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bruhlsbees · 3 years

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Mmmm mayhaps Alex and a s/o getting caught in the rain while on their way home? Maybe having to share clothes since theirs are drenched, maybeee, idk let your imagination roam. I hope you get out of your funk soon, I know how frustrating it can be ✨

dancing in the rain || alex kerner x fem!reader

gif credit to @/lovecafes

summary: on your walk back home you get caught in the rain and insist that you spare the moment to dance

pairing: alex kerner x fem!reader

word count: 1,809

warnings: none, just pure fluff and wholesomeness

a/n: this was such a soft idea i love it so much thank you nony for sending this in!!!

You always enjoyed the season of Spring. When the weather was warm enough to wear shorts, but still wear a jacket if you needed one. The birds were coming back from their departure for the winter and the flowers were beginning to bloom. Everything was peaceful, beautiful, alive.

You were particularly fond of the park that you and Alex would go to for your weekly picnic - the one day that you both had off that worked around each other’s schedule to spend time with one another. It always went far too fast for you, longing for more time with him, but you still appreciated every second you were able to have with your dear Alex.

Today had been rather cloudy though, and Alex had insisted all day leading up until when the two of you were supposed to meet that they do something else in case it rained - but you didn’t mind taking the chance. You had already made his favorite desserts and bought meat and cheese from the deli at the store. So after pleading with him in your kitchen, holding him close to you by the front of his flannel, your bottom lip sticking out and giving him your best puppy dog face - he finally gave in.

So there you were, laying on the blanket nestled in his arms while you stared up at the clouds, going on about your week as he played with your hair. You had asked him a question about his mother, who was still in the hospital with her coma, but he seemed to be too focused on something else to catch what you had asked him.

Turning your head up, you smiled up at him while he smiled back down at you, cheeks going pink when you began to laugh, “What? What’s so funny?” He asked, rolling onto his side so he could face you more, his arm settling across your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

“I asked you a question...how your mother was doing? But you seemed to be lost in your own world,” You hands went to his hair, pushing his hair back and out of his face before pressing a kiss to his nose, “Have I bored you?”

He stumbled over his breath, choking briefly as his whole face went red while he shook his head, sitting up to catch his breath before continuing, “N-No!” He spat out, “Of course, not! I’m sorry, my mother - yes, as good as anyone could be I suppose that’s in a coma.”

Alex turned back to look down at you, smiling as you laid on your back, hair spread out around your head. You looked like an angel with a halo to him, glowing with pure happiness, radiating amongst the grey of the clouds. He leaned into your touch when you extended your hands up and to on either side of his face, gently caressing his face.

Moments like this, where he could finally relax with you, he took it all in, not wasting a moment. The past few months had been painfully hard for him - it felt as though he was drowning everyday, but the day he got to spend with you, Alex could finally breathe.

He didn’t notice the tears that were falling down his face until hearing your sigh, “Oh Alex, come here.” You cooed, pulling him down to lay in your arms now, comforting him now as he had done for you.

You continued to stroke his face and play with his hair, wiping the fallen tears off his face before kissing his cheeks dry. “My sweet Alex, when will the world stop torturing you?” You whispered, looking over his features until he pulled his head up from where it laid on your chest. You smiled at him, as he smiled down at you before leaning forward, meeting him in the middle for a sweet kiss.

When he pulled away, he shuffled his arms up to rest on either side of your head, his elbows propped as he moved your hair around. You were suffocated by Alex, if you were being honest, but you didn’t mind in the moment - you’d give anything to have him this close to you more often. With the two of you tangled on the blanket, embracing one another and taking in each other, you almost didn’t notice it begin to rain until the squeals of children came from the other side of the park.

Moving in sync, Alex pushed himself up off of you, gathering the food into the picnic basket while you picked the blanket up, holding it above your head to shield yourself from the rain as it began to come down even harder. Taking Alex’s hand, you followed him as the two of you ran out of the park, down the sidewalk and onto the main stretch that took you back to his apartment. Alex had slowed his pace down slightly to reach around you and take the blanket in his hand, the basket now in your’s as he shielded the both of you with the now soaked blanket.

The two of you moved quickly down the sidewalk, cars buzzing by and spraying you with water as you trekked back to Alex’s apartment. You couldn’t be mad even if you wanted to despite the given circumstances. It was like something out of a movie, getting caught in the rain with your lover. If Alex wasn’t so protective, pushing you to continue on so you didn’t get sick, you would have stopped to enjoy it.

But when you passed by the patisserie, hearing the lively tune that played inside, your steps came to a sudden stop, Alex knocking into you with a grunt. He kept the blanket held above you, the rain loud as it hit against everything around you.

“What? You okay? Do you need to stop?”

Turning, you grinned up at Alex and nodded, “Come on, Alex - will you dance with me?” You stepped out from under the blanket and set the basket down, letting your head fall back as the rain hit your face, a laugh escaping from you.

Alex on the other hand, was completely confused. What did you want to dance in the rain for? You could have waited and he would have danced with you back home. Where it was warm, dry, and you wouldn’t get sick. Not outside the patisserie to the cheesy music they were playing.

“Come now, Alex, just live a little. For me? Make a girl happy?” You extended your arms out and squealed when he tossed the blanket down, taking your hands after a moment of debating with himself. You pulled him to you and wrapped your arms around his neck, stepping in beat to the music, laughing as he twirled you around, your dress coming up and spinning with you - the water that soaked your dress coming off.

“Don’t I make you happy already?” He asked, pulling you back to him after the last spin. Both of your hairs were stuck to your face, wet from the rain. You leaned forward and pushed his back out of his face, standing on your toes to kiss him deeply until you pulled away for air.

“The happiest.” You breathed, leaning forward to kiss him one more time before continuing to dance, pulling away from him as you began to spin around again, laughing as the rain continued to fall. Alex followed in suit, chasing after you and linking arms with you, spinning in circles with you until he got dizzy and toppled over, you catching him before he fell.

As if it couldn’t get any more cliche - the song came to a stop, along with the rain, leaving you and Alex soaked as the sun began to peek out from behind the clouds. You glanced down at your shoes to see that your slip-ons and calves were doused in mud, the bottom of Alex’s jeans muddy too.

“Don’t worry, you can borrow something of mine when we get back. I’ll wash your dress for you too and give it back to you next week.” Alex insisted, gathering up the blanket and basket before wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side while you continued on again, making the last stretch of your journey back to his apartment.

And he did - as with all promises he made to you, he kept them.

While he left to throw the soaked clothes and blanket in the wash, you were in his room, sliding on the old basketball shorts that he had along with one of his t-shirts. Being in his clothes made you feel warm, safe - and the scent of him on the shirt made your heart skip a beat. This was what home felt like to you, Alex - your dear sweet Alex.

You heard the door open and shut, turning to see him in a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt, making his way to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in for a kiss. Of course, you kissed back, wrapping your arms around his neck as he began to walk you back towards the bed, collapsing down with him following.

When stumbling onto his bed, you could only giggle with him falling on top of you, his hair sticking up in odd places from his hair drying. It was moments like this where he looked so innocent. His expression was always soft, tired from the long week, but still managing to enjoy the day with you. You always took the time to tell Alex how much you appreciated him and what he did, because that’s what he deserved and you knew nobody gave him the recognition he deserved.

Alex rested his head back on your chest, closing his eyes as he laid in your arms on top of you, your own legs wrapped around him, as if trapping him from leaving you. You knew you didn’t have to worry about that though, because Alex was the one - and you knew that the two of you would be together forever.

It was his light snores that pulled you from your thoughts. Pausing your movements through his hair, you craned your neck to the side, watching as his eyes closed, mouth open while he slept, the light snore picking up the more he sank into slumber. You couldn’t be mad at him for falling asleep - he needed it.

You decided that it was only fair that you sleep too. If you were trapped under him, until God knew when he would wake up, you deserved a nap yourself. You leaned forward and kissed his head once, feeling him bury his face into your chest more as he clung to your sides, before falling back into his pillows, nodding off into your own personal slumber.

#ask #nony #alex kerner #goodbye lenin #good bye lenin #alex kerner imagine #alex kerner x reader #alex kerner x you

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years

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Hotel Room: August Walker x Reader

Summary: August, sick of you jumping from location to location trying to escape him, broke into your hotel room to interrogate you about you leaving him months earlier.

Words: 2952

(First Person) (Both August x Y/N POVs)

**It is August, but in my head August isn’t evil, more just temporarily morally confused, so in this he’s an okay guy.**

Warnings/notes: angst, fluff, internal emotional thoughts (which always make me uncomfortable), mentions of sex. cursing somewhere.

****So the edit directly below was done by @eastwesthomeisbest for this story. I meant to add this to my story ages ago but something reminded me today, and i’m glad it did, because this edit made me so happy that I wanted to share it again. I love it so much! All of the edits made by @eastwesthomeisbest are freakin amazing!****

August POV

I would wait all night in this room if I had to, just to see her face and find the look I am horribly desperate to see in those eyes. The one I hope will reassure me of her feelings.

I want to believe that she can’t fool me; that I am as confident in her love as I seem to be, but she rules me in every way. If at any time, any single moment, anywhere, in front of the entire world, she told me to kneel before her, I would kneel like the begging puppy she doesn’t even know I am.

The silver knob of the door jiggles the slightest and a sudden fear bubbles up inside me that squashes my determined facade like a fly. What if she isn’t alone? What if she has some unworthy idiot she plans to take to her bed?

But no. Thank God.

Once on this side of the door, she closes it quietly behind her as if not to disturb anyone sleeping in the same hall and leans her forehead against the wood. She sighs, and I worry over that sound.

She doesn’t look up when she asks how long I have been in her room. She sighs again, and I worry again. I can feel her exhaustion from 10 feet away. It floats to me, hoping I might let some of the burden seep into me through my every pore just to relieve her. And if it were a physical possibility, I wouldn’t hesitate to take not just some of it, but all, until nothing weighed her down and she could straighten her spine for the first time in a while.

“Not long.” I say, pushing myself upright from my leaned position on the wall beside her.

She lifts her head and graces me with a glance. A tired glance, but something of a gift, nonetheless. “Get out. I’m in no mood.”

I cross my arms because they make my muscles bulge in a way that she could never resist. And I think that if that doesn’t get to her, well, at least it shows her I’m still strong, I’m still determined, despite how being around her always turns my brain to jelly. “I need to talk to you. That’s all I want.”

She would groan if she had the energy. I can tell by the way her lips thin when I say anything. “Then speak if you find it so absolutely necessary but make it quick, will you. And skip the part explaining how you found me again. I’m getting really tired of the whole ‘you’re not good at covering your tracks’ bit.”

I’m pushing her to the brink. She fakes nonchalance, but she’s irritated, at best. She’s the kind of irritated that has the ability to turn into something much worse over time, and I know if a baseball bat were nearby, mustering enough strength to beat me to a bloody pulp would not be as hard for her as I wish; but she has yet to kill me, so I say: “Fine. I am in love with you.”

She scoffs and puts her hands on her hips. My hips. They belong to me. They are for me to touch and grab and love. “So you have said, repeatedly. Is that it?”

“You are in love with me too, and I want you to come home.”

A beautiful, sarcastic chuckle sings in my ears. “Wow.”

“The truth is the truth.”

“I am not in love with you!”

“Yes, you are.”

She rolls her eyes, but all it does is lighten my heart. “You really are insane.”

“You love me. You do now, and you did when you somehow managed to pack up and leave in the middle of the night without me noticing. Which I still can’t figure out. Until that night, you couldn’t so much as shift in the bed beside me without me waking to make sure you were fine and safe.” I shake my head. I had replayed that night in my head too often for any sane man, and still couldn’t understand how she disappeared like a wraith. “But I woke up the next morning with you not next to me, because somehow you had slipped away without a trace.

“Apparently not, seeing as how you keep finding me wherever I go.”

“I told you a long time ago, I would always find you. If anything ever happened, I would protect my woman.”

“I’m not your—”

“I know you don’t want to believe it, because I was a bad guy who did some bad things; a bad guy you heard had done even worse things, unspeakable things, but this feeling is real despite that. Our connection…”

“We have no connection!” She yells before running her hands down her face. She is tired of this, but if I give up now, she will never allow the word ‘love’ to pass my lips in her presence again, if she even chose to speak to me.

“Y/N, I don’t want to be without you. I can’t stand another second without being able to have you, or hold you, or kiss you, or make love--”

“Stop it, August!” She snaps. “You live in fantasies and think just because you say things over and over that they eventually become truth and everyone around you will accept it as such.”

“We are not a fantasy! You and me, we are--”

“We are nothing!”

A quiver echoes around the room.

A crack in her shell.

Tears began to dribble down the soft cheeks I once kissed.

I move but she steps back with every inch I advance until the icy chill of the wall is flush against her back. And I see it: false hatred masking underlying fear in her eyes; a fear she has had since we met, a fear of loving me.

I brace an arm on the wall, my palm flat next to her face as my other moves to her body, down her arm, to the curve of her waist, to the silky soft flesh peeking from under her sweater for me to stroke with my thumb as the rest of my fingers firmly grip her hip. My hip.

“We are everything to each other…and you know it,” I say as I meet her eyes. They glisten, wet and shiny and beautiful in a way I hoped I would never be the cause of. Her teary gaze is unblinking, in utter disbelief that I was touching her again, that she was letting me touch her again.

“Don’t,” is all she whispers; one final plea as I firmly grasp the last brick of the wall she put up to keep me out and throw it away, out of sight where it could never be found again…I hope.

“August…” Another whisper.

“Y/N, I know I scared you and I know you heard a lot of bad things about me, but I would never hurt you, ever. And I’ll step away, I will, I promise I will, if you tell me to.” I never wanted to lie to her, but as the last of those words come out of my mouth, I know that is exactly what they are: A lie. I won’t ever step away.

I inch my head down to hers, my face closer to hers, my lips a hairs width away from hers, praying she won’t shove me away.

“Just tell me to.” I whisper against her lips.

But she doesn’t and so I press my lips to hers, taking her rosy, plump bottom one between my own.

She tastes the same. Too many months without this taste is like coming home after being at war and I savor every single generous second.

Then I feel it. A movement of her lips over mine, a small pressure that forces a moan from my throat, tingling both of our lips. I don’t waste another beat pulling her to me. Remembering this sensation of our bodies molded so perfectly together is intoxicating. I won’t, I can’t let her go. Not now. Not ever again.

Y/N POV

I’m still.

So still.

I can’t move, and I tell myself it is only because he has trapped me; that my anger is strong enough to paralyze me; that he is abusing me, and I just see too much red to focus on that fact. I tell myself that the chill running down my spine is from the wall he has me up against.

He looks at me like he wants me. It’s the way he has always looked at me. Devouring. Begging. Desperate.

He is moving, somehow closer than he already is and my body reacts to him, sensing a familiar stinging heat though his skin has yet to touch mine. I can feel my heart’s uncontrollable excitement and I’m screaming for it to shut up, to stop beating for him, stop humming for him, just stop living if that’s what it takes for him to go away. But it won’t, or can’t, or just doesn’t want to. I have no idea anymore, but I can’t look away from the hand inching its way toward my arm.

If you touch me, I will kill you, I repeat over in my head.

But it, he, moves closer.

If you touch me, I will kill you.

And closer.

If you touch me…

He looks at me, right in the Y/E/C of my eyes and the air is sucked from my lungs.

…I will kill you.

Then he touches me.

His hand rests gently on my shoulder and skims down my arm over the fabric of my too-thin sweater. My waist feels it and my belly flops as he strokes the skin that hasn’t felt his touch in months. It sings for him, my skin. It cries in relief and thanks me for not shoving him away.

Finally, it moans.

I think this must stop, now. Break the contact. Don’t let him control you. You have fought so hard to become the woman you are, a woman who needs no one, and now is not the time to give in to this feeling, but it feels so good and he has only stroked a thumb, a simple thumb, along an insignificant amount of my skin.

I am numb to everything but the fire of his fingertips.

“Don’t.” What a pathetic whisper. A lie.

But his gaze is unwavering.

“August…” I cry his name in my head over and over, but once again, my mouth fails me and it comes out so quietly, so soft.

He tells me he will stop if I tell him to. But his face is so close, his lips are so close. I feel his puffs of breath stroke my skin and it warms me from head to toe.

He whispers something again, but the blood rushing in my ears doesn’t allow me to comprehend. I think I need to pull away.

Not now, my mind screams at me. Don’t be an idiot, it yells.

He kisses me and my brain shuts down. I only feel softness and slight pressure and a moan that tingles my lips, but I can’t tell who it came from.

The taste is the same. His taste is the same. It’s sweet with hints of whiskey he must have had recently and it shoves me back in time, into the body of the woman who let her guard down and was dumb enough to fall in love with a man like him. Then I move my lips, just my lips, and I’m pulled so close to him. I feel his muscles; firm ridges and valleys through his shirt against my stomach and breasts.

It’s too much and not enough.

My hands seem to rise on their own accord and slide to his arms, up to his shoulders; the opposite trail he had touched me with. He groans into our kiss as his arms hold me tighter than I thought possible.

By the time my fingers are resting on the back of his neck, pressing his lips harder to mine in the first greedy act I have taken, he’s hoisted me up. His hands grasp my bottom to secure me and I am forced to remember the last night we had together before I left.

Every feeling I had the last time I was on top of him, sinking down onto him, moving my hips in a way that made us practically weep from pleasure, swallows me whole. I remember the feel of his fingers as he grabbed my backside to keep me firm against him.

Imprints were left that night. Stinging from where he would roughly slap a cheek. Bite marks on my shoulders, my neck, my breasts, that didn’t disappear for days. He made sure to claim me in every way possible again and again.

And now he was back for me, my heart, my soul, my love. And he would not waste a single drop of the flood that was pouring out of me.

I plant my palms on the stubble of his jaw and tilt my head, parting my lips to give us the chance to deepen this kiss, and it allows him to slip his silky, soft tongue in to caress mine.

He turns us and walks to the large bed in the middle of the room, never breaking our kiss, before gently laying me down on the plush comforter and ripping his shirt off over his head.

He really is the same, I think. Everything is exactly the same. Perfect in every single way. Strong shoulders, and thick arms, and toned abs that lead down to a defined V that disappears under the waist of his pants. And he’s looking at me like I brought him back to life, just like he did for me before I ran.

“Come here.” I whisper, reaching out a hand for him to take; reassuring him that I want him, this, everything he has to offer me.

He gives me a tentative look and for once I see the vulnerability that being together can bring out in us. He’d perfected his craft of illusion long ago, but now I sense little of that mask.

August takes my hand in his and I tug lightly. He catches himself from falling completely on top of me and gently lowers his body onto mine in the most delightfully sensual way anyone could.

August POV

She’s looking at me in a way that’s going to destroy me from the inside out; like I’ve hung the sun that only shines for her, and all I want is to see that look every minute of every day until I’ve memorized it so well I see it in my sleep.

‘Come here,’ she says, and reaches out her delicate hand. Fuck, I remember those hands on my body, and I’m almost not sure I can handle it again. If I have her now, I will need her forever, and it’s terrifying how much I want it.

But I take her hand and let her pull my body on top of hers, and I kiss her because I have to. Because if I don’t, I will lose my damn mind. It’s a horrifying feeling that only her lips can relieve, and I drink in every second that she lets me savor this; that she lets me kiss her top lip and then her bottom; lets me delicately bite one.

And when she moans, dear god, when she moans, my whole body tenses with desire for her. I want to wrap myself around her and run my hands through her silky, Y/H/C waves. I want to tear her sweater off and slip her pants down, until she is bare for me and me only, so I can show her just how in love with her I really am.

I want to feel every inch of her and rediscover every dimple in her flesh, every freckle, and every tiny mole that even she doesn’t know she has. Every scratch, every scar, and that section of stretch marks that I once ran my fingers along before trailing the length of them with kisses, I want only to be for me.

No one else, right? I want to ask her. There’s no other man but me, is there? Please let there be no one else. But she loops her arms around my neck and tugs me closer like she wants me to sink into her so we can just be one, and my mind momentarily flies out the window. Other men or not, from now on she is mine.

Then she pulls away and I’m afraid I’ve suddenly scared her, desperately wracking my brain for what I could’ve done in a matter of seconds. But she takes in a deep breath and her Y/E/C eyes meet mine as my name is lucky enough to be a sigh that passes through her plump lips.

“August…” She says again, and I close my eyes, dipping my forehead down to hers. I inhale and exhale. I would wait a million years for any words she would be willing to give me. “I do love you.”

And I was right.

She is going to destroy me.

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tags: @dugan365 @moonlightimagination @pietrotheavenger @marvel-fanfiction @hawkeyeharrington @dani-si @wintersoldier98 @then-there-was-me-emily @prxttybirdz @xceafh @jazzwoman897 @fandoms-who @meganwinchester1999 @ufffg @debra77 @rebelliouscat @anise-d-castle6 @projectxhappiness @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @lowkeysebby @notmyfault404 @jjamesbbarness @guera31 @sophiatomlinson23 @thisismysecrethappyplace @hiddles-rose @mywinterwolf @picapicapicassobaby @genius2050 @lokilvrr @sunshine-seven @missjayi @agniavateira @tumblenewby

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illneverrecover · 4 years

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call you mine (M) | changkyun

➛pairing: Im Changkyun (I.M.) x reader ➛genre: friends with benefits!AU, non Idol!AU, angst, smut, fluff. ➛word count: 2,741 ➛rating: M ➛warnings: idk this is truly some sweet soft shit, mentions of alcohol, friends with benefits, standing sex, slight rough sex, biting/marking because clearly I have a kink, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of Mingi!!, lots of kissing, soft clown Chaingang truly. ➛summary: Changkyun knew he ruined your friends with benefits arrangement when he let his feelings be known, and now you’ve left him on read for weeks. So he does the only thing he can to stay sane - he religiously watches your Instagram stories. ➛notes: Another first for me - my first Monsta X fic! I’ve played around with writing Changkyun for a while now, mostly because I live to torture @taetaesbaebaepsae (which she deserves from all the PAINFUL and RUDE Baekhyun shit she’s written for me). However, she decided to actively commission her own demise, because she stays not listening to Namjoon and refuses to love herself. I’m glad I finally got a chance to take a stab at writing her ult, and I hope I did him justice! Enjoy your tomfoolery, Kristin! 💖 ➛song: Call You Mine - The Chainsmokers & Bebe Rexha | Horizon - I.M. & Elhae

It’s pathetic, he knows.

The way he can’t stop watching, the way he seeks your face out in an app full of millions of others. The way he can’t get you out of his bed, his head, his thoughts.

He fucked up, scared you off, and now he’s left with the aftermath of his own stupidity. Watching you through a screen to fight the withdrawals off, to keep his heart beating.

Changkyun knows you would laugh at him if you saw what he was doing.

Watching your Instagram stories is the only reason he’s heard you laugh in over two weeks, the only way he’s been able to see your eyes light up, your lips curve into a salacious grin. Things he fucking missed, thought he would have plenty of time to indulge in - until he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and ruined it.

He had taken you back to his place after a few shots of whisky at the dingy local bar, hands and mouth unable to leave your skin - just like the hundreds of times before. It had been four months since you had started this friends with benefits relationship, and despite having freedom to see whomever he wanted, Changkyun found himself only starving for you. So hungry that he couldn’t stand another moment in that place, watching you share your smile with anyone other than him. So he had tugged you close, nipped at your ear, told you that you were so damn beautiful that he couldn’t stand there another minute without you coming undone around him.

You had smirked, slid your hand down the front of his pants, grabbing his cock like you owned it, purring out the words “prove it” before following him outside, just like the hundreds of times before.

Pressed up against his wall, his pelvis flush with yours, Changkyun whispered filth in your ears as he ground up against you, swallowing your moans in greedy kisses. Desperate fingers had pulled at your top, freeing your breasts for him to worship as he worked your skirt up around your waist, thrusting his clothed length against your core until you were whining.

Changkyun always promised to take his time with you, to work you over until you were drunk on his touch and pleading for more - but you never let him, always knowing the right thing to say to get his gaze to go dark and lust to turn frantic, to unzip his jeans and press inside your dripping cunt right there in the hallway.

Just like the hundreds of times before.

You had come around him, digging your nails in his back so hard it left marks, made him growl your name against your collarbone as his thrusts picked up speed to fuck you through the high. You urge him on in the way only you can manage, begging for his release, whispering how much you want his come deep in your cunt. Biting down against the skin, he had spilled inside you with a final groan, hips twitching as he pumped you full of him, forehead resting against your shoulder.

Instead of pulling away immediately, Changkyun remained collapsed against you, breathing heavy. You had smacked at his shoulder, but he just chuckled, arms adjusting to continue a firm hold of your legs as he stayed inside of you, trapping you against his body and the wall.

“What are you doing, Kyun?” scoffing, you had grasped his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “I let you fuck me dirty against the wall without even demanding you buy me food after. Least you can do is let me get cleaned up.”

He had gazed up at you then, eyes piercing as they looked through you, and your heart clenched tightly in your chest.

He knew he shouldn’t say it. Knew it would scare you off. And yet….

“I would, you know.” Swallowing thickly, his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Take you to go get food. If you - I mean, if you wanted. If you’d let me.”

It was like he could see the carefully crafted defenses go up, the pain etching your brow and making your eyes go cold. Anxiety flooded his veins as you wiggled out of his grasp, sliding your clothes back into place as you moved towards his bathroom.

“You don’t mean that,” you murmured, faking a smile. “You know what this is, Kyun.”

