#THANKS AGAIN BONES COMMISSIONING YOU IS ALWAYS SO FUN AND EASY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iwaasfairy · 1 month

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┌─ “ ! „ FEARLESS, STUPID

tw. a/b/o, military au, dystopian au, noncon, threesome, heat, dumbification, double penetration, patronization/ degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, dom/sub themes, choking, anal play, a lot of spit and cum, size kink, tummy bulging, mentions of human captives, kinda forced prostitution wordcount. 9.8k

a/n. I had a lot of fun writing this one bc it’s just extremely fairycore and indulgent. heavily inspired by rhi and her incredible brain for writing the hand that feeds!!! I love that fic and have always wanted to write smt set in vaguely the same world. thank you to everyone who beta read as well I appreciate it soooo much ♡♡

geto suguru, kong shiu, fushiguro toji x fem!reader

The air is dry and cold, enough to hurt on the way in. It’s cold enough for your warm air to come back out and form droplets on your nose that drip into the snow.

Your head down, crouched in the smallest shape you can make yourself, is how you find yourself drifting in and out of focus. Not only are you cold and hungry, but it’s been long enough for the scent of smoke and ash and foul, sour fear to have started losing it’s smell. You can’t even expend the energy to move your head to the side and look, without getting tired. The crunching of the heavy boots in the snow is the only thing that’s pulling you back into it. That and the occasional clang of the line of cuffs shaking around someone’s wrists.

It’s gone quiet now.

You wonder if others have fallen asleep. You’re not far off yourself. When some commotion happens over by the gates, some of the uniformed figures rush to go look, feet kicking up snow as they go — It’s a blur of shouts and orders, before the loud hum of an armored vehicle stops not too far away. That’s all it takes to wake you up again, and despite yourself, your arms start shaking in their place behind your back. The cold of the metal radiates all through your bones.

You realize you’re scared. That’s the thumping between your ears.

“Lieutenant. Good evening, Sir.”

A soft, almost warm voice stands in stark contrast against the cold of the surroundings when the feet stop a few steps short of the kneeling row of people. “At ease, soldier.” He sounds older than some of the youthful faces you’ve seen here, dragging people around by their ankles to stuff them into loaded trucks. But not old. Not nearly old enough to carry the weight he does. “What’s all this?” the voice pivots, aimed now towards your group. A few of the women beside you uneasily shuffle in their places.

“Captives from a raid by the fifth division this morning. They interfered with the commission’s supply line when they tried to escape.”

You smell smoke with each breath. The man makes a soft humming noise, before he scans the row of kneeling people again. “So why are they still here? We have plenty of mouths to feed already.” You have seen what they do with prisoners here. Just this one, long day has shown you all you need to know. Your life will be short and unnoticed, and if you’re lucky, you won’t go through hell before you’re shot between your eyes. The cold air makes clouds in front of your face, as the steam rises above the snow into the black night. “Beta's?”

“Yes, Sir.”

You strain your neck to tilt your head up. You’re not sure why you do it. Maybe it’s the wrongful association of that voice, smooth and lithe and easy- with the pain you’ve witnessed. You don’t have much hope of making it out, and though you could beg, you’re not even sure if they see you as human enough to consider a plea a plea. Your eyes glide up the perfectly fitted suits, dark gray and gold until you find the face of the leader— and startle. Long, black hair is tied into a sloppy bun in his neck, and long bangs almost hide one eye from view.

But the eyes are striking and sharp and long lashes frame them against pale skin, and you can’t look away when his lips form the words. “So, kill them.” His cigarette burns bright orange when he takes another pull.

The younger of the two only lets out the briefest breath. “...Yes, Sir.”

The fear makes the pitched whimper get stuck in your throat, and more puffy clouds drift out of your lips when you start to shuffle in a panic. Not fight, you don’t ever fight. The man turns on his heel. And you’re not the only one, as soon cries and sniffles and the petrified glances only set you off more. Your eyes drop to the muddied, dirty patches of snow that the cars drove through, the people around the camp; as your stomach turns and your bottom lip starts to wobble. You knew this is how you’d turn out.

As soon as they put the cuffs on and tossed you onto the ground to wait… your own whimpering just melts into that of the others, but peaks when a hand grabs you by the hair and yanks you up, then lifts you by your arm. “No, no, stop!” The girls around you start screaming too, one grabbing at your arms to pull you back down. But the soldier doesn’t hesitate to kick her in the nose, as you cry, trembling like a kitten picked up by her neck.

Everyone’s scared for themselves, but they’re scared for you too, and you for them. “Stop, please! Please!” They cry. The blood thumping between your ears makes it hard to focus on anything but the painful grip on you, and the disgusted face of the man before you. When you don’t make any effort to fight, he drops you back down into the cold snow, and instead aims the long barrel of his gun straight at you.

You can’t even look away, as your heart rate slows. As you watch the small snowflakes come from the sky to meet you.

“Wait.” The voice returns when he stops halfway to the car, and makes your eyes shoot up to find his face, as shivers roll down your back. You know you’re stinking up the place, as the placating hands of the girls around you reach to brush fingers. It’s not much, but allows you to take a sniveling breath. “This one’s an Omega… Settle down, soldier. We’re not trying to hurt, are we?” The buzzcut’s eyes widen slightly, maybe as he takes a first good look at you and notices the smaller frame, big doe-like eyes, the softer set of your face and demeanor. Just as quickly as he gives you another up and down, he steps aside and lowers his heavy-duty gun back to the ground.

The older one takes a step back towards you. Your face must be windbitten, lips cracked and cold and stained with tears where you sit, but the noiret doesn’t falter as he drops into a squat before you. His face breaks out into a soft smile, and his hand rises to brush along your cheek, avoiding the black eye as he goes. “You’re a rare find. You on blockers?” Not enough recent ones to keep out all of the scent, clearly.

It’s not a question that needs answering, but as his thumb brushes over your lip, you find yourself giving the smallest nod. Gently, careful not to make any harsh movements. He does the same when he helps you right yourself back onto your knees, and then gives you a slow, calculated trace with his ocean-dark, silvery eyes. “Smart. We almost missed out on you with all the Beta stench.” A small furrow worms between his brows. “Are there others?” He asks, and then gives a swift continuation. “Don’t lie. If you lie I’ll know.”

Your voice cracks when you start. “I- If I tell you- what will happen to them?”

With only the slightest bit of hesitation, he seems to mull it over. Sharp, angular features soften just a bit as he draws his hand back from your face to run it under his nose instead. And whatever he smells must soothe the urge to get angry at being questioned, because his cheeks push up genially until his eyes are practically just moons. “How’s this? I’ll be fair, after hearing whatever information you have.” The anxiety ebbs and flows as you look to the faces at your side, then swallow.

Your heart hammers wildly in your chest. You have no reason to lie. There’s no one left that didn’t get shot as they ran… You clear your strained voice with a tight cough. “I- this is all that’s left. There’s no one else. We had people who escaped before you even closed in. B-but there weren’t any Omega’s left, the last raid already took them all. That’s all I know.” You try to keep your bottom lip from wobbling as you talk, ignoring the cold of the tears that are now freezing on your lashes.

Those dark, unrelenting eyes don’t waver as you speak, and you can’t help but wonder what it is he sees. Surely he knows, you wouldn’t need to lie. Just as you start getting anxious at the silence, he gets up from the floor, before dusting impatient hands over his pristine jacket— and a saccharine smile slips back onto his lips as he waves a hand. “Bring the Omega.” You jump when the soldier from earlier immediately starts yanking at your chains, but that’s it. It’s not in your nature to fight back. Then the Lieutenant walks back to the car as another opens it for him, and casts a final glance your way.

The smile doesn’t fall when he shifts that gaze to the side, and sucks his teeth. “Kill the monkeys.”

There’s nothing more embarrassing than having to fight your nature at every turn. You’re confronted with it more than you’ve ever been before, when they drag you across the cold tiles with your legs kicking, tears rolling in thick beads down your face and neck. You’re not a fighter. You’re not made for it. At every chance, your body chooses the easiest way out, oblige now, suffer later. Even when your mind screams at you to run, bite and kick and escape — you stay down. Cold metal slices into the tender and sore skin of your wrists when they yank you up another few feet, before dropping you onto the floor next to the makeshift desk.

You’re sniveling like a child. The man behind the desk looks at the several soldiers who stay put, before lifting an eyebrow.

“Lieutenant Geto says you’re to clean her up for processing.” One of the men sighs, before glaring down at you with a tight-lipped frown. It sets the hairs on your neck on end to feel such blatant displeasure from an Alpha.

The lighter haired young man stands from the chair at that, and gives you a quick once over. “For the barracks or to be sent to the commission?” He smiles when you look up at him, gentler, then places a warm hand on the top of your head to start soothing you. It’s enough to make your lip wobbly. The little bit of warmth isn’t enough… but it feels so nice. So good, to have a caring touch.

One of the other soldiers takes the heavy strap off his shoulder to put the gun down, and grunts. “Neither.” His top lip lifts into a scowl as he glares at the corner of the room, before turning to look down at you too. “Personal pick, I heard.”

The other soldier remains at the door, but clicks his tongue. “And we’re supposed to keep our mouths shut about it.”

“You ever had an Omega?” The one asks the other, nervously grinding his gun in circles. “I haven’t. Yet we’re going to war for ‘em… Only for pompous pricks to get first pick of the litter because they’re bold enough not to report to the commission.” The soldier grins without any amusement from across you, and you can’t help but hide more into the leg of the man who’s still touching you kindly. “Goin’ to war for pussies like yours… must make you something real special, right? But you’re unreported. What’s keeping me from just… taking you for myself?” Then he looks between the two other men. “I’m even willing to share between the three of us if you’d help out. Keep some things quiet.”

“You said the Lieutenant picked her out because he liked her, right?” The lighter haired man runs his free hand through his undercut, then leans down to lift you under your arms and get you onto tired legs against him. “Means you got something in return for keeping a secret already.” He’s all wired muscle under the uniform he wears, and wraps his arm around the small of your back before picking you up entirely. “Don’t do something stupid. There’s no place to keep her where some officer wouldn’t smell her anyway. Can’t keep her under your mattress like a pack of cards, can you?” He starts walking you towards the doors of a presumed bathroom without complaining, even though the other guy clicks his tongue.

“Itadori. You think you’re helping out just being another dog for the commission?”

“Instead of a thief?” He pushes the door open with one hand, already walking through. “Go get your free drinks or cigarettes or whatever he promised you, and do your job. I’m doing mine.”

The door falls shut with a loud noise behind you both, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth. Your arms wrap a little tighter around his neck. “T-Thank you.”

His grey eyes find yours, before he smiles again. Softer. He’s an Alpha too, but must come into contact with your kind more frequently. He feels gentler to the touch when he speaks. “Don’t thank me yet.” Then he deposits you in a stained, old bathtub, and sighs before grabbing the showerhead. “Let’s get you cleaned up first. Ranking officers like their girls extra clean.” When you don’t move, he goes to take off your dirty shirt, and you only shiver in place as it happens.

After a few seconds of silence where he brushes fingers over the unmarked stretch of your neck, you swallow tightly. “You can’t let me go, can you?”

Itadori turns up the water until it’s warm, and his brows flatten. “…No. I’m here to do a job. I’m sorry.” You believe him. Doesn’t make you feel any better, though.

The cot is barely big enough for you, and the cold from the floor radiates up through the ratty, old mattress into you. But it’s still better than sleeping in the bed where Geto sleeps, where he can get his hands all over you, hold you, cling to you. You’re glad that the Lieutenant doesn’t particularly care whether or not you shy back away from him for the night, as long as you don’t act up when he wants you close. It’s an unwritten contract he likes to pretend you have. As if you weren’t forced into it. As if you had any choice.

The starchy sheets are cold too, they leave you shivering more than sleeping. When you walk through the halls you’re cold and barefoot and uncomfortable, but when you’re here you’re colder, naked and more uncomfortable.

You don’t know that much about the army. You don’t know that much about other things either, but you know that Omega’s are few and far in between. You know they go for lots of money, money that even Geto doesn’t have. You know that he’s using you to your full potential before his higher-ups find out, and that too much commotion would draw attention of the commission. Attention you don’t want. When your teeth start chattering, the man in the large bed, with the soft pillows and body heat calls.

Says your name like he means it. Like he likes to whisper to get under your skin- holding your life between slim fingers. He sighs. “Come. Get into bed. I can’t sleep when you’re not sleeping. And you’re not going to sleep when you’re shivering to death.”

“I’ll sleep,” you softly assure, pull your thin blanket closer. Your feet are cold and the room isn’t dark enough for it to actually happen. But you can pretend.

“I’m not asking.” You know he’s not. Maybe it’s because the alarm clock is showing an ungodly hour— and he’s tired. It wouldn’t be the first time his boot meets your cheek when you whine too much, displease him in ways Geto doesn’t like. “Come.”

He yawns when opening the blankets, waves you closer. An Alpha demands, and your lungs ache to follow the order. It physically hurts to resist. Your thin layer of tears sit on your waterline for a while before you shift. Slip across the room naked, and crawl into the bed under his arm. “That’s a good pet…” The panes of his chest are warm enough to have you melting like ice into his shape and mold yourself to him. It’s in the weight of his arm over your waist as he pulls you in close. Tethers you. You want to be and stay mad. Frightened.

It’s just… Geto’s scent’s become one you can bury yourself into. Your hands ball against his chest, and the fingers he presses into your hips stray down.

Your breathing hitches at the touch, and your stomach seems to want to crawl up into your mouth when he spreads your legs apart. “I’m hardly the worst one here. Get used to it already. People here are frustrated. Many of them haven’t had an Omega in years.” His rough fingertips slide between your legs and trace over the raw, achy mess he made of you not hours before. It’s sticky and uncomfortable, and you jerk when he rather impatiently starts thumbing your clit. It hurts- enough to make your face scrunch as you hide it into his pecks. “You don’t even know how lucky you are that I’ve kept you to myself.”

You do know that, though. You’ve passed by some of the barracks further away from the officer buildings. You’ve smelled the Omega fear, the blood and sweat and ruts; or what it’s like for a person to beg for a moment of reprieve. You have not a scratch on you, and you should be more grateful than you are. That you’re not taking a whole division’s sexual frustration to keep them from killing each other. When his fingers slide the wetness, remnants of slick and cum back into you and force your pussy to stretch again- you start sniffling against him. “I know I am,” you whimper, biting your lip. It’s not enough to just be this. You can’t just lay and wish for it all to go away. You have to be a participant, or Geto might switch you out.

As you whimper, swallowing back the tears- he presses his lips against your forehead. “Can’t help but cry? Poor baby.” He grinds the fleshy part of his palm against your pussy, breathing against you. “Tell me what it feels like.”

“I- Feels- b-big,” you choke out, twitching when his fingers curl into you and fuck deeper until they stroke much deeper than your own. The coldness fades a little when he rolls you over onto your back and gets on top, pinning you with his thigh. “Geto-sama- Please stop, I’m still- sore. It- it hurts really bad.”

With a slight frown, he pulls his fingers out of you and wipes them on your thigh, before sighing. Your eyes crack open at the lack of touch. His long black hair falls down over his shoulders, as he holds himself above you— and stares at you for a moment too long. One where he seems to consider your feelings at least a little, for once, brushing his clean thumb along your neck and shoulder. “I’m going back to the front soon. Do you know what that means?”

You’re not sure if it’s meant to be patronizing… but you don’t know. The wet, cold numbness that returns to your cunt is an unexpected unease. You wanted to stop. You did. But when he sits back on his heels and looks at you for a few seconds in abject silence, the distance feels too far. Geto comes back to you with a furrowed brow, before a line of kisses is pressed along your jaw and neck, where he takes a deep breath and makes your entire body purr. “Means you’ll be passed on to some other scum.” He almost growls when he says it, urges your one leg over his thigh to make room.

“I put in a good word that if I come back you’ll come back to me- but…” His sharp eyes find yours blown out and dark, as he pulls you closer to his hips and rolls himself against you. His hard cock- he’s always hard when you’re in his bed, bops as he grabs himself and pumps a few achingly slow strokes. A translucent drop of precum drops to your pussy, and he spits on his hand and your pussy for good measure. “I’ll be two months without this soft Omega cunt squeezing me to sleep.” As he groans and slides the flushed head of his cock against you, he presses his weight into you again. “Let me use you. Or see what fucking happens.”

The hearth burns at the far end of the pristine, wooden room. Enough to make your hands clammy, shifting yourself back and forth between both legs- before glancing up to Geto once more. He looks more pampered today. Standing straight with only his fingers looped loosely around your arm. For a split second you wonder if you’d be able to make it down the marble set of stairs and across the courtyard into the shallow bushes— but it’s only a moment. Not more than a brief hope that instantly gets snuffed out when the heavy doors slide open, and a deep grunt passes by you both.

Geto salutes, the man does not. He only clears his voice with a mix of impatience and -tobacco, probably, before motioning his head towards the desk. “Lieutenant, what can I do for you?” His voice is frighteningly low, more rumble and bass than anything else, and sets the hairs on your arms on end.

His half-lidded eyes flick from the man beside you, ever so swiftly to you, then back. Face blank, uncaring. You stumble when Geto takes a few steps forward, basically dragging you behind him towards the chairs. When he lets you go, he gives you a look, and so you sit. Hands folding in your lap to keep them from picking at the edges of your clothing.

Or lack thereof. There’s a clean gold plate with the name Shiu Kong engraved at the very front of the desk, staring back at you. Your Alpha doesn’t hesitate to sit down too. “Major General Kong, Sir. A pleasure as always. You’ve lost some weight?”

“Hardly,” the man shoots right back, unfazed. “You can lay off the flattering.”

Geto and the stranger seem to converse with their eyes for a moment, before your owner gets comfortable in the velvet chair beside you, and hangs his arms over the back with a slight smile. The other man doesn’t bother to sit in his own chair across from you, instead just bending to get out one of the no-doubt expensive cigarettes, and lighting it. The smoke travels in slow, winding circles up to the ceiling as he hums. “So, the Omega. Y’ want to buy her?”

“I’d like her returned to my possession with the least amount of scratches when I get back, Sir.”

“We’re in a war, Suguru.” The man takes a short puff of his cigarette again, before putting his foot onto the chair and leaning in just barely. Dark, grayish eyes narrow. “You can’t pick out playthings at your whim. We have rules about these sorts of things.” The ash goes into the overfull ashtray, before those irises find you where you’re still slumped in the too-big chair. Almost amused, he lets out a bit of air through his nose, before punctuating his words with another drag. “Higher ranks get first picks, but if you’re gone, you’ll have to share. She looks healthy, young. Girls like that go for a lot of money these days.”

“I understand, Sir.” Geto’s smile doesn’t slip though, not even when he takes one of your hands and pulls until you get up. With his prompting, you instead sit back down on his lap instead, and the noiret hooks his chin over your shoulder when he strokes your thigh. You duck your head in shame. “It’s just that- she’s more of an indoor pet. I’d like to keep it that way, if possible.” His other hand winds under your chin to nudge it back up into view, as you shiver. Watch the attention of the superior officer linger just a second on the way your shirt falls around your hips.

Geto’s. “You have a mansion not too far from the front, as I understand it? And due to surely unfortunate consequences, your last Omega… broke.” His voice gleams as he says the words, and they seem to wind like a coiled spring around your neck. “I’m more than willing to part with mine for a while, if I could have a guarantee she’d be close by. Used sparingly.” You don’t know enough about the army to know if Shiu Kong has the kind of strings that Geto’s presuming he has— but you don’t really dare complain. The silence drags; before it crumbles into pieces when a slight relaxation pulls at the older man’s lips, cocking his head.

“Have her stand.”

You do, spurred on by the quick pat to your thigh and a winning smile, eyes fluttering as you trace the patterns on the floor. As the presence of the older Alpha fills your senses and he circles around you too close, he smells of smoke and a deep, woody musk that could bring you to your knees if you weren’t so used to it by now. After a round where his finger patiently brushes past your most valued features, he takes your face into his palm and forces your eyes up. Until you can no longer ignore the handsome face ducking down to meet your gaze.

You whimper. Let your face get turned here and there before he takes the end of the cig from between his lips, and addresses you directly. “You got a name?”

“Y-yes.” You stumble out, basically whispering it when he stares like that. He doesn’t have a kind face like Geto does, you notice, more angular, stubbled, at least a decade older too. You find yourself reaching for Geto’s hand despite knowing better, if only to have something to cling to as you blink away nervous jitters, and excess tears that are always ready to spill. Your bare feet shuffle against the carpet below.

Whatever he sees staring back at him is enough for his fingers to drop to your collar, dragging it either side with a grunt. “It’s some skill to find an unmated, pretty, little Omega hidden from the commission, Lieutenant… One would almost call it suspicious.” There’s a hint of amusement, one he pushes out alongside the butt of the cig. As if he knows he’s in, Suguru stands from the chair to put a comforting hand on your back and rubs circles through the flimsy fabric of his oversized shirt, tucking his thumb into the loose boxers you’re wearing below.

“I just get lucky, Sir. Omega’s delivered to the commission lose their charm too quickly, s’all.”

Shiu’s eyes give you another slow up and down, then he clicks his tongue. “So, what do you want in return for this present?”

“Nothing at all, really.” The hand pulls you into his side to nuzzle along your neck for some extra show, where he nibbles at the sensitive spot— makes you whimper like a bitch in heat. It’s loud enough for the other man to eat you up whole with his eyes, puffing out his chest a little to push off the desk. The swift hand wrapped around you gives you an adoring squeeze, before Suguru pouts into your temple like he’s parting with a prized possession. “Just that I get her back once I’m done with my service at the front in a few months.”

“Done.” Shiu busies himself with the bottle of expensive looking liquor, before casting you another glance. “Dress her in some actual clothes though, will ya? She already attracts enough attention as is.”

You stare at the fogged-up window with your duvet tucked to your chest, and breathe a few shallow breaths. There’s soldiers running up and down the camp, tucking their caps low against the biting wind. You only bother to follow one of them with your eyes, light hair peeking out from under the hat as he runs his laps. Instead of lingering on the thought, you shiver when a heavy, muscular arm pulls you around your waist and down into the bed. Shiu’s quick to let out a grunt, before opening his eyes and hooking his chin over your shoulder to nose at your neck. “You’re goin’ into heat soon?”

You barely dare shift when his stubble tickles your throat, and a few rough kisses get placed right over your pulse. “Probably. I-I’ll- ah-” His hand wraps around the base of your neck as he starts sucking on the sore skin, where bruises still sit from yesterday. You’re not sure if it’s his hands wrapped around your neck that caused it, or the way he bullied his cock way too deep into your throat— but you’re so sore. “I’ll need heat blockers for a while.”

“Mh,” he smells like tobacco. And a heavy, manly musk that’s so overwhelmingly Alpha. It’s distracting. It melts your tongue to the bottom of your teeth. “No need. We’re far enough away here that they won’t smell you. Or if they do, they can’t do anything about it anyway.” You blank, only to mewl and curl away when his lips and tongue rakes over a particularly sore spot, making your toes curl.

“But- b-but I,” you stutter, and one hand comes up to protect your scent gland from him as he gets up onto one arm to get on top of you. You haven’t gone through a proper heat in forever. It wasn’t ever safe even with just Beta’s around— you barely even remember what it feels like. Only that it hurts so bad it could make you sick. “But I don’t want to go into heat. It hurts.”

Shiu stops his barrage on your neck to frown at you, as he nudges your legs aside for his own thick thighs. One eyebrow raises at you like you’re dumb. “It doesn’t hurt when I’m here to breed you full, little girl.” He scans your face as he keeps pushing your one knee to your chest, before his mouth flattens out. “You don’t know that? You’ve never had an Alpha cock in here during heat?” It’s embarrassing. It’s so embarrassing— the way he eyes you like you’re some sort of idiot. It’s not like you had the privilege of trying it out before all this, hiding like a mouse. “Aw, baby girl. You’re so sweet.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment.

“Daddy’ll have to teach you.” His large hand forces it’s way between your legs to squeeze your cunt and make you squirm under him, before he finally sits back and pushes the covers off, revealing the battle-worn body. “But not right now. Get up and go wash. We’re having company over.”

Your mouth’s dry, so you swallow tightly. “Who?” Your legs still tingle even when he gets out of bed, a little numb, a little achy.

“A… friend, I guess.” He picks out one of the cigarettes on the side table after putting on a shirt, and plops it between his lips. “You won’t like him.”

With sweat rolling down your neck, you stumble across the steam-coated tiles and grab onto the sink. Shaking like you’re ill. You definitely feel that way. It makes your entire skin feel statically charged, and sore, and so painfully needy. As soon as you take another step, you almost immediately topple over, legs trembling despite yourself. There’s no better sign than the dry feeling in your throat, and the way a whimper threatens to escape you with every move.

So you do all you can, and start tearing up as you wrap a towel around yourself. Even your own innocent touch feels too much, and you hurry through the process to barely manage pulling on a top and some panties, before your body refuses to oblige. You want to cry. Why did this have to happen now? Why here? Shiu hasn’t been bad to you, but he also isn’t particularly gentle. You didn’t want to go through heat at all. “Mh-mn, need- agh.” You whine thoughtlessly, as you wobble to the door.

There’s a swell of voices from down the hall— talking that doesn’t last long before falling quiet as you make your way to the bed. You’re so hot that it’s hard to keep your eyes open, your thighs rubbing uncomfortably as you walk. Thick, almost sticky tears wobble on your waterline, and the heat in your stomach sinks right into your center the more of the room you take in. It’s not your fault - everywhere you look it stinks of Alpha musk. Thick and overpowering to your flighty brain, it makes you want to keel over onto fours. You really are just a bitch in heat, and that is embarrassing too.

Makes you want to curl up onto a solid chest and let yourself get bounced onto his cock like a ragdoll.

It takes so much of your effort to drag yourself to the pillowed surface that you fail to hear the steps coming closer, let alone control that you’re scenting up the entire top floor when you crawl in and your pussy starts clenching around nothing. You’re mewling faint nothings as you stuff your face into the blankets— and smell only him. Heavy on your wet tongue.

“Agh, I- Al-pha, I need- it hurts. It hurts, I want you~” With your chest to the bed and your legs raised up, you just feel like you need to— to get filled up to the brim to make this aching stop. “Mhmm-ugh, please, pleas- need you, Shiu~” Slick’s already coating your pussy enough to slip right in, wet like the spit in your mouth that gathers under your tongue. Your head’s so light. It’s spinning.

Then, a heavy palm strokes over your crown, and your noises explode.

“Ah, ah, agh, daddy, daddy.” The weight of the touch travels down your neck to grip you, and your body curls to raise your ass even further up in need of friction. “Daddy, please. I don’t want to~ T-told you I- need-ed blockers. Ah, ahh.” The low chuckle you get isn’t the one you expect, but you can’t open your eyes enough to see what’s going on.

“Bit friendly for a hello, isn’t it?” There’s a huge body that surrounds you when leaning over you, as lips travel down behind your ear. “S’cute though. That’s a pretty girl. Daddy’s here.” Rough hands push your hips down with one swift move, slipping two fingers under your panties to pull the fabric taut. The slick grinds the fabric uncomfortably to your cunt, but you can’t be still. “Already drenched through your clothes, pet.” You don’t mean to. You don’t, you’re so sorry. “Whining like a little baby, need to get filled up?”

“Only thinking with this pussy, right? This is why Omega’s don’t run anything…” The lips ghost over your scent glands, making you squirm with dripping anticipation, when he lets his tongue run over his teeth and then along your throat. The juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, untouched and open and soft. He groans. “Ugh, fuckin’ hell, you’re so sweet. Your scent is almost making me sick.” One hand digs sharp nails into the meat of your ass, as the other reaches around to start pulling your camisole down over your sensitive tits. “Want some love from daddy, baby?”

A slightly raspier voice comes from somewhere behind you and drowns out your own whining and mewling. “I thought I told you to wait, Fushiguro.”

“Your pet was crying, Kong.” He rakes his teeth over that one spot again until you can’t stand it anymore, and your tears start dripping into the blankets. You push your chest out until his warm palm reaches around and squeezes, rubbing a thumb over your nipples. “Plus, just smell her. She’s scenting up the whole house. I wanted to come help.” After a long pause where you’re fighting the need to rub yourself on anything cock shaped like an animal— you’re turned over by a sturdy yank on your shoulder, and long fingers slide into your messy, drool filled mouth to press on your tongue.

Its Shiu, whose normally stern brow now is arched in amusement. The man on the bed with you moves away just enough to let you take a look, and take in the messy dark hair and almost metallic blue eyes, scarred face and dog tags hanging from his neck as he rolls onto his side. Shiu pinches your tongue to make you squeak, then leans in. “See you’ve already made introductions.” You mumble a pathetic ‘daddy’ under his sharp gaze, before he takes a deep breath.

“Poor girl, already going into heat? You didn’t last long. Needy, little pussy’s throbbing, isn’t it?” He pulls the top fully down until it’s hooked under your tits, then hums. “Look so cute when you’re begging to get fucked.”

“Gonna let me have a turn too?” Fushiguro rights himself onto one forearm, then pushes a finger down on your forehead until it's tilted all the way back and you’re looking up at him again. He’s got a mean sort of look in his eyes, right before his lips twitch when you groan softly at the touch. You literally can’t help yourself. It hurts so good— good enough to make you want to wrap your legs around either of their hips and stay there. Aches.

Shiu’s voice resonates through your body when he moves to kneel down to your body and starts kissing from your belly up, making you twitch. His gravelly hum reverberates in your clit, as your legs get spread over each shoulder when he comes up. “She’s not mine to give away Toji, so- ugh- restrain yourself a little.” His big hands smooth over your tits instead of squeezing you like you want, until you really start worming around under their touches.

“Mh~ hurry up!”

It’s out before you know it, and the backlash rushes straight to your cheeks in heat, burning up on your face. Fushiguro groans though, long and deep- before he pushes off the bed to get onto his knees, and grabs himself through the awfully casual clothing. His hand wraps around the large, large cock pressing against the fabric— and when you open your mouth and basically salivate at the sight- he lets out a lightly pinched chuckle. “Oh, you don’t wanna be doing all that, pet. You’ve got days of heat ahead of you— and you’re getting me hard as a motherfucker.”

All it’s doing is making you so horny you can barely see straight, and each inch of your body surges with electricity. You need something inside you. Now. Now, now, now. He runs a distracted hand through his messy fringe, and rolls his hips into his hand with a groan. “What’s it gonna be, Kong? If you take her underwear off I’m not leaving. Sweet, little thing like that…” Your legs are up by his ears when the familiar giant sits up onto the bed too, and your hand reaches for his to pull him closer by his thumb. “Haven’t had a greedy, fertile little Omega pussy in a while- the Commission always bitches I have too much fun.”

A hesitant furrow worms itself between Shiu’s brows for a bit, before he sighs. “Can’t bite ‘er, she’s not mine. I’m just keeping her.” His eyes are more blown out than normal, dark ring of black taking over the longer he touches you. You’re sure you’re similarly spent when you moan his name and he groans. “Fuck, baby. Want this Alpha cock in here?” His large hand smoothed over the supple skin of your lower belly, when you wiggle yourself against him, basically grinding onto his leg. “Needy, huh.” He licks his lips. “Fine, join. Can count us even after that.”

At that the other noiret grins, and pulls his shirt over his head in one swift move of agreement. Shiu’s hands already roam back over every bit of exposed skin. “And I get first turns.” The large fingers mindlessly playing with your nipple pinches you, when grayish eyes find you beneath him. “Get up.” With just a quick motion, you force your sluggish body up and onto fours— and fight the urge to force your head down yet again. That’s what would feel right.

“That-” Shiu’s hard too, you notice quite happily, when you grind back against him to find another thick, heavy bulge in his pants that heats your cunt. “That’s it.” You mewl, have no choice to. As you look back over your shoulder, he takes a moment to study you where you’re so much smaller beneath him. Omega’s always are, but these two are big even among other Alpha’s— more slick sticks your panties to the shape of your cunny. Your body’s entirely sticky with sweat, neck and throat aching and radiating heat all over you.

Your tongue melts in your mouth, when you look back and Fushiguro’s stripped down entirely— shredded body towering over you as well. He squeezes a rough ring around the flushed, pulsing head of his cock. “Uh, ugh-ah, daddy, daddy, daddy- Please? Please.”

“Who are you calling daddy?” The general asks sternly, but there’s no malice there. He’s amused as he peels the panties over the curve of your ass and down ever so slowly, letting your wet folds drip all over his fingers as he plays around in them. The touch makes you stagger forward, arms almost giving in— and you whine something unintelligible into the covers. “Fu~ck, you smell so sweet. Little Omega bitch in heat- ugh.”

A heavy hand lands on the swell of your ass, and stings so bad. With another spank your pussy clenches around nothing, and by the third you’re basically begging and your cunny’s sucking his fingers in. “A-daddy, please. Hurts. Uh-pu-lease. Need Alpha inside. Quickly, please. I-it hurts.” Another hand pets your crown for a few seconds, before he grabs a fistful of hair and pulls your head up. Your mouth hangs open, and your tongue drops out at the sight of the hard, veiny cock before you.

It’s flushed a sweet sort of pink, nothing like you can already tell Fushiguro is— but drool still gathers in globs, looking at the precum glistening on him. “Gonna open your pretty, little mouth wide for me, pet?” As he strokes himself, the man behind you starts toying his fingers around your holes, and smears your slick all over until you’re entirely sloppy. Then chuckles, throwing his head back with a grunt.

“Fuck, forgot how hard I get- with Omega’s.” The slick sounds of your pussy, and both men's hands stroking their swollen cocks makes everything so loud. Wet and needy and animalistic— your own whining drowning out your thoughts. You just want more. More touch, please. Shiu spits onto your holes without hesitation and slaps his thick, hot cockhead against you a few times, before placing one hand on the middle of your back to force you in place. “Don’t run away from me- jus-t take it.”

“O-oh-fu-ugh.” He pushes inside with more of his weight, thick thighs pressing up against the inside of yours when you spread wider, and almost get pushed over. If not for Toji holding you up and rubbing himself along your cheek and lips too, impatiently stroking himself.

The head’s already big, stings on the way in. Enough to hurt, enough to make you tear up. He’s just so thick and glowing hot to the touch— basically pulsing inside you. You can feel his heartbeat through the skin as the head pops in with a lot of pressure. Your throat starts making noises despite you. “A-agh, ugh agh, da-I- ca— um-hnggg.”

“My turn,” Toji grunts after a bit, hooking a finger in your cheek to open your mouth more and coach your tongue out. “That’s- a good cockslut— open wide.” You do, letting spit drip as you relax your jaw and wrap your lips around him, filling up your mouth too much. You’ve never been so needy. The choking and the taste only make your eyes want to roll back in your skull, giving yourself over to them. You don’t want to do anything except give yourself over, struggling to make enough space between your legs to allow Shiu closer.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby, uhh-fuck.”

He’s still going slow, necessity, as each inch of his fat cock gets stuffed inside you, using his fingers to push more into your comparatively tiny cunt— and each bit deeper he goes, the more you feel like melting. It hurts, hurts and aches and bulges your stomach; and Fushiguro pushes deeper and bulges your throat- and it hurts- It does. But you can’t stop. You reach your arms out to wrap around the man’s glutes and pull him closer into your face, drool dripping down your chin. “Mh-mhm mhhuh.”

With his tongue trapped between his teeth, he grins. “Hah, you’re talking a lot for someone with their mouth stuffed— Does that feel good? You like choking on Alpha cock?” Your teary eyes try to focus on him, but you can’t, just cling on harder as the cock inside you kisses your cervix and he’s still not done. It aches so much, stretching you much wider than you’re meant to go. But it does, it does, it does. You don’t want to stop. “A little longer, that’s it, a little more~”

Instead you try to hollow your cheeks around him as he sits too deep in your throat, and fight the urge to squirm when your breath starts to pinch. Your body worms, you cry around them, and slick drips down your thighs like syrup. When Shiu bottoms out, it actually makes you gag, feeling so full and spent— and you squirm as Fushiguro keeps you. “Mh-hh- hck.” Your mouth aches as your lungs start to scream, and vision goes blurry.

Shiu pulls back before the other man does, groaning at the sight of sloppy, milky slick coating his cock, then slides back into your warmth just as fast, forcing your body to stretch again to make room. T-too big. “Let her- hh- up, she’s turning blue.” As you’re basically about to pass out, you get pulled off of him and gag violently, before taking sniveling, painful breaths again. You barely get the chance to breathe before your chin is lifted again, and he tilts your face left and right.

Your mouth drops open again, and tongue squirms around nothing. “More? You want more, greedy slut?” He smiles again, but more genuinely impressed this time— and hums. “Such a good, little Omega.” You can’t help it, you shiver and moan when he lets you back at his cock. And Shiu pulls back again only to fuck back into you, forcing you open as he builds a rhythm.

“She liked that one. She’s trying to clench my dick off.” He moans, and his unoccupied hand swipes some wetness dripping down your leg to circle it around your puckered hole instead. “You think she can take two?”

The cock gets stuffed back into your throat, but he pulls back faster now, instead using your head to fuck himself into you as he groans. “‘Nuh uh, she can’t. She’s too tiny— L-ook, you’re already -fuck- bulgin’ er.” He watches your lips struggle to wrap around him as he fucks your throat— only stopping for a moment to wipe some of the spit off your face. “She likes it so much though, look at that. You’re just a dumb, cocksleeve bitch, right? Want Alpha cocks to fill you?”

You can’t answer. Your brain’s all scrambled from the heat, a cloudy, pillowy feeling sitting over everything else. It feels so, so good. Being stretched to your limit, getting used. Your pussy clenches uselessly around the too-big invasion, getting bounced against Shiu’s thighs with a noisy ‘pap, pap, pap’. If you could think, you’d agree though. The pressure of his cock grinding into your sensitive insides, basically lifting you off your knees as he grabs your hips to jackhammer into you deeper, it’s all too much.

“Close?”

You’re drowning in your own arousal. After a few more seconds of getting used for all your worth, the expanding, pulsing pressure in your stomach grows too tight— and your toes curl uselessly as you cum without warning. It shatters inside you as you fail to clench around the thick length in you, instead dropping though your arms as you pull off of the cock in your throat to tremble through your orgasm. “Ah-hgh- ugh ah da-Alpha, Alpha, ahh ah agh! St-hngh~” You cry. Thick tears, spit and snot get wiped into the covers as you try to catch your breath, while still being fucked into.

You can’t stop shaking. Even then, Shiu’s cock keeps forcing the head against your cervix and making your eyes bulge. “Oh fuck, fuck- too tight— shit, I was this close, hah.” When he slips out for a second, you collapse entirely, aching immediately at the emptiness inside you. Your tits are sores, but everything else is burning so hot you feel like you might go up in flames.

It’s Fushiguro who picks you up by your arms and pulls you into his chest after a while, holding your pathetic, naked body like a ragdoll. “So cute now that you’re all flushed, cumming like that. But you’re not done, are you?” His fingers squeeze either side of your cheeks to bring your mouth to his, kissing on you until you respond and let his tongue melt against yours.

Your head’s still spinning, but a different kind of heat grows now in the base of your neck, desperate and needy. Your hand reaches to get more, more skin, pulling at the short hair at the back of his head- you moan into the kiss. Tongues and spit mixing as it slides down your throat and he towers over you, cock bouncing against your stomach. When he pulls back, long lashes brush yours, and you whimper when the touch goes.

