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wwwcapricorncom · 3 years

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hii could i request something? i don't mind whether it's a headcannon with some drabble or a longer scenario, do whatever you have time for. make sure you're taking care of yourself 🥰

oki so nsfw haikyuu, im very indecisive so I'll give you a list of some characters - feel free to include multiple alsjdggwgw.

tsukishima, kageyama, miya twins, kuroo, bokuto, yknow throw in hinata for some spice. basically anyone that would rUiN me 😗✌️

okay so for the scenario literally go wild with it, I'd love to have a few kinks involved like dumbification, verbal degrading, use of "puppy", breeding, denial, overstimulation and masochism (or sadism if you look at it from the characters side).

feel free to improv if there's anything specific you've been wanting to write lmao I'm happy with anything.

have fun hehe

Eep! You’re so sweet I could cry T^T. You’re my first ask btw so Thank you thank you! Anyone who enjoys this post, please thank anon! This will also be my first work for haikyuu so I hope it will be good! In addition, i'll write the reader as Fem for now bc it wasn’t specified, so I hope that’s okay<3. I was gonna include all characters, but I felt I kept you waiting long enough.

Okay so im thinking…. How they act when domming WITH BOKUTO, ATSUMU, OSAMU, TSUKI, AND HINATA.

Genre: SMUT/MINORS DNI/ 18+/ Characters aged up

Warnings: dumbification, verbal degrading, use of "puppy", breeding, denial, overstimulation, masochism & sadism, a wee bit of impact play in Osamu’s... it just happened, gagging, nose pinching, praising, oral (fem and male receiving), dom dynamics, use of the word “daddy.

BOKUTO

Bo is a wild card, so anything can activate his dom moods and they can vary from service to hard domming.

You have to watch out for those days when you do something that he finds so cute because that’s when he wants to be a service dom.

And that means fucking you completly dumb.

“C’mere puppy”, just wants to show you how much he appreciates and adores you, so he has to make you feel so good that you turn into mush.

Always fucks you in a position that relies solely on you having to rely on him because it’s such a power trip for him.

Will have you picked up and getting fucked against the wall of your room as he tells you how cute you are.

Seeing you like this triggers something so animalistic in him, he is suddenly so hyper focused as he fucks you like an animal.

LOUDDDD

Just wants to see how wrecked you’ll get for him, but wrecks himself too.

“C’mere puppy, gonna pick you up.” You're a mess already, having been getting fucked into on your back by your boyfriend. Still, you put your hands out so he can pull you into his broad chest and up you two go. He smiles at your compliance and goes in to kiss your cute lips, albeit deeply as he sucks on your tongue and bottom lip which makes saliva string you two together when pulling away.

By the time he is done kissing you, he has your bare back pressed against the cool surface of your room walls and is nudging the head of his big, fat cock back into your needy hole. “Ah! Bo, fuck! like this?”

You can’t help but ask while clinging to him for dear life as he bottoms out in you. All he can do is nod, one hand strongly wrapped around your lower back, close to your ass, and the other flat against the wall above your head. He loves the way you cling to him, much like how your soft walls do at the slightest dragging of his cock. In and out. He begins to buck his hips up into you and you bounce at the sheer force of each of his thrusts, breast bouncing gloriously in front of him too as he eyes them.

You’re open mouthed panting in no time in rhythm with his thrusts as your eyes gloss over while looking into his golden ones. He searches your face before using force from his legs to start ramming into your spongy spot and you gasp, “fuck daddy wait!”

“Just wanna make you feel good pup, just let me…” He groans as he continues to fuck into your gspot, making you clench around him sporadically as you begin to moan, “i-if you keep thrusting there-

“You’ll cum? Good, cum for me and i'm not gonna stop either.” He states seriously as he picks up his pace, moving the hand he had around you to your hip and gripping it tightly as he enclosed you against the wall more. You had no choice but to take the harsh thrusts that he was giving you, each retraction taking the air from your lungs before the thrust to your spot delivered intoxicating pleasure.

Your fucking head was getting cloudy as you succumbed to the pleasure, sweat trickling down the valley of your breasts at the body heat you two were producing, the mere sight of you sruggling to determine what you should do makes him go feral. Gripping both of your hips, with a bruising glasp, he makes sure the top half of your back is still resting on the wall as he begins to bring you down on his dick while thrusting up.

“You look so fucking sexy like this! Shit, I love having you on my cock!” He is growling now as you moan incoherent sentences, clinging to him closely you decided on just nodding your head. Too fucked out for anything else as he dominated your throbbing core.

He moans loudly at this as he balls slap aggressively against your ass, “already fucked dumb, pup? Fuckkkkk just how I wanted you.” He says as you start to go weak from the pleasure of your orgasm staring to consume you, moving to place your head in between the crook of his neck. He doesn’t let you though, grabs you by the chin and forces your unfocused eyes to stay on him as drool trickles down your skin from your lolled out tongue.

How could he not watch you go dumb on his cock as he fucks your through your orgasm and into his. You two are going to be so sloppy when he’s done.

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

TSUKIII

This fucking Psychopath mean and hard dom.

The most verbal degrader, but also lovesss to humiliate you too.

Just looks at you condescendingly, but is trying to hide his amusement.

“You look so pathetic right now, sweetheart.” is pushing his glasses up with one hand.

Has the other hand buried two fingers deep in your needy cunt.

All you can do is whine because for fucks sake he won’t give you anything, but shallow thrusts. All because

“If you want more then fucking work for it!”

Has you fucking yourself on his fingers in an instant while he snickers and smirks (still being mean) as if his hard on isn’t threatening to fucking cream his pants.

“TSUKIII!” You whine as you grip his wrist that is connected to the fingers inside your dripping cunt.

“You look so pathetic right now, sweetheart” He states with a smirk as he gives you two sharp aimless thrusts into your cunt, making you whine louder.

“P-please just give me more! Stop being so mean!” You say as you look up at his shirtless frame. You know by the look on his face that he is having fun, that he enjoys seeing you so needy and you hate that you’re feeding into it. But it’s so hard, when he has been fingering you to the edge and stopping every time right before you could even release.

“You want more? Then fucking work for it, whore!” He says almost sadistically and you nod as you lift your hips up to meet his fingers. You begin to thrust up into his two nimble, long fingers as you clench around him. Your walls are thankful for the aggressive friction that you are finally getting after 3 near orgasms.

One particular rough thrust hits your g spot and you moan lewdly, tongue almost hanging completely out as you feel the familiar tingles of a strong orgasm. Just as you go to lift your hips up to ram into his fingers in the exact same way, his other hand is pressing you firmly down onto the mattress, halting your attempts.

You fucking choke on a sob as tears obscure your vision and he snickers, “Aw you’re such a crybaby!”

But seeing your flushed face and rising chest as your lip quivers, does it for him. And he’s a little mad at himself because you won and don’t even know it. I mean now he just has to fuck you- you just look so pretty, begging for him after he’s been so fucking mean to you. Crying. Gosh, it makes his dick twitch as precum trickles down to his balls.

Yep, now he’s gonna fuck that needy cunny and give you all that you wanted and then some.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

ATSUMU

Much like Tsuki, he is also a mean and hard dom, but actually has the ability to turn into a soft one.

Loves to degrade too but because he loves feeling superior.

Will be at his meanest when he just lost a match and Def takes it out on that cunt.

Right after like right after the game, he has you riding him in the fucking car.

Is being so mean too, “don’t tell me that’s all ya got, ya little slut?”

“Ride my fucking dick then!”

Once you amp it up though, fuck his tune switches so fast. “God yer so fuckin’ wet, gonna breed ya just right bc ya think ya can fuck me like this and get away with it?”

Like sir you were just… anyways he will hug you into his chest and mark your flesh up.

Fills you to the brim while praising and then makes you sit with it leaking into your underwear all the way home

“Come on slut, fully sit on it. I don’t care if it hurts!” Atsumu grumbles as he smacks your ass, making your legs quiver and a few more inches to slip further into your stretching sex.

He’s so big and that asshole barely prepared you before telling you to basically spear yourself on his erect cock. He’s only this mean when he loses and as much as you wish you could say you hate it, you don’t at all.

You love proving him wrong and he always tries to be right, the only difference is he is being meaner right now. That’s why he slams you the rest of the way down on his cock and has your eyes springing open as you arch and shake with a loud cry.

You can’t even express how full you feel or how it feels like he could’ve just broken you, but your pussy can. It’s gushing around him as if you just came, making a mess at his base and his neatly trimmed pubes.

“Don’t ya fuckin’ dare cum yet, don’t tell me that’s all ya got, ya little slut!” He growls taking ahold of your neck with his large hand. You whine at this putting your two smaller hands around his forearm and shaking your head ‘no’, mind getting cloudy.

He sits up a bit, sweaty back unsticking from his leather seats as he gets inches from your face, still clenching your neck, grasping tighter even.

“Then. Ride. My. Fucking dick!” He snaps, eyes dark as he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. You feel so aroused at this point, grinding your hips into his as your walls scream from the weak prep.

He continues to spew mean shit at you, further stimulating you as you begin to ride him faster. He is slipping soon after, groans tumbling out of his mouth as you bounce on his cock like a rabbit.

Whines sharply when you start to clap your ass down on the dick before hugging you to his sweaty chest. Your hard nipples will drag against his skin as he keeps you embraced, strong arms around your back as he sucks purple marks into your skin. Will begin to fuck up into you as he moans, “ya can’t ride me like that and not expect me t-to fill ya up, pretty!”

Doesn’t care for your response, too lost in his own delirium, as he concentrated on ramming all that fat cock into your hole in attempts to get deeper and deeper. And when he hears you finally cry out about how, “ ‘TSUMU! YOU'RE TOO DEEP!”

He is emptying his balls into you, with an iron grip on your hips to keep you firmly planted on him as he repeats, “gonna fuckin’ bread ya! Bread ya so good… look at that cunt drinking it all up ah!…such a good girl.”

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

OSAMU

Is the reverse of his brother- Is primarily a soft dom, but knows when to be a hard/ mean one.

Loves caressing you and giving you touches everywhere.

But is really good at commanding, does it calmly with hot lazy eyes.

“Go a little faster… yea there ya go. Good.”

“Don’t do that baby, ya wouldn’t want me mad right?”

Sometimes that is what you want thoe and you’re being such a brat that he understands too.

That’s when he goes Dom, probably having enough of your bullshit.

Like if you’re teasing and disobeying him, per example, when you’re giving him head.

Without warning will put a firm hand on the back of your head and push you forward roughly.

Will fuck your face so meanly, scolding you about how, “this is what ya wanted.”

“Come on, go a little faster baby.” Osamu commands and his matter of fact tone, the one he uses when he wants you to do something without protest, sends tingles to your cunt as you flutter your eyes up at him.

Deciding to obey this time, even though you know you want something a little more tonight, you begin sucking on his tip a little faster. He nods his head slowly, relishing the scene before him as he tilts his head back.

He’s really getting into it, baby loves when you suck him off on your knees. It always feels so good and he finds himself in this exact position. Head thrown back, eyes shut, one hand holding your makeshift ponytail, and the other on your cheek.

You love the look in his eyes, lustful and lazily hanging open as his pupils flicked down occasionally to drink in your movements. You were growing needy though, panties getting soaked as you rub your thighs together, sucking faster. His hums of approval indicated that he enjoyed this action as he wets his lips and rakes his fingers further through your hair.

Deviously you decided to take him in further and graze your teeth along his skin, something he loved but did not take kindly. It always made him feel way too good like he would cum way sooner than he would want to, so it pissed him off every time you did it. And you knew that it had worked now too when he let out a surprised hiss as you continued to lightly graze your teeth on his member. His breath is shaky as he lets go of the ponytail that he had formed to keep your hair out of your face.

“Fuckin’ mistake” he states seriosuly as his strong hand pushes on the back of your head, lunching you forward and making his cock fully slot itself in your throat. It hurt, it burned, and you were soaking yourself because of the pain. You loved when your daddy turned into such a meanie.

“Can never use yer fuckin’ words huh? Had to be a damn brat.” He grumbles as he starts to slam into your mouth, making tears trickle down the corners of your eyes as you try to keep up with the brutal pace.

He is groaning by now, the force of his thrusts making the veins pop from his arms and legs as your thighs get wet with arousal, “ya like it that much, nasty girl, huh!” You try to tell him yes, but a quick slap to your cheek makes you moan like an absolute slut. It was not enough to hurt, just sting and utterly surprise you, but it was more than enough for you, “don’t fuckin talk when I'm blessing ya with a full mouth.”

His tone is still as calm as ever which makes your pussy throb even more as you nod rapidly, desperately, doe eyes looking up at him as he smirks slightly before continuing to stretch your throat with brutal snaps of his hips. When he begins to cum, he makes sure to thrust fully into you, on his tippy toes, as he firmly plants one hand on the back of your head while using the other to pinch your nose closed.

You cum untouched, choking on his seed and gasping for air as tears stream down your face. But all he says is “ya wanted this and ya liked it, my little masochist.” Osamu has no problem being a sadist for you.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

HINATA

SERVICE DOM !!!

Such a precious baby (reminds me of Izuku) loves to eat you out, but because he really wants you to feel immense pleasure.

Is so attentive, sucks on your breasts, licks your inner thighs, places kisses on your ankles and legs before diving in.

Holds your hand while using the other to spread you apart.

“You taste so good baby.”

Is the type to shake his head from side to side while eating that pussy.

Will overstim you on accident at first, but realizes he loves how easy it is to reel orgasms out of you when you’re sensitive.

“Cum again for me please?”

Oral with him almost always leads to over stimming… both ways.

“Another kiss here… and here….here.” Hinata mumbles against your skin as you arch into the touch of his soft, wet lips. He started at your own lips, made his way down to sucking your neck and breasts, paying special care to your nipples. Sucks and nibbles on them for so long that you're wet and the buds are throbbing and sore.

He will then move down, dragging his tongue down your stomach, kissing your belly button, licking at your thighs before grabbing them. He spreads you open, groaning at how your cunt is seeping with arousal as he stands up, your legs on his shoulders while he admires you.

Will kiss your ankles as he rubs his underwear covered cock along your slit, collecting your slick and dampening the fabric. When he can no longer kiss your flesh or produce light touches here and there, too needy, he dives in and kisses your pussy.

“Sho!” You gasp as your hands fly to his hair, weaving into the orange tuffs as he licks a long flat tongue up your entire cunt. He’ll sigh against your puffy clit after this, amazed that he gets to taste you whenever he wants, and this starts the feast.

He starts to suck and nip at your folds, cute nose bumping against your clit which makes you squeal each time, “you taste so good baby.” He groans again as he reaches to hold your hand that abandoned his hair in favor of gripping the sheets. Your heart swells at the cute action as you grasp his warm hand back and he reallys starts to get lost in your soaking cunt.

So engrossed in tongue fuckng you while rubbing your clit with his thumb, he doesn’t register your slight warnings of, “S-sho you’re going too f-fast!” Because you weren't used to being touched and cared for so attentively, him being the first to do you like this, and your orgasm was approaching so fast it was shocking you.

Precum is rushing out of his cock when you start cumming on his tongue, but he doesn’t stop there. He starts to shake his head between your legs from side to side, further stimulating you and getting sloppier, as he gulps and slurps and continues to eat you out.

“TOO SENSITIVE!” You yell as you start squirming away, but his hold on your hand just gets tighter as he flicks his eyes up to you, “cum again for me please? I know my beautiful girl can…” He says, hot breath fanning your quivering cunt as his dark eyes look up at you. You whine at his words, but accept and he's back to over-stimulating you, using his tongue to weave through your folds and into your hole, rubbing your clit harder.

You gush so much for him by the end of the night. And he hasn’t even fucked you with that monster stamina yet.

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #bokuto smut #tsukishima smut #atsumu smut #osamu smut #hinata smut #haikyuu headcanons #reader insert #haikyuu x f!reader #haikyuu asks #haikyuu drabbles #www.capricorn.com

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keilemlucent · 3 years

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Oh Salem, the panicked Keigo idea just speaks to my mean little gremlin heart. I want to see the guy trained to keep calm and cool lose his shit over losing his s/o. RIP his handlers if they try to slow him down. I want to see the relief when he finds them and the reckoning for the people dumb enough to try. This. This is my bedtime snack.

so this is less of reckoning, more relief. soft. ive been thinking about this a LOT and i feel like <3 poor keigo would be ruined:

heres a wittle drabble for your thoughts

warnings: kidnapped reader, descriptions that may trigger claustrophobia (light, just a cave setting), insults in a not fun way, hurt/comfort baby

You were so cold.

The ‘cell’ you were in was more of a hovel, a small hole dug into the elaborate cave system you found yourself trapped in.

You weren’t sure for how long. There was no sun, only a guard that came and went with your meager meals and stale bottle of water. He and the other villains that had captured you spit vitriol and profanity like it was their duty to grind their verbal heels against your fragile psyche.

You tried to block them out, curling up in a tight ball against the rough back wall of your cell. Ignorance was better than hearing their profanities.

The worst part was that you weren’t really sure what was going on. Other than that it had something to do with Keigo, considering you were exclusively referred to as “the number 2′s brain-rotted whore”.

Once again, you tried not to listen.

...

You awoke to the sounds of chaos.

Shouting, crashes, explosions--

The walls of your prison shook as you scramble to stand, smashing your head into the low ceiling as you did.

Your vision spun as your staggered to the rusty bars, bracing yourself and hopelessly tugging as you had so many times before.

There was a crash particularly close, bits of debris falling from stone tunnels, frail support beams falling.

No.

Your blood ran so cold, you couldn’t move. Your body went completely still at the bars as you switched between panic and rage. It wasn’t fair, none of it was, you didn’t even get to say fucking goodbye to him. No last words, you’d been plucked from the street on your commute however long ago.

Keigo had left early that morning too, letting you sleep in with a kiss to the forehead instead of his normal heapings of sleepy, dawn-time affections. You’d been clinging to those sleepy, half-memories as anchor over the days in the cramped caves.

And, in the end, that was all you would have. Cloudy recollections of Keigo’s raspy morning voice as the caves around you began to shift and crumble.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you tugged at the bars, trying fruitlessly to get past them. Frustration made your hands sweat and fear made them shake as they became littered with small cuts.

With the next crash, just as close, a vibrant blur of red whizzed past your cell. The shock and gust from its speed sent you jolting back, a hand clasping over your heart.

“... Keigo?”

You hadn’t even realized you said it aloud.

Not until the blur, feathers, a bundle of a maybe thirty returned, hovered and spun in front of the bars.

“Keigo?”

The feathers shuddered.

It felt like you were dreaming.

“KEIGO!”

You practically screamed, jolting against the bars. Though it wasn’t him, not really, he’d hear you through the feathers. One of them spilled through the bars, pressing to your chest and pushing you away as the rest of the warm sharpened and began to beat on the thick padlock.

Something about your bodily state must’ve changed, as the feather at your face moved to under your chin, sweeping over your jaw in a small motions.

...

Even from afar, Keigo was trying to comfort you.

When he’d felt you on the end of one of the feather swarms he’d sent into the caves, he thought he’d imagined it. The quiet hesitance with which you practically gasped his name was so fucking soft, he almost missed it.

But, he didn’t, thank fucking god.

The villains had been smart, corralling their captives (beyond just you, unsurprisingly. The string of disappearances over the weeks prior had all been linked. There were at least a dozen other lovers and family members of heroes tucked away into the mountain side with you.)

Hence, it was a whole operation to retrieve you all, with some of the most pissed off, downright enraged heroes leading the charge and preceding investigation.

And Keigo?

He’d been at the front of it.

HIs PA had to convince him to get a few solid hours of sleep every few days, in an actual bed, rather than on the floor of his office, or one of the many conference rooms the rescue team was occupying.

He’d been wasting away, quietly, but he hardly noticed. Food was secondary, drinking was a burden, and his other bodily needs were just holding him back. He had a singular goal--

To find you.

He’d torn up the skies and the earth for just a trace of you, after you’d been taken. And finally, he found it, in the side of a fucking mountain, and an operation was launched to get all of the taken back.

Problem was it was a fucking mountain. A cobbled together base for the villains made of old mine tunnels and shafts, and organic caves.

And infuriatingly, Keigo and his wings were too damn big to properly navigate them. So, even if you were found, he wouldn’t be there. He couldn’t be there to tell you that everything was okay.

He couldn’t guarantee your safety by his own hands, and it fucking hurt.

That being said, his feathers had done a good enough job.

He could feel your heart hammering as you neared the entrance.

And then Keigo saw you.

...

You stumbled from the blown out opening, a flurry of feathers on either side. The brawl was somewhere else in the cave, shut out from your mind as you followed the tugs and touches of the plumes.

And as you felt the rays of setting sun hit your cheeks, you caught sight of Keigo.

Before you could even open your mouth, and breath the sigh of relief you needed to, or cried his name like you wanted to, Keigo was on you, scooping you up and away from the shuddering caves.

His grip was so tight, it hurt, but neither of you cared. Your arms had looped behind his head, burying themselves in his greasy hair as you hid your face in his neck. Keigo’s hands were shaking as they held you close to him, not wavering even when you returned to the stable, safe ground below. It teemed with heroes and medics, but no one dared to interrupt or get between the two of you.

They’d all seen how wrecked Hawks had become in pursuit of finding his partner.

Keigo lowered the two of you to the ground, all feathers returning and making his feathers thick and broad once more. They rose and curled around the two of you, sealing the world away.

Your mouth felt too dry as you tried to sit up, but Keigo wouldn’t let you. He kept a firm hand on your hip as he tore off one of his gloves with his teeth, keeping you in place in front him.

When you tried to shift, he gathered you by your waist and crushed you to him. HIs chest shuddered and his shoulders quaked with the force he was wrapping you, and you returned it all, as much as you could.

“P-please,” Keigo’s voice broke. “I just gotta hold you for awhile, o-okay, Dove? You’re s-safe now. I’ve got you.”

And he did.

You pressed your cracked lips to his cheeks, lungs going tight as you wrestled for one of his clammy hands to hold.

“I-I know,” You sniffled, tears squished between your cheeks. You pressed your interlocked fingers to your lips, choking on a sob of pure relief. Whatever kisses you had planned to grace his knuckles with were swallowed elsewhere.

Keigo pulled your face to his, hands and mouth hungry as he desperately kissed you, finally, nothing like the fleeting ones you both clung to while cruelly apart. It was messy, sloppy, but ringing with sweetness as Keigo sputtered and nipped at your lips.

“’M sorry,” He breathed, barely pulling away before slotting your lips together once more.

As much as you wanted to reply, remind him that this wasn’t his fault, you words were too gummy and jumbled for anything meaningful.

So, you both settled for touch.

You stroked over each other’s sunken in eyes and dark circles. Keigo nipped at your dry lips, while you tasted the staleness of his breath. His bare hands braced against your back from just under the hem of your shirt, feeling the deep chill in your skin and the residual dirt and grime.