“I do mean that!” He knew he sounded too eager, too pitiful, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I’d take you out to dinner. Or,” following you, he paused in the doorway, watching you appraise yourself in the mirror. “We could just get take-out and go somewhere private, drive to a park, bring a blanket and some booze, eat somewhere no one would know or bother us.”

Your answering laugh had sounded wrong, like it had cost you something - like it was the last thing you had wanted to do.

“Like a picnic? Changkyun, you’re saying you want to take me on a picnic? Like a proper date?”

Stuttering, he tried to explain himself, but you had cut him off with a single wave.

“Listen, we both know I’m not that kind of girl, and you don’t want me to be.” Leaning forward, you had pressed a kiss against his mouth, your eyes somber when you had pulled away, moved towards the door.

“What if I do?” His voice broke, wanting to reach out but his arms remaining stiff at his sides. “What if I want you to be that kind of girl, with me?”

Tears stung your eyes, your stomach sinking like you had been punched. You couldn’t do this, couldn’t handle the inevitable disappointment that would come when you got your hopes up.

“I’ll see you around,” you threw over your shoulder before shutting the door, and shutting him out.

Just like the hundreds of times before.

It had been two weeks now since he last saw you in person. It wasn’t for lack of trying; texting you at all hours had proven fruitless, even when he tried to send the usual ‘you up’ message like he didn’t just lay his heart out on the line. You responded airily, non committal, and he knew what you were doing.

You were trying to let him down easy.

So here he was, phone glued to his hand as he scrolled through to find your picture, clicking on it to see if there was any update. You didn’t post a bunch in your feed, but you had a tendency to update your stories often - filling them with silly memes and cute selfies, little videos of you going about your day. Cuddling with your cat, attempting to cook something for lunch. His favorite was when you would do tarot readings for your followers; the way your face would turn serious as you read the cards, passionate fire in your eyes as you helped deliver the message to its owner.

Seeing you that excited and genuine did something to him, made his chest feel like it was going to explode.

He knows you can tell that he’s watching, can see the icon of his profile showing up at the bottom of the video under “seen by.” He can only imagine what you’re thinking when you see it - that he’s a loser, this friend with benefits who turned lovesick puppy, but he can’t make himself care. It’s the only way he feels close, can pretend you’re still in his life.

He never thought that he would need you, now all he wants is to see you - for you to answer him, to come back to him.

Changkyun still sends texts, unable to stop his fingers from reaching out, despite knowing you’ll shut him down. He calls sometimes too, late at night when his blood is more whisky than plasma, though you never answer those. Instead he listens to your voicemail, eyes closed to stop the world from spinning, letting your voice lull him to sleep.

He convinces himself he’s fine with this arrangement, that things would be alright. He can just miss you from afar, observe you live your life through the pixels of a screen. That watching your stories is enough for him, will keep him afloat.

Until he sees you with someone else.

It was another Friday night he was spending alone, half drunk and on his phone, looking for your picture. Taking a deep breath, he had felt his heart stop when he saw the rainbow ring adorning your profile photo, meaning you had updated your story. Sighing, he tapped it, hoping that it would be a few videos so he could pretend for just a moment that he was beside you instead of wasting space on his bed.

The first clip was a selfie, your heavily lidded eyes staring seductively at the camera through your lashes, making his pulse jump and pants tighten. The caption “gonna get drunk tonight!” scrolled across the image, right below the pout of your lips. The next was a small video of you making a drink, giggling about the mixture of tequila and soju you were tossing in your cup, whispering to the camera how it was going to get you ‘all the way fucked up’. But it was the third clip that had his chest heaving, his lungs forgetting how to work.

You were walking out your door, a few people cluttering your front porch as you asked if anyone had a light. Some tall red headed kid - Changkyun refused to acknowledge him as anything more than that - had shouted out, and you squealed as you ran up to him, sliding directly onto his knee before switching the camera into selfie mode to capture the two of you. The next clip was you in his lap, one of your delicate hands sliding through his hair as he gave you a big dopey grin, a cigarette perched on your lips as you cooed at him and told him just how cute he was.

Fuck. He knew that look of yours, knew those moves. Knew exactly what you were doing, what you were hoping to do with that fucking Mingi kid, and he couldn’t stand it, not anymore.

Taking a few deep pulls directly from the liquor bottle, his fingers flew over the keys of his phone, sending you text after text - all of which were ignored. He knew calling would be pointless, that you would rather light yourself on fire than answer your phone - especially at a party - and he felt desperation creep up his throat, choking him.

Changkyun couldn’t let this happen. Couldn’t let you just forget about him.

Clicking back onto Instagram, he started sending you responses to the story video as he got dressed, throwing on the nearest pair of jeans and sliding on his boots.

<Baby?>

<I’m on my way. Don’t take that kid to your bed.>

It took painfully long for the Lyft to show up, and he gritted his teeth the whole route there, knee bouncing to stop himself from demanding the driver to go faster, to just hurry the fuck up and get to you.

When the car had pulled into your neighborhood, he tried to send another message, instead clicking a video. Too frustrated to change it back, he lets it record, his voice low and pained.

“I’m on my way, please let me in.”

You were alone on the deck when your phone started vibrating, the ding of an Instagram direct message making you click the app, eyes widening in surprise when you saw the number of notifications.

Changkyun, all from him.

Awestruck, you scrolled through every line, your heart throbbing with each word he had written.

You didn’t think he cared, not like that. Sure, he missed the sex, but that’s what you expected. That’s what all of them wanted when they sent you late night texts, when they called your phone at three in the morning. Empty promises and broken vows were what kept you company in the dark, when they’d predictably leave you alone with an ache between your legs and in your chest. None of them really wanted you, cared about you. After a few weeks of ghosting, they’d all disappear into thin air like expected, and your heart would harden just a bit more.

But now…

Another chime pulls you from your thoughts, eyes flicking back to the light of your phone. Instead of another direct message, it’s a notification that Changkyun had updated his story for the first time in months.

Shaking fingers slide against the screen, your vision blurring as you take in the shadowed back seat of another person’s car, the only light neon pink from the sign of the Lyft drivers decal. For a moment, all you can hear is the quiet chattering of a distant radio, of someone breathing heavily.

And then his voice croaking over the speaker, raspy with need.

“I’m on my way, please let me in.”

The video fades just as a car pulls up to your curb, a flurry of movement as Changkyun climbs out, stumbles towards you. He all but collapses into your arms, his breath dripping with liquor, eyes reddened but burning fiercely.

“Y/N,” he mumbles, hands coming to cup your face, thumb dragging against the smooth skin of your cheek. “I want to take you on a picnic.”

You laugh, though it comes out more like a sob. “What? What are you talking about? Did you call a Lyft and come all the way across town to tell me that, you clown?”

His finger taps against your lips once, twice. “Shh. Just let me-” he sighs, stomping a foot. “Let me talk.”

He waits until you nod before continuing, words surging from his mouth as if he couldn’t hold back a second longer.

“I came all the way here because I want to take you on a picnic. I want to buy you food and take you on cute little dates and do cheesy things that make you smile at me like you are right now,” he grins, pulling you until your chest rests against his own. “I’m here because I couldn’t stand you ignoring me anymore. I meant everything I said - that I miss you, that I want to be with you, if you’ll give me the chance. I want to call you mine.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes fall shut, his voice fervent and barely more than a whisper.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Tears brim your eyes, and you fight every old wound that tells you to shove him away, to call him a liar. Instead you allow yourself to follow your gut, your heart for what feels like the first time, leaning back to give him a watery smile in return.

“I love you too, Changkyun.”

His mouth immediately lands on yours, tongue eagerly tracing the seam of your lips until it’s slipping inside, tasting every inch of you, ravenous and unsatisfied until your knees are shaking. He’s walking you backwards towards the door, tugging at your clothes, and you giggle at his impatience.

Pulling away, you gasp for air, palm pressing against his shoulder to hold him back for a moment. “But listen, if I give you a chance, that means you have to stop stalking my Instagram, you creep. And don’t try to deny it, I see you all over my stories, lurking around.”

He chuckles then, nipping at your bottom lip as his eyes darken. “Please, don’t act like you don’t love the attention,”

Pushing the door open, he guides you inside, mouth working over your neck, arms wrapped around your waist until your back is flattened against the wall.

“Plus, there’s no need, now that I got you,” he confesses, his nose swiping against yours gently before he captures your lips between his own, hitching your legs to drape around his waist as he grinds against you, humming words of praise.

Just like the hundreds of times before, but now as his.

#changkyun x reader #IM x reader #changkyun smut #IM smut #monsta x smut #monsta x scenario #changkyun scenario #I.M. scenario #I.M. smut #I.M. x reader #ksmutclub #plotsofpastel #im changkyun #monsta x #monsta x fanfic #taetaesbaebaepsae #my writing #fic: call you mine #fic: cym

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lizzie-tempest · 3 years

Note

I can make a slightly different request, which would be Papyrus' point of view and opinion.

What would be the reaction of the papyrus (Undertale, Underswap, Underfell, Horrortale and Swapfell) to the relationship of his brother Yandere with his companion. How do they find out what he (Au! Sans) does when the reader isn’t seeing and how the relationship is a little toxic and controlling.

{ Example: they find out that they killed people for “love”, or invaded the reader's home to see when she is sleeping, or has an altar where there are objects that the reader thought she had lost or thrown away... }

Ooh this is a good one. I hope this is okay.

Undertale

Papyrus is surprisingly not as shocked as he should’ve been. At least, he wasn’t at first. Sans has tried to control him for his entire life, under the guise of “protecting him”. Papyrus doesn’t need protecting, and he’s nowhere near as naive as people think he is. He’s not stupid, he knew when Sans got into a relationship with you, that his brother would be possessive.

He just didn’t realize how far Sans would go in order to keep you to himself.

The first incident is when Sans puts something in your drink while you’re looking at something else. Papyrus frowns at this. He knows something isn’t right when he sees Sans’ guilty look and he’s about to say something to you.

But while you’re still distracted, Sans signs to him. He explains that you’ve been stressed at work, that you’re burning out and he’s concerned that you’re going to get sick. Sans insists that he’s only slipped a sleeping pill into your drink and that you’ll just get upset and more stressed if you find out.

So despite what he wants, Papyrus says nothing.

Weeks later, he walks into the house and finds Sans desperately scrubbing at...everything. The reason? Well, it probably has to do with the body lying on the floor.

Papyrus’ first thought is that this human broke into the house and attacked Sans, causing his brother to defend himself. Sans himself seems pretty shaken up when he realizes he’s there. So Papyrus, being the great brother that he is, helps him clean up. He helps dispose of the body and by the next morning, the house is completely spotless. It’s only then that Papyrus asks Sans what happened.

“he tried to take her from me. i had to do it. he was gonna take her!” Sans stammers out.

There’s a growing feeling of dread in the pit of his soul as Sans continues to make excuses. He realizes then that the house is silent. Where are you?

“Where is (y/n)?”

“the basement. but - “

Papyrus has already headed down the stairs before Sans can carry on. That’s where he finds you. You’re chained by the ankle, completely terrified and you start screaming when Sans comes in after you, begging Papyrus to save you.

The cogs turn quicker than he thought possible. He remembers the sleeping pills. The way Sans isolated you from your old friends.

He doesn’t waste a second.

Before Sans can act, Papyrus uses his blue magic on his own brother. He breaks the chain and scoops you up. He knows you’re not safe here. He loves his brother, but he can’t allow him to cause any more harm.

Papyrus is able to get you a fair distance before his magic finally releases its hold on Sans. Of course, by that time it’s too late. Papyrus has already alerted Undyne and the Royal Guard.

It doesn’t take long for him to be captured. But it’s alright! Even if Sans has done horrible things, Papyrus is more than happy to visit him in prison!

Underswap

The first that Stretch hears about you is when Blue comes home one day, all excited and simply gushing about you. His eyelights have turned into baby blue hearts as he speaks and Stretch has to admit that it’s adorable. How can he NOT think it’s cute? His lil bro has a crush! He teases Blue a bit but leaves it when the smaller skeleton’s grin becomes strained and his eyelights all but vanish.

Okay. It’s a touchy subject. He makes a note of it and thinks it’s just due to puppy love. He doesn’t think much more of it.

Until he goes into Blue’s room not long after. He’s looking for a video game that his brother borrowed and he knows he shouldn’t be in Blue’s room, but it wasn’t exactly forbidden, so he presumes it’s okay.

That’s when he finds it.

It’s some kind of intricately constructed altar. Stretch is almost impressed at the sheer detail and work that’s gone into it. Until he realizes what the altar is for.

There’s numerous pictures of a human, you, placed on the altar. They were obviously taken when you weren’t looking, some taken from far away. There’s one picture that seems to be a picture of you and what looks to be your boyfriend. Stretch immediately thinks of how crushed Blue will be. And then he looks closer at the picture. You have been surrounded by hearts and stars. Your partner on the other hand has had their head cut off. What’s even more disturbing is that Blue seems to have glued a picture of his own head in its place.

This is enough to unnerve him, but for some reason Stretch can’t bring himself to look away.

There’s socks and underwear. A lock of hair. The more he looks, the more that he starts to think that you could be in danger.

He takes a good look at your photo, memorizing your features so that he can find you and warn you of what Blue is doing. He loves his brother. But this isn’t okay.

Stretch turns to leave.

Blue is standing right behind him.

Underfell

Unsurprisingly, Edge doesn’t really care much. In fact, he’s downright proud of Red! His brother is actually putting in the effort!

Edge doesn’t really find out about Red’s yandere tendencies. Red just doesn’t bother to hide it. There have been plenty of times where Red has kidnapped a human that tried to get close to you and has beaten the shit out of them before killing them.

Edge finds he’s especially proud during those moments. He watches his brother torture these humans and he has to admit that he’s constantly surprised. In a pleasant way. Red always seems to have a new way of torturing them and it’s so wonderfully creative.

He hates that it had to take coming to the surface before Red put in some effort to hunt humans, but he’s still grateful to you for getting his brother out of whatever depression he was in.

So needless to say, he helps keep Red’s secret. He helps to clean up the blood and dispose of the bodies.

When Edge finally meets you, he’s surprised again at your manners and how you seem to be the complete opposite of his brother. Oh no, his brother was right! You are too precious for this world!

Edge is more involved with Red’s “activities” after that.

Horrortale

“Sigh. Again, brother?”

This isn’t the first time that Axe has acted this way towards a human, so Crooks is able to spot the signs early on. Luckily, Axe has only managed to kill one human who’s managed to piss him off this time. Maybe this time will be different?

Okay maybe not.

Crooks isn’t surprised to find that you are just like the other girls who Axe has pursued (and killed when things didn’t go his way). The only difference is your soul. He wants to believe that it could be the turning point. Crooks is still a Papyrus after all, and he wants to believe that his brother could still be better. He’s tired of cleaning up the blood and storing the bodies in the freezer so that they can eat them later. There’s no need to continue with that now that they are on the surface and Crooks wants to be able to move on.

But as long as Axe continues to be a yandere, Crooks knows it won’t be possible.

He’s resigned himself to this fate. He’s tried again and again to convince his brother that this isn’t the way to do things. Axe never listens.

So he’s forced to watch as Axe does the same routine. Painting the picture of a big, misunderstood scary looking monster who is as lovable as a teddy bear. And to you, he is exactly that.

But Crooks sees the dangerous look in his brother’s gaze when you laugh at some guy’s joke. He doesn’t know who will endure Axe’s wrath: you or the poor guy who tried to flirt with you.

He tries to avoid your accusing, hateful gaze when Axe finally caves and traps you in the shed.

Swapfell

Mutt’s not gonna lie, he raises a brow bone when he figures it out. He didn’t exactly expect Black to be a yandere, but at the same time he’s not exactly surprised.

And of course, he’s roped into going along with it.

Black has him stalking you, finding out your likes and dislikes and everything about you under the sun. Mutt doesn’t really like it, but he doesn’t want to go against his brother. Black deserves the best after all. If he has to do a few bad things in order to make that happen, then he will.

So he obeys Black’s orders and does what he wants. Any information that Mutt gathers is immediately passed on to his brother, who then uses it to his advantage on any date he goes on with you.

One day he’s cleaning out his room, at Black’s request. He’s got some stuff in boxes and is taking them up to the attic. But when he tries to open the door, he finds it locked tight. Huh, the door’s never been locked before. And he’s pretty sure he can hear something on the other side. Some kind of whimpering?

He takes the boxes to the basement instead.

At dinner Mutt brings up the locked attic and the noises. It doesn’t escape his notice how Black stiffens slightly. His brother has never been good at lying so when he says it’s nothing to worry about, Mutt can’t help but be curious.

When he’s sure that Black is asleep, he heads back to the attic and takes a shortcut inside. He wasn’t expecting you to be there, huddled in the corner and absolutely terrified.

Oh shit. What has his brother done?

You’re shaking, but something in you must see how scared he is, because you ask him to get you out. You promise you won’t say anything. You’ll leave and he’ll never see you again.

...

Mutt knows that if you suddenly disappeared, Black would know that it would be him who did it. He doesn’t know how far his brother’s temper will go. He’s been lucky in the past. But he doesn’t want to die, and he knows that if he helps you then Black would kill him for sure.

He refuses to help you.

He’s confident in his decision.

That doesn’t mean your screams and the way you beg for help doesn’t haunt his dreams at night.

#anon ask #ask #imagine #yandere sans #papyrus #undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #lizzie writes #lizzie imagines

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wonderlustlucas · 4 years

Text

jack pot ; part 2 - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt You know it’s bad when you’re high as a kite and he’s still on your mind. ⇢ pairing hwang hyunjin x female reader, bang chan x female reader ⇢ word count 7.5k ⇢ genre fluff, angst (not heavy, just in a slow burn kind of way), smut ⇢ warnings (18+) drug & alcohol use, explicit sexual content (fingering & thigh riding) ⇢ summary College is a matter of working hard and playing hard. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, to grow as an individual and to blossom with those you befriend. People come and people go, leaving their mark on your life and showing you all the parts of becoming an adult. Some, however, do more than leave their mark. Some take just as much as they give. Things become complicated once they take the entirety of your love because you outright offered it to them.—college!au ; stoner!au ; friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n don’t kill me </3

⇠ part 1

three.

Student Mentor Program dinners aren’t the same without Maddie.

While she’s off in like, Panama, or something, studying treefrogs and whatnot for the semester, you get to spend almost two hours every other Wednesday night at the same restaurant, with the same people, eating the same food. You don’t even know half the kids who signed up this year, and with Maddie away and Seungmin deciding to just not show up anymore, you are beginning to think maybe you’re not cut out for the whole teamwork-planning-collaboration thing. Free Italian food is nice, but even the chicken parm is mediocre. How do you fuck up chicken parmigiana?

This is the last time you will ever bother making yourself look so formal, you tell yourself when you stop halfway up the stairs to take your heels off. Maybe it will be the last time you even bother going to the meeting, especially when fucking Dan likes to plop his ass down next to you and talk your ear off about his Mom’s dating life back at home.

When you enter your apartment, the silence is startling. Jisung is usually sprawled out on the sofa when you get home on Wednesday’s. Maybe he’s still hanging out on campus; he’s recently become a goblin for the new pho bar they built in the alumni cafeteria.

Throwing your shoes haphazardly toward the closet, you make a beeline to the kitchen, mouth watering for the pink lemonade Jisung has been so keen on making since the day you moved in. After drinking nothing but water for the past two hours, you have never been so grateful for his newfound addiction, grabbing a glass and filling it, chugging that, filling it again, and then taking steady sips. Speaking of Jisung, you jump when you hear a burst of laughter from his room. And he definitely isn’t alone.

Slowly making your way over, you hesitate before knocking on the door. “Jisung, I’m home.”

“YN!” Someone shouts. You’re not certain who.

“Come in! How was it?” This time, it’s definitely Jisung, and you suck in a deep breath before cautiously cracking open his door considering you have no idea who or what is with him.

“It was,” you stall, brows furrowing in confusion when you find him, Hyunjin, and Jeongin all huddled around his laptop, “terrible. What the hell are you guys doing?”

“Nothing,” Jisung snickers, lowering the hood of the laptop, “why was it terrible?” You pretend you don’t see Hyunjin looking terribly cute with his head tilted as he regards you.

“Food sucks. I miss Maddie and Seungmin. I don’t like people,” you grumble. Then, with a hand on your belly, “Did you get dinner?”

“My leftover wings are in the fridge. You can have them,” Jeongin offers with a smile. “Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite? I love you, thank you,” you gasp, excited at the prospect of actual good chicken. Before racing back to the kitchen, you make sure to blow him a kiss.

You don’t know why Jeongin hangs out with these nerds you call friends. As an incoming freshman, he first met Hyunjin at some soccer club recruitment event, and before you knew it, he was part of the group. You can’t understand why, considering they treat him like their slave (especially Seungmin); always asking him to do this, do that. But Jeongin is too much of an angel to argue. He’ll give a snarky reply, but then do whatever his friends ask him to. So, you try to shower him with genuine affection whenever he’s around since the others show it in peculiar ways.

You have just opened the styrofoam container when Jisung’s door opens and closes. And of course, none other than Hwang Hyunjin makes his way into the kitchen.

Hyunjin and his girlfriend broke up in August, a few days before classes started. Better yet, she broke up with him. And you have yet to know why. Since then, though, you have substantially grown closer. Against your better judgment, of course. You were hurt, yes, but summer gave you time to forget all that happened; at home, spending time with your family and friends from town, you didn’t have to worry about Hyunjin and your feelings. Changbin, maybe, but he’s studying abroad, too, and the whole friends-with-benefits thing was fun while it lasted. It’s all behind you now, and with November approaching at an alarmingly fast rate, part of you is convinced that what happened that night was just an impulsive show of hormones and weed. It’s better this way—you have your feelings better under control, and even if being around Hyunjin every day makes your heart hurt at times, you wouldn’t trade your friendship and his constant need to be close for the world.

“If you’re here to steal some wings, go away,” you grumble at him, glaring as he steps closer. He frowns. “Just one?”

“No!” You snap, smacking his hand when he reaches for one. “You try wasting two hours at one of those meetings and you would understand.”

“Maybe I will,” Hyunjin challenges, crossing his arms over his chest. Huffing loudly, you move further down the counter and finish a wing clean off the bone. “Don’t,” you deadpan, waving it at him, “I’d rather have smegma than do this anymore.” Hyunjin wrinkles his nose in disgust. “That’s – ew, YN. You’re gross.”

“Then leave me alone,” you counter, eying him scornfully, “go back to your group masturbation.”

Hyunjin lunges for the wings, but you are quick to grab them, stumbling past him and retreating back toward the refrigerator. “Stop!” You yelp when he comes after you again; this time, you duck under his arm and back against the sink. “You already had dinner!”

In one last effort, Hyunjin manages to trap you against the counter. “You’re so mean,” he whines, arms caging you in, “Jeongin wouldn’t share, either.” You desperately want to brush the ruffled strands of brown hair out of his eyes, but lucky for you, your hands are preoccupied hiding the container behind you. The fact that he even had to go and bleach his hair and dye it a light shade of brown is just another factor leading to your insanity.

“Well,” you scoff, freeing one hand to jab a finger into his chest, “it was his dinner. Maybe he didn’t want to share.” Hyunjin pouts at this, lower lip jutting out much to your dismay. His puppy eyes alone are enough to break your resolve. “Fine,” you huff, bringing the container from behind you, “just because you’re wasting my time and I want to take this dress off.”

“Why?” He asks, visibly brightening once you let him take a drumstick. “You look gorgeous,” he mumbles like it doesn’t leave you week in the knees, clean hand tugging at the skirt of the yellow sundress you wear. “Thanks,” you hum, trying to ignore his use of the hefty G word and the sincerity in his eyes, you focus on your food, “but it’s uncomfy and I’m ready for bed.”

“You’re not going to hang with us?”

“Well, if you guys were doing something fun and totally not suspicious, maybe. But my brain is fried, so no. I need sleep,” you say, licking residue hot honey sauce from your fingers, “tell Jeongin he can come snuggle.”

Hyunjin gasps, beginning to panic when you turn on your heels. “What?” He screeches, shoving the leftovers back into the fridge and following after you as you head toward your room. “Why Jeongin and not me?”

“Because Jeongin is my favorite,” you tease, pressing your back into the door because you refuse to let him be in there with you, “and naturally, next is Jisung. So you’re shit out of luck.”

Hyunjin deflates in front of you. Like, actually, full on like a balloon; shoulders sagging, chin jutting, soft eyes clouding with disappointment. “I’m kidding, Jinnie,” you giggle, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck, “you’re all special to me.” This seems to make him feel better, brown irises flickering golden and arms wrapping around your waist. “Promise?” He whispers into your hair, swaying your body with his to a silent song. Pressing your cheek to his chest, your heart seems to give a single, solid thump as you try to etch this moment into your mind forever. Maybe in another universe, you would have this dress on for something else, and the two of you are slow dancing not in the corridor of you and Jisung’s apartment, and the heavy weight on your chest was from a different overwhelming emotion.

Yeah. You definitely have your feelings under control.

“I promise.”

Jisung straight up pulls an AirPod out of your ear like a monster.

“I hate you so fucking much,” you hiss, trying to keep your voice quiet so as to not disturb the fellow bus passengers. You go to take the earbud back but he only holds it up over his head like a child. “Jisung.”

“You owe Jeongin an apology,” he replies, gesturing to the younger boy beside him who looks up from his phone with eyes widened in shock.

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

“Jisung, you don’t—”

“Shush,” Jisung interrupts Jeongin’s rushed protest, “I don’t know what you and Hyunjin did last night, but he was real weird around Jeongin for the rest of the night.”

