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heyyyharry · 4 years

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Double Date

(a blurb from the Flatmate series)

…in which “I don’t want whoever I end up dating to feel second to you.”

Word count: 2.4k

This is inspired by the song ’gold rush’ from Taylor’s new album ‘evermore’. This song reminds me so much of the flatmate babiesssss.

Harry didn’t believe in his own ears.

His flatmate?

Going on a date?

No way.

But why would she lie about that? And he knew she hadn’t made that shit up, because the guy existed, and Harry had spoken to him and seen Y/N have a conversation with him several times before. However, never would Harry have thought that the two of them would go on a date. He couldn’t even imagine them holding hands. It was just bizarre. Also, Y/N never went out, and she hated people. Did she know that ‘dating’ required being around a person all the time? It would never work.

“You’re going on a date?” Harry asked as he followed her into the kitchen.

“No,” she answered flatly.

“Okay, then can I come with?”

“No!” cried Y/N as she shoved him aside to get to the fridge.

Harry huffed like an angry child as he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “If he’s just a friend, why can’t I come with you?”

“Because it’d be weird! You don’t know my friend.”

“Not true. I had two classes with him last semester.”

“Oh yeah? What’s his name?”

Harry’s mouth froze as he opened it and realised he didn’t know the answer. Y/N shut the fridge door and started drinking her milk slowly with an eyebrow raised, waiting for the answer that he didn’t have.

“Okay, fine,” he sighed. “Who the fuck cares what his name is? It’s shady that you don’t want me to hang out with him.”

“He didn’t invite you.”

“But he wouldn’t mind if you did because we’re all friends, aren’t we?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. She didn’t comment and just brushed right past him. Harry knew it was her way of ending the conversation, so he hurriedly followed her out of the kitchen. She flopped down onto the couch and he came to sit beside her. She grabbed the remote to turn the telly on. He snatched it away, forcing her to stay in the conversation. He wasn’t going to let this end so easily. His need to win all the time was his most toxic trait, according to Layla. But oh well, nobody’s perfect. He had to have at least one flaw.

“Are you ashamed of me?”

“No.” Y/N scrunched up her face and reached for the remote. Harry immediately sat on it. “Hey!”

He ignored her reaction. “Then why don’t you want me to go with you and your ‘friend’ to this concert?”

“It’s not a concert. It’s an acoustic night at a cafe.”

“I still wanna go.”

“You’re annoying.” Y/N aggressively hugged a pillow to her chest and turned away from him.

Harry felt guilty. He might have said too much. If he was aware of him being annoying, it must be worse for her. And he never wished to upset her. He just didn’t want her to go on this ‘not really a date’ date.

“What if I bring someone?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Y/N glared at him. “Like...a girl?”

“Or Niall.” He shrugged. “Depends.”

He expected her to be jealous or at least showed that she was jealous. To his disappointment, she gave a nonchalant shrug and said, “Okay.”

“Okay I can go if I bring someone?”

“Sure, then you’ll have someone else to annoy.”

Harry chuckled as he looked at her while she looked somewhere else. “You could be so mean sometimes.”

She rolled her eyes and gave a smirk. “Thank you.”

AJ. That was Y/N’s date’s name.

Why would anyone want to name their child AJ? It was like his parents didn’t even try. Harry hated to be an arsehole. Well, not really. But yeah, he fucking hated this dude.

“I can’t believe you dragged me into this,” Layla mumbled and shot Harry a glare as they followed AJ and Y/N to their table.

“It’d be embarrassing if I’d gone with Niall,” Harry whispered to Layla as they took their seats facing the other two, who were too caught up in their conversation to pay attention to all this shady whispering.

“Just pick another one from your long list of hoes,” Layla said.

“Well, I don’t want to make anyone think I’m taking them on a date.” He flashed her a smile. “So I picked you.”

Layla rolled her eyes and picked up the menu. “Wait. They don’t have anything with alcohol?” she asked aloud.

“Try this vanilla drink. So you wouldn’t be so fucking bitter all the time.”

Layla smacked Harry on the arm for his comment. Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw Y/N holding back a laugh by biting her lip. If only she knew how cute she looked tonight wearing that babydoll dress and her hair up in a ponytail. He wanted to tell her, but it’d be weird, wouldn’t it? They never complimented each other. And knowing how anxious he’d get, he’d probably say some dumb shit like comparing her to a ghost or something.

“The drinks aren’t the best,” AJ said after the waiter had left with their orders. “But the music is great. My favourite band is playing tonight.”

“Oh, what’s the band’s name?” Y/N asked.

“The Muse.”

“Never heard of them,” Harry said nonchalantly and received a glare from Y/N. He gave her a subtle shrug.

“Well, they’re a small band. But they’re great,” AJ said, smiling.

Layla tapped Harry on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper to him, “He’s handsome and respectful. You don’t stand a chance.”

“You don’t think I’m handsome and respectful?” he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Layla scoffed. “Handsome, yes. But you’re a hoe.”

Harry was so used to Layla’s sense of humour, he didn’t find these comments offensive at all, just funny, and kinda true. He was far from a saint. “Is that coming from a certified hoe?” he jokingly asked.

Layla smirked and pushed his face away. “Shut the fuck up.”

Harry let out a laugh, shaking his head. When he looked up, he caught Y/N staring. She turned away as quickly as she could but was unable to hide her blushing. Had she been checking him out? He wasn’t complaining. It was flattering, to say the least. With her date sitting right there.

“Stop.”

He flinched and turned back to Layla. “What?”

“Stop looking at AJ like he murdered your cat. You’re being embarrassing right now.”

“We’re not actually on a date, Layla.”

“I know.” Layla sighed. “That’s why I’m tolerating you.”

Their drinks were served just in time the opening act - a lady singing Taylor Swift songs - ended, and the main act arrived. Four men stepped on the stage and started setting up their instruments. The main singer introduced themselves as The Muse, and the first song they were going to sing had some weird symbolistic name that Harry forgot as soon as he’d heard it. He was too busy watching Y/N. AJ whispered something into her ear, making her giggle and Harry’s blood boil.

He was most familiar with that laugh. He’d made her laugh like that all the time. Well, yes, it was kinda weird to be gatekeeping someone’s laugh. But the fact that Y/N found this boring bloke funny made Harry’s skin crawl.

Suddenly, Harry caught Layla’s warning stare, so he swallowed his jealousy and took a sip of his coffee, which had already got cold.

The Muse sang two or three songs in a row and interacted with the audience in between little breaks. Meanwhile, AJ entertained Harry, Y/N, and Layla with his boring stories about his academic achievements. Also, he kept bragging about him being able to cook. We get it, Ratatouille, Harry thought. Go open a restaurant in Paris or something!

What Harry found more annoying than this guy having all the qualities a woman would look for in her future husband, was the fact that Y/N was completely infatuated. If she was just being nice, she should win an Oscar for Best Actress.

“Question,” Layla whispered to Harry when AJ and Y/N were lost in their own world again. “Will I be your plus one to their wedding?”

“Shut up,” he scoffed.

Layla shrugged. “I hear wedding bells ringing. Don’t you?”

Fuck bells. Fuck weddings. Fuck AJ. Fuck Layla. Harry wanted to say fuck Y/N, too. But he had a crush on her so he couldn’t hate her. Fuck this whole place. Fuck everyone except for his Y/N.

“Would any of you like to come on stage and perform with us?” asked the lead singer of The Muse.

“Ooooh, this is my favourite part!” AJ said, his green eyes twinkling.

Fuck this dude, Harry thought bitterly, for being handsome.

“You’re gonna sing?” Y/N asked AJ.

“Nah, I suck at singing,” AJ said. “I play the drums, though.”

“I bet you do,” Harry muttered, but it seemed like everyone had heard him. He responded to Y/N’s questioning look with an awkward grin.

“What about you, Harry?” Layla suggested, obviously wanting to start some shit as always. “Would you like to sing?”

“Harry can’t sing,” Y/N said quickly.

Harry blinked at her in surprise. “Hey, I can sing. It’s just I don’t want to.”

“Oh, it’d be fun.”

“No, thank you, AJ,” Harry said between gritted teeth.

AJ looked quite offended. Fortunately, Layla came for the rescue. “I’ll do it,” she shouted with her hand raised. Everyone broke into applause as she got up and made her way to the stage.

“Can she sing?” Y/N asked Harry.

He sighed and lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug. “We could only hope.”

Layla strutted up the steps and waved at Harry, Y/N, and AJ. Suddenly, her heel was caught by a wire, and she tripped, falling headfirst into the lead singer. She knocked them both right off the stage against one of the tables and had the drinks spilt all over them.

Harry was frozen in shock until Layla’s cries snapped him out of it and sent him to his feet as he rushed up to help her.

“You got drunk on vanilla?” Harry asked while trying his best not to laugh at Layla being covered in strawberry smoothies.

“Shut the fuck up!” she cried. “I wanna go home!”

“Is she okay?” Y/N asked.

“No, bitch. Do I look okay to you?!”

“I’ll take her home,” Harry said, helping Layla up and receiving angry looks from the other band members, who were checking up on their friend. The lead singer didn’t break any bones. Thank God. Sighing, Harry turned back to Y/N and AJ. “You two...stay. Carry on with your date. Don’t worry about us.”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but AJ didn’t let her. “No, we can’t just stay when Layla’s hurt,” he said, eyeing Layla up and down in concern. “You live in the dorm, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So do I. I’ll take you home.” To Y/N, AJ said, “I’m sorry, Y/N. Next time?”

Y/N pressed her lips into a smile. “Sure. Drive safe, all right?”

“He seems nice,” Harry said as he walked home with Y/N. She’d been so quiet since they’d left the cafe, he was afraid she was mad at him or something.

She gave a nod. To his surprise, she said, “I’m sorry about Layla.”

He gave a dismissive wave. “She’ll be fine. That was probably karma for pushing Liam off the stairs.”

Y/N looked horrified. “On purpose?”

Harry shrugged. “We don’t know. Possibly. I mean, it’s Layla.”

They both laughed together and suddenly went quiet.

“I’m kind of mad at you, though,” Y/N said after another moment.

“Why?” Harry chuckled.

“You shouldn’t have asked to come with us.”

“You said I could if I brought someone.”

“Yes, I didn’t think you’d bring Layla,” she said and rolled her eyes. “Are you two like...hooking up?”

“Ew no, she’s like a sister to me. An awful one.” He laughed and nudged her with his shoulder. “Why? Are you jealous?”

She glared at him. “No. But you two are both attractive. It’s weird that you don’t find each other attractive.”

“You think I’m attractive?” Harry smirked, loving how quickly her face turned red.

“I mean, conventionally attractive.” She cleared her throat, refusing to look at him as they spoke. “Your hair’s always so nice. It falls into place like...dominoes…”

“Dominoes?” Harry chuckled. “Aww, someone’s flustered. Just say you have a crush on me.”

“No,” Y/N said timidly, as if she was unsure. “But...you should stop teasing me like this.”

“Why? It’s fun. I like teasing you.”

“People would think I have a crush on you for real.”

Harry maintained his nonchalant expression, but the butterflies in his stomach were going crazy. “You don’t?” he asked with mock surprise. “And what’s wrong with people thinking you have a crush on me? Everyone has a crush on me.”

That was meant to be a joke. Harry didn’t expect a serious answer from Y/N.

“I don’t want whoever I end up dating to feel like they’re second to you. Because sometimes I–” Her mouth clamped shut. She squeezed the strap of her handbag and walked a bit further away from him.

Harry found it amusing. “You what?”

“No.”

“Y/N, you can’t just say something and never finish it.”

Y/N gave him a glance, biting her lip. “Sometimes I feel like...I care about you too much. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Why’s caring about me makes you uncomfortable?” He smiled, unable to hold it anymore.

She said nothing and only walked faster to get ahead of him. Harry sped up and fell into steps beside her again as he cleared his throat into his fist. “Just so you know,” he said slowly. “I care about you a lot, too. Don’t worry.”

She didn’t look at him, but he could see her cheeks turning red. He loved it. Her shyness when she was around him made his heart swell. Maybe that was why he enjoyed teasing her. He wanted proof that he could make her feel something, no matter how insignificant it was.

“Okay,” was all she said.

It made him laugh. “You’re being mean.”

“Only to you,” she replied.

“Good,” he said, hoping she’d heard him.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #flatmate!harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #flatmate series

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super-unpredictable98 · 3 years

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Twin Flames (Moonwalkers AU)

Chapter 2: Kindred Spirits

Warning: Strong language, smut

(Twin Flames Masterlist)

"Hey there," before he even heard her voice, he knew she was there, her scent was unmistakable. The scent that has been haunting his every moment, the smell of dreams.

"Thalia," Leon smiled as the stage door closed behind him. "I didn't see you in there."

"You're a good kisser, but not good enough to make me watch this God-awful play again..." she laughed.

"I can't blame you," he shrugged. "But what was that first part again? About me being a good kisser?"

"You are... As far as I remember, would you like to refresh my memory?"

"With pleasure."

Leon took Thalia's face in his hands and their lips met like second nature, bringing that familiar feeling of fulfillment to both of them. It was like their souls were connected somehow. Like they were two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly.

"I don't know how, but you're even better than I remember," she breathed, locking arms with him as they walked down the street.

"Hey, would you... Would you maybe wanna come back to my flat?"

"Wow, it's only our second date and you're already thinking of shagging me?"

"No! That's not why I asked, we don't have to do anything..." he freaked out, his cheeks burning red.

"I'm dicking with you, Leon, you look more confident on stage, you know?" she chuckled. "Let's go."

Leon wasn't exactly proud of his flat, it was quite small and cramped, but for some reason, he knew deep inside Thalia wouldn't mind at all. It would be nice to snog somewhere more comfortable and private than a park bench.

"Leon, if you leave the bloody toilet drenched again after you shower, I will kick your... Hi," Jonny smiled awkwardly noticing they had a guest.

"You must be Jonny," the girl offered her hand for him to shake. "I'm Thalia."

"Yeah, hi, nice to meet you," he nodded, feeling slightly guilty for scaring the first girl his flatmate ever brought home. "Leon didn't tell me he would bring someone over, I would've cleaned up a bit..."

"It's fine," she assured. "I don't mind."

"Sorry, man, it was last minute," Leon looked at his mate apologetically.

"It's all right, don't worry about me, I was on my way out," Jonny put on his navy blue blazer and quickly fixed his shaggy ginger hair before heading towards the door.

"Gig with the band?"

"Yes, tonight's gonna be a good one! You guys have fun," Jonny was about to leave. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Thalia."

"Likewise," she waved.

"So do you wanna eat something? Maybe have a dri-"

Before Leon could finish, she jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist, and connected her lips with his.

"Where's your room?" she mumbled against his skin.

"Oh, it's only our second date and you're already thinking of shagging me?" he used her own words against her.

"No, I've been thinking of shagging you from the moment I first saw you."

"Whaaaat?" Leon gasped dramatically, feigning offense. "What do you take me for? I'm not that easy, missy."

The couple kissed all the way to the bedroom, it was very tiny and very messy, but none of them could care less.

"Hey, have you ever tried tantric sex?" she asked as he closed the door.

"No, isn't that the thing hippies do with their breathing and all?"

"Yeah, it can make pleasure so much more intense, do you wanna try it?"

"Sure, I just have no clue where to begin."

"I'll teach you... First take off your clothes, everything."

"Oh, I'm already liking that," Leon joked.

As he got undressed, he noticed Thalia's stare, he immediately felt insecure. Being in the acting industry, he spent a majority of his life hearing that's he's too scrawny, too lanky, and that has definitely taken a toll on his self-esteem.

"You have such a beautiful body," she mused.

"Are you taking the piss?" he snorted. "I'm a beanpole."

"No, I really like your body, it's very sexy. I can't wait to touch you."

"Thank you?" Leon was still having a hard time believing it, after so much criticism, but her compliments sounded honest, just like everything else she said. "By the way, it gets bigger when I'm... You know..."

"Don't worry about that," Thalia chuckled. "Even if I cared about size, yours is more than enough."

"Well, are you getting naked too or do you just wanna watch me?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry, I got a little distracted..."

She simply pulled her dress over her head, showing she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath, his mouth fell open with how sudden that was.

"Wow, you are... That was..." Leon gulped, unable to find the words.

"I'll take it as a compliment."

"What do we do next?"

"Well, since it's your first time, we don't have to do anything too complicated, we can just do a few exercises. Let's sit down, facing each other."

He did as she said, they both sat on the bed, legs crossed. She took his hand and placed it on her heart.

"I can feel it," he murmured. "Your heart beating."

"We are supposed to synchronize our breathing, so let's just connect for a moment. You can touch me if you want. Is it okay if I touch you?"

"Please do!" Leon's voice was almost a beg.

Thalia leaned in and kissed his chest slowly, dragging her lips from one side to the other and down to his stomach, her hands slowly massaged his shoulders and his biceps. He never thought that could feel so good, it was just a kiss, but it felt like so much more, it felt more like finding something you never even knew you were looking for.

"Oh, I see someone's getting a little excited," She giggled seeing his cock starting to harden.

"I'm sorry, it's been a while and you smell so nice and your lips are so soft..."

"It's okay, love, let it happen, let your body do what it wants to do. I wanna feel your touch too."

He awkwardly cupped her breasts and fondled them, she sighed and bit her lip as if that was the most amazing feeling anyone has ever experienced. He smiled seeing her pert nipples showing her arousal, and his hands slowly moved to her thighs, tracing her stretch marks with the tip of his fingers.

"I like them."

"My stretch marks?" she laughed.

"Yes, each one of them is unique, like a tiger stripe, they make you... You. It's like this beautiful drawing on your skin."

"Wow, I never thought about it like this before."

"When do we get to the kissing part of this tantric sex thing?"

"Whenever you feel like it."

Leon got up to his knees and lowered Thalia to the bed, pressing his lips to hers. She instinctively wrapped her legs around him, urging him to roll his hips against her, his boner pressing against her folds.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he murmured against her neck. "This tantra thing really works, doesn't it?"

"That wasn't even half of it, but you were the one who made me wet," she whispered. "Now fuck me properly, Leon."

When he thrust into her, they both knew this feeling was more than just pleasure. Of course it was great, but it was almost like their bodies were always meant to be this close, meant to be two parts of one being.

"Such a tight little fanny," he groaned. "You feel so good, Lili."

"Call me that again," she threw her head back.

"Lili, my Lili..."

"Kiss me, Leon, please."

He didn't have to be told twice, he claimed her lips in a passionate, hungry kiss. The lovers held each other as close as they possibly could, the feeling of their skins together was like a familiar match.

None of them was in a hurry, Leon's thrusts were firm, but not rushed, maybe because they didn't want this beautiful moment to end, that fulfillment sensation to go away. They didn't wanna go back to being two.

As he moved swiftly in and out of her, he felt a weird tug, as if her cunt was contracting around him, pulling his cock in with a strong grasp. It felt really odd, but in a good way.

"Lili... What are you doing?" he nearly lost it and finished right there.

"Does it feel good?" she smirked.

"It feels ah- amazing," he clenched his eyes shut as she squeezed him just enough to drive him wild. "Whatever it is, don't stop, please, baby, don't stop."

"Leon, I'm getting close..." Thalia whimpered as she twitched, unable to stop that avalanche inside of her dragging her to her climax.

"Oh, come for me, Lili, show me how good you feel."

"Deeper, I want more of you."

"Yeah? Want me to fill you up?"

"I do, please! Oh f-fuck, Leon!"

Hearing her sinful sounds, made him lose it, to him she sounded like an angel as she came for him, with him, because of him... With a couple more sloppy thrusts, he emptied himself inside of her, his eyes shut in a state of ecstasy as he softly whispered in her ear:

"Ah, Lili, what you do to me?"

He fell by her side, panting, a sheen of sweat covering both their bodies. He couldn't help but imagine if that's what being high feels like, maybe that's why people like to do drugs if that's the case.

"Jesus..." Thalia rolled over to hold him. "Did you feel that too?"

"Yeah," he didn't know to describe that, but he knew what she was talking about, he definitely did. "What was that thing? That squeezing you did."

"Oh, that?" she laughed. "That was pompoir."

"Pompoir... What the fuck is that?"

"It's an ancient technique of muscle contraction that started India, I've been practicing it for years."

"God, that's just... Wow, it's heavenly. I've never met a girl who can do that."

"I think we're supposed to be kindred spirits... Twin flames."

"Twin flames?" Leon turned his head slightly to kiss her forehead. "What do you mean?"

"It's like you have the second half of my soul, you make me whole. They say when one meets the other, they attract each other like magnets. Like we do."

"It makes sense, I suppose. I do want to be glued to you for as long as I can," he joked. "How lucky were we to find the part that missing, huh? Can you imagine how many people go about their lives never finding it?"

