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mister-supernova · 3 years

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If I Saw You on the Street

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson x Reader - Platonic Josie Saltzman x Reader

After Malivore

For as long as you could remember, summer vacation was your absolute favorite time of the year. To your surprise, it’s actually been a huge drag for you this year. It wasn’t like this was the worst summer ever--you could think of a few others that could take that spot--but there was definitely something off that you couldn’t piece together.

For instance, no one has any idea as to how Landon destroyed Malivore, not even Landon himself. That whole day seemed to be a huge blur to all of the students. You remembered the bigger events like the school defeating Triad, but everyone seems to struggle when it comes to the smaller details.

In order to keep yourself busy, you decided to stay at the school and take a summer job at the Mystic Grill. Besides the fact that everyone else was back home with their families, the whole school had this off-putting sense of emptiness. The place has magic in the walls for crying out loud, you usually feel some sense of liveliness.

There was this one room in particular that you felt strangely drawn to. You had no idea why since you knew that no one stayed in that room this past year. At least, no one you knew anyways.

One day out of pure curiosity, you picked the lock to that room to see what was special about it.

Just as you expected, it was just a regular empty dorm that was probably going to be taken up by a new student during the fall. It looked like every other bedroom at the school, but this one felt familiar.

Something that caught you off guard was the scent that faintly lingered in the room. The best way you could describe it was something floral with a hint of sweetness and spice--vanilla and cinnamon maybe--and it wasn’t like anything else you had smelled in the school before.

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave for the longest time. The urge to stay and wander trumped over the obvious choice that was to walk away.

Something happened here, you thought.

A few small drops of pastel blue paint chips stained the wooden floorboards and you wondered how the hell they got there given the rooms have white walls.

Instead of questioning it any deeper, you just assumed that a student who had this room before must’ve gotten the paint on the floor and the janitors hadn’t noticed it.

But how could they have missed that?

You stood there for what felt like hours, trying to piece together what it was that made this place have this unexplainable affect on you. You could’ve stayed there for the rest of the day digging through your brain for an answer that would never come.

At the end of the day, you knew nothing would come to mind no matter how hard you tried. It was like the answer was at the tip of your tongue, but your mind was radio silent.

Frustrated and defeated, you had to force yourself to leave the strange room. After that, you made yourself forget about that place completely for the rest of the summer and refused to ever return to it.

Whenever you weren’t at work, you spent time with Landon, Josie, and a wolfed-out Rafael which was fine in the beginning. Dorian gave you permission to shift in the woods on full moons for the summer so that Raf could talk to somebody and you guys could possibly get information on how to help him.

He definitely appreciated the company that you could provide, but alas he had no idea on how he could be turned back.

The happier times were the nights you four had weekly movie nights by the Old Mill. You all would alternate who would pick the movie to watch and Landon absolutely hated that you chose a horror movie every single time, but you loved hearing the phoenix boy screech with terror. Josie would get a good kick out of it, too and you were positive that you’d see Raf wag his tail every time Landon screamed.

During those small moments, things felt like they could possibly get back to normal, but once you stepped foot back in the school, you were lost again.

Your thoughts were much louder through the night. It would get so bad that you could barely get any sleep and the times that you would, you’d wake up screaming from a night terror.

There was one night when you were tossing and turning, you knocked on Josie’s door to ask if she knew some kind of incantation to get you to fall asleep. You were up for anything at that point, even letting her swing a frying pan over your head to knock you out.

Not wanting to hurt you or possibly kill you, Josie made you some sleepytime tea instead which actually helped a lot. It didn’t help so much with the vivid dreams you’ve been having, but you thought that it was better than getting no sleep at all.

Everything felt like it was going decently well until Raf decided to bow out once Josie and Landon started getting close. You wanted to curse at him for making you the third wheel, but you understood that he couldn’t wait here forever for some solution that could help him become human again. He had to move on somehow, especially seeing that his best friend seemed to be moving on, too.

Regardless, you started feeling awkward hanging out with just the two of them. They wanted to include you during their weekly movie nights, but you’d just make up some excuse that you had to be up early for work the next morning.

Landon--damn him for knowing your work schedule--could tell that you were bullshitting, but he didn’t want to force you into doing something you didn’t want to do.

You tried busying yourself with other activities like running through the woods, canoeing in the lake, taking extra shifts at work, binge eating all the good snacks in the kitchen; you even got yourself into drawing and painting for some weird reason, but no matter what you did, there was still something missing.

Towards the end of the summer, you didn’t feel like your usual jokester self. Sure, you’d throw out a line of sarcasm or make a witty comment here and there, but most of it would sound forced. You’d mainly do it so that Josie and Landon wouldn’t worry about you so much, but Josie quickly picked up on your facade.

They really wanted to help you figure out what was making you feel this way, but as much as you appreciate their help, there was nothing they could do. How could they figure out what was wrong if you didn’t even know for yourself?

One day after your shift at work, you decided to do something you never in your wildest dreams thought you would ever do.

You started cleaning your room.

Josie volunteered to help even though you assured her you’d be fine doing it alone. She bribed you by saying she’d buy you a milkshake if you let her help, so without another word, you agreed to let her stay and assist.

“Gosh, do you throw out any of your old assignments?” Josie asks as she rummages through your desk drawers, “This is an algebra one paper from three years ago, Y/n,” she says, flashing your old homework assignment with a huge F circled in the front.

“Hey, less judging and more cleaning.” You say, digging through your dresser for clothes you don’t wear anymore.

“Did you try writing a reminder for a history test or something?”

You furrow your eyebrows before turning to look at Jo, “What do you mean?”

“You have this post-it note that says “Don’t forget H”, but that’s all that’s written,” she holds up the note and from the other side of your bed, you read exactly what she had said.

It definitely looked like you tried scribbling another letter after the H, but it ended up being a long messy squiggle, “Uh, I don’t know,” you shrug, “Probably. I must’ve been half asleep when I wrote it though because I have no clue when I did that.”

Josie puffs her lip out in confusion, “Well. I would be surprised by that, but judging by the ten cans of energy drinks I just tossed out, it’s not so surprising to hear that your memory is a little fuzzy.”

You drop your jaw in shock, “Is today Judge Y/n Day and I wasn’t made aware of it? You asked to help clean my room Jo, now save your judgments for another day please.”

Josie playfully rolls her eyes at you, followed by a small chuckle, “Toss?” She asks, ready to crumple the piece of paper up. You take a second to answer back, wondering whether or not if you did forget some history assignment or maybe something even bigger than that.

“Sure,” you feel your stomach churn seeing her throw the note in the trash bag, but there was no taking it back now.

Another few minutes of silence pass until Josie speaks up, “Since when do you draw?”

You look back up from your clothes to see Jo now holding up a sketchbook you snagged at the lost and found a few weeks ago. It was brand new and untouched, so you thought to yourself “why not?”.

After explaining that to Josie, she flipped through some of the first few pages. You were no Leonardo DiCaprio--or whatever that painter guy’s name was--but you thought you were decent with your sketches.

“These are really good, Y/n. Did you just think of these by yourself?” She asks, talking about the drawings you had of a girl you’ve been seeing in your dreams.

You could only see parts of the girl’s face. Mostly you’ve only been able to clearly see features like her eyes and hair, so most of the pages were taken up by a pair of blue eyes and waves of auburn hair.

“Not really. I’ve been having these really vivid dreams lately.” You tell Josie.

“This is who you see?” She looks down at the pages again, “Who is that? She doesn't look like anyone we know.”

“Yeah, I don’t know either. She’s all I’ve been seeing, though.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve found yourself a hidden talent.” Josie smiles, gently setting the book back down on the desk, “And maybe she’s your soulmate,” she teases.

You just roll your eyes with a small smile and get back to your tasks.

Like a girl that beautiful could even exist let alone talk to me, you think to yourself.

As you continue sorting through your clothes, you notice a pair of sweats that look almost smaller than half your size.

“Uh, Jo?” She turns to your attention, “These aren’t yours, are they?”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “How short do you think I am? I think my legs are a little longer than whoever those are.”

“Well, they’re not mine, obviously. How’d they get into my drawer?”

“Maybe they belonged to whoever lived in this dorm before you?” Josie shrugs.

“But the dresser was completely empty when I moved in,” you think for a moment, now questioning everything, “At least, I thought it was. I would think that I would’ve taken these out if they were here. Why would I keep a pair of sweatpants that I don’t fit in?”

“You do a lot of questionable things, you know. Like that one time you jumped through a bonfire wondering how hot it really was or when you tried to do a backflip off the roof of the school and into the pool or the time you “drank” a beer through your-”

You raise your hands in surrender and cut her off before she could finish, “Okay, I get it! I do stupid shit. The sweatpants belonged to whoever lived in here before I moved in and I didn’t take them out of the drawer. Case closed. Swiftly moving on.”

You were positive they weren’t there when you moved in, but there weren’t any other reasons you could think of as to how they got into your dresser.

Seconds before you tossed it back into the bottom of your drawer, your nose barely caught the same sweet and spicy floral scent that you recalled smelling in the strange room. Breathing it in again brought back that memory of being mentally lost in that room, but oddly enough this time it made you feel calm.

After another hour passed you and Josie ended up filling three bags of trash, one of them recycled trash, and one large donation box of clothes.

You didn’t waste any time reminding her that she owed you a milkshake. She kind of hoped that you would’ve forgotten about your deal, but she was a woman of her word.

You made a “compromise” to take your box of clothes over to the donating center on the other side of the town square while Josie bought the milkshakes.

Your task was a lot quicker than Josie’s since it was pretty much rush hour at the Grill right now, so you waited for her on one of the benches in the square.

Sitting by yourself with nothing else to do but wait, you couldn’t help but feel that empty feeling return. The emptiness never hit you all at once, but it definitely drained the hell out of you.

Again, you felt stumped. Like there’s somewhere you should be or something you should be doing or someone you should be with. You knew Josie was going to be back any minute, but that wasn’t what was missing.

You anxiously looked toward the Mystic Grill, feeling your breaths becoming more and more shallow as every second passes. You started wishing Josie would walk out so that all your worries could just go away.

Then--almost like you knew right where to look--your gaze stopped when you noticed someone looking at you from where you just came from on the other side of the town square.

You couldn’t make out her facial features from so far away, but it was the auburn color of her hair that stuck out to you more than anything. For a moment--and just for a moment--all the weight that had been weighing on your shoulders this summer felt much lighter and everything felt okay again.

“One cookies and cream milkshake,” Josie’s voice startles you and you face her abruptly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she chuckles, lending you your milkshake.

“No, you’re good. I was just…” you look back to the spot you saw the girl only to find that she was gone, “I was just lost in thought.”

You had no idea what just happened or how you seemed to have possibly seen the girl from your dreams, but just a glimpse of her made you feel more emotions than you have all summer long. Because of that, a huge part of you hoped that you would see her again.

heyyyyyy beautiful people! thanks for over 100 likes on This Isn’t Goodbye you guys gals and nb pals! i’m super super happy that you’ve been enjoying this series so far! still have no idea how many more parts this will be just yet lol but i really appreciate every one of you for the love <3

*also the title was inspired by the song Dreams Tonite by Alvvays in case you were curious ;)*

taglist: @chicken-wang09 @trikruismybitch @sodangtired

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson x reader #hope mikaelson imagine #legacies imagine #legacies x reader #legacies cw #legacies

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louezem · 4 years

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Saying Yes - Brothers

Summary: Katniss and Peeta had a bitter break up years ago and went their separate ways. Katniss knows nothing of Peeta's life now, until a stunning blonde walks into the exclusive bridal salon were she works, to buy her a dress for her wedding - to Peeta Mellark.

Written for @promptsinpanem

Part 5 - Brothers

Eight Weeks Later...

Part 5 - Brothers

Eight weeks later:

“Good evening, Mr Mellark, it’s nice to see you,” the doorman welcomed him with a tip of his head.

“Good evening,” Peeta returned the welcome. “I’m here to meet my brother for dinner but I need to go upstairs first. When he arrives can you send him to The Arena? I’ll meet him at the bar.”

“Of course, Mr Mellark, I’ll let him know.”

Peeta strode through the hotel lobby, acknowledging staff members and guests alike with a nod or a smile before using his keycard to access a small private elevator that rose directly to the penthouse he’d shared with Glimmer.

It felt a little weird being back in this space. He’d moved out of the hotel and into a very nice apartment a short distance away a couple of weeks earlier. The views weren’t as spectacular and there was no room service or overnight dry cleaning at his new place, but he was enjoying having a space that was just his more than he’d expected. He liked displaying his own art on the walls of his home and cooking in his own kitchen again.

He opened the sliding doors to the patio and stepped outside, glad that none of the Glimmer’s personal staff were around to observe him as he said a last goodbye to the place that he’d called home for quite a while. He walked to the infinity balcony and leaned over admiring the view over the city and listening to the faint sounds of the crowds and the traffic far below. He could feel the autumn chill in the air, the days getting noticeably shorter. It was almost sunset, so he decided to stay and watch from this vantage point one last time.

The media attention had been pretty brutal in the weeks immediately following his and Glimmer’s break up, usually casting him in the role of a gold-digging gigolo who’d used Glimmer to further his career in her Grandfather’s chain of hotels and then broke her heart. They didn’t let up until a couple of photos of Glimmer and her entourage of girlfriends started showing up on online as they partied their way across Europe. When a photo of Glimmer dancing closely with the sovereign prince of some small European principality showed up on twitter the interest in Peeta finally began to fade. He smiled to himself, knowing Glimmer most likely leaked the photo herself to draw the attention off him, if the winking emoji she’d text him around the same time was anything to go by. But she’d never admit it to anyone else.

In the bedroom he gathered the last few personal documents and books he’d forgotten into a box and dropped his keycard in the drawer of the bedside table, switching off the lights on his way out.

He felt sad that this chapter of his life was over but not heart-broken like he thought he was supposed to be. He should be on his honeymoon in Europe right now, for god’s sake, but instead he was single again. He kept waiting for some stronger emotion to hit him but the simple truth was, he was okay. If anything, he was a little excited about the future and the new opportunities that were already presenting themselves. It wasn’t like back when…

An image of a pretty dark-haired girl with tears running down her face came into his mind, immediately morphing into a more recent memory of a gorgeous woman with flashing silver eyes climbing into a taxi and driving away…

He shut down that train of thought quickly. Dr Aurelius had said no good would come from letting his mind wander down those paths. In the weeks since he’d bumped into her again, Katniss had made a reappearance in his dreams, costing him more than one night of sleep lost to restless tossing and turning. So much so that he’d started painting in the small hours of the morning again.

He dropped his box of things off in his office downstairs and headed to the bar where he immediately spotted a head of blond wavy hair almost identical to his own.

“Hey Rye,” he greeted his brother and slipped onto the barstool beside him, letting his eye run over the room. Like everything in the hotel the restaurant exuded sheer luxury - from the long polished mahogany bar to the more private dining areas with deep seats upholstered in sumptuous dark blue velvet and tables set with the finest sterling silver cutlery and cut crystal glassware. The only thing he didn’t personally care for were the large displays of snow white roses, but they were something of a trademark for the owner, Coriolanus Snow who insisted on them in all his hotels.

“Peeta.” Rye welcomed him with a pat to his shoulder and raised his finger to catch the attention of the bartender. “What are you drinking?”

“My usual please, Finch,” Peeta smiled at the bartender who came to serve him, a slender natural red-head with fox like features and pale eyes, “and whatever my brother wants.”

“A double on the rocks, and put it on his tab.” Rye winked and raised his glass.

Peeta chuckled and Finch gave them a closed lipped smile before scurrying off to get their drinks.

“This is some place,” Rye commented. “It’s a far cry from the spit and sawdust of Abernathy’s bar, back home.”

“It is,” Peeta chuckled. “Is the old man even still alive?”

“Sure is, and as surly as ever. But enough of small town news, tell me how’ve you been,” Rye looked him up and down. “We haven’t talked much in the last few weeks. You don’t look too bad, all things considered.”

“Thanks, I’m doing okay,” Peeta lifted his drink and clinked it off his brother’s glass. “I’ve been busy with events here in the hotel and moving to my own place. Next time you’re in town we should meet up my new apartment instead of the hotel. I’ll cook you a steak.”

“It’s a deal,” Rye agreed. “I’ll bring the beer. None of your fancy wines, thank you very much. You got a big TV?”

“I’ve got a regular TV and sports on cable,” Peeta laughed. “I prefer to use my walls for my paintings, not a huge flatscreen.”

“You can spare at least one wall for a decent 60 inch. The one in the suite we stayed in upstairs before the wedding was awesome. We did you move out anyway, I thought you could live at the hotel for free as a perk of your job?”

“There is a private suite that comes with the package but with Glimmer due back in town soon I thought it was best to find my own place. Better to keep a little healthy distance between us until things settle.”

“Probably wise.” Rye agreed. “Have you talked to her at all?”

“Sure, a couple of times. Honestly, we’re fine with each other. I mean, yeah, it feels strange being a single guy again. I miss her company and I miss sleeping beside someone at night.” He let out a small chuckle. “I even miss Caesar, but all things considered we’re good.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Glimmer is a great girl,” Rye sipped his whiskey, a thoughtful look on his face. “Stupid dog, though. Give me a mutt over a pampered pooch any day of the week.”

“Hey Caesar is great. He might be small and fluffy but he has the heart of a great dane,” Peeta chuckled. “The little dogs always do. Besides��” Peeta stopped.

“Besides what?”

“I think Glimmer may have done the right thing by calling the wedding off.” Peeta confessed. He cleared his throat. It was the first time he’d admitted as much out loud to anyone. “Moving out will make everything less awkward in the long run, when she starts to see someone new. I don’t think she’ll be single for long.”

“Does it bother you? The thought of Glimmer with another guy?” Rye was watching him.

Peeta knew if he tried to lie, his brother would see right through it. No one knew him the way Rye did. He considered his response carefully, as he’d asked himself the same question a million times.

“No.” He answered truthfully. It was the first time he’d fully admitted it, even to himself, and with it came a sense of relief. “It really doesn’t bother me and that’s that thing. It should, shouldn’t it? I mean, I should be turning green with jealousy at thought of Glimmer with someone else, but I’m not. All I want is for her to be happy.”

“Hmm. What about you? Have you had any thoughts about moving on yourself?” Rye raised an eyebrow.

Peeta shook his head. “No. Relationships are the last thing I’m thinking about right now, and maybe not for a long time.”

“Who said anything about relationships? You have needs. You’re a young reasonably good looking guy—”

“Gee, thanks!” Peeta laughed at the back handed compliment.

“—all I’m saying is the ladies love a guy like you, and there is nothing wrong with a little healthy no strings attached fun. Or a lot of healthy no strings fun if you prefer. How about Finch over there? She a bit of a fox and she keeps looking at you like she sees something delicious she’d like to eat.”

“Delicious but toxic,” Peeta snorted, shaking his head. “I don’t do casual hook-ups but if I did I’d never choose someone at work. It would be unprofessional.”

“But dating the granddaughter of your employer wasn’t?” Rye laughed out loud.

“That was different, I was working someplace else when I met Glimmer.”

“Okay fair point,” Rye conceded, tipping his head. “But tell me why you just described yourself as toxic? Don’t tell me you bought into all that bullshit the media accused you of.”

“No, but look how my last two relationships ended. The love of my life cheated on me and broke my heart, then my next serious girlfriend dumped me on our wedding day. Even if—"

“Wait.” Slowly Rye rested his drink on the bar and turned to face his brother, all former joviality had left his face. “Peeta, do you still believe Katniss Everdeen is the love of your life?”

“That’s an odd question to ask,” Peeta frowned.

“Humour me.”

“Fine then, the answer is yes,” he gave a slight nod of his head. “Yes, I believe Katniss is the great love of my life. Hopefully not the last love. But the great one. I loved Glimmer but it wasn’t the same. I don’t think I could ever love anyone again the way I loved Katniss.”

Rye let out a deep sigh and ran a shaking hand though his hair. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

Peeta’s frown deepened. “Rye, what’s wrong? You’re acting weird.”

“Peeta, there is something I need to talk to you about. It’s been playing on my mind for some time, since long before the wedding was cancelled, if I’m honest.”

“Okay. This sounds ominous. It’s nothing to do with your health is it? Or Graham, or Mom? The business back home is doing okay? Because you know I can help with that if you need—”

“No, no – calm down, the business if fine, Mom and Graham are fine, or at least they were, last time I spoke to them. By the way, Mom said to tell you how foolish you were for letting a prize like Glimmer slip through your fingers.”

Peeta rolled his eyes. He could care less what his mother thought of him or his life, not when she couldn't even bothered to come to his wedding.

“Stop deflecting Rye. This isn’t the first time you’ve hinted you had something on your mind and you’re not usually the type to hold back, so whatever it is, spit it out.”

“I worried if I do you’ll punch me in the face.”

“Rye, so help me—”

“Look, let’s move over to a table.” Rye threw back what was left in his glass and nodded to the bartender for another. “We might need a little more privacy for this conversation.”

Once the brothers were resettled in a quiet corner with fresh drinks in front of them Peeta sat back and waited.

“It’s about Katniss.” Rye began nervously.

“What about her?” Peeta frowned.

“It’s about what happened between her and Gale Hawthorne the night of Madge’s party.”

Peeta looked at him, his frown deepening. That was not what he’d been expecting to come out of Rye’s mouth.

“I already know what happened Rye. I don’t need to hear the sordid tale of how you caught my girlfriend making out with another guy again.” His tone was dismissive.

“Peeta, did you ever wonder why Katniss gave up trying to contact you after you broke up with her?” Rye’s voice shook a little as he spoke. He was nervous.

Peeta met his brother’s worried gaze with a now stony one of his own. “I reckoned she figured out it was pointless to keep trying. You caught her red handed and she knew that I’d never forgive her. Cheating is a deal breaker for me. She knew that.”

“Okay, that’s reasonable. But did you ever stop and ask yourself why you didn’t see her around at school later on, when she had a full ride to go to Panem U?”

“Yeah, she had, for tuition.” Peeta nodded. “We’d planned to live in the dorms for freshman year, and if we could find roommates we liked to share expenses with us, we’d rent a place and live together off campus after that. For the first month or so after school started I did look out for her. Fuck, every time I saw a girl with olive skin and dark hair I hoped it was Katniss.” Peeta grabbed the whiskey bottle Finch had left on the table, and tossed back a shot. “But after a while I figured out she must have gone somewhere else. I guess she decided she didn’t want to see me either.”

Rye locked eyes with him. “Before I tell you this, I need you to know that I’m really sorry. I want you to keep that in your head and remember it when I’m finished.”

“Sorry for what?” Peeta eyed him warily. “You’re starting to freak me out now, Rye.”

“I fucked up and got it all wrong, Peeta. Katniss didn’t cheat on you with Gale the night of Madge’s party. Or any other night.”

Peeta sat deathly still, his face impassive, as he stared at his older brother. The only reaction he showed to the grenade his brother had just launched at him was the darkening of his eyes from blue to black.

“What the fuck are you saying to me, Rye? You’d better explain what you just said. Fast,” he growled.

“Okay hear me out. I need to start at the beginning.” Rye put up a placating hand. “You remember that I had a massive thing for Madge Undersee, right? I even thought I might be in love with her, but she only had eyes for Gale Hawthorne.”

“Sure, I remember. You always had a thing for blondes.”

“Still do.” Rye laughed dryly, but with no humour. “I ended up crashing Madge’s party that night with a couple of the guys I used to wrestle with back in High School. Cato and Marvel. It was already late when we got there and Katniss was there hanging out with Madge and Gale. They’d all had a few drinks and looked pretty comfortable with each other. Katniss and Madge were dancing and Gale was watching them both. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Katniss and Gale were friends since they were kids,” Peeta interrupted. “Madge was her best friend in High School. Off course they were friendly. The only reason I wasn’t at the party too was because I was due at the bakery the next morning at 4am to finish a wedding cake, so Katniss tagged along with Gale instead.”

“Anyway,” Rye continued. “As the night went on I drank more and I managed to corner Madge on her own in the kitchen away from her friends. I asked her to go out on a date with me, begged her to give me a shot, but she turned me down flat. I kept trying to charm her until she got pissed off told me to leave her alone, that she liked someone else.”

“Let me guess, that someone was Gale?” Peeta asked.