You finally mustered up some words, the mix of so many needs and desires that needed sating.

“K-Keigo?” You lingered as close as you could, craving the heat and mingling of your breaths. “I-I want to go home.”

His breath caught and his grip got tighter still.

“Can we go home?” You asked, soft and breaking as you fell into the safety of his arms.

“Y-yeah,” Keigo pressed his teary cheeks to the top of your head, letting out a final shaking breath of relief. Keeping his words firm as firm as his touch, he put every ounce of ease that he could offer into his words:

“Let’s go home, dove.”

#briggsgottdiggs #salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #uwu #a wittle hurt/comfort for this early morning #drabble

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cas-backwards-tie · 4 years

Text

CopyCat

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Request: prompts “don’t be afraid, trust me.” and i’ll be here, no matter what.” from the misc sentences. Can Five and the reader have a moment like Luther and Allison did in S2E10? Where the reader tries to use her powers to fight Lila but she uses them against her and she almost dies but Five helps her out like Luther did with Allison. Basically a loving and protective Five and make it fluffy af please thank you!

Words: 2,310

Warnings: Cursing, Near-Death Experiences, Fighting, Anxiety, Angst.

A/N: For @alexa135 . I really hope you enjoy this! I decided to give the reader water-based powers. OH! I forgot but this should go without saying considering the request but there will be spoilers for the season 2 finale!

“What the hell happened? What was that?” Luther asks with a groan as Five helps him up.

“She must have redirected Vanya’s energy wave,” Five thinks aloud, trying to piece the puzzle together in his mind while simultaneously remaining present in the fight.

“Yeah, I know, but how?” He voices the question they’re all bound to have once this damned fight is over. The broken fireplace shifts, bricks beginning to topple. Five springs into action.

“Luther watch out!” He yells, pushing him out of the way, tons of bricks falling on top of Five and completely burying him.

“Five!” The scream comes from the tattered house, causing your eyes to shoot open.

After Lila had sent an energy wave blasting in your direction, it sent you flying across the farm. Luckily Harlan’s ability had caused it to snow, and snow is made of water, therefore allowing you to collect snow and form it into a landing pad cushy enough to prevent major injury.

The cold wind creates an ominous whistle in the air as you struggle to push yourself out of the snowy cocoon. Once you’re on your feet, it’s a race against time. Is it? Oh, God. The thoughts in the back of your mind run rampant as your heart pounds against your chest, heart already aching at the dreadful thought: Five is dead.

Just as you arrive at the surprisingly still intact front door of the house, you throw it open only for your eyes to widen. Luther’s thrown through the wall of the house by none other than Lila, something that causes alarm. Not only was she able to create an energy wave, but she has super-strength too? Before you can react, she’s stepping through the hole and out of the house.

Allison’s voice is enough to make your heart clench as your own worry only amplifies for Five. You thought he was in here, but looking around, you don’t see him anywhere. “Five?” It comes out quietly at first as if you’re afraid of receiving no answer. “Five?” You call louder, still searching for him at the entrance.

The sound of talking then fighting outside doesn’t concern you, having faith in Five’s siblings, yet, the longer it goes on and you don’t find Five, you decide it might be best to help contain Lila before resuming your search. If he really is dead… he wouldn’t want to lose anyone else.

Stepping over the rubble and pile of bricks, you finally hear Allison use her power. Relief floods you as you know she’s powerful. “I heard a rumor-”

“-you stopped breathing,” Lila returns the rumor, somehow mirroring her power. As instantly as relief flooded you, it ebbs away, replaced instead with cold and heavy terror. Three members are missing and Diego is crying for help; that’s four down and only three standing, including you.

You don’t suspect Lila’s noticed you yet, with Luther’s groveling and the sick way Lila watches, but you know what to do. This is an advantage, one of Five’s favorites in fact: the element of surprise. With the outstretch of your hands, you concentrate all your energy on boiling the water inside her body, essentially melting her from the inside out. She slowly turns in your direction and you circle around her. Lila stuffs her hands in her pockets.

“You,” it’s an accusatory tone. A chuckle leaves Lila’s lips, and she tilts her head, a wicked smile upon her lips. “You’re little shit of a boyfriend’s dead, you know?” She jokes, no sign of pain from her despite the red glow around your hands. “He’s dead, though really, you should be thanking me, you know? That murdering prick.”

“Shut up! Don’t you dare speak about him like that,” you threaten, jaw clenching as you take a step toward her, closer toward the barn. She leads you further and further away, a game of cat and mouse perhaps, a game of chicken. You’re not scared. You’ll do whatever it takes to avenge Five.

“Oh yeah? Or what?” She laughs maniacally, her eyes widening in a way only a psychopath’s would.

That’s when you notice it. You wince. There’s a twinge of pain at your side and your attention is drawn to her fists as she pulls them out of her pockets and holds them up, they’re glowing red just like yours. “You gonna bite me? Nice try, little girl, but I think you’re the only one who’ll be absolutely on fire tonight!”

Next comes the headache, the familiar feeling of dehydration. It’s the first stage. Blood rushes through your veins, pounding as you glare up at her with a look that Five’s said on many occasions could kill. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath, but when you let it out as a loud sigh, you wobble on your feet. The previous posture you’d had slumps as you struggle to stay standing. Another telltale sign is sweat; loss of fluids. Sweat drips down your forehead, underneath your clothes, your palms struggling to stay clenched in a fist as your eyebrows furrow in her direction.

“You’re not winning this, Lila. I won’t let you get away with this!” Something bubbles inside you. It feels somewhat like gas or an upset stomach, but you know what it really is… it’s your insides boiling; melting; overheating.

“We’ll see about that,” the smug look on her face does nothing but irk you. You have absolutely no idea what Diego saw in her.

One of Luther’s cries for Allison causes you to refocus. There’s no chance in hell you’ll let Lila live through this. She’s not going to get away with killing another one of the Hargreeves siblings today! A yell tears through you as you tap into your energy, your power. Directing it toward her, the glow of your hands amplifies into a bright red. It’s working.

Lila winces and folds in half, holding her stomach. “You little- conniving- she-devil!” Whipping her head up to glare at you through her bangs, Lila grunts as her fists glow brighter. She’s using more of her power!

“Let her go! It’s me you want, isn’t it?” Five’s voice distracts you. Hope lights up in your eyes and butterflies swirl through your tummy- wait… no. That’s not it. The momentary distraction was enough for her. A spike of heat throws you off your feet and you collapse onto the ground, clutching at your stomach.

Releasing a string of groans as you writhe on the ground, you know this is the worst of it. Soon it will be over and the pain will become so much that it will numb. By then... there’s no coming back from it. That’s what happens to all your victims.

“Why won’t you just stay dead?” Lila asks rhetorically, blowing her bangs out of her face with a roll of her eyes as she relaxes from her one-on-one with you. “I can fix that for you,” she threatens. Stalking across the snow, a scream causes everyone to freeze.

“LILA!” It’s Diego. Running toward her, he stops just a few feet behind her. Though it might be stupid to take her eyes off of Five, she knows she’s ready for anything, so she takes a split-second to look at Diego. “You’ve gotta be a desperate, pathetic, wimp to go after those kids! If you do this… you’re only fooling yourself. You know who the enemy is here, and it’s not us! It’s not Five,” he warns, grabbing her attention.

The woman does a double-take, looking between the young couple and Diego. She knows Five’s not going anywhere, he’d never leave you to die alone, so she’s got some time to spare. After all, she wants to take her time killing him. Might as well save him for last. Running after Diego, the man panics and turns, fleeing into the barn.

Five couldn't care less about the snow as he throws himself onto the ground, hurriedly pulling you closer. Wait, is this the smart thing to do? He knows your abilities; he knows you’d been boiling each other alive, she’d mirrored you, Lila had been a copycat. It’s an idea, not founded on proof or fact as this situation has never happened before, but it’s the only logical solution he can think of. It has to work! The old man calls your name a few times, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he forces you to look at him. His hands pin you down on the ground to prevent you from writhing too much. That won’t help anything. Surely touch isn’t good as his body-heat will only worsen your state. Right now you need to be still, you need cold, you need ice. He needs your attention for a second though, long enough to relay his plan. “Look at me, look at me. You’re not dying today. You’re not dying here, I am not letting that happen.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you’d been duped. You feel like an idiot. Even if Five wasn’t dead, now you’re the one who’s dying. Go figure, right? Staring up at the cloudy grey sky, you can’t help but feel like this is all so wrong. This isn’t the way things were supposed to go! This isn’t how you wanted to die.

Five doesn’t allow you to think like that. His face blocks your vision as his icy-blue eyes search your own, worry, and concern obvious within them. “Don’t be afraid, trust me. I know that you’re tired. I know, but you need to use your powers again. You need to freeze yourself. Use the snow, use the ice. Use the water in my body for all I care, you have to live! I am not losing you today, and I’ll be here, no matter what!” Sliding his hand into your own, he squeezes your hand for a moment, giving you a worried smile. His eyebrows are slightly pinched, creating worry-lines on his forehead as he hovers over you.

It shouldn’t be that simple. It can’t… and you don’t have enough energy to do that, but you don’t know how to tell Five. He’d lose his mind. If it were any other time he’d lecture you on how their family is not a family of quitters, and he, himself, is certainly not a quitter. The whisper of your name causes you to open your eyes again. Five closes the space between you to place a tender kiss on your lips. “Please… I can’t lose you too.”

With a shaky inhale, you let go of his hand and place it on your stomach. A dim blue glow surrounding your hand as you begin to freeze yourself. You have to try. A lightbulb goes off in Five’s head. He gathers the surrounding snow in his hands, beginning to pile it on top of you, almost like burying someone in the sand, only in snow. This has to work. It has to; he keeps telling himself on repeat. It drives him crazy to sit there watching, not able to do anything other than cover you in snow. He hates the snow, and any other time he’d curse it, but right now he’s grateful to the universe. The faint sound of fighting in the barn worries him, and he contemplates the idea of helping his siblings… but he can’t leave you. What if you die? He’d never forgive himself if he wasn’t here and you were alone taking your last breath.

His heart pounds in his chest and he takes shaky breaths as he freezes his ass off. It’s cold as fuck out here, though he knows you don’t feel it right now. Underneath the snow he’d placed atop your stomach he spots a brighter blue glow, which must mean it’s working, right?! It has to be. It has to be. Five scoots a little closer as he watches with anticipation. Your eyes flutter closed again, lips void of color from dehydration. Calling your name, you don’t answer.

The beating of your heart slows down, you can feel it within you. Things don’t hurt anymore, and you’re thankful for that. It’s just as you’d predicted, though, and the only thing you regret is not being able to tell Five that you love him. He watches as your chest slows, your breathing becoming more spaced out. Anger, resentment, regret, dread, and horror all fill his gut as he slowly processes what’s happening. Five isn’t a crier, but as he stares stoically at your body, he feels tears start to well up in his eyes. With a quiet whimper, he hangs his head, bangs falling in his face as he sniffles, unable to process this. Whispering your name, as if it were a question, as if he’s expecting an answer, Five’s eyes widen as yours flutter open. “Oh- thank the forces that be!” A heavy sigh escapes him as he hurriedly pushes the snow off of you and helps you sit up. Snowflakes stick to your hair, which elicits a genuine smile from Five. He raises his hand to brush your hair behind your ear and run it down your hair before cupping your cheek.

Both of you open your mouths to speak at the same time, though you beat him to it. “I love you, Five.”

“I love you too,” he whispers in response, never once taking his eyes off yours. The hand is soft on your cheek and it makes you utterly happy that you’re both alive. Noticing him leaning in, you close the space between you with a soft and yet desperate kiss. He thought he’d lost you; you thought you’d lost him. Neither of those things were true. A rumbling of the ground causes both of you to pull away, realization dawning on you that the fight isn’t over yet.

#Five Hargreeves x Reader #Number Five x Reader #tua five #tua five x reader #tua reader insert #the umbrella academy fic #the umbrella academy reader insert #my writing #Five Hargreeves x Reader Angst #Angst #misc. sentences prompt list

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midnightprelude · 3 years

Text

For @14daysdalovers, @oftachancer and I wrote a little Dorian x Anders which will eventually become part of Underneath the Bough. Spoilers for that fic, if you’re reading it. ;) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4699 Read here under the cut or on AO3.

Anders

The light of the full moon and the illuminated bulbs that decorated the grounds of the Pavus estate made his sojourn from the manor house towards the stables easier than Anders had expected given the hour. He rubbed the ever-present exhaustion from his eyes as his boots crunched softly against gravel, dirt, and grass, attempting to stick to the shadows until he was out of sight of the myriad windows looming over him from the walls of Dorian’s home.

The copse of trees near the stables, when the moon is at her apex, Dorian had murmured, his hand brushing over Anders’ shoulder at midday. Tonight.

He’d scarcely been able to think of anything but the curve of Dorian’s smirk underneath his perfectly curled mustache for the rest of the day.

The trees were broad-branched and leaf-filled, seeming to block all but the barest starlight as he stepped deeper into the copse, following small twisting papers that fluttered on strings from the branches. Snatches of poems. Strange symbols he’d noticed Dorian and Almila both using in their notes and notations. When he reached the clearing, he paused, staring at the edge of a circle of white sand, lit from within by myriad candles. The figure in its center was swathed in a midnight blue robe, cowled and murmuring quietly over a flat silver tray.

Dorian glanced up, that self-same smirk curling his lips. “Well, come in. Mind you don’t disturb the circle.”

Anders stepped gingerly over the lines, head on a swivel, trying to take in everything, to commit it all to memory- It must have taken ages to put it all together, Dorian radiating moonglow and starlight, shrouded in shadow. “What is this?” he murmured, crossing to touch the hem of the long sleeves Dorian wore. “Some sort of ritual?”

“There’s that quicksilver mind I’m so fond of.” Dorian gleamed. “We are teaching you the basics of your gift, are we not? This is one of the simpler ones.” He turned his hand, brushing his fingers over Anders’ wrist. “Whatever did you think you were coming out here for?”

Anders puffed out his cheeks, exhaling slowly. “Not a lesson, certainly.”

Silver eyes glittered in the candlelight. “I could have sworn you were exhausted. I distinctly recall our last interlude being interrupted by you falling asleep on me.”

“You’re very comfortable,” Anders chuckled, trying to hide his disappointment behind a smile. Dorian had gone to all this trouble for a reason and he was loath to let it go unappreciated. “Alright,” he said quietly. “What is it we’re doing, then?”

Dorian pointed up. “We’re harvesting moonlight.” He eased to his feet, collecting his cane as he moved, and nodded to a stool and a pile of silver velvet. “You’ll want to change.”

“Harvesting-“ Anders stared at him. Dorian said it as though he was recounting what he’d had for breakfast. He nodded, moving slowly towards the cloth, stripping off his jacket and vest as though in a daze. “What am I supposed to-“

The candles flared around them, dozens that had been unlit in interlocking semicircles around them sizzling to life as if of their own accord. “I’ll show you,” Dorian murmured. “It’s almost time. Leave who you’ve been behind and let the robe be the only thing between you and the sky.”

“So the stories about witches dancing naked in the moonlight are true, then?” Anders smirked, color rising to his cheeks as he did as he was bidden, unbuttoning and unlacing and shucking his clothes, draping the silver robe around his shoulders as he folded his shirt and trousers and the rest into a tidy pile.

“We aren’t witches,” Dorian lifted a brow. “We’re mages. Witches are something altogether different. Powerful in their own right, often devastatingly so, but not the same.” He took Anders' hands, guiding him to the center of the circle. “And we aren’t dancing. We’re working.” He turned his palms to face the sky in the center of the tiny clearing, curving his hands into cups. “Like so.”

Even watching such simple movements were enough to set Anders’ fingers shaking. The elegance in those hands. The surety in his voice. The clever discernment of his eyes. He tried to still them, to assume the same position Dorian had, but there was a shiver in his spine that wasn’t from the cold. Gods, he wanted to kiss that smirking grin, to drag Dorian down to the earth and make love to him under the stars.

But instead Anders listened and followed, meeting eyes fashioned from glinting silver for approval.

“A little higher.” He touched Anders’ knuckles lightly, lifting his hands out and to the sides. “You’re holding your breath. You need to exhale. Let your body root to the earth through your heels. Feel the sky like a crown touching the top of your head. You are infinite, capable of the impossible, and you bridge the space between the soil and the clouds.”

Dorian brushed his thumbs across Anders’ palms. “Feel the light touching you. Feel the spools of it unraveling from the rays of the moon and pouring into your hands. Stay with me. Focus on my eyes. Roots in the earth. Crown in the sky. One path for the light. Can you feel it?”

Focus on his eyes. Endless depths of mercury, clever and glimmering under thick, furrowed eyebrows. What a wonder it would be to taste the moonlight on his skin, to feel that deep velvet under his fingertips, and then a very different sort of velvet against his tongue as his knees dug into the ground and the chirps of evening insects were replaced with Dorian’s restrained moans in the quiet thicket, until he dripped with his own sort of starlight down Anders’ tongue-

What was magic, compared to the shift of Dorian’s eyes, the way he melted when Anders admitted he loved him, he wanted him, he enjoyed his company and his mind and his body? Andraste’s tears, his body, sculpted by the Maker himself; He could’ve stopped proudly after he’d created his masterpiece, every line immaculate, every curve sensual, and the slant of that smile was enough to set fields ablaze-

Dorian’s lips curled into a wide, pleased smile. Teeth like pearls, reflecting a bright glow. And in the depths of his gleaming eyes, spears of silver flame licked his expanding pupils, splitting them like cats’ eyes. “I ask for thread and you give me ribbons,” Dorian chuckled, his voice smoked like the scotch he favored, pewter smoke puffing from his lips. “You always insist on doing things in your own particular way, don’t you?”

Anders followed his gaze to his hands; the cups of his palms were luminescent, filled and overflowing with silver-white transparent silk that seemed to weave itself from the air to pool and pour over his hands into a pile between their feet. His toes glowed with internal light where they peeked from beneath the silver robe, splashes of glimmering starlight catching the grass like dew.

Dorian touched his chin, beaming, kissing him, and his lips felt like the buzz of champagne- ticklish and effervescent and ephemeral. Anders gasped as he tilted his head back and the rain of moonlight poured over him like a warm waterfall of teasing touches over his face and through his hair and down his neck; it slipped past his lips - thick as molasses, light as air, more pure than any water he’d ever tasted, coating his tongue… He gazed at the moon, drinking its light, bathing in it, and felt the ache and exhaustion in his muscles and bones melting away like ice before the sun. More ribbons. More light.

His robe parted under Dorian’s fingers, falling away, and Anders felt warmer for its absence. Cloaked in the sheen of the full orb above them which seemed to expand and expand until it swallowed the sky.

“Magnificent,” Dorian murmured; he was sunlight in the middle of the night- burning with raw, golden energy and the sizzle of shadows of midsummer midday. He brushed his thumbs down Anders’ thighs as he sank to his knees in the still pooling ribbons of light, dropping kisses like molten wax to Anders’ skin. “You are magnificent.”

“Dorian,” Anders whispered, staring down the line of his body to meet eyes that had become gilded, “am I- We did this? This? How did-“ Gods, he felt more energized than he had in a decade, as though he could float from the earth itself if he willed it. The thought made him feel cloudy, shimmering like the light that grazed him, and he caught his breath as he felt air touch the bottoms of his feet. “This is real?”

“Yes.” Dorian held his hips, drawing him back to earth. “Heels to the soil, my love. I don’t want you to float away.”

“Float-“ Anders gasped, laughing. Gods, he was floating; it hadn’t just been his imagination. He tried to anchor himself again, but his feet ground six inches into the dirt. “Andraste’s frilly underskirts, I can fly. I could- I could-“ He blinked, running his glowing hands through the silk of Dorian’s hair. “Dorian, I could try to fix your leg. I could do that for you, if you let me, I feel like I could all at once, right now, and still be able to catch the stars like lightning bugs-“

“Exhale,” Dorian smiled up at him. “Exhale and enjoy it. You needn’t do anything. Only be. You, existing here, is all the magic we need.”

“No, but I could,” Anders breathed out some of that light and it dissipated into mist before him. “I should take advantage of it- I should put it to use while I can, before it dissolves-“

Dorian shook his head, dropping kisses across his hip and his belly. “Not this time, Anders. This time, you drink deep and let the moon and I teach you about your wonders.”

Anders wanted to revolt, to beg him to see reason, to channel the power that was surging through his body like a lightning rod-

But Dorian’s hands on his hips were steady and his own were shivering with energy and he knew he was right. Drunk. It would be like operating while drunk. A whimper escaped his lips as he closed his eyes and felt every hair Dorian touched energize, every inch of skin moving against his as though in slow motion. “Alright, love,” Anders whispered, cupping his cheek. “Teach me.”

“Send your heels into the earth like roots. Send your hair into the sky like branches. Hold onto me.” Dorian kissed the inside of his wrist. “Hold on to me, be, and remember to breathe.”

There was a moment where the light and the dark seemed to crystallize around them, fragmenting into a million shattering pieces, then all of the edges seamed together again as Anders felt Dorian’s lips close over him. Hot as a baking oven, but painless. The opposite of painless. Heat and light roaring up through him, warming his veins, weighting him back to the earth. The ribbons pooled over his hands and his shoulders, tender slips of dreams that promised infinity and impossibility. And Dorian drank from him as Anders drank from the moon, holding him steady as he summoned the light down through him-

Energy pooled in his belly, sizzling under his skin. He wasn’t certain if his eyes were open or closed; light seemed to move and flow around him like water regardless. He could feel the grass beneath his feet, but that might have been memory as much as fact, or perhaps he was floating and the ground was simply rising to meet him.

He was awake. He was alive. Perhaps more alive than he’d ever been. Or was he always like this, and only more aware of his own vitality? He received the air like a gift, each breath a decadent sip, and his lover feasted on him - light and limb - as though he were ambrosia until the wash of soft silverwhite turned violet and green and marigold, altering the flames of the dim flickering candles in their midst.

“Is it-“ Anders struggled to form words, thoughts sifting from his mind like sand through his fingertips. He leaned his head back to drink in more light, to drown in it, feeling his feet lift from the earth only to be brought back down again with a flicker of will. “Always? Is it always like this?”

Dorian nuzzled the inside of his thigh, smiling drunkenly up at him, gleaming moonlight in his eyes and sunlight in his skin. “It can be,” he licked the words across Anders’ skin. “The moon is full of power; it can be harvested in a number of ways.”

“You’re so beautiful I could weep,” Anders exhaled, grinning down at him, the candlelight shifting to amethyst around them, the reflection catching in Dorian’s eyes and turning silver. “You’ve always known about this? How you could- Maker, that I could-“

“I didn’t know what you could or would until I watched you channel it,” Dorian drew him back to the ground again. “We all have our unique gifts.”

“And what are yours, Dorian?” Anders asked breathlessly, “I want to discover what you can do as well.”

“Greedy,” Dorian chuckled, nipping at the inside of his knee. “Come back down here and I’ll show you.”

