#i have been.. grumbling about this vaguely its tagged in my negative feelings tag but ive got to a point now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kamoniwa · 3 years

Text

⟼ a little madness

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: yokai!kuroo/demon!akaashi/human!reader/werewolf!semi

⇢ au: college!au

⇢ summary: you, your friends, and some friends of your friends all get tricked by one tendou satori into visiting an abandoned amusement park for halloween. it turns out it isn’t ghosts you need to worry about, though.

⇥ kinktober masterlist

⇢ warnings: gangbang, noncon to consensual, lots of reluctance, mind break if you squint?, technical temperature play, unprotected sex, creampie, the boys are real gentle in breaking you down

⇢ word count: 11,695

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: don’t really think noncon is my forte but practice makes perfect. is the pairing self-indulgent? fat yes. does this fic make total sense? not really sure. did i have fun writing it? hell yeah. also big thank you to @ishuzoku for helping me come up with the flyer bc my og id was garbage lmao.

Furrowing your brows, you looked at Tendo with a mix of exasperation and unadulterated dismay.

“An abandoned amusement park. On Halloween?” Kaori asked before you could, eyebrows disappearing into her bangs. “You cannot be serious, Tendo.”

If he was put off by your reactions, he didn’t show it. If anything, he was probably relishing in it, and said, “Yes, yes I am. It’ll be fun. Come on, do you really just wanna get drunk at a boring house party on Halloween?”

You snorted at that, stirring your coffee as you said, “As opposed to getting murdered at an amusement park? That’s like, straight out of a horror movie, Tendo.”

“You guys are so boring,” he whined, slumping forward across the table. Shirabu grumbled under his breath, glaring at Tendo as he nudged his drink closer to Shirabu’s textbook. “Look, it’ll be so cool! Exploring all the abandoned funhouses and imagine how freaky the haunted houses will be! Just think about it, okay?”

The looks everyone exchanged said they had and had already made up their minds, but you nodded anyway, if for no other reason than to appease him.

A moment later, your alarm went off and you bid them goodbye, walking towards the door with Shirabu for your next lecture. You were sure as shit not going to an abandoned anything this weekend.

Except somehow, against all odds, you were piled up in the back of Konoha’s car, crammed beside someone who had been introduced to you as Akaashi Keiji. He was a friend of Bokuto’s and Konoha’s and, upon hearing about your adventure, asked if he could tag along. If you had to peg him, he was more the librarian type than a ghost hunter type-- soft spoken and well mannered with pretty blue eyes that closed slightly when he smiled.

In the front seat were Konoha-- driving-- and Yachi, currently fighting with the radio and Konoha’s phone.

In the car behind you was someone named Kuroo-- also a friend of Bokuto and Akaashi-- Kaori, Goshiki, and Semi-- a friend of Shirabu, Goshiki, and Tendo. Kuroo was almost ecstatic to be going, but Semi had seemed like he would rather be doing anything else as he climbed into the passenger seat of Kuroo’s car.

The car in front contained Tendo, Bokuto, Yukie, and-- god bless him-- Shirabu. You were sure he was losing his mind as Tendo guided him towards the location of the amusement park. The details on how exactly this had come about were lost on you, but you vaguely recalled a drunken bet made two nights ago and a video that Tendo refused to share properly, but assured you was proof that the group had agreed to the terms of said bet and then lost. Spectacularly. Supposedly.

“So, how did you meet everyone?” Akaashi asked, turning to look at you. The scenery outside was turning quickly from civilization to wilderness, the trees growing thicker the further you drove until you couldn’t tell one trunk from the next.

Humming, you rested your chin in your hand, bracing your elbow on the door. This was the worst part of meeting someone new during a trip-- tedious small talk. But you had to start somewhere, so you said, “I met Kaori in one of our classes and ‘Toka-- er, Yachi--” The girl turned around at the sound of her name and waved. “-- is my roommate. They kind of introduced me to everyone else.”

Truth be told, you weren’t sure how they had become your core group of friends. From loud and boisterous Bokuto to sullen and taciturn Shirabu, you adored all of them, but you had had your own group of friends before meeting them. Most of those old friends had faded from sight as you found yourself absorbed in your new ones and, while a part of you felt bad, it was just a part of life.

“What about you?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “How do you know them?”

Konoha snickered from the front seat and Akaashi cut him a glare before turning back to you. “I’ve been friends with Konoha, Bo, and Tetsuro since highschool. Kaori and Yukie were our managers,” he said.

Konoha made a turn onto a road who’s name sign had long since fallen off the rusty pole, and you wondered just how far out you had traveled. It didn’t feel like it had been long since you left, but you recognized nothing around you and there was no sign of life.

“So, everyone but ‘Toka and I were friends in highschool, huh?” You chuckled. “What are the odds?”

Akaashi laughed with you, fiddling with his fingers as he turned back to look out his window.

The car was now filled with the sound of music, overtaking the silence that fell between the four of you. Konoha was focused on driving and you knew Yachi was more than a little nervous-- you had almost expected her to back out and accept whatever payback Tendo had planned for it afterwards.

“Do any of you guys know anything about this place?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your chin on Yachi’s seat. Through the windshield, you could see Tendo’s shaved head and Bokuto’s spiky locks in the backseat, and worried for poor Shirabu’s sanity. “How did Tendo even know this place existed?”

“It’s an old legend,” Akaashi spoke up softly.

Both you and Yachi turned to look at him, the latter’s breath hitching because everyone knew when those words were said, the story was going to be unpleasant.

Konoha cursed as he hit a pothole, muttering Tendo’s name under his breath as he righted the car between the faded lane lines, and Akaashi smiled at that before looking back to you.

“I doubt most people have heard of it,” he began, popping his knuckles one at a time. “It’s more of a local thing, really.”

“Well then how do you know about it?” you asked curiously, quirking a brow. You knew Bokuto grew up in Tokyo, which meant Akaashi had as well, and you were well outside of the city limits.

Akaashi smiled, tipping his head to the side and for the first time there was something other than soft indifference in it. “I enjoy these types of places and legends. It’s a hobby, you might say. This particular amusement park was meant to be scary in nature and didn’t stay open for long due to unexplained deaths and disappearances.”

Yachi squeaked, and you cast her a glance before resting your hand on her shoulder. This was probably not the best story for someone as easily scared as she was, but it was too late now, and you knew there was curiosity beneath the fear.

“That sounds way too vague,” you said, lips curling up at the corners. “That’s what everyone says about places like this. It’s not scary.”

Your skepticism was met with laughter and he said, “True. The police at the time pinned the problems on faulty attractions or poor background checks, saying there must have been a serial killer hired without anyone realizing. Sounds to me like they just couldn’t figure out what was causing it.”

You rolled your eyes, nodding along. If the park was as old as Tendo said, it could really have been faulty attractions, but you weren’t buying the serial killer story. It sounded too far-fetched compared to being crushed by an unstable support beam.

Akaashi continued, voice dropping in what might have been a scary attempt at atmosphere if the sun wasn’t framing his pretty features in a golden glow behind him. “The locals all said that the place was haunted, too many deaths had built up negative energy, trapping the spirits of those killed there. Unable to escape, they grew angry and the deaths continued until authorities labeled the park unsafe and banned any more visitors. And then--”

“What the hell?” Konoha cut him off, hitting the brakes a little harder than necessary.

Akaashi’s seat belt locked and he grunted, rubbing at the new red mark on his neck as he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Dunno,” Konoha replied, putting the car in park. “Sorry about that. Shirabu is getting out of the car.”

The car behind you pulled up as you were getting out, eyes wide as you watched Tendo lay a map out on the trunk of Shirabu’s car.

“We’re lost,” you said, sighing in exasperation.

A tall figure blocked out the sun in front of you and you squinted up into the face of Kuroo. He was giving you a catlike grin, ruffling his messy rooster hair as he said, “Sure seems that way, princess. This place is in the middle of nowhere. I’ll be surprised if we even find it.” He guided you over to the car where the others were gathered, snickering at the look of surprise on your face. “What?”

“You know about this place too?” you asked, glancing at Akaashi on the other side of the car. He cast you a small, closed eyed smile. “Akaashi was telling us about it in the car.”

Kuroo chuckled, raising a brow at his friend. “Yeah, being friends with Akaashi has its share of hazards.”

“Look, I’m pretty sure we’re here,” Tendo said, interrupting your conversation. He was pointing to a small line that looked just like any other on the map, aside from the major roadways and cities. If he was right, you were a decent ways out of the city and your watch read 1:01pm. “If we just follow this road and then this one, it’ll lead us straight past the village and to the park.”

Shirabu looked skeptical, spinning the map around to look at it as well. He wasn’t exactly wrong but how could he really tell? All the smaller roads looked the same and they couldn’t even confirm the name of the road because there was no sign. It had also been ages since they last saw a house or even another car, so asking anyone was out of the question too.

“This is stupid,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. No one besides Tendo really wanted to be there-- he ignored the fact that Kuroo was just as excited as his weirdo friend to be going and that Akaashi had jumped at the opportunity as well-- and it would be so much easier to just turn around and go to Hinata’s party. “We should just go home before we get lost.”

Tendo frowned at that, sharing a look with Kuroo before saying, “We aren’t lost*. It’s not much further now. Just trust me.”

The others were all inclined to agree with Shirabu, you included, but arguing with Tendo was like arguing with a brick wall-- pointless. He had already tricked you into agreeing to this endeavor and at this point backing out would be both a waste of time and gas. Shirabu was too smart to get lost anyway but, if you were lucky, Tendo was wrong and you wouldn’t be able to find the place at all.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to find it?” Yachi asked once you were safely back in the car.

Akaashi hummed beside you, but you said, “God I hope not. I was looking forward to Hinata’s party and if we get back quick enough we might still make it.”

Konoha looked at you in the rearview, eyes crinkled as he snickered. “What, are you scared, _____? Afraid the ghosts are gonna get ya?”

Scoffing, you dug through your bag for your phone. A check an hour ago had revealed one bar, but now the words ‘No Service’ blazed across the service banner. “No, I’m not scared. There are just a thousand better things to be doing that than breaking my neck on rusty amusement park rides.”

“Sounds like cowardice to me,” he answered, laughing at you through the mirror.

Sticking your tongue out at him, you turned back to the window, sighing as the scenery passed by in a blur. Konoha and Akaashi talked a lot about volleyball, Yachi pitching in occasionally. You knew she had managed her highschool volleyball team and knew everyone else in the group to some degree, but most everything sports related went over your head.

Still, Akaashi made some effort to get to know you, asking about highschool and what classes you were taking. You told him about your major and asked what his was, finding out he was a literature major and constantly busy, explaining why you had never met him before. He, Kuroo, and Semi were the busiest out of all their friends, often skipping out on get togethers in order to study, work, or-- in Semi’s case-- practice with his band.

A little while later, while Yachi and Konoha were having a heated discussion about their favorite subjects, you caught the first glimpse of something besides trees. Turning to look out the windshield, you saw brake lights already lighting up and the car began to slow.

“Well, we found the village, at least,” Tendo said, reading the faded sign displaying the name of the town. “I didn’t expect it to be abandoned too, though.”

Everyone was gathered in the middle of the road, looking down the mainstreet of the village. Windows were busted out and boarded up, paint faded on rotten clapboards, and roofs missing tiles or riddled with holes. The street was littered with potholes and the whole town had an eerie sense of unnatural quiet. Everyone shifted on their heels, slowly making their way back towards the cars without a word and piling in.

Even Tendo looked unnerved.

The town disappeared behind you but in the distance you could see the towering track of a roller coaster above the treeline. Even from so far away you could see that the paint was faded off of it, the sun filtering through clouds and casting the whole area in shades of grey. To you, it seemed like the forest was darker, the trees packed more closely together, and your heart began to thump in your chest.

“You okay?” Akaashi’s gentle voice asked in your ear. His hand landed on your shoulder, colder than expected, and you shivered underneath his touch. “You look like you’ve already seen a ghost.”

You nodded, looking over to find him giving you a look of amused concern, one corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “Just nervous. That town was creepy as hell and it freaked me out a little.”

“Me too!” Yachi squeaked from the front seat, turning around to give you a pleading look. “Don’t you dare leave me, _____.”

Laughter filled the car then and you patted Yachi on the shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ‘Toka.”

The towering sign for the park appeared up ahead and the car fell silent all over again as brake lights lit up again. Broken glass and gravel littered the parking lot, which was smaller than expected for how big the park looked.

Everyone seemed to hesitate on getting out of the cars. Tendo was the first, followed by Kuroo, and then Akaashi. Like it was a signal, the rest of you followed, Yachi clinging onto your hand and Kuroo and Akaashi seeming to stand behind you protectively, close enough that you could feel warmth radiating off them.

“Do we really have to go in there?” Goshiki asked, eyeing the ticket booth with disdain. The paint on it, like everything else, was faded, the wood rotten and the window and door busted out. The latter creaked on its hinges, filling the still air with an unsettling noise that mixed with the faint sounds of creaking metal and leaves fluttering in the wind.

Everyone shuffled back towards the cars a little at his question, but Tendo took a step forward, resting his hand on the turnstile. “Since we’re actually here, may as well take a look around.”

Without another moment of hesitation, he hopped over it, peering around with an unusually quiet interest. It was the first time since you had met Tendo that he had nothing to say, his already pale face seemingly devoid of color, making his vibrant, sleepy eyes pop out even more.

Groaning, you, Shirabu, and Goshiki stepped forward, dragging Yachi with you as you climbed over the turnstile as well. You couldn’t just let Tendo wander off into the dangerous park alone. The others followed suit, muffled whispers and conversations floating through the air as they spread out in the area.

The forest had started taking back over through the concrete, weeds and grass sprouting up through the cracks and pushing the cobblestones up and out of place. Vines of ivy and moss hung from the powerpoles, vendor booths, and some attractions further back, swaying in the gentle breeze. The buildings were dark inside, but through the gloom you could make out mannequins and shelves devoid of merchandise.

The bell dinged on the first one Tendo pushed open-- a souvenir shop. It was empty except for dust and garbage, as were the next few you entered.

Slowly but surely the group made their way further into the park, Yachi clinging onto you the whole time. Akaashi and Kuroo were right behind the two of you, Shirabu and Semi in front, forming a kind of guard while Tendo and Bokuto led the way. Kaori clung to Goshiki, who looked like he was putting on a brave front despite his pink cheeks and the nervousness in his eyes.

For all his grumbling, Shirabu looked interested as he eyed all the buildings and machinery. It was quiet, devoid even of the sound of birdsong or humming bugs, and it unsettled you.

“Oh look, it’s the pirate ship ride!” Bokuto yelled suddenly, breaking the deathly silence.

Everyone jumped, Shirabu hissing at him to shut up while Yukie shrieked, latching onto him. Bokuto had the decency to look abashed but still steered the group towards the derelict platform, testing his weight on the creaky metal stairs on his way up.

The deck of the ship was littered with leaves and dust, the seats worn down and showing stuffing and springs after however many years left in the element. There were signs of rust on the metal and the whole thing shifted slightly to emit a creak.

