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elizabeethan · 3 years

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Watch the Sunlight Fade: 8 / 17

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: Things might be starting to come together this week! Let me know your predictions.

This chapter talks extremely briefly and ambiguously of Emma not exactly wanting to have sex with Neal. Also, there is a discussion of Killian’s semi-violent past. Nothing is detailed, but let me know if you need more information or anything!!

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~~~~

The days turn into weeks, although Emma can’t help but feel as though time is dragging her along mercilessly. Nothing has changed since she found out about Neal, how he’s the brother of the leader of The Lost Boys. Nothing, aside from her feelings of safety and security, of confidence in her relationship, being completely shattered.

Every night, she fights off the desperation to walk across the hall and join Killian in his bed, letting his strong arms consume her and blanket her with a sense of ease and contentment. Every night, she fights with herself as she crawls into bed with Neal, a man she thought she loved, and forces herself to put on an act of affection towards him. She forces herself to lie back and accept his convoluted attempts at showing her that he loves her, knowing that he couldn’t possibly. If he loved her, he would never have lied to her. If he loves her, he would let her go.

She also fights with herself through the anger she feels, directed inward rather than at anyone else. Sure, she’s mad at Neal for what he’s done, what he’s putting her through, but at the end of the day, she’s the fool to let herself be put in this position. It’s her fault. She should have seen through his lies from the moment she met him, but she was too desperate for love and family and acceptance. He knew that, too, and he exploited her weaknesses like she meant nothing to him.

It drives her mad to not know what he’s after. She’s hardly the most skilled person at finding people who don’t want to be found, so why he feels the need to target her specifically, she can’t say. It could be argued that, in some perplexing, psychotic way, he thinks he loves her, but she knows now that this isn’t love. It can’t be.

Lying at his side, wide awake through her inability to sleep, she can’t seem to shut her mind off. Each time she closes her eyes, she feels terror at the memories burned behind her lids. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees Neal on top of her, despite her resolve to squeeze her eyes shut each time he decides he wants to be with her. Usually, she’s able to go to another place, letting thoughts of the beach or her happy future serve as a distraction of her fear, but sometimes she can’t ignore the feeling of his rough fingertips burning her skin.

Sometimes, when she’s in Neal’s arms and struggling to get past the feelings that come along with being with him, she thinks of Killian. Not necessarily in a way of longing for him-- not because she wishes she was with him instead, although she can only assume it would be more pleasurable-- but because of the comfort that he always brings her. Being with him is like being embraced by warmth and safety itself. It’s like the rest of the world turns off, and all that’s on her mind is the soothing way his arms wrap around her and the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her cheek. She doesn’t have to worry when she’s with him. She only has to think about how good it feels to be in his arms.

And she’s noticed his physique, too. It would be difficult not to. She noticed that first night, when he lifted his sweatshirt off and pulled his t-shirt up with it. She noticed the other day when he visited her in her cave of an office, leaning his shoulder against the door frame with his arms crossed, muscles bulging out of his sleeves and a tempting smirk coloring his lips as he teased her over the dinosaur of a computer she was working on. She notices the way he looks with almost everything he does, and she knows it's a dangerous game that she’s playing.

It’s not like she never found Neal attractive. But knowing what she knows now, she can’t help but to feel slightly nauseated every time she sees his face. She’s got to get out of this.

~~~~

“Since you did such a good job with the last one, I have another little task for you,” Peter says, his voice teasing and his smirk unsettling.

Emma works hard to maintain her composure as she sits straight up in her seat, one she was finally awarded after weeks of standing awkwardly before the group sat at the table. Today, when she walked into the daunting conference room, Peter invited her to sit beside him, beside Neal, and has been leaning towards her in a way that she knows is meant to appear polite, but holds a threatening undertone.

“Okay,” she agrees, trying to make her voice sound confident and fighting off the fear that never seems to go away.

He turns from her to Neal and remarks, “she really has begun to come into her own, hasn’t she?”

“I guess,” he shrugs, and a part of her feels offended at his nonchalance. Despite her strong desire to be anywhere but here, she thinks she’s done a pretty nice job of trying to fit in. Ever since Gold spilled the beans a few weeks ago about Neal’s status in the club, she’s held it together fairly well on the outside, with the exception of her initial breakdown.

There’s only one person she truly feels comfortable breaking down in front of. Only one person who she really trusts.

She hasn’t told Neal that she's found out his true identity. She and Killian have talked about it at length, sometimes able to spend time alone together especially when Neal leaves, and they’ve agreed that it’s for the best to keep her discovery under wraps. Gold’s subtle drop that Neal is his son and brother to Peter was purposeful, and she can’t let him come out on top. She knows, she’s terrified, but she’ll maintain her composure. For whatever reason, Neal doesn’t want her to know, so she’ll keep playing dumb.

“Who do you want me to find?” she asks, wanting nothing more than to prevent Neal from saying anything else casually offensive. His small digs at her serve a purpose, she now knows; to bring her down as far and as quietly as he can.

“This one may be a bit more of a challenge; a member from a rival gang. While Graham was more of a nomad, this man has ties to the Kings of Elsinore and is better protected. I want you to find out everything you can on him.”

“Okay,” she nods assuredly. “Well, I'll take whatever you have on him and get to work, then.”

Before she can move from her seat, Peter’s hand is on her wrist, oppressively holding her still. “Not so fast. There’s someone I’d like you to officially meet. Call in Hook.”

A man Neal knows, Walsh, she thinks, stands from his chair and walks towards the door, summoning someone inside. She has to stop her jaw from hitting the floor when she sees who.

“You two seem to have met casually, but I’d like you to officially meet Killian Jones. He’s gotten himself into a touch of trouble and, as punishment, will be helping you with whatever you need until this man is located.”

She gulps, anxiety setting in again despite how hard she’s been trying to keep it at bay. She promised herself she would be strong, refusing to let them get to her, to let them see her squirm. She will keep her promise to herself. “Okay,” she murmurs, forcing herself to peel her gaze from Killian’s. She can’t help but wonder what he’s done to get into trouble with Peter. She selfishly hopes they weren’t caught without her knowledge.

~~~~

“What happened?” she begs desperately once the door to her small office is shut, Killian ushering her into the room before practically slamming it. “What are you in trouble for? Killian, please tell me they don’t--”

“Nothing like that,” he hisses, stepping towards her. With a soft, gentle voice only just above a whisper, he says, “love, you have to stay calm. You did phenomenally pretending we don’t know each other well, but we have to keep up the ruse.”

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I know, I just… what happened?”

“Nothing, love, I promise. I only refused to go on a trip with them last week and Peter feared I wasn’t dedicated to the club’s cause.”

“You did?” she asks in surprise. When Neal told her that he wasn’t dedicated, she forced herself to believe him. When Killian says it, she doesn't even consider doubting him.

“Aye. Told them I had pressing matters to attend to.”

She cocks her head suspiciously and asks, “what were the pressing matters?”

“The Mummy Returns was on TV, remember? We watched it together.”

She can’t help the smile that breaks across her face, a snort escaping her throat despite her best efforts as she shakes her head and feels a blush creeping up her neck and pinkening her cheeks. “You’re dumb,” she says, and she feels like a child in a playground with a school crush.

“Well,” he shrugs, giving her a beaming smile. “Here, love. I’ve got the information we have so far. Time to start digging.”

A part of her almost wants to take her time, content to sit in the small office with Killian sitting beside her for quite some time. No one would suspect a thing, what with Peter already telling her that this guy would be harder to find; it’s the perfect excuse to soak in all of the comfort and happiness that Killian brings her despite her circumstances. But she knows they have to keep up appearances so as to avoid being caught in their elicit friendship, so she’ll work at a normal pace and hope no one notices that her smile is genuine rather than the forced one she gives Neal.

James Spencer is certainly a hard man to find. If she didn’t already know that he was linked to the Kings of Elsinore, she would be lost, as the man seems entirely enigmatic in nature. He seems like a ghost, her research pointing her absolutely nowhere, but Peter insists that he’s got ties to this rival club, despite her finding no evidence to support his claim.

She groans after a few hours, dropping her head to the desk as Killian continues to bounce a tennis ball off the wall in his boredom. It certainly is a punishment for him; the fact that he has to sit here and watch her find nothing is likely eating him alive. “It’s only been a few hours, love, you’ll find something soon,” he tries to console. Her frustration wins out, though.

“This is stupid.”

“Aye.”

“Are all of these stupid gangs this hard to navigate around?”

“Aye, I'd assume so. Although, I've never been a bounty hunter.”

She rolls her eyes, picking her head up and glaring. “I wasn’t a bounty hunter. I was a bail bondsperson.”

“That’s different?”

She holds her hands out, requesting the ball from him and catching it when he tosses it, only to throw it back at him with too much aggression. He yelps and laughs at her too loudly, and she can’t help but smile in response. She settles back into her chair after the short reprieve and sighs.

“How can I find someone who doesn’t want to be found if I know absolutely nothing about the environment he lives in?”

He hums in agreement, nodding and remarking, “you need an inside man.”

“No, I just need to know how a fucking motorcycle gang works,” she grumbles. It’s been a confusing few weeks, and she realizes that, while she’s gotten a few small bits of information, she still has no idea what the club’s actual purpose is. “Like… why even bother having one?”

He gives her a soft smile, standing from his chair and dragging it closer to her. “Are you sure that’s what this is about?”

“What?” she asks indignantly, giving him a look that she seriously hopes conveys how annoyed she is.

“Your little tantrum, love,” he teases. “Is it really about not knowing enough about how gangs work? Or is it, perhaps, more about your need to know everything about a situation in order to convince yourself that you’re safe?”

With another glare shot his way, she drops her jaw in surprise and shakes her head. “What the hell do you know?”

He smirks. “I know a lot more than you think. You’re a bit of an open book, love. And I’ve known you long enough now.”

“To what, psychoanalyze me?”

“I may have considered studying psychology, had I gone to university,” he laughs. “I know you’re scared, and I'm beginning to realize that not knowing what’s going to happen, or what’s happening without you knowing, is probably feeding that fear.”

With another heaving sigh, she drops her head back down, resting it on her arms and nodding. “You’re right,” she concedes, although part of her wishes he wasn’t. It’s true, though, being so in the dark about everything is making her feel weak.

His hand lands on her shoulder, staying there for a moment before he gently and slowly scratches his fingertips against her skin and pulls away. “I can tell you what I know, if that’ll help.”

She perks up, lifting her head and recalling a conversation from weeks ago in which he told her that his brother was an influential member of the club. “Yes,” she says, and why she didn’t think to ask earlier, she doesn’t know.

He gives her a nod and another one of his encouraging smiles, the one that always makes her heart skip a beat, and clears his throat. “What I know is that Neal is older, but Peter is in charge. From what I gather, and I was never privy to much, Neal went off on his own for a while and Peter took over everything. Gold’s always seemed a bit more… hesitant around Peter, but I almost suspect that he favors Neal. Either way, Peter was running things behind the scenes for quite some time before Neal left. When he came back, it was with you on his arm and with Peter happily leading, refusing to give up his spot. No one argued with him.”

She nods, but it doesn’t tell her much. She’s always known that Neal is more of a follower, happy to do whatever he can to impress his friends. The fact that he willingly gave up what seems to be his birthright doesn’t really surprise her.

“So what are they doing when they go away on their trips?”

“Usually seeking out merchandise. They deal in stolen goods, mostly watches and the like. Typically, a trip is a heist of some kind. A jewelry store, antique shop… sometimes even banks with safe deposit boxes.”

Emma looks down to her own wrist, Killian’s gaze following closely behind, and notes the watch she wears. The one that Neal gave her after one of his trips. She shudders and moves to take it off.

His hand stops her, looking into her eyes deeply and shaking his head. “Keep it,” he murmurs. “We can’t let them know that you know any of this.”

“Why?” she asks in a whisper. “Why is it so bad if I know?”

“I don’t know,” he shakes his head again. “But if Neal hasn’t told you, there’s a reason for it.”

She nods in understanding, letting her heart rate slow as his hand remains on her wrist, moving down to the top of her hand. She wants to wrap her fingers around his, but she knows she shouldn’t. “Can I ask something about you?”

“Of course.”

“Why do they call you Hook?”

His eyes drop from hers, glancing down at their joined hands, and she watches his brows knit together tightly. She feels his grip on her hand tighten, and despite both of them knowing it’s a bad idea, his fingers weave with hers and he squeezes her hand. She squeezes back.

“There are things about my past that… that when I think about telling you, I become…” he sighs, unable to finish his thought.

“Killian,” she whispers, “I already know you’re in a gang. Can it really be that bad?”

“Aye,” he answers immediately, his eyes meeting her own in a desperate attempt to convey to her something she can’t quite read. “I’m not… a good man.”

“Of course you are.”

“No. Maybe I’ve never thrown knives at a woman I’m supposed to love, but I’ve certainly… I mean…”

“Killian.” Her grip on his hand, the one she should release, tightens. “Whatever happened… you’re not that person. You’re good. I know bad people and I pegged you as good the second I saw you.”

It’s as if he can’t meet her gaze, too ashamed of whatever it is that he’s done. Too fearful of what will happen if she finds out. He witnessed her finding out that Neal has been lying to her, and she wonders if he fears a similar response now.

“I don’t-- it’s silly,” he laughs. “I just… I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You can’t,” she whispers. After everything he’s done for her, everything he plans to do for her, he could never disappoint her.

He sighs, squeezing her hand once more before turning it over in his and drawing a line across her palm. “I was a-- an angry lad growing up. My father abandoned us, my mother died. I found myself seeking release. Ways to get my anger out. I was never taught anything productive.”

She stays quiet, letting him open up to her on his own terms and distract himself by tracing the lines in her palms. “I came here at fifteen. Gold recruited me for… well, to put my anger to good use, in his eyes. He used me-- he’s always been good at picking out someone’s weakness and exploiting it. Whenever he needed information out of someone, he would bring me along and I would…” he sighs again, taking a deep and grounding breath. “I had a favorite weapon,” he mumbles.

With a nod, she tries to stay calm, tries not to let fear overtake her. She was fearful of Neal when he held the knives and smirked at her, and of Peter when he pressed the tip of the blade to his finger and smiled. But when she presses her hand to Killian’s cheek and makes him look up at her, she feels no fear. She sees only truth and regret and a longing to be a different person.

“It was a hook?” she asks for clarification, but she can see the answer in his eyes.

“From Gold’s boat,” he croaks. “That’s usually where we would take… the people we were interrogating. But, Emma, it’s been years. Liam found out and put an end to it. I think that’s--”

“What?” she asks gently as he cuts himself off, shaking his head painfully.

“I think that’s when things started going poorly for him.”

He’s done so much for her. He’s soothed every ounce of pain she’s felt since she got here, since Neal sliced her cheek and he touched it tenderly. He held her together as she cried harder than she ever had before. He’s vowed to see her out of this danger despite the predicament it puts him in. And still, she feels powerless to help him. He’s sitting before her, broken and in anguish, and she can’t heal him like he has her.

All she can do is take his cheeks in her hands and promise him, “that was not your fault.”

“Emma,” he breathes, his eyes pleading with her, for what, she isn’t sure. “He… he kept insisting I stay out of it. He kept holding me back, refusing to let me go, putting up a fight… I think they got tired of it, eventually. Of someone constantly questioning them and going against their word. He’d still be here if I hadn’t--”

“No. You had no hand in what happened to Liam. And when this is all over, you’re gonna be able to leave too.”

It’s bold of her to assume that it’s something he wants. He’s told her plenty of times that he wants to help her escape, but he’s never mentioned a desire to leave himself. It’s bold of her to assume that that’s in his best interest. But when she looks at the sadness and regret in his eyes, a part of her knows that it must be.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs after a moment of silence, and she lets him cast his gaze downwards again. “I should have--”

“It’s okay, Killian. The things you’ve done in the past don’t reflect who you are now.”

“Of course they do,” he nearly spits, clearly angry with himself as he pulls away and throws his head back. “I was a monster then. How can you not think of me as a monster now? I’m no better than Neal or Peter.”

“Don’t say that. Peter would probably do something like that now if he wanted to. Would you?” She lets her voice rise just the slightest amount, feeling more intensity than before and finding it necessary to convey to him that she doesn’t see him as a monster.

“Of course not.”

“And Neal… don’t even get me started. He nearly pulled his gun on me last week because I asked him where he was going. Would you do that?”

“Emma,” he says softly, finally looking at her once more, and she knows what he’s thinking. She knows he wants her out of his apartment; out of his life.

“You’re not a bad person,” she whispers, leaning closer to him just as he sits forward again, and they’re so close that she can feel his breath warming her nose. “I know bad people. You don’t qualify.”

He nods, his eyes deep and soulful as they bore into hers, and says, “I want to be a good person for you.”

No one has ever spoken to her like this. No one has ever expressed such a definitive desire to be worthy of her. No one has ever been so close to her and not made her instinctively want to pull away. And when she sees his eyes fluttering shut, his lashes touching his cheeks and casting long shadows in the dingy light, she wants to lean closer.

She almost does, too, is tempted to close her eyes like he has and touch her lips to his, but there's a swift knock on the door and they spring apart so quickly that she kicks his shin, causing him to bend and silently groan. She cringes in apology as she jiggles the mouse to her computer, begging it to wake up before the knocker enters the room.

“Any luck?” Gold asks as he pokes his head in.

“None so far,” Killian answers easily, his persona shifting effortlessly and maintaining their cover. “Swan’s searching high and low, but we don’t know much about Spencer’s tactics yet.”

“And Hook’s been a help to you, Miss Swan?”

“Yes,” she smiles, fighting the urge to lunge out of her chair and wring his neck for the name he’s given Killian and his insistence to still use it despite his obvious discomfort.

“It’s clear already that you have the club’s future in mind; I'm sure you’ll find something soon enough.”

She nods, staring as he walks away and cocking her head in confusion. “So weird,” she says softly once he’s gone, trying to remain quiet as he’d left the door ajar.

“What?”

“That’s the second time he’s mentioned the club’s future, specifically. What does me finding this James Spencer have to do with the future of the club?”

His response is a shake of his head, a slight roll to his eyes before he stills suddenly. His eyes widen as he looks down, then his brows knit together in thought, and she can clearly see the cogs turning in his mind. It’s like she’s watching him have an epiphany in real time. He looks up at her once, urgently, then he snaps out of it as if he’s remembering where he is, his demeanor shifting entirely as he smiles. “I’m not sure. The old man never makes any sense.”

“Killian…?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, love. We’ll just keep working on finding Spencer, alright? There’s no need to worry.”

For a brief second, she feels distrustful of him. It’s reminiscent of when Neal tells her not to worry about things that she couldn’t possibly understand. It’s like he knows something, but he doesn’t think she's capable of handling the truth of whatever it is. For a brief, fleeting second, she doubts him.