"I don't know if I believe in luck, Leon, I think this was meant to be. Something brought me to England, something made you an actor, something made me wanna go watch that play even though everyone has been saying it's horrible."

"Since that's the case, I think we should make it official, then."

"Make what official?"

"You and me, a proper couple, what do you say?"

"I guess when you know you know..."

"So yes?"

"Yes," she pressed a kiss to his chest. "But I need to go soon."

"What? Why?"

"My father, he doesn't like when I stay out late."

"But you're not out, you're here with me! Please, stay? You can spend the night, you can call them if you want."

"Sorry, sweetheart, I can't," she painfully declined.

"Can I see you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, definitely, what type of girlfriend would I be if I left my boyfriend all alone?"

——————————————————

"Where have you been, Thalia?"

"I was with my boyfriend, dad," she locked the door twice before joining her mother on the couch.

"You have a boyfriend now?" her mom grinned. "What's his name? Where did you meet? Is he handsome? What does he work with?"

"His name is-"

"Thalia, you can't come home whenever you want, you have a curfew for a reason," her dad lowered the paper to look at her.

"I'm sorry, I lost track of time... but I'm safe, I'm here. London is really not as dangerous as you think, dad."

Demitri sighed heavily, he had no idea how he managed to raise someone who didn't seem to have a single flying clue of what was happening around her. Maybe it was better that way, maybe it was good that she didn't know how dangerous London could be especially for her.

Many times before his boss made comments about her, when he barged into the house and saw the pictures on the walls, when he saw her in his car, when they met at the grocery store. It broke his heart to know that man knew what she looked like, knew where she lived. Even the slightest mistake at work could cost him the most precious gift he had.

"Please be careful, Tha?" he asked quietly. "Bring this boy here if you want, but don't go around the city at night."

"Stop treating me like a baby!" Thalia groaned. "I'm 18!"

"Listen to your father," Helena stroked her hair softly. "He knows what's best for you."

"I promise I won't be out after ten, but I'm definitely not bringing Leon here."

Tag List: @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator @spanishmossmagnolia @a-ghoulish-tale @seanfalco

#moonwalkers movie #moonwalkers fanfic #moonwalkers leon #leon x oc #robert sheehan character fic #robert sheehan fanfic #fanfic

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hela-avenger · 4 years

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poison & wine- part 14

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1494

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N: Things are getting good! There’s more drama to come so stay tuned. Also thanks for reading everyone. I love seeing all your excited comments! Please let me know if you’ll like to be tagged!

Hela-Avenger Masterlist

“You don’t know who your father is?!”

You let out a sigh at the sound of Loki’s alarmed voice in the room. You had failed to notice his appearance and you blamed the magical doors that apparently allowed anyone inside without hesitation.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” you ask. “Perhaps maybe privacy?”

“You had me believe you knew who your father was,” Loki states in annoyance.

“It’s not my fault you fell for my lie,” you shrug confused as to why he was so worked up by your revelation. “Though it really wasn’t a lie. You made an assumption and didn’t think of confirming it.”

Loki rolls his eyes at your technicality not amused at your current tactic to get under his skin.

“Then what is the purpose of all this? Why are you even here?”

“Because I do want information on my father such as who he is,” you clarify. “And I want to meet him.”

“I didn’t sign up for this...”

“Yes, you did! You made a deal!”

Loki opens his mouth to argue this further but Frigga steps in.

“You two are being quite loud,” Frigga calmly states. “I understand that this revelation isn’t what we were all hoping for but we must plan accordingly. Y/N is still in need of your protection, Loki, and because you made a deal with her, you will honor it.”

Frigga turns to look at you with a promising expression.

“We will find who your father is and we will protect you along the way.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Frigga nods in response and turns back to look at Loki.

“Now, why have you come unannounced to my chambers, son?” Frigga asks. “You interrupted a private conversation.”

Loki scowls at being reprimanded but doesn’t comment on it.

“Odin has asked for Y/N,” Loki states. “He wishes for our courtship to follow Asgardian traditions which means…”

“He wants to offer his blessing,” Frigga frowns. “And more…”

You scowl at the addition and wonder what you could have possibly signed up for. As if sensing your concern, Frigga turns to you and offers you an encouraging smile.

“Don’t fret,” she tells you. “All will be explained.”

This doesn’t assure you at all. Being called to speak to Odin about your courtship with no preparation at all was just a recipe for disaster.

“Now you two get going,” Frigga orders. “If you waste more time, Odin will grow suspicious.”

You don’t need to be told twice and Loki is quick to offer his arm for you to take. You slip your hand to the crook of his arm and allow him to escort you out. The silence you’re met with after should have been a reprieve except you knew Loki was still reeling from your revelation.

“I’m sorry I tricked you,” you find yourself apologizing to him. “I just… I knew this would be the reaction.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well it seems like you do,” you point out. “You’re upset.”

Loki’s scowl deepens and you don’t understand why he’s taken such offense.

“Why are you so upset?”

“I’m tired of people making a fool of me,” Loki grits out as he glared down at you. “I may be the God of Lies but that doesn’t mean I enjoy being lied to.”

“You know you’re being hypocritical seeing as you lied to me first,” you argue. “You manipulated me into this courtship by withholding vital information. Your mother herself said you even have your own selfish reasons in doing so… so don’t act so hurt when I’ve been playing this game the same way you are.”

Loki’s glare is still intense but the tension in his body disappears. You had a point. You knew you had a point. And you knew he hated that you were right.

“We will discuss this later,” Loki sighs out. “For now, act happy and in love with me.”

You immediately take a deep breath and smile softly up at him.

“Is that loving enough for you?”

“You’re insufferable,” Loki mutters as he turns away from you. “Now keep up. We’re about to have quite an audience.”

You hope he’s lying to you this time, but he isn’t. The moment you enter the courtyard, there is a brief moment of silence before whispers take its place. All eyes are on you and Loki causing you to hold on to him a little tighter.

Surprisingly enough, he looks down at you with a soft smile and raises your hand to press a light kiss on it. You almost believe he’s being sincere but you are reminded that this is all a lie. Either way, the act eases you enough that you are able to ignore the whispers that uttered your name and continue forward.

Loki leads you to the throne room where you find King Odin waiting. He remains as serious as you first met him. His gaze picking you apart in the few seconds that you’ve been in his presence.

“Lady Y/N,” he greets.

“Your majesty,” you greet in return as you offer a slight bow.

“Thank you for coming,” Odin states, his expression never wavering. “It seems like my son left a few details out last night when we first met.”

You can’t help but glance over at Loki unsure of how you were meant to respond to that.

“Odin, do not accuse her…”

You squeeze Loki’s arm in alarm. You didn’t know what you would do if they both got into an argument at this moment.

“Forgive me… forgive us for keeping the information secret. It was a decision we both agreed on when Loki decided to bring me to Asgard,” you interrupt him. “We were… We were unsure of how you would take it and in all honesty, I was scared enough to be here as a guest. Loki didn’t want to add more onto my plate so we decided to keep this to ourselves.”

Odin hums at your response. His expression softening slightly as he considered your words.

“I can’t forgive you,” Odin states, causing you and Loki to tense in alarm. “For there is nothing to forgive you for. I understand your unique situation and I wish nothing but happiness for the both of you. That said, you have my blessing under one simple condition.”

You glance over at Loki in apprehension but he just scowls in annoyance.

“Your relationship may be advanced in Midgardian tradition but I wish to see it under the structure of courtship in Asgard.”

Loki lets out an exasperated sigh but knew better than to argue with Odin at the moment.

“There will be certain traditions I hope you may follow,” Odin explains with a smile that you can’t help but believe be of amusement. “We will start simple with an act of gift giving and then progress to banquets so you may introduce your relationship to Asgardian society. From there, well… we shall see if you’ll reach the next stage.”

You try to make sense of what he’s requesting. It seems simple enough that you don’t understand why Odin believed your lie would collapse before then.

“Loki honoring our tradition, you will give Lady Y/N a blade crafted for her use only,” Odin states. “As for you, Lady Y/N, it is tradition that a woman shall give her partner a handmade shirt for him to wear. You will show off these gifts of affection on your first banquet which will be two nights from now.”

That was a quick turnaround and you now realized the king was hoping to set you up to fail. You didn’t understand the urgency of doing so but you knew that those secrets that Loki has been hiding were most likely the answer to your question.

“I hope that won’t be too much trouble.”

You were not someone so easily scared off and you enjoyed a good challenge here and there.

“Not at all,” you respond to Odin as you offer him a smile. “If this is what you wish, then so be it.”

Odin seems to realize that you were no stranger with a battle of authority. Perhaps you and Loki were a true match if that were the case.

“If that is all, Odin, we wish to retire to our rooms,” Loki states. “It has been quite a day.”

“Ah yes, you may take your leave,” Odin responds watching as Loki escorts you out. The moment the doors are about to be open he speaks again. “There should be no need of me to remind you that though you may be sharing a room, your actions have consequences. Please do try to avoid another scandal.”

Loki drags you away at Odin’s parting words in fear that you might bite his head off at the accusation made. He was right in doing so as your face had grown red in a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“Your father’s an ass.”

Loki could only laugh in agreement.

poison & wine tag: @damalseer @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @is-it-madness @sigyn-njorddottir @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn @fandoms-allovertheplace @marvelloonie @jinxjinxednova @queenmuahaha

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eryiss · 4 years

Text

Chapter Two: ADAPTION

Summary: The Justine's were always a criminal family. The Dreyar's were forced into it due to prohibition. After gaining power and influence in the criminal world, the families were forced into a fragile truce. This was until the recently disowned Freed Justine arrived at Laxus Dreyar's door, demanding a job in exchange for information that could bring his family down. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as part of the Mashima’s Heroes Big Bang, hosted by @ft-ez-bb. I have been paired up with the wonderful @fairiesherefairiesthere, who's made this great piece of art. Remember to give them lots of love.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter Two – Adaption

~Five Weeks Later~

Being at an opera, sitting beside Freed Justine of all people, was not something Laxus could have expected would happen.

Even though he had been the person to suggest it, he hadn't actually expected Freed to agree. He'd gotten the tickets on a whim, a spur of the moment purchase because of a shockingly persuasive kid standing and yelling at the corner of a nearby building advertising the thing. Even when he had been buying the damn tickets he didn't expect Freed to agree to the suggestion, and yet two days later he found himself in a private box, watching Cleopatra's Night at the Neapolitan Opera with his most recently hired employee and newly appointed criminal consultant beside him.

He was making a conscious effort not to think about why he'd offered the ticket to Freed of all people, and why Freed had agreed so easily. To achieve this, he put all his focus on the show. But that wasn't easy given his lack of passion for opera, and with the intermission looming he only had a vague idea about what was actually happening. There was Cleopatra, obviously, as well as some maids and a lion hunter obsessed with the queen. It was all very… dramatic. And the lion hunter pissed Laxus off; who would let themselves be murdered just so he could sleep with a woman?

Freed seemed to share the opinion, as pretty much every time the hunter walked onto the stage Freed would either roll his eyes, mutter under his breath or shuffle in his seat in apparent boredom.

"He ain't your type, huh?" Laxus whispered, their private box meaning nobody could hear them.

"Obsessive, overdramatic, no sense of boundaries and constantly cruel to a woman for no reason? You might have to hold me back from storming the stage and taking him here and now," Freed murmured sarcastically.

Laxus chuckled. Over the past few weeks he had spent a lot of time with Freed, as he'd turned from just his pianist into his official criminal advisor. The shift from a distrustful antagonism with a hint of teasing to a genuine friendship had been shockingly easy.

Most nights, after Freed had played to his crowd of adoring subjects, he would climb to the office and offer Laxus advice and his expertise on issues Laxus might have faced. Often times this wasn't needed as such – Laxus knew what he was doing most of the time, and Freed's advice more supplemented his actions than guided them completely – but those talks were good. Freed was quick witted and had a morbid droll to him. Teasing the man had been fun, but sharing a joke and balking out a laugh with him was a noticeable improvement.

Freed might have agreed, as he seemed more comfortable in his position now. This new found security in his job had brought out the arrogant man that he'd first been when he'd stormed into Laxus' house that night. He was cocky, and it was fun to spar with him.

"Though the actor does seem familiar," Freed commented, leaning forward slightly as he watched the stage. "I think I may have kissed him in a club a few years back. What's his name?"

"Erm," Laxus looked at the playbill in his hand. "Rufus Lore."

"Yes, that's him. A little annoying really," Freed chuckled. "He tried to convince me I was his first kiss, which might have worked had we not frequented the same clubs. Quite often I'd watch him sneaking into a back room with a man he'd enraptured; he got quite the reputation."

"And you still kissed him?"

"I wanted to see what the fuss was about," Freed shrugged. "I still don't understand, he was average at best. Maybe he's just well-endowed."

Laxus laughed and let out a quiet 'fucks sake.' As they'd developed a friendship of sorts, Laxus had made an effort to show how little he cared for Freed's fondness of men. He sometimes brought it up, mainly in companionable jest, and Freed seemed comfortable to speak of it without care. And in the few instances where the topic would arise with any seriousness, Laxus would be careful with his words and make sure not to cause any offense.

This was mainly to make sure his friend felt comfortable with him; Laxus' grandfather had drilled into him that some laws were pathetically stupid and immoral, and that people were who they were. These were views that Laxus kept close to his heart.

There was also a small hope that being blindly accepting of Freed might plant the seed that Laxus shared his inclination. It was a lot easier than having the conversation.

Laxus hated that conversation.

He pushed that thought to then back of his mind – as he did with the thoughts of Freed's past dalliances with men – and instead, put his focus on the show before him. It was still fairly tedious to watch, and the hunter grated on his nerves. But Freed kept up his murmured commentary, and it made the show a little more bearable.

A little while later, the lights of the opera house raised, signalling the beginning of the intermission. Both men stood and walked from their private box and towards the lobby, where a bar went unused for anything other than soft drinks. Many people were standing around, all of whom seemed to be very wealthy and very interested in the show they had been watching. Laxus would bet a good few dollar that most of them didn't care about the show and only came because they wanted to sound intellectual and well cultured, and that grated on Laxus' nerves slightly. Rich assholes.

"Wanna get a smoke outside?" He offered Freed. "Less cramped than in here?"

"I don't smoke," Freed replied. "But I can join you."

They both left the lobby and walked to the front staircase of the opera house. They leant against the stone wall of the staircase, Laxus making sure he was downwind of Freed so that the smoke from his cigars wouldn't blow into his face. He pulled his cigars from their case, struck a match, and lit it. As he smoked, his eyes lingered to Freed, who stood in the moonlight with a great sense of belonging. He seemed in his element for the first time since Laxus had seen him, other than when he was playing at night.

"You been here before?" He asked.

"What makes you think that? You assume I have friends in the theatre?" Freed smirked, and Laxus chuckled at the reference to the ridiculous analogy used to describe gay men.

"I know you do, you just told me you kissed the star of the show," Laxus chuckled, after making sure nobody was in ear shot of course. "And the reason I was askin' is because you look like you belong in a place like that. High culture, shit like that."

"Most of the people I associated with were in the arts in some capacity. Poets, actors, painters; those sorts mainly. Of course there was the occasional criminal who made things a little interesting, but most of my friends were what you might consider cultured," Freed mused aloud. "Though I think what really grouped them all together was their willingness to leave my life entirely when I lost my money. Shocking, isn't it?"

Laxus chuckled, but didn't speak. He took a drag of his cigar and looked down the busy streets of New York. It was spitting rain, though not heavy enough for him to care, and the flickering street lamps reflected in the puddles starting to form. Laxus had always liked the rain.

"Why did you bring me here tonight?" Freed asked, and Laxus looked to him in surprise.

"Because you've been helpin' me out a lot, and I thought you'd enjoy it," Laxus shrugged, taking another drag of the cigar, and slowly letting the smoke stream from his lips. "And I never had the money to do anythin' like this before, and I wanted to see what it was like. Saw it as an opportunity to get two things done at once."

Freed took a moment before speaking again. "I almost believe you."

"Why almost?"

"Because you're not meeting my eye," Freed supplied. "And you always meet my eye when you're being honest. A habit you really should get out of, given your propensity to make hollow threats, but that's beside the point. Why are we really here?"

Laxus couldn't be fully honest, but he could answer the question somewhat.

"There's been… We never really got into the crime world more than we had to. People thought we did – thought we were blackmailing one half of the police force and pointing guns at the others – but most of the illegal things we did was just getting the booze and selling it. We just made sure never to correct people when they thought we were dangerous" Laxus sighed. "But with your help, we're getting further into it. And it's working out well, so doesn't think I ain't grateful, but there's a lot more to think about. Just had a lot of stress I suppose; wanted to have a break from it all."

"That makes sense," Freed nodded slightly. "And why me? Not that I don't appreciate it, but being alone would be cheaper. And a man such as yourself could have any woman he wanted on his arm, and any other part of his body I dare say. And you're not short of women around you, many of them willing by the looks of it."

Laxus made a conscious effort to ignore the 'man such as yourself' comment.

"You must have realised that, in these circles, there are men who know me. Know of my fondness's as well," Freed continued, and Laxus' eyes flickered to him again. "It's entirely likely that they'll see a man with me, and make assumptions."

"Let 'em think what they think. They'll either not know who I am, and in that case it doesn't matter what they think, or they will know, and they'll probably be shit scared of me," Laxus shrugged.

He watched as Freed's brows tightened slightly, and his eyes flickered over Laxus' face inquisitively. Laxus didn't say anything, because he knew that most men wouldn't be so flippant about being mistaken for a lover of other men. And, as Laxus didn't want to have the conversation about why he didn't bat an eyelid about people making that assumption, he instead let Freed's mind wonder in the hopes he would come to the conclusion himself.

Freed might also understand the other reason they were here together. The reason Laxus wasn't ready to admit to just yet, not even to himself.

"Very well," Freed said, a level of surety in his voice now. "I've had a delightful time, no matter what the reason. You're good company."

"So are you," Laxus parroted, and grinned at Freed over his cigar.

"And by the sounds of it, I seem proficient in distracting you," Freed smirked, and Laxus felt his face flush lightly.

Freed chuckled, patted Laxus' arm with a slightly too firm hand, and said he would see Laxus at their seats. As he turned and walked away, Laxus found it impossible for his eyes to stray from his retreating figure, in the expensive velvet tuxedo that complimented his angular form in the moonlight. Only when the man was back in the building could Laxus look away, and he took another drag of his cigar with a very light quiver in his breath.