“Yeah.” Rye confirmed with a nod. “So I backed off with my tail between my legs, grumbling all the while to the guys about what was so special about Gale that made him so popular with the ladies, and what had he got that I hadn’t got. They laughed, saying he had quite a reputation with the ladies and he was well known for frequenting the slag heap with different girls, but lately he’d been there a lot with a certain Seam girl. They were looking at Katniss when they said it.”

Peeta raised an eyebrow at this.

“Anyway, by then I was drunk and feeling pretty sorry for myself. A little while later I decided to call it a night and left to walk home when I heard some rustling and caught sight of Gale back in the trees. At first I thought he was taking a leak, but then I realised he was leaning up against a tree because he had a girl backed up against it. This kinda made me see red because Madge was back at the house waiting for him to make his move and he was here, wasting time with another girl.”

“Katniss.” Peeta growled, downing another shot. It might be ten years ago, but it still hurt.

“Yes.” Rye nodded. “It was Katniss. I saw him bend down and kiss her, but she must have seen me because she shoved him away and came running after me and we argued. She tried to say what I’d seen was nothing, that she’d only gone outside to check on Gale because he was drunk and he came onto her. She swore she never invited it.”

He took a deep breath.

“I was so angry I couldn’t think straight. I yelled at Katniss to get the hell away from me and to stay the hell away from you and told her she wasn’t good enough for you. Gale came over and tried to throw a punch at me for yelling at Katniss, but he was a drunk as I was and he missed and we both ended up on the ground. Then his friend Thom and Madge came out of the house and broke it up. Katniss was crying and Madge took her inside.”

“I know this part Rye.” Peeta’s icy voice cut across him abruptly. “But you never said anything about her shoving him away before. You made it sound like she was a willing participant, that she was all over him.”

“I know. I know I did.” Rye threw his hands up in the air. “I thought she shoved him away because she saw me, but I only found out years later that I was wrong about all of it. After what Cato and Marvel had told me about Gale and a Seam girl at the slag heap, I put two and two together and made five.”

“When did you find out you were wrong?” Peeta spat out, his head spinning. The repercussions of what Rye had done were huge. The whole path of his – and Katniss – life had changed because of what Rye said he saw that night.

“Not until a few years later. Believe it or not, it was Gale who confronted me. He and Madge were engaged, and I had long moved on. They came by the bakery to order a wedding cake. While Madge was distracted talking flavours and buttercream with Dad, Gale asked could he have a word with me outside.”

“At first I thought he was going to bring up my old crush on Madge, but instead he started talking about that night. He basically said he wanted to clear the air and Katniss’ name, and he confirmed everything Katniss tried to tell me years before was all true.”

A heavy silence fell between the brothers and Peeta sat stiffly as his brain tried to process this new information.

“But if he had feelings for Madge, why was he trying to kiss Katniss that night? That makes no sense!” Peeta burst out.

“I asked him the very same thing. He said his feelings for Madge were new and he never expected a girl like her would look at a Seam guy like him, let alone date one. He was confused by what the true nature of his feelings for Katniss were. They’d been friends for so long and everyone including his family told him they’d end up together eventually but then she started dating you and he was worried he’d missed his chance. So when one presented itself, he took it. He said he had to do it. Just once.”

“And the seam girl he’d been sneaking around with at the slag heap?”

“Leevy Collins.”

“I can’t believe I’m only hearing about this now,” Peeta muttered dropping his head into his hands. “You should have come to me with this when Gale first told you, Rye.”

“I know.” Rye shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Gale told me Katniss gave him hell afterwards. He felt bad when he found out that you broke up with her. They didn’t speak for a long time, but Madge invited Katniss to the wedding hoping they could patch things up. Gale told me I should try and encourage you to go as well. He hinted that Katniss wasn’t seeing anyone.”

“Wait, so Katniss and Gale didn’t speak again until Madge’s wedding?” Peeta exclaimed. “That was years later!”

“I guess so. I don’t know all the details. Katniss and Prim moved away when Prim finished High School. I guess they moved to the city then. I didn’t keep tabs on her. After you left she wasn’t on my radar. I heard her Mom had died—”

“Wait, what - Mrs Everdeen died?!?” Peeta's head shot up in shock and he suddenly realised just how far he’d distanced himself from his home town if this news never reached him.

“Yeah, I think it was the winter after you left to go to school that I heard a rumour about Katniss’ Mom. Talk around town was she was really sick. By then Katniss was working double shifts in Sae’s diner but she got another job working evenings in Abernathy’s. Mrs Everdeen died about a year later. Cancer, I heard.”

So Katniss finished raising Prim alone. Peeta thought. She had no one.

Why didn’t you tell me any of this back then?” Peeta clenched his fists tightly. He’d had arguments with his brothers before but he couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever felt so angry with Rye and it hurt. Rye was his big brother, the one he could depend on who always stood up for him and been there for him. Deflected their mother’s rage onto himself when she would beat up on Peeta too hard. “You never said a word.”

“I didn’t think it would make any difference. You never mentioned Katniss again, I thought you had put it all behind you. You were living this amazing life in the city, you’d a great job, travelling all over the world in private jets, you had a gorgeous, sexy girlfriend. I thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie.”

“You could have told me some things, Rye. I would have liked to know. I would have sent flowers to Mrs Everdeen’s funeral. I liked Mrs Everdeen, she was troubled but she was kind to me.”

“I didn’t want to make things worse for you, Peeta.” Rye’s tone had taken on a slight edge of annoyance. “Don’t you remember what you were like back then? After you left home any time anyone tried to talk to you about Katniss, you snapped their heads off. You made it very clear you didn’t want any information from back home, Everdeen related or otherwise. So in the end it was best not to say anything.”

“I was hurting, Rye. I was devastated and angry, thinking my girlfriend had cheated on me and lied to me.”

“I know Peeta, and I get that now. I’m sorry. I take full responsibility.” Rye looked away, his guilt and shame written all over his face.

An uncomfortable silence settled between the brothers, neither knowing where to go from there. Even through the haze of his own anger Peeta could see how deeply upset Rye was.

“No.” Peeta eventually broke the silence. “It’s not completely your fault Rye. It’s mine too. I should have trusted my girlfriend when she told me she loved me instead of believing the worst of her. I should have listened to her version of events. Maybe if I didn’t always feel like I wasn’t good enough for someone like her to love, we could have resolved it. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, testing her feelings, hoping if I showed her how much I loved her she would be more demonstrative when it wasn’t in her nature.”

“Back at the hotel, the day before the wedding, she said…” Rye trailed of, shaking his head.

“Back at the hotel she said what, Rye?” Peeta prompted. “Don't stop now!.”

“She asked me if you were happy. She made me promise to take care of you, for her.”

Peeta swallowed deeply, tears stinging behind his eyes. Even this tiny sign that she still cared for him was too much.

“Is there anything else, I should know? Any more surprises?” he cleared his throat, almost unable to speak.

Rye nodded hesitantly. “There is one more thing,” he said, obviously troubled. “I promise this is the last of it.”

“Go on.”

“Somehow Mom found out about what happened, I don’t know how. Maybe she overheard me talking to Dad. She threatened Mrs Everdeen with Child Protective Services if Katniss went to the same school as you.”

“Jesus Christ.” The tears behind Peeta’s eyes finally began to fall. He knew the threat of CPS would have terrified Katniss. She’d confided her fears about her mother’s mental health to him many times, and was worried about leaving Prim to go to school. He knew, with absolute certainty, that his mother making such a threat would have been enough to stop Katniss leaving for school, even if they hadn’t broken up. She would never risk her sister ending up in foster care.

“Peeta, are you okay?” Rye put his hand on his shoulder but Peeta shook it off and stood up.

“After everything else, it’s too much. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all this new information Rye. I think I need to talk to Dr Aurelius.” Peeta wiped at his eyes and tried to compose himself, suddenly remembering where he was.

“Everything you’ve told me tonight has turned everything I believed about Katniss upside down. I spent years believing the worst of her and it burned a hole in my soul. It changed me as a person. Now I find out all this. Our family destroyed her, Rye. You, me, Mom. We took away her chances. I shouldn’t have let that happen, I was supposed to protect her, we protected each other. I’m the one who let her down and needs her forgiveness, not the other way around.”

“For what it’s worth, even when you still believed the worst of her, you had already forgiven her.” Rye offered. “You were ready to let go of the anger. All it took was seeing her that day, on the steps of the hotel.”

“Maybe so. But now I have more questions than I have answers.” Peeta was so confused. “This changes everything.”

“I think you should go find her and talk to her. Get some closure.”

“Do you think she would she want to talk to me?” Peeta shook his head. “I didn’t just break up with her that day, I tore her apart, Rye.” Peeta brought his hands up, rubbing his temples which were beginning to throb. “I called her unforgivable names and told her to crawl back to the slag heap where she belonged.”

“Peeta, you have to know how truly sorry I am.” Rye’s voice shook with emotion. “I never meant to cause—"

Peeta put his hand up to stop him. “I know. But what’s done is done.” He pulled out his wallet, throwing a handful of notes on the table. “I’m going to leave now. I have a lot of thinking to do.”

He left the table and made his way across bar being careful to avoid catching the eye of any of the other diners. On seeing him approach, Finch came straight over.

“Please see my brother’s room and tab are charged to my account,” he instructed smoothly.

“Of course, Mr Mellark. Have a good evening, sir.” With a smile she retreated to serve another customer.

“Peeta, wait.” As he turned he found Rye was standing closely behind him. “I’m worried. We’re brothers. All I ever wanted was what was best for you. Are we going to be okay?”

“I need some time, Rye. I need to process how I feel about all this. This… this was huge. What happened that night changed the course of my life.”

“Fair enough.” His older brother watched with saddened eyes. “I understand. Please call me when you’re ready to talk. I’ll be waiting.”

#Without looking back again, Peeta walked away. He didn’t remember bidding goodnight to the doorman, or climbing into the cab that took him home. He let himself into his apartment, chucking off his suit jacket and loosening his tie before heading straight to the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass.

Peeta flung himself onto his sofa, exhausted, his arm flung across his eyes as he tried to reconcile everything Rye had told him. He felt like a steamroller had run over him.

Katniss didn’t cheat on him. Katniss didn’t lie to him. It wasn’t real.

Again and again it went around and around in his head. How it must have hurt her when he’d taken Rye’s word over hers. How betrayed and alone she must have felt. A sob caught in his throat.

“Katniss, I’m sorry, I should have believed you,” he spoke into the shadows of the empty room, feeling hot tears finally burning a path down his cheeks, whether from sorrow or shame he didn’t know. “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” he sobbed until he finally passed out.

READ on AO3

#promptsinpanem #15Days #Day 2 #for Kika #kristin rouse #everlark

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h2bakugou · 5 years

Text

blood-boiling | katsuki bakugou

summary: bakugou despises you, more than he does anyone else. you’re strong, and you don’t take shit from anyone. so when bakugou confronts you, it's more than just a heated argument that ensues.

all characters aged 18+ au!!

a/n: i’m writing smut now what is life also i’m very tired, i went to a haunted hayride thing last night and i thought i was actually going to shit my pants so there's that for me.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, angst, smut

word count: 2,026

nsfw under the cut!!!

»»————-　★　————-««

Your classmates described you as very driven, and passionate. You didn’t take shit from anyone, and encouraged others to do their hardest and not let what others say get in the way of what they feel.

It was a valuable lesson you’d learned at a young age. You let everyone affect you, but you knew that if you wanted to be a hero, and get someone in life, you couldn’t let everyone’s opinions, or whatever else they had to say about you, discourage you.

That’s how they’d see your weaknesses, and know exactly how to take you down.

And you’d be damned if you were going to let someone in your class try and bring you down.

- - -

Bakugou hated you, you’d probably say he even despised you. No matter what you called it, you weren’t on good terms.

Bakugou was stubborn and extremely cocky. But he was talented, and from a peer standpoint, you were happy to see him as a succeeding classmate, but you hated how he acted, insisting that they were weak or unprepared.

Bakugou couldn’t wrap his head around you. You were complex and had your fair share of walls up. What were you so afraid of him seeing? Why did you never retaliate when he made a comment about you slipping up on the courses?

Why didn’t you acknowledge him?

Bakugou was jealous you gave your attention to IcyHot more than anyone else. He didn’t see what you saw in the damn guy.

Todoroki was smart, and extremely reserved, on many levels. You found yourself talking to him more and more, curious about how he’d been doing.

You’d grown up with class 1-A. And now that you were all older, it was crazy to see how everyone had matured. Except for Katsuki.

While he had matured physically, and quite attractive at that, he still seemed to carry the same cocky attitude around.

The day had dragged on for long enough it seemed. In class, you all did a small training course, something similar to ones you did regularly for PE.

You’d slipped up a bit, losing balance. It wasn’t that big of a deal but Bakugou noticed. And he was on your ass about it for the rest of the day.

“A slip up like that could get you killed. You should practice more (l/n).” He insulted, watching as you looked up from the ground to look at him. It was the first time that week that you’d looked him in the eyes.

Bakugou almost felt a pang of regret ring through his body. Your eyes seemed to gloss over in the lighting but no tears fell from your eyes. You’d preached about not letting what people say get to you, but you broke sometimes, but nobody ever saw those moments.

It was nothing, what he’d said to you at least. Todoroki shot Bakugou a glance which only caused Bakugou to retort something at him.

“Jeez IcyHot, I’m not pining after your girlfriend, just tell her to try harder next time, she’s clearly been slacking.” Bakugou wanted to take back what he’d said this time.

He felt his blood boil when he joked about you being Todoroki’s girlfriend. He made himself angry by joking around.

“Shut up.” Todoroki snorted, rolling his eyes, glancing over at you.

You just laughed to yourself and headed back inside to get some water.

This was just one of the occurrences like this. Bakugou ran them through his mind until he’d had enough. He needed to talk to you. He was going to talk to you.

You were walking through the halls, heading back toward your room.

A pair of strong hands forced you against the lockers you were passing by.

“What’s your fucking deal?!” Bakugou yelled, your mind adjusting to what was happening.

“What?” You questioned softly, confused of what he was accusing you of.

“You always think you're so better than everyone, walking around with your head high, what the fuck do you think we are?” Bakugou pressed his fingers into your shoulder blades, causing you to feel a bit of discomfort.

“I don’t! You discourage all of your classmates, you ever think about that?” You groan, shoving him off of you. His hand reaches for your wrist, but you dodge him.

“I do not! You’re always painting me to be the bad guy.” Bakugou insults, marching after you.

“Maybe it’s because your some stubborn asshole who likes to just call everyone weak when they slip up!” You yell, baking up further and further, watching as your room number approached door by door slowly.

“You need to watch your fucking mouth.” Bakugou looked down, trying not to get all riled up since it was late.

“Maybe you need an attitude adjustment. Haven’t you noticed how everyone has seemingly changed yet you still think your hot fucking shit huh?” You reached for your doorknob, twisting it quickly.

But not fast enough.

Bakugou grinned and looked down at his hand pulling the door closed, your body pressed against it.

“I said you need to watch your mouth.” Bakugou’s eyes pierced into yours. They were filled with anger, and something else.

“Make me.” You growled.

- - -

Bakugou’s eye twitched. His arm moved slightly, your door opening, you falling into your room. Bakugou took a few steps inward, closing the door behind the two of you.

“What the fuck are you-” You were cut off by Bakugou’s hand in yours, pulling you upward. Your body hit his, causing you to look into his eyes.

“You’re such a bitch, just shut up already.” Bakugou rolled his eyes. You felt a blush spread to your cheeks. You’d be lying if you said Bakugou wasn’t the least bit attractive.

He was extremely handsome, and sure, you’d had a crush on him, but it didn’t make up for him being an asshole.

Still, if this was where it was going to go, maybe one night wouldn’t be so bad.

“This isn’t going to change how I think about you.” You whisper, looking back at your bed.

“Just put your mouth to something useful unlike talking.” Bakugou walked over to your bed, dragging you along with him.

“Just as angry as always I see.” You smirk.

“What did I just say?” Bakugou looked at you, watching you as he undid his belt and slowly dropped his pants.

You opened your mouth to speak but remembered what he’d said. You bent down on your knees and used your hand to stroke his cock.

When he was hard, you slipped his cock into your mouth, beginning to blow the guy you’d ‘despised’ for years.

“You really are a slut huh.” Bakugou groaned, leaning his head back, his hands falling into your hair, guiding your mouth on his cock.

You continued blowing Bakugou, feeling yourself get worked up.

Bakugou let out a low groan, the feeling of your mouth around his cock, sending him over the edge. He came in your mouth and watched as you swallowed it proudly.

“Fucking whore.” Bakugou smirked. You stood up and pulled your shirt off, tossing it to the side.

Bakugou hopped up and pushed you down onto the bed, you landing ass up.

“You could’ve asked and I would’ve laid down.” You grunted, a stinging pain washing over your body.

Bakugou slapped your ass. Curse the school uniforms.

Your skirt was torn off by Bakugou, your sheer tights following afterward, and your underwear after them.

Bakugou was left with an outstanding view of your backside. Bakugou ran his fingers between your folds, earning a moan from you.

You gripped the sheets on your bed, almost embarrassed by moaning so quickly. He’d just touched you and you were succumbing to him.

“You got so wet just by sucking my dick?” Bakugou laughed, gripping your ass with both of his hands, spreading you apart.

His tongue dipped into you, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure.

“F-Fuck.” You moaned out, gripping the fabric in your hands tighter.

Bakugou ate you out, enjoying watching you squirm under him. He couldn’t wait to be inside you.

Bakugou pulled away after successfully making you cum once. You’d came on his tongue, just by him eating you out. You were scared to see what else he was capable of if he could make you cum just by eating you out.

“You’ve been waiting for my dick to fill you up haven’t you?” Bakugou slapped your ass, sending your head back.

“Just do it already.” You groaned, tired of hearing him talk.

“Oh no, babygirl, I can wait.” Bakugou teased you with the tip of his cock, running it between your folds.

“Please fuck me.” You looked back at him, watching a smirk grow on his lips.

“That’s more like it.” Bakugou thrust his hips into you, sending your body forward.

You moaned, biting your lip, your eyes rolling back.

“I thought with how cocky you were, you were going to be much smaller than this.” You laughed, thinking about how you thought he was compensating for something.

“You’re going to pay for ever thinking that.” Bakugou fucked you harder, his hips slamming into yours faster, and harder. You let out another moan, your breath hitching in your throat.

“Not so big and bold when you’re being fucked huh?” Bakugou slapped your ass once more, sending you over the edge, his cock hitting your g spot.

“You fuck good when you’re angry.” You compliment.

“You wanna fuck me when I’m not?” Bakugou’s smirk disappeared, his anger seeming to settle a little.

“You’re attractive but your attitude is the worst.” You groaned.

“I’ll keep that in mind, babygirl.” Bakugou grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled it tightly. It brought your head up, allowing him to grip your neck with his other hand.

“Fuck, right there.” You breathed out, Bakugou hitting against your g spot numerous times.

“Cum for me slut.” Bakugou groaned, feeling your walls clench around his cock.

“F-fuck!” You released, feeling Bakugou slow down.

Bakugou pulled out and smirked at how much of a mess he’d made you.

Bakugou plopped down beside you and let out a few breaths.

“You’re not as bad as I thought you were.” You admitted.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!?” Bakugou looked at you, a confused look on his face.

“It means-”

Bakugou’s lips were on yours, kissing you. You blushed, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Bakugou pulled away and rested his hand on your cheek.

“You can’t say anything about this unless you become my girlfriend.” Bakugou huffs, looking away from you.

“Are you blushing?” You look at him, watching as he got all huffy and annoyed.

“No! Shut up and just say you’ll go out with me already damnit!” Bakugou hopped up and pulled his clothes back on.

“I’ll go out with you, dummy, but you’re all flustered.” You teased, putting on some sleep clothes.

“I am not!” Bakugou protested.

“Okay, sunshine, whatever you say.” You tease, looking at the clock. A yawn escaped your lips, causing Bakugou to look at you.

“Get some sleep.” Bakugou said quietly.

“You could stay if you wanted.” You offered. Bakugou’s eyes lit up, but he didn’t show any signs of excitement.

“I’m not cuddling you.” Bakugou stated, climbing into bed with you.

“You don’t have to, but you’ll probably end up doing it.” You tease him, laying beside him.

- - -

When you woke up the next morning, Bakugou’s arms were tightly around your waist, but he denied them being there, even when he woke up with you in his arms.

It might’ve been the first wild night with a fight that led to hot sex, but it sure as hell wasn’t the last, well the hot sex part at least.

Bakugou was secretly the biggest teddy bear. And you felt bad for giving him shit, because he really wasn’t as mean as you thought he was.

When the news got out, by Bakugou’s doing, of course, telling Kirishima, who told everyone else, people were surprised.

Especially Shoto, who thought they two of you were sworn enemies.

But he congratulated Katsukie nonetheless, which was interesting to see happen.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

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mythiica · 3 years

Text

amber astrolabe | ikevam | leonardo

The museum looms in front of you, practically swallowing you with its grand glory as it reaches for the sky. Sunlight sparkles in the new windows, yet to be touched by peoples’ hands as they stare into the street. Even from the outside, you can see the top of the arched glass roof letting natural light pour in.

You remember it when it was the train station and how you would sneak past the guards to climb the stairs hidden behind the walls. Tipping your head back, you squint hard against the bright sun to spot the window of your old room on the top floor.

It’s a bad idea to return to the museum– this beautiful building hosts so many memories that are not as wonderful. Still, against your better judgement, you pay your admission ticket like any other tourist that clamours through the doors of the Musée d'Orsay before melting into the crowd.

In honor of the museum's grand opening, more people have gathered to see the new displays for themselves. You were specifically interested in the exhibit that you had read about in the newspaper a few days prior. After nearly five decades, the lost works of a famous artist have resurfaced. A trove of sketches – namely hundreds of half-finished drawings of an unknown woman. Pieces of her face were scattered across blueprints, hidden on the backs of oil paintings, and even etched into the lacquer of strange wooden contraptions.

You walk past the main exhibit, not really having an interest in seeing the Mona Lisa again. Still, the painting smiles at you from over the churning sea of heads, as if she knows something you do not.

Now in the traveling exhibit, you take your time, pacing around to admire the art. You marvel at the broken wing of a plane that did not survive a test run, awe at the elaborate blueprint of a flying machine with gold sails, and even laugh at the obligatory comedic comment that this mystery artist must have had an obsession with someone.

However, from the corner of your eye, you notice something glinting in the spotlight just a few meters away. As you approach it, you can’t help but be a tad bit sad to see that it has lost its original shine over the years – in fact, you had held the astrolabe when it was brand new. The hands of the device point towards the end of the exhibit just beyond the corner, but you don’t pay it much attention. Instead, you search your memory, thinking hard to collect the pieces of the past before you can fall against the events that transpired nearly a lifetime ago.

“Cara mia, close your eyes. I have a gift for you.”

“If you drop a screw in my hand again and say you found it behind my ear, I’m going to throw it at you!”

His laugh rumbles deep in his chest, but you close your eyes to humor him. Without wasting a moment, he takes your hand and presses a cold, circular object into your palm. “You can look now.”

Your eyes flutter open, but you don’t know what to say. “A pocket watch? Did you steal this from Arthur?!”

“No.” He pulls the lid back to reveal a much more complicated interior. You take a moment to admire the fine engravings around the edge of the disk before your eyes graze over the centre of the object: an oblong piece of metal resembling the hands of a clock stretch across the diameter, overlapping the intricate second layer that sits atop what looks like a miniature map of the world. It is a deep copper color, and you immediately think of his eyes. They are nearly the same shade of amber, so deep and intoxicating that you wonder if he made it like this on purpose. “It is an astrolabe.”

“Well, it looks like you took a watch and a compass and made some… strange hybrid. What does it do?”

When he cups his hand over yours, your breath catches in the back of your throat. His hands are so large and warm. “It’s used to calculate the position of the Sun and other stars in the sky. Here, I’ll show you.” Now, his fingers lace with yours, the astrolabe pressed between your palms. It fits there perfectly, as if it were made to be held by your hand and his.

The two of you step over the incredible mess that has accumulated over the past week. No matter how hard you try, this place always remains a mess. It is no use to scold him for it now, for he has something set in his mind – nothing you say or do will be able to draw his attention away from showing you what this strange device is capable of doing.

He allows you to climb up the winding staircase first.

What a gentleman.