But she can’t let herself think like that. Neal lies to her to protect himself. Killian has been nothing but honest with her, wanting nothing but her safety. Truthfully, if whatever he’s discovered is bad enough that he doesn’t want to tell her about it, she isn’t sure she wants to know.

~~~~

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#Watch the Sunlight Fade #Captain swan fanfic #cs ff #sunlight ff #captain swan angst #captain swan fluff #emotional hurt/comfort #tw

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foilfreak · 3 years

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Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 4

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Upon returning to the surface again, Mother Miranda seems confused, but mostly relieved, that Salvatore did not show interest in lingering in the village any longer than necessary. Though Salvatore did end up needing to stay for one last brief conversation, in which he and Mother Miranda discussed various parts of Nadine’s file, as well as finalized the date and approximate time in which Salvatore could expect the villagers to arrive at the reservoir gate with his gift in tow.

2 days from now, was the final agreement, as it would ensure that Salvatore would be the first of the Lords to receive his gift, making up for the fact that he was the last of them to pick. It also permitted him the luxury of some spare time to prepare a new permanent living environment of some kind for his gift. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

Regardless, Once their conversation finally concluded, Salvatore bid his beloved Mother a quick, but appropriately appreciative thank you and goodbye, before closing the large wooden door to the meeting room and trudging back out into the cold, harsh winter snow. Despite a lack of improvement in the weather since Salvatore’s initial journey into the village, the mutant man maintained a solid pace through the snowy paths, seemingly uninhibited by the forceful winds attempting to throw him from his course.

With little time remaining, Salvatore wanted to return to his reservoir as quickly as possible to begin making preparations; though, what exactly it was he was supposed to do in order to prepare for a tiny, beautiful, and apparently violent cadou-mutant woman to begin living in his reservoir with him, once again, Salvatore still had no idea.

Grimacing in frustration, the hooded man wracked his brain for something to do, some way for him to make a good “first” impression with his new gift when she finally arrives. Something that would catch her fancy and hopefully convince her that, despite his terrifying appearance, he wouldn’t harm her and merely wanted to be friends.

Well… technically speaking Salvatore wanted a great deal more than just friendship from the young woman, however given how low his chances are of ever achieving the former, the mutant man decided that he’d happily squash his vile and disgusting desires down deep within himself if it meant he’d gain at least something similar to a friendship with Nadine.

He’d been doing the same with Mother for all these years, so it wasn’t like it was going to be difficult… hopefully.

Upon returning to his reservoir finally, Salvatore retreated from the harsh weather, deciding that he’d likely have a much easier time cleaning if he waited the snowstorm out and got started in the morning, instead. Once the skies had cleared and the sun had just begun to peak over the mountaintop horizon however, Salvatore immediately set to work cleaning up the areas surrounding the reservoir.

It wasn’t until after several hours of diligent gathering and disposing of the numerous unsightly piles of rotting wood and garbage lying around, that the unusually bright and hopeful atmosphere surrounding the reservoir was rudely disrupted by a surprise visitor Salvatore would have never seen coming in a million years.

“HEY, FISHFACE, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? I gotta talk to you about something, so hurry up and crawl out of your sewer system so we can get this over with, already” Karl’s rough and booming voice echoed out from somewhere within the reservoir.

Salvatore flinches in fearful surprise at the demanding voice, wondering what on earth could possibly have brought Karl, the notorious recluse of the family who never left his factory unless bribed or threatened, all the way out here to the reservoir. And to speak to HIM, on top of all that too.

Despite not feeling like subjecting himself to Karl’s recent tendency toward physical abuse disguised as “brotherly affection”, Salvatore sighs and swims his way toward his younger brother’s voice anyways, knowing that ignoring Karl would only prompt the younger man to actually enter the reservoir in search of him, which was the absolute last thing Salvatore needed right now.

“Mornin’, brother! It’s about fuckin’ time you answered the door. You were taking so long I was beginning to wonder if you’d finally decided to run away and live out the rest of your life as an actual fish, like I suggested to you at the last “family” meeting” Karl says bluntly, clad his characteristic attire of green sunglasses, a brown hat atop his head, a long tan trench coat covering his day clothes, various items strung around his neck, and large titanium hammer.

“H-hello, Karl... W-why is it th-that you’re h-here for?” Salvatore asks slowly, peering at the younger, but taller man from behind the only partially opened gate.

“Hey, hey, come on now, Sal, what’s with the cold welcome? Am I not allowed to visit my favorite older brother without a specific rhyme or reason. I think you’ll be surprised to know that I was actually already in the area, and wanted to stop by and see if you were in the mood for a chat. You know, like old times?” Karl says defensively, placing both his hands up as Salvatore narrows his eyes at the younger man.

Salvatore was a lot of things, but stupid most certainly wasn’t one of them, regardless of what other people thought. While it might be true that, when Karl was first introduced to the family as a child following his successful cadou mutation, they had something of a positive older-younger brother relationship that lasted a good many years into Karl’s adulthood, that relationship has been growing progressively shakier and unstable over the past few years, at least it has during the times Karl has acted like Salvatore wasn’t the only one to reach out and attempt to connect with the emotionally volatile, but secretly terrified young boy, when he first arrived.

Deep down, Salvatore still had something of a soft spot for Karl, a soft spot that he occasionally allowed himself to indulge in whenever Karl wasn’t acting like a royal asshole, but those moments of peace and solidarity between oldest and youngest brother had been few and far in between recently. Not to mention that Salvatore would be lying if he said he wasn’t growing increasingly more suspicious and distrustful of Karl and whatever secrets the younger man was hiding in that factory of his. He hadn’t the slightest idea what he could be up to, but something told Salvatore that Karl had more reason to be here than just pure coincidence.

“P-perhaps… what i-is it that you w-want to t-talk about?” Salvatore replies curtly, not wanting to just go along with whatever Karl wanted, but for some reason still willing to give the younger man a chance to prove himself.

Taking a brief moment to look over both his shoulders, Karl places the heavy end of his hammer on the ground and leans inward toward Salvatore, lowering his voice as he whispers, “You see your gift from Mother yet?”

This question took Salvatore by surprise, not expecting the gifts Mother Miranda had given them to be the reason why Karl was here.

“I… I h-have… why?” The disfigured man asks curiously, pushing the gate open a little further so that Karl, despite Salvatore’s earlier reservations toward the younger man, could squeeze his way inside.

Upon entering through the gate, Karl immediately takes 2 cigars out of his back pocket and lights the first one. “Curiosity mostly… but also cuz I think there’s more to this whole “gift” thing than Miranda wants us to believe,” the bespeckled man says, blowing a lungful of smoke out his nose as he offers Salvatore the second cigar. “You still smoke, old man?”

“I-I… I r-really shouldn’t” Salvatore says, turning his back toward Karl’s outstretched hand, even as the wonderfully woody scent fills his nose and his mouth begins to water.

“Oooooh, but something tells me you want to” Karl teases, sauntering over to the older man so that he could wave the fresh cigar in Salvatore’s face, chuckling in amusement when the fish mutant’s gaze locked onto and followed the unlit stick like a dog would a slab of meat.

“B-but it… M-Mother has s-said… m-many times… th-that she d-doesn’t like… doesn’t like when we s-smoke… because… uh, b-because...” Salvatore trails off, trying to remain strong for Mother Miranda, even as his self-control slowly continues to crack.

“Come on, lighten up a little bit, old man. It’s just one cigar. You smoked a pack of these things a day, like they were the only things keeping you going, both throughout my whole adolescence and, if what Duke says is to be trusted which we both know it is, well after I left for my factory, too. When the hell did you start being such a stick in the mud? No wonder I stopped hanging out with you, you’re like a fuckin’ parrot that repeats everything than goddamn woman says, it’s like I can’t escape her no matter where I fuckin’ go” Karl groans in a slightly childish tone of voice as he trudges forward to sit on one of the docks overlooking the calm water below.

Salvatore slowly moves to join him as he says, “S-she’s right th-though… it r-really isn’t good… f-for you… I smoked e-everyday for m-many years... an-and now I’m p-paying for my i-ignorance… Mother o-only nags at you… b-because she c-cares… and s-she’s always r-right… in the e-end...”

“Oh, fuck what Miranda says, I’m tired of that woman. Always telling us what to do and then thinking that pushing a couple of failed experiments onto us as “gifts” will make up for the fact that she’s disappearing off the face of the planet without a single trace and not telling us when she’ll be back. As far as I’m concerned, when Miranda’s not here, she’s not the boss of me. And the same goes for you, too” Karl says, roughly punching Salvatore in the shoulder.

“I-I don’t… I don’t think th-that’s how this w-works, Karl” Salvatore counters. “Even w-with Mother l-leaving us… f-for a t-time... we still h-have to make s-sure that th-things c-continue on… continue on as p-planned… or e-else we’ll really b-be in trouble… w-when she g-gets back.”

“Maybe,” Karl says thoughtfully, before taking another drag of his cigar. “I don’t know… I just have a sinking feeling that there’s something weird going on behind the scenes and these “gifts”, that she’s giving us, are nothing more than distractions to keep us entertained while she goes and does… whatever the fuck it is she plans on doing while she’s gone.”

Salvatore pauses for a moment, briefly remembering back to when Mother first told him that she’d be leaving the village to go “visit someone”, who she believed could be very important to their mission of reviving Mother’s long lost baby, Eva. Although he hadn’t thought very much of it at the time, the mutant man also remembers Mother saying something about how well Nadine would do at “keeping him occupied” until she finally returned, and maybe even after that, too. But why would Mother Miranda want or need him to be “occupied” when she got back? Wouldn’t she want to share her findings with him so they could work toward creating a vessel to revive Eva in? Wouldn’t she want to see and speak to him again after being away for so long?

Or maybe… could… could Karl actually be onto something here? Salvatore felt terrible doubting Mother Miranda, but he’d be lying if he said that Karl didn’t have a point about Mother’s behavior seeming odd, now that he was in the proper headspace to go back and analyze the memory properly, at least.

“B-but… if Mother h-has gone o-out of her w-way… to make sure that w-we won’t be l-lonely... w-while she’s away… isn’t th-that a… a good th-thing… doesn’t that m-mean she c-cares a-bout us... enough to… e-enough to do something l-like this?” Salvatore asks nervously, watching the younger man intently as he contemplates his response.

“I guess so, at least when you word it like that, it does. But something tells me there’s more to this than she’s led us to believe. She’s got something planned, and she’s definitely after something, and once she gets her hands on it, who the hell knows what’ll happen… whatever it is though, I doubt it’ll be very good, for any of us.”

“D-don’t say th-things l-like that… I-I’m sure M-Mother has a-a reason… a reason w-why she’s leaving… an-and if she d-doesn’t tell us w-what it is… b-before she leaves… th-then Im sure… I’m sure sh-she’ll tell u-us when she g-gets back… she’ll l-let us in o-on her p-plan… wh-when she’s ready… an-and then… once e-everything is… said a-and done… we c-can revive… r-revive Eva… and b-be a real f-family… a-at long l-last… isn’t th-that what w-we a-all want, after a-all… a f-family?” Salvatore asks, hoping this was doing something to ease the younger man’s clearly agitated mind.

What on earth it was that was causing so much turmoil as it flew around inside Karl’s head, Salvatore had no idea. But something about the bespectacled man’s unusually contemplative and concerned mood, coupled with the fact that he’d only punched Salvatore once since his arrival, was beginning to leave an acidic taste in the deformed man’s mouth.

Karl really and truly thought something was wrong, and the younger man’s continued insistence upon this fact was beginning to make Salvatore very very anxious.

Perhaps it was the unusually good and excited mood that Salvatore was in due to the near arrival of his gift, or maybe it was that soft spot for Karl I mentioned earlier, but regardless of the reason, Salvatore felt the odd need to help alleviate the younger man’s bad mood, just like he used to do for him back when Karl was still barely taller than his shoulder.

Mother Miranda certainly wouldn’t be pleased if she found out that Salvatore had broken his mandatory sobriety despite her explicit orders to avoid smoking so his experiment results wouldn't be hindered. That being said however, Miranda always seemed to want her 4 children to get along and be close, like real siblings, so Salvatore supposed that he could allow himself a break from his smoking break so long as, if Miranda did manage to find out somehow, he could get himself out of trouble by spinning it as a rare moment of sibling bonding between the oldest and youngest siblings, rather than the reality of the situation.

“I… I’ll t-take that cigar… if you’re n-not gonna smoke it… th-that is” Salvatore says, a small chuckle escaping him when Karl cheers in delight, practically throwing both the lighter and the cigar into the deformed man’s hands.

Salvatore’s first breath of the cigar is nothing short of heavenly once he finally lights it and takes a drag, and its moments like these when the mutant man finds himself secretly grateful that Karl hasn’t listened to a goddamn word Mother Miranda has said in nearly 4 decades.

A long period of silence passes as both brothers merely sit beside one another and secretly enjoy each other’s company.

“Miranda let me pick my gift first, so I didn’t get to see where the others went. Who did you end up with?” Karl asks, finally breaking the silence.

“T-the… the sh-short one,” Salvatore replies, “with b-blue skin, black h-hair, a-and, uh… oh, an-and white d-dots… all o-over her… l-like freckles… fins t-too”

“Oh ya, I remember that one. Gorgeous little thing, she was” Karl says, nodding his head in appreciation as a devilish smile spreads across his unshaven lips. “With quite the… voluptuous figure too, if I remember correctly.”

“I… well… I-I don’t know i-if… I d-didn’t... shut up...” Salvatore mumbles under his breath, taking a long drag from his cigar as Karl throws his head back laughing like a hyena at his older brother’s sudden bashfulness.

“Ah, come on, Sal, don’t be such a downer all the fuckin’ time, I’m just teasing. I know you still think about shit like that, too, even if you’ve managed to convince Alcina and everybody else that you’re just an innocent little follower who hasn’t had an independent, or dirty thought of his own since the cadou took hold. You used to be a fuckin’ doctor for crying out loud, and you’re still annoyingly the person Miranda goes to first whenever she has a new experiment in mind, cuz you’re smart AND she can trust you. You might look like you fell off the truck that was taking you and your fishy friends to market, but I’ve known you too long for that bullshit act of yours to work on me.”

“Act?” Salvatore asks, genuinely confused by what Karl means.

“You know, that stupid fuckin’ “moronic freak” act you do whenever Miranda’s around. The one where you act like you don’t know what the fuck is going on or what something is so that she’ll take pity on how stupid and childish you’re acting and give you more attention. It’s pathetic to watch and I’m gettin’ sick of seeing you do it all the time. Knock it off, you’re better than that.”

“I’ll… um… b-be sure not to… to m-make it s-seem as… uh… I’ll k-keep that in m-mind” Salvatore finally says, casting his gaze down to his pants for a moment, unsure how to feel about how… friendly and kind Karl was being all of a sudden. Salvatore knew Karl secretly cared about him, the brat does far too many conveniently nice things for him throughout the year for him not to, but hearing the younger man voice his surprisingly high opinion of him was definitely shocking, though still quite touching, all the while.

“W-which gift… d-did you end u-up… getting, Karl? I d-didn’t get t-the chance to… to s-see the others… M-Mother only showed me Nadi-er… my g-gift” Salvatore asks, deciding, at the last second, against using his gift’s real name lest Karl be given even more artillery to tease and riddle him with.

“Eh, just some tall dark haired broad. I think Miranda said something about her being Indian, or something along those lines.”

“O-oh… d-did Mother say a-anything about… whether she’s actually f-from here… o-or did she immigrate… f-from India?” Salvatore asks, tilting his head curiously as this new information about Karl’s gift piques his interest.

Karl stares at Salvatore with a look of confusion for a moment, his mouth opening and closing silently like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words for it. Until, “Aren’t Indians from America?”

The sound of Salvatore’s right palm making firm and painful contact with the back of Karl’s head echoes across the reservoir almost as loudly as the following cry of pain from the man himself.

“OW! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?” Karl roars angrily, pushing himself to his feet while he rubs at the back of his head, hat lopsided and barely hanging on to his head and green glasses no longer perched upon his nose, likely sinking to the murky lake floor just below the docks they were sitting on.

“I d-didn’t spend… th-the better part o-of 15 years… p-pounding an education... i-into y-your th-thick head... for you t-to say… f-for you to b-be spouting dumb shit… l-like that” Salvatore growls in annoyance, eying the taller man with a look that even he wouldn’t dare argue against, at least not with Sal he wouldn’t.

It’s moments like these when Salvatore is very happy that Karl, for as strong and fearless as he is now as a fully grown adult, is still just a little bit afraid of him after all these years. Not because of anything bad or horrifically traumatic of course, especially considering how often Salvatore had gone out of his way to ensure Karl had the least traumatic upbringing he could possibly provide the young boy, given both their situations. As much as he hated to admit it, even Karl would agree that Salvatore had done a pretty decent job of not fucking him up anymore than he already was, which the younger man would secretly always be thankful for. However, even a person as naively patient and serving toward others as Salvatore had his breaking point, and all it took was one especially bad day, resulting in the one and only time Salvatore has ever left a mark upon the younger man’s skin, for Karl to realize that Salvatore was the last person in this godforsaken village he wanted to purposefully make an enemy out of.

Thankfully, their relationship never suffered negatively from that one-off event, but it did force the two to come to a mostly unspoken agreement that has remained present and active, if slightly ignored at certain times, from that point forward. Agreement or not however, Salvatore could never bring himself to harm Karl like that again, even if he wanted to, which was probably the main reason why Karl was still the most comfortable around him, even after all these years. It was a secret they shared between them, and them alone, and it would be one that he would cherish for the rest of his life, as Karl would secretly cherish the kindness and brotherly love Salvatore had treated him with for all these years. They were brothers, regardless of whether they got along or not, and nothing in the would world would be able to change that.

That being said however, Karl was about to be in for a very rude awakening if he thought he could just do and say whatever the hell he wanted around Salvatore without there being any consequences.

“‘A-aren’t Indians f-from A-America?’ G-good grief... I o-oughta throttle y-you for th-that one” Salvatore grumbles through another drag of his cigar, shaking his head in utter disbelief and disappointment. Karl was so intelligent, and yet he could be so stupid sometimes that it physically hurt Salvatore to think about.

“But there ARE Indians in America, aren’t there? I know I’m not wrong here” Karl defends aggressively, his anger quickly giving way to embarrassment when Salvatore raises his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration and annoyance.

“Th-they’re called N-Native Americans... f-first of all... they w-were only c-called I-Indians... b-because the g-guy... the moron who f-first sailed t-to the A-Americas... w-was actually... looking for I-India... the r-real India... b-but back th-then... you h-had to go all th-the way... a-around Africa... to g-get there... but he th-thought h-he could do... d-do it a d-different w-way... he thought h-he could f-find India... by s-sailing straight f-from S-Spain... and g-going around the whole w-world... until h-he came b-back around... an-and hit Asia” Salvatore explained slowly, hoping to maintain his delusion that Karl had, in fact, paid attention to at least some of the lessons he gave the boy throughout their time together, even if it wasn’t actually true.

“But he didn’t. He hit the Americas and started calling the locals Indians cuz the guy, what’s-his-face... Columbine... Columbus... whatever, was dumb enough to think he was in India and not a totally different landmass” Karl finishes, looking like he at least remembered hearing about his information before, which was good enough for Salvatore.

Despite the grimace still etched onto his face, Karl groans in annoyed defeat and slinks back down to sit next to Salvatore, still cradling the back of his head.

“Anyways, as i was saying before I was so rudely interrupted with a goddamn history lesson-”

“You w-want another s-smack?” Salvatore threatens, mildly amused when Karl pauses his dramatic retelling, before sliding just a few inches to the right, away from Salvatore’s preferred disciplining hand.