“Um, Bo, I don’t think that’s safe,” Kuroo called out, grabbing your arm to stop you from following up behind him.

Tendo and Goshiki were up beside him, examining the boat itself and, before anyone knew it, the former had hopped into it.

“Tendo!” Shirabu called, a trace of panic in his voice. His fingers were wrapped around the railing, paint flakes coming away under his touch hand as he prepared to spring up the stairs, but everyone’s eyes were locked on Tendo’s precarious creep down the middle aisle. “Get out of there before you get hurt, idiot!”

“It’s fine, Shirabu,” he called, now standing at the bow. “It’s kinda cool actually. I can see more of the park from here.”

Bokuto landed with a thump a moment later, a louder creak ringing out than when lanky Tendo had landed, and everyone took a collective breath and held it.

But as before, it held, and he joined Tendo up by the bow.

“Wow, he’s right!” he called, holding his hand above his eyes like a visor and peering out over the park. It was certainly bigger than he imagined for being in the middle of nowhere. “There’s a house over that way!”

“Probably the haunted house,” Tendo said, straining to see what Bokuto was looking at. In the distance were two stilted, twisted steeples painted in different hues. One was flamboyant and bright, the other dark and dreary, even compared to the state of disrepair of the rest of the park. “I see a funhouse too, I think. Looks pretty freaky. Wanna check ‘em out?”

“Hell yeah,” Bokuto shouted, whipping around to look at the rest of you.

Shirabu looked ready to blow a gasket, and Yachi looked ready to faint, but everyone else looked intrigued. Even you couldn’t help but be a little curious about it, having free range to explore the most interesting rides in the park. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to be able to see what they were like without restraint?

The sun was just beginning to fade behind the treeline, turning the clouds a thin shade of orange, but the lure of seeing something interesting had dissolved any real fear.

The two men met Goshiki on the platform and made their way back down to the rest of the group, eyes shining bright with the promise of adventure.

“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad!” Tendo said as if the stunt he just pulled hadn’t taken years off all your lives. Jumping haphazardly onto a decade old, rusted out death trap attraction at an abandoned amusement park hours from the nearest hospital wasn’t going to earn him any genius awards.

On the way towards the supposed attractions, you came across the carousel. Its metal panels were tarnished, the paint worn away from them and the animals, the mirrors grimy with dirt. Vines and ivy climbed up everywhere. The platform shifted when Kuroo stepped onto it, Tendo hot on his heels followed closely by Bokuto.

“Let’s go see, ‘Toka,” you said, tugging her forward by the hand. Kaori took your other one, squeezing, while Akaashi guided you with a gentle hand on your back.

“Look at this,” someone said, and you turned to find Semi holding a faded paper. “It looks like a poster claiming someone was kidnapping people.”

“How the hell is it still here?” Konoha asked, peering at it around Semi’s arm. “It should have disintegrated a long damn time ago.”

“Dunno,” Semi said with a frown. Trying to see the paper, you were crowded against Semi by Yachi and Kaori and flinched when you realized how hot he was. “It was wedged in the frame of the mirror.”

The whole thing was faded but still legible, due presumably to being tucked into the mirror, and appeared to be a flyer issued by the park itself.

Due to the recent disappearances, park security has been tightened. Please stay aware of your surroundings and report and suspicious activity immediately.

“You were right, Akaashi,” you said, glancing up at the man standing behind you. “They really did think someone was kidnapping people.”

“A lot of the people were never found,” Semi said, folding the sheet up neatly and tucking into his pocket. “It’s not surprising they thought that.”

“Ohhhh, maybe the bodies are still here,” Tendo said, wiggling his fingers over Konoha’s shoulders. “Maybe it was actually the workers kidnapping people and they kept the bodies in a secret place.”

“Like where?” Shirabu asked, giving him an exasperated, skeptical look. It was getting late and they were wasting time just hanging around. He wasn’t particularly thrilled at the idea of being in the park after dark, going to possibly the scariest attraction in the place, but if they were going to do it, they needed to just get it done. “The authorities probably tore this place apart looking for them.”

Tendo shrugged, looking thoughtful. “Maybe they hid them in the haunted house. Maybe there’s a hidden room somewhere that only the workers knew how to open.”

“Could you not?” Yukie asked, slapping Tendo on the arm. “We’re going there, in case you forgot, pea brain. Way to freak us out.”

Yachi was clinging onto Kaori now, staring at Tendo with wide, frightened eyes and he almost looked repentant.

“Or, you know, could be anywhere. The haunted house would be a pretty obvious place to hide it, wouldn’t it?” he said, rubbing the back of his head. Beckoning to Yachi, she went reluctantly, letting Tendo tuck her under his arm. “Don’t worry, Yach. I’ll protect you, ‘kay?”

You and Kaori snickered at the shade of red her face turned, and Shirabu sighed.

“Can we just get going before it gets too late?” he asked, turning and leading the way down the path. The shadows were slowly lengthening, orange mixing with shades of pink and purple in the sky.

Semi fell into step beside you, Yukie on your other side. Goshiki and Konoha were having a conversation about the derelict rollercoaster to the right, and you allowed your attention to drift to it. It was eerie, the faded paint and rusted metal tracks looming like a foreboding beacon above you. Staring the way you were, your foot caught a displaced cobblestone and you went sprawling with a yelp.

Before you could smack the ground, a strong, warm hand wrapped around your upper arm and hauled you back up. It hurt, causing a sharp ache in your shoulder, but it still hurt less than the concrete probably would have. Looking up at your savior, you gave him a half smile.

“Thanks, Semi,” you said, rubbing your shoulder.

But he was frowning at you-- not that that was any different than the look he’d worn all day-- but this one was marred by soft concern. “Are you alright? You’re awfully cold.”

“O-Oh. No, I’m fine. Just got distracted by the coaster,” you said, giggling in embarrassment. “It is a bit chilly though, now that you mention it. I didn’t notice.”

There was a moment's hesitation, then the sound of a zipper being drawn down. A weight settled across your shoulders, surrounding you with an unfamiliar cologne, and your cheeks heated up at the realization that he had given you his jacket.

“That’s okay, Semi, really,” you said, shrugging the jacket off. “It isn’t that bad, and it’s my own fault. I left mine in the car.”

“No worries, _____,” he said, and for the first time you could see a small smile on his face in the dim light. “I’m not cold, so you can take it.”

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you said, pulling it back around your shoulders. It was warm and you smiled when you caught him looking at you. He was wearing a peculiar look, kind but almost possessive, and he licked his lips once before looking forward again.

You shivered, unsure if you were just seeing things. The park had rattled your nerves and Semi was just being nice. You didn’t know him well enough to make a judgement call like that and forced down the uneasiness, taking your place beside him again.

“Smooth move, klutz,” Konoha quipped, nudging your back. Goshiki and Shirabu snickered and you flipped them off over your shoulder, looping your other arm with Yukie.

The steepled spires of the haunted house came into view, beside which stood the funhouse, like Tendo said. Both looked terrifying in the dying light of the sun. Like everything else, the paint was almost gone, shingles missing from the roofs which were adorned with holes.

Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed Semi’s arm, pressing yourself to it. He glanced at you for a moment, a soft smile flitting across his face before looking at Tendo, who was staring between the two buildings.

“I wanna go in the funhouse,” Tendo said, turning back to the rest of the group. Setting his hands on his hips, he looked around at everyone. “Should we go as a group?” Kuroo shifted, pointing his feet towards the haunted house. “I kinda wanna go in there, actually.”

“Well no one should go anywhere alone,” Shirabu said firmly, and everyone nodded in agreement. If someone got hurt, no one would know for ages and then there was the long ride back on top of it.

“So we’ll split up. Everyone pick a house,” Tendo said, clapping his hands.

Yukie’s arm around yours disappeared and she scurried over to Tendo, looking at you apologetically. Yachi took her place instead, looking for all the world like she was going to collapse from fright, and you gave her a concerned look.

“I’m going wherever you go,” she said, and you raised a brow.

Before you could answer, Kuroo’s arm slung around your shoulders, looming over Yachi’s tiny form. “It looks like everyone’s decided. Pretty even split. Let’s meet back here in--” He checked his watch. “Two hours? That should be enough time to see everything.”

You opened your mouth to object, but Tendo nodded while Shirabu set the timer on his watch. “Everyone be careful, please. We really can’t afford any injuries.”

Yachi looked up at the dark house looming before you while the other group made their way towards the funhouse.

You could hear Tendo’s voice echo back, saying, “That’s the reason we have you here, Shirabu. You’re a doctor and all.”

Shirabu said something in return, but it was lost in the distance as you were herded towards the haunted house. The doors hung open, swinging in the breeze and creaking. It seemed like the house sucked all the warmth from the air the closer you got to it, and you squeezed Semi’s arm in yours.

“Scared, princess?” Kuroo whispered in your ear, raising the hairs on the back of your neck when his warm breath met your cold skin. “You shouldn’t be. We’re here with you.”

The steps leading into it sagged beneath your weight, the wood softer than it should’ve been and it came as no surprise when one broke beneath Semi’s weight. He cursed while you and Yachi pulled back, keeping him from falling over and potentially hurting himself. It took Akaashi and Kuroo both to pull him up out of the hole and a quick check revealed his jeans had protected his leg.

“Are you alright?” you whispered, looking up into Semi’s unamused face. He was wearing a hard scowl, his grip on you iron clad now as he guided you up the steps.

“Sure,” he said, eyes softening when he looked down at you. “Just annoyed.”

Inside, the light from your phones seemed to be swallowed by the darkness. The dust was thick and the air musty and humid. Cobwebs hung from everything, casting long shadows into the darkness beyond the halo of your flashlights.

Yachi yelped, tripping over a rotted track board and would have dragged you down if you weren’t holding onto Semi so tightly. His heat was almost a comfort now, driving away the persistent chill that seemed to emanate from the ramshackle walls. You couldn’t tell where the fabricated deterioration ended and true rot began.

“This way then?” Akaashi asked, leading the way into the first door. It was the kitchen area, set up to look like a butcher shop. A thick layer of dust settled over everything, motes flurrying through the painfully white light from your phones in an eerie dance that made it even harder to see.

Old props lay on the worn countertops, splotches of what was likely-- hopefully-- fake blood a dark black on the faded wood and laminate. Someone had a hand on your back while Akaashi examined a chain hanging from the ceiling, something hanging from the end of it. It made a strange noise when he pushed it, a crackly, grinding noise like it was rusty. It wouldn’t be a surprise, with the humidity as high as it is.

“That’s a little unsettling,” Kuroo admitted, and you all jumped when a loud crash rang out somewhere further down.

“Now would be the time to leave if we were in a horror movie,” you hinted through gritted teeth, even as Kuroo stepped back out into the hall. He scanned the darkness, his phone hanging by his side, the light pointed towards the floor. “What do you expect to see anyway, genius?”

He turned back to wink before disappearing into the dark and you groaned, straining your eyes to see anything. His light was lost in the gloom and you released Yachi’s arm, taking a step forward. Semi allowed himself to be dragged along with you while Goshiki held Yachi, petting her hair as she whimpered.

Swearing, you and Semi trudged down the hallway, listening for any noises but heard nothing besides the sounds of an old building settling. Your voice caught in your throat when you opened your mouth to call for Kuroo, your ire failing in the face of the oppressive darkness in the heart of the house. Swiping a cobweb off your face, you shined your phone around, lighting up a destroyed living room area, two hallways, and a staircase.

“You don’t think he went upstairs, do you?” Semi whispered, following your line of sight.

Swallowing, you said, “God I fuckin’ hope not. This is so creepy, can’t we just leave him?”

He chuckled against his will, a quiet, rough noise as he tried to stifle it. “‘Fraid not. I don’t wanna deal with the cops.”

Heaving a sigh, you pointed the light down to the floor and found no sign of footprints in the thick dust. Flashing it behind you, you saw your own and Semi’s clearly visible and frowned. “Hey, look.”

Semi scoured the floor, waving his light all around you. “He definitely came this way.”

Nodding, you pointed the light back in front of you, down the hallway, but it was unable to break more than a few inches of darkness. “Okay, now I’m really freaked out. Where is he?”

New light joined your meager one, shuffling footsteps coming to a stop just behind you.

Akaashi’s hand landed on your shoulder, peering over your head at where you were staring.

“This way,” Semi said after a moment of silence. It was broken only by Yachi’s occasional sniffle and you wondered if you shouldn’t just return to the front door and let Semi and Akaashi handle the rescue. But gentle pressure on your arm and shoulder guided you down, sniffling at the dust before you broke out into a sneeze.

The floor creaked beneath your feet, making the already eerie feeling worse as you crept down the hall. There were faded, torn paintings lining the walls, a few false doors, and windows painted black and boarded up. You couldn’t tell if the paint peeling up the walls was due to age or intent, but it certainly didn’t help settle your unease.

“Careful,” Semi said suddenly, jerking you sideways into him. The cold hand slid off your shoulder and a light revealed a hole in the middle of the floor, where you had been about to step.

“Thanks,” you breathed, swallowing harshly. The dust was starting to sting your eyes and you repressed another sneeze, rubbing your nose.

Skirting around the hole, it opened into another room, what appeared to be a library. Overstuffed armchairs littered the room, the shelves lining the walls stacked with what were likely fake books. There was no sign of Kuroo, but Semi led you further into the room carefully.

He wasn’t careful enough, though.

Once second you were clinging to him, the next you heard a crack and then you were experiencing the most curious sensation. Your stomach swooped as the light disappeared, and you realized belatedly that you were falling. Something warm, almost scalding wrapped around you, and your fall stopped short with a grunt of impact.

You lay there stunned for several long moments, head spinning and heart beating hard enough that you could feel it in your ears. The dark was only furthering your disorientation and you only realized you were laying on something when it moved beneath you.

Sitting up, you felt something slump over your shoulders before coughing filled your ears.

“Semi?” you whispered hoarsely. Above you, you registered screaming and looked up only to be blinded by light.

Semi grunted behind you but didn’t move, breathing heavy against your back. From above, you could hear muted conversation before the shrieking stopped.

“_____, Semi, are you both okay?” Akaashi’s concerned voice reached your ringing ears, and you nodded in response.

It took you a moment to realize he probably couldn’t see you, calling up, “Yeah, I think so. Semi--”

“‘M fine,” he yelled, though he sounded winded.

“Are you sure?” you asked, wrapping a hand around the wrist dangling in front of you. A few feet away lay your phone, face down, the light muted but visible, and you sighed in relief. “You caught me, are you sure*?”

Semi chuckled, a rough noise. “Yeah, I’m sure. Trust me.”

“You guys stay there,” Akaashi commanded, then turned back to Goshiki and Yachi to say something. “I’ll find a way down to you.”

He disappeared and you scrambled forward, snatching your phone up. Moving back to the relative safety of Semi’s presence, you shined it around.

The basement, you decided upon seeing the array of monster props and torture machines, was perhaps the most terrifying part of the house. It was only heightened by your adrenaline rush, the shadows seeming to jump out to your paranoid mind.