"You've no fuckin' idea," He muttered as he blew out a final puff of smoke.

~~~

~3 Months Later~

Freed had his eyes closed as his fingers danced across the keys before him. Fairy Tail's piano was a beautiful thing – large, polished, made of mahogany wood, with its mechanisms open for all to see – and Freed had grown to love playing it after months of his new employ.

The entire sensation was indescribable. Before joining Fairy Tail he hadn't played often, given his father's dissatisfaction for him doing anything he deemed to be feminine or artistic. When he first joined the tavern he'd been somewhat stilted while performing, talents rusty from disuse. But as he spent more time playing, refining the art, the more he enjoyed it. The feel of the keys pushing against his fingers, the vibrations of the sounds against his legs, the thrumming effect on his heart. It was an incredible feeling, and one he was addicted to.

Which was why it was perhaps childish to use it to drown out the teasing of his friends.

"We can wait," Bickslow sang over the loud music filling the speakeasy. He was standing beside the piano with his arms crossed, grinning. Freed continued playing, pushing his fingers against the keys with more effort.

"You'll get tired eventually, you know," Evergreen added, leaning on the side of the piano.

The musical stalemate lasted a few moments longer, partly because Freed knew there was an inevitability in the situation and partly because his fingers were starting to cramp. He finished the tune with perhaps more of a flourish than he needed to – it was just the three of them there, after all – and looked at his two friends' amused expressions with boredom. They both grinned at his expectantly.

"What 'cha hiding from us, Freed?" Bickslow began, smiling.

"Nothing," Freed lied.

He really didn't think his secret – if it could be called that – was really anything of note. It was his birthday, something he didn't particularly care about because he wasn't ten years old. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone, mainly because a month prior it had been Erza's birthday, and they had celebrated with a party that was far too loud and obnoxious for Freed's liking. He didn't want something like that for himself, so he had kept the event quiet.

How Bickslow and Evergreen had picked up on the fact Freed was hiding something, he didn't know. He used to pride himself on having an impeccable poker face, but they'd seen through it. Being in Fairy Tail, an environment where lying wasn't commonplace, must have made him complacent. He was slipping.

Or maybe he was just more effected by the day than he'd wanted. It was his first birthday without being with his family and, despite the fact most of them were obnoxious assholes – which was a very kind way to phrase it really – they were still his family. Rather than a lavish, somewhat awkward dinner at an expensive restaurant, he would be working for most of the night and returning to his tiny boarding house simply to sleep. Perhaps the lack of the usual pomp and circumstance was bothering him more than he'd wanted, and it was obvious on his face.

Not that he wanted fuss. He wouldn't be keeping the day a secret if he did. It was just unusual, that was all.

"Then why were you playing while we tried to talk to you?" Evergreen asked, pushing off the piano when Freed moved from the seat and towards the table they often frequented.

"I need to keep myself sharp, I was practicing," Freed shrugged. It wasn't technically untrue. "You too should perhaps try it."

"You know," Bickslow said, and Freed could hear amusement in his voice. "You're right. We should."

Before Freed could say anything, a large hand grabbed his arm. A moment later Bickslow's bodyweight was pushing down on Freed, and his other hand was on the back of Freed's head. His cheek was slammed against the table with a loud and echoing thud, and Freed grunted as his side was pushed roughly against the side of the furniture. He narrowed his eyes as his face was pushed into a puddle of spilled beer, and he struggled to get out of the large man's grasp.

"You tell me what I wanna know or I'll bash your knees in, pretty boy," Bickslow growled into Freed's ear, voice darker and gravellier than normal. The effect was ruined slightly by the giggle that followed.

"Go ahead," Freed grunted, calling Bickslow's bluff as he pushed up against the hand holding him down. He still couldn't move; Bickslow was good at this. "Though I doubt you will, so get off me."

"Fine," Bickslow chuckled, removed his hands from Freed and allowing him to stand upright again. He grinned at the glare he received. "You're right I guess. I mean, what would the boss say if his favourite got hurt and it was because of me? He'd go mad."

Freed gave him a levelled, unimpressed look. The idea that he was in some way Laxus' favourite was something that had spread quickly throughout Fairy Tail, and almost every staff member seemed to enjoy mocking Freed with it. He didn't particularly understand where the idea Laxus preferred him came from, other than perhaps they spent a lot of time together given his position of Laxus' advisor. Just because they talked a lot didn't mean he was treated differently, though.

He'd tried explaining this, but Evergreen brought up the opera tickets. And the letter of recommendation sent to his landlord. And the bi-weekly trips to restaurants so his criminal solicitation wasn't always in the office.

They might have had something of a point…

But Laxus was kind to all of his employees. It was entirely possible that Laxus gave the same level of attention to everyone else, and Freed was mocked because his pride made his reactions entertaining. The excuse was flimsy at best, but Freed decided to believe it.

As he went to say something in argument, the door to the speakeasy opened and light flickered in. All three of them looked over just in case a drunk or criminal walked into the bar unknowingly and needed persuasion to leave. However, when they sat it was Laxus, they removed their hands from their weapons. Freed was quick to give Bickslow a warning glance as he turned back to his drink; Bickslow just grinned back at him widely.

"You three alright?" Laxus asked as he walked towards them.

"We're fine, just taking some time before we start work," Freed spoke first, before either of his companions could bring Laxus into their discussion. "You're not normally hear at this time. Nothing's wrong, I hope."

"Nah, was just getting sick of being at home; Gramps just keeps talking, gets to be too much. Might as well get some work done," Laxus shrugged.

He went on to keep walking, but as he looked at Freed he frowned and stopped. The two men looked at one another, Freed confused as to why Laxus' eyes were flickering over his face.

He watched wordlessly as Laxus took a step forward and slowly, gently brought his finger to Freed's cheek and stroked it with a knuckle.

Freed froze, Bickslow sniggered, Evergreen muttered a quiet 'oh my god', and Laxus brought his slight wet finger to his nose to sniff; he winced a little at the scent of harsh booze.

"Why've you got the cheap shit on your cheek?" He asked, looking to Freed.

"Well," Freed forced out, blinking away whatever emotion Laxus' gentle touch had stirred up inside him. "Your employee decided to test out his intimidation techniques on me. Apparently coating me with my spilled drink is part of that."

"You're still drinking this?" Laxus asked, flicking the cheap alcohol off his finger. "You know you can have whatever you want, right? I ain't gonna get pissed if you take the top shelf stuff."

"I like the moonshine," Freed shrugged, slightly lying.

Laxus rolled his eyes, walked from the table that the three were sitting at and leant over the bar. Freed watched Laxus as he pulled out a single, unopened bottle of what seemed to be port, purposefully ignoring the chuckling coming from Evergreen and the leg nudges from Bickslow below the table. Laxus walked back, placing the large bottle of high-end port onto the table in front of Freed, either unaware or uncaring to the teasing Freed was forced to endure.

"This is yours," Laxus informed Freed, and the pianist frowned towards the bottle. "I know you're a port drinker, and this is a good label, so don't act like you don't want it. Leave the crap for the cheaper customers."

"You needn't do that," Freed began, tensing at the barely held giggles from his friends. "I'm perfectly fine with-"

"It's a gift," Laxus shrugged, grinning. "It's what you give people on their birthday, isn't it?"

Freed paused, then blinked. "How did you-"

"It's my job to know," Laxus shrugged. "Now, yer gonna make the most of your present and have a good drink before you get to work. You're not gonna share it with these freeloading asshats who look like they're having some kind of fit for some fucking reason," Freed glanced to Bickslow and Evergreen, who were red with restrained laughter. "And I doubt you wanted a party but tough shit. Mirajane's baking a cake and once we're done for the night we're gonna toast ya and your just gonna have to deal with it. That a problem?"

"Would it matter if it was?" Freed asked, resignedly amused.

"Not a bit," Laxus laughed. He began to walk towards his office, but paused and looked back. "Oh, and I'm pretty sure that half the customers come here 'cause the pianist has a pretty face. So wash up; boss's orders."

He walked away before anyone at the table could speak.

Freed watched him go, before turning and looking at the bottle of port that remained untouched. As had often happened with Laxus, Freed found himself looking back on a conversation to understand what had actually been said. The blonde was like a whirlwind in many ways, and Freed seemed to be captured in his draw very often.

Had he stroked Freed's cheek? And how had he known that it was Freed's birthday? And had he just called Freed pretty? It had all been so nonchalant, as if it were second nature for Laxus, and Freed almost thought he might have imagined it all.

"Oh yeah," Bickslow laughed after a moment. "We're all the same to him. No favourites here."

That was how the rest of the day went for Freed, with Bickslow and Evergreen teasing him; a few other members of the bar also joined in when the opportunity arose. He took the jokes as well as he could, which was somewhat difficult given that both the bottle of port and the slight flushing on his cheeks acted as constant reminders of what Laxus had done.

Once his night of playing was over and the bar closed to the public, a cake was presented to him. Nobody sang, and the party was on a much smaller scale than it had been for everyone else, but enough of a fuss was made of Freed for him to almost forget Laxus' actions. Almost.

As he walked to his boarding house, he found himself replaying the moments through his head again and again. The gentle touch of Laxus' shockingly soft knuckles against his skin was tantalising, and the ease with which he complimented Freed was so… unusual.

Laxus presented himself to be a man's man, always in control and a symbol of strength for those who needed it. Freed had known men like that, he'd been with men like that, and they'd always seen compliments as a sign of weakness. Laxus clearly didn't see it like that, and although Freed considered himself more handsome than pretty, having a man like Laxus compliment him so unabashedly was thrilling.

Freed would posture that anything Laxus did would be thrilling; Laxus was that type of man.

And he had to believe that Laxus wouldn't mind. Because, as much as Freed denied it, Laxus' treatment of him was hardly platonic. Platonic men didn't take other men to the opera. Platonic men didn't stroke other men's cheeks for no reason. Platonic men didn't flip their opinions on other men so quickly. If he were a romantic, he might say Laxus was treating him like he'd treat someone during courtship.

He might say he'd enjoy it, were he more honest with himself.

Before he could fixate on that thought, he pushed open the door to his boarding house, locking it behind him and was met by a glare form his landlady: Porlyusica.

"You're late," The old woman grunted. "I nearly locked you out."

"And I'm grateful that you didn't," Freed said placatingly. The small room he rented was the best he could get, and he couldn't risk alienating her. "I assume I will be paying you a little more rent this month as to not encourage this behaviour."

"You will," She agreed. She stood up from her rocking chair, picking something up from a sideboard and offering it to Freed. It was an envelope with his name written on it in cursive. "For you."

"Thank you," Freed smiled. "Goodnight Porlyusica."

The woman grunted in response, and Freed climbed the staircase to get to his rented room. He closed the door behind him and bolted it, looking around the small living room and bedroom combination, before collapsing into the armchair.

He relaxed for a moment before glancing to the envelope he'd been given. His stomach dropped as he looked at it, dread filling him. The handwriting was instantly recognisable to him.

It was his father's writing.

Any glimmer of optimism that had grown during his time in Fairy Tail died instantly.

Dread rushed through him, hands shaking ever so slightly as he opened the envelope. His father couldn't know where he lived; he just couldn't. Freed had done everything he could to avoid any of his family or their employees finding him. He lived on the opposite side of New York so nobody would stumble across him, he walked home through side streets and winding paths as not to be followed, and he made sure his payments to Porlyusica always were without a contract so he couldn't be traced. For heaven's sake, he even made a point to avoid the streetlights so that he couldn't be seen. And it had all been for nothing.

He opened the envelope with trepidation, to see a cheap looking birthday card inside. He read and reread the small message inside multiple times, blood freezing as he tensed. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, his breath slightly shaky now.

'My Dear Son. I Will See You Soon. Your Loving Father.'

~~~

~One Week Later~

Laxus had never been held at gunpoint. It felt almost aethereal.

He'd thought about it. As a career criminal, making dangerous enemies with murderous intent was an occupational hazard. Being a so-called rising name in the criminal world meant ruffling the feathers of powerful and dangerous people, many of whom had a propensity to violence. It had seemed almost inevitable that he'd push someone over the edge at some point, and that it would end up with a gun being pointed to his head.

Whenever he had thought about it, he expected that he'd be calm and collected. That he'd be okay, because he knew that nobody would actually shoot him because it was too big of a risk. That he'd be able to smooth things out and nobody would need to get hurt; and if someone did get hurt it sure as fuck wouldn't be him.

The reality was less heroic. It was more… terrifying.

He was, to his credit, not showing his fear. He sat in his office chair, looking at the two men aiming guns in his direction. He leant back, trying to seem as though he was nonchalant and unbothered by the threat, but his blood was rushing and his adrenaline thrumming through his mind as if a scream in his ears. His foot bounced slightly under the desk, as it was the only way to dismiss the fearful energy flowing through him. It was either that, or let the people threatening to kill him see his hands shaking with every movement.

"Where is he?" One of the men – tall, maroon-brown hair, with a scar over his eye – demanded in a growl.

"Who?" Laxus retorted, voice not shaking.

"You know damn well who," The man snarled back, pushing the gun forward an inch.

He did know, of course. He'd seen the large, white car pulling up in front of the bar, and he'd recognised it easily. It was one of the many overly expensive cars owned by the Justine Family's highest-ranking associates. When the men left their car, he'd taken the few spare moments to rush down and push his remaining staff members out through the back door without explanation. Thankfully, it was late enough in the night for only two people to still be in the bar, other than Laxus.

But it was obvious who they wanted. Freed. Why they wanted him, Laxus didn't know, but he could guess by their expressions that it wouldn't be for good. And the idea of turning Freed over to these men, with their snarling teeth and readied guns, sent a protective rush through him he hadn't felt before.

He wouldn't let them near him. He wouldn't.

"He ain't here," Laxus grunted back. "And if he was, he ain't gonna go with you."

"He'll go where we tell him to," The other man, a tall, blonde man spoke up. Laxus looked towards him, but stopping from moving when the barrel of the gun pressed against the side of his head. "Unless you wanna trouble him with disposing of ya body, blondie."

"Well he ain't here," Laxus growled, anger mixing with his fear. "So fuck off."

"And leave you to warn him," The scarred man chuckled. "Nah. I'll go see the little queer, and my friend here is gonna make sure you don't move, and if either of you piss me off, then he's gonna give this office a nice new paint job. You understand?"

If the threat wasn't obvious, the blonde man pushed the gun against Laxus' temple with more force, and Laxus tensed.

"Fuckers," He growled, and the scarred man laughed. "I should take that gun and shove it up yer-"

He paused.

They all did, and even the press of the gun against his head relented slightly. From the lower level of the building, where the main hall of the tavern was, music was being played. Loud, unabashedly confident and very familiar to Laxus' ears; it was undoubtedly Freed's music. A new rush of dread ran over him, because his own life being at risk was bad enough, but to have Freed in the same building as the men who wanted to abduct him, and possibly kill him for all Laxus knew, was terrifying in a way that Laxus couldn't quantify.

The music echoed through the silent room, the pleasant tone completely at odds with the tense fear that was almost palpable. Laxus silently prayed that somehow Freed would stop, that he'd be somehow aware of the danger he was in and would run for the hills, but that wouldn't happen. The reality of the situation suddenly hit Laxus; both he and Freed were in danger. They could die.

"Up," The scarred man demanded, flicking his gun up slightly.

Laxus did as he was told, and the gun against his head moved to his lower back. He was pushed out of his office, and forced to walk down the staircase, Freed's music getting louder the closer to the piano he got.

When he saw the man, dread filled him. Freed's eyes were closed, and his head swaying gently as it often did when he was caught up in the rhythm of a song. Laxus looked on in horror, because not only did Freed not seem to know the danger he was in, he also didn't seem at all prepared for it. Why couldn't he just open his eyes and run, there was enough time. He probably couldn't even hear them approaching, the sound of his music too overpowering to his ears. Laxus didn't know what to do.

Why was Freed even there? He had left nearly half an hour ago, he should be back in boarding house by now, not here. Even though they apparently knew where he lived – which was a worry itself – at least if he was there he'd only be dealing with one of them.

Maybe Laxus could fight them off. It was a risk, but he was bigger than them both. He could overpower the blonde one, maybe take his gun and shoot the other. It could work.

Or maybe if he tried, he'd be shot. Or Freed would be shot.

Panic overtook every good sense he had, and despite his need to do something, anything, that could take both him and Freed out of danger, he could only walk. He was taken to the middle of the tavern floor, and looked on in fear as the gun was pushed into his spine with nearly enough force to make his knees buckle. Freed was still playing the damned piano and Laxus thought through all the things that he could have done that would have stopped the situation from happening if he'd known. He would have dealt with the two invaders while he had the chance, he would have locked the damn front door so Freed couldn't get in, he would have smashed the fucking piano with a sledgehammer if it meant this wouldn't happen.

The sound of music slowly fading away cut through the spiralling panic that he was feeling, and Laxus' eyes flickered to see Freed was looking at him with concern. The expression only lasted for a moment, before he looked at the two men: one pressing a gun into Laxus' back, the other pointing his gun at Freed.

"Sawyer, Erik," Freed said calmly, and he smiled at them. "How pleasant it is to see you both."

"We don't go by those names anymore," The blonde growled, and Laxus felt the gun push further into his back.

"Well I'm certainly not going to call you Racer and Cobra, am I?" Freed chuckled, still sitting behind the piano. "You're grown adult men, not stooges in a low budget comedy show. You should start acting like it."

"Motherfucker," The man, Sawyer apparently, muttered harshly.

"You're gonna come with us," The other man, Erik, demanded as he took a step forward. The gun remained pointed directly at Freed's face, and Freed maintained his pleasant smile as the violator approached. "Your father wants to see you."

"I don't believe I have a father," Freed tilted his head as if confused. "I lost that right when he disowned me. He made that quite clear."

"We'll kill him if you don't," Erik threatened, and the gun was pushed with force into Laxus back.

The sudden harsh movement took Laxus by surprise, and his legs buckled with the strain. He fell to his knees and before he could do anything about it, and Sawyer's gun was pressed against the back of his head. Laxus glared down at the floor, pissed that he'd allowed himself to fall so easily. His eyes flickered to Freed, who had lost his slightly amused expression and replaced it with one of seriousness.

It was a heavy expression, one that seemed to tell Laxus that he wouldn't allow anything to happen to him. A pathetic level of comfort came from that, even if Laxus felt he should be the one assuring Freed, not the other way around.

"Well, I suppose there's a first time for everything," Freed mused a moment later, looking at the man holding a gun to Laxus' head. "You've finally got a man on his knees for you, Sawyer. Though not for lack of trying."

"I ain't like you," Sawyer growled, and Laxus shot Freed a look as the gun pushed his head down further.

"Please, if I'd given you the slightest attention you would have done anything I asked," Freed chuckled, leaning back in the stool he was sitting on. "I could have clicked my fingers and you would have come to heel."

"I am not one of you," Sawyer repeated, and his tone told Laxus his entire body was tensed.

"Well, it's either that, or you just have a great fascination for my legs and the front of my trousers," Freed taunted, and Laxus hoped to god that he knew what he was doing. Because fear was rushing through Laxus, hammering at him like a siren now. "Not that I'd indulge you, of course. From what I've heard, you're driving isn't the only thing that's over before it begins. I suppose calling yourself Racer is quite accurate. Though I'd wager 'Quickdraw' might be a little more succinct in getting the message across."

"Racer," Erik interrupted quietly, in a warning tone.

"Mother fucker!" Sawyer snarled.

Laxus found himself pushed to the ground, and he looked up as Sawyer walked over him and stormed towards Freed, the gun now pointing at the other man. Laxus scrambled to stand up, but glanced towards Erik to see that now he was aiming at Laxus. The blonde froze, because Erik now had his hand on the trigger, and he could easily pull it before Laxus could do anything.

But he had to do something. Because apparently Freed's plan had been to annoy Sawyer to the point where he left Laxus alone, which had worked. But now Sawyer was pissed off at Freed, holding a weapon and advancing on his with speed. Laxus glanced towards him, dread flooding him again at the very real possibility that Sawyer might use the weapon on Freed. And Laxus hadn't been able to stop it from happening, he hadn't been able to protect the man he was falling for and he might die and Laxus would have to watch and-

An ear-splitting sound attacked Laxus' ears. Only a moment later, Laxus realised it was a gunshot.

He breathed raggedly, terror overpowering the ringing in his ears. It hadn't been Erik's gun, or Laxus would have been shot. Which meant it had been Sawyers, which had been pointing towards Freed.

Freed.

Fuck. Shit!

Laxus stumbled to his feet, not caring if Erik saw this as justification for shooting. He staggered towards the piano, only to stop in his tracks when he saw Sawyer doubled over, screeching in pain, and leaning against the instrument for support. Laxus looked down to see blood staining Sawyers trousers, a little below the knee. When Laxus looked up again, Freed was holding a gun of his own, glaring unsympathetically at Sawyer while advancing on him. The look on his face was without emotion, Laxus might consider it to be murderous in its calm.

"Bastard!" Sawyer yelled.

Freed continued walking, and Laxus watched as Freed kicked the gun that had fallen to the floor away. He looked down at Sawyer, who was openly crying as he looked at his gunshot wound, and then to Erik, who was flicking his weapon between the two men. When Freed aimed at Erik, the criminal aimed back.

"You are going to leave this place," Freed said, with a level of calculated authority that Laxus hadn't heard from the man. It was intense, angry, and powerful. "And you will tell my father to leave me alone."

"No," Erik demanded back.

"Then I will kill you," Freed growled, and the seriousness in his tone sent a worried chill down Laxus' spine. "And I will use your corpses as a clear message to my father."

Laxus watched the stalemate with wide eyes, the two men aiming guns at one another. Laxus went to move, but the half step he took was enough to have Erik's gun aimed at him. He froze, and slowly the gun panned towards Freed again. Laxus was half tempted to get the attention back on him, at least that way Freed would be at less of a risk.

The few seconds where he thought Freed had been shot were hell. Laxus couldn't think of another word to describe it, but he wouldn't risk it again.

"You ain't got the balls to kill someone," Erik snarled. "You're just the prissy little son."

Freed, still wearing a mask of stoic calmness, started to walk towards Erik with his gun outstretched. Laxus watched, eyes wide as his pianist walked so that he was in Erik's personal space. The blonde's breath caught when he watched Freed move his head down, so that Erik's pistol was pushing against his forehead. If Erik pulled the trigger, Freed would be dead. There was no doubt; why the hell had Freed done that?

"Why don't we see who's really serious," Freed said, deadly calm, pressing his own gun against Erik's forehead. "Because we both know how that will end up."

Laxus didn't dare move, watching as Freed pushed himself further forward, Erik's gun pressed against his forehead. Freed clearly forced Erik to maintain eye contact, almost trapping the other man's gaze, and Laxus watched with bated breath as the stalemate reignited, hoping to god that Freed knew what he was doing because Laxus was terrified. If Erik shot, then Freed would die and Laxus would only be able to watch and he couldn't deal with that. He just couldn't.

A slight clattering to his left caught Laxus attention. He flicked his head over to see Sawyer slowly crawling across the floor, blood trailing behind him. He was clearly going towards his discarded gun, and Laxus moved before thinking. He couldn't let another weapon be involved in the situation.

He walked forward and slammed the man's head into the floor.

