#and when they find you two AWFULLY close they all know their little plan succeeded

[becca-alexa]

Baby, It's Cold

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re snowed in with no heat, so you suggest sharing body heat to keep from freezing - but how far will things go between you and Steve?

Word Count: 6.3K

Content Warnings: p in v sex, general smut, cursing, consensual touching

Author’s Note: feedback appreciated!! i don't have much experience writing stuff like this, and i figured practice makes perfect 💗

    It was a miracle Robin had managed to snag the cabin - who in their right mind would ever rent out an entire villa in the woods to a bunch of twenty-somethings? It was unheard of, or so she claimed, because none of them could get her to shut up about how well she'd haggled for the place, how she'd bartered with the owner over coffee and used her mile-a-minute voice to confuse them into signing off on them staying the weekend.

    The place was far, far outside of Hawkins, an urgently-welcome retreat for all of you after what had proved to be the most difficult year of your lives. Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, you and Steve - you'd all made plans to meet up and drive over together; Eddie had given his van a well-needed tune up specifically for this trip, so that it could handle everyone and everything in one go. But, as was quickly - annoyingly - becoming the norm with your group, your plans fell through… sort of.

    "What do you mean, you're stuck in Indy?" Steve tried to keep his voice down as he balanced the payphone receiver against his ear, hands shoved into the pockets of his jean jacket as he braced himself against the cold. "Robbie, we've been planning this trip for weeks-"

    "I know, I know!" Robin hurriedly replied; you tried not to giggle too loudly as Steve rolled his eyes. "But Nancy had this thing she needed to pick up, and Eddie had offered to drive us, then Jonathan and Argyle wanted to tag along-"

    "What, so you didn't think to tell me about your little day trip?" Steve dragged a hand through his styled hair, shifted from one leg to the other, slapping a hand against his thigh in exasperation. Can you believe her?, he mouthed to you, biting back a grin when you shook your head.

    "Just go with [Y/N]!" Robin insisted - and in retrospect, you'd realize she'd insisted a bit too intently, but you weren't thinking of that now.

    What you were thinking of was how in Heaven's name were going to survive the entire three-hour drive up to the cabin, alone with Steve Harrington.

    Your best friend, your bat-wielding protector, the sole object of your desires - Hell, he was the only crush you'd ever had, and even after so many years, your affections for the man still ran as deep as ever.

    "Robin says they'll meet us at the cabin tomorrow." Steve asked, holding the phone away from his face as he turned toward you, head falling to the side, hair bouncing over his face. "That okay with you?"

    "T-That's fine." You reply with a nod, staring at the lock that had fallen over his forehead, and you prayed he hadn't picked up on how your voice had cracked.

    "You owe us, Robbie." Steve replied gruffly, but you knew there was no bite to his words. "Seriously this time."

    "Sure, sure! Whatever!" Robin hurriedly replied; from where you were standing, you could barely make out what sounded like Argyle… shouting at someone? "Drive safe!"

    "Rob-" The line went dead, loudly buzzing in his ear; Steve groaned as he all but slammed the receiver against the payphone, his brows furrowing as he began to lose himself in his thoughts. You took a step toward him, bridging the gap that'd been left between you; your fingers were soft as they brushed over his skin, trailing over the soft hair covering his forearm, pulling him out of his own head.

    "Steve, it'll be fine." Your voice was quiet, and you hoped it'd calm him down - the last thing you needed was Steve driving up a rugged, unfamiliar mountain upset. "We'll try calling again when we get there, okay?"

    He nodded, blinking at the warm smile you gave him - your smiles were always warm, always gentle, but every time he'd be graced with it, he'd remind himself not to get too excited.

    You smiled at everyone like that, he'd convinced himself, desperate to believe it were true, that the look of pure sunshine on your face wasn't just for him - because how could it be?

    It was, but that's another story.

    You walked to his car, your pace picking up to a jog as the bitter cold sunk through your clothes. Steve beat you to it, holding the door open for you.

    "Ever the gentleman, huh?" You teased, climbing into the seat and pulling the heavy thing shut behind you.

    Had you hesitated just for a moment longer, you'd have caught how Steve burned at your words, how he'd licked his dry lips nervously as his mind froze up, hands trembling as they fisted at his sides.

    You weren't the only one with a lingering crush.

    Taking a steeling breath, he walked over to the driver's side, hands cupped over his mouth as he shut the door, working desperately to stave off the chill biting at his fingertips.

    "Ready?" The car roared to life beneath his hands, the sound a welcome comfort ahead of your long journey; you cranked the heating up to the highest setting. Again, you smiled at him, fuzzy and soft; he smiled in return, and he pulled the car out of the gas station parking lot and onto the main road.

    You'd been driving for hours.

    "You find it yet?" asked Steve, glancing at you for what felt like the millionth time as you scanned the map creased and wrinkled atop your lap, your brows furrowed in concentration as you traced your finger over one of many wiggling lines.

    "There should be a road up ahead on the left…" You mumbled in reply, flipping the map upside down, this way and that. Should you have brought a compass? "Maybe the right…? No, wait, definitely the left."

    "You sure?" Steve asked hesitantly - he'd driven through more open country roads and empty spatterings of woods than he could remember; in the dark, he couldn't even tell he was driving uphill.

    "You don't trust my cartography skills, Harrington?" Your lifted your brow, your tongue sticking out of the corner of your pressed lips. "Take the next left, then it should be at the end of the road."

    "I trust you, but this baby's only got so much gas." You laughed at him, clear and pleasant, his smile widening at the sound of it. "Here?"

    "Yeah, turn here."

    The car jumped as it crossed off the main road and onto the dirt, leading up the side of whatever mountain you were on; Steve's hand flew out to hold you down before he could think to stop himself, and you clung to him as the jolting continued on, both of you only relaxing when the cabin finally came into view.

    And, boy, was it a view.

    "Robin got us this?" You exclaimed, gaping at the expansive cabin before you, eyes sparkling as Steve turned the interior light on. "This is amazing!"

    "It's a cabin." Steve shrugged, and your head snapped to look at him - he sounded… unimpressed? "What? I think it's nice." You rolled your eyes at him and climbed out of the car; he followed closely behind, insisting he carry your bag, ignoring your protests against it altogether.

    As though the outside of the cabin wasn't impressive enough, the inside was lavish enough that even Steve was taken by surprise. Two floors, six bedrooms, wall-to-wall log paneling, a massive fireplace across the main living room stocked to overflow with cut firewood.

    "'S it still just nice?"

    "It's really nice."

    The both of you explored the space, running from room to room, gawking at the luxurious kitchen and the equally-massive wraparound deck leading out from it. And, having taken in your fill, the two of you begin making dinner - rather, Steve was making dinner and you were relegated to chopping and slicing duty, the conversation between you lighthearted and teasing.

    Midway through your simple stir-fry dinner, seated in the kitchen, you were the first to notice the change in the weather.

    "Steve," You nudged him, and he gave you a questioning look, stopping mid-chew to look at whatever you were pointing at. "It's snowing!"

    "Huh." His brows furrow, his gaze dropping to nothing. "The weather report didn't mention snow."

    "It shouldn't be too bad, right?" You tried to reassure him - and yourself, too - as you followed his train of thought. "They'll make it by tomorrow, for sure."

    "Yeah, for sure…" Steve didn't sound too convinced, but you didn't push the conversation further. Seeing as how he'd made dinner, you volunteered to do the dishes. And, ever the good friend, he'd kept you company, even drying off and putting away whatever you'd finished washing.

    "Steve, I said I was doing the dishes…" You huffed, pulling the damp towel slung over his shoulder and giving his chest a light-hearted swat.

    "What, I'm not allowed to help?" He danced around you, snatching back the towel, and you swiveled around to reach him; he lifted the towel far above your head, well out of your reach, laughing as you tried to jump for it.

    "Steve Harrington, give that back!"

    "Just let me-"

    Stricken mid-sentence, the lights flickered.

    You froze - you both did, Steve's arm an instant vice as he held you against his chest. Neither of you spoke, neither breathed as you listened for the tell-tale sounds of danger, of an unholy nightmare resurrected. You buried your face into the solid safety of his chest, clinging to his shirt as his eyes scanned the room. Several painful, heavy minutes passed before you slowly began to feel him relax, his hold on you loosening ever so slightly.

    "Let me go check the power…" he mumbled, his reluctance palpable as he left you alone, all but running down the hallway to where he'd remembered seeing a breaker box. Throwing it open, he flicked through every switch, yet the cabin remained shrouded in darkness.

    Shutting the panel door, and rounding the corner back into the kitchen, he narrowly missed being hit across the eye by the empty vase you'd commandeered as a weapon.

    "Whoa! Watch the face!" He jumped back, falling out of your swinging range. "The power's out. Snow must've knocked down a line or something." He explained, voice assured, and you sagged in relief at his words, hands visibly shaking as you set the vase back atop the counter. Without missing a beat, Steve stepped toward you, taking your hands in his own, enveloping them, his touch silently pleading you to look at him.

    "Hey," His voice was buttery-soft, gentle in a way he only ever used with you. "There's nothing here. It's just us."

    You shake your head, swallowing dryly, your head falling to your chest as you steadied the erratic beating of your heart. "Y-Yeah, you're right."

    Steve nodded, calling forth every fiber of his being to let you go, to lose the warmth he'd found in your touch. Together, you'd made the most of things - you remembered seeing a box of candles in one of the closets, a pack of matches tucked away between them all, and in no time at all, the living room was bathed in the flickering, golden glow of over a dozen flames. You sat atop the supple leather couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you watched Steve light the logs in the fireplace.

    You were cold, your hands tucked against you, the tips of your toes already feeling numb - and from the way Steve rubbed at his arms, he'd felt it, too.

    "Should we… uh…" You tried to ask, your own embarrassment shriveling your words before you could get them out, hands shaking as you tugged anxiously at your fingers. "I-I mean, it's cold, and the fireplace-"

    You gave him an exasperated look, but Steve - bless his athletic soul - wasn't following.

    You groaned, dragging your hands through your hair as you blurted out, "We should sleep here."

    "On the floor?"

    "Yes, Steven, on the floor." You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his shock. "We can take a couple blankets and make a bed. It'll be warmer here than in the bedrooms."

    Steve turned away from you, staring into the cackling fire. To you, he was considering what you'd said, his expression pensive, almost blank - to him, he was failing to quell his boiling panic at the thought of having to sleep with you… beside you? Whatever - either way, you would be much too close to him and he was not prepared. There were only so many rooms - and therefore only so many blankets - in the cabin, so he knew you wouldn't be able to make two separate beds.

    He had to sleep with you.

    "I-I mean, you're right…"

    You gave him a confused look. "...But?"

    Steve took a deep breath, turning back toward you, and he swore you could see the way his heart pounded in his throat. "No, nothing." He stood up, brushed off his jeans, tried for his best smile - which came through as more of a lopsided grin, but that's beside the point. "Let's get those blankets, huh?"

    Between the two of you, you were proud of the bed you'd made, cozy under the pile of blankets and pillows; splitting for a minute, you both readied for bed, changing into your pajamas, brushing your teeth in the kitchen - Steve sensed your lingering unease at being in there, so he stood closer to you than he normally would, his hand finding the small of your back as the two of you walked back to the living room.

    "Which side do you want?" You asked him, suddenly feeling shy at seeing him in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants and an old Hawkins Phys-Ed shirt - and, unbeknownst to you, your clothes were having the same effect on him, your oversized shirt reaching your knees like an old nightgown.

    "Doesn't matter." He pulled at the drawstring of his pants, suddenly intent on looking everywhere but at you. "I'll sleep like a rock, anyway."

    You snorted a laugh and crawled into your side of the bed. "Yeah, and you'll keep me up all night with your snoring."

    "I do not snore!" Steve exclaimed, and you laughed even harder at him, obviously having touched a sore spot. "I don't!"

    "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Steve." He gave you a withering look, and you collapsed in a fit of giggles - nervous giggles, but he didn't need to know that. He shook his head at you as he crawled in under the blankets, close to you yet still keeping a respectable distance.

    "Candles stay on?" He knew what your answer would be, but he asked anyway, his chest tight as you nodded.

    "Unless it bothers you-"

    "Doesn't bother me, sweetheart." He froze, his breath catching - he'd overstepped. Called you the wrong thing, gotten too comfortable. He waited for you to shake your head, to roll your eyes at him and turn around.

    But, nothing came.

    Steve watched, hands itching from the ferocity of his fraying nerves as you nodded, quieter than usual, curling up on your side as you continued to face him. He laid on his side, toward you, hands bunching the blanket up to his face as he tried to relax - not that he'd be getting much sleep around you, but he could pretend, for your sake.

    Minutes pass, the soft sputtering of the candles a soft harmony to the loud, almost rhythmic cackling of the fireplace. Even in the muted light, you notice Steve trembling beneath the blankets.

    He was cold.

    "Steve?" you whispered, moving closer to him, the sudden drop in temperature making your stomach flip. "Steve, are you okay?"

    "Hm…?" His eyes are slow to open, his voice much more tired than it had been mere moments ago; he'd curled up tighter - you just barely felt how his knees were tucked up to his chest. "What?"

    "You're shivering." You continued to inch closer, your body all but touching his, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember how to move. "Why didn't you say anything?"

    "I was fine before…" he grumbled, shaking his head, his jaw clenched to keep you from hearing his chattering teeth. "'M fine, just go back to sleep."

    You gave him a hard-pressed look, gaze narrowed at the top of his lowered head; before you could convince yourself to do otherwise, you began to fumble about beneath the blankets. Steve cracked an eye open to watch, only to catch you flinging your shirt somewhere off to the side.

    He swallowed audibly, his mind racing - and crashing - as he felt your arms envelope him, your chest pressed to his with only the thin barrier of his shirt between you.

    "[Y/N], w-what are you-"

    "Body heat." Your answer came quickly, much to his surprise, your hands leaving smoldering trails as you rubbed them over his back. "You need to stay warm, Steve."

    He nodded, two thoughts about you dominating his mind:

You were much more selfless than you gave yourself credit for.

You weren't wearing much of anything under that shirt.

    He tried to think of something to do, something to say, but the unfiltered heat radiating off of your skin was too enticing, too overwhelming. He tried getting closer to you, chasing your warmth, but something felt off; something was holding him back.

    In a flash, he'd tossed his shirt aside, the aged fabric landing somewhere near yours.

    "Steve-"

    "Body heat, right?" God, he hoped he didn't sound too breathless. "We can keep each other warm."

    You weren't about to fight that logic, were you?

    He shuffled closer to you, arms settling loosely around your waist, the frigid feeling of his hands trailing over your bare skin sending a shiver through you. Between you, you'd moved your hands up - almost as a buffer, ridiculous as that seemed. But, now you were in a new predicament - your fingers wove through the matte of hair on his chest; you could feel each curl, each wisp as he breathed, your touch both featherlight and branding. His head fell to your shoulder, and his arms tightened over so slightly around you.

    "How are you so hot…?" Steve asked; his head shot up, and you were given an excellent view of the blush spreading up his neck as he quickly amended, "Warm, I mean. Shit, I- You're really warm. N-Not that you're not hot-"

    You giggled, the movement brushing your chest against his, pulling out a gasp from somewhere deep within him that he'd just barely managed to catch. "You're not half-bad yourself, Harrington." Feeling you relax, he tried to do the same, leaning further into you, the scent of your citrus shampoo lulling him into a pleasant sort of halfway-sleep.

    "Uh… H-Hey, Steve…?" He could hear your voice, distant and somewhat muffled, and he grinned against the comfort of your shoulder. "Steve, are you awake?"

    "Yeah…?" He peeled open his eyes, pulled away enough to look at you, confused for only a moment as he tried to follow the way your gaze flicked to the space between you - and when he did, he stopped breathing, his stomach dropping to his half-thawed toes as he sprang away from you, his scalding face clear in the candlelight, hands pressed tightly between his legs.

    "Shit! I- Goddamnit, [Y/N], I didn't… I swear, I wasn't-"

    You watched on, stunned silent as Steve worked himself into a whole-hearted frenzy, shaking as he desperately tried to explain away why he'd gotten hard sleeping with you.

    "Was that… is it my fault?" You couldn't help yourself - here you were, sharing a bed with the man of your dreams, who'd gotten painfully aroused with you in his arms. Your words were barely above a whisper as you continued, "Are you like that because of me?"

    Part of you wished you'd disappear, another thinking of what you had within arm's reach that could be used to tear your own tongue out because who in their right mind asks something like that? You stared at him, lip worried between your teeth, eyes catching the light like a million stars in the night; Steve realized he was at an impasse - you both were.

    It was now or never.

    "Yeah, I… I am."

    Nothing could have prepared you for his answer; you felt as though the floor had collapsed beneath you, turned to quicksand and swallowed you into its grainy depths.

    "Steve-"

    "I like you, [Y/N]."

    You couldn't help the gasp that tumbled past your lips, nor could you quell the sudden flood of tears swelling in your eyes. His words flew around in your head, dominated your thoughts, demanded every ounce of your attention.

    I like you.

    I like you.

    I like you.

    "[Y/N], don't… don't cry- Shit, I didn't…" He'd moved back to you the instant he'd caught the first tear, his arms wrapping back around you - he'd kept his hips turned away from you, the angle awkward, but you didn't notice. "C'mon, baby, I'm sorry-"

    You shook your head, your breathing hiccupped, stuttered as you wiped at your dripping face. To his surprise, you'd laughed, the sound as wet and sodden as it was bubbling.

    "Steve, I'm not… I'm not upset." You tried to tell him, reassure him, meeting his concerned gaze through glossy lashes.

    "But, you're crying-"

    You took his hand in both of yours, held it between your bodies like a tether between souls; he could feel your pulse through your palm, quick and solid and strong.

    "[Y/N]-"

    "I like you, too, Steve."

    He barely believed what he'd heard - you liked him? You'd reciprocated his feelings? The crush he'd been achingly, lovingly nursing since high school was… mutual?

    "Y-You… You do?" He hated how insecure he sounds, how hesitant and uncertain he was; you gave him another blinding smile, dropping your hands as you pressed your bare chest to his.

    "I do." You thank the Heavens above that your voice hadn't wavered - he heard you clear as day, the fluttering he'd feel whenever he was near you now a full-on avalanche of jittery emotion. "I… uh… I have for a while now."

    "Really?"

    You nodded, hiding your face into a lump of bunched-up blanket.

    "How long have you…?"

    "You first." You insisted, your stomach in knots at his shy smile.

    "Since freshman year, at least." Steve replied smoothly, his confidence returning in drips and splashes - it was better than nothing, he'd conceded. "Never thought you'd give me a chance, though."

    "God, I've liked you since, like, fourth grade…" You'd groaned into the blanket, goosebumps running over your body as you caught his soft exhale.

    "Seriously?" He couldn't believe it - you'd been hiding your feelings for him for almost a decade?

    How had he not noticed?

    You'd pulled your head up from the blanket pile just enough to look at him, and you both collapsed into a fit of nervous, giddy laughter, the little space left between your bodies shrinking away. Steve was the first to settle down, staring into the depths of your eyes with the look of a man drowning in his love; he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear as your legs tangled together, his rough and pleasantly scratchy against yours, and he waited for you to quiet down before asking, 

    "Is this alright?"

    His hands were at your hips, his thumbs running over the thin elastic band of your underwear. So elated were you, you'd almost forgotten about his… situation.

    Almost.

    Calming yourself, you shifted, slowly pressed your body to his - your hips firm against him - as you nodded, cheeks pink as his rock-hard length throbbed against your stomach.

    "[Y/N]?"

    "Steve, I…" You couldn't bring yourself to ask for what you'd wanted - but, God, did you want to. Lord knows you did. Your head fell to his chest with a quiet groan of frustration, but he understood all the same.

    "[Y/N], look at me."

    You lost yourself in the endless depths of his eyes, your only thought to keep breathing as he reached for your hand.

    "If you don't want to, tell me to stop."

    He watched every flicker of emotion on your face, every expression, every feeling play out in vivid detail; he brought your hand - so small in his own - to the throbbing between his legs, his eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your fingers around him, holding him through the soft material of his sweatpants.

    "God, Steve…" You whispered, giving him an experimental squeeze, your body sweltering with heat as he moaned - it was quiet, just barely louder than an exhale, but you'd heard it all the same.

    You had done that to him, brought him to this, and you ached for more.

    "Take it off." Your tongue poked out to swipe at your lips; he swallowed at the movement, every nerve in his body alight, aflame at the feeling of your hand around him. "Please."

    He didn't need to be asked twice.

    In a single movement, Steve pulled off his pants, chucking them somewhere across the room; you gasped as you realized he wasn't wearing anything underneath, naked as the day he was born.

    You looked at him, he nodded, and your hand was on him again.

    God, Steve thought, his head pressed to your shoulder, breathing heavy as you began to stroke him, it's never been this good before. All you'd done was touch him, and he could already feel himself begin to unravel, his stomach coiling with his building release.

    You stared down between you in open-mouthed awe, feeling the weight of him in your hand; he actually keened when you'd brought your other hand to cup him, pushing his hips into your grip, chasing more of your touch - of you.

    "B-Baby…" He barely recognized his own voice from how weak he sounded, his hand shaking as he wrapped it over yours, stilling your movements. "Baby, please, I… I can't-"

    Your hands flew off of him, raised up to your chest, a pang of fear seizing your chest at the thought of having hurt him. Were you moving too fast, your grip too tight? "Steve, I-"

    "No! No, sweetheart, it's… It's not you, I swear." He pulled you close, buried his nose in your hair, his voice quiet with embarrassment as he continued, "If you keep doing that, this'll all be over way too fast."

    You giggled at him, your smile broad and beaming as he moved away to look at you, going stiff in more ways than one as you brought his hand to your chest; he could feel the thrumming of your pulse beneath the softness, keeping pace with his own.

    What, like you hadn't heard about his boobies monologue from Robin?

    You felt his fingers twitch against you, desperate to squeeze, but he held himself back, restrained himself.

    "I won't break, y'know."

    God, you were going to kill him, he swore, shaking his head, a nervous grin stretching across his lips - and it was then that he paused, his hand stilling over you as the shameful realization dawned upon him.

    He hadn't even kissed you yet.

    Where's your game, Harrington?

    He'd gone shy on you again, you noted, feeling how his breathing turned slow and deep. "Steve?" You brought your face closer to his, hands at his jaw, thumbs caressing his cheeks as you urged him to look at you. "Steve, do you-"

    "Can I kiss you?"

    Your silence stretched out for what, to him, felt like hours. Had he pushed you too far, assumed too much? Was kissing too personal for you? His first instinct was to backtrack, to make amends, and he hurriedly mumbled, "I-I mean, it's fine if you don't-"

    "Do it, Steve."

    Your words were clear, demanding in a way that made him shiver in anticipation. Slowly, carefully, he trailed his hands over the softness of your waist, pulling you flush against him, his length trapped between your thighs.

    "You want me to kiss you?" He needed to hear it from you, needed you to say it, to know you wanted this just as much as he did.

    "Please."

    Of all the times you'd imagined kissing Steve, of daydreaming about what he'd feel like, nothing could compare to the real thing; you melted against him with a sigh, arms settling around his neck as you pulled him impossibly closer, every pore on your body screaming for this moment to go on, for him to kiss you like this forever.

