#Sky never stood a chance because Rain was the root of it all

[theyellowhue]

We forget that Rain, our sweet little summer child, is the sole reason why we have PrapaiSky in the first place.

If Rain didnt beg for info about the not-so-secret illegal race to find Phayu, Sky wouldnt have been there in the first place and Prapai wouldnt have been an unknowing douchebag that Sky slept with that night.

It all turned out well enough tho, so we dont complain.

WE GIVE RESPECT WHERE ITS DUE 😤

and thats on Rain 😤

Rain is the captain of the PrapaiSky ship

#rain was the first domino to fall so that we can have PrapaiSky #not all relationship gurus give relationship advise some of them leave you at an illegal race track so you can find the love of your life #and guess who did that??? Rain thats who #we all say THANK YOU RAIN together #love in the air #love in the air the series #prapaisky #Sky never stood a chance because Rain was the root of it all #payurain #phayurain

[kingofsummer93]

Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the Minister for Magic, is as loved by his peers as he is hated by his family. But behind the charm and irreverence hides a secret, as dark and menacing as the scar on his face.

Elain Archeron, middle sister in a trio of muggle-born witches, has only one wish: for someone to truly see her. Because when she sleeps at night, she can see it all.

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 2: The Invitation

Ao3 Masterlist

The sky had turned a gloomy shade of grey, as dismal and bleak as Elain’s mood. She dug her hands into the earth, aggressively ripping out the roots and brambles that threatened to smother her rose bushes.

Graysen’s voice echoed through her mind, cold and distant and slightly mocking.

You’re going back to school soon anyway….

It was never going to work…

At different places in our lives…

Never mind that he had spent the entire summer promising that he would write to her everyday. Never mind that he had begged her to do the same.

Even if you have nothing to say, just write to me about the weather. I won’t be able to make it one day without hearing from you.

Elain had fallen for it. She had believed him so thoroughly that the knowledge that he had played her hurt even more than his rejection.

At different places in our lives…

Elain might not be the most experienced with these things but she was not stupid. She knew what that meant. 

Just put it in your mouth, he had urged. It won’t take long.

Elain had refused, and Graysen had grown more and more insistent. In the end he had settled for rubbing himself against her hip, so aggressively that she now had a bruise to show for it. After he had groaned and slumped against her, Elain had expected him to at least offer to return the favour, but of course he had not.

The phone call had come the very next day. The prick hadn’t even bothered to break her heart face to face. The shame and embarrassment were still fresh, but she refused to let the tears fall. Not here, not now, on her hands and knees in the communal garden, in front of her elderly neighbour.

Mrs Figg winced next to her, clicking her tongue in concern. “Careful, dear, you’ll rip those lovely gloves!”

Elain suppressed a smile. Mrs Figg didn’t know that the gloves were charmed. Nothing could pierce them, not these brambles and not the nastiest of thorns. They had been delivered by owl post last Christmas with a note explaining what they were, but there had been no signature on the card. Elain had no idea who they were from, but they were one of her most prized possessions. Without them she wouldn’t have stood a chance against the tide of brambles invading her section of the gardens.

“I daresay it’s looking like rain,” the old lady continued, wiping a muddy glove across her brow and looking up at the sky in concern.

Elain sighed. She normally didn’t mind Mrs Figg’s chatter but what she wanted at this moment was to brood in silence. Digging through the dirt in a rainstorm sounded ideal, actually. She had a sudden pang of longing for their home in the suburbs. She didn’t usually let herself dwell on that, but sometimes the memories came, vivid and lovely and gone forever. 

If they were still living in Little Whinging she could have stayed in the gardens as long as she liked, with nobody bothering her. There would be no Mrs Figg blabbering in the background, no leering men grinning at her from the sidewalk. And there would be her own room waiting for her, the second from the left, with a window seat that looked out onto the gardens.

Instead what she had was a tiny section of an unkept communal garden, on the side of a busy city street in a neighbourhood that her mother had once referred to as being a cesspool of crime and desperation. She didn’t have her own room in their fourth-floor walk-up, and the room she shared with her sisters had a view of a brick wall.

Their family’s fall into misfortune had happened slowly, and then all at once. First had come her mother’s illness, a rare and aggressive disorder that had paralyzed the entire family. Then came the experimental treatments at the private foreign clinics, the cost of each one more astronomical than the last. Then her mother’s death, after which her father had fallen into such a pit of depression that he had lost his job. The nail in the proverbial coffin had been the gambling. Elain had been too young to fully understand the implications at the time, not to mention that she had been away at school for most of the year.

She and her sisters had gotten off the Hogwarts Express three years ago to find their father waiting for them next to a beat-up Ford Anglia that none of them had seen before. When they had arrived at their house Elain had been appalled at the state of disrepair of their once pristine home. Their father couldn’t afford to pay the gardeners anymore, or the maid, and it showed. Elain’s beloved flower beds were overrun with weeds, the once immaculate lawn now resembling an abandoned field. The state of the house itself had not been much better.

Then had come the man with the baseball bat, and after that they had been forced to sell the house and move to the dingy flat in London.

Elain didn’t have the heart to blame her father. She felt nothing but pity for him, and for the misfortune that had befallen them. Her sisters were not so diplomatic regarding the situation, which only made Elain more protective of their father. It wasn’t that he didn’t love them; on the contrary, Elain knew he loved them all fiercely. He just didn’t know how to care for himself, much less others.

The rain started to fall then, first a drizzle and then a downpour. Mrs Figg waved her goodbye and hustled out of the garden as quickly as her stooped frame would allow. Elain sat in the dampening dirt for several moments, letting the rain soak her to the bone. It felt good- it felt real, it felt more legitimate than her silly teenage woes or her worries about her father that were beyond her years. 

“Get in, miss, you’ll catch yer death out here!” 

Elain smiled vaguely at her kindly neighbour, packed up her gardening tools, and reluctantly made her way down the street and up the stairs to her family’s flat. She stood in the hall for a moment, letting the rain drip off her clothes onto the linoleum floor. The fluorescent lighting in the hall was even more depressing than the storm clouds outside. Her reflection in the hall mirror was almost terrifying- her usually bouncy curls lank and dull, her eyes shining with misery behind the wide frames of her glasses. 

The sound of raised voices from inside the flat shook her out of her trance, and Elain sighed in defeat. There would be no way to escape whatever fight was happening if she went inside, but short of walking around in the rain it was the only option she had. With another all-suffering sigh she unlocked the door and stepped inside. 

What greeted her was the sight of Feyre laying on her back on the couch, throwing popcorn at Nesta who was curled in an armchair, her face hidden behind The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7 . Their father was sitting at the kitchen table, a stack of bills in front of him, rubbing his temples.

“…such a Ravenclaw,” Feyre was saying. “Why are you already studying? You’re supposed to be on vacation !”

Nesta huffed haughtily and rolled her eyes. “I’m going into seventh year, Feyre. I have to take N.E.W.T.S. this year! My whole future depends on how well I do in those exams…”

“Snore!” Feyre interrupted with an eye-roll of her own. “Elain, tell Nesta she’s being a bore.”

Nesta simply huffed again and lifted her book higher, as if Feyre would disappear if she couldn’t see her.

“Cup of tea, dad?” Elain asked gently, moving into the tiny kitchen. She was still soaked and was desperate for a hot bath, but the sight of her father like this always tore at her heartstrings.

She was putting the kettle on when there came a rush of wings from the living room, followed by the sound of her father gasping in fright and toppling his chair backwards. A regal-looking snowy owl had flown in through their chimney and perched itself on one of their kitchen chairs, holding out a leg with a haughty expression that put Nesta’s to shame. 

Elain recognized the owl at the same time Feyre did. Snowy owls were rare and expensive, and this particular one, with its slightly differently colored eyes, was immediately recognizable. And even if he hadn’t been, the crest pressed into the ruby-red wax sealing the letter would have given him away. An oak tree, surrounded by a halo of flames.

“Andras!” Feyre exclaimed in delight. The owl hooted in a dignified sort of way, ruffling his wings slightly. 

Feyre jumped off the couch and hurried to the owl, letting the bird nip at her fingers as she untied the letter tied to its leg.

“Isn’t that Lucien’s?” Nesta asked suspiciously from her armchair. “Why’s he writing to you? ”

Feyre scoffed with affront. “We’re friends ! And teammates. Maybe he already has a training schedule ready…”

Nesta’s face disappeared behind her book once more. Nothing could bore her sister faster than Feyre talking endlessly about Quidditch. 

The bird had turned his attention towards Elain, peering at her curiously with his head tilted to the side, those slightly mismatched eyes so laser-focused they looked almost human. Elain had to look away. It reminded her too strongly of another pair of mismatched eyes, ones that did belong to a human. An infuriating, shamelessly cocky, frustratingly handsome bastard of a human who happened to be the bane of Elain’s existence.

“Love, your water’s boiling,” her father warned, picking himself up off the floor and eyeing the bird warily.

Elain flushed, busying herself with the tea to hide her fluster. She brought a cup to her father, and Andras immediately dipped his beak into the mug and drank deeply.

“Curious pets, aren’t they?” her father said, chuckling. “Too bad we had to sell yours, Elain, I did like that animal…”

A pang of sadness fell to the bottom of Elain’s stomach like a stone. Her owl had been just one more of the many things they’d had to sell in the last few years in order to pay more important bills.

Feyre gasped then, practically dancing on the spot. Her words were barely coherent through her excitement. “He’s having a party…the whole team…his parents’ townhouse…I’m invited!” 

Nesta’s face reappeared from behind her book. Elain made eye contact with her sister and both of them winced in unison. Feyre had made a crucial mistake. There was no word in the English language more likely to rile up their father than party. 

Indeed, a light had come on in his brown eyes, his earlier bout of despair suddenly gone. “What’s that?” he asked sharply. “Did you say party?”

“Yes!” Feyre said excitedly. Andras the owl hooted in apparent annoyance at her giddiness. “On saturday, at his parents’ house.” Her eyes suddenly went wide with alarm. “I have nothing to wear! I have to go shopping, dad, can I have some money?”

“Hold on, hold on! Who is this…this Andras , you said?”

“Dad!” Feyre rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Andras is the owl. Lucien is having the party.”

“And who is this Lucien?” Her father’s eyes were narrowed with suspicion.

Feyre huffed in frustration. “Dad! I’ve told you about him a million times. He’s the captain of the Quidditch team. His father is the Minister for Magic?”

Elain caught Nesta’ gaze again. Her sister was smirking at her, a knowing gleam in her eyes. Elain flushed and hid her face in her mug of tea.

“Ahh! The Minister’s son, yes, of course.” Their father seemed reassured for a moment, and then his voice turned suspicious again. “But isn’t he in Elain’s year?”

“Yeah, so?” 

“So what’s he doing inviting you to a party?” Nesta taunted, stoking the flames.

“Because we’re friends!” Feyre repeated defensively. “The whole team is going…”

“And will this party be supervised ?” her father asked, cutting in before Nesta could launch another barb.

Feyre’s split second of hesitation was answer enough. “I mean…he says his brother Eris will be there…”

Nesta let out a quick bark of laughter at that. Even Elain snickered into her tea. Eris had graduated from Hogwarts more than a decade earlier but he was notorious for smuggling in contraband to his brother, and had even been spotted attending parties inside the castle. 

In other words, he was not the sort of chaperone her father was hoping for.

“And how old is this brother?” he asked now.

Feyre shrugged in annoyance. “I don’t know, old? Around thirty, I guess, he’s the oldest. What does it matter?”

Elain winced again. Feyre was not playing this properly, but it was hardly her fault, considering this was the first non-Hogwarts party she had been invited to. “ A gathering of friends to discuss the upcoming school year” would have worked. “A mandatory team event ” would have been even better, considering their father’s love for sports. A party held by a boy two grades above Feyre, supervised by his thirty-year old brother with dubious morals was absolutely not the picture she should have painted.

“It matters,” her father said now, a frown on his face, “because you are fourteen and you are absolutely not going to an unsupervised party with older boys! I was a teenager once, you know! I know how these things go. Drinking, experimenting, peer pressure…”

Elain almost choked on her tea as a wave of giggles threatened to escape her. Nesta was cackling, her book forgotten in her lap. Elain stared into her tea, knowing if she made eye contact with her sister she wouldn’t be able to hold in her laughter.

Feyre had flushed an impressive shade of red. “God, dad! We’re just going to hang out and talk about Quidditch, I don’t know what it is you think we’re going to do…”

“Yeah dad,” Nesta butt in, an evil grin on her face. “Lucien’s not hosting an orgy!”

“Nesta!” Elain squeaked. A blush spread on her own face as an image slipped into her mind, unwelcomed but persistent. That long red hair, that maddening smirk…

"Although,” Nesta continued, still grinning. “Haven’t Jurian and Vassa been shagging since, like, their third year?”

“That’s it! You’re not going.” Her father slashed the air with his hands for emphasis.

“WHAT?! DAD!” Feyre’s outrage was absolute. “The WHOLE TEAM is going! I can’t be the only loser not to go!”

“You are fourteen…”

“Fifteen in December!”

“Will Tamlin be there?” Nesta asked coyly.

“Who is Tamlin??”

Feyre was flustered now, but trying not to act like it. “Yes, Tamlin will be there, I just said the whole team is going!”

Andras hooted loudly then, ruffling his wings in annoyance. One of his legs was held stiffly in front of him, like he was waiting for a response.

“If mom was here she’d let me go,” Feyre said then, her arms crossed, refusing to look her father in the eyes.

Elain and Nesta both inhaled sharply. Neither of them ever dared to use this particular bargaining chip. Only Feyre ever did, and it usually ended with either her or their father dissolving into tears.

Silence fell. Even Andras had stopped his impatient fidgeting, as if he, too, was shocked by Feyre’s words.

Elain held her breath in anticipation. There were only two possible outcomes at this point. Either their father would relent and let Feyre go, or her sister would be grounded for the rest of the summer.

Her father seemed to sag then, an all-suffering sigh escaping him as he gazed at his wife’s picture on the mantelpiece. “Fine,” he said in defeat. “Fine, you can go.” Feyre brightened, inhaling sharply in excitement. “But only if one of your sisters goes with you.”

His words took a moment to sink in. “What?” Elain asked in incomprehension. Nesta was chuckling again.

“You can go to the party if one of your sisters goes with you,” he repeated. 

Feyre’s eyes suddenly filled with what could only be described as undiluted horror. “But…but…they’re not invited! It’s a Gryffindor party!”

“That’s my final decision.” Indeed, Elain recognized her father’s tone. There would be no changing his mind now.

“I can’t go to the party with a chaperone! That’s so embarrassing!”

But their father had made up his mind. He crossed his arms and faced Feyre, his mouth pressed in a thin line.

Elain could see the dilemma raging inside her sister’s mind. What was the greater embarrassment- going to the party with one of her older sisters, or not going at all?

Feyre whirled towards Nesta.

“Don’t look at me!” Nesta said before Feyre could say anything. “No way am I going to a party at Vanserra’s house. Are you aware of his father’s stance on muggle-borns?”

Feyre rolled her eyes, stomping her foot in frustration. “Lucien’s not like that and you know it. No one hates his father more than he does. Vassa is one of his best friends and she’s a muggle-born too.”

“Besides,” Elain added with a grin, “won’t Cassian be there?”

Nesta threw her a look of pure steel. “Yeah, so?” she asked petulantly.

“Nes, pleeeease? You can bring Gwyn, she lives in London, right? I’m sure Lucien wouldn’t mind if she came too…”

“No way,” Nesta said, shaking her head. “Take Elain, Lucien would much prefer that.” She threw a little smirk at Elain for emphasis.

Elain could have throttled her. 

“What does that mean? Are you friends with him, too?” her father asked curiously.

“No!” Elain said quickly, before Nesta could say anything. “He’s in my year, that’s all. We’re both prefects, so I see him around…” she trailed off vaguely, avoiding her sister’s cat-like grin.

“So Elain will go, then,” her father said, as if that decided it.

Feyre scoffed before Elain had a chance to protest. “Elain’s not going to a party.”

“What does that mean?” Elain asked, her eyes narrowing. In truth going to a party at Lucien’s house was the last thing in the world she wanted to do, but she was suddenly irritated at the implication. 

Feyre shuffled on her feet. “Well, you know. Parties aren’t really your scene…”

“Because I’m boring, you mean?” Elain shot back. 

Nesta had grabbed Feyre’s abandoned popcorn and was popping it into her mouth as she watched the scene unfold. 

“No! Just, you know…you’re a Hufflepuff. You like to garden, and your friends are really nice but they’re quiet…”

“Feyre, don’t be a bitch,” Nesta said.

“Nesta! Language.” Her father frowned, though Elain noticed that he didn’t try to contradict Feyre.

Elain was suddenly enraged. “Fine!” She threw her hands up so suddenly that even Andras flinched in surprise. “Fine. I’ll go to the bloody party.”

There was a beat of silence as her family digested her words. Nesta was grinning like the cat who got the cream, while Feyre looked supremely uncomfortable. Andras simply hooted and held out his leg once more. 

“Are you sure?” Feyre asked uncertainly. “I know you’re not really friends with Lucien…” she cut a quick glance towards their father at that.

“Do you want to go to the blasted party or not?” Elain demanded as another blush rose up her cheeks. She would regret this decision later, she knew, but it was too late now. 

Feyre seemed to hesitate for another moment, and then shrugged. “Ok, if you’re sure. Thanks, Elain, I owe you one.” With that her sister grabbed a spare piece of parchment to scribble a reply, and her father’s face disappeared behind his pile of bills once more.

“You can borrow my red sweater, if you’d like!” Nesta said sweetly, her evil grin still firmly in place. “You know the one…”

Elain diligently avoided her sister’s gaze as she walked into their shared bedroom and slammed the door behind her. 

----

By Saturday evening Elain deeply regretted her decision, and it was only Feyre’s excitement that prevented her from backing out. She had borrowed Nesta’s red sweater in the end, but only because most of her own clothes were in the wash. It wasn’t because it was flattering on her, and certainly not because it made her small breasts look slightly bigger than they actually were.

She was bursting with nerves, and the suggestive looks Nesta kept giving her only made things worse. Her nails were bitten to stumps, and she had to sit on her hands to keep from fidgeting.

One party. It was just one silly party, she would survive. She knew everyone there, she even liked some of them. Vassa was her friend and fellow prefect, even if her boyfriend was almost as insufferable as Lucien. 

Besides, it wasn’t him that was making her nervous. It was simply the idea of going to a party where she knew there would be drinking and who knew what other illicit activities. 

“He’s picking you up how?” her father asked for the tenth time. He was alternating between pretending to read a newspaper and nervously pacing the length of their tiny flat. “Does he have a car?”

Feyre shrugged with the indifference that only teenagers possess. She was stationed at the living room window, scanning the street below. “Donno. He has a bike but I don’t think he can fit both of us on it…” she shot Elain a disdainful glance at that.

“You think he’s picking you up on a bicycle?” her father asked suspiciously. 

Elain held in her snort, though Nesta did not. Nobody bothered to correct him. Lucien’s flying motorcycle was a thing of legend around Hogwarts. It had apparently been a sixteenth birthday present from Eris and was a thing of great envy. 

By the time eight o'clock rolled around Elain was sweating. Just a party, she reminded herself. It’s not like she had never been to one, or didn’t know how to have fun. She would hang out with Vassa, have a couple butterbeers, and then they would come home, and that would be that. It wouldn’t be any harder to ignore him than it usually was at Hogwarts. 

Feyre squealed loudly and Elain jumped in surprise. Nesta’s smirk widened. “Jumpy, are we?” she teased. Elain squared her shoulders and ignored her.

“He’s here!” 

Her father and Nesta immediately rushed to the window next to Feyre, peering down into the darkening street below. 

“That fellow there with the long hair?” her father asked. “I thought you said he was a prefect? He looks like he’s going to a rock and roll concert!” 

Feyre scoffed. “God, dad, you sound ancient.”

“You said he was sixteen!” her father continued, his tone accusatory. “He looks like a grown man! And a delinquent, at that…”

Elain’s curiosity got the better of her, and she joined the others at the window, jostling with Nesta so she could see. Lucien was walking up the drive towards their building, no bike (flying or otherwise) in sight. He was dressed like a muggle, in trendy jeans, a white t-shirt, and a beat-up looking leather jacket. Half his vibrantly red hair was held up in a bun by his wand, and even from this distance Elain could see the setting sun glinting off his magical golden eye. He seemed to have grown even taller and broader over the summer, and indeed looked more like a grown man than the other boys in her grade. 

“Well…” Feyre bit her lip. “He’s actually seventeen. He started Hogwarts a year late...” Her father did not seem pleased with this fact, but Feyre soldiered on. “He was in an accident when he was eleven, that’s how he lost his eye. Don’t ask him about it, he doesn’t like talking about it…”

“How terrible,” her father tutted, Lucien’s delinquent appearance suddenly forgotten.

Lucien looked up then, a wide grin splitting his face as he spotted them all at the window. All four Archerons gasped in unison and ducked out of sight. 

“Do you think he saw us?” her father asked with a wince. He was clutching Lanthys to his chest, as if for moral support. 

The buzzer sounded then, and all four of them jumped. Elain surreptitiously glanced at her reflection in the window as Feyre bolted to the door, their father on her heels.

“You know,” Nesta said coyly, “If you’re looking to forget about Gregory I’m sure Lucien would be happy to help…”

“Nes!” Elain hissed, glancing around to make sure their father hadn’t heard.

“What? I’m just saying…”

Elain huffed, now thoroughly irritated. As if she had any interest in becoming one more of many notches on Lucien Vanserra’s bedpost. As if she had any interest in him whatsoever. 

A deep voice from the hall caught her attention. Blimey, had his voice gotten deeper over the summer? 

And then Feyre was leading him into the flat, and suddenly Elain couldn't breathe. He seemed even taller and broader standing in the middle of their tiny kitchen. There was a scruff of auburn stubble covering his cheeks and chin, making him look about twenty-five. Elain saw that in addition to the little diamonds piercing the top of his left ear, he now had what looked like a fang dangling from his earlobe. 

“Nesta,” he was saying, inclining his head towards Nesta in a mock bow. 

“Vanserra,” Nesta replied, utterly bored.

And then that mismatched gaze landed on Elain. One eye of russet, forever twinkling with mischief, and one of solid gold that gently clicked and whirred. His full lips spread into a wide grin, showing off his too-white teeth. The scar that ran from his brow to his chin was less menacing when he smiled. He was more handsome than he had any right to be, really. 

Don’t say it, she thought. Don’t say it, don’t say it…

“Archie,” he said, still grinning at her.