Shiu’s staring. You can’t tell what expression he has, but it’s enough to make Fushiguro frown and lift his lip. “Fuck off. I get protective when they whine like that, s’all. She’s sweet when she’s cryin’ all baby like.” He instead focuses on pinching and toying with your puffy nipples, rubbing each side with rough fingertips, then hooks his chin over your head to look past you. “Wanna try the two of us at once?”

Instinct gets the better of you, and you’re already nodding against his pecs before you can think. “Two, two- w-want, please. Mhm, want Alphas.” It makes both men laugh, hands sliding all over you as you stick your ass out and Shiu spits on his hand. His cock’s still coated with wet, a white, creamy layer around the base of his cock as he strokes the head a few times. You’re seeing double, and your tongue feels like molten candy. But still you keep drooling and nodding. “Want, want you, wanna have- m-more, please.”

He then grabs your hips to yank you back against his hips, letting his cock push on your ass as his wet fingers curl inside your puckered hole, and stretch it out with two fingers. “She’s already fucked out of her mind, poor thing.”

“Mhm, agh- Alp- daddy, daddy— s’ sensitive- please, please, please~”

Fushiguro’s face blanks, before he takes a deep breath and groans low and gravelly, and grabs you by the neck. “Ugh, she’s- her scent is everywhere. Little bitch in heat moaning like it’s her job.” He buries his nose right where the most sensitive, burning part of your neck is, making you crumple, and kissing along the shell of his ear where you can reach. The fingers inside you, the pressure and heat of the two cocks against you— everything’s making you crazy. You’re losing your mind, trying to hang on to him as he licks over the glands. “Want daddy, baby?”

Your head bobs like it’s disconnected from your longing, arching body. And you almost cum again on the spot when sharp canines drag over that spot. You just might.

A low growling sound makes you open your eyes. Shiu’s hand is between the face and your neck, much to the other man’s dismay. “I told you not to bite ‘er. Don’t care how much she begs- she’s not ours to bite.” There’s a moment of silence between them, before Fushiguro sucks his teeth in annoyance, before grabbing his cock instead.

“She is mine.” His large hand wraps around your arm, and pulls— but your other shoulder is still clamped in Shiu’s palm. Almost painfully tight, as a muscle twitches in his jaw. And the tension between them is making you clam up, but your body’s still aching too hard.

“Share, please,” you sweeten your voice as you press your lips to Shiu’s knuckles, then present yourself a little more and shake your ass against him. “Please, daddy? Want to be full.” It doesn’t take long for that same flush to travel back up his chest and cheeks, and his irises to get wider and darker again. “Full of Alpha cum, t-take all of you.” It’s with that that he wraps an arm around you entirely and pulls you up against his chest, placing his cock between your legs as he lifts your knees. “Ack- agh.” You mewl, and Fushiguro leans in for another kiss.

Briefer, but no less messy.

Shiu’s quick to press his own kisses to your throat, letting his stubble rub over your scent glands— with your pussy clenching in response. He rolls his hips against you a few times, then lines up with your ass as he groans. “Hold her legs.” You take a deep breath, and close your eyes as the cock presses to your ass, slick enough to push in with minimal effort. “Uhuh, there’s a good Omega.” As he does though, the space in your body is so full, you’re struggling to breathe. It aches enough to make you wilt and bloom all at once.

And then Fushiguro takes over on your pussy, and you cry out. Your hot cheeks are coated with tears, and your clit thumps with all the blood. It’s too much. You can feel both of them slide into you with painful precision, wetness spilling all over as you break out in cold sweats. But it- it feels so good. Fushiguro slips in a few inches at once, making your legs shake— before you dig your nails into his shoulder and your vision goes black. “Oh- fuck-f-fuck, cu-mming~ Agh- uhh nghn, oh god.”

The two men slide you down until you’re so full it feels like your insides are moved aside to make room. Like you’re about to tear in two, squished between two hot, solid bodies. Before Shiu groans into your hair, and lifts you up to slide you back down. And again, and again. Bounced on the two of them while slick drips out of you, and you’re creaming around them both. “That’s a- ugh- pretty girl.” Your orgasm barely pitters out before you’re cumming again, and you’re getting kissed on as you’re crying.

Not a single thought makes it though you. You’re clinging on for dear life. Only the heat between the three of you as you melt into a puddle.

You’re fucked until you can’t even feel your legs, let alone hear how you’re mewling and crying— like you might dissolve. But you do feel it when a tongue laves over your neck, and the cock pulsing inside you starts jack-hammering into you harder than before. Everything feels so- good- that you’re probably drawing blood into his shoulders, and the tongue becomes teeth. One second you’re floating, and the next the pressure grows too much— teeth break skin, and your pleasure becomes mind-numbing.

Fushiguro’s teeth sink into your shoulder deeper as he breathes you in, fucks his cock into your guts with the intent to stay. And the other man grunts, squeezing you tighter. But without thinking, he follows suit to bite down on the other side of your neck, letting you shake through yet another orgasm when the hot blood runs down your collar. You’re entirely spent, so there’s not one part of you that still feels the way Shiu speeds up inside your ass, before groaning out your name as he licks along the wound.

“Fuck, gonna- knot my girl. Fuck- ugh, ughuh— my baby, mine. Mine.”

It feels like you’re stuffed further than you ever thought possible, face dropping into Fushiguro’s chest when they slow down, and ropes of hot cum drip out of you despite the knots. Wasting it in a way that you’d savor, if you had any energy left. Instead you can only barely breathe, and rub your nose into your Alpha’s chest. It feels good. You wanna go again.

“Uh— my bad. I got carried away.” One of them sighs after a while, the rumbling of his voice rocking you to sleep.

“Yea…” The other responds, only the slightest bit guilty. “…Guess Suguru will have to learn how to share.” His large hand smoothes over your cheek, before stubble and soft lips kiss over the mark he’s made.

“But I don’t think I wanna share.”

#geto x reader #toji x reader #shiu kong x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto smut #toji smut #shiu smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw.dark content #tw.a/b/o #tw.noncon #tw.size kink #tw.double penetration #🍯honey.pot

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aka-indulgence · 7 months

Text

Chance Encounter

Thank you @vixenrose-64 for the commission! Subnautica aus are always really fun heheheh

AO3 link

(UF!Papyrus x Reader, gender non-specific, Papyrus is a reaper leviathan siren and reader is a fox monster)

Life wasn’t easy on planet 4546B, but you’ve gotten into the rhythm of things. Go swimming, catch some fish, build your base, try your best not to get eaten. Simple enough.

Except that one day, you find yourself crashing paths with a reaper leviathan siren, and find yourself getting dizzy thinking about the marvelous monster for some reason.

—————————

You couldn’t hear anything, at first. Then ringing. Burbling, all around you. Everything gets louder and louder as light fills your vision and-

“Uagh!”

You break the surface, gasping for air, breathes coming out of you long yet frantic. Instinctively, you shake your head, trying to get the water out of your fur- forgetting you’re in the middle of an alien ocean. Almost to prove a point, a wave splashes over you, submerging you again. After taking another breath, you look around you, the sea looking the same everywhere you looked. You’re not hearing the ringing anymore, you think, but you could feel echoes of it in your mind, fogging it.

What were you…?

You remembered your life flashing before your eyes.

Red and white filling your vision, a tail so strong that as it swam past you, you were pushed away by its ripples.

Jagged teeth, glowing eyes, bones coming way too close for your liking.

You groaned, holding your head.

I need to… I need to get back to base. You reminded yourself. The creature’s away- for now. Who knows when he’ll come back to threaten you- all that you’re certain is a second meeting would be inevitable if you stayed bobbing here like a helpless floater detached from its rock. You had to go home.

As you swam back, curiously, you couldn’t seem to get the monster out of your head. That powerful swish of the tail, the way his cries shook the seas- and your soul.

You chalk it up to trauma.

You hope you’ll be able to sleep tonight…

***

The day was aging, and as the skies changed from blue to orange, red streaks against the waves.

He was a large specimen of siren, a massive, muscular tail and an upper body of bones, marked by scars of fierce battles of the past. His tail was a white with a slight blue hue, lined with fins of red that made him look imposing even in the dimmest light. His sharp teeth glinted in the fading sunlight, red lights scanning for prey.

Papyrus just had a very interesting encounter today. He’s still restless now, turning here and there around his favorite wreckage, but he’s considerably much calmer now- almost pacified. That little fox monster… what an interesting creature. You didn’t act like how a normal living being would react to the sound of a reaper leviathan’s roar. As he rapidly approached you, you didn’t swim away. Instead, the most curious thing happened; you floated there, looking at him straight on with a look of determination in your eyes.

Though he was a little perplexed by your reaction, it didn’t bother him much. It wouldn’t be the first time a small creature thought they could (FOOLISHLY!) defy a reaper before they were devoured. But that’s not what happened. As soon as he got close enough to snatch you, you swam out of view- so quickly that Papyrus was genuinely stumped for a moment, before he felt the ripples of your movement as you swam behind him. A second time he tries to corner you against some rock formations, and you actually shoot a flurry of ice magic around him- not enough to hurt him, but he couldn’t believe that you actually tried to fight him.

He was almost excited by it.

Before it could get anymore interesting however, you were gone. Swam away while he was getting his bearings. He was… impressed. You actually managed to evade him, and you stood your ground against him. Something so small with so much courage, facing a vicious predator many times their size, it was something he could admire.

He needed to seek you out again. He wanted that thrill, someone who could challenge him! He wanted to…

What did he want from you? He didn’t want to eat you, no…

He just needed to see you again. He couldn’t get you out of his head.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for that to happen.

He finds you again about a week later. It wasn’t very hard to find you either- he found a trail of food leading towards you.

Peepers, Boomerangs, Hoopfishes floated near the surface, in a peculiar fashion. And these weren’t natural trails left from a picky predator. These were deliberate, near the surface where none of those fish would likely to be killed. There was also a distinct scent… a scent that for some reason had etched itself into his skull.

His first thoughts were that maybe you’d dropped them on accident. Brought a snack with you and got clumsy- maybe the scent attracted a predator and you had to leave?

But no.

He might be a large reaper siren, but he wasn’t one to refuse free food. As he ate them one by one, the trail lead him to the surface, where he found you. Almost a dot in the horizon, but he knew it was you. You didn’t run away, even as your eyes met. And the most curious thing happened.

You reached into a container, and placed the food into the water. You gave it a little push, in his direction, and if that hadn’t been clear enough, you gave a little nod to him, making sure to maintain eye contact.

You were offering food to him.

His sockets widen as does his eyelights, realization blooming in his soul.

You were courting him. Of course you were.

You’re his soulmate.

***

You should be afraid right now. The siren was looking right at you. And he was slowly swimming his way towards you, his tail swishing languidly, keeping his skull out of the water to observe you. His eyelights had dilated too- the researcher in you was screaming that it might be predatory behavior, that he was focusing his vision on you to lunge, perhaps- but something kept you swimming in place. Foolishness or not, somehow you knew in your soul that he wasn’t looking at you with the intent to harm. In fact, the more he looked at you, the more you could feel yourself start to flutter, excited at his approach.

If someone asked you how it got to this, you wouldn’t know what to say. And even if you did, it still wouldn’t make sense.

Despite your best efforts, your sleep was restless the night after the encounter. Your dreams were filled with visions of him, the sea flooding your brain, swimming with the siren.

“What kind of trauma dream was that?” You groan, straining out of bed, wondering what that hammering in your chest was.

When your palm meets your chest, you could feel your fur stand on end when you realize it was your soul, no-doubtedly glowing in your chest if you could see through it. You cover your mouth, with your eyes wide and shake the feeling away, even though the warmth in your soul persists.

You tried to wipe the thoughts away from you, as mysterious and confusing as they may be. You remembered that weak spot in the base that was going to turn into a leak if you didn’t do anything about it, so you turn your focus to that.

Your tools clanked together while you crouched down over the dent in the metal, and start removing the plates.

Your tools clanged, buzzed and beeped, yet all those noise couldn’t manage to drown out your thoughts, scenes burbling in your mind like bubbles from the ocean floor.

You knew as soon as you heard the roar what was coming for you, but it still felt like he came out of nowhere. The sound shook your entire being, all other life around you darting away and out of sight at the noise, leaving you alone in a barren kelp forest. He shot out of the shadows, a skeletal face appearing out of the deep blue, and you just barely managed to swim out of the way of his snapping jaws.

You were never one to run away from threats- you always believed in standing your ground against danger, no matter how big. But even you knew that going face to face with a reaper leviathan- even as a siren- was ill-advised. You weren’t trying to fight him. You tried to confuse and distract him. You weaved through the seaweed, waited for him to strike and dodge when he gets close, like the world’s most dangerous dance.

You wouldn’t call him a stupid monster. He was nothing like his non-siren counterpart, intelligent and cunning. When he looked at you you could see the laser focus in his eyes, the power of his claws as they closed around empty water you were floating in just mere milliseconds ago. The beat of his tail sent you spinning away, and his teeth almost clamped around your middle.

Those scales. Jagged teeth. Intense eyelights.

“Argh!”

You cut yourself on the open plate. You were distracted, and now you needed a monster candy.

You groan, chewing on the candy like it’d insulted your mother. “I need to focus on something else.”

You decided to go out, and take a splash in the sea. Your head felt hot, maybe a little dip could help cool you down. You needed to hunt anyways.

It was always relaxing to swim in the shallows, less like swimming for your life and more like a leisurely paddle around the pretty scenery around you. You were doing well for a while, focusing on the peepers, catching them with your hands and putting them in a container. But you found yourself twitching, as if you’d just heard something from a distance. You were eye to eye with the abyss. The deep blue, the alien sun’s rays dancing through the waves. You thought about seeing that familiar face swimming back into view, like he was waiting for you. Oh, if you could just swim next to him…

“Brrlrbrlbrrblbr!” You shouted underwater, which in hindsight wasn’t a good idea, as the nearby marine life swam for the crevices.

For the next few days, you tried similar tactics to keep the monster out of your head. In vain, apparently. With the headaches and pounding soul whenever you tried your best to think of something else, you gave in and swam to that area you last saw him, leaving a food trail for him to follow.

This is for science. You told yourself. Nothing else.

You could’ve attracted something else, but you were certain your trail would find the right monster.

It was maybe an hour or so after you made your trail. You didn’t know what drew you to look, you just did. A skull, not too close but not too far from you. If that didn’t jog your memory, his eyelights certainly did.

You floated there as he came closer and closer. There was nothing aggressive about him, he looked curious. Playful, almost. Your breath starts to shake when he was only a kick away from you. From nervousness, excitement, survival instincts… a mix of all of them, maybe.

If anyone else was watching, they’d see something strange. He follows you like a pup would, keeping a safe distance between you. Nothing like the siren you met just a week ago. He happily takes your food offerings, and instead of snatching them up like a piranha, he seems to cherish it, savor it. Nibbling on it politely.

Not only that. As you tried to give him another peeper, he only looks at it, considering what to do with it though he’d just eaten the last ten fish. Then… he nudged it back to you. You look down at it questioningly, and when you see him he’s staring at you intently, eyelights darting down to it and then looking up at you.

As if trying to explain it to you, he bites his teeth around the air.

When you finally concede and take a bite of it, his face lights up. A strange sound fills the air and the water, a delighted trilling sound that you never knew leviathans could make. He dives down, spreading splashes that leave you rocking, swimming around you in excited circles before he resurfaces, closer than he was before.

It was pretty cute interesting. You didn’t know they could be delighted. Or perhaps even show… affection?

You decided to track this data.

Signs of high intelligence.

Capable of non-hostile encounters with different living beings.

Accepts food offerings.

New behavior: Trilling, possible joy response.

Swimming rapidly to show exci—

“Ack!” you yelp when the siren bumps into you. He was close- very close, head above your own, ribcage bumping into your back with every bob and wave. He was practically looming over you, but there was nothing intimidating about the action. His sockets crinkle down at you.

“Um… hi?”

More trilling.

You’re surprised by the sound of your giggling when the siren bumps his head against yours, insistently, making more of those funny sounds- the sounds that made your soul sing with delight.

“Do you wanna come with me?”

He shows no sign of understanding- not yet, anyway. But he follows you when you make your way towards base.

Everything was strange and confusing, leading this giant, dangerous siren to your safe haven. But you also felt excitement and wonder, having him swim next to you.

It would be nice to have a friend in this alien world.

#commision #commissions #uf!papyrus #aka writing #i like subnautica au hehehe #reader: food #papyrus: I ACCEPT THIS MARRIAGE PROPOSAL.

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smallraindrops-blog · 2 years

Text

Let’s Start at The Rainbow

Fandom: TMNT (2012)

Pairing: Karai x April

Word Count: 2k

Warning: Past abuse, medical stuff, trauma., kissing.

Summary: Karai was fine. She didn’t need anyone.

Notes: A commission Thank you for your patience! This was super fun to write! I hope you like this and thanks again for sending in the prompt! :)

If you are someone who has commissioned me, those fics will be coming out in the upcoming days. Thanks for your patience, ya’ll.

I am also still taking commissions if anyone is interested. :)

A03

Enjoy!

It was the lack of sounds - save for a faint hum of life above- that made Karai throw her pillow against the wall and roll out her new bed.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to noises, she lived in New York for years. It was the silence that got to her. The turtles’ home was surprisingly quiet when the boys were sleeping and it bugged Karai for a reason she couldn’t put a finger on.

Karai used her hands to comb her hair as she went to get dressed, knowing sleep would not be coming for her yet. She paused once she was dressed, standing in her… well, her bedroom. All she had was a bed and a few of her personal things. The Foot wasn't a place to build a home, not really.

She hadn’t wanted it at first - didn’t want anything of this loving open arms crap, just her raw anger and her hurt- and planned to sleep on the sofa for however long even when the turtles and her father had tried to convince her otherwise.

April had taken one look at her with those blue eyes, lips pursed slightly and Karai quietly accepted the bedroom. With a head shake, Karai pushed those thoughts out her mind, it would only hinder her training.

Without waking up another soul, she made it to the training room, glad to see it was empty. She didn’t want to deal with Leonardo ’s wariness, Rapheal’s distrust, Michelangelo’s nervousness or Donatello’s jealousy.

Or her father, Karai still couldn’t put a name to the way he looked when he saw her. There didn’t seem to be a word strong enough for it.

It was during a twist and jabbing motion of her wakizashi that she saw April leaning against the wall, watching with a faint amused smile. Karai flushed, her back straightened automatically as she met April’s soft blue eyes.

“I thought…” Karai trailed off, not sure what to say. April noticed, she always did and she nodded to the mat. “Want a training buddy? I haven’t been able to train for a few days.”

If it had been anyone else, Karai would have said ‘No’ but it was April. So, Karai agreed with a nod, a flutter at the simple happiness she saw on April’s face.

Karai went easy on April, not obviously so- April would have chewed Karai’s ears off for babying her if she knew-but she was careful not to leave deep bruises on that soft skin. April, flushed and beautiful, watched her as they circled each other.

“Come on, O’Neil? Scared?” Karai taunted softly, smirking when April narrowed her eyes at her. April charged immediately with a breathless laugh, her tessen at the ready as Karai filpped out of the way with a practiced ease that April still hadn't mastered yet.

Only Karai didn’t land right, her foot twisting in the wrong direction. The room went belly up, blurring before her eyes.

A sharp jolt of burning pain shot up her leg, deep in her bones and the cry spilled unwillingly from Karai as she landed on her back and she blinked at the ceiling, trying to get her breath back.

April appeared overhead, her blue eyes wide and scared. Still struggling for air, Karai sat up, holding a hand to stop April from helping her. It took a shamefully long moment to get her breath back. Her fathe- no, the Shredder would have already been glaring down at her, his sharp words ringing in her ears.

“Oh my god, Karai. Are you okay?” April’s hands hovered over her, tessen forgotten on the ground. Karai nodded, not bothering to speak as she stood. Or tried to.

The pain was sharp and Karai swore that it felt like someone was cutting into her. She bit back the cry this time, fingers curling against the mat.

“We need to get you a doctor, this isn’t a normal injury.” April shifted, getting closer to Karai’s leg. “I think something broke.”

“No doctor.” Karai snapped, her red lips curled in distaste.

“Yes doctor.” April replied, unimpressed by Karai’s tone.

“No.” Karai tore her eyes away from April’ blue ones because she was quickly learning why Donatello found it impossible to deny April anything she wanted.

“Why not? Do you know how often I wish I could just take one of the boys to get checked and not have to worry if there was a hidden injury that might kill them?” April said quietly.

Karai felt her throat tightened, the ghost of Shredder loomed over her, hissing poison. Then gentle fingers brushed against Karai’s cheek, and she looked up, staring as April brushed a loose strand of hair off her face.

“We are going.” April said, her jaw set stubbornly. And just like everyone else in the universe, Karai gave in to April O’Neil.

Somehow, they got to the surface, Karai leaning against April as they hobbled down the crowded sidewalks. It was almost afternoon, the sunlight was bright and painful. Even before Karai lived with the turtles, she was a creature of the night and greatly preferred it.

The hospital reeked of bleach and everything looked washed out under the fluorescent lighting.

Karai hated it.

April plopped her in an uncomfortable chair as she dealt with paperwork and overworked nurses. Desperate to not think about anything, Karai stared at the posters of beaming people, colorful and out of place with the whiteness of everything else.

Karai’s fingers dug into the chair arm, the burning pain was nonstop, a reminder of how much of a failure she was. Tears stinged her eyes but she wouldn’t let them fall.

“Okay, there shouldn't be too long of a wait.” April sighed as she joined Karai, frowning in discomfort when she sat down. “I- Karai? What's wrong?”

Karai shook her head, then April - fearless, beautiful April- reached for Karai’s hand and pried it off the chair. She interlaced their fingers together, her palm was so much softer than Karai thought possible.

She stared at their connected hands, April’s hand was just slightly bigger than hers with chipped green nail polish, the knuckles a little dry. It looked perfect.

“Talk to me.” April ordered not unkindly.

“You can’t be weak. No matter what.” The words came easily and Karai couldn’t stop talking. She didn’t want to stop. “In the Foot Clan, if you are weak you get killed, sometimes by a foe, sometimes by a friend. Or even a lover. It was plain and simple, even to a dang rock. If you can’t protect yourself, the clan wants you gone. Permanently.”

“Oh.” April said, her pretty blue eyes wide. This might have been the most Karai ever said about her past. She didn’t talk about it to anyone no matter how hard they prodded at her. Not her father, not to the turtles and even not to April.

Karai wanted to look strong, she needed to look strong because what if she wasn’t enough? And then she would had lost everything for nothing

There was a long pause, one that Karai felt the weight of every second.

Then April huffed quietly, “Some clan. We aren’t like that, Karai. We lift each other up, we watch out for each other’s backs even when we are angry because we love and care for one another.”

Karai scoffed, “Even after everything? I’m sure Donatello had thought about shoving me off a tall building every single day and Leonardo still doesn’t let me near training room weapons unless he can watch me closely.“

“Especially after everything. You were no different from them, you were trying to do the right thing for the man who thought was your father.” April said firmly. And Karai winced.

April let the word settle, the clock ticked along loudly in the waiting room. Karai swallowed, staring at her lap as she tried to come up with the words to prove April wrong but even months ago, she couldn’t have imagined this, of April holding her hand and telling her it going to be okay, of a father who didn’t tear her down, of brothers who even with old hurts and distrust still would keep her safe in a battle.

“You’re not weak. You are one of the strongest people I know. I couldn’t imagine what you have been through.” April said in a low voice, leaning close to Karai, her arm pressed against Karai’s. She couldn’t help but be aware of just how warm April was.

“Okay?” April asked, tightening her hand around Karai’s.

“Okay.” Karai agreed, lifting her head up.

Their faces were right next to each other, and this close Karai saw just how blue April’s eyes were, so brilliant like a perfect spring day. The lean in was slow, their eyes drifted closed.

The first brush of lips were soft, April’s lips were chapped just ever so but it only made Karai want to kiss her more, to feel everything good and bad April had to offer as warmth grew in Karai’s chest and spread through her veins.

They pulled apart moments later, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. April beamed and Karai stared in wonder as her whole world shifted to a single focal point of April O’neil. She felt lightheaded, like she could float away any second now.

“Hey, our first kiss.” April said with a giggle and Karai actually giggled back, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Before Karai could say anything, they heard her name being called. April gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Carefully, they stood together, Karai leaning on April and together, they moved forward.

Splint-Her Father brought a thick pillow and with gentle hands, helped Karai place her cast down. Michelangelo plopped down next to her on the sofa, shamelessly eyeing the cast as he snacked on a bowl of chips. “What happened?”

“Minor fracture. Should be fine in a month.” Karai said with a grimace. It was going to be a very, very long month.

“Tea.” Her father murmured to himself as he headed to the kitchen. “It will help with the healing.”

April had run off somewhere once they got home, saying she would be right back.

The kiss felt unreal, like something that happened to someone else. Karai really wanted to do it again and again. With a shake of her head, she shoved the thoughts away before she started grinning like a fool.

“Ouch. That looks pretty painful. ” Leonardo said with a frown. Raphael glanced then he sat in one of the chairs. Leonardo looked at the cast before his eyes met hers and Leonardo offered a weak grin and Karai returned it with a small smile, hoping that it would be enough.

It had been because Leonardo joined them on the sofa as April, with a quiet Donatello trailing behind her, arrived with a cheerful grin. She held up her prize, two fists full of markers in every bright shade possible.

“I love signing people’s casts.” April told the group, dumping the markers on the table as she sat next to Karai’s cast. “Is it okay with you?”

“Yes.” Karai replied, watching April pick out a marker. She had heard of such things but never experienced it before.

With a steady hand, April made her mark. In dark green, April’s name stood out among the whiteness. Then with a smile, she added a little heart that made Karai blushed.

“Ooooh can I do it too?” Michelangelo turned big puppy eyes on Karai and with a sigh, she nodded.

“You all can if you want to.” Karai offered quietly as Michelangelo hurried to pick out several markers for himself. Karai and Donatello’s eyes met for a moment then he looked away toward April and sighed, more toward himself. Karai thought that she and Donatello probably had more in common than either of them would ever admit.

It was only moments before all the boys were signing the cast with bright colors. April joined her, and their arms pressed together, fingers brushing together. Her father came back with two cups of steaming green tea and handed one over to her as he sat down on her other side.

With her brothers in front of her and her Father by her side, Karai met April’s blue eyes and let a soft and genuine smile bloomed.

#tmnt 2012 #TMNT #fanfic #april o'neil #Karai x April #April x Karai #femslash

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jade-parcels · 3 years

Note

Can I please have some domestic fluff with Azhdaha and Osial 👉🏻👈🏻. Would they be cuddly? Cook? Would they be touch-starved 😉

Of course you can!!! In a world where Azhdaha and Osial were let out of their sealed caverns in order to sign a ‘I will protect Liyue in exchange for my freedom’ contract with Morax….

This was so fun! I wanna write more for them now…hehe..

Osial:

He tends to see himself as better than mortals, he’s proper and somewhat high strung. He was locked away in an era far different than this, so when he arrives in Liyue harbor for the first time in centuries, he’s surprised by everything. The things people eat, their religion, their storytellers…Hell, the dialect is even different (time for Zhongli to tutor his old friends so they don’t sound insane while trying to have a convo with regular folks lol)

He speaks very proper, similar to Zhongli, but he sounds very old fashioned. That is, when he does talk. Osial is quiet, he prefers to listen rather than speak

So when he meets you, his old fashioned tendencies leap out as he tries to court you with handmade gifts like necklaces or glazed pottery. Osial is very skilled with his hands! Back in his day, he’d adorn himself with all sorts of jewelry and headdresses he made himself

He can be very hands on too, before you’re ever on an established relationship he’ll link your arms as you walk down to the harbor or wrap an arm around your waist. Internally, you’ll probably think ‘oh man, we aren’t even together and he’s already this touchy…’ but in reality, that’s just how he is. He links arms with all of his friends because to him, it’s a friendly gesture!!! He fails to realize that in modern times, doing that makes it look like you’re a couple

Due to his imprisonment in the deepest, coldest part of the ocean, Osial is very touch starved. When you hug him for the first time, that’s when you really see it cause he doesn’t want to let go :’) he always smells like the ocean air and incense

Massage his shoulders and hands, he’s never had a massage in his entire life!! This is a new experience that he’ll treasure cause…you’re making him feel so good

When you’re together, he’ll want to go to the beach or take a bath, anywhere with water really. Being able to submerge himself in the tub soothes his skin and mind. When you are together, he’ll show you how he can ‘dissolve’ into the water! He isn’t actually dissolving, he’s kinda turning into water? And melting into it? I’m having a hard time finding the right word for it ahhh-

Osial, while gentlemanly and quiet, does have a temper. Zhongli really brings it out of him just because he thinks it’s funny “You stupid lizard, you better quit stepping on my shoes” “I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear friend” “MORAX!!!!” “….You must stop calling me that in public” it’s kinda funny to see them interact

Osial is a pescatarian, meaning he is a vegetarian who doesn’t eat any meat except fish. He eats…a lot of fish. Sometimes, instead of cooking the fish he just bought from the market, he’ll take one and sit on the sofa with a book…Then eats it raw as a snack…bones and all…blood dripping down his arm, smeared on his face. This is where Zhongli’s aversion to seafood comes from. When you bring up the fact that watching eat a raw fish that way is somewhat disturbing….Osial, again, doesn’t get it. It’s a fish, there’s nothing gross about eating fish?? Babe the fish isn’t gross but the way you’re eating it is gross

Also, Osial is an old fashioned romantic. I mentioned earlier that he’d make jewelry and stuff for you but he’d also write poems for you too :) are they good? Well…’good’ is subjective

Azhdaha:

When Morax sealed him away, Azhdaha had been his most loyal companion. After the god of contracts gave him a set of eyes, Azhdaha swore to protect him. He followed him around, did almost everything he was asked to do

He had centuries to ponder his behavior when he was locked away. He sat and mourned the loss of his freedom, the loss of his dearest friend

So when Morax came to release him, he leapt at the opportunity to come up out of the ground

Azhdaha’s human form is TALL, like 6’5, and Liyue harbor is noooot meant for people that tall. He’s gotta duck when going through doors and kinda hunch in areas with low ceilings. He has a good sense of humor so he thinks it’s funny how he’s so tall, he makes jokes about it and laughs :)

Speaking of laughing, Azhdaha does NOT have an inside voice, he talks super loud!! He’s a bit rowdy too, he doesn’t like sitting still for long and loves going on adventures together

Azhdaha used to be blind and even though he has had eyes for centuries now, he never takes a sight for granted. He’ll watch the sunset, take ‘mental pictures’ of you when he thinks you look pretty, he’ll make you stand and watch street performances even if you’ve seen them ten times already just cause he loves it

His favorite colors are red, purple and orange. They’re just pleasing to his eyes! So when you wear those colors he’s sure to take as many ‘mental pictures’ as he can :) cute

He isn’t really a good cook but he DOES try. Cooking usually takes a delicate touch which he just doesn’t really have lol he’s got big hands

Azhdaha isn’t the best at cooking and is insecure about picking gifts, he just worries you won’t like it :( sooooo the way he shows his affection is by just hanging around you all the time! He’ll help with commissions, come pick flowers or break open cor lapis for you, go fishing with you, whatever you want to do!!

Once he’s fallen for you, it’s pretty easy to tell, he isn’t very subtle :) cuuute! You can just see it in his eyes….he’s totally infatuated with you

Zhongli will tease him too just cause it’s funny to fluster the gentle giant

((Thank you for reading this far!! Now I have a question, should/can I pick a human name for Osial and Azhdaha? Or should I just keep their god names when writing for them? I think I have a name for each but idk 😅))

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact writing #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact osial #genshin impact azhdaha #azhdaha #osial #azhdaha x reader #Osial x reader #answered requests!#asks #asks!

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rcksmith · 3 years

Text

Nobody else — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “Hello! May I request number nine from the fluff prompts and number seven from the smut prompts for Five? Maybe where the reader is a super skilled fighter, and the other Hargreeves siblings can’t get over how amazing she is, but that causes Five to become a little jealous?”

“Okayy if you're not tired of Five and smuts yet, can I request 18,70,74 and 84 from smut list with fem reader?”

Fluff prompts:

9. “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?!" "No, that girl is my wife!”

Smut prompts:

7. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

18. “Are you sure? Once we start, i might not be able to stop.”

70. “Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?”

74. “I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth.”

84. “Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

Thank you for requests💖 I hope you guys like💖I decided to compile these two requests, since they were the same energy and they prompts connect to a central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. Good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: explicit smut, dirty talk, bad words, fluff, fight, mention of death, jealousy.

— — — — —

People need each other to find support, comfort and understanding. Thomas Merton said: “Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life alone, but with the other. ”

And as cliché as it was, it was the truth. And that is exactly what happened to you.

It was difficult to explain how many years you had already been killing for the commission. Ever since, maybe? You did not remember a time when that work was not part of your life, your routine, your system. But you could feel, vaguely like a hazy dream, that one day the act of breathing was ... light.

Killing without conscience brought many regrets, and the weight of guilt filled your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

But you were good at that. God, you were very good. Maybe it was the endless years of training, your quick thinking, or the simple fact that you had a lot more physical stamina than the other agents. But, whatever it was, it helped you move up the board quickly.

Murdering with a gun was easy, quick, clean, and there were already many agents who did that job. For someone like you, so empowered, the commission has relocated you to more… arduous and dangerous missions.

Your job was to kill those whose gunshots could not show up at the necropsy. Someone who needed to die without the body revealing what had happened very well.

Shoot JFK? It wasn't with you.

End Hitler? It wasn't your job.

To kill Socrates with your bare hands and make everyone believe it was poison? This is where you came in.

The difference between the jobs was that you had to do the whole process. And a melee interaction instead of a weapon always brought people who wanted to fight for their lives. And that is why the commission chose you to do that, without any partner.

They elected you because you fought like a super soldier, focused on your goal like a robot, and never came back without success. It didn't matter how many fights you had to fight with your target, how many punches you had to throw and also take, or how many injuries you returned. You always won.

Over time, you learned things in practice, tricks that made it easy, scams that would save you effort. You learned to study each person in seconds, find their weaknesses, and use his own strength against them.

That's when you met Five Hargreeves. And Thomas Merton's quote made sense.

You two were so much similar. Both the best in their fields, wrecked in a sea of personal traumas, buried by a job that got the best of you two. You two felt misunderstood, alone in the vastness of that world. And when you two met... well, were no longer alone.

You two got involved, in all possible ways and ways. Loved each other, adored each other, and completed each other. Life went out of automatic mode, and for the first time in a long time, you two managed to breathe lightly. The food now tasted good, the heat of the sun on the skin was now better, and the world... the world was ruled by the red color of love.

So it became the most obvious and coherent decision to you two get married. Five could no longer imagine a life in which you did not exist, and you did not know how the world could go without him.

“I can't believe we did that!” You laughed, astonished, as you entered the apartment that you and Five shared.

You two had just married, something just for you two and the ceremonialist. You two chose something very intimate, reserved. And now the ring on him left hand looked like the most beautiful thing in the world for you.

Five laughed softly, hands moving up your arms, bringing you closer.

“We did. Wife.”

After that, your two contract with the commission changed. Five would only continue to do that if no one dared to touch a hair of yours, and you swore to The Handler that if someone did something to Five, you would destroy that place brick by brick.

Five saw in you a strong and atrocious ocean, which could swallow whole cities only with the force of its fury. And he liked that. He liked having someone as competent and firm as he was. Five liked to know that if there was a disaster, he would not be the only one who would go after a solution.

You were the type who knew that if you wanted things to happen, you had to do it with your bare hands. And Five loved it, because he felt understood. He carried so many responsibilities on his back that it was relieving to find someone who also felt the same things.

Five knew that, when him found way home, you were going with him. And you went. You two exchanged vows that would be together in joy and sadness, in any situation. And if the situation now said to go to 2019, well, you would.

“It makes me so sick, God!” Five heard you say when you two fell out of that blue portal he created.

He would have laughed if his muscles didn't hurt so much. For someone so trained you got sick of his powers very quickly.

"Five?!” And then the voice of one of the brothers was heard.

And that's how you two ended up there. A week later, in the Hargreeves' living room, with Diego swearing that you wouldn't be able to beat him in a fight.

Five laughed against the margarita's straw, sitting comfortably at the bar, giving up on telling his stupid brother that you had already killed much more dangerous people with your bare hands.

“I do not want to hurt you.” You smiled understandingly, and Klaus laughed.

“I bet 50 bucks that she beats your ass, Diego.” It was only logical that he was going to encourage his brother to fall.

“There is no way you can hurt me.” Diego guaranteed, getting up and starting to push the sofa away, making room for a fight.

“Are you up for it or are you scared?” He played with you, and Five laughter it back there, having a lot of fun.

“This is ridiculous, Diego.” Allison stressed, but it was obvious that she wanted to watch too.

You smirked, getting up from the bar chair next to Five. You didn't want to defeat your husband's brother in that fight, you understood that the circumstances between the two of you were not fair.

You were created to kill, injure and decimate. Body wrestling was your job and it wouldn't be fair to Diego. You knew, from Five, that the Hargreeves were created to be heroes. Saviors of the motherland. Hurt and kill if necessary, but don't make it a goal.

But not with you. Killing was your goal, always. And your weapon was not super powers or pistols, but the body itself.

“Okay.” You laughed and went to the circle that Diego had made “But I don't want to hurt you. The first one to fall to the ground loses.” You were trying to be peaceful.

Diego agreed, giving him a friendly smile before saying:

“But I will use my knives to distract you.”

It was logical that he wouldn't make it cheap and easy, even if it was for himself, you knew that.

So you agreed, took off the suit you were wearing and rolled up the sleeves of your white dress shirt, while the Hargeeves sat in a safe area, away from that makeshift ring.

Diego delivered the first blow, and you just deflected the trunk, taking him by the same arm and twisting it against his back. At that moment, if it was something for real, you would put more strength to break the bone, but you didn't want to hurt him, so you just released Diego with a little push forward.

Diego turned to face you again, the naughty smile on the face of someone who knows his own potential. He was very good, you knew that, but the different upbringing made you a better opponent.

This time, the blow came from below. It was a trip that you jumped while pulling on the fist he used to land another blow in the same second, forcing him to come forward with force while you deflecting once more. Diego staggered forward, steadying himself on the floor once again.

It was all absurdly fast, as if you were a robot. A machine programs for that.

Diego hurled the knife in the wind while attacking with his other fist. You dodged again, but this time you struck back, slamming a blow down the side of your stomach, blocking his attack with your other arm and unleashing a kick in the chest, which made Diego stagger backward.

In a matter of seconds, the knife was at the end of its course. And while Diego was advancing again, the wind that the knife was making hit your hair. But the knife didn't finish course. You stopped the blade with your hand, holding to the object with your palm.

At that moment, you saw Diego's eyes falter. And a surprised gasp by the Hargreeves graces the ambience. Then it was your turn to attack. You threw the knife on the floor, driving the blade into the wooden floor as you went.

There were punches, deflected blows, creeps. The two of you were dancing to an agitated song, which was reaching its climax.

Diego had holding you in him arms, and you turned your body, locked him left arm in your hands while you used the momentum to propel your legs up, past his neck and turning, taking you both to the floor. He fell on his back while you used your own momentum to balance yourself, standing upright.

“YES! YOU OWM ME 50 DOLLARS!" Klaus's voice was heard.

You laughed, and you were about to walk away when Diego dug his left hand into your heel. He pulled you in a single stroke, and it made you fall, your back hitting the ground as he took the lead. Diego put his legs on your hips the first second you fell on the floor, and he used his own strength to keep you there.

You laughed out loud, and so did he.

“This is cheating!” You scolded him, punching him in the chest.