Then again, it’s the perfect opportunity for him to place his free hand on your waist. To ensure you don’t fall, he explains with the slyest of smirks.

Upon reaching the roof of the building, he leads you to the large telescope pointing towards the night sky. A breeze ruffles through your clothes, so he pushes you between the device and his body. Warmth radiates from his chest, so you lean against him slightly as he explains what he is doing.

“This telescope is completely uncalibrated, alright? Cara mia, are you paying attention? Look inside. You’ll see that it is not pointing at anything memorable.”

You smile to yourself. He always is so passionate about his work. To humor him, you take a peek through the lense. There is only darkness.

“I see.”

“Now, if you’ll give me a moment…” Lifting the astrolabe to the sky, he fiddles with it, mutters to himself, and then changes a few settings on the telescope. It swings around to point at a seemingly equal void in the sky – you cannot see anything of importance against the night sky, but he nudges you slightly, prompting you to look through the lense once more.

“Is… is that Venus?”

“It is!”

You lean back and squint, trying hard to see a flicker of green against the black. However, your eyes are too weak to spot anything. “That’s very impressive.”

“Oh, but that’s not all!” He side steps around an open box of art supplies and turns over a large piece of paper. It is obviously a flying contraption, but it looks so strange… like it is straight out of a steampunk novel. And is that gold on the sails? How is this thing supposed to fly?

Raising an eyebrow, you take a seat on the small stool next to the lamp resting on the ground. “What is it for?”

A grin captures his lips. “I’m taking you to the stars. No more sitting around on Earth. I’m tired of this place. When we wed, I promised you a life of adventure. We left the mansion, and now we’re living in the closet of a train station. This isn’t the glamorous life you should have.”

“I think it’s pretty fancy, actually–”

He shakes his head with a laugh, and his dark brown hair falls over his forehead. “We’re going to fly amidst the galaxies that make up the vast universe. How tiny we are, compared to them.” He whips around. “Imagine, reaching your hand out and catching a handful of dust from the time of creation. How amazing that would be…”

You laugh, but don’t correct him. Instead, you take his hands between yours again and kiss his calloused knuckles. “Where would you like to go first?”

He leans his head against yours and points at the horizon. “Sirius. It is one of the brightest stars in the night sky.” Turning to meet your gaze, he brushes his thumb against your cold cheek. “There is only one star that rivals its beauty. Would you like to know which one?”

“Of course.”

“A moment, if you please.”

Taking a dramatic step backwards, he plays around with the astrolabe until it clicks into place. The long hand is pointing directly at you.

“I don’t understand,” you tell him.

“Cara mia, you are the brightest star here tonight. You will always be the most beautiful star as well. Trust in that.”

You flush at his words, and it is hard to contain your smile. “You’re such a smooth talker, why can’t you put some of that effort into cleaning your room! I swear, it looks worse than it did when I first arrived here. Remember that time I found a mouse amongst your things?!”

“Don’t bring Lorenzo into this, he’s done nothing wrong!”

The two of you break into a fit of laughter, and that’s when he puts the astrolabe in your palm once more. “This is yours though.” He’s looking at you again with those pools of ochre mischief. “In the case that we are separated before we can reach the stars, use this to find me. Go towards Sirius, and I will meet you there. I’ll wait for you.”

The white noise of the museum filters into your mind as your eyes flutter open, and you ease back into reality. Tears roll down your cheeks, but you do not move to wipe them.

Looking at the astrolabe again, you see the tender scratches against the metal: his initials coupled with yours. An impressive layer of grime dulls the shine of the device, making it less impressive than how it looks in its natural state.

A week after he showed you his plans, a tank of a train exploded, plunging the east side of the station in flames. As the fire grew, it stretched to the opposite side, where the hotel was. You had begged him to escape before the roof collapsed, but he insisted on returning for the astrolabe and his telescope, because he had been using it to calculate stars the night before.

As you had expected, the wooden beams were not strong enough to withstand the fire but, by some stroke of luck, he managed to thrust you to safety before everything collapsed.

Neither him nor the damned astrolabe made it through.

A painful hatred for the device burns in your lungs, so you turn away from it and nearly run into someone. Tossing an apology into the air, you hurry forward and move past the rest of the salvaged artworks without paying them much attention. Guilt tugs at your heartstrings and weighs your feet down, retarding your motions.

Despite the tears blurring your vision, you throw your head back and glances back at the astrolabe. You don’t know if it is taunting you or trying to tell you something. And yet, your eyes follow the long hand forward, just beyond where you’re standing, until you realize that it is pointing directly at the final, most impressive display of them all.

It towers over your head, stretching up the entire length of the wall. Pieces of blueprints, canvases, loose papers, wood, and more are all arranged to create a larger than life depiction of– you.

The eyes.. Her nose.. That beauty spot on her cheek that you hate… it is all there. He had to have reproduced it all from memory because you don’t remember him taking any photographs or sketches of her.

In the bottom corner, you see a plaque:

Believed to be a portrait of his lover, our favourite artist would have had to spend years creating this piece: in fact, our experts needed months to put the pieces together in order to reveal a face! In the left margin of the paper with her eye, the phrase ‘my star’ is written, so we have named her ‘Étoile’ for reference. Who was this woman? It was thought that this was lost to a massive fire in the nearly five decades ago, but the recent excavation proved fruitful in its treasures among the basement of the Gare d'Orsay when preparations for the museum began...

You hear his voice loud and clear in your mind.

Cara mia, I am waiting for you, but do not rush. When you are ready, join me, so that we may explore the world beyond this one together.

Unable to contain your emotions anymore, you break into sobs. The sadness ebs from your broken heart and stretches through your body, making your legs click in place. You lose your balance and fall to the polished tiles, clutching your chest in an attempt to relieve the pressure. Other guests swarm to your side, offering you help or to call for someone, but you ignore them all.

Even overwhelmed with memories, you can feel the warmth of his promise, just as if he were standing beside her.

I’ll meet you again, Leonardo.

I’ll meet you at Sirius.

#ikevam #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevam leonardo #ikevam x reader #ikevam leonardo x reader #cybird #otome

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mel-the-fangirl · 4 years

Text

Quarantine

Tom Holland x Reader

Words: 2,535

I’M BACK! This certainly took a while. I went through a lot of shit in the time I was gone but one thing I’ve realised is that I really want to keep writing. So, here I am. Just something appropriate for the times. This is the first thing I’ve written and actually finished so, she might not be good but she is something.

Please leave a like, a comment, a reblog, if you fancy it.

I’ve missed y’all heaps and I cannot wait to reconnect with you all <3

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

"For how long?"

"Until further notice they said."

You chewed on your thumbnail, eyes idly skimming the news article on Tom's laptop.

Stay indoors.

Leave the house only for groceries.

Buy only the necessities.

Wash your hands.

Things have escalated since it first began, which was expected, of course. But what you didn’t expect was how quickly things were happening, and how many people you knew were getting sick.

"...an estimated half a million are infected all over the world, with the numbers only expected to rise in the coming weeks…" a news reporter droned from the TV in the next room

You couldn’t stop your mind from going into overdrive, anxiously flitting through bits of information, questions, contingency plans, fears...

"And here I thought you'd stopped biting your nails. Didn't you just paint them the other day?"

You looked up to see Tom looking at you with an amused expression on his face. Hastily, you clasped your hands together and stuck your tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes in return and settled in next to you, wrapping a reassuring arm around your shoulders.

"Don't worry, Y/N," he said, pulling you closer to him, "Everything's going to be fine soon. You'll see."

You breathed slowly, in and out, trying your hardest to believe his words, to be optimistic.

But that never really was your strong point, was it?

Instead of bombarding him with the "what if's" that were dancing on the tip of your tongue, you smushed your face into his chest and let the warmth of him take you in.

---A few days later---

"Quarantine squad."

"Quaren-squad? Quaren-quad."

"Quaren-quad like, Farquad? From Shrek."

"That's Lord Farquad to you, sir."

This.

This is what it's come to. Watching four Holland boys feebly try to christen the family unit (plus you) with a shiny new pandemic-appropriate nickname.

From your place on the living room couch, you could see the twins and Paddy, sprawled out on the carpet, phones in hand, testing their latest attempts under their breath. Then there was Tom, his back against the couch with Tess in his lap, clearly enjoying the full house.

You had just wished that they would just get lost in their phones and forget about the little nickname contest when Harry shot up and blurted out,

"Squa-rantine! No! Squad-rantine?"

Paddy snickered, earning a flick on the ear from his older brother.

"Yeah, yeah. Snicker all you want, Pads, I don't hear you coming up with anything." Harry grumbled, laying down once again

"Better than coming up with shit ones." the youngest Holland muttered under his breath

"Ooooooh." Tom covered his mouth with a hand, eyes flitting between Harry and Paddy

You reached out to tug on his hair.

"Ow! What was that for?" he turned to you, rubbing at the spot

"You're not supposed to be encouraging this." you hissed at him

"Oh come on, darling, I wanna see what'll happen."

Honestly. You were worried that the longer Tom stayed in, the more likely the possibility that you'd be telling him off more than his brothers.

Harry shot up once again, glaring daggers at Paddy, who was still preoccupied, playing a game on his phone. Paddy's nonchalance was just enough for Harry to go off.

"Shit ones? Ha. Alright then, you're so full of it, let's see you come up with one then. Right now. Come on then." the challenge was clear in Harry's voice but it went straight over Paddy’s head

After a few seconds of silence, Harry stood up and snatched Paddy's phone right from his hands.

"Oi! Give it back!" Paddy exclaimed, getting up as well

“Aaand that’s my cue to leave. Good luck, Y/N.” Sam gave you a pat on the shoulder before leaving you to this mess

Tom, on the other hand, was laughing away, loving the action which was the most action anyone had ever seen at this point.

"I'll give it back if you come up with a name." Harry held the phone above his head, but seeing as they were all nearly the same height, he had to get on his tippy toes for a bit of leverage

"Harry, come on! Give it back!" Paddy had his arms outstretched, Harry's wrist in a death grip

"Oh, for Christ's sakes!" you took the distance between you and the sparring brothers in two strides, effortlessly managing to grab the phone from Harry's hand

And just like that, everything stopped. Harry and Paddy straightened up and looked at you expectantly, the faintest hint of fear in their eyes. They all knew better than to piss you off.

Tom was by your side in an instant, arms crossed.

"I told both of you to cut it out." he deadpanned

You rolled your eyes, giving Tom some side eye.

"Go stand with them."

Shoulders slumped forward and a pout on his lips, Tom trudged over to his smirking brothers.

You looked at each of them in turn, just long enough to make them squirm. Without a word, you pocketed the phone and began to walk out of the living room.

"But, Y/N-" Paddy began

You spun around and chucked the phone at them with lightning speed, catching them off guard and into a mess of outstretched limbs.

Of course, Tom caught it, with his spidey reflexes. They all looked at you with wide eyes, you could almost hear their hearts pounding.

"Good job, quaranteam."

With that, you turned to leave. Applause and cheers followed you on your way out.

"Quaranteam! Quaranteam!" they chanted

"That's my fucking girl!" Tom cheered, catching up with you to lift you off the ground and spin you around in his arms

---One week later---

Another day inside.

You didn’t really know what day it was or what time it was, but judging from Harry’s poofy mess of a bedhead and Sam and Tito Dom moving around the kitchen, throwing around hollandaise puns, you’d wager it was slightly earlier than noon.

"Heads up, team-” Tito Dom began, placing the egg carton on the counter

“Quaranteam.” Tom corrected, giving you a wink

“Right. Heads up, quaranteam. We are officially out of eggs.”

You watched drearily as he dropped the empty carton in the bin. No more eggs… Normally, you didn’t give that sort of thing much thought because you knew any one of you could pop out to buy some. But now, well, things were just different now.

From where he sat across from you, Tom unconsciously let his eyes wander over your features.

The crease in between your eyes you reserved for when he did something amazingly idiotic seemed to be ever present nowadays despite him being on his best behaviour (the bar wasn’t so high to begin with). The bags underneath your eyes were darker, he knew you’d been having trouble falling asleep, tossing and turning restlessly in bed until he had to wrap himself around you like a koala.

Everything that’s been going on was taking a toll on everyone but they hid it well. Unfortunately, you weren’t good at that.

“Breakfast!” Sam announced, setting the steaming plates down on the table

“Eggs Benedict. With hollandaise.” Tito Dom smirked, settling into his seat

A collective groan rose from the table then the usual chatter began. Tom met your eyes from time to time, always giving you a smile.

Looking at his boyishly handsome face, you promised that you would make more of an effort to stop sulking so much. The next time Tom looked at you, you smiled back. There and then he promised he’d find a way to cheer you up somehow.

After breakfast you decided to take part in your favourite pastime, lying on the living room couch and scrolling on your phone.

A few minutes later, Tom came in, the faint smell of their lemon dish soap clinging to his hoodie. He playfully dropped himself on you and locked you in a tight hug.

“Isn’t this nice.” he mumbled, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck

“For you, I’m sure.” you replied, struggling to make your tone as dismissive as possible

He tore himself off you, making sure to give you a searing glare, “You’re mean.”

You laughed, easily and freely, feeling the weight of the previous weeks fall off your shoulders. Tom chuckled, reaching forward to grab one of your hands.

“I have to go get some eggs, darling.” he watched your face carefully

“Hurry right back then.” you tugged on his hand that was holding yours, making him fall into you

“Whoa there.” he breathed out just before you planted your lips on his

You could feel him smiling just as you were. As you pulled away, he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. He looked at you, just for a while, almost in wonder.

He shook his head, smiling, spots of crimson beginning to spread on his cheeks. Then he stood up, squeezed your hand and kissed it.

“I’ve got errands to run, Y/N. I’d appreciate it if you don’t make me combust from the force of being madly in love with you until I’ve finished them.”

“I’ll try but, you know that’s my forte.” you winked, giving him the finger guns

Tom threw his head back and laughed. You could hear him laughing all the way to the front door.

It didn’t take long until you began to doze off, your full belly and the warmth of being at home with the people who loved you lulling you to sleep.

You wished everyone had the same luxury.

-----------

“I promise this is a good idea.” Tom reassured, but the closer they got to home the more it seemed like he was reassuring himself than Harrison, who made the trip with him

“It definitely seems like a good idea but I think you went overboard. I’m not sure if we needed that many.”

Tom glanced in his rearview mirror at his recent purchase, wondering if Haz was right.

But there wasn’t any time for second thoughts since he was already parking in front of the family house.

“Right. Haz, you go in first. I’ll take care of this.” he unbuckled his seatbelt, nodding his head towards the backseat

“Should I just not say anything then?” Harrison asked, eyeing the backseat

“Not a word.” Tom replied, getting out of the car

Inside, you were just waking up from your nap. Upon checking your phone you were pleasantly surprised to find out that it was two hours later and you hadn’t slept through the day. But you weren’t pleasantly surprised to notice that Tom wasn’t back yet, that thought hit you like a bucket of ice cold water, making you speed walk throughout the house.

The second you set foot in the hallway, the front door opened. A rush of relief washed over you as you threw your arms around the figure entering the threshold.

“I told you to hurry the hell back.” you squeezed him as hard as you could, noticing that he kind of smelled like corn flakes?

“Uh, Y/N?”

Your eyes widened and you pulled away, keeping Harrison at arm’s length.

“Wait. Did you..” you trailed off, looking at him suspiciously

“What?” Harrison looked genuinely confused until his blue eyes widened in realisation

You immediately dropped your hands to your side and he took a couple of steps away from you.

“Shit. Okay. I’m going to go take a shower. I’ll go tell Tom too.” Harrison rushed out the door

“Throw your clothes into the wash immediately!” you called after him before running up the stairs to disinfect

A 30-minute intensive bath later, you raced downstairs, hearing shouts and hollers.

“OVER THERE! ON YOUR LEFT!” you heard Sam yell

You ran through the dining room and stopped at the open sliding doors leading to the backyard, you could not believe what you were seeing.

Chickens. Three of them to be exact, two of them amicably pecking on the grass in an area of the backyard now closed off by a fence of mesh screen. The other chicken though, was running all over the place, keeping Tom on his toes.

"Come on, love. We're gonna take good care of you, huh? Nice and easy." Tom panted, wiping the sweat from his brow

He began to take slow, deliberate steps as the lone chicken stopped to scratch at some loose soil. The rest of the family watched on with bated breath.

The whole situation was highly intense, so intense that you’d forgotten to question why on earth there were three chickens in the backyard in the first place but these were odd times, you figured you’d just go with the flow.

“Nice and easy now, nice and easy.” Tom crouched low, slowly reaching his hands out to catch the mischievous feathery biped

Just as he was just a few centimeters away from success, the chicken sensed something was amiss and took off running in your direction.

“Y/N! GO ON CATCH THE DAMN BASTARD!” Harry yelled

“GO, Y/N! SHOW HIM WHO’S BOSS!” Sam cheered

You looked around frantically before squatting down and catching the rebel chicken in your arms. It squirmed and struggled in your grasp until finally giving up, settling for pecking at the lint of Tom’s sweater that you were wearing.

Tom jogged up to you, giving you a winning smile.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” he asked, tracing his finger down the chicken’s head

“Care to explain?” you continued to cradle the chicken in your arms as Tom led you to the others

He shrugged, “When we got to the store, there weren’t any eggs left so,”

“So you bought three chickens.” you filled in for him, setting the chicken in the enclosure with his other buddies

“Hey, me and Haz hit up three more groceries after that. Tell her, Haz.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s absolutely insane. Everyone’s gone and hoarded all the eggs.”

“Well, that was quick thinking. You really are your father’s son.” Tito Dom quipped, wrapping an arm around his eldest son

Tita Nikki rolled her eyes albeit affectionately, and gestured to the chickens

“Have they got names?” she asked

Tom perked up, rubbing his hands together, “Okay, so that one there? That’s Chestnut. Then over there is Ranger. And our particularly lively guest will be called Predator.”

“Predator?” Paddy echoed, peeking at said chicken, who was now trying to peck the fence open

“Look at him go.” you watched as Predator ruthlessly pecked at the mesh

“Suppose we’ll have to get them a proper coop?” Tom wondered, absentmindedly wrapping an arm around you

You stood there in silence along with the whole family as they discussed whether it was better to build one or buy one.

It was moments just like this one, the ones that were just peppered in between your days that were the most important, moments that made you feel like everything was just fine.

You wanted to remind yourself to be more grateful, to be more present, and to hold the people you loved the most close to your heart. Because, let’s get real here. That's the only way we’re going to get through this.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #sam holland #harry holland #holland family #hollanders #quacksons

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emachinescat · 3 years

Text

Murdoc + Ithika + Mac

A MacGyver Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 14 - “I didn’t mean it”

Summary: As an artist, Murdoc prides himself in taking his time with his work - he never loses control. Except one time, with his favorite boy genius. He always imagined that when he finally made MacGyver cry, it would be his finest moment. Now, he’s not so sure.

Characters: Murdoc, Mac, Jack

Words: 3,454

TW: torture, broken bones, Murdoc being his creepy little self

Note: Happy Valentine's Day – the store was all out of chocolate, so I got you Mac whump! ;) The allusions to Ithika are from Homer's epic by the same name, but even more so from the incredible poem by C.P. Cavafy. The muse mentioned, Melpomene, is the Muse of Tragedy.

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this!

Ithika gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

- From “Ithika” by C. P. Cavafy

Murdoc enjoyed taking his time.

He was an artist, after all, and artists didn’t slap together a masterpiece in an afternoon – not the ones worth anything, at least. Most spent days studying their subjects, becoming intimately familiar with every line and curve and element – the shading, the lighting, the vibrancy of the colors. The very best didn’t even consider touching brush to canvas until they had developed a personal relationship with their subject – for how can a true artist paint that which he does not know deeply? Why bother recreating that landscape or tea kettle or sad-eyed little girl or bowl of fruit if it could be any landscape, tea kettle, little girl, or bowl of fruit? Why would someone paint something that wasn’t theirs?

Murdoc knew his subject very well. He, like a true artist, had studied it in a variety of settings. He’d watched and learned, dug deep into the core of its being, drawn out every secret and motivation and loss and love. He understood what made his subject tick. He’d even done some brief sketches, practicing each brushstroke with care, waiting patiently for the day he could at last, intricately, evoke that muse sought by the Romantics, that evasive Melpomene, and breathe his masterpiece to life. Or, more accurately, to death.

And now, after years of watching, interacting, teasing, sketching, his time had finally come. Months of planning had been sunk into this particular endeavor. And now, unlike the first time he’d been introduced to his subject, he hadn’t been commissioned by anyone. This portrait was personal, deeply personal. He finally had his subject right where he wanted it. The canvas was bare and waiting for the artist’s touch. Murdoc had chosen his palette, mixed the colors – it might be cliche, but he was a sucker for red, black, and blue.

Now that his moment had finally arrived, however, it didn’t mean that he could rush through the actual creation process. The act of studying one’s subject matter was slow and deliberate. So must be the painting.

***

Murdoc studied his canvas slowly, methodically, unsurprised that it wasn’t exactly blank. MacGyver stood, hands chained above his head, attached to a grate above. His bare toes just reached the cold concrete below. His jacket and Henley had been removed – he shivered slightly from the chill of the basement. Murdoc liked to think it was from fear.

“Oooh, this one’s fun, MacGyver!” Murdoc crooned as the blonde boy wonder eyed him scornfully. It was quite entertaining how expressive his prey’s pretty blue eyes could be. Murdoc briefly brushed the tip of his little finger against the scar of a bullet wound on MacGyver’s chest. MacGyver jerked back from the touch, though his expression remained stoic.

“Jealous that you weren’t the one who did it, Murdoc?” He sounded confident enough, but Murdoc knew his subject quite well by now. MacGyver was shaken. For once, he had no control, nothing to work with, no way to escape. He was at his captor’s mercy – Murdoc could do whatever he wanted, and MacGyver knew that.

“Oh, it’s nothing compared with what I’ve got planned for you, Angus,” Murdoc simpered sweetly, circling his catch of the day, dark eyes darting across more scars and recent cuts and bruises. He pressed directly into the dark center of a boot-tip bruise on MacGyver’s side, relishing the sharp intake of breath it elicited. “Someone on your last mission in Volgograd left their mark, I see.”

He circled back around to face his victim, who did a subpar job of hiding his surprise at the observation. “That was highly classified. How did you–”

“I’ve been watching you for a very long time, MacGyver. But you had to have known I would. After all, you’re my closest friend, and I know where you live. It’s kind of silly that you never moved, but maybe you just figured I’d find you even if you did. I wonder – have you always tossed and turned in your sleep or is that a more recent development?”

True horror flashed momentarily in blue eyes, tugging Murdoc’s lips up into a satisfied smile. “Oh, yes, your nightmares are very entertaining. I do hope the majority of them are about me. Oh, oh, oh! And I especially love it when they’re so bad you have to call your watch dog to calm you down. I wonder how Dalton’s taking your disappearance, by the way? I’m sure he’s in for some nightmares of his own.”

“He’ll find me, if I don’t escape first.” MacGyver’s bravado was both highly endearing and incredibly tiresome. Same old, same old.

“Doubtful,” Murdoc purred. “I mean, I know you well enough not to make stupid mistakes, my friend.”

“I escaped from the sewers, and you’d drugged me.”

“I intended for you to escape that day. I needed to draw your friends in, to focus their attention on finding you while I attended to other business. But this time – you’re mine.” At the fervor in his words, a shudder entirely unrelated to cold clinked the chains restraining his victim. Murdoc smiled, then continued.

“But now, there is no ulterior motive. I grabbed you for no other reason than because I wanted to. You are hidden away quite well, even more securely than last time, I’m afraid. And you will not be left alone, not even for a second. There may be things in this room you could use to escape, but they’re useless to you in your position. And I am not going to take my eyes off of you. You won’t have a chance to wriggle your way out of this one, MacGyver. Ooooh, is that fear I see on your face? No? We really must change that.” He tutted. “Defiance and bravado really are your bread and butter, aren’t they, Angus? What are you, an action hero from a cheesy 1980s TV show?” Silence, though the fiery glare spoke more loudly than words.

Murdoc clapped his hands together. “Well, there’s no time like the present. What do you say, MacGyver? Let’s get started.”