Elain huffed and rolled her eyes, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered at the nickname. He’d given it to her on their third day at Hogwarts and hadn’t dropped it since. To her horror she felt herself blush under his gaze. But it was only because she wasn’t blind, and could admit he was beautiful in a striking, cruel sort of way. It wasn’t for any other reason.

“Lucien,” she replied. Her voice came out more breathless than she would have liked, and Nesta smirked.

Her father was trying and failing to not stare at Lucien’s eye, his hands swinging at his sides as he tried to act casual. 

“Car accident, was it?” he asked then. 

Feyre’s eyes went wide. Nesta’s smirk slid off her face.

Lucien blinked, his metal eye clicking gently as the panes slid over themselves to focus on her father. “Pardon?” 

Her father looked suddenly uncomfortable, as if he instantly regretted ever speaking. “Your…” he pointed to his own left eye. “Feyre said you were in an accident?”

Feyre was staring at her father with a look that would have melted the polar ice caps. Nesta was cringing visibly. Elain blushed even hotter, rooted to the spot. 

To his credit Lucien merely blinked again and cleared his throat. “No, sir. Not a car accident. Bit of magic gone wrong, you could say.” He smiled, though it looked slightly forced.

“Right! Shall we go?” Feyre blurted desperately.

Lucien was peering around their flat curiously, and Elain was suddenly ashamed. She knew it was wrong, but having their poverty on display in front of someone like Lucien was humiliating. 

Lucien caught her looking at him and grinned again. There was something wolffish in that grin, a hunger that sent a little shiver down her spine. 

“Yes,” he agreed. “Thank you for letting Feyre come, Mr Archeron. I promise nothing untoward is planned. Just a lot of boring Quidditch talk and some wizard chess.” He shot a grin at her father, the one he used on teachers to get out of trouble. It almost always worked, and it worked now, like a charm. 

Her father was swinging his hands again, nodding his head fervently. Lucien’s appearance and manners seemed to have taken him by surprise.

“Yes, of course, I was a little nervous at first, you can imagine, Feyre is only fourteen, after all, I hope it’s not a bother than Elain is going as well…”

“Dad, god!” Feyre looked mortified.

“Absolutely no bother at all, sir,” Lucien replied politely, sending another grin in her direction. “Nesta, you’re sure you don’t want to come as well? Cassian will be there, you know…”

Nesta only crossed her arms in response. 

“How are we getting there?” Feyre asked quickly.

“I had your fireplace connected to the Floo Network, just for tonight,” Lucien said. “Eris knows someone at the Department of Magical Transportation. I thought that would be the best way.”

“Quite right, quite right,” Her father was nodding wisely, though Elain knew for a fact that he hadn’t understood a single word that Lucien had said.

“Cool! We’ve never travelled by the Floo Network before!” Feyre exclaimed excitedly. 

Lucien grinned and pulled his wand out of his bun, making his ruby hair tumble around his shoulders like liquid fire. He pointed at the fireplace, muttered Incendio! and flames erupted in the empty grate. He reached into his pocket then, pulled out a small velvet bag, and threw a pinch of powder into the flames. At once the flames turned a bright emerald green. 

Elain heard a sharp inhale of breath behind her and turned to find her father staring into the flames with wide eyes. 

“The Floo Network connects magical residences,” she explained. “Like the tube, but with…fireplaces.”

“Quite right, quite right,” he repeated, laughing nervously as Lucien and Feyre stepped into the flames.

Elain waved at her dad and followed them into the emerald fire. Lucien’s scent filled her nostrils, something spicy and smoky mixed with a purely male muskiness. 

“Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!” he said.

And then the living room was dissolving around her as they spun through the flames. 

#elucien #elucien fanfic #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #acotar fanfic

[jenomark]

➔Pairing: Jeno x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut (with a plot!) ➔Warnings: Sexual tension & Penetration. ➔Word count: 2,470

➔Summary: You haven't called your ex-boyfriend in two years, but he's the first person you call when you're in a bit of trouble. He comes when you call, thus sparking a night neither of you will be able to move on from.

Anon request #1: can I request an ex to lovers scenario with jeno where his ex and him decided to stay as friends and since always they had a huge tension and after 2 years they got really flirty or smth, thanks💖

Anon request #2: hi, I want to request a drabble about sex with jeno, thank you!!

Jeno looked at his buzzing cell phone and blinked lazily. He hadn't seen your number come up since you broke up with him, which had to have been two years ago. He had managed to stay friends with you over those two years, but you were never friendly enough to call each other at three in the morning. Still, Jeno picked up the call to hear static at the other end of the line, wondering if he would still feel the same when he heard the sound of your voice.

"Hello?"

There was more static. When he thought you might have pocket dialed him, and he was getting ready to hang up, he heard your voice. Time seemed to slow down in those moments.

"Jeno?" you said. "I don't have good service out here. I'm scared, Jeno."

Feeling his heart race, Jeno asked, "Where are you? What is going on?"

"Off the highway. My car broke down." you said. "Can you come get me?"

Jeno sprang out of bed immediately, tearing the covers from his naked body. He got dressed while keeping you on the phone with him, so that you weren't scared. He drove to where you were, pulling over to the side of the road. When you saw him, you got out of your car and stood awkwardly, wringing your hands together.

"I know I shouldn't have called you first," you started to say. "But i-"

"-It's okay." he said, meaning it.

Jeno was bone tired, but being in front of you made him more alert. Though you broke his heart, he was still so careful with yours. Jeno came over to your car to look at it, pulling up the hood like he had any idea what he was truly doing. You watched his muscles as he fiddled around with stuff, your eyes slightly glazing over.

"I don't know much about cars." he said, shutting the hood. "I'll call someone to come pick this up. Until then, I will drive you back home. It's too late for us to be waiting out here."

You nodded and followed him back to his car. He made the call quickly before setting his cell phone down in the cup holder. There was so much gratitude for him in the silence, but you couldn't seem to get any of your thoughts out. You were still thinking about his muscles, about how handsome he looked at nearly four in the morning.

"It's done," he said. "They'll pick your car up soon. You can figure out what to do about it tomorrow."

"Thank you." you said.

It had started to rain. A few droplets hit the front of his windshield before a whole sheet of rain came down, hitting the top of his roof as hard as rocks. He could barely see out of the windshield, so he decided to wait for the storm to pass. It was awkward inside of the car, and too quiet.

You cleared your throat. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Jeno looked over at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Seeing his expression, you realized what an invasive question it was. You tried backtracking, but you were sputtering your words enough to make Jeno laugh.

"Relax," he said. "I'm not seeing anyone."

You didn't know what you were thinking. Maybe you were too tired to think straight. Maybe it was the sound of the rain. Maybe it was the way he looked at you in the darkness of the car. You reached over and touched the hand that rested on the steering wheel until he looked you in your eyes.

"You got Lasik eye surgery." you said. "You used to look so cute in your glasses."

For Jeno, it was easy. There has always been sexual tension between you. Touching the top of your hand felt natural. He leaned over, grabbed your chin and kissed you. You made out, completely unaware that the rain had stopped. When everything slowed down, you were straddling Jeno in his seat, and his hands were on your ass. You parted, your eyes staying on his lips until he spoke.

"I should get you home." he said.

"You should come home with me." you said, surprising yourself more than him.

Jeno laughed and eased your body off of his. "I want that more than you know, but I don't think it's a good idea. I could never control myself around you. "

Jeno drove you home, the only sound in the car coming from the windshield wipers noisily wiping away droplets of rain. You followed the blades swiping left to right, your brain in a funk.

Breaking up with Jeno was one of your top ten mistakes. You weren't as wise as you are now. You didn't know what you had when you let it go. You had carried his hurt with you everywhere you went for two years. Though you remained as friends, there was always weird tension whenever you met up with each other. His group of friends didn't trust you, and your group of friends always took your side, even though each of them was in love with Jeno. Your shared friends didn't get into the middle of it, and you and Jeno spent 24 months skating around unspoken apologies.

"We never had a chance to talk alone." you said, finally getting the bravery to speak out. “There are a lot of things left unsaid.”

Jeno pulled up in front of your house. You weren't surprised he knew where you had moved to, because you had been dropping hints for months. You had always hoped Jeno would roll up one day and give you another chance you didn't quite think you deserved.

"We don't have to talk about it now. "It's early in the morning and we both could use some sleep," he said.

You hummed in agreement, looking out of the rain soaked window at your lonely, dark house. You looked up at the sky and wanted the sun to come up, to cast a pretty glow over you and soften the experience of sitting with your ex in his car.

"You're like my knight in shining armor." you said. "I owe you a lot."

You had your hand on the door handle. You wanted to lean over and kiss him the way he kissed you, but your bravery only went so far. Jeno seemed to be thinking a similar thing. His eyes fell to your lips. Before either of you could act, he unlocked his doors.

"Get some sleep." he said, rubbing his arms as if he were cold. "I'll check in tomorrow to see how you're doing. I don't want them overcharging you for their services. If you want, I can go with you to make sure they don't."

"Okay." was all you could say. You got out of the car, tapped on his window as a way to say thank you and walked up the pathway to your house. You touched your fingers to your lips and remembered the way he tasted.

Jeno stayed there idling while you put your lock into the door and turned the handle. Once you were safely inside, you didn't wait to see if he had driven away.

You walked into your home, not caring enough to flick lights on. You weren’t as tired as before. Making out with Jeno had felt like an IV of caffeine had slipped into your bloodstream. Your body felt swollen in places, your heart most of all. You walked through the rooms, taking off your bra underneath your t-shirt and flinging it across the back of your couch. Your foot was on the first step of your stairs when you heard a soft rapping sound on your front door. Backtracking, you walked back to the door and flung it open, crossing one of your arms against your chest to hide yourself.

“Hi,” Jeno said.

He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes darting frantically around your face. You had no time to greet him back before he stepped over the threshold and took your lips against his. You moved your arm and let him smash his hard chest against your free breasts. Your nipples were aroused and you knew he could feel them against the thin material of his t-shirt. You threw your arms around his neck and clung to him, savoring the taste and feel of him.

“I know I said no but....” he said, between kisses. “It was very hard to watch you walk away from me just now.”

You kissed him and bit down on his lip, pulling it lightly with your teeth before letting go. “Take me to bed.” you said. “Or the floor...the couch..i don’t care, Jeno, just take me.”

Jeno picked you up into his arms. He shut your front door and locked it behind him without ever taking himself away from your lips. He was strong enough to carry you upstairs without struggling, which made you even more aroused than you already felt.

“To the left.” you whispered against his mouth.

It was strange having him in your new bedroom, yet, there was something familiar about seeing him amongst your possessions. He felt like he belonged. Jeno set you down on your bed and let out a groan of approval when you wouldn’t let go of his neck. You tried to trap him with your thighs, but he had pinned your arms above your head, which made you release him. Your body relaxed, half hanging off of your bed. Your stomach was bare where your shirt had ridden up, so Jeno leaned down to kiss it. He pushed it all the way up to expose your bare breasts and take them in your mouth one at a time. He was really going at it, feeling them and teasing them, when you put a stop to things and slipped out from underneath him.

“Can you give me a moment?” you asked, your face growing hot. “ I just need a second.”

Jeno sighed but agreed. He sat on the edge of your bed and watched you slink into your bathroom. You tried your best to freshen up, to get the 5 a.m stink off of you. Your mind was frantic and thinking of a million things that could go wrong. You realized that you were extremely nervous. The door to the bathroom slowly opened to reveal Jeno standing there with his hands in his pockets, and all of those thoughts faded like ghosts into the foreground.

“What are you doing?” he asked, crooking his finger. “Get over here.”

It was much easier than you thought it would be. It was like two friends getting together after a long time, friends that knew each other’s bodies inside and out. You tore off your shirt, not caring whether your armpits were sweating anymore. He met your breasts and moaned in appreciation as his mouth got back to business. On the bed, he rolled on top of you, laying kisses all down your body. You lifted your head up and let him nip at your neck. You took your hands and placed them underneath his t-shirt to touch his abs.

“Well,” you breathed. “This has changed.”

Jeno could only laugh. He took off his shirt and let you admire his body, which had definitely changed since the last time you took him to bed. You touched the hardness of his chest, down to the smoothness of tummy leading down to his cock, which you remembered in every detail. You sidled underneath him and let your tongue taste the salt on his skin. You bit down on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

Your body had changed, too. You were softer in a lot of places, which Jeno loved. He wanted to touch and savor all of you. There was an overeagerness to him that stifled any remaining awkwardness there could have been. He bit down on your shoulder in response, scraping his teeth against your skin before he met your mouth. His tongue wound its way around yours for a few seconds, just relishing the feeling of them together.

Once all the clothes were removed, a desperation started to change the atmosphere. Things were no longer silly. He didn’t laugh. You didn’t go anywhere but in his arms. The rain on the window was quiet but present. The sun was seeping into your skin where you lay underneath him. There was a moment where he grabbed your face between his hands and held you there, his thumb brushing across your cheek. He kissed you sweetly, his lips full.

When Jeno entered you, it was like all the memories of your sex life came flooding back. You would always miss him inside of you when he wasn’t there, miss the full feeling that came when he penetrated you for the very first time. You had missed the sounds his throat made whenever he concentrated on pleasuring you. You hadn’t forgotten how skilled his fingers were at fondling you, or how each stroke never failed to make you lose all thought. He fucked your body like it meant something in the morning glow. He didn’t slow down for anything, not even when he felt your fingernails digging into his back.

He had let you take control. You moved on top of him and sank down onto his cock, holding onto his arms as you did. With your hands pressed against his chest, you moved. You rode Jeno wildly, bucking against his pelvis with abandon. He tugged on your hair when you tilted your chin towards the ceiling. He gripped your waist. He smacked your ass. He did everything in his power to bring you back to him every time you slipped away. Your eyes eventually found him again. You moved lower and rode him, your sweaty body gliding against his. He held you, his thick arm around your neck as he felt your walls contract, as you came around his cock.

You wanted to cry out, wanted to bring the room down around you. You kept fucking him, wanting to coax the cum from his cock, to feel the warmth moving downwards with gravity. You wanted to keep it going forever, but it wasn’t meant to be. It had been a long time since you two had made love, and your bodies were too excited to hold back.

You knew there would be a talk somewhere in the future, when he was ready. As Jeno screwed up his face in orgasm, as you felt the warmth of his cum, you were a little too happy to prolong that conversation. You wanted him in your life for a long time but, for now, you would take him any way you could get him.

#jeno #lee jeno #nct jeno #jeno smut #nct smut #lee jeno smut #jeno fanfic #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream smut #lee jeno fanfic #hope you don't mind me combining these #i liked where the first one was going #and i was not originally going to add sex but I know some people out there would love it #so it felt right to answer both

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 6

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 6 - This Venerable One's Shizun

Xue Meng had lived on Life-Death Peak since he was a child. He was familiar with shortcuts and terrain so he had no problem catching up with Mo Ran

He escorted him all the way to the back of the mountain. The back mountain of Life-Death Peak was the closest place to the ghost realm in the whole world, separated by an enchantment, behind it is the netherworld.

Looking at the miserable situation in the back mountain, Mo Ran immediately understood why that person was clearly at home, but still needed Madam Wang to treat guests in the front hall.

It wasn't that the man didn’t want to help, but he couldn’t step away--

The barrier of the ghost world was broken.

At this moment, the entire back mountain was filled with a heavy spiritual resentment. The ghosts that hadn't taken on a body howled and hovered bitterly in the air. At the entrance of the mountain gate, there was a giant breach ripping through the sky. Behind the breach was the ghost realm, and a tall, bluestone staircase stretching thousand of steps escaped from the barrier cracks. Seeing out from the staircase, the fierce spirits that had regained a flesh body were climbing down this step disorderly and chaotically, rushing from the underworld to the human world.

Any ordinary person would be terrified at the scene unfolding. The first time Mo Ran saw it, he was shocked to the bone, but he was used to it now.

The barrier between the human and ghost realms was set by Emperor Fuxi in ancient times. Today, it was very weak. It would grow weak spots every now and again, which need to be repaired by immortal cultivators. However, this kind of thing not only does little to improve one's cultivation but is thankless with how much spiritual energy it consumes. It was a real drudgery, so few immortals in the upper cultivation world were willing to take this job.

When a fierce spirit was born, the people of the Lower Cultivation Realm were the first to come under attack. As the protectors of the Lower Cultivation Realm, Life-Death Peak was forced to undertake the task of repairing the barrier. The back mountains of the sect faced the weakest point in the barrier all to ensure they could be repaired swiftly.

There would be breaks in the barrier about four or five times a year. It was just like an old, chipped pot; useless.

Now, at the entrance of the ghost world, on the long bluestone stairs, a man stood there with snow-coloured clothes and wide sleeves flowing in the wind. He was surrounded by the aura of his sword, the golden light shimmering. Using his own power to clear out the evil spirits and ghosts, he repaired the small holes appearing in the barrier.

The man had a slender waist and an elegant appearance, with a holy aura and a handsome face. From a distance, it was easy to imagine he was a scholar reading an ancient scroll under a flowering tree. However, looking closely, he had sharp eyebrows, phoenix eyes slanted upwards, and the bridge of his nose was straight and narrow. While he seemed to be gentle and elegant, his eyes were mean and seemingly unkind.

Mo Ran glanced at him from a distance. Although he thought he had prepared himself, when he saw this man appear in front of him alive and healthy again, it made him tremble down to his smallest bones.

Half fear, half. . . excitement.

His Shizun.

Chu Wanning.

This was the person that Xue Meng had cried and begged to see when he arrived at Wushan Hall in the previous life.

It was this man that ruined Mo Ran's ambition, ruined his plans, and was finally imprisoned and tortured to death by Mo Ran because of it.

Logically speaking, if Mo Ran had the chance to avenge himself and defeat the enemy that had blocked his progress.

The sea is wide and free for fish to swim in, the sky is high and the birds could fly endlessly, no one could reign him back anymore. At least, that's what Mo Ran thought.

However, that doesn't seem to be the case.

After his Shizun died, something else seemed to have been buried along with his hatred.

Mo Ran was not a man of culture and didn't recognize any other feeling than being evenly matched with a worthy opponent.

He only knows that here on out, he had no archenemies.

When Shizun was alive, he had been afraid, paranoid, and anxious. When he saw the willow vine in Shizun's hand, the hair on the back of his neck stood on up. He became just like a beaten mutt, just the sound of a wooden club slap caused his teeth to ache and legs to give out. Even his calf muscles would spasm from fear.

Later, when Shizun died, the person Mo Ran had feared the most was finally gone. Mo Ran felt that he had grown and matured, being able to finally commit this act of murdering his teacher.

Afterwards, when looking at the mortal realm, no one dared force him to kneel down, and no longer slapped himself in the face.

To celebrate, he opened the pear blossom white wine, sat on the roof, and drank wine all night.

That night, under the influence of alcohol, the scars that Shizun had inflicted on his back when he was a teenager seemed to feel hot and painful again.

At this moment, when he saw Shizun reappear in front of him, Mo Ran started, filled with hate and anger, but there was also a slight twinge of ecstasy.

Such an opponent, lost and now regained, how can he not please?

Chu Wanning ignored the two apprentices who broke into the back mountains and continued concentrating on fighting the scattered undead.

His facial features were elegant, his eyebrows are evenly long. His phoenix eyes were cast downwards, his cool demeanour powerful. Amidst the demonic air and blood rain, his expression had not changed. His face remained calm, as though he might sit down and burn incense or play the guqin at the moment.

However, such a gentle and beautiful man, at that moment, was holding an icy exorcism long sword dripping with red blood droplets. With a flick of his wide sleeve, the sword's energy sliced through the bluestone steps in an explosion. Crushed stones and bricks rolled down, cracking an immeasurable chasm from the gate all the way to the bottom of the mountain, splitting the staircase and its thousands of steps!

So ferocious.

How many years had it been since he had seen his Shizun's power?

This familiar and powerful dominance made Mo Ran lose all his strength. Shakily, he fell onto his knees with a thump.

It didn't take long for Chu Wanning to kill all the ghosts, and neatly fill in the holes in the barrier to the ghost world. After doing all this, he fell from mid-air and went over to Mo Ran and Xue Meng.

He first glanced at Mo Ran kneeling on the ground, and then raised his eyes to look at Xue Meng, his phoenix eyes holding a powerful chill.

"Causing trouble again?"

Mo Ran sucked in a breath.

Shizun had the ability to always correctly assume any situation.

Xue Meng: "Shizun, Mo Ran went down the mountain, committing the two crimes of stealing and prostitution. Please punish him accordingly, Shizun."

Chu Wanning was silent for a while, expressionless. He coldly remarked: "I know."

Mo Ran: ". . ."

Xue Meng: ". . ."

Both of them were a little confused. Then? Is that it?

However, just when Mo Ran thought tat he had gotten off lucky, he looked up at Chu Wanning and caught a a glimpse of a sharp golden light suddenly cutting through the air. There was a lightening-like crackling sound that slashed across Mo Ran's cheek!!

Drops of blood splashed everywhere!

The speed of that golden light was so fast, Mo Ran didn't even have a moment to close his eyes, let alone dodge it. The skin on his face was flayed open with a fierce pain.

Chu Wanning stood with his hands clasped behind his back, standing coldly in the chilling breeze of teh night air. The air was still filled with the foul aura of fierce spirits and ghosts mixed with the smell of human blood. It made the forbidden area of the back mountains appear even more eerie and terrifying.

In Chu Wanning's hand was a willow vine that had whipped Mo Ran. The vine was narrow and long, with green leaves sprouting from it, hanging down near the edge of his boots.

It was clearly sucha graceful object. Looking at it would have made people think of poems such as "Pliant is the the willow branch I gift to my beloved".

It's a pity that Chu Wanning was neither pliant or had a beloved.

The willow vine in his hand was actually a magic weapon named Tianwen. At this moment, Tianwen was glimmering with golden red light, piercing through the surrounding darkness, and also reflecting in the bottomless depths of Chu Wanning's eyes.

Chu Wanning pursed his lips, and said sensibly: "Mo Weiyu, you are so bold. Should I really not do something to discipline you?"

If this really was the fifteen-year old Mo Ran, he might not have taken this exclamation seriously, thinking that Shizun was just trying to scare him.

But after being reborn, Mo Weiyu had thoroughly experienced Shizun’s "control" with his blood in his previous life. He immediately felt the roots of his teeth ache and blood rushing to his head. His mouth was already moving, ready to deny everything and clear his name

"Shizun. . ." His cheek still bleeding, Mo Ran raised his eyes, staining them with a thin veil of tears. He knew that his current appearance must look extremely pitiful. "This disciple has never stolen. . . has never laid with a prostitute. . . why did Shizun listen to Xue Meng's words and strike me without even listening to my side of the story?"