“Whatever, but you had to fall too!”

Diego was a good loser, you recognized that by the intonation of the voice. He was not possessed or reviled because you won, but he wanted it to be an eye for an eye, even if only as a joke.

But as soon as Diego got up off you, holding your hand for you got up too, your eyes went to Five. And you found the green irises burning in an atrocious fire. You frowned, not understanding, but you didn't have time to go over there and ask what happened. Klaus and Luther came to you and Diego.

Klaus charging his brother and Luther asking you how you did that final blow.

“It's for me to use when he pisses me off!” Luther looked directly at his brother in a silent threat “ But he will not get up alive!”

“Fuck you” Diego said before practically shoving 50 dollars in Klaus's face.

“Is easy.” You replied Luther “I'll show you."

But while the brothers were having fun, marveling at you, Five burned in a visseral cholera.

Wasn't it enough for Diego to have literally been on top of you, you had to want to teach that stupid gorilla too ?!

Oh fucking no!

When Diego went to Luther and started explaining with you, him your side, how the scam worked, Five was exploding. Now that stupid men butcher knife would be on your side?! Agreeing and explaining whit you as if it were your husband?!

Wasn't it enough just fucking being on top of you?!

Definitely fuck not!

“Take it easy, buddy.” Klaus appeared beside him “You are looking at them as if you want to kill someone.”

Five just snarled, not bothering to respond, his eyes never leaving you.

“Wait..." Klaus looked better at who Five was staring “Are you jealous of Y/n ?!” He was amazed.

“Shut up!” Five forced himself to swallow a handful of margarita.

“Oh my God!” And he wouldn’t stop “You like her! That must be why you live in a bad mood! You must be in the friend zone! ”

“Didn't I tell you to shut up already ?!” Five looked deathly at his brother “And I'm not in the friend zone with her.”

But Five realized that he gaved too much information to his brother, because now Klaus's face was opening in a shocked smile.

Goddam!

“So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend ?!" Klaus was loving the situation.

But, out of the corner of his eye, Five can see Diego holding your arm, showing Luther the place to deliver any stupid blow.

You gotta be fucking kidding!

“No, that girl is my wife!” Five tapped the margarita glass on the counter, teleporting to you and pushing Diego's hand off your arm, replacing his own.

“The show over!” He growled as he left the room, pulling you with him, your feet stumbling a few times before picking up the pace.

“Five!” You said, but he didn't seem to hear.

The image of Diego's legs at your fucking waist, the body sitting on you, the hand on your arm, rewound Five's mind like a curse. He felt his anger inflate, jealousy whispering in the back of his neck like a little devil, making him see the situation bigger than it really was.

You called him again, but for Five, it was like you called his brother's name. And then he exploded in his own fury.

He couldn't wait to go up all those stupid stairs, all those corridors, Five just pulled you against him, disappearing in the blue flash and reappearing in the his room.

“You are crazy?” You pulled the wrist out of his grip.

“I should be asking you that!” He said “Did you see that scene ?!”

“What a scene?” You frowned.

Five focused his eyes on you, in angry energy.

“Diego on top of you, fuck!" He snarled “Luther drooling like a dog on you!”

“Five.” You thought all that was absurd “They are your brothers!”

“You have no idea how much i don’t give a fuck!”

The situation was ridiculous, and you ended up laughing in disbelief and bewilderment.

“We were fighting!” You defended yourself "Nobody was drooling on me!"

“I swear to god tha ...” Five walked over to you, his eyes flooded with rage, his body enveloped in that intense and explosive energy.

You lifted chin to get a better look, your chest stuck to him, Five's breath hitting the top of your nose. That week had been full of emotions and issues to deal with, 24 hours being insufficient to do everything, explain everything. And, well, you and Five didn't have much time alone...

All of this compiled with the fact that your husband possessed the beauty of an angry god,and that excited you so fuck absurdly.

Suddenly, the air in the room became caustic, seething with the expectation of something improper happening, injecting heat into your chest that descended to the middle of your legs.

You sighed softly, and Five immediately noticed the waters where your thoughts were sailing.

“Does it turn you on?” His voice was hoars “See me angry?”

The sigh you gave was your whistleblower, your chest started to rise and fall more breathlessly than usual, your core starting to pulse. You wouldn't be able to say anything even your life would depended it, you drowning in the malicious and hot climate of that room, compiled with the absurd beauty and intensity of the adult in front of you.

God, you needed him!

“Yes, you like.” Five had an arrogant, boastful tone, mocking how sensitive you were.

But his eyes took on a more conscious tone, and he whispered as he said: "Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop. ”

Five knew his own limits, his own anger, his own strength. If he touched you now, in most simple, he wouldn't be able to stop. You agreed, hands moving gently up his body, resting on him hips.

“I will not be gentle.” Five wanted to you know again.

He had already fucked you hard, drowned in insatiable desire, marking your skin with slaps, hickeys. Five had already mistreated your mouth, made you scream. But never fucked you in anger. He never took his anger out on you. And now, submerged in jealousy, he knew how much strength he would discharge on you.

“I don't want it to be.” But you gave Five the go-ahead on a needy sigh, your fingers running around his waist.

Five dropped his mouth to your ear, tracing a path across your skin with warm lips, now bringing hands up to your skin, feeling how hot, needy you were.

“You're wet and I haven't even touched you yet.” His words hung over you like a warm warning of what was going to happen, what to expect.

You moaned softly, your body shivering, screaming for you to get more, seeking some friction, some contact. Then, as if Five read you thoughts, his left hand clung fiercely to the back of your neck, curling him fingers in your hair.

He forced you to look at him, watching the rage and the extraordinary lust.

“Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”

Five left you brutally, telling you to take off all your clothes, watching all your movements while he got rid of the shirt himself. He left him tie beside the bed, sitting on the mattress and pulling you onto him lap as soon as you finally got naked. He fit thigh in the middle of your legs, making you sit on his thigh.

You groaned, the friction in the place you most wanted, the core pulsing against the dark cloth of him pants. You rummaged your hips for more than you wanted, but Five dropped his hand on your ass, releasing a loud, stinging slap. The groan was unable to be controlled, and you buried your face in the curve of him neck, sobbing there.

“You will be grateful for every slap I give you, do you understand?” He snarled, fingers tightening on your flesh, marking your skin.

You agreed, and thanked him when Five slapped your ass harder. This time, he moved him thigh beneath you, brushing your pulsating core, leaving you in an extremely needy state.

“Fi-five!" A sob escaped, followed by another thanks when a slap hit your in ass again.

Five's hands roughly grabbed your waist, holding you firmly in place as he started to rummage in him thigh, making you moan louder every second. That was torture. You pulsed and wet him thigh, your body rigid from wanting more of that friction, the sobs escaping your lips, the muscles contracted.

“Such a needy slut." He snarled in your ear “So desperate for my thigh.”

You groaned at him words, your fingers around him shoulders, squeezing there while Five took you so badly in him thigh. He dropped his mouth to your hot neck, pouring a hickey there before sighing hoarsely:

“The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."

It sent electric currents to your swollen core, and moans got even bigger when Five increased the speed of his movements, rubbing your clitoris in those mind-boggling movements. His strong grip, compiled wheezing on his neck, his hoarse voice and the movements of his thigh took you to the limit. And you were pushed into that abyss of the climax.

“So fucking quickly.” Five delighted, in a groan, and stuck his hands on your back, holding you there, turning you in one movement to the bed.

Your back hit the mattress, Five’s warm hands roamed your legs, squeezing thighs and parting them, exposing your wet, red core at the climax. Five groaned loudly, as if seeing you hurt physically, and he took his hands off you to grab the tie next to you.

“Be good and open your mouth for me.” You obeyed, and he wiped the cloth over there, fastening his tie.

You sighed brokenly, your heart beating fast, breasts stiff and sore, your ass burning with slaps, core sensitive to climax.

“I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth." Five reflected, him hands roaming your trembling body, squeezing every bit of skin, reveling in how your skin felt at him touch.

Five reveled in the breath you took, enjoying how you looked like a fucking goddess like that. So vulnerable, so needy, so needy.

He was controlling himself until now, pushing you to the limit, making you sensitive, teasing you, making you sensitive to what was coming. Him smile was purely lustful, and Five leaned toward you, roughly sucking the nipple from your breast, nibbling at the needy skin. Then he brought hands up to his pants, opening his belt and zipper, pulling the pieces down far enough for his dick to pop out.

The moan you gave when you felt the hot, luscious member on your thigh was enough to inflate him ego even more. Five turned your body down, pulling your waist up, leaning into your ear to whisper:

“I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll never forget that day.” Then he entered you, rough, strong, badly.

He forced your walls to get used to him size and sank to the bottom of the well, clutching his hands to your hips and pulling you against him dick. You screamed against the tie, pressing your fingers to the pillows, sobbing when Five set a fierce, wild and badly pace, mistreating every inch of you.

One of him hands went to your neck, closing his fingers there and pouring out all the fury and jealousy he felt in the thrusts, going in as deep as he could and pushing your limit. The pornographic sounds of the two of you moaning, the sound of his hip hitting your ass, invaded the room, mixing with the smell of sex, lust and hunger.

You shouted him name when Five left and brutally entered you, making you choke on your own sobs.

“What's it? Are you unaccustomed to my dick?” He tasted it, leaving your neck to slap your ass aggressively “Is it too much for you?”

You sobbed, stopped by the tie, and Five hit you again.

“Do you think someone can fuck you like me?!”

Now him voice was angry and his movements too. Five fucked you like he had spent his whole life in fury at you, waiting patiently for the day when he would discount everything on you. Him hand went to your mouth, pulling tie from there and releasing your toxic moans.

“Answer me, fuck!” One more slap, leaving your ass on fire.

“N-no!” You cried “Nobody ... no-nobody fucks me like you!”

You talks with a more thrust, and Five pushed your chest to the bed, keeping his hand on your back, him moans mixing with your.

Then he reached the peak of anger.

Five came out of you, turned you up and bent your legs, placing your knees on your shoulders. He entered in a brutal way inside you, the new position making him occupy all the minimum vacant spaces. You screamed, tears welling up in your eyes, your hands tightening on his arms, your heart already racing.

It was too much. Your body begged for more, for the climax, for the lust, for anything fierce that Five could give you. He dropped his mouth on yours, biting your bottom lip instead of kissing you, making you swallow his lines when he said:

“Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that? ”

You desperately denied it. Five could very well come out of you and not let you come, and just that thought made your body tremble and tears flow.

“Plea-Please!” You sobbed “I beg you!”

That did things with Five. He stuck his body to your, him arm going around your waist and fucking you as if that could chase away all his anger. This time he kissed you, sticking his lips to yours as he felt you pulse around him and break up in a hushed scream, trembling at the climax.

Five did not falter, his black hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, his heart pounding. He cum strongly inside your core, filling you with hot cum. You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as he came inside of you, slowly calming down.

The two of you sighed, the room flooding with the smell of sex and desire, your hearts thudding at the same pace. You whimpered in his mouth, and when Five want to leave inside you, you denied it, tightening your legs around him waist.

“N-No.” You moaned softly, "Stay inside, please."

Five drew air through his teeth, him hands gripping the sides of your body, stirring inside you, beginning to feel the lust rising.

He kissed you again, whispering:

“You want to have a child of mine, don't you?" It was an arrogant, provocative voice, and you sighed. “You are such a fucking sensitive little thing.”

Then Five started moving again, and you stayed in that room for much longer.

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zarcake-writes · 3 years

Text

Silas and Lily - Part 2

Hello everyone! Remember these two? Well, here is the continuation of their story. This second part was commissioned by @dracodenticulus. It was so fun to write this piece. Thank you so much for commissioning me.

Warnings: medical talk, gore mention, sexual fantasies

It takes about three months for Silas’ legs to fully heal.

His tibias healed within the first month, thanks to a combination of Lily’s magic and her applying bone meal ointment to the bones twice a day. Lily told him it would have taken about six months for a living human’s bone to heal naturally.

“Would mine have healed naturally? Without the magic?” Silas asks one night.

Lily is sitting in front of him. An anatomy book opened to a page with a diagram of a human leg sits on her lap. The page is scribbled with notes.

Spread out around her are several necromancy books. Some are old, with fraying pages and ink text. While the rest of the books are new, with a modern design layout. One of the books even has a skeleton guide that moves through the book with the reader.

She looks up from the book. “No. You need to be living with a beating heart and pumping blood for natural healing. And you, Silas, are not living.”

Silas grimaces. “So, I require an unnatural healing.”

Everything about me is unnatural, Silas thinks. A dead man from the late 1800s roaming the streets of this modern world is an abomination.

“I wouldn’t say unnatural because all magic is natural.” Lily pauses for a moment. “Supernatural healing and magical healing are better ways to describe this method.”

He scoffs. “And how often is this method used?”

Lily’s voice is gentle. “A lot, Silas. A kid gets hit by a car, a mother dying from cancer, or a construction worker has an accident at work; they all receive this treatment. Sometimes people need a little help, a nudge in the right direction, to get better.”

“Even with the undead?”

“Yes. How do you think Narron keeps his body from falling apart? Certainly, aren’t any skinny teas or those crystals he loves.”

Silas snorts.

When the bones set, their texture and colors begin to change.

When Silas was pulled out of the coffin, his bones were porous and brittle. Decades of rotting in a box with no necromancer to keep him in shape left his body nearly ruined. Lily’s great-great-grandfather didn’t have her knowledge or resources. The runes and markings he etched into Silas’ skin did not stop time from damaging his body.

However, when Lily began pouring her magic into his healed bones, they began to shine. Then that glossy shine changed into a wet, gooey texture.

Silas thought something went wrong, but Lily assured him it was normal.

“Looks nasty,” Silas mutters.

Lily is kneeling in front of him, examining the bone. Todd is sitting beside her, an intelligent gleam in his eyes.

“Yes, it does.”

“Why?”

“It will ensure that the muscles, tendons, and skin will stick and form around the bone.” She reaches behind her for a box of plastic wrap. “This will keep the bones from drying out and stop any hair or dust from sticking to you.”

“I did not know so much scientific stuff went into magic.”

“For many, magic and science are two sides of the same coin.”

Silas nods. “I remember hearing that when I was alive.”

Healing the bones was easy. But the reforming of muscles, tendons, ligaments, and skin proved to be a challenge.

Every morning and night, Lily would tend to his legs. She was determined to reform the damaged tissue. But the magic usage left her drained and exhausted. She would sleep most of the day and go to bed early each night. Todd was constantly around her, sitting on her lap or chest while she napped.

Seeing her so exhausted hurts Silas. As much as he wants to walk again, Silas considers stopping this entire endeavor. He has caused Lily nothing but problems since he was dug up. She left her family because of him, had to spend money on him, deal with registering him, and now she is so exhausted that she can barely stay awake.

He’s always caused problems when he was alive, and nothing has changed since he died.

One morning, during the second month of his healing, Lily woke up looking terrible. Her eyes were heavy and dark. The normal shine in her hair was gone. Her skin looked dull and ashen. Even her aura looked dimmer.

Todd followed close behind her. The cat’s tail twitters anxiously.

“Lily,” Silas says.

“Hm?” She looks confused as if she doesn’t recognize Silas for a moment. “Oh, morning Silas. Let me drink my coffee, and we’ll start, ok?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

She yawns. “What about it?”

“Take a seat.”

Lily flops onto the couch. Todd jumps onto her lap. He’s purring so loud Silas can hear him.

“What’s up, Silas?” She yawns again. “You, ok?”

Silas’ heart twists. Even when she is feeling terrible, she is still putting Silas first.

“I am fine, darlin. But you should take a break today.”

“Why?”

“Because, and I don’t mean to sound like an ass, but you look like shit.”

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a little tired, Silas. I’ll be fine after my coffee.”

“Darlin, I’m ain't making a suggestion. I’m telling you to take a break.”

She scowls at him. Amber red spiderwebs through the black and muted greens in her aura. He can feel the prickle of irritation in the air. Todd sits up and meows at Lily, but she ignores the cat.

Silas is quick to raise his hands. “Look, I don’t want to tell you what to do. And I am eternally grateful that you are helping me, Lily. You are the strongest magic user I’ve met, and I know you can keep going. But I’m worried about you. I don’t want you pushing yourself too far and hurting yourself.”

The amber-red fractures cool as her face softens.

“Silas—” Another yawn interrupts her. She rubs her eyes and leans against the back of the couch.

Todd stands on his back legs and paws at Lily’s face. She waves him away.

“Silas,” she looks back at him, “I think you’re correct that I should take a break today.”

“Good. Why don’t you lay down here, Lil? And I’ll get you some coffee.”

Lily lays on the couch. “I need food.”

“I can try to make you something.”

Lily shakes her head. “I can order something off my phone. Todd, go get it for me, please.”

Todd chirps and dashes out of the room. He returns a moment later, dragging the phone and yowling the whole time.

Lily orders a small feast. A stack of pancakes for herself. A plate of eggs, bacon, and toast for Silas.

The food arrives an hour later. When Silas opens the door, the deliverer looks like they were going to pass out. The blood drains from the elf’s face, and his eyes grow comically wide. If Silas wasn’t so worried about Lily, he would have made a scary face at the elf and laughed.

Silas slams the door and rolls his wheelchair back towards Lily. Todd is still on her chest.

“Everything ok?” she asks.

“Poor delivery guy looked like he was about to pass out.”

Lily snorts. “Undead humans are rare nowadays. Remember the lady in the market?”

Silas grimaces at the memory. An older woman nearly fainted when she saw Lily pushing Silas down the chip aisle in the market.

“Come on, let’s eat,” Silas says.

Lily devours all her pancakes and most of the bacon. The changes in her appearance are instantaneous. Her skin looks better, her eyes are brighter, and her aura is clear. She still looks tired, but resting for a day or two should fix that.

Silas takes his time eating. He does not need to eat, but it tastes good. And after not eating for decades, food is a delicacy he never wants to give up.

As he eats, a memory of a woman handing him a plate of eggs and bacon dances at the edge of his mind. Her face is a blurry mess, but he can remember her dark red dress with blue stitching. And her bare forearms and hands were weathered from age and the sun. Whoever she was, the memory of her makes his chest warm.

Silas replays the memory in his mind hoping that something else will come back, but there’s nothing.

“Silas?”

He jumps in surprise. Lily’s brow is furrowed, and her mouth is drawn down in worry.

“Are you ok?” she asks.

“Yes, sorry. Just a memory.”

“A memory? Of what?”

“A woman, handing me a plate of breakfast. I don’t know who she was, though.”

Lily sits her plate on the floor for Todd to lick clean. “It is normal for reanimated humans to have their memories come back. Smells, sounds, and tastes can trigger these memories.”

“Think I’ll remember why I was killed?”

Her face hardens. “I hope not, Silas. Those memories can be difficult to work through. And some things are not worth remembering.”

Silas looks down at his plate.

“I’m gonna lay down for a bit,” Lily says, “ok?”

“Of course. I’ll clean this up.”

“Thank you, Silas.”

It takes Lily two days to fully recover. Two days of eating and resting is what Lily required. Her skin is full of life, her hair shines, and her eyes are bright. But more important is her aura. The swirling black and greens are back to normal.

On the morning of the third day, Lily decides to continue working on Silas’ legs.

There is an increase in healing after this. The muscles, tendons, and ligaments take to Silas' bones faster than before. And by the end of the second month, his legs are almost entirely healed. All that Lily has to do was weave the skin over the fresh tissue.

“Look at that; your legs are almost done,” Lily says with a grin.

Silas, however, grimaces at the sight of his skinless legs. “Almost.”

“That break was definitely needed.” Lily stands and claps Silas on the shoulder.

As she moves behind him, searching for more plastic wrap, he studies his legs. The pink and red flesh is off-putting. Woven into the pink flesh and tissue are softly glowing runes and sigils.

“Lily, why is it all pink and red?”

“Because of my magic. The color will fade, but the muscles and tendons will work.” She kneels back in front of him, box in hand. “Eventually, the runes will need to be recharged, but you won’t have to worry about that for a couple decades.”

She wraps the legs, taking care to be gentle.

“Hey, why don’t I feel anything when you do that?”

“I didn’t give you any nerve endings.”

“I don’t need those?”

Lily glances up at him. “No. That’s what the runes beneath your skin are for. When your skin is applied and connects to the tissue, then you’ll be able to feel sensations.”

“Is it possible to form nerve endings with magic?”

“Yes, but it is not usually a doctor's first choice.” Lily finishes wrapping his legs, a satisfied look on her face.

“Why not?”

She drapes a light blanket over his lap. “Because it is a very painful process. Magic and medicine can knock someone out, but the person needs to be awake to tell the doctors if the process is working. Knocking someone out over and over again is not ideal. So, doctors often use runes like what I placed on your legs to ensure their patients can feel again.”

“Even if it’s a small area? Like from a burn? Or a badly broken bone?”

Lily pushes the wheelchair out to the kitchen. “If it’s a small area of nerves that need repairing, then the doctors will call in magic users. However, if it’s a massive area of damage, doctors strongly advise against nerve regrowth. They rely on magic.”

“The power of magic.”

“It is an amazing thing.”

Reforming his skin is a quicker process. Lily explained it is similar to a full-thickness skin graft. The difference is the skin she uses does not belong to Silas. And she will be using her magic to ensure the skin graft spreads along his legs.

By the end of the third month, Silas has functioning legs.

What bothers Silas the most, though, is his lower legs looked like they belong to a living person. The skin has a healthy flesh tone and is soft to the touch. Beneath the skin, Silas could feel the warmth of living flesh. The lack of leg hair is strange. He remembers being a hairy man.

“Lily?”

Lily glances up from the books she is closing and stacking in the corner of the living room. “Yes?”

“The color will fade, right?”

She looks sad for a moment. “Unfortunately, yes. You need a beating heart to pump blood through your body. And a healthy blood flow is what will give you a healthy skin tone.”

“I thought you said that.”

“If it bothers you, I can use my magic to change your skin tone.”

Silas waves his hand. “No, no need for that, darlin. You’ve done so much for me already.”

She continues gathering her supplies from the floor. Todd lounges on an opened book, unbothered and lazy. When she reaches for the book, but Todd playfully swats at her. She decides to leave him and the book alone.

“Darlin?”

“Hm?”

“Why isn’t there any hair on the skin?”

“It takes a while for hair to regrow on a living person. But since you are not living, you will have no hair growth.”

Silas pats the top of his head. “Why haven’t I lost my head hair, then?”

“My great-great-grandfather set a sigil on your head to ensure you do not lose your hair.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

Lily shrugs. “Who knows. I assume he didn’t want you to lose all your humanity. Or maybe he thought you would look better with hair.”

“I’m glad he kept my hair.”

Lily stands up. She winces at the sound of her back popping. Silas is both jealous and slightly terrified at the sound her body made. He misses cracking and popping his bones without worrying about his body literally falling apart.

She walks towards Silas. Her free arm is outstretched so her fingers can graze along his right cheek. Her fingers are so warm he thinks his undead skin will burn away. Hell, for a moment, Silas thinks his entire body will burn up, and all that will remain of him will be a smoldering pile of ash.

“I am glad he kept your hair, too,” she whispers.

Her fingers slide away, and then she’s gone, leaving Silas alone in the living room.

He touches his cheek, amazed that the cold skin still carries a hint of her warmth. When the warmth of her touch fades, Silas can still feel her fingers on his cheek. And the tingles have yet to leave his body.

A meow gets his attention.

Todd is sitting on the opened book, an amused and knowing look in the cat’s eyes. His tail flicks. Silas can imagine a shit-eating grin on the cat’s face.

“Shut up.”

Todd chirps in amusement before settling back on his opened book.

The first time Silas tries to walk, it does not go well. Similar to before, he ends up face down on the floor.

“Son of a bitch!” Silas shouts.

“Dammit, Silas, I told you not to try yet.”

Silas can feel Lily’s footsteps vibrating through the floor.

He pushes himself up onto his forearms. He glances up at Lily, who is both worried and annoyed. He immediately regrets trying to stand and walk on his own.

Lily crouches beside him. “Are you ok?”

Yeah,” he glances away. “Just my ego is hurt.”

She helps him back into the wheelchair. While he silently nurses his hurt pride, Lily examines his legs.

“Nothing is broken.” She sounds relieved.

“Then why did I fall? Felt like my legs were jelly.”

“Because you haven’t walked in almost a century, Silas. Your mind remembers walking, but the muscles in your legs are new. And they do not remember.”

He rubs the side of his head. “So, will I ever walk again?”

“Yes, you just need to learn again. We’re going to visit Narron tomorrow.”

Silas grimaces. He knows he shouldn’t dislike Narron; after all, he is the reason Silas has working legs. But the fact that Narron knows how Silas feels about Lily makes Silas uncomfortable. The damn lich knows too much.

“Why?” Silas grumbles.

“He will help us with the physical therapy aspect of your healing. Plus, he wanted to see how your legs turned out.”

Silas frowns. “Does he doubt you?”

“Narron? Doubt me?” Lily laughs. “No. But having a thousand-something-year-old lich examine you, and my work, can’t hurt. If I messed up anywhere on your legs, Narron can find that mistake and fix it.”

Silas glances at his legs nervously. “Do you think you messed up?”

“No, but if I did, then Narron will find the mistake before it starts causing problems.”

The next day, they are back at Narron’s shop.

The shop is the same as before. Massive, with shelves full of books, potions, and jars of ingredients. The caged creatures, however, are now lined up on one wall. The garden section looks thicker and darker. And the glowing little fairies are still hovering throughout the store.

Unlike before, Narron isn’t there to greet them at the front counter. Instead, a goblin is behind the counter, cutting trimmings from plants. The glowing fairies take the clippings from the goblin and fly to different areas of the store.

The goblin turns around when he hears Lily and Silas enter the shop. Silas recognizes him from the last time they were here.

Silas remembers meeting very few goblins during his time alive. At that time, they mostly stayed close to orcs and trolls. If they were in a town or city, the goblins always had an orc or troll escort. Rarely did goblins venture through human cities alone.

The goblin beams and steps around the counter. “Lily!”

“Vot!”

Vot is similar to the goblins Silas remembers seeing. Just over four feet, with deep green skin, and long pointy ears, adorned in silver jewelry. His hair is pulled back in a waist-length braid.

His apron is covered in dirt and soil. A bundle of flowers sticks out of one of the apron pockets. A belt of gardening tools hangs around his waist.

“I would hug you, but,” Vot holds up his dirt-stained hands. “I’m a bit dirty.”

“When are you not, Vot?”

“Good point. How are you?” Vot glances at Silas. “The both of you?”

“We’re good, Vot,” Lily says. Silas nods in agreement.

“Wonderful!” Vot looks happy. “Can I help you with something? Or you here to see the big lich himself?”

“We have an appointment with Narron.”

“Of course, of course.” Vot glances towards the back room.

Silas follows his gaze. A curtain is drawn over the doorway towards the back room. Sparkling pink and blue light peeks out from beyond the curtain. The hum of voices and conversation is barely heard over the buzzing of magic.

“He’s taking a bit longer with his current customer, but he should be done soon,” Vot says.

“Of course,” Lily says. “We’ll look around.”

“Please do. And if you need anything, yell for me.”

Vot returns behind the counter.

Lily barely pushes Silas forward when the curtain to the backroom is thrown open. A woman walks out holding an undead cat in her arms. The cat is rubbing against the woman’s face, purring and chirping loudly. Narron is beside her, an arm draped over her shoulders, as he stoops down to talk to her. She’s nodding and wiping her tear-stained face with her free hand.

Based on her aura, Silas can tell she is also a magic-user. Beneath the sorrow and relief, Silas can see a variety of splattered colors. Maybe an alchemist or potion maker.

“If you have questions or concerns with Butter here,” Narron hands the woman a card, “Call me anytime. No matter the time of day, call me.”

The woman takes the card. “Thank you so much, Narron. Thank you.”

“You are very welcome, my dearest potion maker.” Narron’s hand settles on her cheek for a brief moment. He pulls his hand away when he sees Lily and Silas. “Vot, will you check her out?”

“Of course, Narron,” Vot says.

The woman and her undead cat turn to Vot while Narron motions Lily and Silas to follow him into the backroom.

The backroom is neater this time, but the air is thick with magic.

“Oh, Narron.” Lily’s lip is curled up in disgust. “What happened in here?”

He sighs. He sounds tired, but irritation and anger flicker beneath. “I was fixing a mistake for that woman out there. Her familiar passed, and she went to a necromancer to bring him back. However, whoever did it was a fucking fool, Lily.”

“Oh gods, what happened?”

“The cat’s soul was barely even there. More corpse than living cat.” He sighs and rubs his boney temples. “Poor woman.”

“You managed to help her?” Silas asks.

“Yes, but she was carrying around her half-dead cat for a whole day. The mental pain that caused her is indescribable,” Narron says.

The anger around Narron darkens before cooling.

“Did you find out who did the reanimating?” Lily asks.

“Yes. And I’m going to call the DON tomorrow.” He pauses. “Might even pay that idiot a visit myself.”

“They deserve a visit.”

Narron is lost in thought for a moment before he claps his hands. “How may I help you today, my gorgeous belladonna?”

“Silas’ legs are healed,” Lily gestures to Silas, “But he is unable to walk. Can you help with that?”

Narron’s boney face looks smug. “Of course, he cannot walk. The man hasn’t walked in decades; he can’t just start strutting his stuff like before. But to answer your questions, my darling death bringer, yes, I can help you with that.”

Lily bumps Silas’ shoulder. “Told you he can help.”

Silas grunts in response.

“Before you can start walking, cowboy, I need to examine your legs. A single miscalculation or improperly placed sigil and your legs may fall apart. May I examine your legs?”

Silas nods.

Narron moves the blankets and begins examining Silas’ new legs. Lily hovers over Narron’s shoulder, watching what he’s doing the entire time.

The feeling of Narron’s boney fingers ghosting over his skin makes Silas squirm. But worst is the magic. Narron’s magic is bright and invasive compared to Lily’s. It weaves through his flesh and bones, examining the foundations and structure Lily built.

It feels like forever before Narron pulls away. Silas sighs in relief.

“You did well, my darling student,” Narron says.

Lily smiles. “His legs are, ok? No mistakes?”

“No mistakes.

“Told you, you didn't make any mistakes, Lil,” Silas says.

Lily smiles and looks away. Narron glances at him, a smirk on his boney face.

“So,” Silas clears his throat, embarrassed about being caught, “What do we do about me not being able to walk?”

“You begin physical therapy,” Narron says.

“Do we go to someone?” Lily asks.

“If he was a living man, I would suggest a doctor. However, Silas is undead, and most doctors do not concern themselves with undead patients.”

Lily scoffs. “Are you serious? I know vets who assist necromancers with reanimated animals.”

“Why won’t doctors help reanimated humans?” Silas asks.

“A doctor's sworn oath only applies to living patients,” Narron explains. “Veterinarians, on the other hand, changed their oath decades ago to help necromancers who have a limited understanding of animal anatomy.”

“What do we do then?” Lily asks. “Go talk to a vet?”

Silas has never met a veterinarian before, but he’s seen vet shows on the tv. He can imagine Lily wheeling him into an office full of dogs, cats, and birds. Talking to a doctor with a pocket full of treats, who looks perplexed that an undead man is in their office.

“Oh, no, no, no. You will have to do most of this work yourself.” Narron leans back and grabs a tablet from a nearby desk. “But the internet is full of helpful videos and informative articles.”

Narron taps the screen, which somehow responds to his skeleton fingers. A moment later, he turns the tablet around to show Silas and Lily a list of youtube videos. All the videos are physical therapists and doctors showing viewers learning to walk exercises. Beginner levels that involve stretching and contracting muscles, to advanced exercises that involve stepping onto a stool.

“These videos will help you learn to walk again, Silas,” Narron says.

Silas is unsure. As is Lily.

“Are you sure, Narron?” Lily asks.

“Yes.” Narron turns to Silas. “The magic runes in your legs will assist with your relearning, Silas.”

“How long do you think it will take him to relearn?” Lily asks.

Narron glances towards her. “It depends on him, but I assume he will relearn faster than a living person.”

“Alright, Narron. Thank you.”

“You are very welcome, my lovely death blossom.” Narron stands. “Before I forget, I have something for the both of you.”

Narron searches through several nearby bags. He lets out a triumphant noise when he finds the bag he was looking for.

“Narron, what did you get us?” Lily asks as she takes the bag.

“Oh, just some gifts for my favorite student and her dashing cowboy.”

Inside the bag are several whiskey bottles, a couple boxes of cigars, several metal tins, and a thin wooden box.

“I assume that tongue of yours has been working, right, Silas?” Narron asks.

“Yes, sir. Been working like a charm.”

“His mood has improved greatly with being able to taste,” Lily says, looking in the bag.

“Oh? Wonderful to hear. So, what are your favorite things to taste so far?” Narron asks.

Silas thinks for a moment. “Probably this white spaghetti stuff Lil bought a few days ago.”

“It’s called chicken alfredo, Silas.” Lily glances between him and Narron. “I’m gonna go leave this bag at the front counter. Be right back.”

Silas nods.

“Go ahead, my lovely death blossom. We’ll be right behind you.”

Lily leaves the room.

“So, anything else you miss tasting?” Narron asks.

Silas thinks for a moment. “I remember trying hot chocolate once. I would love to try that again.”

“That is easy to get nowadays. Anything else you miss? Or maybe,” Narron leans towards Silas, “It’s someone that you miss feasting on.”

Silas grunts and pushes the lich away. “Shut it, you.”

Narron laughs. “I am only playing, my sweet cowboy.”

He pushes Silas to the front of the store.

Lily is conversing with Vot while a couple fairies play in her hair. She’s laughing and smiling. If Lily notices the fairies, she does not react to them. But she’s beautiful.

“You know,” Narron whispers in Silas’ ear, “have you thought about what we talked about last time?”

“No.”

“Liar. You think about it often, don’t you?”

Silas gives him a dirty look. “Shut it.”

Narron snickers. “I am only trying to help you. The both of you.”

Silas looks at Narron, confused, but he’s ignoring him now as he pushes Silas towards the counter where Lily stands.

When Lily looks at Silas, her eyes are sparkle. The glowing fairies playing in her hair look like stars shimmering in the night sky. She smiles and says his name in greeting before turning to Narron.

“Thank you for everything, Narron.”

“You are most welcome, my deathly beauty.” Narron grasps Silas’s shoulder. “And you take care, cowboy, remember what we were talking about.”

If Silas could blush, he would have been.

Learning to walk again is harder than Silas expected.

He was skeptical that the youtube videos would help; he even called a few of them dumb. But they turned out to be truly helpful and informative. Silas did not expect it to be so exhausting.

The most irritating part about relearning to walk is the aches and pains in his legs after his daily exercises. The pain is dull but still uncomfortable.

“Lily, my legs are sore,” he mumbles one evening from the couch.

“From the exercises,” she says. “I called Narron, and he said they are normal.”

“It’s annoying.”

“I know.” Lily sits on the couch with him. “But it’s a good thing, Silas. It means the magic and your muscles are working.”

He grunts.

“Here, let me rub them.”

The couch shifts, then she’s pushing up the legs of his sweatpants. He thought the fuzz inside the pants were soft and warm, but they do not compare to Lily’s hands. Soft, warm, and thrumming with magic.

She rubs his lower legs, finding every sore spot and knot he didn’t know he had. The warmth and throbbing of her magic send chills through his body. When her fingers ghost beneath the bunched-up fabric at his knees, he gasps.

“Are you ok?”

Silas nods and refuses to meet her eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m ok.”

“Want me to stop?”

He knows he should say yes. Her touch is consuming his entire being, making his mind fuzzy and difficult to think. He may be an undead man, but he is still a man. And her touch is reminding him of blurry-faced women he spent nights with when he was alive. He is ashamed that Lily is taking the place of these blurry women.

“No, don’t stop,” he whispers.

“Are your thighs hurting?”

Lie, he thinks.

“Yes,” he says.

Fuck, he thinks.

“Want me to rub them?” Lily asks.

“Please.”

“Ok. Why don’t you slip off your pants? You have something on under, right?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“Pull the sweatpants off then.”

Her words make his stomach flip. He doesn’t dare look at her as he pulls off the sweatpants. The boxers beneath are loose and brand new. Lily bought them a couple days ago to help Silas feel more human. Apparently, men wear boxers or briefs beneath their pants. Silas isn’t sure why he agreed with her initially; it’s not like he has a cock to protect or hide.

Lily continues rubbing his legs, but this time she focuses her attention on his thighs. When her fingers graze his inner thighs, Silas nearly loses it.

He’s going insane. Her touch, smell, beating heart, and the thrumming of magic have him thinking such terrible thoughts. If he still had a cock, it would be hard and dripping.

He imagines touching her. Her gorgeous feet, shapely legs, and that waist. Kissing and running his new tongue along her soft skin. He knows what her lotion smells like, but how does it taste?

Speaking of taste… He remembers what Narron was hinting at.

Would his touch and tongue turn her into a pile of goo? He can imagine her whimpering beneath his hands. Only when she is begging him for more, to touch her between her legs, would he pull off her pants. Her panties would be drenched with her own slick.

Lily’s thumb digs into a particularly painful spot on his inner thigh. He grunts.

Lily stops moving her hands. “Are you ok?”

“Yes.”

She continues.

The pain didn’t stop his mind from conjuring sinful imagines. It fuels his disgusting thoughts.

Silas remembers women from his time being hairy, but he knows times are different now. Does she shave like those women on commercials? Or is she hairy? He imagines her with some hair. Pussy hair wet and begging for him to touch and taste.

He nearly moans at the thought of tasting her. The thick, heavy taste of pussy that lingers on his tongue and fingers. Gods above that is a taste he truly does miss.

Lily’s hands move away, and reality comes back.

Silas is disgusted with himself for thinking of Lily that way. The angelic necromancer who saved him from a second death. The woman who is giving him a second life he does not deserve.

Lily pats his leg. “Feeling better?”

He opens his eyes. Lily is smiling at him. Despite how embarrassed he is, warmth blooms deep within his chest at her sweet smile.

“Thank you.” His voice shakes.

“Anytime, Silas.”

It takes about a month for Silas to relearn how to walk.

His daily exercises turn into daily walking practice around the house. Lily walks with him. Her arm wrapped around his. If he began to wobble, Lily was there for physical support.

When he can walk through the house without worrying about falling, Lily and Silas began walking outside. They went from her front porch to the street curb every day. Then they were taking walks up and down the street. Then around the block.

By the end of the month, Silas could walk without any assistance. He did not wobble or struggle or rely on Lily for support. But during their walks, Lily kept her arm wrapped around his.

The next time they visited Narron, Silas walked into the store behind Lily.

Narron was at the front counter when he saw them.

“My word! The cowboy walks!” Narron nearly leaps over the counter in excitement.

“Yes, sir,” Silas laughs.

Lily stands beside him, her hand resting on his lower back. “He's been walking without assistance for about a week.”

“Truly? Oh, wonderful news!” Narron gushes.

“We thought you could do one last check-up on his legs. Just to make sure everything is ok,” Lily says.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Narron turns and gestures over his shoulder. “Come, come, come.”

The check-up is quick. Narron detects no problems with the bones or muscles. Or any issues with Lily’s magic.

“Lily, I am so proud of you. Your magic has exceeded anything I could have imagined.” Narron turns to Silas. “And you, my deathly cowboy, are most lucky to have a necromancer like Lily looking after you.”

“Ay, Narron, you and your praises,” Lily laughs as she looks down at the ground.

Silas takes her hand in his. “He’s right, Lil. You are amazing. And I am so lucky to have been found by you. Thank you for everything, darlin.”