As the adrenaline wore off, you took stock of your extremities. Semi really had cushioned you-- nothing hurt-- and you turned to face him.

In the light, he really did look fine, even his breathing had evened out, and he looked back at you with a smirk. “Told you. I’m tougher than you think.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” you admitted, getting to your feet. You didn’t let Semi get far, linking your arm with his and clinging to him, much to his amusement.

His eyes adjusted to the dark faster than yours and he located his phone near the base of a rusty filing cabinet. The screen was cracked-- which he cursed-- but it still worked, and he turned the flashlight back on.

“This is creepy as fuck,” he muttered, thumping the model of a skeletal doctor to see the dust swirl. There was a medical table in the center of the room with a light looming over it. He assumed there was supposed to be a body laying on said table and, in the dark, it was a scary thought that it was no longer there. “I hope Akaashi hurries up. I don’t like it here.”

You couldn’t stifle the small giggle, though you covered your mouth in a poor attempt. It was the nerves, you were sure, because as he moved away you held tighter, stumbling after him. He tried one door, the handle stiff enough that you recognized it to be fake. There was a set of metal double doors on the other side of the room and those swung open with an eerie grinding noise, scraping across the concrete floor.

The hallways extended to either direction, cells lining the wall in front of you and you shuddered. “Let’s go, Semi, please,” you begged, tugging him down to the left. It was the same direction that you had come from on the floor above and hoped that it would lead you to a staircase or something*.

Semi went along reluctantly, flashing his light in all the cells you passed. Most were empty, besides the occasional bed or other prop. Some contained chains mounted in the wall and his eyes flashed to you.

The hallway opened up into what may have been a waiting room if most of the furniture hadn’t been utterly destroyed. As you scanned the area, there was a noise from up ahead and you jerked to a stop, scurrying back to Semi’s side. Peeking around him while he stared down the hall, you kept a tight grip on his arm, feeling the muscles flex and tense beneath your hand. A shadow moved in the light and you nearly screamed as Kuroo stepped into view, followed closely by Akaashi.

Neither carried a light and your heart leapt in your throat when you caught a momentary flash of light reflecting off of Kuroo’s eyes before it disappeared.

Still hiding behind Semi, the four of you regarded each other in silence for a moment, before Kuroo chuckled.

“Well, this is certainly convenient, though I didn’t expect you to get involved,” he said, leaning sideways against the wall. He looked as relaxed as usual while Akaashi lurked behind him, staring at you peeking around Semi’s arm.

He held out a hand to you but you held back, suddenly unsure of Kuroo’s words. With your heart in your throat, you looked up into Semi’s relaxed, impassive face. He made no moves, just watched the other two linger in front of your only escape route.

Then he shrugged.

“Dumb luck.”

The men burst into laughter and you squeaked, taking a step back from Semi. Before you could get anywhere, his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you forward.

“Easy, kitten. We don’t wanna hurt you,” Kuroo said, stepping further into the room. His eyes lit up once again in the light from your flashlight, mischievous brown turning solid gold. His pupils narrowed and elongated, his smile seeming to become more sharp as he stared down at you.

You breathed in sharply, taking a step back into Semi’s chest. Regardless of whether he was in on whatever they had planned, he was the safest option as opposed to whatever the hell Kuroo was.

The grip on your wrist loosened but came to your shoulders instead, keeping you in place with a warning squeeze. You had already guessed he was tough, given he had taken the full brunt of the impact earlier, but you now suspected he wasn’t human either.

Akaashi came forward last, looking as placid and calm as ever, cold fingertips stroking down your cheek.

You shivered.

None of these men were human, if you had to hazard a guess. Staring up at them, you felt your heart drop.

“W-Where are ‘Toka and Goshiki?” you asked, and were proud that your voice barely cracked. Maybe if you reminded them people would be looking for you, they would back off, allowing you to escape.

Kuroo chuckled, flipping the zipper of your-- Semi’s-- jacket up in what would have been a cute manner under different circumstances. “Keiji here sent them looking for the others in the funhouse, but they’ll never find the doorway down here. Tendo was right, there are lots of hidden doors in this place.”

“What are you? What are you going to-- to d-do to me?” you asked quickly, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as he started to tug the zipper down. You were stalling at best, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. If there was any chance of escape, you couldn’t figure it out. You had no idea where this door was and you had the impression you wouldn’t be able to outrun them anyway.

“I don’t suppose it would hurt to tell you,” he answered, taking a step closer. You tried to shrink away, huddling down into Semi’s oversized jacket, but it only seemed to entice them. “I am a yokai, I assume you know what that is? Akaashi is your run of the mill demon.”

If that offended Akaashi, he didn’t show it, simply widening his smile and blinking slowly. His once serene blue eyes turned pitch black and when he blinked again, they were normal.

“I’m just a werewolf,” Semi said, breathing against your ear. His hands slid down, catching the zipper of his jacket between his fingers and drawing the zipper down slowly.

“W-Wait, please,” you tried, grabbing and tugging at his wrist to no avail. He was far stronger, and you were like a fly in comparison. “Please, can we just go?”

Kuroo cupped your cheek, a moderate temperature compared to the other two, and his smile seemed to soften a fraction. “No, kitten. Keiji and I have been waiting for this for far too long. The wolf probably just likes how you smell.”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but the deep, pointed inhale Semi took against your neck seemed to verify the statement. The jacket fell to the floor with barely a whisper and then your phone was placed face up on a table, beside the men’s, and the combined light filled the room.

It felt like you couldn’t get enough air as warm hands skimmed down your stomach, stretching the soft fabric of your t-shirt out, before settling on your hips. Lips met your neck, tentative at first, trailing up to your jaw, causing you to shiver.

The heat radiating off of Semi and Kuroo was getting to you, Semi’s soft lips flitting over pleasure spots causing your back to arch. You didn’t want to like it, but when Kuroo’s hands slipped up your shirt and over your ribs, your muscles tensed in unwanted arousal. Your nipples were already peaking inside your bra, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the first graze of teeth on your skin.

“W-Wa-ait--” you breathed and, for a moment, you thought they really would stop because they both paused.

It was over in a moment, a soft kiss pressed to your other cheek as Kuroo pushed your bra up over your tits. His hands were soft as they cupped the tender flesh, giving gentle squeezes that went straight to your core, as much as you protested. “Not gonna happen, kitten. May as well enjoy it. We’ll take good care of you.”

A new sensation joined the heat surrounding you then, Kuroo moving to the side to allow Akaashi to join in. His hands were cold compared to the other two, one on your side and one cupping your unoccupied breast. The difference was enough to make you gasp, back arching on its own into their touch, and they at least had the decency not to snicker.

“You really do smell good, princess,” Semi whispered in your ear, nipping the lobe. “I can smell everything, even how wet you’re getting for us.”

Craning your neck away from him only opened you up to another smattering of kisses and you hated that he was right. They were getting to you, their gentle touches on your body doing everything right, like they had been your lovers for years rather than men you just met today. It made it harder to think than it already was, mind still racing in a futile effort to formulate some way to escape, but even you could recognize your body giving up.

Your shirt came up and over your head, disappearing somewhere outside of your vision. There was a collective intake from the men in front of you, and Semi groaned over your shoulder.

“I knew you would be so pretty, kitten,” Kuroo cooed, palming one tit again. He relished in the way you twitched when he pinched your nipple, then he cupped both, bouncing and watching them jiggle. “Been watching you all day, we couldn’t wait to get our hands on you.”

Akaashi was the first to lean over, wrapping cool lips around one pert bud, and Kuroo stepped back to watch your teeth sink into your lip to stifle any noises.

“Feel good, princess?” Semi asked, and chuckled when you shook your head. “It will soon, then. We won’t hurt you. Just wanna make you feel good.”

The worst part was, you were beginning to enjoy it. It was so tempting to cave, to just let them have their way with you. They were gentle, surprisingly so, and it was knocking down whatever resistance you had left at an alarming rate.

Semi’s hands were almost scalding against your sides, squeezing and kneading as he suckled at your neck, feeling you whine in your throat. “There you go. Just let go.”

The clasp of your bra came loose, and you weren’t even sure who had done it, before it was slid down your arms and dumped, presumably with your shirt.

There were two sets of lips attached to each nipple, your nails digging into your palms to keep from tangling your fingers in someone’s hair but you were losing the will to fight. Your panties were embarrassingly wet, no matter how much your mind insisted you didn’t like it, and you broke your silence when cold fingers drifted down to undo the button of your jeans.

“No please,” you begged, wiggling your hips in your first real display of resistance. Hands clamped down to still them in an iron grip, and a hand clasped your jaw, forcing you to look Kuroo in the eyes.

“What wrong, kitten? You’ve been so good up til now,” he said, stroking your lower lip with his thumb. There were imprints of your teeth in the skin, and he ached to kiss you, but it would have to wait.

“I-I don’t w-want--” you stuttered, tears burning the corners of your eyes as your zipper was pulled down.

Semi interrupted you then, tilting your head just so that he could kiss the corner of your mouth, smirking. “She’s embarrassed because of how wet she is.” Dropping his voice to barely a whisper, he said, “I can smell you, princess. You want this, don’t deny it.”

Shaking your head feebly, you whined when Semi pressed his lips to your cheek, dangerously close to your lips again. It was enough to distract you from your jeans sliding down your legs, until they pooled at your ankles and Akaashi had to tug your shoes off. Your jeans hit the floor shortly afterwards, the air startlingly cool against your now bare skin only to be covered with warmth as the men caged you in again.

It started with two fleeting touches to your inner thighs, which you tried to stop by squeezing them together only for them to pried apart in an instant. Semi took the opportunity to lay another languid kiss to the corner of your mouth, tongue flicking out against your lips.

For a moment, you turned into it only to jerk away, looking in the opposite direction. You knew what they were trying to do and you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of hearing you beg for something you didn’t want. You wondered briefly where the others were and why you could hear nothing from above, until warm hands cupped your tits again.

You bit down on your lip again when Semi circled your nipples with his thumbs, massaging your breasts as he rolled them between his fingers. It was hard to keep quiet when it felt so good, especially when Kuroo and Akaashi were teasing your inner thighs, so close your aching cunt.

Your hips rocked of their own accord, your mind too preoccupied with the warm touches on your tender nipples and stifling your noises, but all three of your attackers smirked.

“Ask, pretty girl,” Akaashi said, speaking for the first time.

His voice combined with his fleeting, cold touch against the soaked lips of your cunt caused a gasp to break free, hips rolling up in a jerky manner against your will. Your ears burned when they laughed and your teeth sank into your lip again. It was driving you insane, they were so close but you refused to beg for it.

“Aw, did we upset you, kitten?” Kuroo cooed, placing a wet kiss against your hip. “We’re sorry. You’re just so cute we can’t help it. Come on, ask us. Ask us to touch this pretty little pussy and we’ll make it up to you.”

Another swipe across your clit timed with a tug on your nipples broke the seal a second time.

“S-Semi--”

“There she goes,” Semi whispered, tilting your head around to look at him. Tears were spilling down your cheeks as you looked up at him with wide, resigned eyes. His eyes dropped to your parted lips for a moment and you swallowed, blinking the tears away, but didn’t struggle.

The first kiss was tentative, tongue ghosting between your parted lips to test you for a reaction. You only whined into the kiss, leaning in and he delved into your mouth, tongue lapping at yours as he tasted you.

When he pulled away, you hiccupped, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you closed your eyes.

“Please, just touch me. Fuck me, do whatever. I can’t--” you whispered, thighs aching from how tense you had been for god knew how long. It was too much to hold out, not when you were so wet and aching for it anyway. They knew what they were doing, their gentle teasing and buildup working to break down any fight you had and it had worked flawlessly.

You melted into Semi as Kuroo lifted one leg over his shoulder. Akaashi left a trail of cool kisses down your inner thigh while Kuroo kissed up the opposite one. You didn’t know whether to tremble or whine, so you did both when his nose bumped your clit, and they chuckled again.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it, pretty girl?” Akaashi asked, and you might have mistook it for affection in another situation. “Just relax.”

As if you had a choice. Hot breathe puffed across your folds, teasing just a little more until you were practically dripping on his lips. Only then did his tongue swipe across your clit, your hips jerking harshly. His hot tongue was replaced with a cold one, the two of them taking turns lapping at your clit at such a languid pace that it was more torturous than not being touched at all.

“Fuck, please, stop teasing,” you cried, voice cracking as your back arched. You were desperate at this point, willing to beg or do whatever they wanted. You weren’t getting out of it without doing so anyway, so you might as well enjoy it. “Kuroo, Akaashi, please.”

A sharp pinch to your nipples made you squeal just before Semi devoured your mouth. You could feel the aggravation in the kiss, the way his teeth clacked against yours and his tongue pressed against yours. You made muffled noises against him, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair.

At the same time, Kuroo latched onto your clit properly, and your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head as you rocked your hips against his feverish suckling. The noises he was making filled the quiet space, grunts and would-be moans that terminated against your clit as he worked to make you cum.

Your head was starting to spin from lack of oxygen and intense pleasure. Kuroo wasn’t giving you an inch and your slick hole fluttered around nothing, until something swirled around your entrance before slipping in.

You forgot about the kiss, Semi’s lips hovering against yours as you came with a cry around cold fingers. The temperature difference between Akaashi’s fingers and Kuroo’s lips was mind numbing, your eyelids flickering, trying to stay open before giving in. You didn’t bother to be quiet, letting your moans bounce off the walls. Maybe it would draw the others to you, and you could still get out of this.

Instead of withdrawing his fingers, Akaashi slipped another one in beside the first, kitten licking your still sensitive clit and listening to you whine for him to “Stop, please, too much.” He only smirked, continuing to lap until you relaxed, though the stream of noises never stopped.

There was a moment of hesitation as Kuroo stood, cocking his head in Semi’s direction. With your attention on your throbbing clit and Akaashi’s almost icy touch, you missed the way Semi beckoned to him. Their lips met briefly, allowing Semi to get a taste of you on his lips before Semi dragged him into a deeper one, tongues meeting in a heated tangle. Both men were hard, Semi grinding his clothed erection against the cheek of your ass, the chafing fabric unnoticed against your soft skin.

You squirmed against him when Akaashi crooked his fingers just right inside you, grazing over the swollen sweet spot inside you again and again until you were on the verge of another orgasm. It seemed like no matter how long his fingers stayed inside you, they never heated up. You weren’t even sure if the cold of his tongue flicking over your clit was pleasurable or not but it was such constant pressure that you hurtled towards your second orgasm. Kuroo was quick to stifle it, delving into your mouth for you to taste what remained of you on his tongue.

You came with a cry, convulsing around Akaashi’s fingers for a second time so hard you became light headed. He continued to pet that spot inside you until you were squirming to get away, tugging roughly at his hair.

Your legs shook when he let you down, only Semi’s strong grip keeping you upright. The sound of belt buckles clanging brought you down quickly, and trepidation set your heart racing again. There was no stopping it, but you found yourself trying to back up anyway.