". . ."

Mo Ran had two tricks to get out of trouble with his uncle. First, act cute. Second, pretend to be pitiful. Now he tried these out on Chu Wanning, trying to look so pitiful that tears almost fell from his eyes: "Is the disciple really so worthless in your eyes? Why doesn't Shizun even give me a chance to defend myself?"

Xue Meng stomped angrily next to him: "Mo Ran! You, you piece of shit! You truly are shameless! Sizun, don't listen to him, don't be fooled by this bastard! He really did steal! All the stolen goods are still on him!"

Chu Wanning looked through his eyelashes, his expression cold: "Mo Ran, you truly never stole?"

"Never."

". . . You should know the consequences of lying to me."

Mo Ran's arms were covered in goosebumps. How could he not know? But he still foolishly persisted: "Shizun, please!"

Chu Wanning raised his hand, and the shiny golden vine waved again, but this time he did not draw it on the face of Mo Ran. Instead, he used it to tightly bind Mo Ran.

This feeling was all too familiar. In addition to whipping people on the regular, the willow vine "Tianwen" has another function——

Chu Wanning stared at Mo Ran, who was held tightly in Tianwen's grasp, and asked again: "Have you never stolen?"

Suddenly, there was a familiar stabbing pain straight in Mo Ran's heart, as if a sharp fanged small snake had slid its way into his chest and was playing with his organs.

Accompanied by the severe pain was an irresistible temptation. Mo Ran couldn't help but open his mouth, his voice hoarse: "I. . . never. . . ah. . . !!!"

Tianwen's golden light seemed to pick up on his lies, glowing harder. The pain caused Mo Ran to break out in a cold sweat, but he still desperately resisted such torture.

This was Tianwen's second function: interrogation.

Once tied up by Tianwen, no one could lie. Whether it was a person or a ghost, dead or alive, Tianwen had a way of forcing them to speak and reveal the answer that Chu Wanning wanted to know.

In his last life, by relying on a strong cultivation base, there was only one person who had finally managed to keep a secret under Tianwen's influence.

That person was the person who had become the emperor of the mortal realm, Mo Weiyu.

After being reborn, Mo Ran had hoped he'd have a bit of luck, thinking that he would still be able to resist the forced interrogation of Tianwen. But after biting his lip for what felt like forever, with big beads of sweat dripping down over his dark eyebrows and full-body trembles, he finally bowed before Chu Wanning's boots in pain, gasping for breath.

"I. . . I. . . stole. . ."

The pain abruptly disappeared.

Mo Ran hadn't even caught his breath before Chu Wanning asked another question, his voice even colder than before.

"Did you commit debauchery?"

Smart people don't do stupid things. Since he hadn't been able to resist before, it was even more impossible now. This time, Mo Ran didn't even resist, and when the pain struck, he went so far to even shout: "Yes yes I did!!!! Shizun please! No more!"

Xue Meng's face turned blue at his side. He exclaimed with shock: "You, how can you. . . That Rong Jiu is a man, you actually. . ."

No one paid attention to him. As the golden light of Tianwen slowly dimmed, Mo Ran gasped for breath, his whole body was drenched as if he had just been fished from the water. His face was as white as paper, his lips still trembling, and he collapsed on the ground, unable to move.

Through sweaty eyelashes, he looked up at Chu Wanning's elegant figure, wearing a green jade crown and wide sleeves that fell to the floor.

A strong hatred suddenly surged into his heart - Chu Wanning! This Venerable One wasn't wrong in is treatment of you in his past life, that much is true!! Even after being reborn, the hatred still burns strong! Fuck all eighteen generations of your ancestors!!

Chu Wanning didn't know that this crafty disciple was going to fuck all eighteen generations of his ancestors. He stood there for a while with a sullen expression, and then said.

"Xue Meng."

Although Xue Meng knows that men were the popular choice among rich businessmen and wealthy households, and many people play with male prostitutes just for something new and not really because they liked men, he still couldn't digest it. After a while, he said: "Shizun, this disciple is here."

"Mo Ran went against the three mandates on corruption, debauchery, and deception. Take him to the Yan Luo Hall so he can repent. Bring him to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil tomorrow morning so that he receive a public punishment."

Xue Meng was startled: "What. . .? Public punishment?"

Public punishment means taking the disciples who have committed severe transgressions in front of the disciples of the whole school, in front of everyone, even the ladies in the dining hall, and punishing them for the crowd.

Utterly shameful.

It should be known that Mo Ran was a disciple of Life-Death Peak. Although the disciplinary measures in the school were strict, because of Mo Ran's special status - his uncle pitied him for losing his parents so young and was scavenging outside for fourteen years - he couldn't bear to punish Mo Ran. No matter what Mo Ran did, he would just get a small lecture in private, and he would be beaten.

But Shizun wouldn't even save the face of the sect leader. He wanted to take his precious nephew to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil and publicly punish and shame Young Master Mo in front of the entire sect. This was something even Xue Meng hadn't expected.

Mo Ran, however, wasn't surprised.

He lay on the ground with a sneer at the corner of his mouth.

How great and selfless his Shizun was.

Chu Wanning was truly cold-blooded. In his previous life, when Shi Mei died in front of him, Mo Ran cried and pleading, pulling on his clothes, kneeling on the ground and begging him for help.

But Chu Wanning turned a deaf ear.

And so his disciple had breathed his last breath before him, and even with Mo Ran crying his heart out next to him, Chu Wanning simply stood there and ignored his sobs.

Now all he was doing was putting him on the Platform of Righteousness and Evil to be dealt with before the public. There was nothing strange about this.

Mo Ran could only resent how weak his cultivation base was now. He couldn't peel off Chu Wanning's skin, rip out his nerves, drink his blood, can’t pull his hair back, can't insult him, can’t torture him and destroy his dignity, make him desire nothing but death. . .

He hadn't been able to hide the beast-like hatred in his eyes, and Chu Wanning picked up on it.

He faintly glanced at Mo Ran's face, a stoic expression on a gentle and elegant face.

"What are you thinking about?"

Fuck!

Tianwen hadn't been removed yet!

Mo Ran once again felt the vines tying him up, and his internal organs felt like they were about to be squeezed into mush. He yelled in pain, panting and roaring out the thoughts in his head——

"Chu Wanning, you think you're so refined! Watch me fuck you to death!"

No one made a sound.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Even Xue Meng was stunned: ". . ."

Tianwen suddenly retracted Chu Wanning's palm, turning into a small speck of golden light before disappearing altogether. Tianwen was made from the bones and blood of Chu Wanning and could appear when summoned and vanished at will.

Xue Meng's face was pale and he stuttered: "Shi-Shizun. . ."

Chu Wanning didn't say a word. His delicate black and slender eyelashes lowered, examining his palms for a while. Then, he raised his eyes, his face even, but his complexion even colder. He glared at Mo Ran with a gaze saying "this disciple deserves death", then said in a low voice:

"Tianwen is broken, I am going to go fix it."

Chu Wanning threw down these words, turned and left.

Xue Meng was kind of slow: "How could an immortal weapon like Tianwen be broken?"

Chu Wanning heard it, and glanced back at him with a look of "this disciple deserves death" as well. Xue Meng shuddered.

Mo Ran lay on the ground, half-dead, with a blank expression.

What he had been thinking really was looking for a way to fuck Chu Wanning to death. He knew that the Master Chu, who held titles like "Yuheng of the Night Sky, Beidou Immortal", had always paid attention to elegance and correctness, and he couldn't stand being stepped on by others, defiling him.

But he didn't want Chu Wanning to know that he was thinking that!

Mo Ran whimpered like a stray dog, covering his face.

Thinking of the look in Chu Wanning's eyes when he was leaving, he felt that he probably did not have long to wait until his death.

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#the husky and his white cat shizun #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #2ha #2ha translation #2ha novel #chinese novel #chinese bl #english translation #mo ran #chu wanning #yaoi novel

[lady-o-ren]

The Dig 

Part Two (Because I was bullied into this . . .)

//Which can be read (HERE) for easier reading// And Part One (HERE)

In a little rented room above auld Geordie’s pub, Claire Beauchamp stood in nothing but her silk undergarments as she flipped open her weathered suitcase (once belonging to her dear uncle Lamb) she had heaved atop her bed. She rummaged through the contents, blowing at her curls clouding around her face, before pulling out a single dress of pale blue.

It wasn't something she usually packed whenever she went off on a dig but the dress had caught her eye in a department store window in London just before coming to Suffolk. She reasoned one never knew when the occasion might call for her to dress in something other than dirt stained trousers.

And never had she been more relieved by an impulse buy.

Or thankful for a rainy day that halted her excavation.

It was a chance to be with the Scot who thought her more precious than the iron rivets they discovered a few days ago, proof that the burial site they were knee deep in was a ship to honor a fallen king. She would've kissed him on the spot if it weren't for Foster and Pound.

The kiss however did come later.

After her and the lads celebrated with too many pints, she and Fraser went back to Sutton Hoo, slightly swaying with every step beneath the twilight, until their arms found their way around one another. Soon they were laying side by side in the grass and dirt, the air cool on their whiskey flushed cheeks, and she wrapped in his coat. Big and warm and enveloping like himself.

"We may very well be unearthing a legend here ," said Beauchamp, leaning back on her elbows, eyes closed facing the moon.

Fraser grinned.

" Beowulf ?"

She laughed and turned her gaze to him. "Arthur, King of the Britons !"

He laughed along with her, a deep and hearty sound, then joking all aside said  -

"Anglo Saxon, ye think?"

She nodded and rolled to her side, nearly pressing herself against Fraser's chest, heaving from a sharp intake of breath.

"I told you before that something grand and marvelous was buried here . . ."

"Ye did."

Then shyly Fraser said -

"Bha mi a ’bruadar mun bhròn mhòr. . . Remember that bit from my notebook?"

Her eyes softened and her features took on a pretty shade of pink remembering a great deal more of what that book contained.

How each page held a piece of his heart.

And laid a hand over his chest, against that fervent beat.

"Of course I do," she answered back, but frowned a little when Fraser bashfully kept his gaze to the small gap between them where a dandelion bloomed.

"Weel, I wrote it that night after we first met, from a dream I had. Sounds a great deal better in the gaelic though. . ."

Beauchamp raised her hand to cup his cheek, thumbing the fine cut bones beneath his skin, before pressing her soft warm mouth against his lips.

"Tell me," she insisted, when they managed to part and nudged her nose against his.

And so he did, voice low and more than a little breathless.

I dreamt about the mourning.

The deaths of great men. Terrible men. Old and young. Of Kings lost in battle buried beneath us.

They cried out to me and the Earth came to life and twisted her roots around me, dragging me inside her womb. Dark and cold, breathless like a cave.

But I wasn't frightened. I saw lights rushing around me, bright as the twilight sky. The souls that lie ahead. Surrounding us.

They brought me to you.

He shrugged sheepishly then.

Just before she kissed him again. Knowing she'd never want anyone more than she did right then and there amongst the swaying trees and spirits of auld.

This man whose soul spoke to her own.

Too bad a crack of lightning had to ruin the night.

But at least the rain blessed them with a day to themselves in apology.

Taking one last glance in the vanity mirror (that was about as big as her compact) and another quick check that her nails were clean of dirt, Beauchamp left her room and walked down the hallway to Fraser's, knocking softly against his door. When no one answered she pressed her ear curiously to the door hearing voices and knocked again, just a bit more louder, tapping the toe of her slingback  heels against the beaten wooden floor. With still no response (and patience never being a virtue she ever possessed) she flat out turned the knob finding it unlocked.

She poked her head in and found a room even smaller than her own and the source of the voices coming from a small red radio playing an adaption of a film from the windowsill.

- I might have known you were here. I had a feeling just as I hit the floor.

- That was your hat.

- Oh, Susan! Just look at it! Look!

Fraser himself was fast asleep and spread out atop the bed sheets dressed for a date to the cinema with his long arms crossed above his head and his big feet dangling off the edge of his too small bed.

Beauchamp stood watching him for a moment, filled with a sudden tenderness at his sleeping innocence . . . and a bone deep wickedness that gave her an idea. She closed the door quietly behind herself and flipped the lock, grinning as she did so. She then slipped out of her slingback heels and crossed the room in two short strides (the floorboards creaking with the pitch of a mouse beneath her), to carefully lay down beside him.

Fraser turned to her in sleep, a throaty murmur on his lips, and laid a heavy arm around her slim waist, gathering her heart to heart. She sighed happily and reached to caress a curl hanging low at his brow, admiring the color that reminded her of the scorching sunsets in Giza she basked in with her uncle so many years ago. Her fingers then threaded through his thick mane down to where they began to curl at his neck and was rewarded with an unexpected smile. Pure and sweet.

"You're too perfect for words, lad," she whispered against his wide mouth, but before she could seal their lips together his long blonde lashes fluttered open.

Fraser gazed at her sleepily, his smile only growing wider as the word Sorcha was adoringly breathed against her cheeks.

She wanted to ask him what that one meant. It might be her favorite bit of gaelic so far.

But then . . .

"Claire!" Fraser exclaimed, and nearly toppled them both out of the bed if not for Beauchamp clinging to his shoulders, steadying him above her.

"How di' ye - Why are ye -"

Beauchamp giggled loudly at his befuddled face and at his hair sticking up in all directions like a sunflower crown. She coasted her hands up the wide breadth of his shoulders to cup both his scarlet cheeks.

"You're door was unlocked, and you know how cold I easily get . . ." she playfully pouted, and tugged his face closer, enjoying how his skin felt like a glowing hot coal between her hands.

But Fraser pulled away.

"Claire. . ."

She sighed yet kept her amused grin.

"You're not a lad of sixteen, you know. You can have a girl in your room."

"I ken that," he answered back, with a defensive spike in his voice.

Beauchamp ignored his tone letting her hands wander to his chest, the muscles taut beneath his crisp white shirt straining to contain his racing heartbeat.

"We even spent a night under the stars together."

"That was altogether different."

Her eyes flashed with mischief as she toyed with the buttons of his shirt. "How so?"

"For one," Fraser breathed hoarsely, placing a hand over hers lest she get too carried away. "It wasn't all night, the thunder made sure of that, and we mostly were talking anyway."

"Mostly?"

"And two," he said firmly, ears pink. "There wasn't a bed either of us could fall out of."

"No, there wasn't," she agreed, deciding he'd had enough of her teasing (and only because she had never taken anyone seriously enough to go slow). "But you can still keep me warm, Fraser. Virtue intact. I promise."

He arched a ruddy brow, doubtful of the lass with cheeky hands and a red cheshire grin that could lure a man to break every sin. Yet he eased himself beside her anyway and in the only way that worked.

With their legs twined together, nearly flushed against one another.

And his big hand braced along her back, the fabric soft against his callused palm as he smoothed it up and down, feeling the gentle rise of her ribs as she breathed in absolute contentment.

“Better than sitting in the cinema don't you think?” said Beauchamp, as she nuzzled her face to the crook of his neck, warmed by his skin that smelled freshly clean. Yet she found herself missing the scent of a hard day's labor on him.

“Aye, much - wait!” Fraser shifted to his elbow. “We missed the film didn't we?"

Beauchamp, a little annoyed at being jostled, shook her head and tugged at his collar to settle her lad back down.

"No, there's still some time left. Cary Grant just lost his intercostal clavicle bone to a dog named George. . . Or was it a leopard named Baby?"

Fraser stared at her like she'd gone completely daft until he noticed the radio playing in the background and heard the inimitable voices of Grant alongside Katherine Hepburn.

- Now it isn't that I don't like you, Susan, because, after all, in moments of quiet, I'm strangely drawn toward you, but - well, there haven't been any quiet moments.

"Oh,” he chuckled lightly, dropping his head to the side. “I must've fallen asleep listening to Lux Theatre . What I meant was the actual cinema though.”

“I think Judy Garland is merrily singing down that yellow brick road as we speak. But don't be sorry," she said, with a kiss to the hard line of his jaw, before the words could fall from his mouth. "It would've been far too crowded anyway."

“But you got yourself all dressed up," he protested, as his eyes traveled down to where her dress had been rucked up tight over her breasts and waist (and where his hand involuntarily flexed over the winged flare of her hip) before hastily clearing his throat.

"Ye look lovely by the way, mo chridhe. More than lovely actually. . ."

That shy and tender smile of his was her undoing and made her feel light-headed and reckless.

"Either that clever mouth of yours keeps on with the compliments, Fraser, or . . ."

Her voice carried off as her knee glided up between his thighs and her arms clasped around his shoulders so that any thoughts Fraser had of being a gentleman were forgotten in a wanton blaze of heat.

Some time later, with Fraser's cheek pillowed against her breasts, breath hot and seeping through the thin blue fabric thoroughly wrinkled now, he groaned.

"I wish we weren't in a room above a pub that reeks of cigarettes and wee."

She hummed softly, her fingertips stroking the back of his head, twirling around his curls. Admiring their beauty.

"Where should we be then?"

Fraser lifted his gaze to hers, blue eyes glimmering with that undeniable emotion that should've scared her yet it only made her want to claim him forever.

"A woman like you. . ." He smiled. " In a tent somewhere outside the ruins of a temple or in a cave in the Himalayas."

Her chest bounced with sparkling laughter.

"How about when this is all over and our names are the talk of the town, you take me anywhere you please. Preferably with a bed we can both fit in."

It was a tantalizing thought yet Fraser couldn't help but think of Scotland. Of his home Lallybroch. With her hand in his passing through the centuries old stone archway as his lady of Broch Turach.

Someday, maybe. God willing.

"I can think of a place," he murmured, and tightened his hold around her lush frame and pressed a daring kiss of hope above her heart. Felt her shiver beneath his mouth.

- I've just discovered that was the best day I've ever had in my whole life!

- But I was there!

- That's what made it so good!

And together they drifted off listening to the rain and the silly, sappy music.

I can't give you anything but love, baby.

That's the only thing I've plenty of, baby.

Dream awhile, scheme awhile

We're sure to find happiness . . .

//

A/N: There’s a lot of notes so I’ll keep them to ao3. And there’s probably mistakes galore but I needed to post this before cringe settled in and I deleted it, Thank you for reading!

#jamie x claire #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction #gobbledygook writing

[echo-of-sounds]

marry me

Small drabbles of you suddenly getting the desire for more in your relationship.

All three of these came out to be exactly 261 words long. Weird.

Aizawa Shouta

“Are you going to keep staring at me?”

“I’m not staring,” you mumbled, going back to your book.

Shouta scoffed then continued his scribbles. Whatever he was working on agitated his eyebrows, raising and scrunching them every other second. His tied-back hair showcased his gorgeous jaw. It opened into a big yawn and he scratched the scruff that had grown long.

It roused a yawn in you. So many catnaps and close cuddles. The couched housed your languid fondles, pleasing, pampering each other in the dim room. Rain was a lullaby. His heartbeat was your timepiece, affording soft dreams and deep sleep.

He sighed your name, tiredly, handsomely. “Why are you-”

“Marry me.”

Dark eyes snapped to yours, drowsy but direct, made of silk, sable, and satin. “What?”

He was the locus of your love. A blunt, caring lotus you wanted to be yours. You wanted his burdens, his natural weary temper, his heavy warmth on you every single night, drifting off to slumber, safe and sound under him. 

No more foggy what-ifs. They needed to wake to full-fledged needs. He could never truly understand his importance, your emotions. But you tried, barely vocalizing your desires, “Will you marry me, Shouta?”

He stood. He approached. He grabbed your cheeks and kissed you. The book tumbled. He drew you to stand, lips never leaving yours.

You mumbled, “Is that a yes?”

“Undoubtedly.” Unkempt hair, rundown, rough hands, and dull clothes looked like the most heavenly thing on earth when he smiled his threadbare smile. He droned into your mouth, “I love you.”

Yagi Toshinori

You both thanked the vendor as he handed you the ice cream. Toshi grabbed your hand, leading you along the park walkway. Cool air drifted between you.

He stopped at a bench overlooking a small pond. Gentle fingers tilted you to kiss him. Strawberry wet his lips, sugary and shivery. He suggested, “Why don’t we sit here.”

You followed him to the bench. A yellow flower grew near one of the legs. You picked it, noting to an amused Toshi, “It looks like you.” You slipped it behind his ear.

He stared. The cutest smile pulled his lips. Yellow hair brightened against the orange sky.

Heat bloomed in your chest, sprouting passion, blossoming affection, bearing nothing but love and rapture. A floret upon floret created a bouquet of honey, fruit, and nectar only he could grow. You breathed under the weight, “Marry me.”

His surprised face matched your internal shock. He whispered your name, rooting the desire. A meadow nurtured of yellow and blue; happiness and candor. No sun nor sky could equal him. Petals flourished again, overrunning, vast, bright, and deep. 

You repeated yourself, willful of your words, “Will you marry me, Toshinori?”

Water coated his eyes, falling just like the ice cream did from his hand. “Of course, I will.”

You dropped your own dessert and hugged him tightly. He kissed your head. Your ears savored his voice, his heart, “I love you. I love you so much.”

Vines wrapped your lungs, but it didn’t hurt; it never hurt. The sweet flowers thrived because of the angel he was.

Yamada Hizashi

The white keys were spotless. The red sparkled, contrasting and highlighting his beautiful eyes. Excitement stumbled his usually nimble work.

“Can you hand me that piece?” Hizashi pointed to the strap.

“Here.”

You watched his trained fingers switch from fumbling to fiddling with the harness, finally getting the accordion together again after days of deep cleaning it. The sound wasn’t the most pleasing and he was definitely no master of the art, but his smile and happiness made the suffering worth every second.

He tiled the instrument towards you with a handsome grin and sang, “What do you think?”

The question built an aria, light, airy, perfectly matching his elation. Hums and whistle so often serenaded your ears. Wonderful songs fell from his mouth, waterfalls of his love and joy. But you wanted it to be a duet. 

You asked, wishing your voice could parallel the melody of his, “Marry me.”

“What?” He set the accordion down. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I love you. Will you marry me, Hizashi?”

He was quiet, letting the drum in your chest beat. Susurrus turned sonorant at his smile. It burst into a strident laugh- his laugh that was greater than any anthem.

“Hiza-”

Arms circled your waist. Your feet left the ground. He spun in circles, cheering yes repeatedly.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything when he set you down. Lips kissed all over your face, landing on your own. Chants of devotion and affection echoed so sublimely. It vibrated your body to his tempo and now his music would forever be with you.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #all might #all might x reader #yagi toshinori #toshinori x reader #present mic #present mic x reader #yamada hizashi #hizashi x reader #aizawa imagine #all might imagine #present mic imagine #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha imagines

[kuroos-moon]

≫ Incomplete

pairing: miya atsumu x reader

tags: lovers to exes, fluff to angst 

warning/s: cheating, angst

wc: 1.8k

part two: complete

You were always a pair, Atsumu and you; not in the way he and Osamu are, but in the sense wherein the weather didn’t decide for him whether his day would be gloomy or not, for the vibrance of his day solely depended on you.   

