alice said as she folded her arms and the White Rabbit gasped. 

“You may be queen, but I’m afraid that doesn’t give you the right to be so...so mean!” she said. The queen scowled at her remark.

“Silence! You dare defy me?” the queen yelled as she slammed her fists on the bench. 

“Hey, guys, we should help her out,” you said. 

“Yeah, but the--,” Donald said. 

“We’re outsiders, so wouldn’t that be muddling?” Goofy said.

“‘Meddling’!” Donald corrected. 

“Oh, yeah. A-hyuck! And that’s against the rules.” 

“The court finds the defendant...Guilty as charged!” the queen said as she raised her fan. Alice looked astonished at the verdict. 

“For the crimes of assault and attempted theft of my heart... “ Sora gasped at what she said. 

“Off with her head!” the queen yelled as she pointed to the girl and the Card Soldiers gathered around her. 

“No! No! Oh, please!” Alice said. 

“Hold it right there!” Sora said as he ran in, you, Donald, and Goofy close behind him. 

“Who are you? How dare you interfere with my court?” the queen asked angrily. 

“Excuse me. But we know who the real culprit is!” you said. 

“Uh-huh. It’s the Heartle—” Goofy said but quickly his mouth and looked at Sora. 

“Anyway, she’s not the one you’re looking for,” Sora said as he pointed to Alice as the queen leaned on the bench, tapping her finger.

“That’s nonsense. Have you any proof?” the queen asked as she smirked at a speechless Sora and Alice was imprisoned in a cage next to the bench. 

“Bring me evidence of Alice’s innocence! Fail, and it’s off with all of your heads! Gather as much or little evidence as you please. Report back here once you’re ready,” the queen said. You and Sora talked to Alice while a Card Soldier stood guard. 

“Who are you?” she asked. 

“I’m Sora.” 

“I’m (Y/N).” 

“I’m Goofy, and that there’s Donald.”

“Pleased to meet you, though I do wish it were under better circumstances. I’m sorry you got mixed up in this nonsense,” Alice said. 

“Why are you on trial in the first place?” you asked. 

“I should like to know the very same thing! Apparently I was guilty from the moment I took the stand!” 

“That’s crazy! So, where are you from?” Sora asked. 

“Hmm, curious. I can’t quite remember. You see, I found this mysterious rabbit hole. When I tried to peek inside, I tumbled in head over heels... And I found myself here,” Alice said. 

“So you’re from another world!” 

“That’s funny. Maybe you don’t need a ship, then,” Goofy said. 

“I don’t get it,” Donald said. 

“What do you mean ‘another world’?” Alice asked. 

“Enough! The defendant will be silent!” the guard said. You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy entered the Lotus Forest and looked around. A cat’s face appeared out of thin air, except this cat was smiling widely. It’s head bounced around the area, in and out of vision, until resting atop a large tree stump. The cat’s body appeared, standing on its head rather comically. It’s body was lined with purple stripes. It stepped off and placed its head back on its body, grinning incessantly. 

“Who are you?” Donald yelled. 

“Who, indeed? Poor Alice. Soon to lose her head, and she’s not guilty of a thing!” the cheshire cat said.  

“Hey, if you know who the culprit is, tell us!” you said. 

“The Cheshire Cat has all the answers—but doesn’t always tell. The answer, the culprit, the cat all lie in darkness,” the cheshire cat said as he disappeared.

“Wait!” you and Sora said. 

“They’ve already left the forest. I won’t tell which exit. There are four pieces of evidence in all. Three are a cinch to find. The fourth is tricky. Big reward if you find them all,” the cheshire cat said. 

“Should we trust him?” Donald asked. The cat had suddenly returned.

“To trust, or not to trust? I trust you’ll decide!” he said as he disappeared again. You and the trio defeated Heartless in the Lotus Forest before finding some Footprints near a large flower. After climbing to one of the tree tops, Sora found a hole in the trunk of a tree. You and the trio entered it and find themselves in the Bizarre Room again, this time on top of the huge stone stove. Near the two burners, you found a Stench. You and the trio returned to the Lotus Forest and traveled further in, finding a large boulder and several Dalmatian puppies. You and the trio climbed the boulder and reach a lily pad, where you discovered an Antenna. As you travel along lily pads, you saw a hole in a high corner of the woods. You and the trio make their way over and enter. You fell into the Bizarre Room, on top of a faucet sticking out of the wall. Jumping to a nearby wooden ledge, you and the trio found some Claw Marks. After saving this evidence, the Cheshire Cat appeared on the faucet, still grinning. 