“Ah,” Kuroo tutted, taking you from Semi’s arm and kissing the crown of your head like he was comforting you. “Don’t start that. We aren’t going to hurt you, kitten.”

No, they certainly hadn’t yet, and you had no choice but to trust his words. Something hard pressed against your ass, hotter even than the rest of Semi. You instinctively jerked away, pressing into Kuroo only to feel something slip between your thighs.

“Excited, aren’t we?” Kuroo drawled, and you could feel the condescension dripping off of him. Semi pressed to your back again, shielding you from the cold, while Kuroo asked, “How are we gonna take her? Semi, you kinda threw a wrench in things, can’t lie.”

Semi shrugged against your back, letting his cock settle between your thighs. You whined, jerking your hips instinctively away from the heat against your folds, but it only served to make him grind into you.

“I want this sweet cunt,” Semi snarled, cupping your jaw in a tight grip and tilting your head away, baring your throat to him. He licked a stripe from your shoulder to just beneath your ear before kissing the soft skin, and you shivered at the possessiveness in his tone.

“Alright, wolfboy smells a mate,” Kuroo said, rolling his eyes. “Akaashi?”

The last of the trio stepped forward again, skimming his fingers down your cheek before leaning in to steal a kiss. “I’m okay with whatever you want, Kuroo. Just wanna feel her around me.”

There was something dark in his eyes that belied his passive words. He was deferring to Kuroo to get things moving, you were almost sure. Like the rest of him, his cock was cool against your thigh, more like a glass dildo you kept at home than a cock attached to a man.

“That makes things easy then,” Kuroo said, clapping his hands and giving you that mischievous smile. If you didn’t know any better-- you didn’t-- you would say his teeth were a little sharper, the canines more pronounced than before. His eyes certainly hadn’t changed, maintaining that almost glowing golden color this whole time. “Semi, lay on the couch. Keiji, you can take her from behind. I want her mouth.”

He sounded like he was giving out instructions to his employees rather than fucking a very reluctant person, but the other two followed his instructions without question. It was an odd sensation, to be talked about as if you weren’t there, as if you had no say over what was happening to you.

Not that you did.

It wasn’t until you were straddling Semi that you realized something. In addition to being hotter than average, he was larger than average, peeking out from between your folds to drip precum just below his bellybutton. The way your stomach swooped made you nauseous and tears fell down your cheeks all over again.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he asked, wiping them away as best he could. You wouldn’t be fooled by the concern in his tone; he wouldn’t stop anyway.

You turned your face away only to jump when a finger slipped your cunt, cool to the touch, followed by a second, only to be removed a second later. They moved instead to your slick rear entrance, circling and massaging until it gave way, eased by your previous orgasms. You fell forward, bracing yourself over Semi, who held your rocking hips still. Two fingers filled you, the stretch no more than a sting but it was uncomfortable nonetheless when you didn’t want it.

Akaashi’s other hand came down, long fingers wrapping around your throat just beneath your chin, pulling you back up to your knees. “Good girl,” he whispered in your ear before forcing your head around so he could capture your lips.

They parted naturally when his tongue glided across them, allowing him access without thought. You couldn’t place his taste; it was like he’d just eaten ice before kissing you, and you moaned into it.

Kuroo, who until then had been content to watch, groaned and stood from the dilapidated chair he had been lounging in. One hand wrapped around your wrist, moving your hand to wrap around his aching cock, desperate for some kind of relief. Your palm was soft against him, and he spit on it twice for good measure before allowing you to curl your fingers around him again. They did so automatically, squeezing tight and he hissed through gritted teeth, slit pupils narrowing further as he watched Akaashi’s tongue delve into your mouth like he wanted his cock to.

All the while, Semi was forcing you to slide along his shaft, slow, calculated moves designed to drag your clit back and forth against him. He could feel you trembling above him, your hands curled into fists against his chest, hips moving with his hands. You dripped down his cock, covering him in your slick and he almost growled at the heady scent. Unlike the other two, he could smell how bad you wanted it and it was driving him wild.

“Akaashi, hurry up,” he snapped, digging his nails into your soft hips hard enough to leave marks if he wasn’t careful.

Akaashi hummed in disapproval, pulling from your mouth to stare impassively at the werewolf. “I don’t want to hurt her, Semi.”

Yet, he withdrew his fingers and you whined at the loss.

“Finally,” Semi hissed, helping Akaashi lift you up so he could slick his cock up against your cunt before settling against your rear hole. “You go first.”

Your toes curled tight enough to cramp as Akaashi gave you a warning nudge before splitting you open. Your jaw dropped, eyes widening as you stared up into the cobwebbed ceiling, waiting for him to bottom out. Thighs trembling in Semi’s hold, you fell back against Akaashi’s chest as his hips met your ass.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he whispered, leaving cool kisses along your shoulder and neck. Goosebumps were raising up your arms and back, and he would have felt bad if you weren’t squeezing around his cock so tight while Semi positioned himself at your dripping hole.

You couldn’t decide if you really wanted two cocks, weren’t sure if you could even take two, but Semi was stretching you so wide you were crying out broken babbles none of them could make out as he seated you flush against his hips. You twitched above him, fluttered around him, squeezed rhythmically while you tried weakly to get away.

The sensation of fullness was one you had never experienced before. Even just Semi’s cock was more than you had ever taken, let alone Akaashi’s cock in your inexperienced asshole. You blinked rapidly, unable to decide if you liked it or not before a hand wound in your hair and you were pulled down.

Kuroo’s cock bobbed in your face and your jaw dropped automatically, allowing him to smear precum around your lips. He was more salty than bitter as he slipped into your mouth, stuffing himself as far as he could before you started gagging. Pulling back, he gave you a small reprieve to gasp for air before filling your mouth again. There was no fighting his thrusts, you had to force your throat to relax or choke. A mix of drool and tears spilled down your chin as a thick vein dragged against your tongue, dripping off to the floor. In the back of your foggy mind you were disgusted.

When they felt you relax around Kuroo’s cock, his hips moving in a steady rhythm to fuck your throat, Akaashi and Semi moved.

You spasmed around Kuroo when Semi lifted you up and dropped you back down, your hips meeting with a wet slap, his cock stifling your scream. Akaashi pulled out then, a little more careful as he stuffed himself back in, but the constant push and pull of their hips soon spread fire through your body. Kuroo was heavy on your tongue, Semi and Akaashi bumping and grinding against each other through the thin wall separating your cunt and ass, Semi’s curls stimulating your throbbing, sensitive clit.

You couldn’t fathom how you were careening towards a third orgasm, but Semi’s cock was so thick he couldn’t help but drag along the swollen, gummy sweet spot inside you. Akaashi’s low, pleasured moans in your ear gave you a vague sense of pride. These gorgeous men wanted you, were moaning for you.

It was enough to make you forget this wasn’t right.

Kuroo thought you were moaning, your throat vibrating around his cock as he facefucked you with abandon. The tight sleeve of your throat only grew tighter when Akaashi’s hand slipped between your legs to pet your clit and Kuroo grunted.

“Keep that up, kitten, and you’re gonna make me cum,” he said, holding your nose down in his curls for a few seconds just to feel you spasm around him.

Semi and Akaashi felt the benefits of it, both your holes clenching around them as you gagged. Semi took the opportunity to grind deep inside you, rolling his hips up so that he pushed against your cervix.

Your thighs trembled around him, a squeal stifled around Kuroo’s cock as you came hard, jerking in Semi’s hold. He snarled, bouncing you on his cock with abandon as Akaashi slammed into you, spreading your clenching hole without care as he moaned.

Kuroo grunted, pumping into your mouth a few more times before pressing your nose into his pelvis and cumming, his lips parted in an ‘o’ and his head tipping back. You had no choice but to swallow until he pulled out and spilled the remnant all over your face, smirking as it mixed with your tears and drool to drip off your chin.

Semi’s back arched off the couch, strong hands pulling you down to sit flush with his hips as he spilled inside you. Your eyes grew wide at the intense heat filling your womb, the warmth rushing up through you at the same time Akaashi came in your ass. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as his cum offset the heat of Semi’s, and your vision swam for a moment from overstimulation.

Semi caught you as you collapsed forward, cradling you to his chest regardless of the mess, petting your hair.

Akaashi slipped out of you, sharing a small smirk with Kuroo as he sought out your clothes.

“Give me my shirt,” Semi said, catching it from the air when Akaashi threw it. He forced you to sit up, watching you sway with a twisted sense of pride, and wiped the mess from your face. Akaashi and Kuroo took you from there, helping you to dress while you leaned against them, unable to keep from snickering at the state they’d left you in.

“Can you walk, kitten?” Kuroo asked, setting his hands on your shoulders. “Or do you need someone to carry you?”

“I-I can w-walk,” you stuttered, throat raspy. You frowned and grabbed it, swallowing with a wince.

“Good girl,” Kuroo said, dropping a kiss on your lips and smirked when you leaned after him as he pulled away. “We don’t need to worry about you telling anyone, do we?”

Shaking your head, you allowed Semi to wrap an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to bathe in his warmth as Kuroo led the way up the hidden stairs a little ways down the hall they had been blocking earlier. At the top of the stairs, you could hear voices calling your names and perked up, trying to follow the echoes in the darkness.

“This way,” Kuroo said, leading the way though there wasn’t a speck of light in sight. Your own phone was tucked safely in the pocket of Semi’s jacket, which he had taken back. “Keiji, give me your phone. Appearances.”

Right, couldn’t let the humans know.

Everyone crowded around you, throwing questions all at once, until Shirabu lost his temper. He insisted on looking you and Semi over, just to determine for sure nothing was the matter.

He seemed a little concerned by how out of it you were, and asked if you hit your head.

Three sets of eyes landed on you, all carrying a different weight as they waited for you to speak.

“Just tired, Shirabu,” you murmured, hiding your face in Semi’s side. “It took ages for them to find us. Can we go home now?”

The tension eased, though you kept your face hidden, allowing him to guide you blindly down the hallway.

It was even colder outside than earlier, and Kuroo took over the spot on your other side, gently shooing Yachi towards the other. She had insisted on keeping you company, watching you with wide, worried eyes while Akaashi and Kuroo whispered together behind her.

Even now, she watched the way the three men hovered around you with curious concern. They treated you like a precious object-- or a possession that needed to be protected.

You nodded in response to something Kuroo said, trying-- if possible-- to curl even closer into Semi. Akaashi hovered in the background, pretty face as impassive as ever until he caught Yachi looking at him.

His lips curled up in a smile, his face softening ever so slightly, and she relaxed. Whatever had happened to you down there, it seemed to spark something in the three men.

Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been that bad.

#🖤.kuroo #🖤.akaashi #🖤.semi #tw noncon #tw reluctance

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princeanxious · 4 years

Text

Part One; “A Wounded Snake Lies Still”

A continuation fic in the au i built from this art piece I did and this post that I’d written that inspired this whole idea. I don’t know how many parts there will be, but the plan is for it to be hurt/comfort? It’s just that the comfort comes in small increments, but I promise the ending will be happy!

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides

Ships: mentions of past healthy Anxceit, start of story begins w/ analogical, end goal is analoceit! Side royality, Remus is lowkey Aro.

Minor Trigger Warnings: in no particular order.. brief mentions of painful memory loss, brief food mention, Remus and Deceit as sympathetic characters in general, accidental revealing of a secret-Remus feeling awful about it and Deceit being completely forgiving on it. Deceit being sorta selfish but also being very selfless without realize it. Deceit lying when he speaks/ backwards talk.

Serious Trigger Warnings: (slight spoilers) Deceit ignores his own distress in favor of keeping up a nonchalant act around the others, and doesn’t process his inner emotions in a healthy way. Deceit repressing years of his own resurfacing emotional trauma that originally came from his separation from Virgil, Deceit also briefly relives said trauma in the fic and pretends nothing is wrong even though something Really Is. Patton has minor empath abilities in this au and accidentally gets hit with a ride of very negative emotions that Deceit is already internally feeling when he touches Deceit.

(Let me know if I need to tag something else!)

Summary: Virgil’s missing memories have always been a touchy subject. After Remus and Deceit gain their acceptance of from the Light Sides and Thomas, Deceit still seems to have a few secrets to hide. If you asked him, he’d tell you it was for the best that he kept them. Partially concealing the truth was a slippery slope, indeed. But, could you really blame him? When Virgil was dating Logan and finally seemed happy again? To him, All the repression of his own trauma was worth Virgil’s happiness. Their years of love were lost with Virgil’s memories of the past, and there was no way in hell Deceit was about to jeopardize Virgil’s current stability now, not when the only person at fault for losing was Deceit himself.(or, was it? He’s never sure anymore. Trauma is a fickle beast.) Well, one slip up from Remus is all it takes before Deceit finds himself faced with that exact dilema fast approaching, and he finds he is less than prepared to face the music..

[[MORE]]

“Ugh, gross. In front of my deodorant?? Could you guys like. Not?? Be romance-y in the living room?? You two remind me of when Dee and Virgie were dating.” Remus grumbled offhandedly, too tired to deal with his twin’s particularly loud and loving attention directed towards Thomas’s literal representation of the heart this late into the afternoon.

They’d been loudly and shamelessly flirting back and forth from across the room while everyone set up for movie night, Roman in the living room with the others and Patton in the kitchen with Deceit making snacks. It was only seconds later that the duke realized his slip up as everything and everyone around clattered to a halt, the other sides turning stare at him in confusion.

Three years. It had taken Deceit three long, painstaking years and counting to distance himself from the years of memories he’d spent in bliss, to separate his mind from the heartbreak of losing his only love. Three years to come to terms with the fact that his only love now held no memories of the time they spent together, to accept that his love now deeply loved another.

Three years to come to terms with the fact that Virgil would never know what it was like to watch helplessly as his love writhed in pain. To watch as The Line ripped the memories from his love’s very being, forcing Virgil into a clean slate. Three years to come to terms that Virgil would never remember.

Three years of patience and heartbreak and anguish and lies, telling himself that it’d be okay, telling himself that he would move on and heal eventually. Three years of painstakingly separating himself from the narrative he and Virgil used to share, and ensuring that Virgil never had any inkling to what had been of his past. It was the only secret Deceit ever asked Remus to keep.

Rest assured, he’d tried to respark Virgil’s memories many times in the first few months after Virgil crossed over The Line from Dark side to Light, having ultimately crossed for good. It’d only led to fight after fight, driving a wedge further and further between them with each escalated argument. With a bleeding heart, he’d eventually given in, and stopped any further attempts. After all, each attempt only seemed to fuel Virgil with irritation. It had been clear then, that whatever they’d had, was never going to be again.

Three years it’d been. He thought he’d nearly healed, really. Most days he found he could exist and interact with the others and not be reminded of the past, and be comforted that he himself would not be a reminder to the past. Repression had always been his strong suit, though, conciously or not.