    And for Steve, kissing you was a miracle - he'd long since resigned himself to wanting you from afar, to watching you from the sidelines, content with the way things were. He didn't think he'd ever gather enough courage to confess his feelings to you, terrified of losing one of the closest friends he's ever had. But, now?

    Now that he's tasted you, he's insatiable.

    He was the one to deepen the kiss, to lean into you, press his body against you, throbbing between your thighs and hissing as his sensitive head caught on the fabric of your underwear. You pulled his hands back to your chest, his tongue tracing over your lip as you pulled off the lacy thing and tossed it aside.

    Your kiss had started saccharine, gentle, coy, but it had devolved into something carnal, primal, fueled on by years of pining and longing and want.

    "[Y/N], can I…? Can- touch you?" Steve panted, his words beginning to fail him, his hair already damp with sweat as it fell over his eyes. You pull one of his hands away from your chest, biting back a moan at the feeling of his calloused palm dragging over your nipple; you guided him between your legs, your breathing labored, eyes clenched shut.

    When he touched you, you screamed.

    Painstakingly, sobbingly slowly, he worked you open, his pride growing tenfold as he felt how wet you were, how slick his fingers were quickly becoming as they moved over you - and all because of him. He brushed his fingers lightly over your clit, his touch barely a touch at all, yet it drove you nearly to the brink of insanity.

    "S-Steve…!" you cried, screamed, no longer caring about the volume of your voice as you ground your hips against his hand, fingers clawing at his back. "Mmm…! Fuck, Steve…!"

    "Talk to me, sweetheart. How's it feelin'?" The closeness of his voice, of his lips pressed to your ear did absolutely nothing to veer you away from the edge of ecstasy you were barreling toward. You could feel him circle a finger around your dripping entrance, teasing you, your body writhing atop the blankets.

    "S… Steve, please…!" You shook in his arms, your face buried against his chest as you begged him for more - and when he finally pressed his finger into you, you both moaned.

    You were so hot, so tight, around his finger, sucking him in, your velvety walls pulsing against him - he could feel his cock weep as he imagined what it'd feel like to be inside of you.

    "Hmm…! A-Ah- Shit, Steve, I…!" Your head began to swim, your breathing rough as he worked you, one hand holding you by the hip while the other thrust into you, his thumb pressing down on your throbbing clit all the while.

    "Where you at, baby?" he panted, his focus breaking away from the sinful squelching coming from between your parted legs.

    "'M close, Steve… Fuck, I- I'm so close…!" You threw your head back, your body arching off the floor as Steve's kept his pace steady, looking very much satisfied with himself as you fell apart in his hands; with a final, trembling moan, you collapsed, panting for air as the sweet thrill of aftershocks shot through you; absentmindedly, you could feel him slide in behind you, holding you against his chest, hands moving idly over your sex-warmed skin.

    Still, even in the rose-colored haze of your mind, you knew you wanted more.

    "[Y/N]?" Steve watched as you turned around in his arms, pulling him into a sloppy, wet kiss. It didn't take much for him to turn to putty in your hands, and he offered no resistance as you nudged him onto his back, legs straddling his hips. "Fuck, baby, I…" he breathed, eyes wide as his gaze moved over you in reverence - bathed in the candlelight, flushed from the bliss he'd given you, he swore you never looked so beautiful.

    You moved your dripping core over his cock hesitantly - unlike Steve, you had no prior experience to draw from. Did it feel good when you pressed down on him? When you sped up? Slowed down? You stared at where your bodies connected, not realizing Steve's eyes had clenched shut, sweat beading down his brow as he tried to keep himself from losing it.

    "Sweetheart, please, I…" Steve moaned, his hands leaving you to drag through his hair. "You're killin' me-"

    "Yeah?" you panted, pushing more of your weight down onto him, your heart soaring at the litany of curses that fell from his lips - and even a few that weren't in English. "How's it feel, pretty boy?"

    At the name, you felt him jump against you, and you swore on your mother's life you'd never seen him flush so red.

    It was as though the very room had gone still, the snow outside ceasing to fall, your breath catching as you lifted yourself off of him; holding him in your hand, you lined him up with your entrance, your eyes shut as you tried to calm your nerves, but you paused at the feeling of hands running over your sides, gentle and soft against you.

    Steve looked up at you, cheeks bursting with color as he held you steady, an unspoken question clear in his eyes.

    Do you want it?

    You nodded, your lips breaking into a smile as you kissed him - and all at once, you pushed yourself down, crying out at the feeling of him stretching you, filling you.

    He was big, and you were loath to admit that the rumors you'd heard about him all throughout high school were true - he deserved to be called "King Steve".

    You fell against him, shaking at the sudden intrusion as his hands soothed over your back, your waist, your thighs, your face, guiding you down onto him, whispering praises into your ear.

    "You're doin' so well, baby. You're so good to me, taking me like that… Fuck-!"

    You were struggling to breathe, face pressed against the crook of his neck as you waited for the pain to melt away - and Steve waited with you, peppering your face in kisses, his hands smoothing over your hair.

    "Do you want to stop?" he asked, his voice softer than silk, his concern washing away the lingering traces of your discomfort. You shook your head, biting your lip as you pulled away from him, wiping at the moisture clinging to the corners of your eyes.

    Steve felt his stomach drop. "[Y/N]-"

    "I'm okay." you reassured him, your voice all but gone, eyes fluttering shut as you settled back against his hips - he'd buried himself completely into you, the feeling of you enveloping him almost too much. He waited for you, for your sign that it was alright to move - because once he started, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop.

    You accustomed yourself to the feeling of him inside of you, thick and hard and throbbing. "S-Steve…" you moaned, your hands steadying yourself against his chest. "You can… You can move-"

    And you fell over when he snapped up into you, breaking out into fits of bright, sparkling laughter.

    "[Y/N]!" Steve couldn't help but laugh, too, feeling your walls squeezing around him. "Baby, you alright?"

    You nodded, still smiling as you threw your arms over your heated face.

    "Keep going, Steve…" you sighed, peeking at him from between your fingers - and his heart swelled, leaning over to kiss you stupid as his hips pounded into you, one of his hands moving down to your clit, rubbing you in time with his thrusts.

    He wasn't going to last - he knew he wasn't - but he'd be damned if you didn't finish before him.

    Your mouth fell open with a wanton moan, hands fisting the blankets at your sides as he gripped your hips roughly enough to bruise, his pace already beginning to falter. He kissed you everywhere he could reach, covering you in his love, his breathing coming out in grunts as he felt himself nearing his end.

    "Baby, I- I'm so fucking close-"

    "Steve, I- Ahh…! I can't…! Steve, please, I'm…!"

    And you reached your peaks together, screaming as you throbbed around him, as he painted you with his release, your bodies sticky as you collapsed onto the blankets, chests heaving for air as you floated back down from the Heavens.

    He was the first to speak. "You still with me?" Steve asked, still winded as he rolled onto his side, his hand moving up to roll a lock of your hair between his fingers - you still smelled like citrus, like sunshine and light.

    But now you smelled like him, too.

    You turned your head to look at him, eyes lidded, your grin blissfully lopsided as you kissed him - gently, sweetly, relishing the feeling of his chapped lips, of the warmth of his breath over your face. "I'm still with you, Steve."

    "Yeah?"

    "Always."

    He pulled you into his arms, his face pressed to your neck; you nudged yourself against him, exhaustion settling over you both like the falling snow.

    Before you'd drifted away, you heard his voice, quiet and meek as he whispered, "I love you."

    Your hands moved over his chest, and you kissed him one final time before falling into oblivion, your sigh of, "I love you, too." barely slipping past your parted lips, Steve chasing after you.

#becca.fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #stranger things smut #if any of you read my encanto fic you would know how disastrous my last attempt at writing smut was so i figured practice makes perfect #and i swear i'm still writing Ride the Lightning i just needed to get this off my chest #feedback appreciated <3 #also just imagine if you will robin and the gang arriving the next afternoon all aware of what likely went down #and when they find you two AWFULLY close they all know their little plan succeeded #the group has been trying to get the two of you together for years and figured this would be the best chance

[our-wargame]

(find me) calling your name

rating: explicit

summary: matsukawa's never really in a rush.

when he kisses, it's slow and languid. he gets a little more hurried when he's mouthing over takahiro's neck, searching for a jumpy pulse, or pressing the edges of his teeth against the skin underneath takahiro's collarbone. but on lazy days, all matsukawa looks for is an invitation to lean in, wearing that dopey smile that says he might just fall in love tonight.

but that's not what takahiro's looking for today, no. he's going to get matsukawa worked up.

pairing: matsuhana tags: NSFW, porn with feelings lmao ao3 link

it's hard to ever get matsukawa worked up- about anything really.

he's well liked and perpetually unbothered with people's bullshit (okay, maybe except oikawa, but oikawa's a clown), which might be why earning a reaction from him is so rewarding. maybe even intoxicating. and whereas oikawa radiates passion that screams my dream is to die playing volleyball!, matsukawa is calm and collected about all his interests. all of them.

of course, takahiro likes a challenge.

matsukawa's never really in a rush, no matter how much he proves he likes when they do...stuff.

when he kisses, it's slow and languid. issei gets a little more hurried when he's mouthing over takahiro's neck, against his jumpy pulse, or pressing the edges of his teeth against the skin underneath takahiro's collarbone. but every day of the week is your lazy sunday when neither of you care. perfect, so right, for matsukawa to lean in and brush their lips, still wearing that dopey smile that says he might just fall in love tonight. or right, for matsukawa to curl an arm around his boyfriend, perfectly content in leaving it there while they go three rounds in his new favorite mobile battle royal.

right now, he seems satisfied with the two of them just sitting on his bedroom floor, their backs against his bed, shoulders warm against each other. matsukawa's busy tapping away at his phone since takahiro got knocked out of the round.

"you know you hardly ever initiate things. are you ever going to learn to?" takahiro says, trying his best to sound casual, and different from a semi-desperate volleyball captain he might know.

matsukawa looks at him. "i'm napping right now." he’s got one eye open.

"right now?"

he closes this one too. "yes." son of a bitch.

"okay," takahiro stretches his arms above his head. his back arches as he sighs in bliss. "i think i will too." when he drops his hand back down, it lands in matsukawa's lap. while matsukawa jerks awake, he returns his head to its place on his boyfriend's shoulder, and now he's the one with his eyes closed, relaxed.

"hey. 'hiro."

"shush. 'm napping."

"are you," matsukawa comments.

takahiro pitches to the side when the support he's been leaning against disappears. "thanks for that," he says, making a point to lie on his back. "boyfriend of the year award goes out to you."

"yay." matsukawa relocates to his bed, lying on his side so he can peer down on takahiro. "my date's might be pissed he lost out though." their phones lie dark-screened, forgotten. it appears their next match is on a raincheck.

takahiro stands. matsukawa watches with hooded eyes. he's a little more attentive now, but he's still got that sleepy air draped over him, the kind he wears all day, in classes, with friends, with family. takahiro's going to strip him of it, and they're both going to enjoy every second.

"ignoring the fact that you just demoted me down to 'date'," takahiro says, sitting at the edge of the other side of the bed, back to matsukawa. "i'm going to have my hand down someone's pants in thirty seconds. you wanna tell me whose it'll be?"

he hears the bed croak as matsukawa shifts, feels an arm wrap around his waist. "go ahead, 'hiro." matsukawa murmurs, voice low and steady. "i'll take front tickets to the show."

"no backstage pass?" takahiro still won't look at him. heat's starting to curl his stomach anyways.

"my boyfriend wouldn't like that." fwump. matsukawa's slipped his shirt off and tossed it who knows where. good. he's not sure when this became a competition but dammit, he's going to win.

"oh. i'm sorry that these are the circumstances." he stands up again, detaching the fingers that had been tapping his hip, and makes a mocking bow. "shame though."

matsukawa sits up. "what happened to thirty seconds, getting into my pants?"

takahiro weights his options. it'd be an easier decision if he wasn't stiff in his own jeans; he's not sure he can't trust himself to stay sexually frustrated for long. aaaaaand too long passed about five minutes ago.

matsukawa raises his brows.

takahiro pursues his lips. his shirt is off by the time he's situated himself in the cove of matsukawa's arms.

"you're so gorgeous," matsukawa murmurs. takahiro's ears burn but matsukawa's already moving down, pressing feathery kisses down the curve of his shoulder, his arm, the inside of his wrist.

"brownie points get you nothing," he whispers, when he can find his voice. matsukawa opens his mouth to rebuttal and takahiro swallows the words for himself. one kiss, a second, a third. takahiro pulls back, planning on working his pants off, but matsukawa leans forwards, and it turns out, it's to bump noses. takahiro's breath hitches. "oi. did you hear me the first time?"

matsukawa gazes up at him from underneath long eyelashes. "mm?" shit, takahiro's a little jealous to be honest. he's not even sure oikawa's eyelashes are that long and everyone knows they're what he used to make iwaizumi realize his feelings.

"you're being awfully lovey-dovey."

"well, fuck me, yeah?" matsukawa looks too amused for his own good.

takahiro can't help leaning in and in between pecks, he lays down, "yeah-that's-the goal" he thinks he's succeeded in wiping off the smug smirk but-

matsukawa just smiles.

takahiro averts his gaze. helplessly happy, way too lovey-dovey, just like he'd said. "you're making this very hard for me, mattsun." a second later, he realizes the terrible setup he's freed up and recoils.

surprisingly, he's spared. instead, the blocker he hums, low, even for his tenor. "issei." not mattsun, not when it's the two of them.

time slows. his eyes darken. "issei," the name rolls off his tongue. matsukawa's grin returns. "take off your pants."

he obeys. as he unbuttons them, takahiro sidles closer and reaches. his fingers splay across the bulge confined in black. matsukawa's hips jump and takahiro shifts his grip lower, palm pressing at his base.

"you gonna do the same?" matsukawa mumbles. it goes ignored because takahiro's decided he's a better idea in mind. he butts his head into the blocker's chest. matsukawa takes the hint, scooting his ass back and then reclining against the flimsy headboard. his fingers thread into a sea of pink. "you won't bite me if i yank, right?"

takahiro sneers but he can't even pretend to be malicious, when he's knelt in between long legs and taking him out of his underwear. matsukawa's cock is hot and hard, and takahiro's eager to put his mouth on him, tonguing his slit right off the bat, because he wants matsukawa to fall apart as soon as possible. a grunt. to be honest, he's kind of offended. his hand works matsukawa at the base in swift pumps while he swirls his tongue, circling the head a few times. then he turns his head to take matsukawa from the side, brushing rough strokes down the underside.

"fuck, 'hiro."

"dude, you might as well yell, 'sex.'"

a grunt again, higher and breathier. "why...must you sass me?"

this is the most riled he's going to get out of matsukawa, isn't he. fine, issei wants him to stop screwing around, he'll give it to him. takahiro opens his mouth wide and takes matsukawa in, bit by bit, until it's overwhelmingly hard to breathe. all he can smell is matsukawa's musk and do his best to relax his jaw muscles.

a strangled gasp.

he bobs up and down.

matsukawa doesn't yank like his half-assed attempt at teasing, but his hand tenses in the midst of his hair, blunt nails scratching into his scalp and palm pressing into his brow ridge. he's getting spit all over the place, all over his lips, his chin, and dripping off matsukawa's cock and onto the blankets below. matsukawa swears. his leg jerks but he manages to kick a spot that's air and decidedly not his boyfriend. the pressure against takahiro's head disappears; matsukawa's traded it for fisting the sheets.

still trapped within his jeans, takahiro ruts his hips and takes heavy drags of his own hard dick against fabric and mattress together as he moves his mouth along matsukawa's.

and then matsukawa's hissing, "'hiro, 'hiro, 'hiro." and he's moved to wait at matsukawa's tip. there's a spurt; he sucks with a sense of renewal, trying to help things along, has matsukawa shaking, trembling, in his mouth. the stuff slides down his throat and he passes the bit that had gotten into his nose from finger to tongue and then it's gone.

"you...you're..." matsukawa croaks.

takahiro gives him a full-blown grin, pleased with the both of them. (he's brought matsukawa fucking issei, mr.smartass speechless). "would you," he gestures to himself. "give me a hand."

"my pleasure," is mumbled, and then takahiro is coming in a series of strokes, encouragement in his ear and open-mouthed kisses laid along his neck. issei, issei, issei. his groans pitch higher and higher until he's high. free-falling. he buries his face in the crook of matsukawa's neck and shoulder and pants against damp, warm skin and rests with darkness cushioning his closed eyes.

gradually, he registers matsukawa is saying something about clean up, the heat of his figure moving away and returning with tissues. he's gentle, so gentle, wiping them both down. his chest, takahiro's face, the reverse.

"so. pleasure doing business with you."

"fuck you," takahiro chokes, too tired to stop himself from giving up a little laugh. "is this the thanks i get?"

matsukawa grins, soft, happy, his left cheek dimpling and- ah shit. looks like it's takahiro who's going to be falling in love tonight. his lips quirk up. matsukawa's grin brightens and he dips forwards, planting his affection over takahiro's nose, his forehead.

"what, you want my boyfriend award?" the blocker wrinkles his nose. he's six feet, seventeen, and this boy sit-bounces on his own bed in front of his boyfriend.

takahiro laughs and laughs and laughs himself silly, even as he relocates, tucking himself under heavy covers that encourage the lag in his muscles. matsukawa joins him, warm, steady, solid. comfort. it's hard not to fall asleep to the idea of maybe love.

#matsuhana #my writing #matsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #please leave comments i live for them #if you reblog im literally eternally grateful #bless you dude #as you can tell i don't edit my writing ever so uh sorry for mistakes #thank you for reading :)

[simsadventures]

Duties: Chapter 2: New Day

Summary: Thor has to go and find an Omega for himself, according to his father. None of the available princesses from the neighbouring kingdoms, however, smell good enough for him. But what if Thor catches a heavenly scent, just outside the castle?

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, scenting, fluff

Word Count: 2801

A/N: Alpha Thor is back. And the reader appears for the first time. What do we all think about this? Let me know, feedback is gold :) xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

The morning was filled with people running around the castle, trying to get everything ready for Thor’s travels. Thor didn’t really want to take too many things or counsellors with him because he knew that it was all about the smell, and nobody else but him could decide that. He did have to take someone with him, and despite his father’s light protest, he decided to take his friends: Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun.

Odin wished for Thor to take Loki with him because there would be at least one son with some manners. The Allfather hoped to keep the good relations between the kingdom, and knowing Thor and his manners, there were some reserves when it came to letting him go alone. But Thor’s mother vouched for him, and who was Odin to say no to his wife?

Thor insisted on riding horseback, even if it was proper for the heir to the throne to come in a carriage. But Thor only rolled his eyes at the golden carriage and let the thralls put it from his sight. He was the future king of Asgard, not some lady in need. He was a man, an Alpha, and he wouldn’t be caught dead in such monstrosity. His friends agreed with him heartily, and so there was nothing left to do for the thralls than to listen to the prince and get the carriage out of his sight.

When Thor mounted the horse, his father came briskly to his side and caught the reins of his horse.

“I know you believe ’tis but a stupid tradition, but, son, a future king needs his queen, and I hope you will find it in your heart to choose the right one not only for yourself but also for this kingdom.”

Thor frowned slightly. “Do you want me to choose only by my head, father? Do you not wish that I fall in love and am happy with my chosen wife?”

Odin chuckled and let the reins fall out of his hands.

“One day you’ll understand, dear son, that not everything is about you. I hope you make a great alliance by choosing one of the princesses,” he said with a serious look on his face and stepped back to let the horses trod out of the gates.

Thor only bowed to him, his father’s words still playing in his brain. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that it would be for the best if he could choose one of the Omegas from neighbouring kingdoms, but he also wasn’t one to choose just like that. He had his share of pretty faces, but if he was supposed to mate for life, the girl would have to be something else. She would have to be almost a goddess for Thor to make such commitment.

With such thought in mind, Thor bid his horse forward, his friends and a couple of helpers following close behind.

Odin and Frigg were watching it from the main gate, both with different expressions. While Thor’s mother was shedding tears of happiness, that her first-born was finally becoming what he was always supposed to, and she was joyous about all the possibilities love had for Thor, his father’s expression was quite different. More brooding, and less cheerful, fearing the stupidities his son might do in the neighbouring kingdoms.

The first kingdom to visit was Bennegard. Its land was vastly different from that in Asgard, because while most of Asgard were hills and sea, Bennegard had no access to the salty water, and had not one hill. Thor and Loki used to make fun of the country in their classes, where they had to learn about all the kingdoms, past and new one. They would always say that Bennegard was the dullest of places, its people looking like mouses, their land without the joys nature can provide. Bennegard was almost entirely of rocks and rocky planes, one of the few things that actually grew there was a thistle, which to Thor and Loki said a lot.

It took Thor and his company two whole days to travel to the land, and by the time they neared the castle, they wanted to turn and come back to Asgard, which played with colours and odours. Bennegard was just as dull as Thor imagined it, but there was still hope in his heart, that he might find what his father wanted him there, and his hunt would be over.

But when they finally arrived at the local court, Thor realised that he would rather marry one of the thistles than to have anything to do with any of the Omega princesses there.

Thor suffered through every conversation, but he knew better than to let people around him know about his state of mind. He was all smiles and politeness, but inside, he was bored to death.

The oldest daughter of king Jostly was almost as big as Thor, and at first, Thor nearly jumped out of his skin in fear of her. He’s never seen a woman as huge as her, and he’s seen a lot of women in his life, he thought.

“My prince, may I introduce you to my daughter and my heir, princess Johanna? She has just turned 27 years of age, and she is more than ready to take an Alpha, and unite our kingdom,” king Jostly said, in what he probably thought was a cheerful tone, but Thor had to fight himself in staying awake whilst he spoke.

Thor smiled politely at the princess and remembering his father’s words, asked her to dance with him. She snorted, and Thor assumed that was her laugh and it made him roll his eyes even harder. Thor scented Johanna discreetly, trying to see if there was at least something he could be attracted to in her. But no. She just smelled like burned lava stones and tobacco, and that was not something Thor looked for in his mate.

They danced and talked, but Thor could not keep his mind in the conversation. It was when she started listing the types of rocks that could be found around the castle, and she was already at the 18th different type, that Thor excused himself with a smile, and went to find the closest barrel with mead.

The rest of the night went very similarly, and by midnight, Thor was comfortably in one of the guest rooms, snoring happily. He told his company all about the dullness of the place, and how he couldn’t wait to be up and gone and truly praise.

In the morning, he gave his apologies to king Jostly, trying to explain to him that he did not find what he was looking for, only for king Jostly to stop him mid-sentence.

“Do not apologise, my prince! Last night, while you apologised to go to your chambers, my daughter caught the scent of a foreign Alpha from your company, and while I hoped for, let’s say, better connection, considering her age and all, I think I must be happy with what we’ve got.”

Thor raised an eyebrow and wanted to ask more questions, but then the door to the ballroom opened and revealed princess Johanna, and to Thor’s utter surprise, Volstagg, who was smiling like a fool.

“Thor, my friend! Look! I found a suitable Omega for myself! What do you reckon?”

Thor couldn’t even form a suitable response, from all the shock coursing through his veins. He just nodded and tried to form a smile on his face, but he wasn’t sure if it actually made way to his face.