Sawyer stopped moving, clearly knocked out, and Laxus would have been lying if he said that the feeling of violence wasn't a little cathartic. But he couldn't distract himself, so he looked to the stalemate again, to see that neither of the two men had moved. Laxus took a small level of relief from the fact that it hadn't gotten worse, but that was a cold comfort.

"As I said," Freed spoke again, voice venom now. "You are going to leave. You'll take Sawyer with you. And you will tell my father that, unless he wishes for his men to be killed and left on his doorstep, he will leave me, and the people in this tavern, the hell alone. Do you understand me?"

There was silence, and Laxus felt as though he couldn't breathe.

With a snarl, Erik stepped back and removed his gun from Freed's forehead. Freed kept his aim steady, even as Erik placed his gun under his belt again.

Laxus let out a silent, haggard breath of relief, feeling somewhat safe for the first time since he had seen their car parking outside the tavern. He was still tense and wary though, because Erik was still there and he still had a gun with him, even if he had removed it from sight.

There was silence as Erik looked down at the slowly breathing Sawyer, before picking him up and placing him over his shoulder. Freed maintained his aim as he motioned for him to leave, which Erik moved to do. He spat at the floor as he left.

Both men followed Erik, Freed still holding his gun towards him. They watched in silence as Erik tossed the man in the back seat, before climbing into the driver's seat and driving off, glaring at them both as he did so.

Once he was out of sight, and they were safe, anger exploded in Laxus.

"What the fuck were you thinking!" Laxus shouted, turning to Freed and glaring at him with sudden fury. Freed looked at him as he placed his gun in his jacket pocket, squaring his shoulders. "Did you not realise they were there, or are you just fucking stupid? What the fuck were you even doing here?"

"I left my wallet here, so I came to return it," Freed explained, and Laxus noted a tenseness in his jaw. "And of course I knew they were here; I know Sawyer's car."

"Then why the fuck did you come inside?" Laxus yelled, voice snarling in a protective rage. "Why didn't you use your fucking brain and run the hell away? You can't be that fucking stupid that you thought they were here for a good reason. Did you not even take a second to think they might wanna hurt you? For fucks sake, you played a fucking song. Did you wanna taunt them into killing you? Wanna make yourself feel like a big man before they shot you in the chest? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I was thinking, Laxus, that I might be better equipped to deal with the situation than you," Freed growled back, and his tone was almost as venomous as it had been when speaking with Erik. "I thought that you were a naive danger to yourself who knows nothing of violence compared to me, and that I'd rather be there to help than let you get killed through inaction."

"You pushed his gun to your head," Laxus growled. "You were inviting him to kill you!"

"I was calling his bluff," Freed snarled back. "He wouldn't kill anyone in my family, disowned or otherwise. He's a coward, as is Sawyer. I'm surprised father sent them of all people, I expected better."

"You expected this!"

"My father knows where I live," Freed snapped. "It was a matter of time."

"Why the fuck didn't you think to tell me?" Laxus demanded.

"I didn't expect him to send people here," Freed grunted. "I assumed he'd deal with it at my home."

"I don't give a shit that it happened in the bar, Freed," Laxus yelled again, anger and exasperation in his tone. "I care that he sent a gunman to get you, I care that he wants you back and he seems willing to hurt and kill people to do it, I care that you could have been shot in there. Fucks sake, what if you didn't shoot Sawyer in time and he got a shot off on you. I couldn't have fucking saved you from that, but if you told me he's after you I could have done something!"

"You seem to forget something, Laxus," Freed said, voice low now. "I am not yours to protect. I am not an innocent man who has been dragged into this life by happenstance. I was brought into it from birth and I know it a hell of a lot better than you do."

"That doesn't mean that I can't protect you," Laxus growled.

"I do not need protection, Mr Dreyar," Freed spoke through gritted teeth. "If you remember correctly, you were the one on your knees. You were the one with a gun to the back of his head. You were the one who froze up. Not me. That is not the first hostage situation I have been in, both as a hostage myself and as a perpetrator. That is not the first time I have shot a man, nor will it be the last I expect. And these things should serve as a reminder, Mr Dreyar, that in the area of crime, I am your superior in every damn way. I am not your damsel to save."

With glare, Freed stormed past him.

Laxus was now left alone.

He found himself unable to process what had just happened, a mix of anger and relief and offense flooding through him and stopping his mind from working. He could only watch as Freed stormed from the alleyway they had argued in, walking in the direction of his boarding house with purposeful, precise movements.

Once he was out of sight, Laxus deflated, slid down a wall, and closed his eyes.

"Fuck," Laxus exhaled shakily. It was all he could think of saying, the perfect summation of his night. "Fuck."

#ftezbb2021 #Fraxus #freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #Event #Big Bang #Multi Chapter

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illneverrecover · 5 years

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growl | kth (m)

➛pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader (per usual) ➛summary: Clearing his throat, he tries again, gaze intense. His eyes are about to fall out of his skull with the power of his attempt at a telepathic message to his friend. “Come on, Jimin. Ask me. You know what? I’ll help you. I pick dare.” A sly glint of amusement pulls at the edge of Jimin’s mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. You look back and forth between the two of them, not sure what was happening but sure as hell knowing it was going to be nothing be trouble. “I dare you to sing a song that shows off your best growling for our girl here,” ➛genre: non idol!AU, friends to lovers, slice of life, smut ➛word count: 4605 ➛rating: explicit/mature (y’all been knew) ➛warnings: alcohol use, cursing, cliche use of ‘truth or dare’, Seokjin singing dope songs at karaoke, Jimin being chaotic, slight dirty talk, semi public sex, oral (male receiving), swallowing, Taehyung being a secret softie. ➛notes: Firstly, I would like to start off by saying that this fic idea came from @destiel1597 and the pure lethal sex that is 5th Muster Taehyung™, so this is truly their fault. The both of them. Secondly, y’all should’ve known that the minute I saw 5th Muster Taehyung™, I’d have to let the thirst out somehow. I don’t have self control. Lastly, shoutout to my bby @taetaesbaebaepsae for assisting me & @purpletigertaetae for spamming me with rude Tae inspo to fuel the thotting. You the best. I promise my next fic will be about another member. If Tae would just RELAX I wouldn’t have to be like this!! ➛song: Toxic - Alex & Sierra (which is the version Tae sings in this. Listen to it and picture him singing it and tell me you wouldn’t do the same). Ma City - BTS 5th Muster version (which you should go watch immediately if you haven’t - this growling Tae was the muse for this entire sinful piece.)

ᴄʀᴏss-ᴘᴏsᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ AO3;; ʟɪɴᴋ ɪɴ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ

“How many times are you going to dare me to sing this song?”

Seokjin’s face had a thin sheen of sweat, the bright disco lights of the cozy karaoke booth bouncing off his skin, showing the exasperation evident on his face.

“Until it stops being funny. So…” you look around at the others, pausing to sip at your drink. “Never. Get to it, lover boy.”

He sighs heavily but did as he was told, picking up the microphone and waiting for the flatscreen to start scrolling with the lyrics. The first few bars of the song blared through the speakers, and the guys gave supporting hoots to encourage him.

Despite his earlier protest, he quickly gets into it, eyebrows furrowed as he dramatically swings the mic, belting out the first few notes. “I gotta take a little time, a little time to think things over...I better read between the lines, in case I need it when I'm older…”

Next to you, Taehyung laughs deeply, throwing his head back as the elder continues, eyes glistening with unshed tears. No one else in the room was faring much better, every single person in some stage of cracking up at his theatrics. Forcing Seokjin to sing Foreigner songs is always hilarious, and one of your favorite parts of your friends bi-monthly karaoke meetups.

No one really knows when or how the tradition started (though rumor has it, it was at your drunken demand to ‘show off the golden pipes’), but these nights in the same small private room of your local karaoke bar had quickly become the favorite in your friend group. Twice a month, regardless of what was going on, everyone agreed to meet up for dinner, drinks, and the most ridiculous yet always entertaining game of truth or dare - karaoke style.

It was typical of your friends to never do anything the normal way, and this was no different. Instead of selecting songs of personal preference to sing for the room, they were always chosen as either a dare, or a failure to participate in a truth. It was asker's choice, and the victim wasn’t allowed to veto, less they wanted to foot the entire bill for the evening. And between seven men in their mid twenties and the pickled livers of you and your friend, Nari - that was a hefty price to pay.

Seokjin reaches the chorus, the build up so intense that it’s no surprise when he drops to his knees, his tenor still in pitch and beautiful despite the theatrics. “I want to know what love is! I want you to show me! I want to feel what love is, I know you can show me!”

He’s clutching at his chest while staring into Yoongi’s eyes, the younger man expressionless as if this performance was something he saw on the regular. Which, to be fair - it was.

Slinging back the dregs, you lean to grab the bottle of vodka on the table before a large hand beats you to it, Taehyung smiling down at you as he scoots closer. “The usual, milady?”

You slap his arm, eyes rolling. “Gross, no one says ‘milady’, Tae.”

He giggles, filling it halfway with the liquor before topping it off with some seltzer - just the way you like it. You were only two drinks in, but the honeyed sound of his laugh always flustered you, a light burn flushing your cheeks. His long, dark hair was wavy and messy in that perfect way that made you want to sink your fingers into it, and between that and the peek of golden chest through the undone buttons of his dark dress shirt, you found yourself feeling thirsty. Well, thirstier than you normally were for Kim Taehyung.

It had become a running gag with the other guys - your little school girl crush on Taehyung, something that they used to tease you at any given opportunity. It seemed to personally offend them that you wouldn’t say anything to the brunette, and no matter how many times you explained you didn’t want to fuck with the group dynamics, they couldn’t seem to stop sticking their noses directly into your business. You’d be annoyed by their immature comments if it wasn’t for the fact that the handsome man seemed completely oblivious to them - and your feelings.

Thank fuck for that.

Handing you the freshened beverage, Taehyung moves to pour more into his glass before settling, large thigh pressing into your own. He has always been an affectionate guy, so when he threw an arm over your shoulder just as Seokjin hit the last notes of the song, you didn’t blink an eye.

However, Jimin did.

He had been watching all night, seeing the way his best friend was buttering you up, going out of his way to try and make you laugh, to make you smile. The way you would scoff and roll your eyes to hide your heated cheeks or the way your thighs were pressing together any time he touched you. Taehyung’s feelings for you were practically neon red signs to Jimin, and yet you seemed obnoxiously unaware - something that was starting to make Jimin crazy.

Getting involved probably wasn’t wise - neither party had asked for his help. But since when did he ever claim to be wise? Jimin prided himself on being a meddler - he couldn’t just not meddle. Especially when such an opportunity presents itself.

Bowing to the loud cheers, Seokjin moves to sit back down on another sofa, chugging the remnants of his glass. “Alright Joon, it’s your turn - Truth or Dare? And try not to be lame this time, please.”

Namjoon scoffs, faux offense on his face as he glares at his elder. “Hey! Picking truth isn’t lame! I’m telling you my deepest darkest secrets here!”

“Pretty sure admitting that you want to touch Nari’s tits isn’t a secret, but nice try,” Yoongi deadpans, causing the room to break out in laughter. You tried to focus on the game, on what ridiculous question Seokjin had prepared for Namjoon, but instead all you could feel was the warmth of Tae’s arm draped around you, all you could think about was how he smelled like a mixture teakwood and lavender, and how much you wanted him to ruin you.

“Y/n!”

Snapping your eyes towards the shout, you come face to face with a deviously smirking Jimin, leaning forward on his knees. He was twirling the straw in his glass like a super villain, and everything about the look he was giving you had your nerves on edge.

“Yes, Jimin? Is there something you need?”

“It’s your turn - truth or dare,” he coos, eyes dancing with mischief. God, he’s such a fucking Slytherin. You were in for it now - you could feel it in your bones.

“Last time I picked ‘dare’ you made me sing half of Evanescence’s discography-”

“Hey, to be fair, you knew it all by heart and fucking nailed it,” Jungkook interjected, giving you a proud grin.

“Well - yeah, okay I did, thank you very much - but as I was saying, I’ve learned my lesson. I pick truth,” you reply smugly, glaring at the dark haired man. Jimin may look sweet, but luckily you know better than to ignore his cunning.

Which is why you shouldn’t have been surprised when he started cackling.

Eyes creasing into half moons, he threw his head back, running a hand through his hair as he faces you once more, eyebrows waggling. “What’s one thing about Taehyung that you find attractive?”

You choke, grappling for your drink to soothe the burning in your throat, though you were sure it was only making it worse. Face on fire, you looked at him with wide eyes as you cough in a feeble attempt to remember how to speak.

A warm palm starts patting your back, the man in question leaning down to look into your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Tae, I’m fine,” you glare at Jimin, his victorious smirk enraging you further. The last thing you want to do is answer this truthfully; anything obvious is going to weird Taehyung out, but you know if you try and give a lame answer, Jimin will have no issues calling your ass out for it.

“Well, I like his singing voice…” you murmur, eyes focused on the ice melting in your glass, which you immediately bring to your lips once more.

Jimin rolls his eyes, scoffing. “His singing voice? What does that even mean?” he kicks at your leg, pushing you further. “Like… the tone? Or just how it sounds?” he sputters incredulously, choking back a laugh.

“Fuck you! Yes, how it sounds. And also when he does that deep growling thing?” you shiver, shaking your head. “I don’t know, it just gets me. It’s really hot.”

Whoops, seems the vodka had done some of the talking for you, but it was too late to take it back. You feel your skin heat, but you hold your head high, raising a brow at Jimin in defiance.

The room falls silent for a beat, all eyes on you until Jungkook wolf whistles, everyone breaking out in hoots and yells. You turn to the man next to you, expecting him to blush coyly or even brush you off with a gentle smile - he was nothing if not kind - but instead you find a shit eating grin peering down at you. Cocking your head, you look at him questioningly, but he just winks before slugging back the rest of his drink, his gaze drifting to Jimin’s over your head.

It was all he needed to hear.

Your words were the perfect fuel to the fire of alcohol in his veins to make Taehyung feel bold, yet he was still sober enough to know that this could finally be his chance to show you how he feels.

“Jimin, ask me a question.” Taehyung declares, leaning back into the sofa, dark eyes dancing with mischief.

“Technically, it’s Y/N’s turn to ask-” Namjoon mumbles, but is quickly shut down by the shouts of displeasure from the group, Hoseok and Jungkook both nudging him while the latter murmurs something about being a ‘cock block’.

Clearing his throat, he tries again, gaze intense. His eyes are about to fall out of his skull with the power of his attempt at a telepathic message to his friend. “Come on, Jimin. Ask me. You know what? I’ll help you. I pick dare.”

A sly glint of amusement pulls at the edge of Jimin’s mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. You look back and forth between the two of them, not sure what was happening but sure as hell knowing it was going to be nothing be trouble.

“I dare you to sing a song that shows off your best growling for our girl here,”

The room erupts in cheers and howls once more, your eyes widening as you reach for your glass. Shit, you’re going to need more vodka to survive this, and you know it.

Taehyung moves languidly to the front of the room, the side of your body he had been pressed to all evening now left cold. He scrolls through the screen with a sharp focus, honeyed gaze looking over at you every once in awhile to make sure you were still paying attention. And the smile he would give when you were- it practically had your heart in your throat. You looked over at Nari, trying to get her to join you on your couch of pain, but she just blew you a kiss before settling back into her spot next to Yoongi, throwing you a shrug.

That bitch.

All too soon he gives a cheer of victory, looking out over the group as he selects the song, moving to the microphone stand. He poses in front of the room, everyone in attendance on the edges of their seats with anticipation for the music to start.

And then the first notes ring out, and a switch flips.

Gone was the sweet and goofy man you’ve all come to know, and in his place is a demon in black, looking like pure sin. His eyes darken as they land on you, his lips curving in a confident smirk as he grabs the mic to pull closer to his mouth. Sensual plucks of guitar fills the room in a familiar tune, though a version you hadn’t heard before - the upbeat pop turned into a song of seduction.

“Baby can’t you see, I’m calling. A girl like you should wear a warning. It’s dangerous, I’m fallin’...”

Taehyung is all lust powered flirtation, hips seductively sliding back and forth as he continues to croon the lyrics, casting his molten chocolate eyes to your own. He was dancing closer, his steps slow and purposeful, and you felt the rest of the room fade away as you focused on him - and only him.

The chorus hits, and he smoothly switches from his velvet baritone to growling along with the lyrics, body rolling before sliding on his knees directly in front of you, so close you could see the sweat trail down his neck to bury into the open V of his shirt.

“Taste of your lips I’m on a ride. You’re toxic, I’m slipping under. With a taste of a poison paradise I’m addicted to you - don’t you know that you’re toxic?” he purrs, leaning into you, a singular finger coming to trace up the exposed skin of your calf.

Everything was suddenly too hot, the room too stifled - you couldn’t get any air to cooperate and flow into your lungs, all your blood pooling in your cheeks. Your heart is racing, sweat dotting your hairline as you stare at the dark haired male in front of you, unable to pull away.

“I think Y/N is about to orgasm in the middle of this bar.”

“Min Yoongi, I swear to FUCK, I will murder you,” you force between clenched teeth, turning to glare at the blonde in question. You can see the retort build on his lips before a palm cups your cheek, pulling your attention back forward.

Taehyung was a breath away from you now, pupils blown wide and voice dangerously low as he continued singing, each word dripping with desire. His hand curves around your jaw, a finger slipping down the long column of your neck until it graced the thin skin of your collarbone.

“Too high, can't come down. It's in the air, it's all around...Can you feel me now?”

Fuck, he was going to ruin you.

Mouth falling open, you squeeze your thighs together uncontrollably, your hands death gripping at the sofa beside you in an effort to keep yourself from moaning. It was embarrassing; how easily his performance was turning you on, how a few throaty murmurs of a song from this man had you falling apart.

Taehyung was nothing but sinful temptation, and he knew it.

A small part of you heard the cat calls and lewd shouts from your friends, but you couldn’t concentrate on them. Not when the tall sex god was leaning nearer, using your knees as leverage to pull himself up so he could push your thighs completely together, walking himself forward until he could perch into your lap. Oh my fucking God, he’s sitting in your lap.

The music swells into the ending crescendo, and he continues to rasp the lyrics in low, dulcet tones, eyes never leaving your own. “Intoxicate me now, with your lovin' now. I think I'm ready now, I think I'm ready now,”

You gasped, the intention of the words and the vehement look in his eyes making it seem like it was more than just a song - it was a statement, a confession. Breath seized in your rib cage, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth to stop you from asking more.

Shit, you were ready to risk it all for Kim Taehyung.

Before you could say anything further, he growls out the final lines of the song, the sultriness of his voice causing electricity to race down your spine as he holds out the final note. The music finishes, and his chest is heaving with the effort of his seduction, eyes sparkling with pride.

The entire booth erupts into boisterous claps and cheers, several of the guys standing in ovation causing Taehyung to chuckle nervously, the switch seemingly flipped once more.

He slides off your lap, panting as he moves to pour himself some water, leaving you to gape at him fully. His dark curled locks are dampened with sweat, and despite the easy grin on his face you could clearly still see the fire burning deep in his gaze.

“What the hell, Tae! Where did that come from?” you shout, though a smile was already on your face. “You gotta warn a bitch first, damn. I think I’m sweating,”

Hoseok moves to stand beside him, slapping a hand onto the younger’s shoulder. “Yeah man, I mean she’s probably dripping everywhere by now.”

You shriek in indignation, punctuating the sentiment with a lime wedge beamed directly at Hoseok’s over-sized skull.

“Hey, don’t attack me! What, do you need us to get you a pad?”

“Sincerely fuck you, Hobi.”

While the others continue to congratulate Taehyung for his one man show, you suck down the rest of your drink, moving to stand. Your knees wobble, and you’re unsure what affected you more - all the booze you drank, or him. Damn, you need a moment. Slinking toward the exit, you search for the bathroom, relief washing over you as you spot it down the hallway.

You’re about to grab for the handle when lithe fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you to turn around before your back is pressed to the cool wall of the club. You hiss at the contact, eyes blazing as they take in the culprit - Taehyung.

“Tae?”

He smooths his hands up your arms until each palm is flat against the wall on either side of your head, effectively trapping you in place. His pupils are brimming with depth-less lust though the smile on his face is sweet, the clash making your head swim.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you back there,” he murmurs, eyes searching your own. “But it was the perfect chance, and I had to act on it. I couldn’t just sit back and wait any longer, Y/N.”

“Wait any longer for what? I’m not sure if I’m following-”

“Wait any longer to tell you how I feel about you. Wait any longer to do this.”

You weren’t expecting for his mouth to press against yours, but your lips moved automatically, parting and sighing to accommodate him. His body soon followed, relaxing against your form as his hands moved to cup your jaw. You groaned at the feeling of him, your fingers wrapping around the base of his neck to tangle into his hair.