Lily looks like she’s about to pass out, but then she smiles and swats at Silas.

“Flirt. You’ve been around Narron too much.”

Narron laughs. “That is not my influence, my dear.”

They leave Narron’s shop together. The way Lily’s arm is wrapped around his bicep leaves Silas feeling like the man he used to be before his death. And like before, Narron’s words bounce around in his head.

It’s three days later when a package arrives on their doorstep.

A package wrapped in brown paper with a tag that reads: For my sweet death blossom and her darling cowboy.

“It’s from Narron!” Lily laughs.

“Obviously.”

Lily rips the brown wrapping. “How do you know it’s obvious?”

“Narron is the only one I’ve heard that calls you ‘sweet death blossom,’” Silas says.

She laughs again. “You are correct, my darling cowboy.”

“Shut it,” Silas says, but he can’t keep the smile from his face.

Inside the box are two bottles of wine, a container of chocolate, a bundle of tobacco, and a pipe.

The wine is European. Elven writing on the bottle says its name, the region it was made, the amount of alcohol, and the magic used. Dark and sweet, with a lingering scent of elven magic. The smell makes Silas’ nose twitch. Even Lily shivers at the magic in the bottle.

The chocolates are made by a local goblin candy shop. Sweet and savory, the smell of them makes Silas’ mouth water. Sprinkles on the top of the chocolate glitter in the light.

The tobacco and pipe, though, interest Silas the most.

The tobacco is strong, with a hint of earthy sweetness to it. The smell of it brings a fuzzy memory to his mind.

Silas and a man are sitting together on the edge of a lake. The man is looking at Silas. His voice and face, however, are impossible to recognize. When the man turns away, Silas sees pointed ears with golden cuffs and piercings. The piercings glint in the sunlight.

The memory fades, and Silas is left with a heavy feeling in his chest.

“Silas?” Lily’s voice is soft and worried.

Silas clears his throat. “Yes, darlin?”

“You, ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just… just a memory.”

Lily's brows rise. “Was it good or bad?”

“Good, I think. The elf and I were sitting at the edge of a lake smoking.” Silas glances down at the bundle in his hand. “The tobacco smelled like this.”

“Want to go sit down?”

“No, no. I’m good. What else is in there?”

Lily hesitates to answer. “A pipe.”

The pipe is short and old. The faint smell of tobacco clings to the wood. Despite the age, the wood is smooth and has been well taken care of. On the bottom of the pipe is an inscription that reads 1850.

“It’s old,” Silas says.

“Any memories from this?”

The elf comes to his mind again. Him lounging in the shade, a pipe in his mouth, and a book opened on his chest.

Silas shakes his head. “Just that elf again.”

“Did you smoke a pipe?”

“I preferred cigars and cigarettes.” Silas twists the pipe in his hand. “But I will use this pipe.”

Lily’s hand rests on his lower back. “I think Narron will appreciate that.”

“Why did he send these?”

Lily holds up a note. “He wanted to give us a gift to celebrate fixing your legs. He felt bad he didn’t have anything to give us the other day.”

“How nice of him.” Silas grabs the bottle of wine. “Shall we open up the wine, darlin?”

An hour later and the first bottle is almost gone.

The wine is stronger than Silas expected. Regular alcohol does not affect him anymore, but this magic-infused wine has him feeling warm and tingly all over. It’s been decades since he was able to feel close to drunk.

Lily, however, is pushing the drunk line. She alternates between giggling fits and trying to have a serious conversation. She’s rambling on about a principle of magic that Silas is struggling to comprehend.

Laying back on the couch, with Lily pressed against his chest, Silas is far too comfortable. She’s warm, so very warm against his undead skin. Her bare shoulders are so soft.

Their empty glasses are on the floor near the nearly empty wine bottle.

When she stops talking, Silas looks down at her.

Lily’s eyes are heavy. Her lips are stained red. Through her usual sweet smell is the overpowering scent of sugar and magic. The magic in the wine strengthens her own. Magic hums beneath her skin, and every time they touch, shivers run through Silas.

There’s a change in her eyes. That blissful drunken look is swallowed up by lovesickness that Silas recognizes. He freezes.

Her hand reaches up and cups his face. Her fingers tingle with built-up magic. Silas wants to pull away from her hand, but he also wants her to keep touching him. Touch every part of him.

She’s pulling his face down. His mind screams for him to pull away. He’s undead, and his face is partially gone. Don’t kiss her, his mind screams.

But he wants to. He wants to taste her wine-stained lips. Feel her warm hands traveling up and down his body. Touch every part of her body until she’s crying out for him. Give in to this sweet sin, he thinks, just give in.

When their mouths are less than an inch apart, Silas sobers up. He pulls away from her hand, ignoring the way his entire body screams out for Lily.

Silas grasps her by the shoulders and pushes her to sit up. He takes a few deep breaths before he finally looks at her.

Her brows are furrowed, yet her eyes are glassy. He can see her confusion, embarrassment, and rejection in her aura. The usual black and green swirls are disrupted by lightning strikes of blue and white.

Her mouth opens, attempting to form a coherent apology, but the alcohol and emotions make it difficult.

Silas holds up a hand, and she stops.

“You’re drunk, sweetheart,”

“I’m not,” she slurs.

“Yes, you are. Why else would you kiss me?” Silas laughs. “A lovely lady like you don’t want to be kissing an undead thing like me.”

She looks serious. “But what if I do?”

The intensity in her eyes makes him swallow. He believes her, but he can’t bring himself to let this happen.

“Don’t say that,” he whispers.

She reaches for him. “Silas, I want to ki—"

“You don’t.”

“I do.” She licks her lips. “I want to kiss you. And touch you. And lov—”

“Lily, that is enough.”

Lily jumps. She instinctively pulls away from him; surprise and fear flash through her aura. Silas winces. He didn’t mean for his voice to be so loud. He didn’t mean to scare her.

“Shit, I’m sorry Lily, I didn’t mean to yell.”

She nods, but the hurt and confusion are still there.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he begins in a softer tone. “That wine has addled our brains.”

“Right,” Lily whispers.

Silas helps her up off the couch. She wobbles, but Silas keeps her standing. An arm around her waist, Lily leans heavily against Silas.

She is silent as Silas helps her to bed.

“Goodnight, Lil,” Silas whispers.

“Night.” She rolls away from him.

He ignores the ache in his chest and leaves her room.

The house is quiet as Silas walks back to the living room.

He picks up the empty glasses and wine bottle from the floor. The syrupy sweetness that once sent chills through his body now turns his stomach.

When the glasses are cleaned, chocolates and the wine bottle has been put away, Silas stands alone in the living room. There is no evidence of what happened in the living room. No lingering smell of sugary wine or magic. Even the soured scent of Lily’s embarrassment is gone.

The house is still quiet. From the dark hallway that leads to the bedroom, a dark shape emerges from the darkness. Familiar orange materializes as eyes glint in the darkness.

Todd gives Silas a long look before sitting and meowing.

“I know, I know,” Silas mutters as he slumps onto the couch.

Todd chirps again before approaching Silas. He sits at Silas’ feet, looking up at him. Silas can’t read the look in Todd’s eyes, but Silas knows he isn’t happy.

“I’m such a fool,” Silas whispers.

Todd blinks.

“She was drunk! What was I supposed to do, then? Let her kiss me?”

Todd tilts his head. His face remains unreadable.

“Have you seen me?” Silas scoffs. “She shouldn’t be kissing me. She deserves someone living with a beating heart and life in them. All I have are hazy memories of a past that barely feels like mine. And those memories, Todd, aren’t all good.”

Todd heaves a loud sigh, then jumps onto Silas’ lap.

Silas scratches Todd’s cheek. His purrs fill the room as his eyes shut.

“She deserves someone better than me, big guy.”

Todd’s eyes open then he pulls away from Silas’ hand.

Their eyes lock. Todd’s pupils narrow, then his eyes shimmer. As much as Silas tries, he can’t look away. A warmth washes through his body as something presses into his mind. Then a voice hums through Silas’ mind.

“Shouldn’t she be able to decide who she deserves?”

Silas jumps and tries to pull away, but he can’t. Todd is firmly implanted in Silas’ mind.

“Shit! You can talk?”

“Yes, all familiars talk.” Todd blinks again. “Mostly to our magic users.”

“I’ve never heard you talk!”

“We rarely communicate with others.”

“Why are you talking to me, then?”

“Because it is necessary.” Todd’s tail flicks.

“Necessary?”

“Yes, it is necessary because you are a fool.” Todd sounds annoyed.

“I know. I shouldn’t have been drinking with Lily.” Silas runs a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have been holding her. I was so close to kissing her.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, you idiot. Lily likes you. And you like her.”

Silas looks away. “I respect her. That’s it.”

“Liar. You might be dead, but I can smell that you like her."

"I don't smell any different."

"And I see how you look at her. She looks at you the same.”

“Todd, she deserves—”

Silas is cut off by Todd digging his nails into his thigh. He winces and fights the urge to push Todd off his lap.

“Lily can decide for herself who she deserves. And she has chosen you. She cares for you. She adores you. I do not understand why you push her away. Why do you deny your feelings? Why are you denying her?”

Silas is quiet.

“Why, Silas?”

“Because… because what can I give her?”

“Why do you think she wants you to give her something? She simply wants you. Do you want her?”

“Yes. Gods above and below, I want her. I want her so bad it hurts, Todd. I burn for her. My skin, my entire being, screams for her.”

“So, what is the issue? All she wants from you is companionship and a chance for love.”

“Isn’t that what you and Narron are for?”

“To an extent, yes. Our roles in her life are to help and support her down her magic path. But we cannot give her the type of companionship and love she desires.”

“I can be her friend,” Silas scowls, “but I’m undead, Todd. Anything more than that will not work.”

Todd’s head tilts to the left. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. How can she want to kiss me? I’m undead! I don’t even have a dick.”

Todd’s head tilts to the right. “Are you forgetting that Lily is a necromancer? Connections and relationships with the undead and spirits are not new to her.”

“You mean she’s been with other non-living entities?”

“You won’t be the first undead she’s adored and desired." Todd blinks. "But if you want to know more about those past relationships, you will need to ask Lily.”

Silas doesn’t know what to think. This talk hasn’t helped him very much. And talking to Lily about past relations with the undead and spirits is not something he wants to do. It sounds very personal, and the thought of others having connections with Lily makes Silas’ skin prickle. He has no right to be jealous, but he can’t help it. Was he always a jealous man?

“Is she mad at me?”

“No, she can’t be mad at you. But she is confused and hurt.”

“With me?”

“With herself.”

“She shouldn’t be.”

Todd yawns. “She is. You make it obvious how much you care about her. I think you might even love her. But she is doubting herself. She thinks she misread the signs.”

Silas sighs and leans against the back of the couch. He knows he can’t deny these feelings, and pushing Lily away is hurting her. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He adores her. He thinks he might even be in love with her. So, how can he continue hurting the person he loves? He can’t.

“What if… what if my memories come back and she learns I’m a terrible man?”

“You worry about who you were, but that does not matter anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because that man died years ago.” Todd stands and stretches, then jumps off Silas’ lap.

When Todd is at the hallway entrance, Silas says, “Todd, wait.”

Todd looks back. “Yes?”

“I will talk to Lily tomorrow.”

“Good.”

“Hopefully, I can fix this mess.”

“I am confident that you will.”

And with a wave of his tail, Todd vanishes down the dark hallway. Leaving Silas alone in the living room with his thoughts and regrets.

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #undead boyfriend #monster lover #zarcake writes

50 notes · View notes

kurokoros · 4 years

Text

party for two | aizawa

Rated: M

Words: 7.1K

Pairing: shouta aizawa x fem!reader

Summary: Unsurprisingly, being bent over a table by Shouta Aizawa isn’t how you expected the night to end.

Commissioned by @xaki

AN: I tried to keep this as close to the original request as possible! Enjoy!

Warnings: smut, light bondage, slight overstimulation, semi-public sex, miscommunication as a plot device

***

Carefully bringing your glass of champagne to your lips, you take a sip, casually glancing around the crowded ballroom, allowing your eyes to wander across familiar faces as you idly listen to Nemuri chattering beside you. You swirl your drink, bored already despite the events tonight. The charity event for a recent natural disaster isn’t anything new to you, and usually they’re more enjoyable than this, but you’ve been sulking all night. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud.

The other woman pauses suddenly, glancing at you as she sips from her own drink. A mischievous smile curls on the edges of her lips, her eyes flickering with mirth beneath her glasses. “He’s not here yet,” she tells you casually, turning back to the crowd milling around. Her smile is hidden behind her glass, but you’ve known her long enough to recognize the teasing tone of her voice.

You stiffen slightly, but otherwise don’t react. “Who isn’t here?” you ask, voice carefully blank. Despite that, you can feel a flush beginning to creep up your neck. You blame it on the lights and the sheer amount of Pro Heroes packed into the room.

But Nemuri knows you better than that. She snorts at your deflection, leaning back against the wall behind her as you fiddle with your glass. “You’re looking for Shouta, right?” she asks you. Her smile widens when your blush deepens. “Hizashi told me his flight landed a little while ago, but he isn’t here yet.” She nods towards the other Hero, the man strutting around the room with Eri sitting on his shoulders, the girl giggling at whatever Mic is saying.

You deflate slightly at her words, a pit forming in your stomach. “Am I that obvious?”

“Perhaps.” Her attention turns back to you, her brows narrowing in concern when she sees the conflicting concoction of emotions flickering in your eyes. Her voice lowers, her tone gentle as she asks, “What’s going on with you two? You’ve been in a mood ever since he left.”

You grimace as she brings it up. It’s been a little over a month since you last saw Shouta, the man leaving the country for reasons unbeknownst to you. Some secretive hero work mission. You hadn’t asked before he left, knowing he’d tell you all about it when he gets back, but you’ve been worried about him anyway. You’ve been watching Eri in his absence, and you’ve been restlessly waiting for him to come home, though this mission isn’t anything other than routine.

Well, that’s not entirely true. This time is different—for you anyway. Shouta was acting strange before he left, uneasy about something, and when you asked he brushed you off, promising to tell you when he came back. The month of waiting and speculating has left you feeling drained, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest any time you think about him for too long.

Instead of explaining any of that to Nemuri, you settle with, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You down the rest of your drink and fiddle with the empty glass, mood dampening further the longer you think about Shouta’s peculiar behavior.

Nemuri snorts. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been upset lately.”

“It’s nothing.” You wave off her concern, forcing a small smile. She levels you with a heavy stare and you sigh. “I just… I guess, I just miss him,” you tell her, grimacing a little at how juvenile you sound. But there’s really no other way to say it without dragging up years of repressed emotions that you definitely don’t want to get into tonight.

Quirking a brow, Nemuri glances at you, looking like she doesn’t believe you in the slightest. “Is that it?” she asks, prodding a little harder, head tilting to one side. Her stare is heavy, and you shift your weight to your other leg, avoiding her eyes. One look and you know she’ll see right through you. Maybe she will anyway, you’ve been told you’re easy to read.

“What else would there be?” Your voice stays light, airy and unconcerned, and you force yourself to look at anything else. You settle on staring at Hizashi and Eri, affection bursting in your chest. It’s been years since Shouta adopted the shy, sweet girl, and everytime she smiles like that you feel like your heart might just burst.

“You tell me,” Nemuri says, setting her empty glass on a nearby table and crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Her lips are pursed in thought when she turns to look at you, expression unreadable. Eventually, she sighs, her dark hair falling in front of her eyes as she gives her head a little shake. She shifts her weight to one hip and pivots on her heel to face you directly, blocking your line of sight and forcing you to face her. “Come on, we’ve all seen the way you two look at each other. There’s something there, am I right?”

With nowhere left to turn, you shift a little awkwardly on your feet, playing with the skirt of your dress, one long leg left revealed by a slit reaching high up your thigh. “Maybe,” you finally concede, unable to outright lie with her looking at you like that.

She seems pleased by your halfhearted response, a catlike smirk curling on her lips. “Are you going to do anything about it?” she asks you, uncrossing her arms and placing her hands on her hips.

You snort. “What makes you think I haven’t been trying?” you respond, just a little bit bitter. While you haven’t been explicit about your feelings for the other Hero, you haven’t exactly been shy about your subtle advances. You’ve always liked Shouta, and you’ve always been a little bit of a flirt when it comes to him. There’s no way he hasn’t noticed your feelings by now. Hell, you have half a mind to think he’s been flirting back with you lately. A few suggestive comments have slipped out in casual conversation, things that anyone else probably wouldn’t notice, but you’ve known Shouta for years.

Nemuri is right. There always has been something there. A string pulled taut between the two of you, a line neither of you have dared to cross despite the chemistry. You’re pretty sure you’ve been in love with Shouta for years now, but that might just be the champagne talking. And you’re sure as shit not going to give Nemuri that kind of information to use against you.

“If you were really trying, you and Eraser would be fucking by now,” she tells you blankly, expression utterly serious.

If you weren’t flushed before, you definitely are now. “Nemuri,” you hiss at your companion, voice higher-pitched than usual as a tinge of horror creeps into your tone. “Not so loud!” You can feel your face heating up, and your stomach swoops at the thought of you and Shouta doing anything like that. If only.

She seems unconcerned with the direction the conversation is taking, ever the sex positive one. “What? Everyone already knows about whatever’s going on between you. Neither of you are particularly subtle when it comes to each other. I wouldn’t be surprised if his current students knew all about you already.” She tosses her long hair behind her shoulder and levels you with a stare. Her eyes soften a little, and she sighs again. “You should see the way he looks at you when you aren’t watching. It’s like you’re the only one in the entire room. He’s always watching you, you know.”

“Stop,” you say. It’s hard to swallow down the lump growing in your throat, and you bite your bottom lip as you lower your gaze to the floor, unsure how to respond. Heat spreads through your limbs as you take in her words, warmth settling in your chest.

But Nemuri isn’t done yet. “I’m serious.” When her hand brushes against your arm, you find yourself relaxing into her, and her fingers squeeze around your shoulder. “When he gets back you better take your shot.” She grins at you, then winks. “He’d be an idiot to say no.”

Despite your mixed feelings, she manages to pull a quiet giggle out of you. “I’ll think about it,” you promise, a smile of your own tugging at your lips. “Thanks.”

Her eyes leave yours for a second, and she glances over your shoulder to something else. Surprise flickers in her eyes, but it quickly melts into smug amusement. “Well you better think fast.” When your brows knit together in confusion, Nemuri latches onto your shoulders and spins you around.

Your eyes immediately latch onto a familiar tall, dark, and handsome figure, and your mouth goes bone dry. “Shit,” you choke out. Fuck, you forgot how good Shouta looks in a suit. The one he’s wearing now is hugging his frame perfectly, accentuating his lean muscles and making him look particularly good tonight. His hair is pulled back neatly in a way that has you wanting to run your fingers through the dark strands and pull. It sure would be fun to make him look like his usual disheveled self right now, and the thought slaps you across the face like a physical blow.

You blink, subtly rubbing your thighs together.

And then your gaze slides to the side, and your entire body stiffens when you see an unfamiliar woman standing beside him, close enough for their arms to brush with every step they take. Shouta’s head is bent down and tilted towards her, listening with rapt attention to whatever she’s saying. A sick feeling churns in your stomach at the sight, all of the pleasant warmth from a moment ago immediately buried beneath it.

“Who is that?” you ask Nemuri, not taking your eyes off of the pair across the room.

“You don’t know?” someone else speaks up from behind the two of you. Your head snaps around to see Uwabami standing there, a sly expression on her face as she looks between you and Shouta. There’s an odd look in her eyes that makes your throat tighten, and a sick feeling rises in your gut as her lips curve into a smile that’s all teeth.

When neither you or Nemuri answer, Uwabami continues, “Apparently, Eraser has been keeping secrets.” She takes a slow sip from the drink she’s holding, keeping you both in suspense. Eventually, she gestures to the woman standing beside Shouta with a delicate flick of her wrist. “She has quite the rock on her finger. And tonight is the perfect time for a public announcement.”

It would have hurt less if Uwabami had slapped you across the face. You reel at the implication, flinching away from her. Your brows furrow, bewilderment surging through you, and you can’t tear your eyes from Uwamabi’s grin. The vipers in her hair hiss, watching you, and they appear to be smiling as well.

Nemuri breaks the tense silence. “What?” she asks, voice clipped with irritation as she narrows her eyes at Uwabami, glaring. “That’s impossible. They can’t be engaged. It’s been a month. They hardly know each other.”

Her reasoning is sound, and it lessens the vice grip around your chest. Your exhale comes out shaky and heavy, your grip a little too tight on your champagne glass. She’s right. It definitely wouldn’t make sense for Shouta to disappear for a month and come home engaged, of all things. He’s a reserved man, quiet and a little prickly at times, but he doesn’t keep secrets from the people he cares about. Especially not about something as major as this.

Despite that rationing, you’ve had just enough to drink tonight to make your thoughts take a hard swing towards irrational.

Before he left he said there was something he needed to tell you. And every time you’ve tried to make an advance on him, he’s unwittingly shot you down, leaving things painfully unresolved. Holy shit, what if Uwabami is right?

As if to drive the stake further into your heart, Uwabami lowers her voice to a husky whisper, and even her snakes lean towards you. “What makes you think they’ve only known each other for a month?” Her eyes widen in mock surprise. “Oh, dear, do you really think he tells you everything?”

You force down the lump growing in your throat and glance at Shouta and the woman you’ve never seen before. He’s still listening to her intently, but it’s as if he can feel your eyes on him. In the next second, you’re pinned in place under his heavy stare, those dark eyes latching onto yours from across the room. There’s a softness to his expression that wasn’t there a moment ago, but in your tipsy, confused state, you don’t realize it’s being directed at you.

Lingering on him a little too long, it’s harder than it should be to tear your gaze away from his. “He’s not getting married,” you tell Uwabami, voice little more than a whisper. Your own uncertainty does little to reassure you, and the empty pit in your stomach starts to expand, making your stomach churn. “He wouldn’t do that.”

He would tell you if he’d met someone. Especially if it was serious enough for someone like Shouta Aizawa to even consider marriage. Right?

Uwabami shrugs and smooths down the front of her dress. “I suppose you can just ask him yourself,” she says, flicking her wrist in his direction. “Here he comes.”

Heart dropping into your stomach, panic wells inside you as you realize that Shouta is, in fact, walking through the crowd towards the three of you, the other woman still clinging happily to his side. In the back of your mind, you’re only vaguely aware of Uwabami bidding you and Nemuri a goodbye, looking far too pleased with herself.

“I need to go,” you blurt to Nemuri, searching the room for an escape.

Her eyes widen. “What?” she hisses just as your eyes lock on a doorway leading out to a deserted hallway. If you had to guess, there’s probably an empty room out there calling your name.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t do this right now.” You chance another glance at Shouta, hardly noticing the minute frown pulling at his lips and concerned furrow of his brow.

Nemuri makes a grab for you, but you’re too fast. “Wait! You need to—”

Shouta calls out your name from behind you, and your heart seizes in your chest like there’s a hand wrapping around the delicate muscle and squeezing, but you don’t stay to hear what he has to say. You avoid Nemuri’s outstretched hand as you set your empty glass on a nearby table and bolt from the room.

No one tries to stop you as you hurry out the side door leading into the hall, though you garner a handful of confused looks from other Pro Heroes that know you. You ignore them, easily racing down the hall and slipping into the first open room you can find, heels clacking loudly against the tile floors.

It’s not until you’re sitting in the dark, plopped down on one of the empty tables in the room, far away from everyone else, that you feel like you can breathe again. You lean back with a sigh, palms pressed against the surface of the table, and your eyes flutter shut as you try to shove whatever just happened from your mind.

Running was by far the worst option, but somewhere in your panicked brain it was the only immediate solution you could come up with. Cowardly, maybe, but you couldn’t think of anything else to do. It hurt way too much to think that Shouta wouldn’t tell you something so important—and more than that, you feel like a fool for ever thinking he could feel the same way about you, and it makes your stomach swirl with sick anger.

Every muscle in your body locks up as you hear someone step into the room behind you. A familiar, soothing presence wraps around you, and your heart aches when you immediately realize who it is. You don’t say a word though, stock still where you’re sitting on one of the empty tables. But you don’t make another run for it either as Shouta steps further into the room.

The door clicks shut behind him, muffling the sounds of the fundraiser going on across the hallway. A shiver curls down your spine at the thought of being alone with him, but you shove it down as quickly as it comes, not wanting to dwell on that after what Uwabami told you.

“I thought I might find you in here,” Shouta says from behind you, a low drawl to his voice. His footsteps are nearly silent as he crosses the room, and you inhale sharply as you feel his breath puff against the back of your neck. “You should probably pick a better hiding spot next time.”

He’s so close that you can feel the heat rolling off of him, and despite the sick concoction of anger and confusion swirling inside you, you find yourself relaxing. Your shoulder barely brushes against his chest as you shift, still refusing to look at him, and Shouta only seems to lean into your touch.

“I’m not hiding,” you tell him, a little snippier than you meant it to be. “I just needed some air.”

The soft hum that reaches your ears is a clear sign that he doesn’t believe you. “In a dark room?” he asks. You can hear the faint trace of amusement in his voice, and despite your mixed feelings, your traitor heart skips a beat. He leans forward a little closer, just enough for a few loose strands of his hair to tickle the bare skin of your neck.

“I don’t judge you.”

“No. You don’t,” he replies, voice softer than usual.

Slowly, he backs away from you and edges around the table, coming to stand in front of you. Your gaze darts to the floor, purposely avoiding his, and a low sound rumbles in the back of his throat like he’s upset about something.

You cross your arms over your chest. “What do you want, Aizawa?” Calling him by his surname leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You haven’t done that in years. Shouta stiffens, reeling like you’ve slapped him, and his jerky movements draw your eyes back to him despite your resolve not to. A strange look flickers in his eyes, but it’s gone as soon as his eyes lock on yours.

He wets his lips. “I told you I needed to talk to you when I got back,” he reminds you, getting right to the point.

And here it is. The conversation you really don’t want to have right now. He’s going to tell you all about his secret fiancee and how in love he is—and fuck you want to kill Uwabami for putting that thought in your head. You just can’t stop thinking about it now. Fighting the urge to cringe away from him or openly grimace, you quickly school your features, looking at him with a carefully blank expression.

“It can’t wait?” you ask, desperately hoping your voice remains even and definitely not bitter.

Shouta is more serious than you’ve ever seen him. “No. It can’t.”

This time, your voice definitely comes out bitter when you say, “You don’t have to tell me anything. Apparently everyone else already knows.” Like fucking Uwabami of all people.

Surprise is clear in his eyes. “Oh? Is that so?” He sounds amused again, and there’s a faint smile tugging at his lips, like he’s realized exactly what’s going on in that head of yours.

A vice grip squeezes around your chest again when you see the expression on his face. That damn smile is nothing but trouble for you. It does funny things to your heart. “I need to take Eri home,” you tell him instead, ending the conversation before it can go any further. You’re really not in the headspace for this tonight. “It’s getting late.”

His amusement disappears in an instant as you begin to slide off the table, nudging him out of the way as your feet touch the ground. “Wait,” he tells you, his firm tone sending a shiver down your spine. You ignore him, gathering your purse, and shoving him further away from you. “I said wait.”

The next thing you know, your wrists are wrapped up in familiar white fabric, and you gasp as he tugs on the other end of his scarf, yanking you back towards him.

“Shouta,” you hiss at him, eyes narrowed into a glare as you tug fruitlessly at the fabric wrapped around your wrists. He has you firmly stuck, and, judging by his relaxed stance, he has no intention of letting you go anytime soon. “Untie me right now!”

It’s hard to see him in the dark, but you can hear him sigh and as the shadows in the room move. He crosses his arms over his chest, lips downturned, and there’s a frustrated tick between his brows. “Will you listen to me if I do?” You’ve known him long enough to hear the plea beneath his outward annoyance, like he’s desperate to get you to listen.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, pursing your lips as you stare at him through the dark. The hurt prodding at your ribs becomes a dull ache, still there, but not as strong. “Depends what you have to say,” you say bitterly, a lingering bite to the words. Again, you tug at the white scarf coiled around your wrists, determined not to give in to him so easily despite how good it feels to have him so close to you again. It’s been a long month without him, and you already know you’d stay rooted in place even without his scarf keeping you trapped.

He takes a step closer, and your breath catches in your throat as the tips of his fingers find your bare knee through the high slit in the side of your dress. “You’re not making this very easy for me, kitten,” he tells you, voice low and huskier than usual. The nickname hits you right between your legs, and your thighs rub together subtly as his palm grips your leg. “I had a plan for tonight, you know,” he continues, letting the pad of his thumb brush against the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I even asked Hizashi for help, but I guess that doesn’t matter now.”

“Shouta, what are you—” You bite back a moan when he squeezes your thigh a little harder, but can’t stop your gasp from escaping when he suddenly grabs the back of your thighs and lifts, dropping you back down onto the table you just got down from. Long fingers curl around your legs, slowly coaxing your thighs apart. A breathy gasp falls from your mouth as Shouta shifts the silky fabric of your dress aside, spreading your legs wider as he comes to stand between them.

There’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes when you’re finally able to make them out in the dark. There’s something else there too, a hunger that has heat rushing to the apex of your thighs. “I was going to do this the right way,” he tells you, slowly stroking the inside of your leg, his fingertips inching higher and higher, and you resist the urge to squirm under his touch. “Ask you out on a date first, but if you’d rather cut to the chase, I can do that too.”

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. “What about your fiancee?” you ask, trying to keep your voice even. It’s becoming hard to think with the way his big hands are touching you, teasing you, Shouta finding your sensitive spots so easily it’s like he’s touched you like this dozens of times. Maybe he’s thought about it.

It shouldn’t feel this good. Apparently he’s marrying someone else and never told you, but your body gives in to his gentle touch anyway. One of your legs hooks around the back of his leg, tugging him in closer to you.

Shouta’s other hand rises to your face, moving a stray lock of hair away from your face before his knuckles brush against your cheek. The simple touch is so full of affection that your heart feels like it might burst. “What fiancee? Ms. Fujikaze is engaged to the ambassador of the Hero Commission in Korea,” he tells you, making your eyes widen. “They’re announcing it tonight. I was merely acting as her bodyguard while she left the country.”

For a second, it’s hard to breathe. Your mouth moves soundlessly, thoughts whirling through your head, and you finally sputter out, “But Uwabami said—” You cut yourself off and swear under your breath. You should have known better than to think Shouta would lie to you about something as serious as marriage.

“I know what she said,” Shouta grumbles under his breath. Irritation creeps back into his tone and his grip on your leg tightens. “Such a gossip.” His dark eyes flicker up to meet yours, and he leans towards you, chest barely brushing against yours, lips just out of reach. “Were you jealous, kitten?” he asks you, drawing teasing circles against your upper thigh.

“No,” you lie, shivering when the tip of one of his fingers dips beneath the slit in your dress and grazes the hem of your lacy underwear. A breathy sound slips out before you can stop it, and Shouta stiffens in front of you, fingers twitching.

“Really?” he asks, a low drawl. “So you don’t want me to bend you over this table and fuck you?” His voice is a low growl against your ear, and electricity shoots up your spine as the words register. “Because right now, that’s all I want to do to you.” His mouth is dangerously close to yours, but when you lean forward to close that gap, he pulls back, leaving you wanting. “Answer me, kitten,” he demands, teasing the soft skin on the inside of your thigh.

You bite your bottom lip, back arching into his touch as you spread your legs a little wider. “What about, Eri?” you ask, avoiding the question. Fuck, do you want to say yes—drag him down for a kiss and let him have his way with you—but you need a little more clarification first. Tonight has been a whirlwind of emotions, and you’re half convinced this is some kind of dream.

But no. That’s definitely Shouta standing in front of you, nestled between your thighs as he presses himself against you. You can feel the faint outline of his half-hard cock through his slacks, and you practically purr under his rough touch, calloused palms rubbing against your soft skin. “What do you think Hizashi is helping me with?”

His nose bumps against yours, and you release a shuddering breath, lulled by the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you. “You’re serious about this,” you murmur, but it isn’t a question.

He hums. “Always have been.” The way his hand squeezes your thigh is reassuring, his touch familiar and warm. “What about you?”

He closes his eyes when your bound hands rise to his face, cupping his jaw gently. “I want you,” you whisper against his lips, idly stroking the stubble on his chin. “Please, Shouta.” He leans into your touch, forehead pressing against you, lips hovering just over yours.

“Good girl.” The hand on your thigh reaches around to grab a fistful of your ass, and Shouta swallows your squeal as he yanks you forward, hips grinding forward against yours sharply. You moan against his mouth, grasping at him tightly, and with one fluid movement his scarf unwinds from around your wrists. The fabric pools on the table beside you.

One of your hands grasps his shoulders to hold yourself upright as his mouth moves against yours, the kiss hot and heavy, years of pent up tension bursting between you. His teeth dig into your bottom lip, nibbling and sucking on the plump flesh until your back is arching into his chest. Shouta’s grip on your thighs is bruising, but the rough treatment only makes you keen. You’re quick to yank that damn tie out of his hair, a pleased hum vibrating against his lips as you rake your fingers through his soft hair, mouth moving against his fiercely.

There’s no slow climb, no teasing as he grinds himself against you, your thighs quivering around his hips at the sharp pressure against your damp slit. He’s hardly touched you, but you’re already wet. Arousal swirls in your stomach, spreading like fire wherever he touches you. A soft, fluttering sigh escapes you, your fingers clenching in the dark fabric of his suit jacket. The breathy sound makes him shiver, and his hands slide higher on your legs, gently teasing the bare skin of your upper thighs as his fingers skim the lacy hem of your underwear until he finds your clit through the fabric. You gasp as he begins to rub circles over it.

Somehow, in your rush to touch him, you end up yanking open his shirt, accidentally snapping a button off his crisp, white dress shirt in your hurry. He doesn’t complain, only grunts in approval as your hot hands touch his skin. The straps of your dress slide down your arms, the top half of your dress pooling around your waist and leaving your chest bare.

Shouta wets his lips, mouth hovering just an inch away from yours. You pout, trying to stretch up to meet him, but he moves with you, just out of reach. “What do you want, kitten?” he asks you. The pet name comes out rougher than usual, and you shudder as his thumb circles against your clit, pressing a little harder than before. Your hips jerk, rolling forward against him, but he grabs your hip with his free hand, holding you still as he continues inflicting such a sweet torture on your puffy nerve endings.

Huffing in frustration, you pant out a soft, “you,” because it’s the only thing you can think to say, your thoughts clouded by him. Having him this close might as well be heaven to you, and the last thing you want is for it to stop. It doesn’t matter where you are right now, or who could find you—all you want is him. Always.

Chuckling, Shouta brushes his knuckles against your cheek affectionately. “Cute,” he tells you, still denying you a kiss as he pinches your clit between his fingers, making you squeal. And then he lets go. The hand in your panties pulls away, and a whimper sticks in your throat. Your thighs squeeze around him, your leg hooking around his hip to pull him closer, but he doesn’t budge. Leaning down, his lips brush against the shell of your ear. “Tell me what you want, or I’ll stop,” he says, a low warning. “Don’t make me ask again.”

A desperate need coils tight between your legs at the threat of him stopping when you’re wet and aching for him. Right now, he has you wound so tightly that you could burst. You tug at his hair, your other hand sliding around to the front of his chest, your palm pressing against his pounding heart. “I want you to fuck me, Shouta,” you tell him bluntly, too turned on to be embarrassed by your words.

Finally, he gives in to your silent demand, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss against the corner of your mouth. “Turn around and put your hands on the table,” he whispers in your ear, squeezing your hip.

With that, he lets you go, taking a step back and watching you through hooded eyes as he yanks off his jacket and half-buttoned shirt, tossing both to the floor beside his discarded tie. You bite down on your bottom lip, drinking in the sight of him half-naked in front of you, and your thighs rub together as you slide off the table, a little unsteady on your feet.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe back to him, unable to resist the urge to tease him a little bit.

The reaction you get isn’t what you were expecting.

His eyes widen at the word sir, and his patient expression sharpens, his eyes darkening with arousal. In the next second, his hands are on your hips, yanking you around and all but shoving you against the edge of the table. You fall forward, mewling as the hard edge digs into your stomach. Big hands gather up your wrists and fold them behind your back, and you moan as his hips rock forward against your ass in a hard grind.

“Don’t move, kitten,” he demands as he gathers the long skirt of your dress in one hand and bunches it around your waist, leaving the silky fabric to pool across the cold surface of the table. Shouta’s hand follows the gentle curve of your ass as he looks down at you, groaning in the back of his throat. You make a pretty picture like this, bent over and dripping for him, and he hums in approval, cock twitching in his pants.

He gives your cheek a quick smack before he hooks his fingers beneath the edge of your panties, slowly tugging them down your thighs until they pool around your ankles. You squirm as cool air brushes against your dripping slit, your back arching off the table. Shouta’s palm slides up your naked back, tracing the dip of your spine and pressing you back down.

Your eyes flutter shut, your cheek pressed against the table. You can’t see him like this, but you don’t have to, so attuned to every move he makes, every sound loud in the quiet room.

The clanking of metal as he unbuckles his belt has you rubbing your thighs together, your wrists digging into your lower back in anticipation.

Shouta groans as his hot hand wraps around his cock. He strokes himself slowly, eyeing you beneath him as he slips his hand into his pocket, fishing out the condom he grabbed before leaving. It was a last second decision, but damn is he glad he did it, no matter how presumptuous it may have been at the time. He rolls it on smoothly, thumb rubbing against the curve of your jaw as he squeezes the back of your neck just to hear your sharp, delighted inhale. He doesn’t do more than that though. Not this time.

It doesn’t take long for him to press himself against you, his cock rubbing against your slick pussy from behind. Your fingers twitch as he grabs his scarf off the table. The fabric slides against your wrists, and your eyes widen as he loops it around your hands. You gasp as his cock slides between your thighs, rubbing against your clit. It’s just enough of a distraction for Shouta to tie you up again.

He leans over you, one hand pressed against the table beside your hip. With the other, he runs his thumb against the careful knot he’s made, your wrists tied behind your back. His fingers slide across your skin, wandering down to your hip, and you shiver beneath his gentle touch, electricity prickling at your skin. “You look good like this,” he tells you, grinding against your inner thigh. Leaning down, his chest presses against you back so that you can feel the length of his body against your spine. He covers you completely, long and lean, and you curl into his touch when his lips find the side of your jaw in the dark. “Is this okay?” he asks, voice muffled as he kisses across your jaw.

“Yes,” you gasp as his mouth moves down the side of your neck. You rock back against him, hips rubbing against his, and Shouta grunts against your ear as you grind yourself against his cock. “Fuck, Shouta,” you whine when he just stands there. “Please.”

The needy tone you use makes him chuckle. “All right, kitten.” If this were any other time and place, you think he’d probably tease you more, but you’re on a bit of a time limit tonight. Shouta doesn’t keep you waiting. He grabs one of your hips to hold you still, and with a rough thrust of his hips, his thick cock spreads your lips and shoves deep inside your pussy.

You squeal at the sensation of being filled, but you’re so wet and ready for him that there’s no resistance. For a second he doesn’t move, letting you adjust to his size and your delicate position. A soft kiss is pressed against the back of your shoulder. His hair tickles the side of your neck.

And then he starts to fuck you.

Each rough slap of his hips against your ass has the edge of the table digging into your stomach, but you can hardly feel it, too overwhelmed by the pleasure to care. The wet sound of his cock pounding into you from behind makes your eyes squeeze shut, your fingers white-knuckled behind your back, and breathy moans fall from your mouth with every perfect thrust. Shouta drives himself into you slowly, cock hard and hot as he grinds against your sweet spot with every deep rock of his hips.