“I am happy for you, my friend! Do you wish to stay here, with your chosen Omega, Vorstagg?”

“If I may, that would be more than wonderful, my prince,” Vorstagg said, not even looking at Thor, but having his nose buried in his Omega’s neck.

Thor shuddered at the sight, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to stand that close to that woman. But he was truly happy for Vorstagg. He was also one of the highest-ranked councilmen in Asgard, so Thor knew this only strengthened the relations between the two lands, and he hoped it would be suitable for his father.

They bid their goodbyes, and Thor and the remaining of his company set to travel to the second kingdom on their plan. Dysgard. Thor was actually looking forward to this visit. He’s always admired Dysgard’s jewels, which was the thing exported most from this land. The hills were even mightier than in Asgard, and the plains were slightly more hostile than those in Thor’s own country.

He always heard the people of Dysgard be just like their land, little proud and unwelcoming, keeping to themselves. Thor wanted to see if it was real or if his father exaggerated like he always did.

Upon their arrival, unlike in Bennegard, no great party awaited them. They were shown into a small crown room, with guards and the king himself. King Zeinard was a stout man with a pointy nose, which looked awfully funny on his round face.

“Crown prince Thor, I hear you want to have a look at the Omegas of this court, and intend to marry some?” King’s voice boomed through the room.

“Yes, your Majesty. I’m looking for a wife, and me and my father, King Odin, thought it would be good to start with our strongest allies. Would that be ok with you, my king?” Thor said, trying not to sound too bitter, and judging by king Zeinard’s face, Thor succeeded, for the king nodded at somebody behind Thor, and that person opened a door behind Thor.

From this door, 5 young Omegas emerged, their heads hung low, looking at the ground.

“Here are two of my daughters, and three daughters of my highest councilmen. Please, take your time in scenting them, and if you like one, you can have her. If not, I would be glad if you could continue on your journey,” Zeinard said in all seriousness, and Thor was in fact glad.

If he didn’t find what he was looking for here, he could get moving without the annoying pleasantries.

So he just curtly nodded at the king and walked towards the women.

He smelled each of them carefully, taking his time to see if he could like any of the scents, but he found himself more than indifferent to all of them.

Thor looked over to the king and smiled sadly.

“I am afraid, my king, that I did not find what I came for here.”

“That is quite alright, my prince. I wish you luck on your journey,” the king said and turned his back on Thor, and slowly rolled out of the hall.

Thor just looked at his friends and rolled his eyes, which made laugh silently, before they all decided to follow the king’s advice and continue on their journey.

The last kingdom they were meant to visit was only a few hours away, and Thor thought it would be great if the could reach it before the night set on the land. He sent a pigeon to Midgard, letting their king know that they were coming a day early, hoping the king would not think they were disrespectful. The last thing Thor needed was for one of the kings sending a message to his father that he didn’t behave properly.

The journey was filled with friendly banter, mostly targeted on the missing Vorstagg and his new bride, but all was in good humour. They were all happy for their friend if only little surprise on his choice.

Before they knew it, they were standing in front of Midgard’s castle’s gates. Thor was internally most excited about Midgard. He has been there many times before, so he knew that the country was pregnant with beauty, both in its population and its nature. He even knew the king, Anthony, with whom Thor fought many of his battles in his youth. Thor knew king Anthony had only one daughter, but rarely ever showed her. All Thor knew was that she was a lot younger than him.

“Thor! Dead friend! I and the queen, we are ecstatic that you could come so soon! Gives us time to talk properly!” Thor heard from somewhere above him, and he looked up, seeing Anthony standing on a balcony right above his head, waving at him.

“Tony! So am I, trust me! May I come up, so that I can refresh slightly before I meet you? I stink like a horse,” Thor hollered, and Tony just smiled and nodded at him.

When all was done, Thor could hear music coming from the big hall, and he smiled, excited to actually enjoy himself, if he didn’t choose one of Tony’s daughters as his Omega, that was.

The hall was littered with people, the whole room shining with light up candles, and expensive decorations were hung around the ceiling to create the allusion of an open roof. Thor always admired Tony’s festivities, and he wasn’t the only one. It was known in all lands that king Anthony’s parties were to look forward to.

“Feeling like yourself again, old friend?” Tony asked with a smile, and Thor instinctively hugged him, just like he did with Loki.

“Yes! Especially because I’m here, in Midgard. You wouldn’t believe how I longed to be here the whole journey, both Bennegard and Dysgard were awfully boring!”

Tony barked out a laugh and patted Thor’s shoulder.

“Oh, I know! Imagine what you will have to undergo in every ally meeting we have!” Tony laughed again, seeing Thor’s slightly horrified face.

“Let’s get the issue off the table quickly, so we can have more fun! Here is my daughter, Morgan. Morgan, my dearest, this is prince Thor,” Tony said and Morgan, who now stood in front of Thor, curtsied slightly. Thor bowed politely and took her hand in his kissing it.

Thor could see she was still just a child, only just presenting and still unsure of what her presentation meant in the world.

She smelled nice, Thor had to admit that, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t do without.

Tony was watching the whole encounter, keeping an eye on Thor’s reaction and praying to, however, was listening that he wouldn’t find his daughter too appealing. Not that Tony didn’t like Thor, but Morgan was still his only child, and he was not ready to let her go just yet. He had to smile because Thor’s pupils didn’t dilate, nor did he look like a lighting stroke him when he smelled her, so Tony took it as a good sign.

“I’m afraid, you are not my mate, princess Morgan, although your beauty is remarkable,” Thor smiled at the young princess who curtsied again and almost ran away from there, back to her mother’s open arms.

“She’s still a pup, you know? I have to tell you, I’m glad you’re not mates. I would hate to fight you were you to hurt my daughter, which is a fate awaiting her mate patiently.”

Thor laughed at his friend, and let the whole mate thing stride out of his mind. He didn’t find anyone, and he knew he had reasoning for his father. So he just let go, and had fun, drank mead, and ate what was served.

It was when he wanted to get another bread that he caught a scent of something sweet. He smelled the bread, and he could tell that the scent was lingering on it. He supposed that the lovely smelling Omega touched the bread before him, and that was why he could still smell it, as faint as it was.

Thor got up from the table and roamed the room, trying to catch the scent that was making him drunk again but without luck. He hung his head between his shoulders, and for the first time was feeling some sort of emotion about not finding his mate.

He went to the table with bread again, still thinking deeply about how that smell made him feel when he smelled it again.

The scent was a combination of a spring breeze, a meadow, and what he thought were raspberries, so sweet and intoxicating, Thor wanted to do nothing more than to smell that for the rest of his life.

He swiftly raised his head, only to be met with the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. He couldn’t even pinpoint their colour, they were playful and looked just like she smelt. Beautiful.

This was it, Thor thought. This was his mate, whoever this beautiful stranger was. But before he could say a word to her, she scurried away, down the hall only used by the help in the castle. And Thor was dead-set on following her.

/Next Chapter >

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[khaosgaming22]

You Are Here- Part III

Kenneth ran down the hallway dodging out of the way of any Guardians trying to head toward the dormitory elevator and sprinted to a door. He stopped to catch his breath for a second and started knocking on the door. No answer, shit. He tried again, he could hear the shower running and loud opera music playing. She was definitely home, but there was no time for this. He took out his knife and picked the lock to the door, after a few quick tries it opened and he walked inside the two-guardian dorm closing the door behind him. Didn’t want anyone to hear this.

He heard the shower stop and the music get a bit quieter, he could then hear her humming along to it. He waited outside the door not wanting to intrude anymore than he already had until she came out in a lavender bathrobe and saw him.

“Hello... Ken? What are you doing in our dorm?” Ken took a breath.

“I need to talk to you about something and ask a few questions.” He answered.

“Couldn’t it have waited till I was dressed?” She pouted and Ken shook his head.

“Not this time. It’s about Drake.” Drake? The person she hadn’t seen for at least a week now? Now that she thought about it, missions lasted a while even Vanguard but a week was unusual.

“Let me just put something on, nothing fancy, just some clothes and we can talk okay?” Ken nodded and sat down at a two person table as she went to change. He looked around at the place, things had definitely changed. There were pictures of the two up now and a few books about music were in between research journals on the bookshelf. ...Oh and there was a Vex arm.

Torra sat down across from Ken while he was looking around.

“Okay so, whats going on?” She asked and Ken pulled out a small scrap of torn Warlock robe colored in yellow and brown.

“My house was broken into, whoever the thief was was very careful, they only took one thing but they were also a bit sloppy and the weapon must’ve ripped off a piece of their clothing.” Torra listened and nodded.

“Wh- What did they take?”

“My Thorn.”

Thorn. The weapon all Guardians feared, once wielded by the dreaded Dredgen Yor, Ken had made his own before with the help of Shin as an experiment. To see if he could hold both Light and Dark without it consuming him. He must’ve succeeded if it was in a place so simple as his own home. But now it was gone and that piece of cloth was looking awfully familiar as she stared down at it...

“I don’t know for sure. But... I think Drake has turned Dredgen.”

~

...Draaaake...

...Draaaaaake...

WAKE UP.

Drake awoke in a combat arena made entirely of jagged black edges, he could see engravings etched into the stone. He saw his opponent, a lowly Taken Vandal nothing he hadn’t seen already. He went to reach for his Corrupted Thorn but his arm was stopped.

“No Draeko. No weapon this time. You must become the weapon.” The voice spoke, Drake obeyed. He charged the Vandal as it took sniper shots at him, the rounds hit but they had seemingly no effect as he reached out with his hands, took the Vandal’s rifle and shot him with his own weapon. It all happened within seconds, then the voice came back for approval.

“Good. Now let’s try two stronger targets.”

And Drake blacked out again.

~

Ken flew the ship toward where they thought Drake would be, all they had was some journals and advice from Eris but they were sure it had to be the moon of Jupiter that a pyramid ship was parked over. Torra sat in the seat next to him shaking a bit and hiding in her robes. Ken could tell she was afraid, hell he was too. This was probably the craziest thing he had done since the Moon, but at least he wasn’t alone this time and he had no choice, they had taken Drake. And his stuff! He wasn’t gonna let that slide.

“Like the new ship? He asked trying to lighten the mood a bit. Torra gave a small shrug as she held the necklace Drake gave her close. They could see the ship now, it’s monstrous presence loomed over the place where humanity once was, where the Traveller once blessed above, now it’s enemy sat and withered away. Ken took another breath and sent the ship in toward the pyramid. For a split second a Hive portal opened swallowing the ship and moving them elsewhere, then just as quick they were back.

“What the hell just happened?” Ken asked stabilizing the craft.

“I... I don’t know, I think someone or some thing is trying to keep us from going any further.” Ken got the ship back on course, he saw a landing platform open up on the side of the pyramid. Whatever was in there, wanted them closer.

Ken set down the ship and loaded his Sacramento, he felt cold as he descended down to make contact with the pyramid. Not like the temperature dropped, no more like something was disrupting the heat from getting to him. His light felt weak, when he tried to light the dark hallway his fire were only sparks. The architecture of the pyramid was dark, sharp, edgy. He decided he shouldn’t take Chase out unless absolutely necessary and told Torra the same.

The hallway was lit by red lights that looked like eyes peering into his soul. It was the creepiest place Ken had ever saw, but they had to find Drake. Torra stayed close behind dancing small waves of Void light across her palm, it kept her feeling like she was in control of something. Some modicum of safety in this wrong place.

They must’ve been walking for hours, Ken had left a trail of knives to find their way back to the ship once they found him. Then they came across a large room with a figure sitting on his knees in the middle. The walls closed off. They were trapped in the room. The figure stood up and turned to them, they wore tattered and cracked Warlock gear in yellow and brown. At least that’s what it looked like, it was hard to tell in so little of light.

“Drake!”

“Wait Torra-“ Drake put out a palm and pushed her away unmoved. Torra flew backwards and hit the wall next to Kenneth. Whoever this was, it was clearly not Drake.

“Why... who what happened to him? Why would he do that to me...” Torra sobbed and Ken shook his head.

“Whatever happened on this ship, it turned him into something else. That may be Drake but it isn’t him...” He looked back at his former friend as he sat back down on his knees again. “Torra I’m sorry but we’re gonna have to fight him.”

“What?!”

“It’s the only way to get him to snap outta this. Or... only way I see it working at least.” Torra said nothing. “I’ll keep him busy while you try and knock him out.” Torra was unmoved, there had to be another way. Ken stood up and lit his Hunter knife with as much fire as he could gather and rushed him.

Drake stood up using his palm to force his attacker away but Ken dodged and was able to get a slash in. It didn’t seem to do much of anything and Drake kicked Kenneth in the side, as he fell to the floor he threw the knife and it landed a direct hit in his arm. Drake looked down at the knife and tried to pull it out as Ken struggled to get back up. His vision was clouded but he saw Torra tackle him to the ground and rip his hood off.

“DRAKE!” She yelled through tears. “Drake I know you’re still in there, you have to fight it!” Drake pushed her off of him and punched her in the jaw. She bled a bit from her nose and it disoriented her but she wasn’t giving up that easily. She Blinked in front of him and kicked him in the ribs, probably cracked a few but they would heal once she could get out of this horrible place with him.

As they fought Ken held his side and looked off into a corner of the room covered in shadow, another figure smiled creepily as he watched them fight. Ken looked a bit closer and the figure came into view, another Warlock.

“You...” He groaned trying to sit up. “You’re the reason he’s doing this, I dunno who the hell you think you are but I will kill you.” The former Warlock stepped out of the shadows with a sword that was lit ablaze. A Dawnblade.

“You are different. You aren’t like your comrade over there, no.... You are not afraid of the Dark.”

“If you’re referring to wheather I give a damn about Light and Dark and using their power I don’t. But I know that the Darkness can do horrible things to people. I’ve seen it.”

“You clearly misunderstand the balance then, so-called Symmetrist. For if you believe you cannot have Light without Dark, you would embrace it as you have the Gardener’s gift.”

“Having Light and Dark is fine but I’ll decide the balance. Now get lost and leave my friend alone you shadowed creep.” He spat.

“There are things your friend has not told you. You see, you may be his friend, but I am his creator. And now that he is here he will be reunited. His training has been a bit... shaky but he will improve.”

“I don’t care if you’re his third cousin’s aunt’s brother twice removed, you’re evil. And we will put an end to you once we save him.” The shadow chuckled dryly.

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“Like this. TORRA NOW!” Ken threw a Tripmine Grenade behind the Warlock and summoned his Goldengun, putting six rounds through him causing him to fall onto the grenade and disorient him for a bit. Drake’s corruption lifted slightly and Torra finished the job as tears streamed down her face. Drake blacked out as Kenneth stood above his father and twirled a knife around.

“You... you were-“

“Distracting you, biding my time, waiting for my Light to build. Any of those work. Once I saw that you actually bothered to show up and were tangible I just had to get back to full strength. It’s just now that you notice the red lights are a bit dimmer? Heh, for a former Warlock you aren’t a very good one.”

“Don’t you dare speak of that INFERNAL title again!” He shouted angrily. “The Light forced me into a role, now I have the power to play my own. The Dark offers freedom don’t you simpletons get i-“ Ken shot him in the head.

“You talk too much.”

Drake came to shortly after dazed and confused.

“Where... where am I? Torra? Ken-“ He stopped. “KEN GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

“Relax man, I just shot him. He’s dead in the dirt.” Drake shook his head.

“No, no it would never be that easy. You may have killed that form but he will continue to exist wherever there’s Darkness.”

“The boy is half right.” A whispered voice spoke to all three of them as the crumpled mess of Drake’s former father picked himself back up. “Did you really think I could be killed with simple weaponry like that? Ha! Not likely. Though that handcannon of yours did leave a mark, there must be something special about it. In any case, take my failure of a son, if he could not beat two Lightbearers then he is not worthy to continue. For now I take my leave, I will find another blade to sharpen...” He sneered holding Drake’s Dawnblade in his hands. Ken shot him with a rocket launcher but he shielded himself in a cloud of Darkness and disappeared.

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny oc #fireteam misfits #bungie #destiny the game #destiny darkness

[acelucky]

The burden that is mine

So here it is! My entry to this years’ @yearlyesca​ pic’n’fic. This is to accompany   the wonderful drawing of a young Folken and Van by @gasexplosionatthescalpelfactory​ Thanks to @radical-rad1986​ for organising ^_^

I wasn’t really sure where I was going when I started to write this, apart from the ending! But wanted to explore a little of their relationship and history with one another when younger. So often when we think of history we think of battles and important dates in any given countries or world calendar. I believe that some of our most important history actually comes from the small things, the little moments that make us who we are and that is what this little story is dedicated to. No warnings apply. 

Fanelia was a country beautiful in all seasons, weathers and by the light of the moon and the sun. Folken had come to appreciate this from a very young age, the tapestries that were woven telling the tales of his country were 

Folken had the history of Fanelia practically imprinted in his mind, he knew it all in a beat. Every twist and turn for being the eldest child that had been his responsibility. It was one he had always taken seriously he knew all too well that if he proved himself then it would save Van from the strict upbringing he had. Not that it had been a bad upbringing, Folken was happy enough but the looming presence of his future, the uncertainty surrounding when he’d have to fight a dragon - all of this played on his mind.

So while sword practise was important, while his duties as Prince were of upmost importance, there always had to be a little time for fun and sibling bonding. 

Folken had it all planned, an entire day where neither he nor Van would have lessons or training or anything formal. It was a well orchestrated day where they would escape the castle and enjoy time together fishing, playing, having a picnic. He had been looking forward to it all week but hadn’t spoken a word of his plan to his brother for he wanted it to be a surprise. 

When Folken woke up on the day of their escape from duty, sunlight shone through his windows, casting beams across the floor and his bed, warming his face before the day begun. He often slept with the curtains wide open so he could watch the stars and moon in the sky as he drifted off into dream land.

There had been one evening where Van had sat with him on his bed star-gazing. 

“The stars, there’s so many of them,” Van commented as he stood by the window and looked up at the sky full of wonder and innocence.

Folken hadn’t responded to Van’s comment straight away, rather he let him bask in the moon’s light, stood by his side. A heavy weight rest on his shoulders but in moments like this it simply melted away.

“The stars watch over us Van…”

He got up and opened the windows so they could listen to the soft breeze and owls outside. He pointed out the constellations in the sky and told the tales that went with them. Van sat captivated by each tale, listening to legends about mythical beasts, knights and Kings & Queens of old. He took each story seriously and would continue to pester Folken for more stories and information over the coming weeks.

It never annoyed Folken, he had all the time in the world for his little brother when he was able to escape Princely duties for a day or eve. 

Now as Folken woke he enjoyed the sight of the orange and pink glow of the sky a few clouds drifting across lazily, swallows flitting by, scooping and diving. He stretched his limbs as he yawned and wondered if Van would be awake yet, it was unlikely he chuckled to himself thinking of how often Van would end up napping during important events.

Two cats, one ginger and one a smoky grey were curled up at Folken’s side. They barely moved when he stretched apart from to join him in yawning, their tails occasionally twitching as they dreamt. The servants despaired at first, the cats should be fed out back of the kitchen and there alone, they should also sleep in their beds in the lower part of the castle, not in a Prince’s bedroom! But Folken adored them, at times he was awfully lonely and he found comfort in the cats.

When he entered his brother’s bedroom, Van was dreaming, it had to be a good dream, of that he was sure. He had a small smile on his face and was muttering something under his breath, a small spot of drool was at the corner of his mouth. Folken got out a handkerchief and gently wiped, careful not to wake the sleeping Prince. 

He watched his brother sleeping, sat on a chair by his bed side and smiled fondly, there was no need to wake him up so early. In many ways Van was Folken’s world and would do anything to prepare his brother for the life that lay ahead of him, do anything to protect him. A part of this meant shielding him from the darker parts of life for as long as possible.

When Van finally awoke and Folken told him his plans for the day, Van couldn’t contain his excitement as he rushed to get ready. His eyes had been wide, a face of wonder just like when they watched the stars together.

An hour later and the two brothers were sat side by side, arms touching, at the end of a pier quietly fishing, soaking up the sun and watching the sun reflected on the water. There was a gentle breeze that carried the smell of summer on it. Van had been telling his brother all about his hopes and dreams for the future, excited chatter of a child who didn’t know any better, a child to whom a knight was the most marvellous thing in the world. A child who had yet to learn the horrors of war or the gut-wrenching pain of loosing someone you love.

Folken decided now was not the day to open his eyes to that part of the world. Instead, much against others wishes, he encouraged his brother with his childish dreams and hoped one day he could escape on adventures and live a life less confided to duty. 

Van suddenly jumped excitedly as he felt something tug on the end of the line, “I think….I think I caught something!” 

Folken smiled and helped him hold the line, “Nice and steady, reel it in nice and slow okay?”

Van nodded and with a look of sheer determination on his face reeled in the catch. When he succeeded in pulling it out of the water he exclaimed excitedly and looked at the fish. As he held it up the scales glittered in the sunlight there was a second where he looked so happy and pleased and then his expression changed dramatically and he burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?” Folken asked as he wrapped his arm round his brother.

“It’s my fault, it must be in so much pain, it’s innocent.”

Folken had to smile, yes, it was better he was the older sibling, “It’s okay, look, we can let it go,” Folken gently unhooked the fish, “See?”

Van rubbed his eyes and opened them to reveal how watery and red they already were, gave a small sob as he saw what his brother had done. He sniffed and nodded, “Can we let him go?”

Another sniff.

Folken turned to Van and smiled widely, “Of course, look,” Folken bent down and placed the fish back in the water which hurriedly swam away.

Van hugged him tightly, “Thank you brother, I’m sorry I was so weak please don’t tell father.”

He looked up with eyes so pitiful that Folken felt a sting of guilt, was this really how he felt about his own father? Was Van really this scared of disappointing others?

“I promise,” Folken placed hands on Van’s cheeks, “I promise little bro okay? I’m so proud of you.”

After this Folken decided it was time to change activity, they packed up the fishing gear and went for a long rambling walk through the forest and over hills. There were moments where the brothers were silent, but it was never boring or uncomfortable. Van was happy to run ahead and hide so Folken had to find him, or to climb trees and talk to the birds and creatures he came across while his brother was happy to watch on. 

It was when they reached the top of an incredibly large hill that Folken flashed his brother a wicked grin, “Race yah!” 

And with that Folken was off running at great speed down the other side of the hill. 

Van laughed, “Brother!” he shouted after Folken as he ran down the hill behind him. He was laughing as the motion of his legs carried him faster and faster to the point where he was sure he’d fall over and roll the rest of the way down the bottom. Folken looked over his shoulder at his brother but still managed to continue running without missing any steps or wobbling.

Both brothers managed to run all the way to the bottom of the hill without tripping or falling, and both laughed all the way down. Folken felt the weight lifted again, just running like that without any judgement from anyone, without any care for the time, it was the best feeling in the world.

As they reached the bottom where the grass still sloped a little, Van fell to the floor and decided to roll down it like a log. Folken watched, deciding not to join in this particular activity, instead he pulled out a picnic blanket and the food he brought with him. When Van got up and walked back towards him he couldn’t help but noticing how disheveled he now looked. 

But…This was nice, too many hours were spent in clothes he wasn’t allowed to get dirty so having time out where they could get covered in mud, where grass stains didn’t matter.