Coughing slightly, Karl continues. “Anyways… going back to my “finding the silver lining” idea, or whatever the fuck its called. This whole “gift” thing might actually work out kinda nice for me in the long run, especially since the one I got looked like she was strong and could handle herself in a rough and tumble environment. If she proves herself, I’m planning on turning her into my assistant” Karl explains casually. “As much as I hate working with other people, normally, I’ve got some projects that would really benefit from a second pair of hands, so I’m attempting to make a “silver lining” moment out of this bullshit “gift” thing Miranda’s tryin to do and just hope and pray that things work out in my favor. Though, to be fair, if things with this girl don’t go well, I could always use her body for a cool idea I’ve had cooked up for a while now. What about you? What are you planning on doing with your new little toy once it finally arrives?”

Salvatore merely shrugs his shoulders. “It w-would be nice… i-if we c-could be f-friends… somehow… but…”

“Ya… you’re not exactly working with the latest and greatest set up, huh? Even a mutant girl might need a little bit to get adjusted to a face like that” Karl says.

“That’s c-certainly one way o-of p-putting it” Salvatore replies dejectedly.

Karl flinches slightly, which surprises Salvatore, since the younger man has a habit of caring very little for how his words affect those around him. Why on earth was he being so considerate, all of a sudden?

“Look, uh… what I meant to say was that… ok, so maybe you’re not like, the best looking guy ever, but like…” Karl stammers and stutters, trying desperately to figure out what he wants to say but seemingly coming up short every time.

Salvatore narrows his eyes again, suspicion returning. “You’re h-hiding something f-from me… w-what are you a-after, Karl?” Salvatore asks seriously, fixing the younger man with a stern look that he knows Karl recognizes.

“Hey, don’t you give me that fuckin’ look. I am too fuckin’ old for you to be looking at me like that, what am I, 12?” Karl asks.

“You c-certainly act l-like it… most of th-the time” Salvatore grumbles under his breath.

Karl clearly heard him, but knew better than to argue with the water not even a foot below where the two were currently sitting, his sunglasses having already taken a nice little dive as punishment for his big mouth. Salvatore might have only agreed to speak with Karl because the latter had demanded it, but they were still very much in Salvatore’s territory, and it wasn’t even a question of who had the topographical advantage should an “argument” actually break out between them.

Karl is strong, nobody can deny that. But Salvatore has the home advantage, and they both know it.

After a moment of tense staring, Karl finally breaks first, sighing heavily before tossing his finished cigar cap into the water below them, a crime Salvatore briefly contemplates knocking the younger man in for, before deciding against it, knowing, with his luck, that it would only come back to bite him in the ass later.

“Alright look,” Karl finally says, a look of frustrated determination on his face, “I don’t know what Miranda really has planned past her whole “get a suitable vessel for Eva” obsession, or what she’s really after on this mission of hers… but something about this whole situation going on recently just doesn’t feel right to me, and I think we need to do something about it before something bad happens and we all somehow end up dead. Now, I'm not 100% sure why I’m talking about this with the head of Miranda’s fuckin’ fanclub, but considering what my other 2 options were it wasn’t like I had much of a damn choice. My only saving grace right now is the fact that you’ll at least occasionally listen to fuckin’ reason, given your gaping maw can be yanked from Miranda’s tit long enough to hear me out, that is. It’s certainly better than my chances with Lady Super-sized Bitch and Crazy Psycho Doll, over there.”

“Are you s-sure you’re n-not just being p-paranoid?” Salvatore asks slowly, not wanting to offend Karl by outright stating he didn’t believe the younger man’s hunch, but also trying to figure out if Karl actually has something to be concerned about, or if he’s just looking for an excuse to badmouth Miranda.

“No, no no no, don’t you do this to me too, Sal” Karl begs in frustration. “You can go about the rest of your life loving the absolute shit out of that crazy woman if you want to and I won’t say a goddamn thing about it, but I need you to promise me, and I mean promise me, that if you see or hear something weird regarding Miranda and this little “trip” she’s about to go on, you come tell me so that we can at least make sure our own asses are covered when shit hits the fan.”

“Well… I-I uh…”

“Come on, Sal. None of these psychotic assholes have ever had my back like you, and that’s exactly the reason why I’m telling you all this” Karl says honestly, catching Salvatore off guard with the oddly familiar wording.

“I know I can be a royal fucking pain in the ass most of the time and that I’m not always the… nicest to you… even though you did kinda do... a bit for me here and there when I was a little tyke... But none of that matters now, because even if Miranda isn’t trying to hide something from us, with the two of us banded together, we could do whatever the hell we wanted while she’s gone, and neither of the other shitheads would be able to tell us otherwise. What do you say, Sal? Come on, you and me, together, just like when I was a kid, remember?” Karl asked excitedly, his eyes shimmering in boyish glee as he spouts off all the things they’d be able to get away with when Miranda finally left, the torment they’d be able to unleash upon Alcina being a particular favorite of Karl’s, it would seem.

Salvatore remained silent for a moment, contemplating the deal he’d just been given.

It’s… not a terrible deal, at least compared to some of the previous deals Salvatore has been offered in the past. It wasn’t like him agreeing to “ally” himself with Karl was a direct declaration of war against Mother Miranda or anything like that, merely a mutual effort that would guarantee safety for both him and Karl should Mother’s plan not go exactly as she wanted, which scientific experiments were known to do. Not to mention that giving Alcina a good messing with did sound like quite a bit of fun.

Maybe… maybe Karl was right. Maybe Salvatore was being a bit too much of a stick in the mud. It was just Karl after all, who Salvatore had practically raised, starting from the boy’s arrival into the family at 6 years old and more or less up until his factory was completed just after his 22nd birthday. Karl could certainly be a handful for even the most powerful individuals, but even on his worst days, he always found some backwards, convoluted way to apologize for his behavior.

“W-well… I-I’m not s-sure… I d-don’t know how I f-feel about… about d-doing things th-that Mother… wouldn’t a-approve of… just b-because sh-she’s gone...”

“But...” Karl continued for him.

“B-but I suppose… k-keeping each other u-updated… when we f-find… or h-hear s-something weird is… wouldn’t be… wouldn’t be th-the worst idea… in th-the world… e-even if it just t-turns out that… we w-were just being p-paranoid.”

“Excellent! That’s just what I was hoping to hear” Karl says triumphantly, standing up.

“A-are you l-leaving, already?”

“Ya” Karl affirms, “I’ve got work to do at the factory, and based on the look of things here, you were busy with a project of your own it looks like.”

Salvatore nods, pocketing his freshly finished cigar cap for later, proper, disposal. “I c-can’t even remember… the l-last time I… p-properly cleaned this p-place… it l-looks so m-much nicer… even w-without being f-fully finished…”

“Good for you. My own property could probably do with a good cleaning of its own now that you mention it. If nothing else though, I’m sure your new little lady friend will appreciate that you picked up the place for her arrival.”

“Y-you think s-so?” Salvatore asks.

Karl shrugs his shoulders. “Who knows with chicks, they’re unpredictable, but I suppose it’s possible. Then again, maybe not considering who you ended up with. I don’t know the full story or anything like that, but based on what I heard from Miranda, that blue bitch you went with was the craziest one of them all. Practically tore her pod apart the first time Miranda tried to put her in it, and caused all sorts of other damage throughout her mutation phase too, not that I blame the poor girl. I’d tear that whole lab right out from under the surface and set it ablaze if I could. Going back down there after so many years… I was puking like you for the rest of the fuckin’ day when I finally got out of that hellhole. Stomach still feels a little nauseous if I’m being honest...”

“I-I’m sorry… to h-hear that” Salvatore says, though Karl is quick to brush him off.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. I’m a big boy and I can handle myself. But do we have a deal? Keep each other in the loop whenever we hear anything… strange or abnormal about Mother Miranda or her special little mission?”

Salvatore pauses for a moment, thinking one last time about whether this was a good idea, before finally shrugging his shoulders and nodding. “Y-yes, we h-have a deal… b-but just remember something, Karl… 40 years d-didnt do… nearly as m-much for your p-poker face as i-it did for your s-smart mouth. If I c-catch you lying to m-me-”

“Ya, ya, ya, you’ll chop up my body and toss my remains in the lake to feed the fishes, I’ve heard that one a million times before” Karl interrupts. “Don’t worry, Sal, if I was planning on lying to you at any point throughout this process, you’d have already caught me by now. Even I know better than to try pulling a fast one over the walking fuckin’ lie detector.”

“I’m h-holding you to th-that, Karl” Salvatore calls over his shoulder as the younger man stands and begins heading toward the gate to return to his factory, chuckling lightly when Karl returns his warning with a middle finger.

“Take it easy, old man. And let me know how that crazy fish bitch you ended up with turns out. If all else fails I’ll turn her into a nice stuffed pillow for you” the bespeckled man says, throwing his head back in laughter as though he’d told a funny joke, before adding, “And I’d better get my sunglasses back within the week, or else I’m draining the whole fucking reservoir so I can find them myself. Don’t think I won’t do it, old man.”

Salvatore merely returns the middle finger, a response that Karl seems to appreciate, if the wolfish howl of laughter the younger man let's out says anything, at least.

‘Cheeky brat. Always plotting something’ Salvatore thinks fondly to himself as he slips back into the water to continue cleaning the reservoir, quickly grabbing the green sunglasses that had sunk to the bottom and pocketing them to return to Karl later. He pauses for a moment when a thought crosses his mind.

Within the past 24 hours, both Mother Miranda and Karl had been… unusually kind and affectionate toward Salvatore, which pleased but also confused the twisted man.

Karl was easy enough to explain away, the younger man has been flip flopping between periods where he likes and spends time with Salvatore, and periods where he’d sooner set himself on fire than be in the same room as his older brother, since the day they met, so as far as Salvatore was concerned, Karl’s behavior was hardly breaking news, though perhaps a bit surprising given everything going on with Mother’s gifts. Mother Miranda, however, was a different story.

Usually more distant and hands-off in her parenting ways, Miranda had been uncharacteristically affectionate toward the disfigured man the night before, going as far as to openly praise Salvatore for all his hard work and even hold him without being asked to. It had been such a wonderful experience at the time and yet, the more Salvatore thought about it, the stranger and stranger the behavior seemed, especially now that Karl had confronted him.

Speaking of Karl… Mother seemed quite upset with him when she spoke of him the night before. Going as far as to badmouth him specifically, calling him a ‘conniving little snake’, despite the younger man usually being her favorite by a country mile. Had Karl done something to incur Mother’s wrath? Is that why Karl came all the way over here to make that deal with him? Is he trying to rally the 4 lords to rebel against Mother Miranda?

No... No, no no no, that couldn’t be true, there’s no way.

Even Karl, for all his incredible intellect and hunger for power, was too afraid of Mother Miranda to ever try anything as drastic as that. That being said however, even though Salvatore doubted that Karl would ever try to rebel against Mother Miranda, it did seem like the younger man was trying very hard to get Salvatore onto his side for some reason. In fact, both Karl AND Mother Miranda appeared to be trying to sway the eldest Lord in their favor, though for what reason, he still had no idea.

It was definitely something that made Salvatore slightly wary of the both of them, though.

There’s nothing in this world that Salvatore hates more than doubting his beloved Mother, but even he couldn’t write this oddity of a situation off as a mere one-off incident or sudden change of Miranda’s tune. Mother has been acting very strangely recently, doing things she wouldn’t normally do and acting overly affectionate as if to try and throw everyone off her tracks, and the longer Salvatore thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but wonder, as painful as it was to admit, if maybe Karl was actually onto something.

Logically, he knows that Karl is just being Karl, looking to stir up some trouble for his own, and supposedly Salvatore’s, amusement, and that Mother Miranda is likely just trying to enjoy the time she has left with her children before she leaves on her mission. However, something in the back of Salvatore’s mind can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s more going on than he’s been led to believe by either of them. And as if this situation couldn’t get any more confusing for the deformed man, now his overly anxious and analytical mind was beginning to understand what Karl meant when he said there was something strange going on, no matter how much the rest of him practically screamed to just listen to Miranda like he always has.

Shaking his head of his scrambled thoughts and turning his focus back to his work, Salvatore decides that the best thing he can do right now is keep an ear to the ground on both Mother Miranda AND Karl, just to be fair. He still isn't sure if he plans on being 100% honest with Karl regarding their deal, but he supposes that maintaining a good relationship with the younger man wouldn’t hurt in the event he turned out to be right and Mother’s plan backfired on all of them.

Besides, if Karl did turn out to be right, and Salvatore was ready for if things took a bad turn, he could still be there to rescue Mother Miranda and ensure she’s brought to safety along with them. He’ll have successfully fulfilled his family duties to both Karl and Mother Miranda, without ever having to actually choose which side he was definitively on. A perfect plan if the mutant man says so himself. Now the only thing left to do between now and whenever things started getting interesting was work on the reservoir and wait for his gift to finally arrive, his mood regarding this whole situation greatly improved thanks to Karl’s visit.

Hopefully, if things went well, he’d have some exciting news to tell the younger man the next time they met up.

Maybe he’d even have a new friend to introduce.

44 notes · View notes

vminity21 · 3 years

Text

+1 | kth

Pairing: HighschoolCrush!Taehyung X StillProcessingIt!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Genre: angst/fluff/smut

Warning(s): slight language use, angst (if you read b/w the lines), pretty much smutty kissing, hand groping, mention of alcohol, breast worship, nipple play; Rated: 18+

Summary: When a crush you had in high school unexpectedly returns to your life six years later, this is the experience you have with him when you collected the courage to invite him over to hangout.

Credit to: @suhdays for the amazing cover!

Inspiration comes in the form of little expectancy especially when life seems to throw a curveball you never dreamed would be a potential possibility; but, here you are, tapping upon the keyboard of your five-year-old laptop decorated in stickers of celebs you've admired over the years mingled with relevant quotes that have bustled yet again- inspiration that motivates you day by day to continue to be the human being that you are. Inspiration though can appear in lyrical melodies broadcasted globally for millions to pine over; or, published in numerous pages creating imaginary worlds where ones can escape to; or, sketched in a meticulous design to build whatever idea had been desired to come to life; or, filmed in scenes of an edited story by talented persons determined to enter the spotlight in any way they can; or, painted along a canvas in colors of calculated detail bringing forth the picture of accomplishment. Inspiration derives from a mere moment- one that sparks the instinct to gather the materials needed to pour out your heart in ways that may bring a sense of peace.

For you, it used to be in the lines of a song penciled into a crinkled notebook from your backpack hidden away for no one to discover; it used to be countless childhood journals where you expressed your inward battles in order to find enough solace to sleep at night. You've lost your touch over the years because life changes in the blink of an eye, as you grow older, and work can distract from the time taken to focus on yourself; thankfully graduating college to gain the degree you now behold landed you a job, one you hope lasts for many years, and you are currently living in a two-bedroom apartment with your best friend, Monica, who's presently slumbering as you brush some loose strands of hair from your vision.

Your dog is curled at the end of your bed as you write, which is something that you haven't done in what feels like forever, but the reasoning behind this sporadic urge ignited when the familiar pair of brown eyes from six years prior, re-entered your world without your preparation and his presence from a recent night shared seems to echo in every space of your brain to where you've finally had enough. It's about time to reach out, the devil on your shoulder whispers, but the angel sitting on the opposite begs to differ. Shaking your head, you pause momentarily, cracking your knuckles before resting your forehead on the desk, exhaling slowly while the memory of his touch seems to haunt your skin.

He was someone you once admired in high school- roaming the hallways where girls giggled giddily each time he'd pass by; star of the basketball team, rising popularity to the point everyone knew his name, collecting homework answers from budding friendships, and it all began once he started his junior year at a new school- the school where you attended. But the difference that set him apart from the typical cliché's of the prevalent students you never seemed to relate to, was that he talked to absolutely everybody and anybody- no judgment on what group the person took part in, his kindness won the hearts of many other than the evident attraction of his physical features. He didn't care who you were or what you were into, he would be your friend, and that, considering he was viewed on a higher level, made him even more special.

Despite never admitting it then, you had a crush on him. He was more of an acquaintance, but you enjoyed his company when he came around, and when a past friend, who is now married with a few kids, used to have a crush on the same person, your heart sank, because with every guy thinking she was hot, you felt as though you would never stand a chance. Especially not with this guy who made your hands jittery and the beat in your chest skip- the guy who is none other than Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung would frequent the chorus room at times when you and your past friend would practice music pieces and he always was fond of your singing voice- something he praised you for often, while his attention was received from his talent regarding sports. Something he was so good at that it was spread that he may have gained quite the scholarship for college if he decided to go. There were memories of bravery where you seized the day just to steal a conversation and a hug; at one time, scribbling the words 'hot af' with an arrow pointing where he signed your friend, Min Yoongi's, yearbook; Yoongi playing it off as though he had no idea who the culprit was when Taehyung asked who wrote it. Utter surprise can't even fathom when you along with Taehyung were voted 'Most Likely to be Famous' by your graduating class when senior year was conquered. The inside joke was for you to hold the basketball while he placed his hands upon the keys of a piano, the picture you still couldn't process happened, but always remained grateful for.

Six years flew by and the conversation never necessarily held, but there were the rare messages from social media where he'd reach out hoping all had been well with you. Interestingly enough, a cover you posted harmonizing with a fellow singer happened to be his absolute favorite, one of the few Instagram posts he'd commented on, and one of the few singing videos he continuously would listen to repeatedly without your knowledge until a few weeks ago when he revealed that to you. A cover that is now near to be a four-year-old video that he still finds uplifting when he hears you and the way your voice blended so well with the other female. Your mind is reeling because after all this time, and even now, there are remains of the aftershock, trying to forget the feel of him, when there's no way you can, not with everything so fresh on your mind. So fresh on your heart.

It all occurred when Yoongi, who kept in touch with you occasionally after graduation brought you up to Taehyung who happened to think of you earlier when listening to his favorite cover of yours, and he agreed he'd like to hang out. He asked if his friend, Hoseok could join you, Monica, and Yoongi which of course you said yes to learn how sweet you found it, that he had traveled within the span of a day after visiting his grandparents, because he is a man of his word, planned to come see you even though the drive was five hours out of his way. The night was filled with so much laughter mixed with serious conversations to the point the card game that was supposed to be played was never finished, and it sprung the desire of wanting to see Taehyung again, and you couldn't come to terms with never knowing so after some encouragement from Monnie and Yoongi, you messaged T to hang out a few days later, but never opened his reply until you were safely home from work.

Taehyung: Gotcha! Hmmm, I haven't decided on what I intend on doing. Either being with family or hanging out with friends. If I don't hang out with family, you could be my plus 1 or bring whomever or vice versa

[Y/N]: Sorry I just got home from work! I'll definitely be your plus 1 if hanging with family doesn't work out! Sounds like a plan!

He asked if you wanted anything from the store when it was confirmed he was on his way which you responded with your typical answer of no, and with music playing from your Bluetooth speaker, you were highly humiliated when you lost track of four minutes of time, opening a message from him to see that he had been there, at your door. Heart racing you rushed to unlock it, head spinning when you saw he leaned against the stair railing with a plastic bag of two Arbor Mist wine bottles dangling from his hand, him promising everything was fine despite your profuse apologies- him slipping his phone in his back pocket while he followed you into your home.