Your hips roll back to meet him, and he groans, voice low against your ear. Shouta’s grip on your hips tightens, and he thrusts against you harshly just to pull more sweet sounds from your lips. Your mouth falls open with a silent cry as he grinds into you, the tip of his cock rubbing against your walls just right. Leaning over you, Shouta presses another soft kiss to the back of your shoulder as his dick drags along your inner walls, your muscles squeezing around him. He pulls out of you slowly, only his cockhead still resting inside you, and you squeal as his hips snap forward roughly, filling you so suddenly that you can’t breathe.

Shouta says something you can’t make out, hand clenching around your hip as he drags you back to meet his powerful thrusts. Your panting and the muffled slap of sweat-slicked skin are the only sounds in the empty room, both of you too lost in each other to try and speak beyond garbled pleas and calls of the others’ name. A choked gasp tears from your throat as he shoves into you, and you whimper at the feeling of him stretching you from behind, the sensation new, but becoming highly addictive.

At the sound of your whine, Shouta picks up the pace. A fast snap of his hips steals your breath again, and you arch against him. Each thrust pushes you closer to the edge, and your sense of time falls away as you surrender yourself completely to the rhythm.

Your walls suck at his retreating length, and you whimper as you shove yourself back on his cock. His hand reaches beneath your hips, thumb rolling over your clit. You pant his name, begging him to fuck you harder. The coil in your gut is wound so tight that it almost hurts.

Shouta murmurs your name against your ear as you squeeze around him, trembling, your hips rolling against his roughly. His thrusts are fast and rough, and you whimper, fingers twitching against your back. The desperate need to touch him claws at you, but your arms are still stuck firmly behind your back, and no amount of wriggling will unravel the knot he’s made.

The rhythm he’s built up stutters as your pussy clenches around him, your muscles seizing. Quivering, your toes start to curl. Shouta’s pace slows into a languid rocking, and you whine, trying to grind yourself back against his cock. He stills you with a hand on your hip, and you think you hear him chuckle as you struggle to cling to the last threads of your impending orgasm before it disappears.

“Patience, kitten,” he tells you, still rubbing your swollen clit.

You twitch beneath him, not sure if you’re trying to get away from the fingers playing with you or trying to make them press harder. Either way, the teasingly light touches make a choked moan fall from your mouth. Suddenly, the fabric around your wrists comes loose. Shouta leans against your back, mouth against your ear.

“Put your hands on the table,” he tells you. It’s not a request.

You’re quick to comply, and then it’s all you can do to keep breathing as his thick length fills you from behind, Shouta’s pace becoming faster, rougher. Your wet walls cling to him with every thrust, but he doesn’t slow this time.

His thumb presses harshly against your clit, and you’re pulled taut as a sudden climax crashes through you. It slams the breath from your lungs, and your muscles lock up. You choke on his name, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure coils in your stomach and then snaps just as quickly.

It leaves you boneless. Breathless. But Shouta doesn’t stop fucking you. His fingers only move faster against your clit, and you shudder at the stimulation that borders on too sensitive. You’re twitching beneath him, a dripping mess, and he only huffs against the back of your neck as he keeps thrusting into you from behind.

The grip he has on your hips shifts, and then you’re being dragged upwards. You back curves off the table, your sweaty palms sliding against the slick surface the only thing holding you up. You nearly sob as Shouta’s fingers leave your puffy clit and slide up your bare stomach. He palms your breast, lips pressed to your shoulder as he guides you head back against his chest.

He rolls your nipple between his thumb and finger, and you writhe. You’re so far gone at this point, exhausted with waves of bliss still rippling through you, and it’ll only take a few more precise rolls of his hips to have you coming undone all over again.

There’s a hitch in your breathing, and Shouta sighs against the back of your neck. “That’s a good girl,” he says, kissing across your naked shoulder. Still squeezing your breast, his other hand disappears between your thighs, and the knot of tension in your belly snaps just as suddenly as the first.

You cum hard on his cock for a second time tonight, thighs shaking.

Shouta isn’t far behind you, bottoming out inside you as he spills himself into the condom. His thrusts slow, but don’t stop, dragging out your orgasm for as long as possible before he finally stills behind you.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stand there like that, locked together as he presses a series of sweet kisses down the side of your neck, careful not to leave a mark. He recovers faster than you, gently stroking his hands over your waist until your shivering subsides.

“How about that date?” he asks you suddenly.

“Date?” you repeat, still hazy from the two orgasms he ripped from you. He hums, looping his arms around you and holding you gently against his chest. Shouta rests his cheek against the top of your head. Vaguely, you recall him saying that was his original plan. Seems like you’ve gone and done things completely out of order. “Yeah,” you tell him, eyes slipping shut as warmth floods through you. “That sounds good.”

#aizawa shouta x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha #bnha #bnha smut

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secret-time-is-here · 3 years

Text

An Error's Journey

Chapter 25

Previous - First - Next

He expected to wake up to a mattress on the floor again, the line between dreams and reality blurring. It was hard to tell how much he was going to remember, how long he felt like he was reliving his memories, and when he would return to being the feared destroyer of worlds.

“Error? Are you coming to?” Nightmare’s deep voice spoke softly.

“Weird way ta refer to wakin’ up, ‘Mare.” The glitch slurred, his eyes heavy, body warm and comfortable.

“Error...” Nightmare started, sighing, “I… You…” The other tried again, “...There was a reboot bar above your head all night.” The guardian deadpanned.

Error slowly opened his eyes to Nightmare’s concerned face, a rare occurrence to see even by the gang. Then again, the two of them always kept each other a little closer than they kept the gang.

The negative offered a hand and helped Error slowly sit up-easing the old scared and injured bones into a better position. “It wasn’t exactly a reboot bar, however… it took some time to discern exactly what it said-written in binary rather than letters-but it does confirm some things.”

“Night, you don’t gotta beat around the bush for me.”

“The bar said it was recovering lost data… so those for sure are your memories, but this brings worries to the table. These...” Nightmare gestured with his hands for a moment, “...recoveries could happen any time-they aren’t dreams. They could happen during battle for all we know. It doesn’t help you don’t get any rest during them-so you could start passing out during the day too, and sleeping seems to-”

“Woah, slow down.” Nightmare finally stopped, a frown engraved into his expression, “Worrying ain’t gonna help us.”

“How are you not worried about this?”

“I am… for now though, it seems like I just have to wait things out. Core will tell me everything in due time, and for now, we are safe from whatever shared enemy we have.”

“But how long do we have?”

“Well, Core ain’t rushing me to find my team yet, and they’re the one that wants us to beat this person the most so I think it’s safe to say we have a good amount of time.”

-----

Thanks to Core’s little news drops on his ex, he can find a good time frame on how long ago he’s remembering-and can finally estimate how much longer he has to remember. Unfortunately, it’ll take some good digging in the more off-limits area of the Omegatimeline’s library, but he has a few ways he can get in there. Who knew his side hobby of studying religion would become so useful?

Slipping into the Omegatimeline was easy as per usual, stepping into the back office of his small studio apartment-sized workshop. On his desk still lay his latest commission, as well as the files for a new shop somewhere in the main square of Omega-one specific location incredibly close to the grand library Omega boasted. It would be a wise choice since he would likely need to verify when he’s remembering often.

Pushing the document off to the side, he made his way out of the building, weaving through mid-day traffic and making it to the ancient mansion that is the Omega Library. Being there often enough, he made his way to the back sections easily, even greeting the workers that saw him so often along the way. It’s amazing how much a mask can let you relax and give you a chance to start over.

The security guard recognized him, nodding their head and letting him pass through to the old tomes that record the centuries of history and precious information. The room was hardly lit, a space rarely ventured with sparse armchairs and a simple few couches surrounding a coffee table in the middle. Stairs reaching high and low, making it one of the tallest towers as well as the longest basements in the Omegatimeline.

“Oh! Hiya Mr.M!” Ink’s cheerful voice chirped from the center couches, “Didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Nor did I.” Error tried to calm himself, battle instincts raging inside of him, but poker face set in stone. “Not to overstep, my divine, but I didn’t think you’d spend your free time in a library-much less the more forbidden sections.”

“My divine-? Oh yeah, I’m a God.” The creator chuckled to himself, “Honestly, you live so long you forget sometimes. I like brushing up on Omega history every now and again-since it existed for a good, I dunno, at least a good couple centuries before I did.”

“You… weren’t one of the first timelines?”

“Uh...” Ink pulled out his personal tome-the same as the last time he saw it, faintly fizzling with traces of his magic-and flicked to a page, “Nope! Ya would think they’d have that written down-pretty sure they still have a book on me somewhere in here.”

Ink got up from his seat, looking over the ledge down to the lower levels and up above. “Think it’s… eh I can’t even make a guess.” He shrugged, “Anyhow, yeah. Omega’s older than me.”

“I had always thought you were one of the oldest in the multiverse-reaching to Core’s age...”

“Nah, there’s a good handful here in Omega that can say they’re older than me-and plenty of people out there in the multiverse that are older too. There’s the basic names: Classic, Fell, Cobalt, and Hearts-although he’s left the council now...”

There’s a boast, being older than the God of Creation. Classic and Fell were easy enough to know, and if you did your research, Cobalt was too. He came to be a part of Omega after Blue, so he ended up with a different name-but he is from the original Underswap timeline, although the timeline has long since been abandoned. The whole place corrupted and destroyed. Blue would be up there on the list too, but he’s far more recognized for being a part of the Star Sans’ than being the second Underswap timeline.

Silence stretched for a moment, “Oh right-why are you here? Sorry, still trying to keep up with proper manners and all that, Dream’s been getting on my spine about it.”

“I came to brush up on my history as well, although it's for a more recent project of mine rather than fun.” He spoke confidently, the twist of words no lie. Technically, it was a project to find out what he was remembering, it doesn’t matter if Ink thinks it's a project for his Divine research.

“Well, any project can be for fun!” Ink’s voice picked up again, a wide smile stretched on his face, “I assume you mostly know the divine area-so I can lead you over to the older history sections.” Ink began to walk away, gesturing for Error to follow, “Takes forever to get to it if you don’t know where it starts.” Ink commented, making his way down the stairs.

“Wouldn't it start at the bottom?”

“I don’t know what system they use-can’t judge though, I have zero organizing skills-what was I saying? Right-don’t know how they arrange things, but it actually starts three floors down-not the full eleven or so. I think they just expand the basement for each new century.” Ink shrugged, weaving through towers of books and bookshelves like they were attacks on a battlefield.

Error quickly followed, not with nearly as much grace as the shorter God, but still making his way through. “Anyway, the first one starts here, simple enough.” Ink turned towards him, “I should be heading back up-hope to see ya again buddy.”

“Any time, my divine.”

“Eh, no need for those fancy-schmancy titles, fuck, even Ink is more than enough. Besides, anyone can become a God-look at me!” He gestured to himself, “Haha, for all I know you could be a God! So no point in those formalities.”

“Alright... Ink.”

The other only nodded and casually walked off back towards the stairs. It’s almost funny how different he is normally compared to in battle.

In the back of his mind, he can feel a cloud of memories-of unrecovered data that would make this moment nostalgic. That could connect to that tome. That could connect to those little blurs of moments he can see in his inner eye. That could connect him and Ink somewhere in the past.

It didn’t even take a moment for him to accept he won’t remember what that connection is for a good while.

He looked around for a moment, reaching out with his magic to see if any soul was nearby before pulling up his panels. The basic timeline beginning to fall into place in his mind as he reread through his notes.

He’s nearly as old as the recorded history of the multiverse, which is roughly just over one thousand years-and with Core’s hint about the balance of the multiverse, he can guess that around the time Ink was created he was turned into a God. He knows that the antivoid turned him into the error he is now, and therefore, also gave him the Godly powers he has. How he got into the antivoid, he can’t pinpoint-but he can find exactly where he is in his memories.

Hearts, or Lust at the time, had become a member of the council about two decades after the recorded history of the multiverse. However, Ink is only a few centuries younger than the multiverse, so that still leaves several centuries' worth of memories before he became an error, and there are plenty of centuries of being an error that he still doesn’t remember.

Small details kept itching at the back of his mind, the saved news articles having small things that just left him on edge. How Core would disappear and reappear in Omega… how Core reappeared in Omega not long after Lust joined the council.

He was stunned to find other details, like how Death had been a part of the council for a time, disappearing sometime after Core reappeared. His sudden disappearance reminded him of his most recent memories...

“I would not be surprised if he started to pay more attention to you from now on.”

What could have happened-what did happen that would cause Reaper to completely disappear from the council like that? Disappear from Omega entirely? What tragedy or paradise awaited him the next time he was to recover his lost data?

Core has already confirmed that they somewhat guided or helped his team-did Core direct Death to stay by his side for a time? A buddy to help him while Core attended to other responsibilities? Or was it to help each other out?

“With the way I’ve directed them, and the way I’m directing you, any of you should be able to help each other and be able to pull the other back if anything does go wrong.”

The latter seems most likely, and with only the two of them existing at the time-as far as his confirmed team goes-it would be an easy way for Core to keep an eye on them. To make sure nothing decides to suddenly go off track.

He continued to read through the different accounts and newspaper clippings, finding that Death had come back for about a century at some point before officially leaving the council. Even more accounts saying that he completely disappeared from the Omegatimeline again not long after that. Although from personally knowing the God, Error knew well Death still has access to Omega, and visits often for coffee-and probably to visit Ink now too.

By the time he had finished up his notes, the Library was near closing, and he headed back to his workshop, creating a portal to a random AU in the safety of the back of his workshop.

The random AU thankfully was abandoned, and he allowed himself to relax under the stars of the world’s night sky. Enjoying the feeling of anonymity amongst the tall grasses of the wide plains.

He thought back to the first time he saw the stars, helping Hearts to the surface of his AU...

...He didn’t know how to feel about that memory anymore.

“Error…?” Dream’s voice was cautious, rightfully so. Error grunted as polite of a greeting he could offer to his enemy, “I do hope you aren’t destroying this AU...”

“I’m not allowed to relax somewhere?” He asked sarcastically, silence following suit. He scoffed, “Ya’know what? Don’t bother answerin’ that. I’m not destroying it right now and that’s all ya need ta know.”

He could hear the faint rustling of Dream sitting down, the subtleties of the long blades of grass parting for the younger as loud as cannons to his keen hearing. He could hardly relax with the other so close by, too focused on trying to pick up any quiet warp of a portal or ping of Dream making an arrow. The creak of his bow pulling back-ready to strike Error down once and for all.

“Error… we may be enemies, but it does not take a friend to tell that you’ve been off lately.” Dream spoke lightly, concern dripping through his even tone.

“I’m not talking about this with you. Fuck off.”

“Does this change mean you will quit destroying?”

“Stars if I know, you’re acting like ya want to be my friend or some mushy shit like that.”

“The multiverse comes first before everything else for me, but I can not deny that much like Ink… you do pique my curiosity.” Error huffed, still tense, but the easy banter relaxing him somewhat, “If things were different, I’ll admit I would give you a chance.”

Error burst out laughing at that, thinking back to his conversation with Ink earlier that day, how easily he wore the mask of Lapse D. Mode. How the other didn’t even think he was accidentally giving the Destroyer a second chance. Now he wants to copy the same with Dream just to see what would happen.

Dream happened to give him the perfect idea for a cover, “Why the laughter? I am sure you know I try my best to speak with honesty.”

“You’re an idiot to be honest with ya enemy-and givin’ me of all people a second chance? Ya really think I’d believe that?” He spoke with great confidence, acting out a mockery of his insane days with ease.

“It’s not being an idiot, it’s called living by my morals.” Dream glared, his facade of positivity falling with no one else nearby-just like their last battle.

“Morals are easily corrupted,” Error challenged, standing up, his form towering over Dream, “People are easily corrupted, the world as we know it is easily corrupted.”

“Must you think the dark of everything?” Dream stood up, one hand ready to grab his bow if need be.

“Must you see the good in everything?” Error mocked, Dream’s glare dropped.

“...Error, why are you covering? You do know I can read your emotions just like Nightmare, do you not-? I can tell when you’re faking or not.”

Just like Nightmare? Could Dream be one of the other two? Could he come from the same place as Nightmare?

“Ya really think I’d tell ya?”

“I think you are hiding something,” Dream seemed to be trying to read past his poker face, “I think you want to talk about it, but for some reason, you can not.”

“Ya’know, if ya think about it, everyone’s hidin’ somethin’. Some of us just got more ta hide than others.”

“So you do not deny having a secret?”

“Nope. No point, ya can probably tell if I’m lying or not.” He shrugged, “Do you have a secret? We can trade...”

“I am sorry to say, but I have nothing to hide.”

“Not even ya past? Not a secret ‘bout where ya came from? Not a secret of that precious Omega ya hold so dearly?”

“Unlike you, Error, I live openly. I come from Dreamtale, was held in stone for a century, and had to adjust to life on the run until Ink found me. I live in safety in Omega, and fight anyone who threatens the health of the multiverse.”

“Safety? Haha, you call Omega safe?”

“That I do… If not trade a secret, may we have a trade of information? I am sure you were unaware of at least one thing I listed.”

“Hmm, I dunno, I’m pretty sure I knew all of what ya listed. Isn’t it written down in a book ‘bout ya in the back of the forbidden area of the grand Omega Library...? Written by an old professor at the local college?” Dream’s expression paled with shock, “Not so safe, is it?”

Error walked around Dream until they were back to back, “I’ll still take a secret for a secret...”

The other went silent, and Error’s poker face dropped, now unseen by the other. “Time’s a tickin’-I’m a very busy skeleton Dream.”

“...I was not born a God.” Dream muttered darkly as if reliving the experience that turned him into one-which Error was sure was not happy.

Dream turned around, and so did Error. The positive offered his hand to shake, “A secret for a secret.”

“...Are you sure?” He smirked, Dream nodded, “You do know, no matter what I tell ya, it can’t be confirmed? As far as I know, there isn’t a single book out there written on me, not a single piece of information unless it’s in the memories of the monster I know-which all are bound to secrecy if they do know me.”

Dream nodded again, “Fine then… it’s not really a secret-but something that no one else knows about… I have a secret life outside the battlefield.”

“Wha-How?!”

“Does it matter? I gotta have a safe place of my own pretty boy.” The hint of yellow on Dream’s cheekbones momentarily reminded him of someone else…

“...Then why keep destroying? If you managed to make a life of your own elsewhere-”

Error didn’t have an answer.

All characters belong to their respected creators

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ggukkiereads · 3 years

Note

hi i'm just vv curious (it's a weird question 😅) sooo, do u have preferences when reading? like maybe you can be immersed in the story more if other character names used are korean (jihyo/taewoo) or american/english (jane/clint)??? and other stuffs

🌷 Hmm interesting question. I assume this question is for fanfics? On name choices? No thoughts, really. I just think they're names to indicate location of the story too. If the story is set in Korea, it's just right to see Korean-named characters. If it's in other location or even a different world (say Fantasy), then having non-korean names also fits the setting. Reader inserts vs named OC, I don't have preferences since I always think of the character as OC (not as 'myself' the reader). Same way how I treat books/novels, which are mostly named OCs (even if the pov is in 2nd or 1st like The Lovely Bones or The Catcher in the Rye).

I guess what's cringey for me is the use of 'oppa'? I get that in Korean context, it's meant to be used by a female for an older male (can be brother or non-related). But I've seen 'Oppa' used in some vids or posts that make me cringe (like the term is used to mean a hot, thirst-inducing male haha or dilf-y but make it slightly older brother vibes). So every time I see the term used in fics, I have to stop myself reacting 😬. But that's just me and my experience seeing how it's been used.

More thoughts about reading preferences under the cut (can't guarantee they're coherent lol)

I also like balance and progression? 'Balance' seems to be a favorite word in my life. Progression - a well developed plot/characters/relationships would be nice. Like don't just add smut as a resolution for the sake of having smut in the scene when the characters clearly have so many issues to resolve that moment. I'd also rather read a smutless fic if it doesn't really need one (sometimes it feels like the smut is forced to be included in the story because I understand a lot of people like smut). Or it's weird if it's hurt/comfort fic and we're in the middle of seeing their development then suddenly it's all smutty/kinky? I'd feel like smut was just forced in the story but end of day it's at the expense of the characters/relationship development. The momentum of healing suddenly feels disregarded too. I understand it must be difficult to develop the story while ensuring that the growth in the plot/characters/relationships is also at the right pace. So, it's not a deal breaker and I'd still read and find things I like/love about the fic.

I guess, same way with slow burn? Like I've read one slow burn that felt like it was so forced to be slow that at one point it almost felt so unnatural or intentional because I'm not seeing any growth in the characters or even the relationships (and the author actually received a lot of comments about this too). So, I call it gratuitous slow burn 😅. Well, I still read it because I still love the story but I had to agree that it felt forced at times to be that slow for the sake of torture lol. On the other hand, I think I posted a rambling about a slow burn fic I'm reading on ao3 where we're already at 260k words and the characters haven't even kissed 🤭. Now, that fic is just perfect 👌. Because the progress of the characters and relationships was just right. We really see character development and we know that once the OC achieved certain level of comfort/safety, things will unfold naturally. So, it doesn't matter to me (if it's really slooow or too angsty or too smutty) as long as there is balance in the story elements (again, it just throws me off a bit when: there's smut for the sake of just inserting it, or making it slow but it's not making sense anymore, or too fast just to race it to the happy ending finish line, or killing characters just to make it angsty even though it's not needed).

I also dislike romanticized concepts on topics which shouldn't be romanticized. I read any genre (even yandere, crime, thriller, infidelity themes), but the feeling I should have after reading should be scared or creeped out. Even with infidelity fics, I read because one, I like angst; second, I want to understand from the characters' pov. It shouldn't feel like 'ooh cheating looks fun' or 'oh he's so hot!' (even though he abused and killed some characters 😅).

I said a lot but honestly I still read even if there are snippets of these in the fic. First, these are just free stories that the author still painstakingly took time to plan, develop and write. Not easy, folks! Second, I feel like I'm being too harsh if I demand these personal 'preferences' of mine over something I'm not even paying for. The least I can do is to show appreciation or 'share' with others (because maybe it's not my cup of tea but it'll end up as someone's favorite.)

It also doesn't mean one can be harsh just because you purchased the book or commissioned it. End of day, let's choose to be kind and focus on good over bad.

If you've reached this part, thank you for reading these ramblings of mine 😂. I actually want to hear other's preferences too when it comes to reading. I know others are nitpicking on grammar or misspellings but I don't really mind these. I feel like people don't have time to edit and that's okay.

Anyway, thank you for this ask, anon. I actually enjoyed answering this. I feel like I put more thought into this vs my responses to my boss' questions about reports hahaha 😂🤣.

Sending you love and hugs wherever you are 🤗.

#🌷 chats #anon #about ggukkiereads

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thecardsimagine · 3 years

Text

Kisses & Memories

Another commission for @little-puku ♥ Thank you for supporting me and my writing, it was lovely to write for you ♥

Characters: Esli (OC) x Julian Genre: Fluff, Domestic Relationship

"Welcome!" Esli chimed from the backroom as he heard the heavy door opening. Clapping the dirt off his hands before taking the flower he had just planted in a pot and returning to the front room to greet his customer, Esli was positively surprised over the red hair, black eyepatch, and signature wide smile that greeted him halfway into the shop.

Julian's arms swopped around Esli before the latter could even begin to laugh, pulling him - and the plant - into a loving embrace. Their lips met longingly, neither of them able to hide the smiles that the affection brought over them. "It's a little early for a 'Welcome Home!' kiss, isn't it?" Esli noted when they took a breather, and Julian chuckled before stealing a quick smooch off his boyfriend one more time.

"Admittedly, I am here for business. But, no one said business can't be fun," Julian explained, following Esli's every step towards the flower table where he put down the one he had just repotted. "Aw, and here I thought you came to surprise me."

With his hands finally free, Esli pulled Julian into one more deep, intimate kiss, eventually detaching from him with a warm feeling on his cheeks and butterflies in his stomach. Letting his thumbs glide over Julian's cheeks, Esli could see how Julian relaxed, leaning into the affection with gusto. "What business could you have with me, Doctor?" Esli asked, almost sorry to destroy the sweet moment they shared. But a glance at the clock on the wall gave away that it was much too early for Julian to end his workday. The population of Vesuvia still needed him and his skills as a doctor, even after midday and even if Esli would have loved to keep Julian right where they were, by his side.

"I need a..." Taking a sharp breath, Julian thought for a moment, mumbling under his breath as he tried to find the words he wanted to use. "Ramo de flores, mi Amor," Julian requested, proud that he'd still remember the words. Reaching for Esli's hand, he left a trail of kisses down his arms before the two finally separated. The use of Esli's mother tongue didn't leave him unfazed, a pleasant tingling running through him as he let out some chuckles. Julian knew exactly how to plant a smile on his face and make him happy, even if it was such a minor gesture. Nonetheless, Julian was a good student, and he had sought up the few words and sentences Esli had taught him, putting them to good use.

"A bouquet? That's unusual!" Esli laughed. Returning to his workstation, Julian followed Esli at a proper distance. There was no need for him to pretend to be a good customer, but Esli could see that Julian was trying to be courteous, especially since he was asking for a favor. "It's for a sweet, elderly patient of mine. It's the anniversary of their marriage, and they want to get their partner flowers but have troubles walking, so I told them I'd help them out!" Julian exemplified proudly, and Esli couldn't help but admire his boyfriend. "You're too good for the world, Julian," Esli praised, leaning over the workstation to leave a smooch on his cheek, causing Julian to chuckle.

"That's why I am the favorite doctor of all of Vesuvia! But what would I be without you?" Julian quickly retorted. Looking deep into Esli's eyes, the latter was the one to avert his gaze first, unable to keep up the stare without feeling another blush creeping over his face. There was simply no way to keep his heart from racing when Julian always had a sweet reply to anything he ever said.

With his words as smooth as velvet to Esli's ears, Julian still made him feel exactly the same as when the two started out their relationship. Even with their ups and downs, Julian had never failed to make him smile and feel loved, although the situation of them trying to prove that Julian wasn't guilty of Count Lucio's murder was anything but easy. However, when Julian was by his side, Esli felt like there was nothing he couldn't achieve and nothing that would ever break the bond the two shared. Nonetheless, the occasional teases that filled both their minds spiced up their lives quite a bit, and it was hard for Esli to hold back on one that was burning on his tongue.

"Ah," Esli muttered, putting together a wonderful arrangement of roses, baby's breath, and tulips - flowers symbolizing love - as Julian leaned on the counter, watching. "Perhaps this isn't even for your patient."

"What do you mean?" Julian rose, confused at the sudden statement.

"Be honest, Julian. It's for your new love!" Esli claimed, a deep sigh leaving his lips right after.

The accusation sounded harsh, but one look into Esli's face was enough to prove he was only joking, and Julian huffed at that before a smile crossed his lips. "You'll give that to them," Esli continued, pausing to wrap some cord tightly around the stems so they'd stay in place, "and completely forget about me, waiting here for you, todo solo."

"Mi Amado!" Julian quacked appalled, fake horror shivering through his voice. "How could you even think of that?! You're the only one for me! Now and forever!" he acted, dramatically wiping away non-existent tears as if Esli's words hurt him. "Still, I have to do this. I was sure you'd understand! I have to carry this bouquet away from you, my one true love! I hoped that you, of all people, could understand me!"

Esli chuckled quietly, impressed that Julian included elements in his acting that Esli had just thought about himself. It just showed that their thinking was alike, even though Julian spoke in jest, but truly, they were inseparable.

"Jokes aside," Julian shook his head, letting out a gentle laugh. "It's for someone important, and I just want it to be meaningful." Lifting one of the roses' heads gently, he admired the pretty flower, having grown beautifully under Esli's care. Nowhere in all of Vesuvia could he find a shop with the same dedication to the craft of raising and caring for plants than in Esli's shop. There was none as good as the small boutique in front of the very popular bakery Esli's friend owned.

"It's perfect," he eventually complimented as Esli finished up the bouquet. "Thank you," Esli grinned, giving it one last look over before turning to Julian. "So for the payment…" Esli started, getting interrupted by Julian suddenly straightening his back, lifting a hand with his outstretched pointer. "I know!" he exclaimed, and before Esli could even say anything, Julian had rounded the counter, coming to a halt in front of him.

"How about… hm, 20 kisses?"

"That's a little below the prices. How about 50?" Esli countered as he received the first ones smothered all over his face already. "30 then," Julian haggled. Esli couldn't help but laugh, holding the bouquet away from them so it wouldn't get squished between their bodies as Julian kept closing in. "40!" Esli continued, and Julian halted his kisses, squinting at his boyfriend. "35, last offer. And I'm running late, so I'll give you half now and half later, deal?""

"Fine," Esli finally agreed. "But you better make them worth it!"

The "I always do" that Julian pressed forth before uniting their lips was gleefully ignored by both of them as they melted into the affection. With Esli's free arm slinging around Julian's neck and his hands laying down on Esli's hips, they tuned out the world for a moment until neither of them knew anymore if it had been 10, 20, or 25 kisses. However, when they had to separate again, Julian's hand taking the flower arrangement from Esli, both had the same thought that it had still been too little kisses for their taste.

Nonetheless, retrieving the bouquet from Esli, they shared another short, farewell-indicating smooch before Julian passed counter once more, quickly exiting the flower shop. "I think I will be home early today," he called back over his shoulder, turning around just before the door, adding, "But no promises," as he pushed it away with his back, his tall build gone with the wind that made all the flowers sway and tilt as it flitted through the room.

And Esli wondered about why Julian seemed so hectic that day, more than any other he had witnessed before.

It wasn't until Esli finally closed up the shop and returned upstairs to their living space that he'd find out.

Stretching out, he felt his bones and muscles tense before falling back into their place, helping him relax. Setting up a pot with water, Esli prepared a cup of tea for himself, glancing at the clock once again that day with his thoughts circling around Julian. The doctor did say he'd be home early, but really, how much could Esli trust that? There was always another emergency or just one more patient to visit, another concoction to make, one other invitation to stay for dinner.

Esli was long beyond the point of being upset about Julian being undependable when it came to returning home. They both lived their daily lives separate from each other. However, occasionally - like that day - they'd still find time in between to share some affection and thoughts with each other. If it came down to it, Esli knew Julian would put down his work for a while to be with him if Esli needed Julian to be by his side, and that was more than enough of what he could ask from him.

In fact, the nights until Julian returned, Esli used to relax and peacefully enjoy a cup of tea or a good book. Occasionally, the two of them would go out to let off steam and enjoy themselves more energetically. Still, it was nice being able to just sprawl out on their bed and enjoy the calm too.

All the more surprised was Esli by hearing the commotion in the backroom of the shop, his boyfriend once again making his way in by averting the locked front door. A wide smile appeared on his face as he saw Esli meeting him on top of the stairs, worried about what just happened and with a big question mark on his face as he saw who the intruder was. "Julian?!" Esli quaked in surprise and disbelief, though really, there was no one else who could have easily entered their home like this. "I did it!" Julian laughed out as if he didn't even believe it himself. "I made it home on time! Esli!"

Without hesitating, Julian approached Esli, laying down all he had in his hands next to the stove. Esli barely had time to put his tea back on the counter before Julian flung his arms around him, pulling him in a tight hug and up in the air. "Julian!" Esli cried out, taken aback from being twirled around, but Julian's joy was contagious, causing him to laugh too. After another twirl or two, Julian finally set down the giggling Esli, and the two shared their first kiss since that afternoon, long and meaningful as their lips met each other passionately.

"I have something for you," Julian whispered against Esli's mouth, and the latter raised a brow, Julian's body warmth disappearing as he dedicated himself to the things he brought home. Much to Esli's surprise, the flower bouquet he had arranged for Julian this afternoon appeared in his sight, still pristine and well-kept. Even the stems had been cut and seemed to have been put into water to keep healthy. "But Julian…?" Esli wondered, hoping nothing was wrong with the bouquet, and that's why he brought it back. But Julian shook his head, already knowing what Esli was worrying about.

"It's for you," he admitted. "I tried finding someone else who'd make me a bouquet as beautiful as possible so I could give it to you, but… there simply isn't anyone up to your standards."

Julian let out a single laugh, bashfully holding them towards Esli. "You might not know, Esli," he brought up, searching for Esli's eyes to meet them with his. "But today marks our first anniversary. The one of when we first met in the Rowdy Raven, I mean. Not when I broke into your shop, that would be crazy!

Esli felt his heart grow heavy in his chest as he realized what Julian was going on about, having totally forgotten about that. It wasn't a usual anniversary, but the fact that Julian would think about it still made Esli love him even more. "Oh, Julian…" he muttered, taking the bouquet from him before pulling Julian close to kiss him once again. "I can't believe you still remembered. It's been so… you know. It's been a while!"

"I could never forget," Julian had to admit, his expression growing soft. "From the first time you approached me that day, you changed my whole world. You helped me when I was at my worst, and I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me. If not for you, I'd be--" He paused, gulping, his eyes briefly averting as he had to admit something that weighed heavily on him. "Well, I'd be dead, and the world in shambles!"

It was a heartfelt scene spreading out before Esli as Julian took his boyfriend's hand in his, squeezing it gently. "I can't tell you how proud I am of you and how lucky I feel every day to wake up next to you. I love you so much, Esli."

By now, Esli could feel the stinging sensation in his nose, taking a deep breath to calm himself, as he repeated his words from before. "Oh, Julian…" he mumbled, squeezing his hand back tenderly. "I love you so much too… I… I almost feel sorry I haven't prepared anything for you, mi Vida…"

"There's no need for it!" Julian was quick to console his boyfriend, kissing away the traces of tears at the corners of Esli's eyes. "However, I came home early today in hopes you'd like to keep me company for some drinks. I know you're tired from working, but I thought for old time's sake--"

"Geez, Julian!" Esli interrupted him, knowing how his boyfriend had the tendency to babble if he felt insecure about his suggestions. "There's nothing I'd rather do with you today!" Esli assured him, and Julian's lips curled into a smile once again. They shared another deep kiss until they had to reluctantly separate, Esli giving the bouquet in his hands a tender look over. "And thanks for the flowers!" he grinned, and Julian sheepishly scratched the back of his head.

"But you still have to pay for them!" Esli reminded him jokingly, putting on a stern face. "Oh, I will!" Julian assured without hesitation. "After we get home later."

"You better," Esli warned with a wink before handing the flowers back to Julian, sending him on the quest of finding a free vase to put them into with some water while he gets ready.

Setting them down on their table after preparing the vase for the bouquet, Julian didn't have to wait for too long, Esli having readied himself rather quickly since he hadn't changed his clothes yet after coming home.

"Te amo," Julian repeated - this time in Esli’s language, causing a pleasant flutter in his boyfriend’s stomach - as he took both of Esli's hands in his. "Thank you for being in my life for a year already."

"There will be much more to come," Esli assured him, caressing the back of Julian's hand with his thumb tenderly. "Yo también te amo, Julian."

They left quickly after sharing another kiss, their little home turning dark as the two turtle doves left the nest. The hot tea still steamed on the counter, but unbothered by it, the flowers sought in the light of the moon coming in from the window, their petals shimmering in it. There would be many more cups of tea, flowers in vases and kisses shared in their time together. However, it were memories like this day that neither of them would forget ever again.

#julian #julian devorak #julian x mc #The Arcana #The Arcana game #The Arcana imagine #The Arcana headcanons #The Arcana scenarios #The Arcana fanfiction #The Arcana imagines #julian the arcana #the arcana julian

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whitewolfmoving · 3 years

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Guard Your Body, Guard My Heart || Bucky Barnes au

A/N: Writing commission for @arrowsandmixtapes I had so much fun writing this for you! Thank you for commissioning me 🥰

Summary: Agent Barnes is the best in his field. When Aceline Marcure—the key witness in a murder investigation—is placed in his care, he’s tasked with keeping her safe until their primary suspect can be taken out. As time goes on, Bucky Barnes learns two things: one, never judge a book by its cover and two, he owes Steve Rogers $100.

Warnings: swearing, Bucky Barnes needs to calm down, I don’t know what I’m talking about half the time—literally just made this crock of shit up

Word Count: 3976

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File Status: CLASSIFIED

Password: ***************

Access: GRANTED

Bucky leaned against the driver’s door of his SUV and pushed his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head, quickly skimming over the file on his iPad screen. He’d just made it to the safe house out on Bennet road, and was waiting for the Director to arrive. This certainly wasn’t how he’d planned on spending his day off; forced to come into work at the last minute, forced to babysit someone else who couldn’t stay out of trouble. Fuck. Bucky couldn’t catch a break.

He took a long drag of the cigarette between the fingers of his right hand, and continued scrolling through the file. He noted the important details like the young woman’s name, her age, where she was from, what she did for a living, who she kept in her close inner circles; and threw out the ones he deemed unimportant like her favorite food, the name of her cat, her hobbies, where she did her grocery shopping. No sense getting to know her since this job would hopefully be short lived. Keep her safe long enough for authorities to apprehend the douche attempting to murder her, then let her go back to her old life… if she even could go back to her old life. Sometimes these things didn’t always go to plan, Bucky knew that well. He’d lost a few in his early years. But the reason Director Fury kept him on was because of his turnaround rate. No one brought down suspects with the same speed and zeal that James Barnes did. His success rate was through the roof and far outnumbered his failures. So if Nick Fury thought he was the perfect agent for this job, then he was the perfect agent for this job and no other questions needed asking.

A sleek black car pulled into the gravel driveway and parked next to Bucky’s SUV. The driver’s door opened and Steve Rogers stepped out of the car, not Director Fury.

“What are you doing here, Rogers? Where’s Fury?” Bucky asked, careful not to slip into the causal way he was used to addressing his fellow agent when they were off the clock.

Steve nodded back to the car as he stepped around the vehicle and joined Bucky at the SUV. “He got pulled into a meeting on his way out of the office, called me in to deliver.”

“Yeah? How was the ride over?”

“Quiet, she didn’t say much.”

“Good, makes my job a hell of a lot easier.”

“Listen, I think this guy’s really getting under her skin. Go easy on her, hmm?”

“Go easy on her? What kinda man do you take me for, Rogers?” Bucky laughed.

“I mean it, man. Look, I know how you can get on these jobs. Just try to be a bit more understanding than usual, alright?” Steve said. He lightly rapped on the tinted window of the car, the back right passenger door opened shortly after.

To say Bucky Barnes was floored by the sight in front of him would be putting it lightly. The young woman that stepped out of the car appeared to be so much more than what he was expecting, just from what he’d read of her file. She wasn’t nearly as fragile-looking as the report made her seem, though Bucky could tell she equally wasn’t as battle-hardened either.

Steve motioned between Bucky and the young woman, addressing them accordingly, “Barnes, this is Aceline Marcure. Miss Marcure, this is Agent James Barnes, he’ll be your bodyguard. You’ll be staying here at our safe house for the duration of the case. Unfortunately, you’re not allowed to have any outside visitors, that means no telling anyone where you are. This is just as much for their safety as it is yours. Should you need or want to leave the cabin for any reason, you are not to go alone. Agent Barnes is to be with you at all times. Take tonight to get settled, I’ll check in with you in the morning.”

“Agent Rogers, you’re not staying with us?” Aceline asked, hazel eyes shining as she looked up at the blond-haired man next to her.

“No, ma’am. My job was simply to make sure you arrived safely and were transferred to Agent Barnes’ care in one piece,” Steve said.

Aceline nodded. She extended her right hand toward Bucky, waiting for him to take it.