“Well, look what you’ve found. Nice going,” he said. 

“Now we can save Alice,” you said. 

“Don’t be so sure! She may be innocent, but what about you?” 

“What do you mean?” Sora asked. 

“I won’t tell. But I’ll give you something,” he said as he gave you the Blizzard spell and disappeared. You and the trio returned to the Queen’s Castle and spoke to a Card Soldier. 

“Are you ready to present evidence before the queen?” he asked. 

“Yes,” you said. 

“Very well. Counsel, step up to the podium.” You and Sora stood at the defendant’s table, while Donald and Goofy were in a separate box. 

“Now, show me what you have found,” the queen said. You and Sora presented the four items of evidence. 

“Well, that’s certainly a lot of evidence, but I’m still not impressed. Cards! Bring forth my evidence!” the queen said. The cards presented the queen’s box of evidence and the five boxes were shuffled around to Sora’s confusion. 

“Hmm, checking all five would only be a waste of time. All right, then. Choose the one you wish to present. I’ll decide who’s guilty based on that evidence,” the queen said. 

“What? After all the trouble of collecting it?” Sora asked. 

“You dare object? Then you will lose your head! Now, choose! One box!” the queen yelled. You chose on of the boxes. 

“Are you certain? No second chances!” the queen said. 

“I’m sure,” you said. 

“Now we shall see who the real culprit is,” the queen said. The box opened and a Soldier Heartless appeared. 

“What in the world was that?” the queen asked. 

“There’s your evidence. Alice is innocent,” Sora said. 

“Rrrrrrrgh... Silence! I’m the law here!” the queen yelled as she pounded on the bench.  

“Article 29: Anyone who defies the queen is guilty!” the queen said. 

“That’s crazy!” Donald said as he jumped up and down.

“Seize them at once!” the queen shouted. The podiums and hedges disappeared and a large crank tower rose from the floor. The Ten of Spades ran over to the tower’s gear and turned it, raising Alice’s cage at the bench. The queen lifted her fan and the cards leaped into battle. 

“Cards! If they touch the tower, you lose your heads!” the queen yelled. You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy began attacking the red and black Card Soldiers who came at them with axes. After knocking a couple out, they fluttered to the ground unconscious. 

“Get them, you fools! Quit joking around!” the queen yelled. Sora ran up to the Queen of Hearts, who tried to fight back with magic from her fan. Sora dodged this and knocked her over, exposing her heart- patterned bloomers. At this point, the Card Soldiers freezed on the spot for fear of their queen. Sora ran back over to you and the two of you started slamming his Keyblade and your dagger into the crank tower, with each strike lowering Alice’s cage. 

“Why, you!” the queen yelled angrily. Eventually, the tower started to crack and shattered to pieces. The flamingo head holding up Alice’s cage dropped to the ground and the curtain pulled back. You and Sora ran forward as the Queen of Hearts peered over the bench to see an empty cage. 

“She must’ve gotten kidnapped while we were fighting,” Donald said. 

“You fools!” the queen yelled as she slammed her fists and the cards stood up in attention. 

“Find the one who’s behind this! I don’t care how!” the queen said. The Card Soldiers ran in various directions at the queen’s orders. You and Sora talked to the Card Soldier in charge of Alice’s detainment. 

“I just looked away for a moment, and...” the card said. You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy walked back into the Lotus Forest and saw a flower sneeze up a rock. It landed near the pond and the Cheshire Cat appeared, standing on his front legs.

“Have you seen Alice?” you asked. 

“Alice, no. Shadows, yes!” the cat said. 

“Where did they go?” Goofy asked. 

“This way? That way? Does it matter? Left, right, up, down! All mixed up thanks to the shadows! Step deeper into the forest to the deserted garden. You might find shadows in the upside-down room!” The cat vanished and Heartless appeared again. Once they dispeled the horde of creatures, you and the trio found a thirsty flower. 