Van flopped down on the grassy verge next to Folken who was now laid on his back watching the clouds go by. Van copied Folken, crossing his arms behind his head and sighing in a fashion that could only be described as trying to mimic his older brother. The kind of sigh that was the letting out of adult frustrations.

After a few minutes of silence Van turned his head to the side to see his brother’s eyes were closed. There was an overwhelming urge to jump on him and tickle him or play some prank but Van, despite his young age, knew how rare it was for Folken to actually relax and switch off from duty for a moment. 

Van rolled back onto his back and traced the clouds with his index finger, he muttered under his breath what the different formations looked like. A large yellow butterfly flew close to his face and he watched with interest as it landed on a flower nearby. 

He felt Folken’s weight shift next to him and turned back to see his brother’s eyes open. A smile spread across his face, “Sorry little bro, I must have dosed off.”

Van sat up and then back on his heels and cocked his head to the side, “It’s okay,” he smiled brightly, the sun reflected in his eyes and Folken knew that he would do anything he had to to protect the innocence which was still such a part of his brother.

“Food?” Folken asked as he sat up and started to pull various picnic items out of his bag. “I brought something especially for you, I was going to wait until we’d eaten the savoury items but this is a day of fun after-all,” he winked as he pulled out some of Van’s favourite chocolates and some cherries.

Van clasped his hands together, his eyes lighting up, “My favourites!”

Folken laughed as he handed them across to Van, it was good to see that he hadn’t been tainted by duty and was still able to take pleasure in the small things.

Van looked at the large chocolate bar in his hands and then broke it into chunks, he handed one back to Folken, kept one for himself and put the other into his bag.

“Saving that for later?”

Van bit down on the chocolate and with mouth still full said, “No, it’s for my tutor.”

Innocent and uncommonly kind, thought Folken. He preyed that his reign would be long and fruitful so that Van could live a more ordinary and happier life. 

“I will take that burden so you don’t have to,” Folken said quietly.

Van looked up from the food, “Huh?”

Folken’s cheeks blushed with colour, “Nothing, sorry, I didn’t realise I was speaking aloud.”

“We should do this again,” Van said.

Folken nodded, “We will brother we will.”

Van ruffled Folken’s hair, “Good, next time I get to choose the activity.”

“Okay, well next time you can bring me snacks,” Folken teased.

Van huffed and crossed his arms, “But you’re the adult.”

“Ahhh so I’ll make the decisions then.”

“Not fair!” Van poked his tongue out and then fell on top of Folken laughing. 

This was a mistake, Folken knew every spot where Van was most ticklish and the second Van had pounced on him he had pretty much sealed his fate. Van’s laughter could be heard all around as Folken flipped him over and started to tickle under his armpits and down his sides. 

“Not my flank!” Van screeched with laughter.

‘Flank’ was an on-going joke they’d had between them since they’d both been very young, they would pretend to be horses and walk around on all fours neighing. Somewhere the word flank got used when Folken would tickle his brother and it carried on. 

“Please brother stop I’ll be sick and all before I’ve been able to eat this wonderful food!” Van pouted and at that Folken eased up. He didn’t wish to spoil Van’s appetite, the boy was growing fast and needed plenty of nutrition. 

They sat in peace slowly eating the small feast Folken had prepared, chatting in between mouthfuls, telling jokes and watching beetles that crawled across the blanket.

“Folken, what do you think are the most important things in Fanelian history that I should commit to memory?” Van asked suddenly.

Folken froze in response, not today, he didn’t want to talk about any of this today. And then he realised he didn’t have to because the answer was staring right at him. He smiled and put his food down, pointed at Van and then at himself, “This is.”

Van was silent for a moment and then a small smile appeared on his face as if he understood what his brother meant. 

“We’ll be able to do this forever won’t we?” Van asked, a change now in his tone from happy to melancholy. The question wasn’t simply that, it was born of his hopes and dreams, it was a request. Van needed reassurance from his older brother that no matter how much changed or many years passed, their bond would remain strong and there were some things, the simple and small things in life which would remain the same.

Folken put his arm round his brother and pulled him close, “Yes, of course, I promise.”

But Folken knew that there was no guarantee of this, he knew there was a chance that within years he’d have to break that promise. But there was another promise he would not break, and that was the burden that was placed on his shoulder, the burden that is mine and mine alone, I will protect you forever through accepting that burden, Folken thought. 

Before they got too serious Folken pulled away and now ruffled Van’s hair, “Race you to the wishing well!”

Van should have known better when he saw Folken begin to pack things away but his brother’s action caught him completely off guard, “Hey, no fair!” He laughed as he sprung up and chased after the other. 

#Folken Fanel #Van Fanel #Escaflowne #The Vision of Escaflowne #tenkuu no escaflowne #yearlyesca

[racefortheironthrone]

Thoughts on House of X #4

Over the halfway mark!

Look At What They’ve Done Infographic:

Suprisingly for an issue that, in retrospect is the climax of the standard superheroics part of House of X, this issue starts with an infographic, which turns out to be one of the more controversial in HoX/PoX.

Foreshadowing what’s going to come at the end of the issue, the tone is already different from the pseudo-academic objectivity of earlier infographics, although the term “mutant erasure” evokes the activist-inspired, post-cultural turn work of critical race/gender/sexuality studies, which is something of a stepping-stone. 

By contrast, describing Wanda Maximoff as both “the pretender” (does this mean “not-really-a-mutant” or “not-really-Magneto’s-daughter” or both?) and as associated with the Avengers is incredibly politically pointed, which speak to a particular kind of mutant nationalist identity that bears a good deal of grievance towards even benevolent human institutions.

Similarly, the term “human-on-mutant violence” is way too evocative of real world debates over racism and police violence to be accidental on the author’s point. It’s a depressing thought, but the 616 probably sees a lot of “what about mutant-on-mutant violence?” derailings, maybe as many as creep up in threads about HoX/Pox here...

So let’s get at the controversy: can Bolivar Trask be blamed for the Genoshan genocide? Contrary to a few voices in the fandom, I would argue strongly for the affirmative. As we see from his initial appearance, Trask created the Sentinels entirely out of racial paranoia/hatred; moreover, Sentinels have no purpose other than A. destroying all mutants and B. subjugating the human race along the way. Cassandra Nova’s actions on Genosha absolutely followed the Trask playbook of both father and son, and indeed relied on Larry Trask’s assistance to carry it out, making it a Trask affair from beginning to end. 

On a final meta note, this infographic really speaks to the outsized impact that Morrison’s New X-Men and Bendis’ House of M had on the X-line for the last 15-20 years. 

Observation-Analysis-Invocation-Connection:

But before we get to the punching, we get one burst of Hickman’s fascination with singularities and transhumanism, where for the first time we really get an example of how the Krakoan biological approach is going to work, showing us a surprisingly complicated biomachine:

Trinity (who runs the Secondary/External Systems part of Krakoa) uses her technopathy to gather intelligence from human mechanical systems: the Aracibo Arecibo Observatory in Puerto Rico, “re-tasked SETI radio telescopes," both of which are real things, and the “Dyson solar observatory,” which isn’t. 

Beast (who runs the Overwatch/Data Analysis part of Krakoa) uses Krakoan biocomputers and his own scientific genius to “extrapolate that data into an actionable forecast,” to deal with the delay caused by the immense distances between Krakoa and Sol’s Forge.

Professor X and Cerebro handle the direct Connection between Krakoa and the away team, while the Cuckoos link Trinity, Beast, Storm into a psychic link with Xavier, which means all of the parts of the system work seamlessly even as Storm handles the Invocation of visually representing Jean Grey’s thoughts.

If you step back and think about it, this is an astonishing technological feat: with minimal reliance on machine technology, Krakoa has established a NASA “KASA Mission Control” that can send data across half a solar system almost(?) instantly. 

That’s before we even get to the whole secondary purpose of the system, which is to allow Professor X and the Five to resurrect an up-to-date version of anyone who dies on the mission, which is one hell of a life-rope. 

Thematically, we see a really sharp distinction between biological and mechanical transhumanism/singularity: “KASA Mission Control” is described in biological terms, “function[ing] as a singular organism,” and also in religious terms, with “eight of us acting as one” explicitly labelled as “Communion.” And yet...the eight people involved retain their separate personalities and identities and no separate, artificial intelligence is created. 

Should We Fear the Worst?

 And across five hundred million miles, all Krakoa gets is bad news. Archangel and Husk, the redshirt’s redshirts on this mission, are dead before they do anything; Nightcrawler has some level of “internal injury,” and Wolverine almost had his arm blown off.

Incidentally, page 7 is where something of a problem crops up with Jean Grey’s characterization. As people have noted, Jean Grey starts off in the passive communications role (indeed, she’s even reliant on Monet to do that job) and doesn’t really improve from there. With the added context of her wearing her Silver Age miniskirt costume, it’s all a bit sus, especially if you’ve been reading a much more self-possessed, confident, and all-around more powerful version of Jean Grey in X-Men: Red. For a while, many of us were thinking that Jean is a younger backup, but that seems to have been Jossed by the resurrection ceremony in House of X #5. 

Better characterization abounds for the men: following their conversation from the previous issue, Cyclops and Wolverine have different perspectives about the question of whether to continue on with the mission (another key element of the special ops/espionage thriller genre). Cyclops emphasizes pushing on to make Warren and Paige’s sacrifice meaningful, Logan agrees but rather because of the existential stakes of the mission. There’s an interesting parallel there between Xavier and Magneto and means vs. ends. 

Following the catastrophe, Nightcrawler successfully inserts the struje team, while “Jean and Monet will stay to maintain our connection with Krakoa;”we know know that part was crucial in more than one way, but it is a continuation of some troubling gender dynamics.

Meanwhile, despite being “technically...just an observer” (and doesn’t that ring of all kinds of Cold War proxy wars), Omega Sentinel takes action to prompt Dr. Gregor into retaliation, similarly playing to the nationalistic theme of “if you don’t, he will have died for nothing.” 

Orchis’ retaliation doesn’t go so well, as we see Wolverine carving his way through an AIM securtiy team and Nightcrawler bloodlessly tying up two scientists (note the further emphasis on differing personalities and values; whoever these X-Men might be, they’re not mindless followers) towards popping two of the four constraint collars.

Unfortunately, this is followed up by a couple pages of more Jean Grey being awfully Damselly: yes, she’s holding open the connection, but she’s coded as way more helpless and indecisive than Monet (who gets to go out like a badass defending the shuttle), and the line “I dunno what to say, Marvel Girl. Try harder” really sums it all up. So far, this is reading a lot more like Stan Lee’s Jean Grey (but not Jack Kirby’s) than Chris Claremont’s. 

With the tension ratcheting ever-higher, we see Cyclops succeeding at his mission, while Mystique...doesn’t and then gets promptly blown out an airlock. The “habitat” connection and the odd business with her getting “turned around” despite having the plans for the base in her head like everyone else is highly suspicious (it might suggest the use of a Krakoa flower, but no one’s ever suggested what her motivation would be for doing so), but it’ll have to go on the list of plot threads that weren’t resolved in House of X.

In a development that really ought to be troubling to more people, Dr. Gregor throws away whatever moral compunctions she has about waking up a potentially violently insane A.I because “I don’t let them stop us. No matter what,” a potentially existential downside to Omega’s strategy. 

Do Whatever It Takes:

Having reached the “darkest moment” in the story diagram, Professor X orders his students to “do whatever it takes” to prevent Mother Mold from coming on line. This prompts Cyclops to give the order to Nightcrawler and Wolverine to jump out into unprotected space to sever the last constraint collar. All in all, we’re following the traditional beats of the special ops/espionage genre pretty closely, down to the team leader’s moral anguish moment.

Appropriately, we then get a quiet moment where Kurt and Logan contemplate whether or what will be “waiting for us on the other side.” Even knowing what we know now about the resurrection system, there’s still a good deal of weight to this moment, because in a way this Kurt and this Logan are going to die and whether they’re the same Kurt and Logan who will be reborn is a matter I’ll take up in Powers of X #5 along with the difficult topic of the philosophy of identity. (I’m going to leave aside the question of them having gone to literal Heaven and Hell in the past, because my Doylist position is that those story threads were probably a bad idea and my Watsonian No Prize is that you can’t remember the afterlife once returned to earth.)

Surprisingly, things get only more metaphysically weird when the two teleport outside and Wolverine starts chopping his way through the last arm. Mother Mold wakes up and immdiately starts talking about Greek mythology. Mother Mold’s interpretation of the Titanomachy is a little choppy (as we might expect from an insane A.I): on the one hand, if humanity are the Olympian gods as the creator of the Sentinels and the mutants are the Titans because of “their spoiled lineage” (this doesn’t quite work, because the Titans preceded the Olympians), then the Sentinels being “Man” makes sense. And as someone who’s written his share of college papers about omniscience/predestination/free will in Greek myth and drama, there’s a plausible anti-theist position whereby human beings might “judge and find you both wanting.” (Although that language is too Book of Daniel for the Greeks.) On the other hand, if the Sentinels are man, them having “stolen your fire” doesn’t work either - humanity was given fire by the Titan Prometheus - unless the argument is that Wolverine is Prometheus because he yeets Mother Mold into the sun?

Regardless, it’s a very ominous note for Mother Mold to go out on, because the consistent anti-human/Olympian tone suggests this insane A.I might hate humans way more than it hates mutants. 

With the day seemingly saved, we transition into the Rogue One scenario where Cyclops is murdered by a vengeful Dr. Gregor and Jean is torn apart by Sentinel drones. 

As gruesome as all of this is, I think it does play a very important role in explaining a good deal of Charles Xavier’s change of mind with regard to human-mutant harmony and assimilation. While this incident didn’t prompt any of the decisions that he’s made along the way - this mission is happening post-Xavier’s announcement and a day before the U.N vote, making it quite late in the X^1 timeline - I think it does a good job of showing us the kind of thought patterns that have led Xavier to this conclusion. In addition to everything he’s seen from Moira’s past nine lives, which only lend a greater sense of urgency and the fear of inevitability, Xavier himself has experienced the deaths of “our children” over and over again as the founder of the X-Men, and clearly both the direct trauma (keep in mind, he’s hooked into the minds of all of his X-Men as they die) and the pain he feels at humanity’s apathy/atrocity fatigue, goes a long way to explaining why he’ll make the decision that integration and assimilation are no longer viable options.

For all the crap that people sometime sling at Hickman over his use of charts, I will say that the way that “NO MORE” weaponizes them by extra-textually demonstrating the breakdown of the facade of calm objectivity is incredibly effective.

#xmen #xmen meta #house of x #hoxpox

[dorms-fic-archive]

Nur für die Schwachen: Chapter I [2019]

Summary: Succeeding another bout of training with ODM gear, Eren has an unexpected run-in with Annie in the nearby storage shed and the situation quickly spirals out of control. Whether or not their actions will have any lasting consequences remains to be seen; for now, all that’s left to do is try to survive the remaining months until graduation. [FFNet. | Ao3]

a/n: Hold onto your hats, here comes the inciting incident!

At dusk, Eren rises along with the rest of his mates—in truth, it's Armin that nudges him from the bunk, mutters: "Come on, it was your idea. I'll go if you do."

It's a rare day off, but as graduation is just a few months away from now, the consensus becomes that any free day is good for getting in practise, however you can.

Eren himself has a plan: he and a few other cadets among the 104th Training Corps that aren't feeling completely up-to-scratch about their ODM gear abilities have agreed to band together in order to try and get some more hours in-the-field, before they have to prove themselves outright. It's not the actual looming test itself that worries Eren, not the fear of getting his wires cut and plummeting in free-fall, nor the chance of a nasty, untimely death—or even worse, before he can prove Jean wrong—no, that's not it either.

Even if he dies (he certainly won't die) he'll have offered up his blood, his body for the cause, and with any luck at all he might get to see what the world is like outside Wall Maria—this fills him with a fierce determination bordering on mania—when he was fresh-faced and thirteen, the stress would eat away at him worst of all. Now, at fifteen, he's hardened, ready to graduate from the Training Corps: or at least, he's becoming surer with every sunrise, every time he sets foot out on the training field or straps into his gear, or budges his way into a study group alongside Connie or Sasha or Hannah, no longer sheepish but determined to do whatever it takes to get to where he wants to be. For now, he just wants to make sure he has an opportunity to prove himself. 

Succeeding breakfast, the cart ride is mostly uneventful. It's hardly a quiet morning, because the birds won't stop squawking at each other, but the clouds travel an idle path across the sky, and the breeze is a seldom occurrence. There are seven of them in total: Armin, himself, Marco, Thomas, Mina, Annie, and Sasha. It's not yet hot enough to be intolerable, but it's a few degrees above comfortable by the time they reach the outskirts of the giant forest.

It's still early enough: most of the cadets on-site are busy with the standard training exercises, but there are at least a few figures whizzing overhead between branches.

Their instructor is late, which has happened only a handful of times within the three-year span of enlistment. "Maybe he's sick," Thomas suggests.

Marco chimes in: "Well, training accidents do occur; maybe he was injured beforehand."

Armin looks pensive, so Eren nudges him. "What's up?"

"Oh." He stifles a yawn into his fist, self-conscious. "Sorry, er. If the instructor is injured or otherwise out-of-commission, you would think they'd tell us—even just a cursory statement." He shakes himself as the others cadets try to figure out why instructor Brecken might be missing.

"Do you think a Titan could've got him, somehow?"

"Sasha, there aren't any Titans inside Wall Rose—"

"As far as you know," she says. "Ain't it true that there's—" she pauses, as if realising something; when she speaks it's more deliberate and precise "—you know, there's one that can bust through the Walls?"

"No, that was the Armoured Titan," Marco says. "As far as we know, there's only one. If it attacked Wall Rose, we'd probably have heard of it by now."

"Yeah, like Armin said, it's probably just a training accident," Thomas adds.

Armin shrugs, somewhat hassled: "That's an educated guess. I have no idea why our instructor is late."

"What do you think, Eren?" asks Mina.

Eren shrugs. "Armin's probably right. I hope he is, anyway." He nudges him playfully with his shoulder; Armin forces a laugh. Annie looks annoyed by it all. Nothing new there.

Once they've geared up, it's out into the wilderness. There's only two of the pseudo-Titans set up at the moment, but they pair off and take it in turns.

While waiting, Mina catches Eren's eye and grins, awkwardly. "D'you have anyone to partner up with?" he asks her.

"Thomas volunteered," she supplies brightly. "How about you?"

"Armin and Sasha, I guess. Annie's already with Marco." He doesn't think much of it in the moment.

"Oh, right." Mina frowns. "I was hoping I could ask you about Annie."

Eren's taken aback. "What? Is everything O.K.?"

Mina sighs. "I'm all right, yeah. She didn't really want to come."

"Oh."

"What?" says Mina.

"Nothing. Well, it's just that I don't usually see her with other people, besides you."

"Right, I just… thought it'd be nice for her, you know? She can't ignore everybody forever—well, she can, but I don't think she should—and she's talking a lot about getting into the MPs, so I figured the two of us could, at least, train together. I think she's worried I won't make it, though."

Eren isn't that familiar with Mina, apart from the sea of faces that come and go. He knows her name, he knows she's one of the few people that Annie hangs around with willingly, and she seems like a nice-enough girl. But they've rarely talked, and never about Annie.

"Say, you're her friend too, aren't you? I can't ask her about this, because she gets all defensive." Mina rolls her eyes. "Honestly, I don't know what she's trying to pull. But I thought you could talk to her and tell her not to worry so much. She doesn't mind your company." Her tone is rather glum; if Eren didn't feel so strong-armed by her request, he'd probably be sorrier for her.

"O.K.," says Eren awkwardly, trying to be sympathetic but lacking any context with which to convey it successfully. "I'll try and talk to her."

Mina brightens up enough to give him a genuine smile. "Really? Thanks, Eren."

It's not a long training session, just under a couple hours. Eren thinks he did all right—that last round, he should've gone back for fresh blades and his cut was well-shy of mortal—but he's definitely got room for improvement. He's frustrated, sure, but so is everyone else. Despite the overhanging, ominous threat of Titans, it's already May. The weather's nicer, and just two weeks ago was a visitation period. Soon enough, with any luck, the members of the 104th will have graduated.

No one has much to say as they come back to the storage unit, swapping out empty gas canisters and deconstructed training dummies for tepid water to fill their canisters. Eren helps Armin and Marco with one of the pseudo-Titan dummies—it seems like it'll be light enough to manage, but it's unwieldy enough to prove a challenge in of itself to get inside the shed at all. Before he can leave, one of the older cadets approaches him and lays a coil of rope, coarse and thin, across his shoulders, and tells him: "Here's the last of it, Jaeger. Take that to the storehouse and don't dawdle, 'else you'll be in the way of the next group."

He calls: "I'll catch up with you guys later," and Thomas waves apologetically.

Eren knows that he'll probably be one of the last to return, but it doesn't bother him so much—until he thinks about their scant supply of water and how thirsty he is. He's surprised, therefore, to find Annie by herself in the shed, moving one of the dummies behind a few stray crates.

"Annie?"

She turns. "Jaeger."

"Need any help with that?"

"No thanks. I got it." She leans the pseudo-Titan against the wall and straightens up, pushing her hair out of her face.

"You were pretty impressive out there," Eren says, coming over to her. Annie grunts noncommittally. He frowns. "You don't have to be standoffish. I didn't expect to see you pitching in, anyway."

"I wasn't going to. Bodt caught me."

"Oh." Eren has learnt not to judge her too critically; it's not as though reprimanding her will get her to change her lackadaisical behaviour. "Is that all?" She throws him a dark look and tries to get the figure unstuck from where it's jutting out, dangerously close to falling over. Eren reaches to help her. "Don't worry about it. The instructor was late to-day, and it'll probably get taken out again anyway."

"Hmph." She relents, though.

The sight of her recalls his promise to Mina, but he isn't sure how he should broach the topic without her getting irritated. It's not even his problem. "Say, what d'you think of Marco?" Eren asks, trying an alternate approach.

"Bodt? The one everyone fawns over?"

Her tone is brittle. Eren raises his eyebrows. "Er, yeah. Do you have a problem with him?"

"He's too virtuous for his own good," Annie says. "It's likely to get him into trouble someday, if he's at all serious about joining the Military Police."

Eren considers her point. "I think he's just trying to do the right thing by all of us."

"You would think like that, wouldn't you?"

"You're being awfully combative," Eren says, a little nonplussed.

"I'm always like this, Jaeger. What did you expect?"

Eren shrugs, sliding the scratchy rope from his shoulders to loop it round his arm from wrist to elbow. "Dunno, to be honest with you." He chances a glance back at the door and remembers why he came here in the first place. Spotting a nearby hook, he hangs it neatly and turns back to Annie. "We should head out. Other cadets need to practise."

But Annie stays where she is. "I suppose he'd be dedicated to the King's cause before he so much as glanced in another human being's direction. You know, if he's smart, I think he'll have himself a career ahead of him."

"Are you still going on about Marco?" Eren responds, growing impatient.

"Oh? Would you rather talk about something else?" she asks, glancing at him.

Eren isn't sure he likes that sudden lilt in her tone. "Not really."