***

Three hours later, Murdoc admired his work. It was a slow process. He painted with precision and care, layering the colors just so, balancing the strokes, the lights and darks and brights. His brushes were many – laid out on the table before him were knives and pliers and blow torches and hammers and whips and cattle prods and other more specialized tools that he liked to work up to. He also had an oversized meat tenderizer, made of steel. He rarely used it – too garish for his refined tastes – but it did look nice and scary looming over the other instruments.

So far, he’d only used his knives and the cattle prod. The masterpiece was starting to come together, but it was hardly complete. He prowled around his artwork. MacGyver’s trembling had increased. He gasped for breath as Murdoc appraised his work – burns and cuts, some deeper than others – made a nice foundation. The drip of blood across bare flesh outshone any Pollock painting. He’d practiced his blending techniques, jabbing the cattle prod directly into the center of the lovely bruise he’d noticed earlier. MacGyver hadn’t been able to hold in his yell of pain.

Music.

“Are you enjoying our time together?” Murdoc asked.

MacGyver uttered a creative string of curse words that made Murdoc proud. He whistled appreciatively. “Who knew the boy scout had that in him? I’m almost impressed.”

“Yeah, well,” MacGyver said, hissing as he shifted and pulled at his many wounds. “Almost is about all you’ll ever be, Murdoc.”

Murdoc had been reaching for his trusty pair of pliers (those toenails could sure use a trim!). He paused, his back partially to his captive, fingers hovering over the tool. He was used to MacGyver’s sass, but what he’d just said hit a sour note that the hit man couldn’t shake. He didn’t know if it was the tone or the words themselves. “Excuse me?” He tried to sound amused, but his voice was tight, as if it had been squeezed out of him.

A clink of the chains, a grunt of pain that didn’t lighten Murdoc’s mood as it should have. Then, MacGyver elaborated. His voice was clipped in pain, breathless, but conviction lined every syllable. “You are doomed to live a life of almost, Murdoc. Nothing is ever going to be enough for you. Why do you think you take so long to get anything done? Why do you spend so much time talking and taunting and watching and waiting?”

Murdoc didn’t move, his hand still inches away from his delicate instrument that caused pain but did no lasting damage. “I’m an artist.”

“You’re afraid.”

“I fear nothing.”

“You fear winning.”

Murdoc laughed, a forced, uncomfortable sound that he’d never heard come from his own mouth. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Angus. Are you sure the pain isn’t getting to your head?”

MacGyver pressed on relentlessly. “You crave attention. You need a challenge. That’s why you picked me. And you’re afraid of what happens if you beat me. If I die, there’s always that possibility that you won’t find another playmate.”

Still, Murdoc didn’t move. His words, despite their teasing jaunt, had a forced quality to them. “Awfully full of ourselves, aren’t we, MacGyver?”

He could hear the triumphant smile in his adversary’s voice. “I’m just stating the truth, Murdoc. You might torture me, you might have your fun. But at the end of the day, you’re going to slip up somehow. It’s your way of making sure the game goes on. Without that challenge, what are you? Just an angry voice screaming at the sky, no purpose, no point. You say you’ve studied me, Murdoc. You’ve watched me and know me. Well, in doing so, you’ve shown me yourself, too. You’re not going to kill me today. You’re never going to kill me.

“I don’t know what exactly I’ve done to deserve this… honor,” he continued, placing particular derision on the last word, “but you’ve become obsessed with me, Murdoc. Believe me, I don’t like saying this any more than you like hearing it. But it’s how I know I’m going to walk away from this. If I’m gone, so is your fun.”

Murdoc prided himself on maintaining control over his emotions. An artist, though he might express the inner workings of his soul on canvas, could not let his feelings control the brush, control him. Look what had happened to Van Gogh – sure, beautiful work, but his emotions controlled him, destroyed him in the end. Murdoc didn’t make mistakes like that. He waited. He didn’t lash out in anger. It wasn’t because he wanted MacGyver to live, oh no. His fondest dream was to see the blonde boy cry, to watch him squirm and beg for mercy, and then, finally, only when he’d really begged for it, to send him to his death. MacGyver had no idea what he was talking about.

It wasn’t even MacGyver’s words, his cocky belief that he was important enough to his torturer to keep alive, that sent Murdoc over the edge. It was the tiny little voice, way back in the darkest, most depraved corner of his already dark and depraved mind, the one that spoke not in the voice of Murdoc, but one that sounded more like Dennis, the first casualty of Murdoc’s career – himself. The voice said, plainly, without emotion, You know he’s right.

And that was the catalyst for the tsunami of rage that crashed into Murdoc, pummeling his well-practiced and unshakable resolve to take his time. That was what spurred his frozen body into movement, curled his fingers around the handle of the meat tenderizer, that brash, archaic tool, rather than the pliers. That was what spit his next words out of his mouth as if they were poison, words that finally – beautifully – caused Angus MacGyver’s eyes to widen in real fear: “You are going to walk out of here?” A sadistic, mad giggle. “My dear Angus, it will be a miracle if you ever walk again.”

He hefted the heavy steel implement in his hand, pulled back, and lunged. MacGyver tried to back away, the chains around his wrists cackling and clicking against one another in his desperation. They held firm, and the meat tenderizer slammed full force into MacGyver’s left kneecap. Murdoc felt the crunch of bones. He heard the bestial howl, the scream of anguish, the body-jerking, breath stealing cry of a man in so much pain he lost himself. He watched MacGyver’s face drain of color, recognized the moment when the pain became too much, and saw the tear-streaked face go slack, the chin thud against the battered chest and stay there.

For a moment, Murdoc experienced the euphoria one could only find in hurting that special someone in such a catastrophic way. He relished in that moment the scream, the agony, the writhing and loss of control.

Then the moment ended – and far too soon.

Immediately after, the weapon dropped out of Murdoc’s limp fingers. It smashed into the floor below, with the jarring clang that only metal on concrete can produce. He looked at the limp, hanging form before him, and something twisted inside of him – a feeling he’d never known. It wasn’t guilt, nor revulsion.

It was, however, regret.

He didn’t understand it. He should be overjoyed. MacGyver was completely at his mercy. Murdoc could kill him now. Carve that bleeding heart out like a villain in a fairy tale would. But then, he realized, MacGyver would be gone. Forever. Even now, his kneecap had been crushed, shattered into tiny fragments of bone and cartilage, and unless he got treatment of the highest quality, and soon, he’d almost certainly be crippled. Even if he had extensive reconstructive surgery, his career as a Phoenix agent could still be over.

Wasn’t that what Murdoc had wanted? To end MacGyver’s pesky existence, to win at this game of cat and mouse? To create his most spectacular masterpiece with his greatest enemy? That’s what he had dreamed of for years now, what he’d studied and practiced and yearned for. And yet –

What was it that hoity toity Greek poet had written? Murdoc had read “Ithika” long ago, a random page in a poetry book of a man he’d killed. For some reason, the poem had attached itself to his mind and never let go. He could remember it even now:

Keep Ithika always in your mind. Arriving there is what you’re destined for. But don’t hurry the journey at all. Better if it lasts for years, so you’re old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way, not expecting Ithika to make you rich. Ithika gave you the marvelous journey. Without her you wouldn’t have set out. She has nothing to give you now.

And he understood. The poem was supposed to be inspirational, for fools so focused on their goals that they missed the journey of life along the way – a mundane, silly sentiment. But now Murdoc could see – MacGyver’s destruction was his Ithika. Perhaps Cavafy had a point – maybe he had been a bit of an artist himself. And MacGyver had been right about some things, wrong about others.

He was right in that Murdoc wasn’t ready to end the game just yet. But it wasn't fear that held him back, that urged him to take his time. It was joy. Joy of the journey. The little pleasures of life that are so often passed by in the grand scheme of things – the poet had been speaking of knowledge, of friendship, of love, of experiences. Murdoc’s little pleasures were things like fear, drawn-out suffering, playing with his food and watching it squirm. He relished that joy. He wanted more of it, and if MacGyver died, or was out of commission as a spy, that joy would diminish. Even if MacGyver lived, it wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t fight back, couldn’t play along.

Murdoc made his decision.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a burner phone. He dialed a number he’d memorized long ago, put the phone to his ear.

A fierce Texas twang answered before the first ring had run its course. “Murdoc, you son of a bitch–”

“Temper, Jack,” Murdoc drawled. He shivered in excitement at the mental picture of the inferno in Dalton’s eyes. “You just assumed it was me – imagine if it were your mother on the other line.”

“I can scent the devil from a mile away.” Murdoc heard muffled voices in the background, knew the call was being traced.

“Don’t waste your time running a trace, you grumpy old hound dog.” His words were light, yet he allowed the slightest hint of urgency to infect them. “I’ve had my fun for today. I’ll text you the address.” He paused. “Oh, and bring one of those fancy whirly-birds you like to use for medical emergencies. I might have been a little… over zealous this time.”

He closed his eyes, gorging on the incalculable levels of hatred in Jack Dalton’s next words. “If you hurt him–”

Appreciation turned to irritation. Murdoc rolled his coal eyes to the ceiling. “Weren’t you listening, you brute? Obviously, I hurt him. Quite a bit actually. You should have heard him scream.”

A short silence. Then – “You didn’t let me finish, you overgrown sewer rat. If you hurt him, I am going to tear you limb from limb. I don’t need any of your fancy tools.”

“Hmm, that was almost intimidating,” Murdoc teased in his most good-natured tone. “But you’ll have to find me first.” He let the words linger for just a moment, then continued: “Anyway, ta-ta for now. I’ll text you the address. I’ll be long gone by the time you get here, but feel free to bring all your little friends for a game of hide and seek. Though I have a feeling that you’re going to be more focused on sweet Angus.”

He hung up, texted the address, then turned to a feebly stirring MacGyver. Pity he was waking up right as Murdoc had to leave. Whimpers that would have torn the very soul out of Jack Dalton erupted unbidden from MacGyver’s lips. Glazed blue eyes cracked open, regarding Murdoc with a mixture of terror and acceptance. Though he had regained consciousness, MacGyver still hung limply from the chains, too weak and in pain to move.

Murdoc stepped forward, eliciting the tiniest of flinches Even that motion made MacGyver cry out. But Murdoc didn’t hurt him again. Instead, he said, “Your friends are on their way.”

MacGyver’s voice rasped in the aftermath of his screams. “You’re letting … me go… Why?”

“Got bored, I suppose.” No way was Murdoc going to let MacGyver know he’d been right, even if only a little bit.

MacGyver didn’t respond – maybe he didn’t know how to respond; more likely, he could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words, amidst the torrent of pain.

Murdoc started to step away, then turned back, studying his latest draft of the elusive masterpiece that he would continue to dream about and that would fuel his passion and creativity for years to come. He pulled off one black glove, placed his hand on a pale, cold cheek. MacGyver jerked back feebly from the touch, grunting at the pain it produced. Slowly, Murdoc wiped one of the fresher tears away with his thumb. It might have been a power play. It might have been a show of comfort. Even the hit man didn’t know. He glanced down at the shattered knee, swollen and misshapen, a grotesque monster straining to break free from the unrelenting fabric of the khakis.

“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, moving his gaze up from the deformed knee to lock his black eyes with fearful, anguished blue ones, “I didn’t mean it.”

He walked away, casting one final look over his shoulder before he left his art behind for the coming Phoenix agents to admire. “Until next time, MacGyver.”

And despite the extensive search conducted by Phoenix once MacGyver had been loaded onto the chopper, on his way to the best orthopaedic surgeons in the country, Murdoc had once more disappeared, like a ghost.

That night he dreamed about his Ithika, and this time, it was enough.

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

Text

A Gentleman’s Guide to Dancing (chapter three)

I am so very sorry this has been such a long time coming. It’s a Taakitz Austen/Little Women style AU in case anyone’s forgot, I wouldn’t blame you!

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Please comment on Ao3!

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

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“You know he actually invited you, right?”

Taako looked up from fussing with his lapels. Caught between dressing overly formally and overly casually, he’d ended up with an outfit that was a bastardisation of both, trousers with a hole in the knee on the bottom and a poet’s shirt with an absurd amount of ruffles on top. He was trying not to think about how ridiculous he looked, trying to convince himself that if he could get the lapels of his jacket to lie flat, that would fix it.

“What?” his amber eyes were sharp as they faced his sister, sat on the stairs and watching him pace by the door. Too sharp but she’d hit right at the heart of him and it stung. Easier to pretend he didn’t know that and act affronted.

“Kravitz invited you over to the manor,” Lup said patiently, like she was explaining one of the spells she’d mastered and he hadn’t gotten yet, “You don’t have to be so nervous about it. He wants you there.”

“Who says I’m nervous?” Taako sniffed though he knew fne well it was his shaking hands and his restless feet and the twenty minutes he’d spent pacing in front of the door that all said it, loud and clear.

Lup only sat forward, her chin resting on her knuckles and her elbows resting on her knees. Her smile was lopsided, the one they shared.

“What is it you’re going over to do?”

“He...he said we’d have tea,” Taako mumbled, back to fussing with his jacket, “He’d teach me chess. And...and he mentioned something about composing his own music when he was hear the other day. He said he’d play me some.”

Lup’s face lit up with a knowing delight Taako didn’t like at all. He was starting to regret telling her about how the Countess’ ward had come to visit him, how they’d baked together. He’d known she’d read things on it that weren’t really there.

You want her to, a sly, truthful part of his mind he’d never gotten along with chimed in, you want to know she sees it too, so you can tell yourself you’re not going crazy.

“Don’t,” Taako said, to Lup and to the voice, turning away to the leaded glass in the door, the blocky, poor painting it made of the country beyond it.

“I didn’t say anything, Koko,” Lup hummed, the smile still in her voice, “I just think it’s nice how you’ve made friends with this guy. You haven’t really clicked with anyone since you first met Merle and Magnus. Poor Barry thought you hated him for a full year.”

Taako grunted, “I never hated him…” If the blacksmith courting his sister had read any animosity in his face whenever he’d return her hime far past dark or would kiss her hand when he thought no one was looking, that was his prerogative.

But, he had to admit, he’d softened on the guy lately. It was hard to stay so cold with someone who made your other half smile in a way you’d thought you’d never see again.

“I know that,” Lup said, “It’s just good to see you letting someone else in. And Kravitz seems really nice. Not like you at all but...nice.”

Taako bristled a little, like a cat being petted against the grain of his fur, “Since when is he Kravitz to you?”

“Since we spoke,” Lup shrugged airily, “Just yesterday actually.”

“What?” he whirled, sending his enormous hat slipping over one eye and leaving him to find some dignified way to fix it.

Lup ignored his tone, examining a small hole in her skirt, “I was going to take Barry some lunch at the shop and he was coming back from the post office. I was worried he’d thought I was you but he knew immediately. Thought that was strange, no one’s been able to do that on sight since Auntie. He was jumping at every cart and carriage going past like an owl in daylight, bless his heart, but he stopped and talked to me for a while. Managed to mention you a few more times than was strictly necessary.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up at that, like a rising inflection, turning it into a trailing thread. Taako scrunched up his nose in response.

“I mean...yeah, he’s nice. He just seems lonely and he was nice enough to visit so I’m returning the favour. Probably be so bored stiff I won’t ever go back but I have to take him up on the invitation at least once. It’s courtesy. That’s all.”

“No one ever said it wasn’t,” Lup replied with maddening patience. Have fun. When you eventually get past the threshold. Which looks like it will be sometime around...never?”

Taako made a strangled noise of exasperation and indignance, sticking his nose in the air and whirling out of the door, just to show that he could. It was only when he was halfway down the path, their Auntie’s lavender plants grown so tall they were tickling his fingertips, that he realised what his sister had done to goad him out of his spiral.

Lup only grinned at him and fluttered her fingers when he made a very rude gesture at her through the window before stomping off in the direction of the big manor. Her smile didn’t fade when the tip of his ridiculous hat had disappeared below the rise of the valley. It just shifted, changed slightly, softened into something that was no less of a smile but felt deeper and sadder.

She remembered how it had felt for her, right at the start. The defensiveness and the doubting and the uncertainty. Dodging and diverting when thoughts strayed too close to where you didn’t want them to go. And then, finally, when you were cornered and had nowhere to go, the crushing realisation that you were falling for someone you weren’t supposed to.

She could only hope it wouldn’t hurt her brother too badly.

It had been so long since Taako had lived somewhere with servants that he jumped a little when someone who wasn’t Kravitz answered the door to the manor. Already on the back foot, he stammered out that he’d been invited, sounding more unconvincing with every word. There was a chilly silence, while the elven butler looked him up and down, taking in his mismatched outfit and the blush rising on his skin, before eventually admitting in a slow, sonorous voice that Master Raven was expecting him. Everything about his expression told Taako loudly and clearly that, if this weren’t the case, he would have been gladly tossed off the premises as soon as he stepped on their porch.

He was shown to the same library from the night of the party, tucked cunningly away so it could never be found unless the flat oaken door was pointed out to you. Or unless you staggered in on pure, desperate happenstance.

“Taako!” Kravitz got to his feet as soon as he walked in, his face lit up so brightly it was hard for the elf to tell himself he wasn’t genuinely delighted to see him.

“Hey there,” he grinned back, it was hard not to, and grasped his forearm in greeting, “Sorry, I know we said midday, I got caught up with, ah…”

“Oh it’s absolutely fine,” Kravitz tilted his head, saving Taako from having to come up with something that delayed him that wasn’t his own anxiety, “You’re here now and I don’t have to crawl the walls with boredom any more. At least, not by myself.”

As before, his easy humour and earnestness had Taako relaxing despite himself. Enough that, after tea had been sent for and Kravitz had turned the blinds to gentle the afternoon sun into a pleasing ambery gold glow in the library, he was actually glad he’d come.

“You spend a lot of time here, huh?” Taako sank into the same chair he’d occupied at the party, “That’s the second time you’ve talked about being bored.”

Kravitz shrugged, sitting back down, lounging in a very unlordly way. It gave Taako the confidence to tuck his own legs underneath him and sprawl in the way he liked to do, very different from the stiff backed position he had to hold himself in around the other gentry.

“I sound like I’m complaining, don’t I?” he sighed, “I don’t mean to, it’s only that Mistress never leaves the manor and I’d walked the length of the village in less than a morning. The fault is mine, most likely, I’m struggling to adjust to a...well, a quieter pace of life than the cities.”

Taako blinked curiously, plucking a horse from the chess set between them and fidgeting with it, “So...you’ve been to Goldcliff? And Rockport? All those places?”

Kravitz nodded, “All of them. It’s wonderful being in amongst so many people, this messy tangle of so many different lives. You could meet a hundred different stories just by walking through the squares. And they’re unique too, each one has its own rhythm. When you’re there, you know there’s nowhere else like it in the world. Nowhere has ale like you find in Rockport, only in Goldcliff can you find that kind of architecture, it’s amazing. But it isn’t just the cities! There’s wonders all between them, like the elven forests and the red canyons and the deserts and thousands of little villages and towns between, unlike anywhere else. And even though you’re sad to leave each one, you get the excitement of knowing you’ll experience it all again, finding somewhere new. And…” his ears darkened and his smile slipped, “And I’ve been talking for too long, haven’t I?”

Taako blinked, shaking himself out of the visions Kravitz’s words had been painting around him, “No, no, it’s fine. I...I was enjoying listening to you. I’ve never been anywhere like that myself, after all. I’ve never been beyond the valley.” It made him feel foolish to say so, in front of someone so travelled.

Kravitz smiled softly, “You’d love it Taako. And they’d love you.”

That was so absurd, he snorted aloud, before blushing and covering his mouth behind a hand, as if that would erase the embarrassment.

But Kravitz didn’t seem concerned by the social faux pas, though something was creasing his brow and deepening his dark eyes, “You don’t believe me.”

Taako’s ears came down to bracket his face, “It’s just...people can maybe take a few hours with me at the most and then the shine kind of comes off the old penny. You know, words like ‘acerbic’ and ‘vexing’ start coming out, the polite, high society ways of saying I’m annoying. And then I normally do something ridiculous to make them out and out hate me before everything can just fall apart in that slow, agonising kind of way. Don’t want to even think about how I’d embarrass myself in somewhere like Goldcliff.”

Kravitz was still and silent, long enough that Taako was worried he’d just gone and done that ‘something ridiculous’ without even realising it. They both jumped out of their skins when the knock at the door sounded, the servant with their tea. As it was all laid out before them, piece by black enamelled piece, agonisingly slow, Taako sank further and further into the chair, feeling his skin take flame and wondering if he could bolt out of the door left open by the butler. But the whole time, those dark eyes were fixed on him, curious and impossible to read beyond that.

When the door closed again after Kravitz’s quiet thank you, he spoke in his same soft tones and Taako realised he’d only been choosing his words with a careful exactness.

“But what about me, Taako? I enjoy your company more and more each time I see you. And I can’t imagine my opinion ever changing, when I know you better.”

Taako felt for a moment as if he couldn’t breathe. His hands fluttered anxiously, reaching for a teacup then thinking better of it, going to the sugar, the milk, even with nothing to put them in. After a moment, they found Kravitz’s own, bumping into each other like it was a simple coincidence. But then Kravitz squeezed his gently, allowing them to shake in his sure grip. It could be a gesture of comfort from one friend to another.

Or it could not.

What about you indeed?

Taako swallowed, risking a glance up at Kravitz who still had that gentle smile on his face, like all he wanted to do was help. Like he meant it all with a pure earnestness Taako had never encountered with anyone else. It was what relaxed him when he’d first stepped into the library, this time and the last, but now he felt like what was going to break him apart.

He could have said so many things when his mouth fell open but good sense finally prevailed and in a slightly hysteric voice he barked out, “So chess, huh?”

Kravitz blinked, looking dismayed for a fraction of a second when the elf snatched his hands back.

“Gonna teach me how to play?” he grinned, practised at throwing up smiles to mask panic and distress, “You promised.”

“I...I did, didn’t I?” Kravitz followed his lead, though his smile wasn’t as practised, some of the confusion and maybe even a little bit of hurt showing around the edges, “Though you must promise not to get better than me, let me keep my dignity for a few days at least?”

Taako tilted his head, smirking, “Well, we’ll just have to see. I’m making no promises…”

He didn’t have to, not at the start. For a few games, he was beaten fairly resoundingly while the rules sank in. Taako was grateful for it, as much as he didn’t like losing. The strategy and remembering all the rules through a sugary fog of strong tea helped keep his mind off how soft Kravitz’s skin had felt against his own, how cool and pleasant it had been, how just an inch would have slid their fingers through each other in such a perfectly fitting pattern than nothing could have made them let go, not if they didn’t want to.

But thoughts like that were unacceptable. So he thought of knights and rooks and little black and white squares and how to mage hand Kravitz’s pieces off the board and to his side so he might believe he’d taken more than he had. The last never worked, Kravitz would only laugh and steal his pieces back with quick and clever hands when Taako was distracted.

And before too long, only one and a half games in, it was as if it had never happened. Almost. A traitorous part of Taako’s mind was still thinking how the cool ebony of his pieces didn’t feel all that different from Kravitz’s hand. But almost was good enough.

Eventually, when the tea was just black speckled dregs in the bottom of their cups, Taako got to his feet.

“I should head back,” he noted the colour of the sky, far darker than he’d meant to let it get, “My sister will be wondering where I am. She’s a terrible grump when she gets hungry.”

“Of course,” Kravitz nodded politely, rising to show him to the door like a good gentleman, “Will I...I mean, you know you’re welcome any time?”

There was a nervousness in his voice that he wasn’t even trying to hide, a careful hopefulness like he was telling himself not to get too excited. And Taako knew he was thinking about that moment where their hands had touched and he’d spoken so tenderly, worrying and wondering if it had been too much. Wondering if he’d ruined something good.

Taako knew that feeling. He straightened the front of his jacket and smiled, fully, so the gap in his teeth would show.

“Of course I’ve got to come back. I almost had you at the end there, I’m not giving up until I have victory.”

The relief that flooded over Kravitz’s face was so genuine and real it was hard for Taako to look for a moment, “Then I shall have to practise…”

Taako very deliberately didn’t think about what that meant as they made their polite, formal goodbyes and he was turned back out into the air, grown cold and thick now evening had fallen and stolen the thin warmth of the winter sun. The walk back to their house felt longer now than it had in the opposite direction.

And as he walked Taako thought of what he would make for their supper with what little was left in the pantry, he thought of checks and pawns and how white always moved first, he thought of stalemates.

But that annoying little part still whispered what about him?

Taako did go back, every day for the next week and every time it got easier. Worryingly, maddeningly easier.