Feeling him like this only makes you want more, tongue moving to lick at the seams of his pout before he was sliding his own in kind. He groaned when they met in the middle, the sound causing arousal to pool rapidly low in your gut. Dragging his teeth against your lower lip, he gave you a nibble before pulling away, forehead pressed to yours.

“Does this mean you like me too?” he questions breathlessly, small smile on his face.

“I’ve always liked you, Tae,” you whisper, turning his head so you could suck at the tender spot under his jaw, his answering whine encouraging your ministrations. “I liked you when we were friends, and I think I like you a bit more after that display.”

He chuckles lowly, digits sinking into your hair only to pull you back to meet his gaze. “When we were friends? What, are we not friends anymore?”

“Well, not just friends, I hope….” you purr, leaning forward to press your mouth against his swollen bottom lip. “Friends don’t know the way you taste, do they?”

A groan of your name is his only response before he’s back on you, licking into your mouth with such fervor your knees start to shake. His tongue is relentless, seeking to savor you fully before moving to taste the skin of your neck, your collarbone, the top of your breast. Falling into the lure of Taehyung was all too easy - almost enough to have you forgetting that you were in some stale bar’s dim hallway.

Grabbing his shoulders, you spin until you have effectively switched places, Taehyung’s tall form now pressed against the wall as you nibble at the exposed skin of his chest. “I think you deserve a performance of your own, don’t you think?” you sigh, eyes inspecting his own, awaiting his approval.

“I think I’m one lucky bastard who would be a fool to say no to someone as amazing as you,”

The blatant affection in his voice makes you freeze, your throat tightening with every hopeful squeeze of your heart. You were trying to convince him to let you suck him off in the karaoke bar bathroom, and he had to go and say sweet shit like that?

Shaking your head, you giggle at the sentiment. “You’re too good to me, Tae,” you hum, hands gripping his biceps to drag him towards you, legs propelling you back until you feel the door give way, the light to the restroom automatically clicking on.

A victorious grin quirks at your lips when you see the private bathroom empty, and a quick flick of your wrist has the door locked just as Taehyung envelopes you into his chest.

His kisses only intensify, lips undressing you until you were soft and wet and pliant, grasping for anything you could to ground you to him. You make quick work of several more of his buttons until you could nip and bite at his chest unrestricted, your hand fumbling with his belt.

A low, throaty moan echoed as you grasp his length, freeing him from his trousers enough that you were able to feel him completely in your palm. His cock was just as beautiful as he was, long and thick and dripping with precum, and the thought of having it in your mouth had a rush of arousal flood between your thighs.

You wince when your knees hit the cool tile, though the promise of tasting him numbed any senses but the ones attuned to him. You thumb at his leaking head softly, his groans edging you near until you could smell his excitement, breath ghosting hot on his cock. Mouth falling open, you slide forward until his hardness was resting on the bed of your tongue, your lips closing to give the tip gentle sucks.

“Fuck, love. You don’t have to do this, you know, we can-”

Swirling your tongue, you push further, hollowing your cheeks to take him deep into your mouth until he was kissing the back of your throat, your nose nestled into the coarse hairs against his pelvis. His size already had your jaw aching, but the way he groaned your name made it worth the discomfort, and you glide back until only the head remained.

Letting him fall out with a lewd pop, you lick a wide strip up the side of his cock, peering up at him through your lashes.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“God, please don’t.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before you moved yours back over his length, taking him as deep as you can each time, relishing the way he stretched your throat. You couldn’t stop imagining how he’d feel inside you, how intense and satisfying the initial burn would be when he was fully sheathed in your aching cunt - how much sweeter your orgasm would feel because it was caused by his cock, caused by him.

His dulcet whines and soft moans were the only sounds besides the wet slide of your mouth, and hearing him sound so desperate for you had you mewling against him, your fingers itching to press against your throbbing clit.

“You’re taking me so good, love. Feel so fucking amazing wrapped around my cock,” he hissed, a hand lowering to tangle into the tresses at your crown, guiding you gently. “Such a good girl for me. I’m going to make you come so fucking hard when we get home,”

His hips started thrusting to meet your movements, the slides becoming sloppy as he got close to his peak. “With my fingers, my mouth, my cock. I’m going to have you coming so much you’re going to have to beg me to stop.”

The naughtiness of his words had you moaning around him, the vibrations causing him to let out a cry of your name. You’re sure your panties are ruined at this point, the tops of your thighs sticky with arousal, and as much as you want to touch yourself, you wanted to fall apart under Taehyung even more.

Pulling off to let air return to your lungs, you glide over him with your fist, urging him to let go. “Come for me, Tae. Let me taste you,” you rasp, before sinking your mouth down him once more.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect. You gonna swallow me, love?” he breathes, both hands coming to wrap deep in your hair as he continues his pumping, lust filled gaze boring into your own. You nod as you blink up at him, your lips swollen with abuse.

“Fuck, that’s it.. So good, love, I-I’m coming-”

You still as he tugs at your locks, holding you in place as he thrusts his length deep in your mouth, the warmth of his release coating your raw throat. Swallowing, you allow him several stutters of his hips before he pulls away, hands smoothing to cup your face.

“Holy hell, Y/N, that was…. Are you okay?” Worry etches his brow as he reaches out for you, taking in your messy appearance - saliva mixed with come dripping from the corners of your lips, black mascara trails smudging the edges of your cheeks. You’re gasping for air, but you couldn’t help the satisfied smile as you took his hands, allowing him to raise you to your feet.

“Seeing you fall apart was one of the hottest things I’ve ever witnessed, Tae. I’m more than okay, trust me.”

He blushes at your words, and the irony that the complement made him more shy than when he was ramming his dick down your throat not lost on you.

He tucks himself back into his pants before adjusting your clothes as well, delicate thumbs rising to wipe away the remnants of your shared tryst off your face before giving you a chaste kiss.

“So, does that mean… you’ll go out with me?” he questions hopefully, giddy anticipation in his eyes. You weren’t sure if you would ever get used to the rapid switch of power Taehyung wields between sweet and sin, not that you were complaining.

“Yes, Tae. I’ll go out with you,” you grin, the brightness of his smile infectious. “Plus, I seem to recall someone promising to make me come so much that I’ll be begging them to stop…” you trail off, mischief evident in your teasing glance.

Throwing back his head with a honeyed laugh, he pushes open the door, arm gesturing out to the empty hall before him. “Ah, yes - I believe you are correct. After you, milady,”

Groaning, you slap his chest as you walk past. “Say that again and I’ll go home with Seokjin.”

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eloisemarieedmunds · 7 years

Text

Obscurity: Eloise & Vlad

Hearing the distinctive Skype ringtone from her computer, Eloise ignored it as she had been for the past week. Talking to her friends was the absolute last thing she wanted right now. They had questions and wanted answers that she didn’t have to give them. No doubt, Allison had spread the false story she'd been fed. What could Eloise say to that? Not the truth obviously. If she said the words 'vampire prostitute' they'd stage intervention again and she could not be put through another one of those. She couldn't carry the lie on either because then they'd want to vet him themselves.

And that can't happen because he's not around, she thought bitterly as she blotted away her excess lipstick with a tissue. Of course, as soon as it occurred to her, she cursed herself. She'd decided the morning after the car incident that she wasn't going to acknowledge his existence anymore. He'd gotten what he needed from her and that was that. Which, what the fuck ever, right? She was fine. Just fucking perfect.

Forcing her mind back into the present, she checked her look one more time to make sure everything was precise. The burgundy cowl neck bodycon dress reached only her mid-thigh and fit her like a glove. It accentuated every curve and distracted from her rather lackluster chest, lengthening her legs and most importantly displaying her neck. She turned, examining the look from the rear. The cross-back strappy design slimmed her waist while also showing off ample skin and the fabric made her ass look more enticing. It was rather obvious why this had been Chad's favorite dress of hers. Yeah. He maybe a total shithead, but he certainly has an eye.

Turning once more to face the mirror, Eloise examined her loosely waved hair, using her freshly painted gold nails to secure the front strands on either side of her face behind her ears. With lips coated in a color to match her dress and eyes shadowed in a glittering gold with mascara and eyeliner, Eloise figured she was as ready as she would ever be.

Padding out into her bedroom on bare feet, she checked all the items she'd laid out on her bed. Her clutch, still containing the condom and breath mints from the last time she'd ventured into the club scene, was soon additionally stuffed with her identification and apartment key.

"What am I forgetting?" She mused allowed, letting her green eyes roam the room. The small plastic bag on her dresser top caught her attention and she hurried over to grab it. Once the expensive treat was secured in her bag, she headed for the door to her apartment. She stopped for only a moment to ensure that her cellphone was indeed charging where she'd left it and grabbed her kitten heels before walking out the door. On the stoop of her building she slid her feet into her shoes prior to going to the curb to hail a regular old yellow taxi; that was one major downside of unplugging for the night, she couldn't use any applications. It was epically old school.

Having scoped out her various possibilities and having ruled out Nite Life immediately, Eloise knew exactly where she was heading. She gave the driver, a middle-aged man who seemed remarkably well-kept for a taxi driver out doing rounds at such a late hour, the address and they were off. Determined not to let her mind wander, Eloise reached into her clutch and took out the tiny zip lock bag containing her four special pills: two lavender & two seafoam green. It was a new designer drug called Heartsome, that supposedly made the world ‘colorful’ and relaxed you all at once. Ellie wasn’t exactly clear on what her dealer meant by ‘colorful,’ but she wasn’t sticking around to ask. He would have started teasing her for thinking she was done with his drugs just because her friends said so and she was in no mood for his shit. She tucked the baggie back into her purse as the vehicle slowed down.

The car came to rumbling stop outside Obscurity, a sleek, modern building that gleamed like black onyx against the night sky. With sincere thanks and handing over cash to the driver, Eloise climbed out, straightening the fabric of her tight dress before confidently approaching the two bouncers guarding the entrance. They requested her identification and shown both their flashlights upon the lamented surface. Convinced that she was indeed twenty-six-years-old, the bulky men moved aside to allow her entrance to the upscale club.

The interior of the club was just as sleek as the exterior, all the surfaces a shiny material reflected the color lights that descended from the ceiling. People milled about everywhere, human and vampire alike, but there was a touch more decorum in Obscurity then there had been in Nite Life. With a soft smile molded to her lips, Eloise made her way to the bar and almost immediately one of the bartenders was there to take her order. After inquiring what he’d suggest for a human seeking to have a thrilling night, he made her a trio of flaming shots.

“Remember to blow them out before downing them,” the bartender warned before darting off to attend another customer.

Lifting the shots up one by one, blowing them out and downing them was an interesting experience. The liquids were warm as they slide down her throat before settling in her stomach, like she swallowed a simmering glow.

“How did you like the Earth, Wind, & Fire?” It was clearly a line, but the young woman no longer gave a shit. She was here for one thing and one thing only: to forget he-who-shall-not-be-thought-of and to feel uncomplicated pleasure. With her goal in mind, Eloise turned and found herself staring at a man’s broad chest, covered by a black dress. Tilting her head upwards, Ellie met soulful brown eyes.

“Yes,” she answered easily enough, “it was a shot experience. I’d recommend it if you’re thinking of trying it.”

He laughed, a full body sound that shook his broad shoulders and light up his handsome face, “I’m glad to hear it. I invented the trio, you see.

“You did?” she assumed this was just the puffing typical of the bar atmosphere.

“Mhmm,” he said, smiling brightly, his fangs appearing in an instant, “My cousin owns this place and he gave him all my good drink ideas.”

“What about all your bad drink ideas? Did you give him them too?”

“I did,” he agreed with a light wink, “What’s your name, tiny human?”

“Eloise.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand with the speed of his kind, “My name is Clifton.” His index finger came to rest upon the inside of her wrist, the opposite of the one that Vlad had bitten, “It’s a true pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Eloise.”

Miss Eloise? So formal. A small smile tilted the corners of her lips upwards, “You too, Clifton.”

“Can I get you a more substantial drink?”

She shook her head softly, “I get my own drinks for safety reasons. No offense.”

Again, he chuckled lightly, “No offense is taken. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders; it’s…appealing.”

Turning back to the bar for just a moment, Eloise flagged down a bartender and ordered a dirty martini. Clifton fitted himself between her and the next bar patron, his chest mere inches from Eloise. His left hip rested upon the bar’s solid structure. “After you get your drink, would you care to dance?”

“Are you a good dancer?” She asked teasingly, “I don’t want my feet trampled upon. Not in these shoes.”

He looked down at her feet, eyeing the golden kitten heels, before looking up again, “It would be travesty to step upon such cute feet. You’re in luck though, Eloise, I’m a marvelous dancer. “

The sound of a glass being set down upon the bar’s top drew Eloise’s attention from the charming vampire. She thanked the bar tender and handed off the necessary money. She tugged the tiny baggy from her clutch again and took out two of the tablets, one lavender and one seafoam green and popped them into her mouth. Taking a sip of the alcohol to chase the pills down her throat, Eloise returned her focus to Clifton. He was still gazing down on her, a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Has anyone told you tonight that dress looks fabulous on you?”

“No.” Eloise said with a small smile over the wide rim of her glass.

“Well, it does,” he assured her,” he reached and grasped her elbow to steer her away from the crowded bar and onto the dance floor, “You look quite…delectable. Red is a very tempting color on you.”

Among the crush of the bodies upon the dance floor, the colored lights playing upon the various individuals and surfaces as Clifton pulled her close. His right hand rested on her lower back, his cool hand standing out against her heated skin, bringing her pelvis against his own. There was no mistaking his interest or intent. He spun her away with the music before pulling her back into him, this time with her back to his chest.

An arm encircled her waist, securing her to his larger frame. He nosed at her throat, bringing up memories of Vlad that she didn’t wish to recall. Luckily for her the Heartsome was beginning to kick, chasing away her unwanted thoughts and concerns. Indeed, all the colors, that had once been dulled by her weak human eyes, were bright, vivid, magical.

“You smell fantastic, tiny human.” Clifton’s voice sounded slightly distant, but she could still feel the press of his solid body behind her so she knew that he hadn’t moved. “Have you ever been bitten, Eloise?”

“Yes once.”

“Mmm,” He mumbled, the vibrations of the sound against her skin, lighting up her nerve-endings. “Were you being fucked at the time, princess?”

“N-no.” His hand slid up her stomach slowly. The music was fading away to nothing, the other people melting away into nothingness. Her fingers relaxed unconsciously around the stem of the martini glass, sending the item crashing to the ground and shattering.

His fangs scraped over her tender neck teasingly, making her shiver, “You missed out, Eloise….” He paused, his lower lip dragging slightly on her skin, “Maybe we should rectify that tonight. Let’s go outside, yes?”

Clifton was directing her towards a backdoor, but Eloise barely noticed. Her eyes felt too wide and the rainbow of colors that encompassed the club were very distracting. “O-okay.”

The bracing cold of outside was a shock to her system for only a moment before the buzz of the pills came back full-force. The darkened alley was a great deal less interesting for the drugged young woman, but before she could complain, Clifton was pressing her back against the sleek wall of the club. Her eyes rolled in her head as he hands pinned her hips to the walls. There was so much happening in her drugged-out state that Eloise failed to notice when the door, they’d just come out of, banged open and another person exited Obscurity.

#thread:obscurity

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everymeloveseveryyou · 7 years

Text

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

Ten seconds left on the clock.

Cass and Balthazar are the only ones remaining, the ball safely in Cass’ hands. One last pass and Balthazar’s life will be saved.

Three seconds left, and the floor disappears under Cass’ feet, sending him into the pit.

“Balthazar, catch!” Triumphant smile on his face, he makes the final pass as he falls.

Balthazar stares at the sweet roll in his hand, the race’s “participation prize,” and now his last meal.

As the scoreboard blared “NO WINNER,” Cass had stared at him in disbelief.

“What are you doing?!” he shouted above the booing crowd. “You dropped the ball!”

“Are you joking!” Balthazar heaved Cass back onto the stage. “There are spikes down there! People died!”

“I wouldn’t!” Cass didn't even hesitate in responding. “And what about you?!”

Even now, Cass watches him with a hard expression, his own roll sitting untouched in his lap.

Had Balthazar sacrificed his life to save his friend’s? He was so sure in that moment.

But perhaps he’d only wasted it not trusting Cass.

Balthazar squeezed his head in his hands. He didn’t know, he didn’t know--

“I’m-”

“I am not going to let you die.”

Balthazar laughs bitterly, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Cass, you’ve already done so much for me, and all I did was drop the ball.”

“Then I’ll do it myself this time.” Cass is utterly undeterred.

“Do...what?”

Cass stares out over the balcony, then leans in close.

“I know where they keep the Candy,” he whispers. “I’ll go tonight, and take as many as I can. That’ll buy you some time to earn more Cast.”

Balthazar stares, bewildered at such a flagrant proposal made so casually on his behalf. His common sense makes it to his mouth faster than his self preservation.

“Out of the question! If they catch you--”

“They won’t.”

“--you’ll be on death row with me!”

“They can't.”

“They’ll throw you in solitary!”

Cass tilts his head, regarding Balthazar bemusedly. He reaches up and pulls his shawl over his head, raising his eyebrows.

It takes Balthazar a good moment to see his point.

“Hey, you-...” Balthazar gestures to their necks. “Where’s your necklace?”

“Balthazar, I’m not an inmate,” Cass almost laughs, pulling his shawl back on.

“As opposed to what, you work here--?”

“I told you,” Cass reminds him patiently, “I live here. I’ve always lived here.”

“Well I live here too, but...” Balthazar trails off, his eyes going wide. “Wait, ‘always‘? You don’t mean--”

Cass nods happily. “This is where we lived.”

“‘Lived’?! I was born here!” Balthazar goes pale. “Are you telling me I came home to die, like a fucking salmon!?”

“Didn’t you know?” Cass tilts his head. “They built Deadman Wonderland on top of the hospital.”

Balthazar swallows stiffly. “...I heard they built it on the epicenter.”

“That’s right,” Cass nods. “The earthquake’s epicenter was the hospital.”

“My God...” Balthazar stares, his mouth dry. “With you in it?”

“Of course.”

“How... how did you survive?”

Cass smiles, his eyes falling away momentarily. He shrugs. “I’m just that strong.”

“--oh-” Balthazar buries his face in his hands, shaking his head. “Cass, would you-- would you really have survived that fall?”

“Yes, really.”

“Into the spikes?”

“It wouldn’t even hurt.”

“-oh, fuck,” Balthazar lifts his head, hurriedly wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry, Cass-- I’m sorry I threw the race, I just couldn’t--”

“You don’t remember, that’s all,” Cass reaches out to brush his hair gently. “You don’t remember what I can do.”

“What, you’ve always been like this?” Balthazar’s disbelief comes out hoarse. “We were only children-”

“You don’t remember bringing me snacks in the afternoon,” Cass grins slowly, “and things to watch me break. You loved it.”

“Ha!” Balthazar laughs despite himself. “That does sound like me.”

“And since you don’t remember... ” Cass starts, still grinning, “I got to see that surprise all over again. Your face today...”

He looks away, his smile fading into something shier. “I had fun, really...”

Balthazar’s laughter fades away, his stomach slowly sinking.

Fun...?

Two days inside Deadman Wonderland, and Balthazar had discovered its central lie.

That there were no lies. The attractions were executed with the blood, sweat, and tears of the “cast,” the inmates. No acting. No effects. That was the lie, for the public.

He’d watched people die today on that obstacle course. He’d heard the ignorant crowd cheer. No one on the inside could possibly have found it fun.

Then again, they’d all been outsiders once. Maybe he’d have to find the fun in it, if it were all he’d ever known.

“Cass, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Why do you stay here?”

Cass smiles at him as though lovingly teaching a very stubborn child. “I live here.”

Balthazar shakes his head. “No, I mean-- why stay here? This place is hell. You could go anywhere, you could do anything-”

“No, I can’t,” Cass’ response is sharp. “I live here.”

“-ah...” Balthazar opens his mouth and shuts it again quietly. “...hm. ...sorry.”

Cass gives a short shrug, but no more explanation.

Balthazar watches him for a long moment, trying to recall an old conversation.

“Dad told me...mum sent me to him because there was an ‘accident’ at the hospital. --she didn’t actually tell him that, he saw it on the news, but-”

“Yes, an explosion.”

“Right,” Balthazar waves his hand. “Clearly no place for children, and yet...”

“There’s nowhere safer for me,” Cass states simply, hugging his knees. “I survived the earthquake, didn’t I?”

“You shouldn’t have had to, that’s all,” Balthazar murmurs, leaning his head in his hand.

“...just so you know,” he adds, reaching out for Cass’ shoulder, “after I get out of here, you’re always welcome in our home.”

“I--...” Cass starts again, but stops himself, sighing softly. “...thank you.”

“If dad had known there was another child-” Balthazar scoffs bitterly, “he would never have let you stay here alone. I suppose...that’s why mum never said anything, even to me.”