The sun could shine into every dark nook around him, and yet brightness is only blinding to him if you’re nowhere to be seen in the light. On the other hand, even if heavy rain decided to soak his shoes and clothes, the sky a single color which is a boring gray, the world through his eyes—is nothing but warm, glowing, and euphoric. 

And as he stares back at your lit-up eyes through the thick shower of rain, hearing your hearty laughter above the weather’s unforgiving noise, he realized that you are his world after all. 

Years later and you’re rooted even deeper from wherever he stood, in fact, you had easily become his home. It mattered none that you still don’t live together, it mattered even less that your relationship was kept secret all for the sake of your privacy. What truly mattered to you both, was the unbreakable trust you had in each other, the very trust that made your love grow and last this long.

“I’ll miss ‘ya, don’t forget to eat on time, okay?” Though hooded, strands of his disarray blonde hair still stuck out cutely, and you busy yourself by pushing back his hair as if it were important right now. 

“Y/n,” he sighs, taking both your small, shaky hands in his warm, big ones. This is hard for him too. 

He scans your face, having memorized how your brows would furrow above your teary eyes, how your lips would quiver and your hands would shake before you cried—he knew that this parting would involve much of your tears yet again. 

“I’m fine, I- I’m not gonna cr- 

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, sobs already erupting from your throat as he pulls you into his chest, an arm tight around your waist while his other hand rests behind your head, securing you to himself. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he softly mumbles, head dipped down beside your ear as he rocks you gently along with him, he always hated having to leave you after such little time spent together.

The bus ride to the hotel four towns away from where you lived was excruciating. You weren’t overdramatic when you cried earlier, he never thought that of you; it’s just that your time for each other had greatly been narrowed down to phone calls and irritatingly short meet ups, he understood why you were so sad. 

And whose fault is that? His subconscious asks almost instantly.

Come to think of it, it’s always you who had to alter your life around his. Of course, he didn’t just think of it now, but only right then did it hit him that your relationship had gone too imbalanced for he doesn’t know how long—it made him sick to think that he could ever do that to you.

You were both givers in your relationship, but lately all he’d done was take. 

Resting his chin on his palm as he stares out the window, flashbacks of your years together played beautifully in his mind, his eyes closed and a small smile on his lips. Today was a Wednesday.

He’ll be home by Friday if he’d be lucky enough to ditch their manager and the celebratory party he couldn’t really care less for, not compared to you. If not, he’ll see you Saturday morning. 

Either way, he knows he has to purchase the ring on Thursday night.

He goes over his plan, excitement rushing through him as he visualizes how happy he’ll make you; and he’ll give all of himself to make up for the tears he caused you when he was too busy to make you feel like you weren’t alone. 

For starters, announcing your engagement on Sunday morning after proposing on a Saturday date night, and just to flaunt, he’ll post his favorite picture of you both in his socials. Well that’s assuming you don’t refuse, it’s highly unlikely anyway.

Next, he’ll offer you his undivided attention. No more passing out in bed right after practice and missing the chance to see you, no more relying on the fact that you’ll wake up whatever time he calls or comes over, insensitively disrupting your sleep or plans for the day. 

Lastly... moving in has been long overdue. With your engagement out to public, there’s no reason to have separate houses anymore. Just the thought of cradling you whenever he wants to, no longer needing to travel and be cautious, has him almost bouncing on his seat.

He’ll be the best husband, and he knows you’ll be an awesome wife—did I say wife? He’s getting too far ahead of himself. His teammates only look at him weirdly as he covers his face with both hands, an inexplicable muffled scream of fluster leaving his lips.

Plans were beautiful, especially when he meant to fulfill them with all of his heart and with all of his being. Small things lead to big changes though, for better or worse, he just wishes he went home right away that night.

You awoke at dawn on a Saturday to a car pulling up outside your house. Still clueless of the world as you’re fresh from sleep, mindlessly looking through your window, immediately brought to your senses when you see their manager’s car. 

Racing down the stairs and past the door, you could almost scream in happiness when you see him get off the car. But something’s weird, he looked out of it from where you stood on your doorstep, and he had an arm around Hinata’s shoulders as the latter supported your boyfriend who couldn’t even walk straight. 

“Hey, what happened?” You’re quick to wrap an arm around him as you took Hinata’s place in guiding him to your home. 

“Shoyo?” He too, seemed out of it. He looks at you with sad eyes, almost as if he came bearing bad news when in fact you’re so grateful he brought Atsumu to you.

“Something happened, y/n.” 

That was all the orange left you with but it didn’t really matter much to you, you’re far too preoccupied with taking care of Atsumu. 

“Why did you even drink a lot,” you scoldingly say under your breath, hands cupping both his cheeks so he would finally look at you. “What’s wrong, ‘Tsum?” 

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps, swatting your hands away before he stands up and walks past you, shakingly running his hands through his blonde locks in frustration.

“What is it?” You ask, hurt by his rejection and his tone. He wasn’t always the nicest person, but to you, he’d never as much as raise his voice or snap at you like that ever since he matured after highschool. 

“I’m sorry,” he turns around, and you only look at him in confusion.

“I- I kissed someone else,” he softly says without warning, as if it were something casual and painless.  

“What?” 

You never thought that he would be capable of doing that to you, in fact, you understood that he was kissed without him wanting to be kissed—the problem is that he kissed back. He could’ve easily hidden it from you, yet you both knew he couldn’t live with it. 

On his knees before you as you sat on the bed, he cries on your lap as you lightly run your fingers through his hair. The world for you both came crashing down, he could already feel you slip through his fingers at every apology he sobbed out, his chest aching so much as he forces himself to wake up from this nightmare. 

He never woke up though, because it bitterly wasn’t a dream. Glancing up to look at you through his tears, he knew he had shattered you beyond repair—a single night was all it took—when all of more than five years together, he had spent nurturing you with so much care and affection. 

What agonized him the most was the void look in your eyes, he had destroyed what you both had, and deep down he knew that it will take eons if not forever for you to love someone else. If only he could take away your hurt, if only he hadn’t done what he did, if only he went straight home to you. 

“What now, ‘Tsum?” You ask him, lost and almost dead inside, but you still had the heart to hold him against you because truth is, this would be your last night together. 

“Be happy and go on with your life,” he lowly says. Contrary to how his words held meaning of parting, he hugs you even tighter to himself. 

“Without you?” 

He almost chokes at the lump on his throat, but he had managed to be firm with his resolve—it’s the least he could do for you. 

“Yes. Without me,” he says the words he never wanted to say, kissing your temple when you cry once more into his chest.

You were always a pair, Atsumu and you; not in the way he and Osamu are, but in the sense wherein one could never be without the other. 

So what becomes of a torn-apart pair? 

What you had was something you both would call shatterproof to an extend beyond bounds, but what you didn’t know was that when shatterproof things do what they aren’t ever expected to do—when they do break, tear, and shatter—everything else crumbles as severely as how strong the ‘unbreakable’ was supposed to be. 

You’re just two souls who had become one, now separated and agonizingly partial and incomplete.

You still read two zodiac signs and leave space for him in bed, taking into account years of him suddenly sneaking in your room to sleep beside you and getting up before you even woke. You’re stuck in a cycle of always thinking for two and not only yourself, in every decision you make or thoughts you thought over, at the back of your mind, you’d wonder what he would think about it or what he’d tell you if he were still with you. 

And as he stares back at your lit-up eyes through the thick shower of rain, hearing your hearty laughter above the weather’s unforgiving noise, he realized that you are his world after all. 

To Atsumu since your parting, his rainy days were just that—rainy. Even in nice weather he could only lock himself alone in his room, praying that you were enjoying the sun unlike him; for every little detail of his life revolted back to the thought of you, like how he’d stare longer at his hand, almost imagining a translucent image of your fingers slipping through the gaps of his. 

The ring he had bought? He kept it hidden in his shelf, and for as long as he’s alive he’ll keep it as a painful but much deserved reminder of a life with you that could’ve been. 

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh @dinablossom @haru-the-secret @strayczennies @lalisbitch @tinymidgetsstuff @animebs @astrealia @kittykitkatstrawberry @hajimesbbygrl @kellesvt @24hr7dysdizzy @arnxldss @elianetsantana @vicassa @floraraine @beanst0ck @leinnah @kageyamasgirl @deafeningart @minibobabottle   @franko-pop @moonlightaangel @throughtheinterstices @micasaessakusa @dixonsbugaboo @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @ultzuko @yappychan @dipsydoo542 @devilgirlcrybabiey​ @bakugohoex​

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu!! oneshots #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #atsumu miya #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!! x you #haikyuu x you #atsumu miya x reader

[spinster-sisters]

Sunflower. LTY

Warnings: Face fucking mostly, a toxic as fuck relationship, swearing

A/N: THIS RELATIONSHIP IS TOXIC AF SO PLEASE DON’T THINK IM SAYING THIS IS OK OR THAT IM ROMANTISIZING THIS

also, guess which song this is based on lol

This is gonna b like a 3 part mini series so stay tuned

THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY OLD BLOG

You don’t know how the fuck you got here, standing outside the looming apartment building. It was going to rain soon, you could tell because not a star was visible in the night sky, covered by clouds. Distant thunder rumbled in the air. You told yourself never again, yet here you were.

It started almost a year ago,

You meet Taeyong in at a frat party. You hadn’t spoken much, both of you too drunk to care. It didn’t take long for you to take him home.

When you woke the next morning, your bed was empty, no note, no text, nothing. At the time you didn’t care, it was just a one night stand right?

Then, not even a week later it happened again, this time you were both completely sober, having spoken for almost an hour before, only this time you didn’t even make it out of the party before you found a closet for a quick fuck. Once again, total static after. After the fourth time, the man ghosted you, you told yourself no more. You had become somewhat invested in this man, each time believing you might have a future, only for him to disappear the next day. So you promised your self that it wouldn’t happen again.

It was only 2 weeks before the man had once again lured you into his bed. You didn’t mean to fall in love, you didn’t. You tried fucking around, just as he did. You tried blind dates and parties, and even binge drinking to try and keep your mind away from Taeyong. Yet every time, you would scramble to meet him, anytime, any place he desired. You were at his beck and call.

It got to the point were others knew not to even bother, you were Taeyong’s. No matter how much you flirted, how hot you looked, how desperate they were, no one dared to touch what Taeyong had successfully claimed. Even if he didn’t seem to need you.

He continued to sleep around as he pleased, going days without even texting you, then calling you at 2 am to come for a quick fuck. And every time you came running.

It was clear to everyone that to you, he was everything. But to him, you were nothing.

This reality hit you especially hard 3 weeks ago. He had been out with a girl, but she got to piss drunk before he could get his dick wet. And instead of jerking off he called you. You were there in 12 minutes. Though your time was cut short when he got a phone call, it was the girl from earlier, sobered up and ready for a good time.

He left before you had even got your clothes on.

That hit you hard. For 3 weeks you ignored his calls, for 3 weeks you avoided him at parties, for 3 weeks you were strong.  

Yet here you were, standing outside his apartment. The rain had just begun to fall. You were broken, you missed him, you wanted to see him, talk to him, feel him. He was like a drug or a god, in your eyes. You craved his attention, reveling in the few moments you had it. Those moments gave you a better high than any recreational substance ever could.

Which is why you are here, you are an addict going through withdrawals. And you needed your fix.

You walked up to the steps to the heavy metal door, and pressed the button next to his name, buzzing up to his apartment. You stood silent for a moment, wondering if he was even going to answer, it was nearly midnight.

“Hello?” Taeyong’s voice sounded over the intercom. Your heart cried out at the sound. It was pathetic really. You breath soon stopped though, you had no clue what to say. There was always a chance he would simply turn you away. You finally reached out a shaky finger, pressing down the button once again. A low buzzing sound told you he could hear you.

You were still at a loss for words. So you only squeaked out,

“Tae?”

Before releasing the button.

This seemed to be enough though, because soon a high pitch buzz rang out, signaling that the door was open. You heaved open the heavy metal door, before walking up the many flights of stairs to reach his apartment.

You stood outside his door for a minute, contemplating leaving. You had barely had the time to consider it before the door swung open.

And there he stood, in all his glory. A loss barely their white t hung off his slim frame, grey sweat pants loosely tied around his waist. The sight of him was enough to make your mouth run dry, you were practically gasping for water. You quickly swallowed in an attempt to fix the sensation, your heart racing for him.

He lifted the corner of his mouth into a slight smirk.

“Almost though you forgot which one it was,” He spoke, his voice deep and smooth enough to bring you to your knees. But in truth, he was almost mocking you with that statement. He knew as well as you did there was no way you could forget the way to him. You suppose that’s the reason your friends begged you to let him go, to ditch him completely. Because he knew how crazy you were for him, he knew you would come when he called, he knew the hold he had over you.

He chuckled at your slight pout, reaching out and grabbing your wrist, pulling you into his chest. You fell graciously into his arms, closing your eyes as his arms wrapped around your waist. You breathed in his sent, feeling your mind cloud over at the strong musk. Though your face was in his neck you sensed him moving close your ear, moving your hair out of the way with his nose.

“Miss me?” he whispered into the shell of your ear. You almost cried out to him, yes, yes you did miss him. But instead, you simply wrapped your arms around him and nodded into his shoulder. You finally saw his smirk when he pulled you back, admiring you at arm’s length. He looked up and down your body.  You blushed madly under his gaze.

Taeyong finally leads you inside, closing the door with a thud behind you, only to lean against the dining table, arms folded across his chest, now grinning wildly.

“What made you decide to come back to me, baby?” He asked, thought the sweetness in his voice didn’t reach his eyes, which showed how amused he was by your sudden appearance.

Something had happened, though you were reluctant to share. But it didn’t take much more of his intense gaze to have your resolve cracking.

“umm,” You began, not sure how much you wanted to share. “There was this guy” You eyed him, waiting for his reaction. He didn’t have one. “ Well, we were hanging out, and one thing leads to another,” You continued in a shaky voice, “ I hadn’t told him my name,” You explained, seeing how that was the only way any guy would be willing to risk sleeping with Taeyong’s girl. “But Tae it was-”

“Bad?” He filled in the blank. Still clearly finding the whole thing very amusing.

You swallowed again and nodded. At this, he audibly laughed.

“Well, what did you expect Y/N?” He chuckled out, pushing off the tabled and stalking towards you. “And I’m guessing you finally realized that no other guy can please you the way I do?” He asked mocking you slightly. You nodded again, shamefully.

“Did you finally realize how much you need me?” He asked, this time looking expectantly at you, waiting for an answer. You finally looked up to meet his dark swirling eyes. You had fallen in love with those eyes. You nodded, practically lunging froward to once again attach your self to him.

He chuckled at you once again, hand stroking down the length of your body, from the back of your neck to the swell of your ass.

“Show me how much you need me,” He orders in a soft voice leading you over to the couch. He was so fucking beautiful, your mind was clouded, practically drunk off his attention. You wanted to please him. Make him see how much you wanted him.

You knelt on the couch beside him, taking his hand into yours and raising his wrist to your lips. You trial your lips down the length of his arm savoring the way his soft skin felt against your lips.

Although you found him to be perfect in every way, Taeyong was not with his blemishes, one of these was how possessive he could be over you. While you often deluded yourself into thinking it was out of love, the truth was that Taeyong was greedy, and to put it simply, didn’t like to share toys.

So you continued to shower his body in affection. You moved yourself to straddle his lap, lips now reaching up to his shoulder, you hands skimmed underneath his shirt, tugging lightly, asking him to remove it. He obliged you, pulling the fabric over his head, his hands then resting on your hips, rubbing soft circles into your jeans.

Your lust had you practically drooling over the man in front of you. Just as you were about to dive back into to worshipping his golden skin, he reached up onto the hair at the base of your neck, taking a fist full into his hand by the roots, keeping your head immobile. He tugged at your hair, causing your head to fall back slightly, exposing your neck to the man. In your vulnerable state Taeyong tutted at you.

“So, this man,” He started, your blood ran cold “What was his name?”

Though the question was innocent, it held a deeper meaning.

“umm,?” You wondered aloud. Your mind was so swirled with thoughts of Taeyong, you honestly had a hard time recalling. His hand tapped your hip, telling to hurry up. Though just as he did so he also pulled out tighter onto his lap, bulge pressing into your core deliciously. You got lost in the feeling, starting to swirl and grind your hips absent mindedly

“Uhhh, I think it was-” You trailed off quietly, one good tug on your hair, reminding you of the question, “Umm- it was- I think I was Doyoung?” You wonder aloud. In reward for answering Taeyong began to grind up into you, matching your pace. The seam of your jeans was rubbing directly onto your clit, his hips swirling the bud onto the rough fabric. The outline of his cock was pressing perfectly on your slit, practically sliding between your folds through the fabric. You were already in pure bliss, happily chasing your high.

“Hmm,” He spoke aloud, almost casually as if he wasn’t one particularly strong thrust away from making you cum in your pants, which were already damp from your wetness.

“ You should know better than anyone, baby, how angry that makes me.” He adds, bringing a hand down to add pressure directly onto your clit, you cried out, picking up your pace.

“I think you need a reminder that your mine,” He comments. You were hanging off his every word, seconds away from release your stomach clenched in anticipation. You swirled your hips, once, twice, a third time. You were about to cum, hard, a fourth.

Taeyong quickly released your hair and took you by the hips, lifting you off of him. You nearly toppled over back onto him in shock. You stared at him, mouth agape and wide-eyed, a loud whimper ripping through your body. You were crying out for a release.

He laughed at you once again

“But first you need to thank me for letting you come up here after that stunt. Not listening to me for weeks? Ignoring me? You’ve been bad, baby” He practically spat at you as you collapsed onto the floor at his feet.

“Get over here and apologize.” He demanded, spreading his legs enough for you to sit comfortably between them. If you had thought for a moment you might have noticed the hypocrisy in his words, but you didn’t. Instead, you eagerly crawled into place. Mouth already hanging open, like an eager pet waiting to be fed.

Taeyong sat up straight, hand once again finding purchase in your hair while the other took his now fully erect dick out of his sweat pants. Your cunt throbbed in anticipation, mouth-watering at the sight. You straighten your back, leaning as far forward as the hand in your hair would allow.

“So eager, baby” He chuckled, before guiding your head onto his length. You happily let your jaw go slack as he guided your head up and down his cock. You loved him so much it hurt, so to you, his pleasure was worth the dull pain in the back of your throat. Though clearly, this was not enough, as soon he started thrusting into your mouth harshly. Tears began to stream down your cheeks as his throbbing dick moved down your throat. You choked and gagged frequently, trying your hardest to breathe through your nose.

“Hmm, such a good pretty baby,” He remarked, watching the drool that escaped your mouth drip down your chin. You looked up at him with big round eyes, causing him to groan. As his thrusts become more sporadic. He threw his head back, halting his movements. Soon, thick ropes of cum came pours down your throat. It was sticky and warm, already sliding down your throat. You had no choice but to swallow it, not that you minded.

You finally were released, pulling yourself off his dick. You were panting, throat feeling sore.

His hooded eyes watched you amusement still in his eyes.

“Oh, baby, you’ve always been so good for me,” He praised. “You’re never going to ignore me again are you?” He asked, as though talking to a child. You nodded in affirmation, completely, madly in love with the man before you.

Both of his hands reach out and cupped your face.

“Mine,” he said, more to himself than to you, as your eyes shown with adoration, practically sparkling with devotion.

I love you, I love you, I love you. You brain chanted over and over and over again. Staring longingly at his perfect face. It was as if a red glow surrounded him, everything aside from his figure was a blur, all you could see was Taeyong. You rested your cheek on his knee, eyes not leaving him.

Just as he was about to open his mouth a sudden ringing erupted from his phone. His eyes left your face. Hands leaving your head, and you felt a crash.

He reached forward without missing a beat, answering the phone on the second ring. Your head stopped spinning

“Hello” He spoke, voice clear and unbothered. The person on the other end talked for a moment before Taeyong responded,

“Of course,”

You came down from your high,

Without another word, he hung up the phone, stood abruptly, fixed his appearance, and walked out the front door.

Leaving you in a pile on his floor.

You were back where you started.

#nct smut #taeyong smut #nct scenarios #nct timestamps #taeyong scenarios

[greenjudy]

remember this

20.

A restless night in the Burbost caravan, perched over the Wennath right up against the highway: I’m not sure you’ve slept. I know I haven’t.

The sound of the sink makes me open my eyes. You’re fully dressed, hunched over at the edge of the pullout bed. Your wonderful hair has lost its elegant, vertical style, and you scrub at your eyes as Prompto splashes water on his face.

We emerge to a line of gorgeous thunderheads staged across the sky and a cold, damp wind, but there is no rain now as we load the car and make our way south and west, the top down. We are haloed by the morning light, all pink and grey.

We travel in silence. After Prompto tries a few times to draw you out, he gives it up, just brushing up against the shell that’s formed around you long enough to hand you a can of Ebony as you drive. He knows better than to even try with me.

The sun climbs as the clouds blow across the horizon. I can’t understand why it’s moving so fast. Has it always been this way, this relentless, all this time? With all the hunts, all the nights, all the glorious things you made that we ate together: Why didn’t I notice?

I suddenly hear your voice in my head: I thought it was over.

We make it as far as the Maidenwater turnout. Then, without explanation, you pull over, and kill the engine. Your eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. The anguish in your face hits me like a blow, and I sag in the back seat.

I see you rest your face against your hands on the steering wheel. You’re collecting yourself.

“Prompto,” you say then, your voice so gentle, “could you wait in the car for a moment, please? Noct and I…”

“Yeah. Privacy,” Prompto agrees, no surprise whatsoever in his face. “I dig it, Iggy. Take your time. I’ve got… things to think about, anyway.” He holds out his camera. “Gotta decide what to save.” Prompto meets my eyes, briefly lifts a fist in solidarity, and gives me a sad smile.

All of a sudden I see what he sees; I know what I guess he’s known all along, since we were kids together, and he never, ever, ever asked me which girl I liked in class. Even when it came to Luna, a bond I haven’t been able to explain to anyone else—even you—Prompto knew the truth about where my heart lies.

“Noct,” you say, and helplessly I follow you away from the car, over the divider, and across the strip of grass at the edge of the road.