Anders hummed, sparkling stars on his breath, pouring over him like a wave, beaming as he kissed along the line of his neck, curling up against him like a cat. “Close enough?”

“Never.” Dorian splayed his hand on Anders’ belly, tangling with him in the grass. “Nothing is close enough.” He pressed gentle, slow, raindrop kisses down the side of Anders’ face, slipping his fingers between his legs. “But we can try to rectify that.”

“Hnn-“ Anders closed his eyes, but could still see the outlines of everything in gilded starlight, shining through his eyelids like a summer sun. Could see Dorian’s smirk, felt the edges of his lips with his fingertips just to be certain- “Rectify,” he murmured, his hips rolling almost of their own accord. “Yes. Please, Dorian, if you can-“

Sunbursts and clear-sky showers pet and pressed as slow-melt kisses rained across his fingers and down his neck. The sky was unending resplendent, dripping over him, lapping at his lips and his skin and his entrance with the buzz of dragonfly wings. “Breathe,” Dorian reminded him gently, delving, drawing the moon into him with the flex of his fingers until Anders thought that he might burst from being overfilled. Light and power and life and love and warmth blended in his belly, softening his muscles and melting him against Dorian’s body. “Is this what you want?” the smoke curled, cardamom and coriander spiced, across his lips.

“You,” Anders exhaled in a shower of sparks. “You, yes, I want you. I have wanted you. I can think of little else-“ He reached to kiss him, desperate to let loose some of that swirling energy. “It’s so beautiful, Dorian-“

“You are,” Dorian kissed the corner of his mouth, lapping spilling moonlight from his lips as he pressed his melting sunrise fingers deeper. “You are magnificent. You are life, itself.”

“Is your secret power flattery, my lord?” Anders batted his eyelashes, prisms in his periphery, champagne bubbles popping as he laughed. “That seems rather mundane; I must say I’m disappointed.”

“Your eyes shine like amber,” Dorian nipped at his chin. “Your skin is velvet cream. I could drink from you for years and never would my thirst be slaked.” His voice shuffled syrupy, intoxicating mists across Anders’ tongue. “I adore you. I adore your laugh and the spin of your mind and the blossoming expanse of your heart. And when I’m inside you, I’m ecstatic, and also grieve that I will at some point have to leave you.”

“Mm, seems it’s flattery, then,” Anders grinned, catching his lips and sending sparks along Dorian’s skin where they touched. “Oh-“ His back arched and he drove himself against Dorian’s fingers, electricity charging his skin, the static sending shockwaves through him, making every hair raise on their ends. “You don’t need to leave for long, you know. You could-“ Another set of sparks spilled from his fingertips, shivers running through the length of his body. “Oh, Dorian- Is it supposed to feel like this?”

“The flattery?” Dorian smirked against his cheek. “I hope so. Are you enjoying it?”

“Am I-“ Anders breathed, closing his eyes to trace that slanted smile with the tip of his tongue. “I didn’t know I could do this. I didn’t know-“ Grass cool against his back, every blade stark against his skin, bare under the sky. “I adore you, too. You know that, yes?”

“Mmhmm,” Dorian kissed his cheek. “You express it very fluently.” His fingers were curls of power and light, summoning the tart of fresh orange peels and shredded spices to his tongue. Heat buzzed up his spine and out through his fingertips, showering sparks. “You are capable of so much more than you know.”

“And you do?” Anders whispered, gaze focusing on him, able to distinguish every feathered line in his eyes, every eyelash, every faint pore on his cheeks. “You can see what I cannot?”

“Only insofar as I have studied this craft since I was in swaddling clothes.” Dorian met his gaze, unflinching and steady. His pupils were blown with admiration and power and pleasure, the barest argent slivers around the rims. “You’ll learn.”

“I’d prefer it,” Anders chuckled, tugging Dorian’s forehead to his, “if all of our lessons ended like this. Do you think that could be arranged?”

“Like this?” Dorian kissed him, sizzling. “Or like this?” He flexed his fingers. “Or like this?” he glanced at the lights surrounding them.

“I would take two of three,” Anders hummed, tasting himself and the crackle of energy on Dorian’s tongue. “And leave the specifics entirely up to you.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He leaned up on one elbow, a living sunrise, daybreak thrumming from his fingertips to fill Anders with melting warmth. “Do try the threads,” Dorian murmured, kissing down his neck to his chest. “If only to play, hm?”

“Alright. I’ll try,” Anders murmured, but he was finding it difficult to stem the tide, to focus on shaping the power into something so fine that it could be plucked when it wanted to flood from him, brimming from his skin like a waterfall. It fought him, the surging energy, stretching and tugging against the bounds he tried to set and Dorian’s lips and fingertips made him want to lose himself to the magic even further, to dissolve into sensation and melt into the ground below.

“That’s more of a sheet, my love,” Dorian murmured, licking a path down his belly. “Thinner, not wider.”

“I’m trying,” Anders protested, closing his eyes and attempting to wrap the light back on itself. “You’re very distracting, you realize?”

He could feel the smirking shift of Dorian’s lips and mustache against his skin as he trailed lower, exhaling lazy summer breezes. “Mmhmm.”

“That’s the point?” Anders leaned up on his elbows to peer at him. “Being distracting?”

“That’s the fun part for me,” Dorian dipped his tongue, grinning indecently. “Are you complaining?”

“No, I’m not-“ Anders sniffed, blowing a plume of silver smoke from his nose on the exhale. “Don’t stop. I’ll keep-“ A tiny flicker tickled his cheek but by the time Anders turned his head to glance at it, the slender thread had expanded into a fat, silky ribbon again. “Blast.”

“You have to use your entire will,” Dorian whispered, hot breath and petal lips and summer morning tongue doing terrible, wonderful things. “Create a sieve and let the light flow through it.”

“Sieve,” Anders repeated, shivering under his touch, trying to imagine it, but unable to conceptualize anything other than the wet warmth of Dorian’s mouth, the twitching of his fingers. “Maker’s beard, Dorian-” Will. Will? How was he supposed to exhibit any semblance of will when- Anders gritted his teeth together, trying not to cry out. Sieve. He tried to catch the light and weave it into some sort of mesh, a quiet whimper escaping his lips as Dorian tasted him.

“If you like.” Dorian nudged his thighs farther apart, “A scraggly beard, long and stringy.”

“Ugh, no-” Anders twitched, trying to hold the strands together and allow the light of the moon to flow through like raindrops on his tongue. “You’re beautiful as you are and I’d not have you change.”

“The strands, love,” Dorian chuckled. The laughter was like perlage rising through him, giddy and gleaming. “Thinner.” He pressed his palm to Anders’ belly, licking up the line of his shaft. “Threads. Droplets. Lace.”

“Call me ‘love’ again,” Anders begged, peering down at him with a grin. “I love how that word sounds on your lips.”

Silver shone. Lips beneath that curled mustache spread in a melting smile. “I love how it feels rolling off my tongue,” Dorian kissed his hip, watching him. “I love how it feels to love you, my love.”

His words were a balm that nearly soothed the sting of his inability to weave the magic as Dorian wished. Anders tightened his jaw, eyes crossing as he tried to tighten ropes into lace- He sighed, grimacing, as the entire construction fell to pieces. “I don’t know how to control it, Dorian,” Anders whispered, touching his cheek with a frown. “I don’t know how to make it listen. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry.” Dorian climbed up to kiss his chin. “Don’t be sorry, love. Be. You don’t need to understand it yet. I was only curious if you could, since you took to the transmutation so naturally. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“Dorian,” Anders nuzzled against his cheek, kissing him gently. “It’s alright. Maybe- After. I want you now. I love you and I want you.”

“You do.” He grinned, stroking his hands up Anders’ sides. “You’re moonlight and you want me.” He rolled to his back, drawing Anders over him. “Have me. I’m yours.”

“No, Dorian, you are yours.” Anders smiled, relieved at the permission to focus his attention on one matter, instead of dividing it in twain. His hand climbed up the ladder of Dorian’s ribs to cup his cheek, kneeling on top of him, straddled in the grass under a sea of stars. “You are Dorian Pavus, Earl of Drakonis-on-Sea, heir to Qarinus and Landsbridge and all that other drivel.” He ran his fingers through Dorian’s moonlit hair, kissing everything he could touch. “You are the husband to the most lovely woman in all of England, who dotes on you like you deserve. You are the father of a brilliant, beautiful boy who will grow up to be better than any of us, because of your love and that of his mother’s. You are a master of the arcane wonders, an engineer and scholar without equal. You are an unparalleled wit and an indecently delightful lover. You live and breathe in this world, spectacularly I might add, and because of that fact alone you are worthy of adoration and love, respect and dignity. I would take your wounded heart and fill it over until you’ve love cascading from your earlobes, until you come to the realization that you deserve to discover what it means to be happy and carve out a life where you can be just that.”

Dorian stared up at him. “Where… did that come from?”

“Huh?” Anders blushed, scrubbing a hand across his stubble. “Oh. Sometimes- I get a bit carried away.” He shuffled off of Dorian, laying in the grass, arm over his face. “Gods, I’m sorry.”

“What? Why are you sorry? Stop being sorry.” Dorian followed him, leaning over him. “You really love me.”

“What kind of person would lie about something like that?” Anders slid his arm down slightly so that he could meet Dorian’s eyes, his skin burning. “I don’t see the appeal.”

“Not lie- I didn’t think you were- I only-” Dorian peered down at him, wonderstruck and quizzical. “Embellish. I thought perhaps you might be embellishing.” His lips trembled with a strangely hesitant smile. “You gave me a speech.”

“Ah. I- Yes.” Anders smiled sheepishly, wrinkling his nose. “I mean what I say, though. I wouldn’t make such a fuss otherwise.” “You make a fuss?” Dorian rested his forehead to Anders’, beaming. “Over me? What sort of fuss do you make? Where is it? Can I see?”

“What are you talking about?” Anders pressed his lips together, his cheeks almost certainly crimson. “I’ve completely destroyed the ambiance, haven’t I?”

“Tell me again about making love cascade out of my earlobes.” Dorian nipped at his cheek, giddy. “Hold me and make a fuss. I’ll spin you in moonlight threads like a spool.”

“I thought you knew how I felt,” Anders whispered, touching his nose and following the line down cto his lips. “Didn’t you?”

“I knew you cared for me. I had no doubt that you wanted me; I am decadently handsome, after all. And I knew you adored Almila. I-” He grinned, glowing, “-suppose I didn’t want to question it further. My earlobes. You glorious man.”

“Like you filled me with moonlight,” Anders murmured against his skin, resting his cheek against Dorian’s chest to watch him, effervescent. “I’ll fill an ocean for you that you can soak in until my love for you permeates your pores, until you’ve started to wrinkle from affection and overindulgence. And I’d love you still, even when your perfect skin sprouts lines at the corners of your eyes and lips from laughter, and your hair turns gray from long years, and your fingers aren’t so wonderfully dextrous as they are today. There is something unquestionably good in you; I know it, I’ve sensed it, I’ve seen it in Almila and Julius’ eyes, Justice can feel it- How could I not love you, even not having unraveled all of the parts of yourself you keep hidden?”

“Ah,” Dorian tilted his head to the side. “So it’s my goodness you’re fond of.”

“Among other things,” Anders frowned, glancing around the circle, the candles still flickering gently in the breeze. “Now you’re making fun.”

“Not at all. I’m delighted. I’ve hummingbirds all aflutter in my veins.” He kissed Anders’ cheek. “I’m not enthused that you think about me growing wrinkles, Maker forbid, but I am positively thrumming that you’ve an inclination to tarry long enough to spot them.”

“I’m already old,” Anders chuckled helplessly, relieved and breathless. “I’ve become preoccupied with my own wrinkles these past few years and I like to inflict my agony upon others to ease my own suffering with company.”

“You aren’t old,” Dorian rolled his eyes. “You’re exquisite.”

“And I’m getting wrinkles and my hair is starting to lose its color.”

“Your hair is gilded sunlight on a winter day when the clouds have just parted.” Dorian nipped at his lower lip. “And I have yet to spot any of the w-word. Should I look more thoroughly?”

“You needn’t,” Anders groaned, closing his eyes. “I already know where they are.”

“Anders.” Dorian chuckled, pressing kisses to his chin and across his jaw, “Tell me your very wonderful words again and make love to me before I get some of my own.”

“I love you,” Anders nudged him with his nose, still blushing. “It’s beautiful here.” He slipped between Dorian’s legs, kissing the side of his knee. “I feel like I mean something in your home, that I matter.”

“You do,” Dorian touched the side of his face gently. “You do. Both of those things. And not only to us. You’re- you. You’re wondrous. You don’t need us. We need you.”

“I like being needed,” Anders whispered, gazing up at Dorian, at the shadows dancing in his eyes. “I love being loved. It makes all manner of things seem possible.”

“You only just made ribbons from the moon. All manner of things are possible, love.” He threaded his fingers through Anders’ hair. “We’ll teach you. With the rewards for your lessons as you’ve specified.”

#14DALovers #dorian pavus #anders #dragon age fanfiction #dorianders #dorian pavus x anders #midnight rendezvous #smut #underneath the bough #lemon #midnight writes #oftachancer writes

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therainbowwillow · 3 years

Text

When Hell Freezes Over AU: part 5!

The train squeals to a halt. When she steps onto the platform, Eurydice recognizes her surroundings. Her home, before she’d been taken to Hadestown, had been this town, alongside the railroad track. The bar, she remembers, where she'd met Orpheus. She has his scrap of newspaper tucked deep into her pockets, unwilling to go without it.

Hermes hands her a blanket. He’d taught her the song and with each note, she’d felt her memories return. She finds herself wondering now how her Orpheus, the sweet love of her life who wouldn’t hurt a fly, who hadn’t even fought back when the workers in Hadestown had attacked him, could cause such suffering.

The cold is harsh, stinging against her cheeks. Winter on the surface is crueler than the strange chill down below. The wind tugs at her blankets, threatening to rip them away. Orpheus’s voice can be heard on the gales, wailing through the trees. She looks to Hermes for instruction.

“I would give you shelter, Eurydice,” he says, “But I’m afraid there’s nowhere to find it.”

She shrugs, pretending not to mind. “We should find him. I don’t need a roof over my head if he isn’t beside me.”

Hermes nods. “It’s a long walk,” he warns her. “And...” his voice trails off.

“The sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll find him.” Eurydice begins to walk, a steady pace. Wrapped in blankets, the path is harder to traverse, but she’s grateful for the warmth.

“Wait.” She turns. “Eurydice, it’s not him you’re going to find. Not really.”

She tilts her head slightly. “What?”

“It’s a graveyard out there,” he warns.

It dawns on her then. Those who found him before her had never left. “How long? How long before he freezes me too?” she asks, bluntly. He doesn’t meet her eyes, nor does he provide an answer. “Fine. Let’s go then,” she says. “If he kills me too, I suppose nothing changes.” Hermes nearly winces at this statement, but takes the lead regardless. Persephone follows behind him, Eurydice at her side.

“He loves you,” Persephone reminds her again. “Very much.”

She nods, forcing back her irritation. “I love him too,” she says. What does it matter, she wonders, if he’ll torture her all the same? What awaits her is a crueler fate than either of her last deaths. Failure or success, is one any easier than the other? “What happens?” she asks, “If I succeed, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Hermes admits.

She can’t tell if this is the truth. She presses the question. “He’ll die, won’t he? A mortal in this weather, no shelter, no food.”

“I’ve struck a deal with Hades,” he explains. “He’ll sing all the same so you must not be separated from him.”

For a second, she’s almost relieved. Hopeful, until she realizes what this agreement doesn’t specify. “Together in life or in the factories?”

Hermes sighs. “That’s up to you.”

“How long do I have?”

“I wish I could say I knew.”

The rest of the walk is near-silent, save for the sorrowful howling of the wind. With every step, Eurydice finds the cold grows harsher. Once, she would’ve turned and fled. Now, it is almost a comfort. The lower the temperature drops, the closer she knows she is to finding him.

...

Hermes doesn’t share Eurydice’s acquaintance with the cold. He ties a scarf up over his face, warding off the snow as best he can. He wonders what Eurydice will think to say, think to do, that he hadn’t tried. He can’t bring himself to warn her of what lies ahead. People, too many to count, frozen like statues. Already, he’d noticed them among the trees. Staring, blank and blind.

Eurydice and Persephone have not yet observed them as he has. They remain blissfully unaware. He knows it is pointless, maybe even counterproductive, not to admonish them of what lies on the path before them. Still, he can’t bear to speak up. Maybe it will ease Eurydice’s path to go in unknowing. Clueless as to what she will face, just as he had been.

The cold had been a force of its own, Hermes remembers. His fingertips had stung first, until the ever-decreasing temperature had chilled them to numbness. His eyes had burned, pelted by snow. His breaths had slowed. The effort required to inhale at all was great, even for a god such as himself. The cold had seemed to work its way into his lungs, strangling him from the inside.

If Eurydice marches to her demise, how much might she suffer before death gives her mercy? Her shaky gasp pulls him from his thoughts. Eurydice stands, frozen in terror, her hands over her mouth, before one of Orpheus’s victims. A young woman, no older than Eurydice herself. Hermes hadn’t even noticed the girl. “H-he did this?” she stammers.

“His song,” Hermes tells her, carefully.

“How many?” He sees the horror written across Eurydice’s face.

“There will be more. Eurydice...”

“I’ll end up just like them, won’t I?” Her voice trembles. “I’ve only ever failed him. Again and again and again.”

“You haven’t,” he says, firmly. “You haven’t failed him.”

...

The rest of their journey is silent and surprisingly swift with a known route to follow. As she passes, Eurydice whispers words of what she hopes is comfort to the unmoving forms of those who had failed the very task she will now attempt.

Perseus, she remembers. Orpheus had sang of his tale once as they’d sat beside a dwindling fire, not long before she’d accepted her ticket to the underground. Perhaps she’d seen him once, the great slayer of gorgons, among the shades of Hadestown. Heroes were meant to go to Elysium, but such a paradise seemed only a distant rumor after her time in the underworld.

She can’t help but hear his story echoing through her mind. His task was much the same as her own: bring an end to the suffering caused by another. And Medusa’s victims had met such similar fates. She knows Persephone will not admit it, nor will Hermes so much as entertain the idea, but her job is to make him stop by whatever means necessary. Stop him, or they both belong to Hades, the King of the Dead had said.

Hades himself had given her these clothes, extra winter coats and thick blankets. Immediately, she had assumed that he’d only shown kindness to manipulate her, not out of affection. She’d been proven right. Deep within her pockets, she’d discovered a thin blade, sheathed and sharpened. In disgust, she’d nearly thrown it from the train window, but the longer she walks, the more glad she is to hold it.

Had Perseus felt remorse when he’d cut through Medusa’s neck? Eurydice doubts it. The gorgon had been a killer, murdered so many before she had met Perseus’s retaliation. Plus, he had never known her for anything but cruelty.

But Eurydice had known Orpheus for everything but wickedness. He was kind, true, ever-protective, even willing to risk himself to keep her safe. The workers had attacked him and she’d seen how he’d winced with every step as they’d walked. All of that, to defend her.

It was hard to believe that her Orpheus had become this monster, killing anyone who dared to approach him. Every note of his song sends a ripple of cold through her body. He had come so far from the man she’d loved. She wonders if she’ll be able to reach him at all. Some tiny part of her asks if it’s worth trying. Perhaps she’d find it easier to simply slay her Medusa, feel no regret.

When they arrive in the clearing, she can hardly believe she had ever thought to hurt him. He’s slumped awkwardly against a tree, difficult to make out beyond the blizzard between them. His thin nightgown is stiff with frost and stained with dried blood, certainly his own. He shivers against the cold he creates and seems to be fighting their approach. When she steps forward, the wind blows harder, he sings louder, which only seems to further strain him.

She looks to Hermes. “Keep yourself warm. Fight it, Eurydice,” he says, as if she doesn’t already know.

She steps forwards, entering the circle of icy figures that surrounds him, frozen in shock. Many of them hold gifts. Golden chalices or strings of precious jewelry. Offerings. A last ditch attempt to save themselves. Their towns, their homes.

Deep in her pockets, her hand closes around the scrap of paper he’d given her. Their first meeting feels a million years away. Again, she moves towards him, turning her head down against the wind. She doesn’t waste her breath calling out to him, he can’t hear her. Here, she’s surrounded by his attackers, men and women armed with a variety of weapons. Their arrows are frozen pillars of ice, stopped mid-flight by Orpheus’s song.

Holding her coat in front of her face, she watches him, shivering. He looks gaunt and miserable, tears freeze on his cheeks before they reach the ground. “Leave me alone,” he shrieks.

For a second, he looks up. “Orpheus!” she shouts. Her cries fall on deaf ears. There’s no recognition in his cloudy eyes, only pain, only fear.

She stumbles closer. “Orpheus, listen to me!” she pleads, to no avail. The winds rip at her blankets. Her fingers and toes are numb in the cold. Her eyes sting and she forces herself to keep them open, focused on him.

She sings the notes to his old melody, as loudly as she can manage, her voice shaking a little as she shivers. He strums his guitar, blood dripping from his fingers, frostbitten and torn by his ceaseless notes. The storms seems to burst from his voice, pulling away her blankets. Eurydice tightens her grip on her coat.

Orpheus makes a noise of pain, a little choking sob, as if it hurts him to continue fueling his blizzard. He sings on. Eurydice feels the knife in her pocket. She’d never forgive herself if she were to hurt him. Through all of his icy winds and endless music, he is only her lover, frightened and defenseless and lonely. The wind itself pulls the blade out of her hands when she releases her grip, bringing her coat with it. She’s left shivering in only a thin shirt.

He’s so close, just a few steps away. Eurydice continues to sing, the wind blowing harder and harder with every note she chokes out. The air itself seems to pierce her lungs. She clutches her chest and treks onward. The blinding white of the snow begins to blur her vision until Orpheus is indistinguishable from the rest of the landscape. Her legs shake, threatening to buckle under her weight.

“Orpheus...” she coughs out each syllable, struggling for breath. His song changes its tone. It isn’t melancholic any longer, but angry. Hateful. Eurydice shields her face against the pelting ice crystals, whipped against her by the ever-stronger gales. Darkness blurs the corners of her vision. She drops to her knees, gasping for breath. Her chest feels like it’s closing in on her, choking her.

Eurydice pulls out her slip of newspaper, clutching it in her hands. Her life seems to slip away before her eyes, blurrier and darker as if she’s sinking into a deeper and deeper sea. She feels the bitter cold. Loss, as her scrap of paper is whisked out of her fingertips. The exhaustion hits her last. She longs to close her eyes. To disappear.

Instead, she sings. Her voice is tiny and weak and her shallow breaths hardly draw enough oxygen to sustain her. She pushes herself forward, on her hands and knees. He’s so close. She reaches out. Her fingertips brush his nightgown and suddenly, the world shifts around her. She’s back on the road out of Hadestown, holding on to him for dear life. “Eurydice,” he breathes, finally meeting her eyes.