The next time, Kravitz presented him with a small, elegantly decorated package with the stamp of a Goldcliff bakery on the top. Inside were perfectly baked, exquisitely formed macarons, shining with sugar and even coloured coal black. Taako laughed aloud at that and quickly comforted Kravitz when his expression turned stricken, he’d only been appreciating his commitment to a theme.

Taako had read about the high class bakeries and lauded restaurants you could find across the continent, mostly from his cookery books. But he’d never thought to actually taste anything from one of them before, their wares were expensive. Taako didn’t even want to think about what it would have cost to have even these few cookies sent to their little valley. There was a lot of it he didn’t want to think about.

He didn’t want to bite into it and break the magic of that perfect almond scented shell but he was so glad when he eventually did, blackberries thick and rich on his tongue. High on joy and sugar, he’d gone on for nearly an hour about flavour balance and texture and how recipes travelled from place to place and shifted from being only for the rich to being everyday staples. A hundred times he told himself to shut up, that he’d gone on for far too long and Kravitz was bored stiff. But somehow he didn’t think so, seeing how he still leaned forward with his eyes wide and open, his mouth turned up in an admiring smile.

And when he brought one of the macarons home for Lup, she’d given him a smirk that had made him blush and make an excuse to leave the room.

The next time Taako turned up at the door holding a folder that looked like moths had been at it for decades. It wouldn’t be far wrong, give or take a few years. As soon as Kravitz saw it, the apologies came tumbling from Taako’s lips, it was stupid, it was just some old trash, he’d happily throw it in the fire right now if he wanted. But slowly, surely, Kravitz got out of him that it was a collection of sheet music he’d found in the attic, it had belonged to his Auntie. She’d loved to play piano, he said, eyes firmly fixed on his feet, drenched in snowmelt. And now she was gone, Taako had just thought he might like them. Most of the songs were in Elvish, it was old and probably boring and, gods, he’d never even asked what instrument you play…

He’d been well and truly worked up when Kravitz had gasped, the folder open in his lap. His eyes had been wide as a child presented with a jar full of sweets, his jaw dropped, fingers gentle as he stroked the yellowed pages with their carefully printed notes. He’d thanked Taako so sincerely and softly, like those brittle sheafs of songs waiting to be wrought in pulls and snaps of those clever fingers were a gift worth every bit as much as those macarons, maybe even more.

And Taako had suddenly been so glad he’d spent the entire morning digging the music out and had turned up to tea late and with dust clumps in his braid, just for the look on his face.

Kravitz had given him something of the world beyond their valley so Taako gave him something wholly from it, from a part that meant a lot to him. Kravitz’s gift said there is a place for you out there, Taako’s said there is a place for you here. And both learned something more about themselves.

The next day, Kravtiz brought it together so beautifully by finally playing for Taako.

The answer to what instrument he played was apparently all of them, there was a room of the manor entirely given over to them all. A sleek black grand piano ruled as king but it had a flock of attendants, a flute, a violin, a chello, even instruments Taako couldn’t name. It was practically a museum to every form and shape of music all over the world, as much a testament to where Kravitz had travelled as his stories.

Kravitz watched his face carefully, his grin spreading as he saw his awe. And then he’d guided Taako to sit on the piano bench, lovingly taken the violin down from it’s stand and stood before him, not like someone would if they were performing for an audience but something softer and more vulnerable, more intimate. That word, even spoken in Taako’s own mind, made him tense a little but there was just no other word for it. He was being let in to something that used to be a secret, doors opening to him that hadn’t opened before. Just like when Kravitz had stumbled into his kitchen and he’d allowed him to stay, this was Kravitz showing a part of himself that had grown so comfortable in hiding.

This was what let Kravitz be himself in a world that told him he couldn’t.

And he did it so well. Taako knew his Auntie had loved music, she’d played the guitar out on the porch on soft summer nights while Taako and Lup would chase each other through the meadows out the back of the house. Listening to Kravitz made him feel a way that was the same and different, all at once. The notes and instrument and hands were different but it was the same feeling of his chest opening wide enough to hold anything it wanted. The same feeling that this moment would go on forever and there would never need to be anything else.

But Taako didn’t want this moment to go on forever. As he sat and listened to the high, swooping notes shivering on their strings and melting together into something beautiful as Kravitz flexed his fingers and drew his bow back and forth, he wanted it to grow. He wanted more.

The song ended before Taako was ready and there were a few reasons his eyes were wet, some he’d be willing to say and some he’d rather die than speak out loud. Kravitz looked at him shyly, a man with his heart on display as recklessly as a child, and asked what he thought. Taako smiled, wiped his eyes on his sleeve and asked why Kravitz bothered studying magic when he could do something more magical than he’d ever seen in a book. He blushed the way he did everything, handsomely, and grinned in delight. They didn’t move from the music room for the rest of the day, Kravitz explaining how each instrument works and showing more of his compositions, excitedly taking Taako through nearly every note and why he’d placed it that way, showing him the thought and care in every song. Taako didn’t leave the manor until the sun had gone down, far later than was strictly socially acceptable for two young men to be alone together.

Taako had fallen asleep that night with soft, beautiful music wandering around his mind rather than worries and uncertain deadlines and murky futures.

Through it all, every day, there were chess games, around their moments of growing closeness. Taako got better quickly, picking up the rules and seeing strategies and plays he wouldn’t have noticed before. He learned Kravitz’s style, clever and strategic but predictable, and started to answer with his own, slightly manic, high risk high reward approach. With this he began to see ways to win, though few and far between, openings and paths and attacks he could nudge into motion and steal his first victory.

But he never did. Not once. And every game would end with the same joke, that he’d just have to come back tomorrow, that he wouldn’t give up until he’d won a game.

Their days together were full of ways out that neither of them took.

Taako wondered how the old black manor house had ever made him nervous. When it decided to remind him, it came as a nasty shock.

He no longer felt the need to be ferried from place to place by the sour elven butler, when he needed the bathroom, he just got up, announced the fact and flounced out of the door. Kravitz hadn’t minded, sat in the window seat to get the best of the pale afternoon sunlight and wiping rosin off his violin strings, only made him promise not to get in trouble on the way there and back.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Taako snorted, golden hair bouncing as he shook his head.

He managed to be half right, nothing happened on the way there, despite him happily wandering through a mansion that wasn’t his own in just his socks, his shirt opened two buttons from the top because he liked to sit close to the fire like a cat but despised sweating, humming one of Kravitz’s songs. It was on the way back that he ran into the trouble.

One moment Taako was wandering the halls, eager to get back to Kravitz and hear him tune. He loved that part, even though it wasn’t music, he loved listening to Kravitz find the notes in the discord and steer it towards something perfect and clear and pure. He loved listening to the journey.

One moment he was walking. And the next moment, there was a ghost at the end of the corridor he’d just walked into. He only just managed not to scream and was proud of himself for that but he did jump noticeably.

“Master Taco,” the ghost took a slow step forward and became an almost impossibly tall woman in what seemed to be a flowing mourning dress and a gossamer thin veil covering her face. Except it wasn’t her face. It was a perfectly circular, bright white china mask, painted with a delicately beautiful but otherworldly face. There was no ornament to her except a silver bird skull worn around her cloth wrapped throat, “How wonderful to finally meet you.”

“Countess Raven…” Taako stammered. Now that a few seconds had passed, he was honestly less disturbed by her appearance than her seeing the hole in his sock that one toe was poking through. It was hard to find someone who dressed like this intimidating when you spent all of your free time with your new best friend who wore black silks and rings with silvered skulls set into them.

“I have heard much about you from my ward,” Actually no, it was a little spooky to hear a voice and see no lips moving as she walked towards him, seeming to hover across the carpet because her skirt covered her shoes and there was barely a whisper in it, “I only regret how long it has taken us to meet in person. Please, join me in my parlour if you would.”

She moved to a door just between them, a gloved hand appearing from the folds of her dress to turn the handle. Taako shivered, what were the chances they just happened to meet right outside the room she wanted him to enter? Had she been watching him? All of a sudden the rumours that surrounded this sorceress and the possibility of eyes in the walls prickled the wrong way up his spine.

But then he told himself he was being foolish. He reminded himself of what this woman was to Kravitz and everything she’d done for him. And he followed her through the door.

It was a surprisingly cosy room, for it’s darkness. There was a fire, like there was in every one of these high ceilinged rooms, filling the space with it’s merrily crackling voice. There were books lining the walls in towering shelves, the spines showing a multitude of languages. There were candles, their scents of clove and citrus peel buoying the smell of burning wood into something very pleasant. All the furniture was in dark wood, expensive and ornate. And of course there was a chess set, old and dented, set on a side table. Taako imagined the countess teaching a younger Kravitz to play and smiled.

“I promise I won’t keep you from my ward for very long,” her voice was smooth and not marred at all by age, “I simply felt it improper that we hadn’t been formally introduced yet, with you spending so much time with him.”

Taako flushed and didn’t take a seat when she did, standing and holding one arm like a schoolboy dragged before the headmaster. The word ‘improper’ was what stopped him in his tracks, pinned him awkwardly like a butterfly under glass, one of a host of words that pricked him in his nightmares. There was a lot about how he thought of Kravitz that fit the description, only in his own head of course though he was wondering just how much those hidden eyes could know.

“I mean...he has become a good friend to me, my lady,” Taako cleared his throat, one hand going to his throat to hold his shirt together but there was nothing he could do about his lack of shoes, “I am simply...we share some interests and…”

“I think you have misunderstood me, Master Tacco,” she saved him from his miserably stumbling, politely interjecting, “I brought you here to thank you.”

Taako blinked, uncertain he’d heard her, “Thank me?”

She seemed to choose her words carefully, just as Kravitz always did. The longer he was in her presence, the more similarities Taako could see between them.

“My ward is a very accomplished gentleman,” the countess said, the tone in her voice barely shifting, “Witty and talented and kind natured. Powerful too, gifted in his magic. And yet he struggles to connect with people, to make friends as it were. I fear this is something he inherited from myself, or else something I neglected to teach him. There is a natural loneliness to him that easily turns to sadness on his darker days.”

Taako could see that. It was the same sadness inside him, though Kravitz clearly preferred to turn inwards to it, whereas Taako grew louder and louder to drown it out. He suspected neither of them were very successful.

“I will not tell you how he came to be my ward, that is his own tale to tell. I haven’t told you anything you didn’t already know, I think,” something behind the arctic cold mask sparkled that might have been her eyes, it was hard to say, “But I worry about him. I worry there are things I cannot save him from. Though, Master Tacco, you seem to have that power.”

Taako felt his face redden more, clearing his throat, “I...I wouldn’t call it a power, my lady, I just...I just care about him. There is no effort in it.”

“Even one such as me can see that. And this is why I wanted to thank you, Taako. I wanted to thank you for seeing him, as he is, and letting him in.”

“Ah, well…” Taako felt like those painted eyes were staring into him, past his skin, seeing things that he hadn’t wanted anyone to see. And yet she didn’t seem angry or disgusted or even surprised.

“And if I may be so bold, as I often am...I encourage you to let him do the same. I have seen the way he looks at you, I have heard how he speaks of you. Forgive an old lady dispensing wisdom where it hasn’t been asked for but I do wonder if you both couldn’t find a deal of happiness in each other. Or at least...a fulfilment. An understanding. Something to fill a need you share.”

Taako didn’t know how much more he could take, his pulse racing and palms sweating. Was he reading too much into it? Making ridiculous leaps and bounds between her words? Gods, what did she want him to say?

“But I am rambling. I’ve kept you from him for too long, you may return to the library, Master Tacco. Thank you for indulging me and...think on what I’ve said or dismiss it as you see fit,” with a movement of her hand, the door swung open again.

Most of Taako wanted to flee through it as soon as it revealed itself, some wanting to keep running right out the door and back to his safe, familiar house and his safe, familiar hiding places, to check the king and win the game. But there was still that one little bit...and wasn’t it always that which got him into trouble?

Instead of running, he bowed poliety and summoned up every scrap of bravery he had, which really wasn’t very much at all but proved just enough to say, “I will think about it, my lady. I promise.” And to mean it.

The smooth, bone mask inclined in a satisfied nod, “Then return to your chess, Master Tacco. I hope you and Kravitz can find what you seek.”

With a nod, Taako ducked out of the Countess’ parlour and continued down the halls, taking a few wrong turns in his distraction and ending up somewhere he didn’t mean to be. It was only because the sound of his footfalls changed so much when he stumbled out onto the polished wood that he noticed he was standing in the ballroom from the night of the rout not that long ago.

It was jarring to see it empty, at first, when last time it had been so full and rich with music, fine silk and candlelight. It was like a chest with no heart and lungs, bare and empty and devoid of its purpose. For a moment, Taako was frozen by the horror of being somewhere he wasn’t meant to be.

But he was also alone, no one to scorn him or cast him out. So he gave himself a moment, stepping across the parquet flooring, looking up at the grand chandelier with it’s drips of wax frozen in time and the black, sleek arches of the ceiling. He’d run from it before so it was nice to be able to appreciate it, away from the eyes and cold, cruel, polite smiles that had driven him away.

Some of the bravery still lingering, Taako made slow, spiraling circles and imagined a very different party in the same hall. He imagined Lup there, in her best dress but brand new and with no subtle mending, Barry on her arm, the two of them dancing happily. He imagined his friends, Magnus and Merle and Lucretia and Davenport, laughing and making their jokes, louder and far more fun than would ever normally be allowed somewhere like that. The Countess Raven perhaps, if she wanted, sitting in a chair and watching it all from behind her mask.

And Kravitz. Kravitz smiling and holding himself proudly, his eyes bright as Taako took his arm and adoration clear on his handsome face. The two of them dancing, the way a man would with a woman, openly and freely with no need to hide, to music Kravitz had written, everyone able to see how beautiful it was. And how beautiful they were.

Taako stopped, suddenly finding his lower lip trembling and needing to focus so he could hold it at bay. The music faded in his ears and the faces of his friends dissipated, like snow on a breeze. He was alone again, in his socks and threadbare clothes playing at being luxury, with his two large ears and the gap in his front teeth.

He could think about it all he wanted, that much he’d promised. But it wouldn’t change the fact that he could want and want until his heart broke and it would never mean he would have it. Wanting couldn’t change the world, not in his experience. Wouldn’t it have happened by now, if it could? He’d been wanting for a long damn time, after all.

Taako gave a shuddery sigh and turned himself around, following the same route he’d taken that night to get back to the library, back to Kravitz and chess.

Because that much he was allowed.

A week. That was as long as they were allowed even that small happiness.

Because the end of the seventh day was when Taako shut the front door of Auntie’s house against the winter wind and gathering night, whistling as he unwound his scarf and hung it with his coat on the peg. He smiled, content and happy and full of warm tea and sugar, stepping out of his shoes and thinking of supper and how he would read by the fire, Lup’s feet in his lap and her fingers weaving a braid into his hair. And how another day just like it would be waiting for him tomorrow.

He knew something was wrong as he stepped into the kitchen. There was no fire in the hearth, it was cold and ashy. There was no light, no heat, no life in the house that hadn’t even lost its heart after Auntie died. Everything was quiet, the silence the ringing sort that filled the space, like the few seconds after being struck with a blow so hard it made everything rock and tip.

Lup was sat at the table, her eyes red and raw, her hands shaking as she folded and unfolded the letter with its stiff official paper and stark black type.

“Lulu?” Taako murmured, voice hollow already, even not knowing. But he could guess.

His sister slid the letter across to him, her chin setting in misery as that small action brought fresh tears. He picked it up and read, an action he struggled with at the best of times but even more so when his heart was hammering sickeningly and the words were ones he didn’t want to read.

The bank had run out of patience. They had a week to come up with the full amount to purchase the house before it became the property of the bank and they were trespassing on the floorboards they’d walked every day for the best years of their lives. The figure still left to pay was so far out of what they currently had, it may as well have been the number of stars in the sky.

“Taako,” Lup’s voice trembled, “What are we going to do?”

He couldn’t answer. He looked for those ways out now, the move he’d need to make to win this game but he couldn’t see it, it was impossible. He’d been doomed to fail from the start, doomed by his hesitance, his recklessness, his selfishness. He and his sister would be right back where they’d started their lives, homeless and without safety, scared and alone and exactly where he’d promised her they would never be again.

And what was he going to do?

Taako let the letter fall, looking at Lup helplessly, seeing the five minutes that made him the oldest stretch to an impossible distance between them, littered with all his broken promises. But not so far he couldn’t see the terror in her eyes.

What he did was what he’d always done when things had become difficult.

Taako turned on his heel and he ran.

#taakitz #taako #kravitz #lup #lup/barry #regency au #aggtd #please comment!#angst #its getting sad guys #taz balance #the adventure zone

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

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Truth (Part 2 of 2)

Summary:

Anxiety causes Crowley to change into his demonic form. But when he can't remember how to change back, Aziraphale helps, fighting truth with truth.

(AO3)

“What time is our reservation again, my dear?” Aziraphale asks from outside Crowley’s locked office door. Aziraphale knows what time their reservation is. It’s 8:30. Crowley has reminded him numerous times, going so far as to leave a plethora of messages around his shop written in midnight black ink on red Post-It paper that not a single soul with working eyes could ignore. They’re stuck to his teapot, his chair, his curio cabinet; they’ve even made their way inside his books so that the few customers he’s had this past week have actually taken it upon themselves to remind him, too, as they paid for their purchases.

All very unnecessary seeing as demon and angel have started living together now.

One would be hard pressed to tell that seeing as Aziraphale’s presence in Crowley’s flat has been limited so far in its representation. But it’s there in subtle ways – a rare book here, a miniature oil painting there, a few tartan items on Crowley’s dresser in the bedroom, a bottle of his favorite spirits in the fridge, a box of biscuits in the cupboard, those sorts of things. The time they don’t spend in Crowley’s flat they spend together in Aziraphale’s bookshop, absolutely surrounded by those crimson Post-Its. So there’s no way Aziraphale could have forgotten.

But it seems Crowley has, making a beeline for his office the second they’d gotten in and locking the door. Aziraphale assumed he wanted to give his plants a decent misting before they went out, though that doesn’t explain his locking the door. But he’s been inside for hours, and Aziraphale can’t seem to get him out.

“Uh … 8:30,” Crowley replies, his voice muffled by the thick door between them. “Why?”

“Well, it’s 7:45 now, so I figure we should get a wiggle on? You know, to wherever it is you’re taking us? Though considering the way you drive, it will likely take us only three-and-a-half seconds to get there. But I would like to, just this once, go to dinner without putting the fear of God into anyone.”

That last comment is bait. Any other time it would succeed in luring his demon out of hiding so Crowley can inform him that he doesn’t put the fear of God into anyone, and that that saying is a side-effect of societal conditioning. Besides, if a life-or-death situation puts the fear of God into someone over the fear of Satan, then that should say a thing or two about God, shouldn’t it?

But Crowley doesn’t rise to the challenge, not even with so much as a huff.

“I’ll just be another moment,” Crowley says. “I’m wrapping up a few things.”

“Okay.” Aziraphale sighs and backs away from the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen having a brandy when you’re ready. Please, don’t take too long.”

Too long? It’s only been 6000 years! That’s not too long, is it? “I won’t, angel.”

Crowley stands by the door, listening to Aziraphale’s footsteps pad off down the hallway. He waits till he can no longer hear them, then sneaks out of his office and heads to the bedroom. He’s not dressed for dinner. Not an inch, but that’s not a concern. He doesn’t own a single outfit he can’t toss on in less than a second.

He’d gone to his office to prepare for tonight, to grab something important – no, something essential. But when he found it, it triggered a minor anxiety attack, which steadily became a major anxiety attack the longer he looked at it.

Now he’s trapped in the midst of a full blown existential crisis on what should be one of the most important nights of their lives.

He hurries through the bedroom and into the bathroom where his ensemble for the evening hangs on the back of the door, waiting for him to put it on. It took him over a week to pick it out - ludicrous since he doesn’t have much in the way of variety in his wardrobe. Black on black with a few articles of dark grey, some trimmed in red - that’s all he owns.

Shocking.

And for a demon about to propose to an angel, a creature of love and kindness and light, that’s pretty pathetic.

Aziraphale deserves beauty, Crowley thinks as he puts on his somber clothes. He deserves rainbows and sunshine and starlight.

Starlight.

Crowley could give him starlight at least … couldn’t he? He gave starlight to the world. He should be able to give it to Aziraphale.

He looks down at his hands, but he can’t bring himself to snap his fingers.

He can’t bring himself to try and fail.

No. He can’t give Aziraphale starlight. Not now. Not as a demon.

As an angel, he could, but as a demon, what can he do?

He can show him affection in the shallow way humans do, by showering him with lavish gifts. That would be easy for him, take no effort whatsoever. But Aziraphale isn’t impressed by those things. $18,000 watches, expensive cars and clothes don’t impress him. Everything Crowley owns has a designer label attached and Aziraphale has never once batted an eye.

He’s been wearing the exact same coat for over a hundred-and-eighty years, for Satan’s sake! His glasses might actually be older!

Even the restaurant Crowley is taking them to tonight – the finest new French restaurant he could find in London, with an exclusive guest list and lines around the corner – won’t likely impress him.

And if the crepes are crap, he’ll write it off completely, even if the flatware is gold-plated.

Aziraphale relishes the things that show Crowley cares, that he listens when he talks, that he pays attention to his tastes: old books, classical music, trips to the museum, food. He’s filled his bookshop with quaint personal touches – cherubs and teacups and snuff boxes collected throughout the centuries. He didn’t hunt them down and buy them in the present, shelling out hundreds upon hundreds of dollars for them. He bought them from the original artists and kept them safe. Some of the keepsakes in his shop are worth thousands; some are worth nothing. But they’re there because he loves them, and that makes them priceless.

Crowley’s flat is cold and impersonal in comparison, the few things he owns priceless in dollar value, but honestly, most of it means nothing to him.

It’s there for show.

He flips the collar of his shirt, changing it from red to tartan in Aziraphale’s own personal pattern. It’s a little thing, but Aziraphale would appreciate that … wouldn’t he?

Is it enough?

Crowley looks at himself in the mirror and grimaces. Yup. There he is, looking exactly the way he always fucking does - like a Goddamned serial killer, except now he has a plucky tartan collar.

“What the bloody fuck am I doing?” he growls at his reflection. “Aziraphale’s an angel! He’s handsome and smart and witty and fun! He inspires humanity to be better! Who am I compared to that? I’ll tell you who I am - I’m a bitter old snake who drives too fast and yells at plants! He deserves better than me!” Crowley shakes his head, sinking further and further with every turn of his cheek into the mire of his own self-hatred. “He doesn’t know what I am. Not really.”

But if Aziraphale did, he wouldn’t turn away. He wouldn’t leave. Crowley knows this. That’s not who Aziraphale is. He would stand beside Crowley to his own destruction. Marriage to Crowley could most definitely destroy him, if for no other reason that it would put a big, red bullseye on his back for every supernatural entity to see, good or evil.

They’ve managed to keep Heaven and Hell off their backs, but how long can that last?

Aziraphale would say forever, but Crowley doesn’t have much in the way of faith.

Crowley has been lying to everyone. He’s been lying to Hell about what he’s been doing, lying to himself that he’s worthy of his angel.

Lying to Aziraphale, which is the biggest sin of them all.

It’s not so much a lie, he assures himself, but an omission. It never came up, so he never told. Is that really the same thing?

He snarls at his face in the mirror.

Fuck! Is he really trying to loophole his way out of this one? To himself?

He chuckles humorlessly. Of course I am. I’m a demon. That’s what I do.

And because he’s so good at it, Aziraphale is lying, too.

Corruption. It’s contagious.

And regardless of the money he’s accumulated, the status he holds, the power he has, that’s all he can give his angel.

Corruption.

“He thinksss that, deep down, I’m a good perssson,” he hisses. “Becaussse he’sss never ssseen true Evil!” A flashback of Satan rising through the asphalt pops into his head as if in response to that remark. He shakes his head. “Not wearing the face of sssomeone he lovesss! He trusssts me too much! He’sss making a missstake! He doesssn’t believe I can be all that bad!” Crowley swallows hard, swallows down the power swelling within him, that’s called to the surface whenever he gets angry. “Well, if he refussses to believe, I’ll ssshow him! He’ll sssee!”