You lead me uphill past moss-covered rocks and tiny pools of standing water. The turbulent cloud opens, and it’s like Ravatogh’s right there, its wild filigree of lava branching like frozen lightning across the sky.

At the summit of the hill, hidden from the car down below, you turn to face me, but you don’t speak.

“So,” I say.

“So.”

“I guess you never… all along, you never lost track…”

“No,” you say. “I never lost track.”

Slowly you take off your glasses and stow them in the inside pocket of your jacket. Your hands are shaking.

Your face, marked by no scar. Your eyes, so old, so tired, so clear. Your hair tumbles across your forehead, stirring in the wind.

“Ignis,” I say, my heart hammering. “You went through hell. I just wanted you to have a chance. To have some light. To forget. To forget for awhile. Not forever. But yes, for awhile!”

“Noctis, I could see,” you say. “How could I ever forget?”

It’s intolerable. Intolerable.

I cover my mouth with my hand. You reach out and grip my wrist tight enough to bruise, pulling my hand away from my face.

“Every day, everything we did. It was deliberate, wasn’t it? It was not by chance that we ended up living together. Every single thing that happened here was something you wanted. The flat in Lestallum. That didn’t happen by accident. This was our time, and that was what you wanted.”

I have to push so hard to shift the stone away, the stone on my chest that makes me silent.

“Exactly. Exactly what I wanted. More than anything,” I tell you, finally.

With a strangled sound you put your arm around me and pull me in. Your hand’s fisted in my hair. I am caught in a vertigo that has threatened me for decades, almost all my short life.

“You were gone for ten years. For ten years, I had nothing but hope. The promise you made that you’d come back and—throw yourself at the darkness—”

“Iggy, I—“

“No. Let me finish,” you say, implacable, and I’m caught, silenced, your grip on me keeping me upright.

“For ten years I waited without a sign, without light, because I knew we’d meet again, just for a moment. Then—“ you laugh, like you can’t believe it—“you took us—you telescoped it, our time, so precious—and the joke of it all—I’m still here, still waiting…”

“I’m sorry, Iggy,” I manage. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know.”

You say my name, and I close my eyes.

“There are not enough moments left for waiting or wondering. There’s not enough time left for us to waste any. If there’s more to have,” you say, “I’m going to have it. Now.”

“Take it,” I tell you.

You tilt up my chin and then your mouth’s on mine.

And you overwhelm me, your hand on the back of my head, your tongue in my mouth, your teeth in my lower lip, your kisses along the line of my jaw, your voice as I gasp into your mouth, the terrifying tenderness of your voice.

We’re rooted to this spot, swaying as the wind blows, but clouds are passing overhead as you kiss me, and even with my eyes closed I can feel the shadows moving across us.

“We have to get back,” I say, finally, my hands fisted in your shirt. “Prompto’s…”

“I know.”

There are tears on your lashes.

“Whatever happens next,” you say, “please remember this.”

These kisses, these acetylene torch kisses. The blue flame burning us both.

And your voice right in my ear, so soft, cutting so deep.

My dear—my dearest—I never stood a chance.

--

Updating on the AO3.

#FFXV #ignoct #ignoct with a vengeance #ignis scientia #noctis lucis caelum #noctis x ignis #fam they were in love

[crystalgirl259]

Guilty Pleasures Chapter 1

SUMMARY: A demon Kai and an angel Zane, longtime acquaintances who, having grown accustomed to life on Earth as representatives of Heaven and Hell, seek to prevent the coming of the Armageddon...

****************

Current theories on the creation of the universe stated that if it were created at all and didn't just start it came into being about fourteen billion years ago. The Earth was generally supposed to be about four and a half billion years old. These dates were incorrect. Some medieval scholars put the date of the creation at 3760 BC while others put creation as far back as 5508 BC. But these were also incorrect. Archbishop James Ussher claimed that Heaven and the Earth were created on Sunday, the twenty-first of October, 4004 BC, at nine in the morning.

This too was incorrect, by almost a quarter of an hour.

It was created at 9:13 in the morning. The whole business with the fossilized dinosaur skeletons was a joke that paleontologists haven't seen yet. This proved that God did not play dice with the universe. He played an ineffable game of his own devising. For everyone else, it was like playing poker in a pitch-dark room, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiled all the time. To understand the true significance of what that means, we need to begin earlier.

A little more than 6,000 years earlier, to be precise.

Just after the beginning. It started, as it will end, with a garden, in this case, the Garden of Eden, and with an apple. It was a nice day, but all the days had been nice. There had been rather more than seven of them so far, and rain hadn't been invented yet. But the storm clouds gathering east of Eden suggested that the first thunderstorm was on its way, and it was going to be a big one...

****************

Zane fretted as he stood near the lip of the stone ledge, his shining robes shining in the light along with the white, almost glowing, feathers of his large wings. The first two humans off in the distance, Adam and Eve, had barely made their way out into the new world and they were both already in danger. A large male lion made a beeline from nowhere toward them and was now intending on making them extinct. The young angel didn't think this was going to go well.

Thank goodness they weren't unarmed, the angel consoled himself.

Before they left, he gave Eve his shurikens of ice gifted to him by the high angels. He was surprised to see Adam wielding a sword of fire, a weapon not of Heaven, but considering what had happened, he wasn't too concerned about it. Knowing that they had means of protection helped Zane's mind rest, but only a little. The weather was fair, aside from the rapidly building clouds. At least that was a comfort to know. A kind, warm breeze fluttered his clean robe around in a playful way.

It felt wonderful to the angel, but even better how it ran through his unsheathed white wings.

He flexed them out to get a better feel. It felt good to have them free from their confines. He had been practicing getting used to having them put away for his assignment on this new planet. They had warned him upstairs that he couldn't afford to be seen by 'God's Little Projects' down here. Those were their words, not his own. Before Zane embarked, God himself told him they wouldn't be able to handle it due to now learning 'jealousy', whatever that meant.

When he asked him what it was, he said the young angel would find out in time, plus all the other ones.

He still didn't know why God didn't tell him, but God had always worked in mysterious ways. Don't interfere too much. That was the rule all angels lived by. Be ever watchful, a mentor if needed, provide guidance if asked, but that was it. Not too difficult, or so they kept telling him, and already he broke the rule. Now he had more trouble on the mind. There was only so much to do when watching over the birth of a new species. To be so limited to what needs to be done simply wasn't fair.

Not that he condoned rules should be broken.

But this was not going to be easy. His toes curled on the hard surface when he felt that other presence approach closer. It was a sort of tugging sensation that came from deep inside him. He thought it was curious. That never happened before, except when that thing first showed up. He knew it was nearby anyway. At times it felt as though it was hovering just out of sight, watching. But he had hoped it would leave. It felt different than anything he had ever known, and he didn't like it one bit.

Not when everything was so new.

So he promptly chose to ignore it. It was just a lowly serpent demon anyway. Granted, that filthy Hell beast was most likely the reason he had a chance of being fired before he could do his job. Perhaps everyone would understand. They were angels, after all, forgiveness and compassion were at the very root of their cores. Zane rubbed his temple. He had only one job. He hadn't even been here for very long and already he morally mucked it up.

He would be the laughing stock upstairs.

The only other thing he could possibly get wrong now is if Eden caught fire. Then he would officially be out of a job. Zane started wondering if he should have been more aggressive about it and really told that serpent what for. He never was very good at this soldier of Heaven thing or asserting himself in general. Zane truly believed that someone else would be better suited for this than he.

"What do you make of it?" A voice suddenly asked, shattering the silence. Zane jumped, the voice startling him from his own musings. He hadn't noticed he was no longer alone. He was shocked that the creature had yet to attack him, wondering if they were friendly, but that would be outlandish because the very thought is preposterous, blasphemous even. Their kind would never mingle with his. Not without bloodshed, anyway. It simply wasn't done.

The angel turned to his left and couldn't help but do a double-take to the creature next to him.

It was male, dressed in dark red robes, with amber snake-like eyes, beautiful tanned skin, a toned body, and brown hair shaped in a way that reminded Zane of fire. The back of the demon's hands and up his arms were dusted with dark red snake scales. His finger and toenails were incredibly sharp and black. Zane couldn't take his eyes off it, completely transfixed. He almost didn't believe that that was the serpent. He didn't know it had a vessel, let alone a silky pair of feathered, crimson wings with black tips.

When Zane saw the wings he realized that this was not just some ordinary demon.

It was one of the Fallen. That was fascinating to Zane, as he had never met one of them. In fact, if Zane was entirely honest with himself, this dark one was a mixture of striking, exotic, and becharming. Now it was staring at him with those amber serpent eyes. For some reason, they didn't repulse the angel. It was then that Zane remembered that the snake had asked him something and it was probably best to respond. He should also stop thinking of it as an 'it'.

That demon was evidently much more than that and Zane suddenly felt like he was being rude, even if the demon couldn't read minds.

Zane smiled awkwardly, then concluded he had no idea what the creature said.

"Sorry, what?" Zane asked and the brunette pointed out towards the humans.

"That, right there, the whole tiger thing." He clarified and Zane followed the demon's finger.

"That's a lion." Zane corrected.

"Whatever, don't you think it's a bit much? I mean, they just got out, are finding their footing, and the first thing they come across on this big round planet is this aggressive beast?"

"No one said it would be easy," Zane said, even if the other had a point.

"It's trying to eat them!" The demon gawked at him.

"Look, I don't like it any more than you do, uh...?" Zane trailed off when he realized he hadn't gotten the demon's name if it had one. The brunette quickly caught on to why Zane paused and smiled faintly.

"Kai." He answered the unasked question.

"Kai, thank you, but these things are not our decisions to make."

"You're not about to sprout some Holier-Than-Thou jibberish at me are you?" Kai asked as he gave him a peculiar look. Zane wasn't sure how to answer that. That was all anyone ever talked about upstairs. The very idea that someone wouldn't want to, let alone calling it jibberish, preach about it and discuss its many glorious wonders was unheard of. When the angel didn't answer, the dark one rolled his eyes.

"You were, weren't you?"

"There's nothing wrong with that." Zane countered.

"No no, of course not." Kai mocked. "You're within your right to justify a reason as to why God's human race failed at the get-go."

"I'm not trying to do any such thing!" Zane said, growing flustered. "B-Besides, look! The male seems to be fending its adversary off brilliantly on his own! They're obviously capable of taking care of themselves; I only hope that this will be the worst of it, at least for today." He frowned in concern as a roll of thunder broke in, causing them both to look around for the source. Detecting it was from the sky, they exchange looks then went back to watching the battle for survival in front of them.

They stood in oddly comfortable silence before Kai broke it.

"Wait, so that's a lion?" He gasped, almost in awe.

"Yes, It is."

"Never seen one of them before."

"Sorry?" Zane blinked in confusion.

"I said, I've never seen one of those before."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've never seen a lion before, so I would never have known they looked like that." He shrugged and Zane could only stare. "What?" Kai asked in a rather prickly manner.

"Nothing," The angel squeaked as he turned away, a slight blush framing the tips of his ears. He didn't realize he was ogling again. "Just, find it surprising that one dead animal isn't familiar with an equally dangerous one."

"It's not like I was there when they were created, was a little bit busy with another matter at that time, as you well know." Kai returned as another boom of thunder rumbled closer over their heads. Only this time it had been accompanied by a shocking bright snap of light that streaked across the sky. Both of their sets of wings flinched outward and lightly fluffed at the surprise of it. Zane let out an embarrassed chuckle and willed his feathers to settle down.

He could see out of the corner of his eye the other trying to do the same.

He cleared his throat and thought it best to continue where they left off.

"So, therefore, am I left to understand that, based on what you've said, you've never witnessed a tiger as well?" He asked and Kai immediately clammed up.

"Why do you ask?"

"It's a simple question."

"I don't know about that."

"Really? Do tell, I'd love to hear it."

"Has it gotten a bit stuffy out here?"

"No, I find it quite pleasing in all truthfulness."

"More cloudy things are building up."

"Stop trying to change the subject, please." Zane all but begged and Kai eyed him carefully.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm being ridiculed?"

"I would never," He said with all honesty. Kai looked around as if someone might hear, grimaced, and leaned in.

"Promise you won't tell?"

"Oh, may the Lord himself strike me down if I should ever utter a syllable to another living soul," Zane promised and he clasped his hands as if in prayer. Kai gave him a doubtful look, but eventually relented and grumbled with an obnoxious huff.

"No, are you satisfied now?! I've never seen a tiger, a lion, or fucking whale!" The demon cried as he closed his eyes and flinched again when more thunder rumbled closer. The sky was turning all below it several shades darker, growing ever so closer to swallowing the bright sun. The angel was oblivious to this, however.

"If it makes you feel any better, I've never seen a whale either." Zane smiled. It took a moment, but Zane noticed the smirk flit across that surprisingly pretty face.

"It doesn't," Kai replied as he glanced at him all the same with those gemstone eyes and once again they slipped into a pleasant silence. Zane suddenly had a thought. If Kai didn't seem to know about other animals, did he know about himself?

"Now Uhm, don't take this the wrong way but, you do know what you are, correct?" He asked carefully.

"You mean besides an angel-turned-demon who's damned for all eternity?" Kai said in a sarcastic tone.

"Yes."

"Then, of course, I know."

"Excellent! Care to say it out loud?"

"I already told you; my name's Kai," The demon grinned. He felt his heart miss a beat, and not in a good way. The thump was alarmingly prominent like his vessel-body was trying to alert him to take note of what this creature was saying. There was no possible way this demon could be this naive. Something else was amiss.

"Yes, I know your name, but I'm asking if you know what you are; do you know what you are?" He asked again and Kai's expression gradually changed from enjoyment to being perplexed. His brow furrowed as he stared off, eyes flicking around as if searching for something but simply grew more confused.

"What am I?" Kai finally asked, getting annoyed by the question.

"A serpent, dear," Zane replied for the demon. Evidently, Kai's face fell back to puzzlement once more and Zane's mouth fell open. It was evident that word meant nothing to the demon. "You don't know what a serpent is, do you?" He asked, almost sadly, Kai shrugged it off.

"What of it?"

"That's what you are!"

"So? What's so important with needing to know the ins and outs of a serpent? Why do you care if I know or not?" Kai snapped, experimenting with the new word in his mouth.

"No need to get upset, I was only trying to help," Zane said as he raised his arms in defense to try to quickly diffuse the tension. He watched Kai focus on the humans again, and it was clear something he had said or done bothered the demon immensely. He felt terrible, and then suddenly that scent came back. Only recently Zane had caught this aroma in the air. It comes and goes with the wind, but the longer he had been here the less deniable it had become.

Never had it been invasive or overbearing, but the angel noticed he could pick it out no matter what kind of stronger scents surrounded it.

Right now, this very moment, it was hitting him stronger than it ever had before.

"Looks like the lion's down," Kai added, noting how successful the humans were doing so far. Another rumble of thunder accompanied by that bright flash pushed ever closer. Perhaps Kai had caught a whiff of the scent?

"Do you smell that?" The angel asked, sniffing the air.

"What?" Kai asked and Zane realized he had made a poor judgment.

"Never mind." The angel shrugged off awkwardly, but thankfully the demon didn't push it. They stood there in silence for a short while, before Kai glanced over at Zane, and his snake eyes suddenly narrowed.

"Wait, where are your shurikens anyway? I thought you had a pair that froze anything they touched?" He asked and Zane froze in fear. "Did you have one, or didn't you? Because now I'm confused."

"How do you mean?" The angel asked as he began to feel uneasy.

"Well, your presence here no longer makes sense, so what are you doing here Snowflake?"

"I'm-"

"Are you lost?"

"No, I'm... you're trying to confuse me." Zane accused as his heart started to race,

"I'm trying to confuse you?" Kai almost laughed, and this made Zane even more defensive.

"Yes! That's what your kind do and I will not be swayed into it!" He stated in the strongest voice he could muster at that moment, his chest puffing out slightly as he did. Zane knew he was being cornered. He knew this whole thing was a setup to get him to lose ground or faith or doubt himself in his duties for the choices he'd made and how thanks to him everything was ruined. But that wasn't what upset Zane. He was upset that he fell for it.

He had failed again.

God must have been testing him early and he has failed another one. Or perhaps not? He may have caught it in time, he could still redeem himself if he stayed strong.

"You're the one who's doing the confusing here," Kai lectured. "You're supposed to have some freezing shurikens, which I could've sworn you had, and that would make sense for a Cherub to have in order to guard the Garden of Eden, but let's face it, you're terrible at guarding, and you don't have your shurikens so I ask you again; what are you doing here?" He scowled and a boom of thunder emphasized the demon's point. Zane took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, eyes closed.

All he had to do was be honest, true, and stop being distracted by the alluring visage before him.

"I...I gave them away."

"You gave them away?!"

"Shh! Not so loud!" He panicked, already forgetting the pep-talk he gave himself. "I don't want the head office to hear! Besides, they're not lost or anything; they're right there, see? The humans have it now." The angel explained and pointed to the humans slowly fading in the distance with a pair of remarkably bright-looking objects in the hands of one of them. Kai looked back to the tiny figures, then to the angel. Then back to the figures, and once again to the angel.

Then suddenly, what Zane could only describe as a ridiculously big stupid grin spread over the demon's face, the creature did an unexplainable thing.

He started to laugh, laugh, and laugh some more. It became so severe they turned into fits, gripping his stomach. That damned thing lost its balance and fell to the floor. He rolled around, it wracking his body to near spasm levels, and during it all, he had the utter nerve to speak to the angel at the same time.

"Oh, I would love to be there for your first report! Glad to know I'm not the only one who interfered." He cackled, and his grin grew when he saw the confusion on Zane's face. "What? Where did you think Adam got that flaming sword from?" He laughed and Zane gasped at the realization that Kai had been the one to give Adam the sword, a weapon of Hell. "I hope it doesn't turn out that they aren't too bright yet when it comes to violent weaponry and the use of fire and ice so they somehow kill themselves!"

Zane's paled, even more, when Kai's words sank in.

The angel finally realized that he could get in a great deal of trouble for this. Everything Kai pointed out was more than plausibly true and may happen once the humans were out of sight. This was serious. Even so, he couldn't stop a giggle bubble up to the surface. Watching Kai, he found out, was contagious. It started small but soon grew to a level that was painful to hold in. He tried to stifle it, tried to bite it back with his teeth against his tongue, but it was hopeless.

Zane covered his mouth and did his best to hide it from the cackling demon.

"That's not funny, I beseech you, stop laughing!" He tried to say normally but cracked on the last word. He clenched a fist and nearly begged the other to spare him. Kai rolled to face him and Zane was almost lost again when he saw tears running down his cheeks. He had no choice but to turn away and fisted his hands tightly by his sides. "No! No, I refuse to believe in your trickery! This isn't a joke!" The angel yelled, not caring what he said so long as this lark would end.

Within time, Kai calmed down, breathing heavily.

"They're going to be fine, Snowflake, I'm only teasing you," He said while a chuckle or two still found its way out. "Look how well they have handled themselves against their first threat, and they've only just set foot out there; if I hadn't given them that sword and you hadn't given them the shurikens they would be torn to pieces by now, we saved them." Zane heard from behind him a tired sigh. The loudest thunder roll cracked out, the very appearance of the clouds above threatening their next level to come soon.

The flutter from inside Zane's chest came back.

But, somehow it was stronger this time around. He turned back to face the other being and took notice of how Kai laid there. Wings relaxed, hands resting on the stomach, one leg bent. He was comfortable. Kai, an evil enemy, was content to lay there in his presence. Zane could easily smite him. He would technically be within reason, for what Kai had done concerning the apple. It would be simple, quick, and clean. But that never even crossed his pure mind.

He strode over to the brunette and reached down a hand with a winning smile of his own.

"My name is Zane; it's nice to meet you." He introduced and Kai's eyes widened. He wasn't expecting that. He stared at the hand as if he had never seen its kind before. He appeared unsure of what step to take next. Zane gave him time, not pulling away yet. Soon enough, Kai eventually smiled.

"Hello, Zane, it's nice to meet you, too," He replied and reached up with his own hand, clasped the inviting one, and was hoisted up. Zane nearly dropped the demon, however. Once they touched, the contact was not at all what he was expecting. He cried out, yanking his hand away, and jumped back. His other hand clasped it around the wrist and pulled it close. Zane stared from his hand to Kai in either astonishment or fear. He couldn't decide which it was.

Kai just raised an eyebrow at him, perplexed as to what had happened.

"Oh! Forgive me but, you're so hot! To the touch, I mean!" He stammered as he did his best to explain but not offend.

"Naturally." Kai shrugged. Zane shook his head, confused.

"This is a normal occurrence?"

"Of course," The demon said casually, amused by the reaction from the angel. He crossed his arms, took a deep, over-exaggerated breath. "Being a fallen angel, or more accurate, a demon from the fiery pits of Hell now, so to answer your question; being boiling hot is normal for demons like me," He smiled. The next boom of thunder rumbled on for some time. It was as if the sky was growling its impatience for being ignored.

"Is that all?"

"Yep," Kai replied, but he didn't seem to care. The brunette then opened his mouth and exhaled. The air in front of it appeared to ripple several inches outward. Zane walked up to it, mesmerized, and like a baby who was still testing out the world for the first time, he reached out a hand and ran it through it. It was warm, heated air coming out. It wasn't painful in the slightest. The angel beamed as he wiggled his fingers around it. He kept it up until Kai closed his mouth, grinning at Zane's blush.

Zane was about to agree, then stopped himself and wondered why this was brought up in the first place.

"Anywho, going back to your shuriken conversation with His Almighty, if you can't find humor even in the direst situations, then what's the point of it?" He asked and Zane visibly shook his wings at the way Kai mockingly talked about the Lord. Ignoring that, however, Zaen wasn't sure what he thought of that advice, but he secretly tucked it away in the back of his mind all the same.

"You'll be alright, he loves all of you unquestionably," Kai added and Zane paused. Did he hear that right? Had a fallen angel, a being who willfully rebelled against God just casually admit the Lord adored all of them? Without a second thought about it? What was going on here? Zane turned his head and glanced at the demon. The brunette was rigid stiff. Amber eyes hard, staring intently straight ahead. Jaw clenched. He could see the dark one's fingers turning white from how hard he was gripping his own arms.

So it was a mistake.

He didn't mean to say it. Now at least something about this villain makes sense to him.

"I wonder how far up we are?" Kai suddenly blurted out with a jerk of his head, and then just took off, running over and standing right on the edge of the wall cliff. His red and black wings thrusting out just so as to counter the body weight from tumbling over. Zane gasped and ran after but stayed himself some steps later. For a split moment, he chastised himself for the idea of wanting to save the enemy. But most of the time he was too busy worrying about the brunette disappearing suddenly from his sight.