Bucky eyed her closely; he dismissed her outstretched hand and turned to Steve, pulling the other agent away from the car. He finished off his cigarette and tossed the butt to the ground, snuffing it out with the toe of his shoe. “You gotta be kidding me here, Stevie. Someone’s out for this girl? I don’t buy it.”

“I only know what’s in her file, Buck. Same as you. The rest is on a need-to-know basis.”

“Yeah, well, Fury better have a damn good reason for bringing me in on my one day off in over a month.”

“Just try to get through tonight without tearing each other’s heads off, alright? Can you do that?”

Bucky scoffed. “Yeah, I got it. Get out of here, Rogers.”

After Steve had helped Bucky get their bags inside, he’d left Aceline with his cell number before heading back to the city. He knew how Bucky could get, he promised her she’d need it. They both watched silently as Steve’s car backed down the gravel driveway and took off, leaving the two of them together in complete silence. Then Bucky left Aceline alone to get settled in while he went to take a shower.

Now, he stood at the island in the kitchen with a mug of coffee and a pack of cigarettes next to it. His iPad laid in front of him with Aceline’s file open on the screen. He rolled up the sleeves of the darke blue sweatshirt he’d pulled on after his shower and got to work reading through the report more thoroughly.

Name: Aceline Marcure

Age: Unknown

Birthplace: Brooklyn, New York

Occupation: Bookstore Owner

Bucky scoffed. Great, just what he needed, another softie. Another person who wouldn’t be able to hold her own against the horrors of being in Witness Protection. How in the hell was he supposed to keep her safe if he had to worry about whether or not she could handle it all, too? He took a sip of coffee; the warmth from the mug seeped deep into the palm of his right hand, his left hand remained vaguely unbothered by the change in temperature. Ah, yes, one more thing he’d have to worry about—whether or not she could handle that small detail on top of everything else. He was pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of soft footsteps coming down the stairs.

Bucky quickly closed the case file on his iPad and turned off the screen, he then moved to the coffee pot on the counter behind him and poured another mug. He wasn’t happy about this, far from it, but at least there was coffee. He set the new mug on the far end of the island and waited for Aceline to join him in the kitchen. As she rounded the corner, Bucky could see the exhaustion settled deep in her bones. He could tell that this wasn’t exactly her idea of a vacation either.

He nodded to the coffee mug on the opposite end of the island, watching Aceline’s movements closely. She moved slowly across the room; her shoulders hung heavy, her eyes dimmed. She smiled gratefully at Bucky, silently thanking him for the coffee. She didn’t try to talk to him, which he was grateful for.

Aceline set her mug back down on the counter and looked up at the agent. His demeanor was less than inviting. She couldn’t help but wonder what had crawled up his ass to make him that way. She sighed, combing a hand through her long hair. “Look, I know you don’t want to be here. And I know you want me here about as much as I’d like to be here, so can we just agree to stay out of each other’s way until this thing is over?”

“Good plan,” Bucky said gruffly. His tone alerted Aceline to the fact that he didn’t think it was a good idea at all, and even if it had been, he was about to shit all over it. “Except for the gaping hole in the center of it.”

“Oh, yeah, and what might that be?” Aceline challenged.

“You seem to be forgetting that you are in Witness Security. Which means, unless it’s to sleep, shower, piss or shit, you’re not allowed so much as a foot out of my sight. Am I clear?”

“Is that supposed to make me want to listen to you? Cause it doesn’t. I get that your weekend’s been ruined or whatever, but I didn’t ask to see some dude get his head blown off and I didn’t ask to be put in Witness Security.”

“Well, that’s just tough. It is, you did, and you are. I only have two rules for the duration of this case: stay where I can see you at all times, and follow my instructions. Do that, and we won’t have any problems.”

Aceline promptly excused herself, leaving Bucky alone under a heavy silence once again. He wouldn’t admit it, but she had fire in her veins—something Bucky wasn’t used to seeing in the usual clients who entered the program. If Bucky were a gambling man, he would have already bet on how long Aceline would be able to stick it out. But he wasn’t and he hadn’t.

Bucky was still up by the time the moon had settled at its peak in the dark sky.

Aceline had gone to bed hours ago and he hadn’t heard so much as a whisper from her since. Their earlier conversation yielded a thick amount of tension between them, with Bucky feeling no more or less in control of the situation as he had when it began. Throughout the day, it had become increasingly clear to Bucky that Aceline was stubborn, and unbearably so.

He’d just finished logging his notes for Director Fury on how the first day had gone, and was heading upstairs to bed, when a piercing scream came from Aceline’s room. Bucky was up the stairs and around the corner in seconds, gun drawn and ready for whatever he’d come face-to-face with. But as he made it to Aceline’s room, he was met with the sounds of pained whimpers—nothing like what he’d expect if someone were attempting to harm her. Still, he knew better than to let his guard down until he cleared the room.

Aceline’s door was cracked; Bucky slowly and carefully pushed it open just enough for him to slip through unheard. He cleared the corners to the left and right of the doorway, the room was empty except for the bed where Aceline slept fitfully. He holstered his handgun and scrubbed a hand down his tired face—he hated this part, the comforting part. He wasn’t good at it, comforting other people. S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn’t hired him for his ability to be nurturing, they’d hired him for his deadly aim.

Bucky sighed. He approached Aceline’s bedside cautiously, aware that any sudden movements on his part could spell disaster for both of them. Bucky stilled as she shot up quickly, eyes frantically darting around the room. Her eyes landed on Bucky still a few feet away, but close enough to make out who he was in the dark, and she settled. Bucky let his shoulders relax.

Her hair was disheveled, she was frightened; Bucky was so far out of his league.

Bucky cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head. “You were screaming. I thought someone was in the house, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I can’t stop seeing it—what happened, over and over and over. It’s like it plays on a constant loop in my head. It won’t leave me alone.” Aceline shook her head, her voice trembled with exhaustion and Bucky wondered how long it’d been since she’d had a good night’s sleep.

“I wasn’t given the details of what happened, only told to protect you. Whatever you saw was—is important. You should go back to sleep, we have to head into the office tomorrow. Rest up.” He turned to leave without another word.

“Stay. Please?” Aceline switched on the lamp beside her bed, and warm light flooded the room. Bucky could see her properly now, she looked like she’d seen a ghost. Her hair was disheveled, she was trembling; Bucky was so far out of his league.

“I need to check the rest of the cabin. Rest up,” Bucky repeated. “See you in the morning.”

He exited the room and pulled the door shut behind him. The fear on Aceline’s face and the way she was staring up at him as she asked him to stay with her had been burned into his brain. For a moment there, he’d considered sitting by her bedside and watching over her until she fell asleep; but comforting someone wasn’t something Bucky Barnes could do.

He made his way back down the stairs and checked the locks once again. Taking a seat in the living room, he grabbed his phone to call Steve before heading to bed. The line rang twice and Steve picked up immediately.

“Buck, it’s late. Is Aceline okay?” The gruffness of Steve’s voice told Bucky he’d been asleep prior to the agent’s call.

“Everything’s fine here, Stevie. She had a nightmare or something, woke up screaming a little bit ago,” Bucky replied, unsure of what else to say.

“Well, is she alright? Do either of you need anything?” Steve asked, and Bucky could hear the shuffling of his blankets as he sat up in bed.

“No, we’re fine, she’s just spooked. She asked me to sit with her, but we both know that’s not something I can do.”

“Have you even tried since your last case?”

“Steve, don’t push it.”

“Have you tried getting to know her? Having a conversation with her?”

“Steve.” Bucky’s patience with his best friend was wearing thin.

“I’m just saying, it’s not any easier to be in WITSEC than it is to be the agent protecting her. You both could use some reassurance. She needs to know she can count on you to keep her safe, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. And you need to remember that it’s okay to care about someone else,” Steve said gently. “I’ll cover for you at the office tomorrow. Take her out, let her stretch her legs, see the city. And if she wants to talk, listen. I know you’re still carrying guilt for what happened last time, but that wasn’t your fault. And Aceline isn’t Charlotte.”

Bucky tensed at the mention of his last client; things hadn’t gone well, he still hadn’t recovered from her loss. He’d gotten too close, let his feelings get in the way… he wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. He sighed, figuring Steve was at least right about getting Aceline out of the cabin for a little bit, what could it hurt?

He and Steve chatted for a few more minutes, then hung up. By the time he was finally ready to go back upstairs, he had a small game plan in place.

The following morning, Aceline was up with the sun. She hadn’t quite slept as soundly as she’d hoped after Bucky left her room, but knowing he was nearby had eased her worries enough to get some rest. She wasn’t sure what the day had in store for her, but she knew she needed to get out of the house. She couldn’t just leave, though, not without Bucky. In the time it took to shower and dress for the day, she’d only figured out part of a plan to sway things in her favor. She ventured down the stairs ready to put her half-baked plan into action.

The kitchen was empty when she entered. It was big, certainly bigger than her kitchen at home and would allow her to cook breakfast without hindrance. She wasn’t sure what Bucky liked to eat, but hoped he’d appreciate a warm home cooked meal to make up for their rocky start the day before. Upon further inspection, she found the kitchen and accompanying pantry fully stocked with everything she’d need to cook breakfast for her and Bucky. She set her Rainy Day Playlist on shuffle and got to work.

When Bucky finally made his way downstairs about two hours later, Aceline was pulling a tray stacked with waffles out of the oven here she’d placed them to stay warm. The dining table had been set with plates, bowls, glasses of orange juice, and silverware. Aceline walked over with the platter of waffles, and Bucky’s stomach grumbled. She turned to face him with a gentle smile.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said warmly. “I figured it’s the least I could do after yesterday.”

Bucky remained silent. He sat down at the table and waited, unsure of how to approach Aceline. He thought back to his conversation with Steve the night before; he’d been right about one thing, Aceline certainly wasn’t Charlotte.

“I know you said we have to go talk to your boss today, but I thought we could both use a bit of a break from all the madness. At least for a couple hours?” She sat down across from him and played a few waffles, then held the dish out for him to take. She looked a lot different now than she had when he’d checked on her eight hours before. It was as if the nightmare hadn’t even fazed her.

Bucky cleared his throat, he took the plate from her with a polite nod of his head. “Actually, we’ve been excused from the meeting this morning, Steve will give us the details later. Do you have everything you need? Or is there anything you’d like to go out and get? We’ll be staying here a while.”

He was trying, and Aceline appreciated that. She sat quietly for a few minutes, thinking. Was this really the same agent who’d given her a harsh set of rules and stern talking to? She thought she’d have to work a lot harder than a nice breakfast to get him to agree to let her out of the cabin for a few hours. Whatever Steve had said to him seemed to be working, and she certainly wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

She took a small sip of orange juice, and nodded. “I could use a few more things. I wasn’t really given much warning, just told to pack a bag and be ready by the time Agent Rogers got to my house.”

“There’s a store in town that should have whatever you forgot to bring. Take as much time as you need, we’ll go when you’re ready.”

“Okay. Thank you, Agent Barnes.”

They finished eating in silence. When they were done, Bucky offered to clean up while Aceline went to get ready. He hadn’t expected to receive breakfast and good company when he woke up that morning. Bucky hadn’t expected his opinion of Aceline to shift so suddenly either, he went from feeling like he’d been employed as her babysitter to wondering how she wasn’t a lot more freaked out over the situation than she seemed.

He was putting the last of the dishes away when she returned. She stood at the island, staring at his back as he dried the remaining plates.

“I can finish that if you’d like to grab your things,” Aceline said quietly. She set her purse down on the counter and went to his side. He handed her the dish towel, and turned to leave the kitchen.

The drive into town was long, filled with awkward silences Bucky wasn’t sure how to break.

He pulled the SUV to a stop outside of a small shop about 20 miles from the cabin. He wasn’t sure how this was going to go, but he knew he needed to do something to make up for how he’d been treating her.

He reached into the center console and pulled out the handgun he kept there, his badge, and his cellphone. He grabbed something else from the console and held his hand out to her. “Let me see your phone.”

“My phone? What for?” She asked defiantly, but handed it over with one stern look from Bucky. She watched him fiddle with it for a couple seconds, then took it back when he was done. “What’d you do?”

He held his phone up so she could see the screen. “Tracking app, leave your phone on. If we get separated, meet me back here. After 15 minutes if you don’t show up, I’ll come find you.”

They got out of the car and went inside. The shop was small, but packed. They’d be able to blend in easily, but Bucky wasn’t willing to leave anything to chance. He wasn’t going to have another Charlotte… Bucky shook his head, cleared it of all thoughts of previous cases, and put on the first smile Aceline had seen in 24 hours.

He greeted the shop owner as they entered. “Morning, Grace.”

Grace smiled. “Morning, James. Long time, no see. How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know—same old, same old, Grace. How about you? How’s Walter?” Bucky leaned against the counter, slipping into a comfortable conversation with Grace.

Aceline stood back and watched the two interact. The Bucky she was seeing now, was vastly different than the one she’d met previously. He’d let his guard down, he was talking and laughing like he hadn’t a care in the world. Here, he was a normal civilian instead of an uptight secret agent. Here, Bucky had personality and manners. She noted the way his eyes lit up as he smiled; a blue so rich and dark that it was like looking at the night sky or the ocean in his eyes. This was a side of Bucky she didn’t know he possessed.

“Hey, Ace, come here a minute.” Bucky held his arm out to her, waiting. When she stepped over to his side, he pulled her against him. His hand rested protectively on her hip, she tensed up next to him. He sensed her discomfort and leaned in close. “The man who came in behind us has been eyeing you up and down for the last 10 minutes. Relax, stay calm and follow my lead.”

Aceline slightly relaxed into Bucky’s hold, and laid her head on his shoulder. Grace smiled at her from behind the counter.

“And who’s this?” Grace asked cheerily.

“Oh, right. Forgive me, ladies. Grace, this is my fiancée, Aceline Marcure. Ace, this is Grace Richards, she owns the shop,” Bucky said breezily. He gently squeezed her hip, folding her into his side. He pressed a soft kiss into Aceline’s hair and turned back to Grace. “What was it you were saying you wanted to try and find, babe?”

Aceline hummed. “Oh, I was hoping to find nice candles for the centerpieces. We discussed gold holders, if possible.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how, but in that moment Aceline seemed so much stronger than he’d previously given her credit for. She’d adapted to change in situation without hesitation or panic, she’d put her trust in Bucky as quickly as he’d had to put his faith in her. He turned to place another kiss against her temple, and smiled up at Grace. If every encounter they had in public went this smooth, Bucky was certain Aceline would make it out of this alive.

—————

A/N: I’m so glad this is finally ready! I had so much fun writing this for you, Kansas. I hope you love it as much as I do!

I decided to make this into a series, even though this initial post is for your commission--the whole series will be for your commission! I can only hope that it lives up to the hype.

Commissions are open and can be paid for via my ko-fi page.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged. Remember to like, comment, and reblog if you loved it!

Thank you for your continuous support!

-Auri <3

Till The End of All Things (main taglist):

@arrowsandmixtapes @pinknerdpanda

#bucky barnes fanfiction #guard your body guard my heart #bodyguard!bucky barnes #writing commission

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 8 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n: ayo fam!!!! thank u so so sososo much for reading and sending love, it makes my heart HAPPY! i apologise in advance for this chapter…….a Lot goes on. wouldn’t be much of a rollercoaster if it was flat would it!! hope u will all still like me afterwards xoxo

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

31st October 2020

“Ready, baby?”

“Always.”

Vanessa smiles at Brooke from her position on the platform she’s standing on. Brooke has an identical one beside her, a huge purple structure with a phone box drilled into it that’s strong and has definitely been checked by the health and safety experts at least six times. Looking down, the ballroom floor looks ever so slightly too far away, but Vanessa knows that’s just her eyes playing tricks on her. She knows that when the music starts and the time comes, she’ll jump off it without any problems. As the band continue to set up she picks at her skirt, all messy netting and tulle. Vanessa supposes she’s never seen a fashionable zombie.

Halloween week has crept up on her- she’s honestly been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice the passage of time. Instead of seconds, minutes and hours her days are now measured in dance steps, quick glugs of her water bottle in rehearsals, how many times Brooke flirts with her that day. Ever since last week they haven’t seemed to be able to stop flirting. They always seem to be laughing or smiling at each other, casually hugging or holding hands mid-rehearsal like it’s natural. It’s not, though, and Vanessa knows it’s only a matter of time before her feelings become unravelled. She can’t figure Brooke out yet, and she knows that there’s a chance she’s acting this way because she’s more comfortable with Vanessa, maybe that’s how she acts around all her friends. But still…she doesn’t know. She knows she’s not going to risk ruining anything, though, and she’s definitely not going to risk anything going wrong with their partnership after they scored 32 on Saturday for their Salsa, favourable comments pouring out of the judges’ mouths like water out of a jug. Laganja had stood up from her seat at the table and actually screamed when Michelle asked her what she’d thought, babbling about how hot and sizzling and perfect it all was.

“At one point I thought you two were gonna kiss!” she’d screeched, and the audience had all laughed. Vanessa had wanted to tell her that she hadn’t been that far from the truth.

Their Salsa actually got higher marks than Jan and Jackie’s, which had put a spring in Vanessa’s step. The goal had been to showcase her and Brooke’s chemistry, and Vanessa feels like they definitely did that. It gets harder not to compare themselves to other couples though, especially when there’s only nine of them left now. Aja and Farrah are out of the competition after a dance-off with Willam and Phi Phi last week, so now that the strong have well and truly been separated from the weak things are coming very much down to the wire. Even Heidi and Vixen and Shea and Peppermint’s scores haven’t been all that favourable lately. Vanessa shifts on top of the platform. Dress rehearsal is usually fun but she’s overthinking things now and making herself nervous. She gives herself a little shake, looks at Brooke for a reassuring smile she knows will come. She can’t let Brooke know she’s feeling anxious. Their dance is, overall, quite an easy one- it’s their couples choice week, so naturally Vanessa has chosen Commercial as their genre, never one to shy away from the chance to behave like she’s in a music video. She knows it still needs to be sharp and synchronised, neither of them missing a beat. They’ve done similar in their Jive, so all they really need to do is transfer the same skills into this dance.

“Ready to go in three!” a producer shouts. Vanessa takes a deep breath and steadies herself, taking her position inside the phone box. From across the ballroom floor she can see Brooke doing the same.

A hush falls over the girls that are watching in the audience, the drumsticks click, and the song begins.

“Calling all the monsters, calling all the monsters…”

Vanessa pops her hip as she acts out a conversation with Brooke, putting the phone down and stepping out of the booth as soon as the beat kicks in. She puts her hands to her heart and pulses them, getting ready to launch herself off the platform the moment she hears her cue.

“Heart thumps and you jump…”

Vanessa jumps, flying through the air-

And the moment she hits the ground she knows something’s not right. She feels her leg give out, a pop, and searing pain shooting through her calf. She’s fallen to the floor and every fibre of her body is screaming at her to get up; she’s the professional, and what kind of professional is she if she can’t carry on after a small mistake? The music is still going so she drags herself onto her knees, attempts to stand up. The whole dance is thrown off now. Fuck. When she puts her foot on the floor and tries to stand it’s too painful- she can’t do it. She can see some of the girls in the audience standing up, yelling, gesturing to producers and runners.

Brooke runs over to her and the music stops. Vanessa’s on her back and she’s drawn her leg up to her chest. She can hear Brooke asking if she’s okay and the concern in her voice, can feel her stroking her hair and holding her hand, and usually this would’ve warmed her heart and made her feel all soft inside but the pain is overwhelming and it’s all she can focus on. She’s embarrassed and aware of how weak she must look in front of the other girls- she’ll have just landed on her ankle funny, there won’t be any more to it than that.

“I’m fine…it’s fine…” Vanessa protests, embarrassed at the amount of people now surrounding her. She’s got Brooke, a runner, a producer, and now someone from first aid. She tries to stand up again and is annoyed when everyone reacts much the same as if she’s pointed a gun at them, telling her to lie back down and fussing over her. All Vanessa can do is stare up at the ceiling and look at the rigging while the woman from first aid pokes and prods and massages her calf, the filters and lights all bright and overwhelming above her. Her gaze snaps away from the ceiling to rest on Brooke’s face. She’s wearing a troubled expression, little lines deep set into her forehead and her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Vanessa hates seeing her look this worried and she’s horrified that it’s she herself that’s made her feel this way.

“Brookie, don’t worry,” Vanessa musters up a smile for her. Brooke blinks, and when she looks at her again Vanessa can see tears in her eyes. Vanessa carries on, squeezes her hand. “They’ll stick a bit of ice on this an’ then I’ll be ready to dance with you tonight, you’ll see.”

She watches Brooke take a deep breath, nod at her supportively. Vanessa isn’t lying- she truly believes in what she’s saying. She’ll be fine. It’ll just be a rolled ankle, nothing too serious. She panics, though, when she sees two runners with the studio’s stretcher, moving through the audience seating.

“That ain’t for me. Surely not.”

The producer is telling her it’s just a precaution, but it’s a precaution that’s made Vanessa’s worry spike. They roll her onto it, and Brooke doesn’t let go of her hand. The first aid woman is telling her she can’t go with them. Vanessa scowls, feels the anger build in her gut.

“But I want her there. She’s my partner,” she snaps. She’s never mean to anyone she works with, always goes out of her way to be kind, reassuring and understanding, but all she wants is to have Brooke by her side because everything is starting to sink in now and she’s scared. First aid insists there’s no way, and Vanessa lets out a frustrated sigh that’s too close to a growl.

“What should I do?” Brooke asks her, worry etched on her face. Vanessa gives her hand one last squeeze before the stretcher is hoisted off the ground.

“Practise. Just practise. Make sure you’re ready for me,” Vanessa winks at Brooke in a vague attempt at reassurance then suddenly she’s being carried away from her, away from the ballroom and the glitter and colour and into an off-white room with strobe lights and a brown examination bed. She’s transferred onto the bed and left there for a small while, the silence in the room almost crushing her.

What the fuck has she managed to do?

It’s crazy, but her only thought is Brooke. What will happen to her? Will she get given a bye, will she be taken out of the competition? Will she get a new partner? The thought creeps into Vanessa’s brain and lodges itself there like a tick. Vanessa wants to shake it out but it won’t budge. If her first year competing with a celebrity is ruined by her stupid fucking leg…

She squeezes her eyes tight shut. Maybe this is all a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time. When she opens her eyes she is still in the same room as before. Fuck. She looks down at her calf and mutters the same word as she sees how much it has swollen up underneath the grey tights she’s got on.

Soon enough, a producer enters the room with someone Vanessa doesn’t recognise. It turns out they’ve called in a doctor. Her dance shoes and tights are peeled off and after much poking and prodding, the doctor steps away and fixes Vanessa with a sympathetic smile.

“Okay, my love, I’d usually take you in for an ultrasound but from what I can see I’m confident that what this looks like is a grade two level torn calf muscle.”

Vanessa wants to be sick.

“What that means is that you’re going to need lots of rest, lots of ice and compression. Try to elevate it wherever possible. The producers are going to make sure you get a follow-up appointment to get it looked at so you know when you’ll be able to get back to dancing.”

Vanessa frowns. She refuses to believe it. They’ve not come out and said she can’t dance. Maybe if she does the dance just once tonight she can rest it next week. “But I’m dancing tonight, I…Brooke needs me-”

The doctor is smiling at her like she’s a child and it does nothing for Vanessa’s blood pressure. “I’m really sorry, love, there’s no way you can dance on this. For at least a week, but that’s in the best case. Sometimes torn muscles can take six weeks to-”

“No. No, no, no, no,” Vanessa blurts out. She can feel the tears in her eyes; they’ve sprung up out of nowhere but all she can hear ringing in her ears is six weeks. The final is six weeks away. She needs to be better. It can’t take that long. “I need to be here, I can’t withdraw, I need to…Brooke Lynn…”

She is reduced to crying on an examination table with a doctor and one of the producers simply watching her. The doctor hands her a tissue, clearly feeling guilty. “Look, it really just depends on how well you look after it. It would probably take six weeks if you were trying to dance on it immediately again! As long as you’re sensible and take care, your recovery time will be much less.”

This does nothing to reassure her. Vanessa fixes her eyes on the producer. “What’s gonna happen?”

He scratches his neck and shrugs. “Well, we’ll offer Brooke a bye for this week. We’ll need to give her a new partner though. Just temporarily, until you’re better.”

Vanessa pouts, feels herself whine like a baby. “This is so unfair.”

“I know. I’m sorry. S’pose this comes with the territory, though, doesn’t it? Injuries…dancing,” he rambles on. Vanessa wants him to leave. Vanessa wants them both to leave. She wants to be on her own. She just wants a big, therapeutic cry with nobody there to watch her. Vanessa communicates this to the two of them and they both nod understandingly before leaving. A runner comes in with some ice for Vanessa’s leg and some pillows to elevate it, and they disappear equally rapidly.

Vanessa tries to think rationally, but no rational thought comes. All she can keep thinking is six weeks, six weeks, six weeks. It feels like her Strictly journey is over already. She knows she’s being selfish, knows that it’s Brooke’s journey. She should be happy for her- she’ll still get a partner, she’ll still get to continue and succeed.

But it should have been her.

The tears are still streaming down Vanessa’s face when there’s a shy knock at the door. It’s Brooke Lynn, and she’s still in costume but she’s had her hair and makeup done as well. There’s prosthetic chunks of blood and gore all over her and her skin is painted all grey and decaying, but Brooke still looks beautiful to her.

“Hey, boo,” Vanessa gives her a soft smile, frantically wipes the tears away from her face. She feels silly. “Get it? ‘Cuz it’s Halloween.”

Brooke laughs a little, entering the room and coming straight over to the bed to give Vanessa a hug. Vanessa can’t describe how much better she feels in Brooke’s arms, how much easier everything suddenly is.

“How are you, baby?” Brooke asks her mid-hug, and Vanessa can feel her murmur against her neck. It’s nice.

“I tore my calf…they told me I gotta rest up, it might take six weeks to heal…fuck, Brooke, I’m so sorry…”

Vanessa feels herself start to cry again as she clings onto Brooke like a koala, and Brooke hugs her even tighter in response. “Don’t be ridiculous! It won’t take that long at all. Torn muscles are so common, think about how many people must tear things in dancing! You’ll be fine. Hey. No more crying.”

Vanessa obediently wipes the tears away from under her eyes as she pulls away and gives Brooke a smile. Brooke meets and mirrors it, then leans in and kisses Vanessa gently on the forehead. When she pulls away again she seems shy as she laces their hands together. Vanessa is gazing gently at her. She’s never been closer to telling Brooke…

And then it sinks in all over again that Brooke is in full costume. And she’s had her makeup and hair done. Why would that have happened if she had taken the bye this week?

Vanessa frowns a little, confused. “So, uh. They give you a bye?”

Brooke nods. “They offered me one. Or they said I could dance it but with one of the other pros, so I said I’d just do that.”

“Oh,” Vanessa says before she can stop herself. Brooke’s words manage to hurt her even more than her leg already is.

“What’s wrong?”

“No, nothing. Of course you wanna dance it. You need to, you worked so hard on it,” Vanessa says quickly. Of course Brooke wants to do the dance. She’s on a competitive TV dancing show, what the hell else was she going to do? Did Vanessa really think she was going to turn around and say no? She tries to squash the feeling of being slowly eaten up inside. “So, uh. You’re dancing it. Who with?”

Vanessa’s heart sinks. Please don’t be-

“Plastique. She’s in makeup now. She was literally the first pro the producers grabbed; she walked past as we were having the conversation and they just asked her if she would do it. Had to teach her the whole thing in like, 45 minutes. You would’ve been proud of me.”

Of fucking course she’s dancing with her. Of course. Vanessa can still remember the way Plastique had looked at Brooke across the room on induction day, all interested and intrigued. Vanessa doesn’t want to be dramatic but this has to be up there with one of the worst days of her life. She can see Brooke looking at her and waiting for a response, so Vanessa just smiles tightly. She doesn’t trust herself to speak; she’ll either say something she’ll regret or she’ll simply cry.

“I know you probably just want to get home, but you could stay and watch in the green room? Blair and Scarlet have come to visit to watch Toni and Yvie. You could sit with them!” Brooke encourages her. Vanessa wants to say no- there is nothing she wants less than to watch Brooke dancing with someone else, especially if that someone else is Plastique, but Brooke’s expression is so hopeful and pleading that Vanessa just quietly nods.

“Amazing! I promise I won’t let you down,” she beams at her. There’s a producer shouting for her in the corridor so with that, Brooke gives Vanessa another hug and Vanessa wishes her good luck.

She’s gone, and so is a part of Vanessa.

But she’s said she’ll stay and watch her so Vanessa takes her ice and pillows and hobbles through to the green room, finds Blair and Scarlet sitting on the big sofa in front of the TV screen. They’re equal parts excited and sad to see Vanessa, fussing over her and her leg and distracting her with stories about life post-Strictly. Blair has been contacted by some up-and-coming makeup company looking to make her the face of their brand, and Scarlet’s been filming in between meeting up with Yvie for dates. It turns out the both of them had made connections with some of the girls, as Blair’s here for Vixen who she’s been texting non-stop since she left the show. Vanessa finds it odd the amount of things that have managed to go on right under her nose only for her not to notice, but she supposes she isn’t surprised given how up in the clouds her head’s been over Brooke.

The show begins. They prerecorded the pro dance this week, and it’s weird for Vanessa to watch herself dance across the screen. The whole thing is weird, really. She shouldn’t be watching the show at all. She should be on it, she should be there, live, dancing. The pro dance ends and Michelle comes out to introduce the judges and the couples. Before they all come down the stairs, she explains why Vanessa won’t be on the show that night. Hearing her say that she won’t be dancing makes her tear up all over again. Blair pats her shoulder and Scarlet squeezes her hand in support. Vanessa thinks she might cut off Scarlet’s blood circulation the moment she sees Brooke descend the stairs with Plastique, the two of them holding hands, waving to the audience and smiling at each other gently.

Vanessa’s got ages to wait until she can see Brooke dance and she spends every second stressing and fretting and worrying. She wants to be at home, to just go to sleep and wake up when her leg’s better and she can go back to dancing with her beautiful celebrity partner. Instead she’s here in a green room with a melting bag of ice under her leg watching Willam struggle through a Paso Doble, with a girl on either side of her wittering on about the object of their affections. So when it cuts to a VT that the editors have obviously hastily scraped together of Plastique gushing about how much she’s looking forward to dancing with Brooke and Brooke talking about how she’s nervous to dance with somebody new, Vanessa sits up straight on the sofa.

“Dancing the Creepy Commercial for their couples’ choice…Brooke Lynn Bites, and Plast-eek Tiara!”

Normally she’d crack at least a small smile at the ridiculous puns that get used for Halloween week, but Vanessa can’t draw her eyes away from the screen. There’s the both of them, and Plastique on her plinth, bevelling in her phone booth, about to dance with her partner.

The dance begins and Vanessa is on tenterhooks. The pair of them spring off their plinths, land perfectly and continue with the dance. Brooke is hitting every beat so well and it makes Vanessa proud, but there’s a point where Plastique freaks out beside her, doing something that entirely wasn’t choreographed. She’s obviously forgotten the dance. Vanessa bites her nails as she watches Brooke gently guide her into the next section and they pick it up from there. When the dance finishes, the audience lets out rapturous applause. Three of the judges are on their feet.

Vanessa feels like crying all over again.

The only saving grace is that Brooke hasn’t given Plastique the same kiss she normally reserves for Vanessa. She can hear Plastique apologising to her as they hug, and Vanessa grows irritated. This doesn’t ease up when they receive their comments and the judges give the pair of them glowing praise. And then they get their scores.

“Seven!”

“Nine!”

They’re the highest scores Brooke’s ever received, and she got them while dancing with Plastique.

Vanessa feels like storming off home but she can’t, not with her damn leg being the way it is, so she goes to chill in makeup for a while. The team there are nice- they’ll chat to her, take her mind off things, and they certainly won’t be as loved-up as Scarlet and Blair seem to be. She needs to not be around loved-up people right now. So it’s fitting, so fitting for the day she’s having, that the moment she walks into makeup there’s Jan sitting getting her foundation re-applied after her Jive with Jackie, who’s sitting on one of the couches having already finished her touch-ups. The pair of them are singing along to the song playing softly over the speakers, and neither of them notice her at first until she gives a hiss of pain, her knee not liking all the movement.

“Oh! Vanessa!” Jackie exclaims, sympathy in her kind eyes. “How’re you doing, babe?”

Vanessa doesn’t miss the way Jan’s eyes snap open involuntarily at the pet name, the makeup artists cursing and the eyeshadow brush creating a white glitter spot against Jan’s orbital bone. The cogs turn quickly in her brain- if Plastique and Brooke have just finished their dance, it’s likely they’ll be heading to makeup soon too. Vanessa’s not petty, but she’s only human; Brooke has made her jealous, and it wouldn’t be fair if she didn’t return the favour.

“Not great,” Vanessa pouts, sitting on the sofa beside her. “It’s really fuckin’ sore. Great job out there, though. You both killed it.”

“We did our best,” Jackie shrugs bashfully. Their Jive was a little undermarked this week- they’re all at the stage where anything under 30 is disappointing- so Vanessa knows a good tactic to get Jackie onside is to stroke her ego.

“Well, your best was amazing. Don’t beat yourself up,” she smiles at her, resting her hand on top of hers and patting it. She thinks Jackie might be blushing, but she’s honestly not sure (the green paint she’s got on in her witch costume makes it impossible to tell). Vanessa hams it up, hisses excessively in pain and grabs her calf. Jackie’s face twists into a concerned frown.

“Hey, have you ever had Reiki done before?” she asks. Vanessa shakes her head. Jackie perks up, clearly excited about whatever the fuck Reiki is. “I’m trained in it! I used to get it done so often and I loved it, so then I took a course and it’s what I did before I got into journalism. My parents said it wasn’t a real job, but…whatever, basically it’s energy healing transferred through palms. It can help with mental health or physical health. I could do some for you now, if you want! It might help things.”

Vanessa raises her eyebrows, nods a little. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll try anything at this point, they’re sayin’ this bitch could take up to six weeks to heal.”

Jackie tuts and motions for Vanesssa to put her leg up onto her lap. “Six weeks? No way. We’ve got to get you better for Brooke Lynn! Where’s it sore?”

Vanessa rubs the offending area on her calf and Jackie nods understandingly. She rubs her palms together to warm them up, places them both lightly against Vanessa’s bare calf. She leaves them there for a few moments before turning to Vanessa questioningly. “Any better?”

“A little, yeah!” Vanessa lies. Jan’s almost finished up in the makeup chair now and she can see her looking at the pair of them suspiciously.

“Jacks!” she calls over to her. Jackie looks up, smiles expectantly. She doesn’t take her hands off Vanessa’s leg. “Did costume not want to see you about that hem?”

“Oh shit, of course! Thanks, baby,” Jackie beams at her, then smiles apologetically at Vanessa. “Sorry, ‘Ness. I hope that helped, anyway! If you ever want more done, just hit me up anytime!”

“I will. Thanks, Jackie,” she smiles back. She’s a little annoyed that Brooke didn’t even come into makeup when her impromptu jealousy plan was put into place. Vanessa doesn’t have too much time to think about that, though, as Jan’s approaching her from the other side of the room, a fake smile on her face.

“Hey, Jan.”

“Hey, V!” she begins, the cheer injected into her tone but not quite meeting her eyes. “Uh…what was that all about?”

“What was what? Oh, that?” Vanessa frowns, looking at the doorway Jackie’s just disappeared out of. “Yeah, Jackie does Reiki apparently. Fuck knows what it is, but she wanted to try it out on me, so…”

“Um, cool!” Jan smiles, fiddling with the hem of her fluffy white dress a little awkwardly. “Hey would you mind, um…I mean…it was just kind of weird. That’s all. I don’t really appreciate you doing all that in front of me, you know?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Vanessa snorts a laugh. Then the penny well and truly drops- obviously the rumours about Jan and Jackie aren’t rumours at all. They’re facts. Jan rolls her eyes at her, laughs sardonically.

“Oh my God, have you been living under a rock? I thought me and Jackie were like, the worst kept secret of the season,” she gestures, as if everything had been so obvious. Vanessa supposes it was obvious, but she kind of has been living under a rock. Jan’s face drops in response to her blank expression. “Oh. You really didn’t know.”

“No.”

“Right.”

“Well, uh…” Vanessa begins. She shrugs. “Sorry, I guess.”

“No, it’s fine!” Jan backtracks kindly, visibly relieved. “I was just worried, you know, and obviously with you and Brooke Lynn…”

Vanessa screws her face up, confused. “Wait, what?”

Jan mirrors her facial expression. “Are you two not…?”

Vanessa puts two and two together and gets one million. She blushes furiously, can already feel her face hot. “Oh, uh…no. No we’re not…there’s nothing happening there.”

“Fuck, I am so sorry,” Jan grimaces, embarrassed. “I just assumed- you’re so close, and you’re always flirting, and near each other, and…”

Vanessa watches as Jan trails off. They’ve both managed to completely embarrass themselves, and Vanessa is about to open her mouth and mercifully end the conversation for the pair of them but Jan gets there first. “Guess I should go make sure Jackie isn’t Reiki-ing half of the damn costume department, huh?”

She gives a weak laugh which Vanessa politely joins in with. Before she leaves, she flashes her a smile.

“For the record, though-” Jan leans down to squeeze her hand, winks at her. “- you two would make an awesome couple.”

Jan’s turned her back and is leaving before Vanessa can even respond. She doesn’t even know what she’d say, truth be told. Her head is too packed, and she’s full of too many emotions. Vanessa decides she’s had enough of Elstree for one night, and she hobbles out of makeup and orders an Uber to take her home.

She’s half-asleep and tossing and turning in bed with her leg propped up on too many cushions when Brooke texts at roughly one in the morning.

B: Hey omg so sorry I didn’t text til now, tonight was just crazy! So sorry I never got to see you before you left but totally understandable, hope you’re feeling better? Idk if you got to see our dance or not but we got 34!!! Highest ever!!! Wish I could’ve been doing it with you but hope I made you proud. Sending loads of love xxx

The text should make Vanessa happy, make her feel reassured and warm and cared for, but all she can take from it is that Brooke had been too busy with Plastique to text her earlier, she hadn’t come to seek Vanessa out after her dance, and those high scores just twist the knife. Vanessa knows Brooke won’t have meant it like that but she’s still down about it, and she turns her phone over without replying and tries to get some sleep.

A new week comes after a day spent with her leg in a bucket of icy water, and Vanessa spends it sitting on the studio floor with her leg elevated and wondering why she’s there. Saturday night brought a shock of a dance-off- Yvie and Jaida against Shea and Peppermint- and in the end it had been the latter of the two couples that had to bow out when everyone was least expecting it. As a result, everyone is working even harder to make their dances perfect and stay in the competition. Vanessa watches Brooke rehearse with Plastique, watches them laugh together and hold each other and smile at each other. It’s been agreed that Plastique would choreograph their dance this week and Vanessa would attend rehearsals in case she was better and ready to dance it by Saturday. But she’s not taking any of it in, none of the steps, none of the twirls, because of course it’s their Viennese Waltz week and of course Plastique has picked the most emotional, heart-wrenching song to do it do, and as the pair of them glide across the floor with their bodies pressed together in hold Vanessa closes her eyes and listens to the lyrics and feels the tears bubble up under her eyelids with very little reason behind them.