She feels the pull of the underworld, trying to drag her under. She holds him tighter. “No. I’m not going!” she screams, as if Hadestown itself can hear her. Orpheus inhales, a tiny gasp, and his eyes slip shut.

...

Eurydice wakes, Orpheus in her arms. She breathes deeply, the air already beginning to warm. She hugs him, feeling her lover’s slow heartbeat against her chest. He groans.

“Orpheus?” she chokes out, her voice hoarse.

He glances around him and she covers his eyes. But he sees. He remembers. His breaths quicken, his eyes well with tears. “I... I killed them,” he stutters.

She wipes the tears off his cheeks. His skin is so cold she draws her hands away. “Not you, lover,” she whispers, “You didn’t do this.”

“Y-yes I did.” He tries to push her away, but his limbs feel heavy as lead. “I killed... how many?”

“Shhh...” She holds him closer.

“I deserve it,” he sobs, “Whatever punishment... the furies have for me. I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t, love,” she comforts him, swaying back and forth. “You didn’t mean to hurt anybody. You were only afraid. Hush... hush...” He falls silent, save for his shaky breaths.

Hermes and Persephone arrive at Orpheus’s side a moment later. The Queen of the Underworld drapes a blanket over Eurydice’s shoulders. “You did well,” she whispers.

Hermes bundles Orpheus in his own jacket. “I’m... sorry,” Orpheus stammers.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I... I should’ve told you. I stole your food without telling you and... and I ran away. Hermes, I’m so sorry. I-”

“No, you don’t need to be sorry,” Hermes assures him. “I never should have left you alone. Orpheus, I don’t blame you for any of this. It’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s fault.” Orpheus nods, too tired to reply.

Hermes again notices the blood staining Orpheus’s clothing. He finds the poet’s previously injured leg has worsened in the cold. The gash where he’d been cut in the underworld is sticky with new blood. An array of scratches, some quite deep, run up his arms and torso, no doubt courtesy of his attackers on the surface.

But it’s the cold that Hermes fears most of all. Orpheus’s skin is so icy, Hermes is surprised he’s still conscious. His lips and his fingers are blue with frostbite. Hermes knows that he won’t last long in this weather. Even without his lament prolonging the cold weather, the air is still freezing and the ground is still blanketed in snow.

“Hadestown,” he realizes aloud. “Warmth.”

“But Eurydice...” Orpheus mutters, hardly intelligible.

“No, Hermes is right,” Persephone says. “No amount of surface fires will provide what Hadestown naturally has. The sooner we leave the better.”

“I can move faster alone,” Hermes tells her.

“Eurydice and I will be close behind,” she promises. “Tell my husband that he can enjoy the Styx if he dares to lay a finger on the boy.”

#when hell freezes over au #hadestown au #hadestown #therainbowwrites

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bi-bard · 4 years

Text

Long Forgotten Past- Arthur Pendragon Imagine (Merlin)

Title: Long Forgotten Past

Pairing: Arthur Pendragon X Reader (I tried to make this gender neutral but if I slipped up, I’m sorry)

Requested: Nope...

Warning(s): Mentions of past abandonment and memory loss

Summary: Someone made a decision that changed (Y/n)’s life forever. Now things are changing and the truth will be revealed. A visitor coming to Camelot makes sure that the truth comes out and (Y/n) learns more in a day than they had in forever.

Author’s Note: I have had this sitting in my drafts for so long! This was originally a musical prompt but I drifted very far from that original idea... whoops!

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

“Merlin, let go of my wrist,” I hissed as he dragged me through the halls of the castle.

“No, this is important,” he replied, continuing to drag me along.

“Merlin,” we heard someone shout behind us. Merlin stopped with an angry sigh, tuning around to face Arthur. “Hello, (Y/n).”

“Hello, Arthur,” I smiled.

“Merlin,” Arthur turned his attention to the boy that was still grabbing onto my wrist. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“I need to speak to Gaius and it’s important that (Y/n) is there,” Merlin explained. “You can make me do any chores you want afterwards.”

“(Y/n), are you alright,” Arthur touched my arm gently.

“I’m fine,” I said with- what probably looked like- a dumb smile. He nodded before waving us off. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he replied.

“God, you two are pathetic,” Merlin muttered once Arthur was out of earshot and you had continued following him to see Gaius. “He is absolutely in love with you.”

“No, no he is not,” I insisted. We had this discussion all too often. Merlin had this idea that Arthur loved me... which wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

“Gaius,” Merlin shouted as opened the door of their room. “I’ve discovered something.”

“What is it,” Gaius asked, stepping away from whatever potion he was making.

“There’s a king missing his child,” Merlin explained. “His wife died when the kingdom was attacked and the child disappeared.”

“Merlin, where is this going,” Gaius asked. I furrowed my eyebrows and crossed my arms.

“(Y/n) is that child,” Merlin exclaimed.

“What,” Gaius and I shouted at the same time.

“Is it impossible,” Merlin asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“You have no memories from before... about eight years old,” Merlin added. “You know that your parents didn’t give birth to you. Why can’t you even think that this is a possibility?”

“Gaius,” I turned to look at the old man. “Please tell him that he has lost it.”

“Well...,” Gaius started.

“Gaius,” I shouted.

“We need to tell Uther that there’s a chance,” he continued. “The only one who could confirm this is the man who is potentially your father.”

“You’re kidding,” I shook my head and looked down.

“Come with me, we’ll speak with him before his meeting with the knights,” Gaius said, motioning for Merlin and me to follow him.

“We’re doing this right now,” I asked. I was scared. I shouldn’t have been scared. None of this was possible. They both nodded. “Okay.”

“Sire,” Gaius said as we all walked into the throne room. “I have an important issue to discuss with you.”

“Make it quick, Gauis, I have a meeting soon,” Uther replied.

“You may have heard about King Rowan,” Gaius explained. “He lost his wife when their kingdom was attacked and his child seemed to disappear at random. Merlin and I have reason to believe that we’ve found his child.”

“Really,” Uther looked stunned. “His child has been missing for almost fifteen years. Who do you believe it is?”

“(Y/n),” I straightened my spine when Uther looked at me when Gaius said my name. “The only person who can confirm that is King Rowan.”

“I’ll have someone go and deliver a message to him,” Uther promised, walking over to us. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “It should only take a few days for him to arrive. We’ll find out the truth.”

“Thank you, Sire,” I said, nodding before going to leave. I still had work to get done... even if my thoughts were in a mess now.

**A Few Days Later**

I ran through the hallways once Gwen and Morgana finally let me go. They had insisted on making sure I looked my best when my potential father showed up. I understood why but it made me even more nervous.

I only stopped when I was right outside the doors to the throne room. The guards at the doors gave me nods that I think were supposed to comfort me. I nodded back and they opened the large doors for me.

“This is (Y/n),” Uther said as I walked in. Another man was standing there. That must have been King Rowan.

The room was completely silent. I stood in the middle of the room, scared out of my mind. King Rowan walked over slowly. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest.

“Your necklace,” Rowan said. I touched in out of instinct. It wasn’t much. A single charm on some string. But I had always had it. “It belonged to my wife. She told me to give it to my child. It was her last wish on her deathbed.”

“That... That means...”

“(Y/n),” King Rowan pulled me into a tight hug. I felt him shaking. I let tears fall from my eyes. “My child.”

“Father,” I mumbled. I stepped away after a minute, trying to wipe my eyes so I could look presentable. “Why can’t I remember that time? I would’ve been old enough to have memories.”

“That was my doing,” he looked down. “I had a warlock wipe the first ten years from your mind. I didn’t want you to hold onto that pain. Now that you’re here, we can find a way to restore them.”

“Gaius,” Uther said. “He would be able to fix this, yes?”

“I could certainly try, Sire,” Gaius nodded. I turned around and hugged him.

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” he replied before stepping back to look at everyone. “(Y/n) will need to stay in my chambers and I will need to be able to work with her in private.”

“Of course,” Rowan nodded. He gave me one last hug before following Uther, who was offering him a tour of the castle. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Of course,” I nodded. Everyone had left the room except for Gaius, Merlin, and Arthur.

“I told you so,” Merlin said. I rolled my eyes at him.

“Merlin,” Arthur warned. “One more word, you’ll be sleeping in the stables.”

“Sorry,” Merlin held his hands up. He moved over to hug me. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

“Gaius and I will go off to prepare for... whatever is going to happen,” Merlin said before following Gaius out of the throne room.

“So, you’re royalty,” Arthur said after the door shut behind them.

“Apparently,” I looked down. I was caught off guard when he hugged me and twirled me around. “What is it?”

“This is the best news,” he replied. “This is perfect.”

“Why is it so perfect?”

“We’ll talk about that later,” he shrugged with a smirk before kissing my forehead. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” I gave him a nervous smile before heading off to see Gaius and Merlin.

I walked through the door, fiddling with my hands. My stomach was full of butterflies and I was scared that I would actually throw up. Merlin gave me a comforting smile once he saw me shifting from one foot to another.

“Come lay down,” Gaius said. I nodded and sat on the cot that Gaius had.

“How is this going to work,” I asked.

“Well, I’m going to give you this potion,” Gaius held up a bottle. “It should start bringing your memory back but it will cause you to fall asleep because the process of regaining memories can be...”

“Overwhelming,” I completed his thought. He nodded. “Have you done this before?”

“Never had to,” Gaius replied, kind of shrugging at me. I let out a heavy sigh. “It’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” I shook my hands out before holding one out to take the bottle from him.

I shifted so I was laying down, then took a huge gulp of the potion. I winced at the flavor as Gaius took it from me. My wincing stopped as I started feeling drowsy, my eyelids struggling to stay open. After what could’ve been seconds, I was falling asleep.

**Time Skip**

I slowly blinked as my brain became less and less cloudy. I rolled my neck before moving to sit up on the cot. I jumped a little when I saw how many people were there... just looking at me.

“Hello,” my father said softly, sitting next to me. I smiled at him. “I know this is going to sound a little silly but... can you tell me the name of your mother?”

“My mother’s name was Aleida,” I replied, my eyes filling with tears. “She was killed by a neighboring kingdom when I was eight. And I just forgot her.”

“No, no, no,” my father hugged me, rubbing my back. “You did nothing wrong. I am so sorry. I am so sorry for everything.”

“May I have a few minutes,” I asked. “I just want to collect my thoughts.”

“Of course,” my father nodded, moving to stand and guide everyone out.

Once the door closed, I felt all of my emotions truly come out. I was scared and I was confused. I placed a hand over my mouth as I cried. Almost eight years of lost memories came crashing back in less than a minute. I couldn’t sort through all of my thoughts.

Whether or not I understood what was going on, my tears eventually stopped. I finally stood from the cot and walked towards the door. Everyone was waiting just outside.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I just needed to pull myself together.”

“You’re alright,” Arthur stepped forward and touched my shoulder. I smiled at him.

“Merlin, I believe you and I have some work to finish up, don’t we,” Gaius asked. Merlin nodded, a very smug smile on his face as they walked back into Gaius’ chambers.

“Rowan, I believe we have a deal to discuss,” Uther announced. “Would you like to go discuss the matter?”

“Of course,” my father replied, walking towards the throne room.

“So,” Arthur said slowly. “It’s true.”

“It’s true,” I chuckled. “So, you can tell me why this was such great news.”

“Well,” he looked down for a moment. “I just want you to know that I love you.”

“Oh,” I froze up for a moment. “As in you’re in love with me?”

“Yes,” he confirmed with a small smile. “I didn’t want to say anything because of the stupid rule about royals not being with people that aren’t also royals... but this was the best stroke of luck because now no one can do anything to you if I was to say anything... which I did.”

“I am very happy that I do know,” I replied. I glanced around the nearby hallway before leaning up and kissing his cheek. “Let’s go see what our dads are so adamantly discussing.”

“Alright,” he nodded, holding his arm out so I could wrap mine around. I leaned on his shoulder while we walked down the hallway. It was nice. This was a definitely a nice moment.

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

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#merlin imagine #merlin fanfiction #arthur pendragon imagine #arthur pendragon fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction #character imagine #character fanfiction

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clcvers · 4 years

Text

who: evelyn & clover (@yundays) what: a discord thread when: friday, october 2nd (the night before the festival) where: some trendy club in brooklyn

evelyn: the night started very similarly to how every friday night goes for evelyn — pregaming on alcohol and drugs for two hours straight and not heading to the club until right before midnight. but this time felt more special as clover joined her, an event that only happens a few times a month due to conflicting schedules. and honestly, she was going to need her best friend and their shenanigans if she was going to get through this all nighter. after all, there was no way she was going to sleep before her 7am shift. it just didn’t make sense. admittedly, maybe things felt a little blurry as she arrived to the club, but it was almost like everything came into hyper focus as she stumbled on to the dancefloor, the neon lights and sharp snares electrifying her right down to her bones. evelyn instantly turns to the other woman already raising her arms in the air and dancing, shoulders and hips moving in tandem to the beat. ❝ oh my god, clover. the music… it’s like in my fingertips, wow… ❞ she releases a giggle at that, fingertips gently touching her own face. and for some reason, in that moment, it’s like she had the greatest epiphany ever. ❝ i literally love you. i’m like… so glad you’re here with me, clove. ❞ she says, bringing her into an embrace and swaying the two of them together.

clover: it had been ages since clover had been in the middle of a sweaty, crowded club instead of staring down at one from the dj platform. something about being out with evelyn made it feel even more right. she hadn't seen her best friend in what felt like months, and getting to dance with her again tonight felt almost euphoric. she'd be lying if she said that she wasn't disappointed that she hadn't pregamed as intensely as evelyn, but it wasn't hard for her to track down her old dealer for some molly. back in the day, one little pill would hardly have an effect on her, but outside of the occasional joint, it'd been almost two years since she'd touched anything. it was just one pill, she figured, how bad could it be ? besides, it was a special occasion. when evelyn's giggling starts to echo in her ear, she knows that something's happening. looking back at her friend, she can hardly bring herself to do anything but smile. ❝ i can't feel my face ! ❞ she exclaims, letting out a breathy laugh as evelyn pulls her close. ❝ dude... you're like my best friend. have i ever told you that you're like... my best fucking friend? ❞mall>

evelyn: ❝ clover, i am literally so honored i can cry. ❞ and for a moment, it’s almost like she is going to as her eyes water up slightly. though, it could be partially due to the smoke machine, if anything. ❝ you’re going to like, make me cry… in the club. ❞ realizing she just quoted a meme, any tears that might’ve welled up in her eyes quickly dissipate as she begins laughing into clover’s shoulder. she eventually does pull away, though, feeling as though the music itself is behind the wheel as she closes her eyes and lets the euphoric beats and her best friend’s voice guide her. jumping to the rhythm, a large smile appears on her face as she reopens her eyes, elated to see that her friend’s face is still there, the drugs making it seem like her face is closer than it actually is. the image makes her laugh as she peers past her friend’s shoulder, looking into the abyss of neon-lit moving bodies as her vision becomes a bit wavy. ❝ um… i’m going to like… go on a limb here and say like, i think the drugs are kicking in. ❞ she giggles at her state, acutely aware of just how fucked up she is, the experience feeling more fun and fantastical than scary.

clover: as she moves to the music, clover leans into evelyn and laughs along with her, losing herself in the moment shared between them. when evelyn pulls away, clover can feel the heat rising in her body, propelling her to move in sync with the music as she begins to lose herself in the crowd. evelyn's voice brings her back into reality and she slowly floats back to their position in the crowd. ❝ you and me both, ❞ she says dreamily, closing her eyes as she sways to the melody. ❝ i feel like i'm a mermaid right now. ❞ her realization makes her giggle and she quickly inches closer to evelyn to embrace her once again. ❝ i'm really happy these days, you know? ❞

evelyn: evelyn’s giggle reflects her friend’s own as she welcomes the embrace and sways the two of them once more. ❝ you literally look so happy, clover, i just knew it... i’m like so happy for you and your best life, wow. ❞ she scream-whispers into her ear over the loud bass as she brings them back to arm’s length and continues dancing in this form, truly just vibing. ❝ oh my god, should we like, get drinks? ❞ the realization brings her hands to her mouth in exaggerated shock, genuinely shocked they haven’t made a b-line to the bar immediately. “yeah, i think we are gonna need drinks like… asap.” she restates, as she glances back trying to remember where it was in the cloudy haze of her intoxicated state. taking clover’s hands and resting them on her own shoulders, she congo-dances her way out of the crowd, hoping that going against the current of the crowd will lead her to the pot of gold that was the bar counter. eventually it does and after getting the bartender’s attention by leaning in and shouting, he comes over. ❝ hi, so i’m going to need a gin and tonic and… bitch, what are you feeling right now? ❞ she turns to the other, asking the question in her ear.

clover: the mention of drinks awakens her from her dreamy state, and she follows closely behind evelyn as they make their way through the crowd. ❝ let's run up the tab, ❞ she giggles as they finally reach the bar. her hands are still perched on evelyn's shoulders as she inches closer to the counter to shout her order to the bartender. ❝ i'll take a jack and coke. ❞ as the bartender disappears to fetch their drinks, she leans her back against the counter comfortably before looking back at her friend. ❝ i swear, this is like, the best night ever. ❞

evelyn: evelyn hands the bartender her card as the drinks appear in front of them, passing it to her best friend. ❝ clink, clink, bitch. ❞ she brings her glass to meet the other’s own, smirking at its rim before taking a long sip, the liquid going down like it was water for the woman. ❝ oh my god, like, to be honest though… it literally is, wow. ❞ she giggles into her glass, instinctually taking yet another sip. ❝ honestly like these past few weekends have been so lame, no joke… it was missing clover magic, like it’s been soooo long, what the fuck. ❞

clover: ❝ remind me to venmo you later, ❞ clover whispers loudly to her friend, taking the glass from her before clinking it against hers. ❝ cheers, bitch! ❞ she yells excitedly, almost downing her drink in one sip. ❝ you think i'm magic? ❞ she practically gasps, looking at her best friend with gleaming eyes. ❝ you're so fucking cute, evie! ❞

30 MINUTES LATER

evelyn: returning back to the dancefloor, evelyn is genuinely enjoying herself as she takes the last sip of her drink, already eyeing a few people — with a few returning the glance. she brings her attention back to her best friend but keeps her gaze on someone else across the room as she chuckles to herself. ❝ oh my god, okay, clover fucking slap me if i try to go home with someone tonight okay. like… you have my permission. my cheek can take it, okay. ❞ she slurs into clover’s ear, bringing a hand to her face, the memories of awful drunken hookups coming to mind.

clover: when the two finally make their way back onto the dancefloor, clover could be less preoccupied with the people dancing around them. she's too busy having the time of her life with her best friend and vibing to one of the best sets they'd ever been to together. so when evelyn all of a sudden gives her permission to get violent with her if she tries to get laid, she's taken aback. ❝ girl, ❞ she says, her voice raising in pitch from all of the liquor she's had. ❝ you know i'm not one to judge, but i lowkey hate how you'll just sleep with anyone when you're drunk enough. ❞ clover laughs tipsily as she pulls away from evelyn, shaking her head a bit as she remembers all of the stories they'd exchanged about their drunken hookups.

evelyn: ❝ oh my god, i know it’s seriously soooo bad. ❞ evelyn chuckles into her hand, flushing from embarrassment and as the alcohol digests further and further into her system. ❝ ugh, i’ll never forget how fucking messy my birthday was. like... i woke up to dylan of all people, oh god. ❞ she groans at the memory, rubbing her eyes as her intoxicated state only increases from here. as it does, the dj moves gracefully into the next song, causing evelyn to drop her jaw at the selection. ❝ fuck, this song is sooo beautiful, clover, wow… i might cry. ❞

clover: the song changes before clover has time to respond to what her friend says, and with the whiskey and molly clouding her thoughts, it takes her a moment to process what evelyn even means. she'd left early with one of evelyn's friends on the night of her birthday, and come to think of it, she'd never actually heard how the rest of evelyn's night went. ❝ wait, ❞ she pauses, turning to her friend as she leans in to speak to her. ❝ why did you wake up next to dylan? ❞ the thought of them together feels unnatural to her, but she can't think of another explanation as to why she would say such a thing. ❝ you didn't... ❞ she pleads, trailing off as tears begin to stream slowly down her face, hoping that this was all some big misunderstanding. ❝ evie, ❞ she says forcefully, grasping evelyn's wrist, ❝ tell me you didn't. ❞

evelyn: ❝ ow, that hurts… ❞ evelyn pouts, eyebrows stringing together as her gaze lingers a little too long on her friend’s grip on her wrist. ❝ what didn’t i do? ❞ she eventually asks, already forgetting the words coming out of her lips as soon as she says them. noticing her best friend’s tears though makes her heart drop nonetheless, believing it has to be because the song playing feels so visceral. ❝ oh god, clover please don’t cry… the song is almost over. i think so. should we ask him? ❞ she proposes, glancing back to the dj stand, and deciding internally that it’s much too far away and she’s honestly much too lazy.

clover: clover hadn't realized that she was applying pressure on evelyn's wrist until she cries out, and she lets go as she turns back to look evelyn in the eyes. ❝ what didn't you do? ❞ she repeats furiously as more tears begin to cloud her vision. ❝ what the fuck is wrong with you? ❞ the room suddenly starts to spin around her as she backs away from evelyn, disgusted at her nonchalant attitude. the admission alone was enough to send her spiraling, but the lack of compassion evelyn had for her — her supposed best friend — made her even more on edge. ❝ I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE FUCKING SONG! ❞ she screams as the tears fogging her eyes finally fall and smudge her heavy eyeliner. ❝ i can't believe you would do this to me. ❞ she almost chokes on her words as she sobs, walking straight through the crowd and hoping evelyn doesn't catch up to her.

evelyn: as soon as evelyn saw clover get worked up, she can feel her chest clenching, doing her best to focus on hanging on to reality just a little bit longer to see what was happening with her best friend. before she realizes it, clover is leaving and all she can do is follow after her. ❝ clover, wait. clover… ❞ she calls after her, worming through the crowd to catch up. ❝ where are you going? did i do something wrong? i didn’t mean it, i promise. ❞ she says more out of a knee jerk than sincerity, still trying to catch up with what exactly was going on.

clover: she doesn't wait for evelyn to catch up with her, but when she hears her voice calling out, she can feel her eyes welling up again. ❝ did you do something wrong? ❞ clover scoffs as she stops in front of the bar, turning towards evelyn as they meet face to face again. ❝ you slept with dylan when you knew that i liked him! ❞ her face heats up as she speaks, swallowing what was left of her pride after she sobbed in the middle of the club. ❝ you are un-fucking-believable, ❞ she says as her jaw tightens and her fists clench. ❝ you know what? i hate you. ❞

evelyn: evelyn’s heart drops at clover’s declaration of hate, feeling her sense of reality slip from her consciousness, growing more and more spaced out as the tremendous guilt and intoxication pull her down. ❝ no, no, no clover, please. it wasn’t like that, i don’t like him, i promise. fuck, please, please don’t hate me, clover. i’m so sorry, fuck. ❞ and it all leaves her lips as a slippery, slur-induced rambling mess because all she knows is she’s fucked up, the one thing she never wanted her to know coming out and now she’s feeling like she’s losing it all rapidly. as it all crashes down, all she could do is plead as she feels her breathing speeding up.

clover: all clover can do as her best friend pleads with her is sob. she never imagined that evelyn would be capable of betraying her — especially after she had been so supportive when it seemed like she and dylan had finally made some progress after all these years. she can feel her chest heaving as she looks back at her former best friend, shaking her head at her empty words. ❝ don't ever speak to me again, ❞ she manages to say, her words slurring through her tears. turning away from evelyn, she stumbles through the crowd to get some fresh air. all she wants to do is go home.

#𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒒𝒖𝒆 ▸ threads.#𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ▸ evelyn.

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ahloveisboo · 5 years

Text

namjoon (2)

as part of the "100 ways to say i love you" drabble game. [masterlist]

➸ 66. Stay over. (2.2k, smut, implicit safe sex with a dash of fluff)

There's something about the way Namjoon pushes his hair aside, the locks longer than he's used to. He hasn't had a haircut in a while and frankly, you don't really mind. He breaks away from the television screen casting gloomy greys and whites onto the opposite walls. "What?"

You smile, reaching up your hand to follow the motion of his own just seconds ago. "Nothing." You pause, noticing the dimples in his cheeks deepening when he can't suppress a smile. "Your hair looks great."

It's been three months since you asked him out. Your burst of bravery to take the first step caught him by surprise because the only setting he'd ever seen you wear your self-confidence on your sleeve, you were five vodkas deep into the evening and tried to challenge him to a dance-off. (No need to go further into detail on that one.) He'd taken so long to answer that you'd already mumbled an apology, pulled your sleeves over your palms in embarrassment, and were six steps away from the door when he yelled a firm "yes" after you.

On your first date, even though it was supposed to be your date, he took you to his favourite coffee shop. Nothing special in itself, weren't it for the fact that the staff absolutely adored him and made sure to slip him the keys after closing. It was decorated with candles and petals and he'd made sure your favourite classical piece was playing in the background as you shared a slice of delicious cheesecake with him. You recall it so clearly, because he'd remembered you're lactose intolerant and asked the chef to make the necessary adjustments. It was the best damn piece of cheesecake you ever had.

On your second date you took him to a comic book store. Last time you were there (back when it was just a crush) your eyes had fallen onto a brand new series that you knew Namjoon would like, but thought it too awkward to get him such a gift for no particular reason. This way you could show it to him, no strings attached, and have a bite to eat afterwards. He bought the first volume and couldn't shut up about it for the next three weeks. And every time he did, you smiled.

Date number three was at the planetarium. It's your favourite one so far— both geeking out looking up at the dome ceiling counting stars, having a joint existential crisis over the fact that we humans are a mere speck of dust in a vast, ever expanding universe that we'll never be able to comprehend nor explore to full capacity. If you're looking for something that creates a bond, existential dread will do that for you.

Fourth date, and three weeks into making it Facebook Official™, you took a trip to the coast. As much as you were indifferent to the concept of crowded beaches and overpriced seaside restaurants, you loved the ocean and watching the sun go down over the sound of breaking waves. You stayed in a small apartment with just enough room for a bed, sofa, and kitchenette that Namjoon used to make a stunning replica of your first date cheesecake.

Some would say two months into a relationship is nothing compared to what's to come, or a cynic would note that there's no certainty in love (or whatever social construct people choose to believe in these days) but to you it felt solid. Namjoon felt solid. A comforting solid, with broad shoulders and dimples, deep voice, great cock.

You glance at the clock, dangerously nearing the time you're supposed to leave at. Namjoon clicks his tongue, pulling your attention back to him before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips. The first one is light, a kiss that could say hello or how was your day?. The second one is stronger. One could argue it to be more of a goodbye kiss, or a I'm so proud of you smooch. Or even a hey I really like you and I never want to stop kissing you one.

The third one pushes you back into the sofa, tongue slipping between your lips and claiming your mouth. An unspoken stay over or let me make you feel good.

You wrap your arms around Namjoon's neck, pulling him closer. His hand slips behind your back, flattening against your sweater right below your bra. Arching off the sofa, you move against him, legs curling around his waist to connect your clothed heats. You can tell he's already semi-hard, even through the two layers of jeans. You graze your teeth along his earlobe, earning you a repressed moan from Namjoon.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he mumbles against the column of your neck, peppering kisses along the skin and biting softly the places he knows you like. You grin, gently nudging his face back to align with yours, allowing you to lock eyes.

"Tell me again," you whisper, licking your lips before you playfully kiss his nose, his cheek, his chin.

Namjoon scoffs, snaking his hand underneath your shirt to unclasp your bra. The other swiftly moves over your lower area, cupping between your legs with just the right amount of pressure. "I'm not playing tonight," he notes, tugging at your bottom lip. "I want you out of these clothes and in my lap, now."

There's a moment where he slowly rubs along your crotch for good measure, and then his weight lifts off you as he stands to undo his trousers, swiftly followed by his shirt and boxers. You try not to stare at his upright cock while fumbling to unbutton your jeans, but your mind is getting cloudy and suddenly a button is that impossible math equation on your final exam minutes before the bell rings.

"I'm- Fuck it," you snap, deciding you can't wait and dropping in front of Namjoon instead. Namjoon takes a step back and wraps his fingers around his cock.

"You're still wearing clothes," he states, once stroking along his shaft for emphasis. You look up at him through your eyelashes, swallowing hard. Namjoon remains unmoving, staring you down. It's obvious how much he's enjoying this— his neck is getting flushed and his dick is twitching in his hand.

"But it's just my jeans-" you start, watching him flick his wrist again, still not allowing you to touch him.

You ball your fist and stand slowly— hold his gaze as you finally rid yourself of your jeans, agonizingly slow. "Better?" you pur, sitting back down on the sofa with your legs crossed.

Namjoon squints at your teasing but, with two long strides he's standing in front of you. He reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips to finally push them apart. "Say it," he speaks softly, yet his voice is coloured with a tinge of urgence.

You swirl your tongue around his digit, sucking on it gently and releasing it with a pop. "I want you in my mouth."

Namjoon's hand slips into your hair, grabbing a handful as he positions himself in front of you, fingers still wrapped around his cock. He's pumping at regular speed now, and you're wondering if he wants you to suck him off or just cum on your tongue.

"Open up for me, baby," he says, voice low and demanding. "Take it like a good girl."

You obey, allowing Namjoon past your lips. At first you don't move, thinking Namjoon would like to take control today but he just sighs, welcoming the warmth of your mouth with a moan. Breathing in, you lick around his shaft to your best abilities, rolling around the head until he tightens the grip on your hair. You take this as a sign to start moving, gently bobbing up and down to take in all you can. You tilt your head to the side and back as you move, making sure you get all of him, and soon his breath is ragged. His panting fills you with joy and a heat pooling between your own legs.

With Namjoon holding his dick, your hands are free to roam your body as you suck him off— pinching your nipples and teasing between your thighs, moaning around Namjoon as you brush over your most sensitive parts. His cock twitches— watching you pleasure yourself with him still in your mouth, and he has to pull out to stop himself from coming right here and now.

"Jesus fuck, you're so hot," he slurs, hooded eyes roaming over your flushed skin. He bends to press a kiss to your forehead and you chuckle.

"Even in dominant mode, you're still a big old softie," you say as you pull him in by the waist, lowering yourself so he can lay on top of you. He shifts his weight to one side so he can brush the hair out of your face.

"For you, always. But for now, I just want to make your toes curl and fuck you so hard you forget your own name," he adds, his lips catching yours as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your legs spread for him as if pulled apart by strings, begging to feel him where you need him most. You feel him smile against your lips as he touches between your folds, knowing he's the reason you're dripping wet. All for him, and him only.

"Don't you dare say it," you warn, half in jest, but you kiss him to make sure he doesn't utter those words anyway.

Namjoon laughs, inserting two fingers in response, and you gasp into his mouth at the new sensation. If he curls them just right, you could come undone in little over a minute, you realise. If he hits the spot like last time— your back arches off the sofa, your fingers dig into Namjoon's back, and your lips slightly part as Namjoon hits your sweet spot. "Oh god," you gasp, trying not to squirm as he hits it again. His thumb flicks over your clit as he continues to slide his fingers in and out, and suddenly your mouth feels dry, thirsting for more of Namjoon than he can give you.

For a second, you contemplate stopping him because you want to climax together. But then Namjoon's mouth is on your nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud and gently tugging as he hits the spot again, and you're at the point of no return. "Joon-," you moan, grinding against his fingers for more friction. "F-Faster."

Namjoon complies, and five seconds later you're a moaning mess, eyebrows furrowing and relaxing again as your mouth falls open, nothing but bliss written on your face. Namjoon pumps a few more times to let you ride out your orgasm until you groan, signalling him to stop.

His lips brush over your forehead as you come down, travelling lower to kiss your eyelids, nose, corner of your mouth. Your eyes flutter open, gently dragging your fingertips along his back. “Joon-,” you start but, he cuts you off before you can say anything else. Lazily stroking your tongue with his, he slides his hand up your sides to hold your cheek.

“We can stop here if you want,” he says, never taking his lips off of yours.

Catching his lower lip between your teeth, you chuckle. “I thought you were a man of your word, Kim Namjoon.” Namjoon pulls away for a moment to admire the view beneath him.

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning I’m still painfully aware of my given name and you promised to change that.”

Namjoon holds your gaze a second too long, desire and determination reflecting in his eyes. He shifts, his palm curving along your ass as he pulls you up against his chest with the other. You're still sensitive when your clit comes in contact with his erection, a clear indication that, even though he offered you a way out, he's aching to have you.

No matter how many times you've fucked Namjoon, the size of him still surprises you. There's a faint whine as he lowers you onto him and your walls clench around his length immediately. Your name falls from his lips in deep sighs, louder each time your ass slaps against his thighs. It doesn't take long for Namjoon to be on the edge of filling you up, his breath quickening with every trust. Soon, his eyes roll into the back of his head, and you're whispering his name as the knot in your stomach tightens for the second time tonight.

It's the way Namjoon guides your hand between your sweaty bodies to rub against your clit, that makes the muscles in your lower stomach contract and your thighs quiver until you're both seeing stars, scattered along the back of your eyelids like the dome on your third date.

When Namjoon catches his breath, it's still shaky as he speaks, "That was-"

You can feel his cock getting soft inside you. Sweat is making his fringe stick to his temples and you blush, bumping your forehead against his. Knowingly, you smile. "It sure was."

#100wtsily #namjoon smut #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #bangtanarmynet #namjoon drabble #drabbles #kim namjoon #namjoon fic #bts drabble #bts smut #bts fic

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alexs-ummers · 5 years

Text

talk to me like lovers do

Pairing: Colin Ritman x Reader

Words: 1,544

Request: idk if you’re still taking colin requests but could you write one where colin has a huge crush on the reader and colin tries to be really lowkey about but it’s just SO obvious?? (:

Note: i plan on writing a part two to this (which will be smut)!! let me know what you think, hope i stayed close to the request. Requests are open.

Colin's staring at you, again; not that you notice. You're unaware of every gentle touch of your hip, every brush of his hand against yours. "Can you help me with this, Y/N?" He asks, pulling you out of your trance. Colin rarely asks for your help, usually just wanting your opinion on certain parts of a game he's working on. You nod, getting up from your chair and walking over to his side of the desk, leaning down to look at the screen.

"What's wrong with it?" You ask, leg bumping into the chair as you try to get a better look at the screen.

"I don't know." He says, truthfully. Usually he can easily identify a mistake he's made, but ever since you've begun working beside him, it's been harder to focus. He could focus, if he wanted. He could put on his headphones, fall into his projects, but he finds watching you while you work far more entertaining. The way you'd bite your lip in frustration, plucking at stray strings on your shirt when you lost focus. Colin shook his thoughts away. It was almost embarrassing how obvious his feelings were for you, yet you still remained unaware.

You give him a questioning look as you lean over him to fix his code, typing in the easy fix like it was nothing. "Losing your charm, Ritman." You teased, pressing the run button and watching the game come back to life. "There you go." You tell him, but you don't move away from his desk, instead turning around and leaning against the desk, half-sitting on it.

He rolls his eyes, testing the game after your small fix. "Oh, piss off." The words are light, making another laugh fall from your lips. He can't help but look up at you. The two of you have always been the best developers at Tuckersoft, he was happy to have a friendship with you instead of a competition. He always trusted your opinion, always appreciated your help.

The two of you keep eye contact, a brightness lighting behind your eyes. You were always so carefree, so easy to get along with. You were different, too. You seemed to understand Colin in a way no one else could. Sure, your personalities could be conflicting at times, Colin more suspicious of the world while you had such a trusting view of it, but it didn't stop the two of you from clicking. You would stay late at night with Colin, taking drags off his cigarettes as he ranted about his theories, never fighting about them, instead asking him questions, nodding along. His feelings couldn't help blossoming for you, after so many late nights. You were intelligent, funny, so easy to get along with and so easy to fall for. God, he sounded like an idiot, but looking up at your bright eyes, he couldn't help, but trust you, trust the world that you saw through your eyes.

He thinks maybe now is the time to ask you, for real. You already had something, there was something there, whether you saw it or not. "Do you-" Colin's words are cut off by Thakur yelling your name.

"These games don't code themselves!" He eyes both you and Colin. You roll your eyes, walking back around the desk to pick up where you left off.

He almost lets out an audible sigh before turning back to his computer. Another time. He places his headphones back over his ears, drowning himself in the project, in the coding.

Colin's been working for hours, he barely took notice of how dark it was outside. The only lights coming from the office were his computer and yours, he checked the time on the clock on his desk, 1 AM. He shakes the tiredness away from his body, rubbing at his eyes quickly before pulling off his headphones. Sure, he stayed late, but this was a stretch. He stands from his chair, glancing over to your seat, finding it empty. You've never left without saying goodbye, but he was so absorbed by the game, he wouldn't have noticed if you left. He shrugs, walking to the break room to get himself a coffee before he headed home.

You're standing at the counter, stirring a packet of sugar into your coffee when he comes up behind you, reaching beside you to grab a paper cup. You jump away from him, holding a hand to your chest. You felt like the office was dead, Colin so absorbed in his coding, you didn't think he'd get up to find you. "You scared me!" You yell, willing your heart to stop beating so fast, but it won't work, not with Colin around.

"You were just up in space." He tells you, tapping his finger against his forehead gently before turning to the coffee maker to pour himself a warm, black cup of coffee. "What are you still doing here, anyway?" He asks, not knowing about your new project. Usually you both stayed late if you were working together on something.

The cup of coffee meets your lips as you shrug, still holding his gaze from over the rim of your cup. "Didn't wanna go home."

A laugh escapes his lips, bringing the hot coffee to his lips despite the temperature of it. "Like work more than home, now?"

"Don't you?" You tease, referring to all the nights he's been here with you, all the nights he's skipped dinner and sleep, just to work. He loves his job, so do you.

"Sometimes." He tells you, leaving it at that. He likes to work at home when he needs the quiet, but lately, he likes having your company. He takes a long look at you, noticing the dark circles under your eyes and the tired look in your eyes. "Why not go home and get some rest?"

You set your coffee cup back down on the counter, leaning your hip against it as you look up at him with a sleepy look in your eyes. "Oh, I'm fine. I don't mind keeping you company."

The look on your face, your words, they almost make him lean in to kiss you, but he's not impulsive. "I never asked you to keep me company." The words aren't harsh, just stating a fact. He takes a sip of his coffee, enjoying how close you're leaning.

A smile graces your lips, your tired body leaning closer to his. "I want to." You shrug, eyes locking with his own. You're never so forward with Colin. You wanted to keep things easy, for the most part. It's far too late for you to be up, you haven't stayed this late at work in a while. Your brain is cloudy, filled with thoughts of Colin and kissing him, having him take you on the desk right now, but maybe the small space between you is enough.

Colin sets down his coffee, eyebrows raised from the look in your eyes. "Do you need me to walk you home? It's late."

You don't know if his words have other intentions, but you'd enjoy the company, you always enjoy his company. "Sure. Let me go grab my stuff."

The two of you walk back into the office, saving your work, turning off the computers, before you exit together. The cold wind blows in your face, you pull your jacket around you, tighter. He follows beside you, the temperature not seeming to bother him at all.

It doesn't take long to reach your apartment, conversation always flowed so easily between the two of you, even if there wasn't anything to talk about, the silence was calming. Colin follows you up to your floor, stopping with you as you fumble for your keys, trying to get the key in the lock. You glance at Colin before you open the door. "You can come in, if you want." You add, pushing the door open.

He doesn't answer instead following you into your apartment, looking around, getting a taste of what you're like away from work. He wants to walk over to your records, sift through them, but he can't take his eyes off of you. You turn towards him, eyebrows raised. "Not what you expected?"

"It's nice." He answers, plainly.

You laugh, moving closer to him again. You haven't even taken your coat off, yet, not even your shoes, but you've been dying to kiss him, all night. The whole time you've known him, it seems like the only thought in your head. He's mysterious and alluring, confident, he's sweet, funny. You get along so well. You can't help it, you lean up to press your lips against his.

Colin didn't expect it, but he didn't let that throw him off. As soon as your lips touched his, he was returning the kiss, hands gently gripping your waist. He thought about it for so long. You pull away after a moment, the kiss didn't last long, but you needed to breathe. You look up into his eyes, your heart catching in your chest. "Do you wanna stay over? It's late."

He doesn't answer the question instead leaning down to capture your lips in his again, hands sliding to push the coat off your shoulders.

#colin ritman x reader #colin ritman imagines #bandersnatch x reader #colin ritman #bandersnatch imagines #bandersnatch #black mirror #my writing

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magicalcreeks · 6 years

Text

You picked the constellations off the ground (let’s return them to the sky)

When an earthquake destroys the house, sometimes it takes two unlikely people to work together to help rebuild the foundation.

Craig Tucker can make new friends after all.

Hello friends, I’m working on a new short story, because I have zero self control. It’s here on my Ao3 as well, But I’m posting it below.

The story is going to have slight Staig, with Creek breaking up and getting back together because Creek is endgame.

Enjoy!

...

“W-We need to end this, Craig. I can’t do this anymore... we can still be...”

With those words, the party quickly came to an end for Craig. He looked the twitchy boy in the eye for the last time with a blank face, noticing the nervous sweat inching down his cheek.

“Excuse me,” Craig did not want to give Tweek the luxury of a proper goodbye. Instead, he set his canned beer on the table next to them, then he turned away before the dam could break.

His chest felt as if there was a weight resting on top of it. He couldn’t breathe properly. Craig pushed himself through the crowd of sweaty, drunk bodies squeezing in Clyde’s house.

Craig, he could no longer hear the music over his ringing ears. Somehow he managed to open the sliding door to the backyard, the cool air of the night blowing onto his skin. If only it was raining.

“Fuck...” he swore to himself. Fuck, he said a little louder until his body was consumed by an ironic fit of laughter.

“Fuck,” and he dropped his body onto the cement porch, hoping Tweek would not come searching for him. A break up to a fake relationship should not hurt as much as it should, but for some reason, he pained him more than his break up with his girlfriend back in elementary school.

It was to be expected. Holding hands, the hugs, the kisses, even when they cuddled against one another while they played video games in Token’s basement, it was all for show. Tweek was an actor, which was why he was the president of the drama club. No one should fall in love with an actor. They will never know what’s real or not.

Craig lifted his hand to touch his face, we can still be friends, was what Tweek was going to say because he was too nice for his own good. The likelihood of them ever being friends again was slim to none, and that’s what scared Craig the most.

“Yeah, well, fuck you, Kyle!” A familiar voice slurred. Craig twisted his body around to see what all of the commotion was.

“You’re fucking drunk, stan!” Kyle was fuming with his hands balled into trembling fists at his sides. He grew to a staggering 6’0, even towering over Craig who was the tallest kid in his grade at one point. Seeing him so mad at Stan looked scarier with the height difference between them.

This could get ugly.

“I’m not drunk,” Stan swatted a hand at Kyle who grabbed onto his wrist to keep him from stumbling over, “Let go of me!” He tried to pull his arm back but when he realized he was stuck he sunk his teeth into Kyle’s hand.

“Ouch, you fucking-!“ It took everything within Kyle to refrain from punching him in the face. Stan was a terrible drunk with a drinking problem, and he was tired of dealing with his antics every time a drop of alcohol touched his lips. Kyle rubbed the area he was just bitten, eyes falling on Craig, now realizing he was there to watch the scene between them.

“You take care of him, dick,” he gave a Craig an icy glare before turning his back on his supposed best friend. Before Craig could attest the door was slid shut.

Now it was only him and Stan sharing the open space outside. Craig listened to the honking horns, obnoxious laughter, and the disgusting gurgling sounds coming from Stan. This was all happening too fast. he could barely register the fake relationship that had just ended with his boyfriend— or his fake ex-boyfriend— now he had to babysit a 17-year-old.

“He’s such an asshole,” Stan said, still throwing up middle fingers to the closed door, Craig groaned.

“You look like shit.”

“You’re one to talk, Marsh.”

So maybe they were both going through a lot of shit, that didn’t mean Craig wanted to talk about it.

“Can you believe this guy?”

Craig dropped his head into his knees. He really did not feel like talking, his plan was to stay here until the party was over and until he was certain Tweek was gone.

Stan nearly fell on his ass trying to lower himself on the spot next to Craig. He nearly did until Craig caught him by the elbow, him grunting to push Stan off of him when he toppled into his lap.

“You really are drunk,” any other time he would have made a snarky comment, especially if it was towards Stan. He felt bad for the kid. Stan’s eyes were bloodshot and glossed over, not to mention he smelled like a bar mixed with whatever illegal substances Kenny brought with him. Craig moved away the hair sticking on his sweaty forehead.

“Wow, dude, your hands are like, really soft...”

“Stop talking,” Craig was feeling for his temperature, he’s seen his mom do this a handful of times when his dad came home wasted after a long night of drinking.

“Y’know, my mom always does this when she catches me drinking.”

“You look much smarter when you don’t talk.”

Stan’s lips lowered into a small frown, his flushed cheeks giving him the appearance of looking much smaller than he actually is. Craig removed his hand from his head, then snorted when he watched as Stan’s head dropped unexpectedly.

“You must drink a lot if your mom is catching you.”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” He slurred. His head felt cloudy, there was an aching throb behind his eyes, “it’s all Kyle’s fault...” then he laid his head on Craig’s shoulder, closing his eyes to settle his stomach.

“He’s just... such an asshole... why won’t he notice me?” Stan murmured.