Monnie happened to be staying the night with her family, so it would be just the two of you tonight, besides your dog who bounced at his legs while he reached down to pet her fluffy head. Taking in the sight of him, now that was something you found hard to believe. Just a simple pair of jeans, a gray t-shirt with a black jacket complementing the dark tendrils of hair spread across his forehead leading to the carefully sculpted lining of his jaw nearly brought you to your knees, but you held it together long enough to settle across from him at your dining room table. He had taken off his shoes at the door remembering upon a few days prior, and he set out the wine while you jumped to retrieve wine glasses (Yoongi happened to purchase for you) while banter still related to greetings.

One thing that truly intrigued you when first seeing Taehyung after six years were words, he had said that touched your heart more than you'd like to profess. "That's why I try to enjoy every moment with people because you never know what day will be your last," and you knew right then, that if there was anyone you wanted to share a moment with, it was him, and there he was, right before you, smiling about something you said while the sound of the fruity liquid-filled each glass.

"I really truly do not understand what you are so afraid of. What do you even have to lose?" Monnie tinkered with the lens to her camera while she sauntered through the living room. Exasperated from anxiety, you sucked in your lips before teasingly throwing her the side-eye.

"My dignity,"

"Oh c'mon," she paused, lifting a brow. You had been talking nonstop on how bad you wanted to invite Taehyung over, but fear of rejection including the fear of humiliation seemed to overwhelm you, although deep down you knew your best friend in the entire world was correct. You did not nor do you have anything to lose.

"Well!" You squawked, raising your palms dramatically in the air before slapping them to the sides of your thighs, "Why the hell would Kim Taehyung ever want to hang out with me anyway? Do you not see how farfetched this all is?"

"Bold of you to assume that my life isn't already farfetched enough as it is-"

"Not! The point!"

Monnie sighed, and when she saw the way your shoulders slumped in disappointment that shouldn't have been an issue, to begin with, she stepped closer, placing her hand on your shoulder, "First off, you are overthinking this, and you shouldn't. Besides, I think after hanging out as a group, he only sees you as a friend, meaning no expectations. So, go into it with that mindset okay? I'm sure he'd love to hang out with you. Secondly," she smiled, her serene expression filled with promises she always kept, "You've waited six years for this. I think you should ask him to hang out."

"You really think so?" Your grin reached your hopeful eyes, and the feeling in your chest seemed to react more positively despite your earlier turmoil.

"Yeah. The dude owes us a chair anyways,"

"Ah!" You cackled, back pressed against the dining room table as you remembered literally a few days ago when Taehyung accidentally broke a spindle of the chair in half with his foot when Yoongi scared him just by suddenly walking down the hallway. "I don't think I've ever seen a man so embarrassed."

"I'm not saying to hold it over his head, but," Monnie held up her index finger, "I think that gives him enough reason to come back," she giggled, setting her camera on the dining room table before waltzing into the kitchen.

You shrugged, "At least we can still sit on it."

"Look at it, it's staring at me," Taehyung pointed swiftly at where the vacant spindle would have been, your laughter reverberated throughout the space.

"T, really, you do not owe us new chairs. I promise, it's fine," you reassured him, realizing your cheeks were sore from how much you'd been smiling since he entered your 'realm of refuge' as you liked to describe your apartment. He snapped a picture of it, probably with the intention of getting a new chair for you and Monica regardless, and you found that appreciative although you would be happy if he didn't.

Shit. You pause from the computer screen, leaning back into your chair before folding your arms tight across your chest. Eyeballing the cursor, your vision narrows as it blinks, waiting for you to add more words to the memory that seems to spin in a cycle with the subtle goal of not stopping. Or, so you figure. If recalling every little detail isn't already hard enough, reliving the reminiscence of his fingers twirling in your hair, his sweet laugh when he looked at you, or the way he held you so tight-

But, everything in between, leading up to those mesmerizing flashes are just as important to you as what it led to. Maybe it was the conversation- the three hours of conversation before the move to the sofa which it was hard to fully focus on what else was being said because how could you properly concentrate when the one person, you'd been so worried about spending time with was seriously conversing with you like the pair of you had been friends your whole lives?

Miraculously, you were able to gather the stories of past vacations that resulted in mild disappointment revolving around the complaints of people surrounding him, or the goal of visiting as many places as possible leading Taehyung to scribble down a list of where he'd been to reveal you both have equally been to the same amount of places. Of course, the thrill of going on a mini adventure with him brought an excitement you haven't felt in a while; even the story of why he was transferred to your high school years ago due to a misunderstanding, and when the pair of you made your way to the couch, he nestled into one corner while you gladly took the other, wishing you could snuggle closer but fear prevented you from doing so.

It seemed as though that he didn't want to watch the movie anyhow, because he talked to you as though he never wanted to stop, and eventually it led to you asking one too many times if he was okay with spending the rest of the night with you. "It's up to you, I'll stay if you want me too," he promised, the way your heart fluttered when you replied, "Yes, can you please stay? I don't want you to go."

"Alright, alright! I'll stay," he smiled widely, both of his large hands reaching out, and there was not one ounce of hesitation from you- your hands grasped his before your dog jumped to beg for attention, trying to lick at his face causing your hands to undo. Laughter was contagious with Taehyung, and still cuddled into the corner of the couch, you were so elated that he was going to stay, you reached to hug him, his arms wrapping around you, the feel of your bodies aligning putting the biggest smile on your face. It was crazy how everything was seeming to fall into place- the stars aligning as though it was all magic; and, you couldn't get past how right everything felt. How right he felt. Pulling away, his smile never left him, "Are you shy?" His arm remained draped around your shoulders, and timidly you peer at his surprised gape, his black hair almost covered his crescent eyes.

"I mean... Yeah, I can be," you murmured, reaching to hug him again, but something washed over you this time, a thought that had crossed your mind repeatedly that you just couldn't take it anymore. The side of his face was blurred, placing your palm upon his cheek, and without even a moment of doubt, you kissed him. A sudden decision, but one of the best ones you could have made.

His lips were so soft, the way his mouth just seemed to mold with yours for only a few mere seconds, and the shock on his face when you pulled away, paired with the realization that his hands were held in the air, you hadn't expected his reaction. Shit! You cursed inwardly, immediately jumping back to persistently make sure he was okay; even when he moved to cuddle with you, him claiming everything was fine, but that he couldn't believe you kissed him being the both of you never once saw this coming especially six years ago during the high school days. His hand was fidgety as he swiftly rubbed your shoulder, your head buried on his chest while your mind spun in a continuous loop of how you could not believe that you kissed Taehyung. The Kim Taehyung.

He became quiet- too quiet, concern etched in your expression, maneuvering yourself back to the opposite corner of the couch, so you could face him. "T, are you sure you're okay? Did I freak you out?"

"No, no, I just can't believe you kissed me," he was in awe, eyes dazed as he ran his slim fingers through his hair, "Like, really I never saw this coming,"

"I mean, have you looked in the mirror?" You teased, knowing damn well he'd been aware of you finding him attractive, and he shook his head in dismissal of your compliment as he chuckled; it took you a whole sixty seconds to realize you were holding his hand, fingers linked, and him asking if you were nervous due to your clammy palm, though you tried to swear up and down you were not, the next round of words he said nearly brought you to tears when he finally spoke.

"You shouldn't sell yourself short," he looked you in the eyes without any faltering, although you tilted your head in mild confusion as to why he was saying this, to begin with, "I don't think you realize how much of an impact you've made on others, especially guys," ah, he was letting you down easy, and you knew it, but you're too stunned to speak as you listened, "I don't think you give yourself enough credit either. You're a great singer, you're pretty much a musician, you love animals, you have a job, you live on your own. Really, you shouldn't sell yourself short-"

"T," you breathed, pleading almost, but trying not to make it obvious, but he never broke eye contact, "We don't have to date or anything, I just- I just wanted a moment with you." You mentioned what inspired you to spend time with him- exposing how a few nights ago when he said he wanted to enjoy every moment with people- you knew you wanted to have a moment with him, too. Memories from high school were spoken momentarily, thirty minutes passing by which included a made-up handshake as well as the subtle twirl of his fingers in your hair- him complimenting how good your hair looked which made you blush even more.

Just when you thought he wasn't already smooth enough, you noticed Taehyung started teasing your dog, her pouncing at his chest before he'd lean in closer to you. Eyebrows scrunching, it took you a hot second to realize what he was doing. Each time Taehyung would scoot closer to you, he'd kiss you, sending the pair of you in boisterous laughter when your dog would try to break the kisses by jumping in between your faces. The more your lips would touch, it'd last a bit longer and longer, your hand clinging to the side of his jacket to pull him closer when things really started moving fast, eventually your dog left the room with the hint that attention was no longer available for her.

Still lip-locked, Taheyung's hands gripped your hips while you willingly moved to straddle him, arms resting on the top of the couch on either side of his head, the tip of your tongue glided along his, while he fanned his hands along your ass. You refrained from moaning into his kiss despite how bad you wanted to, yet you held yourself together, involuntarily grinding your clothed heat where his erection was felt. T smacked your ass before slithering the tips of his fingers to your shirt, slowly unbuttoning one by one.... One by one. His eyes were hazed from how much he was craving your mouth, and with a seductive nod in his direction, he continued until he made it to the final goal, your kisses never planning to stop, the sides of your shirt being brushed away for him to take in the sight of you.

"Ooh my God," his eyes darkened in evident lust when he saw the way your black bra cupped your breasts, "Oh my God," his voice deepened, him hardly knowing what to do with himself while your smirk remained subtlety on your mouth. Though you hadn't needed him to ask, he politely waited for your permission to touch your chest, a quick pang of frilly nerves ghosted your stomach.

"Yeah," you breathed seductively, gradually moving to capture his lips, trying to hold back a giggle when he gently moved his hands to your back, "You're not going to find it there," you mused, referring to the clip. He paused as if panicked, "It's in the front," you finally admitted, but failing miserably, Taehyung let you take initiative, you unclipped your bra uncovering what is now widening his brown eyes. "Oh my God!" His reaction made you want to cum right then and there, especially when his fingers made their way to squeeze your nipples when his mouth returned to yours. Taehyung worshiped your breasts, and for some odd, yet arousing reason, you lived for it.

You're uncertain of when the tv was switched off, and even now, as your hands continue to fly across the keyboard, one thing you do recall, one of the lingering memories of the evening was your shirt being off, thrown onto the floor mingled with your bra, and without any warning, Taehyung hoisted you in the air, your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso while he tightened his hold around your body. His steps were painfully careful, kissing you roughly while your arms kept their place behind his neck, and the direction was being taken to your bedroom where your heart pounded so anxiously to be. His jacket was shed before the bold act, and all that was left was his gray t-shirt and jeans. Laying you down with a bounce from your mattress, he remained above you, and your eyes refused to stray especially when he reached to remove his shirt- his smooth skin greeting yours sending waves of goosebumps spreading among your limbs.

There was no one like him in your eyes, and there never would be. Not in your heart. And with how perfect everything was going; you were not prepared for how hard it was going to be to stop before things went too far. Because what if he doesn't exactly feel the same? He was letting you down easy not even an hour ago, and here you were, hopes so high, you weren't sure how you were going to erase them back down. He kissed you until you couldn't breathe, your fingers dug into your comforter, while his palms glided all over your frame for however long you let him, but when he went to remove your leggings, you halted him.

Now, this is where your heart aches when you relive this part, because a conversation was held, one where you mentioned what if someone catches feelings if the both of you decided to solely be just friends with benefits? Taehyung said all you had to do was communicate with him because he was easy to get along with, and you've known this about him for six years. He was always someone easy to talk to, and you knew he would never treat you poorly over a situation like this. And, he hadn't. You made the executive decision to not sleep with him for you wanted him to remember you as the woman you are, and the woman, you've always been, and with the fear of going all the way being something that could change his image of you, you were satisfied to hear the loud echoes of his snoring after you changed into pajamas, gazing at his sleeping demeanor before you drifted into slumber as well.

When the morning came, you were not ready for him to leave, but he asked if you would walk him out, him throwing on his shirt and jacket while you rushed to brush your teeth. T asked if you had any other plans for the rest of the day which you proceeded to answer honestly with a no, as he mentioned that he was going to get breakfast.

"Let me know when you make it home," you said tenderly, "I want to know you're safe,"

"I will," he promised before you embraced him, turning just enough to place a peck to his cheek. It was his smile that decided to enter your recollection- the boxy smile that would plague you until the day you accept that you will never forget it.

And when you opened the door to the apartment where he gracefully waltzed through, you merely caught a glimpse of him leaving, ahead of you quietly shutting the door to whatever could have been.

Or, what could have started a beautiful story that has yet to unfold.

227 notes · View notes

kuroopaisen · 4 years

Text

like breathing. (bokuto koutarou)

➵ you’d never really thought of getting a partner. not when bokuto was around.

wc: 2.6k

warnings: none!

a/n: this one’s dedicated to chia and @jupiturde! you’re both so cute, and thank you for being so kind to me :( and for tolerating my endless ramblings hhh

“Finally!” Bokuto’s groan rattled through the small apartment as he rushed towards you. “I’m hungry!”

You laughed as he threw his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “It’s not my fault they were busy,” you mumbled, holding the takeout bag away from your bodies in a bid to stop it from getting crushed.

He grunts, but he pulls back and gives you a brilliant smile.

“What?” you laughed, reaching a hand up to ruffle his hair.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” he pouted, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how expressive his face was. You’d missed it.

“I’m sorry,” you frowned, the brief shot of energy seeing him gave you crumbling away. Truth be told, you were just exhausted. It was Friday, and you’d just dragged yourself through the worst three weeks of your life. University had whacked you in the ass with a baseball bat, and what little structure you’d set up for yourself had collapsed inwards. On top of that, work had been merciless.

Worst of all, you hadn’t been able to find time to see Bokuto. So, you’d texted him only a few hours ago to tell him that you were coming over. You couldn’t wait any longer. You just had to see him.

“What’s wrong?” He tilted his head at you, golden eyes round and sad, with a hint of panic. He’d read your emotions effortlessly. Like always.

“It’s just… been a tough month,” you offered him a smile. But you knew it was weak. But, you had to be honest with him. He wouldn’t stop pestering you otherwise.

The takeout bag was whipped out of your hand, tossed onto the counter. Bokuto was gone, dashing down his hall. You took the opportunity to take off your boots.

He was back in a flash. You weren’t quite sure what happened next, but you didn’t fight it. Everything went dark for a second as a blanket was thrown over you, and you a pair of strong arms lifted you into the air.

A few steps, and he damn near suplexes you onto the couch with a ‘hmph.’ You snort, tugging at the blankets in an attempt to find the light.

By the time you manage to wriggle your head out of your swaddle, he’s already got Netflix up on the Xbox. His brow was creased, and the tip of his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he concentrated on the menu.

Whoops, you thought, still unwrapping yourself. I’ve sent him into overdrive.

He always got like this whenever you were down. It’s why he was your first port of call whenever you were feeling down. The easiest way to pick up your spirits was to go to his place, put a shitty movie on, and lie in his arms.

There wasn’t much point in getting a partner. Not when Bokuto was around.

Bokuto had always been the very best friend you could’ve asked for. Loving him was like breathing; so easy, so natural. You’d met in the first year of high school, and you’d been damn near inseparable ever since. You’d never been as comfortable with anyone as you had been with Bokuto. And he felt the same way about you. And thankfully, your friendship had survived graduation. If anything, you were closer than ever, even if you didn’t see each other every day anymore.

But in all those years, the two of you had never even thought about dating. Each other or anyone else.

You’d thought that would change after graduation. A lot of your friends had taken university as an opportunity to find a partner. You’d wanted to try something similar, at first. There was more time for that sort of thing now. You hadn’t really dated anyone in high school; you’d spent so much of your time trying to get into university, and none of the boys at Fukurodani had taken your fancy.

But, as the semesters ran on, the whole thing just sounded taxing. Getting a partner meant dating. Dating meant meeting people and trying to navigate your way through that excruciating introductory phase. Would you get along with this person? Were they normal? Were the two of you going to find each other dreadfully boring? Besides, you wanted to focus on your studies. Some people could juggle their studies, a partner and a fulfilling social life with grace, but you felt like you weren’t capable of that. And you didn’t want to risk it. Especially not after you’d finally gotten a job.

Bokuto had been far too busy to even think about having a proper relationship. Life had been a complete whirlwind for him these past few years. And he loved it. He was doing the only thing he’d ever wanted to do, and he was thriving. He was part of a V-League team, for goodness sake.

It was easier – and far more comfortable – to fill your spare time with each other.

You couldn’t quite remember how the affection had begun. You’d always been quite affectionate with each other; enough to have confused some people in high school, at least. The Black Jackals gave you shit for it too. Well, Atsumu gave you shit for it; but he was very good at rallying the team and getting them all the look at you two with sly smiles while Bokuto’s back was turned. It was embarrassing, but you didn’t go to practices enough to let it get to you.

But, ever since you’d moved into adulthood, more and more evenings were spent in each other’s arms. Had it been the late nights, where in your drowsiness you’d sought each other out? Was it because you were both starved for that kind of contact? Whatever the reason, it had become the natural order things. And frankly, you had no desire to change that. It was too convenient of an arrangement.

Why risk going on out with someone you didn’t like when you could just pop over to Bokuto’s place and get all the cuddling you needed?

“Alright!” He turned and beamed at you as the movie began to play. The Mummy Returns. A solid choice.

You smiled, tossing a corner of the blanket over him. He tugged it with enough force to pull you – still more or less wrapped up in it – towards him. He didn’t flinch, slipping his free arm around your waist and tugging you over to sit between his legs. You melted into his chest, curling towards him. You could’ve swore you heard him hum, but you were too preoccupied with calming the thrumming of your own heart to be sure.

“Hey Bokuto?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you tell me about your day?” You murmured.

“Sure!” You could hear the smile in his voice.

He launched into his story without a moment’s hesitation, actually starting from the moment he woke up. You smiled, closing your eyes.

God, you loved being like this. His toned arms wrapped around your waist as you lay against his chest, which was rapidly rising and falling as he rambled on. The sound of his voice, loud and dynamic as it was, gave you more comfort than anything else.

Being with him felt comfortable. It felt like home.

You could feel every part of him pressed against you. And as usual, you were trying to ignore it. Trying to ignore that little feeling that’d been nagging you for the last year or so. Since that morning you’d woken up in his arms, terrified by how unashamed you felt. Terrified that if you weren’t careful, you would ruin everything.

Bokuto was affectionate with you, yes. Maybe more affectionate than the average friend would be. But, that was him. What if he didn’t feel the same way? How would he feel, if he found out what was going on inside your head?