“Again, I don’t know what you are—”

“Do you like him still?”

“YN likes Hyunjin?”

You suck in a sharp breath, unsure of who to address first; a very flabbergasted Jeongin or a very annoyed Jisung. “Please,” you snap, snatching the AirPod from his grip now that he isn’t paying attention to it, “just announce it to the whole fucking bus, why don’t you.”

“I didn’t know you liked Hyunjin…” Jeongin mutters, clearly puzzled by the revelation. “That’s because it’s a secret,” you look to Jisung with a pointed glare, “but some people don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.”

“Oh, come on YN,” Jisung scoffs, “I thought we were over this. I thought you were over this. When are you going to stop?” Nibbling on the inside of your cheek, you momentarily look away to gather your thoughts. If only it were that easy. A snap of your fingers and you miraculously would not be hopelessly in love with Hyunjin.

“I’m not,” you sigh, “I’m not going to get over him, at least anytime soon. It’s… it’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand it. Your head is too far up your ass and sometimes Minho’s ass to know what it feels like.”

Jisung frowns at this, crossing his arms over his chest because he knows you’re right. “Is this like,” Jeongin waves his hand between you, “something that’s been going on for a while?” Jisung barks out a laugh at this, and even you can’t help but crack a smile. “Yes,” Jisung chuckles, “YN has been all heart eyes for him since they met.”

“Have you told him?” Jeongin asks. Totally serious. Eyes sparkling hopefully.

“I – well, no. Not with words.”

“Hyunjin and YN had a little wink wonk night last year,” Jisung whispers like it’s some sort of secret you don’t know, jabbing Jeongin in the side with his elbow. “Yeah, and then he met what’s-her-face and forgot about it, apparently,” you grumble, slouching in your seat. “YN! How many times do I have to tell you that you left in the morning before he woke up? He was upset! You left him!”

“Then he should have talked to me about it!” You bark, shriveling in your seat when a sea of heads spin in your direction. “Instead, he went to cry to his boba bitch and get his dick sucked or something while I had to clean up Maddie’s vomit for two days.”

“YN,” Jisung deadpans, looking at you with an unamused expression. “I’m done talking about this,” you sigh, looking away once more. When you go to put your earbud back in, it’s Jeongin who stops you this time.

“YN, you two are really close. This whole time I thought it was Hyunjin who liked you. You seriously need to talk to him. Whatever happened last year was awhile ago and I’m sure it’s all just a big misunderstanding. We’re around you guys every day, and we can all see that there’s definitely something going on between you.”

“But what if he doesn’t feel the same? What if it just fucks everything up all over again? I can’t live with that kind of rejection,” you whimper, wincing when your voice cracks. Jisung takes it as his cue to wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you close. Reaching for your hand, Jeongin squeezes your knuckles. “You won’t know unless you try, right?”

“I guess,” you mumble, cheek pressed to Jisung’s shoulder, “why can’t he just make the move?”

“Well, I don’t know, YN. Maybe because you were off fucking Changbin every day?” Jisung teases, comforting arm turning into a chokehold when you go to move away. “We were not fucking every day.”

“It sure felt like it,” he snickers, finally releasing his grip when you punch him in the gut, “Binnie got a big dick or something? Were you crazy for Changbin’s chode?” You scoff, mirroring Jeongin’s own mortified expression. “I – he does not – never mind, I’m not talking about Changbin’s dick,” laughing to hide your embarrassment, you send a thanks to the heavens when the bus slows down at the first campus stop, “this conversation ends now.”

Following them out to the sidewalk, it isn’t until silence settles over you do you realize just how lucky you are to have such supportive friends, even if Jisung is a little shit about it. “Hey,” you pipe up just before you have to head in a separate direction, “thanks for listening. I appreciate you guys.”

“Does that mean you’re going to talk to him?” Jisung gasps, excited. Adjusting the straps of your bag on your shoulders and rocking on your heels, you can only offer them a shrug. “If it comes up, maybe. But it probably won’t, so I’ll just have to deal with you guys being shitty wing-men for now.”

“Hey!” They both shout in protest, but you’ve already spun around, laughing to yourself.

Jeongin’s right; things are different than how they were in May, but you are not ready to dig your own grave again. Besides, now that you’re living with Jisung, you get to spend way more time with not only Hyunjin, but all your friends. And even if you fall asleep making up cute scenarios with Hyunjin every night, you aren’t about to make things awkward all over again. So if you must suffer in the meantime, suffer you will.

four.

“What’s the point of smoking at a party if it’s just going to turn you into a slug?” Maddie whispers next to you, vaguely gesturing to Lia passed out on the recliner. Even you aren’t sure how she does it. No matter how high you may be, something about a good party only seems to heighten the experience; maybe it’s the music that now rattles your brain, maybe it’s your reputation, or maybe it’s just the combination of weed, alcohol, and friends.

“Lia can’t handle what she smokes,” you laugh, taking a sip of beer. Christ, it’s fucking nasty, but you’re not about to start with the heavy liqueur when you are only two hours in. You still have a long night ahead of you. “Weed just has a different effect on her.”

Maddie hums in agreement, whipping her head to look behind you at the sea of people when “A Thousand Years” starts playing and everyone cheers. “Jesus, what did you do without me?”

You laugh, turning to watch the crowd as well. Your university may not be big on Greek life, but the upperclassmen who rent houses as a group really know how to throw a good party. After time, though, they start to lose their appeal. They definitely can be fun, but it all depends on who you are friends with, who else is there, and what you make of it on your own. Personally, you’re not a ‘let’s dance!’ kind of gal (it’s kind of hard to dance to crazy rap songs from Meek Mill and Kendrick Lamar, anyway), preferring to chill, drinking and maybe smoking with your own friends, and that’s about it.

“I told you, I became a master at beer pong,” you grin, waggling your eyebrows at her, “we should play later.”

“Is that why everyone was saying hi to you when we came in?” Maddie gasps, connecting the dots. “Damn, girl. Ms. Popular now, aren’t you?”

“No!” You try to object, but then someone is leaning over to hug you from behind. And of course it has to be Jeon Jeongguk, of all people. So much for proving that you aren’t as ‘popular’ as she’s made you out to be.

“YN! What’s up?” The older boy shouts way too loud in your ear, chin resting on your shoulder. He winks at Maddie and she has to look away just to hide the way her cheeks bloom pink. “I’m good!” You yell back, leaning your head affectionately against his. “Are there any good drinks tonight?”

“Yes! Do you want me to get you one?” He offers, standing up but leaving a hand dangerously close to your neck. “No, thank you” you smile, tilting your head back to look at him, “I’ll check it out in a bit. Go find your friends, you look lost.” Realizing he is, in fact, lost, Jeongguk only flicks your nose before disappearing in the sea of increasingly loud students.

“Was that—”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t he—”

“Yes.”

“Christ, who are you? What did you do to YN?” Maddie fake-cries, burying her head in her palms. “Chin up, princess, your tiara is falling,” you attempt to joke but only earn an unamused glare in return. “Alright, I think it’s time for one of those drinks Mr. Jeon was talking about,” Maddie decides, standing up and tugging the hem of her skirt down. “Unless you still want to ‘vibe?’” She mimics your previous words with air-quotes.

Laughing, you chug what’s left in your cup and stand with her. “No,” you beam, “I need to find Felix and make sure he’s not dead, anyway.”

Following Maddie around the crowd ‘dancing’ in between where you were and the kitchen, you are delighted to find not only Ryujin and Chaeryeong standing around the island, but the rest of your friends, too. “You may want to check in on your roommate,” you say to Ryujin, wrapping your arms around her and resting your chin in the crook of her neck, “she’s knocked the fuck out.”

“Aw, man,” she sighs, definitely not the most sober one around either, “I told her not to smoke if she was going to drink.”

“YN, I just think it’s funny how Maddie comes and gives me a hug, yet I don’t think you’ve even said hello,” Seungmin barks at you from his stance against the sink, eyes bloodshot and frown deep. “Dude,” you laugh, making your way over to him and opening your arms wide to give him a dramatic bear hug, “please forgive me, my friend.” Swaying side to side just for the extra measure, you then pull back to cup his face in your hands. “How are you?”

“Good,” Seungmin beams, “take a sip out of Hyunjin’s cup. It’s so good.”

You step back to look at the older boy who’s too busy playing rock-paper-scissors with Felix and Jisung. “Why?”

“Trust me.”

Shrugging, you step around a shrieking Felix to snatch Hyunjin’s cup right from his hand. “Hey—”

He stops once he realizes it’s you. “Seungmin told me to,” you confess, handing it back once you’ve taken a sip. Shit, that is good. “What is that?”

“Want me to make you one?” He offers, ignoring the initial question. You nod, unable to give him a verbal answer because Felix is already yanking your hand to get your attention. “Are you high?” He asks, spinning you in a circle until you end up in the corner of the kitchen. “Yeah, a little,” you hum, watching curiously as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a chocolate bar. Leaning closer to hide it, he whispers, “Don’t have it tonight, but this is the best edible I’ve ever had. I was actually seeing different dimensions earlier.”

Laughing, you take what’s left and turn it over to inspect. Looks like chocolate. Smells like chocolate. “Alright,” grinning excitedly, you shove it into your wristlet, “thank you.” With a wide grin, he then spins on his heel to join Jeongin shouting at Jisung about something you don’t quite catch.

Smiling to Maddie across the room as Minho chats her up, you look beside you and realize with much joy you are right next to the chip bowls. Bingo. Fueled by munchies, you hop up onto the counter and dig your hand into the potato chips, listening in on Chaeryeong and Seungmin discuss what law schools they are looking into. Kudos to them for having their shit together.

“One beverage for m’lady,” Hyunjin appears next to you, proudly holding a red cup out to you. Laughing, you happily take it and take a careful sip. Definitely not as strong as his, but he can probably tell you already have a buzz. “Thank you,” you smile, finally eyeing him to see what attire he chose for the night. As discreetly and not-sexually-attracted as you can, of course.

Black button-up with a cute peach pattern tucked into black jeans and black Vans, he looks nothing short of incredible. It’s so easy for him, though; he could wear a trash bag and still look good and that really makes you angry. With soft brown hair messily parted to the side, he actually has you salivating. He’s crazy.

You definitely are not as slick with your checking-out as you thought you were, and he easily catches on. He’s tipsy, but not that tipsy. Hands coming to grip your thighs, Hyunjin pries them open just enough so he can slot in between, keeping his hands where they are. Suddenly you wish you didn’t wear jeans tonight.

“So,” he hums like he hasn’t just sent your blood pressure skyrocketing, “what did you do today?”

“I – well,” you stammer, brain actually rendered to mush as he rubs up and down your thighs, sometimes drawing way to close to the inside, sometimes brushing up to the curve of your hip. Drunk Hyunjin is always touchy, drunk Hyunjin is always touchy, you try to convince yourself. “Uh, I went shopping with Maddie and then we, um, we got milkshakes.”

“Yeah?” Hyunjin hums, completely invested in your short recall. He’s dangerous. Like, actually a danger to your life; no man should ever be equally cute as he is hot as he is sweet. Jail! “What flavor did you get?”

“Cookies and cream,” you whisper, beginning to panic now that he most certainly is leaning in closer and your brain is screaming to wrap your arms around him, “Maddie got strawberry and I got Jisung a, uh—”

“Is YN here?” Someone shouts in the middle of your sentence. Hyunjin frowns, mere inches from your face and moves his arm to slide possessively around your waist. “She’s right here,” he answers for you, turning and finding with much surprise Bang Chan twisting back around. Dear Lord. You grab your drink and guzzle half of it just to get some feeling back.

“You.” Chan beans, full dimples. He points directly at you.

“Me?”

“You.” “That would be me.”

Chan laughs heartily at this, stepping closer and Hyunjin’s fingers twitch against your side. “I need you,” Chan admits. You practically choke. “Yugyeom and Woojin think they’re the best beer pong players and I laughed in their face, so now I’ve been challenged to play vodka pong and I know with you, we can win.”

Geez, how dramatic. You wrinkle your nose at the whole vodka part, but you promised Maddie a game, so what better game to play than with the one and only Bang Chan.

“Sure,” you agree much to Hyunjin’s disappointment, “since you made it sound like such an honor. I’d be happy to.”

Grinning ear to ear, Chan waits for you to hop off the counter. “You gonna come?” You ask Hyunjin, finding his hand and giving it a squeeze. “Yeah,” he hums, seemingly annoyed and it makes you wince, “just need to get another drink and I’ll try to get everyone to come with.”

“Okay,” you smile, hoping to get one in return. And you do—except it lacks every aspect of a whole-hearted Hyunjin smile and an annoying thought bubble pops up to say that he’s jealous. Christ, if that’s the case… You can’t help but smile at the thought before releasing his hand and approaching Chan.

“I don’t think we’ve ever formally met,” he chuckles softly, hand on your back as he leads you toward the back door. “I don’t think so either,” you laugh, grateful that the mix of marijuana and alcohol in your body has left the anxiety that comes with talking to cute boys on the low, “only through Jisung and Changbin. And beer pong, I guess.”

“Definitely,” Chan laughs, nodding to Yugyeom and Woojin at the far end of the yard, “I think they were shocked when I said I was going to get you.”

“Oh, doubtful, are they?” Clinging closer to Chan, your brows raise as you near the senior and unfairly tall junior. “All bark and no bite.”

“What was that, YLN?” Yugyeom yaps, rounding up on you as if you would ever actually feel intimidated by him. “You wouldn’t switch up on your Olympics partner like that, would you?”

“Actually,” clicking your tongue, you poke him in the middle of his chest, “my Olympics partner is the whole reason we lost in the final four. So yes, I am switching up on you, unless you beat us.” Behind you, Woojin whistles, offering Chan an impressed nod. “And for you, I’ll pay double for my next order.”

“Deal,” Woojin beams, giving your hand a solid shake when you make your way over, “you win, next order is my treat.”

“Damn,” Chan frowns playfully when you return to his side, this time at your end of the table, “I guess nothing is in it for me besides my ego.” Laying your hand on his arm and giving it a comforting pat, you can’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry,” you reassure, “we’ll figure something out when the time comes.” What you mean by that, you’re not sure.

Maddie goes absolutely berserk when you and Chan both make your shots and get balls back. Felix, on the other hand, seems torn. While Woojin is his friend and weed plug, he realizes that you winning means not having to spend money for a good while. Which also means a disgruntled Woojin. When you miss your shot, you turn back to your friends who have crowded around the table, returning a thumbs-up to Jisung and Seungmin before frantically searching for Hyunjin.

You realize you are way more intoxicated than you thought when a troublesome idea pops in your head. It’s a close game, after all; two cups on your side and two on theirs. And right now, you don’t care about winning when the only thing you’re after is but a few feet away. When he manages a soft smile, just a shy quirk of his lips that has your heart doing somersaults, you really, truly think you may just confess. It’s now or never. The alcohol in your veins tells your heart and your head that you will just march right on over and kiss him, kiss him hard and kiss him long enough for him to know how you feel, and fuck, if he doesn’t understand you’ll tell him. Tell him how long you have wanted to do that and how badly you wish to do it again. How much he means to you and how you truly—

“Yes! Woojin, yes!” Yugyeom shrieks, loud enough to break you from your trance. Vodka pong. Winning. Bang Chan. He must have missed, as well as Yugyeom. But now Woojin made a cup and its one to two.

“Shit,” Chan sighs next to you, hand slipping away from your hip. It’s found its way there awhile now, you realize. “You got this,” you tell him, wincing as he downs the shot, “I’ll close my eyes. No pressure.” Covering your eyes with your hand for extra measure, it feels like an eternity goes by before something happens. And then, “Yes! Shit, YN, we got this!” Ah, shit. Now the pressure is on you. Of course, Mr. Perfect made the shot.

“Aw, man,” you huff, giving him a pained smile and rolling the cheap pong ball between your fingers. Your mind is a little fuzzy to focus on the singular cup and that alone, and your muscle coordination is certainly not at its best shape. But you think you have a good shot. You think. Sucking in a deep breath, you let the ball fly and bite your lip hard as it arches over the table, nearing the cup, hits the rim, bounces back up vertically, and… plops back into the cup.

“YN, you crazy son of a bitch!” Chan hollers, and you are momentarily blinded by joy as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you in a tight hug, spinning in a circle and ever so gently lifting you from the ground. “You did it!”

“I – bruh,” steadying yourself against him once he sets you back down, you glance between his bright smile and a sulking Woojin as he drinks from the last cup, “we won!” Laughing, you squeeze him into a second hug because fuck yeah, winning feels nice.

“Man, good game,” Woojin sighs, making his way over to you, “I think you two are the crowned champions.”

“You had us sweating though,” Chan confesses, wiping said sweaty hands on his thighs, “that was really fun.”

“Stressful, but fun,” you agree, offering Woojin a sympathetic smile. “You don’t have to give me free weed, by the way. It was just fun setting the stakes high.”

“No! A deal is a deal,” he beams, “just text me whenever, yeah?”

“Alright,” you laugh, “whatever you say.” Finding Felix in the crowd, you grin proudly at him. Free weed for all! “You’re going to use this against me forever, aren’t you?” Yugyeom pouts, appearing in front of you. “Well,” you pause, pursing your lips at him, “as long as you don’t give me a reason to, no, I won’t. You were my pong partner at some point, right?”

“Hell yeah!” Satisfied with this, Yugyeom pats your head before wandering off, probably to go drink all his worries away.

“Well,” beside you, Chan reappears with two bottles of water, “that was pretty amazing.”

“Truly,” with an appreciative smile, you take one and down half of it, “did you hear what Woojin said? ‘Crowned champions!’ We’re a great team. Truly unstoppable.”

Chuckling, he nods in agreement, leaning against the table next to you. “You’re stuck with me now, though. Anytime I’m playing, you’re playing too. That’s just how it is now.” Laughing, you nod and hum in agreement, glancing at him briefly. “You know your paparazzi aren’t going to be happy about that.”

“My what?” Chan sputters and you quickly take another sip of water to hide your smirk.

“You know,” gesturing vaguely to the boys and girls gathered in the yard you’ve noticed send envious glares your way, “your fans. I’m sure someone out there is a gold star beer pong player waiting to play with you.” Chan scoffs, pressing closer and you would be lying if you said your heart rate didn’t pick up. “But I don’t want to play with anyone else.”

“Woah,” scrambling to get your cool, you turn to him and are shocked to find just how closer he has gotten, “how many girls have you used that line on?”

“None,” Chan admits, chuckling and you desperately want to press your finger in his dimple, “but I figured since we still have to figure out my prize for winning, I would try my luck.”

“Oh,” you hum, understanding. You turn to face him fully, heat working its way up and down your body as he reciprocates the movement, stepping closer and anchoring his hand to your hip. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“A few things,” Chan whispers, other hand coming to hold your jaw, tilting your head to meet his eyes. This is when you come to your senses.

Not even ten minutes ago were you convinced you were going to confess to Hyunjin, and here you are now, with not Hyunjin. You cannot help but pull back, frantically searching for the taller boy. Beside Yugyeom, Hyunjin is definitely one of the easier people to find. Could just be your Hyunjin tunnel vision, though. But as you look all around, to the left and to the right, behind Chan and behind yourself, you cannot find him. He’s not here to remind you where your heart truly belongs.

But yet again—why would he? Why should he stick around and watch as you are mere centimeters and seconds away from kissing someone else? Perhaps a part of you thought he would fight for you. Perhaps you were wrong for ever thinking that was a possibility.

And here you are, leaving someone waiting who has succeeded in making you forget about Hyunjin for the time being. Leaving someone waiting who is hot, and not in the sex appeal, six-pack all muscles type of hot. (Well, maybe a little of that, because you have been to enough swim meets to know what Bang Chan looks like underneath all his clothes.) But hot not just physically—he’s the whole package. Sweet, humble, and nothing like most of the guys who look the way he does.

“YN?” Chan asks, brows furrowed and concern clear in his voice at your prolonged hesitance. “Sorry,” shaking your head and making a final decision, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean in closer, “I was just thinking of where else we could go.”

Chan surprises you with the force he uses to kiss you, tongue skillfully wrapping around yours and hands hurrying to press you closer. Whimpering against his mouth, you slowly but surely lose yourself in the feeling, clawing at the fabric of his shirt and aching to have him closer. It isn’t until he has you bumping against the edge of the table you were just playing pong at do you realize where you are, certainly drawing attention in the middle of the yard with Chan’s hips rolling into yours and your hands tugging at his hair.

“Chan,” you shakily pull away, taking a necessary breath and cupping his face in your palms. This close, you realize just how beautiful he is. This close, you pray this could be the start of something new. “Somewhere else?”

Chan swallows heavily, Adam’s apple bobbing as he brushes blonde hair away from his forehead. “Yes,” soft smile greatly juxtaposing to the lust that leaves his eyes heavy-lidded, he takes your hand in his and leads you back inside, “not out here.”

Wordlessly following after him, you keep close, holding onto his hand for dear life as the desire pooling in your abdomen grows the farther he takes you into the house and finally up the stairs. “Sorry,” he mutters, maneuvering around the few people waiting to get into the bathroom, “seniors typically get the best rooms.” Opening one of the last doors further down the left corridor, Chan finally releases your hand once you have entered a very tiny, very cramped bedroom.

“I mean,” you pause, scanning the room with just a full-sized bed, black desk littered with music equipment, and dresser just barely squeezed next to a small closet. “At least you have your own room.” Humming in agreement, Chan regards his room too, wincing at his unmade bed and wires tangled in a heaping mess over his desk and onto the floor. “I wasn’t expecting to have someone over, everything’s a mess, I’m—”

“Hey,” you reach for his arm, stopping him from fixing the comforter that hangs halfway off the bed, “stop worrying. This is fine, you’re fine.” Smiling softly, Chan allows you to pull him back, stopping before you and caging you between himself and the door. “Are you sure?” He whispers, tilting your head up with a finger under your chin. “Yes,” unable to fight your smile at just how sweet he is, you finally lean up and press a quick kiss to his reddened lips. “Now please, do something.”

Chan does not hesitate, hurriedly returning to your previous business; this time, not holding back. His hands skirt down your body, one curling to cup your neck as the other slides down your spine before giving your ass a good squeeze. “Shit,” you hiss, head thudding against his door when he journeys down your neck, plump lips pressing random kisses against the soft skin before sucking a dark mark above your collarbone. When his fingers fumble against the buttons of your jeans, you offer him a hand, hurriedly popping the four open and sighing happily when he gently touches your clothed core.

“Are you sure?” Chan checks one last time, forehead pressing into yours and you nearly scream. Half because what a gentleman he is but half because every nerve is begging to be sated. “Yes,” your voice comes out more as a croak, quickly kicking your shoes off by the soles and tugging your jeans down to your knees to give him extra room.

Chan wastes no time, fingers quickly disappearing beneath the waistband of your underwear and drawing a teasing line up your slit. “Chan,” you groan, squeezing his arms at the subtle touch, “please.” Chuckling at your expense, he softly circles your clit with his thumb, reveling in the way you tremble and whimper before him.

“I’ve never been so turned on playing beer pong,” Chan admits, middle finger moving to prod against your entrance, “I kept missing my shots ‘cause all I could focus on was you.”

“Fuck,” you sigh blissfully, rolling to meet the gentle sway of his finger as it reaches deep within you, “you’re going to make be blush.” Chuckling, Chan quickly adds a second finger and makes sure to grind his palm against your clit until you are a whimpering mess. “I’m so glad we won. This would not be as enjoyable if we were doing this to make up for losing.”

“For sure,” nodding frantically, a high-pitched whine escapes your lips when he moves his fingers in a come-hither motion, brushing deliciously at that sacred bundle of nerves, “this is better than winning.” Sensing your impending orgasm with the way your walls begin to flutter around him, Chan suddenly pulls his fingers from your heat and takes the overwhelming pleasure with him.

“What are you doing?” You gasp, breathless and confused as he plops down on his bed, leaning against the wall and quickly tugging you to join him. “Want you to come on my thigh,” he grins, totally not fitting for your given circumstances, but the thought is tantalizing enough to convince you. Fully stepping from your jeans and shakily sitting over one thigh, you glance back up to him and feel a fresh wave of arousal simply from how godly he looks; cheeks flushed and eyes dark. Pressing down, it isn’t until his hands find your hips and guide a subtle back-and-forth movement do you find just how amazing it feels.

“Oh, god,” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as you rock desperately over his thigh, relishing in the way the fabric of his jeans rubs against your clothed core and directly to your clit. In the midst of such a frenzy, you make out the shape of his cock tented painfully within his pants and release your grip on his shoulder to pop open the button and slide the zipper down. “Shit, YN,” Chan sighs shakily, finally receiving the same treatment as your hand tugs the waistband of his boxers down just enough to wrap your hand around him.

“God, sorry, I’m gonna come,” biting onto your lip, you try to keep the momentum stroking his cock but with one final rut against his thigh, the pressure against your clit causes the knot within you to snap. High on the intensity of your climax, it takes a few seconds for you to come back to reality, mind swimming and limbs shaking with the aftershocks of such ecstasy.

Looking up to meet his eyes, you realize your hand has gone limp by his thigh and offer a shy smile. “Sorry,” wincing, you lean forward and press a grateful kiss to his lips, “that was like, insanely amazing.”

“I’m glad,” Chan purrs, cradling your jaw and finding himself content with just kissing you for now. Until your hand finds his still very much hard cock and brushes against the tip.