Annie appears to consider the point, looks him up and down. Her gaze flickers briefly to the shed door, still ajar and bleeding sunlight, then she returns her attention to him. "You seem energetic this morning."

He shrugs, unable to keep still, trying to work out any remaining kinks in his muscles. "I guess so. Wish we could've had more time out there, but I s'pose any time is better, yeah?" She's studying him again, so he stops what he's doing.

"Wanna fight first?"

"Wait, in here?"

She turns on her heel; no time to clarify himself, because she's already brought her leg up, aiming for his face—instinctively he blocks it, and using her lack of balance manages to bring her to the ground. They lock eyes, briefly, and she kicks him upside the chin; grunting, he shambles back, massaging his jaw, which is yet another mistake, he realises, when she ducks under his arms and slams him into the shed wall with all of her weight.

It strikes him that now is a good opportunity to take some counter-measure—tries to get his arm around her but by that point, she's already wriggled free. He knows that he's backed into a corner. What does she expect me to do? Sure he'll end up with a boot to the shin or on his arse no matter what he tries, figures, what the hell, I might as well try to take her down with me.

He does end up on his arse, as it figures, but he's ready for it—flinches at the impact, then she's moving closer, between his knees and that's all he needs—his boot catches her ankle and he kicks out, hard, toppling her with a surprised grunt and on the outside he's panting, brimming with energy; inside, he cheers himself a little for finally catching her off-guard—knows he oughtn't but still, it's a small victory. "O.K., I downed you—can we call it off, now?"

Her eyes flash. "We're not finished, Jaeger."

"Oh Goddam it—"

"Even after I've taught you everything I know, you won't fight back properly."

She sounds offended, which throws him for another loop; the battle more-or-less concludes when she jams her knee between both of his, albeit unsuccessfully. "O.K., you win—fuckin' get OFF!" He's flailing, which only aggravates the problem. "Are you deaf? I said get off of me, you psychopath!" She seems to realise that she's pushed this far beyond the limits of harmless flirting and relents. She's always been blunt, sometimes aggressive, but never so blatantly underhanded. He feels almost like a dog being brought to heel, which just pisses him off more—he knows that she's looking for a reaction, just doesn't care, because what gives HER the right to push him around like this?

"Jaeger."

"What's your problem, hunh?" he snaps, still wary.

"Don't you want to join the Scouting Legion?"

It's a suspicious change of pace. Maybe she's aiming to get his guard down. "Uh… yeah, why?"

"You shouldn't go around calling your fellow soldier a psychopath." Her voice is sharp. She's not looking at him head-on, which annoys him. "Someone really should teach you how to talk to girls. Ackermann obviously didn't." It's a decidedly ominous sentiment, but coming from her he's just annoyed.

"Leave Mikasa out of this. You obviously have a problem with me, spit it out."

She isn't trying to kick him anymore, but there's a glint in her eye that wasn't there before. Eren can't tell what's going through her head but she quickly seems to make up her mind: "Have you ever fucked anyone, Jaeger?"

Eren stares at her, momentarily forgetting his thirst or the urge to re-join his fellow cadets, utterly dumbfounded by her lack of tact. He opens his mouth to argue, or protest, or even ask what the hell she's talking about, spits out the first thing that comes to him: "I—uh, what?"

"Answer the question."

"NO!" he snaps, far too aggressively for his own good. "God—is this what you think talking is?"

She doesn't answer. Eren fumes in silence. She's got a lot of nerve clamming up like this when she knows damn well that both of them ought to know better…unless she really is messing with him, which is even worse. "Do you want to try it?" she presses, as if sensing she's making some sort of advance. "You, with me?"

Eren balks a few seconds longer, then finally snaps. "What the hell is that supposed to—is this another one of your jokes? 'Cos it's not funny, all right?"

"It wasn't a joke."

Her tone is brusque, almost hurt, and Eren's taken aback enough that he forgets about her boot mere inches from his groin, and that he's supposed to be angry, but Annie looks away, her mouth pressed to a thin line. There's a long, apprehensive silence before she speaks again: "You want to join the Scouting Legion, so you're probably going to die soon enough. All you ever do is train. Why not have some fun before you graduate?"

"I'm not going to die," Eren counters. He's looking around at everything besides her, for any excuse to put some distance between them because it's too fucking hot in this tiny shed. He does not add that her definition of fun is questionable. "Besides, you want to get into the Military Police Brigade, right? So it's not like we're going to see each other again."

She sits up, unprompted, straddling his hips. His throat goes tight when she leans over him and mutters: "You're pretty sentimental."

She sounds impressed. "So—why me, anyway?" he asks brusquely, refusing to give her anymore satisfaction.

"Hm?"

Eren flusters, making small revolutions with his hands as if he can somehow pull the words from the tense air around them. "Why d'you want—why are you asking me, all of a sudden?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, yeah. I didn't think you cared that much, to be honest."

It's half-a-lie. He's very cognisant of her body's warmth and weight upon him, sure he would feel better if she eased up a little—gasps when she cants her hips back—Annie stiffens when he grabs her hips to make her stop. She braces herself on one hand; there's an instability in her stance that wasn't there a few seconds ago. "This isn't about whether or not I like you, Jaeger. No proper soldier can afford to get attached."

"Shit, why'd you even ASK me, then?" he snaps. "Or is this just about making yourself feel better by fucking me and getting it over with?"

Annie's jaw tightens, but she doesn't offer up an answer immediately, just watching him seethe. When she does speak, it is with biting deliberation: "If you're going to keep asking questions, I'll just find someone who isn't such a—"

Eren's heard enough. He pulls her down and kisses her hard, knocking teeth, but fiercely stalwart when he breaks off. "Such a what?" he asks, his irritation and curiosity blending into a strange and altogether irresponsible aspiration to accept her challenge for what it is.

Annie looks shocked for a second, then quickly reverts to her usual cool demeanour—but there's no going back. "Forget it," she grumbles.

"C'mon, it can't be any worse than suicidal bastard."

Annie sighs through her nose. "You're a stubborn arse. Does that make you happy?"

"Only if you'll get serious about your own grades," Eren mutters, wondering if she only said that to make him stop asking. "You shouldn't skip out now."

Annie hrmphs. "Everyone keeps telling me that."

"Anyway, I-I can't be embarrassed every time you kick my arse. I'd never learn anything, would I?"

"Are you keeping track of how many times you've lost?" Annie inquires, looking unimpressed.

"I'm not that scared of you, y'know."

"Do you even know what to do with me?" she asks, point-blank.

Eren freezes, reminded glaringly of his own inexperience. "Um."

Annie shrugs. "I won't laugh."

"…you know, Annie, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

She pulls back and he's confused 'til she starts working her way out of her harness; in a minute or two she's pulled up her shirt and his stomach takes a plummet like he's just entered free-fall. Annie throws her shirt aside and gets to her feet, working with her boots. Her eyes narrow. She huffs and plops her weight down on the crate behind her, unbuckles her belt without much flair before reinitiating eye-contact with him to enquire: "Were you planning on doing this with all your clothes on?"

Eren notices how uncomfortable he is. He makes a frantic effort to conceal this by sitting up and attempting to get a boot off himself. Her mouth curls, a mere intimation of a smile, and he can't help but dwell on the idea that Annie's unexpectedly beautiful when she exhibits a little emotion. "You don't have to wait for me to get undressed, you know," she adds, kicking off her boots and chinos.

His hands are shaking as he follows suit. He's never resented the complex nature of his own harness more than he does at present; it's taken him months to become adequate with the individual straps and get himself in and out of this device quickly enough without feeling inadequate under Mikasa's well-intended, but altogether officious inspection—no, shouldn't think about Mikasa now. He tugs his boots off, folding his jacket haphazardly and putting that aside as well.

When she straddles him again he can't help but take her in. Without a word, she grasps one of his hands and places it against her naked chest. She remains steadfast under his gaze.

"Does this—?" indicating the bind currently scrunched at her abdomen.

"I'll need to put it back on when we're done." His brow furrows, and she exhales: "Don't worry about it, just…." She's gone pink, and when he grips her shoulders he's struck by the warmth of her skin, the unexpected softness; up until now, he's always regarded her infrequent remarks on delicacy as a joke, but now… well, he's at a loss. As though on cue, Annie mutters: "What are you waiting for?"

"Um."

Her fingers flex, curling into the meat of his shoulder. "I want you to touch me, Jaeger."

His stomach tenses. All he knows about sex is talk among the boy's dorm that he really didn't want to overhear anyway, and then of course, the cursory class this year, trying and failing to laugh off the awkwardness with other boys. But that's textbook stuff, never been an actual girl with parts and oh God he doesn't want to screw this up—

"O.K.," he mutters, studying the texture of her right shoulder, the sweep of her flaxen hair—she's all pale and angular, this paradoxical creature. "I, uh— don't know what I'm doing, so."

"I don't, either."

Eren's gaze snaps back to her. "Wait, is this your first—?"

She pulls him into an embrace that feels closer to a headlock. "You've asked enough questions already."

He's trying not to laugh at the blunt way she puts it, but the new proximity is enough to make his cock jump in his pants, startling her. "Shit, sorry."

Annie kisses the underside of his chin. An awkward tenderness enters her words: "Don't talk."

So his hands roam over her body—now that she's offered up herself, he doesn't feel shameful—and he's urgent, impractised. Perhaps there will be time later to remember the shape and sensation of her body, but he can't be sure. He glances up from time-to-time, between kissing, but she isn't vocal. He notes her eyes have gone dark, a prominent flush staining her cheeks and continuing southward, which intrigues him. Her bangs stick to her brow, and he wonders what she'd look like with her hair down—no, that's too personal. The bind is still wrapped constrictively around her belly, and he feels a little sorry for her. He can feel her breath quicken when he runs his hands up her naked abdomen, to her breasts, which are soft and strangely firm all at once—she's not particularly well-defined, but she fits into his palm. He hesitates, just holding there; there's the pulse of her heart under his fingertips.

"Jaeger," she grunts, catching his wrist and squeezing in a way that commands his attention.

"Wh-what?"

She presses his palm forward. "I don't bite."

"Shit, O.K.," he says, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that she wants him to touch her. "Wh-what should I, uh."

She scoffs. "Just…" flushing, she cups the other breast, "watch."

He's not sure what she's doing that's any different. Her nipples stand out, though; curious, he rolls one under his thumb until it perks. By now she's panting, so he lowers his head and kisses it. Annie gives a little sigh, holding him there. Encouraged, he goes another step and tongues it. Annie's breath turns ragged when he takes it in his mouth.

He draws off only to ask: "O.K.?"

She tugs at his head. "Don't stop."

He finds out quick that she rather likes the kissing, even better when he uses his teeth—but not too much, or he'll get yanked back with a chiding hiss: watch it—when he eases up it gets her shivering again, ruffling his hair and scratching lightly over his nape—he comes back to the dog analogy but this time he's too engrossed to be annoyed—when she croaks that's enough, Jaeger, he sits up and it's a retread of the same lesson with his hands: firm, but not too rough.

He wants to keep kissing her; everywhere, honestly. But what's proper? She hasn't kissed him back, yet. Is she supposed to? (Or did that kiss the other night not count? She hasn't mentioned it since—up until now, he'd put it out of his mind.) He feels like he was doing an O.K. job with her breasts, but maybe not. If he asks too many questions, will she just get up and leave? For now, he moves ahead, mouth half-open upon her collarbone, drawn from sternum to navel, hesitant until Annie catches his head, mutters: "Oi, Jaeger."

He glances up. Her hand dips between her legs as they shift apart; he drags his gaze back down to watch the rhythm of her wrist. He stares for quite a while without really understanding, and Annie sighs, glancing up at him through her bangs.

"You try it," she ushers him.

Tremulous, Eren reaches out and tests her simply with a thumb, gauging the heat that blooms against his skin, just tracing the shape of her without going further. At her encouragement he pushes in with a finger, shocked when she clenches. Her walls are damp and warm; he strokes uncertainly. She sighs and musses up his hair, but she seems nervous more than pleased.

"Is it good?" he mutters, palming himself through his chinos, because it's getting really uncomfortable.

Annie bites her lip, nodding. His mouth turns dry. He looks to her for a sign of what to do next and she shivers, glancing quickly down in turn and back to him. An idea strikes him, and his head dips between her knees. Annie makes a surprised sound in the back of her throat and he hesitates until she tugs him forward.

It's a weird taste: slick, sort of insubstantial, but not bad. His tongue flits against her and Annie jolts, pushing him back. Eren looks up at her, perplexed. Annie just shakes her head, looking faintly overwhelmed. He glances back to the matter at hand and licks his lips. "Jaeger," she groans, and she's definitely blushing now; the scene is surreal as it is good.

"What?" he asks, surprised at how rough his voice sounds. "Did I do something wrong?"

Her gaze is dark and piercing, colour swallowed up by her pupils. "No." He glances down thoughtfully; she grips his shoulder, pushing him back. "That's enough," she stresses, "for now."

For now. Eren is still giddy with the notion.

"You're still dressed," she notes, sitting up.

"Hunh? Oh, yeah." Hastily rucking his trousers past his hips without bothering to discard them—he should have taken his shirt off—and he is very aware of her scrutiny in a way that unnerves and intrigues him.

"Do you want me to touch it?"

She won't look at him, though; does he repulse her? "I guess," he mutters tetchily, and bites back a gasp as she starts working him over with a reckless efficiency that belies her own inexperience, quieting him with her palm against his mouth. He feels her lips press to his throat. She hasn't stopped touching him, though—the only concrete thought he can string together is that this is a hundred times better than when he does it himself, maybe too good—shit, I'm not gonna last—in a panic, Eren grabs her wrist.

"Stop that," he hisses. Annie looks up sharply, and he clarifies: "I-I mean—you should put it in you now, right?"

There's a pause. The air between them is heavy, so he peels his shirt off.

"O.K.," Annie says, "c'mere."

Before Eren can think twice, she grips him firm, and he sidles up against her. She's warm, he thinks, then swallows hard: "Go—go on." His voice cracks terrifically but she doesn't seem to notice. Annie looks up, flushed and hazy-eyed, like she's waiting for him to chicken out. Eren rolls his hips to assure her—she gasps and bites her lip hard, leaning away. With a shudder, Eren grabs her waist and puts one leg astride his hip; her heel catches the small of his back as she falls to meet the ground, taking him with her.

She was already warm enough on the outside, but this is almost too much to bear. He gasps, composure slipping—with a horrible thrill he thinks he might have come already—but he manages, somehow, to hold together. Annie, remarkably less dramatic than him, only grunts, her brows knitted as though in pain or consternation, but she hasn't told him off or asked him to pull out yet, so maybe she needs to adjust? The thought makes his head spin and he twitches again.

"Jaeger," she huffs.

Already it's a struggle to think. "What?" he pants, as his hands curl to fists on either side of her head. "Does—does it hurt?"

She frowns. "No."

"O.K.," he breathes, by this point equally smitten as he is ashamed for even the thought of having injured her inadvertently.

Her lips part in a lazy facsimile of a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "If you're that concerned, you can—" he presses into her unsteadily, and she groans. Her hands find purchase in his hair and she's nipping at his jaw, rolling her hips with this air of aggression that he never envisioned a purpose for outside of fights—but with her, somehow, it makes more sense. And she feels … good, now that he's not so afraid to move; the tension never truly leaves his stomach, not sickening like stress but insistent, driving him forward.

He sits up so they're nearly perpendicular. Annie gazes longingly after him and he wants to laugh, it's so unlike her. He doubts he can manage anything resembling a coherent sentence, keenly aware of her eyes on him as he brings his hips back to push in smoothly. Annie sighs and contracts, makes his head spin again, so he does this a few more times until he accidentally slips out—her attention snaps to him, hawkish, and Eren mutters a hasty apology—but she doesn't seem to care that much until he pushes in again: This time she hisses, grabbing his shoulders.

"Annie?"

"It's fine," she snaps, grimacing; but he doesn't move. Annie scowls up at him. "Come on, Jaeger."

She's a smaller frame than he realised. He can think about this but not deeply, pressing her to the ground in a more strange and intimate way than any fight, but her bind chafes against his stomach and her nipples brush his skin, her chest expands with air—this moment, right here, is nearly enough. "Goddam it," she hisses, squirming, "you don't even know what you're doi—h-hunh," trailing off into a quieter series of grunts as he begins to move with more confidence, and she brings her leg up accordingly. Feels like they're working together, this new sensation that leaves him overheated and taut in his own skin, but he chases after it. Finds it's difficult to focus on any one part of her for too long; everywhere they touch, it only amplifies the warmth coming off her own skin and his, and she's breathing heavier, slicker than before, and he doesn't want to stop moving, not for anything, not even the threat of Shadis (at least, in the moment) could make him think twice about it.

"F-fuck, Jaeger!" she grits out, blushing the longer he looks at her; he thrusts, and she screws her eyes shut with a shaky, girlish groan that's much unlike her. Something about that makes him uneasy again, and he stutters to a halt.

"Hunh? Am I—does it hurt, I can—" he reaches down to grasp himself, but her legs close around his waist and he feels trapped.

"Eren." Her voice is hushed. He's nearly sick with guilt before she beckons him down, takes his head in her hands. "Eren," she says again, almost confused, "you—you won't hurt me." It's the first time he can recall that she's referred to him by anything other than his surname. At a loss for what to do, he kisses her cheek. Pulling back, Annie bites her lip; he kisses her nose, her pale mouth, then her brow, trying to convey his feelings in a way she can't immediately dismiss. She rolls her hips to let him know where she stands, wraps an arm 'round his neck, gasps: "Faster."

Eren takes this as a personal challenge and sets the pace; rougher, clumsy with his own desire and newly-acknowledged affection, and Annie's not pliant, using her own body to guide him, wordlessly, into some semblance of rhythm. If he squints, he can try to watch her lashes flutter and her breath quicken, to take in every little shudder that affects her and know that he's done that to her, really done it. A quiet thrill chasing up the ridges of his spine, and the same warmth pools deep in his tightening stomach and the notion coils around his brain like smoke or some tenuous, begotten promise: you won't hurt me.

By now, her cool façade has already fractured (he's earning little noises, a grunt or a breathy gasp between thrusts) and she doesn't look pained—abruptly, she moans, twisting away but Eren pulls her flush to him, mouth open upon her pale throat. And it's all so sudden, too much—he bucks into her groin where he feels a pulse, and her heels grind insistently into his back until he growls, pins her to the ground like he means it this time.

Annie snarls over his name, writhing up against him, and her eyes are fierce and bright and her hair fans out beneath her like a small, untidy halo. Her teeth are bared, somewhere between a grin and a grimace, it's always hard to tell with her. He makes a futile attempt to slow down and manages for a second or two until she squeezes him viciously—eliciting a breathy shout from her in another thrust that scuffs up the dirt beneath them, and another and another, another and it feels like his whole body is wound as taut as possible until something snaps—hits him like a physical blow and his knees give out—she hisses sharply at the change in weight. Trembling, he feels her arms come around his back like reflex—with his head to her breast, he can hear her heart pounding madly, wonders if she can feel his too.

He can't tell whether she came or not. He feels strangely responsible. "Sorry," he mumbles after a pause. "I should've, uh."

"Hm?"

He's lost most of the good feeling by now and wants to pull out, but doesn't. "Are you all right?"

"Fine." Eren isn't sure what kind of answer he was expecting, really. He wonders if she'll let him kiss her. "Oi, Jaeger." He must have been obvious, he thinks, because there's a subtle quirk to her mouth as she draws him down. Their noses touch, and she won't say a word, gazing intently at him. Eren finds himself at a loss for what to do if not study her—she's still flushed, sinuous and naked beneath him, real enough in the hard light, little strands of blonde hair drifting apart from the whole.

Hesitant to break the silence, he moves in to kiss her cheek. She tilts her head just-so, and their lips connect; amused, he tilts his head, mumbling into her jaw: "What?"

She doesn't reply, just initiates another real kiss, wrapping her legs loose about his waist without encircling him completely. A pleasant little tingle races down his spine and he wonders if this is all just a dream.

But it isn't a dream, it can't be, because Annie huffs against his mouth and lunges up without warning, throwing her full weight against his chest in such a way that he's impelled backwards with seemingly little effort on her part. It catches him off guard, and Eren's halfway between surprise and amusement, because he probably should have anticipated something like this from her anyway—until his head smacks the edge of one of the crates.

"OW!" he barks, looking up at her as though betrayed, eyes watering with pain. Annie just hums from her new perch in his lap.

"You shouldn't let your guard down."

"Goddam it, Annie." He rubs his scalp where it throbs. She huffs. There's a pause where Eren continues to glower at her.

"You're not bleeding?"

"Why should you care?"

Annie rolls her eyes. "C'mere." He holds still while she scores her fingers through his hair, winces once she finds the spot; it still stings. "You aren't bleeding," she notes, lets him go.

"Forget about it—what about the others?" he says, still prickling. "What about Shadis?"

"You think he gives a shit?" When Eren stares at her, she shifts about in his lap and adds, seriously: "If anyone cared that much, they would have found us by now."

This doesn't really make him feel better, but he tries not to let on. "Yeah, well. It's a long walk back from here to the camp, you know."

"Mm," says Annie.

"So," he says, "we ought to get a move on before someone finds us."

She shrugs. "Fair enough." Dismounts him with a little grunt; he curses, starts fumbling around for his chinos. They redress hastily, in silence. He's just got his belt back on when the door opens.

"O.K., we'll sta—"

Eren yelps and freezes where he is; Annie, thankfully, already has her shirt and trousers back on but hisses something like: "Shut up, Jaeger."

"Oh, for God's sake," the instructor groans—not Shadis, thank God. "What's the—actually, you know what, I don't want to hear it. What are your names, cadets?"

"E-Eren, sir. Eren Jaeger."

"Annie Leonhardt."

The man draws a sigh. "All right. You have five minutes to make yourselves presentable, and then we're going to report this to Shadis. Understood? No, Richter," he snaps, blocking the door with his body; one of the cadets is evidently trying to peer past him.

"What is it? Who's in there?"

"Are you going to arrest them, sir?"

"Step away from the door, I said—"

Annie's gone quiet, flushed again. Eren wishes he knew how to console her, but suddenly dying during the ODM gear exam doesn't sound too bad, either.

[CREDITS]

Scenario adapted from the original doujin: "THAT DAY", by ソーヤー [NSFW]

English translation of said doujin/lettering by: xmdath

a/n: One-and-done; get ready for the rising action!

#ereani #ereannie #rating: mature #fanfic #fanfiction #romance #drama #friendship #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eren jaeger #annie leonhardt #mina carolina #thomas wagner #sasha blaus #armin arlert #104th trainee corps #smut #awkward first time #multichapter #archive of our own

[heoneyology]

Hearts on the Line: Ch.5

A/N: I was going to post up Hongjoong’s next chapter, but popular demand requested Wooyoung LOL. I promise the next couple of days I’ll focus on our leader! Mentions of drug abuse.

Pairing: Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: action, angst, romance, outlaw!au

Word Count: 2820

Summary: You’ve got a debt to pay, and Wooyoung has an agenda of his own. But for your help with just one last scheme, Wooyoung is willing to allow your debt to drop off—unknown to him, though, you also have your own agenda, and a loyalty to an unspoken Other. With hearts on the line, you each will end up having to make a decision that may risk what you both thought was simply just a game.