With a snap of his fingers, he transforms. Wings tear his shirt, ripping through it like paper. His skin goes grey, falls from his frame in chunks revealing maggots underneath. His fingernails grow and curve unto themselves, tips piercing his flesh. Muscles bulge unsightly, joints crack. Feathers fall from his wings till they’re skeletal, the graceful arches bending like wire. His face elongates, hollows at the cheeks, his eyes going black and sinking into their sockets.

The next time he dares look at his face, he’s unrecognizable.

He doesn’t change into this form often. He’s too fond of the human façade he’s created for himself. Every time he changes, he fears he won’t be able to go back. But this is him. And if Aziraphale is dead set and determined to convince himself that he’s in love with a demon, then he needs to see Crowley for who he is.

Crowley stares at himself in the mirror, takes a good long look so that he’ll stop forgetting, stop convincing himself he’s something he’s not.

He can only stand it for a second, then he turns away.

Yes, this demon is him, but it’s also not him. Not entirely. Not anymore. And not for a long time. He might hate that this is the real form of the demon Crowley, but he has to give himself credit for the good that he’s done, intentionally or otherwise. The good that he is.

The parts of him that Aziraphale loves, which seems to be all of him, good or bad.

He sighs, ragged breaths issuing from holes in his lungs and filling up his entire chest cavity, ringing through it like the wind howling through a dead wood log. He knows he has to tell Aziraphale, but not now. He can’t do it now. He doesn’t have the strength. He’s already tapping every inch of his energy to get through this proposal.

He doesn’t know how he could land two weights of equal mass on Aziraphale’s shoulders in one night and expect him to stick around.

Of course, he should probably drop this one on him first, but the demon in him consistently convinces him that’s a bad idea.

And the cowardice in his subconscious tends to agree.

“All right,” he says, his voice an octave lower, grinding in his throat as if drug over nails and rocks. “We’re done pitying ourselves for now. Let’s be done with this, and propose to our angel.”

He snaps his fingers again, picturing, as best he can, his human face in his head.

But nothing happens.

That’s not entirely true. He swears he sees a bright white light. It actually stops his heart for a second since he assumes Aziraphale has miracled his way in, but it’s not his angel. A glance around the room proves that he’s still alone.

And he’s still a mess.

He tries again. He snaps his fingers. No white light this time, so that must have been an illusion, but nothing else changes. Only now, the image of his face in his head has begun to fade.

He snaps and snaps until the skin on his fingers starts to peel away, but not a bit of him goes back to normal.

But what is normal? He’s having a difficult time remembering.

“Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit!” he mumbles, going about this a different way and attacking himself instead. He tugs at his wings, digs his nails into his arms, his face, trying to tear through the rotting flesh to the human skin he prays lies underneath.

But it doesn’t.

There’s not an inch of good or healthy or wholesome within him. It’s an illusion. All an illusion. An armor he uses to blend in, deceive. An armor he’s grown to rely on as much as he relies on Aziraphale.

And he doesn’t know how to get it back.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #Frankie writes

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howrry · 5 years

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off to the races

a/n: if you’re having trouble picture what the dress looked like its here! anyways i loooooved writing the banter between them. here’s ceo-daddy-whatever-you-want harry going on a date with bartender!y/n :*

w/c: 5.4k

warnings: this has explicit hard drug use! if that’s not your thing please don’t read this! i certainly don’t recommend anyone use any drugs and it solely exists for the sake of this plot! also he rails her

***

Courtney stormed into the kitchen from the bar, untying her waist apron as gracefully as she could and throwing it on one of those metal rolling counters. "Have I ever mentioned I hate my job?" she bit as soon as the door slammed shut behind her.

You finished your glass of ice water, bracing yourself to go out there yourself. You relaced your shoe and adjusted your own apron. "How bad could it have been?" you asked only half rhetorically.

"He asked for a virgin martini!" she huffed, pulling the hair tie from her thick dark hair and letting it spill into her face. "Do you want me to bring you an olive in a glass?"

You laughed, mirroring her actions by tying up your own hair. "No way. You're exaggerating."

"Y/N, I argued with this elderly man for three whole minutes. He insisted he came in last week and was served a virgin martini and it was the best thing he'd ever had in a bar." Courtney went back to fish through the pockets of her apron to get the money she'd collected from the tip jar.

"Oh, are you talking about the guy that just left?" Becca, another coworker, asked from the sink. "Yeah, I served him last week. I gave him a martini glass with water, lemon bitters, and a splash of cranberry juice. Told him I cut it with a 'virgin wine'. He tipped me a $20," she brushed a chunk of blonde hair that fell into her face and went back to washing the dishes.

"God, thanks for letting me know!" Courtney groaned, counting out her share of the tips, pocketing the money and giving the rest to you. "Have fun out there. I think some business meeting was in town so there's a bunch of gross older men out there wanting their fuckin' margaritas." She casually popped open the first two buttons of her uniform's black button down as she stuffed her money in her chinos pocket.

"Watch your mouth!" Becca yelled, making the other girl laugh as she clocked out. "You'll be fine, Y/N. Rich guys tip well!" she encouraged.

"If they tip you at all," C warned just once more before slipping out the back door.

You shrugged your pessimistic coworker off and went out into the bar. The new girl who'd been out there alone seemed relieved to see you, as it was starting to get a little hectic. "What can I make for you?" you asked her, at the same moment that she shoved a sticky note covered in drink orders in your hand. Okay, time to get to work.

***

You'd been working at an upscale bar for about four months now. It had always been a dream of yours to work as a bartender, and you put yourself through the first three years of college working in and out of dingy places near your campus. Just as you started your last year towards your degree, the owner of your current workplace visited your bar by sheer chance and was impressed by you and offered a job on the spot. Your new pay was nearly double your old wage and you made much better tips, but God the patrons were terrible.

Working at a bar is virtually never smooth sailing. No matter where the joint is located, you get most of the same problems. Making drinks can get messy, and all the handiwork involved in you job made nail polish impossible. Some guys got way too fucking drunk. They tried to drive home after just one too many beers. Even the snotty rich fellas would put their manners side and start shoving others around if they thought someone was ogling their wife in a weird way. These were no picnic to deal with, but working in the nicer areas came with its own set of challenges.

Y/N learned almost immediately that rich guys were ridiculously entitled. No matter which order you serve them, at least one of them will gripe by the time you reach them. Some of them made gross comments (fortunately, your boss has a no-tolerance policy for this and with a wave of the hand, a bouncer would carry out the offending customer). They complained about how well their drinks are made and demand them to be redone. Working at shitty bars had way more freedom, because regardless of how you treat the obnoxious customers, you'll still have people who come back. But in the nicer places, reputation matters. Sometimes you have to remake that drink, even if it just means transferring it to a different glass and adding new garnish when they're not looking and handing it right back to them.

That almost always works, by the way.

Anyways, the day was terrible, just as Courtney warned. It was a Murphy's Law kind of shift and nothing sounded better than going home, kicking your shoes off, and never having to live this day over again. Fortunately, she'd been wrong about the tips and you'd had to send your coworker back at least three times to dump the tip jar out back in the office as it had been overflowing. But did it make up for how lousy the rest of the shift was? Maybe. A little.

The most beautiful words a bartender can hear are, "We close at 11." You had worked at places that stayed open until as late as 2 AM, but your current bar was closed and locked up before the day even changed. Your shifts were great, typically only being about four or five hours and getting home at reasonable hours, but the time spent there just felt tedious.

You swore it was a human instinct to check your watch incessantly whenever it's the last 15 or so minutes of your shift. Even when there was so much left to do, something about twitching to look at your wrist too often was so much more appealing than working. Usually, the only thing to stop the tick is if an interesting patron walked in.

And one did.

He was tall, commanded the room, dressed up but in all black. His hair was timelessly loose and curly, and his hands peaking out from his blazer sleeves revealed that he might be hiding some tattoos. It was suddenly like you weren't wearing a watch at all.

"What can I get for you, sir?" you cooed, maybe just a little off the mark of being subtle.

"I'll take a tequila shot, and pour one for y'self, too," he said deeply, sitting at the bar and combing through his locks with his fingers. He intimidatingly peered over you as you awkwardly scrambled around.

"I think y'know I can't do that, sir," you said apologetically, fishing out a glass and breezily pouring a shot. While putting the bottle of tequila back, you grabbed some abandoned empty glasses from the bar and moved them behind the counter. Your coworker had gone to the back an hour ago to close the kitchen, and multitasking happened to be one of your strong suits.

"I don't, actually." His hand came up to rub at his bottom lip, and you noticed the nails were painted a dark blue, almost black. The other hand grabbed the drink you slid towards him followed by a lime wedge. He didn't take it yet.

You pulled the white towel off your shoulder and wiped down the area in front of you. "It's the X-ray problem at the doctor's."

The man's pointer finger spun around the rim of the glass. "I'm sorry, the what?"

"Okay, so, you're an adult man. I assume you've been to the doctor's before."

"That'd be a correct assumption, yes."

"Have you ever had an X-ray done?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I feel like everyone has."

"Probably most people. Anyways, the doctor tells you the X-ray is completely safe, but they go to Egypt to push the button."

The man laughed, and it was honestly music to your ears. You even felt your mouth involuntarily curl up a tiny bit. "You're right. But what's that got to do with this?" He lifted the shot glass and gestured towards you with it.

"The amount of radiation that one X-ray exposes you to is so negligible its rounds off to zero, but if the doctor stands in front of the machine for 8 hours every single day he goes to work, he'll definitely get every kind of cancer." You picked up a shot glass from the stack of them behind the counter. "If I have just one shot with every person who asked, I'd definitely get alcohol poisoning."

He let out another one of his gorgeous laughs, and you could no longer hold back a bashful smile. "But is the bar not about to close?" he asked.

"We are."

"And you don't seem drunk at all t'me," he hummed, scratching his stubble.

"You're quite observant." You nodded approvingly towards an old man on the other side of the bar who drained his lager glass before tossing a few dollars into the tip jar and shrugging on his coat. You rinsed the glass in the sink before putting it in the tray to carry to the back.

The man at the bar dragged his eyes at the leaving customer, aware that you and him were now alone. The shot he'd ordered still sat in front of him. "So I guess it couldn't hurt to actually have just one, hmm?"

You wiped your hands on a clean towel, thinking it over. To make the deal sweeter, the man pulled out a $50 bill and put it on the counter between the two of you. In all honesty, you weren't impressed. This was a nice bar, to be fair. It wasn't completely rare that big shots and new money heirs came in and shoved their fortunes down everyone's throats by getting everyone's tabs and tipping in the double and triple digits. His money didn't make you shrug and pull out another glass to fill-- no, it was something else.

He seemed so familiar. You couldn't put your finger on it, but something about him felt like you knew him already. And frankly, he did make a good point. The day had been super rough, your feet were aching, and you hadn't had a drop to drink all night. Even taking the tip out of the equation, it didn't sound like a terrible idea. What would one little shot hurt?

You dabbed some water on the back of your hand and salted it, though he went straight for licking his own hand. Once the two of you were ready to take your shots, he raised his glass towards you. The smirk on his face when you clinked your glasses together made something swirl in your lower belly, but you knew the tequila would extinguish that feeling immediately.

Lick. Shoot. Suck. You'd been a pro at this since that spring break you and your friends took to South Padre Island freshman year. The liquor barely even burned at this point, and you hummed while biting at the lime in your mouth as the man sputtered just a little bit.

"Here," he groaned, picking up and trying to hand you the $50.

You waved your hand a bit at him, reaching your hand up to let your hair out of the tie. "Don't even worry about it. You were fun talking to, it's not necessary."

"I insist." He seemed steadfast, and you didn't feel like arguing. You sighed and took the money gratefully, moving to slip it into the pooled tip jar. His hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your wrist gently. "I didn't put it in the tip jar for a reason."

You breathed through your nose carefully, a little turned on at his boldness. Your hand slowly retreated and stuffed the bill into your back pocket, and the man smiled once more.

He tossed a bit more money onto the counter to pay for the shots you two just took, and scribbled something out onto a napkin. He nodded towards you and left the bar just as the clock struck 11. Becca emerged from the back to go lock the front door and didn't seem to notice you were frozen. When you finally grabbed at the napkin he'd left, it was difficult trying to read his scrawled handwriting. "Harry," was the only thing written on it, followed by 10 simple digits.

That's when it finally clicked. This was Harry, the frontman of that band from ages ago. You remember your younger sister being a huge fan of them maybe ten years back, but it was a bit out of your generation. He seemed so much older now with that behind him, and he was quite charming. And you just got his phone number!

You stuffed the napkin into the same pocket as the money he'd given you, hurriedly cleaning the bar and getting ready to go home. You didn't tell a single coworker who you'd just talked to and clocked out as fast as you absolutely could. It almost felt like it didn't really happen, and if you talked about it out loud it would turn out to be a twisted elaborate dream.

Another pro of your bar's early close: busses were still running to take you home after work. On the way back to your apartment, you typed out a quick text to your new friend. I don't suppose I ever told you my name. I'm Y/N

Quick and simple. Not wasting time. You'd never been one to be patient or drawn out, and assumed most people didn't either. Playing those wait-three-days games had ended up fizzling out most of your friends' relationships and you hated to see it.

He responded. It was lovely meeting you, Y/N

Your lips curled into a soft smile as the dots popped back up on your screen.

When might I be able to see you again? You hummed at your phone screen, thinking over what to say as the automated voice on the bus informed you that your stop was close.

I work on Tuesday next week! you offered, stuffing your phone into your pocket and hopping off the bus. As you shoved your apartment key into the lock, your cell buzzed with another reply from Harry.

I was thinking about a time where neither of us are working, but you're adorably funny. He sure was a charmer.

He ended up inviting you out to a night in the city. The party scene wasn't terribly unfamiliar for you (your college friends had always been down to get lit), but it was always at frat houses or people's apartments and not clubs that served Dom Perignon under thousand-dollar chandeliers.

The night he took you out, you'd chosen to wear a loose silver mini dress that gleamed and reflected lights around you. It was simple but flashy, something you thought Harry would appreciate. A huge part of you wanted to stop the dressy part of your outfit right there given how often you work on your feet, but you had this pair of black strap heels that had never left your closet and deserved a night out just like you did.

Something inside you expected Harry to have a driver or whatnot, but he actually pulled up in a black Cadillac, and even went up to knock on your apartment door. A true gentleman. Opened the car for you and everything.

"I was a little nervous about riding together," you admitted once the two of you were on the road together.

Harry made a noise of confusion. "How come?"

"You know when you're on a first date, and in the car or the Uber or whatever, there's that small talk before the small talk you have at the destination? Ugh, that's my kryptonite in terms of second hand embarrassment."

"The first time we met, we immediately started talking about the dentist and alcohol poisoning and going to Egypt. I think we'll be fine."

"We did not talk about going to Egy—!" you started, but he cut you off.

"Anyways, I wanted to thank you for coming out tonight with me," he announced.

You exhaled sharply through your nose. "You? Thanking me? How come?" you asked.

"Well... you met me so recently. We've had maybe three conversations. For all you know, I could be a psycho murderer."

"So could I."

He didn't see that coming. He couldn't stop a half-snort, half-giggle from escaping him. "I s'pose, but isn't it more likely to be me?"

"I think that's sexist. We should hold both genders accountable for their shortcomings."

"You consider being a psycho murderer a shortcoming?"

"Exaggerations can go both ways."

He sighed. "I'm just tryin' to say thank you. Most girls wouldn't go off with a strange man." When he realized exactly what he'd just said, he immediately tried to backtrack. "Well, I— Not that I'm constantly asking strange women to go off with me. Just a figure of speech."

It was your turn to snort at his goofiness. "Now I don't believe that for a minute. A man as attractive and charming as you should never be looking far to get his rocks off."

His eyes narrowed but his focus was on the road. "Who are you?"

"I'm Y/N," you declared simply, leaning your elbow against the car door and resting your temple on your palm. "I'm from the suburbs around here. Went to the same college as my parents. Took the same major as my mom. Put myself through school by working at an upscale bar where I meet lovely characters like yourself." You looked over to see how he was reacting to your light teasing and he was staring straight ahead, smirking.

"So you're in school?" He pulled up to a red light and looked over at you.

"I'm a senior." His head cocked confusedly and you sighed. "I'm in my last year. I graduate next semester."

"Congratulations, love." Green light. "Always wish I'd gone to school, jus' a little bit of me does."

"Hmm? Why didn't you?" you asked absentmindedly, picking at one of the crystals on your dress.

Harry actually laughed. "I was, uh, a bit busy during that time of my life."

Your head snapped up and you opened your mouth awkwardly. "Oh!" You felt so stupid. He just seemed so normal to talk to, it was easy to forget who he was and just connect with him.

"S'not stupid, it's actually quite refreshing to feel like a normal nobody sometimes," he said.

Ah, you'd just said all that out loud. "Sorry," you mumbled sheepishly. "And thanks for calling me a nobody."

The two of you had arrived at the venue. "That's not what I meant, love," he tried to get out before a valet boy in a red vest opened your car door for you.

The second your heel made contact with the pavement you were suddenly stunned by a great flash of white-- someone had just taken your picture. You blinked a couple times for your eyes to refocus, but another flash went off, then another and another. You were really close to stumbling back if someone hadn't grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards the inside of the bar.

It was Harry. Once the two of you were inside he immediately showered you in apologies. "'M so sorry, love," he said in your ear. "Didn't think that one through. We'll go in through the back next time. Hope you're okay with being on DailyMail."

Whoa whoa whoa. Next time? Through the back? DailyMail?? It was amazing how nonchalant Harry was about having paps up his ass all the time. Being famous honestly didn't seem to be all it was cracked up to be.

The bar was designed like a speakeasy. It paid homage to the Mafia days of the establishment and the lighting was low and sensual. Harry got the two of you a table and ordered some cocktails.

"How're yeh doing?" he purred, asking you once you'd settled in and gotten your beverages.

You smiled, gently gnawing on the lime twist from your Cosmo. "This is lovely, especially when I'm not the one making the drinks."

He laughed, stretching an arm behind him and shrugging off his coat, leaving him in a simple white button down that was probably not as buttoned as it was meant to be. "I'm gonna scan the room and see if I know anyone here. I'd love for yeh to get to know some new people."

After looking around a bit, he found a friend of his named Nick, a charming and tall man who had a personal space issue (not giving people any of it, that is). He let you and Harry join him and his crew, and everyone was having a lovely time together, sipping cocktails and enjoying the live music performed by a talented woman in a red dress.

That is, of course, until your hand slipped while holding an orange drink and managed to spill it on Harry's white shirt. You rushed out a hundred apologies before he could even compute what was happening but he fortunately had a good spirit about it.

"It's alright love!" he laughed, inspecting the spot. It wasn't ruined. "It's just a shirt. 'Ve got a hundred more at home. I'll go clean this up."

"I'll help you," you offered, still feeling bad. He nodded and the two of you went to the bathroom of the club, a wheelchair-accessible room really only meant for one person.

It wasn't a tight fit, though, and the two of you could comfortably move around in the space. Harry locked the door behind you two and tossed his coat onto the counter while you dabbed at the orange stain with a wet paper towel. It was already starting to lift a bit and looked like the fabric might even be salvaged.

"See? All worked up for nothing." He gave a soft, reassuring smile and your stomach turned giddily. "It especially won't be a problem if I just keep m'jacket on all night."

Harry readjusted his coat, shaking out the lapels. As he carried out this motion, something flew out of the inside pocket that caught your eye. It was small and lightweight, but plopped down onto the floor purposefully. It was a tiny plastic bag, not even as big as the palm of your hand, and filled with a fine white powder.

The awkward silence that filled the bathroom was oxygen-depriving. His mouth opened to say something but he blanked. Even though the music from the club was floating in the air, neither of you two were quite listening to it anymore. Harry's gaze switched from you to the bag at least twice while trying to think of something to say, but you beat him to it.

"Is... is that—?" you started, staring down at the baggie.

"I... understand if this is a deal breaker," Harry explained, picking up the drugs and placing them back in his coat. His hands flew up to nervously toy with his hair.

"I want to try it," you whispered.

"Smoking backstage joints with Kacey was one thing but it's--" he stopped. "I— You— what?"

"I always have," you confirmed, eyes fixated on the pocket where he'd just stuffed the blow. You glanced back up to make eye contact. "You don't have to give it for free. I can—"

"God, no," he said. "You're not gonna take your clothes off just for some coke."

"Uh, I was going to say I'd pay you for it, but real smooth, Casanova," you snickered, making him roll his eyes.

"I wouldn't make yeh pay for it. I mean, this is a date isn't it?" he reminded.

Your shoulders tensed up at the idea of mooching off the Harry Styles for coke, but relaxed when you realized he seemed genuine. "I suppose." You paused for a minute, thinking about what to say next. "My roommate in the second year of college took home the ugliest guys just to rail a line of theirs, so it's probably pretty damn good."

He laughed, lowering his eyes comfortably. "You're not gonna do a whole line first," he said lowly. "Maybe jus' a key bump to see how you feel. D'y'know what that is?"

You smirked. "Yes. You scoop a little bit on a key and just snort that."

"Look at you," he purred proudly. "Are you okay with doing that, doll?"

You leaned your head on the wall. "Yes, sir."

Harry beamed at you and dug into his pocket. "Fuck," he groaned, "the valet boy has m'keys. Have you got yours?"

You nodded and dug into your purse for your keys. He giggled at your keychain that looked like a waffle. "Don't laugh! It's easy to find when I'm in a rush."

"I'm not judging!" he defended, isolating the key with the widest tip. "S'actually quite cute." While holding that one key between his fingers, he opened the baggie and gently squished it around. He then carefully dug out a little scoop of the soft white powder using the key. "I'm gonna do one first so you can see how it's done, then you can try one y'self, okay?"

You nodded, and he handed you the baggie to hold as he carefully kept the key steady. You watched as he meticulously brought it up to one of his nostrils, holding the other one shut with his free hand. He sniffed deeply, and once he'd cleared the key, he pulled it away and let go of his nostril to full inhale. Finally he sighed and shook his head, blinking quickly.

"Harry?"

He fluttered his eyes once more before smiling. "Wow. Never gets old." You laughed with him and he delicately took the bag back from you. "Are yeh ready?"

"Yes," you whispered. He scooped another bump out, this time a bit more erratic and unsteady. He handed you the keys and resealed the bag, slipping it into his coat pocket.

"All yours, pretty girl."

You pursed your lips for a moment and plugged one of your nostrils. You thought your hands would be shaking at this point but you were steady as a surgeon when you brought it to your face. It'd be like taking a pill, right? Like, if you failed to swallow the entire mouthful of medication and water in one go, it won't go down, so if you just did one tiny sniff you would probably choke or cough your guts out. You inhaled deeply, ensuring you got every fleck of coke off the cool metal.

Even after you'd pulled the keys away and let go of your other nostril, you were frozen standing still. Harry observed you and laughed out loud. "Y/N, exhale!"

You finally let go of the huge breath you'd just taken. Your face immediately began feeling a bit tingly and then went numb. Your brain felt like it went into hyperdrive, your skin was on fire, your heart was racing, and something deep inside you told you to run.

"How do you feel, baby?" Harry asked, and you realized his large hand was cupping your cheek.

"So fucking good," you breathed. Your eyes scanned over his face. He had shaved for the evening, since there was no stubble and he'd been a bit scruffy that night at the bar. His lips were wet and red, and his jaw was sharp as steel. This was the first time you'd really gotten a good look at his eyes and they were gorgeous. Pupils blown out by the coke, green from what you could see, littered with flecks of gold. You wanted to get lost in those eyes.

"Y/N?" he asked softly, feeling uncomfortable with you scrutinizing his face. "Are yeh sure you feel al—hmm!"

He was cut off by you diving forward to kiss him. Neither of you had even a second thought about this. Your hands were furious; both of you were pulling at buttons and zippers to expose more skin without even breaking for air. One of your hands strategically slipped down to slide over the bulge in his trousers and he gasped into the kiss.

"Can I—" he breathed over your face.

"Yes, God, yes." At the confirmation, Harry pulled you off of him completely and turned you around to face the mirror, pushing you down by your back. He pinned you between himself and the bathroom counter, your hips digging into the edge. His cock aligned with your center, grinding and shamelessly moaning before tugging up the bottom of your dress and sliding your panties to the side.