“Wait,” he stops you no matter how hard it hurts him to do so, breathing shakily as he reaches for your wrist. “I hope this isn’t going to make things complicated for you.”

“What?” You laugh in disbelief, pulling back with brows raised in confusion. “What are you talking about?” Chan frowns, helping you settle comfortably on his lap like his dick isn’t standing tall and proud between you. “You were looking for someone earlier,” he says, eyes soft with sympathy, “I hope you being here with me doesn’t mess things up.”

You scoff, truly amazed at his words. Here we go again. “I – no, it doesn’t. Well, things are already complicated. Actually,” the haze of alcohol and post-orgasm bliss suddenly clearing from your mind, you move to stand up, “never mind. This was a mistake. I should go.”

“Wait,” Chan stops you, hand softly reaching yours and tugging you back. Just the sadness in his expression alone is enough to soften your resolve. “I know we’re not best friends or anything, but you just came on my thigh. You can tell me what’s wrong. I think I deserve to know.” Well… he has a point. Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you contemplate turning away and leaving. But even if it’s not his business, he has given you something special tonight. Maybe telling someone like him will help.

“You’re right,” you sigh, quietly returning to sit beside him, “I was looking for someone. I was hoping he would be there to remind me who I’m really after, but he wasn’t. And then I realized I was wasting time. And now I’m here with you.”

Chan’s hand finds yours, thumb swiping softly against your skin. “Why didn’t you go find them?”

“Well – I… it’s not like we’re dating. It’s just a stupid crush, and I was hoping maybe he somehow feels the same, and when he saw me with you, he would get jealous… I’m sorry, this makes it look like I used you,” frantic, you struggle to find the right words, “I promise I’m not. I like you, you made me forget everything and I—”

“Hey, stop,” Chan interrupts, cupping your face so you look him in the eyes, “I didn’t think that at all. I really like you and thought maybe something could happen between us, and even after I realized you were looking for someone else, I was selfish and wanted you for myself.”

“No! Stop, please,” laughing to hide your disbelief, you squeeze his hand to assure him. “I was hopeful because you made me forget about him. But I don’t think I ever will fully forget.”

“You need to tell him, then,” Chan says, “or else you’ll never be able to move on.”

“It’s not that easy. Confessing just how much you like someone is a big deal,” you point out.

“No, it’s not,” he argues, brows furrowed, “you just told me you like me. Just do that again but to the one you really feel that way for.” Sulking, you look away, focusing on his desk’s clutter. “I guess you’re right,” sighing, you rest your head against his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut, “but for right now, I’m with you. And you still didn’t get a prize for winning.”

Bellowing out a laugh, Chan snuggly wraps his arms around you. “Well, if I can help take your mind off things without ruining any relationships, I’d be happy to do so.” Smiling against your hair, his palm lays flat against your bare thigh and gives it a firm squeeze, bringing your attention to his slowly softening dick.

“That sounds like a great plan,” you agree, littering kisses over his neck before resituating yourself over his lap, “I’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.”

⇢ part 3

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fantastic-bby · 3 years

Text

Pairing: (F)Reader x Youngjae

Word count: 1.3k

Genre: Fluff | Vampire!Youngjae | Witch!Reader

Summary: Just a vampire trying to get his witch away from her books and into bed with him.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and injury | Use of magic

Masterlist

[00:36]

“Darling,” your lover calls, “come to bed.” With your face buried in your spellbook, hands busied with glass bottles and herbs, and a candle burning brightly in front of you; his call falls on deaf ears. “(Y/n),” he tries once more. You finally look up from the book to see Youngjae laying on his stomach, watching you intently from the bed with a soft look in his brown eyes. “The bed’s awfully cold with your presence, my love.”

You chuckle, “you’re a vampire. You’re always cold,” and turn your eyes back to your book. Your partner snorts at that as he rolls over onto his back.

“Why must you always reject my romance?”

“I’m busy right now, my love,” you mumble absentmindedly as you place a sprig lavender into the stone bowl sitting on your altar. Youngjae watches you, his view now upside down with how his head hangs off the edge of the bed. You catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, noting how he looks like an impatient puppy. “Give me one moment, Youngjae,” you look up. His head perks up at the sound of your voice and his attention is locked on you almost immediately. “I’m almost done with this.”

He slides off of the bed, taking a step closer towards your altar to look at what you’re doing. “What are you making?” Youngjae questions.

“An spell jar,” you hum. Youngjae stays a safe distance away from your work space, knowing well that he might mess with the energy around you. A witch’s altar is not something he should mess with, that much he knows very well from experience. “One step back, Jae,” you give him a warning look. He nods understandingly and takes one step away, but still close enough to watch curiously.

"How much longer is this gonna take?" You look up and see him pout. Youngjae's eyes flash red and you're sure he's trying to use his magic to try and convince you to stop, but your spirits snort at that.

"You can't use your magic on a witch, Youngjae." You shake your head, amused. "My spirits find your efforts amusing, but they appreciate it.” He huffs once again, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just a bit longer, my love. Be patient. We have an eternity to spend together—there’s no rush.” You put the glass bottle down and fill it with various herbs and crystals before closing your eyes. Bringing your hands together, you take a deep breath and allow your magic to charge the spell jar. You hear Youngjae moving around the bedroom while your eyes are closed, but you know that he’s probably trying to give you more space for you to concentrate on your magic.

The only reason Youngjae fears your altar is because he fears you. Who would’ve thought that an immortal vampire would be terrified of a human witch? Well, you’re a witch that managed to figure out the secret to immortality. And you’re a witch that has granted yourself immortality purely out of spite. Youngjae, on the other hand, was unwillingly granted immortality when he had become a vampire. Your first meeting was definitely something that he would never forget.

“A vampire?” Your head tilted when your eyes caught a glimpse of his fangs. “Are you hurt?”

Youngjae forced himself to sit upright despite the burning pain of the wound that sliced his stomach. “What would a human have to offer me?” he grunted, giving you a good look at his dark crimson eyes.

“A human witch,” you clarified, “there’s a lot my magic could do for you. Judging by your condition, I really don’t think you’re in any position to refuse anyone’s help.”

“I’m a vampire. I can heal myself.”

“You’re weak.” Your words made him freeze. “I was watching the fight from behind the trees. You need to work on your technique as well.” You crouched down beside him, placing your leather satchel onto the ground beside you before rummaging through to find one of your healing spells. You barely had time to react before Youngjae had shoved you into the ground and pressed a dagger into your side. Your magic was strong enough that you had cursed yourself to not feel pain, making the dagger even more useless for Youngjae’s hand. Staring straight into his eyes, you just stared at him in confusion. You kicked him off of you, making sure to hit his wound. He stumbled back in pain, falling onto the ground and watching as you stood up. You pulled the dagger out of your torso, sighing when you saw the blood that soaked the metal, “a waste of energy.”

“W-What—”

“I’m immortal, dumbass,” you tossed the dagger behind you before turning back to look at him. “I don’t feel pain either.” Your arms crossed over your chest as you watch him crawl further back.

“But you’re a human.”

“I’m a witch. I used my magic to make myself immortal because someone told me that they’d outlive me.” You turned around, gathering your things and pulling out the healing elixir you were originally looking for. “You should’ve seen the look on their face when I showed up to their deathbed,” you snorted, popping open the cork to the vial, “they tried coming back to haunt me so I trapped them in a jar and threw them into the ocean. Serves them right.” You bring the small vial to your lips and swallow the dark blue liquid. Your body shuddered at the bitter taste of it, your stomach almost rejecting it from how bad it tasted. But you could feel the knife wound starting to close up almost immediately. “If you really don’t want help, then I’ll just leave you here.” You slipped the glass vial back into your satchel and turned around to leave.

Youngjae winced when he reached out to you, “wait!” He let out a grunt, his hand reaching to the bleeding wound in his front. “I-I’m sorry. Help me, witch, please.” You turned around and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

“My darling?” Your voice snaps him out of the memory. He looks toward your direction to see you watching him from your altar. “I called you a few times but you didn’t respond. Are you okay?”

Ah, he must’ve zoned out. “I’m fine,” he chuckles, “I was just thinking.” You raise an eyebrow as you close your spellbook. You must be done, Youngjae thinks. Rounding your altar, you climb into bed and sit cross-legged beside him.

“Close your eyes, Jae.” He obediently does so, closing his eyes and feeling something cold press against the centre of his forehead. “Open.” His eyes flutter open and suddenly, he’s yawning. “You mentioned that you’ve been having trouble sleeping so I made a spell to help soothe your mind,” you smile as you pull the jar away from Youngjae’s face. His own lips curl into a small smile when he sees yours. You slip away from the bed and put the jar away while your partner watches in complete awe and adoration. He loves you so much.

Almost a two centuries together and Youngjae’s still as in love with you—if not more—as when your relationship had started. The beginning of your friendship was just a vampire seeking advice and company from a witch, a relationship that had changed when you both realised you had fallen in love with each other. He watches as you make your way back to bed, sliding under the covers with your phone in your hand.

“Hey, (Y/n).”

“Yeah?” you turn to him.

“I love you.” Your heart melts, a warm smile creeping onto your face when he leans closer to press his lips against yours. Youngjae pulls away and smiles.

“I love you, too.”

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imaginesmai · 4 years

Text

Peter Parker - No more fondue on my watch

This got a little out of hand... Hope you like it @peterwandaparker!

Plot: Peter and you have been together for a while now, but nothing can go past Captain America eagle’s eyes.

Warnings (or notes): SMUT or nearly smut, but there is a dick. And this is Peter Parker x Rogers!reader. Let’s be honest, there is a bit of Stony

You bit your lip, uncrossing your legs and doing it again just by pure nervousness. Or boredom, that worked too. There was a ray of sun that had moved since you had arrived the length of the table. If you fixed your eyes there for a long time, just like you had been doing, you could see it moving; and it was the most entertaining thing you had done since you had woken up. And you had woken up really, really early.

But that’s what you got when you lived in another district, you wanted to look presentable for him, and your father was Captain America, who could have a heart attack if you were late once more. Who wasn’t as punctual as your father was Tony, the engineer who still was in his lab for sure.

You weren’t uncomfortable in the tower, but you had places to be instead of the living room. Like, your boyfriend’s room.

“Hey dad” you tried.

Steve was wearing what you called ‘I’m gonna meet my crush’ attire. Tight grey shirt, black jeans and a fairly big amount of hair gel. He was reading a book of his list of ‘things I missed under ice’, which in your opinion was too long and boring. But he insisted in completing it, maybe just for the sake of Tony, who wrote it.

He raised a brow at you, his eyes not leaving the book but letting you know that he was aware. You coughed to make you sound as casual as possible, because sneaking out on Captain America wasn’t easy.

“How… much longer?”

“I don’t know” he gave you the same answer for the fifth time. “Whenever Tony finishes what he’s doing. It’s not like you have anything better to do, Y/N”

You bit your remark about your plans; any plan, actually, was better than waiting in the compound in silence since seven in the morning.

“But I’m hungry” you said, and Steve raised his head finally. You contained the proud smirk.

“Didn’t you have breakfast at your mother’s?”

Steve Rogers was a man of a diet. He didn’t have chocolate, sweets, fried stuff or anything that could be bad for health, and he forced anyone who lived with him to have 5 meals per day. The thing was that you were still a minor, and you didn’t always live with him.

Your mother and Steve didn’t have the perfect relationship, you could say. They were both wonderful people, but too stubborn to get along. So it pained you to lie about her, but that was the only way to get around your dad.

“Not really, since you woke me up at five” you almost barked, still hurt that he had blasted your phone away. “But mom wasn’t awake and there was no milk”

“I can’t believe that’s how she raise a child” Steve tightened his jaw. “What’s next? Telling me you had pizza for dinner?”

With extra cheese, actually

“No, dad” you lied again, salivating at the thought of pizza. “Can I eat something or should I starve to death?”

Steve was quiet for a while. He was against every type of snack; and if he ever pardoned one, was that tasteless rice pancake without fats, sugar or salt. It felt like eating cotton. He looked at the clock of his wrist, and sighed, going back to reading the book.

“Try not to raze Tony’s pantry, please” he gave up. “And don’t eat anything that has … just try to avoid eating Nutella from the jar”

You chuckled and hoped off the sofa, speeding to the kitchen. Closing the door behind you, you marvelled at the huge space in front of you. It was probably bigger than your father’s and mother’s apartment. Without wasting another beat, you walked to the fridge and enjoyed the opportunity of the free card of food.

The fridge was full of things that you couldn’t even name, but you were more than aware that that’s who Tony was. You contented yourself with a ham and turkey sandwich. Knowing you weren’t going to go back to your father, you made another one and reached for the bag of chips in the top counter.

You were just putting everything in the tray along with two juices when your phone sounded.

Petey-pie [9:39]: i’m getting up early 4 u

Petey-pie [9:39]: hurt not to wake up by u smashing a pillow on my head

Petey-pie [9:39]: where are u

You sent a quick reply, telling him to stop being so needy and that you would be there in a minute. His room was on the other side of the compound, so you weren’t worried about running into your father; besides, luck seemed to smile at you, because you heard Tony’s voice from the living room greeting him.

And you knew that Tony was enough to keep your father busy for a few hours; after all, he didn’t put the ‘I’m gonna meet my crush’ attire for nothing.

You picked up the tray and tiptoed toward the other end of the kitchen, where the door for the main hallway was. You ran past your ‘room’, the one you used when Steve went on a mission with the Avengers and didn’t want you to stay alone, or with your mother. That he wasn’t living there anymore didn’t mean he wasn’t a part of the team, much to your mother dislike.

There weren’t many things there, but you quickly changed from your boots to soft padded socks with small cute bears decorating. Once you were comfortable enough to spend the whole morning there, you closed the door of your room and skipped to his.

Peter wasn’t facing you when you opened the door, but rather looking out of the window daydreaming. He turned around once you were in, and gave you the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. He still had his eyes swollen by sleep, and his pyjamas were on. But he seemed awake enough to pick up the tray from your hands and set it aside, cornering you in the bathroom’s door and locking your lips.

You smiled into the kiss and raised your hand behind his neck. Peter’s room smelt a lot like Axe, a bad habit in your opinion that he had gotten from his dad mentor. The window was half open and his bed was still undone, which gave you a sense of home that you hadn’t felt in a while.

Peter’s lips against yours weren’t nice, but demanding. He pressed himself against your body and cradled your head with his hand, tilting it so that he had better access. When you ran out of air, he teared away and looked at you with a lovestruck gaze.

“Hi” you managed to say, out of breath. It came out a little high-pitched.

“I missed you” he whined, and pouted like a puppy. Your heard literally broke with his look, so you leaned forward and kissed him again.

The spring break was hard for everyone. There was no highschool, and even if it was good news for every teenager, for you wasn’t. It meant you couldn’t see Peter every day, that you lived with your mother during the week, and that you could only sneak around your father some weekends. Peter was probably who felt it the worse, since he was a rather clingy boy, and had made it known in the three months you had been together.

Peter broke away to keep pressing kissing on your cheek, nose and forehead. They were light kisses, so fast that you ended up giggling and tossing between his arms. When he felt like he could let you go, he gave you a final peck and stepped back.

“Breakfast in bed” he said, giving a side glance to the trail of food. “Is it any special service?”

“Only for the best” you chuckled, and walked to the bed.

Peter’s bed was probably the softest one. When him and May had moved over, Tony had made sure he spoiled Peter rotten. With May’s help, they bought him the comfiest cushion, the nerdiest stuff and the best computer. He didn’t accept half of it, but the bed was different. You let yourself be drowned in it, pale blue sheets surrounding you and making you feel like in a cloud. You closed your eyes and rested your head on his pillow, that smelt like him and made it ten times better.

He followed you close, and you felt the bed dipping under his weight. Slowly, he crawled until his head was resting in the space between your neck and shoulder, and you could caress his hair. His body was covering yours, and when Peter threw the covers over the both if you, it felt like you were in your own perfect little world.

The tray laid forgotten on the desk as Peter curled into a ball by your side, hugging your body as if it was his personal pillow. He tangled your legs together and intertwined his fingers with yours. When he was comfortable enough, he talked, and his hot breath hit the side of your face.

“I missed you” he repeated.

“I missed you too�� you answered, turning your head so that your noses were touching.

“You know what I missed the most?” Peter asked, and by the smirk on his face, you knew that shy-Peter wasn’t making an appearance. “This”

Peter’s hand rested on your bare belly, and from there he kept going down. He was met with the hem of your trousers, a baggy sweaters that you had snitched from your mom before leaving that morning. Peter’s skilled fingers started undoing the knot of the front, and his body rocked against yours slowly.

“I hope you know what you’re doing” you teased.

By any answer, Peter shifted so that he was hovering over you, his hand still placed between your bodies and his eyes boring into you with burning love. He gave you a lazy, lopsided smirk and finished with the knot of your trousers.

He didn’t bother in tugging them down, but sneaked his hand down and his thumb touched the lace of your panties. He didn’t have to look to know they were the purple one, because he knew your wardrobe by heart; and because with the spider bite, came a constant flood of teenager’s hormones.

Your skin was soft and warm against his finger’s pad, and he gifted you with a soft grunt that made you clench your thighs and trap his hand in between. Peter chuckled.

“I don’t think I can stand another two weeks without seeing you” Peter said.

“Let’s just enjoy the moment”

And that’s exactly what you did.

Peter kicked off the covers and let his lips be lost against your neck. They nipped, kissed, licked and bit your whole neck, never leaving any mark but testing your limits. He knew where to touch you to make those noise, and he spent his time there. His hot breath hoovering over you was enough to make you come on your panties.

But he didn’t have enough, so he ended up tugging your pants down and off the bed and letting his hand be lost in your pussy. He ran one lazy finger up and down your lips, parting them and creating a delicious friction against your clit.

“Peter – Peter, oh – wait – stop, Peter!” you cried out an pushed his hand away.

Peter’s eyes almost got out of their socket and you saw panic filling his features. He was off you in a second, and what a sight. His hair was messy from tugging too much, t-shirt gone and pyjamas pants holding a tent of its own. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes, begging to yourself to last a big longer.

“Get inside” you moaned, opening your legs again. “Please – please, I need – I need –“

You hadn’t seen Peter move so fast in his life. He was standing in front of you when you blinked, fighting with his pants and boxers at the same time. His erection bobbed up and down until it almost touched his stomach, and you were sure he was as turned on as you.

You were about to take off your t-shirt and mount him yourself when the door was kicked open and both Peter and you screamed.

“Y/N!”

“Peter!”

“Dad!”

“Mr. Stark!”

You didn’t think the mood after not seeing your boyfriend for two weeks could go down so fast, but it did when a very flushed Tony Stark and a totally mortified Steve Rogers opened the door of Peter’s room. You covered yourself the best that you could with Peter’s sheets, and he took the pillow to hide his dick.

“What the hell were you doing?!” Steve screamed, and you had to remind yourself that it wasn’t a good moment to say ‘language’. “What – why are you – Y/N Rogers, you’re so grounded!”

Your father’s face was as red as his shield, only discerning from an apple by the blue and white of his eyes. Tony’s shock seemed to be wearing off, and he was simply leaning against a the wall with a hand covering his evident smile.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking, dad?” you asked, your voice still too high for your liking. “You can’t just burst into someone’s room”

“I can’t – I can’t?!” wrong answer, you guessed. “You can’t do… that! And with him!”

“Mr. Rogers, I – “ Peter tried to talk.

“Shut up” Steve growled, and Peter’s Adam apple bobbed up and down. “Listen to me, you end this right now. And don’t ever expect to see him again.”

“What?!” you let the sheets fall to your lap, exposing your thankfully still covered front. “You can’t do that!”

“You don’t get to say what I can and can’t do!”

“Steve –“ Tony tried.

“I can! You only see me on weekends, I live with mom! You can’t say who I can and I can’t see!”

“Then maybe you will come and live with me” Steve said, and your jaw dropped. “Get dressed. I’ll – “

“Just because mom and you don’t love each other anymore doesn’t mean I can’t love someone!” you screamed out.

The room got silent, and Steve actually paled. The thing about him was that he wasn’t a bad father at all. Your mother had thrown you at him when you were younger, and even if she loved you, you knew that most of the arguments came because she loved to make his life impossible. Steve was patient, loving, funny and cared for you like no one.

But he was also afraid. Afraid of you going to parties, afraid of you getting a sleepover, and afraid of you having a boyfriend. The man had lost so much, that it terrified him that he could lose you too.

For the first time since he had heard the noises in Peter’s room, he got to finally look at you. You had tears in your eyes, your cheeks red and your lips pursed as if when you were going to cry. He knew what a bratty teenager was, and what he saw in your eyes wasn’t the tantrum you throw sometimes when he didn’t let you go somewhere.

He looked at Peter, then. The boy looked even more devastated than you. With just a pillow covering his lower half, Peter was chewing on his lip and looking at Steve lacking all the respect he always had. There was only desperation, and Steve felt bad.

“It’s not about that” Steve whispered, and sighed. Even if he didn’t age like normal people, he felt like greys hair coming out. “How… for how long, you know? This?”

“Three months” you whispered back, and a tear rolled down your cheek. You quickly caught it with your finger, and rubbed a furious fist against your eye.

Steve slumped against the wall, and closed his eyes tightly. There was a headache coming his way, and at full speed. His daughter with Tony’s son protegee, his daughter doing… that with Peter, and his daughter growing up and him being left behind.

“Just – just be careful” Steve made a small grimace and coughed it away. “Say goodbye, we’re leaving. And please… next time lock the door, Parker”

You knew you had to talk about it with your father, that he wasn’t done, but for the moment, he muttered a quick goodbye and left the room. You felt like your heart was beating again. Tony had a smug smile on his face, and rose up from his leaning position too.

“And here I thought you didn’t bring girls home because you were a shy boy” Tony teased, and Peter felt like dying. “We’re talking about this later too, Pete”

With that, Tony left and the door was left ajar behind him. It was silent for a while, until Peter’s knees gave away and he sat beside you in the bed. The pillow fell to the ground and he put his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his hands. The decision of not saying anything was for the sake of your father, because you wanted to wait until he had everything figured with his feelings for Tony in case he felt obligated to stay away for you.

You raised a hand and placed it on Peter’s shoulder, and you swore he gave a small relief sob. Your suspicious were proven when he finally said something.

“I can’t believe that just happened” he whispered. “I thought I was gonna die”

“We’re not off the hook yet” you joked, and kneeling in bed, pressed a small kiss to his neck. “But for now we’re okay”

“Yeah”

Peter gripped your hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He looked at you sideways, and attempted to smile. It was shaky and hesitant, but it was enough for you. Even if you hadn’t been dating for long, you had known the boy for your whole life, and you didn’t want to think what to do without him.

“I should get going” you muttered, and crawled out of bed. “I don’t want him any angrier”

Peter stood up too, and even if the mood had been killed and felt more like throwing himself off a window, he pressed his lips against yours one last time. Not a second after you had moved your hand to cradle his cheek, a barking voice came from the hallway.

“No more fondue when I’m around!”

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

Tom Holland and Peter Parker Taglist

@delicately-important-trash

@lexxxistrips

@smilexcaptainx

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alolowrites · 4 years

Text

Late Night Visitor

Summary: A mysterious stranger visits your balcony and accidentally leaves behind a priceless jewelry that they stole from a museum.

Author’s Note: I’m pleased to share the next story for @bnhabookclub Hero Camp Bingo event. The prompt I used was “Crime AU” It took a while getting this done because of work stress and having slight writer’s block (plus I kept changing the story’s direction). But really, it was because of how stressed/tired I’ve been the past few weeks. So, really sorry if it took forever posting another story.

It’s also my first time writing for Hawks, so hopefully I did him justice! He was the first character that popped up when working with this prompt. Please enjoy!!

Word Count: 2.3K+

“Ah! Hot, hot!”

Well, isn’t this just great? Nothing like accidentally burning your tongue during dinner to remind yourself how impatient you are—damn hunger. One hand flails to cool down your mouth. Steam dances above the hearty bowl of curry rice, the sweet smell of caramelized onions greeting your nose with a soft kiss. Bless the local 7-11 markets for selling quick and easy meals.

You sit criss-cross applesauce on the fluffy gray rug and scroll through social media for the millionth time. It’s been a slow weekend as yesterday’s news is recycled for today’s news. A random show plays on the television, but you don’t pay attention to the white noise. All your focus is on the phone, yet you still reach for another bite from your meal. How the rug stays clean during dinner nights at home is a complete mystery.

Sipping on your drink, you spare a glance at the balcony and do a double-take—a stranger is crouching outside. You choke, “Oh shit!”

Without thinking, you scurry behind the gray couch, not caring if the rug becomes messy. Your pounding heart is like a concert bass drum which echoes around the small apartment. The sound drowns out the show’s mindlessly chatter. Frightened eyes peek around the corner, and you whip back in full regret.

The person is still outside. Their back is facing toward the balcony door, and they are wearing a form-fitting black hoodie. Hands search for your phone, but they come up empty. Panic finally settles in when you realize it’s on the coffee table. Great, you moan as your head softly hits against the furniture—is the door even locked?

You’re faced with a dilemma: Do you stay out of sight until the stranger leaves or risk being seen while getting help? After much deliberation, you swallow a hard pill and growl at the ceiling, “If I’m doing this, I better not die!”

You’re like a soldier crawling through the mud with a drill sergeant yelling down your neck. You snatch the phone off the table, but make the mistake of looking up at the sliding door. Everything comes to a screeching halt as curious gold eyes stare into your timid ones. The mysterious visitor becomes more intimidating thanks to the balaclava mask—it covers the lower half of their face.