The suffocating pressure in the room has lifted. Whatever darkness it had been that had overcome Wooyoung with such a ferocity it had wiped clean coherent thoughts, was now gone. But instead of feeling relieved, you felt drained. Where you sat on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed, you stared up at the ceiling. Despite the pressure being gone, there was an intensity that still lingered in the room, a white noise in the background.

Not long after completely losing himself, and then somehow grounding himself again, Wooyoung had fallen asleep. You’d offered him the bed, but he’d refused and chosen his corner on the floor. If you felt drained, you couldn’t begin to imagine what it was that he was feeling.

Your lip stung, and hadn’t stopped since the events that had unfolded just hours before downstairs in the dining hall.

A constant, stinging reminder of what you’d been put through, and what you’d somehow gotten yourself into. Seonghwa’s warning from the night before taunted you, silently sneering that you shouldn’t have gone about things the way you had.

You knew he was right, too. A part of you regretted digging under Monica’s skin, regretted agreeing to Wooyoung’s plan to drop your debt—and, most of all, regretted the hug from earlier. It hadn’t meant anything, in particular. You’d noticed that he was losing himself to a savage anger inside that you’d never witnessed before, and you’d become desperate to pull him back. You needed answers, ones that he needed to give to you. Your life was literally in his hands at that moment, and you couldn’t go around blindly lending him your trust if you were going to be playing around in a snake pit.

It had stirred emotions in you that you were barely aware of. “You may not be mine, but I’m yours.” For as long as you could remember, since Wooyoung had been so brash about the entire situation from the start, Hongjoong had pushed you into Wooyoung’s care. You’d hated it at first. He had a way of making you seem unworthy, at the start. He’d never said or done anything to specifically say so, nor to hurt you or offend you in any way—but it was the way he interacted with you. Standoffish, with a habit of disregarding you and implying he could desert you when it was convenient for him or his job.

But you still spent most of your waking hours with him in the first few months to year with the gang, until Hongjoong deemed you worthy enough to trust and let you move about freely on your own. You knew the consequences, of course, if you deserted. It was a risk you weren’t willing to take, and so you stuck around, living as freely as you could manage. But as Seonghwa had pointed out, ruining that fake little bubble of blissful ignorance you had manifested towards the men of the gang—they’d never mistreated you. Even Wooyoung, who annoyed you half to death and strung you along, using you whenever it was convenient for him—had never once hurt you, or put you in a position where you’d felt threatened in any way. He’d left you in plenty of uncomfortable situations where you’d questioned why it had to be you, but looking back on it now, he never actually had deserted you.

In fact, he’d come back for you plenty of times, in plenty of those situations. Although, you figured, it was his responsibility. He’d put you in them in the first place.

You didn’t have feelings for him. You couldn’t. You knew better than that. It was just the many years of being together, being at his side, being his partner in crime for just about everything he did. Whether you liked to admit it or not, as frustrating as he may be, he was your companion.

Glancing over at Wooyoung’s sleeping form, you frowned. The motion caused you to flinch at the sudden pain at your lip, lifting a finger to dab at it slightly. A droplet of blood came back on your fingertip. You grimaced.

Just who was Monica? And what kind of history did the two of them have? You were quite certain it wasn’t the type she had intoned. At this point, you felt as though you’d known Wooyoung long enough to figure out some of his patterns. He didn’t risk associating himself with loose-lipped women, that of which you felt Monica was. But her comment that she had made him who he was tripped you up a bit. He hadn’t been with ATEEZ very long, but through interactions, it felt as though he were indebted to Hongjoong—the two of them were quite close, despite Hongjoong having known Seonghwa and the younger Mingi for much longer.

“Admiring me, love?” Wooyoung’s chirpy voice, thick with sleep, breaks through your thoughts.

You realize, then, that you’d accidentally zoned out while staring at him.

“As if.” Immediately, you scoff and glance away, pursing your lips and flinching.

“You’re bleeding again,” Wooyoung notes, and he sounds a bit more awake this time. You hear him shuffle through the saddlebags off to your side, but you refuse to make any eye contact with him or acknowledge him. You’re still a bit upset over everything.

But when you hear footsteps against wood, you turn back and are met with Wooyoung sitting down in front of you, cross-legged, one of the clean rags by the wash basin in one hand, and a flask you recognized he carried whiskey around in held in his other. He sets them both off to the side for a moment.

“C’mere,” he says, placing a hand on either of your shoulders and pulling you forward to sit up from where you leaned against the side of the bed.

“What—” But before you can question further, he’s unscrewing the cap of the flask and pressing the cloth over the mouth, tipping the flask upside down onto the piece of cloth. Realizing what it is he’s doing, you start. “You really don’t have to, I’m fine—”

“Shh.” And with the simple sound, he blatantly ignores you, setting aside the flask and taking hold of your chin with a gentle touch, tilting your head up and to the side a bit. You brace yourself as he lifts the cloth, dabbed with whiskey, to your lip. It stings even more than before, as though it’s on fire, and he find yourself tensing against the pain. Wooyoung keeps the dabbing to your lip gentle, soft, and you feel his thumb ghosting over your jawline in short, soothing strokes.

“I’m sorry, again.” You think this is the most you’ve ever heard Jung Wooyoung apologize, let alone apologize to you. In reply, you just let out a hum from the back of your throat, afraid of speaking and splitting your lip open again.

“For someone who was so pissed at me earlier, you’re awfully quiet now,” Wooyoung muses, glancing down at you. His gray eyes are clouded with an emotion you’ve never seen in him before—uncertainty. “I figured you’d be burning with questions.”

“I’d prefer you not relapse into whatever that episode earlier was,” you admit, rather bluntly, and you can see him frown, before letting out a long sigh.

“Now that I actually know she’s here, I’ll be fine. You caught me off guard with that earlier,” Wooyoung admitted, dropping his hands from your face. There’s an odd sensation where his fingertips had danced along your jawline. It’s enough to distract you from the throbbing coming from your lip, though you take note that the pain isn’t as bad as it was before. “Some… unwelcome memories came back.”

“Who is she?” If he expected you to ask questions, you figured you should ask them before he changed his mind.

Wooyoung sighed then, discarding the rag to the side and leaning back, bracing his hands on the floor behind him and staring up at the ceiling. “Someone I thought I could trust. A traitor. A mentor,” his voice comes out wistful, distant memories clearly coming back to him. He straightens, turning his attention back to you when he adds, “All in that exact order.”

What? The question blurts into your forethought, but before you can ask aloud, Wooyoung continues on.

“Long story as short as I can make it, she was an orphan—or so my family thought. I don’t quite remember the details on how she joined the family, really. This was years after we’d immigrated here and made our mark. My father struck it lucky in California early on, was on a council seat to head an up-and-coming town in California that’d just struck it rich with some gold. My father, while on the council, doubled as a foreman. Her father supposedly had a nasty infection he passed to while out there mining. Her mother died in childbirth—it was just the two of them.”

Despite yourself, you listen intently. Wooyoung has never once spoken of his past to you, let alone mentioned anything that might hint at it.

“She became like a sister to me. My father felt a responsibility to take her in since her own father had died under his care, or that’s what he believed. That being said, we were teens, so it wasn’t like we raised her from childhood. But my parents put a lot into treating her just the same they treated me. Well, like I said, I thought I could trust her—and supposedly her father died. Turns out neither of those were true,” there’s a bittersweet deadpan in Wooyoung’s tone.

“If the town succeeded, it was set to be an urban frontier because of its prime location. Or, so they said. While there were some good men on the council, most were just waiting for the moment to strike it rich with a vein—as soon as that happened, they were set to take the gold and bounce. My father had popular vote to become founder. That made him a target. She tells me she was promised to be reunited with her father if she helped someone—” Wooyoung eyes you then, quirking a brow though it lacks the usual exuberance of his charming personality. “—she had a debt to pay, much like you. She’d been poisoning us from the inside, as soon as we let hehr into our family. Mom was actually, literally poisoned. I saw it with my eyes, some herb slipped in her morning tea. But when I tried to tell my father…”

Wooyoung shakes his head, letting out a sigh. “It was a downward spiral, from there. While she wanted my mother out of the picture, she intended to make me useful and off my father, just as requested. She’d been slipping high grade morphine into whatever she could that we consumed. Small doses, until we were addicted. I was numb to everything, an addict. When I tried to tell my father that she’d killed Mom, he’d lost it. She was giving him higher doses of the drug and had been cutting him off drastically—so he, in comparison, was an angry addict. Went on a rampage, took it out on me. Beat the living crap out of me.”

You flinch, wondering briefly if those were the memories that had attacked him so suddenly back when you had mentioned the name Monica.

“More morphine for the pain, of course, supplied by her. I was too out of it at that point to know what happened, but apparently after his rampage, he went on a rampage through the town. One thing led to another, and he was gunned down. I was drugged up and submissive. She betrayed me, but I was so reliant on the one thing she had…” You watch has Wooyoung wrinkles his nose into something akin to a snarl.

“Disgusting. I was disgusting, and did disgusting things. I followed her around blindly, an orphan myself at that point. Even after killing my family off, her loan shark got whatever the hell it was he wanted out of that town—and out of me, I guess—but never gave her what she wanted. For a while, it was the two of us stuck in a cycle of attempting to pay off her debt. She was good at what she did, even though her loan shark kept stringing her along. I learned how to be just like her. A conman. A grifter. A thief. Whatever title you may, we made out with money and I made out with bounties for the lives. She made me into the perfect criminal. But she taught me how to survive, as much as I loathe myself for it.”

It’s difficult to find your voice in the midst of his long story, but you do, studying him as you ask, “You joined ATEEZ two years before I did, right?”

Wooyoung gives you a small nod. “Had a run in with Hongjoong. We were after the same hit on an armed government transport. Monica was determined it was our last job. One mishap led to another and I left Monica to the law, making out with Hongjoong and the boys. She didn’t know it, but I’d slowly been easing myself off of the drugs, as much as I could sneak away from it. He gave me a choice, and I somehow had enough of a conscience to say yes.”

You frowned at him. “There’s something off, though—if you left her to the law, after all that time and everything it sounds like you’d done…”

Wooyoung quirks a brow at you, and suddenly you see the usual glint in his eye return. “Why is she free, eh? That’s my question exactly.”

“Someone used your parents for you, back then,” you’re thinking aloud, but as you do so you attempt to piece together some missing holes in his story. They’re holes you’re sure aren’t from the substance abuse, either. “Why kill off your family, set to head the town, but leave you an empty shell? And why did Monica never get her pay?”

“These questions, love,” Wooyoung lifts a hand to pat your head fondly, returning to his usual ways  and seemingly proud of your deduction skills. “Are questions you’re going to find out the answers to, for me.” “How, exactly, am I supposed to do that? She knows we’re together, now.”

“But she doesn’t know the extent of our relationship. Do whatever you can to get information out of her, even if it means you have to betray me briefly. To her, I was only ever property,” Wooyoung drops his hand, his expression taking on a more serious note. “She got upset with you because she’s never once seen me as free—I was an item, to be toyed with. Presented to her by whoever she’s working for; that whom of which I think has it out for me. More specifically, I think there was a grudge against my father that just carried over.”

“And now you’re just too good at what you do, yourself, that they have no choice but to hate you,” you tease.

Wooyoung flashes you a grin. “Exactly!”

You roll your eyes, though there’s a part of you that’s relieved that his mood seems to be picking back up. “So you want me to spy on her?”

“She’s settled here for quite a while, from the intel I’ve gathered myself. But she’s got an intricate web of connections in the town—and they all seem to know me, and the guys, in some way or another. Of course I suppose it doesn’t help that we’re wanted,” he gives a nonchalant shrug. “So I think her bossman is in the general vicinity, too.”

Curiously, you tilt your head to the side, studying him for a moment. In that moment, he seems so determined and genuine.

“You want answers,” you suddenly find yourself blurting, “not necessarily revenge…”

A flash of surprise passes over Wooyoung’s face, though he’s quick to suppress it. He gives another shrug. “Whichever comes first.”

You purse your lip at his indifference, surprised to find that your lip doesn’t hurt quite as much any longer. “One last question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why is Hongjoong going to be so upset over this? Why does Seonghwa not approve?”

Wooyoung frowned. “They had to pick up the pieces of the state she’d left me in. They’re also afraid of a relapse, and they know her. Her sheer amount of connections is dangerous in of itself.”

You could only imagine, of course, the state that he had been left in wasn’t pretty. It made sense, now, as to why the job needed to be done fast, but efficiently. If Hongjoong came back to a mess to clean up, he wasn’t going to be pleased in the slightest.

Of course, you weren’t truly aware of how big of a mess this all was going to turn in to.

#ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfics #wooyoung fanfic #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez outlaw #m.writes #m.hotl

[bandzrus]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love (Chapter 6)

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: The year is 1974, after the release of Queen II. You and your three friends have moved from Canada to England to study abroad.  Your life takes a huge turn when you finally decide to take a break from school and visit the local club and you meet the boys of Queen.  And most importantly Roger Meadows Taylor.  

Note: the longest wait yet, sorry guys!  I promise I haven’t lost interest in this series just yet, I’ve just been working and my friend is staying over now for two weeks so I have to hang out with her.  I have up to and including chapter 9 planned out, but I am totally open to ideas because I have no idea how I want this to end lol.  

Words: 1899

***

              This was the first time Queen had a proper tour bus and after just a couple hours on the road it was like a bomb full of clothes, instruments, and scrabble tiles had exploded shrapnel inside it.  You loved it.  It sort of reminded you of your apartment back home that you shared with your three friends meaning there was four times the mess.  The tour bus became your home away from home instantly; a vacation with the five people you had come to love in such a short time. Mary of course was along for the trip too because Freddie refused to go anywhere without her.  It was nice to have at least one other girl on the bus with you amidst a gaggle of boys.  Even though it had been a week since you had left, it still felt weird (in the best way) to wake up every morning not knowing where you were or what exciting adventures awaited you, with Roger Taylor lying next to you snoring softly. You had always hated snoring, Heather was notorious for it, but something about Roger’s soft exhales were soothing.  He liked sleeping on his back with one arm up over his head, so it was always easy to sneak in under it and snuggle up against him.  You couldn’t believe in just a few short weeks you had gone from knowing nothing about Queen and freaking out over waking up with a hangover next to Roger Taylor to traveling with them across Europe and dating him. Dating Roger Taylor.  It had barely been a week since your (very messy but very satisfying) breakup with Mark and it felt like a lifetime ago. You had completely forgotten about him amidst the hustle and bustle of tour life.  

              It was closing in on 10am when you rubbed your eyes open.  Snuggled between the big window at the back of the bus and Roger, covered in a rainbow of blankets and wearing one of his shirts, you pushed yourself up onto your elbow. The movement woke Roger and he let out a gruff, quiet “mornin’”.  Brushing your hair behind your shoulder, you leaned in to peck a kiss on his cheek.

              “Good morning,” you smiled.  You loved the way his golden hair splayed out over the pillows.

              “What time is it?” asked the drummer, covering his eyes from the sun sprinkling in through the window with the back of his arm. You glanced up at the clock hanging above the cabin door.

              “Almost ten,” you answered.  Roger groaned and rolled over, pulling one of the seemingly infinite amount of blankets over his head.  You giggled and ducked under it with him.  “We should probably get up, I think I can hear Freddie and Brian arguing over scrabble again.”

              “They’re both just mad that I beat them last game,” Roger scoffed.  “I really don’t fancy going out there right now.”

              “What do you fancy then?” you asked, a cheeky smile on your lips.  The blond gave you an equally cheeky grin, running a hand up your bare leg.

              “I think you know exactly what I fancy,” he smirked as his hand made its way up to the lace of your underwear.  Tugging at it gently, he rolled on top of you, both of you still underneath the blanket.

              “I’m not…  sure I do,” you stammered as he started nibbling your ear.  You could feel him smirk against your cheek as his hand continued fiddling with your underwear.  Your hands had found their way into his soft, albeit tangled, blond locks and if you weren’t already lost in what Roger was doing with his tongue you probably would have laughed.  The two of you probably looked like some monstrous squirming pile of blankets to any unfortunate onlookers.  Pulling the drummer away from your earlobe, you reached your lips up to kiss him. Eyes fluttering shut, you could have melted there under the blankets in the back of the tour bus; it was heaven.

              “I fancy-“ Roger said between kisses.  “-you.”  

              His hand had finally succeeded in tugging down your lacey underwear and you were sure it was now going to be impossible to find them again in the jungle of blankets, clothes, and pillows.  You couldn’t help but let out a little gasp as his knuckles brushed up between your legs.  

              “Especially when you do that.”

              You could feel your blood blush your cheeks a deep scarlet.  You could play that game.  Pulling one hand from his blond hair, you started rubbing his length through his underwear eliciting a moan from his lips.  

              “You’re a cheeky one,” Roger managed to chuckle, obviously distracted by what you were doing.

              “I think you’re rubbing off on me –oh!” you replied snarkily, only to be interrupted by Roger’s fingers massaging between your thighs.  

              “Maybe it’s because of all the-“ at this the drummer jerked his hips against your hand, finishing his sentence without words and eagerly looking for more pressure.  You wrapped your leg over his, angling yourself better for his digits, peppering kisses down his neck towards his collarbone.  You were realizing how natural everything felt with Roger.  It had always been sort of electrifying or callous with Mark, despite being together for a handful of years, kisses never felt natural.  Maybe it was just because Roger was obviously so much more experienced.  The way your legs felt like butter when his hand ran down your back.  The way you shuddered in delight when his kisses started to fall anywhere south of your lips.  The way your instincts just took over when he pressed his body against yours.  You had never wanted that, felt that, with Mark. You heard Roger let out another moan against your neck as you continued to stroke him through the fabric of his briefs.

              “You’re a tease,” he muttered darkly, his morning voice gruff and strained.  

              “And you’re not?” you squeaked back as the drummer finally pushed his fingers into you.  His other hand was in your hair now.  You took a moment to move your hand up the elastic of Roger’s briefs, tugging them down.  He visibly pouted at the loss of contact and you bit back a smile.

              “I still love it when you do that,” he commented sweetly, referring to the biting of your lip, as he brushing hair from your face under the blanket.  The little bit of sunlight filtering in through the blanket from outside outlined the sheen of sweat on Roger’s forehead.  It was getting awfully warm under the blankets. With a mischievous grin, your used the weight of your leg and hand that was on Roger’s chest to flip him over onto his back.  Straddling him under the blanket, you were about to pull down his underwear and finally get to what you both wanted when the door to the cabin slammed open and Freddie sauntered in.

              “Roger, darling-“ he started but stopped at the sight of the writhing and now laughing pile of blankets.  Roger threw off your cover and both your sweaty heads emerged.

              “Bit busy, Fred,” the drummer said, waving him off. You could feel more and more heat emanating off your cheeks the longer Freddie looked at the two of you.

              “Oh don’t stop on my account,” the singer continued.  “I was just coming to tell the both of you there’s pancakes.  And that I just beat Brian at scrabble.”  At this he grinned triumphantly.  You and Roger exchanged smiles and then you laughed.

              “We’ll be out in a minute,” you promised Freddie, hands resting on Roger’s chest.  

              “A minute?  Is that all Roger takes these days…” muttered Freddie as he left the room and closed the door.  Once he was gone, Roger turned to you.

              “I’m going to kill that poncy bugger,” he said darkly.

              “I don’t know, he might be right,” you teased, grinding against him and drawing out a moan from the drummer.  But as soon as you started you stopped, throwing the blanket completely off and climbing out of bed.  Rummaging around on the floor through piles of clothes, you finally tracked down a fresh pair of underwear and shimmied them on.  Moving back to Roger, you kissed him on the forehead quickly before digging in another pile for something to wear.  Tracking down a dress you hadn’t worn yet, you turned your back to Roger and pulled his shirt up over your shoulders.

              “Turn around,” the blond pleaded, getting out of bed just enough to pull you towards him by the hip.  You refused and pushed his hand away.

              “Rog, we should really go eat breakfast,” you insisted, pulling the dress over your shoulders and tossing Roger’s shirt back at him.  He smacked the shirt from the air onto the floor and then dug around with you for a pair of pants.  Once both of you were decent, you did the walk of embarrassment out to the rest of the bus.

                Freddie and Mary were together opposite Brian who was arguing with Freddie over scrabble some more.  Mary had a paper plate of pancakes in her lap and was pointing a fork at the scrabble board.  John was sprawled out on one of the other seats with his base in his hands, plucking away absently and occasionally scribbling something on a napkin.

              “Nice of you to finally join us, Rog,” Brian remarked, pealing his eyes away from the board.  Roger just flipped him the bird and pulled you closer to him.  Pouring maple syrup on your pancakes you basked in the situation.  Here you were, just an ordinary girl from Vancouver who had convinced her friends to move to England for school who was now not only dating Roger Taylor, but touring with them across Europe.  It was then that you remembered you hadn’t called your friends yesterday.  

                When the tour bus finally rolled into the city where Queen was performing that day, you scurried out with a handful of coins looking for the nearest payphone.  Sliding the coins into the slot and hearing them rattle at the bottom, the familiar buzz reached your ear.

              “Hello?”  It was Sharon on the other end.

              “Shar!”

              “Y/N you didn’t call yesterday, what happened?”

              “I’m sorry, I was just so busy!  Things have been so crazy this last week I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” you told her.  There was a pause on the other end of the line.

              “You promise you won’t forget about us?” your friend’s voice quiet.  

              “Shar, I could never forget about you guys!  You’re my best friends!” you promised.

              “I just don’t want you to forget who your friends are.”

              The way Sharon spoke made you slightly angry. You hummed a response into the receiver, hoping it was enough to satisfy Sharon but you doubted it would.  

              “Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

              “I will.”

              You could hear the click of the redhead hanging up on you, and you did the same.  Sharon made it sound like she, Heather, and Patricia were jealous of you hanging out with Queen and it worried you.  You loved your friends and it wasn’t as if you were abandoning them, they still had each other.  Plus you were adults now, you weren’t in high school anymore, you were bound to part ways at some point.  Collecting yourself and thinking of Roger waiting in his dressing room, you left the phone booth and thoughts of your friends.  

***

Tag List: @fastnfearless @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess

#queen #bohemian rhapsody #BoRhap #queen imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagine #borhap imagine #queen fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody fanfiction #bohrhap fanfiction #queen fanfic #bohemian rhapsody fanfic #borhapfanfic #mild smut #roger taylor #ben hardy #roger taylor ben hardy #ben hardy roger taylor #ben hardy imagine #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy x reader #Crazy Little Thing Called Love #CLTCL

[channiespeach]

Volume 3: Jisung

genre: STRAY KIDS HOW TO TRANSITION A FUCKBOI SERIES (college! fuckboy! stray kids au) ~gif: @sstraykids

word count: 1.8k

prompt: You’ve been assigned a partner project, which is the biggest grade of the year, that’ll either benefit you or destroy you. To your dismay, you’ve been assigned with no other than the biggest fuckboy on campus, himself, who’ll contribute in absolutely nothing. You have one of two options; throw your life down the drain and fail, or have the project become more bearable by making him fall in love with you, somehow. Follow these steps and you’ll be guaranteed in having the fuckboy swooning over you.