“Hm?” Cass cocks his head curiously. “So you actually remember your mother?”

“Er, sort of,” Balthazar admits. “Not here, but...we spoke a few times after I left, before the earthquake. She seemed so busy, and not...well.”

“She was always like that,” Cass points out. “Did she still sing you the lullaby?”

“Lullaby?”

“...oh,” Cass rests his chin on his knees. “Do you remember it at all?”

“A lullaby...” Balthazar rubs his chin, “...my mother sang...”

“Wrote.”

“A lullaby my mother wrote,” Balthazar repeats, “and sang for us... -ah!”

Cass lifts his head expectantly.

“Something about a bird, wasn’t it?” Balthazar gestures excitedly, and Cass nods.

“The woodpecker song,” he answers, waiting for Balthazar to go on.

Balthazar shakes his head. “That’s all I’ve got, sorry.”

“So...” Cass points upwards slowly, “...you can’t hear it?”

Balthazar mimics the gesture, eyebrows raised. “Hear it? Right now?”

Cass nods. “Ever since the earthquake, that song plays here all the time, over and over and over... But I’m the only one who can hear it.”

“I’m well aware you can hear beyond the mortal range,” Balthazar chuckles, “but God-- aren’t you sick of it by now?”

“No?” Cass seems to find the question odd. “It’s my favourite song. Except...”

“...?”

Cass looks away, shaking his head nonchalantly. “It doesn’t have a proper ending, that’s all. But-”

He turns back earnestly. “Grandfather’s promised me that he’ll finish it someday. I just have to be patient.”

“Fifteen years and counting is a hell of a lot of patience,” Balthazar scoffs. “I would do better than that for you.”

“...er, no offense,” he adds belatedly.

Cass touches his lips thoughtfully. “You’re the only other person who could, actually,” he muses.

“Oh dear, I put my foot in the trap, didn’t I?” Balthazar teases, but Cass looks at him seriously.

“You don’t have to,” he says, “It’s not your responsibility.”

Balthazar blinks. “No, it isn’t,” he answers. “It would be a favour. ...for a very good friend.”

Cass looks down, a flush creeping up his cheeks.

“...although I still don’t know the words,” Balthazar mumbles, a little red himself. “If you don’t mind...could you sing it for me? I make no promises, but...”

“I’d love to.”

With a nod and a shy smile, Cass straightens up, and starts to whistle a tune.

Softly, he sings.

“One little woodpecker

Pecking your holes another day

Ruining the woods, I say

Tree wrecker

The old forest gods

turned your beak into a poison knife

Your nesting holes are tainted

your food with toxins rife

Touch your friends

and they fall dead at your feet

Poor little woodpecker

Poison tears shining brightly

as they stream down your cheeks...”

The piano fades away into silence. Cass and Balthazar had stopped playing to listen, their crayons dropped onto the floor. They stare at each other for a long moment.

“That’s so sad!” Balthazar calls out, hurrying to his mother as Cass nods along behind him. Balthazar tugs her sleeve. “Mama? Are you crying cause it’s sad?”

“...oh, is it?” She turns slowly, laying gentle hands on their heads. “I wrote it for you, Cassie.”

#calthazar #spncastiel #spnbalthazar #castieledit #u: deadman wonderland #u: human #c: castiel #c: balthazar #r: balthazar & castiel

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oakmd · 7 years

Text

professor oak’s rp plotting cheat-sheet!

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.

Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mod name: :v OOC Contact: Tumblr IM; but if we’re mutuals I’ll give you my discord! I have Skype too, but I don’t really use it much.

WHO IS HE:

Professor Oak is a renowned Pokémon Professor most notably known for his invention of the Pokédex, his Welcome To The World of Pokémon! lecture / documentary and his extensive research surrounding the relationships between pokémon and people. He’s a very recognizable icon in the pokéworld; it would be impossible not to know who he is.

Alternatively, while he’s mostly known for being a scientist, he has wide recognition for his Pokémon poetry. He also does regular recordings with DJ Mary at Goldenrod Radio Tower.

The Professor resides in Pallet Town, Kanto, in one of the world’s most impressive laboratory reserve - stretching across acres upon acres of land, built entirely to replicate all types of pokémon’s natural habitats and terrains.

As a former pokémon trainer ( as well as Kanto Champion ), he has one grandson, Gary Oak, who is also former pokémon trainer, but is now currently on the path to becoming a Scientist himself, specializing in fossil revival.

Points of interest:

My portrayal of Professor Oak is mostly anime-based. This means I do not consider game function as canon or as character trait (ex. Professor Oak forgetting his grandson’s name. I have heard this joke enough to last me a lifetime, please Don’t™.) However, I include some elements of the manga/game, I guess, but usually only to fill in the many gaps untouched in the anime. With that being said, Green / Blue / Red and even Daisy do not exist. I have exceptions of interactions with some people, but it does not fall under my Main Canon and is more of some weird, blended AU, lol.

Professor Oak is a 50+ year old man. On top of that, a parent and a grandparent. Because of this, most of the time ( not always ) he will naturally be more intuitive and perceptive to situations than a younger muse might be. He has had many, many life experiences to draw from that he applies to current context; empathizing and offering advice comes easy. With that being said, please communicate with me if I’ve crossed a line with this; I won’t take offense!

Professor Oak has interacted with legendary Pokémon. See: Celebi, ft. Suicune. Professor Oak is not immune to... strange occurrences. He’s interacted with the legendary pokémon Celebi ( and Suicune ) when he was a young boy. However, I portray this muse as someone that has seen much more ( of the unexplainable, not necessarily legendaries ), yet appreciates them within the comfort of his own privacy.

Professor Oak has very high public status! While the man certainly lives his life as a regular person, his life is anything but. Hailing from Kanto and living peacefully in Pallet Town, Samuel’s demeanor is very humble, but his Net Worth is one of the highest, given his important influence, multi-faceted popularity and on-going relevancy among the citizens of the poké-universe. It goes without saying that he has made some of the most important contributions to the field of science and world of pokémon, but he is also sort of a pop culture “idol”. His name is attached to hundreds of awards, recognitions, lifetime achievements, entertainment achievements. Whatever there is to do, Professor Oak does it all: Scientist, Writer, Artist, Humanitarian, Pokémon Professor, TV Host, Radio Host, University Lecturer, Motivational Speaker, Activist, League Advisor, Parent. There is nothing he won’t dive into if it’s for the greater good. List of Awards: here.

What they’ve been up to recently:

*POST-CANON. Same ol’, same ol’. Professor Oak has many years left in him yet! You can still find him on his happy little hill in Pallet Town doing what he does best: giving trainers their starters, and babysitting those same 9482536 kids under his care. Including, but not limited to all the 3948357927682294 pokémon he and - everyone’s favorite personal assistant son - Tracey Sketchit share responsibility for. His life will pretty much be the same, as it has been; the perks of being old and well-adjusted. *I use ‘post canon’ loosely. My default timeline is ongoing with the show itself, but since time never seems to progress, I’ve taken it upon myself to lazily assume some years have passed since S1E1 ( hence why I say Oak is 50+ rather than actually 50 ).

MULTI-VERSE. If you are a non-pokémon muse, Professor Oak will happily accept that you’re simply not someone from his universe. As mentioned above, stranger things have happened to him. Because of his own experiences, he’s very open-minded about the possibilities the universe has up it’s sleeve. I like to think of his corral and his lab are portal spots for the unknown to materialize. Maybe a point deep in the mountain and forest terrain. Or perhaps from the forest ( between Kanto and Johto ) where Celebi dwells. This concept isn’t necessary to follow for the multi-verse, just a suggestion! TL;DR Let Professor Oak be your away-from-home grandpa, he has lots of Experience™.

Where to find them:

DEFAULT VERSE. There are a lot of places to find the ever-active Professor Oak. However, the top three most common places are: his research lab ( corral included ) in Pallet Town, Kanto, Goldenrod Radio Tower, and Celadon University. Because he is so famous, he can be anywhere, though. Whether it’s doing charity work, raising awareness, doing lectures, being a guest at internships, working with media across regions, visiting other pokémon professors, being on a much needed vacation, traveling for work. Pretty much, wherever your muse is, I can find a reason for Professor Oak to be there.

POST-COLLEGE. I don’t actually have a ‘verse’ for this but it takes place shortly after Samuel finishes grad school and takes position as Kanto’s Pokémon Professor. He’s the first one to reside in Pallet Town. The lab itself is still under renovation; he’s moved back home after being away for years at school, and still trying to mourn the loss of his fiancé. He’s a single father, struggling to balance work and parenthood, but he gets by. ( Further down this timeline, about thirteen years later, he suffers the loss of his children, and becomes the guardian of his grandson, Gary Oak. )

To find Professor Oak is the other ‘verses’ from the Offered / Desired sections, just ask.

Current plans:

Keeping busy. Professor Oak is a very goal-oriented person and although he finds relaxation necessary, he also prefers to be active. His hands are always full running the biggest pokémon lab, but he’s always throwing himself into new projects of all kinds of varieties.

Travel and meet new people. Ever the social butterfly, the Professor is always welcoming new faces to his growing list of companions. Although his reasons for traveling are no longer for becoming a Pokémon Champion, he finds that there are plenty of things he hadn’t quite noticed or appreciated before. It’s interesting to see how some things have changed, and for others, how they’ve stayed the same. It’s all for business purposes of course ( mostly ), but coming full circle provides closure for memories he’d only reminisced about for years after he graduated from college.

Supporting Gary. As his grandson begins his journey in the field of science, Professor Oak prioritizes helping him adjust and giving him the support he needs.

Otherwise, the plans depend on what your muse brings. :O

Desired interactions:

Retired Oak! Literally everything is the same except he’s wearing tropical shirts and jorts. B^) Alola cruise, anyone?

Alzheimer’s Oak! LISTEN, I KNOW.. ... .. Game-mechanic jokes aside, lmao - I have no real excuse. It just hurts so good. ;^(

Grandpa Oak. I’m sure raising Gary and Ash was nothing but and Experience™.

TRACEY. MY PURE ASSISTANT SON -

College. What goes on in college, stays in college. College timeline: here.

Celebi, Again! Starring... Professor Oak! B^) Swapped into the body of his younger self. How does he fix this? Calamity ensues.

Dr. Fuji, Who? No, Professor Oak isn’t part of Team Rocket but he did get roped into helping them create MewTwo with the desperate attempt to also bring his family back to life. Did I rip that from Dr. Fuji? Yes I did, and I don’t care, let me live -

Team Rocket? Or, alternatively, he does work for Team Rocket with this ridiculous concept that he was blackmailed into working for them post-grad because of his unremarkable intelligence and promise. While his public face is the friendly Professor Oak everyone knows and loves, his lab holds darker secrets, the darkest being that he could no loner resist their persistence in making him comply, after they staged his children’s death as an innocent car accident. : ) ... Anyway,

Persistent Press. Be annoying and invasive. Start scandals. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Unrequited. Get rejected by the notorious man himself. He will be gentle.

Agatha. How dare you,

CROSSOVERS!!!

Offered interactions:

Are you a Pokémon Trainer™ or some other kind of pokémon-specializing person ( pokémon watcher, photographer, breeder, ranger, etc. )? Ring up your Professor when Officer Jenny arrests you for something he told you not to do in the first place so he can judge you with a proper scolding. For the others, show him your talents and skills! If you’re not a Kanto Trainer, I’m sure one of the other Professors can send you his way, either to drop something off / pick something up / for general help, etc. and he’s always excited to meet his colleagues’ kiddos. Also excited to see others contribute to the world of pokémon in some way! He loves pokémon and humans interacting!

Are you a Pokémon Professor? Doctor, Nurse? Let’s gather ‘round and be stressed about Ash our reckless trainers. But also drinking and karaoke! Pokémon Discourse™. Camping retreats. Boring, obligatory conferences. Peer Review. Or maybe you just need a little advice from one of the pokéworlds more experienced Professors! Unless you’re Professor Rowan - in that case you’re BFFs that get into shenanigans nobody would ever believe.

Are you a Science Major? Limited internships available for college students.

Do you live in Pallet Town? Hi, neighbor! B^) Professor Oak ( and Tracey ) most likely talk to you in passing, should it occur. ( Please message me about pre-established relationships first. ) Common places include, the mart, post office, movie theaters, etc.

Summer Camp? Boom, Professor Oak has summer camp for the kiddos at his corral.

Are you a big idolizer of Professor Oak? Lucky for you, there’s more than one way to be a fan! You can reach him via fanmail, @’ing him on social media, finding his personal phone number from some sketchy fan forum, hogging up the radio show hotline, stalking his schedule to make each appearance panel, hovering outside around his lab, stealing candid photos, bombarding him in public with intrusive questions, shoving your notepad out for an autograph... You can even be one of those weird people who try to proclaim your love to ‘celebrities’ too old for you that you know little about. Who knows what this poor man will do?

Are you into Traditional Kanto / Johto? You may share the same passions if you’re into calligraphy, ikebana, haiku, tea ceremonies, etc.

Are you a Celadon University Student? Feel free to talk to your Intro To Pokémon ( or Pokémon Sociology 101, etc. ) Professor about anything unclear about assignments, to offer questions or concerns... or try to make excuses for not turning in homework and being late, you lazy student. :T Doubles as an Unofficial Guidance Counselor to said students even though that’s not his job - but he can’t help it, he’s a parent before he’s a Professor.

Are you a child associated with Make-A-Wish Foundation? Professor Oak offers terminally-ill children the opportunity to choose their starters, and spend time with their favorite idol. : (

Are you affiliated with the media? All press can inquire about guest speakings, giveaways, promotions, advertisement deals, interviews, volunteer work, hosting/co-hosting, etc. and Professor Oak will get back to you at his earliest convenience. This INCLUDES those working at Goldenrod Radio Tower!

Are you a business person? Politician? High-Profile Celebrity / Figure? Meet Professor Oak at a Gala! Or any other formal event. Feel free to offer business negotiations, inquire about his residence, or other sketchy things. :v

Are you affiliated with Kanto’s Pokémon League? Albeit not as recently involved as per usual, he’s an advisor, so he and your muse are at least associates, if not more.

Are you one of the developers that helped with the Pokédex? Nerds will be nerds.

Do you know Samuel from his days prior to being Professor Oak? Whether it be from childhood, training days, or college, they all matter. ( I’m aware this is highly unlikely because nobody RP’s old pokémon muses, but with that being said, I’m open to interacting with kids / grandkids of the aforementioned. )

Are you Team Rocket a villain? Have you reached your Kidnap-A-Scientist quota today?

Current open post/s:

I had very few, but I’m too lazy to look for them. Plotting is probably better. /gestures to this post

Anything else?:

Threading is not limited to this list. I’m always open to more ideas!

I’m not sure what the huge difference is between the Desired / Offered interactions -

You don’t need a pokémon verse to interact with me!

Your muse does not need to idolize Professor Oak to interact with him.

CROSSOVERS.

Tagged by: i stole this from @undinaes

Tagging: Whoever sees this!

#this is way longer than i thought it could possibly be #please read it theres something for everyone i swear!!!#do your research ▸ [ PSA. ]#through the years ▸ [ hc. ]

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skypondcrossing · 7 years

Text

When We Ruled the World

Part II: Becoming Kings

Sanada Genichirou was four years old when he met Yukimura Seiichi. A three part history on Sanada and Yukimura’s bond from childhood to realization. SanaYuki. AtoSana.

“Renji in singles three. Marui and Jackal in doubles two, and you to end the matches in singles two.” Renji and Yukimura were at Sanada’s house. It had become tradition for the other two to stay at his house the night before matches, to discuss the line-up while he listened and offered an objective opinion, if it was needed.

“Total defeat?” said Renji while raising an eyebrow.

“Of course. There is no meaning in winning unless the outcome is conclusive and unquestionable. It’s the mark of true champions and Rikkai is definitely a true champion. Therefore, we must sweep tomorrow’s matches without losing a single point.”

“I understand but my data shows that the current Hyoutei is nothing like the team that was defeated last year. Hyoutei has gained a new captain, a second year whom we have had the pleasure to meet after our national matches last year.” Renji’s tone was wry.

“Atobe?” It was the first time Sanada had spoken since the conversation had began.

“Yes. Ever since, he became the new captain, he had put together an incredible strong team. Anyone who loses an official matched is replaced immediately by one of the many in that massive tennis club.” A thoughtful silence followed Renji’s pronouncement and Sanada pictured the arrogant boy dismissing players right and left at the snap of a finger.

“Yukimura, is that why you have placed our most steady players first?” asked Sanada suddenly.

“I thought we should defeat Hyoutei swiftly before the members realize that they will lose. A desperate team, that cannot stand defeat, can accomplish miraculous things,” replied Yukimura, smiling. Renji nodded with understanding.

“That is the wisest plan to follow, but this means the weight of the matches rests on the singles two matches.” Renji turned to Sanada who was locked in gaze with Yukimura.

“Sanada, you must win this match. Failure will not be tolerated.”

“Of course.”

As Sanada lay awake that night, he realized that it was the first time in a while since he had felt this excited for a match. Little did he know someone else in the room was also having trouble falling asleep, though for a very different reason.

“Doubles two. Niou-Jackal pair, six games to one.”

The announcer’s voice resounded across the courts and the crowd cheered harder than ever, caught up in the unstoppable momentum resulting from the sweeping victories of the previous two matches. It was a good day for a tennis match. The air was still crisp and the days bright. It was the time of spring, of young dreams and young hearts.

Sanada picked up his racket and let himself into the tennis court. He walked up to the bench, where Yukimura was sitting and observing everything.

“I have nothing new to say. Just play normally.”

“I will.” He turned to walk away.

“Sanada,” called Yukimura suddenly. Sanada paused and looked back.

“I believe in you, in your tennis. You should too, no mater what Atobe or anyone else says.”

“Ah, I understand.” Yukimura’s confidence in him was his greatest resolution.

Sanada found Atobe Keigo staring at him across the net, looking haughty as ever. He had filled out considerably since the last time he saw him. His hair was longer as well.

“Let’s have a nice match.” He extended his arm.

“Of course we will.” Atobe shook his hand. When Sanada pulled back, however, the other boy did not let go and instead tightened the hold on his hand.

“I hope you still remember my words.” Brilliant grey eyes flashed impishly.

His thumb smoothed the skin on the back of Sanada’s hand. Sanada pulled free like he were scorched, arousing only mocking laughter from Atobe.

“You act like an uptight old man, Sanada, yet the looks you keep giving that boy,” he nodded his head to Yukimura, “are anything but innocent.”

Sanada glanced over at Yukimura, who was watching the two of them with a frown on his face.

“I’ll have to change that. When you’re with me, you won’t have the time or energy to focus on anything else. You can take that as a promise,” said Atobe suggestively. Sanada raised an eyebrow in skepticism.

“Delusional musings are unhealthy, Atobe. I thought Hyoutei’s captain would be more sensible than that,” said Sanada coolly, walking to the baseline, Atobe’s amused chuckle was echoing in his ears.

They rallied the first few balls for a while, each trying to gauge the other’s playing capability. However, Atobe quickly tired of this and switched to a more offensive play style. He broke up the established, steady momentum with unexpected net volleys and corner shots, easily taking the first match.

“Have you ever seen Atobe play like that?” asked a Hyoutei second year, Jirou Akutagawa.

“No, I have never seen him playing offense so early in a match. Why is the idiot using so much effort so early in the match?” replied Shishido Ryou, Atobe’s unofficial best friend.

As the two continued their conversation, Yukimura returned his attention to the match. The unease, which he had been feeling increased.

“Atobe, game. Three games to love. Five minute break.”

Sanada returned to the bench as Yukimura handed him a towel and water bottle.

“This is only the beginning, do not worry.”

“Who said I was worried?” Sanada looked up, surprised beneath his towel.

Yukimura simply smiled without explanation. “I trust you, Genichirou so you should trust yourself.” The look in his eyes sad everything he didn’t need to. It was the same look he had when he told Sanada they would be the national champions a year ago.”

What had I been doing? I had lost to no one but Yukimura and I won’t start now.

As he walked back to court, Atobe and he crossed paths to their respective courts.

Atobe raised his eyebrows, “Your eyes have changed.”

“Atobe, I will end this match now.”

“Oh?”

“If I lose to you I would just be another loser, buried, with no way to crawl out of defeat.” Sanada’s voice was not lyrical like Yukimura but Atobe could not help but be mesmerized by the grit. “But he is out there on that stage. I want to reach the place where he is, see how far I can go if I did this with everything I had.” Sanada admitted to himself at last the desire he had to reach the top, which had been suppressed and overpowered for so long since meeting Yukimura.

“Anything other than victory would be meaningless.”

“If it were easy, then this would not be meaningful,” Atobe said cryptically.