You were sure he would fight through the awkwardness for the sake of your friendship. But having to go a few months where things were unbearable? Having to adjust to that distance being between the two of you? No. You didn’t want to go through that.

He was still talking.

“And then,” he huffed, “the blockers were too fast, so I was gonna glance the ball of their hands. But the ball was too low, so it…” He was pouting, his cheeks puffed up a little. “So it rebounded right into my face.”

You laughed. You threw your head back, and you laughed.

Bokuto’s heart stuttered in his chest. He’d seen you laugh plenty of times, sure. Hell, you’d laughed at things he said more times than he could count.

But he knew he’d never quite get used to what that did to his heart.

And, he realised, this was the first time he’d seen like this in a long while.

Those last three weeks had been damn near unbearable. Usually, you two managed to see each other at least once a week. That alone was too long of a wait. But three weeks? Three whole weeks of not seeing you? That had been agony. He’d never had to go that long without seeing you before. You’d even moved to Tokyo within a week of each other.

He needed you around. He needed to hold you like this, to spend time talking about nothing of consequence while watching stupid movies. He needed to see you or else his motivation would be off all week.

But there you were, back in his arms as you laughed at something he said. And that look on your face? Seeing you happy like that? Nothing made his heart feel so full, so fond. He didn’t quite understand it, but you always managed to make him feel so, so...

He leant forward and kissed your cheek.

You froze.

The gesture alone would’ve been innocuous in any other setting. Any other circumstance. But kissing of any kind was a boundary you’d never breached. You personally had been too afraid of them, and he’d never done anything like that himself. Until now.

You forced yourself to look up at him, shifting your entire body to face him.

He was red. His hair looked even stiffer than usual. If you were freaking out, the poor boy looked like he was collapsing from the inside.

“I—Uh—” His body was taut, eyes looking everywhere but you. “I didn’t mean to—I just felt—It seemed—”

Fuck it. You pushed upwards and placed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.

He froze. You froze. What the fuck were you going to do next? You didn’t know. The only certainty was the pounding in your ears.

Sure, you’d thought about this before. But you’d never acted on it. Not even after practice, when he stood there looking so hot. Or when you lay on his bed, close enough to feel his breath on your face when he laughed. Not even then.

But now?

He was staring at you, eyes wide and mouth formed in a little ‘o’.

You bit the inside of your cheek, in some weak attempt to hold yourself back. Even your palms felt all fuzzy. Was that normal? God, all you wanted to do was wrap your arms around his neck and--

“Can I-I kiss you?”

Had you imagined those words? Had he really just said that?

No time to think. You surged up and kissed him.

Fuck, he was good.

His hands were now gripping your waist as yours found their way into his hair, pressing yourself against him. His lips moved against yours, hot and soft and desperate. All hesitation was gone. And the sheer intensity of it all was starting to go to your head.

The blanket slipped off the two of you, and you shivered as the cool air hit your skin. His fingers grasped at your waist, and you sighed.

Something snapped. Bokuto flipped you over, laying you out on the couch as he propped himself up with his elbows. He didn’t break the kiss as he hovered over you, one of his legs pressed between yours. Your hands are gripping his shoulders, and you feel like your entire body is burning up.

You don’t know how he’s so good, but he’s giving it his all. Without thinking, your hands trace their way down his torso – you’d always known he was muscular, but shit. Next thing you know, he’s shirtless. And you’re losing your damn mind.

Why did it take you so long? You should’ve done this ages ago--

“Disgusting.” Oh shit. Sakusa.

“Called it.” Fucking Atsumu. You didn’t need to look at him to know his face was a little too smug.

You braved a glance at the door; a door that you hadn’t even heard open.

Fuck, even Hinata was there. He was just gasping, his mouth hanging open and takeout bag in hand.

Bokuto’s head snapped up, and you covered your burning face with your hands. Of course this was how it was going to go.

“Aw, come on, guys!” All things considered, Bokuto was remarkably unphased.

“What are you doing here?” You managed to whine out, hands still clamped firmly over your face.

“Well, we thought today was games night at Bokuto’s,” Atsumu smirked. “But I see he’s found other ways to entertain himself.”

You peeked up at Bokuto from between your fingers. He was still positioned over you, but at least his face, neck and chest were starting to blush. And there was no word to accurately describe the look on his face.

“Oh,” he swallowed, seemingly at a loss of where to look, “we did agree to do that, didn’t we…”

“Koutarou, I’m going to kill you.”

He looked down at you again, expression caught between the sheer joy at hearing you call him by his first name and the absolute mortification of the situation at hand.

“Ooh, Koutarou,” Atsumu laughed. He was second on your hit-list, and you were going to make him suffer. “We’ll leave you to it!”

The door closed with a resounding thud. Were they… gone? Oh, yep – that was the sound of Hinata’s yell fading down the hallway.

Your hands fell from your face, a rush of relief hitting you. You’d really been through it tonight, huh?

You looked up at Bokuto. He was looking… somewhere.

“Koutarou.”

His gaze snapped to you immediately, eyes bright and hopeful.

“How did you forget?”

“You told me you were coming over,” He pouted. “I was so excited to see you that

“You are… unbelievably stupid,” you groaned. But you couldn’t ignore that feeling of lightness in your chest.

“But you still love me, right?” He’s pouting. And then he realises what he’s just said. So do you.

It’s not a word you would’ve thought about, in any other context. You’d made your love for each other quite clear. But there were so many ways in which you could love someone. In which you could love him.

You simply rolled your eyes, tilting your head up and pressing another kiss to his lips.

He melts.

“I love you, you dumbass,” you mumbled. But you couldn’t quite contain your smile.

You could feel his entire body perk up. He propped himself up, looking down at you with the brightest eyes in the world. You could get used to him looking at you like that.

“I love you!” With that, he peppered kisses on every inch of your face he could reach.

You ran your hand through his hair as he traced his way along your jaw.

Wait.

“Hey Koutarou?”

“Yeah babe?”

“We should probably reheat our food, huh?”

He groaned, burying his head in your shoulder. You laughed, your head lolling back.

Maybe this whole relationship thing is less work than you thought.

After all, loving him was like breathing.

#haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou #haikyuu headcanons #friends-to-lovers week #this one was so fun :(#i love him so so so much

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lune-hime · 3 years

Text

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 9

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

Tulipa gesneriana ~ Commonly called the Garden Tulip. A lovely flower with cherry red petals that is never seen cultivating by itself.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

“Now that we’ve had our pity party, how about I act like a proper grandmother and show you some photos.” Oma smiled and rose to grab a weathered tin and a photo album from the bookshelf. Levi felt like the couch was engulfing his form with its soft cradle. When Oma turned around she was met with his body half eaten by the overly plush material; his shoulders hunched and tea propped up against his chest as his body reclined even further inward. He looked pleasantly comfortable and stiff at the same time.

As she plopped the two memory vessels on the coffee table, Levi’s features hardened akin to the rusted box now in front of him. The foreign lettering connected in geometric shapes that he recognized but could not decipher. They left remembrance teetering on the tip of his tongue.

“That’s my father’s cigar box.” Oma explained when she noted his fixation on the object. Levi heaved himself out of the couch’s embrace and propped his elbows on his knees, still fixated on the memento.

“The writing on the side…” Levi let his sentence flit away on his breath as his brain delved deeper into the patterns.

“Writing? What makes you think its writing?” Oma pursed her lips and picked up the weathered box to give it a closer examination. “Looks more like a decorative design.”

Oma shrugged and passed the box to Levi. It felt cold on his freshly tea-cup warmed palms. Flashbacks of loitering about the weathered guard posts, frosted cabins, and Utgard Castle drew back vivid images of the strange symbols. They sparked his curiosity enough to imprint within him, but he didn’t care enough to debate with the old woman.

It would be a memory put on hold for another time.

“I’ve seen something like it at one of the outposts on old crates of supplies and alcohol.” He stated, placing the box down in resignation.

“Hmm.” Oma gave one final acknowledgement before popping the top open. She lifted the haphazardly stacked photos out of their resting place with a gentleness that cradled each precious paper.

As she flipped through them, Levi felt like he was gaining memories of a childhood... a family ...that he never had. It was like observing someone’s entire life through a looking glass. These pictures were of Oma; of her and her husband, of her and their children, of her and you and Petra.

Levi’s brow knitted when she came to a photo of a spry, young version of herself embracing a familiar face-only with a full head of lucious locks.

“You and- Pixis ?” Levi said in exasperation and squinted at the photo as if that would make his shock dwindle.

Oma couldn’t have been much older than you; her statue was slight but her physique was robust. Her hair cascaded from her bun and softly framed her face that smiled wryly at the camera. She was arm in arm with Pixis; his eyes crinkled with happiness and hair (comically) blowing in the wind.

“Ah yes. Dot and I were both squad leaders and grew very close.” Oma sighed with a nostalgic glow. “That man truly had a way with his hands. The last time I saw him Ymir knows I couldn’t restrain myself-”

Levi inhaled his tea so furiously that it seared his throat with the same passion Oma gave off for the garrison commander. She looked on in amusement as he collected himself and cleared the assault on his lungs.

“You mean, you two-” Levi started, mentally wiping away the unwanted visual before it left a permanent stain in his cranium.

“Oh yes. As casual and dedicated as friends but as steaming as this kettle.” Oma’s youthful vigor radiated extra brightly as she reminisced.

“Why didn’t it work out?” Levi asked.

“My husband snatched me away.” She winked and continued on her trip down memory lane.

“Ah! Now that one of you is here…” Oma began excitedly as the next photo was unveiled. “You can tell me all about this one.”

“You have this photo?” Levi’s voice was barely above a whisper as he relieved the corporeal memory.

“Yup, she sent it to me for safe keepings. Said in her letter that she saw your face enough everyday that she didn’t need the photo right now.”

Levi felt the familiar feeling of his heart expanding when he set his eyes on your elegant beauty. The photo in question was taken at the last Royal Gala after everyone had swapped their military uniforms for evening wear. He always secretly wished he had more excuses to see you in a gown such as that one; the smooth fabric billowed gracefully from your hips, accentuated your curves, and pushed upward the swell of your breasts that were cradled in a lining of lavish lace trim. It would be eternally alluring to him, partially from the lavish overstimulation of the elite banquet and because it was-well- you. He remembered the insatiable feeling of the stark and sudden transition of having absolutely nothing to his name, to being flushed with an abundance of everything in that moment.

You were beaming, a brilliant smile outshining the flashy festival mask that you adorned. Levi...not so much. He gazed into the viewfinder with features hard but eyes delicate in a way that demonstrated he was putting up with your antics. The two of you were pressed into each other's sides as the decadent swirling of the wealthy framed your faces.

If you squinted closely, and looked past the grainy texture and into the background, one would be able to observe Hange swinging Moblit wildly in circles among the party-goers.

↞♞♘↠

“Why not?” You prodded, arms crossed in defiance at his rejection of your proposition.

“I’m not going to wear some gaudy mask that most likely has the sweat stains of hundreds of people on it.” Levi stated with sharp disgust. His eyes nearly rolled out of his skull when you began childishly tugging on the sleeve of his tailcoat.

That tailcoat was the precise reason why you desperately needed to get in line for this photo. It was hard enough to see Levi out of anything but his scouting uniform or his everyday combo of a long sleeved button down and trousers. Both options were easy on the eyes but tonight he looked ravishing. The tailcoat was expertly tailored and clutched the curve of his slim waist and the expanse of his toned arms close to the obsidian fabric.

He was always clean, but cleaned up -so to say-he was absolutely divine. You would never tell him this but his fox like beauty paired with the fancy dress endowed him with the grace of a prince.

“You don’t have to wear the mask! Although that would make it less fun…” You mumbled in a last ditch attempt, hoping he would take pity for you on this special occasion.

“Great now that we’ve established it’s not fun, let’s go get another drink.” He replied, unfazed and unwavered. He began turning towards the outer end of the ballroom where waiters danced with shining trays instead of partners.

“No!” You yelped, scampering as hurriedly as your heels would allow you to stand in front of him. Your chest was heaving in excitement for the extravagant evening (and by the walls was that corset tight). Your heels increased your already apparent height difference and made your very... perky breasts at eye level with his gaze. Levi coughed to rebuild his crumbling composure. He kindly reminded himself he was at a government sponsored event and that no matter how desperately he desired to let his eyes wander this was not the time and place.

“You said I look beautiful tonight, right?” You quipped with a pointed glare.

“Of course.” His lack of hesitation in his answer made the alcohol content in your blood skyrocket as you became drunk on him even more than you already had.

“Well if you would take 5 minutes to take this photo with me that’s 5 minutes until I’m willing to sneak out of here with you. Then you can see this beautiful gown on your chamber’s floor.” Your eyes sparkled with mischief akin to the iridescent pearls that were nestled into your ears.

Levi’s brow quirked in intrigue and you were a deer caught in the sly beams of his eyes.

“Fine.”

↞♞♘↠

“What a wonderful gala that was. I usually despise such events but I gotta examine you in person for the first time, no matter how brief our encounter was. I got to see my girl in such a lovely gown, and I got to absolutely feel Dot-”

“I don’t need a narrative.” Levi intercepted quickly with a sharp tinge of annoyance that sent Oma into a mess of snorts and laughter.

That strange sensation washed over him once more. The pleasantly warm bubble that made him feel like he was home but standing on the outskirts of the precipice all at once.

“Is that why we didn’t get to actually meet?” Levi trailed off as realization snapped him like a taut rubber band. While he was forced to blandly entertain the higher ups and delegates your grandmother was snogging a commander.

“Oh hush, you’re an adult, stop acting like a teenage boy.” She playfully chided with a glint in her eye that made Levi take step closer to that tempting bubbling feeling.

A gentle knock on the wood paneling caused Oma and Levi to raise their heads to meet Felicia’s gaze.

“I’m going to head home now, Frau Vogel.” She said with a tired smile as she poked her head around the living room archway.

“Damn, it really has gotten dark hasn’t it?” Oma mumbled as she took in the waning light.

“My dear, it’s much too late to be walking back by yourself. You can stay in your old room.” Her response was a medley of chastising and fondness.

“O-oh, no. I mean-how kind of you-but I don’t have a change of fresh clothes and these ones have bits of blood and schnitzel on them…” Felicia sighed with a whine. Oma was about to interject her dramatic behavior when Levi’s voice filled the space instead.

“I’ll walk you home.” He offered, tone as smooth and calm as the golden liquid in his cup. He placed his cup on the saucer with a small clank and rose from the couch. Felicia bristled in bashful gratitude as he quietly padded over to the front door and began lacing his boots.

Oma gave Felicia a wink and nestled further into the couch, letting the cushions cradle her old bones and the aroma of the tea lull her into relaxation.

“The kitchen is clean, I folded all of the towels-” Felicia hurriedly explained when Levi held the door open for her.

“Yes, yes, thank you. Now off you go, I’ll come fetch you tomorrow.” Oma shooed the jittery girl out of the house with a wave of her hand.

“Oh, Felicia-” She interjected. The young woman poked her head back into the archway.

“If I hear one peep out of you about not paying you for looking after Y/N this next week I will have to start cooking the schnitzel myself.”

Felicia gasped in betrayal as the fireflies that worshiped the porch flowers sent she and her companion off on their moonlit walk. The grit of shoes against the pebbled road took over the silence which Levi observed Felicia desperately wanted to fill. She seemed to feel pressure to speak, to offer something other than the emptiness of the countryside. Levi, on the other hand, was completely content with bathing in the blissful numbness of the cricket symphonies and the wind kisses of the path.

“How does our village compare to where you’re from?” Felicia barely overpowered the whistling of the grass with her slight tone. Her question was an innocent one. One with good intent that Levi didn’t dare spoil given the past two days of anguish.

“It’s...definitely more colorful.” He let the sweet air fill his tired lungs. He had seen a larger aurora of colors in these past 48 hours than he reckoned he had ever seen in his monochromatic existence. Going from the diluted underground to the emerald green seas and burnt brick of the walls didn’t leave much room for hue.

“So you’re from an urban area then?” Felicia continued, enthused that Levi had picked up her conversation.

“You could say that.” His reply was vague but left no room for further explanation. Truthfully, he felt as much from that festering tumor as a migratory bird feels for its winter home. It was where he was birthed, raised, existed . But he didn’t truly live until he rid his mouth of the dusted, stale air and crumbing ceilings of the underground.

Felicia’s mouth hung open with an incoming response when a screech erupted in its place. Levi grunted as she jumped sideways right into him, colliding into his sore shoulder. He just barely caught her as he staggered backwards. She stumbled against his chest before he propped her back up straight by her underarms.

“What the fuck just happened?” He asked with an irritation he couldn’t restrain. Felicia’s bodyweight had punctured his shoulder with sharp needles that disturbed the dull hum of his pain.

“Oh walls, I’m so so SO sorry sir-I MEAN LEVI!” She babbled as she floundered to eject herself from his support so as to not burden him any more.

“I-I, something moved in the bush right next to me!” Felicia’s tone wobbled just as her legs did. Levi followed her trembling gaze and prepared himself for a feral dog or a wild boar. If it was anything bigger than that, like a bear, they were absolutely fucked.

The snort that erupted from the bush elicited another shrill scream from the maid. Levi’s muscles tensed in the realization that he would have to fend off the beast with his bare hands in his absence of weapons. He brought up a protective arm in front of Felicia when a pawing in the foliage neared the paved pathway. The thick anticipation mingled with the drumming of hearts was the soundtrack to the animal moving into the lamplight.

Levi’s muscles instantly relaxed. All except his chest. It shook with candid chuckles that materialized as a small hum and blossomed into a full blown laughter.

“Hello Big Shit.” Levi’s smile was radiant against the artificial lighting as Puddle aparated out of the bushes, his form now fully visible in the dim illumination. “He must have followed us.”

“B-big shhhh?” Felicia stammered, eyes wide with embarrassment. She was too polite to finish the last word.

Then he did it again.

He laughed so freely it put the crickets to shame. Felicia pursed her lips awkwardly and smoothed her nervous hands along her apron.

“He’s Y/N’s.” Levi cooed , reaching a delicate hand out to the horse and letting him press his plush nose to his knuckles. Felicia’s jaw went slack once more. She felt like she was regarding a completely separate individual she had previously been acquainted with. His cicada shell had been discarded on the path with the others and now only tenderness enveloped the man’s being.

“He is quite terrifying.” Levi teased gently as Puddle extended his neck to nuzzle hot breaths into his cheek. Felicia flushed at her overreaction. Levi turned from the horse to her with a glow that made her swear he was a tranquil forest spirit rather than the man who was walking her home. At her shock he immediately reigned himself back in, clearing his throat and partially crawling back into his cicada skin.

“If he’s followed us this far he’ll keep walking with us.” Levi said, the brief bloom of outward happiness coming to an end.

After a few minutes of only the comets’ luminous words trickling through the sky and the occasional snort, Felicia spoke up.

“It’s nice to see you happy.” She commented bashfully.

“It’s not like I haven’t been happy before.” He huffed, unsure of where to place her heartfelt compliment among the ever turbidness of his mind.

“I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just-I’ve never seen you smile before.” She cringed as she said it and Levi’s snort mimicked the horse behind them. He let her observation marinade under the moonlight.

“Happiness shows itself in different ways.” He mused and the corners of her lips upturned smally at her silliness.

“I just can’t imagine what you and Y/N have to go through.” She said with the careful articulation of a confession.

“D-did you see it happen?” She asked apprehensively. The nightmare scape tore through his cornea and implanted itself as if he was seeing it vividly again.

“No.” He exhaled.