“So it goes…one foot after the other, til black and white begins to colour in…”

But there is a reason. The reason is that Vanessa has connected with Brooke Lynn more than she’s connected with anyone else since Kameron, she knows her body without them even having so much as kissed, her heart lights up whenever Brooke smiles at her or flirts with her or even so much as texts her and she likes her, really fucking likes her, but now that’s all been thrown into a tailspin and as Brooke and Plastique gaze at each other while they dance, and as the music continues to play Vanessa feels as if her heart’s being ripped in two. She’s been distant with Brooke this week, damage limitation. Instead of laughing uproariously at her jokes she gives a small smile, instead of launching enthusiastically into conversation with her if she asks her a question she keeps her answers to a sentence and doesn’t follow up. There haven’t been any moments where it’s been just the two of them this week and she feels worse off for it. At times she can see Brooke looking at her with concern in her eyes, wondering if there’s something wrong, wondering if she’s done something to hurt or offend her.

She hasn’t, and that’s the worst part.

It gets to Saturday night again and Vanessa stays home to watch the show. She could’ve gone into the studios and sat in the audience, should’ve done so, but she couldn’t bring herself to see everything being danced out live in front of her and not be able to join in. She’s also seen Plastique and Brooke dance through their Viennese so often together that she doesn’t think she can face it live, in their dresses and full makeup and hair with the lighting and the band. She doesn’t know what she was expecting but watching them dance it on screen hurts equally as much, the camera focusing on the soft gazes they give each other and the way Brooke holds Plastique tight.

“I’ll bow out of place, to save you some space…for somebody new…”

Vanessa would’ve laughed at the irony of it all if she wasn’t so upset. She’s only got herself to blame. The fact she’s developed feelings for Brooke is ridiculous; she’s a walking cliché, developing a crush on your partner is like the Strictly equivalent of crushing on your roommate- it’s such a massive don’t, one that’ll only end in tears. When Vanessa thinks of all the couples that’ve come from the show, though- Shea and Sasha, one of the old dancers, Roberta, and that newsreader Alexis- it makes her feel a little bit bitter that she and Brooke didn’t work out. She supposes she’s giving up before she starts. She doesn’t really know her chance with Brooke is over, she shouldn’t give up, but as the judges’ comments drift into her stream of consciousness and she hears Kennedy complimenting Brooke and Plastique on “what amazing chemistry you both have together, so obvious and heartwarming!” she nearly throws the remote through the TV. She sends a text to the group chat she shares with Akeria and Monique, even though she knows they won’t receive it til after the show. Vanessa is sure they’re both fed up of hearing her mope about Brooke Lynn (they’ve had to put up with sad texts all week), but they’re cheaper than a therapist, so Vanessa hits send anyway.

V: this is so UNFAIR why do i need to watch Kennedy telling B and Plastique that they’re basically meant to be together???? :(((((((

A reply comes back from Akeria instantly. Vanessa supposes she’s just danced, having gone before the pair of them, and has got her phone while she gets her makeup retouched.

A: stop wallowing and just tell her how you feel already xo

But there’s no way Vanessa’s going to do that, not after the week she’s had and certainly not as she watches the TV and realises that Brooke and Plastique’s Viennese Waltz has earned them a score of 35. Brooke’s scores keep improving with Plastique as her partner. Maybe she’s just a better teacher than she is. She’s about to switch the TV off and have a self-indulgent cry (even though she should really keep the TV on so she can watch Monique’s dance and be a good friend) when her name makes her shoot her eyes up from her phone to the TV screen. Brooke’s looking into the camera.

“Vanessa, babe- I know she’s watching at home- that one was for you! Get better soon so we can dance together again, okay?”

Vanessa’s heart instantly jackknifes into the air. Brooke was dancing that for her, she wants to dance with her again, she called her babe on national television and oh my God the papers will have a field day with that but Vanessa doesn’t even care. She needed that validation and reassurance so badly. Looking down at her phone again, she opens up her messages with Brooke and is typing before she knows it.

V: dedicating that dance to me was real sweet of you. you did so well, i’m so proud of you, you’re killing it. seeing doctor tomorrow so will let you know how I get on. sorry i’ve been a lil distant this week xxx

When Vanessa wakes up the next day the reply is simply a series of love heart emojis, which both lifts her spirits and disappoints her. She can’t overthink for too long, though, as she’s got two messages from Monique that’re sitting unread as well.

M: fyi- Willam and Heidi danceoff, Heidi left xx

Vanessa frowns, disappointed. She got on really well with Heidi in her time on the show, and she kept everyone in stitches in dress rehearsals by whistling through her teeth (which drove the producers mad). Vanessa will miss her. She turns her attention to the next message, which has a blue link pasted into it.

M: also ur bae’s caused quite the stir with that cute lil pet name she used last night 👀

Vanessa frowns, feels herself blush as she clicks the link. It opens up on a Daily Mail article with the title, “Strictly 2020 star Brooke Lynn Hytes causes Strictly curse speculation” and Vanessa feels her stomach give a dip. The article talks about the shoutout Brooke gave her last night, the selfies and videos they both have posted on Instagram of their rehearsals. It also recaps the entire Kameron situation, at which point Vanessa clicks off the article. She texts Monique back and tells her to shut up, but the article has done nothing to lower the hopes she’s already got raised so high.

Vanessa tries to put all that out of her mind as she makes her way to her doctor’s appointment in the late November afternoon. The weather is cold and drizzly, and it’s dark outside even though it’s only four o’clock. She’s nervous and she’s desperately hoping they’ll tell her she can dance again. Vanessa has hardly moved all week, her calf resembles a vacuum-packed piece of meat with the compression bandages she’s used, and she’s sure that her leg is still so numb from the constant ice that she could get a six-inch needle shoved into her leg and wouldn’t feel a single thing. Her heart is in her mouth as the doctor rubs gel on her leg and runs the ultrasound scanner over it. The smile she gets in return sends her pulse racing in anticipation and hope.

“Well, it’s good news! You’re healing really well. This is the quickest I’ve seen a tear like this heal in a while, you must’ve done everything by the book!”

Vanessa wants to laugh. Her doctor doesn’t know the half of it. “So am I good to dance again?”

The doctor gives her another smile. “Since these pictures are looking so promising, I’m going to say yes.”

Vanessa wants to scream and cry all at the same time. It’s the happiest she’s been all week.

“But don’t overdo it! You don’t want to go flying back to square one. Take it easy for as long as you can. Don’t go high-kicking into any splits or whatever you dancers do.”

Vanessa frantically promises her doctor that she’ll take it as easy as is physically possible, promises herself internally that she’ll just mark everything for the majority of the week because she’ll take what she can get.

Six weeks? Kiss my ass.

She would’ve skipped out of the doctor’s surgery but that would’ve broken every promise she’s just made, so instead she walks calmly as she makes her way to the pro rehearsal and texts Brooke frantically.

V: i got the all clear to dance again!!!!!! see ya Monday!!!! Xxx

A reply comes back almost instantly that makes Vanessa way too happy.

B: !!!!!!!!!!!! The BEST news!!!!! So excited to see you xxx

It’s embarrassing but Vanessa almost wants to hold her phone to her chest like a lovestruck idiot. She is a lovestruck idiot. Her good mood is made even better by the cheer she gets when she arrives at rehearsal, the dancers all running to hug her and welcome her back. As Vanessa gently warms up and joins in with learning the group dance (marking it all and resolving to only perform it properly on Saturday), she can almost feel her heart singing. The only thing she’s missed more than Brooke is the dancing, and she’s so glad she gets to do what she loves best in the world again.

She doesn’t think her day can get any better, that is until rehearsal ends.

Jan and Jaida are the first girls to leave and they open the door, greet somebody, then turn immediately back into the room, their faces scheming.

“Vanessa?” Jaida shouts over to her, a little twinkle in her eye. “You gotta visitor.”

Vanessa’s confused and she’s pulling her jumper over her head so she can’t really see. It’s only when the other girls file out of the room and it’s completely empty that the visitor in question comes in, and Vanessa’s heart stops at what she sees.

It’s Brooke, and she’s holding a huge bouquet of flowers. Vanessa doesn’t quite know how to react- she knows she’s gone shy and red, and she doesn’t even want to assume the flowers are for her because that would really Mean Something if they were and God, the way Brooke is smiling at her, all nervous and reserved, is giving her way too many butterflies.

“Hey,” Brooke greets her, her voice all quiet. Vanessa laughs out of sheer relief of just being able to have her all to herself again, and she rushes forward to hug her. Brooke accepts gladly, and the two of them stand with their arms around each other and Vanessa holds her tightly as if to convey how much she’s missed her. They break the hug but they don’t let go, and they stay in each others’ arms as they talk.

“How come you’re here?” Vanessa asks her, her smile entirely too big and too happy but she can’t in any way help it. Brooke tucks some hair behind her ear then returns her hand to her waist.

“I wanted to see you,” Brooke shrugs. Vanessa’s heart inflates so much it almost pops, an overfilled helium balloon that’s soaring up to the ceiling. Brooke removes her arms from Vanessa’s sides and holds out the flowers to her. “For a few reasons, really. The first one was to give you these- congratulations on getting better!”

Vanessa laughs, thanks her as she accepts the flowers. They’re beautiful- clusters of tiny purple flowers arranged amongst tall stems with yellow-orange petals wrapped in florist’s paper and a lilac ribbon. Brooke’s still talking to her as she’s examining them.

“And second of all-” Brooke holds up her phone. “I was wondering if you wanted to dance with me.”

Vanessa gives Brooke a funny look, still unable to stifle her smile. “I mean, sure, but you know we got rehearsal tomorrow?”

Brooke grins, crosses over to where Vanessa’s speakers are still plugged in and connects her phone. “Yeah, but…I never got to dance the Viennese with you, and I want to.”

Vanessa can feel tiny fireworks going off in her nerve endings. Or perhaps that’s just her pulse thudding through her veins with alarming intensity. Either way it’s intoxicating.

“Alright,” Vanessa shrugs, pretending it’s the most normal thing in the world. “I guess I could dance with you. Since, y’know, you came all this way.”

She sticks her tongue out and Brooke laughs, although even though she’s acting carefree Vanessa’s stomach is fluttering with nervousness as Brooke hits play on the song and the piano introduction rings out into the echoey silence of the room. She doesn’t know why she’s nervous, it’s just dancing- scratch that, she knows exactly why she’s nervous, and when Brooke stands ready to hold her Vanessa gives her a shy smile

“Just follow my lead.”

Vanessa snorts quietly. “Hark at Miss Celebrity.”

“Shush.”

Brooke leads her effortlessly and it only makes Vanessa’s sense of complete, all-consuming longing worse. She twirls under Brooke’s arm, marvelling in the way the girl makes her feel like a princess in a pair of sweatpants and a baggy gym top. She’s so infatuated and it’s dangerous, but Vanessa doesn’t care.

“You can have Manhattan, the one we used to share…the one where we were laughing, and drunk on just being there…”

The choreography falls away and they slip into just swaying, Vanessa resting her head against Brooke’s chest. The chords of the song reverberate off the walls of the rehearsal room and Vanessa doesn’t know why, but tears start forming in her eyes. Maybe it’s the relief of everything being back to normal again, maybe it’s the sadness of the song, maybe it’s the happiness of Brooke doing all these sweet things for her. The tears roll down her face silently as she clings to Brooke, and Brooke doesn’t notice she’s even upset until presumably she feels her tears begin to seep through the black t-shirt she’s wearing. She steps out of hold and Vanessa looks to the floor, can’t bear to face her with tears in her eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

Brooke gently tilts Vanessa’s chin up with her fingers so that their eyes are level. Her gaze is gentle and kind and all at once the safest place Vanessa has known. Quickly and suddenly Vanessa leans in and bridges the gap between them, and before she can overthink things she’s meeting Brooke’s lips with her own just like she’s wanted to all these weeks. She’s got a hand on either side of Brooke’s face, her touch urgent just like her kiss, and as good as her lips feel it hits Vanessa with a sobering clarity that Brooke isn’t kissing back oh God why isn’t she kissing back-

And it’s just as this thought hits her that Brooke gently tugs herself away, frowns at Vanessa with concern and sweeps away a tear from under her eyelid. “Vanessa…”

Vanessa feels sick. So many thoughts are running around her mind, but in her vast panic she immediately latches onto three of them.

1: Brooke didn’t kiss her back.

2: Brooke broke away from the kiss.

3: She needs to get out of this room before she humiliates herself any further.

Brooke hasn’t stopped holding her which she supposes is a good sign but she can’t focus on that now. She wriggles out of Brooke’s arms, ignoring her protestations and blindly snatching up the flowers Brooke gave her (she’ll later realise she forgot both her speakers and her jumper). Trying to stop the tears of embarrassment that are now streaming down her face, she dashes quickly to the door.

“Fuck…V, wait-” Brooke urges, but Vanessa doesn’t. Brooke doesn’t follow her and she’s glad of it as she bursts out of the studio and down the corridor towards the exit.

The closing chords of the song that’s still playing ring in her ears in harmony with Brooke’s pleas, and it’s the worst kind of music Vanessa has ever heard.

#rpdr fanfiction #ortega #bet you look good on the dancefloor #strictly au #lesbian au #branjie #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #plastique tiara #jan sport #jackie cox #monique heart #akeria davenport #jaida essence hall #background jankie

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meruz · 4 years

Text

some asks - sorry some of these are kind of old. I only get around to answering stuff once in a blue moon.

I do not! Nothing against it but I just don’t personally enjoy the process so I don’t use it in my personal work. Too much transforming and filtering.. too little actual drawing. I have however used it for professional work and sometimes I will sketch things individually and collage them together to make it easier for me to work depending on the scale. But yeah, no photobashing normally.

Thank you! (post in reference) I didn’t use any perspective grids for that drawing but occasionally for bigger pieces that require a stronger adherence to perspective I’ll use the Perspective Tools extension by Sergey Kritsky which is ABSOULTELY worth the price here on gumroad if you’re a photoshop-user - makes grids very easy to set up. You can actually see some of the grids in my process work if you’re looking for it lol

I used to be such a square abt it like “bluh perspective is just a bunch of lines i dont need a tool to do it for me like a DUMB BABY. I can just draw the grids myself and itll be good enough!!! :\” dont be like that LOL, I started using perspective tools for work last year and ported it over to my personal work so damn fast its like one of the best artistic decisions ive made. If you can make less work for yourself, PLEASE make less work for yourself.

I don’t remember what post this is but I’m like 90% its these brushes because these are like all the brushes I use LOL

hi yes thank you i LOVE grookey.

Thank you! They’re the best family!! KAROL IS MY FAVE........

you’re SO welcome. I recently watched Last Evolution Kizuna and [spoiler] WILLIS WAS IN ONE (1) SHOT... [/spoiler] so whoever was in my comments section telling me toei would never bring willis back, I think you owe me like $20

Yep! My Instagram, Twitter... I don’t have a patreon because I’m too lazy to set up tiers but I have a ko-fi if you want to drop a lil tip in my metaphorical buskers hat

You’re probably done by the game by now given how old this ask is but I’m flattered my art got you to play!! And I’m glad you love Akechi though I’m curious to know if your feelings on him have changed since sending this LOL. His latter act character stuff is one of those things that can really turn an opinion one way or another.

Thank you! Though I want to preface this by saying I don’t take requests but you can always contact me for commissions at [email protected].

I will probably draw naruto again because like every 4 years of my life I go through a naruto phase. I have drawn dangan ronpa before many many years ago and I gotta say the only time I will ever draw it again will be if I’m commissioned to lol...Nothing against it personally, it’s just not really my thing. Kiritetsu+Colossus.... I would but honestly I don’t even know what I’d draw, I feel like I covered it with that one drawing. But if you’ve got an idea... you can always commission me!!! And I’d be happy to.

Uhhhh they’re good! I like them! Yusuke’s character arc is maybe like my favorite or second favorite in the game and I love Ryuji first and foremost for max mittlemans voice acting and secondly because he is just so...so much better than P4 Yosuke who I truly could not stand.

I’m not big on Mishima but I think he’s an incredibly well written depiction of like. that dude in class who you didn’t really mean to talk to but ended up talking to and now its a little weird. I really like that event where you run into shinya while hanging out with mishima and shinyas like “whos this your friend” and ren is like “no, king, hes no one” LOL this is mostly because I just really like shinya.

ships.... I like yusuke/ryuji a lot, just aesthetically and personality wise its an interesting dynamic. I like ryuji/ann bc theyre good friends. I like ann/yusuke if I close my eyes to all the early plot stuff and just pretend theyre like.....fujiko and goemon from lupin III LMAO. ryuji/makoto? kinda woke?? I mean I feel lesbian makoto deep in my bones but also their showtime opened my eyes a lil. I think they could bond over action movies. mishima/protag is kind of fun in like a sad pathetic way.. I’m a little interested in mishima/JOKER actually bc i like identity porn plotlines lol.

YEP GO AHEAD I’ve been getting a lot of messages like this lately so I want to lay it out here and I’ll probably copy paste it into a FAQ later lol.

8Tracks and Spotify Playlists: Go ahead! please credit me either meruz.tumblr.com twitter@automeru or ig@automeruz - AND SEND ME THE PLAYLIST this is not a requirement really but I would love to listen to it.

Twitter/Tumblr Layouts/Headers: Good by me! but again PLEASE credit me somewhere VISIBLE on the layout. If it’s a twitter header/icon credit my twitter @automeru and if its tumblr credit my tumblr @meruz

Phone BGs, Desktop Wallpapers: definitely ok!! Any personal and non-commercial use of this nature, I’m cool with. If you ask me, I may even send you a hi-res version of the file but you have to promise to not scam me and sell it lol...

Instagram Reposts: A lot of artists would say no but I’m gonna say go ahead as long as you credit and tag me in the post, again my ig is @automeruz - if you don’t, and I find it, I will bug you about it in the comments and possibly even report you. Nothing personal, its just standard procedure.

Twitter/Tumblr Re-posts: Don’t?? Just RT or RB it from me?? whats wrong with you? I will report this.

Other site re-posts: I’ll probably say yes but again please credit and for this one PLEASE ask me first. It’s nothing personal really, I just want to know where my work shows up.

Video edits/fancams/comic dubs: Yes! Absolutely go ahead! And please send me a link I especially love to see this stuff!!

I also reserve all rights have you take it down if I do not agree with the usage or context, especially association with politics on the webpage/app/etc.

Thank you!!!!!!!! ;-; These are all so nice.. tucks them into a little pocket near my heart. I love drawing and I will keep trying my best to make art...! Hope you guys can look forward to it...!

#ask #asks #anonymous #looneystoo #gentlemangeek #greatasoyeah #oilux #noeggets

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queen-of-the-avengers · 3 years

Text

When You Know, You Know

Characters: Sebastian Stan x Suzanne Annucci (second person; you; you’re)

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: romantic fluff, sex, unprotected sex, oral (fem!recieving), slow sex

Summary: You’re officially not in renal failure anymore, so you decide to celebrate with Sebastian just by being by his side and living your life. Six months down the line, and you get to experience life greatest gifts, now that you’re not dying anymore.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Author’s Note: This is the fifth part of seven parts of the commission for @sea040561.

You’ve been away from the hospital for so long now, you forget how a doctor’s hands feel. Dr. Patterson’s hands are ice cold as they poke around the incision site to see if it’s properly healed or not. You’ve been going on for six months with your new kidney, and you couldn’t have been happier about it. After he checks you, he checks Sebastian’s wound, and he pulls away with a bright smile.

“I can officially say it’s a likely chance you’ll never have to do a dialysis session ever again.”

A wave of tears overcome you, and you put a hand to your mouth. You’ve waited so long for a doctor to tell you that. Sebastian knows how overwhelming this is, so all he does is rub your back in a comforting way.

“Your kidney is working perfectly. Sebastian must have been a perfect match,” he chuckles.

“He was,” you whimper happily.

“As for you, Sebastian, your incision site is healing quite nicely. I’d like to do a follow-up in another six months. After that, you’ll only come in if it starts to bother you or if you get sick.”

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian nods.

“Just make sure you’re taking all the medication, and I’d like for you to still record your temperature and blood pressure every day. You don’t have to send me the records, but if there is anything suspicious, then please come see me.”

“You got it doc,” you chuckle.

“Congratulations, Suzanne.”

He discharges you and Sebastian soon after, and you’ve never been so happy to go home. After that first kiss you two shared, you started dating. It’s been rocky at first because of how crazy his life is, but you’re managing it in a healthy way. You’re going from being alone your whole life to surrounded by people. It’s not an easy change, but Sebastian is helping you through it as best as he can.

It’s wild to think that you were watching movies with Sebastian, Chris, Anthony, and all of the other cast members you love so much to actually hanging out with them. Chris has been such a sweetheart since you met him, welcoming you with open arms. You’ve looked up to these people and their characters, so to say it was overwhelming is an understatement.

You’ve done more in the past six months than you’ve done in your entire life. You’ve been to parties, met actors outside of Marvel, been to events and award shows, and traveled to more places than just the grocery store and back. Sebastian has been nothing but kind to you from the moment you met, so you don’t want to complain about all of this, but you’re not used to getting this much attention.

Sebastian tries to keep you out of it as much as possible, but you’re in this relationship for better or for worse. As long as you have him by your side, then you can conquer anything. Speaking of parties, Sebastian promised to attend this party well before he even met you. It’s a formal black-tie optional event, so that means you need a really nice dress to compliment yourself. He’s picked out some good ones, but you kind of want to be fancy yet make it your own.

That’s why you decided to add a bit of lace to your dress. Your dress consists of a flowery-lace collar that extends to half your body, giving it the impression that you’re wearing a dress with one strap that lays across your chest. It’s black with a flowery pattern all the way to your ankles. Starting from your mid-thigh, there is a slit all the way to the bottom that shows off your legs whenever you walk. You’re wearing dark purple wedges to compliment it. You like how it looks on you, and Sebastian couldn’t agree more.

He’s having a hard time as it is to keep his hands off you, but since you two haven’t done anything intimate, he holds himself back. It’s not that you don’t want to, you do, but your disease has always stopped you from going too far with a man. You’re a virgin, but not because you were saving yourself. It was because of your medical problems. Now that it’s no longer an issue, you’re scared of what Sebastian will think once he gets you into his bed.

Will he hate being with a woman who has no experience? Will you not be able to perform well because your new kidney is still “new”? There’s a lot of reason why you’re nervous, but you just have to take this one day at a time. Like right now. All you need to do is get through this party. Talk to some people, eat good food, and have a good time.

“Are you sure you want to go? I can cancel,” Sebastian says when Chris heads down to the limo.

“It’s too late for that, but yeah. I think it could be fun.”

Sebastian takes your hand and leads you down to the limo. It’s a short ride, but everything in a limo makes it feel longer than it really is. When you arrive, there are cameras flashing in every direction, but you try to ignore them. If you had to pick what is the worst thing about Sebastian’s life, it would be how many cameras are in his face.

“Just ignore them,” he mutters into your ear as you walk up the steps.

“I am.”

The party is in full swing. Lights are colorful and flashing everywhere, there is a huge buffet set up towards the back, lots of tables and chairs for people to sit at and eat, a huge dancefloor in the middle of the room, and loud music that feels like it’s pumping through you. You can feel the bass vibrate your bones, it’s that powerful.

All of Sebastian’s friends are here. You’ve met and gotten to know Chris Evans and his brother Scott, Anthony Mackie is a gem to be around, Tom Holland is younger than you but closer to your age than Sebastian is, and Elizabeth Olsen is all smiles and jokes as usual. If you’re being honest, Elizabeth is just a year older than you, so you connect more with her than anyone else.

As soon as she sees you, she comes over with a big smile on her face. You’ve always told her how pretty her smile is.

“I can’t believe you came!” she hugs you tightly.

“How could I miss this?” you joke.

“I’m stealing your date,” she says to Sebastian.

“I’ll find you later, okay?” you say to him before Elizabeth practically drags you away from everyone else.

“I didn't think you were going to come.”

“I didn't either, but Sebastian and I are going on steady now. I have to get used to this if I’m going to be with him.”

She takes you to the back of the line for the buffet. It moves quickly, so you make small talk until you can get to a table and sit down and actually chat with her.

“How did the doctor’s appointment go?”

“I’m not a person that has ESRD anymore.”

“I am so happy for you!!” she squeals.

“I never thought I would get to be able to say that. Sebastian saved my life.”

“That shit is what movies are made of. Pitch that idea,” she chuckles.

“I’m sure there is a movie about it already.”

Elizabeth grabs two plates and hands one to you. There are things you’re able to eat here, so you grab those first before spotting the sugary-sweet items that don’t fail to make your mouth water. Elizabeth notices the way you’re staring at the cupcakes as if it’s the only thing you can think about.

“You want one?” she asks.

“You know, I haven’t had one in such a long time,” you say, tears building up in your eyes.

Elizabeth sees how emotional you get, and she just smiles knowingly. She knows you can have things you couldn’t have before, so she grabs two cupcakes and puts on on your plate.

“It’s a celebration cupcake. You did it. You beat it.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

She leads the way to an empty table, taking it before someone else can. You’re about to dig in when you spot Sebastian with Chris and Anthony on the other end of the room. You hold up the cupcake and smile, and he just gives you two thumbs up. He’s your biggest supporter, and you don’t know where you’d be without him.

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch, and you actually find yourself having fun here. By the time it hits ten at night, the party is slowly dying. Normally, these parties go on until sunrise, but people have shit to do in the morning. Tom, Elizabeth, and Anthony have left for the night. Chris left with his brother since he’s staying over at his place, so if you wanted to, you and Sebastian can have the whole night alone to yourselves at his place.

Since the party is kind of dying down, you and Sebastian decided to take a break and chat on the balcony. The moon is at its peak, shining bright in the sky. It’s not cloudy for a change, so you can see the stars sparkle all around it. It’s a beautiful night.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better than I have ever felt in such a long time. I think I can love these things,” you chuckle.

“Good. I’m glad.”

“And I love you.”

You take that leap of faith. You’re wearing your heart on your sleeve, bare to whoever so much as glances at it. Sebastian snaps his head to you, not sure if he heard you correctly. His brain tries to catch up with your words, and when it does, he smiles widely. He’s loved you the minute he laid eyes on you, but he’s been waiting for you to say it. Love knows no time, so it doesn’t matter if three weeks have passed or three years--when you know, you know.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

You set your glass of champagne on the edge of the balcony to embrace him. He accepts you into his arms, and you meet him in the middle for a passionate kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck, and he presses you flush against his body by pulling in your hips to meet his. Every kiss with him feels like the first one. They all hold that spark of passion--a little cradle of love.

He shifts you so that you’re pressed against the balcony edge. You’re so caught up in him that you don’t realize just how close you are to your glass. Your back knocks into it, and it flies off the balcony. You’re only on the second floor, but it feels like you’re a thousand feet in the air.

You pull away from Sebastian to stare at your descending glass. When it hits the pavement, it shatters into a million pieces. Thankfully, no one was around to get hurt by the blast. You and Sebastian go into a fit of giggles, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Let’s go home.”

Home is wherever he is. Home is your place. Home is his place. Home is the airplane that gets you to different events. Home is wherever your heart lies. It lies with Sebastian as his does with you. He takes you back to his apartment with the question lingering in the air: will you two finally do it knowing that you’re completely safe to do so?

You’re still nervous to go there with someone just in case something bad happens, but you trust Sebastian to take care of you. He can feel how nervous you are despite sitting right next to you on the bed. You’re fumbling with your hands, something you do when you’re not sure how to handle a situation. He reaches over and grabs them, and you turn to face him.

“I’ve never done it,” you blurt. He blinks once, and you scramble to explain yourself. “Not that I’m scared or waiting, but it was because of my medical conditions. I mean I’ve done other stuff, but I’ve never been able to go there with a man before. I’ve always been afraid my kidneys would just stop working.”

“You’re fine now. You have a working kidney.”

“Exactly. I have no viable reason to keep living my life as a virgin.”

“No, you don’t,” he whispers.

“I want you to be my first.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life. You own my heart, Seb, and I want you to own my body.” You pause, thinking about how your words could have been perceived. “That came out wrong.”

“I know you mean,” he laughs. “And while we’ll have plenty of time to explore that side of you, we’ll take it slow tonight if that’s okay with you.”

“That’s perfect,” you smile.

Just like that, the tension mists away, and in its place, love. Sebastian takes the lead seeing this is your first time doing this, but he handles you with care, treating you as if you’ll shatter in his hands. He kisses you slowly, lowering you onto the bed. He takes special care in how he handles your body.

You thought you would be scared, but the truth is, you’re completely comfortable. You arch your back so that Sebastian can reach around your body and unzip your dress. The cool metal on your skin raises goosebumps on your arms, but Sebastian’s light touch sends shivers down your spine. He grabs the collar and slowly peels it down your body.

You’re only wearing panties since the dress could have been worn without a bra. Your breasts bounce free from the tight dress, but you’re no shy about it. You thought you would be, but with Sebastian, you’re okay with anything that happens. He tosses your dress to the side and stands up, admiring your body and everything it has to give. He loosens his tie and removes it, slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt next.

“Let me,” you whisper and sit up.

You replace his hands, continuing the path his fingers were set on. You make quick work, sliding his shirt off his shoulder with ease. You hook your hands into the waistband of his pants and pull him closer, his lips landing on yours. He takes back dominance and lays you back on the bed, falling on top of you. His strong arms hold himself up on either side of your head, and you admire the muscles begging to be touched.

He breaks apart from the kiss, but he doesn't stop there. He presses his lips against the base of your throat, nibbling on a patch of skin. Your mouth forms an ‘o’, but no noises out of it. Sebastian looks up to watch his reaction the further he goes down. He doesn't quite give you what you need. He teases you by kissing around your breasts to the valley of them. Your soft whimpers fuel his ego but not in a bad way.

“Sebastian, please,” you whisper.

He latches onto your right nipple, pulling it away from your skin with his lips. Since this is all new to you, this is the best thing to happen to your body. You express this with a soft moan. He keeps his eyes on you as he nibbles on it to get it as hard as he can. He tweaks the other one with his left hand, tugging and pinching it to get the same effect.

“Fuck, Seb.”

“You’ve seen nothing yet, darling,” he chuckles.

“Then show me.”

He releases your nipple so he can kiss all the way down to the hem of your panties. He can smell your arousal from where he is, filling his senses to the point where he just wants to grab you and have his way with you. There is another time for that, Sebastian. Just focus on her.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” you beg.

He slides your panties down your legs before spreading them so that you’re exposed to him. If he thought you smelled delicious, then the sight of you is ravishing. Your pussy glistens, begging for his attention. He runs two fingers through your lips, and you jerk from the pleasure. While locking eyes with him, he sticks those fingers into his mouth. He damn near explodes in his pants like a fucking teenager. He’s nearing forty-years-old, and you’re able to bring him back to his teen years just like that.

He knows he should take this slow, but he can’t help but give you two fingers from the start. He pushes them in deep to get you used to the feel of something long stretching you out. Your back arches from the burn, but it’s a good burn. He latches onto your clit, sucking and tugging on it with his lips. An explosion of pleasure erupts from your core, spreading out to the rest of your body like a goddamn wave. Your hand reaches down to tug at his hair, desperate to cling to something.

“Shit! Sebastian!” you moan loudly.

He moans at the taste of you, pumping his fingers faster and deeper. He curls his index finger to reach places you didn't even know excited. This is better than you could have ever imagined, and you don’t want this ending anytime soon. His tongue replaces his fingers, eager to get a better taste of you. His thumb rubs fast circles across your clit as his tongue reaches deep inside. The wet muscle clings to your walls like a piece of lint on your sweater. It’s going to be very hard to pull him away from you.

The coil inside of you grows tighter the longer he’s inside you. He knows a woman’s body better than you think he does, so he knows just when you’re close to the edge. He pulls away only to whisper something against your pussy as if it would talk back to him.

“Come.”

As if it has ears, it listens, and the coil snaps in two. Your orgasm washes over you more intensely than anything you’ve ever experienced. You arch your back as high as it can go, and Sebastian laps up every drop you’re willing to give to him. You’re so overwhelmed with the pleasure that you think tears are escaping your eyes. You’re not sure at this point, but you’re okay with it if it happened.

Sebastian pulls away once you’ve calmed down, and he kisses up your body in a trail of wet kisses. He meets your lips and immediately slides his tongue into your mouth much as he did down below. You can taste yourself on his tongue, but that only turns you on even more so.

“Let me,” you whisper, about to give him the same treatment he gave you.

“This is about you, darling. Trust me, we’ll have time for that later,” he chuckles.

He rushes to get his briefs and dress pants, eager to give you the really good stuff. His cock bounces free and slaps his lower stomach, and your eyes widen at just how big he is. Is it going to fit? Will you bleed? You hear people bleed on the first time. He sees the look in your eyes, and while he’s flattered you look like that, he wants to make sure this is what you want.

“Are you sure you want to go further?”

You know he would stop if you said no. However, you don’t ever want to stop. Fuck fear and anxiety. You’re taking this man all the way tonight.

“I’m sure,” you nod.

He grabs your hips and slides you to meet him, and with one pump, he presses the tip of his cock to your entrance. He grabs your hands and intertwines your fingers together so that when he presses in, you have something to grip. He slowly pushes himself into you, and you have to hold yourself back from crying out. It hurts, but you know it’s only temporary before the pleasure kicks in. He doesn’t stop until he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” Sebastian encourages you.

Tears definitely leave your eyes this time, and he just presses kisses across your face to let you know he is there for you. His lips finally land on yours at the same time he bottoms out. He pauses, giving you time to adjust to the new feeling. It takes a few moments before you feel an angry need--a craving to have more of him.

“Please move,” you whisper.

He moves his hips slowly at first, but he knows just how big your want for him is, so he picks up the pace. You’re so intoxicating, every inch of his body is dedicated to making you feel good. He’s had sex before, a lot, but nothing compares to this moment right here. He lets go of your left hand to grip your hip to steady you before snapping his hips faster.

“Fuck!” you frag it out, throwing your head back.

He leans down and kisses your neck, settling on a patch of skin right above your collarbone. He sucks to make a bruise, his fingers grip to leave bruises, and his cock hits the back of your pussy to make you sing. Your moans and whimpers fuel him to go faster. Since this is our first time, you’re very close to the edge once again, ready to milk him until he’s dry. You’re doing things to him he hasn’t felt in years, so he’s ready whenever you are.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight. You feel so good wrapped around my cock,” he groans.

“I think I’m close, Seb.”

“I know, darling. Come with me.”

Instead of counting down from three, he counts his thrusts. One. Two. Three. On the last one, he snaps his hips harder than the rest. Both of you tip over the edge, and you toss your head back with a loud moan. Sebastian’s groans are muffled by your neck. His cock twitches inside of you, shooting its last load into you.

“Shit,” Sebastian curses, kissing up to your lips.

“Is sex supposed to feel so… intense?”

“Not all the time. It feels like that when you’re with someone you love,” he whispers.

“I do love you,” you giggle.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. I can show you just how fun shower sex can be,” he chuckles.

“Are you this insatiable?”

“Only with you.”

He gives you Eskimo kisses before pressing his lips against yours. You’re not sure what sex is like with someone you don’t really know, but you know sex with Sebastian is the best you could ever have.

You can’t wait to have more.

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psycho-slytherin · 4 years

Text

Last words

You go undercover and encounter the last thing you’d expect as an assassin– competition.

Pairing: Spy!Jungkook x Assassin!Reader

Genre: Angst, idiots to idiots 

Warnings: Strong language, violence, murder 

WC: kill me 8.9k 

|mlist|

“Please let me go. Please! I have a family! My husband, my daughters…” tears stream down your target’s face as he struggles with his restraints.

“Your family isn’t paying me,” you reply, finger twitching on the trigger. Why is he trying to evoke sympathy? You don’t do sympathy, and you certainly don’t let targets go.

“I-If it’s money you want, I’ll pay!”

You lower the muzzle. “How much?”

“Uh, twenty thousand? Please, just spare me!”

You suck on your teeth, raising the gun again. “No can do, they’re paying me more.” Maybe if he’d suggested an offer worth considering, you’d take longer to think about it. As it is...

“Wait-” But the man is cut off when you pull the trigger, and a neat hole appears in his head. His lifeless body slumps forward, but given that he was already on his knees he doesn’t have far to fall. The range was close enough that your bullet went right through him, and you pick it up with gloved hands. It’s always a good idea to collect whatever evidence you can.

People seem to think that a person’s last words are thoughtful, deep, artistic. You’ve been present for a lot of last words, and they’re rarely beautiful. Usually wait or no or fuck you. There’s little glamour in your line of work– unless your clients pay extra.

You pad downstairs. The old warehouse you brought him to is scheduled to be demolished in five hours. Another clean hit, and some good commission.

~~~ Three weeks later

“What’ve you got for me?”

You can hear AD typing quickly over the phone. “You’re in luck. Where are you?” Code for new assignment. Are you alone?

“I’m safe.” You’re staying at a farmhouse, far from civilization as you wait for your next hit. No cameras, no mics, no company.

“Alright, name’s Bang Si-Hyuk, he goes by ‘Hitman’ Bang ‘cause he plays dirty with his guards. He hires killers-turned-security, and he’s always surrounded. The man’s got half the underground– and way too many politicians– in his pocket.”

“Dude. Are you giving me an assignment or a goddamn death sentence?”

“It’s a forty-five thousand dollar job. What are you gonna say to that?”

You whistle. Your assignments usually range from fifteen to thirty thousand– above forty is halfway to ridiculous. “Yes sir.”

AD chuckles. “That’s what I thought. We’re gonna send an anonymous death threat his way so he starts hiring again– you’re playing bodyguard, got it?”

“I got it. Rough-and-tumble.”

“Yep. Your character is basically gonna be you, but lamer. We’ve got documents and ID waiting for you at the drop location. Your interview is this Friday, dress code is mean. I’m sending all the info to your phone.”

“Sounds good. How long will this take me?”

“However long it takes for you to get close to Hitman. Y/n, be careful, okay? You’re gonna be surrounded by a lot of professionals with your background. You have to confirm Hitman was your kill, so don’t let anyone get to him first. And you can’t afford to let your cover slip.”

You scoff. “When have I ever let my cover slip, AD?”

“Just take care. If you get hurt, I don’t want to have to pick up the pieces, figuratively or otherwise.”

~~~ Friday

“Next!”

You stand and stalk into the gym. It’s empty, save for two men sitting behind a desk and a gigantic guy in the boxing ring.

“Name?”

“Kang Soo-Jin.”

“Yeah, we got her,” one of the men says, shuffling some papers. “I thought she’d be bigger.”

“I thought she’d be a man. So, Kang,” the first man looks you up and down from over sunglasses. “What’ve you got?”

“I was a killer-for-hire for five years,” you recite in a bored voice. You’re using enough of your real life to ensure your character’s authenticity, but not so much that they’ll recognize your reputation. “Forty confirmed kills. Turned to security after a jail scare. I’m fluent in six languages, and I can bullshit my way through four more. Trained in multiple martial arts– fighting dirty’s more fun, though– and ‘bout every weapon I could get my hands on. I’m educated enough to talk smarts and lived on the streets enough to talk shit. What else you wanna know?” Technically your kill count is sixty-two, but you’re supposed to have retired from the life you’re leading now. Like AD said– yourself, but lamer.

Sunglasses flips through your profile. “Can you fight in that outfit?”

You’re wearing black boots, sweatpants, and a longsleeve with a leather jacket. Gotta look the part, and the dress code was mean. “Better than anyone.”

“You’re confident, girlie. Prove it. Get into the ring.”

Thanks to AD, you knew this would be part of the interview. You’re not worried– you’ve been fighting men bigger and stronger than you since you were a kid.

“Are you armed?” Sunglasses asks as you shrug off your jacket.

“Is that a trick question?”