The match resumed and Sanada was true to his word. Atobe’s aggressive play style in the first few matches took a toll on his endurance and he soon made careless mistakes out of fatigue. Taking advantage of the situation, Sanada began his offensive play.

“Did you see that? I didn’t even see him swing.”

“Amazing, I was starting to think the match was one-sided.”

Startled remarks sounded from the crowd as a renewed sense of excitement overcame them. The stoic tennis player seemed to step into a second skin as he unleashed his full potential, freed completely from any lingering feelings of self-consciousness or awkwardness before the crowd.

“Game Sanada, five games to three.” Atobe did not score a single point.

“I have never seen Genichirou play like this. It’s frightening,” said Renji.

“That’s because this is no longer about tennis or us. Right now Sanada is fighting for his own triumph,” said Yukimura from the bench.

Yukimura never heard Renji reply for at that moment, an ominous chant rose steadily form the crowd, at first a quiet murmur before growing into a full-fledged mantra.

“General! General!” The crowd repeated until their throats grew hoarse. Yukimura and Renji shared a knowing smile. This was the day they would gain their title nicknames, which would follow them an entire lifetime.

“He really commands respect. I have never seen someone play with so much discipline,” the compliments kept pouring in.

“Shit! Atobe! Shit! Stand up! Stand up!” Jiroh Akutagawa was oblivious to the people starting next to him as he gripped the metal fence so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Think of how far we’ve come! We can’t just let it go to waste. If we lose here-“ his throat closed up and turned away to hide the burning tears of shame in his eyes. He was surprised when he felt a gentle hand come up to ruffle his hair.

“I know,” said Atobe in an uncharacteristically soft tone. He threw over his water bottle, leaving Jirou to catch it with widened eyes. He stared after Atobe before snapping out of the trance and turned toward the monstrous sea of Hyoutei’s player, who had gone slack from seeing its undefeated captain on the verge of losing.

“Come on!” he shouted at them, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Winner will be Atobe Atobe!” Maybe it was the shock of seeing the mild mannered and kindest member of the Hyoutei Regulars running up and down the stands, screaming and cheering with full limbs flailing. The other players began quickly to join in.

It was Atobe’s service game and he took his position in the middle of the baseline after each serve. Unsure of the other’s intentions, Sanada quickly returned to ready position after hitting back the serve.

“Your weakness,” Atobe said under his breath. “I see them.” Sanada could only blink as the ball sped pass him landing with absolute precision in his blind spot. Atobe took the game easily as the crowd, led by Jirou, roared in appreciation.

“I did not expect to be pushed this far,” said Sanada. “I will concede that you are strong Atobe.”

“Same to you” The tension stretched before Sanada gave a small smile.

It was the first time he had played so true to himself. It had been fun, exciting even but now Sanada had to end it. He served. Atobe returned it to a tricky position. The ball was returned easily only to seemingly disappear from view.

“Rin-silent like the forest” The crowd, like Atobe was too shocked to even do anything but gape wordlessly.

No matter how Atobe strained and pushed his body to the limit, he proved no match to Sanada’s Furinkazan. The game and match was over and Rikkai would continue on their journey to victory.

“Sanada!” “Genichirou!” Yukimura and Renji had thrown themselves onto the courts, beaming at him.

“Yukimura” He turned to the boy with a sincere expression. “Thank you for your words during the match.”

“I only said what I believed.”

The three of them walked over to the Hyoutei team. The tension of the matches had dissipated and now many of the players reverted back to their cheerful, friendly selves, sharing banters with the other team, which they had fought so heatedly with just hours before.

“It was a nice game, Atobe.” Sanada offered a genuine handshake, which Atobe accepted.

“Yes, I suppose it was…nice but now that the team and I have played once, I won’t allow us to lose the same team again.”

“I look forward to it.” As they turned to leave, the Hyoutei captain called out suddenly.

“Sanada, if you think I’m giving up after this, then you have really underestimated me.” Sanada alone turned back.

“I wouldn’t dream of anything less from you,” he left the Hyoutei captain to ponder his words.

“He was the strongest player we had faced so far,” said Renji to Yukimura.

“I agree. Even you, Renji, would have been pushed,” Yukimura words were honest but without bite.

“Yeah, I will keep close watch of his progress for next year.”

Yukimura interrupted their musings on tennis with a sudden declaration for celebration. Renji smiled over at his playful expression and asked what the other boy was suggesting. Yukimura remained silent but gave Sanada an appraising look from head to toe, which left him feeling as if naked in front of an audience. Sanada and Renji both noticed the mischievous glint in his eyes, which normally would have left them wary but it for it had been so long since Yukimura were so carefree. Since making the pact with them, Yukimura had thrown himself so completely into the cause for Rikkai’s victory that he rarely had time for other things.

After years of being friends, Sanada was still a little thrown off whenever his friend was in this type of mischievous mood. It happened more frequently when they were younger, where he would flash Sanada a pleading smile before dragging him into plans like playing his art model. Though he did not enjoy the activities in particular, he was always a willing participant for a chance to see Yukimura happy and carefree like kids their age. They had been through much, always dealing with the people who underestimated them for their young age and Yukimura’ delicate appearance. And the few who didn’t watched from the sidelines for any inkling of weakness to mar the record. Over the years, Yukimura had grown even better at maintaining the act of perfection. Sanada knew it was the only way for him to feel strong when they were in such a vulnerable position.

“I think we should get plastered and celebrate like true adults! And Genichirou could pass for a young adult anyways.” Sanada scowled, further verifying the statement. Remarkably, Renji did not offer any sensible protests and so Yukimura grabbed them around the arms, chatting cheerfully the whole way there.

They ended up eating ramen and drinking soda at the food court instead plan aborted when Sanada’s family called and reminded him to be home for a sudden family get-together later tonight. Still it was a great time as they laughed until their bellies ached with Yukimura entertaining them with random stories and tales. Sanada was content just listening to Renji and Yukimura chat and exchange ideas enjoying the comforting presence of his two best friends without speaking. Sanada truly believed the power of their bond and efforts would be enough to overtake the challenges, which lay ahead of them.

The rest of the tournament passed by smoothly and Rikkaidai once again took home the trophy of the national championships. Increasingly the Troika’s reputation was cemented and the world began to forget when the three did not stand together, undefeated.

Though that did not mean there were no changes. The first was the presence of a new transfer freshman, Kirihara Akaya. Causing a ruckus on the first day of school, Kirihara managed to accomplish the feat of offending every single member of the Rikkai tennis team. Sanada was determined to throw him off the courts but Yukimura intervened to give the boy a change to prove his wroth. Akaya was feral and wild, lacking too much of measured training to put up a true challenge against the Troika. Even so, the newly appointed captain had quite taken to the boy’s brash and determined nature and was determined to keep him.

Sanada was appointed with the task of taking the boy in and educating him in the order and discipline of the Rikkai way. It was a tasking role and Sanada’s patience was often worn thin. One day after a particularly tiring day of responding to Akaya’s insolent questions, Sanada, in a sudden outburst, asked Yukimura the reason of putting him in charge of Akaya’s misbehavior. Immediately regretting his impatient tone, Sanada watched in dread as Yukimura eyebrows shot up towards his hairline.

“I would think it would have been obvious. You are the only person who could control that boy. Your authority is unquestionable.” Sanada snorted in disbelief but refrained from throwing his thoughts back at the other boy.

“Besides, it will be good practice for my future vice captain.”

“You’re choosing me?” It was not like Sanada had not considered it but he had always thought Yanagi’s strategic counsel and greater patience would have convinced Seiichi to choose otherwise.

“Your self confidence is lacking, Genichirou. Who else do I trust more than you?” Sanada felt his entire body grow light from happiness. And truthfully, Yukimura’s words did fill him up with confidence as he thought back to their moment on the bridge and how he was the one Yukimura had chosen to share his aspiration of taking the national championships with. In that way, they were completed aligned in heart, which even Renji would not truly understand. Yukimura had set him apart and the knowledge made Sanada’s heartbeat skyrocket.

As Yukimura walked away, an amused Renji came over to stand beside him.

“You may want to be a little more subtle,” he chided teasingly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sanada deflected the implications. Sanada was getting more annoyed at Renji’s increasing insinuations about his feelings for Yukimura but, truthfully, he was most annoyed with how on target those comments were.

“What I mean is you should say something to him instead of making those lovesick eyes at him whenever you think he is not looking.” Sanada grimaced.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“You know I could not do that. If it doesn’t work out, our whole tennis team would be jeopardized and you know that is everything to him.” Renji frowned but did not say a word in rebuttal.

Sanada had played the internal debate on repeat for a while now, weighing the precarious consequences with the possibility of sweet relief. Each time though, the result was the same as he put Yukimura’s regard for assured victory over his own feelings.

Contrary to common belief, Sanada was not a late bloomer. He fully understood what Atobe alluded to in his flirtations, the promise of sex behind the heated glances and constant innuendos. He had grown up after all with an older brother and all his careless trysts during the young and hot-blooded days. Sanada knew Yukimura would never fall in the same meaningless category. It happened after a hard day of practice as Sanada was chatting aimlessly with Renji. He had glanced Yukimura coming out of the shower, the same body he had seen countless times before only to realize he wanted to put action to admiration; he had always watched the other boy but now he also knew what he wanted to do with those fine features and slender form.

Despite Sanada’s resolve, his attraction only grew stronger. At night he lay awake thinking of Yukimura constantly until sleep overtook him. And though his thighs were sticky, his body was not deceived and yearned for more than just fantasy. It was like drinking seawater, which granted temporary relief but really resulted in more suffering later on. Sanada was left with unsatisfied desires, which weighed more heavily on his battered and growing body.

#sanayuki #alphapair #sanada genichirou #yukimura seiichi #tenipuri

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ptw30 · 8 years

Text

Fic: A Healthy Addiction - Stage Four: Dependency

Summary: Obligatory coffee shop AU where Kuroko is a sazzy barista who uses Akashi as a guinea pig for all his new cocotions and Akashi is a businessman who needs something sweet in his life.

Stage One - Experimentation

Stage Two: Regular Use

Stage Three: Risky Behavior/Abuse

Seijuro began bringing his work lunches to the coffee shop, ordering the fantastic specialties that Taiga put together and enjoying the show. Tetsuya fluttered between tables, refilling the empty cups and dropping off pastries and sandwiches. He shot a smile at Seijuro every time he passed and refilled his cup without saying a word, eyes dancing over the three occupants at the table.

Seijuro’s eyes lingered upon Tetsuya’s tight backside a little too long when Tetsuya bent down to clean a spilled coffee. A gruff laugh sounded from across the table.

“Hm. You done with that yet, Sei? Because I’m not opposed to sloppy seconds. ”

That crass phrasing tore Seijuro from his delighted trance, and he blinked, grabbing his coffee cup to sip. “Excuse me, Haizaki-san? Please keep your comments directed toward business.”

“Yes, your offensive remarks will not tolerated,” the third person at the table chastised, “and if I ever hear a remark like that again from you, it will be the last you make working for my company. Do you understand—”

Before Masaomi finished his sentence, a large hand fisted in the back of Haizaki’s shirt and jerked him to his feet.

“Aomine-kun!” Tetsuya’s voice sounded over the busy café, turning almost all heads to see a needlessly tall police officer dragging the struggled and sputtering Haizaki toward the door.

The officer ejected the stylishly dressed businessman from the café, Daiki’s face chiseled with barely restrained anger as he shouted, “You don’t come back here. Understand? Or I’ll make sure you don’t.”

“Aomine-kun!” Tetsuya admonished as Office Aomine growled at the café, “As you were.”

“Aho!” Taiga, too, yelled as he came up behind the counter. “You can’t go throwing out paying customers like that!”

But Daiki ignored him to stomp over to the Akashis’ table, all six-foot-three muscle and attitude, and glared down at the two businessman. “You speak one more word about Tetsu, and I will make sure it’s the last word you ever speak. Got it?”

Seijuro glanced down at his latte and then back at the furious officer. “He never gets my order right. I ordered a Caffé Mocha, and this is not a Caffé Mocha.”

Daiki looked like he was ready to punch Seijuro when Tetsuya grabbed his hand. “Aomine-kun, Akashi-sama is just teasing. I make him different drinks every time he comes in. He’s my personal guinea pig. Now go sit down before Kagami-kun throws you out, too.”

“But Tetsu—”

“Go!” Tetsuya pushed the officer toward the counter, where Kagami waited, arms crossed, face disapproving before Tetsuya bowed to the two Akashis. “My apologies for the intrusion. I’ve known Aomine-kun since middle school, and he’s very protective.”

“No,” Masaomi replied sharply. “What Haizaki said was inappropriate. We apologize for his deplorable behavior. Please, join us.”

“Father, Tetsuya is quite busy,” Seijuro interjected, “and we should probably be getting back to the—”

Tetsuya motioned for Furihata, one of his servers, to come over, and he placed his order pad and hat upon the tray. Ruffling his wayward strands as he sat, Tetsuya somehow made his hat-hair presentable.

“Thank you for the offer and your continued patronage, Akashi-san and Akashi-sama.”

Masaomi took a sip of his coffee and made a noise of enjoyment. “Seijuro brought me one of your lattes earlier this week. I didn’t dislike it.”

“Thank you, Akashi-san. Perhaps if you keep coming, we’ll find a latte you like.”

And miracles exist, Seijuro thought. Tetsuya didn’t understand the high praise “didn’t dislike” was from Masaomi.

“It is impressive that you own your own business at…twenty?”

“Twenty-three,” Tetsuya amended.

Seijuro glimpsed Tetsuya. They were the same age? But Tetsuya looked so much younger.

“Well, I guess that is still admirable,” Masaomi mused while Tetsuya accepted a vanilla latte from Furihata. “Do you plan to add shops to your portfolio? Perhaps take your brand internat—”

“No,” Tetsuya said, serious. “Kagami-kun and I have discussed opening a second location, but we’re coffee shop owners, not international businessmen. I believe that is your profession, Akashi-san.”

Masaomi’s eyes narrowed. “Then what are your intentions for this place?”

Tetsuya brightened and spoke with that gentle smile of pleasure. “To serve affordable, gourmet, and innovative lattes—and to create a friendly shop where people can meet and connect.”

“That��s all?”

“Father—” Seijuro put down his cup, but Tetsuya interrupted, “Yes. I only seek to earn a modest living for myself and Kagami-kun, and our future families. I’m sure that’s what Akashi-san wishes for himself and his son.”

Modest? Seijuro almost scoffed, but Masaomi seemed to finish his assessment—and his latte. “I believe you were right, Seijuro. It’s past time we return to the office.” He stood then, forgoing the bow to glare down at Tetsuya. “Tetsuya-kun, thank you for the latte, but I would appreciate if you would not distract my son. He has a duty to give our business his entire attention as well as to marry someone who will aid in our ventures—”

His father was ending his relationship with Tetsuya before it even began? Seijuro knew his father was going to have to approve of the person he chose, but he hadn’t even chose Tetsuya yet. They hadn’t even been on a real date. He didn’t even have Tetsuya’s cell number.

“I would appreciate it if Akashi-sama would not distract me,” Tetsuya interjected in a blank voice was actually quite furious. “I have a shop to run and international businessmen such as yourself to fuel, and Akashi-sama comes in every morning and afternoon in his pressed suit with his perfect hair and sparkling eyes and adorably subdued smile. It’s very distracting and puts my business in jeopardy.”

Something in Masaomi’s expression changed, and Seijuro couldn’t quite place what it was. “He gets that from his mother. She, too, used to distract me at business dinners and charity functions. It was…exasperating.”

“You married her in order to gain immunity.”

“Of course it didn’t work,” Masaomi replied, looking very tired for perhaps the first time since Seijuro was twelve, and they’d just lost their souls. “I couldn’t catch my breath for years.”

Seijuro had never heard his father speak like this about his mother. In fact, his father hadn’t spoken about his mother since that day all those years ago.

Masaomi scrutinized Tetsuya once more, eyes taking in the disheveled hair, blank expression, and shimmering eyes. Tetsuya accepted the evaluation silently, blinking, waiting, and then Masaomi’s eyes swung toward Seijuro, who was used to the dissection. He placed an encouraging hand on Seijuro’s shoulder, though he didn’t smile. He never smiled, but his face might have brightened.

“We do need to get back to the office, Seijuro. Grab us two lattes for the afternoon before you return.”

He approved. His father approved of Tetsuya. “Yes. Thank you, Father.”

With a brief nod of acknowledgement, Masaomi headed out while Seijuro turned to Tetsuya, who smacked him in the side with this towel. “It’s the middle of the lunch rush, and you felt now was the best time to bring your father?”

No, it actually wasn’t his idea. His father suggested they bring their business associate Haizaki to “that place you waste your lunch hour visiting.”

His father knew of his affection for Tetsuya and wanted to either approve or end it. And he approved of Tetsuya, a coffee shop owner-slash-barista.

“Of course he did,” Tetsuya insisted, as if hearing Seijuro’s thoughts. “His son is very special to me, and to him, that’s what’s most important.”

Seijuro wondered what Tetsuya put in his father’s latte. “My father only cares about furthering his business portfolio.”

Retreating behind the counter to make the lattes, Tetsuya replied, “If that were true, he wouldn’t have come here, Akashi-sama. He would have simply foreclosed on my business.”

Seijuro studied Tetsuya’s elegant form and his averted eyes. “Tetsuya, my father may be powerful, but he cannot foreclose on businesses he does not finance.”

“Yes, that is true.”

Which meant Tetsuya had gone through one of Akashi’s banks to get financing for the shop.

Akashi was Tetsuya’s boss in a way.

Tetsuya, however, simply put two lattes on the counter before pushing up and pecking Seijuro on the lips.

“Have a good afternoon at the office, Akashi-sama.”

Daiki, sitting a few stools down, tched and bit into his chocolate doughnut.

To Be Continued…

#Fic: A Healthy Addiction #Akakuro #akashi seijuro #Kuroko Tetsuya #Kuroko no Basuke #Aomine Daiki #Kagami Taiga #Coffee Shop AU #ptw30 #fanfiction #ptw30 pens

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periwinkle-porcelaindoll13 · 8 years

Text

Ghost of a time

Prompt: “What are you trying to do, give yourself a concussion?”

Pairing: Gladion X Hau

Word Count: 1868 words

Rating: T (one cuss word and violence)

Tags: Hau, Gladion, Moon (mentioned), Haunter, Gengar, blood, fluff, Mimikyu, I’m sorry that I hurt my baby Hau! Hala Pre-end gameish.

Title: Ghost of a Time

Summary: Hau wants to go find Moon a helpful Pokemon and takes Gladion with him. Bad Times ensue.

Ghost of a Time

I looked back at Gladion with a smile. “Well let’s get going Gladion.”

“Hau, Moon is doing something dangerous and here we are, doing what exactly?” Gladion asked.

“Well, I’m glad you asked. We’re going to be getting Moon something useful.” I replied as we stepped foot onto route 14.

“Okay, what are we getting her?” Gladion inquires.

“A Pokemon.” I laugh.

“You dragged me out to this island, away from my training, to find a Pokemon.” Gladion deadpanned.

“Well, when you say it like that it sounds silly. We’re not just trying to find any Pokemon.” I began, “Have you ever heard of the Pokemon Mimikyu?”

“Mimikyu?” he asks.

“Yep, Moon and I both had to take on a Mimikyu for Acerola’s Island Challenge. But that Pokemon was super strong and had a special ability. The first hit didn’t hurt it at all. Well I think that Moon will be super duper grateful to have that on her team.” I explain.

“Geez, so you do think, huh?” Gladion states.

“Of course I do.” I reply as we step up the incline to the abandoned thrifty megamart. I take a breath and slowly let it out. “Honestly though this place freaks me out a bit.” I explain scratching the back of my head.

“That’s what I’m here for isn’t it.” Gladion sighs. I nod with a nervous laugh. “Well let’s get this over with then.” Gladion remarks. When we step in a chill runs down my spine, and I feel as though I’m being watched. I reach for Raichu’s Pokeball and then think better of it. Psychic is weak to Ghost, after all. I reach out to Primarina’s Pokeball instead. Gripping it is reassuring in a way. I catch Gladion’s eyes as he looks slightly worried.

“I’m okay, just felt like someone’s watching me.” I state. Gladion steps closer to me and looks around.

“Do you still feel that way?” he asks narrowing his eyes. I nod grabbing onto his jacket with my left hand and tightened my grip on Primarina’s Pokeball.

“We should probably keep looking…” I remark tugging on his jacket. He moves his opposite hand on top the the one tugging on his jacket. I relax a bit, but still feel wary. I catch sight of a shadow ball right before it gets to us. Thinking quickly I push Gladion to the side and take the full brunt of the attack.

Before I know it I’m flying backwards and into the wall. I expect my head to hit the wall, but I come to a sudden stop and look back to see a Haunter with a large grin. I’m lifted into the air by the Haunter and it chuckles. Its friend the Gengar that must have sent to shadow ball meets us halfway. I struggle suddenly remembering the entry on Gengar and Haunter. I watch Gladion start to stand up and boy does he look angry.