The mass of flesh reeked of steamed rotted meat in the background of your shuddering form blanketed in torn cloth and soaked in sticky blood. His feet were caught in a time loop, too slow to reach you but too fast to wrap his mind around the potential discovery of your demise. His knees burned against the fabric of his trousers as they slid on the viscous ground to you. Your eyes were open wide and even though they were looking right at him, they went right through him like he was transparent against the skyline. The titan and you shared a bed of grass but by the walls not a resting place.

“But I saw the one that did it to her.” He continued as he blinked away the flash of mental scar tissue. “Her blade was lodged into its neck and it was bleeding profusely from its eye.”

Felicia winced at his description.

“She’s grown so strong.” Her whimper got lodged in her throat.

Little lanterns perched on the exterior of modest cottages floated into existence on both sides of the road as they neared Felicia’s neighborhood.

“How long have you known Y/N and Oma?” He asked to change the conversation for the sake of both their emotional turmoil. Felicia brightened up a bit at his term for her mistress.

“Since I was very young.” She smiled the weight right off of Levi’s shoulders. “My parents worked for Oma and her husband. I became Y/N’s babysitter or sorts, and by default many times Jean’s too, then the housekeeper to make some money.”

Levi recounted her reaction to the photo of Jean earlier and decided to attempt to lighten the mood like the wispy moss that dangled over their heads.

“Jean is single.” He revealed and eyed her in muted amusement for her reaction. Felicia turned beet red, the statement adding an extra sheepish pop to her step.

“O-oh, that’s hard for me to believe.” She laughed awkwardly.

“Really?” Levi replied without a drop or sarcasm. He understood why you put up with the boy because you had been friends for so long. But he would forever wonder how mentally stable the person who would willingly date him was.

Felicia gulped as his question hung out to try on the overarching maple branches.

“W-well, I mean-he’s funny, considerate, determined-”

“Determined to keep his long face up my asshole.” Levi finished her musings, dodging a moth as it flew too close to his nose. Felicia giggled at his half-assed insult.

“Determination, no matter what the kind, is a handsome quality.”

Levi hummed at her sincere answer. Her excitement over the boy rubbed warm circles into his chest. It reminded himself of his blooming feelings for you.

“When was the last time you saw him?” He asked as Felicia led him down a left fork in the road.

“Oh, a little less than a year ago? He and Y/N don’t get to come home a lot, you know.”

Their conversation was concluded in the middle of the road when Felicia halted in front of a beige cottage.

“This is me.” Her grin pushed up the apples of her cheeks and she cheesily pointed to the home. Levi nodded once and watched as she delicately climbed up the steps, deftly avoiding the garden rocks in the darkness until she reached her porch.

“Thank you for walking me here. You’ll be okay finding your way back?” She affirmed as she turned her key into the lock. Levi nodded once more and she breathed out a timid laugh.

“Alright, good night Levi.” She smiled sweetly.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Big...um.” She turned to Puddle and wrinkled her nose.

“Shit.” Levi finished with crinkled eyes.

“Sh...shit.” She blurted and danced in place as if she had uttered a tremendous sin. Levi waited until she was halfway inside when she surprised him by returning to his presence. She paused, the light emanating from the open door allowing them to see each other clearly. She threw him a genuine smile that made him feel naked in the pale night.

“You know, you fit in really well here.”

Levi twirled the circlets of metallic promises between his fingers as he let the warmth of this evening’s reactions carry him home.

Fuck, did he just think home ?

In such a short amount of time, these gardens of tulips and those that harvest them had uprooted the numbness he had trained himself to harbor. He’d now gotten a sickeningly sweet taste of life and it was going to be hard for him to not grow addicted to it. The rings began to feel too heavy for him to carry and he placed them securely back in his pocket as he neared the estate.

With Puddle contained for the moment, he tapped his dirtied boots against the doormat and stepped into the living room. His feet sank deep into the fertilizer as he looked upon Oma. She had fallen asleep curled into the sofa, her empty tea cup cuddled into her embrace and the photo album discarded on the adjacent cushion.

He felt oddly like an intruder as he gingerly released the cup from her grasp. Felt the peculiar stab of domestic alienation when he draped the crocheted blanket over her. This was what home was supposed to resemble. Not a sullen room with a single bed and a mother called upon only to come home a wilted flower with her petals torn. Levi was knee deep in the garden soil now and he dove further and further into the dirt every passing day he spent here.

He tiptoed up the creaky steps, shed your father’s clothes in exchange for more appropriate sleepwear, and gravitated to your room. The armchair screeched dully against the flooring as he brought it closer to your bed. And he allowed himself to dream of living for once instead of just existing.

You fit in really well here.

Morning arrived on the chaotic wings of angry sparrows and a pleasant plush heat on his back. Levi groaned as he felt his back scream at him for his hunched over position. He clutched the blanket to his body as he stretched out the kinks. He rubbed the fluffy material between his fingers as he groggily recalled that he definitely didn’t go to sleep with this. As he sat up a light fluttering fell to the ground from his shoulder. Looking to the floor he noticed a note. He bent down to retrieve it and held it close to his sandy eyes.

I let you sleep in today because you need it-don’t deny it.

I’m off to get Felicia and we’re stopping by the apothecary on the way home but we shouldn’t be too long.

Here’s a blanket.

You don’t want your body to be as cold as your heart <3.

Oma

Levi rested his head on his blanket covered palm, nuzzling into the softness as he sighed in mild contentment.

“I lied-I understand how the two of you are related.” Levi whispered lightly towards you, the sounds as airy as the birds tapping at the glass.

It was another beautifully scenic day dressed in another of your father’s outfits babysitting another kettle of tea. Levi peeked out the kitchen window and wondered if everyday in this countryside was euphoric. But rather than basking in the lovely weather he opted to spend his morning tea with the one whose absence left this house just short of paradise.

He was careful to not clank the tray around as he reentered your room and spread open the curtains. However, the moment his fingers pulled the fabric apart the little winged rats announced their presence rather aggressively.

“Fuck off.” Levi threatened with a flick to the glass. His finger came back coated in dust.

"Felicia is a fucking disappointment of a cleaner."

And so the morning was spent sipping on temporary relief and gazing at the embodiment of comfort in your bed until his cup grew vacant. His chair creaked with age as he abandoned his post to refill his energy source.

Time slowed as it did two days ago and it was a miracle he avoided burning his fingers. They froze on the hot kettle as he was electrocuted by a weak gasp.

“Lee-” A desperately familiar voice with the body of a crumb murmured. He whipped around to see his most treasured blend of colors open up into his being.

Conscious.

Looking at him.

Actually at him.

The china fell from his petrified fingers and hit the rug with a bounce.

“Le-vi”

#levi #levi x reader #LEVI ACKERMAN #Levi Heichou #Levi fanfiction #levi fluff #aot #snk #snk x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #Jean Kirschstein #bisexual jean #levi/reader #hange zoe #aot fluff

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Text

Demonic Intervention (Indruck)

Prompt for the 7th: “Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.” - The Tempest (William Shakespeare). This fill is NSFW

It can't get much worse.

Indrid is barely scraping by. He can count his friends in town on one hand. He’s gay in a tiny, rural community and one of the few men like him is a goddamn priest. His house is a mess. And his every waking moment is filled with the demons of his past or the devils lurking in his future. There are so many of them in his present too, roaming the streets of Kepler.

What’s one more in the mix?

He lights the stubby black candle by the bed, scratches the symbols on the floor, and retreats into his cocoon of blankets to wait.

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

Duck hates when it’s his turn on the summoning shifts. All this ancient knowledge and power and he’s stuck waiting to see if some yahoo in a graveyard or a wannabe cult leader will call him up into the world.

He has brambles that need pruning, damn it.

His name isn’t well known among humans, so he only gets summoned if someone is just rooting around for a demonic entity without caring who they get. He’s only been summoned twice in the last hundred years. The tingle in his horns tells him it’s about to be three.

The room he arrives in is gloomier than any graveyard; the lights are off, the curtains are shut, and the place looks like it got hit by a tornado with a grudge. By the light of the candle, a pale-haired head emerges from the blankets of the small bed. A hand reaches for the floor, comes back with a pair of red glasses.

“Greetings, infernal one. Thank you for answering my summons.” The man’s voice is flat.

“Even demons got manners. So, uh, what’s the job?”

“There are so many dishes in the sink that the thought of doing them is an insurmountable task. Please do them for me.”

“...You realize I’m takin somethin’ from you for this, right? Like a piece of soul or a month of your life?”

“Mmmm” The man rolls over and says nothing else.

“A day of your life for this.” Duck feels like he should haggle more, but then he’d had to pretend he actually thought a higher price was fair.

“I accept your terms.” A crackle of green and black electricity flickers in the air in the form of Duck’s signature and the other man’s name: Indrid Cold.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

Indrid says nothing. Duck is sure to wash and dry before he goes.

The next day he’s summoned to the exact same room, in the exact same state of depressing mess.

“Greetings, infernal one. Please clean this room.”

“Same terms?”

“Mmhmm” Indrid is just staring at the ceiling.

“You gotta say you accept.”

“I accept.”

Duck snaps, turning on the light, and gets to work. Technically he could do all this with a wave of his hand. But then he’d lose his chance to learn a little more about the guy who’s settled on demonic deals instead of a maid service. It’s the opposite of the usual problem he has in these kinds of situations, where the humans reveal their deepest secrets, desires, and fears within five minutes of meeting him.

The records he stacks near their player, the clothes all go in the hamper to be magicked clean, then are hung in the closet; they’re loose and soft, not a scratchy fabric to be found. Tarot cards and candles abound, as do art supplies, and under a pile of drawings he finds magazines featuring muscular, hairy men in various sexual positions. Some of them even look like his preferred human form, the one he’s wearing now.

He glances at the bed; Indrid is on his side, facing him, must have been watching him at some point but has dropped into a restless sleep. The blankets are slipping, showing a The Sonics tank top hanging off skinny shoulders. Right, that was one of the bands in the record stack.

Duck doesn’t tend to pry into souls or auras or shit like that; there are whole heaps of trouble that lay that direction. But as he flicks the dust from the bookshelf covered in paperbacks, he feels the edges of Indrids and nearly falls on his ass from the wave of exhaustion and loneliness.

When it’s time to go, he pauses to pull the blankets back up around him, sets his glasses on the bedside table, and turns the calendar on the wall from “September 1974” to “October 1974.”

When he’s summoned right back to Indrid’s room the next evening, he spots the same tank top on him as he sits up in bed.

“Greetings infernal one.”

“You can just call me ‘Duck’. It’s a nickname.”

“Oh” Indrid blinks, perplexed, “very well. I, ah, there are some bills that need to be paid to keep the lights on.”

“You need the money for them?”

“No, just for someone to fill out the forms and checks and put them in the mail.”

“Okay. But my fee’s a little different this time: you gotta tell me when you last ate.”

“I accept. I ate this morning.”

Duck snaps his fingers

“Two days ago!” Indrid yelps, then slaps his hands over his mouth. He glares, “why does it matter?”

“Because while I’m payin those bills, you’re eatin’ dinner.”

“Everything in the fridge is disgusting and I can’t go to the store.”

Duck takes the short trip out to the kitchen, opens the fridge to the new sound of Indrid’s footfalls behind him.

“You got lots of decent stuff in here; could make you some eggs?”

“No, thank you.” Indrid shakes his head, looking a bit ill.

“Well, what do you want? I can summon it up.”

“I’m out of Lucky Charms.” The humans says sheepishly, staring at his bare feet.

A fresh box of cereal appears on the table, Duck pulling out the half empty bottle of milk. He thinks back to the drawings he saw yesterday and conjures a bowl covered in a pattern of brightly colored moths.

He gathers the stack of bills of while hearts, stars, and horseshoes rattle into the bowl. After a few moments of crunching he hears, “May I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why is your nickname Duck? Does that word mean something else in demonic speech?”

Duck stuffs paper into envelopes, “Nah. It’s, uh, kinda silly but, uh, most demons learn how to take on an animal form. When it was my turn, they asked me which I wanted and, uh, I said I wanted to try bein’ a duck. Liked it so much I stayed that way for three months.”

There’s an odd, strangled sound that makes him look up; Indrid has one hand over his mouth and is shaking with little squeaks. He’s laughing.

“I’m, I’m s-sorry but, but I, I cannot get over the image of you as a little, feathery waterbird.”

Duck smirks, “Only part that ever gave me trouble was the quackin’; always came out too deep.”

He just manages to pull the envelopes back as milk comes out the human’s nose and he giggles uncontrollably.

“Ow, ow, heeh, oh g-goodness, I’m s-sorry I, I just haven’t laughed in so long, ugh, there’s milk on my shirt-”

“Guess you’re gonna need to shower now too.”

“Nono, I can just change-”

Duck waves the bills back and forth, “Uh uh, if you want me to actually put these in the mailbox, you gotta agree to shower.”

“But that’s changing the terms!”

“Demon.” Duck grins.

“Very well. Let me finish my dinner first.” Indrid scarfs the rest of the cereal, pads back towards the bedroom while Duck cleans the table. He waits to hear water running before going to the mailbox. When he gets back he sticks his head into the steamy bathroom.

“I’m gonna go now.”

“Oh, alright. Thank you again.” Indrid pokes his head out from the shower curtain and Duck resists the temptation to make the whole barrier disappear just for a peak. What can he say? He’s always liked his humans a bit unique looking.

He draws a special sigil in the steamed-up mirror and heads for home.

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

Indrid sets the candle on the table, lights it, adds the symbol he found in the mirror, and then starts unpacking his groceries.

“Lookit you doin’ chores.” The whiff of burnt pine needles accompanies Duck’s voice and draws the tension from Indrid’s shoulders.

“I’ll have you know I swept today as well.” Indrid turns and crunches the bag of potato chips in his fists; Duck hasn’t put his horns or claws away, and his shirt is half unbuttoned.

“Caught me while I was gardenin, which is why I ain’t as put together as normal. What can I do for you?”

“This may sound strange but, ah, what is the fee for just talking with you?”

Duck’s eyebrows shoot up and then he chuckles, “You’re full of surprises, little moth.”

Indrid touches the luna moth on his shoulder; how much had Duck studied him when he was here? Did he like what he saw? Does he give everyone he makes deals with nicknames that come out in a drawl like summer honey?

“Hows a little nibble of the old soul sound?”

“I accept. Ah, would you like some cookies? A friend of mine brought them over to me.”

“Sure. The fella on the fridge bring ‘em?” The demon indicates the picture of himself and Barclay, the one he can’t bring himself to throw away.

“No. My friend Dani, she’s in charge of the gardens for the little co-op in town and when the bakery has seconds she often drops them off for me.”

He really needs to stop staring at Duck’s chest, even demons probably find ogling rude. Duck’s eyes--one blue, one brown-- catch his own and suddenly claw tips are undoing the remaining buttons. Indrid goes pink but manages to get the cookies and two glasses of water on the table without incident.

“You know, you never told me why you stayed a duck for so long.”

“It’s the least demonic thing you’ve ever heard but, uh, I just thought it was nice. Bein’ out in the woods, paddlin’ on the lake and watchin the world go by. Sleepin under the stars. Just makes you feel like you’re part of somethin’ bigger than yourself. Now, I got a question for you; why go to all the trouble of summonin’ me just to do your chores?”

Indrid bites his lip, “I knew I was in the kind of mental place where I could not manage it myself. And it felt safer to ask you than to ask my friends. Not that they wouldn’t help me. It’s just, when my mind is like that it turns so inward I can’t conceive of a world that might contain things for me.”

The demon says nothing for a moment, sips his water with a thoughtful look. Then he sets down the empty glass, “Glad you’re feelin a little better.” He tilts his head to indicate the sketch on the counter, “that new?”

“Yes” excitement bubbles up in his chest, “I was reading about--ah, well, it’s, it’s sort of a long story, I don’t want to bore you.”

Duck kicks his feet up on the spare chair and gestures for him to continue. So he does, tells the demon about reading every book he could find on the mythology and folklore of the Mexico and the American southwest, about his new inspiration for a series of drawings, his worries that no one will like them or purchase them and he’ll be stuck running his little psychic side business until he dies

Duck, in turn, tells him about life as a forest demon, about his hellcat, and about the fact he routinely comes up to the human world for french onion soup because the stuff made in his realm never tastes right. When Indrid next looks at the clock, it’s well after midnight.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

“No complaints here. But I oughta get home and feed Winnie before she shreds my cabinets again.” The demon stands, rounding the table, “gotta get my fee first.”

“Right. How should I…” Indrid stiffens as Duck bends forward, wondering if the sharp teeth that smiled at him all night are about to pierce his skin.

Warm lips meet his forehead and he sighs at the tenderness in the gesture. Duck, however, moans as he pulls back, then quickly covers his mouth.

“Uh, that, that’s a totally, uh, totally not, uh, un-normal reaction, uh, fuck, see you around.”

He’s gone with a campfire crackle, leaving Indrid to wonder how a demon can be such a terrible liar.

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

“Sweet fuckin hell.” Duck gasps as his living room forms around him. His lips still tingle from kissing the human’s forehead, from the sheer force of the want and yes that came when he took that sip of soul. It’s never like that, never comes so willingly and eagerly, like the soul is searching for someone to look after it.

Technically, there’s nothing stopping him from zipping right back up there and pinning Indrid to his bed while he takes what the human seems so happy to give.

Duck takes five deep breaths, then ten, and then goes to retrieve Winnie from the cabinet she clawed her way into.

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

When Barclay suggested Indrid find someone to confide in, Indrid’s going to guess he didn’t mean, “routinely invite a demon into your house to play cards or listen to music.”

Most times, Indrid isn’t even summoning him; they have two standing dates a week, plus a game night with Dani and her new girlfriend, Aubrey (who Duck seems to know but refuses to say more about how). Duck will sometimes drop by unannounced, and he hardly ever collects a fee these days. When he does, it’s always a taste of Indrid’s soul, taken via a kiss on the cheek.

Indrid would let him take it any way he wanted. He’s well past denying the fact Duck is type in all his forms, that he’s gentler than most humans, and that he’s so charming Indrid would eat out of his hand.

Duck even goes out with him, like the boyfriend he wishes he had. When he puts on his human form to accompany Indrid around town, he radiates enough residual, demonic energy that the people who normally make Indrid’s life a living hell stay far, far away. In fact, tonight is the first night in months he’s had something close to a disaster, and it was mostly an accident. He’s peeling his beer-soaked shirt over his head when he feels mis-matched eyes on his back.

“Have a little too much fun bartendin’ tonight?” Duck holds out his hand, rendering the shirt fresh and clean when it touches his palm.

“Some caveman hit on one of our regulars and would not back off when asked. She threw a full pint of beer on him and I happened to be standing right behind him when she did.” He wiggles out of his jeans, let’s Duck give them the same treatment he gave the shirt, “ugh, I need a bath, I smell like Rheingold.”

“Allow me.” Duck waves his hand and steam wafts from the bedroom, goes into it and grabs the bubble bath from under the sink as Indrid follows him in his underwear. Duck’s constant glancing at his crotch and legs makes him bold.

“What’s the fee for such excellent service?”

“No fee, little moth. I’m just doin’ a favor for my friend.”

“And what if your friend wants to repay you anyway?”

When the demon looks up from the tub, his eyes are glowing, “Only if he’s doin’ it because he wants to and not because he owes me.”

“I want to, so very badly.”

In a flash Duck is in the tub, beckoning Indrid to join him. Indrid tests the water with his finger just to be safe.

“Mmm, nice and warm.”

“Hellfire, sugar. Now get your cute ass into the tub or--oh fuck yeah.” Duck growls as Indrid strips and climbs in with him, drags him into his lap and traces his claws up his sides while Indrid yanks him into a kiss.Curious, Indrid reaches one hand up to rub the base of his horn, the dark brown curls like smooth bark beneath his fingers.

“Fuuuck” Duck groans, “feels like gettin a back-rub.”

“Then I better keep at it. Oh, oh my” Indrid sits back to admire the vines of green appearing in Duck’s skin, “you’re absolutely beautiful.”

“Kinky little thing, you like that I’m a demon.” Duck scrapes his teeth along Indrid’s shoulder, “that really why you summoned me? You were hopin I’d have my, uh, demonic way with you?”

“N-no, I, I, it’s no secret I’m attracted to you but I, you make me feel so happy, I’m so safe when I’m with you, and, and if all your care and affection towards me has been part of some malevolent plan please, please just tell me because I, I think I’m falling in love with you.” He kisses Duck with far more force than before, forestalling the inevitable confession that this was all just a game for his soul and his own, pathetic admission that he’s not sure that changes anything.