The Line had diminished as of late, after Thomas had really begun accepting Deceit and Remus. They could cross The Line for long amounts of time now, and mostly be fine. Occasionally they suffered from a bout of fatigue when disagreements with the others briefly turned sour, feeling The Line tugging back at them insistently. It never lasted for long, but there was always that underlying worry that The Line would finally snap them back into the dark for good if one of them made a final wrong move. The Light Sides didn’t know about The Line, not even Virgil remembered stumbling away from it after all that had happened. And well, if it were up to Deceit? They would never find out about it. Too many questions, too many messy answers.

Three years later, Deceit finds his heart splintering once more, an ache sinking into his chest that he knows Patton feels as they stand nearby one another. Memories flood in harshly, a deep painful longing resurging from the depths of his mind as it always did when faced with his reoccurring trauma sinking its claws into his psyche.

It’s only been seconds, but the silence is starting to feel heavy. Instead of moving on from the previous comment, Remus glances to Deceit, eyes pleading and devastated by having made his mistake, breaking the only promise to Dee he’d ever been seriously asked to keep. And Deceit knows he must do what he does best to save face, there is still time to redirect the carnage.

“Remus, please don’t refrain from spreading lies, that’s certainly not my job, after all.” He teases lightly, keeping his tone precisely on the edge of amused confusion, though his eyes hold an understanding none of the others know to read for. “Next you won’t be telling me that your favorite animal is a squid, not an octopus. Not your worst try at shock humor, yes?”

Remus catches on after a millisecond, drawing out a full cackle. “Sorry, not sorry! You should’ve seen the looks on your faces though! Priceless!! Who knew a shitty joke falling so flat would shock everyone so good!”

Their reactions held the desired effect. Quickly, everyone around the room seemed to relax, Roman even firing back his own playful quip to further lighten the mood. In the end, it was just a bump in conversation, something Remus caused every once in a while as everyone adjusted and Remus learned. Not a single step amiss that wasn’t already expectedly out of line.

Still, he’d have to talk to Remus in private later. Remus was just as sensitive to rejection as Roman was, and paired with his inherently intrusive thoughts, it would come to no surprise if Remus already thought Deceit now hated him. He didn’t, it’d been an accident, and Remus’s first ever slip up in three years since making the promise. Even if Dee had been mad about the slip up, he wouldn’t have had any right to be. He’d be sure Remus was the first person he sought to soothe when they got a free moment alone, it wasn’t right to let those kinds of thoughts fester.

Remus first, Virgil next, as it wasn’t quite crisis averted. He could feel Virgil’s eyes on his back from the living room. He denied his bleeding heart the closure of meeting Virgil’s gaze, of sharing his expression. He was too vulnerable, even now the anxious side could read his tells far too well, often without even realizing why. There was no doubt Virgil would try and talk to him later about it, and no matter how good the terms they were on with each other now were, Deceit knew the conversation would be a rough one. Virgil knows he has missing memories, and only recently had he accepted Remus and Deceit’s vague answers when he’d asked lightly about his past. It was at least him acknowledging they had the answers to the past he doesn’t remember.

If he wasn’t careful, each and every brick in the wall that Deceit had carefully worked to build up in the past three years could crumble right before his eyes, leaving him stripped emotionally defenseless, his trauma bared for all to see. And who knew what the others would do if they knew so much? What would they think of him then? Deceit inwardly shivered at the thought. It would not come to that.

Slipping into the nonchalant act was an easy card to play, it being his strong suit and most comforting form of security, a version of his own little lie of omission to soothe the bumpy situation over.

What he didn’t account for, was Patton gently reaching to touch his arm when everyone else had settled and their attentions returned to their tasks at hand. Deceit fought against his immediate urge to pull away, knowing the moral side just preferred connection through touch when addressing another, and instead looked up to meet Patton with a questioning gaze.

Whatever Patton was about to say died on his lips as he suddenly seemed to reflect an absolutely heartbroken expression, tears welling up in his eyes. Pain and sorrow and surprise seemed to seep into the other’s expression, warring for dominance amongst the primary confusion. It was only then that Deceit realized that Patton was still touching him, his bare arm with an equally bare hand, to be exact. The memory that Patton bore minor empath abilities that were tied into his existence as the representation of Thomas’s morality and feelings sunk in two seconds too late.

Direct skin to skin contact, something Deceit sought often to avoid in general nowadays anyway, was a direct way for Patton to tune into another's current feelings through said abilities, often by accident. There were limits that Patton could control, of course, and Patton only ever seemed to struggle coping with that ability when faced with an overwhelming swell of emotions from the other side. And, well.. Deceit’s mind certainly hadn’t taken well to being reminded of his repressed past, seeping through his protective mental walls with all sorts of roiling negative emotions.

From self-loathing, to dread. From anger, to guilt. From longing, to grief, then to depression, and finally apathy. It just couldn’t be helped that Deceit, a master of disguise and deception, had had three whole years to perfect the act that hid it from the outside and controlled it all from within.

Carefully, Deceit pulled Patton’s hand from his arm, and gently tucked it against the moral side’s chest. Still, he keeps his gloved hand there, letting Patton grasp it with both hands to ground himself after such an emotional ride.

“Deep breaths, dear Patton. Whatever isn’t the matter?” He asks gently, still playing into his act but his eyes plead a different story. ‘Not now,’ they say, ‘I will tell you, but not here,’ they beg. Patton nods slowly, and Deceit carefully wipes away Patton tears. In a move he knows he might regret later if it raises questions, he slips his hat off to gently plop onto the moral side’s head, and gently presses against the others clothed shoulder with his own in a show of comforting affection. It has the desired effect of distracting Patton and lightening his mood, Patton’s lingering upset masked by a watery smile only they can share. Deceit silently mourns the loss of his safety blanket, but accepts that a few minutes of feeling vulnerable while comforting Patton is a good trade to escape having his distress found out. He couldn’t have the other sides cornering him into explaining why Patton had suddenly begun crying without reason. It certainly wasn’t the fact that he felt guilty for Patton having experienced second hand an echo of his painfully raw emotions, no, not at all.

Thankfully their little scene goes unnoticed by the rest of the preoccupied sides, who are far too busy bickering over the movies they want to watch. Well, unnoticed by all but the one who sits to the side. Said side keeps an unconcerned but intrigued eye on the two in the kitchen, glancing over every time he adjusts his glasses to avoid suspicion. Logan says nothing, but knows he has questions for his dearest Virgil when movie night is over. He can only hope that the answers Virgil gives will not raise more questions.

(..Unfortunately, they do raise more questions than answers.. However, they now know exactly who has the answers they seek. It’s only a matter of getting those answers that is a task far harder than they’d ever expected it to be.)

To be continued..

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politely-writings · 5 years

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Lily of the Asphodel

Author’s Note: This is a long one, so I apologize beforehand. I will reblog it later with tags. ^.^ Also - no beta’s. We die like men. (Which means, if there are spots where it switches from past to present tense, it’s because I kept forgetting to make it past. My bad.)

Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng has stayed strong throughout much in her life. With the risk of a villain taking advantage of your emotions, she learned quickly how to dampen them down and avoid Hawkmoth’s reach. But after a horrific tragedy, a confrontation with Alya and Lila sends her over the edge.

Watch out, Paris. A goddess is coming, and there is Hell to pay.

The second worst day of Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s life started with a dream.

The sun was bright and birds chirped around her, but the joy and beauty of nature had nothing on the cloud of emotions swirling inside the noirette. Her ‘friends’- though really, were they ever her friends at all? – were ganging up on her. A picnic during lunch the next day was the catalyst for the confrontation. Ironic, since she hadn’t even known about it until they needed something.

“Alya, I can’t bring you three dozen cookies by tomorrow. If you’d asked earlier, I might have been able to work something out, but we would have to go buy the stuff for them and we’re already so busy tonight that we wouldn’t get to them before we closed.”

She couldn’t remember exactly what it was they said that had convinced her to make the cookies. Maybe they’d begged, pleaded, made her feel guilty for not wanting to do the extra work. Maybe they’d yelled at her, or rolled their eyes in that way that they’d perfected over the last few months. Maybe Alya had actually had a conversation with her to talk her into it. She doesn’t remember. All she remembers is what happened next.

“Fine, Alya,” her voice rang out, and the group looked hopeful, “but I’m going to have to add an expedition fee to the charge since you want them so quickly.”

They froze. The emotions on their faces ranged from confusion to hurt, to downright rage in Alya’s case.

“You’re not seriously gonna charge us, are you?” Alya’s voice was dripping with distaste. It colored the world around her in gray and white. Monotony – that’s what her life had become. Asked for something, and berated if she didn’t give in.

“Yes, Alya, I am.” Marinette’s voice was silver – still hopeful that they could turn this around. “You want me to go out of my way to go to the store, spend my money on ingredients, and make three dozen cookies for a picnic that I am not even invited to. You want me to stay up all night to prepare, bake, and ice three dozen cookies when I’m already behind on homework and busy with the bakery. Of course, I’m charging you. You’re lucky I’m making the cookies at all.”

She remembered how harsh Alya’s words were after that. They finished painting the scene, every single one of her class now a black silhouette where they were once a rainbow of love and acceptance.

“God, Marinette! Can’t you stop being a bitch for five minutes? Honestly, you’re worse than Chloe!”

She woke up with a gasp, and almost screamed for her mother. Sabine had always had a knack for calming her with a few simple words and a hand on her back. The cry was on the tip of her tongue when she stopped, remembering that she wasn’t in her room anymore. She was in the mayor’s hotel, being taken care of by an aunt she’d never met. The woman reminded her of her father – tall, and broad, but as sweet as sugar. The thought of her father reminded her that he’s gone. Her mother was too.

Five days ago, Marinette lost everything that she had ever held dear. She spent a few minutes crying, begging for this to be another bad dream. Only Tikki’s comforting presence on her shoulder reminded her that it isn’t. It also reminded her that she had to get ready for school, lest she be charged for truancy. Apparently, losing your parents wasn’t a good enough excuse to get out of school anymore.

Classes passed by in a blur. She was vaguely aware of Mrs. Bustier saying hello to her, and the screech of her chair as she pulled it out to sit down. No one came to ask why she was gone for half of last week, so Mrs. Bustier must have told them what happened. Silently, Marinette thanked the Kwami that no one tried to talk to her about it. Before she knew it, the bell was signaling for everyone to head to lunch.

Sitting silently at a table – she wasn’t hungry these days – Marinette couldn’t help but notice the whispers around her. It was the angry grumbling that shook her out of her stupor. She looked up and watched as Alya, Nino, Lila, and Adrien walked up to her table. Maybe they would ask how she was doing, planning the funeral.

“What is wrong with you?”

She would have liked to think a girl could hope, but she’d lost hope days ago.

“What do you want, Alya?”

“I can’t believe you! First you act awful towards Lila, then you stop talking to us, and now you and your parents won’t even answer your phones?”

Marinette’s head shot back up with a glare, and Alya almost stumbled back. If she had been smart, she would have. But Alya hadn’t been smart for a while.

“We won’t be answering our phones at all anymore,” Marinette said in a hoarse voice. Briefly, she wondered if they were doing this to be cruel. The only other explanation was that they didn’t know, but, how couldn’t they?

She got her answer almost immediately.

“Marinette stop being so awful! What is wrong with you? Lila said she called the bakery this morning to try and find you all, but your parents were so rude to her that she hung up crying! I can’t believe you got your parents in on your little bully plan! Just get over yourself and apologize!”

Nino and Adrien were the only ones to notice the cold that dropped over them, seeming to come directly from the glare in Marinette’s eyes.

“I didn’t get my parents in on anything, Alya. Lila is lying to you.” She didn’t let Alya interrupt her, though the brunette surely was about to by the looks of it. “And I know she’s lying because my parents are dead.”

The room froze, and everyone found that suddenly it was a little harder to breathe.

“My parents died five days ago. So, they couldn’t have answered the phone, or been rude to her. She’s a fucking liar. And the fact that you didn’t even know about them dying tells me that you truly don’t care about me unless it gets you what you want. I’m only at school because the board threatened to consider me truant, which is bullshit. But thank you for reminding me why I stopped being friends with you long ago.”

The class watched her as she ran off, before they broke apart in shouts of ‘how didn’t you know?’ and ‘why didn’t anyone tell us!’. No one saw the black butterfly as it fluttered through the hallways, and hovered around Marinette. It landed on a ring on her right middle finger, the gem cut in the shape of a small lily. It had been the last present her mother had given her.

Persephone, the voice came, quiet and comforting and colorful. Not gray, not black, not white. It was blue, and purple, and reminded her of the world that she’d thought of Adrien.

Persephone, you have been wronged. You have been let down, and turned on. Your friends chose a liar and a bully, the boy you love chose cowardice and passivity. The flowers of your love for them have wilted, and in their place have grown weeds of doubt and betrayal. It seems to me that it’s time to cut them back, and allow yourself to bloom once more. All I ask in return is Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous. Will you help me?

Hawkmoth hadn’t known then that Ladybug was the small girl whose anger and betrayal rang so loudly through him that he physically felt hit. If he had, maybe he would have been a bit cleverer with the leniency he gave her.

“Yes Hawkmoth,” she whispered, the pastel purple butterfly silhouette around her face brightening. The akuma’s power washed over her in clouds of purple and black. It was cold, and malicious, and she reveled in the power she felt. She would may them pay for what they’d done to her. She would cut out the weeds and remake Paris. It would bloom once more, for her parents. For the girl she’d once been. For the love she’d lost when her friends became enemies.

Everyone in Paris felt the temperature drop when her transformation was finished. None could explain it, but all felt the darkening in their hearts. Flowers around them began to wilt, and the world seemed to lose its color. The students in the open area of the school turned at the doors slamming open behind them. Their hearts dropped into their stomachs when they saw the young woman standing before them.

The most obvious change was her outfit. Gone were her joggers and slightly oversized hoodie. They had been replaced by a sleek black dress, styled like a Greek goddess’. The neckline was cut low, and the chest stopped halfway up the length of her sternum, where it turned into a single string that wrapped around the back of her neck in a halter. At the end of her chest, it curved inward into a v, and then curved outward once more towards her hips, where it fell down to the floor. High up each thigh was a slit, cutting the skirt of her dress into two pieces, which exposed her legs every time she stepped. The chest of the dress was covered in purple, gray, and blue flowers with silver petals strewn throughout. The slip of the skirt that fell between her legs and the part of it above the slits were similarly designed, though the flowers were scattered about, and a few silver petals stopped the creation of negative space. The V’s of her dress’s design were lined in bright silver glitter.

When she turned to close the doors, they saw that the chest of her dress was held across her sternum by small tree branches, which connected to the skirt of her dress at her hips as it curved inward, into a V. Similar to the front of her dress, this V was also lined in bright silver glitter. Her bare back was covered in the smaller twigs of the branches, crisscrossing over her skin. The entire back of her skirt was black. She wore no shoes.

Her face, when she turned back around, was downcast. This allowed them to see the changes to her makeup and hair. Her makeup was now a smoky purple, her lips painted a deep plum color. Her eyeliner was dark and bold. Her hair, which had once been solid black-blue, was now an ombre from black so deep it felt like a void, to a dark midnight blue that seemed to glitter. It was longer, and was held back by a flower crown made of blue, purple, and gray roses with silver leaves.