The wind had picked up some, and was a tad rougher on Kai's clothes and hair, yanking and blowing it around like a dare to take another step.

The demon suddenly moaned, but Zane couldn't tell what he meant. The angel moved fast and was standing next to them once the groan had been uttered.

"Are you alright?" He panicked.

"I don't like heights," The demon mumbled. The eyes were closed and they appeared to be swaying.

"Then get away from the edge, you silly thing!" Zane shouted, grasping the other and guiding him down to safety. When he unclosed his eyes, he got defensive.

"I just wanted to see how far down it was!" He hissed angrily, but Zane just rolled his eyes and neither of them said anything more on the subject. Water from the skies began to fall. When it hit them they shied away from it on the first drops. Zane figured it out quicker than the other one did. Kai seemed a little lost to this experience, unsure of what to do or how to react to it. Kai must have sensed eyes on him, for he turned to catch the angel's icy orbs.

Zane, at this point he stopped trying to reason it, opened an arm, lifted a wing, and beckoned the other in.

To say he was surprised the demon actually moved closer was a hardball to juggle. So many unusual and unexpected things happened in such as short time. He wasn't even sure how he felt. He didn't seem the least bit repulsed when Kai stood so close they nearly touched shoulders, and he could feel the heat of the other's temperature radiating onto him. The demon kept glancing at him, shifting on his bare feet. Eventually, he opened his mouth and asked what seemed to be on his mind.

"No hard feelings between us, yes? After all; I was only doing what I was so ordered to, on pain of repercussion, and all that." He said, looking a little nervous. This made the pale angel go quiet. Unsure of whether to trust what this thing was saying or if he was lying to him and this was planned the whole time. Whichever it was, he hadn't the heart to be cruel.

"No, I daresay, no hard feelings; it's too early for that yet." He replied and another silence surrounded them. Every once in a while, they would both stick their hands out to catch the water droplets on their palms then bring them in under the protection of the angel's wing. Even if they both refused to admit it, Kai and Zane felt at peace at that moment. Where it was just the two of them, huddled together as they experienced the first rainfall with the young planet Earth...

#ninjago #ninjago kai #ninjago zane #Guilty Pleasures #oppositeshipping #ninjago fanfiction

[poliel]

Snaxsquatch

This is directly inspired by my in game experience in catching sight of the Snaxsquatch and then approaching it, thinking it was one of the villagers and then it melting into the ground before I could get a good look at it. I spent a while trying to get it to reappear and even now during my second play through, every time I'm in that area I look down into the alcove with my camera, hoping it's there. It sadly never is though. I decided to turn the fic into a Filbo/Buddy thing because why not?

~

Stepping out of the cave, Buddy looked up. … But alas, the sky was still crystal-clear blue. There were a couple wispy clouds but nothing that had much of a chance of yielding rain any time soon. Waiting around for it wasn’t the best use of their time but… it was the last snac they needed to document in Flavor Falls. Supposedly anyway, there could be more, the entire island was still largely unexplored after all. So there could easily be…

“Sandopede, sandopede, sandopede…”

Coming to a stop, their eyes naturally followed the sandopede as it crossed right in front of them in its seemingly never-ending loop. It was weird how so many snax resorted to running or flying around in a loop, almost like they wanted to be caught. Perhaps later Buddy should ask Floofty about…

Someone stood at the end of the little alcove they’d fallen in when first arriving upon the island. At this distance and with their back to Buddy it was hard to tell who it might be. But if they were out here it had to be for a reason.

Abandoning their prior path, Buddy jumped down to the lower level. They then crossed the stream and ascended the hill to the alcove, taking a breath great whoever it was. They didn’t get a single word out though because that was not a grumpus!

Its large googly eyes locked onto Buddy, sending a chill down their spine. Despite that they were already scrambling to lift their camera. They were too slow though, the thing disappeared, seemingly melting into the ground, before they could even get it in the view finder. … Dammit!

Their fur bristling with fear and anticipation, they glanced around, both hoping and fearing that it might’ve reappeared elsewhere. … But no, whatever that thing had been was gone now. Shaking it off, they held their camera at the ready, just in case, as they approached the spot it had been standing.

No trace of it remained, not even a single footprint. It was rock and grass so that made sense but was disappointing nonetheless. They hadn’t gotten a good look at it but it had definitely been grumpus shaped and perhaps made of bugsnax? It was hard to say for sure with how brief their glimpse had been.

There was a good chance it whatever it had been was the thing Beffica had seen that night a couple weeks ago. Buddy had already been intrigued by that mystery but now that they’d seen it themself, it was a whole other story. They had to document it, simply had to. And since bugsnax seemed to like to hang out in one place – and that was probably what it was given how no other native creatures had been spotted on the island – it was probably still around here somewhere, perhaps watching them. That thought made their fur prickle with fear again but… no matter. They wouldn’t rest until they’d found, scanned, and officially documented whatever it was.

A week or so later and back at Snaxburg

“Hey Gramble,” Filbo said as he poked his head into the barn. Gramble looked up from whatever bugsnax he was tending to, giving him a slightly suspicious look. It hurt a little but… it was understandable so Filbo continued. “Have you seen Buddy around lately?”

“Nope. They ain’t been by when I wasn’t around to drop off any new little ones for a while now neither.” Which meant they hadn’t been back to Snaxburg at all because they always had something to donate to Gramble’s barn every time they returned to town.

“They’ve never been gone this long before.” They hadn’t really been gone for a super long time but previously the longest they’d been away from town without returning for even a short while was like two or three days. And given how Liz and Eggabell were still missing after disappearing… “I’m starting to get a little worried.”

Gramble suddenly looked nervous too. “Well what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know. Help me go find them maybe?” Filbo didn’t exactly trust himself to find them on his own otherwise he’d have gone off to do so already.

“I would but… I can’t be away from my little ones that long. Someone would break in and eat them for sure.” That was unfortunately probably a fair point.

“Right, yeah, uh… I guess I’ll go ask the others for help then.” Buddy was friends with everyone here so surely getting a search party going wouldn’t be too hard.

-

It turned to Snorpy had placed a tracking device on them, making determining their location in Flavor Falls a breeze. But… “They didn’t respond when I tried to contact them earlier today for I too was starting to get worried. I was thinking of sending Chandlo out to go find them if they didn’t return by nightfall tonight.”

“No need for that. I can handle it,” Filbo said even though he was not at all confident that he could handle even that. But Flavor Falls was the least dangerous place on the island other than Snaxburg so he’d probably be fine. It’d be chance to possibly prove himself a little.

“Very well then,” Snorpy replied with nod. “I suppose I shall see both you later then. Be careful though, you never know what might be out there.” That sounded a bit forbidding but… Snorpy was just like that so Filbo wasn’t going to worry about it.

-

It wasn’t until he was halfway there that the realization that things might not be so safe hit him. Surely there had to be a reason Buddy had been gone for so long. It was possible something had attacked them and they were hurt or perhaps worse. What would he do if he when he found Buddy they were…

The distinct sound of a snaxscope snapping a picture made him jump a little and drew his gaze upward. Buddy stood atop a steep hill, looking down at him, their camera still raised. Oh thank grump, they were okay.

“Hey, Buddy.” He smiled, lifting a paw in a small wave to hide his relief.

“Hello, Filbo.” Buddy lowered their camera and jumped down off the hill with seemingly no concern for their own safety. “What are you doing out here?” As they approached it became hard to miss the heavy bags under bloodshot eyes. Clearly they hadn’t slept in a while.

“Looking for you. You’re been gone for a while and I was starting to get a bit worried.” And apparently, given their appearance, he’d had a right to be. “So… you okay?”

That gave Buddy pause as they opened their mouth as if to speak but said nothing for a solid few seconds before finally speaking, looking Filbo right in the eye as they did so. “You’re amazing and I would kill someone for you if you asked me to.”

Now it was Filbo’s turn to be taken aback. Who said that kind of thing in general but especially to someone like him? He wasn’t all that great or amazing and nobody should be killing anyone at his request. Also that was something he very much did not want. But before he could gather himself enough to say that or anything really…

“But anyway,” their tone now matter-of-fact as if they hadn’t just said something super weird, Buddy broke eye contact as they shifted their backpack around to start digging through it, “the reason I’ve been out here so long is I’m hunting what I’ve decided to call a Snaxsquatch. It’s shaped like a grumpus but made of smaller bugsnax… I think. I only saw it for a split second before it melted into the ground. Which is why I couldn’t get a picture of it. I’ve been trying to get to reappear or root out its hiding spot ever since. I may have gotten a bit wrapped up in. But I did capture what I think might be a footprint it left.” They pulled out their notebook, flipping it open and holding it out so Filbo could see.

On one page was some writing, repeating most of what Buddy had just said. Beneath it was a sketch of a shadowy grumpus shape with googly eyes much like the bugsnax’s but bigger. On the other page was a photo of a grassy patch that did indeed look kind of like something large had stepped there.

With a shiver, Filbo glanced all around them. Thankfully whatever it was didn’t seem to be around right now. “Surely if something like that was on the island, especially this part of it, we would’ve seen it by now, right?”

Buddy closed their journal and slipped it into their pack and shifted it around onto their back again. “We have seen it. Or at least Beffica and Gramble saw it. But I think this one’s smarter than most bugsnax. Which is why we haven’t seen it much. It’s hiding somewhere, probably watching us.” Their face and tone seemed to indicate that idea excited them somehow. “I’m going to find it though.” If anyone could, it was probably them, right? But…

“Maybe you should rest first though. You look pretty uh… tired.”

“I can rest after I find it.” They started to turn away, probably to return to their hunt it. Filbo couldn’t let them do that though, both for their sake as well as his own because returning to town alone knowing something could be out there watching him was not something he had any desire to do.

“It seems to be taking a long time though. And… and… what about Lizbert and Eggabell? You still haven’t found them yet. And what about the rest of the town too? We’re kind of uh, depending on you.” Probably more than was fair.

They froze before snapping back around to face Filbo again. “Shit, you’re right. After I got that quick glimpse of it I just go so excited to find another cryptid I guess I forgot about everything else. … Whoops, sorry. I’ll hunt it down afterfinding Lizbert.” They turned and started fast walking back towards town. “I’ll get back on that right now. Thanks for coming out here to find me.”

Filbo scrambled to catch up, almost having to run to keep up with their walking pace. “You’ll get some rest first though, right?” Because they looked like they needed it and because in general they didn’t seem to rest as much as they should. And if Filbo was already out here checking up on them he might as well also take the opportunity to encourage them to take care of themself too.

They turned their head to look at him. “If you insist, I suppose I could use a nap.”

“Awesome.” And for once in his life Filbo had actually succeeded at something. He’d found Buddy and was bringing him back to town and had convinced them to take another much needed rest. Not a grand achievement or anything but he’d take it.

#my writing #bugsnax #filbo fiddlepie #the journalist #snaxsquatch

[kitchenscene]

four a.m. [2.9k] buck follows the rain, so eddie follows buck, wherever he may lead

read on ao3

The firehouse carries a heaviness to it after a particularly long shift. The team packs their bags, heads turned down, trying to shuffle home to find some sense of comfort. Security. B-crew starts to roll in with all the enthusiasm in the world and Eddie wishes he could borrow just an ounce of that energy. Enough to carry himself home, lift his eyes up just long enough to drive without drifting to sleep. 

Call after call, the team couldn’t catch a break. Electrical fire, two girls caught in a web of barbed wire, and a five car pileup. No chance to slip into the bunks, steal leftovers from the fridge, or take a momentary breath before the alarm rings. It’s a miracle they could still stand, let alone walk from the truck to the locker room after their last call. 

Eddie slips into the shower, wanting to immediately fall into bed when he gets home. The warmth nearly lulled him to sleep. The station never sounded so quiet. All he can hear is water dripping along the tiles, spiraling to the drains, and the slow, tapping movement of feet outside the showers. He stands still, watching the water run clear until it starts to burn cold. 

He steps out, sliding the curtain aside, dawning a fresh pair of sweats and an LAFD longsleeve. The navy blue sleeves, two sizes too large, bunch at the wrists, slipping past his fingertips. The soft fabric grounds him, he pulls the cotton tight in his hands. Freshly washed and warm.

The locker room stands silent, no laughter to echo off the glass walls, no movement filling the space. Dirt and ash trails along the concrete, leaving random footprints and smudges anywhere they could reach. Smoke lingers in the air, rising high. Tomorrow the smell would vanish, leaving no memory of the day. But for now it burns, leaving a tattoo heavy on his chest.

B-crew paces through the station, the hectic day coming to a halt as soon as they arrived. The alarm never rings. Eddie wishes it would. 

His bag sits on the bottom shelf. The crew is gone, having all gone home for the day. His bag should sit alone on that bottom shelf, waiting to be carried away. 

But Buck’s bag sits beside his, car keys still shining inside, phone left locked in one side pouch. 

He glances around the room, waiting for Buck to appear, as if the weight of the day could’ve somehow blinded him from the sight of his best friend. 

Outside the locker room he’s nowhere to be seen. B-crew works quietly, cleaning, restocking, gentle conversations. They mumble good mornings—it’s nearly four a.m.—and sip their warm coffees. He’s jealous at the ease they’re able to take, his own morning filled with wet hair and heavy eyes. 

The loft is empty, the silence echoes, almost painfully. He’s never seen the kitchen so clean, so mellow and silent. No steaming pans, no shuffling plates, no grabbing hands. The lights glow softly, waiting for the next chef to pry open the pantry, but for now, the cupboards remain shut, locked away tight, no sign of Buck to be found.

He looks up from the edge of the loft, over the railings. The garage doors are wide open, the soft pattering of rain can be heard, but only just. It dances across the pavement, spilling inside the firehouse, leaving only wet footprints in its wake. The night darkens the sky, grey clouds tracing overhead. It’s almost peaceful, a welcomed end to a hectic day. But then he remembers Buck, nowhere to be seen. Buck, who, of course, could never simply witness a peaceful moment like this. Buck, who, naturally, would want to be up close, feeling the cold rain in his hands, on his skin, anywhere he could find it. 

It seems obvious now; Eddie would never find Buck inside the station when there’s so much more to be said outside. A quiet, pouring night to end the bustling, restless day. Buck would follow the pour, follow the only sound to be heard. His eyes would brighten at the sight of it, despite the restlessness of the day. 

He follows the stairs, follows the trail of mud that seems so obvious in retrospect. Follows it all the way up to the roof, away from the firehouse, away from the day they desperately needed to leave behind. 

Eddie pulls his sleeves tighter, shivering at the sudden chill the fresh air gave. Raindrops stain his soft shirt and trail down his spine. 

From the roof, he could see it all. The moon, half full, glowing softly, brightly in the dark from behind the grey, swirling clouds. It wasn’t so heavy, up here, all the weight feeding into the drainage pipes. The water washes across the concrete, leaving the air fresh, clean, new. City lights flicker in the distance, proof of a bustling life, even so long after sunset. He could barely see the rain, barely watch it fall, but he could see Buck. 

Buck, who stood to the sky without a care. Buck, soaked in the rain, t-shirt pressed tight to his chest and boots logged with water. Buck, with his damp curls and bright smile, facing Eddie, inviting him forward. 

Eddie, arms crossed, shivering, hiding at the edge of the roof under the only cover he could manage to find. Eddie, watching Buck, but only from a distance. Eddie, with his flattened hair and heavy eyes, who couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Buck, what’re you doing up here? Shift ended…” he twists his arm, checking his watch, “half an hour ago.”

“It’s raining,” Buck says, as if Eddie couldn’t see the clouds above. 

He watches Buck, who looks back and forth between him and the sky, the twenty-ish feet between them feeling too far away. Come home, he wants to say.

“It’s late, you shouldn’t be up here,” he says instead.

“Neither should you.” Buck shifts back and forth slightly, splashing the rain by his feet. Eddie uncrosses his arms, letting his sleeves fall. 

He’s tempted by the rain, by Buck’s wonder. It would be far too easy to follow him to the edge of the roof, shoulders brushing as they watch the rain. The rain, so cold, but it wouldn’t matter because Buck would be there, warm and bright. So easily, he could drop his arm around his waist and pull him close, savouring a moment he would pretend to regret the next morning. 

He could never regret it, not really. Buck, with his never ended kindness, would never hurt Eddie, he needs to trust this. Needs to trust that he is not alone in his feelings. He needs to trust Buck to stop him before he ruins this, ruins this perfect moment on the roof. 

But it’s four a.m., and no good choices have ever been made so early in the day.

“You should go home. When’s the last time you slept?” Eddie asks, genuinely concerned.

“Even if I was at the apartment, I wouldn’t be sleeping,” he says, “I would be doing this. The only difference is I’d be doing it alone.”

The sentiment weighs on his chest; he’s not alone on this rooftop. It would be so easy to step into the rain and lay himself bare. To spill everything he has and let it wash away. 

Buck takes a few steps closer, closing the mileage between them. He’s still too far away. But Eddie can’t move, can’t take those small steps forward, away from the only dry patch of the roof, away from the safety of the wall behind him. 

“Come on,” he offers, “it’s just rain.”

But it’s not just rain, not to Eddie. There shouldn’t be anything different about this day other than the weather. Today, like every other day, he drove himself to the firehouse, worked side-by-side with Buck, and tried to keep himself from speaking his mind. 

This, here, on the roof, is something they’ve been building towards for a while. He’s certain—nearly certain—that Buck wants this too. He’s never shied away from the brush of a hand, or a hug that lasted a few seconds too long. He’s held onto Eddie, as if at any moment, he would disappear, and Eddie wants nothing more than to promise he’ll never leave. 

“What do you have to lose?” Buck asks, with a lightness around him. 

Everything. 

If he steps too far, if he reads this wrong, he’ll lose Buck. He’ll lose everything. He’ll lose a partner, a best friend, the only pillar he’s ever allowed himself to lean on. Buck has been there since day one, latching onto Eddie, planting roots in his heart and refusing to leave. If he ruins this, he’ll lose everything.

Buck holds out his hands, begging Eddie to reach out, take the leap. But Buck is still twenty feet away, and it’s still four a.m. 

He sees those hands and the water curving around them. Wet hair dripping in those blue eyes, pressing against his forehead. Those blue eyes he can barely make out from so far away, but he knows them well enough to feel their brightness even from afar. 

And he can’t deny the fact that it is, just rain falling around them, as Buck said. But it’s late and he’s tired and it would be far too easy to fall into Buck’s embrace. If he held that hand extended towards him, he may never let go, and when Buck pulls away, as Eddie believes he will, it will ruin the rain forever. Every drop will remind him of this; a moment that could’ve been. 

“Buck…”

“I’ll wait here all night,” he says, arms open wide, “where’s the fun in standing all the way over there, anyways?”

It’s four a.m., it’s raining. Somewhere downstairs, the alarm rings, the trucks file out, one at a time, and for the first time they’re alone, truly alone. And Eddie’s too tired to hold back anymore.

He steps forward, into the rain, takes the leap. Buck is there, always has been, grinning as Eddie steps forward, arms unfolding. He was the one who followed Buck to the roof in the pouring rain. It’s inevitable that they’d end up here, standing together.

Buck takes his hand, strong and calloused, but gentle to the touch, and pulls him farther than he would’ve walked on his own. Up close, he can see the rain drops pressed to his arms, around every muscle. His shirt, entirely soaked through, clinging tight around his torso. He’s spent all night outside, in the rain, yet he never shivers under it’s touch. 

“See? Not so bad,” Buck laughs, and Eddie can’t stop his own grin from forming. He wants to pull away, go inside, go home. Hide away from his touch, pretend he feels nothing. But Buck is here. He has to stay here. Buck turns towards the horizon, but Eddie still watches Buck.

“I still don’t get why you’re up here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re gonna catch a cold, or something.” He tries to ignore Buck’s grip, still tight against his hand, and tries to slip into something lighter. An easy conversation without any real meaning to avoid what will inevitably become of this night—morning, rather.

Buck turns back to Eddie, eyebrow tilted. The rain drips around his eyes, still bright, still blue. “That’s not actually a thing, is it? I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing.”

“Either way, you’re soaking wet, and probably freezing,” he offers, hiding his worry behind a bit of laughter. 

“I’m not freezing,” Buck holds Eddie’s free hand, pressing the back of it to his forehead, as if checking for a fever. He drops his wrist, but Eddie doesn’t move his hand. “See? Not freezing.”

Eddie turns his hand to push the wet hair away from Buck’s forehead, before sliding his hand down to rest on his cheek, his thumb wiping a raindrop away from his eye, tracing his cheekbone. 

Buck doesn’t pull away. Rather, he leans into the touch, still smiling, his hand slipping out of Eddie’s and tracing up his arm. He shivers at the touch, knowing there’s no way he can slip out of Buck’s grasp. Not when he finally knows what it’s like to be so close. 

“Yeah,” he says, not knowing how to fill the air, “not freezing. But you’re still soaked.” It’s barely a whisper, he’s close enough to speak softly and still be heard. 

“So are you.” 

“And whose fault is that?”

“You can’t blame me for the rain,” Buck says, pulling him closer, toe to toe, knees nearly knocking and hands holding steady. It would be entirely too easy to bridge the gap, to latch on a cut the tension hanging in the air. 

Eddie says nothing, he can barely breathe. He rests his free hand on Buck’s waist hesitantly, giving him every opportunity to pull away, to stop him before he goes too far. 

He can hear the rain, he can hear Buck’s breathing, soft and steady, and he can hear his own heart, skipping beats in his chest. It’s entirely too loud, and Buck could almost certainly feel it, the unsteady beating of his heart. 

“But you brought me up here,” Eddie whispers, “I can at least blame you for that.”

“I didn’t expect you to follow me,” Buck admits, “but I was kinda hoping you would.”

He tries to analyze it, pull apart Buck’s words to find meaning in it all, some type of confirmation that he’s not alone in his feelings, that Buck wants him too. This, to Eddie, is as close as he’ll ever get. There’s so much to be said, but he’ll never find the words to say it all. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Buck says, pulling him out of his head. “Whatever you’re trying to say, just say it.”

“I don’t think I can…” His hand, still resting on Buck’s cheek, slides down to his jaw. He looks between Buck’s eyes, his gaze landing on his mouth before leading back up to the thumb grazing his cheekbone. 

“It has to be you,” he says, resting his free hand on Eddie’s hip. “You have to take the leap.”

It’s all the assurance he needs that Buck wants this too. But even still, he struggles to close the final inches between them, something in his head still convincing him he’ll lose everything. 

He has to trust that Buck would never lead him astray. That if he takes this leap, Buck will be there to take the next. He’ll be there when he wakes up, leaving Eddie with proof that this is not a dream, and they’ll move forward together, taking every leap after that. He has to believe that Buck will always be there for him, just as he will be there for Buck. 