~

Step three: Make them apologize

In attempt to relieve some stress, my roommate suggested to hop some on-campus parties. I just about took her up on her offer, because maybe I’ll loosen up a bit by getting a few cute university boys’ numbers and the alcohol taking off some of the edge, will prevent me from being so pissed off all the time. I was pretty optimistic, up until I spotted a wild, Jisung across the room from me. Of course, only the biggest fuckboy on campus would be found in his natural bound habitat. 

“I think it’s time to find another party” I nudged Eri, motioning her towards Jisung’s direction. I felt the mixture of components in my cup leaving a flavor distaste in my throat, when I’d caught the sight of Jisung making out with a random girl beside him. 

“Oh, lighten the fuck up! You need something stronger in your cup” Eri rolled her eyes at me, snatching away my cup and handing it over to Chanyeol, for fixating. I nodded in agreement, sipping the cup’s stronger elements eagerly, when it had returned. I winced, reeling back from my cup and truly began feeling it’s sinful effects, taking over me. Sobriety disappearing itself from my body, I re-observed my surroundings. My glossed-over eyes sparkled, landing on a handsome stranger, appearing to be one of Jisung’s friends. The silver-haired cutie didn’t appear to be having a good time, swishing around the liquor in his red cup, blandly. He was disengaged from his active friends, standing several feet away from them and shooing away a few intoxicated, overly- stimulated females, nearing his direction. 

“You’ve been staring over my direction for an awfully long time, love. Need something?” Jisung purred in my ear. I must’ve been in a daze for quite awhile, for him to dismiss the girl from earlier, in order to approach me. 

“Just two things” I’d caught the lonesome boy’s attention from across the room, but reverted my roaming eyes over to Jisung, irritably. 

“Which are?” A smirk played across Jisung’s pink lips. He rested his weight on the wall behind me, arms on either side of my head, as he lent over my drunken form, at an uncomfortably close distance. 

“First off, did you end up finishing your part of the entries?” I pushed away his arrogant form, almost spilling my drink. 

“Unfortunately, yes. I hope you do know that you got in the way of my time with Jihyo” Jisung’s tone was laced with amusement at my actions, as he raised his eyebrows at me with his given statement. 

“God forbid, coming in the way of Jisung’s meaningless little hook-ups! Even though, there’s responsibilities that need to be taken care of outside of that”  I retaliated. “Anyways, what I’m mainly concerned about is your lonely friend over there. Is he single?” I turned Jisung’s body over towards his solo friend. 

“Who, Chan? Yeah, he’s got nothing going on” Jisung flatly stated, taking a swig from his drink. 

“Sweet!” I fist bumped the air, in an overly joyful manner, getting ready to near Chan’s direction. 

“I wouldn’t go for him, if I were you. He has a lot of girls on his tail” Jisung stepped in front of me, halting my movements. 

“As if you’re any better! I just saw him dismiss over five girls within the hour” I spat at him, shooing him to move aside. 

“Believe me, he’s just like me. I just happen to be more discreet with my intentions. Either way, he’ll just chew you up and spit you out” Jisung shook his head at me, continuing to defend his argument. 

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take. Since when does a fuck boy like you, take women’s feelings into consideration, especially mine of all people?” I crossed my arms, inquisitively. 

“Everything has a warning label” He threw his arms up defensively, stepping off to the side and allowing me to continue my administrations. I happily strode past him and asked the unaccompanied boy, by the name of Chan to dance. 

Long story short, the rest was all a blur, but I succeeded in getting his number.

sexy mf from the party: Had a great time with you last night! Thanks for accompanying me, btw. I thought I was just about to go crazy, until you came! Hope to get to know you more in a quieter and sober situation, sometime soon? :) 

A loud ding sounding from my phone, had awoke me. Prying open my eyes, I groaned from the faint sunlight seeping through my curtains, attacking at my irises and adding more tension to my headache. I reached for my phone, checking what the commotion’s all about, seeing a text from the cute boy last night and a few irrelevant messages from Jisung, about meeting this evening. Yikes, I needed to update his name. I sent Chan a quick text in agreement and to let me know a day he’s free. Feeling satisfied with my previous response, I read over Jisung’s messages, that had a mandatory ring to them for us to meet this evening. Choosing not to respond to him, since he was pretty dead- set on meeting at a specific time and place, I began getting ready for the day. 

Jisung planned for us to continue our revisions at a nearby cafe, down the street from our university. Coffee sounded idealistic for my hungover state, so I was more than content with Jisung’s proposition. 

“What do you want?” Jisung greeted me, when I’d entered the cafe and gotten in line, shifting his body towards the menu. 

“I’m a strong and independent woman, that needs no man to pay for me!” l disregarded his offer, shuffling through my things, in a hunt for my wallet. 

“Ladies first, then” Jisung chuckled, stepping back and swaying out his hand, in courtesy. 

“Hm, I’ll have to take you up on that offer” I trudged past him and placed my order. 

chan: Will do, love :) Can’t wait! 

“Y/N!” The barista called out, indicating my drink’s ready. I left behind my things at the table with Jisung, and scampered to get my coffee. I came back, nearly being gone for a split second, seeing Jisung hunched over the table while glancing at my phone. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” I stopped in my tracks, standing in front of the counter-top and catching him off guard. 

“I’m telling you, don’t fuck with him. He’s saying the same things to several other females” Jisung warned me, continuing with his crazy assumptions about Chan. 

“My personal affairs don’t concern you!” I snapped at him, my grip tightening on my cup. 

“Delete his number!” Jisung commanded.

“Or what?” I scoffed, my tone coming across bitterly. I was quick to snatch my phone off the table and stuff it in my jacket pocket, before he could think twice. 

“Jesus Christ, why do you have so many pins?” Jisung exclaimed, referring to my bag filled with numerous overly-priced feminist pins. I studied his movements wearily, preparing for an impulse of his actions to occur. Before I could stop him, he reached for one of the pins, in attempt to remove one swiftly. Instead, he ended up breaking it, snapping the metal hook in half. Knowing my luck, of course it had to be my favorite one. 

“You idiot!” I threw my drink down, taking the tiny pin out of his grasp to examine the damage. “Say you’re fucking sorry!” I demanded. As dramatic as it sounds, when I heard the metal clip snap, I felt my heart shatter with it. So when I say that I’m devastated about my favorite pin being broken, it’s an understatement, because my little sister gave it to me and it was the first gift she’s ever given me, so that tiny pin had lots of value to me. 

“Calm down, it’s just a pin! It’s not that big of a deal!” Jisung defended himself. “I mean you can always buy a new one, just like it” He continued, shrugging off towards the fact that he’d been destructive towards another’s things. 

“You know, the things that people have to say about you are more than accurate. You’re incredibly self-absorbed and the little care you do have for the world is only towards yourself, it’s honestly nauseating. You need to grow the fuck up and get over yourself!” I threw the fragmented pin at him, reverting attention from the other customers in the coffee shop. “And don’t worry about the entries. I’ll take care of them, since you did all the work last time” I concluded, while gathering the rest of my things and storming out. 

me: hopefully, you won’t be too busy for me this upcoming week :)

I’d successfully avoided Jisung’s presence for the past few days, by leaving class early and not initiating into his eye contact. I wasn’t going to brush him off for forever of course, but I intended to only associate with him, unless absolutely necessary. Today, being no different, I packed my things ahead of time and stumbled out of the classroom frantically, when dismissed. 

“Y/N! Wait up!” Jisung called for me, grabbing a hold of my wrist, seconds later. He must’ve caught onto my game.

“What do you want from me?” I yanked my arm from him, blowing my hair away from my features in a desperate manner. I piped myself in again, before he could remark, “–Just save it! I think it’s best we just associate with one another, only when necessary, until we’re finished with this goddamn thing. So here’s the journal, it’s–” 

“Won’t you listen for just this once in your life?” Jisung shut me up. “Look, I owe you an apology. I had some time to think and I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry for being so careless and destructive with your things, it was wrong of me. I’m also sorry for upsetting you, so much. I know it’s not quite exact, but I looked in every urban outfitters around, including online. I even resulted to searching on craigslist. But, this was the best I could find” Jisung dug deep into his jean pockets, pulling out a pin similar to the one he’d broken. He reached for my hand, placing it in my palm, while enclosing my grip around the small gadget. He bowed and gave me a heartbreaking smile, before disappearing. 

Now, it was my turn to be the one left stumbled in their own path. 

masterlist 🍒

#jisung stray kids #jisung #han jisung #jisung scenarios #jisung imagines #stray kids au #jisung au #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #jisung oneshot #stray kids oneshot #chan stray kids #felix stray kids #jeongin stray kids #changbin stray kids #hyunjin stray kids #minho stray kids #seungmin stray kids #woojin stray kids #stray kids #jisung angst #chan angst #bang chan #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #han jisung angst

[wings-of-life]

Chapter 34 - Parental Meetings

The talk with Toriel the next day went surprisingly well. I had feared she wouldn’t take me seriously or would get defence, or that I had just misunderstood, or anything along those lines. But, fortunately, she listened carefully to what I had to say, said she understood what I was saying and that she’d do her best to be more careful with her words. I had expected it all to be a lot more complicated or at least longer winded, but fortunately, I had been wrong. Unrealistic as it might have been, it gave me good hope for the other talk that was scheduled for the day.

Having tea with my ‘parents’ while being accompanied by my parents.

It had been Asgore’s idea. He hoped that we could reach at least get across the point that I was where I was by my own choice. I doubted if I could even get them to stop calling me Maya. I glanced over my shoulder back inside, exhaling the smoke from my cigarette. Toriel and Sans were talking with each other. I had the sneaking suspicion that I was the subject of their conversation. If my suspicion was correct, it was probably about the morning after the night he had brought me home from the nightclub. The part where he had lectured me for my behaviour to be exact. Here was to hope that it would be enough to not also have Toriel lecture me as well.

Inhaling deeply, I had just decided I had seen enough when I saw something that had me choking on the smoke. Trying to keep my coughing to a minimum, I stared, with watery eyes as Toriel straightened again and blue dusting coloured Sans’ cheekbones. He rubbed the back of his head and winked. Judging from Toriel’s shaking shoulders he must have told a pun. Deciding it was best to look away before they caught me staring I wiped the tears from my eyes.

Staring off into the distance I tried to place what I had just witnessed. Toriel had been friendly to Sans sure, but she was just a friendly person. She had never been friendly to the point where I would’ve guessed that there was more at play. A quick glance over my shoulder showed a scene I had seen so often before. Just the two of them chatting like friends. Was I jumping to conclusions or… Shaking my head I decided I should just ask either one of them before continuing with that line of thought.

That question had to wait though. On the other side of the thick hedge separating the back and the front part of the garden, I could hear their voices. The doorbell was rung and shortly after there was a knocking on the window behind. Looking over my shoulder I nodded at Toriel gestured for me to come inside. Reluctant as I was to come inside I did want this to just be over with. Blowing the last of my smoke off to the blue sky above I snuffed the ember in the ashtray next to the back door and went inside.

  The tension was nearly corporal. The human couple were almost opposites of each other. The man’s skin held the beautiful light sepia tone of those native to the East, his hair as black as ink and his fierce eyes a rich ebony. The woman’s skin was almost translucently pale, her hair a warm chestnut and her expressive eyes a silver grey. As much as I wish I didn’t I could recognise features of them in myself. The black of his hair, the expressiveness of her eyes, the heart shape of his face, the length of her fingers. It was a little unsettling.

Their yin-yang vibe carried on in their body language. The man, Ethan was sitting perfectly straight on the edge of the sofa, feet firm on the ground, shoulders square, elbows a bit wider than needed and his chin tilted upwards just a tad. The woman, Charlotte, on the other hand, was sitting just a tad too close to Ethan to be natural and as far back as she could. Legs crossed, arms crossed, shoulders hunched and her chin tilted downwards. It was an almost amusing sight to behold, especially how Asgore and Toriel on the opposite sofa were sitting normally, relaxed albeit a bit cautious. I was a bit of a mix of both of them, sitting in the armchair at the head of both sofas. I had wanted to sit with Asgore and Toriel, but they had thought it better if I would sit in a bit more ‘neutral’ position. My legs crossed, I leaned back into the chair, my hands folded around my teacup.

Neither Ethan nor Charlotte had even touched their cup. Toriel had been sipping it like normal and Asgore drank a bit faster than usual. A tell of his, he was picking up on their unease, which in turn made him uneasy. For what was supposed to be a talk it had been awfully quiet for quite some time now. I let out an annoyed sigh, the tension made me crave another cigarette. If only Asgore wasn’t so objective to me smoking inside.

“Are you people actually planning on talking or can I go for a smoke?”

That seemed to have made everybody realise that you could do more than just stare awkwardly at one another. Toriel gave me a disapproving look but didn’t say anything. Charlotte, on the other hand, gave me such a wide-eyed look you’d think I had asked for a blood sacrifice to summon a demon. And Ethan gave me an impressive shocked glare.

“No child of ours smokes!”

“Does that mean you agree that I am not your child anymore?”

“Angel!”

I had expected Toriel to chide me for that one, but it was worth it just to see him clench his jaw and take a deep annoyed breath. Charlotte in the meantime looked like she was about to cry. Letting out a deep sigh I decided that fifteen minutes of awkward silence had been enough and took matters into my own hands. I wanted this to be over with.

“What do you want?”

“For you to come home, Maya. Please, come back home so that we can be a family again.”

I raised my brows at Charlotte. Was she really this naïve? I looked over to Asgore and Toriel, checking to see if they wanted to contribute. They both looked at me, waiting for my reaction. Trying to be as political as possible I withheld myself from shooting them down immediately. If I wanted this to not end in a train wreck I needed to have them see the flaws in their ideas.

“Angel, I would very much prefer it if you would call me Angel. Also, please tell me why you believe me going with you is a good idea?”

From the corner of my eye, I could see Asgore looking a little proud. He probably assumed I had picked up my careful phrasing from him. Well, it was definitely a happier thought than having picked it up from gang negotiations.

“What kind of a question is that?! We are your parents. We know what is best for you!”

My jaw clenched and there was the soft clanking sound of porcelain accidentally hitting porcelain as Toriel picked up her cup from its saucer. I took a deep breath to calm myself and failed miserably. I shrugged off my cardigan, exposing my arms and with that the numerous scars that covered them. I heard Charlotte let out a soft gasp, but I wasn’t done yet. Next were my shades, I took them off and set them down next to my cup. After that I leaned forward and pushed up the hem of my skinny jeans as far as they’d go, showing that my ankles were ‘adorned’ with similar scars as my wrists. Having done all that I sat back up and folded my hands in front of me.

“Please do tell me how you know what is best for me. Because Doctor Daveed, my human psychiatrist who I see at least once a week, is still trying to figure out what is best for me. But please, do tell me how me being the outcome of a night of sex allows you to know what is best for me. How, despite not having had any contact with me for fifteen years, you know what is best for me. Even though you can’t even manage to call me by MY name.”

Charlotte started to sob mumbling stuff I couldn’t make out, not that I wanted to know. Ethan turned red in the face and jumped to his feet. His stance wide and his chest and arms out, pointing an accusing finger towards Asgore. It was an amusing sight to see how he tried to come across as big and intimidating even though the monster in front of him was sitting and still bigger than him.

“You’ve done this to her! You’ve poisoned her mind! You’ve turned her against not just her own family but her own species!”

“Actually, if you want to blame anyone for that blame the human that kidnapped and experimented upon me.”

Asgore let out a heavy sigh and Ethan turned his head towards me so fast that I was surprised he hadn’t given himself a whiplash. Anger and disbelieve oozed off of him and I suddenly realised that this wasn’t a man that was used to dealing with people talking back to him.

“Also, it wasn’t the police that found me. It was the guards, monsters, that succeeded in finding the illegal lab and saving me. A human poisoned my mind. Made me forget that I ever had a family. Made me fear my own species. Monsters are the ones that saved me then and it is monsters that are saving me now.”

#Wings of Life story #WoL #Undertale au #fanfic #writing #Angel #Sans #Toriel #Asgore #Ethan #Charlotte

[sophcaro]

Destiny | WMatsui - Chapter 23

Churi opened her eyes slowly as she distinguished the light, familiar sobbing behind her back. It was the middle of the night and she was feeling awfully tired, but Churi couldn’t hold it against the other girl for unconsciously waking her up. A small, helpless sigh escaped her lips as she listened quietly to the heartwrenching manifestation of Jurina’s sorrow. It had already been two weeks, and Churi still couldn’t conceive what Rena had dared to do.

That Sunday morning of early April was still vividly imprinted inside her head, and she didn’t believe she would ever manage to erase that dreadful day from her mind. How could she? Without notice, Jurina had appeared on her doorstep, shaking like a leaf and tears streaming down her face. Deeply worried, Churi had listened intently as Jurina opened her mouth a few times to speak, but her speech was slurred and barely comprehensible.

When the revelation had finally left Jurina’s quivering lips, Akane had stared at her in incredulity for a few long seconds, before hugging tightly the girl who sought solace from her grief in her arms. When they entered her apartment, many questions piled up in her head. At some point that morning, she had texted Airi in search of answers, but the latter had remained strangely very silent.

Was it because she didn’t know either anything about it and was discovering the facts through her message? Or was she already well aware of them but refusing to say anything in order to protect the other party involved? In the end, Churi chose to leave her interrogations momentarily aside, focusing her attention instead on consoling the devastated twenty years old ace.

As the day went by and Jurina proved to be completely inconsolable, Churi felt it wasn’t wise for her to resume her activities on Monday as planned. She just had her heart shattered into pieces; she was emotionally too fragile. Nevertheless, she thought it best to keep her thoughts to herself, knowing in advance Jurina would never accept to take a break anyway.

When they both went back to work on Monday, she kept a close eye on her. One thing was for certain: Jurina’s moral was at its lowest when the SKE members arrived at Roppongi in Tokyo, and entered one of the dressing rooms belonging to TV Asahi.

The whole time they got prepared for the performance, Churi couldn’t help stealing worried glances in Jurina’s direction. Before leaving her place, Jurina had already cleverly covered her red and swollen eyes with makeup but she still made her sure her appearance gave nothing away when she checked herself in the mirror, not hesitating to apply a little more here and there when needed.

The illusion was perfect. Not only members failed completely to detect Jurina’s distress, the performance went on smoothly, a fake smile plastered on Jurina’s face while she danced in rhythm with the energetic song, and assumed her leading role effectively when she answered politely after that to questions asked.

As the week went by and Jurina never showed or expressed her suffering in public, the truth always emerged once they reached Churi’s apartment and found themselves alone. That Sunday, Churi had invited her to sleep at her place as long as she wished, and Jurina had taken up upon her offer. As soon as the door was closed and she was confronted with her darkest thoughts, tears would inevitably spill from her eyes. Tears she didn’t bother to brush away or hide in front of her.

Churi was always careful not to pronounce a certain name in Jurina’s presence, aware of the great deal of pain this person was already causing her.

No matter how many times she mulled it inside her head, she still couldn’t fathom the reason why she had suddenly decided to put an end to their relationship. A few months ago, she had witnessed clearly in Rena’s eyes her deep concern when she had come unannounced at her apartment to see Jurina. As soon as the pictures were released, the actress hadn’t waited nor hesitated to come back from Osaka to be by her girlfriend’s side and support her.

Undeniably, Rena wasn’t the most expansive person in the world but her actions spoke louder than words. That day, when she let her come inside her apartment and saw her walking towards the bedroom, her love for Jurina made absolutely no doubt to her.

It is true to say they had had a few disagreements in the past. More than a few times, Churi had been truly bothered by certain decisions Rena had made. For reasons she still didn’t understand, the latter had a bad tendency to keep certain things secret from Jurina, involuntarily hurting her in the process. Why didn’t she straight away inform Jurina of her decision to graduate? Why did the poor girl have to discover the truth through a graduation letter placed on her desk?

Not once in her life, Churi had ever expressed the slight resentment towards anyone. Human beings had qualities and flaws; they made mistakes. You couldn’t expect them to be perfect. Moreover, she believed to have a very forgiving nature. It simply wasn’t like her to hold a grudge against someone. In the light of the recent events, she could feel her opinion about the SKE’s ex-member changing. Little by little, she was losing the respect she always had for Rena Matsui.

Churi released another sigh when Jurina’s crying showed no sign of stopping, and she slowly turned around. As her eyes bored into Jurina’s back, she pondered over what to say to alleviate her pain. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time she heard the younger girl weeping during the night, even if it had diminished a little these last few days. Again, she was thinking about her. And again, Churi feared her words would only have a limited impact.

Her sole desire was to help her go through this difficult time, but there was no miracle cure. Not only had she no idea how long it would take for Jurina to recover from this, she deeply hoped it wouldn’t leave permanent scars. Rena had always been a constancy in her life, and now she was completely disoriented without her. After losing her WCenter, she had now been separated from her lover. A lover she had cherished and remained utterly devoted to for two long years.  

It wasn’t an act of thoughtlessness; the unfortunate consequence of an honest mistake on Rena’s behalf. This time, Rena was fully aware of what she was doing. Aware of the consequence her terrible words would provoke. No, Rena had absolutely no excuses for causing Jurina such pain.  

Refusing to hear Jurina’s painful cries any longer, Churi scooted closer to her in the bed, and slipped an arm around her waist. “I’m here... Try not to think about it.”

The body against her tensed a little in reaction, but the sobbing thankfully ceased after a little while. “I’m sorry I woke you up…” Churi wished so much she could erase the culpability she easily detected in Jurina’s trembling voice. “I should have slept on the couch. Yes, I should-”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Churi tightened her hold when the other girl tried to move away.  “I don’t mind if you wake me up. I told you I would be here for you, and I meant it.”

Jurina didn’t protest, and stopped resisting the strong arms that were keeping her in place. Once Churi was sure she wouldn’t attempt to leave the bed she loosened her grip, finding Jurina’s fingers to lace them together. They stayed in that position for a little while, and Churi was relieved when she felt the other girl relaxing.

Even if she had apparently managed to calm her down, she remained cautious. Considering Jurina’s small movements inside the bed, she knew she was still awake, and experience had taught her a moment of relapse was always possible. One second Jurina was smiling and looked perfectly fine; the next she could be crying her heart out.

These last two weeks, she had witnessed so many times those changes of mood. When she thought she had succeeded in putting an end to her tears, they would roll down her cheeks a few minutes later without warning. That’s why she refused to close her eyes before being sure Jurina had fallen asleep again.

All of a sudden, she felt the other girl breaking the embrace, and she gazed at her in curiosity as Jurina slowly turned around to face her. “Thank you for letting me stay at your place.”

Churi lifted a hand and cupped her cheek tenderly. “You don’t need to thank me. You know you’re welcomed to stay here as long as you wish. I’m your friend. You can always count on me.”

“I know…” Jurina’s throat constricted. “Thank you. Thank you for not letting me down. I don’t know what I would do if you… if you weren’t…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Churi wiped away a tear with her thumb.

When Jurina buried herself deep against her chest, she slowly wrapped her arms around her body, longing to bring her the necessary warmth and comfort. Jurina’s breathing was shallow and fast, and she knew she was doing her best to control her emotions and prevent new tears from falling. Churi dipped her head down to hers, kissing the hair on the top of her head. Jurina needed a friend by her side; a shoulder to lean on. And she was going to be that person, no matter how long it would take.