The most shocking change, though, was the silver color that her eyes had become. It was cold, and stormy.

Her right hand, which was coiled by a black vine that branched off at her upper arm, raised, and suddenly the ground broke open. Large black vines with white thorns tore their way out of the ground, encircling the students still too shocked to move. Each time someone tried to run, they grew closer, trapping the students there.

“Hello, my flowers. It’s time for some weeding. Would anyone like to volunteer first?”

“Marinette?” Rose’s voice was small, but it still drew the Akuma’s attention.

“Actually, my flower, it’s Persephone. But thank you, for volunteering.” She smirked, a gleam in her eye, and held her right hand up. The ring around her middle finger, which seemed to be the beginning of the black vine, gathered a dark aura around it. Smaller vines shot up from the ground and wrapped around Rose, as well as Juleka, Nathaniel, and Sabrina. When the vines shrunk back, white roses were blooming over their hearts. That wasn’t the horrifying part. No, what struck the class with fear was the lack of mouths on their faces. They looked like they were trying to scream, but no sound came from them.

“White roses,” Persephone mused, tilting her head, “symbolic of silence. You all doubted Lila and her tales, but you stayed silent when she turned her guns on me. For that, you shall be silent always, unable to voice your concerns to anyone.”

The students began scrambling, before they stumbled back. Over the vines jumped large creatures, skeletal and covered in moss and twigs.

“Marinette stop this! What good does this do?” A voice called, and she turned her head slightly. There, next to Nino, stood Luka. He’d come in to share lunch with his sister. Pity, he’d been caught up in this.

“Luka, Nino. My truest love, and my first friend. You never should have been trapped in this nightmare.” She raised her hand again, and when the vines shrunk back, there over their hearts bloomed orange tulips. “Orange tulips, for understanding and true love. You both have always understood me, always protected me from those who would hurt me. For that, I protect you. You will always be understood, and never harmed.”

The slight orange auras that glowed around them were fiery and fierce, the only bright color that Persephone had shown off.

Next, she raised her hand at Kim, Alix, Max, Mylene, and Ivan. Vines wrapped around them quickly, and once bare they looked down to see columbines over their hearts. Kim looked up, and was about to ask what they meant when Marinette spoke again.

“Columbines, for faithlessness. You showed no faith in me. You never believed me, when I told you all she was a liar. You didn’t believe in me, when she tried to have me expelled. For that, no one will ever believe you again. No matter what you say, no matter how true it may be, you will always be believed to be lying.”

Again, and again she raised her hand, and again and again students faced punishment. Chloe became invisible and silent, the only signal of her presence being the narcissus that rested over her heart.

“You are selfish,” Persephone had said, “and care not for others. For that, you will be unseen and unheard. No one will ever pay attention to you again.”

As more students bloomed, the ground under Persephone blackened. It died under her bare feet, and added strength to the aura around her ring, which now wrapped around her skeletal animal army as well.

The only students left were Alya, Lila, and Adrien. She stepped towards them, seeming to glow with power. The purple butterfly mask that glowed over her face stopped her, but she merely narrowed her eyes and waved her left hand, as if swatting away a fly.

“I’ll deal with you later, Hawkmoth. For now, I have something to do.” She raised her hand. And the aura around her ring grew. The vines that encased Alya, Lila, and Adrien were cold, pressing in against them until it felt like their ribs would break. When they were gone, they looked down.

“A red dahlia, for you Lila. So dishonest, betraying everyone around you with lies and false promises. For that, you will only tell the truth. No matter what, you cannot lie. Now tell them, tell all of them what you did to me.” Persephone paused while Lila broke out into a hoarse voice, revealing everything she’d done, every lie she’d told, every promise she never planned to keep. Before long, Persephone had grown tired of it, and waved her hand once more. Lila stopped talking, almost as if she’d been frozen. The akuma turned to Alya and Adrien, snarling.

“For dear Adrien, I chose a yellow carnation. My disappointment in you blooms wildly, my flower. You were a coward, and a fake. You said we were in it together, but you left me to suffer while you sat idly by. For that, you will disappoint everyone. Nothing you do will be right, and nothing you say will come out correctly. You will see how much it hurts to fail at every turn. And Alya. Dear,sweet Alya. I give you the yellow rose, for extreme betrayal.”

Her voice cut off there, as if she were trying not to cry. She looked sad, though her left hand clenched the skirt of her dress tightly.

“You believed a liar, over your best friend. You turned on me, accused me of jealousy and bullying, when I’d only ever tried to protect you from her falsities. You attacked and berated me for things I did not do. For that, you will feel what I felt. Everyone you talk to, everyone you meet, will turn on you. They will attack and berate you, as you have done to me. They will hurt you, and destroy your esteem.”

She had become so focused on Alya, that when Adrien managed to slip away, Persephone did not notice. She raised her arms, and the vines fell. The doors opened. Students began running, shoving each other as they scrambled to get out of the building.

“Go, my flowers. And feel what your punishments have wrought. Once you have given in to the bloom, I will remake Paris. It will blossom beautifully, to honor my parents. Go, my vines and my creatures. Make sure that everyone feels my pain.”

The ground that had blackened under her rumbled, and the dark shadow of the dying earth grew as her vines spread and her skeletal animals leapt off. Soon, it would encompass all of the Parisian ground, and she would be able to begin weeding. A scuffling noise sounded behind her, and Persephone turned.

“Chat Noir,” she murmured, eyeing the way he seemed to be unbalanced.

“Come on, Princess! Fight don’t make you me! You hate I’d hurt to!” Come on, Princess. Don’t make me fight you. I’d hate to hurt you. She doubted he could, though his voice drew her attention closer to him. The yellow carnation on his chest made her catch her breath, but she recovered quickly.

“Oh, silly kitty. You actually think you stand a chance against me?”

“This you why doing are?” Why are you doing this? She huffed, and it almost sounded like a laugh.

“They wanted me to be the bad guy. So now I am. They chose a liar, and a bully, over me! Adrien threw me to the wolves to save his own ass! They’re the real villains, but they want a reason to hate me? Fine then. I’ll give them one.” She charged at him, and he swung his staff around to block her.

The fight didn’t last long. Chat – Adrien – kept slipping up. He would stumble, or lose his grip on his staff. Persephone found that she didn’t want to hurt him, not really. He was being a nuisance, though. She needed him out of the way. She needed him to stop interfering. Her plan was still under way, and if he messed it up for her, she would be very upset. She picked him up and threw him, watching as he hit the lockers. His head hit the metal with a sickening thud. He hit the ground. When he didn’t move, Persephone gather herself and walked outside – only to freeze in place. There, on the steps leading up to the school, stood her parents.

They can’t be here, she thought, her left hand curling into a fist. They’re dead. This is a trick. They cried out when they saw her.

“My baby,” her mother cried, “my flower! What happened to you, to make you so angry?” Her father gathered her mother in his arms. “Where has my flower gone? What is this weed that has taken her place?”

Persephone fought to move, but found that she couldn’t. Her heart ached, and her ribs felt too tight. She couldn’t breathe – she couldn’t cry out.

“Sweetheart,” came her father’s calming baritone, “why are you doing this? What good does it do, to give in to him? What vengeance does it bring?”

“Maman. Papa. I never wanted to hurt them. But they turned on me! They made me into a villain! If they see me as such, why not become one? Why not show them how they hurt me?” Her parents just cried, and turned away from her. Persephone cried, and fell to her knees. She could feel Hawkmoth screaming in her head, could feel the cold rage he pushed her way, trying to reel her back.

Persephone screamed, and slammed her fist against the concrete, again and again, until her knuckles bled.

Her parents looked down at her, but then they vanished. In their place stood an old man in orange, a familiar necklace hanging from his neck.

“It is time. Marinette. Come back to us. Come back to them,” he whispered. Persephone – Marinette – cried out, and then curled her right hand into a fist and punched the concrete. The jewel on her ring shattered, pieces of the lily-shaped gem scattered across the sidewalk beneath her. A black and purple butterfly fluttered out, but a red blur quickly caught it before it could fly away.

Tikki. Marinette hadn’t even realized that she’d taken the earrings when the butterfly had first appeared. She felt relief and gratitude wash over her. In a flash of white, Tikki purified the akuma, and then turned back to her chosen. Nodding her head once, the red and black spotted kwami flew high into the air, and before anyone could blink a red cloud of ladybugs washed over the city, clearing away the damage Persephone had caused. Marinette blinked, and then there was her aunt. Tikki had taken her place back in Marinette’s bag. Her aunt gathered Marinette in her arms, and the next thing Marinette knew she was falling into her bed back at the hotel, exhaustion taking over her.

When Marinette walked into the school the next day, she could feel the stares of her schoolmates. She could have cut the awkward tension with a knife. It didn’t help that she remembered what she’d done as Persephone. The whispers and guilty glances served only to make her feel worse. But it was when she got into the classroom that things went to hell.

“Marinette, I don’t understand!” Lila’s voice was silky and full of whine. It grated on Marinette’s nerve, and she had to fight to avoid physically recoiling. “Why did you do it? You got yourself akumatised on purpose to hurt me! I spent all day telling lies because of you! Why would you try to ruin my life like that?” Marinette was about to snarl her reply when Alix’s angry voice cut her off.

“Stop lying, Lila! We all know that she was making you tell the truth. Everything she said would happen did. Kim and I tried to tell people about the akuma, but no one believed us. People were yelling at Alya everywhere she went. Rose and the others lost their mouths. We all heard what she said to you, and what you said after. She didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Yes, she did! I saw her!” Lila cried out.

“How?” The whisper was small, but it echoed in the now silent classroom. Alya looked up at Lila with dangerously fiery eyes. “How did you see her? You were with Nino, Adrien and I when she ran out. So how did you see her do it?”

“Well- I-,” Lila’s voice cut out as the class turned on her. Marinette watched it all numbly. Her hands and feet felt cold. Her steps were stiff when she turned and walked out of the classroom. She made it halfway to the door before something stopped her.

“Marinette.”

Adrien’s voice was low, and full of disappointment. She turned back to him uncaringly.

“What, Agreste?”

“That was wrong, Marinette. Letting yourself be akumatised like that. Exposing her did nothing but turn everyone against her. How is that good? How is that right?”

“It’s right, because she is getting what she deserves. She turned my friends against me. She lied, about me. She made me look like some kind of bully. How is that right, Adrien? Hm? You said she wasn’t hurting anyone, but she was hurting me. Am I no one, Adrien? Why is it that you only defend me as Chat?” He gasped, and she let out a heartless laugh.

“That’s right, Adrien. I figured out your little secret. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize the carnation on your chest, or the way you couldn’t do anything right? Did you think I wouldn’t put two and two together?”

“Princess-, “ “No, Adrien. I am done. You have been a bad partner, but an even worse friend. If I can’t depend on you to protect me as civilians, I can’t trust you to protect me as heroes.” He looked devasted at what she was implying. “Adrien Agreste, you have proven yourself unworthy of the Black Cat Miraculous. As Guardian of the Miraculous, and holder of the Ladybug Miraculous, I deign you unfit for the title of Chat Noir. Return the ring to me, so that I may find someone worthy of its power.”

“No! You can’t! Chat Noir is all I have!”

“You are not Chat Noir anymore, Adrien. I will be taking the ring now.” It turned transparent as it phased through his finger, flying into Marinette’s hand. She closed her fist around it, and there was Plagg. He looked disappointed in his chosen, and guilty for the hurt he had caused. “Come, Plagg. We will find you the rightful chosen. And then we will stop Hawkmoth, now that I know who he is.”

Marinette looked at Adrien once more, a sad smile on her face, before turning back to the entrance of the school.

She had work to do.

#ml fic #ml salt #ml saltfic #akumatised marinette #akumanette #marinette dupain cheng

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bittysvalentines · 4 years

Text

My Best Friend’s Breakup

From: @missweber

To: @pwoops

Tags: Snowy/Tater, Snowy/OFC, background Zimbits, background Parswoops, friends to lovers, fluff, mild angst, accidental marriage, deliberate marriage

Summary: Everyone says that Snowy and his girlfriend are perfect together. This bothers Tater, which makes sense given the crush he has on his best friend. But he’s not the only one who is disturbed by how perfect everyone says Snowy’s girlfriend is. (This is in the same verse as ‘Fourteen Weddings and a Kerfuffle,’ but can be read as a stand-alone story.’)

Alexei wasn’t sure if he loved or hated Family Skate.

Family Skate meant skating with his friends and not having coaches yell at him or some asshole on the other team pick a fight with him. And there was always lots of food. That part, he loved.

What he didn’t love was always showing up alone, with no wife, no girlfriend.

Or no boyfriend, which was an intriguing new way to feel alone.

He tried to be subtle about watching Zimmboni with his little B over by the boards, talking and laughing with Carrie and Snowy…

…and Laurel.

Another thing Alexei hated about Family Skate was that it made him dislike a woman who truly didn’t deserve it. But how could he not dislike Snowy’s girlfriend?

Without his notice or his permission, Alexei’s feelings towards Snowy had turned into something that wasn’t just friendship. It was probably inevitable, given how Snowy was his best friend and a very, very handsome man as well.

Given that Alexei enjoyed men as much as he enjoyed women, he had been doomed from the start.

For the sake of his heart, Alexei had long ago accepted that nothing would come of his crush and he would enjoy the friendship for what it was. And what it was, was the best kind of friendship a man could hope for.

As for that little touch of melancholy that it would never be more than friendship? It eventually settled into something almost pleasurable, like the soreness after a hard workout, or the burn of vodka searing down his throat.

This was very Russian of him, he decided smugly.

Again, he glided past the little group by the boards, past Zimmboni’s hand on B’s back, past Snowy standing close to Laurel, past Laurel saying something about ‘anniversary.’

This time, the jolt of melancholy wasn’t remotely pleasurable.

Everyone said it was only a matter of time before Snowy proposed. Laurel was a sweet girl, a perfect hockey girlfriend who would be a perfect hockey wife.

Marty had even started a betting pool about when Snowy would propose, and Alexei had been grumpy enough to put money on them breaking up before Easter, just to be an ass.

His best friend was going to get married and Alexei would just have to learn to live with that and with the fact he had thrown good money away purely out of spite.

* * *

Dustin sank into the oversized, overstuffed, and over-engineered chair with a groan. Tater’s new recliner wasn’t at all to his taste, what with the red leather and the cup holder, but he would be the first to admit that the vintage Bauhaus furniture in his own apartment was more suited to a fit of ennui than a wallow in self-pity.

“Breakups fucking suck,” he whined.

Tater made a sympathetic noise that abruptly morphed into a huh?

Dustin side-eyed him and got a puzzled look in return.

“I thought you break up with her?” Tater asked.

Another groan. Tater’s recliner welcomed him further into its womb-like depths. It was even uglier than Zimmermann’s god-awful running shoes, but damn it was comfortable.

“Yeah. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck, because it’s not like I still don’t care about her, y’know?”