The intense staring contest last for an eternity. You nearly rip off the loose strands on your rug when the stranger approaches closer; they stop when you back away. Taking pity on you, they jump over the balcony and disappear into the quiet night.

A sense of relief washes over you.

Who knows what could have happened to you? Maybe your mom was right about learning some self-defense; the pepper spray is not enough. As you stand and dust off your pants, a shiny light catches your attention; it’s coming from outside. You go against your better judgment and tiptoe toward the balcony.

Your jaw immediately falls to the floor when you spot an exquisite ruby pendant. A sparkling round diamond sits above the bright red gemstone, a slight tint of purple hue lurking underneath. Even the platinum metal chain carries an air of luxury. It’s as if the gods carefully hand-crafted this entire jewelry themselves. In short, it is simple but elegant.

Sliding the door, you wonder if this is some kind of trap. After checking your surroundings, you swiftly pick up the accessory and snort, “Thank you for making me feel poor.”

Fingers glide along the gemstone’s perfect curves as you gaze at the sleeping neighborhood. Your mind goes wild: Who was the person with those haunting golden eyes? Why did they come to your balcony? And why in the world did they leave behind a beautiful masterpiece?

You have so many questions but very few answers.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“So, you didn’t call the police?”

“Um…no…?”

“And why not?”

“It was a mixture of being both scared and stupid.”

“Oh my—” Fuyumi pinches the bridge of her nose. You twiddle your fingers like a guilty child and sink further into the booth. Fuyumi had her suspicions when you texted her to meet up at the usual coffee shop near your apartment. It’s your go-to place whenever you’ve done something questionable, which is ninety-nine percent of the time. Plus, the café whips up the perfect batch of castella—her favorite pastry.

Customers stroll in and out of the coffee shop as piano music plays softly in the background. Roasted coffee beans linger in the air, tempting your nose with its delicious aroma. Out of habit, you push the castella closer to Fuyumi as if that would help soften the blow. She exhales, “Next time, please call the police.”

“Yes, mother,” you mumble much to Fuyumi’s displeasure, but she lets it slide. With the worst over, you bounce straight up and tap the table with an air of excitement. “Oh! Here’s the best part though, besides surviving a break-in—”

“The person was outside your balcony.”

“—close enough, but not really the point, okay?” Fuyumi rolls her eyes, and you fish out your phone to show her a picture. She takes a closer look as you ramble off. “Anyway, my late-night visitor left behind this gorgeous pendant! Why they were carrying this around is beyond me, and so carelessly too. I’m no jeweler, but I’m pretty sure those stones are worth a fortune—still beautiful, though.”

“Yeah, and stolen!” The white-haired teacher hisses. You blink, wholly baffled at her extreme reaction. Fuyumi whips out her iPhone with two fingers flying above the screen. She shoves it toward you, your eyes skimming through the article. The news delivers a sharp slap across your face as the realization sinks in.

Oh no…

Fuyumi bites her lip, “It’s The Grand Droplet, a priceless heirloom rumored to offer infinite life and prosperity. Police are saying the notorious thief, Hawks, stole the pendant last night from the Yutaka Jewelry Museum.” A few seconds later, she adds, “You have the pendant—”

“Shhhhhh!” A hand attacks her arm, your panicked eyes wandering around the coffee shop as if your cover got blown. No one turns their heads, but you shoot an annoyed glare at Fuyumi. “Why don’t you say it louder? I don’t think the barista heard you!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just,” she grips the table’s edge and leans closer, “This is serious! You have to bring the pendant to the authorities. See, this is exactly why you should have called the police last night! The longer you wait, the more guilty you look. Maybe you’ll even become an accomplice to the crime.”

“You’re not helping!”

“Sorry…”

You dramatically groan into your hands, “Why did this happen to me?! When I said I wanted to live like Larry, I didn’t mean this!”

“I know,” Fuyumi pats your head and sneaks a bite of her delicious treat; her phone chimes beside you. She checks the message before flashing an apologetic stare. “Listen, I have to take care of something with my family, but I hate to leave you like this.”

“No, it’s okay. I can handle this myself,” you pathetically convince her. “I’m sure nothing bad will happen, knock on wood—”

“The table is metal.”

“I said what I said!” Your fist aggressively pounds the table, scaring off some customers. A mother hastily pushes her child away from the chaotic scene. You calm down and sigh, “I promise to call you if I’m in danger, okay?”

“Okay.”

You nod before whispering, “Sorry, table.”

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

The walk back home is anything but relaxing. You are on high alert, throwing suspicious glances at anyone coming too close to you. They could be undercover cops waiting to ambush you and interrogate your poor soul for hours until the necklace reappears.

But I didn’t do anything! I’m a good noodle!

You sigh as the key unlocks the door, your shoes flying off by the entrance. Fortunately, you hid the pendant in a safe place. All you want to do is get rid of this jewelry; it brings nothing but trouble.

Marching down the hallway, you grumble under your breath, “Stupid Hawks, and his stupid stealing habits.”

Everyone knows about the infamous Hawks. He strikes when one least expects him to, and somehow successfully evades capture after every heist. But Hawks always leaves behind his signature red feather as a little present for authorities—it never fails to rile them up. Hopefully, the cops show some mercy when you explain what happened. Maybe you should work on your puppy dog look before heading downtown, which might help you score a few sympathy points.

You find the burgundy jewelry box sitting on the closet’s top shelf and breathe a sigh of relief—the pendant is still inside. Not wasting precious time, you close the lid and exit your room. A soft click makes you freeze.

Standing by the balcony door is Hawks, who wears a black jacket with a white shirt underneath. His ashy blonde hair is lazily slicked back, a few strands sticking here and there like no tomorrow. Surprisingly, he lowers the balaclava mask and flashes a boyish grin, “‘Bout time you came home! I was getting bored out there.”

“How did you—wait, never mind. You break into high-security places to steal things for a living,” you say, shifting the jewelry box onto your right grip. “Listen, as much as I would like to stay and chit-chat, my day is fully booked. Can’t really cancel on these people, ya know?” You slowly tiptoe backward, an awkward laugh ringing through the air. “Let’s do a rain check; I’m free next week. Okay? Okay! See ya—“

“Hold it!” You halt on his order, a curse slipping out your mouth. Hawks strides across the floor, and you clutch the box closer to your chest. You feel as though your feet are glued to the ground, the nerves growing stronger once Hawks stands only a few feet away. He crosses his arms and nods at the box, “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing special, really.”

“Can I take a look?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Um, because I don’t want to, that’s why,” you childishly snap and send him a dismissive wave. “Now, shoo! You’re wasting my precious time.”

Hawks chuckles at your feisty attitude. He finds this whole ordeal extremely amusing. You know who he is, you know of his reputation just like everyone else in Japan. And yet, you keep on swinging like a boxer with your witty responses. Still, he has a job to finish. “I’m not leaving until you give me that pendant.”

“Well, I hope you’re paying for half the rent because there’s no way in hell I’m giving it to you, Mr. Thief.” Two seconds later, you add, “Besides, it’s not even yours!”

“It’s not yours either.”

“Oh!” You give him a fake laugh, pointing one finger at your chest. “So the thief is criticizing me for having something that’s not mine? How rich.”

“You’re lucky I find you cute, but,” Hawks dangerously invades your personal space without giving you a chance to stop him. From far away, he doesn’t appear tall. However, Hawks somehow towers over you, which makes you involuntarily squeak. A wicked glint shines through his golden eyes as he studies your unique facial features. You suddenly forget to breathe when his eyes glance at your lips—damn him.

Hawks plucks the box from your loose grip. The hypnotic spell comes crashing down, and you loudly snarl, “Hey! Give it back!”

“Sorry, Dove,” Hawks keeps you at arm’s length, his gloved hand giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as he smirks, “I got a buyer who’s willing to pay a hefty price for this beauty. Of course, you are way more stunning, but he doesn’t need to know that.”

“Quit charming me!” You’re a blushing mess now and throw a pillow at him; he easily dodges it much to your dismay. Hawks’ cackles bounce off the wall, which makes you scowl. His fingers slide the balcony door open, and he tastes sweet freedom.

“Farewell, Dove!”

You have a deja vu moment when Hawks jumps over the edge. Your legs rush outside, and eyes frantically search the streets, but it’s no use—the thief is long gone. One hand slaps your forehead as you stupidly let him get away with the jewel. Feeling like a deflated balloon, you whip out your phone and make a quick call.

“Fuyumi…yeah, the pendant got stolen again.”

Stupid thief.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

You collapse on the couch with as much grace as an inexperienced dancer who steps on people’s toes. Work left you exhausted, but you’re glad it’s almost the weekend. You’ll definitely sleep in and have a lazy day on Sunday. It’s what you deserve after meeting tight deadlines and also talking to the police about Hawks.

Fortunately, they do not blame you for anything, much to your relief. It’s been about a week since Hawks broke into your apartment to steal back the Grand Droplet. Police have no luck locating him; they believe the thief is lying low until it’s safe enough for him to strike again. Where exactly is anyone’s guess.

A knock disrupts your thoughts.

It comes from the balcony, and you jump to your feet. No one is outside, although a flash of red catches your eye. Lo and behold, it’s Hawks’ signature feather with a small note attached. Oh, how lovely, you think before snatching the gift off the floor. Your pet name is affectionately written across the paper. You hate yourself for finding Hawks’ calligraphy impressive, but proceed to read the note.

Sorry for cutting our convo short—had a deal to close. No hard feelings, though, right? If anything, I’ll make it up to you, Dove. Besides, you still owe me that rain check.

See ya soon!

-H

You don’t bother biting back your smile.

Guess you’ll be seeing Fuyumi at the coffee shop again.

Fourth prompt is crossed off. Which one will be next? Stay tune! Thank you for reading!

Previous prompt: Cuddles

Hero Camp Bingo Masterlist

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks imagine #bnha hawks #keigo takami #bnhabookclub #hero camp bingo #crime au

124 notes · View notes

theshy1sout · 3 years

Text

Inseparable - Chapter 15

Tags: Broppy, Slow Burn Fluff, Not rated, Trolls Mythology Au

Ao3 is here

Notes: Umm... Feel free to leave a like or a comment? xD I noticed I have many readers, but I barely got any feedback from you. Even if you don’t like it (but still read it somehow), feel free even to openly hate me xD

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- Yeah, you were right - Branch admits with a gentle smile. - That was fun.

They're leaving the little village they've just visited to check if everyone sleeps well. But Guy Diamond already was there and powdered some glitter on trolls' eyelids. The townsfolk have sweet dreams for sure.

- Chaos can be so surprising sometimes - Poppy chuckles, thinking about the last Night. - Who would expect the group of Party Goddesses?

- "Silver Party Goddesses" you wanted to say - He shakes his head with amused disbelief. - What were their names, again?

- Wani, Ari, Baby Bun - Poppy starts counting with her fingers. - Kim-Petit and... Gonbori?

- Gomdori - He corrects her.

- Yeah

- I'm glad they came at the end of the party - He confesses. - I mean, that was fun, but I don't want to party every Night.

- Me neither, to be honest - She smiles at the stars up her head. - I really took to the calm sounds of the Night.

Branch smiles warmly, glancing at her. Their eyes meet and she adds:

- But we'll come to parties sometimes, right?

- Of course! - He beams.

- You were wild on the dance floor!

The god explodes with a laugh.

- I was dancing just like you!

- You humble dork! You are a really great dancer! And oh my goodness, you sing so well... I mean, your voice was always so warm and calming, but when you sing, guh, you do such amazing things with your voice!

Branch blushes, feeling a bit shy. He starts rubbing his neck awkwardly.

- Well, thank you - He murmurs quietly. - I always thought that your voice is... Well, angelic. Sound, soft, melody. I just had your beautiful voice to harmonize with at the party, that's all I can say.

He corrects his cape near his neck and finally looks into her eyes. Her cheeks are magically charming with a rose blush decorated by her sparkling freckles.

- Aww - She smiles tenderly at him. He looks away with an awkward smile.

- And now we're all red and shy - He chuckles shyly.

- Yeah, now we're all red - The pink goddess grins.

- There has to be some medicines for that or something - He rubs his face. - It's ridiculous to turn all shy every time we complement each other. No one reacts like that!

- I don't know - She smiles at him sweetly and grabs his arm. - I like it this way. We are dorkly original.

He gazes into her joyful eyes, being so close now. His cheeks get warmer, of course. Her wide smile forces him to smile back. A deep, glad sigh escapes from his lungs.

- You are so adorable - He says warmly.

- And you are so handsome - She whispers playfully.

Branch giggles.

They walk like that for a while. The long sandy road guides them in the dark,coniferous forest. One of the stops on their way. The god of the Night has to check here if critters are in their homes, caves, minks, hollows, and nests. He always needs to find every lost one and helps them. Being in a safe and warm place during the Night is really important. So the moment they arrive at the woods, they split up, walking around and making sure if every critter is in their place. It's Branch's job of course, but they started sharing their responsibilities more and more during the last months, doing almost everything together. It has one, really attractive advantage - they do their jobs much quicker, so they have much more time to waste with each other.

Therefore, Poppy's part is to find lost ones in the woods when Branch is tending sleeping animals. She walks around the whole forest, but luckily this area is empty. No one got lost here. She comes back to the god, finding him near to a little hollow in the big pine tree.

- No one gets lost or hurt here? - The god guesses, when she stands by his side.

- No - She tilts her head aside with curiosity. - Is that a squirrel hollow? Can I take a look?

- Sure - He makes space for her and invites her with a hand gesture. She stands on her toes to peek in the hollow.

The squirrels are sleeping peacefully, gathered in one place. The biggest one is surrounding its offsprings with a long, fluffy, deep orange tail. Little squirrel's children are squatting, hiding their noses in their parent's belly.

- What are they doing? - Poppy asks.

- They're sharing warmth - She hears Branch's answers behind her. - I like to call it "hug". Or "cuddle". They are lying really close to each other and keep the warmth between them. All animals do that during the Night.

- Why? - She frowns.

- Why?? - He sounds really surprised. - It's really cold during the Night! Don't you notice that? They can freeze if they are not with their close ones.

Poppy is still staring at the little squirrel balls. Their tiny, orange muzzles show comfort and serene peace. They all look safe and happy. She can't take her eyes off them, they are so adorable.

- Why is the Night so cold? - She asks another innocent question with the purest curiosity in her voice.

- How is it possible you don't know that? - His voice is a bit impatient now. - The Night is cold because I am cold.

The goddess finally turns to him. She blinks, tilting her head like a surprised puppy.

- But why? Why are you cold?

Branch heaves a sigh, slouching a bit.

- I just am - He looks aside. He sounds a bit disappointed in himself. - I always was.

- You feel it? Do you feel cold? - She peers worryingly at his face. - I mean, are you freezing? It has to be unpleasant...

He shrugs his shoulders blankly.

- Yeah, but I got used to it.

She steps close to him. She's always warm, even during the Night, so she just didn't realize what Branch can feel. How horrible is to always be so cold and not be able to do something with it? She remembers his touch, she knows how cold he is. And she knows, he doesn't like to be cold at all. Her every touch makes him calm, blessed... He desires warmth so much.

- So that's why you always wear your cape? - She asks.

Now the god chuckles at her innocent question.

- It's funny that you noticed those only now. I thought it was so obvious for y...

Branch stops with his eyes wide open. It hits him sharply. The soft warmth, the scent of the wildflowers, shiver on his back... He loses his breath. Her little arms embrace him around, place on his back, little warm hands on his back, under his cape, her heated soft beating chest on his chest, fast strongly beating heart, her chin on his cold shoulder, and her cheek pressing gently into his...

- What are you doing - He blows weakly. His arms, wide open, get lost, and freeze lifted in the air.

- I share my warmth with you - He hears her sweet shaking whisper right in his ear. - I'm hugging you. What is it like?

He blinks. He still tries to get his lost senses together. Poppy is... Poppy is everywhere. So close. Her warmth hits him from every possible direction. His whole body desperately absorbs it like a thirsty animal in the desert. Her soft warm touch... It makes him melt and shiver, it makes him burn and calm down, it fills him like empty vas, it fills him with unknown feelings, it makes him forget about the whole world, about himself, about everything. All he knows now is the warm arms of the pink goddess around him and her sweet scent in his nose...

His breath gets calm and deep. He carefully puts his free hand on her back. She's so little, so fragile, his fingers cover almost the whole of her back. Her skin is so delightful to touch, soft like silk. Oh, her supple body clings to his, surrounds him. The sweet, fragrant cage, the exitless trap of her arms... He closes his eyes, sinking into an infinity abyss of bliss.

- It... - He tries to answer her question from the last minutes, but his mind is still dizzy with feelings. His whispering voice turns husky and low. - It's... Let's just say... Please, never let go of me...

Poppy chuckles softly into his ear, making him quiver again. She nestles up to him even tighter, and he starts wondering how it's even possible to be even closer, to touch even more, to feel even deeper... Their hearts beat like one, their chests breath in a common rhythm. They freeze like that, in the middle of the warmest moment in their life.

Branch sighs blissfully. He corrects his grasp on the Staff. Now the hand on it is the only quite cold part of him. He wishes he had both hands free. He wishes he could just leave the Staff somewhere for a while... He wishes he could embrace Poppy with both of his arms, trapping her in him, and never let go if she doesn't refuse. Oh, is there any limit of intimacy?

His nose gets stuck in her silken strawberry pink hair and he breathes in her warm scent. Oh, how amazing she is, she’s a huge mysterious world he can explore endlessly. An ocean without the bottom, he can dive in and never come back, swimming down deeper and deeper and never looking back. He can't ever get enough and equally he always has much more than he could even wish, than he could ever dream or imagine. His nose gets deeper in the sea of her beautiful hair till it touches her warm neck. It makes her skin shiver, it forces a sudden pleasant sigh of her. Branch smiles. So she likes to be touched here.... But he doesn't move anymore. Even if he wants to, he feels his body weak and strong, burning and melting, his heart can explode if he moves even the slightest step closer. He stays where he is, and he doesn't need more in his entire life. Just to be. To be a man in Poppy's arms.

Neither of them knows how long they are cuddling. Maybe an hour, maybe a half. But also neither wants to push others away. They cling to each other, feeling so safe. They're in hog heaven. Calm, but also burning. They're all heated. Much warmer than Poppy was at the beginning. Sharing the warmth makes them both warmer somehow...

The goddess heaves another deep, content sigh. Her hand gently strokes his back under his cape.

- We should finish - She murmurs into his shoulder.

Branch purrs lingeringly as if he misses her at the very thought of letting her go. He fondles her neck gently with his nose, snuggling his face. Her hands on his back grab his shirt and clench into it.

- Branch... - She breathes out shakingly, during another deep sigh. She puts her chin on his shoulder to be more hearable. - Really... I really enjoy this... But your responsibilities... We need to stop...

He chuckles softly into her ear.

- It's you who is hugging me, sweetheart... - He whispers warmly, with a tender smile she can't see.

Poppy heaves a sigh one last time. She slowly, unwillingly leaves his arms. She steps back and immediately loses her balance. The god grabs her arm, stopping her from falling. She staggers a bit until she stands on her leg. She puts her hands on her face and then sinks her fingers into her hair.

- I'm so dizzy - She mumbles, squinting.

- So am I - He chuckles dorkly, staggering and then lying down with the Staff.

- What are you doing? - The goddess giggles, getting on her knees next to him.

- I'm drunk - He confesses, gazing adoringly into her eyes with such a wide smile. - Drunk with you.

She rubs her cheeks, smiling at him.

- You are so cute and handsome... - She whispers purringly.

- And you are so stunningly beautiful and adorable... - He replies with a low, husky voice.

They gaze at each other tenderly, until Poppy chuckles sweetly.

- Look, we don't turn red! - She points out, giggling.

Branch laughs heartily, closing his eyes. For the first time in his life, the ground under him is colder than him. He's warm. He's really warm. He laughs with happiness inside him. He's so purely happy.

Then, the sudden sound of clearing someone's throat interrupts their laughs. They both look up at the orange god who appears in front of them out of nowhere.

- Can I ask you what are you doing? - Gust frowns at them with puzzlement.

- We're nuts - Branch giggles. - There are so many weird things about us. You don't want to know. Just keep walking.

- Branch! - Poppy laughs, covering her eyes with her hand with amusement.

- Actually, I'd like to know - The god of the Order looks at them calmly. - King Peppy sent me to you to ask why the Night became warm.

Indeedly, the world around, even if still covered by the blanket of Darkness, feels warm. Not as warm as during the Day, but not cold at all. It is really nice temperature, the grasshoppers sing happily on the nearby meadow.

- It's her fault - The blue god points at the pink goddess next to him. She shrugs her shoulders, grinning.

- Well, how to say it - She chuckles. - I shared my warmth with Branch.

- She's amazing.

- I know, I know. And now we're both kinda drunk.

- We didn't drink. We were just hugging.

- Basically, we have no idea how we work.

- We work amazingly for me - He smiles at her dreamily as if Gust isn’t there.

Poppy giggles. She points at Branch, turning to the god of the Order.

- See? Just look at him, isn't that the most charming and taking smile in the world?

The blue god sits up.

- Disagree! Your smile is the most adorable, breath-taking and mesmerizing miracle that could happen on the Earth.

- Ok, stop - Gust chuckles awkwardly, lifting open hands with the peace-offering gesture. - This... I don't know what's happening with you two, but you seem to have some sort of fun, so I'm going to tell King Peppy that everything is great.

- Yeah, It is great - Poppy smiles dreamily.

- Super great - Branch adds, lying down again.

- One thing - The god of the Order says with a bit firmer tone. - The Staff. The Gold Sphere should not lie on the ground.

The god of the Night turns his head to the side and glances at the Staff in his hand. He drops his dorky smile and blinks. Reminding him about his responsibilities sets him up. He stands up straight, brushing his clothes down with one hand. He corrects his grip on the Staff, dusting the Gold Sphere off a bit. It is so fragile, so fragile that a slight hit can crack it. He should never forget to care about It. He clears his throat shyly, seeing Poppy standing up next to him out of the corner of his eye.

- Sorry - He says, looking down a bit ashamed.

- It's okay - Gust smiles at them comfortingly. - Just be more careful about It.

Branch nods with a serious face.

- Farewell - The orange god says and disappears, just like Immortals like to do.

- Well, that was embarrassing - Poppy announces, turning to her company. She frowns with surprise. - And what are you doing now?

Branch is unclenching his cape, trying to take it off with one hand.

- I feel warm, I don't need this anymore - He throws the cape on her shoulders.

- Hey, I don't need it either!

- But you want it - He smirks at her, trying to lay the cape on her with only one hand.

- Branch! - She giggles, grabbing the edges of the fabric. - It's huge!

- Let me see you in it - He steps back and views her slowly. Poppy giggles and puts the hoodie on her head. She rubs the fabric across her cheek and smells it.

- Okay, agree, I want it - She admits. - It smells like you.

- And how do I smell? - He chuckles.

The goddess looks aside, smiling shyly.

- Like the woods, trees, leaves. Like safeness and care.

Branch smiles warmly at her.

- Well, you look pretty safe in this - He puts the top edge of the hoodie on her eyes. She puffs, amused. - Come come, we have res pon si bi li ties

Poppy lifts the hoodie, looking up at him with a smirk.

- I really like your mood now - She says genuinely.

He grins in the way she usually grins at him, making her smile even wider.

****

- The Night is almost over - Poppy announces, unclenching the silver buckle under her chin. - Maybe you want your cape back?

- No, not really.... - Branch starts, but the goddess is already getting the cape right on his shoulders. - Oh, okay. You don't like it though?

- No, it's really comfy, especially when I hide in it whole - She smiles, clenching the buckle on Branch's neck. - It just can bother me during the Day.

She brushes the cape on his arms to get it right. She meets his adoring eyes and caresses affectionately the corner of his smiling lips with her hand.

- Grab the Staff - He orders quietly.

She frowns.

- It's not the time.

He squints at her with discontent.

- It's just a few minutes - He argues. - Can't you start the Day a bit earlier?

- For what?

He looks up, smiling dorkly.

- What is it? - Poppy chuckles. - Can't it wait a few minutes?

- Can't you grab the Staff earlier?

- Tell me what you want! - She beams at him.

- I want you to take the Staff from me - Branch smiles mysteriously.

Poppy is gazing at him with puzzlement. She hesitates for a while. Her curiosity fights with her head. A few minutes aren't a big deal, right? She carefully grabs the Staff, the sky gets lighter and beams with the colors of the dawn, and almost at the very same moment Branch embraces her suddenly. His arms cover her whole. She loses her breath.

- You waited to hug me with both your hands? - The goddess breathes out, giggling. He purrs "uh-huh'' into her shoulder, which wakes up pleasant butterflies in her stomach.

Poppy closes her eyes. His big hands drape her whole back, she sinks into him, in his warmth, in his care and safeness. She cuddles tight, letting him hide her into his arms, conceal her from the whole world around. She breathes his warm heavy scent. Now she notices why he was so desperate to hug her with both arms. The Staff in her hand doesn't let her fully snuggle with him, it stops her from diving deeper, she has to keep the Staff as far from Branch as it's possible, cause he can't touch it during the Day.

But even with the Staff in her hand, she's in their small, pure, warm heaven. His fingers sink tenderly into her hair, forcing her to sigh. Oh, may this moment last forever...