His fingers skimmed over your folds, getting to know your core and swirling around your clit. "Hmm, seems like someone gets excited when they've got a li'l blow in them," he mused. "Fuck, pet, your clit is so swollen, someday I'm gonna have to get it on my tongue."

You whined, wanting that to happen right now but were delighted nonetheless to hear his pants unzipping.

"But right now, I have to get m'self in you." You felt him fumbling around behind you before he was pressing against your entrance. "S'this okay, doll?"

You nodded desperately, dropping your head and pushing back so that the head of his cock pushed its way inside you. He groaned and grabbed your hair, pulling you up to look at yourself in the mirror. Harry guided his hips forward until finally the two of you were fit snugly and started fucking in and out of you.

If your lipstick wasn't fucked up already from the drinking and making out, it was now that he was dipping his fingers into your mouth and using the leverage to thrust into you harder. His hands smeared across your face a bit as he relentlessly buried his cock in you over and over.

At one point, you lifted one leg such that you could bring it up onto the counter beside you. From a third eye, the position may seem acrobatic and intense but was oddly uncomplicated and gave Harry a far wider range of motion. At this angle, he was unforgivingly stimulating your G-spot, turning you into a weeping puddle of whines and expletives.

"Right there harder holy fuck Harry you're so deep keep going right fucking there," were only a sample of the pathetic things falling from your lips. You could be embarrassed at your words later, right now you were way too close to an orgasm to care.

Harry was spurred on by your vocalization, as one does. One hand dug into the flesh at your hip to make the two of you collide even more intensely, while the other hand snaked down to flick at your clit with the fingers coated in your spit. When you finally did cum, you were glad that he was pinning you down so tightly as your standing leg was virtually boneless.

As if watching you fall apart on his cock wasn't enough, you had to cap it off by begging the dirtiest things you could think of from him. "Cum inside me, daddy, please fill me up, show everyone who's cunt this is, please."

His hips stuttered once before he shoved the entire length back in you and came until his member stopped twitching. When he caught his breath, he pulled out and watched the soft white liquid seep out after him. He went to touch it and you recoiled.

"Sorry, m'sensitive," you weeped, and he ran his other hand through your hair while putting himself away.

"I should be sorry. Fucked the stand out of ya," he noted with a chuckle, assisting you getting redressed.

Once the two of you were presentable enough to step back out into the club and the thick sex atmosphere had wafted away, the tension grew. "So, uh, it's getting kind of late, hmm?" you led. "Maybe I should be on my way." Part of you didn't want to leave, but all good things had to come to an end and it was better to err on the safe side rather than overstay your welcome.

He laughed, pulling you to him by your waist. His eyes scanned over you and the smirk on his face was downright devilish. "Oh darling, if you think for even a moment that this evening is over, you're quite mistaken."

Harry grabbed your hand and pulled you back into the noisy crowd of the club, where your night was just starting to begin.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fan fiction #jawllines #permanentcross #haroldloverboy #harryforvogue #inwhichitrytowritesomething #BOOYAAH i lied and said id post it tomorrow but i finished editing early #imma go smoke then buy some new jeans bye babessss

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namjuicyy · 5 years

Text

The Contract - Chapter Six

Masterlist | Requests are open.

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut.

Genre of this part: Smut.

Word Count: 3.3k.

Summary: Your life is turned upside down when a contract is pushed your way. But what happens if you sign it?

Warnings: surprise sex - kind of???? unprotected sex (rubber up, kiddlywinkles), little foreplay, penetration, interruption, voyeurism, qualities of a threesome but not an actual threesome (just read it), multiple orgasms, choking.

The next morning you woke up in Yoongi's bed after falling asleep there. At some point, you'd both curled into each other's bodies, holding each other tight enough that you wouldn't be able to fit a piece of paper in between you. Not without it crumpling up anyway.

Yoongi looked so peaceful when he slept, so soft and sweet. But then, after the way he was with you last night, you were hardly surprised. He was a giant softie underneath that socially awkward exterior. You had to peel yourself away from him in order to get out of bed – the heat he was providing proved too much for you to cope with first thing in the morning. You also couldn't be arsed to find your clothes that you had taken off last night, opting to rummage through his to find one of his super-oversized shirts and dress yourself in that.

Jin was already cooking breakfast and making coffee by the time you emerged from Yoongi's dark, little cave. He flashed you a little smile when he saw you dragging your feet along the hard wood flooring, too sleepy to lift them properly. And wearing one of his dongsaeng's shirts too. You looked absolutely adorable. He told you as much.

"Are you blind first thing in the morning, or just incredibly stupid?" You joked.

Jin tutted. "Neither. Though, I am learning your sarcasm knows know time. Shouldn't your brain be slow first thing in the morning?"

"I was just made to perfection," you joke tossing your hair over your shoulder, "what can I say?"

Jin waited a little while before speaking again, flashing you a knowing look. "I see you and Yoongi had some fun last night. Well, heard it, too."

"Was I that loud? Sorry."

Jin laughed. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but you weren't the problem."

You grinned triumphantly. You made Yoongi lose all his inhibitions last night. Though, you didn't think Yoongi was making a lot of noise. To be fair, you had spent a lot of time recently with Jimin in between your thighs, and no one makes as much noise as he does. Maybe Yoongi was just quiet in comparison.

"Well, be grateful you weren't Jungkook. That reminds me, I must apologise to him."

"What for?"

"I sort of went all dom on Yoongi in front of him. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights."

"He was shocked, I take it?"

"Understatement of the century."

"Yeah, well, he's not used to stuff like that, is he?"

"I take it he's not very kinky, then?"

"I don't think he even knows, to be honest."

You frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Wait... you don't know?" Jin looked at you with nothing but surprise on his face. You didn't respond, just stared at him expectantly. "Well, if you don't already know then it's not my place to tell you." Jin's wording made the pieces of the puzzle fall into place.

"Jungkook's a virgin?" You asked. You half doubted yourself, wondering how on earth this gorgeous 21-year-old man hadn't had a sexual partner before. Though, despite knowing, Jin's confirmation knocked you for six. "Fuck. How is that possible?"

"Well, he joined us when he was 15. And though he'd had a girlfriend before, he was too shy to take it any further. Then when he joined, any time he had for intimacy went out the window. He was always too preoccupied with making himself better for Army and for us, he never made time to go out and get laid like the rest of us. That and the fact that he was painfully shy to begin with. He's still adorably shy now but before that it was crippling. He would wait until we were asleep before he'd shower, he wouldn't talk to many staffs – and don't get me started on what he was like around girls."

"Oh God, don't tell me he was like Raj from the Big Bang Theory."

"Basically. Except even when he was drunk he wouldn't talk to any of them."

"Oh, Kookie."

"I know. I mean, me and Yoongi are quite shy, and none of us have had many sexual partners but none of us have been quite as bad as JK. He's part of the reason why I agreed to you joining us. He needs social interaction that doesn't involve six other men. Even if you never fuck him and he remains a virgin for the rest of his life, it's a woman's touch he needs, because he's very deprived of that."

"Wow."

"Oh please tell me I haven't scared you off!"

"Of course not! He wouldn't have agreed to this if he wasn't comfortable with it. I'm just surprised, is all. If anyone out of all of you was going to sleep around, I assumed it would be Jungkook."

"We all thought that. He's got that jock feel to him, hasn't he? But nope. Baby boy's an enigma."

You enjoyed Jin's breakfast and brought a cup of coffee to Yoongi's room to leave there. He was still sleeping so peacefully, you were sure his coffee was going to get cold, but you couldn't wake him. Instead you gave him a little kiss on his exposed forehead and left him to it. You needed to make yourself look a little more presentable. Even if you didn't put any makeup on, you needed to sort your hair out. You had no intentions of taking off Yoongi's shirt, it was too comfortable. So instead you made your way to your room to get ready.

Of course, Jungkook was still in bed, sound asleep and clutching onto your pillow like it was you. He was so adorable the way he buried his face into the sheets, inhaling your scent, you couldn't look away. You found yourself standing in the doorway, watching him sleep.

"Don't do that," Jungkook commented sleepily, "it's creepy." Of course the Golden Maknae would have a sixth sense when it came to people watching him sleep.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You replied.

Jungkook chuckled. Even when he was half asleep he still had his wits about him. "Last time I heard that you took Hyung into his room and fucked him."

Your eyes widened. He was right. Just as you were about to respond, you heard light snores coming from him. He'd fallen asleep again. You couldn't help but look at Jungkook differently now that you knew. You didn't want to – but it was almost inevitable. He seemed way more innocent than before, more babyish but in the cutest way. He was untouched snow after a snowfall; fresh paint in a new room. An alien in modern day society. A sweet, young man you couldn't wait to completely ruin for everyone else if he'd let you. God, the things you'd teach him. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter just thinking about it. But you couldn't rush him. You had to let him come to you – show you the smallest indication that he wanted to be inside you. Only then could you soil his innocence.

Recording season always has been and always will be your most boring season. The boys were never in the media during this time. There were no media appearances or concerts you needed to prep them for, so you were, in essence out of a job for a few months. Not that it mattered so much now, of course, as you were no longer paying the bills. Just your phone bill. You were able to turn down some freelance work now and take a staycation, pick up some hobbies that you had to give up because you simply ran out of time for them. Reading was something you used to do a lot before Big Hit hired you. You had a library that could rival a palace. Though, of course, that library resided in multiple cardboard boxes as you never had the space to display your books. But maybe now you'd be able to figure out a way to display them in your new room. Your room that was just as big as your last apartment.

It was the middle of the day and you found yourself almost home alone. Well, except for Hobi who was asleep in his room catching up on all the sleep he missed out on in the studio last night. He'd been up so late according to Jimin, doing a lot of work for his mixtape mostly. So, despite Hobi being there with you, it was almost as if you were alone. Which is why you decided to take your book and sprawl out on the sofa, laying on your tummy and rubbing your socked feet on the leather and feeling the skin of your thighs stick a little to the cold material. You had refused to put anything on underneath Yoongi's jumper, preferring the feel of knee-length socks instead of sweatpants or shorts.

You were so engrossed in your story, you didn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.

You felt a large hand rubbing at the back of your legs, stroking the socks and drawing your attention. Looking behind you, you saw Namjoon crouched eyeing you up. What you didn't realise, was in your non-caring attitude about what you were wearing and your thought of being alone, the way you were lay had made your jumper rise up, and expose the bottom of your ass cheeks. A part of your body that Namjoon was staring at like he was looking at the first meal he'd seen in months.

"Oh hey," you said casually, ignoring the look in his eyes, "didn't expect you home so early."

Namjoon hummed. "Wanted a break and forgot to pick something up."

"Oh."

Silence. You decided to return to your book as Namjoon was no longer wanting to keep up a conversation. You felt his hand continue to stroke you, moving upwards to your bare thigh and tickle it with the tip of his finger, sending shivers up your spine. "Namjoon-" You started, but he wasn't having any of it.

"Sssh." He interrupted. "Just ignore me. Keep reading your book. Pay me no mind."

That's going to be difficult, you thought. But you did as you were told and turned back to your book, pretending to read the same page over and over as you felt his hands wander. His lips came down to your upper thigh, kissing the spot where your flesh began to curve to the shape of your ass. The, to Namjoon, erotic spot that ended up giving him a raging hard on. His hand lifted the jumper up just a little to expose more of your ass for him to kiss. Well, over your underwear anyway. You felt his hand move to your core, his thumb resting on your ass as his index finger rubbed your slit through the cloth. You shifted, allowing him a little more access as you sighed at the sensation. His fingers were so long and beautiful, and they were barely touching you yet they were working you into a frenzy.

"Namjoon, please."

"Don't beg me. I'm not here."

You felt him pull your underwear down, then heard the light thud of them being thrown somewhere in the room. Namjoon's finger connected with your clit, and began to rub you in tight circles as best he could, given that your thighs had only slightly parted for him. Without moving you, there was no way he'd be able to stretch you out with his fingers for him, but there was a part of you that didn't want that. You wanted to feel him stretch you out fully with his cock. There was no way you wasn't wet enough for him. He could even hear the way your cunt was making wet little sounds as he played with your clit and sank his teeth into the cheek of your ass.

"I wanna make you cum so bad, but I wanna be inside you too. What a conundrum." Namjoon teased. "I wonder how fast I can make you cum."

He wasn't looking for a response from you, or if he was he just wanted it in the way of the moan he received as he started to rub your clit faster, as he added more and more pressure and soon enough your book had fallen to the floor and your cries were being muffled by the pillow as you came on his fingers.

Namjoon looked at his watch. "Two minutes. You must be really fucking wound up if it takes two minutes to make you cum."

"Or maybe I just want you inside me."

"Keep talking like that and I won't last two minutes."

You giggled.

Namjoon parted your thighs a little more and straddled you. You could hear him taking himself out of his trousers, felt his tip rub up and down your slit before sliding inside. The moan you let out was a lot louder as you felt your dripping yet unprepared cunt stretch significantly around his thick length, that just kept burying itself into you, seemingly not stopping. Just how big was he? Maybe the same size as Jin? Maybe a little bigger? You couldn't tell. All you could feel was your impossibly tight cunt being invaded by something that felt damn substantial.

"Fuck how big are you?" You moaned out when he bottomed out.

Namjoon chuckled at your surprise – you knew him well enough to know that he was blushing slightly. "I'm not hurting you am I?"

"Fuck no. Please move. Please."

Namjoon groaned. "Now I know why Hoseok and Jiminie like to make you beg. You sound so fucking pretty. I don't think I can be soft with you, is that okay?"

You tightened at Namjoon's sweet words filled with so much filth. The thought of him mercilessly pounding into you on this couch physically did something uncontrollable to your cunt. "Please destroy me."

"Fuck."

That was all it took to get Namjoon moving inside of you, slamming into you over and over again. You were bouncing on his cock without even moving yourself to meet his thrusts. It was like you were ricocheting off the sofa and back into him as he fucked into you. "God this cunt." He moaned. His hands came to rest on your ass, using that as leverage to steady himself. "They were telling me to hurry up and get inside you. They told me you – shit – felt amazing." He was ramming into you at this point. You didn't want to wake up Hobi, but the loudness of your moans were uncontrollable. You were screaming as he impaled you. "They didn't say you felt heavenly."

How was he doing it? How could his words be so sweet and soft yet his body was absolutely ripping you to bits, leaving you in shreds on the sofa.

"Fuck me, you're so big."

"You're so tight. Oh God."

Namjoon knelt back, hitting a different angle. "Yes! Namjoon! Right there. God, please don't stop. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Why?" Came a voice from the other side of the room. "Why is it always me who walks in on you getting fucked? It's like you do it on purpose just to torment me."

"Sorry, sir." You said to Hobi through your screams. "I don't mean to."

"I think you do." He walked over to the sofa and knelt down in front of you, watching your face intensely as Namjoon kept his merciless pace. "First you fuck Jimin in my studio-"

"She did what?" Namjoon asked.

"Yeah. Caught Jimin balls deep inside her as he had her spread legged on my couch."

"Fuck."

"Had to fill her with my cum afterwards, didn't I? Let the little slut know she can't just fuck on my couch if it's not me."

"Did you punish her?"

"Hmmm, I can't recall. Did I punish you, slut?"

"Yes, sir." You answered.

"What did I do?"

"Y-you made me cum more than once. And s-spanked me, oh God. Namjoon, please!"

"Oh fuck that's hot." Namjoon commented.

Hoseok, "spank her, Joonie. The little whore loves it."

Namjoon did as he was told, a hard thwack came down on your bare ass cheek. It was way harder than anything Hobi had given you, and fuck did it feel good. You instantly tightened making Namjoon roll his eyes. "See?" Hoseok asked. "Turn her around, Namjoonie. I wanna make her cum for you."

Namjoon pulled out of you briefly to allow you to lie on your back and spread your legs wide for him. It was now you got to look at his impressive length while he stared at your beautiful cunt. He was bigger than Jin, no question, in both length and girth, and you were practically desperate for him to be inside you again. He wasted no time in diving back in, picking up exactly where he left off. His eyes were fixated on your tits as they bounced underneath the jumper.

"Hold on a second," Hoseok said, "that's Yoongi-hyung's jumper. You little slut, fucking another member while wearing someone else's clothes."

Namjoon tutted. "You know what I'm going to have to do, don't you, Hoseok-ah?"

"What?"

"I'm going to have to cum all over it to let Hyung know what a little slut she is."

Hobi's eyes widened. "Filthy boy." He playfully scolded. He didn't tell him to not, though. Without warning, his one hand wrapped around your throat, and the other made its way down to your clit, rubbing at the little button hard and fast. "I wonder how he'd react to that. Knowing that she fucked someone else in his clothes. Would you like him to know that, baby girl? That his little miss is a whore for someone else."

You couldn't answer. You could barely breathe. With both Hoseok and Namjoon giving you pleasure, your mind wasn't giving you the capacity to do much except scream out loud at the feel of your impending second orgasm.

"Hoseok-ah, she's getting so much tighter. You're gonna make her cum soon."

Hobi moved his lips to your ear, and in between nibbling at it, he spouted more and more filth. "Cum, ___. Cum for us. All over his fat cock. Show him how much you love it when two guys please you."

You let go, almost passing out at the onslaught of your orgasm. Your breathing was heavy, and you were gasping for air by the time you'd finished cumming. You winced at the feeling of Namjoon pulling out of you, and it wasn't long before spurts of his cum landed all over Yoongi's jumper just as he promised he would. Streams and streams of his seed landing on the fabric as he came hard all over you.

You both remained there for a while, catching your breaths and recovering from perhaps the best sex you'd had in a good while. It wasn't until Hobi stood to walk away you remembered he was still there. "Wh-what about you?" You asked.

"Oh please, as hot as that was I'm too fucking tired to get anything up." He bent down and kissed your forehead. "Maybe next time I'll get you to scream louder than him." He turned to walk away. "Oh, and the next time you two wanna fuck, don't wake me up."

"Sorry, Hobi." Namjoon said. "We'll try to keep it down." He turned to you. "Are you okay?"

"I need to sleep."

Namjoon laughed. "Come on then, baby. We'll nap in my room for a bit." He took your hand and led you off to his bed, giving you new clothes to wear before holding you from behind, watching you drift off into a deep sleep – completely exhausted.

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veliseraptor · 6 years

Text

(you’ll never dream of) breaking this fixation, 3.4k, loki/grandmaster, breathplay

it’s @led-lite‘s birthday today! and of course in honor of my main frostmaster enabler I had to...write some frostmaster porn. is it too soon for fic involving loki and erotic asphyxiation? I sure hope not.

anyway: happy birthday! this is how we celebrate friends’ birthdays on the internet: with dubious porn.

note: this will be crossposted to AO3 as soon as it’s betaed (as it currently isn’t - short turnaround, busy beta.). and for those who aren’t having a birthday: if you like what I do, consider letting me know via my ko-fi.

“You have,” the Grandmaster said, “the most gorgeous neck.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Oh?” He was sprawled on a chaise lounge in the room that had been designated for his use, the windows open in a futile attempt to relieve some of the heat. At least they were high enough above the ground that the smell was manageable. And at least so far he was only mildly drunk.

“Oh, yes,” the Grandmaster said, turning around holding two glasses and sauntering back over to Loki. “Absolutely. What, no one’s told you that before?”

“It’s certainly been a while,” Loki said. He took the glass that was held out to him, resisting the urge to test it for any possible additives. He’d made that mistake once. Why, Lo-lo, don’t you - don’t you trust me?

He shivered a little, though he quickly tried to suppress it and cover by taking a sip of the fizzy, light, drink he’d been given. Barely any burn. He wasn’t going to assume that meant it wasn’t...potent.

“My poor, neglected, flower,” the Grandmaster said with a click of his tongue. “I just can’t believe...well. It’s tragic. You should be absolutely lavished with attention.” Loki looked up at him, drawing a smile up from somewhere.

“You’re too kind,” he demurred. The Grandmaster smiled at him.

“I am, aren’t I? Anyway, your...neck. It’s really very.” He reached down, trailing his fingers up the side of Loki’s throat, thumb tracing the center line. Loki swallowed and tipped his chin up without thinking, the motion almost an instinctive response. The moment he realized what he’d done, he tensed; the Grandmaster hummed, sounding pleased. “Nice. And that thing you just did, where you...it’s like you’re baring your throat to me.” His thumb paused its slide down and pressed against Loki’s skin, just hard enough to put pressure on his trachea. “I like that. You do it when someone’s fucking you.”

Loki could feel his face warming. He brought the glass carefully to his lips, taking a small sip. “Do I?” He said, trying to sound casual and not like he could feel his pulse starting to quicken. By the Grandmaster’s little smirk, he was not successful.

“Sure do,” the Grandmaster said. “And you look great doing it.” He pulled his hand away and Loki let out a quiet breath, though the Grandmaster’s eyes remained fixed on him as he sipped from his own glass. “Ahh,” he said. “That’s nice. Anyway.” He tapped a finger against his lips and then waved a hand, setting his drink aside. “Up.”

Loki blinked. “Pardon?”

“You know I don’t like repeating myself,” the Grandmaster said reproachfully. “Stand up, sweetheart.”

Loki knew better than to question a second time. He stood, swaying a little but otherwise holding still as the Grandmaster stepped in close and adjusted the front of the robe that was Loki’s only thin covering. Then he grabbed the fabric and tugged Loki forward into a demanding kiss. Loki almost stumbled, the drink he was holding sloshing over the sides of the glass and spilling over his hand. He made a startled noise, muffled by the Grandmaster’s tongue exploring the contours of his mouth.

He pulled away slowly while Loki was still trying to get his bearings, the ground rocking a little under his feet. “I wasn’t planning on, ah, indulging again,” he said, eyebrows raised and a quirk in his lips, the stripe of blue paint still somehow unsmudged. “But I think...well.” He pressed forward, one thigh pressing forward against Loki’s groin so he hissed and jumped. “What do you think, Lo-lo?”

“I…” Loki took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I think I spilled my drink,” he said, instead of answering the real question.

“Oh! Oh dear,” the Grandmaster said, twisting to pluck the glass out of Loki’s hand. “Here, well, let’s just…” He put the rim to Loki’s lips and tipped it.

Humiliation burned in Loki’s chest, but he let his lips part and swallowed what the Grandmaster gave him until the glass was empty. The coiling, hot, feeling in his gut wasn’t unfamiliar, but he didn’t like that it was there, either. The Grandmaster ground his leg against him again and Loki jerked, grinding back; his hand slid from Loki’s chest to his sides, around his waist to his back where he pulled Loki in tighter.

He tossed the glass over his shoulder and Loki heard it shatter. He could feel himself breathing quick and unsteadily.

“So,” the Grandmaster said. “Now. What do you think, Lo? Should I, umm. Indulge?”

“I wouldn’t...dream of telling you not to,” Loki said. His voice sounded unsteady, too.

“I’m so glad to hear you say that,” the Grandmaster said. Loki could feel the planes of his body, pressed together as they were, through the Grandmaster’s own shimmering gold robe. “That’s just what I was thinking. I mean. What good is it running a planet if I can’t do whatever I want? Or, ah, whoever.” His eyebrows waggled up and down and it was so absurd that Loki almost laughed.

He didn’t. Just held still, feeling a little like a rabbit eyeing the circling shadow of a hawk above. “And what is it you’re planning to...do?”

The Grandmaster leaned forward, one of his hands sneaking under Loki’s robe and caressing his chest, circling one of his nipples. “Well,” he said, and bent his head to Loki’s neck, mouthing wetly up the side, pausing to suck hard at a patch of skin. “Well,” he said again, “what do you think about, hm. Have you ever had someone…” The hand on his chest migrated upwards, sliding over his sternum, fingers curling slowly around his throat. Loki froze, almost quivering, breath caught in his lungs.

“Have you?” The Grandmaster still just sounded innocently curious, but Loki could hear the slight edge of impatience. He swallowed, feeling his throat bob against the Grandmaster’s palm. Not constricting. Just...resting there.

“Yes,” he said.

“Oh, good!” The Grandmaster said. “Well - I do love introducing you to new things, but...you like it, am I right? That’s a...a good one? Just guessing, here, but I’m good at guessing.”

A tremor ran through him, and Loki was quite certain that the Grandmaster felt it. Thankfully, though his eyes glittered, he didn’t comment. “I have...enjoyed it in the past.” He was very aware of the Grandmaster’s hand. The strength behind it, despite the deceptive exterior. The Grandmaster’s power wasn’t primarily physical, but if he wanted to…

The shiver that went through Loki then wasn’t entirely fear. It should have been. It wasn’t.