Tater grumbled with frustration, probably over Dustin’s tangle of negatives.

Dustin took pity on him. “I broke her heart, and I feel like the worst person in the whole fucking world right now, okay? And Marty’s gonna slit my throat, because Gabby and Laurel are BFFs, and argh!” He screamed into his hands.

In so many ways, Laurel was perfect. Everyone said they were perfect together. She was hot, smart, funny, fun in bed, thoughtful, able to cope with all the bullshit that went with dating a hockey player…

“I made a big fucking mistake, didn’t I?”

Thirdy had all but ordered him to lock that down, kid, at Family Skate two weeks ago. He had been weirdly insistent that the end of the regular season would be an awesome time to propose, but that wasn’t the important part.

The important part was that afterwards, things started going a bit… sideways with Laurel. Not bad. Just…

Sometimes, looking at something from a new angle made it look like a completely different thing.

Tater let out the long, rumbling hmmm that meant he was putting concepts together, taking them apart, and carefully reassembling them in a different language.

While Tater pondered, Dustin thought about begging Laurel to take him back. He could say he was freaked out by the pressure of trying to secure a playoffs spot, and did something impulsive. She would take him back, right?

The certainty that she would knotted up his stomach more than he expected.

Tater got up and went to the kitchen. “This need pie,” he announced.

Next came the crinkling of foil and the clink of plates being placed on the counter.

“B make blueberry pie, just for me.” Tater called from the kitchen. “When he hear about Laurel, he say I should share.”

The knot in Dustin’s stomach unfurled and bloomed into warmth. “I get Bittle pie? Aw, man, you really do love me.”

A long pause. An exasperated sigh.

“I only share little piece.”

A few minutes later, Tater came back with two generous slices of pie, warmed up and garnished with a dab of sour cream.

The first time Tater had served pie with sour cream, Dustin assumed it was a mistake, and that Tater meant to get whipped cream but read the packaging wrong.

“Is not mistake,” Tater had retorted, testy at being corrected. “You see.”

The combination of hot, sweet fruit and cold, tangy sour cream was a revelation. In retrospect, it should have been obvious how perfect they’d be together.

Tater draped a napkin over Dustin’s lap with a flourish, then handed him the pie. Both plate and napkin were bright and fussy, like something Tater’s babushka might have bought.

Again, not to Dustin’s taste, but you couldn’t serve sympathy pie on minimalist matte-black plates.

“Now we talk,” Tater said. “You sad because Laurel sad, yes?”

He nodded. He saw events play out as if they’d just happened. The expectant, eager look on Laurel’s face when he said he needed to talk to her, the way her smile just shattered when he said he didn’t want anything long-term, the sound she had made. The sudden nausea when he realized that their anniversary was in three days and she had been expecting will you marry me and not it’s not you it’s me.

“Yeah. Like I said, worst person in the world.” He pointed at himself with his fork. He might not want to spend the rest of his life with Laurel, but he still liked her. Loved her, even if not enough for forever. And he had hurt her. Badly.

“Imagine something for me,” Tater said after a minute, unusually serious. He leaned in and put a hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “Imagine she not sad at all. Okay, maybe little bit sad, but she say ‘You are right, Snowy. We should break up. Now I move to Vancouver and meet someone new.’ How you feel now?”

He thought. He thought about not having her around to go on dates with, to sleep with, to be around, to have fun with. She checked all the right boxes.

She was the perfect girlfriend—

—for someone else.

“I feel…”

Underneath the guilt and sadness, he felt the same peace he felt when he first realized he could just end things. He felt the absence of a dread that grew each time someone said something about how perfect they were together, or about locking that down.

He felt relief at avoiding something that was starting to seem inevitable.

Other things became clearer as well.

For example, how fucked up was it that he got more of a cozy domesticity fix from his best friend than he ever had from his girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend.

“I feel like I did the right thing.”

Laurel could begin moving on instead of waiting for a proposal that would never come or that would turn into a disaster of a marriage. She could find someone who wanted to be with her forever.

“But I still feel like shit for breaking her heart. I wish I could fix that.”

“See? You good person.” Tater punctuated this with a sharp nod. “Not worst in world.”

“You’re a good friend, Tates. The best.” He sighed. “I guess marriage just isn’t my thing.”

Tater went silent and pensive for a moment. Probably thinking about his own lack of relationship success. At least that made two of them, now.

Dustin turned the chair’s massage settings from ‘Meditative Waves’ to ‘Angry Swedish Nurse.’ He deserved it, after all this emotional shit.

“No. I lied. I’m gonna marry this chair.”

Tater tsked. “No. You need time. You just break up, remember?”

Dustin laughed. If it was shaky, he would blame the massage setting. “Where’d you get this thing anyway? And why?”

Tater muttered something vague about impulse buys and winning lots of money on some stupid bet, then showed Dustin how to turn on the seat warmer.

He could stay here forever.

Funny how that thought didn’t fill him with dread.

* * *

Alexei spent more time at B and Zimmboni’s place in the days after winning the Cup than he did at his own. It wasn’t exactly intentional, but Zimmboni had a couch that was long enough for him to stretch out his bad leg, and B loved having someone to fuss over. Besides, his apartment was just two floors down so he could go there any time he wanted.

In theory.

“I’m surprised you aren’t spending more time with Snowy,” B said. It sounded like a question. Zimmboni shot him a look.

B ignored that and handed Alexei a slice of pecan pie. It had taken some coaching on B’s part, but Alexei could finally pronounce ‘pecan’ correctly. He would have to find an excuse to drop it into an interview at some point.

“Snowy live in building two blocks over, not two floors up,” he said between bites of pie. “And his furniture not comfortable.” He sketched out the shape of one of Snowy’s chairs in mid-air. It looked more like a geometry exercise than something you could sit in. “All metal and edges and… yuck!”

It was a reason, but it wasn’t the only reason.

“I see,” B said brightly. “And here I was all worried that something was wrong between you two.”

“Wrong? Nothing wrong! Why you think something wrong?”

It wasn’t really a lie if things were only wrong in his own head, right? Once he stopped dreaming about kissing Snowy after winning the Cup the way Zimmboni had kissed B, everything would be fine. Right?

“Oh, no reason,” B said, voice like sugar. “Just… you two normally spend all your free time together, but instead you’re here.”

Alexei smiled and held out his now-empty plate for a refill. “No. Everything fine!”

B took the plate, but did not head back to the kitchen. He looked down at Alexei.

“Normally, I would never, ever be deliberately rude to a guest, especially an injured guest who knows how to properly appreciate a good slice of pie, or a half-dozen biscuits with gravy, or a whole pound of bacon, but you’ve got me wondering, hon—what’s Russian for ‘cock-blocking’?”

“Jesus, Bits…” Zimmboni groaned, but he was also laughing. “It’s not that we don’t love you Tater—”

“—but a little alone time would be kind of nice. Listen. Whyn’t you come up for breakfast tomorrow? You and Snowy both. I’ll make those blueberry pancakes you like so much.”

Before Tater could do anything but nod, B was on the phone with Snowy. “If you want to come over and retrieve your favorite Russian, that pie I promised is all ready for you… Mmm-hmm… Blackberry with crumb topping… Right… See you soon!” He hung up and his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, showing that any irritation he had felt had melted away. “I think he’s missed you, the past few days.”

It took less time than it should for Snowy to get to Zimmboni’s place. Maybe he was already on his way over when B called, and Alexei didn’t know what to do with that idea.

Maybe Snowy didn’t know, either, because instead of coming right in when B opened the door for him, he just stood there for a moment.

“Hey, Tater,” he said, strangely quiet. B ignored any awkwardness, and handed Snowy a pie box before dragging Zimmboni down the hall towards the bedroom. Neither he nor Snowy said anything until they heard a door being shut firmly.

“Sorry if I’ve kind of been avoiding you the past couple days,” Snowy said. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it all out of order. “I had to get my head around a couple of things.”

“I understand.” The daydream about kissing Snowy started up in the back of his mind. He had no idea how to stop it playing. Also, hadn’t he been the one avoiding Snowy? “Is okay, now?”

Snowy nodded sharply. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about things since I broke up with Laurel, and also since…” He nodded down the hallway. It was quiet for now, but it wouldn’t be much longer. “Things have changed, or no… it’s not that they’ve changed. I’m just seeing them differently. Anyhow, I’m not making a whole lot of sense, so let me just get to it—can I take you out to dinner?”

Alexei looked at Snowy. At the way Snowy looked at him. “That sound like date,” he said cautiously.

“It can be.” Snowy paused, so nervous it broke Alexei’s heart. “If you want, that is.”

“I do. I do want. For long, long time.”

* * *

Two years later, or at least close enough to the two-year-anniversary of being more-than-friends, Dustin and Tater woke up in a Las Vegas hotel room that made Tater’s apartment look starkly minimalist by comparison.

Tater frowned at the ring on his left hand. Dustin had a matching one. “Not again…” Tater groaned.

“Viva Las Vegas,” Dustin muttered. It was about time he got accidentally married in Vegas, like so many other Falcs had. Tater had been through it twice already with Parson and Seguin (they really needed to not have the NHL awards in Vegas). “So, you know what to do about this?”

“Da. We take care of before practice, easy-peasy.”

Or not so easy-peasy, as it happened. The Aces’ lawyer, a fussy, grumpy little man, glared at them through big, round spectacles as he explained why—given that they freely admitted to engaging in intimate relations over the past two years—a nice, speedy annulment was not an option.

“It will have to be a divorce, which will take longer, which means more of my time that will be billed to the Falconers. Most teams have it set up so the fees can be deducted from your paycheck. Please note that I bill five hundred dollars hourly, and that—”

“No,” Dustin blurted out. In the silence that followed, he wondered what the hell had possessed him.

“No?” The lawyer’s gaze could have impaled butterflies to a mounting board.

“No?” Tater just looked confused. And also a little sad. “But you always say you not want marriage, nyet? Is why you break up with Laurel. So we divorce.”

“Yeah, you’re right. No! Not about the divorce!” he said quickly, before Tater could look any more sad. “I mean about Laurel and why I broke up with her.”

The lawyer cleared his throat. “While these soap opera dramatics are entertaining, gentlemen, I do have other business today…”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look, it took me a couple of years, but I finally figured it out.”

Tater raised an eyebrow. He looked as if he didn’t trust himself to speak.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be married. What I didn’t want was to be married to someone who isn’t my best friend. Who isn’t you.”

Tater’s smile started small, then bloomed across his face. He turned to the lawyer. “Never mind! We go!”

“Yes, yes, fine.” He shooed them off with a flick of his fingers. “Congratulations and so on, but please refrain from any celebratory fornication until you are off the premises.”

They hurried out past the line of other happy couples waiting to have their marriages annulled. Tater paused to fist-bump Bogrov, his good buddy on the Aces, who apparently had accidentally married one of the linesmen instead of his girlfriend. They also nodded hello to Marty and Guy, and said they’d tell the coach they might be a little late to practice.

“So, when do you want to tell the guys?” Dustin asked.

Tater looked guilty. “I already tell them about accidental marriage.”

“What?!”

“Not that we decide we stay married,” Tater hurried to explained, “but Parson tell Zimmboni about tradition Aces have—”

They entered the locker room just then, and Dustin learned the hard way that the Aces glitter-bombed players who got drunk-married for the first time.

He was still finding glitter in awkward places later that night, when he and most of the other Falcs were at Kent Parson and Jeff Troy’s place for a sudden but not-so-accidental wedding.

He enjoyed the ceremony, even though both grooms had crashed his net a total of four times during last night’s game and they were all in the middle of the goddamn Stanley Cup Finals. He would always remember how for a few blissful hours under the desert sky, it didn’t matter that they’d played a vicious game last night and would play another one tomorrow night.

What he would remember most of all, though, was the way Parson and Troy couldn’t stop gazing into each other’s eyes as they recited their vows. It left him awestruck and reaching for Tater’s hand. From the way Tater squeezed his hand in return, Dustin knew he felt it, too.

If that’s how he and Tater looked at each other, then why the hell had they taken so long to get their act together?

“Wanna join in?” he whispered to Tater. A number of other couples were taking advantage of Nevada’s marriage laws and the presence of an ordained Elvis impersonator to tie the knot or to renew their vows. “It kind of sucks that our friends weren’t at our first wedding, huh?”

Dustin wasn’t sure what he expected when Tater told the group that they were staying married and renewing their vows. Congratulations, for sure. Also chirping. Marty might take in and dole out cash as people collected and paid off wagers on their wedding. There might even be tears.

What he was not expecting was slack-jawed silence followed by “Wait, WHAT?”

“Uh, I don’t see what’s so surprising, guys. We’ve been dating for like two y—”

“You’re dating?!”

“TWO YEARS??”

As for poor Jack, he looked like someone had shorted his circuits.

“I think we forget to tell them,” Tater whispered.

“Whoops?”

The only one not surprised was Bitty, who gave the rest of the Falcs a gentle bless your hearts before turning back to him and Tater.

“I think what they all meant to say is ‘congratulations.’ I don’t know why they’re so surprised. After all, anyone can see that the two of you are perfect together,” Bitty said.

Other people had said that to him once, and it had felt like a life sentence. Now, though, it felt like freedom.

“Yeah,” he said. Dustin leaned up to peck his husband on the cheek. “It just took some of us longer to see that than others.”

#snowytater #bv2020 #bitty's valentines #omgcp fandom #omg check please!

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hookaroo · 5 years

Text

Vocivore, Ltd. (20 of ?)

A OUAT WINTER WHUMP FIC

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, and @courtorderedcake <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE!!!!!******

****ALSO!!!!!!!!!!!!Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!!!!!*************

@lillpon wins :)

5 weeks + 1 day ago

Killian snuck out of the darkened room and closed the door as quietly as he could. He flashed a wink and a smile at his wife, who was sitting with Belle at a small table in the corner.

“Out like a light,” he reported. As he strode over to join them, Emma laughed incredulously.

“Man, we should visit more often. You really wore her out, Belle.”

“You’re welcome anytime we’re in one place long enough to have company,” Belle assured them. Killian resumed his chair at the table and eyed the book beneath his friend’s hands.

“How’s the research coming?”

“We, uh, may have found something,” Belle grinned. She slid the open book over to Killian, and he twisted it to face him.

“Vocivore,” said Emma, using a soft ‘c’ sound. Then she tried it with ‘ch.’ “Vo-ch-ivore?”

As Killian scanned the page for the matching entry, Belle said,

“Could be either, but ‘vociferous’ comes to mind; maybe the soft sound is more correct?”

Killian nodded his agreement. The small paragraph in the corner of the page was flanked by a vague blob of ink that may have been someone’s attempt to sketch the creature, although who could tell if it was based on reality or simply nightmare imaginings. Killian read aloud the accompanying description.

“‘2.5 to 3 meters tall. Reportedly telepathic. Enslaves and brainwashes humans. Victims exhibit degenerative neurological symptoms resulting from morphological changes in the brain. Invariably fatal.’” He scanned the facing page. “That’s all?”