“Are you a fucking idiot!” he yells up at me. The Gengar and Haunter look down at him with a laugh. I look down to catch a movement of something gray behind Gladion. I almost yell before I watch it vanish a second later. The next second the Haunter behind me lets out a pained screech and I’m caught by a psychic attack. Slowly I’m lowered to the ground while Gladion just stares. I look at the Mimikyu in front of me. It’s the color of ash and I’m surprised. As it uses a protect to keep all three of us safe.

I throw out my Flareon and Gladion throws out Null. “Flareon fire fang on Haunter.” I order.

“Null, pursuit.” Gladion states. They follow the orders, but I am thrown against a wall with a shadow punch moments later. My head collides with the wall hard, and I am seeing stars.

“Hau!” Gladion shouts. I take a shaky breath and stand with a smile.

“I’m f-fine.” I reply. “Mimikyu can you get me back over there please?” Mimikyu wraps me in a psychic and I am brought gently back to Gladion’s side.

“You’re bleeding.” Gladion exclaims. I move my hand up to my head and sure enough there is blood. I catch sight of a shadow ball aimed at Gladion, and react immediately. I reach out and push him aside again as I’m thrown back for a second time with a call of his name. This time my vision spots and I almost black out.

“Flareon, you know what to do.” I call out over the throbbing in my head. I watch as Mimikyu runs back to me and protects me from further harm as Gladion, Null, and Flareon fight with the Haunter and Gengar. As soon as they go down Gladion rushes to my slumped form and gets on his knees beside me.

“What are you trying to do, give yourself a concussion!?” is the first thing he says to me.

“Not exactly my intentions. I just wanted to protect you.” I smile.

“You idiot, I was worried the entire time.” Gladion frowned. I couldn’t help the light laugh.

“I thought you were too cool for feelings, Mr. Edgelord.” I tease.

“Hau, this isn’t a joke. I was genuinely worried for you.” he states.

“Heh, I thought you hated me.” I can feel the tears.

“Hate you? You really are an idiot. I care about you way too much.” he claims. The smile slowly fades until it’s trembling and I fully start crying. Gladion’s eyes go wide and he reaches a hand out and places it on my shoulder. “Hau…?” he asks. I throw my arms around his neck and cry into his shoulder. The movement jostled my head, but I feel numb to the pain right now.

“I thought it was unrequited and was going to do anything in my power to protect you, even at the cost of my own life.” I sniffled.

“Unrequited…? Wait, what?” Gladion’s eyes go wide.

“I really do like you a lot Gladion.” I smile with wet eyes. He gingerly wraps his arms around me.

“I like you a lot Hau.” he whispers. We stay there until I meet eyes with the Mimikyu and my Flareon. Flareon nuzzles his Pokeball and I nod returning him. The Mimikyu quirks it’s head and waddles to me. It nuzzles my hand and I bring my hand up to pet it.

“Would you like to come with us?” I ask the Mimikyu.

“Mimi…. Kyu!” it exclaims. I smile holding out a Luxury Ball to it. It clicks it open and lets me catch it. I smile at the Mimikyu inside the Pokeball.

“No offense to Moon, but I love this little guy too much to give it away.” I tell Gladion.

“It makes sense, Mimikyu and you seemed to form a deep bond from the beginning.” Gladion remarks. I laugh and fall forward feeling weak all of a sudden. “Hau!” Gladion exclaims.

“Sorry to bother you, but do you think you could get me some medical aid.” I ask. Gladion gently picks me up and quickly carries me to the nearby Pokemon center. Nurse Joy looks me over and lets Gladion in the room with me upon my insistence.

“You have a concussion.” Nurse Joy states. I take a look at Gladion who has a slightly frustrated look on his face directed towards me. I let out an airy chuckle.

“Looks like I was trying to give myself a concussion.” I remark. Gladion lets out a short laugh. I at least have the decency to look embarrassed.

“I’m going to release you, because it isn’t that serious surprisingly. Mr. Gladion will you accompany him home and make sure he gets rest and doesn’t do anything that strenuous or dangerous until you get him evaluated again and cleared?” she asks.

“Of course.” Gladion nods.

“Okay I will give you all the information you’ll need on how to care for him. Gladion nods and they walk out of the room. I cross my arms. Now what do I get Moon? I guess I could give her some revives and full potions she likes those. She’s gonna need them when she comes back from getting the Legendary Pokemon’s assistance. I start to muse about things more when Gladion comes in.

“Hey.” he remarks.

“Hey.” I smile.

“Let’s get you out of here, white does not suit you.” Gladion states. I let out a small chuckle.

“It smells funny. I wouldn’t mind leaving.” I reply. That gets Gladion to let out a small laugh.

“C’mon then.” Gladion extends his hand and I grab it. He helps me out of bed and I try to get my balance with Gladion helping me. We walk outside and he helps me get onto a Charizard, and gets on behind me. He holds on to me so I don’t fall. We get off at Melemele Island in Iki Town. He takes me home and explains to Hala what happened. Hala sighs and nods.

“Of course Hau would do that.” he states.

“That’s Hau for you.” Gladion nods.

“I’m counting on you Gladion to keep Hau in line while I go and do my duties.” Hala stated.

“Yes, sir.” Gladion nodes. I can’t help the laugh that bubbles in my throat and I laugh.

“You don’t have to call him sir, Gladion.” I choke out over laughter.

“He’s right, I’m just good ol’ Hala.” Hala states.

“Okay, then yes, Hala, I will take care of Hau while you’re out.” Gladion stated.

“Good, I trust you then.” Hala nods. “Hau, be good.”

“I’m not a kid. I can stay out of trouble.” I protest. They both give me looks of disbelief.

“Really, Hau?” Hala states, “What about that time you-” he started.

“You promised we wouldn’t talk about that again.” I interrupted with an embarrassed face.

“But your friend hasn’t heard about the time you and Tapu Koko decided to pull pranks because you were bored.” Hala teased. I groan and put my face in my hands.

“I want to hear this.” Gladion perked up.

“Well, it was just last year and those two decided while I was out on one of my duties that they were bored. Well they moved things all around in the house and lined the wooden stage with Pokebeans. When I came back I caught him and Tapu Koko, but I couldn’t even be mad at them.” Hala recounted.

I crossed my arms and turned away from them both as Gladion and Hala laughed. “That’s just great.” Gladion finally remarked.

“It was the best.” Hala nodded then looked at the clock. “Oh, would you look at the time, I need to get going. Be good.” Hala waved as he left. I kept turned away from him.

“Oh, come on it was a cute story.” Gladion teased.

“No, it’s embarrassing.” I shoot back with a pout. Gladion shook his head.

“Everything about you is adorable, cute, and perfect to me.” Gladion stated.

“I never thought I’d hear those words uttered from your lips.” I mumbled. As I leaned towards him. He wrapped his arms around me, and held me for awhile. Slowly we fell asleep like that in content happiness.

Authors comments: Thank you for reading. I will try to write something each day and even have a bunch of prompts from tumblr I’m working on. This is one for example off of tumblr when searching “writing prompts.”

#Hau #Gladion #Moon (mentioned)#Haunter #Gengar #Blood #Fluff #Mimikyu #I'm sorry that I hurt my precious baby Hau!#Hala #Pre-end gameish #Pokemon Sun and Moon #sunandcloudshipping #thornsheartshipping

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colleenmurphy · 4 years

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@writervega { *hugs* all the odds since you asked ages ago and I apologize! } Branching out to John Lee Pettimore for this one. Sorry about the image size. Take it away Johnny.

1. Where were they born? What is the story behind their birth, if any?

I’s born born in Mountain City, Tennessee on particularly cold night in February. I’m from holler stock and the cabin we called home was so tiny my Daddy had to wait out in the barn with the cows just so my Granny and Great Aunt Irma had enough room to help my Mama bring me into the world.

3. What occupations did their parents have when they were born? Did this job influence your muse in any form?

Yes, M’am it most certainly did. My Daddy was a bootlegger and so was his Daddy ‘fore him. It runs in the blood same as farmin’ does. My Mama was a file clerk for a time at the First National Mountain Bank for a time and I got her knack for numbers.

5. What sort of religion was practiced in their home? Did religion play a role in their upbringing?

Mama and Daddy were good Baptists, same as the rest of the family. Us Pettimore’s don't have much to begin with but what we do have is a devotion with the Lord. My Uncle Jed is a preacher down the Calvary Baptist church where our family’s been goin’ since it was raised up, every Pettimore since then’s also been married and buried there too. My mama taught me how to read and write by sounding out Psalms from the good book and writin’em down.

7. What is their fondest memory? Their worst?

Fondest Memory: My eighth birthday when my Grandaddy gave me a barlow knife. I’ve still got it and I still use it damn near ‘bout every day.

Worst Memory: The day I had to say goodbye to my buddy Dan Taylor in Da Nang. Dan was my very best friend while I was over there and while I’m sad that he’s gone I’d have never met Colly without him.

9. If they were to make a timeline with their life events, which ones would they list? Which would they leave out? Oh that’s easy. Here they are.

1942 - Born in the tiny cabin on top of Hatcher’s Mountain.

1962 - Enlisted in the Army on his 18th birthday. There wasn’t much else left for me to do ‘round here. ‘specially with a last name like mine.

1968 - Was part of the Tet Offensive. I sure thought I’d be seein’ my Granny that day.

1971 - Dan Taylor passed away. I still go up to Pinebough where Dan was born and raised and see his family. ‘Specially at Christmas time since he was born on Christmas eve.

1972 - Came on back home and settled into the house that’s now his home. I’d had it just ‘bout finished when my Mama passed away. The curtains she made are still hangin’ in the kitchen. Went to a tech school out in

1974 - Finally after exchanging letters back and forth for what seemed like forever My Colleen finally came on out to built a proper home with me.

Present - I’m still kickin ain’t I?

11. What occupation did your character want to have growing up? Is this the same as what they wish to be, or are in, now?

I always wanted to be a mechanic so I went on out to one of them technical schools in Gatlinburg. My degree only took me ‘bout a year and then I went into workin’ for myself. The growing and brewin’ came naturally and as a hobby but over time it’s taken center stage.

13. Are there any moments of their past they keep secret?

Y’mean besides the money I earn that the Man doesnt know about? Nope. Can’t say I quite like keepin’ secrets much.

15. Would they rather go back and relive their childhood? Why or why not?

I’d give my eye teeth to go back to the old fishin’ hole and sit with my Grandaddy one more time. I almost worshiped the earth that he walked on. Even if it hurt all over again I’d just like the chance to tell him how much he meant to me.

#@writervega #John Pettimore answers

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drmicrochp · 5 years

Text

New York, New York

What destination offers the greatest variety of culture and night life, breath-taking views, and culinary delights? Why, New York city, of course. Visiting my own country, the U.S, isn’t the exotic destination that I ordinarily seek when leaving Chile. Yet, New York, this Elysium beyond the clouds, holds the most unique stratum of humanity that I know of. Walking down streets where I feel like an ant, surrounded by the most professional culture of money and the arts, knowing that this is where most of the decisions are made that matter, all of it combines to make me feel insignificant and a privileged visitor.

Victoria, Chile is one of the smallest towns that I know. New York, the largest. I would like to say that I´m at home in either place, but it´s a case of opposites. In New York there are too many choices -where to go, what to do, how to get there. In Victoria, there are too few -all of the restaurants and stores resemble one another in their offerings.

Arriving at JFK airport I was struck at how little attention I attracted from customs, police, and airport security. Customs barely looked at me. Nobody checked what I was carrying. Compare this with Lima, Peru, with its drug sniffing dogs, TSA x-raying my shoes and my crutch, patting me down in an all too familiar way. This time it was as if I was traveling with an express pass. Joaquin, my son, and Abena, his wife, greeted me at the airport gate and we detoured to the nearest food stop and I had a chance to devour a doughnut. Doughnuts are one of my recurring dreams in Chile because they have none. There are some pasty counterfeits, but the doughnut shops that I remember would take offense at them. I should have bought a dozen.

Brain dead, as I always am, after the marathon which is a trip from Victoria to anywhere out of the country, I was happy just to have Joaquin, my son, and Abena, his wife, help me with my suitcases and show me to my sister's apartment where I would mostly be staying. Traveling from the 40 degree weather of Victoria to the 90 degree weather of New York required a shower and a change of clothes. Soon I was able to clean up enough to accompany my sister, Stephanie, to a performance of interpretative dance by the Mark Morris company and enjoy a modest bowl of chile beans at a diner. Yes, prices have gone up. That bowl of chile cost the same as a full dinner anywhere in Victoria.

Accompanying us to the performance was Christopher Ryan, the author of the divamensch.com blog, who blogs about the arts in New York city. Christopher sees all of the best performances in the city and knows all of the back stories. He and Stephanie shared all of their latest arts gossip. The interpretive dance numbers portrayed everything from a jellyfish capturing its prey to fishing, racing, tennis, and golf. With music of Eric Satie as a backdrop, Morris evoked an imaginative pantomime of different activities using only the dancers' bodies to express abstract impressions. Charles Ives, the composer whose music graced the other pieces was amazing. All of the music was played live and this added a lot to the performance. Some of them left me scratching my head, wondering what I had just seen. After the performance, walking past Rockefeller Center, I mused once again that I had landed in Elysium, a land envisioned by the Greeks as their version of heaven.

On another night, we attended a Yiddish language version of "Fiddler on the Roof" with English and Yiddish subtitles projected on the sides of the stage. Hearing this favorite musical in Yiddish gave me a feeling of authenticity about each of the challenges faced by the small community of a shtetl or village. On another day we visited a small theater in Manhattan to see "The Sword of Trust," a movie with Marc Maron, also enjoyable. Stephanie enjoys small out of the way gems when seeking out experiences in Manhattan, thinking as I do, that the blockbusters will find their way to us, rather than us finding our way to them.

Visiting the "Tenement Museum" in the oldest part of New York with Stephanie was my chance to imagine the inhabitants of old New York. I have been to the museum a few times before to see the actual apartments where early immigrants lived and to hear their stories from guides who had researched the names and histories of the original occupants. Visualizing Jacob Riis´s photographs from "How the Other Half Lives" (1889) and documentation of the "Five Points" neighborhoods from the those times calls up my imagination of how it might have been. I urge you to visit this museum if you ever have the chance.

Another item on my checklist was to find a Mexican restaurant and we visited three of them. One of them was a fancy boutique restaurant where everything was on the menu, but nothing seemed authentic. Growing up in Stockton, California where there are dozens of Mexican restaurants, has set the bar rather high for me, but (like my love of doughnuts) my memories persist. A second restaurant had spectacular burritos, but only burritos. On our third try, we found an authentic place and I realized the unique flavor of the sauces and spices that make up Mexican food. Our culinary demands come with other difficult conditions. Stephanie has high expectations for any dish, while David and I are vegetarians. I was willing to abandon the vegetarian preference on this occasion if it mattered. Finding cheese enchiladas or chile rellenos to my liking is a tall order. My dad, John Jutt (deceased) was the same way with his Chile Verde. In Victoria I can recreate burritos, cheese enchiladas, nachos and Mexican salsa with chips to my liking, helped by an excellent Chilean artisanal lager, but now I have come to a new conclusion. Don´t leave the American southwest if you love American-style Mexican food.

David, my brother, was also a generous host. On one night we enjoyed a Korean restaurant and on another a gourmet vegetarian restaurant. Spicy Korean noodles check all of my boxes, but not knowing much about Korean cuisine is a disadvantage for me. Korean barbecue is all the rave, but I will probably never try it. The gourmet vegetarian restaurant was an eye opener. They had recreated many fancy French dishes using only vegetarian ingredients. Faux steak, faux chicken, and even faux foie gras, had us all stumped as to how they evoked these flavors. It was a memorable meal showing how far this cuisine had evolved. David has not yet tried an "impossible burger," which I have heard so much about, but promised to try one. I think that always trying to mimic the flavor of meat is somewhat of a fool´s errand. Once you have tried an Argentine steak house you will know what I mean. Or maybe if you have tried soy bacon. Good luck.

David, his wife, Susan, and his son, Alexander, are members of the Scarsdale community, north of NY city. David teaches choir and music at a nearby high school named "New Rochelle." If you're looking for the perfect place to retire in the New York area, Scarsdale is a safe bet. The location is so middle class, staid, and quiet that it is typecast as the model community and the butt of a few jokes. Being accepted into the "condominium cooperative" that is the organization of these tall apartment buildings is the hallmark of stability.

Another artist in the family living in New York (if my wife´s extended family may be included) is Nelson Andres Rivas, a.k.a. Cekis, who brought his former wife, Karen, and his daughter, Maya, to lunch at Stephanie´s building. Karen found some Chilean-style empanadas from a bakery and Stephanie made a salad and we all had libations. My favorite was the Negroni (equal parts gin, sweet vermouth and Campari), Stephanie´s was the Aperol Spritz and everyone else enjoyed Pisco Sours in honor of Chile. From the rooftop where we dined a magnificent skyline could be viewed. The Dakota hotel, where John Lennon died, is visible from one side. Some construction cranes atop the buildings were visible. Some buildings we could not identify, such as crystalline, insectoid structures. Cocoons waiting to be born.

The centerpiece of my "only in New York" visit would probably have been the "Diner en Blanc," a dinner where hundreds of exclusive ticket holders converge upon a secret location where they enjoy musical performances and they, themselves, are also a spectacle. Stephanie, my niece Francesca and her husband, Brian were the members of our little band. I had to find all white attire, not something I ordinarily enjoy in Victoria, Chile. Some party goers bring their preparation to perfection with all white tuxedos and ladies wearing all white formal gowns. Also, the tables are magnificent presentations, with branches, candles, lights, flowers, and chuppahs or canopies marking them. Everything was perfection. On stage a crooner, perhaps a Frank Sinatra double, sang "New York, New York" as everyone stood and danced. Just as he finished the song, with everyone singing along, a thunderous typhoon struck with raindrops coming down in buckets and thirty mile per hour winds. Everyone was drenched in an instant. Our preparations for the event were rather meager in comparison with the exaggerated chuppahs, silver dining ware with warming trays and other gourmet dinners surrounding us, but it was all for the better. Blinded by the rain and frozen by the winds, we were able to tear down and hustle out of there fairly quickly. It resembled a scene of "The Titanic" with everyone scrambling to leave. I, with my one crutch, found special reserves of energy to assist with the evacuation. The metaphor was clear. Elysium is a fragile construct, easily replaced by Hades, given a catastrophe. New Yorkers know this better than anyone.

One last additional enjoyable part of my visit was staying with my Joaquin, who has the best (or worst) location for an apartment in New York, a bohemian enclave located on Saint Mark´s Place in the East Village. Sort of a birdcage, Joaquin´s apartment has a shelf-like layout on the fifth floor of an ancient building with space for a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom and studio for his artwork. Just he and his wife, Abena, a singer, live in the heart of it all, in an area some refer to as America’s hippest street. Not too hip if you´re trying to get some sleep, but iconic nonetheless. Our first night out, programmed for a live concert in Brooklyn, I had to figure out how to navigate the subway on my own using an alternate route, this portion of the subway having shut down due to technical problems. Google maps and improvisation got me there, but not in time to see the concert. It ended just as I got there, but the whole spectacle had a weird psychedelic feel, seeing all of these concertgoers and having just ingested one of New York´s special cocktails, a "Nutcracker." This fruit flavored bombshell is sold out of portable ice chests by entrepreneurial hipsters for $15 a bottle, guaranteed to get your head straight. I loved all of the after concert banter with Jamaicans, Namibians, and Nigerians hanging out at the park, telling their stories. The concert must have been something else. Too bad that I missed it. Joaquin has found a niche as an artist and illustrator for the African American renaissance in New York and has introduced me to a number of their vanguard, such as Wangechi Mutu, a highly regarded Kenyan artist living in New York. Such an interesting life. Livin' the dream. My second night with Joaquin we went to a concert at the Nu Blue. At this venue, all of the performances were live and spontaneous. All of the freestyling rap and incredible jazz that I heard was inspired in the moment with people coming up on the stage and adding to the mix. I even made it down to the floor and busted a few moves myself. Intoxicated dancing I find to be the truest expression of my inner self. Just kidding.

Every time I look out of the main window in Stephanie´s apartment, with its incredible skyline of Manhattan, I can hear George Gershwin´s "Rhapsody in Blue." I began my vacation there and finished it there, like bookends. So many different pieces of the collage that come together in that city. How so much of my family started in Stockton, California and ended up there, I can hardly fathom. Such a glorious place to visit and how wonderful to see so much of my family there. We still belong to California in a way and now my roots are in Chile, but New York is a place where we have also found a connection, a place where dreams have no limits.

#fatcity #fatcityrefugee #newyork #expat #expatlife

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