Craig shifted in his spot, then he gave his sleeve a tug. This was awkward. He prayed Stan wouldn’t start crying on him, “it helps to talk about it, I guess,” he suggested, desperate to take his mind off of Tweek.

“You know,” Stan lifted his head, their faces only inches apart, “You’re not so bad. Even when we fought when we were kids I always thought you were pretty cool.”

Lacking the proper response, Craig looked straight ahead at the fence stretching to the opposite end of the sidewalk. He could see the long-faded chalk drawings, from childhood, still scattered on each individual picket. Token and Tweek were always in charge of making the drawings because Clyde, Jimmy, and Himself could not draw for shit. Craig told Clyde to get rid of it, but Clyde insisted all the remnants, such as, the old deteriorate treehouse, the planks they buried deep in the soil, and the strings going from each side of the fence were all keepsakes.

Craig was convinced Clyde was a hoarder, or just really fucking lazy.

“I don’t feel so good...” in the midst of Craig’s nostalgia, he failed to notice the green tint Stan had taken on.

Stan pushed himself away to face the patch of grass beside them, he clenched onto his sides as he stinging bile came spilling from his mouth. Craig could not help but be disgusted by the sight in front of him, he couldn’t stand himself, nevertheless, stand to watch other people puke their brains out. Even so, he was there by Stan’s side, offering soothing circular motions on the middle of his back. You idiot, he said to himself, feeling the painful jolts through touching his back.

“Clyde is going to be pissed,” his joke fell flat. What he thought was a failed attempt to lighten to mood actually got a chuckle out of Stan.

His face was a pasty white and drenched with sweat, “at least you don’t look green anymore,” he said. Craig thought about standing up to get him a glass of water or something.

“You really are a dick,” he rubbed his throat, his hoarse words feeling as if it was traveling through a tunnel of sandpaper.

“You’re going to get dehydrated, idiot.”

“I just...” Stan fell back to lay his upper body on the cool concrete, he took a minute to absorb the thumping beats of the music indoors rocking his body, “I don’t want to think,” he bleached through another vurp, the crash of the alcohol coursing through his system setting in.

You and me both, Craig thought, his brooding green eyes staring over at him, “and I don’t want to be responsible for you dying.”

Very soft, but audible snores came from Stan’s open mouth.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Craig said to himself. This was the night that kept on giving, well, at least you didn’t have to worry about him running down the sidewalk naked like a certain someone he knew— Clyde.

Craig leaned back on his elbows holding up his body weight, again, he sighed for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. Secretly he was disappointed Tweek hadn’t come out to find him, to say he was playing a prank dared by one of the guys who wanted to fuck with him. With breakups he’s witnessed, there were always heated with one couple yelling at the other or vice versa. The strange thing was he did not feel any resentment towards Tweek— his heart was fucking hurting, but at the end of the day, he wanted him to be happy. God only knows he deserves it.

He closed his eyes. That was when he finally succumbed to the boiling emotions within him, he needed a good cry and possibly a nap. Craig mimicked Stan’s position. He laid back on the porch, opening his eyes again to stare at the night sky above them. He felt a prickling in the back of his eyes then loose mucus falling to the back of his throat.

His forearm acted as a blanket to cover his eyes from the world around him.

Yeah, he didn’t want to think either.

...

The following day at school, Craig was sitting at his usual lunch table. Every day he would pick the cucumbers out of his sandwich while listening to Token and Clyde bicker about something they saw on TV.

Today wasn’t one of those days, “it feels like a nutcracker is trying to break into my skull,” Clyde whined, flinching at the light tap of his tray touching the lunch table. He took his seat between Token and Jimmy who silently agreed. Their head was in their hands, Token looked about ready to fall over.

Craig could not help but to roll his eyes at his expense, Clyde was a lightweight, they all were. Which is why when Craig was in the mood to get piss drunk he will only do it in the comfort of his house where he can go to bed when his head started to buzz a little too loud.

“That party was awesome, though,” said Token, drinking from his thermos he brought from home that smelled strongly of a homemade hangover remedy.

“H-H-He-Hear, Hear,” Jimmy agreed, trying to relive the long night of motorboating college girls. How Clyde convinced college girls to come to his party was beyond him. Ladies dug a man with a sense of humor.

Craig picked out one of the cucumbers from his sandwich, feeling it was right to eat one today instead of leaving it in the aluminum foil.

“Doesn’t Tweek usually eat your cucumbers? Or should I say cucumber, if you know what I mean,” Clyde proudly wiggles his brows before regretting his action, wincing, His hungover was still strong.

“Choke,” Craig told him.

No one heard about their break up yet, and Craig could only imagine how everyone will react when they do find out. He was not looking forward to being made out to be the cheater like when they staged his fake break up. He was also not looking forward to the awkward lunches with him and the guys. They may have ‘broken’ up but the guys were friends with both himself and Tweek. If things got too awkward then Craig would gladly leave, temporarily, for the sake of keeping things cordial.

When Craig finally went home last night everything felt like a dream, even up to the part where he practically carried Stan to his house on his back. The kid was heavier than he looked, then they had to stop a couple of times for him to empty his stomach in a nearby bush— how he still had stomach bile to throw up was beyond him. Luckily Stan did not live too far from Clyde. He even insisted on Craig helping him up the tree so he could sneak into his bedroom without waking up his parents. hoisting someone heavier than himself up a tree branch and making sure he did not break his neck was not fun for him.

“W-Where is T-T-Tweek?” Jimmy asked the table, though, his question was aimed more towards Craig who always knew where he was, “I-I wanted him t-to h-h-he-hear my new joke.”

Jimmy was currently rehearsing a new act for his gig down at the retirement home. Tweek was the only one who found his jokes funny, so he was the person Jimmy went to make sure he was hitting the right punchlines.

“You’re quiet today,” Clyde noticed, the balance of the table feeling off without their missing body and Craig’s remarks.

“I haven’t seen him,” Craig ignored his comment, the fizz of his soda sizzling in his mouth.

“Oh look, there he is,” Token pointed out, his hand waving in the air to get Tweeks attention.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I forgot my textbook,” Craig lied, crumbling the aluminum foil in his hands with half of his sandwich still in it.

Just as he was stepping over the bench, he nearly knocked into Tweek, the blonde holding up his hands and offering a nervous laugh.

Fuck, Fuck, Craig gulped, “Hey,” he said as coolly as he could, adding in a nonchalant shrug.

“H-Hey, Craig...”

Tweek did not know what else to say, but it looked like he was coping much better than Craig was. He was wearing his hair the way Craig likes it, with a thin black headband holding his bangs back so he could see his eyes; a bright blue with a slight heterochromia in the center. Like water and earth, Craig would say, he always said while the water peacefully traveled there were moments it would crash into the shore. Tweek had the earth to keep him grounded during those moments.

“What’s going on here?” Clyde was at it again with his unnecessary commentary, if only that stupid smirk on his face knew the truth.

Craig excused himself, this being the second time he was running away from his issues. There wasn’t enough inner monologue in the world that could prepare him for the feelings he got being near Tweek.

They were going to have to talk eventually. Just not now.

He tossed the crushed ball into the garbage pail near the exits of the cafeteria.

He had no idea where he was going to go from here so he walked until he reached one of the many exits leading to the back of the school. Some fresh air would be nice, especially with the anxiety he felt.

Pushing open the door, what he hadn’t expected was dreary music along with a thick scent of burning nicotine.

“Life will eat you up and spit you out, just like those fucking conformist in there with their fake smiles and preppy attitudes,” a goth girl lifted a long, black cigarette holder to her purple painted lips. Henrietta was her name, Craig surprisingly remembered from those times when she participated in their games as kids.

Her choppy black hair rested on the back of her neck, with one hand stationed on her long, mesh black dress exposing her tattered stockings. Taking another puff of her cigarette, she held onto her disgusted grimace as she continued talking to the body next to her.

“Yeah, totally,” a male voice responded.

“Stan?” Craig made himself known by letting the steel door close behind him. It was Stan since when was he cool with the goth kids? He stepped forward to see Stan’s face ghosted over with horror.

“Craig, what are you doing here?”

Henrietta took a hint, not wanting to be around whatever love fest was happening before her eyes, “see you later, stan,” she spoke kindly to him while stubbing out her cigarette, “conformist,” she scoffed at Craig, leaving the two be by going through the cracked door.

“What are you doing out here, man?”

It was strange hearing Stan talk when he was sober. He put on a tough guy act which annoyed Craig, taking on the same douchey persona he would call Clyde out for. Well, he wasn’t in the mood to argue, but it was good to see Stan make it out of his drunken haze alive.

Craig leaned his head against the brick wall, ignoring Stan’s eyeing glare.

“You need a smoke?” Stan offered.

Craig hated everything about smoking. Two of his relatives died from lung cancer, another has to use an electrolarynx after getting Laryngeal and surviving. That was enough to scare Craig away from the idea of ever touching a cigarette.

“I don’t smoke,” he said, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets to warm them up.

“I don’t really either, but,” Stan shrugged, “I guess I’m a social smoker.”

A silence fell between them, this one awkward with both parties being fully aware of their respective motor functions. Craig didn’t mind. He always welcomed the silence.

“Thanks for helping me last night,” Stan finally spoke up after an excruciating two minutes of silence. He flicked the cigarette bud towards the asphalt.

“So you remember.”

“I mean, how can I not remember someone pushing against my ass.”

Craig opened his eyes then panned his head to the left, “you wanted to go through your window, asshole.”

Pfft, Stan snubbed a laugh, his joke going over Craig’s head, “yeah, I guess I did. Thanks again.”

“I hope your mom wasn’t too worried.”

“Wh- What all did I say last night?” He flushed, a hand racking through the back of his unwashed hair. Kyle always said he tends to word vomit when intoxicated.

“For one thing, you told me I have soft hands.”

“Oh god,” Stan was so embarrassed he could drop dead right there. Did he really say that to Craig Tucker of all people?

“Then you told me how you mom catches you drinking. I’ve heard worst so don’t feel special.”

“Did I really say you have soft hands?” He groaned through his hands, peaking through his split fingers.

Craig snorted, “is that really all you’re worried about?”

“I mean, yeah, you’re a dude.”

“That’s a closed minded attitude coming from you,” Craig wished he had taken him up on that smoking offer, even if it went against everything he believed in, he tends to deal with his problems in self-destructive ways.

Stan realized that may have come out the wrong way. He’s not a homophobe. Hoping he did not offend Craig he offered an apology, “you never answered my question,” he changed the topic with a sly smirk gracing his lips.

Oh? Craig shifted his body up the wall, the back of his heels going numb from the pressure, “the question was...?”

“Really?” Stan rolled his eyes, knowing damn well Craig was doing this to be a dick, “what the hell are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“No- what? No! Dude, you can’t answer my question with a question,” he protested, his lower lip poking out like a child getting ready to throw a tantrum. If Craig was going to dance around his question, well then they might as well just stand there in silence until one of them speaks or leave. Stan had a feeling that was probably what Craig wanted. The competitor in him could not let him win.

Craig’s plan was to keep evading the question until Stan eventually tired. He did not want to tell him he was here to get away from Tweek— the longer he could keep their ‘breakup’ under wraps the better. The wound was still fresh and it was common knowledge to never open an old wound. That’s how infection happens.

The glint in Stan’s eye said otherwise, he stared at Craig with his icy blue eyes to make him uncomfortable. It’s what he and his sister use to do whenever they lied. Staring just made people uncomfortable.

Time was passing between them, at this rate Stan could get better results watching a rock. Craig was not budging. He knew Stan’s strategy, he had a sibling too.

“C’mon, you’re like, immune,” Stan hunched over his back in disbelief, “just tell me and I will never talk to you again.”

Now Craig was interested. To never talk to Marsh again... “I’m holding you to that,” he warned, removing his hands from his pocket along with a leftover wrapping paper.

“Yeah, Whatever, just tell me.”

“I’m avoiding someone, okay?” He tore off small pieces on the paper, watching as the wind lifted it away.

“Who?”

Gosh, Marsh was annoying, “you said you would never talk to me again,” Craig retorted, still ripping apart the wrapper between his fingers.

Stan lifted a finger to his chin, “if I remember correctly,” and he did, even with the fuzzy thoughts from the party he recalled some things, “someone told me that, it helps to talk about it,” that glint in his eyes further twinkling.

“I’m starting to think you weren’t really drunk last night,” Craig commented, side-eyeing the watch on his wrist to check for the time. His class started in less than two minutes, then he looked at Stan with his eyes blown up to a comical size; he could skip this class just once.

Covering his watch with his opposing hand, “I’m avoiding Tweek.”

“Oh...” why did he sound so disappointed? Stan slid down on the wall to sit on his bottom, reaching for his iPod leaning on a rusted tin can. He shuffled through songs for a few minutes until he settled on one he was pleased with, a grin stretching across his lips.

Craig wasn’t sure if he should tell him he shuffled back to the same song. He probably knew.

“That sucks. Are you guys in a fight or something?”

“We broke up,” the chain hanging next to him rattled as his head burrowed deeper into the garage door, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You guys were seriously dating?”

“Really?” Another sigh escaped his lips. To him, it felt like they were seriously dating.

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t know what the guys thought but the two of you dating happened so fast, I was sort of confused for a while... that sucks that you two broke up. Sorry, man.”

Craig’s mouth was pressed into a paper thin line, “Yeah,” for some reason he trusted Stan to keep his mouth shut.

“Do you and Kyle always fight like that?”

Stan froze, his stare training on a trail of ants traveling in front of him, “we haven’t been getting along lately,” he said dryly, he hadn’t expected such a question directed towards him. His friendship with Kyle was a sore spot.

“He’s busy with his own life, ya know? Co-captain of the basketball team, he’s studying for his SAT and ACTs... He doesn’t have time to focus on our friendship, I guess.”

Stan avoided looking up, his hands fiddling with his tattered shoelaces on his worn white sneakers. He and Kyle haven’t spoken for a week prior to last nights party. His messages went unread on Instagram and Snapchat, and what delivered the final blow was the picture he updated on his story. It was a video of him at the bowling alley with Kenny, Cartman, and Butters— They didn’t even like Cartman.

No one wanted to hang around someone who constantly dampened their good time. Stan shook his head then chuckled, earning an eye from Craig who he forgot was still there, he was so unlovable.

“Hey,” Craig got his attention, “you want to know what else you said to me?”

“What?” He rubbed at his eyes, though his cheeks and nose had already flushed over to a pale pink.

“You said I was pretty cool.”

“No, I didn’t, you’re lying, you’re the lamest person I met.”

“You said I was pretty cool,” Craig repeated, standing up straight so his weight distributed evenly on the soles of his feet. He saw Stan was traveling to a dark place. Avoiding the problem wasn’t always bad.

“The only way I can know you’re cool is if we hang out more,” Stan offered, coughing to conceal the crack in his voice. Weak, he thought, so weak.

“Are you asking me on a date, Marsh? Can’t you see I’m vulnerable with a broken heart?” His sarcasm went appreciated, though there was a hint of sadness in his words. They both needed a pick me, Stan did not want to go straight home tonight, and neither did Craig. Perhaps if they could escape their harsh realities, even if it was for a few short hours, it could help them.

“Let’s skip.”

“And go where?”

“I don’t know, but we could help each other. c’mon, unless you’re a pussy.”

Craig flipped him off, which did not phase Stan or anyone in the grade because they were used to his rude gestures by now. Skipping school wasn’t a bad idea, as long as his idea of skipping didn’t involve them getting in trouble with the law or burning a building down.

He watched as Stan took the lead, an ember of curiously burning in the pit of his stomach at the idea of his and Stan hanging out, or, even having a lick of fun without either of them clawing at each other throats, participating in the competitive rivalry of both their gangs. There were things Craig did not know about the other by looking at the surface and making his own assumptions, he was like a pile of rope tied in a dozen knots.

As he followed his lead to the gate of the school, Craig wondered how they could help each other.

Something in him wanted to know more.

...

Clyde [2:34 pm]: dude, where the fuck r u?

Clyde [2:34 pm]: we need 2 talk

Clyde [2:35 pm]: answer ur phone

Token: [2:37 pm]: listen, if you need someone to talk to we’re here for you, man

Craig watched the flood of messages come in on his phone, his fingers unable to type back due to the grease of his pizza. He swallowed the food in his mouth, then set the slice on his napkin.

He and Stan have been sitting in a secluded booth at the back of the arcade, both of their ears drowning in the distorted mixture of the dates sound system playing music from the radio and the animatronics performing a scheduled act for the empty dining room. The pizza was shit. At least they got it for free because when they walked in the waiter was close to throwing it away, the table didn’t order a third pie, the frantic waiter explained after shoving the pie into Stan’s arms.

Here they were again. Stan had his legs on his seat with one knee up, his pinky finger digging in his ear as he started off at the show in front of them.

“Well, are you going to answer them?” Stan questioned without taking his attention away. He just knew it was Craig’s friends looking for him, let’s just say he has experience cutting himself off from the world.

“No.”

Craig wanted a moment before asking his question, “how often do you come here?” Upon walking in he had noticed the looks coming from the workers, someone even shooting a quick, hey, before going back to their jobs. He was beginning to think the pizza wasn’t a coincidence.

Stan held his cup of Dr. Pepper up to his lips, “not often,” he shrugged, his finger scratching at his denim pants.

They were interrupted by a plate of cupcakes placed in front of them, happy birthday, they read in fluorescent red writing with a ridiculous amount of sprinkles covering the white frosting. The waitress offered them a kind smile before leaving to clean up a nearby table.

Craig raised a brow, “not often, huh?” Though his interest was on the birthday he did not know about.

“It’s not a big deal,” Stan scoffed with his face falling solemn, lacking a reason to care about his birthday. Another year closer to death, woo-hoo.

“Hey, where are you going? Don’t make a big deal over this,” he called out to Craig who slid out of the booth to do god knows what. Stan tilted his head back to catch a glance at the spinning holographic party streamers hanging above them.

“Put this on.”

“Dude, no.”

Craig held out a party hat, courtesy of the front desk who only had ones decorated with pastel butterflies. Craig was wearing his already, even though he looked ridiculous with it resting on top of his hat.

“Put it on or I’m going to put it on myself,” he was trying to be nice, okay? Leave it to Marsh to make him regret that decision.

Eventually, Stan gave in, grabbing the hat then stretching the elastic band around his head, with a snap it squeezed onto his chin. Pfft, Craig finding amusement on the look on Stan’s face.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Stan protested, reaching for a cupcake.

“I’m not laughing.”

“Yes, you are. It’s freaking me out, you always laugh around Tweek.”

He hummed in thought, “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You did, like, a lot. Do you remember when we were all over at Cartman’s house?”

“Yeah, where are you going with this?”

Stan smiled a dreamy smile, his chin falling into his hand, “You were laughing the whole night, we all thought you were possessed.”

“People laugh, what’s your point?” Craig, unsure of where Stan was going with this. So he laughed at Tweek’s shitty jokes around shitty people, was he not allowed?

“He makes you really happy, that’s all,” he took a messy bite of his cupcake, the frosting getting on his nose with crumbs falling onto the table.

“That could be said about you and Kyle.”

“Yeah, well... where do you want to go after this?”

“What, there’s more?”

Stan raised his hand, his mouth still stuffed with cupcake he said, “di’ you th’nk this was...” he swallowed, “did you think this was all we were doing?”

“Are you kidnapping me?” Craig raised a question.

“It’s not kidnapping if you like it.”

“Who the hell likes getting kidnapped? But whatever, where are we going now?”

Their ditch day was still in effect, even though school for them ended less than an hour ago. They risked running into their friends, but who the hell came to this place anyway? The was the first time Craig stepped foot in this building in almost seven years when he was invited to Stan’s birthday celebration.

Wherever they were headed to next, Stan was eager to get there. They still had daylight with the changing seasons causing the sun to set much quicker than before; so with that logic, they had two more hours of daylight which could translate to two more hours of them ‘hanging’ out before either of their parents got worried.

Grabbing for his book bag making quiet clinking noises, Craig assumed their endeavor may result in them making an array of poor choices.

“Oh, right, take the cupcakes,” Stan instructed, not watching to leave perfectly made pastries behind. Earlier today he did not wake up with the intent to celebrate his birthday because he did not want another depressing year alone, now he had an excuse to get high on sugar and drunk from liquor.

“I’m not taking the fucking cupcakes,” where the hell did he expect him to put cupcakes? Craig felt his jacket, then opened his pocket wide.

“Don’t say a word,” he said.

...

Blue skies transitioned to an ombré creation of pink and orange, the horizon hosting a thin line of red which Craig could see from their high position on top of an abandoned train car.

South Park hasn’t used this old train line in years. Over time it slowly transformed into an area where teens could experiment with drugs, have thoughtless sex, and sometimes where the vampire kids hosted their night long raves. He wondered what use Stan had with a place like this. At least the view was nice.

Stan was busy cracking open the lid to the small bottle he carried with his teeth, spitting it out under them, then hearing it bounce on the field of rocks, “want some?” He offered the bottle to Craig. Guests first.

“No thanks,” he declined, not much in the mood to drink. His palms were digging into pieces of rust on top of the car.

“Suit yourself,” said Stan, wiping the dripping alcohol from his lips than sighing. It was always the buzzing feeling that calmed him, then the warmth that came after it; never about taste or flavor, it was all about the feeling. That’s why he drank.

“You don’t talk much do you?” His tongue has begun to loosen under the influence, “not that I’m surprised, you were always the quiet one.”

“Why did you take me here?” Craig trained his eyes on the party hat now sitting in his lap. He analyzed the finger dents left from taking it off. He wasn’t going to tell Stan that he was still wearing his.

“There’s no one here,” Stan observed, stretching his hands out to justify his point. They were alone, and far, far away from everyone else.

Craig’s phone was still going off from before. His guess was Clyde had formed an unsuccessful search party. He should text him back, but... “yeah, no shit.”

“I come here to scream, sometimes cry, but mostly to scream. You have a lot of shit going on so I figured you want to try. I’ll go first...”

Stan cleared his throat, Craig rolled his eyes, then he screamed until his face turned a violent shade of red, leaving Craig astonished. He’s never seen someone so angry like they were trying to release years worth of emotions all at once.

There was no way he could mimic that.

“You try,” he said hoarsely, taking another sip from the bottle.

On the inside, Craig wanted to scream until he no longer had a voice; he wanted to punch a wall; he wanted someone to hate. All day he had been convincing himself he should hate the Asian girls for their perverted artwork, that he should hate himself for caring about those around them. They would have pulled themselves out from their funk. His back straightens. He didn’t hate Tweek. He wanted him to be happy.

“It’s late,” he said, the sun nearly set with the moon taking its place. He saw the twinkling stars in the sky, “I don’t want to wake the neighbors.”

“There’s no one around us-“

“I think I’ll take that sip now,” Craig interrupted, holding his hand out for the bottle to be placed in his palm.

Yeah, Stan whispered, yeah, sure.