Belle nodded solemnly. “In this book, at least. But if we know the creature’s name, we can more easily search for further information.”

“Certainly seems like our guy,” Emma stated, watching Killian for signs of agreement. He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Not much to go on, is there?”

“‘Morphological changes?’” she quoted at him. “That’s gotta be the brain shriveling. And you have to recognize brainwashing when you see it.”

“Just how reliable is this author?” Killian asked Belle as he flipped to the front cover. She shrugged.

“We’ve had good results in the past. For now, it’s all we have to work with.” She glanced toward the door, adding, “Rumple’s gone to fetch another book that may confirm the theory.”

Killian reread the entry, scowled at its ambiguity, and sat back. “Vocivore. So then… it eats voices?”

“Assuming the name is literal.”

“Doesn’t give us a lot of ideas for defeating it.”

“And you won’t find many of those elsewhere, I’m afraid,” came Rumple’s voice from the doorway. The three friends turned to face him as he strode inside. He carried a book bound in cracked leather, which he tossed carelessly onto the table in front of Killian. “It turns out I did recognize the name, and it’s almost certainly what you’re facing back in the United Realms.”

Killian began idly flipping through the index of the new book, half his attention on finding an entry for Vocivore.

“Do you know much about it?” Belle asked. Rumple sat at the fourth and final chair, across from Emma. He shook his head in a grave negative.

“No one does. Anyone who gets close enough inevitably becomes the creature’s slave, and thus unable to give any sort of report. It is unknown whether it can be defeated, because no one has ever done it.”

Killian and Emma exchanged an uneasy glance.

“No one?” repeated Emma. “In the history of… ever?”

“On the bright side,” Rumple said with a sneer, “as former Dark Ones, the two of you are probably immune, both to the brainwashing and the physical effects on the brain.”

“Fantastic,” grumbled Killian, sliding the book toward Belle so she could take over the search. “We know our course of action then, Swan; all we have to do is leave everyone in Storybrooke to their fate. It’ll certainly reduce the wait times at Granny’s.”

Emma ignored his sarcasm. “It doesn’t seem to matter that we’re immune, though. Whenever we try to get close to the guy, he sends his slaves out to stop us.” She rested her elbows on the table and began tapping her fingers in agitation.

“Have you thought of bombing the monster?” Rumple asked casually. Both Emma and Killian shifted in their seats, uncomfortable. Belle looked up from her book to await their answer.

“Of course we thought of it,” Killian finally admitted. “Only… the collateral damage…”

“Blowing up the monster would kill a lot of innocent slaves,” Emma finished for him. “We’re not that desperate yet.”

“The slaves will die anyway,” Rumple pointed out with a dismissive wave of his hand. “For the greater good, a bomb may be the only solution.”

“We’re not willing to admit defeat on that point,” Emma objected. “Dr. Whale is working on a way to reverse the effects.”

Rumple gave a strained smile and slight eye roll; Killian found he had to agree with his skepticism.

“There’s also the question of delivery,” Killian pointed out. “Phil’s hot air balloon didn't get within a mile of there. It was shot so full of holes that the operator was lucky to survive.”

“Even our drone was shot down, if you can believe that,” added Emma. Belle looked impressed, but Rumple merely shrugged.

“The issue is intent. The creature’s telepathic abilities allow it to sense any attempts at attack, or even reconnaissance. Perhaps its control over its slaves goes so far as allowing it to guide their movements from time to time.”

“Help them to aim, you mean?” Emma made a face. “Oh good grief.”

“And anything that got past the slaves--a helicopter, for example--would almost certainly fail as well,” Rumple pointed out. “Proximity would allow the Vocivore to influence the pilot’s mind, resulting in either a spectacular crash out of harm’s way, or a helicopter to add to the monster’s ranks.”

“What about your magic?” asked Belle. “Er, if… if you decided to… use a bomb, that is. Just poof it in.”

“Yeah, he’s got some kind of shielding up around his compound,” grumbled Emma. “Also why I haven’t been able to poof myself in to poke around.”

They all fell silent for a moment, seemingly at a dead end. Belle closed the book, shaking her head at the lack of additional info. She had scribbled down notes on a notepad, but the details covered less than a quarter of the page. Absently, she began doodling in the margins; mainly geometric patterns, lines that connected with lines. Almost like tally marks overlaid on top of each other. And Killian was brought back to the day they’d met. The day he’d snuck into her dungeon, his desperate and ruthless plan to extract information from her at any cost. Feeling the usual disgust at his actions back then--back when he was a villain--Killian scowled and almost brushed the memories aside. But then he stopped himself. Stealth. Playing a part, fooling the guards. What if…

“You say we’re immune,” he said slowly, eyeing Rumple warily. “The three of us: you, me, and Emma.”

“Very likely.”

“Protected from the brainwashing and the illness, yes?”

“I believe so.”

“And the telepathy?”

Rumple considered this, his eyes never leaving his former nemesis’ face. “To a degree, I would imagine. It’s hard to say without ever having experimented with it myself.”

“What are you thinking, babe?”

Killian drew a slow breath. Did he dare? He’d seen the state of far too many victims. Beyond their neurological issues, the majority were in a condition of such physical wretchedness that it was astounding they were even alive. Slave was almost too gentle a term. Torture survivor... closer. He shuddered, swallowed a stab of fear, and said,

“Suppose… suppose I approached the monster under the pretense of… surrendering myself to its mercies. I could gather intelligence, discern its weaknesses, perhaps even discover a way to kill it.”

Both Emma and Belle looked horrified at the suggestion; Rumple, however, wore an expression of mild intrigue. Killian cursed him inwardly.

“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard,” Emma spat, using scorn to cover obvious fear. Belle nodded in concerned agreement. But Rumple held up a hand.

“Do go on,” he urged. Killian worked his jaw in silence, then shrugged.

“That’s as far as I’ve gotten with it. If you've any reasonable objections, feel free to voice them. Believe me, I’m open to anything.”

“Here’s one for you,” scowled Emma. “The monster will kill you.”

“Not immediately.” Killian couldn’t believe he was arguing for this absurd plot. “If it killed its victims right away, then it wouldn't have the hordes of slaves we’ve encountered at every turn.”

“How the hell would it help anything for you to ‘gather intel’ if there’s no way for you to get it back to us? You die, the info dies with you.”

“Maybe I could bring some sort of communication device--”

“He would find it. And kill you.”

“Okay, but he seems to send his slaves out on errands; if I convince him to send me, then--”

“He’ll think you’re trying to get back to us. And kill you.”

“Emma, if you’ll just--”

“He. Will. Kill. You.”

Killian released a long sigh of frustration. But Emma was right. There were too many risks, and no guarantees of any return on investment. They were back to nothing. No way of defeating the monster, no info that was remotely helpful… they would have to either send a suicide bomber, evacuate the entire United Realms, or possibly both. Leaving all of the innocent slaves to die an agonizing death.

“I think the idea has merit.”

Emma turned her glare on Rumple. “You would.”

Rumple’s answering smirk was aloof, calculating. “I may have a device that will allow you to listen in on your husband’s interaction with the beast; a way that would be totally undetectable, even should the Vocivore require the disposal of all clothing.” Rumple shot a glance in Killian’s direction. “Which it undoubtedly will.”

Killian ground his teeth together in order to contain growing impatience. Of course Rumplestiltskin would be in support. However precariously cordial their interactions had become lately, there was still a small part of both of them which would not object to the other man’s demise.

“Isn’t anyone catching on to the fact that Killian will die?” Emma seemed to realize her voice was rising to a volume dangerously close to a level that might wake Hope. Her lips compressed into a tense line; Belle reached for her hand and gave it a supportive squeeze. Rumple continued, very calm.

“I don’t believe he will. As the pirate said: the Vocivore must have slaves to survive. As long as he can convince it of his obedience, he will likely have time to at least gather a layout of the compound, get a feeling for the daily routine, how many slaves it has, et cetera. He can report to you through my transmitter, and all of this may result in valuable intelligence from which a plan of attack can be built.”

“And if it fails? If we’re left with only the bombing option, I sure as hell won’t order it with Killian in harm’s way. And then we have to figure out a rescue mission on top of a bombing run.”

It was Killian’s turn to reach out for Emma. She allowed him to cup his hand over her fist, but did not return any affection.

“It won’t come to that, love. We’ll either learn something else that will help, or I’ll come back to you once the monster trusts me enough to send me out on missions.”

“And how long’s that gonna take?” she snapped, turning red-rimmed eyes in his direction.

“Mr. Clay came back less than a week after he went missing,” Killian reminded her. “All I have to do is present a model of perfect obedience. I can do that.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, looking extremely doubtful. Just then, Belle broke in.

“Uh, guys? Big flaw here, I’m sorry to say. Is the monster really going to believe Killian turned himself in for no reason?”

Killian nodded slowly. “We’ll have to come up with a plausible motive.”

“Even then, even if he can’t read your mind, what about everyone else? Won’t they give the game away?”

“Well… I…”

“We don’t tell them,” Emma said quietly, then winced. “Shit, I can’t believe I’m helping with this.”

Killian watched her scrub her eyes as he awaited further explanation.

“Keep everyone else in the dark. The monster will only be reinforced in his belief that you’re genuine if everyone else believes it too.” She glared at Rumple again. “That’s assuming you’re right and he really can’t read our minds.”

“If memory serves, it doesn't read anyone’s mind outright; it’s more like it… senses their emotions. And with enough people exhibiting authentic shock and dismay, that should easily overpower any deception from the two of you.” He studied Killian for a beat, then added, “To be on the safe side, I would recommend keeping your guard up, doing as much as you can to convince yourself the situation is real. Once you’re safely in its clutches… I don’t think you'll have much trouble living in a state of appropriate despair.”

Killian bristled as a shudder of fear overtook him. He didn’t need reminding what he was getting himself into; his imagination filled in all of the pieces in disturbing detail. Emma pulled her hand out from under his, swearing as she dug her fingers into her eyes.

“This is insane. We can’t actually be considering this.”

“Swan…” He halted, heaved a sigh, then changed approaches. “You’re right; it is insane. But I don't see any other option. From what we’ve heard today… if we don't take advantage of the only leverage we have over this creature… we may as well surrender now.” He gently pulled her hand away from her face, leaning forward to place a kiss on her knuckles. “We have to do it. For Hope. To keep her safe; to give her and children like her a chance at a future. If anything were to happen to her, I’d…”

Killian broke off with a hissing inhale; Emma’s head snapped up, and he knew she’d had the same thought.

“Bloody hell. That’s it. That’s the motive.”

“But… no, we can’t…��

“It makes sense, Emma. It’s perfect. No one could argue against the plausibility.”

“We can’t do that to people!” Emma objected forcefully, near tears. “My parents… it’ll devastate them!”

Killian grimaced, feeling sick. “That’s… that’s what we need, isn’t it?”

Belle was watching their interaction, dread and confusion blending on her face. “Killian? Emma? What…?”

Killian entwined his fingers with his wife’s as he turned to face Belle. “What would you think about having Hope come and stay with you for awhile?”

She answered without hesitation. “Of course; anytime, but why…” Then the truth dawned on her, and she gulped. “Oh.”

Almost frantic, Emma was shaking her head. “We can’t leave her for that long! We don’t even know how long it will take… she’ll think we abandoned her!”

Killian looked away, ashamed. He should have thought of that; it should have been the first thing on his mind. They couldn’t even consider doing something like that to her, not even for--

“Not if we take her back to the last realm we visited,” Belle broke into his thoughts in a timidly helpful tone. “What was it that we calculated, Rumple? The difference in the passage of time? 60 to 1?”

“Approximately.”

“So you could be gone for two months before a day passes there.”

Killian felt bile rising at the thought of two months in the clutches of the monster. “It won’t come to that,” he assured everyone but himself. To him, it was more of a desperate prayer. “That sounds like just what we need.”

“Is that okay with you, dear?” Belle reached for Rumple, who responded with a tight smile.

“You don’t even have to ask,” simpered her husband. “Anything to help our friends from Storybrooke. But I’d be remiss if we don’t address the elephant in the room.”

“And what would that be?” sighed Killian.

“The torture,” said Rumple coolly. “You are aware of that aspect, are you not?”

Killian didn’t flinch. “I am.” He heard Emma draw a sharp breath at the acknowledgement, and he squeezed her hand. Rumple shrugged, unperturbed.

“I just wanted to be sure you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.”

“Most kind of you, mate.”

“What we haven’t discussed,” Emma interrupted, “is why we’re assuming it’s going to be you and not me.”

Killian looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Why it… Emma, you can’t seriously--”

“Why not? I have magic; it probably should be me.”

“You just said that the monster has shielding against magic. There’s no advantage for you there.”

“So then we’re even. Maybe we should flip a coin.”

“We’re not even,” Killian said firmly, scrambling for anything to solidify his position. “H… Hope, she--”

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, somehow knowing exactly what he was going to say. “She needs you just as much as she needs me. End of story.”

“All right then. I’ll tell you why it has to be me. Because the people of Storybrooke are used to listening to you. You’re solidified as their leader, their sheriff… if it comes down to a coordinated effort, they’re going to need their savior. They’ll rally for you; more than they ever would for me.”

Emma’s eyes softened. “Oh, Killian. They would listen to you. You’re… you’ve grown to be an integral part of the town’s leadership. I’m sure… I mean, you shouldn’t feel like…”

She trailed off, and Killian knew she’d seen his point. Maybe if things were desperate and he was able to present a well-organized plan… but even then, he’d likely still get resistance from Regina. The dwarves. Probably even the Charmings, if it came to the safety of their daughter. No, Emma was by far the better person to run things in his absence. Killian pulled a long, fortifying breath.

“So. How do we go about putting this scheme into action?”

AN: Confession time! I personally have no interest in the Rumbelle storyline. Nothing at all against people who do; I'm glad that they got what seems like a very nice happy ending for their ship. That said, I only kind of half-watched the non-Killian parts of "Beauty" the first time it aired and have not bothered with it since. So Belle and Rumple in this story are based on my vague memories of that one viewing. If it makes it slightly AU in that respect, then so be it.

If I recall correctly, they did some travelling before ending up at Belle's death cottage, and then after that, Rumple went back in time to join the S7 characters. So there possibly could have been some years where they were in different realms, apart from the United Realms, and could have had visitors. Maybe? Perhaps they never went back to Storybrooke (and aren't allowed to know their future even though Killian and Emma now do), but that doesn't mean they never saw their friends again. At least in my version :D It stands to reason, then, that they might want to get the band back together in an attempt to figure out a solution for their monster problem.

Also, a note about timelines: even though the "present" timeline is also moving, try and think of "past" timelines as based on one present day (Monday, if you were to get technical about it.) To try and keep it easier on everyone, I didn't change calculations as the present week progressed. So "Five Weeks ago" is always the day Killian and Emma announce Hope's alleged kidnapping.

#ouat fanfiction #killian jones #emma swan #ouat belle #ouat rumple #an awful plan #plotting #self-sacrifice #killian the spy #Vocivore ltd

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