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Index

5 notes · View notes

yabakuboi · 4 years

Text

Chapter 11: these rivers never knew

The long night grows so frigid that Jon can’t get his bones to warm under his flesh. They spend their hours huddled together, trading heat and touch and sleep, Tormund curled around Jon as if he can shield him from the freezing air itself. Jon’s never been so cold. For a while, winter winds lay so hard on top of them that the Free Folk discard their pride and seek warmth in their neighbors. Jon finds himself living in their hut with nearly half the village on the ground around them, all the children piled on top of the sleeping direwolf in the corner. Ghost barely even stirs.

And yet, Jon can’t sleep.

He lays with Tormund at his back and Mirma under his arm, her tiny body small and cold as she shivers beside him. And Tormund buries his face in Jon’s hair like he does every night, despite the score of other people, many snoring heavily in their sleep, nearby.

Jon can’t help but feel as if there are eyes on him, stomach squirming, and when he sleeps, he dreams of men dragging him from the hut to gut him in the snow.

No one does.

The only time Jon catches someone looking, Hrenna smiles so wide that Jon doesn’t have it in him to be afraid, especially when she winks and tucks Whitebone close to her chest as he sleeps.

There are few lulls in the blizzards, and they make good on that time. The more able-bodied layer on their furs and disappear into the darkness to hunt what little food they can find. Whitebone is always among them, and Tormund more often than not.

Jon had healed slowly and painfully without the proper foods to build his strength, and still he feels weakness hiding in his body. He moves gingerly, feeling the way his skin stretches too tight or his muscles twinge angrily. But he moves anyways, itching to do anything but lie amongst a pile of shivering people, unable to sleep.

The day he’s allowed to join one of the hunts is one Jon relishes.

“I can see you going mad already,” Tormund says, teasing. “Won’t do for our little southerner to start foaming at the mouth.”

“I’m not a southerner,” Jon says for what feels like the thousandth time.

But Tormund seems glad to have him out with them, despite how close he sticks to Jon’s side, his torch raised high between them. And Jon doesn’t complain. He hasn’t been allowed in the woods since his fight with the shadow cat, and every dark shape feels like a threat. Jon lets himself walk a little closer to Tormund’s side, following in his wake. After a time, the group begins to split off, and Jon finds himself alone with Tormund picking through dead underbrush to unbury their traps and checking for any caught game. There’s nothing, there never is, but Jon’s too glad to be in the open air to feel disheartened.

The air clings to his hair and beard, freezing to his skin, but Jon lets it fill his lungs, free of the smell of too many people crowded together in one house. His eyes tire easily, trying to peer through the darkness beyond the ring of light, but they walk carefully, their feet strapped to broad snow shoes to keep them above the deep drifts of snow. It had taken an age to pull out the last man who had fallen through a too fresh layer.

Tormund stays close, their shoulders brushing as they walk. They crouch down together, his free hand on the small of Jon’s back as he digs through the snow for a lost snare. Each touch is a spark of fire along Jon’s skin, and he’s not surprised when Tormund finally pushes him roughly against a tree.

Accepting Tormund’s kisses is easier now, filling him with warmth instead of dread. He opens his mouth obligingly, and Tormund licks into him, breath hot between them.

Jon is dizzy on it, almost swept away, until the need inside him becomes too great. He pushes harshly at Tormund’s shoulders, and he goes immediately.

“Jon—” he says, rough and wary, but Jon is dropping to his knees and pulling at the openings of his trousers. “Oh, fuck,” he hisses, because Jon doesn’t waste a breath and takes him into his mouth before the cold can really touch his skin.

Tormund’s fingers immediately tangle in his hair, and Jon gasps around the cock in his mouth.

“You little devil,” Tormund breathes, hips stuttering against Jon’s face. Jon opens his mouth as wide as it will go, taking as much of Tormund as he can, tasting him greedily.

He hasn’t done this before, has only had quick fumbles with Tormund, wandering hands and heated kisses whenever there’s a chance. Tormund’s only put his mouth on him a few times, and Jon tries for the same finesse, to imitate the way Tormund will torture Jon's orgasm from him, but loses himself in his own desires, sloppily sucking Tormund down at his own pace. Tormund seems happy to let him, fingers tugging at his frosty hair, but is otherwise still.

“Fuck, fuck,” Tormund chants. “You little beast, did you want to come out here just for this?”

Groaning, Jon bobs his head a little faster, drool gathering on his tongue as he laps at Tormund’s cock, his jaw aching and his own dick between his legs swelling. He releases there in his pants, mindlessly rubbing at himself with half-frozen fingers, but he’s too focused on Tormund in his mouth to do more than open up his throat and take him deeper.

“God be damned,” Tormund moans and his seed bursts hot in Jon’s mouth.

He chokes, swallowing as much of it as he can. His legs are shaky when Tormund tugs him to his feet and presses him back against the bark, his kiss sloppy and heated and perfect.

When they finally rejoin the rest of the hunting party, the wildlings jeer at them with big grins.

Ghost wakes up after nearly eight months of hibernation, bright-eyed and thin, and disappears for several weeks despite the storms and snow. Sometimes Jon will close his eyes and dream on four legs and eyes that see through the dark. When Ghost returns, he’s a little fatter and dragging behind him a still-kicking boar. Tormund slaughters the beast, the whole while praising the direwolf like he would a child.

“The best hunter among us!” Tormund booms, laughing, and Ghost’s tail wags back and forth in blurring arcs. “We’d make you chief if you didn’t piss on everything.”

“I’ve seen you piss on more trees than Ghost has,” Jon says. He runs his hands along Ghost’s snout and over his vast head, thumbing along the edge of the wolf’s one ear. “If that’s what puts you out of leadership, I’m afraid you’ll have to step down.”

Tormund waves the bloody point of his knife at Jon. “He’d have to fight me for it!”

“Ghost would win.”

Flopping down across Jon’s legs, Ghost yawns wide, rows of red teeth shining in the fire light. Tormund scowls, eyeing him warily.

“Forget sometimes what a monster he is.”

Jon snorts, his hands now scratching along Ghost’s back, and Ghost wiggling in Jon’s lap for more. “Don’t worry, Tor,” he coos, grinning at him. “I’ll keep you safe from the big bad wolf.”

“Watch it, boy.”

“He’s just a big puppy,” Jon says, snickering. “No reason for the great Tormund Giantsbane to be scared.”

Ghost jumps up just as Tormund lunges, dancing around the two men as they go tumbling, Jon laughing as Tormund shoves handfuls of snow down his shirt.

Time carries on like that and Jon lets himself get lost in the endless night in ways that are gentler and softer than he probably deserves. Even as the world sleeps beneath a blanket of cold, Jon feels like he’s waking up. It’s a gentle kiss, soft and sweet in a way that Jon wasn’t aware was possible, that he or Tormund were capable of. Tormund is a good morning kiss upon waking, hi, hello, I’m glad you’re the first thing I see when I open my eyes, the person I search for through the day, and the body I lie next to at night.

It’s a hard life still, but it’s simple. And Jon finds himself comforted by that.

Eventually the winds die, and with them the storms and the snow. They see the stars for the first time in what feels like years. The wildlings are starved and restless, but there is cheer amongst them when the moon’s light hits their buried homes and they spend weeks digging them out again, eager to return to privacy and independence.

When the last of them roll up their bedrolls and carry away their furs, and Jon and Tormund are finally alone, they waste no time, falling onto their bedding tangled together.

Tormund’s kisses are hot on Jon’s neck, the scratch of his beard and the bite of his teeth sending heat through his veins, pooling low in his belly where Tormund’s hand massages him over his breeches. Jon bites back the breathless moans in his throat, clutching tightly to Tormund’s shoulders as he unties the belt at Jon’s waist, slowly stripping him, his hands greedy with every inch of bared skin.

He grinds down on Jon’s thigh as he goes, the thick line of his cock hard against Jon’s jumping muscles. Nibbling along his collar, Tormund pulls Jon’s pants over the curve of his ass and past his aching dick. Jon’s barely paying attention, too caught up in Tormund’s kisses when he leans up to capture his lips, letting Tormund lick into his mouth with an adventurous tongue, tasting and being tasted in turn.

Gasping, Jon arches up into Tormund when he feels a slick finger in the crack of his ass.

“Tell me to stop,” Tormund rasps, the tip of his finger circling Jon’s hole gently. “And I’ll stop.”

Jon swallows, head spinning because everything with Tormund feels like magic, warm heat and bliss, and Jon would give him this on that alone, no matter the pain. “I trust you,” he whispers. His voice trembles.

“I’ll make it good for you, love,” Tormund says. He shifts, so he’s kneeling between Jon’s legs, bracketed in the grasp of Jon’s thighs as he kisses down Jon’s front, quick teeth and gentle tongue. Jon trembles, watching as Tormund kisses past his belly button all the way to the weeping end of his cock. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

He swallows Jon down to the root, his throat working around Jon’s length, and Jon can feel Tormund’s smirk around his cock when he buries his fingers in that wild hair. Tormund doesn’t let up even for a moment, sucking him well, and Jon nearly shakes apart.

The next touch to his hole is like lightning up his spine. Tormund’s fingers are thick and blunt, but he moves with such sweet care, oil-slicked touches as he slowly eases one digit inside. Jon groans like he’s been stabbed.

“Tor,” he near sobs, twisting his hold in Tormund’s hair. “Tormund.”

Tormund hums, pleased, his tongue flat along the underside of Jon’s cock and his finger leisurely pumping in and out of his ass, stoking the growing fire in Jon’s belly. The second finger burns, but Jon is so lost, back arched and moaning, that he barely notices.

“Don’t stop,” Jon begs when Tormund’s touch goes a little deeper. “Tor, please.”

And Tormund doesn’t, mouth hot and wet around Jon’s cock, his touch insistent on Jon’s inner walls, searching, pumping in and out of him until Jon can’t take another second of it, can’t hold back, and he comes hard down Tormund’s throat.

“You did so good,” Tormund says, his voice fucked out and destroyed when he lifts his head from between Jon’s thighs.

Jon pulls him up by his hair, still shaking, and kisses Tormund hard. He can taste himself on Tormund’s tongue, and he swallows Tormund’s moans when he takes Tormund in hand. He spills into Jon’s hand almost immediately, across Jon’s stomach and chest. They collapse to the ground, a sticky mess of loose limbs and lazy kisses.

“Will you fuck me next time?” Jon asks, half asleep as Tormund mouths at his ear.

Somehow, Tormund’s cock stirs again at Jon’s hip. “Do you want me to?”

He thinks about it for a moment, at the warm ache at the base of his spine, imagining Tormund above him and around him and in him.

“I do.”

The air feels less icy, kinder to his lungs when Jon steps out of the night air and into the hut. Ghost barrels past him before collapsing half on top of Tormund where he’s already sleeping by the fire. Tormund wakes with a shout, cursing and shoving Ghost off of him.

“Ghost,” Jon chides, and Ghost immediately bounces back to his feet, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

Tormund snarls as he wipes the drool from his face, scowling when Jon practically sits himself in his lap.

“I miss when he was just a big furry cushion to sit on,” he grumbles, hugging Jon around his middle and pulling him under the blankets.

Jon laughs, letting himself be man-handled into place. “Well, I missed having someone quiet to talk to.”

“I can be quiet!”

“Can you now?”

Grinning handsomely over Jon, Tormund leans in to capture his lips, a kiss spun of warmth and light, and Jon can feel it warming him from the inside out. By the time Tormund draws away, Jon is breathless.

“See?” Tormund says, eyes crinkling with his smile. “Quiet as a mouse.”

Jon smacks his shoulder, laughing. “I suppose you were, for once.”

“I can’t say the same for you though, moaning like you were.”

Jon hits him harder and Tormund roars, the two of them wrestling over the ground and nearly into the fire. They tire quickly from it though, and tuck themselves into the blankets and furs, curled around each other like rabbits in their burrows.

“Mirma asked me to hunt again on the moon,” Jon says, lazily running his fingers through Tormund’s hair.

Tormund hums, his eyes closed, a pleased rumble filling his chest as Jon’s fingers scrape along his scalp. “Won’t be going with you this time,” he says lowly. Jon’s hand pauses, stuttering to a quick halt, and Tormund opens his eyes, weary but gentle. “I trust you.”

Jon swallows and continues combing his finger through Tormund’s hair, trying to tame the wild length of it.

His scars have long healed and grown pale, though they cut a gnarled path down Jon’s face, turning his lip down into a permanent half frown. And Tormund has since never let Jon near the woods without him.

“Will you sleep tonight?” Tormund asks, his voice quiet in the already quiet night. Outside the snow is falling a little slowly, burying them a little deeper in the cold. Jon doesn’t answer him, just huddles a little closer, burrowing himself a little more into Tormund’s warmth, his fingers still and tangled in Tormund’s hair.

Tormund sighs. And then he begins to sing. It’s a lilting, rolling song, some far northern tune that Jon’s never heard before, but he listens closely, committing each word, each breath to memory, knowing he’ll want to think of it later, when the day comes and Tormund isn’t there to sing him to sleep.

Tormund’s voice is deep and gravelly, and sometimes so gentle that Jon could close his eyes and listen until spring comes home again.

The forest feels different. Beside him, Ghost scents the air, his great head raised high and chest puffing. Mirma and the rest of the hunting party are standing warily at his back, gathered together with their torches raised high.

Before them, the weirwood is bone white and leafless, the old gnarled face looking down at the with unseeing, wooden eyes. There is blood long dried and browned on its trunk. Jon just barely remembers laying against it and bleeding on its trunk.

And just at eye-height is a deep, fresh cut in the bark.

“Anyone been this way?” one of the hunter growls, eyeing everyone as they shake their heads.

“No one,” Whitebone confirms. No one has left the village without him. “None of us would be foolish enough to cut the gods’ tree.”

Jon hums quietly as their voices raise together, arguing, and he reaches out to drag his fingers along the mark. It’s was heavy blow into the tree, but not made with any sort of axe, but what he guesses is a long sword made of good steel. It wouldn’t have been forged well, the blade is too thick and a little bent.

Turning, he raises his torch a little higher, picking his way carefully over the snow, eyes searching. Ghost shadows him, nose flaring.

And there it is, nearly fifty long paces away, south from the village, another heavy cut in another tree’s bark. If Jon follows it, he’s sure he’ll find another.

“Looks like the Night Watch is out for my head, after all,” he says to Ghost, his eyes lost in the southbound darkness for a long moment, before he turns back, making his way home.

#jonmund #got #got fic #game of thrones #smut #how does one tag their smut these days #SMUT AHOY FELLAS #my fic #shush mal

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jq37 · 4 years

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The Report Card – Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 13

What the Hell?

Hey y’all. We’re back with a very eventful episode of Fantasy High--both from a plot an RP perspective--so let’s not waste any time getting into it. As you remember from last week, the kids are split up doing their various investigative activities. The first group we’re gonna check back in with are the Owlbears--Gorgug, Fabian, Ragh, and the Hangman--who are with the gnomish tinkerers.

Gorgug talks to the head gnome dude (Krumpkin in case I didn’t mention before) and asks to have his shoes loaded up with springs, which he is happy to do. Lou--via an offhanded comment that he absolutely commits to--establishes that Fabian has extremely small feet which is not plot relevant but I felt like I needed to mention. While they’re waiting for the shoes to be done, Krumpkin brings in a logbook so they can see what Killian--the elf working for Arianwyn--bought. It was a lot of stuff used in making magical candles and 2 blocks of Dusk Moss Incense. Dusk Moss is a hallucinogenic moss that people use recreationally to have sort of lucid dreams while awake. Gorgug knows that some kids in school do Dusk Moss but he’s never heard of it being in incense form before. He decides to buy everything that Killian did to be safe--including the drugs which he and Fabian are (hilariously) very flustered about.

The gnomes give Gorgug his upgraded shoes and, in return, they just want to check out his crystal. Easy trade. He explains to them how the crystal works and Gorgug realizes, “Hey. I’m surrounded by people who know how to build stuff.” Maybe they can help with making a cell tower. They think they might be able to do it but they’d need access to more raw materials. Either that or access to a satellite. Gorgug (with the help of Fabian’s Bardic) suddenly remembers: while he was in jail the year before his parents actually launched a satellite into space! And a bunch of the schematics and stuff for it are in the Van. They go to get it while we flash over to see how the Nerd Squad is doing.

They’re still casing the room Arianwyn was staying in at the Owl and the Harp. Adaine finds non-detection runes her mom put up to keep Falinel from finding her. She also can tell that two rituals happened in the room: one to kill Killian and the other to put the Devil’s Heart Ruby (ie: The Gorthalax one) into his body. Riz realizes that the ritual isn’t about getting into Sylvere so much as getting the Shadowcat into Sylvere by way of having the gem Petrosmos (as is rock+osmosis--as in what’s going on with Ragh’s mom) with someone she’s infected. He also finds a lot of super old school medical texts written in, like, hieroglyphs almost. Adaine ritual casts Comprehend Languages so she can read it and one of the texts is a diagram of a centaur with scary looking cat symbols at its eyes, ears, tongue, sinuses, and spine but not the brain (which they later deduce means that she can access their senses but not their thoughts). He also knows that the two rituals were cast 24 hours apart which means that either Arianwyn left while they were partying or somehow knew to do the ritual the second they initially grabbed Aelwen.

Adaine rolls to try to find proof that her mom cares about her any personal effects left behind and does that thing people always do in movies where they lightly shade over a piece of paper to see what was written on the sheet on top of it. She finds a note written in her mom’s handwriting that says: Aelwen is with me. You are betrayed. You have no other choice, darling. Come join us. It seems as if she wrote it down to make sure she was under the limit for Sending. Adaine assumes it was to her Dad since it wasn’t to her. Riz also sees that the amount they were packing is way more than they would need to get to the temple. It’s hard to tell exactly what they were going there to do though because they brought all the important stuff with them.

They discuss Kalina’s abilities some more and are pretty confident that she can only be in one person at a time. They also think she’s unable to get into a Moon Haven/the Hallowed Van but they’re not sure if she can get in if she’s already in one of them before they go in. Adaine wants to establish that any private info, they Message to each other instead of saying it out loud. With an 18 Medicine check, Riz knows there’s a cure but he doesn’t know what it is. He takes all of the research to bring back to the party clerics who we’ll visit right now actually.

The Clerics and Fig are in the shrine with Vrath, the super aggro devil who’s just served Fig a subpoena. Fig reads it and sees that she’s being subpoenaed as a witness for a Tribunal against Gorthalax for neglecting his domain (he’s gotten 9 summonses which have all lapsed). Fig thinks it’s just a misunderstanding since Gorthalax is in a gem. Fig wants to do some court shenanigans but Kristen convinces her to at least get everyone together first.

Gorgug gets the research to the gnomes and they think they can rig something up in maybe a day. Then, the Owlbears go check in with the other two groups. After being told about the whole subpeona situation, Sandra-Lynn points out that Gilear actually knows a good amount about the law. He insists he’s not a lawyer but agrees to help and, upon reading the subpoena, says it seems pretty above board. Fig and Kristen also think they might be able to recruit the devils to fight against the NK while they’re in Hell since devils hate demons.

Adaine sets up the Message system they talked about earlier and Kristen decides to peruse the medical docs Riz found. NAT 20 BAY-BEE! And Kristen might have a -3 to Dex but she has a +9 to Medicine. That’s a big ol’ 29!

After taking a second to eat his dice and contemplate how jossed his plans are, Brennan says that they can make a tincture using Dusk Moss and some other alchemical supplies from Sylvere that would cure it and that, with a Nat 20, she understands it so well that she specifically can cure it with Greater Restoration. Sandra-Lynn talks about what she found (where Arianwyn and Co. entered the forest) to cover the fact that Adaine and Fig are Messaging this information mentally to the group so Kalina doesn’t know what they know. Adaine thinks maybe they should start saying things that are untrue out loud so that Kalina is getting bad info. Fig thinks maybe they cure everybody but one person so they can control the info she’s getting but realizes that Kalina would probably realize what they’d done and catch on. Tracker pitches that they also could just all go in the Hangvan to be safe and then Kristen could one by one cast Greater Restoration on everyone who needs it. But she can only cast it once a day so it would probably take longer than they have.

Gorgug asks a very insightful question that hadn’t occurred to me--if Sandra-Lynn is infected, why isn’t Gilear? Fig relays the question to her slightly embarrassed mom who says she must have gotten it within the past 3 years. Not info Fig really wanted to know I’m sure but these things come up when you go adventuring with your parents.

Anyway, after some more discussion, they decide that they have to go the tincture route so they can all get cured at once since doing it piecemeal means they lose their element of surprise and they also decide that going to Hell to clear up Gorthalx’s tribunal is top priority. Tracker stays behind in the Van since she can’t get into the temple where the door is because of the mural while everyone else tries the door. Fig goes in first but stands in the doorway so it stays open (if anyone else tries to approach, the door starts growing thorns). Gilear walks in, Riz is hanging onto Fig. Fabian and Adaine are next, both on the Hangman but the doorway recognizes a devil (the Hangman) going through the door and shuts, leaving Fig, Riz, Gilear, and the Hangman in Hell and everyone else in the shrine.

Gilear immediately gets knocked out by fire-rain but Riz brings him back with his healer feat and the Hangman (who is very sad puppy about being separated from Fabian) gives him a devil mark on his forehead that protects him from fire. Gilear also says that, as long as they go to the tribunal, the devils will have to send them home afterwards. On their way to the tribunal, Gilear has some playful banter with Fig which Riz is immediately suspicious of he gets Gilear to blurt out in a panic that he’s feeling confident because Sandra-Lynn and Jawbone broke up and she asked to sleep with him and he declined. They had a good talk and they left it on good terms but that’s what’s going on. Fig is happy Gilear is feeling more confident, especially since she feels a little guilty about his whole deal, a fact that shocks Gilear. She thinks it’s obvious. She’s a living reminder of the fact that he got cheated on by his wife. He pauses. Then he says he’s going to step up for her and turn his life around. Oh, also, Riz going absolutely feral but that’s unrelated.

They get to court which is overseen by Vraz (plus a Spiked dude and a Chained dude--Blozo, Vraz’s boss, is stuck in traffic). Fig is called up and asked if she knew of any intention by Gorthalax to neglect his duties. She says no and that Gorthalax was trapped in a gem by Kalina via a proxy (which, you will remember, was her). Brennan makes Fig roll to get away with that tricky wording of the technical truth and Adaine gives her a Nat 20 portent roll to beat Vraz’s 23. That gets Gorthalax off the hook for punishment but they still have to get someone to run the place while he’s gone and the tribunal isn’t over. Vraz calls a recess and puts the party on house arrest in hell. Also, Fig cut herself to show her blood to prove she was Gorthalx’s daughter and inadvertently created a fully sentient imp valet for herself so that’s also something that’s happening.

Back in the shrine, Adaine checks out the mural and sees an occult rune on the spellbook and realizes she’s seen it somewhere. They then go check out the spot Sandra-Lynn found where Arianwyn entered the forest and the briers there are actually more tangled than in other places, not less. It seems like they were trying to throw people off by entering through a less intuitive spot but also that it will probably slow them down. They go back home to prep and wait for the rest of the party. Fabian gets a ping from the Hangman asking if he should try to call his dad. After a little bluster, Fabian admits that yes, yes he should.

Meanwhile, Kristen wants to check out their coins to see if they have the spellbook (though Gorgug thinks the baddies already have it) and Adaine realizes she saw the symbol at the Compass Points library so Ayda would know what it means. She doesn’t have Sending stocked so she decides to trance so she can either get a short rest or have a long one and get the spell prepared, depending on when they need to leave. Gorgug decides to go see how the gnomes are doing with his crystal. Since he’s there, he can help out. Nat 20! They get the crystal to work. He now essentially has a satellite phone.

He magic Facetimes Zelda who is at a party with the rest of the 7 Maidens. She’s shocked that Gorgug was able to rig his phone to work on the road and she’s not even mad at him anymore. She apologizes for reacting so strongly and says she misses him so much. In the background, her party members do the extremely teen girl thing of hyping up the boyfriend that they all like. He and Zelda have a sweet little conversation and Gorgug lets her know that they’re about to go into the forest so their service might not be great. Zelda says that they’re done with their quest so he shouldn’t worry about her. She also says he loves him which the gnomes with Gorgug are super stoked about. They pop some bottles.

Adaine wakes up from her trance, restocks her spells, and casts Sending to ask Ayda about Planeshift and the rune she found. Ayda says they should use the Synod of Spires and has Adaine check her right jacket pocket where she finds a glowing blue key. When Adaine uses it on a nearby, glowing lock, she finds herself in this cool pocket dimension which Ayda also appears in. She gives Adaine a copy of the spell (it’s 1st level I believe) so she can use it too when they need to talk and the Sending spell would be inconvenient. Re the symbol: Ayda says it’s an Abjuration rune (but not a protective one, a meta-magic one ie: modifying magic) that masks powerful curses and spells by letting them Trojan Horse under a different curse (she says the underlying curse could be a vessel for other spellcasting which sounds like a spellbook to me). She also says the larger Trojan Horse curse would be better if it was something static--Adaine suggests the wall around the forest and Ayda says that could work.

When Adaine offhandedly mentions that Fig is currently stuck in Hell, Ayda freaks about rescuing her immediately, eventually revealing that they kissed for an hour the night before (“AN HOUR???”) to Adaine’s immediate delight (until she starts in on the TMI at least). Ayda actually was about to call Adaine as well so she could ask her to use her Oracular abilities to suss out how to avoid any possible futures where Fig doesn’t want to be with her anymore which has got to be the most teen girl thing Ayda has ever done in any of her lives. Adaine tells her that that’s not really how her powers work but reassures her that Fig wouldn’t play with her emotions and it wouldn’t be weird for her to ask Fig for clarification about their relationship status. They end up having a little talk about how both of them are wired differently which they bond over and the episode ends with Ayda mentioning that she created the friendship section of the library that Gorgug found a while back out of loneliness. And now she has a best friend and a girlfriend (probably)! What a different ending that a devil subpoena.