Then, like a flash of lightning, the bottle was hurled across the field, landing between two unused rail tracks, “what the hell?!” Stan yelled, knowing damn well that was one of his last few bottles until he could snag another one.

Craig was unfazed by the other boy's anger. When he finally looked up at him, his eyes were rimmed with red.

“Yeah," he said, "it does feel good to scream.”

...

#south park #Craig Tucker #stan marsh #Tweek Tweak #creek sp #sp staig #my fanfiction

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ofnifflersandkings · 7 years

Text

Getting to Know You

Read the first part here! http://ofnifflersandkings.tumblr.com/post/158759668792/unexpected-stranger

•

Gaston slowly walked through the town, his arms crossed behind his back and he smiled st the villagers who greeted him a good morning.

After awhile, he managed to find himself standing at the enterance of the public gardens, it was a small space, but was filled with all sorts of lovely flowers and fauna.

Gaston walked inside, taking small glances at the plants he passed, greatly appreciating the peace and quiet the gardens offered.

Just then, as he was turning a corner. He saw someone kneeling on the ground, the embroidered fabric of their cloak pooled around them. He took one look at the swirling patterns and instantly recognized it as the one you wore around town.

Gaston’s face broke out into a grin and he went to call out to you when he heard a distressed whimper come from where you were sitting, and he moved closer to you.

Your shoulders shook violently as you sobbed, the cries muffled by the presence of your hands overlapping your mouth as you tried to silence the noise, not wanting anyone to find you in such a helpless state.

Gaston didn’t understand the way his heart seemed to drop at the sight of you, or how it appeared to cause him physical pain everytime the sound of your cries crossed his ears. He couldn’t help but feel a strong desire to hold you close and protect you from all the world’s evils.

He came to stand beside you crouching down and gently placing his hand on your shoulder.

Your entire form immediately tensed as you let out a horrified scream. “Please leave me alone! Leave me alone!” You cried desperately as you tried to hit at your attacker.

Gaston wrapped his arms around you and he tried to silence you. “Hush now, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise,” He said in a gentle voice as he attempted to soothe you. “Don’t be afriad, it’s alright.”

Your brows knitted together as you tried to remember the voice, but all the emotions and fear coursing through you was enough to make you lean your head into their chest and begin to sob.

Gaston stroked your hair and let you have a few moments to collect yourself before he gazed down at you, your hands had latched themselves tightly onto the lapels oh his coat, holding on as if your life depended on it. “Easy now, It’s Gaston.” He informed you, sighing in relief when you became less tense. “Now, tell me what’s happened.” He cooed as he carefully brushed the hair out of your eyes.

You nodded, cloudy eyes brimming with fresh tears. “I-I don’t really know, Magnus, my seeing dog, was spooked by something and ran off…” Your voice cracked painfully as you tried to contain yourself. “I…I was so surprised that I didn’t have time to tighten my grasp on his leash and I was knocked to the ground. I don’t know where I am without him, I’ve been trying to feel around for something to grab onto but,” You let out another sob as you retreated further into Gaston’s embrace. “There wasn’t anything…I’ve been lying on the ground since,” Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to recall your memory. “I don’t even know how much time as passed.”

Gaston nodded, that explained your vice-like grip on him and the harsh grit to your voice, god knows how long you’d been out here by yourself, it was like being lost out at sea without knowing which way the land was, and his heart immediately broke for you.

“We’re going to stand up now, together, don’t worry, I’ve got you, I promise.” Gaston spoke in fragments as he steadily rose the both of you from the ground. His one arm wrapped around you while the other was holding onto your hand, letting you know he was right beside you.

“Forgive me for being so pathetic,” You said, cheeks aflamed after intense tears and embarrassment you now felt. “It’s just I was so frightened, it was like the first time all over again.”

Gaston wanted to ask what you meant, but he saw the state you were in and decided it best to get you home before he started pouring into your past. “I’m going to lead you to the center of the village, right in front of the fountain, do you think you can guide me to your home from there?”

You gave him a small nod, taking slow and steady breaths as you realized you’d look quite the mess. “Yes, I can manage that.”

“We’re going to start walking now,” He said, taking a couple of practice steps, noticing how you almost tripped on yourself as you tried to mentally graph out your surroundings. “You don’t have to worry about where you’re going from here, just let me lead the way for now.”

From there on, you simply moved your feet, Gaston still had his hands wrapped around you, but one now rested over your shoulders to allow him more mobility.

He managed to lead you out of the gardens and into the path that entered the village, glancing over at you every so often to make sure you were holding up.

Apart from a few sniffles and the sound of small stones crunching under your shoes, your journey back was spent in silence.

The instant you both entered the main gates, all eyes were locked onto you and Gaston.

But mostly, people looked at the disheveled state of your hair and how puffed your eyes had become, some of them turning to whisper among their peers.

Gaston noticed a small group not so discreetly point at you before giving looks of disapproval to one another.

However, one cold glare from Gaston was more than enough for the whole square to return to their normal activities.

He would have preferred to verbally tell them off, but wished to spare you the further embarrassment that everyone had been staring at you.

“We’re here.” Gaston whispered into your ear, his breath on your neck caused you to jump slightly before nodding.

You lead him all the way to the gates of the estate you, your father, and a few maids resided close to the edge of the village. It was tucked away enough for you to enjoy a little peace, but so far out that one had to endure isolation.

Gaston looked on through the gaps in the bars impressed at the house he saw sitting at the end of a long pathway lined by rows of thick trees on either side. It was two stories tall and had windows with blue panes all over the white walls. Flowers of various sorts bordered the entire home, giving it a more lively appearance.

He went to ask how you managed to afford such a grand place, then recalled Lefou mentioning your father was a famous musician who played in Paris, and he didn’t doubt the pay would more than cover it.

“We don’t lock the gates during the day, just push.” You said simply, noticing whenever you had stalled your movements long enough.

Gaston did as told, keeping his hold on you as you walked the path, watching closely as you ascended up the small set of stairs that were infront of your door.

You shakily raised your dominant hand and rapped on the doors a few times before a kind, elderly looking woman answered, her large brown eyes widening even further once she saw you and quickly ushered the pair of you inside.

“Where have you been? It's been hours when you left to go into the village, worried sick about you we all were!” Her thick accent and alarmed tone made it hard for Gaston to follow, but you seemed to understand every word.

“I’m so sorry, Mathilde,” You said bashfully, slowly removing your hand from Gaston’s grasp to hold it out infront of you for her to take.

Mathilde smiled and pecked the back of your hand. “Don’t worry, my dear. You’re here now and…” She looked around for a moment. “Where’s Magnus?”

Gaston took this as a prime opportunity to make his presence known. “(Y/n) was just explaining to me how she was taking a stroll in the public gardens in town when Magnus saw something that made him take off and run,” He said, keeping his hand on the upper part of your back. “I was walking by and saw the whole thing happen, but I was able to see where the dog went and thought it best to get (Y/n) somewhere she felt more comfortable before taking any further actions.”

Mathilde suddenly took notice of the tall and handsome stranger in scarlet before her, her plump cheeks flushed and she smiled at him. “Well then I’m most grateful for your quick thinking, monseuir?”

“Gaston.” He answered with a dashing smile as he kissed the old lady hand, causing her to burst in a fit of girlish giggles.

“What a charming young man you are!” Mathilde mused, and she went to wink at you her face dropped into one of concern. “My darling! What’s the matter, you look awful.”

Your eyebrows shot up and you immediately forged a convincing sneeze. “Forgive me, I’m so foreign to the french countryside air that it’s causing my allergies to act up.”

Mathilde gathered the skirts of her uniform and with a look of determination she nodded at you both. “Just you wait right here, I have some tonic in my bag upstairs.”

You held your hand out once you heard her footsteps become distant. Gaston realized you were looking for him and immediately placed his hands in yours.

“Thank you for that,” You told him, giving his hand an affectionate squeezed. “Mathilde is my oldest companion, she was my nurse and was always by my side when my eyesight began to go. She would never let me leave the house alone again if she knew what happened.”

Gaston remained silent, pleased he was getting to know you and your past a little better, then he remembered a question that had been lurking his mind all through your walk. “You weren’t always blind?”

You smiled somberly and shook your head. “No, I was born with perfect eyesight. But then when I was around nine everything started getting blurry. My father took me to a doctor and he gave me a pair of glasses that helped at first. Turns out my father knew I was going blind, but wanted me to avoid the heartbreak for as long as possible,” Your hands began to fondle the strings of your cloak as you went on. “It was fine for a while, then I would knock things over without realizing it, the colors around me grew more dull. And then…,” You took a pause, and Gaston pressed your hand, letting you know he was there.

“And then when I was around thirteen, I woke up one morning and I couldn’t see a thing.”

“I’m sorry,” He replied, the overwhelming sense of wanting to protect you only grew with the story you had shared with him, he never wished for you to experience such an event as today ever again. “Truly I am.”

You smiled thoughtfully, giving the back of his hand a small press with your free one. “Forget I even mentioned it, I don’t wish to disrupt your peace with my troubles.”

Gaston frowned, even in such a state you never wished to be a burden.

Mathilde came rushing down the hall, a packed medical case ready in hand. She took your hands and slowly sat you down on a nearby chair.

Once Gaston saw you were in capable hands, he tipped his hat at the older woman. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Madame. But if I’m to ever catch up with Magnus I must leave now.”

Mathilde gave him a puzzled expression and walked him to the front door. “You know you don’t have to bother, he’s a clever dog and when the Master gets home he will search for him.”

“Please, it’s the least I can do considering the eventful day our dear (Y/n) has had, and I’m sure she’s eager to have her companion returned to her side.”

Mathilde’s kind smile returned to her face, and her eyes glistened. “What a handsome and charming man!” She exclaimed with a laugh. “Goodluck with your search, Monsieur Gaston!” And she waved him out.

#i cOUld make another part to this #kinda like a happy end sort of thing #but i felt like this was getting ridiculously long and ended it there #let me know #gaston imagine #gaston imagines #beauty and the beast imagine #gaston x reader

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danisavin · 7 years

Text

rerum cognoscere causas.

Date: Tuesday, July 18 @ ~4:00 PM / @ ~11:00 PM Location: The University of Sheffield, Sheffield, UK / a pub in Bloomsbury, London

– - Some snippets from Tuesday the 18th of July, on which day Dani reported to The University of Sheffield, where they began their post-graduate education, to deliver their presentation and defense on their doctoral thesis: A cultural and osteological analysis of supernatural burial phenomena in the international context. Following this stressful experience, Dani heads down to London, where they’ll be staying at the Savin townhouse in Knightsbridge, to catch up with an old classmate.

ooc: this turned out WAY longer than expected and took me like a week to write but oh well~ it got away from me a bit but i figured i might as well roll with it considering i went back and edited it about six times -- and a lovely thanks to liv for throwing in some bits from Fane. it’s literally weird snippets because i didn’t know what the fuck else to write XD so here, enjoy (or don’t lol, idc)

Taking a select group of their Archaeology students up to Skara Brae for a few weeks to work on the excavation with an old friend had been the easy part of Dani’s journey. They had hung around for a good two weeks, chipping in on the dig and assisting with the more tiresome logistics -- site mapping, photography, leveling, plotting coordinates… They didn’t mind the less glorious tasks because they knew the digging and discovery itself was never the lifeblood of an archaeological site. The evidence and research was dependent upon the quality of the information recorded about the site, whether it was through meticulous find and sample forms, groan-worthy section drawings to scale, or any other required formalities. Excavations could rarely take place year-round, so having an archive of everything that had occurred and been found for research in the dormant season was essential to any project. Those two weeks had flown by, and before they knew it, Dani was waving goodbye to their students and wishing them good luck on their last week in Orkney. They would be back to take them home afterwards, but there was one harrowing task they had to complete first.

That task was presenting their doctoral thesis and defense -- the hard part. In fact, one of the hardest parts Dani had faced on any expedition. It may not have been dangerous or risky or involved with curses or dark forces, but Dani’s years of research, their reputation, and their further academic career all hinged on this one presentation. The University of Sheffield’s campus had once been inviting and exciting -- not that Dani had spent much time there considering their research was conducted throughout their travels -- now, as they trekked through the grounds with a vice grip on the strap of their satchel, the atmosphere was rife with stressful tension.

They kept their head down until they reached their destination. St. George’s Church was a beautiful architectural feat, yet while it loomed over their petite figure on the ground, Dani could not think of one place more intimidating in all of their travels. The university had converted the building into a lecture hall (god knows why) for formal events such as this. Dani could hear another presentation going on as they peeked through one of the stained-glass windows and groaned at the heavy attendance gathered inside. They flipped around and leaned against one of the buttresses, both back and head pressing into the stone as they turned their eyes to the cloudy sky and let the warmth of the day seep into their bones. The weather was a slight comfort, just enough to allow Dani to stop and think.

‘Alright,’ they blew out a long rush of air through their lips and squeezed their eyes shut. ‘You’ve got this. You’ve been prepared for weeks.’ To aid in convincing themself of this fact, they began to rattle off a string of supporting data in their head. ‘How many times have you read over your thesis in the past month? Forty-six. How long ago did you start stringing together your visual presentation? Two months back. And how long have you had it done? Three weeks. Your talk? Two and half months and two weeks. You have a solid defense, you’ve had your colleagues drill you with questions, you’ve practiced everything at least twenty times now -- you’re ready. You must be.’

A vibration at Dani’s hip snapped their eyes open and cut their musing pep talk short. They huffed and pulled their phone out from their pocket, groaning aloud when they looked down at the screen to find their alarm tormenting them with a ten minute ‘till reminder. In an instant, their entire attempted confidence boost was made completely redundant. Dani ran their free hand back through their mildly controlled head of curls and adjusted their glasses and took a deep breath. The paranoia was creeping back up on them again. They were alone. No one to bounce last minute ideas off of or reinforce their confidence. They paced a step away from the church and slid down to sit on the grassy surroundings, dipping their head down into their lap with eyes shut for a few silent moments -- before, with a blink, an idea cropped up.

Dani lifted their head and returned their phone to their line of sight. They unlocked the screen and soon found themself doing an intense sweep of their contacts list. Reflexively, Sam was the first person they went to, but as their thumb hovered over his name, they paused. While Sam could assuredly boost their confidence, he wasn’t exactly the most qualified person to seek advice from regarding their current dilemma -- and he was probably just getting out of bed to get ready for another day’s work at the shop. So Dani resumed their search, eventually settling on the one name they knew was unavoidable; and, despite the tensions between them of late, he did have all of the qualifications they were looking for and then some. After a long sigh and the lingering press of selection on their screen, Dani pulled up their knees and settled in for the call. When the line picked up, their voice came off quiet and worried, preceded by a faintly sharp breath. “Dad?”

The vibration of his phone where it was sat on his desk within reach drew Fane’s attention almost immediately. Glancing at the clock on the wall he winced as he saw what time it was. Where had the time gone to? Last he recalled he’d been sitting down to run through some of the museum reports he’d sent off for conservation checks. Between that and making multiple pots of coffee, it was now already the start of a new day. With a small grimace, he rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses and reached aside to grab his phone. The caller ID however cheered his spirits. He’d tried to let Dani be on their recent trip; not wanting to go all over-protective and curious parent mode as he was sometimes known to be. Swiping his thumb across the answer button, he lifted his phone to his ear. The sound of Dani’s voice on the other end caused him to frown a little at the fish-tank nearby. They sounded-- nervous? “Fericire?” the Romanian filtered down the phone, hoping to reassure them before he switched back to English. “What’s going on? You sound worried.”

The affectionate Romanian term that came first from the opposite line hit Dani with a small breath of relief, but only temporarily. They removed their glasses and set them in their hair like a headband before dragging a hand down their face and replying in a continued timid tone. "I just-- I-- I don't know if I can do this. I'm supposed to give my thesis presentation in--" they quickly glanced down at the time on their phone, "eight minutes, and there's so many people and I feel like I'm gonna forget something or make an ass out of myself or--" A sniffle sounded on Dani's side of the call. "Dad, what if something goes wrong? What if I blow it? My whole academic career is going to be over and I can't--"

Fane heard the intake of breath on the other side of the speaker and much like his child on the other side of the ocean, he sat back; the leather of his seat giving whilst he lifted his glasses up and off setting them on the desk whilst Dani rambled. Eventually, with a small shake of his head and a smile saved for no one present, he interrupted gently, “Dani, how long have you been preparing this for hm? How long have you been working in this field for? If anyone is going to nail this it’s going to be you. Take a breath okay?” Fane waited before he continued patiently. “You’ve taught lectures, had students question you in class; how do you handle that? You take a moment to think on the question before coming up with an answer. You aren’t going to make an ass out of yourself if you take your time to formulate your points and present them back soundly. Walk out quietly onto the stage, take a deep breath, find your place, wait a few seconds and then start. It’ll make you appear confident and in charge of the situation. Make eye contact with audience members one at a time, and if you can, give them each a sentence or thought before moving on to someone else. You’re talking with them, not at them, having a conversation, hm?” Fane had publicly spoken enough to run through the advice concisely when presenting it. “I know it might not seem like it at the time, but they do want you to succeed up there. Don’t rush and I promise you’ll do fine; and hey, if things go askew it’s not the end of the world or your career. Even the best need a second try and that’s okay, there’s no shame in it. You can retake it and no one will think less of you for it-- the experience of having already done it will stand you in good stead. So long as you go out there and do your best, that’s all that matters. I’m proud of you either way alright?”

Fane's gentle interruption forced Dani to stop and listen and think. They regarded his words carefully, nodding to no one present when he instructed them to breathe and doing so without hesitation before he went on. Dani had survived nearing a full year as a professor, which was an accomplishment they never would have seen themself achieving ten years ago when they'd really finalized what academic path they wanted to take. Lectures came easily to them, as did performing in front of large crowds with their band, but it was the high stakes of the upcoming stage that had driven them into this last minute anxiety. Fane knew what he was saying. He had been through this experience himself and he knew Dani plenty well enough to know what advice they needed to hear. Dani was geared toward an analytical approach, so to hear what they had to do placed out in neat instructive statements slowly drew them out of the intimidating cloud they had found themself caught in. Then he moved on to the comforting part of his talk; the part Dani knew was coming but wasn't eager to admit they needed. Proud. Of course he would be. Right? He’d said so.

Dani sniffled again, but this time they were moving out of their stress, not into it. "Yeah. Yeah, alright. You're right. If I can teach a whole lecture full of students, I can do this. It's just like one more class. And I've prepared for months, so..." They trailed off as they turned their head to a gradual rise in volume. People had begun filing out of the hall for a brief intermission in between presentations. Dani glanced down at the time on their phone and cursed quietly under their breath. Five minutes. After quickly hopping to their feet and drawing together a composed appearance, they turned to trek toward the presenter's entrance for setup. "Looks like I've gotta go. I'll call you after and let you know how it went, yeah?" Dani was about to end the call, but when they pulled the door open to enter the building, they held it there as they stood still. There was one last word they had to pass on. "And hey, Dad? Thank you. I love you."

Hearing the reassurance his words gave them, Fane relaxed a little, glad to be of service to them even when he was so far away. “Exactly, you’re going to do amazingly,” he assured again, but as they made the point that they had to go, he nodded, sitting back up. “Alright love, and yes, of course I want to hear all about how it goes.” He’d been expecting them to hang up after that but was left with a warm feeling in his chest at their parting remark. “You’re welcome, starlight. I love you too, so much. Good luck, go blow their socks off.”

“Yeah. I will.” Dani fixed their glasses back into place, and smiled. “Bye, Dad.”

“So-- How’d the presentation go?”

“Fine? I dunno know. I-- Will you stop staring me like that? Christ,” Dani rolled their eyes and nudged their elbow aside at the other, who was eagerly leaning in towards them on their adjacent seat at the pub. “I just don’t wanna bloody jinx it, okay?” They shook their head with a huff and glared straight forwards at the shelves of alcohol bottles decorating the wall behind the bar, taking a sip of the half-finished pint in their hand.

Aodhgán was a grizzly sort of man at first sight. Tall, broad, a little heavy in the belly but the bearer of a kind smile and a short, mildly tended brown beard and ‘stache. The rest of his head he’d shaved bald. There was a certain sparkle to his eye that Dani had been attracted to early on. Though he may have looked intimidating in build alone, one catch of his gaze was enough for Dani to tell he was actually far from it-- and they had been right. Between his cheery Irish accent, warm laugh, and joking manner, Aodhgán was practically impossible not to like. And he had made an excellent classmate.

“Well, looks to me as though it was well enough that it drove ya to drink,” Aodhgán teased, chuckling softly. “Nah, I’m sure it was grand. You’ve always been a good speaker, better than I’ll ever be, that’s for sure. What was that fancy ass title you slapped on your thesis again? Cultural osteo super--??”

“A cultural and osteological analysis of supernatural burial phenomena in the international context,” Dani recited the title as though it had become muscle memory -- which, in a way, it had -- sighed, then looked over to Aodhgán -- who had whistled and shook his head at the lengthy name -- with their head tilted and a small pout on their lips. “And don’t say that. I’ve seen you give some pretty damn good speeches too.”

Aodhgán snorted and grinned. “You mean like when I’m drunk and ravin’?”

“Well--” Dani laughed and presented an undeniable shrug of their shoulders.

Aodhgán broke out into a boisterous laugh that filled the room and left Dani smiling warmly at their old friend. He reached over a large hand to pat their back and then jokingly ruffled the curls on their head, to which Dani attempted to duck, failed, and grumbled at the messier result. Then, Aodhgán found their eyes with a sincere gaze. “I mean it. You’re good at this. Always have been. You know your stuff. Hell, I’d say you were practically made for it. And the fact that you’re worried about it rather than parading down the street about your glorious performance puts it in my mind that you deserve it. You’d have my vote if I had one to give.”

“Thanks, Aego.” Dani dipped their head to him with a glad twitch of their lips.

“You’re welcome, Dans,” he returned their smile. “Now, the whole ‘analysis of supernatural burial phenomena’ part-- that’s like the research you were doing in Poland with the uh--?”

Dani nodded with that eager-to-enlighten gleam in their eye. “Yeah! The vampire cemetery” They turned around on their stool to face Aodhgán properly. Of course, they knew they couldn’t tell Aodhgán that the cemetery had contained real vampires, but the concepts behind Dani’s research weren’t depended on whether the victims were real supernaturals or false ones, so long as the practices in question stuck. “The Drawsko dig led me to center my research around when individual burials defy the burial practices taken as the regional norm at that time period, especially if those individuals present unique physical characteristics and/or a patterned differential burial pattern. In many past societies -- and a few still today -- cases like these are often aligned with some instance of supernatural belief. Perhaps the individual was believed to be cursed, or they were revered for their powers and nature as protectors, gods, what have you, or they were declared to be monsters or menaces to society. Then you have creatures like the selkie or the fae who don’t always fit into those molds-- but their situations are fairly unique so let’s just put them aside for now.”

“Pah! Of course you’re putting my own home myths to the side,” Aodhgán joked, faking insult.