“Give me a potion and I’ll make you bigger,” the flower said. Sora obliged and grew until he could almost touch the treetops. He knocked the boulder into the pond and more lily pads rose out of it. He found a large nut at the top of a tree and used his Keyblade to knock it down. He ate it and returned to you, Donald and Goofy’s size. You and the trio traveled to the back of the wood and found another entrance to the Bizarre Room. This time, you found yourselves standing on the side of the room. More Heartless appeared and in the shuffle, you knocked a teddy bear off a shelf and it fell horizontally onto the armchairs below. Sora lit one of the lamps in the room, which revealed a painting on the floor of a beach in both night and day. You and the trio entered the painting and returned to the Lotus Forest. At the furthest part of the forest, you and the trio enter the Tea Party Garden, seeing a long table with several chairs. Teapots and dinnerware lined the table as lanterns hung overhead. A painting of the Mad Hatter and the March Hare is hung at the edge of the table. The expressions on their faces is one of sadness. A sign is posted next to them reading “A very merry unbirthday. Sit down to get your present.” You and the trio sat at various chairs and the Hatter & Hare’s painted expressions changed to ones of joy and happiness. You and the trio entered the door in the house nearby and found yourselves standing on the ceiling of the Bizarre Room. The Cheshire Cat sat waiting for them.

“They’re hiding somewhere. And the mome raths outgrabe. Want to find the shadows? Try turning on the light,” the cat said. He vanished and you jumped onto one of the lamps and lit it. The cat reappeared on the other lamp. 

“It’s too dim. Make it brighter,” he said.

“What next?” Sora asked. 

“One more lamp that you need to light.” The cat disappeared and Sora lit the other lamp, summoning the cat once more. 

“All the lights are on. You’ll see the shadows soon. They’ll arise in this room, but somewhere else. The shadows might go after that doorknob, too,” he said. The cat left as you and the trio made your way back to the Queen’s Castle to enter the correct way into the Bizarre Room. Upon entering the room, you spotted the Cheshire Cat on the table. 

“You’ll have a better view from higher up,” he said. You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy climbed the table and the cat stood up. 

“The shadows should be here soon,” he said as he tapped his toes daintily on the table. 

“Are you prepared for the worst? If not, too bad!” he said. He pointed upwards and the enormous Trickmaster Heartless appeared. It landed on the floor with its accordion-like hands and jumped over the table, landing on its large pointed boots. It stood up to its full height, towering over the table, unraveling both of its long arms. It stared down at you and the trio with its five stacked heads. It folded its arms together and pulled out two giant matches, twirling them in the air. You and Sora got a running start, leaping off the table and striking at the Trickmaster’s faces as it raised its matches high in the air. It slammed them down onto the chair, sending it flattened into the floor. Sora jumped up, using the length of his Keyblade to deal blows to the Trickmaster. He knocked it out for a second, and it fell to its knees, though not for long. It started to sing to itself and swung wildly, hitting Donald, who shrieks. It continued twirling the matches, walking over to the stove. It bended over the stove and lit them, sending fireballs at the four of you. Goofy blocked them with his shield and Sora sended a Blizzard spell while you threw your dagger at it, effectively putting the fire out. After several more hits, the Trickmaster lowered its arms and fell to the ground. It attempted to stand, but crashed to the ground, its arms laying at its side. A large heart floated of its torso and it disappeared. You and Sora heard a noise behind him and turned, seeing the doorknob yawning.

“What a racket. How’s a doorknob to get any sleep?” it said. It yawned widely and they saw a Keyhole inside its mouth. A light shined around Sora’s Keyblade and it reacted with a will of its own, pointing at the Keyhole and releasing a beam of white light. They heard a locking sound and the doorknob finished yawning.

“What was that” Donald asked. 

“You hear that? Sounded like something closed,” you said. A small green object fell to the ground in front of you four, shining. 

“This gummi ain’t like the others. No, sir,” Goofy said. 

“Okay, I’ll hold on to it,” Donald said. He picked up the gummi block and the Cheshire Cat appeared on the table, peering down at you four.

“Splendid. You’re quite the hero. If you’re looking for Alice, she’s not here. She’s gone! Off with the shadows, into darkness,” he said. The cat vanished with his grin. 

“No...” Sora said. 

“Let’s go back to our gummi ship. We might find her in another world,” Donald said. 

“But what about my parents?” you asked. 

“I’m sorry. But it seemed like there weren’t any clues here. But chin up, (Y/N). There might be some in other worlds.” 

“You’re right. Let’s go!” You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy returned to the gummi ship and traveled to another world, hoping that you would find clues.