If only she could find a way to take her pain away, then she would gladly do it.

  It had taken a few days and a lot of reflection for Jurina to finally decide to go back home. These last two weeks, she had spent every night at Churi’s apartment, and mostly communicated with her mother through texts, and short phone calls. When she had informed her mother of her desire to stay with Churi for a little while, the latter hadn’t protested, not that she expected her to. These last years, she had slept quite a lot at Rena’s and Churi’s apartments; her mother was obviously pretty much used to her sleepovers by now.

To be honest, she still felt a little nervous when she entered her home, not knowing how she was going to face her mother. Since she was a child, she had always been very close to her, and there were very few topics that they didn’t discuss together. Her mother had always been her greatest ally; encouraging her to enter SKE and supporting her unconditionally these last eight years.

However, when her relationship with Rena took an unexpected turn and they ceased being simple co-workers, she never managed to find the courage in her to admit the truth to her mother. It wasn’t because her mother disliked her WCenter; quite the contrary. Each time the girl who shared the same surname was mentioned in a conversation, her mother always had very nice things to say about her.

Her mother appreciated Rena sincerely; Jurina never had an ounce a doubt about that. Nevertheless, she feared her opinion about her would change altogether if she discovered the true nature of their relationship. Maybe it was a mistake on her behalf; maybe she should have trusted her mother more and believe in her capacity to accept and embrace their relationship. In the end, she would never get answers to those questions.

Because she didn’t have anything to admit, anymore.

As she turned the key inside the lock, she prayed her appearance was appropriate enough. These last two weeks were pretty restless, and she knew her lack of sleep was definitely showing when she didn’t wear any makeup. Obviously, her mother would immediately notice the bags under her eyes, but she hoped she wouldn’t interrogate her too much about it.

“I’m home,” Jurina announced her arrival, removing her shoes and putting on the blue slippers waiting for her at the entrance.

As she progressed slowly inside, she swept the place in search of her mother, her feet stopping on the floor when she arrived in front of the kitchen, and saw the one she was looking for wearing a black apron and just about to open the fridge. At her approach, the warm smile of her mother greeted her instantly. “Welcome back. I was going to prepare your favorite for dinner.”

“You were?” Jurina’s eyes lit up in surprise. “Let me help you, then.”

Jurina detached the blue apron from the hanger and passed it around her neck, before tying the knot behind her back. Jurina always praised her mother for being a great cook; she had learned so many things by simply watching her in action. Much as she was pretty much used to cooking alone by now, she still enjoyed doing it with others, most especially her mother. Taking a deep breath, Jurina opened a cupboard to retrieve her favorite pasta, hoping secretly the activity and presence of her mother would enable her to take her mind off things for at least a few hours.

   “How is Akane-san?”

Jurina looked up from the TV screen, watching her mother who had just arrived in the living room, and recognizing instantly the familiar red rectangular box inside her left hand. Well, it appeared her mother truly had every intention of pleasing her this evening, Jurina mused as the latter placed the brand-new box of Pino on the coffee table in front of her. Those small vanilla ice creams covered with chocolate had always been her favorites.

“She’s fine,” Jurina replied, scooting a little further away on the sofa when her mother manifested her intention to sit by her side. “She’s busy with SKE and her extra activities. Her scenic pictures are now featured in a magazine once a month.”

“Really?” Jurina’s mother’s voice pitched up in surprise. “It seems like things are really going well for her. It’s true she has always been passionate about photography. Maybe she’ll want to seriously continue on that path after SKE?”

“Maybe,” Jurina leaned forward to take a red plastic pick from the box. “Photography is not her only passion. She can do so many things; but I don’t believe she’s thinking about graduating quite yet.”

After that, they both quietly watched the movie playing on the screen, Jurina eating a few ice creams before leaning casually her head on her mother’s shoulder. Unconsciously, her thoughts drifted to Rena a few times, and she hated the pain the mere thought always provoked deep inside her. She couldn’t help it; it was stronger than her. Much as she wished she could forget about the girl who had broken her heart, she refused to let her mind in peace very long.

During the day, her work for SKE and extra-activities were thankfully keeping her busy enough to not think about anything else, but it was a complete nightmare once she had a little spare time, or when she reached Churi’s apartment at the end of her day. Under normal circumstances, a small respite would enable her to physically and mentally rest. Lately, Jurina dreaded those specific moments. Not only did they serve to make her brain even more active, she could never prevent a familiar face from invading her mind.

Rena wasn’t by her side anymore, but she remained constantly in her thoughts. Her simple image provoked fresh tears with incredible ease. Each time she cried over the girl she had lost, she desperately wished she had the power to go back in time. A part of her still stubbornly refused to accept the possibility of not having the other girl in her life anymore.

Some days, when the pain became unbearable, the thought of running back to Rena’s apartment crossed her foolish mind. Maybe if she demonstrated all the love she had for her, then the other girl would come back on her decision and give her another chance. When the idea grew to the point where she almost considered taking action, Rena’s words submerged her mind once again.

Rena had broken up with her because she had fallen out of love with her.

There was nothing to repair anymore.

It was already too late.

“I’ve always loved that ring on you,” Jurina came back to reality at the sound of her mother’s delicate voice, looking down to her hand when she felt her mother lightly brushing her ring finger. “It’s simple and elegant at the same time. How is Rena-san doing? You haven’t spoken about her all evening.”

Jurina tensed. For a short instant, she found it a little curious the way the conversation had suddenly switched from her ring to Rena, almost as if her mother was making a connection between both. She was only being paranoid, Jurina quickly brushed it off as a figment of her imagination. Her mother believed this ring to be a simple gift she had one day bought for herself at Shibuya; she knew nothing about the existence of the matching rings.

“I don’t know,” Jurina replied, keeping her eyes glued on the screen as she refused to meet her mother’s inquisitive gaze. “We haven’t spoken in a while.”

“You haven’t?” Her mother sounded genuinely surprised. “Did… something happen between you two?”

“Things have changed between us,” Jurina made sure her voice stayed steady, but she could already feel her eyes moistening. “We’re not as close as we used to. I don’t think we’ll spend much time together in the future.”

“Oh…”

Jurina's chest tightened, hoping deep down her answer would satisfy her mother, and she would finally drop the subject. As she pretended to be interested in the movie playing on the television, she was suddenly caught off guard when her mother slipped her hand inside hers. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I know you were very close but sometimes, people drift apart. It doesn’t mean they forget about you or stop caring.”

Jurina felt tears springing to her eyes and she slowly slipped her fingers away from her grasp, mustering her best smile when she stood up from the sofa. “I’m a little tired. I think I should go to sleep.”

Jurina didn’t wait for her mother’s reaction and left the living room, relief filling her chest once she was safely inside her bedroom. Leaning her back against the door, she didn’t try to suppress her tears anymore, letting them fall down her cheeks freely. As she lifted her shaking hand and stared at the silver ring circling her ring finger, she cursed the object for inadvertently triggering this whole conversation. She had so desperately wished her mother wouldn’t mention Rena tonight.

Since that day of July she had exchanged matching rings with Rena in Kyoto, she had never removed her ring once. How could she? It was too meaningful; it symbolized her love and eternal devotion to Rena. But there was no more Rena and she. So why was she still wearing that ring? Tentatively, she tried to slid her ring off her finger, but stopped when she simply couldn’t find the strength within her to go all the way.

   When Airi arrived that evening at Rena’s apartment for dinner, she couldn’t help feeling a little apprehensive at what she was going to see on the other side of the door. These last two weeks, she had visited her friend quite often, willing to stand by her words and be by her side to support her. After that dreadful day, she had never shed tears in her presence again, but Airi knew her all too well.

In eight years, Rena’s perfect polite and graceful smile – the one she loved to show in public or for magazines - never managed to trick her in the slightest.

Even if she didn’t manifest her pain verbally or physically, it literally transpired on every inch of her skin. The dried tears she would sometimes witness on her pale face betrayed her true feelings. They indicated with absolute clarity what she had been doing behind closed doors, out of sight and away from prying eyes.

Tonight, when Rena opened the door and they faced each other for the third time this week, Airi was admittingly a little relieved not to witness the usual signs of distress. Yes, her friend still looked awfully pale and tired, not to mention quite thin. However, her face didn’t show any sign of crying. Maybe was she only catching her on a good day… Nevertheless, the reassuring sight still managed to be of small consolation.

The state of her apartment; that was another matter altogether. As long as she remembered, Rena had always been a very organized person, who made a point of maintaining everything neat and tidied around her. Lately, she had never seen her place so messy. Dishes forgotten in the sink. Magazines and DVDs scattered all over the floor. Clothes piling up in the washing basket.

If she didn’t know any better, she could easily believe she had stepped by mistake in a complete stranger’s apartment.

Airi never dared to say a word about it, knowing perfectly well what had triggered those abnormal changes in Rena’s habits and routine. Her breakup with Jurina had devastated her, and turned her life completely upside down. Yes, the person standing in front of her technically looked and spoke like her best friend, but she wasn’t the same anymore. That Sunday of early April, something had broken inside her.

And she didn’t know when she would finally be able to see the light returning inside her eyes again.

Dinner was nearing its end as they were both finishing eating the profiteroles Airi had brought for dessert. Since her arrival at Rena’s apartment, they had mostly engaged in small talk, talking about how their day went, and a few shows and movies they had watched lately. Now, they had both fallen quiet, and Airi couldn’t help stealing a peek now and then at her friend eating the French patisserie made of vanilla ice cream opposite her, wondering what could be going on inside her head right now.

Of course, Rena’s calm appearance gave nothing away of her feelings and thoughts, and her eyes fell absent-mindedly on the necklace she was wearing. When she had spot for the first time the silver chain around Rena’s neck, it was merely a few days after her breakup with Jurina. It was a new piece of jewellery Airi had never seen before, and that Rena wore each time she visited her. More than once, she wondered why her friend didn’t make the pendant visible, but constantly kept it carefully hidden underneath her clothes.

“I’m happy to see you,” Airi looked up from the mysterious necklace when Rena addressed her, “but you really don’t have to come and see me so often.”

“I was just passing in the neighborhood,” Airi answered, but she had always been a terrible liar. A fact that got confirmed once again when Rena gave her a knowing look. “Alright, I was not. But I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m fine,” A faint smile formed on Rena’s lips. “Actually, I’ll soon be leaving Nagoya for a little while. I’m shooting a drama next month in Tokyo.”

“How long will you be gone?” Airi asked, a little surprised by the revelation. Yes, she remembered Rena mentioning being offered an interesting, new role recently – something about a pair of detectives investigating a series of murders - but she had no idea she had accepted it.

“I’m not quite sure,” Rena replied thoughtfully. “The total number of episodes has not been established yet, but I would say for at least a month. Do you want to take a look at the script of the first episode?”

“Of course,” Airi nodded, the other girl standing up from the table and moving in the direction of the living room. Unfortunately, her search proved apparently much fruitless as – after checking the coffee table, shelves and even the sofa a few times – she ended up turning towards her with a puzzled expression, and very empty-handed. “I was sure I had left it there. It has to be in the bedroom.”

Airi watched her silently until she disappeared around the corner and inside the bedroom, her attention soon drawn to the vase of forget-me-not placed on the table. Airi recognized them instantly: it was the exact same blue flowers she had seen on Rena’s table two weeks ago. After all this time, the water had turned yellow and cloudy, and the petals that were once a beautiful light blue had faded long ago…

Airi didn’t know why her friend still hadn’t thrown them away. Another time, Rena wouldn’t have waited to dispose of them as soon as the flowers would have lost their colors and freshness. In the end, she deduced it went along with the general bad state of her apartment. Maybe Rena had noticed, but didn’t bother to take care of the problem. Or maybe she hadn’t even paid attention to the flowers at all.

When Rena appeared still busy searching her script in the bedroom and showed no sign of returning immediately, Airi decided to put her time to good use. Rising from her chair, she gathered their empty plates from the table, and carried them away with the vase of faded flowers to the kitchen.

Opening the door below the sink to access the bin, she slipped the faded flowers inside. They looked really beautiful when she first saw them, Airi had to admit as she closed the door, and emptied inside the sink the water from the red, crystal vase. Unfortunately, fresh flowers only had a limited lifetime. They couldn’t bloom eternally.

“Where are the flowers?”

Startled, Airi jumped a little at the sound of Rena’s voice. She had been so lost in her own little world that she had completely failed to hear her friend leaving the bedroom and approaching. Placing cautiously the empty, cleaned vase on the counter, she turned around, noticing the other girl standing next to the living room table, the found script in hand.

“The forget-me-nots?” she asked for clarification, receiving an immediate nod in reply. “I threw them away. They had faded.”

“You… threw them?” Rena repeated.

“Wasn’t I supposed to?” Airi had only meant well, but Rena’s upset look was a clear indication that she had made a mistake. “We can buy new ones if you like. I’m sure I saw them at the flower shop at the corner of the street.”

“I don’t want new flowers,” Rena murmured back. “I liked those. I just liked… those.”

Airi stared at her in perplexity, not knowing what to make of Rena’s declaration. Her behavior was making absolute no sense to her, and she failed to grasp why her friend seemed so strangely attached to those forget-me-nots in particular. Even if it was a present from someone – a beautiful one indeed - they had faded long ago. Who would keep faded flowers in their home?

Unless…

That’s when realization hit her. Wait, that was it.

Those flowers were a gift from someone.

But not just anyone.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” Airi stammered. “I didn’t know they were from her.”

Airi swallowed in unease, waiting in apprehension for Rena’s reaction. Why on earth didn’t she put two and two together when she came by Rena’s apartment two weeks ago? It would have prevented her from making a colossal blunder just now. Rena hadn’t simply forgotten to throw those flowers away as she initially believed, she had left them here on purpose.

Rena didn’t say anything.

After a little while, she slowly took a seat at the living room table, her fingers tracing absently the space where the flowers were previously placed. “Between the two of us, Jurina has always been the romantic. She constantly liked to shower me with affection and presents. I told her more than once that she didn’t need to do all those things, but she never listened. No one could stop Jurina once she had something inside her head.”

With empty eyes and a melancholic smile, Rena fixed the blue petals that had fallen around the vase on the table.

“When she came by that evening for dinner, I almost considered cancelling at the last minute. I was feeling so terrible; I doubted being good company. But the simple view of those flowers managed to put a smile on my face. For a short instant, it brought me back to the past. To a time when we were so happy.”

Airi walked out of the kitchen and took a seat opposite her, reaching out for her hand when she distinguished tears gathering in her eyes. “Maybe leaving Nagoya for a little while will do you some good,” she tried to sound reassuring.

A weak smile was all she got in return, and Airi gave her fingers a comforting squeeze. She couldn’t help blaming herself a little for her unfortunate mistake, hating being the indirect reason for Rena’s tears. However, this incident also served to reinforce one of her deepest convictions. Yes, they avoided mentioning Jurina when they were together, and Rena was careful never to show her tears in front of her.

She remained completely inhabited by the memory of the love of her life. 

#destiny #wmatsui #matsui jurina #matsui rena #takayanagi akane #furukawa airi #SKE48 #wmatsui fanfic #Partners sequel #Heartbeat trilogy #chapter 23

[sunshinedjh]

The Wolf of The Woods Part Nineteen

Word count: 1745

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Wattpad<<<

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Warnings: Dan lowkey has a breakdown but heyyy same amirite?

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'Howell and Lester...' Seamus began 'who would've thought it?' All eyes were on him now as he grinned maniacally. Dan's face still mirrored that of a deer caught in headlights. 

'Back off Seamus' Phil practically growled, showing the same dominant and protective instinct that Dan had been so surprised by earlier. 

'Why should I? I'm just giving the two of you a friendly greeting... Remember when we used to be friends Phil?'

'No, I don't Seamus, all I remember is you using me to do your dirty work' Phil replied stoically. 

'There's no need to be so uptight now' Jack butted in 'we didn't realize we were interrupting something' 

'Interrupting w,w- what exactly?' Dan whimpered, the first words he was able to get out sounding rather unimpressive. 

'I don't know whatever you want to call it' Harvey said, wrinkling his nose 'disgusting affection, loving embrace' 

The silence that followed had never been so piercing, each person waiting for the other to speak up. It was Seamus who did first. 

'Anyway, not to worry. We'll be on our way now, come on boys let's leave the twinks to it' he concluded, giving one last side smirk as him and the other two turned to leave. 

'Phil...' Dan whispered after they'd gone. Standing there hopelessly like all the life had been drained from him he turned to look up at Phil. It was all he could manage to say, any other words seeming to difficult to form. 

'Come on Dan' Phil whispered back. He took Dan by the arm and then they started walking. 

Dan hardly registered where they were walking to, he didn't notice the eyes of his fellow students that were looking at his dishevelled form, he didn't acknowledge the sound of the bathroom door opening and then closing behind him. 

'Dan' Phil spoke softly, his voice waking Dan from his thoughts like a slap to the face, or rather the opposite due to how calm and sullen the tone was. 'Are you okay?' He asked.

It was beyond Dan, it really was, how someone could be so selfless. It wasn't just Dan who had been through that back there, it was both of them, Phil arguably more so. So why? How, could Phil possibly care more about Dan's feelings that his own? 

'They'll tell everyone Phil' he said, simply stating the one thought that wouldn't leave his mind. 'They've always seemed to know I was gay but I've never actually given them evidence to support it! And now they'll tell the whole damn school about us!' 

'They... they might not' Phil replied, in a pitiful attempt at comforting. 

'But what if they do?! What if everyone in this entire god forsaken place finds out! What if they, what if...' 

Dan lost all compassion in his words. He hadn't really been sure what he was going to say, he didn't even know why having his secrets unwillingly found out terrified him so much. It had all turned out okay when Phil had found out everything he'd tried so desperately to hide. But his mind couldn't help going back to another time when he hadn't been so fortunate. 

The night when his parents had found out about his ability. They had burst into his room while he was transforming, only gawping in horror instead of rushing to help their son as he was being mutilated before their eyes. Even when Dan had come running back to them the following morning, hopeless and afraid, they had simply turned him away and left him to fend for himself. That was what happened when normal people found out about your secrets, people less caring and sympathetic than Phil. 

Dan was ripped like a book page from his thoughts then, and thrown back into reality. He didn't want to live in that reality anymore if these were the consequences, if it weren't for the loving blue eyes staring back at him he might have said that he'd rather be trapped in his thoughts forever. 

He couldn't stand by himself anymore, couldn't retain the dryness in his eyes. Throwing his arms around Phil, he let his sobs echo around the bathroom. As he lifted his head from Phil's shoulder for a moment he found himself staring right back at him in the form of a mirror. Oh how drained he looked, how overbearingly sorrowful the wreck that he saw was. Upon meeting his gaze with Phil for the second time, he spoke up in a choked sob. 

'Hey Phil' 

'What?' 

'Lets go home' 

Phil smiled as he pulled away from Dan, nodding in agreement. 

'How are we going to get out?' 

'Well' 

Dan stood up straight, if it wasn't for the remains of the tears dripping down his face you might never have known he'd been crying. 'If I recall correctly, we seem to be in the very same bathroom that we crawled out the window of last time, seems like the perfect escape route if you ask me' 

Dan looked awfully proud of his on the spot plan as he gestured to he far left toilet cubicle inquisitively. 

'Wow, Dan Howell or Sherlock Holmes? The world will never know' Phil chuckled. 

The two boys made their way over to the cubicle then. 

‘If we can just get out here, the other side is outside school grounds, we'll be out of here in no time' Said Dan confidently, although the way he was looking up at the window hesitantly showed anything but said confidence. 

'My lady...' Phil cooed as he sunk down to his knees to help boost Dan up to the window. Dan blushed and rolled his eyes at Phil's dorky way of carrying out the gesture. Now had this gone to plan Dan would've been up and out of the window in no time. But thanks to Phil this didn't quite go to plan. 

'Dan, are you up yet? I don't think I can hold on much longer' Phil strained, struggling to retain the grip he had on Dan's legs. 

'I, just, need... to get the window open' 

No matter how hard Dan yanked at the damn window handle it didn't seem like it was going to budge. 

That was why it shocked him so when it did. As the window flew open Dan was almost sent flying backwards, shifting under Phil's grip and nearly falling. In a rush to readjust his grip and prevent the boy from collapsing he tried to grab him... 

He succeeded believe it or not, only this time it seemed he hadn't managed to grab his legs like he'd down before. No, this time he found his grip tightly on Dan's ass. 

'Phil!' Dan shrieked. Phil not managing to respond due to the fact he was desperately trying to hold back embarrassed giggles, somehow though he still managed to keep hold of Dan in the still slightly compromising area. 'It's lunch break you know! If anyone walked in and saw this...' 

Phil practically snorted at this, even when Dan looked down at him with a scowl he couldn't hold back the laugher for a couple more seconds. Eventually he pulled himself together though, pushing Dan up to the windowsill so he could get out and then following suit. 

'Damn, after that you know what we should get into?' He quizzed the other boy. 

'What..?' 

'Couples yoga!' The two boys guffawed loudly at he remark as began to walk in the direction of home. 

It was about three hours later now. The boys, had been safely home for a while now were now sat down by the lake. It was worth missing whatever lesson they were supposed to have had after lunch for this. For the same peace and solitude that they'd had and taken for granted before. Neither of them had talked about what had happened that day since getting back. Dan hadn't really had the heart to bring it up and seemingly thinking that Phil felt the same he was surprised when the boy decided to bring it up at that very moment. 

'Dan, are you okay now?' He asked, genuine empathy in his voice showing that he probably already knew the answer. 

'I've been better' Dan replied honestly as he played with a piece of grass. 

'Yeah me too' Phil sighed 'it's cruel really that something like this had to happen so soon after you'd recovered from... you know, before' 

Dan threw the piece of grass he'd been fiddling with into the water and let himself fall backwards onto the floor if he forest. 

'It's always me' he huffed, looking up at the sky 'I keep all these secrets from people and they always come back to bite me, always. I can't even k...' 

Phil stood up, seeming distracted by something as he looked behind him. Dan seemed oblivious to this as he carried on taking. Leaves rustled in the exact spot Phil was so carefully examining. 

'What if they find out something worse Phil, what if they find out I'm godamn werewolf! They could turn me in to the government to be experimented on for fucks sake!' 

Phil's eyes went wide. 

'Phil, are you even listening to me? Did you hear...' 

Phil jumped down beside him to put his hand on Dan's mouth and silenced him. 

Dan couldn't help but feel like he'd done something wrong. Okay, maybe wallowing in his sorrows after refusing to talk about them for three hours was a bit much for Phil but the way his eyes had widened so suggested there was something else going on. He was still looking behind them, seemingly at a bush a little further away from the lake. Dan got up and tried to turn around suddenly with the intentions of seeing exactly what had captivated Phil's attention. 

Not getting to do as much however, as Phil caught his attention instead, looking at him with the expression of a rabbit that'd just heard a gunshot. 

'Phil?' 

It was like he'd just seen a ghost, or something equally horrific. He didn't give Dan he time to argue though. 

'Run! Dan! Run home and don't look back!' He yelled, utterly panic stricken. 'But what are you going to...' 

'I'll follow you after, just go home and stay there!' 

Dan felt like arguing again by the sudden authority in Phil's voice told him not to, instead he bolted in the direction he thought to be towards home and didn't look back once.

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