Detention

Kristen for Trying to Handcuff Sandra-Lynn

No one actually did anything too crazy this episode so I’ll give it to Kristen for a joke I have no idea how she saw going over well.

Honor Roll

Kristen for Making Brennan Eat His Dice (And Going Full Jonas Salk All Over Kalina’s Ass)

I think the only other person who’s made both lists in one ep is Fig.

Anyway, you know I had to give it to Kristen for that Nat 20 to figure out literally everything in those medical texts and how to cure everybody. What a clutch time for Ally’s dice powers to kick in. This is why Kristen had to almost break her leg ribbon dancing out a window. Equivalent exchange.

(Also, props to Brennan for honoring the roll and probably jossing some of his own plans in the process.)

Random Thoughts

Housekeeping Update: There are only 7 episodes of Sophomore Year to go (not counting this one)! March 25th is the last one so prepare accordingly! As much as I’m enjoying these, I’m pretty OK with this since I think more digestible content is one of the big strengths of Dimension 20 content.

Also, for those of y’all who don’t watch Critical Role or missed last episode, on Friday (2/14) Ally will be playing on their Valentines Day one-shot of Monsterhearts (monster high school setting) and, based on the promo, looks like they’ll be playing a werewolf so be sure to check that out if you want more of Ally’s shenanigans in your life.

I feel like Brennan must have a lot of fun coming up with nonsense gnome names. They’re all so insane.

“Anything is an alchemical ingredient depending on what you’re trying to do.”

Lol at Lou being like, “We all have the same information and I didn’t figure out any of that,” when the Nerd Squad was figuring stuff out irl.

I love how Gorgug has no patience for eleven nonsense but someone says the word, “crystalmatron” to him and he doesn’t bat an eye.

“This is in hell.”/”What!?”/”Hell.”/”What!?”/“Hell.”

Gilear: Everyone is in great danger all of the time

Adaine: I agree.

Gilear: Good? But also disquieting coming from the Oracle.

It occurs to be that Garthy is a really bad person to be infected by the Kalina Virus considering their occupation and how good they are at it.

Fig is right. A simultaneous, “Bye Kalina,” would be very dope.

If Kalina happened to be watching them at any in this episode, it’s good that they bought the Duskmoss beforehand. Like, if Kalina knows they bought Duskmoss blindly because they just bought everything Killian did, she’d be a lot less suspicious of them than if she sees them suddenly buy 2 huge bricks of an important ingredient in the cure for her.

It occurs to me that Jawbone is also a bad person to be infected with the Kalina Virus.

Oh man, Jawbone and Sandra-Lynn just got a house together with so many people. And now they broke up. I know they’re both being adults about it and all but you can’t tell me it’s not gonna be a little awkward.

I wonder what Zayn is doing back in the haunted house while this is going on. No real reason. Just wanna know. Like is Adaine gonna come back and he’s like, “I taught Edgar how to do a trick. What about you?” And she’s like, “Hoo, boy. Where do I even start.”

Fantasy drugs in D&D are always so so funny to me. Also, lol at the fact that Adaine is actually pretty down to do fantasy hallucinogens (she thinks they might be therapeutic).

The 6/7 Maidens texting Gorgug to be like, “Good job buddy!” is such a sweet detail.

The vulnerability from Fig talking to Gilear in this episode. Gah. Fig’s thing is that she’s not a closed book despite what she says. She’s a wide open book for the most part. But that’s not the same as letting yourself be vulnerable necessarily. And the clear shock from Gilear that Fig would not only concern herself with his wellbeing in that way (like, she’s always head of the Gilear cheer squad but this is like, more than surface level, you know?) and that she would put it upon herself--something that she should never have to deal with as the child? I did not ASK for touching scenes from GILEAR but by God are they happening anyway.

Upon learning that Fig is wearing her library card behind her ear now instead of a clove (in tribute to Ayda of course) I got my library card and tried that and, folks, it is for sure a Choice.

Man I hope Adaine messes with Fig over Ayda. Them acting like bratty sisters (like them fighting for rooms in ep 1) is one of my fave dynamics amongst the Bad Kids.

Do we know how/why Ayda ended up in Leviathan in the first place? Like, did Aguefort just drop her there for some reason? Is that where she was conceived? How sentient are phoenixes? Does she have any kind of relationship with her mom?

“I want to be alone but also surrounded by my friends at all times.” Again, too real.

Siobhan knows so many crazy words offhandedly. When Brennan said “synod” I started Googling and before I even pressed Enter she was like, “So it’s a church thing.” Wild.

@jamiebluewind has a Galaxy Brain theory that the kids need to get rid of all of their Kalvaxus gold for the coin/spellbook to reveal itself (details here) which I think makes a lot of sense because from a storytelling/gameplay perspective it would be weird for them to have possibly spent it before they even knew it was a thing they were looking for.

The obvious person that Arianwyn would have sent that Message to would be her husband but I’m wondering if either it’s a mislead or a trap because we know they’re not working together because of Aelwen (who I’m inclined to believe). What is your game Mom Abernant? What are you doing?

They got Gothalax out of punishment by saying that the reason he hasn’t shown up is because he’s been in a gem but 9 seems like a lot of summonses to have received in the past, what, four days (?) since he’s been trapped. Feels like a longer-standing issue potentially.

Kristen and Gorgug each roll one Nat 20 in this episode and Fig gets one via Adaine’s portent roll. Fig and Fabian each roll one Nat 1.

#fantasy high #fantasy high spoilers #dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #fantasy high live

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dopposhusband · 4 years

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Canon X Canon Drabbles!

Fics written with prompts that focus on Canon X Canon!

SamaSara

With one final drag of his cigarette, Samatoki finished off his pack and extinguished the bud in their shared clay ashtray. Sasara had insisted the two should do more couple like dates that didn’t involve rap battling punks off the streets, so they took a one off pottery class together. That damn comedian looked so proud of the lopsided tray he made, even made lil cigarette slots on the ridges too, how could he not want to keep it?

“Don’t get me wrong you’re smoking hot in the moonlight but bring your ash to bed!”

Rolling his eyes at the puns, Samatoki moves away from the window and crashes himself beside his boyfriend. Instinctively, the two move closer, huddled against one another, faces inches apart. Sasara opens his mouth to speak, but is stopped almost immediately by the yakuza, there was no way he was going to let him ruin this moment with another shitty pun. “I love how I can make you shut up by kissing you literally whenever I want”

SamaRio

Leaves crunch under his feet as Samatoki rushes through the wood, carefully weaving through the camouflaged traps. He never understood how bandits were able to make their way to Rio so easily with them around when it took him almost a month to have a memorized path. He skids to a halt when he makes it to the clearing of Rios camp, eyes surveying the area around him before landing on him. It seems the emergency call may have been an overstatement after seeing how unshaken the ex-marine seemed tying up the passed out trespassers.

“I hope I didn’t alarm you, it seems that the threat wasn’t as high as I thought” He claps his hands onto the sides of his thighs, whipping off the dirt from them before handing off their mics to his leader. “Just another raid for my mic, they’re foolish to underestimate me. Forgive me for calling you out here for no reason, I’ll make us lunch in return” Samatoki shivers at the idea, but the smile on Rio’s face is enough to make him swallow his pride alongside whatever atrocity his boyfriend had planned.

“Tch, don’t worry about it, calling me wasn’t a waste of time. Y’know, if anyone messes with you again I’ll lay them out then and there.”

RamuSama

Out on the town, arms linked, Ramuda dragged Samatoki to every store with a pretty glass display, occasionally pointing out his own brand when he saw it. While Samatoki could enjoy the clothing, although his personal preference being vintage, he couldn’t say the same now. The stylist had brought the two into a sickeningly pink store that specialized in stuffed animals and other cutesy goods.

“Oh, Sama look! Aren’t they cute, kinda like us~!”

He looks over Ramuda’s shoulder and to the pair of stuffed animals he was excitedly fawning over. Two small bears, one pink and the other white, leaning on one another with Velcro paws so they could hold hands. Samatoki’s eyes move from the bears to Ramuda, who was already getting into position to plead with him to buy them. “Sama... can you pwease~!”

He rolls his eyes, letting out a soft ‘tch’ before grabbing the plushies. “Oh piss off with those puppy dog eyes you know I’ll do it for you” Ramuda jumps, cheering out loud as he follows his Sama to the checkout stand, he really needed to stop giving into those eyes or he’d be out of cash.

HifuGen

A long day at work meant that Hifumi had earned a long soak in the tub, after all he had so many new products his kittens have given him that he was excited to try! However, in a surprising twist of events, his stay at home princess was awake too and decided he would join him as well. Gentaro says that the only reason he was awake was because of deadlines and absolutely not because he wanted to see Hifumi.

“I don’t think so. Bubbles are for children”

Already, they had run into their first problem and the water hasn’t even started yet. Hifumi pouts, puffing out his cheeks, grabbing at the bottle Gentaro took from him. “Awh, c’mon Gen! This is the expensive kind, it’s made with honey and it smells super gooooood~! Smell it!” The blond tears the bottle from his hands before opening it and stirring the wand around in it before bringing it to Gentaros face. His face winces back, before carefully moving the stick aside and glaring back at Hifumi.

“It smells like food, you know I don’t like food scented anything” With a sad sigh, he puts the bubble bath aside, no bubble bath for the bubbly champagne host tonight... The hot water spills from the tap and the two huddle together under the hot water silently, it was calming.

“Okay, but can I use a bath bomb instead?!”

IchiDice

Ichiro jumps slightly in his spot as a loud knock echoes through the quiet house, he furrows his brows before pausing his show and grabbing his phone. 2:28 AM. This better be important. Standing up, he saunters over to the door and peeks through the peephole, seeing the familiar mess of blue hair. Sighing, he rubs his eyes of sleep and unlocks the door and is welcomed to the rest of Dice. “Dude, what are you doing here so late?”

Dice moves past Ichiro, almost rushing into the kitchen, already grabbing at the snacks he knows his boyfriend wont mind him eating. “I’ve been on a nonstop losing streak, thought I’d swing by and see my lucky charm!” Which also meant to eat as much as he can and to sleep on something that wasn’t a park bench for one night. After a minute, Dice waddles out from the kitchen, dropping various bags and containers on the coffee table but before he could sit down Ichiro had stopped him with a hand on his back.

“Oh, hell no! You are taking a bath before sitting on my couch and grab some clothes from my room, your jacket smells like a pachinko parlor ash tray”

Dice groans and nods before trudging his way to the bathroom, littering the hall with clothes as he gets undressed on the way there. Ichiro picks up the trail behind him, already taking it to the house washing machine. After that he’s gonna reheat some left overs because theres no way in hell he was gonna let Dice leave tomorrow after a dinner of just Funyuns and Cheetos.

HifuDo

Hifumi had left the house hours ago to run some errands, so now it was a race against the clock. Doppo had to bake and decorate the cake he had planned for the twos anniversary. It wasn’t anything too fancy, not like he had the skill to pull anything like that off, but still he wanted to work with what he could do! The instructions on the back seemed easy enough, idiot proof... right? Doppos hands shake as he whisks the batter, knuckles white from squeezing the handle so tightly, he just wanted to be sure he got all the clumps. What if he just happened to be the one idiot that couldn’t do it?

Shakily, he pours the battle into a basic circle cake tray and into the already preheated oven, he learned preheating after helping Hifumi for a day. Once the tray was in all that was left was to wait, which to Doppo was the scariest part by far... What if he waited too long? What if he didn’t wait long enough? WHAT IF HE GAVE HIFUMI SALMONELLA??? Panic setting in, his eyes dart around the kitchen, from the oven to the timer then to the boxes instructions, did it seriously only take a fifteen minutes to cook a cake?

He jumps from his spot, clutching his heart from the sudden noise when the timer finally does go off. Oven off and gloves on, the cake pan comes out easy, even if the thought of taking it out did scare him at first. Now he had to let it sit for another ten, he can do this, this cake will come out great and Hifumi will be so proud of him! While he waits the time out he mixes the frosting, and grabs the sprinkles to decorate it all!

Again, the timer goes off and Doppo moves to tap the cake out of the mold, but after a few hits, it doesn’t budge. Confused for only a brief second until it hits him. HE FORGOT TO GREASE UP THE PAN. Quickly, his hands shuffle through the drawers before pulling out a butter knife and slicing it out... it was a disaster, there were holes at the top where he couldn’t cut properly. Only he could have managed this, only he could be an ingenious enough idiot to fail something idiot-proof then his eyes fall on the decorations again.

“The icing will cover the mistakes”

#🥂🔖#💖💛#💝🎰#Canon X Canon is fun to write #This is a lil old Ive been letting these sit in my drafts #If you see this on AO3 thats because I posted it there too #just;;;; have to figure out AO3 #Might be some errors but lazy

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years

Text

Daniel Michaelson: Beaten/Numb

(for @whumptober2019 - combining yesterday and today’s themes of Beaten and Numb - plus @pinkcupboardwitch’s excellent suggestion of psychological whump/mind games. TW: Serious injury/violence and physical abuse, noncon touching, noncon kissing, implied/referenced torture, implied/referenced noncon, I really cannot emphasize enough that Abraham Denner is a bad bad man)

“Red!”

Abraham’s voice echoes across the small clearing and Daniel’s head jerks up instantly where he kneels in the dirt, a bit of red hair flopping over one eye, wincing as the sudden motion aggravates the new bruises around his neck from last night.

“Come here, boy!”

I’m not your fucking dog, you piece of shit. I am twenty… something years old - how old am I? I don’t remember anymore, why don’t I remember how old I am…

No. Stop it. Those aren’t the right thoughts. Be good, Red. It doesn’t matter that you can’t remember things. All that matters is that he wants you now.

You have to be good.

You want to be good.

He’s been carefully looking over the last few carrots from the spring planting, trying to decide just by looking at the thin green tops if they’re ready to pull for tonight. Abraham has a venison roast out of the freezer thawing in the sink - he likes roasts if you put onions, carrots, and potatoes in and cook it forever, until all the vegetables have gone soft and taste like the meat and the venison is as soft as beef.

Daniel knows how to cook everything just the way he likes. He can’t remember if he likes roasts or not - there’s never enough food, and he takes what Abraham will give him and he’s grateful for it.

Thank you for letting me eat, Abraham.

He lets his fingers trail across some carrot leaves, frowning at the lack of sensation he feels. After living here and being forced to use harsh cleaning chemicals and bury his hands in boiling water - after Abraham’s knives and the barbed wire and worse - Daniel can’t really feel much with his hands at all.

It doesn’t matter. His hands work well enough for gardening and cleaning and cooking and worse - and sometimes the lack of feeling is a relief. None of it matters, nothing matters, just that Abraham is calling, and he needs to stand up, but he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to go.

Because he’s not a fucking dog.

Part of him still wants to refuse, even knowing what happens when he does, even knowing there are worse things than a little bit of cutting that can be done to him.

His heart is speeding up with his anger, pounding into his chest, and that’s not good; Abraham wants him to want to be his good boy, to be happy to be called, not pissed off.

He practices breathing in: inhale - I’m not a person, just the puppy - hold for five, exhale - no one wants me but Abraham now - inhale - My family thinks I’m dead and no one is looking for me - hold for five, exhale - I love Abraham and I want to be good - and feels his heart start to slow, a little, the dangerous anger starts to fade out, replaced by the way Abraham wants him to think.

Part of his brain wails that none of it is true, the thoughts Abraham feeds into his mind with the breathing exercises, at the end of a knife, licking the blood from his throat. Part of his brain wants to scream that there has to be some way out of this hell, but he tries not to listen, because there isn’t, and telling himself there is might make him less numb.

His body isn’t his own. His life doesn’t belong to him. If he starts trying to fight that knowledge again, he’ll scream and scream and never stop.

Be good. Be Red.

Red is numb.

Red is a good boy.

“Oh, little Reeeeeed… come here, boy…” Abraham’s voice is a singsong, but he doesn’t like to call twice. If he has to call three times, that’s breaking a rule.

Always answer when Abraham calls.

“Coming, Abraham! I’ll, um, I’ll be right there!” He glances over at Nate, who is wearing waterproof boots, real pants meant for the outdoors, a heavy shirt to protect against the hint of chill in the spring air, and gardening gloves, digging up some potatoes and tossing them into a basket next to him.

Nate moves slower than he does, thanks to the one busted hand. He has to dig with the little shovel, lay it to the side, pick out the potato, and then pick the shovel up and do it again, since the other can’t quite close enough to grip.

The two of them meet eyes, warm blue on mossy, faded green, uncertainty and more than a little worry written across both of their faces. “Wh-what do you think he wants?” Daniel asks, in a low voice he knows won’t carry far.

With Nate, he’s still a person, just for a few seconds at a time - in stolen kisses and touches while checking traps together, in furtive moments when Abraham sleeps and Nate comes to lay with him on the living room floor, in the old movies they watch sometimes and laugh along with.

On the best days - when Abraham leaves them alone while he goes on supply runs (Danny still securely chained to the living room wall, he’s not going anywhere, and Nate won’t ever leave again, they all know that now) and Nate teaches Danny how to waltz, to tango, to do all kinds of dancing with his chain scraping the floor.

Sometimes they talk about Nate’s career as a professor and how Danny wanted to be an anthropologist. They break the rules and think about a life other than this.

Then, and only then, does Daniel let himself stop being good and really just let himself be Daniel, the person that used to live in his body, when he didn’t have to be good, when he didn’t want to be.

When he lets the careful numbness crack and tries to find happiness, because he’s going to be here until he dies and if he can’t sometimes be happy he’ll lose his fucking mind.

But then Abraham always comes back, and his voice is back in Danny’s head and his hands are on his body, the body that doesn’t belong to him, it belongs to Abrahm Denner because Daniel Michaelson doesn’t exist any longer, just Red - and Red only exists for Abraham, to be hurt whatever way he wants, forever.

Nate only looks away from him, back to the potatoes. There’s a moment where his jaw becomes a hard line and the green eyes go flinty and angry. Then he slumps forward and goes back to work, slowly shaking his head. “D-d-doesn’t matter. You h-have to a-a-answer.”

“I don’t want to,” Daniel whispers, because he can say disobedient things to Nate and know that he’ll never tell Abraham he said them, thought the wrong way, didn’t want to be good. “I don’t ever want to, Nate. I don’t… I don’t want to try harder.” He drops his voice to a whisper, says the words he’s never, ever allowed to say. “I fucking hate him.”

“I kn-know, Danny-” Nate catches himself with a wince, even though there’s no way they were overheard. “R-R-Red. Sorry. I’m w-w-w-working on it, oh-okay? I’m t-trying to f-f-figure it out I, I h-h-have an idea, but… Go on b-before he g-g-gets mad.”

Working on what? What are you figuring out? He doesn’t dare ask. Nate might be having disobedient thoughts, too, fighting the same anger deep within himself that Daniel fights each and every day, the person he used to be screaming to get back out.

Daniel shoves that person even further away, buries him under the puppy. The puppy doesn’t think the wrong things, the puppy wants to be good. Abraham will know if he’s not being the puppy, he’ll know, and then the memory of last night’s fingers squeezing the air from his throat will be the least of his problems.

He hops up to his feet, turning and half-jogging across the yard, trying to be visible to Abraham as soon as possible, to prove that he really is answering the order immediately, just the way he wants. His throat aches as he takes in deeper breaths but he ignores it. He’s good at ignoring it by now, at letting all the different places he feels pain run together into a comforting nothing-feeling.

He’s good at it, but the person-thoughts trickle back in.

I used to be a person. I used to be more than this. There used to be more to living than trying to figure out the next way he’s going to hurt me. I have a little brother, he’s still out there somewhere looking for me.

Stop it. Never think of any life before or after this one. This is all there is. No one is looking. Noe one cares. Everyone thinks you’re dead. You know the rules, Red, remember the rules.

Never think of any home but this.

There used to be a home other than this.

God damn it, no, there isn’t any home other than this, not for me, not ever again.

“I’m, I’m right here, I’m coming right away, Abraham, I’m coming!”

Abraham laughs, the braying sound bouncing off the trees, and Daniel winces but doesn’t slow down as it settles into his bones, crawls under his skin, until he can feel the echo in his fingernails and down to his half-frozen numb toes in the wet grass.

Abraham can turn even obedience into something to laugh at - make out of his willingness to do as he was told a joke about the phrasing of his words, and he feels the grime that lives eternally on his skin all over again.

Dirty and empty and hollow but that’s okay, it doesn’t matter, what matters is that Abraham wants him right now and he needs to be good.

The metal cuff on his ankle shifts as he moves, a flash of old pain as the metal rubs against the skin that’s been some version of raw or open or scarred since he came here, and he can feel the slightest chill in the air right through the threadbare T-shirt and pants he always wears. He’s barefoot - it’s warm enough not to waste boots on the puppy, Abraham said this morning, and even though his feet and his toes are so cold they’ve gone numb, he doesn’t dare disagree.

If he’s good, he can get his feet close to the fireplace and warm them up later, maybe. Or at least take a bath, but Daniel doesn’t like baths, because Abraham always watches him. Makes comments. Sometimes pushes his head under the water in the giant old clawfoot tub. Sometimes does worse than that.

He’s not really supposed to not like it, because he’s supposed to want whatever Abraham wants, even though he hates it - hates his eyes and his hands and his fucking mouth - and…

Daniel stops himself from thinking, slowing to a trot, trying to breathe.

He has to force himself to focus, to think of the ache in his left side, the bruising around his throat. Focus on it, use it to settle his heart, to push away the anger that might otherwise boil out of him and end with being in trouble again. If he can’t calm down, there would be more ways he could be hurt, there would be worse than what’s already been done.

He can be made worse than broken.

There are so many things worse than dead, and Abraham knows them all.

Inhale.

I will never leave here.

Hold for five counts.

Exhale.

I want to be good.

Abraham is standing over along the side of the cabin, near the cellar, and Daniel skids to a stop twenty feet away, his face carefully set into his usual eager-to-please nervousness, trying to hide the disobedient, roiling thoughts underneath the surface.

The cellar doors are open.

No.

I don’t like the cellar. The cellar is dark. I don’t like the dark.

“Wh-why, um, why is the cellar, the-…” He trails off, voice cracking. “Abraham, I-… why are you, I don’t like to see those doors open, I don’t want-”

all alone in the dark, all alone all alone all alone

“No one gives a fuck what you like or want, puppy. Why did you stop so far away?” Abraham has his head tilted slightly to bask in the weakly warm sunlight of spring. The yellow sunshine make his skin seem even whiter, less human than it normally does - brings out the suggestion of deep shadows underneath the high cheekbones, turns his light eyes into glittering opaque glass Daniel cannot read, like the sheen of ice on a lake.

There are things underneath the ice in Abraham Denner’s eyes. Dark things that drag Danny under into the cold water, to keep him there forever.

“I, um, I stopped because I saw the cellar-”

“Why would that bother you, puppy?” Abraham smiles, a bright smile that shows his teeth, only a shade whiter than his skin. It’s never a good sign when he smiles like that. It’s never a good sign when he doesn’t, either.

“It, um, I don’t… I don’t like the cellar-… when you put me in the, the cellar, you, um, you leave me there.”

“Only when you’re bad, little Red. Are you going to be bad today?”

“No! No, I won’t!” Danny swallows back revulsion at the nervous fearful whine in his own voice, twisting his fingers into the fabric of his T-shirt in a helpless, childlike way he can’t seem to stop. “I won’t. I’ll be good. I want to be good for you, Abraham, you know, you know I want to be good now. J-just like Lyken says, in the show, I want to be good.”

Please please please not the cellar, please

“Hmmm… you’re so good at saying what I want to hear, aren’t you? But you’re still too far away. I said come here, Red.” Abraham holds out one hand, white fingers curled slightly, a clear command, invitation, and thread all in one.

Don’t hesitate, never hesitate, never reject a touch.

Daniel’s body jerks into automatic motion before his brain can catch up and remind him that he hates this - this place, this man, the breathing exercises, every single fucking thing about his life but Nate - and instead he keeps his eyes on the open cellar, on the yawning gaping black hole in the ground, the first few rickety steps visible, maybe a patch of the dirt floor beneath if he stood close enough.

He doesn’t want to stand close enough.

alone in the dark

Never hesitate when Abraham wants you, his brain shrieks the reminder, alarm bells ringing. He made him call twice already, he stopped too far away, he’s courting disaster if he hesitates now. He steps forward and ducks his head, leaning his face into Abraham’s touch.

A cold palm rests against his cheek, Abraham’s thumb pressing just a little into the scar that curves over his cheekbone, long fingers just brushing his earlobe. He swallows against the surge of nausea, forces it back before it can make him go any paler than he already is.

Puppies don’t get sick at their owner’s touch.

“Good boy,” Abraham says in a low, pleased rumble, and Daniel tries to feel reassured by it and not dirty and ashamed. For a second, there’s only silence and the vaguest hint of breeze moving his hair, the chill that seems to slip right through the thin cotton of his clothing, raising goosebumps on his arms and making him shiver. “That’s my very good boy. I want to ask you something, little Red - and it’s very, very important that you be honest with me.” Daniel tries to breathe.

I love Abraham and I want to be good.

No one will ever find me here.

“Wh-what do you want to ask?” Abraham’s hand slips down from his face and drops slowly to his throat, curling around, fingers placing themselves perfectly over the bruises, following the map laid out of exactly where Abraham had cut off his air last night.