“Oh, sugar” Duck keeps brushing their lips together as he speaks, “First time I tasted your soul I knew I was fucked. Knew I wanted to keep seein’ you, even if you never gave me another goddamn thing.”

Indrid buries his face in Duck’s shoulder, letting out shuddery sighs as Duck pets his back. He’s never leaving this spot, Duck is just going to have to carry him about while he does his infernal business and his housekeeping.

“Tell me what you want, little moth.” Duck kisses the shell of his ear. It still tingles, even when his soul stays put.

“Please fuck me? Oh! Oh that’s very efficient and extremely strange.” He squirms in Duck’s lap as his ass turns slick and stretched, like someone has pulled four fingers from it.

“Do it the traditional way some other time” The curved head of a cock bumps his ass, “you wanna feel just to be sure you can take it?”

He flails in the water a moment, finds a warm, responsive shaft with four, bumpy ridges leading to the head. It’s no bigger than the one toy he splurged on during his last trip to the city.

“Yes, certainly, oh, oh, AHHhnnnn yes.” The cock is hotter than his body as it slides in and he wonders if it will just melt him from the inside out, if Duck’s cum will be just as warm, how it will feel on his tongue and down his throat when he drags the demon into his bed.

“That’s it sugar, take it all the way. Fuck, been jerkin off to the thought of you on my dick for months.”

“Nnngh” Is his eloquent reply, the ridges of Duck’s cock making his toes curl and his fingers dig into Duck’s skin.

“You like that idea, little moth? Knowin I could be out temptin anyone I wanted to and instead I was in bed thinkin’ about you?”

“Mhhmmm” He whines, the desire pouring off the demon wrapping around him and soothing his insecurities.

Duck slows the thrusts of his hips and his voice is gentle when he whispers, “Course I did; no one can compare to you, ‘Drid.”

“Ohgod, Duck, please, please, please, want to be yours, always yours-”

“Careful,sugar, that sounds like you’re anglin’ for an infernal marriage.”

“A, a what? OHhhhnnyes” He moans as claws knead his ass.

“It’s a special kind of deal where a human agrees to marry a demon. Soon as they’re dead, they go straight to their spouse, no other options provided.” Duck cups his face, holding it steady so he can look into his eyes, “but there ain’t no need for that right now; way I see it, we can do this like we were just two normal fellas for now.”

“But it sounds fun.” Indrid offers a teasing pout and gets an adoring kiss in return.

“Yeah? What if I tell you a lot of demons mark their spouses by piercing these” He pinches Indrid’s nipples, the pain making him bounce more determinedly on his dick. His demon growls, drops one hand down to thumb at the head of his aching cock, “pierce here too. Won’t even do it in public like you’re supposed to; do it at home so no one else will see just what a sweet, needy thing you are for me--whoah, fuck, did not expect you to cum just from playin with this nice dick a little.”

“V-very sensitive” Indrid gasps against the green swirls in Duck’s shoulder, his orgasm such a surprise he’s still registering it, hips twitching and tongue threatening to loll out of his mouth.

“Keep that in mind for next time. Might even bring a cage so you don’t cum too early and spoil my plans. Now, hold tight, little moth.”

Indrid clings to the warm bulk of Duck’s body as his cock pounds up into him, the demon easily holding his hips up and his ass open so all he can do is whimper and writhe on it. When he cums it’s hot enough that Indrid squirms

“Don’t hurt does it?” Duck pets his sides, concerned.

“Nono, it, it’s nice, just very strange.” Indrid winces as Duck pulls out, watches him wave his fingers to clear away the mess. When the demon makes no move to let go, Indrid looks up, “you really meant what you said? About wanting me as a boyfriend?”

“Damn right I do. Now c’mere, lemme get the beer outta your hair.”

Indrid hums as Duck scrubs his scalp and runs warm water over his skin, talking all the while about how they should go camping as a first date so no one will bother them, says he’ll even turn into a duck to make Indrid smile.

Indrid says he knows just the spot, let’s his boyfriend dry them off and bundle them to bed and then, for the first time, falls asleep with a devil in his arms.

#indruck #promptober #indrid cold/duck newton #Demon AU #monster boyfriend

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dangermousie · 3 years

Text

Chapters 21-22 of Case File Compendium

Thanks to @vierran45 for showing me how to automatically pre-purchase all the upcoming chapters on jjwxc. You are a life-saving genius!

Also, these chapters definitely confirmed that XQC chain-smokes as a way to de-stress because no matter how he tries to convince himself he has no emotions, he has plenty and the stress is eating him alive. No surprise he chooses such an awful coping method - ch 22 showed he’s terrible at taking care of himself!

Not as terrible as He Yu is at it though - every chapter shows what a pressure cooker HY is under - XQC asks him how can he consider dating when his condition is not under control and you KNOW that is in the back of HY’s mind as well, even though he’s defiant with XQC - it’s as if he’s trapped behind glass watching others live normal lives. Even XQC both says he needs to make connections and then says it’s dangerous, at the same time.

Btw:

If you only knew, boys!

But honestly, I cannot wait to see how unbreakable fortress of self-protective ice that is XQC will melt enough not just to date HY (younger, “wrong” gender etc) but to date him despite that it’s reckless dangerous madness to date someone with that condition.

I think this exchange is the crux of so many things so far - HY may be smart but his EQ (like that of all Meatbun protags) is not the highest to put it mildly. He should be able to tell but his emotions and issues are so tangled in everything that he cannot. And also yeah - he’s a teenager, a group of people not usually known for maturity, by very definition.

What is it with Meatbun and dogs? There was Gu Mang who thought he was a wolf and had a BFF dog and Mo Ran who’s literally the “dumb husky” of the title (I will never be over how in the extras it mentions Taxian Jun and Goutou the dog can completely understand each other as if they can converse!)

Also, the BDSM innuendo continues. That log book was full of people thinking that XQC would make a perfect gong and HY the perfect shou and Meatbun is writing the opposite but...I am not saying that log book is 100% wrong either.

If Hell exists, He Yu’s parents should burn in it. They clearly give NO fucks about their kid at all. HY is a well-controlled mess but considering his upbringing and situation, it’s a miracle how well-behaved he is. I wonder if it’s not just his temperament or desire to control his condition but because he knows if he acted out he’d be locked up or worse so quick your head will spin.

Also, that convo between XQC and HY’s pos Dad does seem to indicate that it wasn’t the dad who wanted XQC gone back then (so what really happened?) and confirms that XQC def feels he owes the dad so WHY.

Also, most important - the reason the Dad calls is to find out about what happened in the Psychiatric Hospital. He couches it as being concerned for He Yu but we all can tell he wouldn’t notice if He Yu got set on fire as long as it didn’t interfere with Dad’s business so I am buying that 0%. My feeling that HY’s fam is involved in whatever horrible stuff is going on has now reached near-certainty and HY will be lucky if his own family doesn’t stick him in a cage once they find out about his powers.

In other news, it turns out XX likes someone else entirely (the usual good girl likes the bad boy thing) and poor HY finds out and yeah. Ouch.

Great, he’s started self-harming again, to keep himself in check. That’s a Meatbun novel, all right.

But the thing(s) that strike me about He Yu - to control and cope he turns the damage inward - harming himself so as not to lose control at others. But also, even in the middle of all of this, when XX asks him to go take care of XQC who’s gotten sick with an allergy attack aftermath, he still goes and does a good job.

And that is why he’s a Meatbun protag, all right.

Anyway, this novel is 100% awesome!

#cnovel #meatbun doesn’t eat meat #case file compendium

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megan-is-mia · 4 years

Note

27 from the Yandere!Monster prompts list will malleus in his dragon form?? I want some double dick action ughhh 💦💦

(Hopefully this will be to your liking)

27."Why live such a mundane life when I can give you one beyond your wildest imagination?"

(Yandere! Malleus Draconia x Fem! Reader)

(WARNING NSFW AND NON-CON AHEAD)

Being rejected by the love of his life was not how Malleus expected this evening to go down. He thought he’d planned out his proposal to her perfectly: the atmosphere was perfect, the location was perfect, his darling was perfect!

So why then? Why was she not looking at him? Why was she shaking her head? Why was she quivering like a frightened animal? Malleus kept his expression schooled into a look of calm but on the inside he was ready to explode.

“I’m touched Malleus really I am but I...” (Y/n) trailed off her hands clenched together as she shifted nervously from one foot to the other as she thought. “This is all to sudden, I can’t accept your proposal. We haven’t even dated, we’re just friends!” She added hurriedly.

“We can go on a date after you accept my proposal child of man” Malleus replied smoothly, his gaze still fixed on (Y/n). “I want you by my side always and the best way to make that happen is to make you my wife” he continued and smiled faintly at (Y/n) to encourage her to accept his proposal.

“I... we... we’re from two different worlds Malleus. Not just literally but figuratively as well! You’re a fae prince, I’m a normal human girl. We go together as well as oil and glue, which is to say terribly” (Y/n) said shaking her head and taking a few steps back from the fae.

“That doesn’t matter to me, none of that matters to me! I love you (Y/n), with everything I am. I’d destroy worlds for you, just say the word” Malleus half-growled through his teeth. His anger was building fast and his draconic instincts were urging him to just take the girl despite her objections.

“I don’t want that! I would never ask you to do that! Malleus listen to me, our union would not be a happy one. You think you love me because I’m exotic to you, you’ll fall out of love with me before much longer” (Y/n) said softly daring to reach out to pet the hair of the still kneeling Malleus.

“Then what do you want my beloved child of man? Tell me what you desire and I’ll give it to you” Malleus insisted even as a blush formed on his face from the petting. He stubbornly tuned the second part of her statement even as his instincts became louder and louder. At this rate he might end up tossing the girl on the grass for quickie.

“I want to go back to my own world, back to my family, back to my friends. Maybe find someone nice to settle down with in a few years and have children someday” (Y/n) said her voice becoming dreamy as she reached the end of her statement. “Anyways I should go... we can talk tomorrow” She blinked slowly and turned red with embarrassment at her own musings as she turned her back on Malleus.

That was a big mistake as the moment her back was turn to him, the fae went feral. Body contorting, wings spreading, and fire falling from his lips as he cast a sleeping spell on his retreating love who went down like a tree once the spell was complete. Gently, ever so gently he scooped her up in his now scaly arms arms and flew to the dorms.

When (Y/n) regained consciousness she found her arms and legs bound the the bedframe of the bed she was one. Furthermore there was some kind of giant lizard sleeping on the bed with her, its head resting on her chest as it snored softly. It a way it was cute, a strangely familiar way. Memories of a conversation months before came back to her mind.

“Tsu...Tsunotarou? Is that you?” She used the affectionate nickname hoping that if she was right it would improve his mood. Slowly the creature stretched out like a cat before opening its eyes to appraise her. Familiar, intelligent green eyes gazed back at her as the dragon-man sat up.

“I was wondering how long it would take for the spell to wear off. I didn’t want to start until you were awake to enjoy the experience with me” Malleus said rubbing his smooth snout against (Y/n)’s cheek with a purring sound escaping his lips. It was only now, with his scales rubbing against her and stealing her body heat that the girl realized she was naked.

“I still don’t understand why you seem intent on delaying the inevitable (Y/n). Why live such a mundane life when I can give you one beyond your wildest imagination?” Malleus cooed squeezing her breasts hungrily, careful not to impale her tender flesh with his claws. His tongue flicked out to taste her skin and he positioned himself between her legs without much fuss allowing his twin cocks to drag against her thigh.

“M-m-muh-malleus! Please! You aren’t going to?! It won’t fit! I’m begging you I’m a virgin!” (Y/n) babbled out hoping to discourage the fae but her confession seemed only to fire him up further. Malleus continued to tease (Y/n)’s chest with one hand while the other busied itself between her legs.

No matter which way she moved her hips, Malleus’s finger followed until it was eventually joined by four more and she was stiff with an incoming orgasm. Yet at the last moment the dragon-man denied her as he pulled his fingers free and brought them to his mouth to clean.

“I apology for teasing you like that (Y/n) but I need you to be as relaxed as possible so I don’t hurt you during our love making” Malleus purred, his one hand still on her chest teasing and his other now around his cocks bringing them to full hardness. Once he’d brought his shafts to satisfactory stiffness he pressed himself against the entrance of her cunt.

“Just relax and let me take the lead (Y/n)” Malleus said and that was all the warning she got before her pussy was being forced to accommodate his girths. To distract (Y/n) from the pain of stretching the fae took her neglected breast into his mouth and began sucking gently as his free hand took hold of her hip to steady her. The combination of sucking and teasing of her tits was eventually enough to make the girl relax so Malleus could slide in deeper.

“That’s my girl, I’m almost all the way in just keep relaxing for me and I swear I’ll make you feel so good in just a moment” Malleus promised softly as he finally sheathed himself completely in (Y/n)’s cunt and let out a low appreciative growl. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips as he placed his other hand on her hips and pulled out a little before thrusting back in. True to his word, the dragon man was focused on pleasuring (Y/n). His cocks dragging against her sensitive insides and hitting her sweet spot with each inward movement.

It wasn’t long before (Y/n) was moaning out in pleasure. Encouraged by her response, Malleus picked up speed but still hitting the sensitive nerves inside (Y/n) that make her sing like a bird. The fae was determined to make sure his love reached climax before he did so he redoubled his efforts and cut the ropes binding her to bed to curl her body into a better position for fucking. To his surprise, (Y/n)’s hands chose to find purchase around his horns and sent an additional pleased shiver down his spine.

With a high-pitched wail (Y/n) came violently and almost passed out right then and there but she managed to stay conscious to feel Malleus cum deep inside her. Both parties panted loudly for a long moment after until the fae man finally pulled out with both cocks still dripping with jizz.

With his lust sated, Malleus shifted back to his normal fae appearance and pulled the covers of the bed down so he could tuck himself and (Y/n) under the blankets to sleep. The girl tried to put up a weak fight against him but she was truly to tired to care.

For his part Malleus nuzzled his nose against (Y/n)’s neck and began purring contently. His last thoughts were about what kind of engagement ring would best suit his darling child of man...

THE END

#Yandere Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland #Yandere Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia

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4haechie · 4 years

Text

stuck with you

➵ request: can i request fluff + au #2 + trope #1 "enemies to lovers" + prompt #4 & #19?? thank you 🥰

➵ lee donghyuck x reader | fluff, enemies to lovers au, high school au | 2,760 words | “take off your shirt.” + “can you shut up for just two seconds?”

➵ warnings: cursing and one second of suggestive stuff

➵ a/n: thank u for requesting! i really hope u like it :D i added timestamps to avoid confusion, so this turned out longer than expected oops. if u want a part 2, please let me know!

want to request? check this post out!

present time – thursday, 6:30 p.m.

you’re starting to wish time machines existed right about now. you’ll do just about anything to go back to two hours ago and avoid this mess.

you glance up at donghyuck, who’s put on his thinking cap apparently, and is trying to come up with a way to get you two the hell out of here. “do you have a hairpin? or a bobby pin?” he asks.

you shake your head, “donghyuck, that only works in movies.”

“y/n, i’m trying to come up with solutions here! or do you wanna live in this tiny janitor’s closet for the rest of your life?” he glares at you.

“if i did, i would’ve chosen someone else to share oxygen with. why would i choose you?” you glare back.

he rolls his eyes, indicating that that conversation is over. “whatever. try calling your friends again. someone must still be at school, right?”

you frown, “donghyuck, we had the student council meeting earlier, remember? that ended at six, and it’s almost six-thirty now. all the sports teams’ practice sessions must’ve ended, too. i’m telling you, it’s just us in school.” you shake a little as if trying to wake up from a crazy dream. no avail.

you’re stuck here–no, wait. someone locked you two in here. you’re going to have to trace back your steps to figure out who.

thursday, 4:00 p.m.

“the weekly student council meeting is in session. today, we’re going to discuss prom! i’ve put up a list on the bulletin board that says who’s going to do what. please take a look at it immediately.” you explained, gazing around the group of students in front of you.

you’re the president and donghyuck is the vice president. you two work together almost every day, you’re in the same classes, you have the same friends. but there’s one minor detail in your guys’ relationship: you two hate each other.

hate might be a bit too strong of a word, but it’s true. you and donghyuck, despite working together and being in the same class since third grade, have never gotten along. maybe it’s your guys’ competitiveness. maybe it’s your strong desire to one-up the other. but as long as you can recall, there hasn’t been a single time when he hasn’t made your blood boil.

anyway, you and donghyuck were in charge of planning your senior prom, and ensuring everything and everyone follows said plan.

while discussing the event, you realised you forgot to check with your school’s janitor if he’s free on the day of prom, or if he’s taking a holiday. either way was fine with you, as you were thinking of making everyone clean up after themselves. but just to be sure, you and donghyuck, unfortunately, decided to stop by the closet after the meeting had ended.

thursday, 6:05 p.m.

“i don’t think he’s here. it is after school hours, so i think he went home,” you said, peeping into the dark closet. it was pretty obvious he wasn’t there–the room couldn’t have been more than five feet by five feet. it’s a storage space, but the janitor keeps his bag here before starting work and picks it up right before leaving school.

“yeah, no shit, sherlock.” donghyuck reached around you to flip the light switch on. the lone bulb suspended from the ceiling blazed to life, setting the room alight.

then, suddenly, a figure pushed donghyuck into the confined space, which caused you to jerk inwards. it happened so fast, you barely had time to react, or identify the culprit. you heard keys jingling and fear danced around in your eyes.

donghyuck was still facing the door, while you were standing with your back against the wall. he tried his best to look out the little glass rectangle fitted in the door, but he turned around and shook his head in frustration.

“what the fuck just happened,” you said; it came out more as a statement, but anger resonated through your words.

“we, er, just got locked in here.” he deadpanned as if you couldn’t have figured.

you groaned and clenched your fists. “i’m gonna kill them. you didn’t happen to see their face, did you?”

he shook his head, “nope.”

“well, we know one thing. that person had the key–and only two people have the key to the closet. the janitor, who’s not even here, and the general office staff. but i’m sure they wouldn’t lock us in here.” you said.

donghyuck tilted his head, “okay, then, who...” he trailed off, allowing you to vocalise your theories.

“somebody must have stolen one of the two keys.” your brain’s gears started turning, trying to think of someone who would pull something like this.

“it could be the janitor’s keys. the closet was unlocked when we got here.” donghyuck reminded you.

“yeah...but he never leaves the closet unlocked. he’s very responsible, so it can’t be his set of keys. it’s probably the staff’s set,” you countered. “they barely pay any attention to non-admin matters. that person must’ve stolen their keys, unlocked the door after the janitor left, and waited for us to come here, before locking us in. jesus, i’m so angry. this is so fucking childish,” you groaned again.

donghyuck nodded in slight agreement, surprising you. he never agrees on anything you have to say, but he didn’t have much of a choice in that situation. plus, your theory made sense. “do you think this whole thing was renjun’s idea? he was the one who suggested we check with the janitor about prom night.”

your eyes widened in shock. “oh my god...wait, but it wasn’t renjun’s idea. it was mine, actually–he just reminded me to do so.” you slowly dropped down to the floor and held your head in your hands. you couldn’t believe what was going on. the entire situation seemed to just hit you.

you’re stuck in a small closet with lee donghyuck, your number one enemy.

present time – thursday, 6:40 p.m.

“none of them are picking up. donghyuck, what if they’re all in on this together? kind of like a senior prank–except we’re the ones getting pranked.” you say, panic rising in your voice. you’re standing now, leaning against the wall with your phone clutched tightly in your hand.

knowing your and donghyuck’s friends, you’re sure you’re going to be here all night. they’re quite a bunch. you and donghyuck have a common friend group, but your friends find your ongoing rivalry extremely annoying. it makes perfect sense if they locked you two in here.

donghyuck digests your words quickly. “no way. that’s insane! why the fuck would they do that?”

“well, do you have a better explanation? i’m sure you don’t, considering i’m the only one who’s been thinking of possible theories, while you’re here giving me the only suggestion you have–your stupid bobby pin idea,” you say, breathing heavily.