“Very funny, girlie. This is hand-to-hand only. No guns, no knives. No tasers or other bullshit.”

In view of the three men, you remove two handguns from their hidden holsters and a knife from a sheath on your hip. You’ve got another knife on your thigh, but they don’t need to know about that. You slip into the ring, stretching your arms above your head to loosen up.

“Alright, Kang, let’s see what you can do. No killing, try not to break any bones– besides that, fuck shit up.” Sunglasses signals, and the giant in the ring stomps towards you.

He’s big and strong. You’re small and fast, and unarmed.

“If you can’t win, run. If you can’t run, hide. If you can’t hide, fight. If you can’t fight, lie.” Such is the assassin’s motto.

Wasting no time, the giant swings a fist at you. You jump backwards, ducking and weaving around an onslaught of blows. This guy is trained, well enough that you can’t afford to slip up. Still, you’re not one to go all-out unless you need to; you need to fight just well enough to get hired, and badly enough that you can take your employers by surprise if you must.

The next time he throws out a hook, you duck and roll forward, ending up behind him. He turns around, shifting his weight onto one foot as he steps, and that’s your chance. You swing your leg down and around, connecting solidly with the back of his knee.

“Ugh!” With a grunt, he falls forward. Like any trained fighter would, though, he begins to rise right away. You know grappling is a big no-no for opponents bigger than you, but he’s right there, and given that you’re not allowed to put a blade in his back, it might be the quickest way of ending this performance. In the split second before he’s standing, you leap onto his back, scrambling until you’re sitting on his shoulders. You have to move fast– if you can’t neutralize him quickly, he can just fall backwards and pin you down, or grab your legs and launch you forward. You lock your legs around the giant’s neck and squeeze– it’s what you’ve nicknamed the Romanov chokehold, given how much the Avenger utilizes this inconvenient move.

The giant gasps for air, punching and slapping at your legs. You hiss, withstanding the blows of a struggling man. You can feel his strikes growing weaker as you keep up the pressure, squeezing your thighs tighter around his throat.

Are you actually going to win a fight with the Romanov chokehold? You’re gonna owe AD fifty bucks, dammit.

Suddenly, you feel the man’s arms snake upwards and grab your hands, which were locked under his chin. He pulls hard, yanking you off– you land flat on your back, the wind knocked out of you. You can hear Sunglasses and the other man chuckling. Ugh. You don’t like embarrassing yourself, but whatever it takes to convince them you’re not a threat.

If you can’t fight, lie.

You get up, chuckling ignoring your aching back. “Nice. I bet you win all your fights this easy, huh?”

The giant raises his fists, tensed, on guard. “You ain’t distractin’ me, girl.”

“Who says I’m trying to distract you?” You throw a quick punch, aiming right for the center of his face. Conventional deflections mean that he’ll parry to one side or the other. Lucky for you, he’s conventionally trained. As your fist glances off his block, you use the movement to grab his ear and pinch his earlobe between your nails. You’ve got a lot of experience with which body parts can withstand the most pain before there’s a protective reflex. Earlobes have one of the lowest thresholds, which means...

“Ah! What the fuck?” He claps his hand over his ear, forcing you to let go. Perfect. He’s right where you need him. With his arms raised to protect his sensitive ears, you have a chance to lunge forward. He might think you’re going for his eyes or throat, but you have another goal in mind.

You open your mouth and bite down hard on his bicep, your canines grinding together as though trying to meet through his flesh. You know from your training, and from personal experience, that biting this particular bit of skin and muscle hurts like a bitch. The giant roars in pain and stumbles in an attempt to pry you off of him, and you use his imbalance to grab his shirt and pull him backwards. He lands with a resounding THUD and, teeth still digging into his arm, you press your elbow into his throat, cutting off circulation for the few precious seconds that you need...to...win. As soon as his eyes flutter closed and his head falls back, you release your hold.

You climb out of the ring to see Sunglasses and the other man staring at you.

“I broke skin, you’re gonna want to make sure he gets that disinfected,” you supply, reaching for your jacket.

“You… you pinched and bit him. What kind of fighter are you?” Sunglasses scratches his head, his voice revealing disbelief.

“The kind that does what she has to do. You told me not to break bones or kill. All I did was fuck shit up.”

Sunglasses whistles. “Welcome to the team, Kang. You’ve got the job.”

~~~ Monday

You’re dressed in your new uniform. Sunglasses, whose name you’ve learned is Agent Jung, introduces you to “the team”: Agents Kim, Kim, and Kim; Agent Park; and Agent Jeon. Of course you’re the only woman on a seven-person team. In your line of work, that’s not uncommon.

“I’m in charge around here. That means I say jump, y’all ask how high, got it? Aight. Here’s the deal– three guards will be present with Mr. Bang at all times,” Agent Jung says. “The other four of you will be split into pairs to patrol the area. Six-hour shifts, and you will work two shifts per day. Agents Kim Taehyung, Park, and myself will take the first shift with Mr. Bang. Agents Kim Seokjin and Namjoon, take the east half of the estate. Agents Jeon and Kang, the west half. Stick together so nothing goes wrong. Meet back here in six hours to exchange posts. Dismissed.”

Dammit, how easy would it have been if you had the first shift with Hitman? It’s fine, you’ll just play along as a good guard until you can get closer to your target.

You follow Jeon through the labyrinth of a house, which seems more like a castle. Where is this guy getting his money?

“Okay,” Agent Jeon says, stopping suddenly. “Let’s split up.”

What? “Jung said not to.”

Jeon folds his arms, raising a brow. “And you’re going to obey?”

You exhale sharply. “I’m going to do the job I was hired to do.” Splitting up and disobeying on your first day will cast you under scrutiny and suspicion. You have to play the good girl for now.

“Whatever,” Jeon chuckles. “I’m going.”

“Really, dude? You’re gonna get me in trouble. At least wait for a shift when we’re not paired together.”

“Why should I care about a girl who can’t even fight?” Oy vey. Is he provoking you on purpose? “I can fight fine, man.”

“Prove it.”

Why is he challenging you? What is with him? “We’re on duty,” you snap. “Quit slacking off and let’s do the work we’re paid for.”

Jeon whistles. “Feisty.”

“Shove it up your ass, Agent. I don’t need another man telling me I’m in the wrong line of work.”

“Oh, so I’m just one in a long list of shitheads, huh?” Jeon leans against the wall. You remain standing straight up– you don’t know the last time you’ve let down your guard.

“You wouldn’t make top twenty,” you reply.

“Yeesh. I get the message. Well, since we’re gonna be stuck together for a while…” Jeon sticks out his hand. “Call me Jungkook.”

Unexpected. But okay. “I’m Soo-Jin. Are you new, too?”

“I’ve been here about a month. The longer you’ve been here, the more they trust you as one of the boss’s personal guards. Trust me, you’re gonna be stuck on perimeter patrol for a while,” Jungkook says, as though he knows what you’re thinking.

Dammit. This job is going to cost more time than you were hoping. Still, 45k, 45k, eye on the prize.

“So, six hours. Do we talk, or…?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Do you want to talk?”

“Not if you’re going to keep on with the misogynistic digs.”

“Gotcha, gotcha. Sorry about that,” Jungkook says, laughing as he raises his hands in surrender. “I’ll be less of an asshole, promise.”

You smirk, turning to scan the halls. “It’s so empty.” Two cameras on the eastern wall. A big mirror at the end of the hall– is it a two-way mirror? Probably. The ceiling is well supported by strong beams. You could probably escape to the roof if you needed to, but how much of an escape is that?

“So what’s your thing?” Jungkook asks suddenly, snapping you out of your stupor.

“What d’you mean?”

“I heard you’re an ex-assassin, and like, all of the best have a thing. Did you mark your bullets?” Jungkook taps his gun. “Were you a Robin Hood? Did you kiss all your victims?”

“Gross, man!” You laugh. Clearly the only experience he’s had with your line of work is through movies. Why’s this puppy working for Hitman? “No, I never kissed a dead body. Never stole from the rich and gave to the poor, unless the poor was yours truly and the rich were stubborn clients. And marking bullets messes with the aerodynamics.” You’re worried that you’re being too honest, telling him about your life– what if he’s an undercover cop? But Hitman’s men were double- and triple-checking applications, according to AD. Besides, Hitman has every police department in the area feeding from his hand.

“So what was your thing then? Did you have a signature?” In Jeon’s eyes you can see the excitement of a child.

“The best signature for someone like me is the lack of a signature. And what’s got you so happy?” You ask amusedly.

“Oh, I mean…” And Jeon’s voice has dropped again to that of a seasoned guard. “I grew up thinking I’d be a cop. Circumstances didn’t work out, and I landed myself a security job. I always wanted to do what you did, though. Never had the guts for it.”

“Trust me, it’s nothing to be jealous of.” You think of cold evenings on rooftops, unnerving undercover work, hopeless spirals with the monster in the mirror. “It means a lot of lonely nights.”

“Well, you won’t be so lonely anymore,” Jungkook says, before turning red. “Wait- that came out wrong. I’m not hitting on you, I swear!”

“Good, ‘cause you’d be doing a terrible job.”

“I’m a great flirt when I want to be,” he replies, his tone dramatic.

You snicker. “I’d take a page out of your book and ask you to prove it, but I’d hate to watch you embarrass yourself in front of a pretty girl.”

Jungkook whistles. “Did you just insult me and compliment yourself in the same sentence? It looks like I’ve met my match.”

Oof, cute and funny. And he hasn’t called you “girlie” once. You’d better end this before you let yourself get too carried away. It’s just a job, and he’s just an obstacle between you and your 45,000-dollar target.

“It looks like you’re slacking on the job, Jeon.” You’ve reached the end of the hall, and so you spin on your heel and begin marching back the way you came, scanning your surroundings. If another assassin got to Hitman first, your prize money and reputation would go down the drain. Play the character, don’t be suspicious, and don’t get attached.

“Sheesh, don’t be so uptight,” Jeon says, hurrying after you.

“Whatever, let’s just patrol.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jeon replies sarcastically.

The rest of the shift is spent in relative silence. After several hours, you and Jungkook head back to the main room to meet with the other agents. This transition period might be the best time for you to strike, you’ll have to mention that to AD.

The next shift is your break, and after commenting about how tired you are, you head ‘home’. That is, you drop your things at a safehouse, along with any identification, and change into civilian clothing: baggy, boring, anonymous. You fit your earpiece in and contact AD.

“Y/n?”

“AD, hi. I’m gonna scout the perimeter of the estate now, alright?”

“Keep me posted, I’ll be on the line.”

“Yep.”

It’s well past midnight when you arrive at the estate again. You always spend the first night on an undercover job toeing the property line, so to speak.

“It’s like robbing a bank,” you murmur as the house comes into view. “Only harder, ‘cause at least in a bank the only armed murderer is me.”

“Eyes on the prize, y/n.”

“Yeah, whatever. Cameras on the southern and eastern walls. The gate’s heavy– I could climb it, but…”

“Hitman got one of the best security firms in the country to rig it, that shit’s electric.”

“Right. The grass is soft, not a great sign… maybe if I wore the work shoes they gave me? I’m leaving footprints either way.”

“Those shoes are your size, and it’s not amateur hour ‘round here. Did you manage to get the WiFi?”

“They didn’t give it to us. But there’s a network called ‘Bang 5G’ so at least you know it’s there– hey!”

“Y/n? What’s going-” you don’t hear him, you’re too busy sprinting after a black-clad figure. With gloved hands, the person gets a grip and vaults clean over the gate, landing on their feet on the grass beyond.

“AD, someone just scaled the electrified fucking gate,” you pant. Even with gloves, that’s crazy.

“Go after them! You can’t let someone get to Hitman first.”

“How do I get over the gate?”

“I’m not the legendary assassin with sixty-two confirmed kills! Figure it out!”

“Dick.” You look around wildly– the gates are connected at the corners of the estate by brick pillars. Good. That’s something. You run at the pillar closest to you and leap, scrambling up and over it using only the power of adrenaline and your poor fingertips. You land hard, sinking into the soft grass of the lawn, and look up in time to see the figure running along the edge of the roof. How did he get up there? And where’s his climbing gear? The walls are smooth, vertical, with no handholds to speak of on the lower fifteen feet.

If you can’t get up, bring them down. You withdraw your handgun and line up your shot. You might not be an acrobat, but you can shoot.

You pull the trigger, the bringer of death a familiar weight in your hands. You don’t kill unless you’re paid for it, though. The bullet grazes your target and you see them stumble, clutching their side. With one backwards glance at you, they catapult themselves off the roof and land on their feet on the other side of the gate. What the fuck. What kind of strength does this person have?

“Y/n? I heard a shot, what’s going on?” AD speaks urgently into your ear.

“Abort.”

“What?”

You start running back to the gate. “Fucking abort, AD. We’re done for tonight. Someone else is after Hitman.” You launch yourself at the brick pillar and land hard on the sidewalk outside the estate.

“Shit. But we knew this could happen, he’s not exactly popular.”

“Fine, but tonight was supposed to be a casing night. My footprints are on the grass!”

You hear AD mutter something like “amateur” as he types. “Did you get caught on camera?”

“Probably? I also shot a guy, if that’s relevant.”

“It’s really not. Okay, I’m gonna hack into their system– which would be easier with the WiFi password, by the way– and keep you off the footage. Your excuse for your next shift is up to you. Take a couple hours and sleep it off, y/n. It’s not like you to be this reckless.”

“Fuck you.”

~~~ Six hours later

“Agent Jeon, Agent Kang, take the east wing of the estate. Dismissed.”

“C’mon, this way.” Jungkook leads you down a long corridor as you begin your next shift.

“Right.”

“Hey, you okay?” Jungkook looks at you with concern. “You seem tired.”

“Six hours of sleep will do that to a person, dude.” Six? Try three, if you got any at all. You’re exhausted, yeah, but you’ve never let that stop you from doing your job.

“Heh, yeah. This work schedule is intense, but the pay is good.”

“And not much seems to happen, huh?”

Jungkook shrugs, then seems to wince. “Not since I’ve worked here. We get trespassers sometimes, but they just leave when we tell them to.”

“You okay?”

Jungkook looks at the floor. “Yeah, turns out I fell asleep on top of my dog’s toy. The only time I get to sleep, and I wake up hurting like a bitch. How’s that for unfair?”

“Aw, poor baby.”

Jungkook pushes you playfully. “Hey!”

The contact sets your nerves on edge. Danger. You grab his outstretched arm and twist it behind his back, pressing hard enough to almost dislocate his shoulder, your vision is cloudy, tinged red–

“Ow! Kang– fuck! Soo-Jin!”

You blink once, twice. What… what are you doing? You release your hold on Jungkook; did you really just break character like that? No, wait, you can make this work. “I’m sorry– ah, shit.” You step back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” Jungkook groans, rubbing his shoulder. “What was that?”

“Just an instinct. One of the leftovers from the person I used to be.” You avert your gaze, your body language ashamed. Jungkook seems to take the bait. But… how much can it count as bait, if it’s so true it hurts?

“Hey, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have startled you.” He flashes you a grin, and you feel your heart do something funny in your chest. “I can’t imagine the stuff you’ve been through.”

Why is he acting sympathetic? You don’t do sympathy. But yeah, getting closer to the other guards can’t hurt on a mission like this. You’re in this for the long haul, if last night’s acrobat doesn’t get to Hitman first.

“We’ve all got our own shit to deal with,” you reply.

“Well, if you ever need someone to talk to…” Jungkook shrugs, wincing again. “Goddamn Gureum, leaving his toy on my bed.”

You laugh. “I’ll keep it in mind, but I don’t think therapy will add to my intimidation resume.”

The hours pass quicker once you allow yourself to talk to Jungkook more. You know he has to be cold-blooded, and a skilled fighter, if he landed the job. But every time he laughs, every time he stares out into space and seems to forget even to breathe, you wonder where he hides his bloodlust.

“Damn, I never knew an assassin could have a sense of humor,” Jungkook says eventually. “None of the other agents here ever want to do anything except patrol.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” you say dryly, rolling your eyes. “That is our job.”

Jungkook sweeps his arm grandly, displaying the estate. It’s empty, save several guards. “Ah yes, look at the multitude of threats we face.”

You think of the acrobat from last night. “Right.”

“Anyways, wanna fight?”

For a second you think you’ve misheard him. “Excuse me? Haven’t we been over this?”

Jungkook shifts his weight, cracking his knuckles. “I heard you bit your way to a win during your interview.”

“So what?”

“I want to see your fighting style– c’mon, how does a professional assassin take someone out with teeth and claws? You’re not a cat, there’s gotta be something else to you.”

“I hate to break it to you, but there wasn’t a lot of close combat in my work. A good assassin never fights fair. And, if you haven’t noticed…” you step up close to him, your eyes only level with his collarbone. You’re so close you can hear his breathing become ragged, shallow, as you continue: “I’m small. Shooting from a distance, backstabbing, incapacitating my targets– that’s what people like me do.”

In truth, you’ve had your fair share of combat. But letting Jungkook see that side of you? Not a good idea.

“Then why quit?”

“What?”

“I get it– you’re an assassin, not a fighter. But why go into security?”

“I almost got caught,” you recite automatically. “My skills aren’t super transferrable– I didn’t have a lot of options.”

“Speak for yourself, I think you’d make a great birthday clown,” Jungkook laughs, and you smile along with him. Too bad he doesn’t know the real you– or maybe it’s a good thing. No one could love a monster.

You knew what you were getting into when you started down your path. You accepted that you’d be a changed woman– what you didn’t know was that your eyes wouldn’t be the same as they were before. Each time you see yourself anew, you confront the humanity that’s drained from your face. Your eyes have begun to resemble your targets’– dull, unfeeling, dead.

You’re a monster. A killer. You snuff out lives for money. There’s no going back to the girl you were, and no point in regret. And so each morning, you take a deep breath and lie. To yourself, AD, and everyone. It’s okay. I’m okay.

Fuck, maybe you should see a therapist.

After your shift, you spend the next six hours staking out Hitman’s estate. The acrobat doesn’t return, and you grind your teeth together with anxiety. “AD, did you see him on the footage that you hacked?”

“Just the mask. His body language is right-hand and left-leg dominant. This guy’s training is super unconventional; I haven’t seen that climbing style anywhere.”

“Ugh, so weird.”

“Says you.”

“Shut up, asshat.”

AD sniggers. “Look, you did shoot this guy today. Have you considered that you’ve either, like, injured him badly or scared him off?”

“No. He’s still around, and he’s going to try again.”

“How do you know?”

Because he’s like me. “I just do.”

You can almost hear AD’s shrug. “Aight, trust your instincts. Your next shift is soon, though. Better get ready.”

You groan. “This work schedule is brutal.”

“And you’re spending your time off stalking a ghost. Are you planning on getting any sleep?”

You hesitate a second too long. “Yes.”

AD sighs. “Take care of yourself, idiot. You can’t guard the house 24/7. You’re spending half the day working, remember?”

“That’s what I’ve got you for. Keep an eye on the cameras.”

“Get me the Wi-Fi password and I’ll think about it.”

You roll your eyes before heading back to your safehouse, changing, and returning for your shift. Here we go.

And there you went. The next week passes much in the same fashion– patrolling the wings of the vast estate for six or twelve hours, sleeping the bare minimum you need to survive, and returning to your target’s house to make sure the mystery acrobat doesn’t get to Hitman first.

You spend most of your patrol time with Jungkook; it makes sense, you’re the two newest recruits. For a security goon, he’s pretty funny. You’ve dealt with security guards in the past for your jobs, but most of your interactions involved them trying to kill you– or vice versa. For all that you’re undercover as Kang Soo-Jin, you’re actually enjoying spending time with Agent Jeon Jungkook.

“Why are you working for Mr. Bang?” You ask him on Monday morning. You haven’t spoken with Jungkook in a couple days, as you were paired with Agent Park for your last several shifts.

Jungkook cocks his head as you stroll together along the west side of the estate, a route you’ve already committed to memory. “What do you mean?”

It’s been bothering you for a while. “Mr. Bang tends to hire killers, mercenaries, people like… well, me. Why did you take this job?”

Jungkook chews on his lip thoughtfully as he stares out of the window. “I mean… the pay is good.”

You shove him playfully. “C’mon, man, there’s gotta be something else.”

“Alright, alright!” Jungkook raises his arms in surrender, laughing. “You know I wanted to be an assassin. I was too chicken, and never knew how to get started. When I heard about Mr. Bang, and his reputation, I applied because I wanted to meet people like you. I told Agent Jung I had lots of experience and loose morals, and bada-bing-bada-boom, I get hired.” He does what you assume would have been jazz hands, if not for the gun held tightly in his grip.

“Oh my fucking god, you’re such an idiot,” you snort. “When most people try to meet their idols, they go to concerts, not to a den of killers.”

“What can I say? It’s one of my many charms,” Jungkook replies, winking. Your heart does another thing in your chest. It reminds you of the feeling of jumping into a cold lake– as though your whole body has come alive.

You hope that once you carry out your mission, you won’t have to hurt Agent Jeon along the way.

“Hey, so…” Jungkook asks after several minutes of patrolling in silence. “What are you doing after your shift?”

“Huh?” For a second, you think you’ve misheard him. “You mean in the twelve hours until I have to be back?” You pulled a double shift– it’s nearing noon, and you’ve been working since midnight.

“Dummy, we don’t have work this weekend,” Jungkook says. “Mr. Bang is going on a business trip. Weren’t you paying attention during the briefing?”

Not even a little were you paying attention– you were too focused on escape routes. You might be able to drug his food? “Sweet.” And you mean it: With Hitman gone, you can catch up on sleep and plotting without having to worry about your competition.

“Anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out– y’know, outside of work? I really want to get to know you better.”

“Uh…” Huh? This isn’t part of your plan. You don’t hang out with targets during a mission. So you should say no, right? But… what harm can come from spending time with your coworker? After all, you are undercover. And if Hitman is leaving for the weekend…

You realize you’ve been silent too long when Jungkook begins to backtrack: “I mean- Soo-Jin, sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply– you know what, never mind-”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Wait, what?”

You allow your lips to curl upward into a smile. “Sure, why not?” There’s no way it can endanger your mission.

“Awesome!” Jungkook returns your grin enthusiastically, and for the rest of the shift he walks with a spring in his step. It would be endearing, if your heart weren’t frozen and locked in your chest. “Maybe we can do lunch or something. Is tomorrow okay? Do you want me to pick you up at your place?”

“No, that’s okay,” You say hurriedly. Definitely not, no one can know the location of the safehouse. “Lunch tomorrow sounds good, we can meet there.”

“Ah- okay, yeah.”

As your shift comes to an end and the guards reconvene, Agent Jung calls you to attention. “Aight, everyone. As you know, Mr. Bang will be going to the city tomorrow morning for a business meeting– the organization is providing its own security forces, so your services are unnecessary until Monday at 6am sharp. Understood?” “Yes sir!”

Tomorrow morning? Wait, that means you might have a chance to strike in the few hours before he leaves. You know the best time to strike any target is during a period of transition. While everyone is hurried, packing and organizing, Hitman will have his guard down.

Once you’re changed, you head out the door. Jungkook catches your eye and waves, and you feel your face heat up as you offer a cheeky salute in response. It’s not you’re fault, that toothy grin is so contagious.

Once you’re safely holed up at your base–

“AD, you there?”

“Sure am. What’s up?”

You walk calmly around the safehouse, marking things off your mental checklist. “I’m gonna go for it tonight.”

“Damn, that was fast. What’s going on?”

“We know the location of cameras and the guards’ schedules. Just cause I haven’t met the guy in person doesn’t make this too fast.” Ammo, rifle, scope, suppressor, stand– check. “He’s going on a business trip in the morning, and once he steps out of the house, that’s gonna be my best bet. Besides, now that I’m sure there’s someone else after Hitman, I gotta get to him first.”

“Sounds great. Where do I come in?”

“Can you get me satellite images of my cover options within, say, a kilometer of his door? I tried checking, but his house doesn’t show up on Google Maps. I need a roof where I won’t be interrupted.” You had hoped to pull the infiltrate-eliminate play, but if you have a chance to snipe the Hitman, you’re gonna take it.

“Classic. Yeah, I can do that. I’ll get his schedule too, lemme send that to you.” You hear AD typing quickly on the line. “There’s a car scheduled to pick up Hitman and Agent Jung at 5:30 in the morning.”

You glance at the clock. It’s 1:30 in the afternoon, which means you’ve got sixteen hours to plan your highest-paid killshot of the year.

Your security uniform shines like a beacon, draped over your chair. It’s a shame you won’t be able to make your lunch appointment with Jungkook tomorrow. You’ve got to be out of the city before Hitman’s body is even cold. Maybe in another life, you could have spent more than a week with the man whose company you find yourself enjoying increasingly each day.

“AD, let’s take a bit of a break after this one, okay?”

AD chuckles. “With a 45k job, you can take as long a break as you want. Good luck, y/n.”

You spend the afternoon organizing the hit, with AD’s help.

“Jeez, his security on this trip is a fucking brick wall,” AD groans in frustration. “Y/n, if you don’t make the shot when he’s leaving, you’re not gonna have another chance.”

“Mm.” You’re distracted, measuring the angles from a printout of your rooftop perch. AD secured you entrance to a quiet office building three blocks from Hitman’s estate. You’ll have to set up at the southernmost corner of the roof to have the biggest advantage. You’ll go there around midnight– you don’t want to give Hitman a chance to leave early.

Hours pass, and the clock ticks closer to midnight. “I’m headed out,” you say, hoisting your equipment over your shoulder.

“Cool. I’ve got one of my men on the door to the building– give him the password, and keep your head down. Take the stairs, the elevator is monitored. There’s a fire escape on the roof if you need to get down fast. Good luck, y/n.”

“Thanks.”

You arrive to the building with little trouble, your high-powered rifle concealed in pieces within a worn-out backpack.

You knock three times on the back door to the building, and immediately a man opens the door. “What do you want?” he growls. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Sorry, I’m lost,” you reply calmly. “I’m looking for the post office.”

The man gives you a quick once-over, eyeing your backpack appreciatively. “You can send letters from here,” he says, stepping back to let you in. You nod, pulling your hood lower over your eyes as you make for the stairwell.

Ten stories later, your legs are burning and your shoulders ache from the weight of your weaponry. But at least you’re on the roof, with a perfect view of Hitman’s brilliant estate.

“AD, come in.”

Your earpiece crackles to life. “Wassup?”

“I’m in position,” you reply as you unload your backpack and begin to fit your rifle together. “It’s gonna be quiet for a couple hours. Take a nap, man, you’ve earned it.”

At your words, you hear AD yawn. “Good idea. Talk to you later.”

The line goes dead as you finish setting up the rifle stand, careful to aim it so your bullet will strike Hitman as he leaves the house.

Deep breaths. It’s just another kill, just another target, and more money than you used to make in a year.

You settle in by your rifle for the five-hour wait. The cold bites deep into your bones– but at least it keeps you from dozing off.

Around three in the morning, you’re half present, half floating off into a world of your own creation, when a blur of motion darts across your line of sight. What? What? Something’s going on, what–

You press your eye to the gun’s scope, magnifying your vision. A figure creeping down the block, dressed in all black, their movements strong and familiar– the acrobat is back.

“AD?”

Silence on the line. He must still be asleep. You’ve got a couple hours before Hitman leaves, enough time to get this guy and return to the roof.

Grabbing your handgun and a dagger, you race for the fire escape, skipping steps, practically flying down the stairs. He’s got a headstart on you, but he’s injured. If your earlier bullet hit true– and it always does– too much exertion will reopen his wound. You’re a hyena, stalking your prey, wearing him down until there’s little work left for you to do.

Your target slows to a walk, still a block ahead of you as you reach the sidewalk, closing in on Hitman’s estate. Finally reaching the ground, and with your heart hammering in your chest, you duck behind a parked car and peek out. Has he seen you? You don’t have a mask, just your hoodie. He’s wearing a crude ski mask– covered except for his eyes and mouth. How unprofessional.

He continues walking, his body language relaxed. How can he be relaxed right now? You move from behind the car to the middle of the sidewalk, hiding in plain sight. You jam your hands in your pockets, letting your hair fall in front of your face as adopt a drunken stumble. If you can’t run, hide. You sense your target turn around and spare you a glance. All he’ll see, though, is intoxicated, unthreatening idiot. Your opponent ignores you and keeps walking, his left hand going up to clutch at his side. Bingo.

You continue trailing him, hanging back just far enough to not arouse his suspicion. Once he gets to Hitman’s estate, and to that electrified fence that he can somehow scale, you’re going to lose him.

You need another advantage.

You secret the knife from the sheath on your hip, subtly increasing your pace until you’re about twenty feet away from your target– about the farthest you’ll trust yourself to throw a knife accurately. He’s close, so close…

You whip your arm around and send the knife sailing. It flies through the air, headed right for his midsection, when suddenly… what?

Your target’s arm reaches out almost in slow motion and grabs your dagger by the handle, stopping its flight mere inches from his flesh.

“I haven’t forgotten your other present,” he growls as you close in on him, his voice inhuman. “Leave now. You’re not going to win this fight.”

This bitch…

In your mind, you hear every girlie, every sweetheart, every condescending chuckle. You see the disrespect in a thousand eyes, the endless doors closed in your face. And you snap.

Your body seems to melt into the shadows— you’re made of fire, of darkness. Energy courses through your veins, and you suppress the urge to laugh. It’s been a while since you’ve gone all-out. If you can’t hide, fight.

The acrobat cocks his head. “You’re not running?”

In lieu of a response, you make a show of withdrawing your handgun. On seeing the weapon, the acrobat flashes his own gun, leveling the barrel at you.

What he doesn’t know, you think, running your other hand over the military-grade smoke grenade in your pocket, might hurt him.

The acrobat’s arm twitches, the kind of twitch that’s been burned into your memory. You see the path of the bullet before he pulls the trigger; you drop to the floor, his bullet missing your head by inches. In the same movement, you pull the pin on the grenade and launch it at him. With a loud hiss, thick plumes of smoke begin to pour from the capsule. You hear the acrobat curse. His mask proves to be his downfall: he’s blinded and coughing, although his covered nose means he can still breathe. You don’t have a mask with you, but you do have excellent hearing— and so you drop your gun and charge towards him, your eyes shut tight.

Time seems to slow down. The smoke burns your lungs even though you’re holding your breath, but all you can focus on is your opponent’s heavy footsteps, unsteady and pained. His earlier wound must still be bothering him, which is probably why he’s still on the ground. With his skill set, you’d have scaled the fence and been gone by now.

Wait. The fence. No matter his skills, the guy isn’t immune to electricity. And you’re right in front of Hitman’s estate.

Your lungs protest— you’ve been holding your breath too long. You need to end this quickly, while you still have the advantage of your smoke cover. Your ears pick up a tiny shift in weight in front of you— he’s a smart assassin, he managed to stop coughing. But it’s not enough to save him, not when you’re in your element. You circle around silently until he’s in between you and the fence.

“Come on, man,” your opponent speaks suddenly, his voice distorted. A voice mod? “We can spar later, I got shit to do.”

Fucking asshole. You barrel forward, lowering your shoulder and catching him right in the gut. You hear a metallic skitter; your attack forced him to drop his gun. He’s unarmed.

“Oof!” The acrobat grunts in pain, stumbling backwards even as his gloved hands snake forward to wrap around your throat. Shit. He starts squeezing, and you gasp for air, your tortured lungs protesting further abuse. He’s almost right up against the fence– you just need him to take one...more...step. You can hear his labored breathing right in front of you. He must still be blinded, which means you can take him by surprise. Perfect.

You plant your hands on his shoulders and, instead of pushing him away like he surely expects, you pull him close and press your lips to his, kissing him with all the desperation of a girl with her life on the line. The move is a double-edged sword: if you can’t distract your target sufficiently, you’re close enough to be KO’d. But if you do your job well… it’s practically a given win. Your opponent’s grip on your throat loosens and you feel him relax into the kiss– and return it with fervor, biting lightly on your lower lip. Well, he’s certainly distracted. You use the opportunity to shove him backwards, and with his guard down, he takes that last crucial step to steady himself.

ZZZAP!

You wince at the crackle of electricity. It’s not enough to kill, but that’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker. He collapses without another sound, just as the smoke begins to dissipate.

“Did you hear that?” You hear a shout from inside the estate.

“Someone set off the fence!”

“Well, go check!”

Oh, Christ. You can’t leave your opponent there; his injuries will prove that someone else was with him, they’ll check the footage before AD can edit it. You bend down– grabbing your discarded gun while you’re at it– and pick your opponent up in a fireman’s carry, lugging the dead weight several buildings down and into a back alley. By the time you get there and set him down, you can hear him groan. He’ll be coming to soon. You touch your earpiece to contact AD.

“AD? You awake?” You rasp, your throat still hurting.

AD sounds groggy. “Good morning to you too. Yeah, I’m here.”

“I caught our acrobat.”

“No shit! Is he dead?”

You peer at the groaning, half-conscious figure. “Almost.”

“You’ve got the go-ahead to neutralize him. I’d recommend doing it fast, though.”

“Yeah, I will.” You check the clock: 3:44. This guy’s taken up way too much of your time. Glancing down at your fallen opponent, you see his hand begin to twitch. Let’s see what kind of amateur assassin almost took my kill. You sit on your heels in front of him and reach out, pulling off the ski mask with ease.

“Oh…shit.”

“Y/n?”

“Uh…” sitting in front of you, a trail of scarlet blood dripping down his chin, is Jeon Jungkook. “AD, I’ll call you back.”

“Wait, what’s going-” Click.

You rub your eyes miserably, wishing that the smoke was still blinding you. Jeon Jungkook. Agent Jeon. The dork from work. An assassin?

Then that means… you tug up his shirt, exposing sculpted abs that you wish you didn’t notice along with thick bandages wrapped around his midsection. You can see dark blood seeping through on Jungkook’s left side– where you’d shot him last week, where he said he’d fallen asleep on a dog toy. And like an idiot, like a sentimental amateur, you believed him. You believed that he actually liked you, actually cared. But he’s a liar, a monster like you. The realization that it was all an act hurts more than your bruised throat ever could.

“Ngh…” your heart seems to drop into your stomach. The voice mod must’ve been in his mask, because now you can recognize Jungkook’s groan as the one you’d heard so often during dull shifts. “Hey… hands off the goods.” He swipes weakly at your arm and you pull away, letting his shirt fall back down over the wound that you caused.

Half of you wants to laugh, and the other half wants to… what, cry? Why did it have to be him?

You pull back your hood and tuck your hair behind your ear. “You’re such a fucking idiot, you know that?”

At last, Jungkook’s eyes snap open and he stares straight at you, his face betraying a mix of horror and fury. “Soo-Jin?”

He’s going to die anyways. You might as well tell him the truth. “Actually, my name is y/n.”

“No.” Jungkook gapes, seemingly at a loss for words. “No. Dammit. Fuck! Fucking anyone but you!” He tries to get up, but he doesn’t get very far before he falls back and slumps over, his expression heartbreaking. For once, you can do nothing but watch him. “I knew it was one of the guards,” Jungkook continues, clutching at his wound. “Namjoon has good aim. Jimin, he’s fast. I didn’t want to hurt you, Soo-Jin–” his voice breaks. “Or, I guess, y/n.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you either,” you admit, the gun in your hip holster feeling heavier by the minute. “But I had to do my job.”

“Wait a second…” Jungkook hesitates. “Y/n? As in y/n l/n, the master assassin? Sixty-two confirmed kills? You’re that y/n?”

“You’ve heard of me?”

Jungkook nods as much as his weakened state will allow. “Everyone in the business has. Your aim is unmatched. They say the only time y/n misses a killshot is when she’s trying to miss– oh.” Jungkook smiles sadly. “I’m just postponing the inevitable, huh?

You nod, smoothly withdrawing your gun and pointing it at his head. Sure, midsection is more of a surefire hit, but a headshot will end it quickly– and for the first time in a long, long time, you realize that you care about his suffering.

Jungkook looks up at you, his eyes revealing a softness you can’t understand.

“Y-you’re not scared?” You ask. Why isn’t he trying to escape? If you can’t win, run. It’s the assassin’s motto. But… he’s not running?

Jungkook shrugs, groaning in pain. “I lost. You won. We had the same target, so killing me is your right. Besides, if it had to be anyone…” Jungkook winks. “Might as well be you. Even if you are a dirty liar.”

You draw yourself up, affronted. “Excuse me?”

He laughs and then coughs. “Miss I don’t kiss my victims went and pulled that? Sure, Jan.”

You suppress a giggle. “You’re postponing again. I have to get back to Hitman.”

“Right, sorr-” BANG!

You pull the trigger, the gun so familiar in your hand that it’s like an extension of yourself. And your aim, as always, is perfect.

Jungkook is shaking. He looks up at the black mark where the bullet struck the wall, not half an inch above his head. “Y-y-you missed.”

“I’m y/n l/n,” you reply, holstering your gun. “I never miss.”

“Wait, so you saved–”

“Someone’s gotta fix this bandage, shit,” you interrupt, kneeling down and examining his wound, which has continued slowly bleeding through its dressings. “Goddamn amateurs, I swear, ruining the trade–”

Suddenly, Jungkook reaches out and cups your cheek.

“W-what are you doing?” You squeak, embarrassed. He’s so close you can feel his body heat, so close it feels like you’re the one who’s disarmed.

“Making sure you won't regret sparing me,” Jungkook mutters in response before capturing your lips with his own. You didn’t notice the first time, but he tastes like cherries.

You know you should pull away, a good assassin never lets down her guard, but– “Fuck you,” you mumble against his lips, linking your hands behind his neck. Heat courses through your body as you kiss him back. Maybe, for once... you can just relax. You feel a bit of something hard pass from his mouth to yours. A hard candy? Who cares, you’re kissing him and kissing him and you really like kissing him, fuck.

Eventually Jungkook pulls away, a bright smile on his face. “Look at me, the amateur that tamed the expert.”

“You didn’t tame shit,” you reply, getting up. For a second your vision swims before you. Damned iron deficiency. Checking the time, you start. “I gotta get going.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Jungkook responds, standing up. What? His injuries should have kept him down.

“I’ve still got a target to off, hon.” You salute him, your head aching. You wish you could spend more time with him, but it’s not your path. You’ve got a job to do.

“I said,” Jungkook replies, walking forward. “You’re not going anywhere.” His gait isn’t casual anymore, it’s threatening, and all your instincts are screaming danger.

“Or what? Do the math. I’m armed, you’re not. You can’t do anything.”

Jungkook smiles coldly. His eyes– they’re dark, emotionless. The kind of eyes you see in the mirror everyday. The eyes of a killer. “Oh, but I can. And I did.”

“W-what?” Your heart feels weak, and your breathing becomes labored. Your chest is unnaturally tight. “What did you do to me?”

“All the best spies kept cyanide pills in their mouths,” Jungkook replies with a shrug as you fall to your knees, too dizzy to stand. The world is spinning, tilted, and your chest feels like it’s burning. Jungkook leans down, his tone malicious. “And I’m one of the best. After all, I killed y/n l/n, didn’t I?”

Cyanide. Poison. How can you fight against poison?

Jungkook is still talking. “If you can’t win, run, right? Guess what, girlie? Guess why I didn’t run?”

You can’t breathe, it feels like you’re drowning, you lost.

“I didn’t run because I could win. And I’ll win again, once Hitman is out of the picture. You’re not the only one with money on the line. Though I have to say, it’s really a shame.” He flicks your forehead, but you can barely feel anything anymore. “You were cute. Oh well, any last words?”

This is it. The end of y/n l/n, master assassin. Your eyes flutter closed– he won. “Fuck you.”

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