The barest bit of pressure against the mottled bruising makes a fresh new wave of fear run through him as he gasps, and he’s not choking - he’s drowning. It’s not the lack of air - it’s the overwhelming frozen touch, the look in those odd nearly-colorless eyes, that pulls him under the water for the dark things to devour and holds him there.

“Pl-please don’t-… don’t do that again,” Daniel whispers. “D-Don’t take my air, please, Abraham, I, I need the air…” He’s taking in what breath he can, hands clenching into fists to keep himself from trying to grab at Abraham and pull himself free.

It won’t work, and he’ll just get in trouble for breaking the rules.

“I don’t have to, if you answer my question. Little Red, would you like to go in the cellar today? Just for four hours or so?”

every time he puts me down there, they go, they’re gone for weeks and it’s harder and I get so weak, I get so hungry, I ran out of water last time, I don’t want to be alone, I don’t, I can’t, please no, please not the dark

“No!” It’s more an exhalation than a sound, whistling air around the grip on his throat, the aching of the bruises. He’s taller than Abraham, but staring into his eyes always makes Danny feel so fucking small. “I don’t, I don’t want to go down there, please, Abraham, please don’t make me.”

“No? Only for four hours and you say no?” The hand leaves his throat, sliding along the edge of his shirt’s neckline, trailing along his shoulder. Daniel shivers and holds himself still, dropping his eyes down to the ground, hands still at his sides.

“I, but-…” But what if you’re lying and you leave again. He can’t say the words, because suggesting Abraham is lying is disobedient, but sometimes he does lie. Lies and puts Nate in the car and leaves Danny in the cellar with his hands tied for a month until he runs out of food and begs and begs and begs and somehow Abraham always seems to know when Danny is about to lose his mind from the isolation and hunger and thirst and reappears to take him back up the stairs, dirty and frightened and full of the need, the deep deep need, to be so good it never happens again. “But I, I can’t go down there, I hate it-”

“Poor thing, you’re so scared of the cellar, aren’t you?” Abraham’s voice is sweet, and loving, and Daniel hates this voice most of all - it’s a lie, Abraham hates him, only loves hurting him, because there are things like Danny in the world that only exist to be hurt. “What kind of grown-ass man is scared of the dark, little Red?”

He knows what Abraham wants him to say. He knows, and he hates it, and the person part of his brain tells him to spit in his face, punch him, give him another black eye and take his punishment afterward. But the person-voice is getting very, very small and weak compared to the, to the…

“I’m not a grown-ass man,” Daniel mumbles down at his feet. “I’m just the puppy.”

There’s a silence, and he glances up from behind a curtain of wavy red hair to see Abraham smiling at him, a wide and beaming, proud smile. Danny had, after all, just done a perfect trick. Like putting up his paws to beg for a treat. Roll over, sit, stay, that’s what’s left of Daniel Michaelson.

Daniel’s face burns with humiliation.

“That’s my good boy,” Abraham breathes, and Daniel shudders at the joy in his voice, the way the touch of his fingers changes, becomes more intense somehow, more purposeful.

Daniel turns his head to the side when Abraham’s hand slides up into the back of his hair. He never pushes him away. He never fights back. He closes his eyes, slowly, trying to focus on the way his eyes feel when closed, how his eyelashes are long enough that he can almost feel them brush his skin - he tries to deaden his skin to Abraham’s touch, to not even notice any longer.

Be numb. Be good. Go away in his head and come back when it’s over, when whatever it is Abraham intends to do is over.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Abraham murmurs. “I know what you’re up to, and you know I don’t like that. No escape for you.” The fingers tighten suddenly in his hair, he’s gripped on until Daniel can feel a flash of pain in his scalp and the velcro-like rip of a bunch of hair being pulled out of his skin, yanking his head backwards hard until his back is arched and his eyes fly open to stare up into the blue sky above.

Breathe. See the sky? The sky is still there, no matter what happens to him. No matter how small or inhuman or broken he gets, the sky is still there.

Let him do whatever he wants. Be good.

No one is coming to save you.

“I was thinking I would give you a choice,” Abraham spoke mildly, as though he wasn’t tearing Daniel’s hair out with the strength of his grip, slowly forcing his head further and further back until Danny finally realized what he wanted and buckled his knees, dropping like a stone to kneel in the dirt.

Cold damp from the wet grass began immediately to soak into the knees of his pajama pants, along the front of the shins. He kept his hands carefully at his sides, and now, staring up from the ground, he wasn’t looking at the sky. He was looking right into Abraham’s face as the man leaned over him.

“I’m bored and I want to play a game. You don’t get choices very often, do you?”

Danny tried to shake his head but it only pulled on the grip on his hair and he hissed in pain and went still again, swallowing, his throat aching as if to remind him that his hair wasn’t the only injured place right now.

There was never just one injured place, really.

“N-No Abraham, puppies don’t get choices. They, they like when their owners choose. I b-b-belong to you, so you, um-… You choose because you, you own me, my body, um… I’m just the puppy.“ He recites the words automatically, rewarded with a loosening of Abraham’s fingers, breathing a sigh of relief as sharp pain went back to a dull ache. “What, um, what kind of choice are you going to give me? What’s the game?”

He didn’t want to make a choice. If he didn’t have to make a choice, he felt safer, none of it was his fault or his responsibility. It was all being done to him, and Daniel had learned how to handle that, to go away in his head and let it happen to someone else.

Making a choice made him part of it.

“You’ll like this, puppy. You can choose to go in the cellar for four hours…”

Daniel whines in the back of his throat, a helpless unconscious sound of fear, shifting where he kneels in the dirt. The yawning darkness along the side of the cabin has a physical weight in the back of his mind, a constant drumbeat of panic and the dark things and the pressure he knows will settle over him down there, the buzzing static nothing, the dwindling apples and water day by day by day until it’s gone and still he’s all alone…

“Not your favorite option? Well, maybe you’ll need to think that over. You can go in the cellar for four hours, unharmed, just put your handcuffs on… or… We can learn about something else.”

“Wh-what?” Daniel will do anything, anything to stay out of the cellar, anything at all, and he looks up with a desperate plea in his eyes. “I, whatever it is, Abraham, if you, if you’ll let me choose, I-”

“Ever had your shoulder dislocated?”

Daniel blinks, and the fingers finally leave his hair entirely and brush down the back of his neck, along the line of his shoulder, then back down to his shoulder blades, rubbing at it through the fabric of his shirt. “Uh, um, I… n-no, no I haven’t.”

“Oh, let’s find out, shall we? Last night when I put my hands around your neck you pulled away from me. You’ll know better than to pull away from me next time, won’t you?”

Daniel takes in a deep breath - or tries, but he can’t manage more than a gasp. “I, um. You’re going to- to pull out my shoulder?”

“Dislocate it. Then I’m going to hang you by your arms in the smokehouse until the sun goes down. It’s only nine-thirty, Red. That’s a lot of hours to hang by a dislocated shoulder. Or… four hours in the cellar. That’s not so long, is it, to live in the dark?” Abraham’s hand wraps around the ball of his shoulder and Danny starts to shake, unable to stop himself, to hold still like he’s supposed to.

“That’s your choice,” Abraham says, in a voice that’s nearly a purr. “Do you want to go in the cellar, or do you want to dislocate your shoulder and hang out in the smokehouse for a few hours? You choose, Red. All on you.”

If I choose the cellar he’ll leave for days again, he and Nate, and I’ll be alone in the dark.

“N-No, I don’t, I don’t want to, I don’t want to choose-”

“Sssshhhhhh. No one gives a fuck what you want.” Abraham leans down as close as he can get, licks along the shell of Daniel’s ear with his cold, cold tongue. Daniel groans unwillingly - it’s an awful feeling, the wet and the cold - but Abraham mistakes it for something else and laughs at him, breaths of cool air against his dampened skin. “Oh, you like that, huh? We can learn more about that little response later. First, make your choice. I’ll count to ten. If you don’t choose by then, I’ll come up with something even worse.”

There is always something worse that Abraham can do to him.

Daniel tries to breathe, to practice his breathing exercises, but nothing comes. Instead he only gasps, half-chokes on his own fear, staring at the blackness of the cellar, then up into Abraham’s delighted, dancing eyes.

“I, I don’t want to, I can’t choose, Abraham, please, please you choose, please don’t make me-”

“One… two… three… four…”

I love Abraham and I want to be good. Making a choice is good. Making a choice is what he wants.

I don’t want to go into the cellar, I don’t want to be alone in the dark.

Please no, please no, I don’t want to hang by my shoulder, I don’t want to do that either.

“Five… six… seven… running out of time, little Red…”

Not the dark, not alone in the dark, please God don’t leave me alone in the dark again

My shoulder’s going to hurt so much, so much

If I don’t choose he’ll do something even worse, so much worse, he can always do something worse

“Eight… nine…”

“M-my shoulder!” Danny bursts out, nearly a shout, reaching up without thinking to grab onto Abraham’s arms in supplication, staring up at him with wide, panicked blue eyes glittering with tears. “Pl-please, Abraham, I can be good, I’ll be so good for you, please just don’t make me go down in the cellar again. Please, my shoulder, we’ll do my shoulder!”

“Good choice.” Abraham presses a kiss to the top of his head, then to the side of his temples, against his cheek where the line of the scar is, licks at the notch in his jaw, down to the pulse beating wildly in his neck. “That’s my very good boy. You try very hard for me, don’t you, Red?”

“I-I do, I can try harder, I’ll try harder-”

“Good. Good, good boy. Now.” Abraham disentangles himself from Danny’s grip, steps back and puts one hand on his shoulder, the other gripping his upper arm in an implacable frozen steel clamping. “Count to five out loud. On the count of five, I’m going to make you so fucking sorry you pulled away from me last night. And you keep your eyes open and on me the whole fucking time.”

Danny nods, slowly, raising his eyes to meet Abraham’s again, trying to practice his breathing, desperately trying to cling on to some calm, some sanity, as his mind screams at him to disobey, to be a person, to fucking run.

But he can’t run. He can’t fight. He can’t do anything, except what Abraham wants.

Inhale. No tears, no tears, no tears. Stay calm.

“One… t-two…”

Hold.

“Three…”

He can feel the tears in his throat, knows they’ll come out in his voice. Abraham’s grip tightens.

Exhale - shaky air, but Abraham doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t say anything, anyway, only stares right into Daniel’s terrified eyes.

Danny can feel the cellar pulling at him, wishing it had been his choice, all alone in the dark might have been better, only four hours…

But it’s never only four hours, it would be days, and he can’t be alone in the dark again.

Be good be good be good.

I don’t want to be in the dark.

“F-Four… oh god, Abraham, I can’t, I can’t, please-”

“One more, Red.” Abraham’s voice is gentle, loving, soft with affection, soothing his jangled frightened nerves. “Be my good boy and just one more number… if you take this well I won’t even leave you all day, that’s how good I am to you.“

“F-f-f-five, please, I’m so sorry I pulled away, I won’t do it again, I can try harder to be good please don’t-”

There’s a sudden horrifying pressure on his arm and shoulder, cracking and grinding somewhere deep within him, then a pop as Abraham pulls his arm apart with inhuman strength and a smile as wide as the sky. There’s a moment where Danny’s arm feels strange and loose, a half-second of horrified anticipation, and then - and then the pain hits and his brain bursts into an agonized explosion.

Danny tries to twist away from it, but that only pulls his shoulder more in Abraham’s steady iron grip, and he hears the sound of a horrible wailing scream tearing apart the air before he realizes the sound is coming from him.

The things that live behind Abraham’s eyes are pulling him down, pulling him under, and they’ll feed and feed and feed on his pain.

He is screaming so loud he cannot hear the lust in Abraham’s voice as he pets into his hair, murmuring, “That’s my good fucking boy, little Red, I wonder what else makes you scream like that…” His fingers card through the wavy red hair as Danny curls around himself, gasping - he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, the ends of his fingers on that side are tingling and half-numbed and the pain throbs and throbs into his lungs, he can’t breathe.

“Pl-please, God, please, I’m so sorry, Abraham, I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t, I won’t ever pull away again, please make it go back in, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’ll be good, I’ll be good-… oh god, oh god it fucking hurts, I’m so sorry-”

“I love you so fucking much, puppy,” Abraham speaks in a thick, throaty voice, pulling Danny to his feet as he screams again, pulling him close, nuzzling through the tears tracks and against the scars, pressing kisses as Danny cries in heaving sobs, but he doesn’t pull away.

He’s too lost in the pain and the strange way his whole arm feels loose, like it could just fall off of him at any moment, the way he can’t take a deep breath, the way every nerve-ending in his body is somehow connected to his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Danny whispers with Abraham’s lips on his scars, cold tongue licking up his tears. “I’m so sorry I’ll never, I’ll never, I’ll be good I want to be good, please, I want to be good…”

When Abraham kisses him, Danny’s mouth is open as he tries to gasp in breath to beg some more, and Abraham’s mouth on his is so fucking cold and steals all of what little air he can find.

But he doesn’t - he can’t - pull away.

Abraham finally pulls back, smiling at him, touching the side of his face with an expression like a proud father. “You’re so gorgeous,” He says softly, the words buzzing and dancing and bursting around and through the white noise in Danny’s head. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re hurting for me, my sweet little Red. Just two hours in the smokehouse, I think, that’s my good boy. Then I’ll help you…” Abraham presses a kiss to his forehead, laughing at the wide blue eyes that barely see him, the audible whistling gasps for breath around the ache. “And you, my darling, my sweet boy, my good puppy, can help me. You don’t need a working arm for that.”

Then he drags him by his dislocated arm towards the smokehouse across the yard, laughing every time Danny stumbles and cries out at the new flash of agony.

Nate, still working in the garden, hears the scream and jerks his head up, jaw hardening into that straight line again, teeth ground together so hard they hurt. He can only stare, hearing Danny’s pleading and begging and continued pained shrieking, Abraham’s wild, joyful laughter, braying and echoing around and bouncing off the trees.

Then he looks back down at his work, digging the next potato out of the earth with furious zeal, digging and digging and digging until his fingernails are caked with dirt and the basket is nearly full and still, still Danny is screaming.

The screams eventually coalesce into slurred words, occasional shrieks.

Nate knows what"s happening in there. Daniel, after all, isn’t the first man Abraham’s played a game like that with. Bram rigs the game, he always wins. Anyone stuck playing is always, always beaten.

Last time it was Nate - and his choice was a broken knee (I love you so much… you’ll never fucking run again, will you, baby?) or Ashley choosing what part of him to bury her knife in… and Ashley’s eyes had been staring far too long at Nate’s pelvis.

Nate swallows hard as he listens to Danny’s throaty wail, begging Abraham’s forgiveness for what he’s done wrong, promising to do better, try harder, be good, if only he’ll let him out and make it stop.

His knee begins to throb, a very old pain, in time with Danny’s pleading.

The sound of the smokehouse door slamming shut - and Bram’s joyful laughter as he heads back into the house - muffles Danny’s wailing until it sounds like nothing more than wind, until it quiets down to hopeless, hoarse sobbing.

The sun goes on shining and the sky is a beautiful, bright, clear blue.

It’s going to be a gorgeous spring, and Nate is running out of time.

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ko-chan-the-blueberry-donut · 5 years

Text

Everyone Loves Marinette Part 9

Here’s the next installment! Sorry it took so long!

To address the questions, yes, all the couples are together, but they also want Marinette too.

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML

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

If there was one thing Fang was known for, it was being spoiled. Jagged supposed he had himself to blame for that one, but Fang was so cute and scaly with big ol’ puppy eyes he couldn’t resist giving into the urge to shower him with attention.

Though right now Jagged was cursing his tendency to spoil the reptile.

“Come on, Fang. You gotta take the costume off. It stinks.” Jagged beckoned Fang, who was stubbornly hiding beneath a table where Jagged couldn’t get to him. The croc made a noise of protest, snuggling even further into his ham costume.

Jagged sighed, pulling out his phone to dial his trump card. He hoped he didn’t wake her up with how early it was, but he really needed to wash Fang’s costume and give him a bath. The reptile’s been wearing it for weeks!

“Hey! Sorry! Can you come over? I know it’s early but, well, Fang’s not taking off the costume you made for him again... Sure! Thanks—you’re the best!” Jagged ended the call, relieved he would be getting reinforcements.

Fang snickered as he huddled under the table sneakily. He must have won—his comfy ham costume would not leave his body any time soon if he had anything to say about it. It was made with very soft material and not only that, it smelled like his favorite girl!

“Fang?” her voice called, and Fang could hardly believe his ears. He danced excitedly under the table, immediately coming out of his hiding place to greet his favorite girl.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng laughed gleefully when Fang ran into her arms. She immediately began giving him scratches in his favorite spot.

“You’re such a ham!” Marinette chortled as Fang rolled onto his back to expose his belly. Marinette looked stern, hands at her hips. “You need to take the costume off, Fang.”

Fang shook his head, preparing to go back into hiding, but Marinette was faster, and she tackled the croc. Despite being trapped, Fang relished in being in his favorite girl’s arms. She gave the best hugs just like Jagged!

“I’ll help give you a bath if you let us wash it.” Marinette promised, and Fang’s ears perked up at having a fun bath with both Marinette and Jagged. As if willing this whole time, the croc let Marinette easily remove the ham costume and Jagged winced at the smell before tossing it to an attendant to wash.

“Thank God—your extra bathing suit is set out for you, Marinette. We knew this big ol’ lizard wouldn’t give in unless you came over.”

“Of course.” Marinette smiled, scratching Fang in his special spot. Then she yawned, wincing at the time. “So, I guess it stunk really badly for you to call so late—or rather early.” She remarked. Jagged looked apologetic.

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep with the smell. You know he likes to wear your costumes everywhere.” He said. Marinette giggled, waving it off.

“I’m flattered he likes them so much. The ham one seems to be his favorite.” She said.

“Probably because he is a ham!” Jagged barked a laugh. They separated to get changed into their bathing suits and soon Fang was dancing towards the tub for his bath with his two favorite people.

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

The sun had risen, Fang basking in its rays as Jagged and Marinette relaxed after bathing him. Marinette was practically family to Jagged by this point, with all the designing she did for him and his fondness for her. Fang couldn’t help but follow his master’s lead and become quite attached to the young girl.

Marinette soon came over and gave him lazy pets as she listened to Jagged’s rants about his insufferable manager. Fang was sure he was in heaven, feeling himself being lulled to sleep.

But before he could fade completely, the gentle caresses stopped, and Fang was suddenly roused from slumber, wondering where Marinette went. He caught her scent at the door, saying goodbye to his master, who was eager to get some shut eye. Fang didn’t want her to leave. She should stay and give him pets and scratches! What was more important than him?

“See ya later, Marinette! Have fun at school!” Jagged yawned, forgetting to shut the door from fatigue as Marinette hurriedly left so she wouldn’t be late for school. Fang made a noise of displeasure, wondering why she needed to leave. His catlike eyes narrowed, sniffing her out and following where she went off to, determined to get his belly scratches.

He followed her all the way out of the hotel and into the streets of Paris, unperturbed by this development. Maybe he should try to get Marinette to live with them? That way she could spend all her time with him and Jagged! Jagged was lonely at times without Marinette and Penny to keep him company, and Fang knew it would make them both happy to have Marinette—their family—live with them.

People screamed as he passed by, but he ignored them, too busy tracking his favorite girl’s scent. He soon came across a building where her scent was the strongest, and hurriedly made his way inside, tail wagging at the prospect of finding Marinette for belly scratches.

Voices grew louder as he came closer to her scent, and Fang soon entered the room where her scent was the freshest, dancing when he caught sight of the pigtailed girl. The croc wasted no time and ran to climb on her back, licking her face.

“Wha?! Fang? What are you doing here?!” Marinette gave a startled yelp and everyone else in the classroom screamed in horror at their precious Marinette being mauled by a crocodile.

Adrien wasted no time in trying to pull the giant reptile off of her, but Fang was having none of that and growled at Adrien fiercely. He did not come all this way for scratches to be pulled away from his favorite girl!

Adrien narrowed his eyes, and quickly raced out of the classroom yelling “I’ll get help!”

Meanwhile, the rest of the class prepared to wrestle a crocodile for Marinette. However, Marinette surprised them by waving a hand.

“N-no! He’s fine! He’s just a big spoiled baby!” Marinette reassured them, giggling as Fang’s licks were ticklish. “He’s Jagged Stone’s pet croc! He wouldn’t hurt a fly!” Marinette told them. Regardless, the class looked apprehensive.

Suddenly Chat Noir burst into the classroom, ready to take on the monster attacking his princess. He tackled the beast, making Fang yelp and they both rolled away from Marinette. Fang caught the familiar scent of the boy who was trying to pull him away from Marinette in the first place and he prepared his tail, smacking Chat Noir in the face hard.

Chat Noir’s head whiplashed, and everyone winced at the sight. Fang didn’t make it any better when he outright sat on the fallen hero, smooshing him with his weight for good measure.

“Fang! No! Bad crocodile! Get off of Chaton right now!” Marinette ordered. Fang gave a disgruntled whine before obeying, making sure to step on Chat Noir extra hard for good measure. It was a miracle the boy was still conscious.

“Princess! Are you okay?! Did that monster hurt you?!” Chat sprung up and examined Marinette for any injuries. He would turn that croc into a purse if he harmed one hair on Marinette’s head! Fang growled, looking offended at the notion he would dare harm Marinette, but Marinette scratched him lightly, calming the beast.

“I’m fine, Chaton!” Marinette laughed, separating from him gently. “It’s just Fang! He’s Jagged Stone’s! He must’ve followed me here after I gave him a bath!”

“You give Jagged Stone’s pet a bath?!” Nathaniel blinked.

“Well yeah, this ham here doesn’t take off his costumes unless me and Jagged bribe him with baths together.” Marinette shrugged, continuing to pet Fang, not noticing all her classmates stiffen.

��Jagged Stone is dead to us.’ They thought. How dare—that—that pervert take baths with their precious Mari!

“We’re going to report him, girl!” Alya announced. The others nodded in agreement.

“How appalling! I can’t believe Jagged Stone would take baths with a teenage girl.” Lila hissed. She swore she would wreck the rockstar’s reputation.

“No! No! We’re wearing swimsuits! It’s not perverted, I swear!” Marinette realized what they were getting at and rushed to defend someone she considered family. The class didn’t look convinced. Marinette sighed. “Jagged Stone is like my uncle! He would never do something like that to me!”

“He better be.” Ivan said, his eyes narrowed.

“Or else he gets a fist to the face.” Kim added.

“Or I run him over with my blades.” Alix chimed in.

“I’m more than happy to sick Markov on him too if he hurts you, Marinette.” Max promised. Marinette smiled.

“That’s very nice of everyone but really, there’s no need! I’m safe!” Marinette reassured them. Just then, Miss Bustier came in and gave a scream at the sight of the crocodile in her classroom snuggling up to her favorite student. Marinette rushed to calm her, “It’s okay, Miss Bustier! It’s just Fang! He must’ve followed me here.”

Miss Bustier held a hand to her chest, feeling her heart pound erratically, eyeing the beast. The reptile appeared docile, too busy getting pets from Marinette, and she mentally sighed—clearly she should’ve brought wine to school today after all…

“Well… if you’re sure.” The teacher then eyed Chat Noir. “Chat Noir, is there a reason you’re here?”

Chat jolted, his face erupting into a blush.

“S-Sorry ma’am! I just thought Marinette was being attacked so I rushed over! Please excuse me!”

Miss Bustier sighed, rubbing her temples as Chat Noir exited the classroom in a hurry.

“Alright, everyone, take your seats. Today’s lesson will be—”

“Hi! Sorry I’m late.” Adrien came hurrying in. Fang gave him a spiteful glare, growling moodily, and Miss Bustier sighed even louder.

“Marinette, please tell the crocodile not to eat the other students.” Miss Bustier said tiredly. Marinette was shushing Fang, who begrudgingly left Adrien alone. “Now everyone please take your seats.”

Everyone hurried to their seats and Fang completely shoved Alya out of the bench, snuggling up to Marinette.

“Hey! You scaly asshole! That’s my seat!”

Fang growled again, showing teeth and Alya backed off.

“On second thought, I’ll sit in the back today…”

If crocodiles could smirk, Miss Bustier was sure the darn reptile would be beaming.

Yes, she clearly should’ve brought the wine bottle to school today…

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

Felix simply blinked at the scaly croc snuggling up to Marinette as they sat in the bakery. Honestly, he supposed anything to do with Marinette shouldn’t surprise him anymore, but it still manages to do so every time.

“So… is he just living here now?” Felix asked. Marinette laughed.

“Oh no! I’m going to take him back with Luka and Juleka later. They’re the only ones that Fang likes besides me, Jagged, and Penny. I guess it’s because they remind Fang of Jagged.” Marinette mused, petting Fang. The croc sighed in bliss at the attention.

“Oh... I guess we’ll have to cut this short.” Felix tried not to show his disappointment. Marinette looked shy.

“Actually, I was hoping you could come with us? It’s fun talking to you and I’d hate for it to cut into our hanging out time.” Marinette requested softly. Felix’s lips quirked into a small smile.

“Of course. Sounds like fun.” He reassured her.

After all, he could never refuse her.

#marinette dupain-cheng #marinette cheng #everyone loves marinette #jagged stone #fang #adrien agreste #marichat #adrienette #felinette #marinette x harem #marinette x everyone #miraculous ladybug #ladybug #chat noir #ml #ml fic

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