But first he needs to take this leap. Buck nods, only slightly, as if reassuring him that he wants this too. 

He moves slowly, still doubting himself, using Buck’s hand as an anchor to hold him steady. The rain only falls heavier, letting Eddie fall with it right into Buck’s arms. Buck is warm. He’s freezing, but his touch is still warm. He’s freezing but he doesn’t care. The rain, the sirens, the clouds, none of it matters because he’s so close to finally grasping what he’s always wanted. 

There’s hardly space between them, mere centimeters keeping them apart. There’s no room for doubt, no room to change his mind. 

So he falls, finally lets himself fall. He closes the gap between their lips, tilting his head up, and lets himself fall. And Buck is there, he always has been, to catch him, hold him up, pull him close. He kisses Buck slowly, softly, as if he’ll disappear. The rain showers over them, but he can barely feel it. All he feels is Buck, pulling him by the hem of his shirt impossibly closer and his hand tracing up his arms to rest on Eddie’s shoulder, gripping the fabric between his fingers. 

His hand slides to the back of his neck, savoring every touch. He’s kissing Buck and he’s barely breathing, but he can’t let it end, not yet. They’re soaked and they’re cold but none of it matters. He’s kissing Buck and nothing else matters. 

Buck pulls away first, not straying far, resting his forehead against Eddie’s. His breath, still heavy, brushes against Eddie’s cheek, mixing with the rain, leaving him cold. He can’t let this moment end, not yet. 

He closes his eyes to take it all in, but Buck is there again, drawing him in for another kiss. It’s more determined this time, less hesitant, less afraid. It’s strong and assured Eddie lets Buck guide him. He opens his mouth and lets Buck take him in, desperate to feel him closer still. He hears the rain and he hears the sirens, a vague reminder that they’re still at the firehouse, they’re still on the roof, collapsing in each other’s embrace. The stress of their shift is behind them, nearly forgotten, and all that matters is this, on the roofs, grabbing each other by the waist, hip, neck, wherever they can manage. It’s peaceful, and it surrounds them fully.

Their foreheads press together again as they break away, still soaking in the moment. Neither of them try to leave, staying on the roof even as the clouds darken above, taking each other in wholly. It’s way past four a.m. but still they stand, on the rooftop, and Eddie can’t help but lean in again, kissing Buck quickly, once more, just to remind himself that he can.

#911 fox #911 on fox #911 fics #911 fic #first kiss #buddie #buddie fic #mine:911 #texas.fic #i wrote this because the astronaut fic gave me a headache so enjoy this unedited nonsense #evan buckley #eddie diaz

[themadlostgirl]

Abandoned (4)