“can you shut up for just two seconds? always telling me what to do, disagreeing with me, arguing and fighting with me. we’re locked in here, and you think arguing like little kids is gonna get us out?” he shakes his head in disbelief. “god, and to think i had a crush on you last year.” he must not have meant to reveal that little secret, because his ears turn red instantly.

you gape at him, “what–what did you say?”

“look at you, getting a big head again–!”

“donghyuck.”

“i liked you! there, you happy?”

“i like–liked you too, idiot,” you say in a low voice.

then, he laughs–a melodious sound, emitting pure joy and rainbows and sunshine. “some type of rivals we are.”

you laugh with him now, finding the situation so pathetically sad that it was almost funny. laughable. something to reminisce from time to time.

“you...you still like me?” donghyuck asks in a small voice you’ve never heard before.

“take a guess.”

“no?”

you bite the inside of your cheek, “take another guess.”

he grins at you, leaning against one of the shelves–which was a bad move on his part. he accidentally knocks over a bottle of...detergent? who knows, but it ends up uncapped and half-empty once it lands on the floor. luckily it was plastic, so the bottle doesn’t break. unluckily, the other of the liquid splashes on you, soaking your entire shirt. your plain, white, shirt.

donghyuck freezes, “um...y/n, i’m sorry–”

you hold up a hand. the god of testing people’s patience must’ve signed you up for some competitive exam today. “save it.”

donghyuck looks around hastily, trying to find a clean rag. he produces a small yellow cloth from the back of one of the shelves and hands it to you, “here.”

you don’t even say thanks. you quickly take it from him, free your shirt from your jeans, and start wiping and drying it to the best of your ability. you manage to make the shirt as dry as possible, but it was detergent that spilt on you. it was soapy–it was not water.

you groan for the third time today and look at donghyuck, gritting your teeth. “i can’t possibly go out like this.”

he winces, feeling extremely apologetic. “take off your shirt and wear my hoodie instead. i have two layers on,” he suggests.

you give him a double-take, “what the fuck? no! why would i do that?” you exclaim.

“do you have any better ideas?”

you watch as he swiftly takes his hoodie off, revealing a loose tee clad on his body. you hate to admit how good he looks. he hands the item of clothing to you, and you tell him to turn around as you begrudgingly peel your shirt away. you take the rag once again, wiping off as much soapy liquid as you can, and pull the hoodie over your head.

it smells like him, you think. it smells like that expensive cologne he always seems to wear. you show no indication that you find his hoodie soft and comforting, and tell him you’re done. you roll the shirt, squeezing any remnants of detergent out, and stuff it in your bag.

he bites back the smile daring to form on his lips upon seeing you in his hoodie. “okay. now that that’s over, let’s try to get out of here, shall we?”

you nod. “i have our science teacher’s number. maybe i could ask her to help us? she’s always here late, marking papers and assignments.”

donghyuck snaps his fingers, “you’re right! yeah, give her a call.”

you scroll through your contacts till you find the name you’re looking for. you press the call button and set it to speaker mode so donghyuck can hear as well. she picks up after three rings, “hello?”

“hi, miss angela! it’s me, y/n. you see, um, donghyuck and i got locked in the janitor’s closet by someone, and we have no way to get out. are you still in school? if you are, is it possible for you to unlock the door from the outside?”

miss angela hums a little, as if in thought, “i just left, my dear. i could turn the car around if you’d like. i’m sure the office keeps an extra set.”

“yes! that would be great. thank you, miss angela. and we’re sorry for the inconvenience,” you nudge donghyuck with your elbow, who catches on immediately.

“yeah, we’re incredibly sorry. i’ll be sure to submit an extra report–!”

“save it, lee donghyuck. i’ll be there in five to ten minutes,” she hangs up with that.

you pocket your phone and look at donghyuck. “so.”

“so,” he repeats.

“are we going to act like we didn’t just confess to one another earlier?” you ask, biting your lip nervously.

“no, i don’t want to, um, act like we didn’t. i lied, y/n. i had a crush on you last year, yeah, but i never stopped liking you. i still like you. i don’t want to be your enemy anymore.” he nudges you.

you smile shyly, “i like you too, donghyuck.”

just then, you hear keys jingling–an all too familiar sound. you get excited, thinking you’re going to be met with the face of miss angela, but when the door bursts open, you see the smirking faces of renjun and jeno.

“about fucking time!” renjun pulls you and donghyuck outside.

“what?” donghyuck demands. “it was your idea to lock us in there? are you fucking kidding me?”

jeno grimaces, “i’m sorry, it was the only way you two would confess your feelings for each other and stop fighting for good.”

“i can think of plenty of ways–!”

“wait, y/n, are you wearing donghyuck’s hoodie? holy fuck...don’t tell me you guys did it.” renjun looks back and forth between you and donghyuck.

“what? no, of course not!” you retort.

“then why do you have his hoodie on, dear y/n?” jeno asks.

“that’s none of your damn business, lee jeno!” donghyuck looks ready to pounce on him, but you place a hand on his chest, stopping him. his gaze drops down to your hand and it softens.

“there was a little accident...but the good thing is that we’re out. hooray. now, everybody, go home. i have to call miss an–”

“y/n, thank goodness! what happened?” miss angela emerges into the scene, looking a little worried.

you briefly explain the evening’s events to her, without mentioning the confession part. she doesn’t need to know that. you tell her it was a silly prank. nothing more, nothing less.

she visibly sighs a breath of relief. “well, at least it wasn’t some stranger. jeno, renjun, i didn’t expect this from you two. but i’m glad you’re all okay.” she takes her leave, after ensuring you four are on your way home.

jeno and renjun go home via jeno’s car, and you and donghyuck, living only a couple of blocks away from school, decide to walk the journey.

“all this... just so we could stop fighting,” donghyuck laughs. you’re walking side by side, hands occasionally brushing against one another. it’s like something out of a cheesy rom-com. you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“it worked, didn’t it?” you say.

donghyuck stops on the pavement, turning his body to face you. he stretches out a hand to push a strand of hair behind your ear, making you bump his shoulder shyly. he smiles; he wouldn’t have it any other way either.

“i guess it did. but what do we do now?”

“what do you mean?” you raise an eyebrow.

“like, do i walk you home first? do i ask you on a date? god, with you, it’s just so much more...different. if it was someone else, i would’ve gone with my gut, but with you, i don’t wanna mess it up. you know?” donghyuck finally takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. you feel his warmth radiate, you feel his touch bringing you safety and comfort. something way more powerful than a hoodie.

“donghyuck, i’m new at this too. i’m just as scared as you are. and that’s okay, trust me. i’m glad it’s me and not anyone else.” you assure him.

you gather up whatever courage you have remaining, tip-toe, and brush your lips against his cheek. you stay there for a moment, just breathing him in. when you pull away, his cheeks are a dusty pink shade.

“do that again,” he tells you.

“no, i think i’m good.” you start walking again.

“y/n!” he whines.

“okay, on one condition.” he raises a brow, “ask me on a date.”

for a moment, he’s bewildered. then, he gets down on one fucking knee, not caring about anyone who might be watching, and clears his throat. “y/n, i like you so much. will you make me the happiest man alive, and go on a date with me this saturday?” he looks up at you expectantly.

you chuckle at his antics and give him a nod. “i would love to, lee donghyuck.”

he grins, all big and bright, and leaps up to envelop you in a hug. his arms go around your waist and yours circle his neck. he whispers in your hair, “i guess we owe renjun and jeno a thank you?”

“i am not going to thank them for locking us up in a closet. in fact, i’m gonna double their prom duties.” you feel his chest vibrate as he laughs at your comment.

however, you are thankful that it was lee donghyuck you got stuck with. so, forget the time machine. you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

#haechan fluff #haechan x reader #haechan imagines #haechan drabbles #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck imagines #donghyuck drabbles #nct haechan #nct donghyuck #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #mine #req

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

Grounded: Level 1

Level 0 | Level 2

Member: Minho (Lee Know)

Genre: idol minho x idol trainee reader, angst cause is it a dana fic if there is no angst

Taglist: @jaehyvnsvalentine @licorice526

[O C T O B E R 2 0 1 7]

Now the pain was exquisitely bitter. His shoulders are slumped and he's got those eyebags he has whenever he sleeps one hour every night for a week straight.

And yet, he still manages to spit out that stupid smile when he spots you idling at the entrance of his residence.

"Has BigHit gotten back to you about your second round of audition?"

The sourness in your face overwhelms your nose and eyes, instinct immediately pushing you to run in his direction. Minho quickly slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and behind him, letting you sink your head into his chest as you quietly sob.

"Why are you crying? Even I'm not," Wrapping his arms around your shoulders, you can feel his fingers tapping on your hair.

"That's cause you have a problem with letting your feelings out, you dumb cunt," Your mucus is threatening to slide out and stain his jacket, so you quickly move away and haphazardly wipe it off with the back of your hand. Minho's eyes are tired, and it feels like someone's stabbed your heart with a fork and tried to tear it open.

"Come on, my parents know you're here right? Let's go up and get some food."

Through the small laughters and interesting stories Minho had to share, you can tell by the way his parents look at him eat that they missed him; that they were already proud of him for trying because there was absolutely no way they could've created this specimen of a human by their two hands. Minho had completely personified his entire being into someone that he owns, but right now, he's manifesting that fake, seemingly-emotionless act right before his family and you.

Minho struts into his bedroom, you trailing slowly behind as he trudges his feet. Quietly shutting the door behind you, an interal debate sparks off in your chest. To force Minho to talk or--

The pinch in your heart is particularly challenging to tolerate when you see Minho scoop Doongie up into his arms, sinking to the floor next to his bed when he lets his tears fall. The muscles in your face distort into something torturing to look at in the mirror right next to his bed, the reflection triggering you into more of an emotional mess than he was in.

Doongie meows, nuzzling her snout into Minho’s hands. The fact that the cat, that usually wouldn’t give two fucks about her owner, was bothering to provide him some attention was threatening to shatter your spirit into a million pieces. You can hear him gulp down the desire to fall apart when he wipes his tears away, and you choose to remain silent, simply resting your head on his shoulder with your arm interlocked with his.

Gently closing your eyes, his crying gets physically more aggressive when his shoulders start to shake. He remained silent, and yet all you could hear was him cracking open.

Was it worth picking yourself apart for a dream that is difficult to attain? Why do we subject ourselves to this life - this life of mirrors and camera flashes and headlines that might not speak the truth? You are halfway there, maybe permanently stuck here, and while most people would want that freedom, you choose to subject yourself to those restraints?

Why?

Why are you so persistent in your dreams and what you love that you put yourself through this intricate torture that does nothing but pulls you apart... and then you’d have to shove your pieces back all together again?

Lee Minho, is it really worth it... breaking my heart so I can watch you travel miles away from me? Is it really worth it... to spend hours and months and years away from me, where I can protect you and tell you it’s okay to cry? Is it really worth it... to sacrifice your own desires for just one thing you want?

Is this really what you want?

Is it so hard to realise... that I need you by my side and not on a stage that I’m not on?

His harsh sniffles jolt you out of your inward misery, cuing you to quickly blink back the tears that were alarmingly close to dribbling over your lower lids.

“I messed up the lyrics.”

Minho chokes himself into a chuckle, and his laughter alone is enough to make to smile to yourself.

“You messed up the lyrics?” Raising your brows out of his sight, you can feel him moving to wipe his face.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sure Chan would’ve killed you on the spot if he could.”

Minho laughs through an exhale. “He would’ve.”

“So,” A gentle shuffle as Doongie finally shifts her attention away from her owner and to his duffle bag. “What now?”

The boy hums in soft contemplation. “I’m heading back to JYP tomorrow to practise more until he tells me what to do.”

A small pout finds your lips. Is this your impending future too?

“You haven’t told me what happened at your BigHit audition.”

Sitting up, you purse your lips before turning to look at Minho. His eyes are a mixture of red from the crying and dark from the lack of sleep.

“Should I even bother having this conversation with you since you literally just got back--”

“Yes?!” There is some degree of change in Minho; he doesn’t want you to feel burdened by the need to pity him for being eliminated off the show. “I was a backup dancer for BigHit since I was like, 17. You waltz in at 15, get into the backup crew unit at 16 and get casted?” Minho scoffs, unsatisfied.

“And I can’t even get into JYP.”

You fail to stop the slap that you were landing on his arm.

“See what I mean? I’m not having this conversation with you if you’re going to compare.”

He smiles.

“Alright, alright. So, seriously though,” He tilts his head forwards so he can meet your eyes. “How did it go? What did they say? Are they calling you back for a second round?”

Taking in a deep breath, your chest puffs out as you lean your head backwards.

“I just danced for the first audition, and they told me to try and sing something from BTS, so I danced to Not Today while singing it--”

“What? Not Today? While singing it?”

“It was not a great idea, I’ll tell you that. It was breathy and my volume was inconsistent.”

“Given the amount of Hellish footwork that song has, that’s not a surprise.”

“Right,” You comb your fingers through your hair. “Anyway, they didn’t give me a score or anything. They just thanked me and told me to wait for a call for the results.”

“So... now you’re just waiting?”

You turn to him. “Is there anything else I could do?”

He returns to his original position, back pressed flat against the side of his bedframe and folds his arms. “Well, if they didn’t eliminate you on the spot then I think you have a good chance of being called back for a second round. Companies usually don’t like wasting their time on someone that they don’t find potential in.”

You shrug lifelessly. “I don’t know. I don’t really care... yet, I guess. It’s not a priority. I’m just going because the BigHit assistant manager said I have potential so... I’m just trying to figure out where my potential actually stops.”

“Potential doesn’t stop growing though,” Minho lifts both arms and places both hands behind his neck, elbow touching each other in front of his throat. “Instead of thinking that way, I think you need to start considering if you really want this idol life. Once you’re in it, there’s almost zero chance of you coming back to becoming an ordinary citizen. And besides, word has it that BigHit has plans for a new boy group, right? That makes you, a girl, a new trainee, susceptible to their plans.”

You turn to him in slight surprise and suspicion. “How do you know these kind of things? You sure you don’t train at BigHit?”

Minho laughs wholeheartedly. “Word travels fast in this industry. The idols, managers and CEOs know everything before a single member of the public does.”

Your eyes revert back to his flooring. “I’ll deal with it when the call comes, I guess. I’m like 99% sure they aren’t gonna call me and tell me I got in anyway.”

Minho hums. “We could bet on it.”

His eyes are filled with anticipation – not for himself but for you, and it makes you want to hurl on him because he deserves it so much more than you do.

“Screw off,” Offering a gentle chuckle, you push yourself to your feet. “I’m gonna go home. Call me when you head back to JYP.”

“What for?”

“So I can watch you walk into your death trap of fangirls and paparazzi flashlights.”

“Get your wallet ready, I’m betting fifty.”

“You can ask BigHit for that fifty if I get in.”

Your heart is racing so hard against your chest when you meet those familiar faces again. Those that sit behind that five-meter table with their names printed on silver placards before their hands. The numbers of the digital clock behind them stared down on you like a devil’s eyes emerging from the darkness.

Among the five judges or audience - or whatever you called them - though, sat Bang Shi Hyuk himself. Gold, round glasses perched on the edge of his nose bridge as it threatened to slip off. One of the panelists was the assistant manager of BTS’ that had handed you the audition card. Another was a choreographer you recognised only because you’ve come to BigHit several times before: he was BigHit’s resident choreographer. The other two were rap and vocal trainers.

It feels like they were discussing about a price tag to paste on your forehead, then place you on a throne and yell “How much for this one?!”

“y/n?”

The assistant manager’s voice smacks you out of your mid-air sandcastle. Bang Shi Hyuk was leaning over to the choreographer, reading his notes while looking back at his.

“How are you feeling?”

Bang Shi Hyuk pulls back to his own seat, eyes scanning you above the gold rims of his glasses. The other three panelists have sold their attention to you, the vocal trainer looking like she was struggling to maintain that kindred smile she had on her face, otherwise you might’ve just dropped dead from the anxiety.

“Um, nervous is an understatement.”

The little smile that curves Bang Shi Hyuk’s lips is miniscule. The atmosphere somehow physically diffuses.

“Well, you did dance and sing to Not Today in your last audition,” The choreographer speaks up, arranging his notes in a corner and taking a sip of water. Is this it? Have they come to the conclusion that I’m not worth training?

“I-- Well, it’s the only song I know the exact steps and lyrics to.”

“Have more confidence in yourself and you don’t need to worry too much about steps.”

The assistant manager looks over the choreographer sitting next to him and eyes the CEO of the biggest boyband in K-Pop.

The mirror behind them was only displaying the tiredness that was seeping from your limbs. You’ve never heard of an audition where they allowed the auditionee to look themselves in the mirror, but of course, there was a camera sat right behind Bang Shi Hyuk’s head.

Your palms are sweating, and your knees probably slightly bruised after you performed a bit from GOT7′s Hard Carry, only because Minho had made you learn it with him in your free time.

The goodbye between you and Minho wasn’t teary or saddening, but it sure as Hell felt like shit when Minho was walking off into such an uncertain future - only for you to receive that phone call for the second audition just minutes after he leaves.

“What made you do Hard Carry? It’s not an easy song.”

“I... I know the exact choreography but not the lyrics.”

“Would you rather a song that you know the steps to or the lyrics?” The vocal trainer leans over her notes.

“Um,” I’m a dancer. Of course the steps. “The steps. I’m not over the top with singing... or rapping, for that matter.”

Bang Shi Hyuk finally stops the questioning when he pulls off his glasses and leans back in his seat.

“We are in the midst of training a group of male trainees for a boy-group debut in 2019, and our previous group is BTS who debuted back in 2013. It’s a big gap. This means that there might be a chance that we’ll only be debuting a girl group - if it even is a girl group - in...” He shrugs his shoulders. “2025? Maybe later?”

“2025?” You blurt out at the mention of the year.

“If you’re not up for this plausible plan then--”

“Uh,” The assistant manager actually interrupts Bang Shi Hyuk. You’d expect the CEO to be pissed or at least, unhappy, but all he does is blink at the assistant manager and leans forward.

The assistant manager whispers something to the CEO, leaving you burning with questions. You couldn’t decide if you were more nervous if they turned you away, or if they still remained you the question of waiting for eight long years.

The low-volume conversation finally fades to a stop when Bang Shi Hyuk pulls away, the assistant manager looking more anxious than before he said anything.

“I wasn’t much present at all the performances you did back-up for BTS, but Mr Son has informed me that you were pulled out from some 700 auditions and even out of the 20 girls that made it to the dance crew, he only asked you to come for the audition.”

Wait, 700?

“This is the same man who scouted half of BTS, so I trust him when he says you’re someone worth training. But I must know this, are you willing to pull through with this? You’ll have a whole file of contract to read, years of training and even after debuting, you must be aware that there are things you cannot do.”

Of course. Because my best friend is walking straight into this same situation. I’m losing him to this file of contract, will I choose to further the distance by taking one for myself too?

Before you can respond, the assistant manager looks at you with soft eyes. “You don’t have to respond now, but we do need to know if first - you’re interested to become a trainee. You’ll be on probationary training for about two to three years, see how you get along with the other female trainees and only when we have decided to debut a girl group with a confirmed number of members then we will have you sign the group contract.”

“Hold on,” Your tongue is dry. “Does that mean I--”

“You passed the audition. Say ‘yes’ now, and you’ll be a BigHit trainee.”

The force of the revelation feels like someone’s dropped a brick on your head with a post-it on it saying “CONGRATULATIONS!”

“Do I have time to think about this?”

Bang Shi Hyuk already doesn’t look that interested. But the assistant manager nods and offers you a pursed grin.

“We’ll wait for your answer, so take your time and weigh your options. We don’t want our trainees walking into something they don’t know everything about.”

A deep breath fills your lungs. The words were spoken to you, but why is it that you see Minho’s face in the mirror, because he is what you’re worried about?

#minho #lee minho #skz minho #skz lee know #lee know #stray kids #stray kids lee know #stray kids minho #skz lee know scenarios #lee know scenarios #minho scenarios #lee know fanfic

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