“Oh, shut up!” Dani whacked him playfully on the shoulder. “And pay attention.” Aodhgán rubbed grumpily at his afflicted shoulder as Dani continued. “Anyway-- say we found a proposed werewolf inhumation. The first thing we’d look at are what indicators associate this occurrence with the regional mythos on werewolves. Are there silver objects present as a deterrent? Have they surrounded the body in any specific flora? Are there grave goods, and if so, what are they and why might they be there? We’re looking for an explanation as to how they treated these ‘supernatural’ individuals in death and why they chose the methods they did. And secondly, we’re looking for any osteological indicators as to why the community might have perceived this individual as a werewolf in the first place. Do they have a larger average body size? Greater bone mass? More heavily built? Do they have unique teeth or ‘claws’? Any structural deformities? Then, we take the osteological data and we compare it to other reported ‘werewolf’ burial cases to see if there are physical characteristics in that pattern as well.”

“I’m trying to build a narrative here, Aodhgán.” Dani leaned towards him with a passionate determination in their eyes. “I’m trying to write the history no scholar wants to write. Pretty much anyone in any even marginally scientific field looks at mention of the supernatural and laughs because they automatically assume it’s not real. And then you have the ones like Jeff Meldrum who’s committed a significant portion of his work to conducting a methodical and scientific approach to supporting the existence of Sasquatch or Wade Davis, who shattered the anthropological and biological fields when he proved Haitian zombies weren’t only cultural paranoia but a reality created by ingeniously crafted drugs that could fake a man’s death and keep him in a trance after being exhumed for use as slave labor in punishment for his crimes in ‘life.’ Nobody laughs at Wade Davis and while a number of people still believe Jeff Meldrum is crazy, they can’t deny his research because it’s meticulously rooted in data and scientific method.”

Aodhgán’s brows raised at least a good half inch. “And your ‘narrative’ is…?”

Dani rocked back on their seat and pulled a half groan at Aodhgán’s inability to deduce that answer from their musings alone, but clarified it for him nonetheless. “I’m dissecting the history of the relationships between humans and their supernatural counterparts. Every culture has myths, monsters, gods in physical form, curses, something; and whichever that is, it had to start somewhere. Stories don’t just appear out of thin air and relationships require evolution to develop. I’m trying to trace attitudes and beliefs in those relationships, determining patterns across cultures, building an archive of origins for the second world whose existence so few of us are willing to acknowledge. I’m not trying to prove any of these non-human entities exist; I’m interested in the legend of them and where and when in cultures around the world we see these concepts develop, how they develop, and ultimately -- how they’re dealt with.” When they finished, Dani held their breath in anticipation of Aodhgán’s response, biting down on their lip in a bashful yet hopeful manner.

Aodhgán’s mouth hung slightly agape for a few moments before he shut it and pushed a hand back over the dome of his scalp. He chuckled quietly for them both with a downward facing shake of his head. “Jesus, Savin… Has anyone ever told you you’re bloody insane?”

“Hey--!” Dani went to interject, a note of hurt in their voice, but Aodhgán quickly adjusted his reply.

“Insane-- but brilliant. And passionate and really fucking smart.” Dani blinked up at him when he said this, somewhat taken aback by the blunt complement of his words. “Honestly, Dans,” Aodhgán returned their wide-eyed look with solid sincerity and the unmistakable support of friendship. “If they don’t give you that degree, then they’re the dumbest board of academic grantors ever to walk on terran soil. You’ve worked your arse off for this. If they try to say no, I’ll march in there myself to tell ‘em they wouldn’t fuckin’ dare rob this from you. So don’t look bashful about it, okay? I think the odds are in your favor --for the most part.”

Dani couldn’t stop themself from dragging Aodhgán down into a bear hug -- granted, Dani was far from the bear in their situation. Aodhgán ‘oofed’ under the sudden pressure and smiled warmly as he squeezed them in return. “You’re a real tit, you know that?” Dani expressed their thanks through a tease. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” Aodhgán chortled at them and pulled apart slightly to pat their back.

But then when he pulled away further, as his wrist came back into his set, his stare locked onto the face of his watch and his own face contorted into one of panicked surprise. “Ah shite-- is that the time?”

“What?” Dani blinked, watching bemusedly as Aodhgán rushed to pay his tab and gather his things. As he left his stool, threw on his jacket, and strode with all haste toward the door, Dani attempted to call after him, but failed to halt his exit. “Hey, where are you--? Wait--!! Shit.”

Dani growled in their throat as they too hopped into action. They slapped a few pound notes on the counter and waved back at the bartender to keep the change as they snatched their bag and jacket and dashed out of the pub in pursuit of their friend. They thanked whatever gods were present when they stepped out onto the pavement and found the usually bustling streets of Bloomsbury, London calmed by the late hour. There was practically no one standing between them, which made for a swift catching up, even though Dani had to maintain a faster pace to match the length of Aodhgán’s stride.

“Aodhgán! Where are you going?” Dani interrogated him with at angled walk so they could meet him with a glare of confusion. “It's hardly 11:00. You never clock out this early.”

Aodhgán huffed, slowing down his pace just enough that Dani didn't have to jog to keep up with him. “I do when I’ve got a wife and kid to get home to. God, Aoife’s gonna have a fit if--”

“A wife and-- dude!! When did you get hitched?” Dani cut him off in an incredulous gasp. “And why am I just hearing about it now?”

Aodhgán flashed a guilty expression and sighed, facing the music with an abrupt reply. “Two and a half years this Friday. But--”

“Seriously?” Dani frowned.

“Dans, it wasn't planned, okay? We just went out with a few mates, hiked down to Green Park, said some words, signed some papers. We didn't even wear anything we wouldn’t wear on any regular day. You know I’ve never been one for formalities. We were practically married as it was. You didn't miss out, trust me.”

“You promise?” “Promise”

“Okay,” Dani hummed and placed their hands on their hips. “You're forgiven.”

Aodhgán rolled his eyes and snorted. Reaching down into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos. “Here,” he handed the device over to Dani, “before you pester me about the two of them any further.”

Dani studied the candid, sucking in a breath when an unexpected pang tapped their heart. Their eyes skimmed over the smiling faces of a straight red haired woman with bright green eyes, Aodhgán behind her, and a girl no older than two with her father's messy hair and mother’s eyes held between them. She looked so much like her father, but Dani hadn't been around to meet her or Aoife. They'd missed two important milestones in their friend’s life because they'd been off on a bender so lost in the dark that it had almost pulled them under entirely. And they'd let themself fall into that hole, but Aodhgán had managed to lift himself out of it and make something better of himself. Dani still hadn't reached that point entirely. They were better, but they had a long ways left to go.

“Wow, I-- they’re gorgeous, Aego. I couldn’t be happier for you.” Dani gingerly handed the phone back to him, but kept their eyes on the photo for just a moment longer to ask, “What’s her name?”

“Leda,” Aodhgán smiled warmly, glancing at the picture himself before he tucked his phone away. “And if her Papa doesn’t get home soon to read her a bedtime story she’s going to be very cross with him, so...” the man turned his eyes upward to the sign coming up on the side of street. The red, white, and blue symbol of the London Underground glowed brightly against the dimly lit street, signaling that the two of them had reached the nearest station and the end of their reunion. “...I believe this is where we part ways.”

Dani frowned his announcement. They’d only met one another two hours ago after years of time apart and once again, they had to go their separate ways. Dani should have been used to this practice by now, but the sadness of the act never quite eroded even with time. “I’ll miss you, mate.” Stepping forward, Dani drew Aodhgán down into a final embrace, which he gladly reciprocated. The gesture held a few moments longer than it normally would have before the two pulled apart.

“I’ll miss you too, Dans.” He grinned. “Stay out of trouble for me, alright? Or-- at least be careful about it. And that fella of yours you mentioned earlier, don’t let him go. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you, after all. Tell ‘im he gets my best wishes-- and whatever luck I’ve got to offer him. Lord know he’s gonna need it with you.”

Aodhgán began to back up toward the station entrance as he spoke. Dani stood watching him with shaking head, yet grinned in reflection all the same. “Yeah, I’ll tell ‘im. Same to your family. Whenever I’m here next, we’re all gonna meet up and you’re not getting out of it.”

“Sounds fair!” Aodhgán called, ducking out over the wall of the station entrance. “Night, Savin. Take care of yourself.”

“You too, Travers. See ya round.”

When Dani found themself alone on the barren street, they couldn’t bring themself to stay there. Their feet moved of their own accord, finding familiar paths and back alley shortcuts. They wove their way down to the nearest recognizable landmark and one reminiscent of home -- the British Museum. The surrounding streets there were even quieter than those up by the station and made for a great spot to stop and have a smoke. They leaned against the iron fence, putting their back to the historical megalith as they lit up the roll in their hand, sighing as they brought it to their lips.

It was a light of Sam’s making. He always rolled his own and Dani was one of the few he’d ever been willing to share with. Yet he’d been thinking about quitting recently, so as Dani dropped their trembling hand, the smoke they exhaled came out in a quiet huff. What were they doing here? Their students’ summer field school and thesis presentation were exceptions to the questions because they required no answer, but meeting up with an old classmate, wandering around yet another city they could claim as a home -- these choices were subconscious. They had seemed like nice ideas at the time, a way to let off the stress and anxiety that had come back to linger following the close of their presentation. In the end, catching up with Aodhgán had stirred up a nagging nostalgia and jealousy more than it had been a positive refresher.

Dani’s instincts were far from predictable, but today there were downright confusing. Whatever their gut was going for would likely show itself down the road, they knew; it was just annoying that they had to be left in suspense. They weren’t going to sleep tonight thanks to the long day they’d had, so they lingered at the museum border for a few minutes longer, pondering, watching as cloud after cloud of smoke coiled into the inky night sky above.

And when the burn ran out, they pitched their debris and started their return walk to the Underground where the ride to the family townhouse in Knightsbridge awaited. At least there they could rest and make their calls home.

Just two more days.

#rerum cognoscere causas.#( sp. )#( cd. )#SO THIS GOT SO MUCH LONGER THAN INTENDED #and kind of got away from me #but I TRIED

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daebakinc · 7 years

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Mind Tricks (I)

Summary: When a coworker offers you a magical solution to your one-sided office crush, you’re desperate enough to take it with unexpected results. Pairing: Junmyeon x OC Genre: CEO AU, Magic, Fluff, Smut

“You’re welcome.”

“Excuse me?” You turn around from your desk to look at your teammate with a half smile.“Your last free coffee’s already waiting by your desktop, genius. A week is all we agreed to when you helped me with that presentation.”

“Wrong answer.” Baekhyun smirks and pushes off the counter he was leaning on to saunter into your shared corner. He flops into his seat. “The correct answer is: ‘Thank you so much, Baekhyun, my best friend in the world, for solving my weeks long inability to make a move on my crush.'”

“Could you be any louder?” you hiss, desperately throwing a glance over your shoulder. Thankfully, everyone within hearing distance is either late or still too deep in their morning stupor to pay attention to your loudmouth friend. “And it is not a crush. I-”

“Oh, it is so a crush,” Baekhyun chuckles. He does lower his voice though as he continues, “I was sitting right beside you when he first came in. Kim Junmyeon, Human Relations extraordinaire, here to make us the most fantastic team in the city. You were all moon eyed from the start. That’s not to mention everything else.” He starts ticking off on his fingers. “First, you’re like the teacher’s pet in his meetings when you normally just observe in those things. Second, you started eating in the downstairs cafeteria, where he eats, instead of in the floor break room. Third, your voice gets a pitch higher when you talk to him; thank god you don’t do that fake laugh thing some girls do or I’d disown you. Fourth-”

“My voice does not get higher,” you cut in. You cross your arms in warning, but he persists.

“Yes, Mr. Kim, here are the surveys you wanted,” Baekhyun teases in a falsetto, fanning himself. “I’m so sorry they’re late. I just got lost in those sparkling brown eyes-”

“One more word and I am never saving your ass from a bad date again.”

“Okay, okay.” Baekhyun raises his hands in surrender, but his smile is still in place. He reaches into his jacket pocket, toying with something. “Does that mean you’re not interested in what I got you?”

Turning back to your computer, you gamely reply, “Correct. Thanks, but no thanks. Knowing you, I don’t want to know.”

“Well, I’m going to give it to you anyway because that’s what friends do.”

Soft fabric brushes your arm, accompanied by a dull thunk. Glancing to the side you see a lilac velvet pouch, no bigger than your hand, kept closed with a thin gold string. “A bag is going to solve my problems?”

“Open it. Unless you really meant you didn’t want to know.”

You take another look at the bag. It looks like an antique, a bit battered but obviously high quality at one point. Like Pandora’s box, it gives no hints of its contents. Instead, it begs to be opened, to have its secrets revealed. Your mother always warned you that curiosity killed the cat. However, you’d always retorted that satisfaction brought it back and like the proverbial cat, you often depend on those extra lives. Your eyes flick over to Baekhyun. He’s trying to look invested in his inbox. The eager tap of his fingers and smile still tickling the corner of his mouth give him away.

“I hate that you know me so well,” you grumble with a sigh. Saving your work, you undo the gold knot and reach inside the pouch.

The heart shaped vial you pull out is made of old fashioned thick, cloudy glass. Scrolls and whorls on its surface bleed into one another and invite your fingers to trace them. The pale wooden cork on top is soft with age. It keeps dark burgundy liquid safe inside like an old secret. Some sunlight seeps through the glass to the liquid, catching flecks of light in it so the liquid seems to swirl even though you hold the bottle still.

You raise your eyebrows. “Please tell me this isn’t you suggesting I get him or both of us drunk and make out or something.”

“It’s not alcohol. It’s perfume. Kinda. ” Baekhyun rolls his eyes and flips around a small tag you hadn’t noticed.

“Love Spell?”

“Yep.”

“Baek, where’d you get this?”

“Remember how I went back to my grandmother’s for the weekend because I’ve been promising Yixing down the hall we’d go for forever? Well, we did and right before we left, he saw a sign for fortune telling and wanted to go in. Honestly, I was surprised she’s still around; I remember her when I was a kid and she still looks the same.

Anyway, I was looking around while she read Yixing’s fortune and I saw this. Not that I don’t believe in you, but I thought you could use the extra help. The fortune teller said that’s her most potent potion too.”

“Baekhyun,” you laugh. “Thank you for the thought, but a magic potion? I really hope this isn’t some weird way of hitting on me.”

He laughs too. “Been there, done that, remember? We were fun, but no sparks. That’s why you’re my wing-woman. That potion’s legit.”

“Magic doesn’t exist.”

“It really works!” Baekhyun insists. “My grandmother knows at least five couples it helped get together and they’re happy as can be! You just put three drops on like usual perfume while thinking of the person you want to fall in love with you and the instant they smell it, boom! They’re hooked. Kiss them at midnight on the 12th day of wearing the perfume and they’re yours for good.”

You eye the vial, still skeptical. “Five couples?”

“Look.” He leans forward, his gaze becoming sincere. “Junmyeon is only here another week. You don’t make some kind of move now, you might not ever be able to.”

“I know,” you reply quietly.

“'If’ is a more dangerous word than people give it credit for.”

Looking over your cubicle wall, you find the object of your affections. Unlike his predecessor, Junmyeon always has the blinds of his office open, he says to encourage people to drop in and talk. The amazing thing is that he actually listens and tries to help when he can. Kind, polite, and good-humored, Junmyeon was going to be missed by more people than just you. He is without a doubt a gentleman, a rare specimen in today’s world.

Dedicated man he is, he’s already at his desk, jacket on the back of his chair and shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His dark hair is classically styled, but some still manages to tickle his forehead. The thick frames of his glasses can’t hide the little lines that form between his eyes as he frowns in concentration and it’s unbearably cute.

You almost sigh, but catch yourself when you remember Baekhyun is watching you. He grins a shit-eating grin anyway. You put the bottle down with a glare.

“You gonna do it?” he sings.

“You don’t have any confidence in my feminine charms?”

Baekhyun snorts, ruffling your hair. “When you’re not trying, you’re irresistible. When you intentionally flirt, not so much.”

“I know,” you moan, dropping your head in your hands. “Why is flirting so hard? Why can’t I just woman up and ask him out?”

“That’s what this handy-dandy potion is for. So you don’t have to. Junmyeon can man up and ask you.”

“Junmyeon-”

The man in question suddenly calls your name and you pop out of your seat so fast you almost fall. Regaining your footing if not your dignity, you calmly ask, “Yes, Junmyeon?”

“Would you mind coming in here for a second, please? I need your opinion.”

“Of course.”

As you move to leave your desk, Baekhyun catches your wrist and nods towards the potion. “Worth a shot, no?”

You glance at the bottle. The potion within winks at you invitingly. Finally, you throw up your hands and mutter, “Fine.”

Baekhyun smiles and puts the bottle in your hand.

You pull the stopper. Jasmine, cherry blossom, and lily of the valley suffuse the air, bringing to mind summer and first love’s innocence. “Here goes nothing.”

“Don’t forget to say his name three times.”

Junmyeon’s name ghosts on your lips as you quickly dab three drops of the potion on your wrists and neck. Baekhyun gives you a thumbs up. You hurry out of your area and into Junmyeon’s office.

He looks up at you and smiles. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” You smile back, your heart fluttering helplessly. “You needed something?”

“Yes.” Junmyeon pushes his glasses up and gestures at his desktop. “I’m planning the company retreat for next month as a favor to the president. You’ve been here longer than I have of course, so I wanted to ask what you think of the events I’ve planned.”

You walk around his desk and he obligingly shifts his chair so you can look closer. Leaning in, your arm brushes his chest, but you try to ignore it.

Scrolling through the lists and itinerary he created, you nod in approval. “Looks good. I think it’ll be a really fun day.”

“Not too many corny team-building events?”

“We all know they’re obligatory, so you won’t hear any complaining. Besides, you end before lunch and then everyone can choose their own activities, so I think that’ll make everyone happy.” You point to part of the list. “Maybe you could add some indoor activities too for the older employees since it’ll be hotter in the summer? Like a sauna or dance class if it’s not too late to book?”

Junmyeon taps a pen to his lips. “Excellent idea. I’ll contact the resort after my meeting later. Thanks.” He scribbles down a note to himself on a sticky note. “

“You’re very welcome.” You straighten up and move towards the door. When he calls after you, you turn around, hand on the door frame. “Yes?”

Junmyeon coughs. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound strange, but… are you wearing perfume?”

You stiffen. Baekhyun’s ridiculous magic potion can’t be working. It can’t.“Yes.”

“It’s nice. Really nice,” he says shyly. His eyes linger on yours, a different smile than you’ve seen before on his lips.

“Oh. Thank you.” Heart racing, you retreat.

“So, how’d it go?” Baekhyun asks as soon as you’re back in your chair.

“He complimented it,” you reply with a shrug. “He didn’t propose to me, if that’s what you were looking for.”

“That’s what day twelve is for.”

“Okay,” you snort.

“Well, if you’re going to be a non-believer,” Baekhyun says, reaching for the bottle that’s still sitting by your keyboard, “I’ll just take this back and-”

You swipe it out of his reach, making him laugh. “I didn’t say I was going to stop using it. A little superstition never hurt anyone. Besides, I like how it smells. If nothing else, it’ll make a nice perfume.”

He grins knowingly.“Sure.”

“You’re still here?”

Glancing up, you’re not the least surprised to see Junmyeon leaning on the divider, chin resting on his folded arms. Both of you are almost always some of the last people to leave.

“I was just finishing up some emails from this morning. Less to get behind on tomorrow.” You push back to grab your bag from under your desk, stand, and stretch. “All done now though. You?”

“Same.”

Junmyeon waits for you, falling into step beside you and pressing the elevator button. It’s almost a habit for you and Junmyeon to walk out together, pleasantly chatting about nothing until you part ways.

Not expecting anything more, you say goodbye once you exit the building and step towards your way home.

Junmyeon reaches out and touches your arm. “Would you mind if I asked you something?”

Curiosity engaged, you shake your head.“Of course not.”

“I’m sorry to be strange again, and doubly so if this is too personal a question.” He hesitates, catching his lower lip in his teeth as he looks at you. “Are you- are you and Baekhyun… seeing each other?”

“Like dating?”

“Yes.” His cheeks flush an adorable shade of pink that makes you want to kiss them. Words tumble over themselves as he adds, “It’s not really any of my business and I assure you, it’s not that I think dating should be forbidden between coworkers, because honestly that just causes more problems than it prevents and-”

Taking pity on him, you interrupt. “We’re not. We’re just friends, coworkers. Nothing more.”

“Oh. I thought… Never mind. In that case, I know it’s a little out of the blue and I’m going back to my company after Friday, but would you like to go to dinner with me this Saturday evening?”

Your heart thuds in your chest.“This Saturday?”

“If not Saturday, maybe Sunday?” Junmyeon asks hopefully, watching your face carefully.

“Saturday is fine.” You give him a small smile, trying not to beam or squeak or something equally embarrassing as to scare him off. “I’d love to.”

The smile he returns is brilliant. “Awesome. Great. There’s a great little place a friend of mine opened a few weeks ago and I think you’ll love it. I’ll pick you up at 7, okay?”

“I could meet you there if you’d like.”

“It’s no trouble, really. Oh, may I have your number so you can send me your address, please?”

It’s unbelievable how cute politeness can be. You readily recite the digits of your cellphone number, adding him as a contact as soon as you receive his text.

“Couldn’t you have pulled both from my file in human resources?” you ask.

“Ah, but that would be using my powers for selfish gain, not the greater good, and I am forbidden by my Kryptonian father from doing so," Junmyeon jokes, his smile widening when you laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Until tomorrow. Have a good night, Junmyeon.”

“You as well. Get home safe.” With a nod of his head, he turns and heads down the sidewalk. He glances back at you once, smiling sheepishly and looking away quickly when he catches your eye.

Once he rounds the corner, you start walking towards your bus stop. Grabbing your phone, you speedily dial.

He answers after the second ring.“Hello?”

“Baekhyun, you are never going to believe what just happened.”

“Junmyeon asked you out.”

You frown, a little disappointed you didn’t get to say it. “How did you know?”

“It’s the potion,” he says smugly. “Seems your friend isn’t as crazy as you thought, huh?”

“I don’t know.” You take the bottle out of your purse and gaze at in wonder. “Magic doesn’t exist but this… this is unreal.”

“Anyone ever told you love is magic?”

“Oh my god, Byun Baekhyun. That is one of the corniest lines I have ever heard you utter.”

“I bet Junmyeon has even worse that he’ll try on your date, judging from those awful dad jokes he likes telling.”

You giggle then stop. “I’m actually going on a date with Kim Junmyeon, aren’t I?” The realization hits you again and the exuberance you suppressed before bursts through with a loud squeal that probably has Baekhyun holding the phone away from his ear.

Next Chapter

#suho #exo #suho scenario #kim joonmyeon #exo scenarios #exo suho #kpop scenarios #kim junmyeon #kim joonmyun #exo-k

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