*This one was a week late thanks to finals. Hope this makes up for it!*

~~~

It is strange how normal things can be after having a revelation. Nothing really changes. The sun still rises, waves crash on the sand, and birds sing in the trees. It is all so painstakingly normal.

After I accepted that papa had really left me here, accepted that he had traded me for freedom, I don’t know what I expected. It felt as if the sky should at least be dark and bleak. Rain should be pouring down and the sea should rage like the storm inside me. It was almost comical how I expected such chaos and was greeted with warm days full of sun and sparkling waters.

I stopped looking for the Jolly Roger over the horizon. I stopped counting the days I had been trapped. I stopped trying to recall everything about my life before Neverland in some vain attempt to keep my memories intact. There simply was no reason.

Pan came by to see what I was doing after our nighttime encounter out on the sea. He never revealed himself but I could always tell when he was there. Watching unseen from the trees. Not interfering but not ignoring either.

One day some of the Lost Boys came by me when I was resting at my camp. Upon seeing me they stammered out apologies and ran off back to where they came. My heart panged because I wanted them to stay. I wanted someone to talk to. I thought of going to Tinkerbell but I knew if I did we’d end up talking about papa and I couldn’t put myself through reminders of him right now.

Most nights I heard music coming from the jungle but it didn’t have the hypnotic spell over me as it once had. It as no challenge to ignore it and I wasn’t sure if that was worse or better.

I only ventured towards the camp of the Lost Boys once. The sounds of joy and fun pulled me forward but the reality of what I was choosing kept me from going in. I watched from the sidelines as the boys whooped and jumped and danced around a raging bonfire. It reminded me of the nights where the crew would break out their instruments and dance on the deck. It was nothing pretty but it was fun. I could remember papa teaching me how to dance properly. Standing on his toes...

I reached for my pocketwatch and breathed out remembering how I had hurled it into the sea. I need to stop reminiscing. It’s only causing me more grief. I looked back up at the camp and saw Pan emerge from the shadows. It was as if he had sensed me for he looked right at me. There was a peculiar smile on his face. Almost inviting. He held out a hand towards me, his fingers curling to tempt me to his side.

My feet were rooted in their spot. It wasn’t until Pan took the first step towards me that I was able to move again and took off back into the jungle. I got back to my camp and huddled down in my hut. Why couldn’t I do it? Why couldn’t I just enter the camp? Why couldn’t I move on?

I was just getting my breathing under control when I felt the familiar gaze of someone watching me.

“What do you want, Pan?” I asked, my voice quiet.

“So you have known that I was watching. I couldn’t tell for sure before.” Pan was closer, standing just outside of my hut. He bent down to peer inside at me. “Feel like talking now?”

I scooted out to the entrance. “Why did you follow me?”

“Because this is the first time since you kidnapped me that you’ve sought anyone out. Considering it’s been over a week since then I figured I’d meet you half way.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t live on your own forever. It’ll drive you mad. I imagine it already has some. That’s why you came to the camp.”

“How come you never said anything? You’ve been watching me for days without a word. Why say something now?”

“Like I said, you sought me out. You wanted space so I figured that I’d wait for you to come to me when you were ready. You can still come back to camp. It’ll be alright.”

My eyes snapped to his. “I don’t want to be a part of your crew.”

He gave a sigh and sat down next to me. “Still don’t trust me?” He asked.

“I’ve accepted the situation I have been forced into. My father traded me for passage out of this hellhole and since crossing realms is no easy feat I do not expect him to be able to come back for me. But…”

“There’s still a part that wants to believe he’s trying to return for you.” Pan’s voice was uncommonly gentle. Almost as if he was talking to a spooked animal. Perhaps that was what I was. A scared little creature that wanted to scuttle back into her hidey hole.

“You must think me a fool,” I scoffed.

“I think you’ve been spurned by someone you trusted and don’t know how to handle it.” He laid a hand on my back. It was surprisingly comforting. “In the years that I have lived I’ve learned a few things. One of them is that loyalty, once lost, is never earned again. Not true loyalty. Even if your father came back for you there is a part of you that would never trust him like you once did.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Pan studied me for a moment longer before standing up and holding his hand out for me, “Come along,”

“Where are we going?” I ignored his hand and stood up on my own.

“I’m showing you that you can trust me.”

He withdrew something from the pouch on his belt. It glittered like a jewel but had an odd shape. “This is a magic bean,” He said, “It can take you anywhere you want to go.”

“You’re not giving me that, are you?”

“No. We’re gonna go on a trip.” He grabbed hold of my arm, “Brace yourself, this can get a little rough.”

He dropped the bean on the ground and immediately the ground opened up into a swirling vortex pulling us both in. I clung onto Pan tighter. The journey was disorienting and my head was spinning when we finally were deposited somewhere else.

As the dizziness subsided I was able to note a few things. One, we definitely weren’t on Neverland anymore. We had been dropped on some dock where the cold air reeked of fish. In the distance there was a town. Most of the houses were dark but there looked to be an inn or a tavern that exuded warmth and energy.

Wait, I know this town! We would dock here all the time. This was where I lost--

My blood went cold. “Pan,” I turned to him, “Why are we here?”

“You’ll see,” He motioned for me to follow him. I pulled my coat tighter against me and followed after him into the town. The closer we got to the tavern the louder the cheer inside became. My legs felt like they were being weighted down by cannonballs the closer we got. Without even looking I could remember where everything was. Down that road was the blacksmith. Around that corner was a bakery. To the right of that well was the apothecary.

Pan noticed me lagging behind and grabbed me to keep up with him. “Really Pan,” I tried to pry his hand off my arm as we entered the tavern. “Why are we here?”

“Because he’s here,” Pan pointed to a spot near the back of the tavern.

Sitting at a table surrounded by pirates and wenches was my father playing a card game and drinking.

“Papa…” A part of me wanted to run up to him and hug him and never let him go. Another part of me kept me rooted in my spot. I turned to Pan. “What is this? Why’d you bring me here? To show me what I’ve lost?”

“Not at all,” he released my arm, “This is your chance. Return to him.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said. If you want to you can be reunited with your father and I give you my word I will never bother you again.”

“It’s a trick. A trap of some kind!”

“No tricks here, swordfish. I am being completely serious.”

“You’re releasing me?”

“If that is what you wish.”

I took a tentative step away from Pan. I took another waiting to see if he would stop me but he made no move. I stepped closer and closer to where papa was sitting. This was real. I can go home! After so long I can finally be with my family again!

“Is that the Lady Jones I see?” The sound of a familiar voice silenced any joy I held.

I turned to see who had addressed me. A familiar pirate with overgrown red hair and a stubbly chin walked towards me. He was all muscles and devil-may-care charm wrapped in worn brown leather.  “Karver,” I crossed my arms. “Shouldn’t be surprised you’re here.”

“Are you still sore about the last time we met that you won’t call me Quentin?” he shook his head, “If you’d allow me I’d like to make up for it.”

“I don’t want anything from you. After months of being trapped I have finally gotten away from the hellscape that was Neverland and want to get back to my father and crew.”

“Ah yes,” Karver threw an arm over my shoulders. I tried not to shudder. “Captain Jones was regaling the tavern with the tale earlier. Nasty stuff you all encountered. I was wondering why you weren’t with the crew celebrating.”

“That’s because I only got off the island recently. I haven’t had months to become numb to everything we went through while trapped in Neverland like they have.”

“Months?” Karver’s eyebrows knit together, “Kitten, the crew of the Jolly Roger shot up from the sea like a ghost ship a week ago. They’ve been drinking the town dry ever since.”

“A week? It’s only been a week since they left Neverland? A week!” I fumed. No...no this couldn’t be happening. I was on Neverland by myself for months and it hadn’t even been a week here? I knew time moved differently in Neverland but I never expected this!

“Problem?” Karver asked.

I looked across the tavern at my father. My father who was laughing and drinking with some floozy on his lap without a care in the world. This was the same man who had gone silent for months after mama died. It took him years to be comfortable enough to act like the wolfish pirate I saw before me when mama died. To him I had been bargained away a week ago. A week ago he gave me up to escape and what was it I found? He wasn’t mourning. He wasn’t trying to find a way back to me. He was in a tavern getting drunk and having fun. He was here having the time of his life knowing full well that I was stuck on Neverland at the mercy of Pan and the Lost Boys.

I shoved Karver away and stormed back out of the tavern. Pan was waiting outside.

My voice trembled with anger and betrayal. “He was never going to come back for me. It wasn’t even a thought in his head. Was it?”

“I thought it best if you saw for yourself.” Pan said.

“Why though? I’m his daughter! Don’t I mean anything?”

“Sounds like something to ask him.” Pan nodded towards the tavern.

I shook my head. Bitter tears pouring down my face. “No. I want out of here. I want to leave. Now!”

Pan held out a hand for me. “Do you trust me now, Lost Girl?”

I took one last look inside at the man who raised me. The man who sold me. I took Pan’s hand. “I want to go home.”

Pan smiled and withdrew another bean. The next moment we were falling through a portal on our way back to Neverland. The air was warm once again, the sand was pliant and soft beneath my boots. I took in a deep breath, salty ocean air with just a hint of flowers from the jungle on the tail end of it.

I remembered what I told Pan before we returned. I didn’t say I wanted to go back to Neverland. I said I wanted to go home. When did Neverland become home?

“Feel like coming to camp now?” Pan asked, giving a little tug on our interlaced hands.

“Can we stay here tonight? I don’t think I have the energy to go to your camp right now.”

“We?” Pan asked, “Am I to take it that you want me to stay?”

Heat started to creep up my neck and I gripped his hand tighter. “I don’t want to be alone again.” I admitted. I felt like a child. I was practically begging him to stay here with me.

Pan’s features softened and we sat down. His hand still held mine and he used his other to light a small fire for us. “You won’t be alone ever again, Lost Girl.” he murmured, “I promise.”

---

(Previous) (Next)

#peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #ouat #neverland #peter pan x reader #peter pan imagine

[smuttyanimeslut]

Maybe Next Time

Pairing: Oikawa x reader

Warnings: angst, cursing, gaslighting

Description: Y/N has a mental breakdown in the park

*I wrote this when I was like 16 and just re-found it and thought it would make a pretty good Oikawa angst. So if there is any she/her it’s bc it was originally written in that POV without any names.*

"You never let me be me. Whenever I was with you I wasn't ever me, I was what you wanted me to be. What you molded me to be. What you imagined me to be. I wore the clothes you bought me because you didn't like the clothes that I wore. I ate the things you wanted me to eat because you didn't like my diet. I said the things you wanted me to say all the time because apparently I didn't know how to speak for myself. I wasn't me.

I don't even know what me is anymore because I was always someone else around you, and you always had me around. I lost myself because of you. I lost my friends because of you. I lost my life because of you. This wasn't healthy... this isn't healthy! I am what I am today because you made me this way. I'm nothing like what I should have been.

I was a straight A student before I met you. Now I never do my homework or pay attention in class because I'm always texting you. I barely get any sleep anymore because you always go to sleep upset and I sit up wondering what I did wrong, because I never know. You never tell me what's wrong, you always leave me to figure it out for myself.

And you know what? I'm done. I can't keep being someone I'm not because you forced me to be something else. You even got me to dye my hair because you like anything that isn’t me better for christ sake. And every three months like clockwork you would tell me I needed to touch up my roots because they were showing.

You know what? No my me was showing. I would always do something you didn't like and you would tell me I was acting like my mother, no you were acting like your father. I remember how on clear nights we would watch the stars and you would confess how you didn't want to be like him. I would always tell you that you could never be like him and that I loved you with every crevice of my being. And I did. I did love you, but you are just like him. Angry, miserable, controlling; you're everything you have never wanted to be and maybe I could have helped you a little more. Maybe I could have told you what you were doing to me but I was so content. I was so in love with you that I was afraid of losing you.

I shouldn't have been. I shouldn't have thought that if I said one curse word you were going to leave me for the head cheerleader at your school or the cute soccer player because you had better interest in common. I shouldn't have been afraid that if I 'stepped out of line' you were going to end my world as I knew it. Because you were my world and i'm having trouble staying upright because of you.

I haven't been okay in so long because of us. Because of the thing that we were together. It wasn't even a relationship anymore, maybe for the first few months, but not after that week in Okinawa. You were my everything, I still can't believe you ever could think something different. I was hollow without you. After that week I didn't want to be without you, I needed to be with you and that's what made everything so much worse.

You took me to all of these beautiful places and held my hand and told me I was just as beautiful to you as they were. You took me under the stars and told me to start counting and that once I reached the end that your love would run out, and sometimes I still look at the stars and find myself counting because I know that I must have miscounted somewhere. Because your love must have ran out somewhere. I don't think that you get that you destroyed me on the most innocent level. I can't go anywhere without thinking about you or the times that we shared. I can't say anything without filtering what is coming out. I can't even breath without thinking of keeping my breathing steady and quiet.

I'm no longer a person because of you. And I was so okay with that for so long. I can't take this anymore though, you wrecked me. You wrecked my life. You coerced me into a tiny little shell, and after a while I became okay with it. I'm not anymore."

The grey skies and mildly harsh winds wrapped around you like a security blanket. You found comfort in the way the world around you reflected how you felt inside. The leaves rolled around the two of you as he stood in the middle of the oncoming storm. Your hair whipped around your head as the wind blew the overwhelming scent of his cologne into your nose.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, his words nearly getting drowned out by the roaring of the storm. His soft brown hair became disheveled in the wind as he stood below the tree.

"No you're not, and I don't think you'll ever be sorry. To be sorry means you won't do it again, and if given the chance you would. You would always do it again and I... I would probably let you."

Thunder rolls in the distance as people rushed to their cars fleeing the once beautiful picnic day. Trees suede in the now heavy wind as animals hid away in their safe dry homes, and then the rain came. The rain seeped into your bones as it drenched the once dry Earth. Tears mixed with rain cascaded down your face as you looked at him without actually looking at him.

"I would have done anything for you." You confessed. "I might have even died for you."

His hand found your damp cheek as your breathing became unsteady. "I would have let you."

The storm raged on harder now as you two were the only ones in site. The sky brightened with lighting as you stood for a second longer.

"This would be easier you know," you started," if you were actually here for me to tell you."

You opened your eyes and took a deep breath wiping at your face. The storm was right on top of you now as you retreated to a pavilion soaking wet. Your whole body shook with the weight of the world as you seated herself on a picnic table top.

"Maybe next time." You spoke to the storm letting it carry your words away. “Maybe when you’re home from Argentina, and I can breath again.”

The numbness in your heart began to spread to your fingers as the wind switched directions. Rain whipped at your arms from the side as the concrete dampened around you.

“Yeah,” you thought, “maybe next time.”

#oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #oikawa tōru #oikawa hcs #oikawa fic #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa toru x you #oikawa x reader #Argentina Oikawa #haiky?!! #haikyū!! #hq #haikyuu!! #y/n #haikyuu #angst #tw gaslighting #tw cursing #timeskip

[bluejohsai]

whiskers — kuroo tetsurou (au).

it’s been a while and i managed to push through with posting a short scenario for this blog. i know i haven’t been active in this blog at all and it will stay that way if there are no requests flying here. i am currently accepting requests for haikyuu and attack on titan (bc i indulged in it for quite a while now). with that aside, happy reading !!

summary : kuroo finds himself in a strange predicament and inevitably bumps into his crush. inspired by ‘a whisker away’.

Kuroo Tetsurou had enough of his life.

Everything was just in shambles the moment his mother screamed at his father, demanding a divorce. And with divorce comes the argument of which parent will take the responsibility of caring for the child. In the end, Kuroo's mother won, making him pack his bags and leave his father behind to live in his mother's house in Tokyo, along with the man that his mother chose to remarry. Living under his mother's care was perfectly fine; she wasn't in the house often because of her work and his mother's new husband tends to be fussing over him any chance he gets, but Kuroo chose to brush all of them with a practiced smile.

In the summer of Kuroo's second year in high school, the dark-haired boy received a message from his father. He was lounging in his makeshift study area in the bottom part of his bunk bed, reading a book that Kenma really enjoyed (it was filled with games though, probably the reason why the first-year liked it so much), when his phone vibrated on top of the coffee table he pushed at the front of his study area. Not having any enthusiasm at the prospect of talking to people, Kuroo sluggishly sat up and opened his phone, displaying his lock screen of the sky and the message from his father. With bored eyes from behind his long fringe, Kuroo tried reading the message without any attachment since it was only once upon a time that he was close with his father.

Father:

Hey, Tetsurou, I'm here right now in Tokyo. The summer festival is still ongoing so why don't we attend the highlights, I have something to talk to you about.

Narrowing his eyes at the glare of his gadget, Kuroo stared pensively at the screen of his phone. Festivals meant reliving those joyous moments he had with his father when he was young; catching goldfishes, buying masks and scaring his mother with the designs of their face accessories, and watching the highlights of the festival, which is the fireworks display. It also meant reliving that time when his father left him intentionally during a crowded summer festival. That event in his life spurred the divorce because as his mother told him, his father is one deadbeat and selfish kind of man. But his father wasn't like that. Kuroo remembered pleading to his mother to forgive the older man but it was all in vain. She still screamed in their dining room to nullify their marriage.

Tetsurou:

OK.

That was it. No residue of the playful nature he always had with his father, as it should be all those years.

Having a few minutes of silence and staring at the bottom of his bunk bed, Kuroo took a deep breath as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more. Slowly sitting up, the dark-haired boy crawled out of his cozy hideout and stretched his limbs, because lying down and rolling on the carpeted floor definitely made him stiff. Walking towards his closet while taking off his shirt, Kuroo reached out for the red sleeveless hoodie hanging from behind his volleyball club tracksuit, quickly fitting it on him and choosing to leave his basketball shorts on. With his phone and wallet in hand, the tall lad walked down the stairs and opened the door to the living room and dining area.

Peeking his head inside a small crack of the door, Kuroo lazily scanned the area. "Ah, Hikaru-san," he called out, catching the attention of a tall man with soft brown hair and glasses from behind the counter of their kitchen. He was apparently preparing for dinner, which looked like fried chicken. "I'm going out for a bit. Tell Mom that I could be going home late tonight."

The man named Hikaru gently smiled at Kuroo as he washed his hands. "I heard tonight's the summer festival's highlights," he noted, wiping his hand on one of the clean towels by the refrigerator. "Are you going with your friend, Kenma, is it? Or your classmates, Yaku and Kai."

Kuroo shook his head. "Dad invited me."

He swore he could hear a pin drop from the awkward silence ensuing inside the room. This silence is one that he greatly distastes, and this is coming from a child who succumbed to a bout of silence once he moved to Tokyo. There was no question of how Hikaru wanted to be acknowledged as Kuroo's new father and the competition on who deserves to be a better father to Kuroo is brewing between the two males that became a part of his mother's life. Kuroo could see that Hikaru was doing his best but the messy-haired boy never really viewed him as a family even after years of being married to his mom, his dismissive behavior when it comes to Hikaru is masked with cheery remarks and loud rounds of laughter. And that's what he chose to do right now.

The tall lad laughed once again, trying to ease any tension in the air. "I'm thinking of bringing home a box of takoyaki. Do you want anything, Hikaru-san?"

Hikaru composed himself and sheepishly looked down to continue with his current task. "You don't have to buy me anything, Tetsurou." The brown-haired man glanced at Kuroo with a fatherly air. "Are you joining us for dinner later?"

Kuroo paused for a few moments, pretending to think upon the offer before shaking his head an easygoing smile. "Nope," he lightheartedly answered Hikaru. "I'll be off now!"

When Kuroo's footsteps echoed through the empty household, followed by the sound of the front door closing, Hikaru deeply sighed as he planted both hands on the counter. His dejected frame was noticed by his pet cat, Hanako, who mewled in concern as she approached her owner. Realizing his eyes pooling with unshed tears, Hikaru quickly took his glasses from the bridge of his nose and wiped his eyes with his wrist, his forced laughter coming out huskily.

"I'm trying my best, Hanako, but why isn't it enough?"

                                                             *

Summer festivals in Tokyo always bring forth a chorus of laughter and the comfortable mellow lantern lights. There was a subtle beat of the taiko drums in the background, drowned out by the endless chatters of the people choosing to roam around during the highlights of the festivals. The streets of the enormous plaza in their area were arranged to have a line of stalls awaiting for customers, and one of them held a special place in Kuroo's childlike heart ー goldfish scooping. Here he was, crouched down in front of the small tub designated for the goldfishes, his hand poised right above him while his eyes never strayed from that fish who appeared to be brighter than anyone else in the shallow water. Right when he was about to catch the fish, his little net tilted and doubled over the water, scaring away the fishes from any human contact.

"Better luck next time, boy," the stall owner told him reassuringly but the messy-haired boy wasn't reassured at all.

Kuroo stood up brashly from his seated position, surprising the people around the little stall, and walked away with his hands inside the pockets of his sleeveless jacket. There was a hasty apology coming from behind him, along with hurried footsteps of the very person he doesn't want to interact with at the moment. Kuroo continued walking, mumbling apologies to the people he bumped on the way, until a firm grip wrapped around his arm, making him roll his eyes in annoyance.

"What?" he asked the person desperately trying to catch his attention, the expression on the younger boy was hiding the fact that he was hurting because of this meeting.

"Tetsurou," Kuroo Tatsunari, his father stood in front of him, face so distraught that he nearly broke his practiced façade. "You can live with me instead of your mother, that way everyone will be happy. Please, Tetsurou, I already asked my landlord to have my apartment renovated to have your room."

Kuroo was baffled for a moment and he couldn't help but scoff in disbelief at what his father said. After shaking his head, his golden eyes trailed from the face he was starting to see in the mirror (except for the unruly hair he seemed to claim since he was young) to the hand still gripping tightly on his arm, as if asking for him to never leave the owner's side. He had enough of all of this and all he wanted was to cry his heart out and scream all his hidden thoughts to a barren meadow, but all he could do was place his hand on his father's, gently taking away the grip that kept him rooted on the ground for so many years.

With unrelenting eyes, he muttered darkly, "Have you ever wondered what would make me happy?" before turning away and running to who knows where this late at night.

"Tetsurou!"

He did what he always did best ー running away from his problems.

The young boy did this when he was in the middle of his parents' fights when he was just a little boy and he brought it with him until he was in primary school, where his mother took him under her wing all the way to Tokyo. He nearly ran away when Kenma came into his life, the prospect of having friends and interacting with other children his age so dreadful to the boy that he didn't speak until Kenma asked him what games to play, thus, spurring the two to start volleyball. He nearly ran away when middle school and high school came, the latter made his anxiety rise much higher than the previous point in his life. But this was all erased when many of his high school classmates approached him out of nowhere, clinging onto him and confessing left and right, something that he was not proud of.

The messy-haired boy slowed down his pace to a walk, tears bleeding through his vision and blending in with the drops of rain pattering down on him. "I hate this," he muttered, making measured footsteps on the cobblestones, not noticing that his surroundings seem to transition into a shrine. "I hate the world. I hate myself. I wish I would just end this miserable life right away." Just then, a strong odor of tobacco wafted through his senses, making him perk up in wariness.

In front of him was a huge man dressed in an elaborate yukata, casually smoking on a fancy pipe that Kuroo thought was a relic based on its golden sheen that illuminated under the shrine's overhead lanterns. Feeling skeptical at his current situation, Kuroo slightly took a step back with his eyes still set on the man sitting with a mask stall beside him. His heartbeat picked up its pace because of the nerves starting to churn in his stomach but the dark-haired boy still glanced at the number of masks plastered on the stall and oddly enough, all he could see were cats instead of the variety of animals that were displayed in some of the festival stalls down the hill.

"Welcome," the unnamed man said in a raspy and deep voice, his big, slitted yellow eyes glancing over at Kuroo. "Do you want to try one on? It is said to erase all your worries the moment your face touches the mask."

Erase all your worries?

Kuroo gulped before opening his mouth to speak, "How much is one?"

That offer tempted him and based on the man's appearance, he wasn't a scammer that would run away with his money. There was something from the man's voice that compelled him to try just one mask to see if what he said is true because he definitely needed an escape from reality right about now.

The man chuckled ominously. "No need to pay, young man."

The messy-haired boy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Is this because your offer is a hoax?"

At this, the unnamed man's chuckles became a full-on laugh. Laughter of scrutiny thrown at him, making Kuroo squirm in his perch. "There wasn't anything about a hoax in what I said, kid. Here," the man reached out from behind him and picked out a black cat mask, throwing it at Kuroo, who leaned forward to catch the object, "try it on."

Kuroo flipped the mask. The front was so detailed that it almost looked real, the paint on the mask's nose seemed to glint with the wetness of a real cat's and even the whiskers protruded on either side of it. The ears also captured his attention ー there were fur inside each one and it even depicted the real colors on what you can see on a cat. The back wasn't much with its embellished white appearance but when Kuroo slowly lifted the mask to try it on, it snuggly fit the shape of his face, sending chills down his spine. It was like the mask was made for him. But his admiring came to a halt when an invisible wall slammed on him, making him lose his balance.

The next moment was so bizarre to Kuroo. At first, everything was normal to him and the next, all objects loomed over his figure like skyscrapers. But when he blinked at the green color invading his optics, his vision seems to sharpen, even more, zeroing on where the man was previously seated and only finding no sign of the unnamed person. His chest tightened with anxiety, jumping at the slightest of sound picked up by his hearing. With shaky legs, Kuroo walked on the pathway with the sole purpose of going home and just wrapping himself in his duvet, praying that the next day will be much kinder to him. Upon passing by a vending machine right at the base of the shrine, his golden eyes widened when his reflection showed a black cat instead of his tall physique.

What is happening?

"What in the world?" Kuroo voiced out but instead of his usual timber, a series of meows ricocheted through the empty shrine. He jumped two feet in the air in surprise, spooked that even the black cat in the vending machine's reflection showed rod-like fur. After a few moments, he slowly walked towards the reflection, both curious and unnerved at what he just witnessed. "How?"

Placing a paw on the glassy surface, Kuroo roamed his eyes over his new body. He wasn't even surprised that the cat he donned has black fur and a small tuff of hair covering a portion of his right eye. Gradually, the boy's parted lips turned into a large smile as he whooped in the air while jumping around. It was cute in a human's perspective ー a little black cat hopping from cobblestone to cobblestone, his little meows twinkling in the night breeze. In all honesty, Kuroo felt so alive to leave his human life behind and the only thought lingering in his head is how much he wanted to be a cat his whole life ー lazing around and looking for different homes all day, no room for homework and the constant argument of familial connections. For an entire hour, Kuroo marveled at the world from a different perspective as he never stopped swaying happily down the path.

Until a familiar scent hit him ー watermelon.

And true enough, there on one of the benches was [Last Name][Name], who was looking blankly at the park in front of her with a half-finished bottle of banana milk loosely held in her hands. It looked like she came from one of her college prep classes based on what she was wearing — a beige turtleneck sweater and a tawny pencil skirt covered by a trench coat. Her hair was the same hairstyle Kuroo always liked on her, a loose braid running down on one of her shoulders, with her fringe carefully framing her ethereal face. It was no surprise to everyone how much he likes the girl and it shows how he gawked at her with round, golden eyes.

She looked at the side and when her gaze found him, Kuroo visibly jumped in shock again. The girl rose her eyebrows in surprise at the sight of the adorable black cat pausing a few feet from her. Kuroo watched [Name] open her backpack and mumbling things under her breath as she searched for something in her bag. Brightening when she finally found what she was looking for, the black cat curiously watched as [Name] waved a pack of biscuits in the air and beckoned him towards her.

"I have some snacks, kitty," she told him, which strangely compelled him to come closer. Who doesn't? The girl he absolutely adores called him 'kitty' with that beautiful smile, of course, he would follow her. When he stopped by her shoes, she then lowered her voice, "Is it alright if I pick you up?"

Kuroo meowed in approval, which [Name] happily took as a good response since she carefully picked him up and placed him on her lap. She then softly ran her fingers on his head, making him purr in contentment. Before nibbling on a biscuit, Kuroo enjoyed the warmth [Name] emitted, looking up at her with his pupils blown wide, which is a sign of his fascination with the girl.

"The night is beautiful ー it's like everything disappeared," she pensively voiced out, her eyes softly staring at the black cat on her lap. "I need more moments like these. People want me to do things that they want, not knowing how much I wanted to be free when I step out in the real world. I mean, I'm going to be eighteen soon and it's a sign that my dad should stop placing shackles that makes me want to cry. I don't even want to be a doctor." She pursed her lips as she paused for a bit as she muttered, "It's so suffocating." The girl then felt paws on her shoulder, making her look up at the adorable black cat, which was a few inches from her face. Then, she felt the tiniest kiss on her cheek, something that elicited a giggle from her. "That tickles."

Raising her hand from her lap, [Name] wrapped them around the cat's body, lifting him a little higher and placing him on her shoulder.

"You smell like lavender," she whispered. "I love it."

Through the night, the boy trapped inside the black cat's body heard his heart pound in his chest, his adoration for the girl blossoming like the fireworks lighting the park.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyu x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu kuroo #i am in love with this movie uwu #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n

[chanluster]

ann summers | {c} ; mild {f}

oneshot | 2.56K words

“ your best friend was weirdly terrified of lingerie, and you found it irritating yet adorable.”

c o n t e n t s >> a very flustered seungmin, constant clownery, mild fluff, mentions of sex toys but no usage, sexual innuendo, a lot of swearing, y’all basically make seungmin hella uncomfortable lmaoaoo

a / n >> inspired loosely by real events when my friends and i got kicked out of a sex shop for fucking around :’) ann summers is a lingerie and sex shop, in case y’all didn’t know!

back to masterlist

YOU FOUND YOURSELF SIGHING OUT MORE THAN YOU PHYSICALLY THOUGHT POSSIBLE.

“Seungmin,” You explained for the last time, ”They’re not going to come alive and bite you.”

The boy stood in front of you shot you an expression which actually doubted your statement. He hugged himself tighter, white hoodie bunching up at the waist, either to warm himself from the bitter London cold or shield himself from another threat.

Monsters displayed in the windows of Ann Summers. 

These creatures that your best friend shied from hung delicately either on racks, or were boasted upon the slim mannequin bodices, intricate lacing and beadings accentuating the dark colours. Posters of models adorning the god-forbidden entity, posing seductively as they showed off the latest collection.

You rolled your eyes, and this time it hurt as they reached the insides of your mind.

“You actual pussy,” you jeered. “Every woman wears a bra you know. Or at least some point in her life.”

You raised your own chest a little higher, pointing towards the goods. “Even I’m wearing one right now.”

Seungmin’s face was a classic painting of disgust. “You didn’t have to tell me that,” he whined, almost hiding within the folds of his hoodie. “Look, I’ll wait here, you go and do your shopping.” 

“But that’ll be boring if I do it alone!” You looked up at the sky, grey clouds engulfing the sun for hours. “And it’ll rain any moment now, I can’t let you stay outside.”

“I’d rather stay outside than step foot in that…” he glanced at the lingerie shop for a millisecond before hurriedly settling his eyes upon you. “That place.”

“You say it like it’s some twisted underworld.” You waved a hand towards the shop. “To women it is a chance of feeling sexy.

“And I wanna feel sexy, Seungmin.”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow at you. “Who for? The men on your lockscreen you cry over?”

Chuckling, he dodged your hand, nearly whacking him. “Watch it, dickhead,” you warned. “And it doesn’t have to be for a man. I want to feel hot for myself.”

“But ___, you’re already pretty,” he pleaded rather than declared, the tone making you suspicious. “You don’t need that lacey shit.”

“Are you saying that just so I don’t go inside the store? Because I will anyway, whether I’m going to buy something or not.”

A few moments passed after the words left your mouth, and you watched his brows furrow irritably.

“Nevermind, you’re mad fucking ugly.”

“Hey!”

This time, your hand managed to hit home, earning a yelp from Seungmin, who rubbed his arm in pain. 

“Now stop bitching and come inside,” you ordered, ready to take him by his sweater paws, but he stayed rooted to the cobblestone street. 

“I’m not going in,” he muttered. 

Perhaps hitting his head would get him to comply. 

Before you could carry out your sentence, thunder reigned upon the ears of the shoppers and other citizens out, including you two who jumped from the rather loud sound. 

You felt a drop of water hit your head. Then, saw another fall upon Seungmin’s face. 

One drop. Two drops. Four drops. 

Until drops became showers, and you started towards the Ann Summers building, dragging the hesitant boy along and rushed under the cover of the entrance. 

You shot a glare as you slowed down, ignored by the boy watching the showers of rain grow angrier. “I told you this would happen.”

He turned, eyes now desperate. “Please don’t make me go in there, ___.”

“Look, this isn’t normal. You gotta learn to be comfortable with seeing bras and pants and sex toys—”

“Wait what? Sex toys?!” He backed away out of cover, and came running back when he felt the icy rain. “No way am I going in there now. You’re on your own.”

“Seungmin!” You exclaimed, and with his surprise, you took the golden opportunity to grab his sweater-cuffed hands, and with the other hand pushed the doors open as you pulled him inside with you.

You looked up at your surroundings, a whimper sounding from behind you.

It was an explosion of dark pink in the background, complimentary with black railings and racks as thousands of different pieces of lingerie hung, stacked and modelled before you, a full colour blast and wild designing. Lacing you had never seen before accentuating body suits, stockings promising brilliant bedroom results and everything naughty you could ever think of presented on a silver plate to the customer. 

The store knew you sought pleasure, and made sure to offer it in an infinite ways and possibilities. 

It made Kim Seungmin nearly scream.

“I’m going right now—!” he turned on his heel, but you successfully grabbed onto the hood, yanking him back to your side. 

“No time for your whining, buddy.” You stared at the sexual haven, excited to uncover what it offered. “Let’s buy some motherfucking bras!”

“Oh dear God,” he could only murmur.

Batting your hand off the hood, he crossed his arms as he miserably followed you around, not leaving his eyesight from the carpeted floor. You, on the other hand, relished in the polished lingerie store, assessing each new piece in each hot collection, feeling like a proper woman. Of course you had some nice underthings for yourself, but there are always times where you wished you possessed something fancier, something with a little black lace and pants which were tied up at the sides. It seemed awfully silly saying all those little wishes to your best friend, but it was what you truly felt.

You just wanted to feel...nice.

“Seungmin, you do know no one is going to judge you for looking around with me.” You studied a certain two piece, a little too big for your breasts. “I think I’d judge you more for constantly looking down. It’s like you’ve already done something vile.”

“Don’t say that,” he grumbled. “I just don’t want anyone thinking I’m a weirdo.”

“No one’s going to think that,” you assured him. “Just don’t sniff the bras or shit like that. That would definitely get you kicked out.”

“I wasn’t even thinking of that, sick bitch.” He slid a little closer to you, wary of the other shoppers walking, assessing by. “Whatever, I’ll just wait for you.”

You let your lips curve into a malicious smirk. “But Seungmin, I wanted your opinion on a few things.”

The boy’s devastation nearly made you cackle. “No fucking way are you going to show me what you want.”

You gave into your wishes, laughing shamelessly at the blush rising in his cheeks. “Nah, I’m not that sadistic. Actually, I already know what I need, but I’m gonna take a while, so…” your knowing smile remained. “You can search around for yourself if you like.”

Those little cheeks blushed harder. “Shut up.”

Whistling, you only shrugged, walking past the lingerie in a slow stroll. “Whatever you say, buddy! And remember.” You glanced back, eyes dancing. “There is nothing to be scared of in here.”

You continued your search for your specific sized bras, collecting a few and hanging them upon your arm as you browsed, Seungmin close behind, ready to bolt out of the shop at any moment. Every so often a scandalous underwear would be shown off upon the shelves, and you’d pick out a piece, waving it in front of the boy and watch him scurry away from it as if it were a poisonous creature. 

It made your insides sing at the thought of his reaction when he saw the contents further down the shop. You were sure he would pass out.

“Okay, Minnie,” You started, walking towards the far end of the room. “I’ve picked out a few things and am just going back there.”

“Hold up!” He sprang into a little jog, hastily avoiding the lingerie and stopping right next to you. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

“You were the one dying to stay away,” you reminded him, already catching sight of Seungmin’s final doom. “Now come here, I need to find myself one more thing.”

Taking his sweater paw, you lead him out of the lingerie section, a pink wall separating the contents behind the other side. A doorway was present, and you entered through it, the biggest, dirtiest grin adorning upon your lips.

You read out the sign, already feeling Seungmin go statue-still.

“Sex toys!” You declared.

And heard your best friend’s response. 

“JESUS ON A FUCKING MARATHON—”

You let out a gasp. Never before had you seen him this frightened, and you’ve been through a hundred theme parks with him. You’ve seen how this idiot had screamed his voice dead at rollercoasters. 

“Seungmin—” you started, but with a jolt you noticed he had wrenched his hood over his head, pulling at the strings so all you could see were his eyes, angry as the thunder crashing outside in the sky. 

“What are you doing here—!” he mumbled into the opening of his hoodie, but you shut him up with your hand, shushing him.

“Look, we’re technically not allowed to be in here, so shut up.” You turned around once more to the sex toys, proudly being shown upon the shelves. The dildos were the main attraction, catching your eye with the vibrant colours, different sizes and special editions being listed on their tags.

Your best friend looked frantically around, making sure there were no employees around to catch you both. “I hate you so much,” he guttered, which only made you smile. 

You dashed to the shelves, observing one brilliantly pink dildo, veins and all carved into the plastic. “Oh my God, Minnie, look!” 

The disgust on Seungmin’s face made you pick up the object, assessing the little details engraved upon it. “It says it’s eight inches.” Your eyes widened. “Eight inches!”

“You better put that back, then,” the boy drawled, still not loosening the strings of his hoodie. “That shit’ll kill you.”

“You’re just mad you don’t pack that much.” You obliged, putting the dildo back. “Didn’t know cocktail sausages were designed based on your dick.”

“My dick is not small,” he argued. When he saw your knowing smirk, though, he visibly shrunk.

“Oh yeah?” You walked on, cackling. “Keep talking shit, Minnie, but I can’t see any bulge.”

“Oh my God-” he immediately yanked his hoodie lower, as red as a tomato. “Stop!”

“Don’t worry, bud,” you sang out, going deeper into the aisles. You’ll find a lovely girl who will look past your 3-incher.”

Seungmin only had his eyes on you, blushing even more. “fuck you, ____.”

His thoughtful comment was ignored, skipping past various sizes of anal beads, magic wands and other innovative little creations, surprised to find so much range. You knew you would probably never use these objects, but the idea of people trying to spice up their sex lives with all this was insane in your head. 

It was too bad you and Seungmin were pain-stakingly virgin.

You were about to call exit when your eyes stopped on a certain invention, and your mouth dropped. 

“What is that?”

You quickly picked it up, assessing its indigo, snake-like bodice, veins engraved all over with two heads on either sides. Laughing, you raised it to get your best friend’s attention.

“Look at this!”

Seungmin came over, took one glance at what you held, and turned a straight 180 degrees.

“Wait, wait!” You grabbed onto his hood once more, pausing his escape. 

“I am not going to admire a double-ended dildo-”

“But look at how innovative this is!” You turn him around, gripping the sex toy like its a snake ready to strike.

Even the boy’s eyes were ready to dagger you. “____, I swear on Jesus and his disciples, I’m going to get your head checked.”

“How cute would it be if we used it together?” you teased, trying to hand him the tip, but he dodged your hand.

“I’m going! Ciao! Adios! Au revoir!” he crowed, finished with your tom-foolery, and leaving the sex toy’s section.

“No, Seungmin, wait!” You called after him, double-ended dildo still in hand, and trying to catch up to his rapid retreat. 

You were about to fall into step beside him when a woman stopped you both.

When the two of you saw the Ann Summers tag on her blouse, and a rather interrogative expression, you both exchanged glances, yours a little more sheepish than his.

“What were you kids doing in the back section?” she asked, hands on her hips.

You could feel the nerves radiating off Seungmin’s body, so you opened your mouth, saying the first words that touched your tongue.

“My friend and I were, uh, at the back...trying things out.”

Suddenly, a laugh escaped your best friend.

The employee looked at the lingerie on your one arm, and the double-ended dildo in your other hand. Then she raised a groomed brow at you.

Your cheeks flushed aggressively, and with further surprise heard Seungmin’s chuckling grow louder.

“Children are strictly prohibited in the sex-toys section,” she scolded, regarding the shopping in your arms. “You can still buy the bras, but the other thing…”

“I’ll put it back right now!” you declared, eyes wide as your best friend’s laughter boomed across the shop. You hurried back in the erotica section, dumping the dildo among its brethren and returning to your surrender spot.

The attendant then took your remaining items and scanned them in, ushering you to the till. You paid the woman what was due, and took the black shoppings, exiting the shop hastily with a near-hysterical Seungmin at your heels.

The London rain had softened to a light drizzle when you burst out of Ann Summers, getting irritated with the continuous howling, and at last you whirled around, ready to shut him up when you stopped.

Your best friend’s hood was pulled over, and he bent forward, soft locks bobbing as he laughed out his soul, eyes disappearing within his grin. The sound of the rain harmonised with his melodious voice, and you watched, mouth parted in awe. 

You had seen Seungmin laugh a million and two times. It was always after you faced the consequences of your frequent fuck-ups - just like this one. However, looking at him now, finally calming his roaring, toothy grin still on display, there was something quite fantastical in his mirth that made your heartbeat run fast -  faster than you when returning that damned double-ended dildo.

“I hate you!” your best friend declared to London, smiling at you.

You could only return that pure happiness. “I hate you too,” you replied, heart still beating rapidly.

He finally strolled up to you, eyeing the black shopping bag. “You deserve that scolding.”

“I know,” you agreed, turning towards the street, another notorious shop in sight. “Let’s do it again.”

Seungmin shot you an incredulous look. “You already know I’m never stepping foot in Ann Summers again.”

“I don’t mean Ann Summers, Minnie,” you said, staring at the other shop. The next destination of trouble.

The boy followed your line of sight, and his joy nearly vanished. His eyes darted to you, disbelief in his expression.

“No, you’re fucking not.”

But you only stuck your tongue out at him and ran towards the building, you now being the one laughing.

Seungmin only rolled his eyes, a small smile escaping his lips when he looked at you and followed your footsteps, right into the Victoria Secret building.

#stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids #kim seungmin #stray kids fluff #kim seungmin imagines #seungmin imagines #seungmin fluff #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #stray kids crack