“Knew it,” the Grandmaster said. “It’s all, uh, part and parcel, isn’t it?” His hand dropped from Loki’s neck and moved to the tie at his waist, loosening it. “Of this whole thing you have about control. You want it, you don’t want it. Can’t make up your mind, so...someone’s gotta make it up for you.”

Loki’s face flared hot and he desperately hoped it wasn’t visible. He did tense, though, and the Grandmaster laughed. “Hey now! No need to - ha - be embarrassed, I’m into it. So let’s just…” He planted a hand on Loki’s chest and started steering him back toward the bed. Loki tripped a little over his own feet, beginning to feel light-headed.

He’d been right to think that drink was more potent than it tasted.

Half falling back onto the bed, Loki just managed to catch himself, robe hanging open on either side of him. The Grandmaster just stood in front of him for a moment, eyes sweeping over Loki slowly like he was a feast and he was trying to decide what to devour first. It made Loki’s stomach clench, and his cock stiffen.

“Nice,” the Grandmaster said approvingly, and closed in, clasping Loki’s chin and drawing his face up, bending down for a kiss.

He didn’t let it last for long, though, before pulling away and shedding his own robe. Loki’s eyes trailed down to his cock and jerked back up to his face, his heart rabbiting nervously in his rib cage. He swallowed hard.

“Where do you want me,” he asked, lowering his voice deliberately to something sultry. The Grandmaster gave him an amused look.

“Where do you think I want you, honeybunch,” he said. “Flat on your back with your arms over your head.”

Loki swallowed hard. With anyone else, he would push back. With anyone else.

Not here. He inched back onto the bed to where he could stretch out, and slowly brought his arms up over his head. “Am I...not going to be allowed to use my hands?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have you very much at my mercy if you could, would I?” The Grandmaster said with his bright, bright, smile. Loki’s breath shuddered out of him and his throat tightened like the Grandmaster was already pinning him down, fingers squeezing.

Whatever look was on his face made the Grandmaster’s smile widen. He climbed over Loki and reached up to grasp his wrists, pressing them down into the bed. Loki’s body answered even that little, vague arousal starting to crowd out his nerves.

“Can you...could you, ah, hypothetically. Tie yourself up with your own magic?”

Oh. “I could,” Loki said, because he suspected the Grandmaster knew that already, and was making him say it. He thought he knew why, too. It would mean discarding the pretense that he was overwhelmed. It would mean he was offering up his own submission.

The bitter flavor of humiliation was familiar by now. The wave of arousal that came with it even more so.

“Well,” the Grandmaster said, “go on.” He released Loki’s wrists to trail his hands down Loki’s sides to his hips. The spell was easy enough to weave, twining around his wrists, binding them in place. He looked up at the Grandmaster, hoping to mask how his heart had started pounding.

The Grandmaster’s thumbs caressed across his hipbones. “Aren’t you just the prettiest picture,” he said, and Loki’s chest warmed, almost squirming.

“Thank you,” he said, trying to push down the feeling of vulnerability, of being - exposed.

“Oh, yes,” the Grandmaster said, his hand moving to Loki’s cock and dragging his thumb over the head, the dry friction just at the edge of painful but still - good. Loki bucked upwards and the Grandmaster whipped his hand away. “Ah - no rush, sweetheart. Right?” He shifted back and bent forward, tonguing at one of Loki’s nipples. A quiet sound escaped Loki’s mouth and he pressed up toward the wet heat of his mouth, his fingers flexing. Loki’s stomach muscles tightened and he forced himself to relax.

The Grandmaster transferred his attentions to Loki’s other nipple, this time with a brush of his teeth. He moaned, hips pressing up, and the Grandmaster raised his head. “You’re really - eager for it, aren’t you?” His thumbs slid between Loki’s thighs, pressing against his skin, not quite where Loki wanted them.

“You’re - good at what you do,” Loki said, because he was, and that was part of the problem.

“Of course I am,” the Grandmaster said. “You’re - ha - stating the obvious there a bit, aren’t you?” He sat up and climbed off Loki. His eyes widened and he tried to sit up, forgetting the magic that brought him sharply back down.

“What - where-”

“Relax, Lo,” the Grandmaster said. “We’re going to need some, uh, something to, ease the way.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I gotta tell you, it gets really good for, ah, for me when you can’t breathe. All tight and...hm. Tight.” Loki’s stomach clenched and he swallowed hard. His cock twitched and he heard himself make a faint noise.

The Grandmaster pulled a bottle from a drawer. “Legs spread, darling,” he said, not looking back as he inspected the label. Loki’s face burned but he moved, distantly hating his own obedience.

The Grandmaster returned and inspected him. “Knees up,” he said. “I’m going to need some room to work, here.”

Loki licked his lips and swallowed hard. The Grandmaster raised his eyebrows. “Go on, sweet thing. We don’t have all day. Well. We do, but…”

Loki drew his knees up to his chest. The Grandmaster climbed back onto the bed, gripped his thighs and slid his hands down to pull his buttocks apart, one thumb pressing against his hole. He closed his eyes, face still burning. This position had always felt somehow more obscene than others, and right now…

“So tense,” the Grandmaster said. “Doesn’t it just get exhausting? Let’s see if I can’t...loosen you up.” He shimmied down the bed, pushing Loki’s ankles further apart, and bent down to take Loki’s cock in his mouth.

He let out a surprised yelp, bucking upward, but the Grandmaster moved back quickly.

“Ah, ah,” he said, Loki’s cock slipping out of his mouth. “I’m still driving. You just take it.”

Loki shivered and dropped his head back.

The Grandmaster knew what he was doing. He’d done this before, but not often, and every time it shamed Loki how quickly he came undone. He could feel himself melting, and when the Grandmaster’s probing finger pressed into him he pressed back, the thumb rubbing behind his testicles sending a violent shudder through him.

The Grandmaster pulled off him with an obscene slurping noise and crooked his finger like he was trying to bring thumb and forefinger together. Loki jerked with a shudder and a strangled sound, his cock dribbling pre-come where it lay heavy on his stomach, slick with spit. His hands twisted, wanting to grab hold of something, his body humming.

“Easy-peasy,” the Grandmaster said smugly. “I knew when I saw you that you were just...made for this.”

Loki’s stomach lurched. “Made for - made for what?”

“This,” the Grandmaster said. He added a second finger and Loki gasped at the stretch. “You know. Lying back, taking what you’re given.”

Loki’s exhale was weak and uneven. “I don’t-”

The Grandmaster’s fingers stopped moving. “Careful there,” he said. “You know how I feel about that word.” Loki’s throat worked and he wanted to whimper. I’m not, he wanted to say. That’s not what I am, but even in his mind it tasted like a lie.

The Grandmaster shoved a third finger into him, too fast, and Loki cried out, trying to pull away, but he was ruthless, pressing hard with his thumb, fingers curling. The pressure slid between pleasure and pain and his cock pulsed with both.

“That’s - that’s-” Loki’s voice cut off on too much. His hips rocked, his cock leaking steadily.

“Let’s pretend,” the Grandmaster said, fingers still moving inside him, “that I’m - that I’m punishing you. Just a little.”

Pretend? Loki thought a little wildly. He could hear himself gasping.

“What would you say?” The Grandmaster sounded casual. “If I were, were upset with you.”

Loki’s chest squeezed and he forced his lungs to fill. “I’d - I’d ask you to forgive me.”

“Say please,” the Grandmaster said pleasantly.

“Please,” Loki said.

“Say please, Grandmaster.”

Loki inhaled harshly. “Please, Grandmaster,” he forced out, burning, burning.

The Grandmaster hummed. “All right,” he said. “I think I can forgive you.”

He pulled his fingers out and sheathed himself in Loki’s body in one smooth stroke.

Loki cried out, arching off the bed, but the Grandmaster’s weight pressed him back down, pinning him to the mattress. He groaned above Loki with satisfaction, shifting - to get comfortable and Loki could feel his cock moving inside him. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

The Grandmaster slid his hands up Loki’s chest and back down. “There,” he said. “That’s...very good, Loki.”

He shuddered with terrible pleasure, his cock jerking. The Grandmaster’s fingers brushed his neck and he bared his throat, unthinking, offering it to the most dangerous predator he’d ever met.

His hand just barely pressed, teasing Loki with a promise, or a threat. His breath snagged, and then he inhaled sharply as the Grandmaster moved, rocking his hips back so he slid almost all the way out and then snapping them forward. Then again, ruthless, precise movements that made Loki jerk, pulling reflexively against the magic holding his arms over his head.

The Grandmaster withdrew again, and this time when he thrust back in his hand squeezed. Not hard, but it was enough to make Loki gasp, lightning zinging down his spine, pressing unconsciously up against the palm of his hand. Another thrust, another squeeze, this a little tighter, each one in rhythm and Loki’s heartbeat hammered in his ears, inhales thinner and thinner. His cock pulsed and he rocked with each impact of the Grandmaster’s body against his.

“Good?” The Grandmaster said, his voice frustratingly smooth, only a slight breathless edge. “How does that feel?”

“Tighter,” Loki said, because it wasn’t quite enough. Almost, but not quite, everything beginning to blur together.

“Bossy,” the Grandmaster said, but with a laugh, and he shifted angles and tightened his grip. Loki sucked in a breath that didn’t reach his lungs. He bucked, writhing; his body clenched and he heard the Grandmaster moan and say, “that’s it.” He let go, but only for a moment, just enough for Loki to suck in a breath before he did it again.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe and if the Grandmaster wanted to he didn’t need to stop, he could just keep squeezing until Loki ran out of air and he’d probably barely even register it, in the end what was Loki but a toy to be used as the Grandmaster pleased--

His cock was achingly hard. He strained, seeking friction he couldn’t get.

The Grandmaster let go, still moving, still thrusting away, and Loki let out a sound like a sob. “That’s - hmm, nice, tight and hot and just delicious, you should see your face,” the Grandmaster was saying. Loki’s head lolled to the side. He felt drunk, and no longer just mildly.

He let out a whine when the Grandmaster pulled out of him, but he was only re-slicking his cock, sliding smoothly back in. “You good?” He said. “You look good.�� Loki couldn’t find the words to answer coherently.

“All right,” the Grandmaster murmured. “Let’s go.” He caressed Loki’s face. Trailed his fingers down the sides of Loki’s neck, dancing lightly over skin, and Loki panted in desperate, fearful, anticipation.

Both his hands clasped around Loki’s neck and bore down with all his weight.

Loki bucked, letting out a choked cry, caught by the magic binding his hands. He arched, but that only had the effect of rubbing his aching cock against the Grandmaster’s stomach. Pleasure and panic blended together, exhilaration and terror, his brain sparking like trying to set a fire in the rain. His eyelids fluttered wildly and he could hear himself making little noises as he tried to breathe. His head was spinning and that might be the alcohol or the lack of oxygen or both.

And the Grandmaster kept going, kept pistoning in and out of him as his fingers tightened, and Loki could feel it building, building, even as his lungs began to ache.

Then he let go. Loki bit his tongue so he didn’t howl, blood rushing back into his brain, the euphoric relief overwhelming, and for just a second his thoughts went completely blank.

He just felt the Grandmaster spill inside him, dimly aware that he’d come as well, probably in that moment of total euphoria. It never lasted long enough.

Now he was back where he was. Alone, on his back for a madman, sticky, exhausted, and feeling oddly empty.

The Grandmaster pulled out and stretched out next to him, splaying a hand across Loki’s stomach. His smile was vaguely predatory. “Oh, yes,” he said. “I knew that would be fun. Wasn’t that fun, Lo?”

“Definitely,” Loki said. He could still feel a bit of an ache in his throat, though it would fade quickly. He knew he’d miss it. He knew he felt vaguely filthy for missing it. “Without question.”

The Grandmaster rubbed his thumb across sensitive, overheated, skin, and Loki twitched with a little noise, not quite of protest. The Grandmaster laughed, and there was something dark in it. “Oh, Loki, sweetheart,” he said. “You’re so funny. You’ve just been wasted, haven’t you? And all along this...this is just where you needed to be.”

#!nsfw #dubcon cw #as always #frostmaster #sakaar trash party #loki's a goddamn mes #space jeff goldblum #a wild fic appeared #happy birthday friend!#led lite

111 notes · View notes

minteagalaxea · 6 years

Text

warmongers | kim seungmin

seungmin and akari

genre: drama, some fluff?, a shitload of angst

word count: 4.3k

inspiration: cirque du soleil’s ka

they supposed they would always be warmongers, nefarious, vile—yet, perhaps, they could always guide each other whenever the stars chose to fail them.

note: this is kind of a mess?

Archers and spearmen lined the mines, the metal framework and winding levels providing a circus of a playground of sorts as they rappelled themselves through inexplicable means, yelps, jovial noises, and the like sonorous as it reflected against the den. Lofty heights held vagarious actions, especially ones of the younger, somewhat inexperienced members as their intrepidness resulted in several near deaths.

A lithe frame soared through the air, the combination of impish recklessness and meticulous caution balancing the reality of the movement, another figure captured the former as they returned from their aerial journey. "Akari," the latter called, holding the archer by her fingers, dismissing the particularly sharp nails she possessed.

"Seungmin," Akari returned, tousling her locks nonchalantly; it was a curious matter with the girl's hair—most female archers frequented with chopping their hair short, and the female spearwomen kept their locks long, elaborate braids and other various styles accentuating their Rapunzel-like tresses.

Akari's hair was a bright snowy white, contrasting the familiar dark-haired archers and spearwomen predominant in the tribe, including the colorfully-haired daughter of the Chief Archer, Diana. Akari's hair was long, but unlike the spearwomen, it only reached her thighs, rather than creating a train on the floor, naturally attracting much attention upon the discovery of being amongst the tribe of archers and spearmen, though people eventually adapted, and ignored the idiosyncrasy, regardless of whether or not they were affiliated with the tribe or not.

"Watch yourself, Akari—you know your brother would scorn for your lack of caution," Seungmin heeded.

"My brother has no consideration for caution regarding jovial matters, Seungmin, and I'm aware you're aware of that detail having since meeting us," Akari commented fleetingly.

Akari had an elder brother, Yuto, who most might've disbelieved at first glance—much like Akari's appearance in comparison with the rest of her fellow tribe—that they were indeed brother and sister. Yuto had a golden tan, a trait of which made him, much like his sibling, obnoxiously stand out amongst the tribe, yet often ignored, for whatever oddity he possessed in physical appearance, he most certainly did not lack in battle.

Seungmin stood, admiring the archer's features as she launched herself over the railings once more, utilizing nothing but a rope as her fingers meandered down towards the mining grounds, a bucket to be attached against it, filled with ore. As Seungmin hoisted the bucket up the railing, Akari's nimble fingers climbed over the levels of the metal framework with precise agility, a skill often unchallenged by the other members. Akari's figure reached its original location, her eyes crinkling into a haphazard smirk—the archers and spearmen thought of it as a careless deed, after all, it was the archer's natural smile, yet any outsider might have perceived it as predatory, and anything and everything except kind.

The pairing peered down at the scene below, watching as the familiar face of Minho, son of Counselor Minhyuk, flaunted the ore; amazement flitted across their eyes at the incendiary mineral. The warrior chants reflected from the mines, graceful leaps sounded in booming landings; Akari rushed through the frames, Seungmin behind her, fingers interlaced with hers, stopping at a narrow opening from one structure. The young male inspected the vast difference between the two pairs—whereas wood and metal shaped his bow, ebony shaped hers, intricate metalwork reinforcing the weapon.

Considerably thinner than his own, Seungmin's prized bow had a plethora of blues decorating the tool, the limbs stained blue and speckled with white, a red and yellow feather delicately knotted on each end. His arrows varied in two colors, red or yellow, the feathers utilized for the fletching spaced in meticulously (the boy never trusted anyone to create his arrows for him), forming a beautiful spiral. Akari's reflected her physical appearance, the feathers predominantly white, the two black feathers standing out characteristically—she was a senior archer, after all, the design of her weapon of choice particularly striking and individual.

Venturing towards the Imperial Palace, the young man sensed his companion's rigid posture, a rarity in and of itself, as her calm, composed demeanor faltered at the presence of the building. Seungmin never questioned her backstory, henceforth, Akari never disclosed the information, yet he knew she held vengeance for the inhabitants of the palace, as did Yuto, an emotion that fuelled them during training and especially in combat. Weaving their way through the elaborate entrances and underground tunnels, the comrades scorning the Imperialists' penchant for lavish details, starkly paralleling the tribe's simplicity; nonetheless, the couple searched through the painstaking corridors and maneuvered their paths up the upper pillars just fine.

The Imperial Twins stood high and proud, their egos as high as their posture, watching the Imperial guards showcased their martial arts, most notably Woojin, the somewhat-rightfully titled Court Jester. The mastery of their craft barely impressed the archers and spearmen, yet they remained silent, watching as Sungjin kneeled with a declaration for the Emperor, propagating marriage between Princess Jihyo and Minho. However, the Emperor scorned it away, something everyone predicted would occur—Akari brandished two of her arrows, mounting them onto her bow as she proceeded to pull back the string for aiming purposes.

"Akari, don't miss," Seungmin's partially jocular tone implied as she patiently held her posture until the proper moment, her fingers separating the arrows and restraining their release.

"Please, Seungmin"—Akari scoffed, straightening her posture, and slackening her fingers' grasp on the bowstring—"I never miss." With the release of the arrows and the collapse of the monarchs, everything swung into complete and utter chaos, the spearmen capturing whichever useful guard or officer they could find, chasing after the twins as they boarded the boat. Akari and Seungmin launched arrows at disposable officers, easily deflecting the Imperial's own, the mockery of their pathetic aim processing through their cognizances.

Chan and Jihyo had escaped, and the palace was theirs; however, the boy observed his companion's quivering frame, asserting his arm on her waist as she gazed off at the vast ocean, her eyes glazed over and eyebrows furrowed in worry. He followed her line of sight, realizing her fears as Hyunjin, their closest friend among the tribe, pull a body from the shore that resulted in a downpour of tears from the petite archer, her fellow tribemates carrying a morose, solemn expression on their faces at the sight of the corpse of Akari's deceased brother.

Akari plucked an arrow from her quiver, lighting the tip aflame, and Seungmin observed the glint her eyes mirrored as the flame danced across her vision, enrapturing her attention briefly as she aligned her aim at the wooden board floating further away. Inhale, the archer steadied her aim; exhale, and her fingers released the arrow, sending its trajectory towards the board, setting it alight, the ashes flowing into the evening night without much as a blink.

The companions trekked towards the den, solemnity gracing their journey back, as Akari clutched onto her brother's spear with a firm vigor, her knuckles morphed into white. The wind began to flutter the warpaint off their faces, the rough blues and rich blacks fading into obscurity with the element thrashing into their faces, silence appreciated for the pair of companions as they settled to gaze at the stars.

Hushed whispers painted their evening, relishing the beauty of the silence the mines held at the late evening, the warm lighting illuminating the girl's sharper features as her closest ally cleansed the elaborate war paint from her face, the cloth soothing her skin from the tears and crushed insects that constructed the chilling colors she applied hours prior. Seungmin cleaned his own off before doing hers, allowing her to reflect and be reverent on the life her sibling lived.

Akari and Yuto lived through unbearable conditions, having endured exile from the Imperial Palace posthumous their parent's execution due to treason. Immersed in survival techniques, the duet of siblings ventured off towards a village up North, in hopes of obtaining decent shelter—yet, with the lack of food, or water, or sleep, they siblings knew they were bound to death. Had Seungmin and Hyunjin not found them, nearly camouflaged with the snow, the white-haired archer would have perished, hence, her close bond with her fellow red-haired archer. They trained together, learned together, the elders never seeing one without the other, sharing personal jokes amongst themselves, Seungmin acting as her protector, though the memory of Akari punching a spearman ("decking" as Hyunjin referred it) square in the jaw because of a vulgar comment remained present in their brains.

Diana caught Seungmin and Akari in an intimate embrace, the girl perched on the railings as the boy's hands rested on the small of her back—enviousness crossed her face as her two closest friends protected each other from the horrors of war. The chief archer's daughter remained blissfully unaware of the death of Yuto, observing how Seungmin clasped a rope on Akari's form, gentle nudges serving as a form of encouragement to toss herself over the railing she sat on and soar her fears away. Complying with his wishes, Akari dived, her frame twisting into spins and flips reminiscent to a trapeze act seen at the Imperial Palace, yet much more simplistic yet breathtaking than any other production the lavish Imperialists performed. Seungmin found himself enraptured by the subtlety of her movements, ranging from the flutter of her eyelashes to the arch of her foot, which hooked onto the cable for various flips and tricks in midair, spiraling upside-down and contorting her figures in inhuman forms.

Diana pined for Seungmin: he held all the qualities an archer in the tribe needed, with a litany of talents and a particularly charming face, his red hair the evident striking feature about him. Yet, the peculiarity of their relationship was the male never spared the chief archer's daughter a second glance, let alone any, at all. Seungmin surrounded himself with his group of friends, especially Akari, their banter flirtatious and jocular, it seemed interesting to their fellow tribemates as to why they danced and evaded the topic of pursuing a romantic relationship—their excuse had always been, "We're preparing for war, and you expect us to be in a romantic relationship?" had silenced them. Yet, Diana persisted, even when she held a romantic love interest of her own, in the form of Minho, who cared for her and protected her, chivalrous towards her, yet lighthearted towards anyone else.

Akari landed with graceful footing, hair tousled as she raked her icy white hair, recently undone from her braids, as Seungmin gazed at her with an emotion reminiscent of adoration, featherlike touches, and floral-esque words causing small bouts of giggles as Seungmin reeled her in for an aggressive kiss. Akari released a smile, allowing him to press her body against his, effectively being toe to toe, his hands snaking back to find rest on the small of her back, rocking her steadily towards their sleeping quarters, actions more innocuous than initially perceived.

The morning successive to the intense kiss, Akari rose from the bed, craning her head to see Seungmin gaping at her as if she was the universe, his universe, an uncharacteristic chortle escaping her frosted, faded, pink lips as her newfound lover's hands found purchase on her waist, caressing her sides in adoration. Seungmin always believed Akari seemed angelic during the morning—the rays of sunlight struck the white-haired archer with a tender fervor, her sharp, cold, features seem less daunting, more ethereal in a manner of speaking.

The absurd silence astounded the pair of archers, as their fellow tribemates should have returned back to the mines at this period of the morning hour, yet, it seemed eerily void of the cacophonous harmony they had grown accustomed towards. Seungmin gently tugged her down back onto their bed, allowing her to rest her head on his chest as his fingers skated vertically against her spine, kissing her forehead as her own fingers played with his unoccupied hand.

From the glimpse of the window, the male archer caught sight of a crestfallen comrade; reassuring Akari that she could sleep more, Seungmin left the room, trudging after the bright-haired archer. "You're hurting her," Diana warned, a dangerous tone characterizing her warning, something Seungmin haplessly shrugged away without much thought.

"Hurting her, or do you refer to hurting yourself?" Seungmin countered—the shift from the domesticity he provided for Akari to a nonchalant protector astounding—nothing more needed to be said, as the red-haired man took his steps back into his living quarters.

She had already occupied his shower when he returned, stepping out with damp hair and her war uniform on and dark makeup across her eyes and lips; Akari pecks his lips once, before rushing to soar down the railings. The female archer leaped down to open the doors at sunset when the others have returned from their crusade, a sardonic grin crossing her face as she saw the prisoners hobble in—officers of the Imperial Palace, the very same that trained her and her older brother.

The imprisoned officer sought to fight back, yet the others held too much power, especially given the death of a spearman, that the officer fell, tumbling over to look up to see Akari, a cold, unforgiving, expression on her face. The alteration from the dainty, fragile, fairy from the morning to the icy warrior, highlighted by the glow of the biting golden light from the lanterns strung on the wall, went unnoticed by Diana, who seemed bewildered at the aggressive spinning kick the girl launched at the officer as he stood, precisely aimed towards his cheek.

"That was for my brother," Akari snarled, moving aside, and with a flicker of her fingers, the officer was imprisoned in a cylindrical metal cage, along with various others. Minho stepped out from his shadows, adjourning their attention onto the shrouded apparatus in their central line of vision; his explanation proved simplistic enough, "This machine will grind the ore, and we can conquer the Empire with its incendiary powers." Dubbed the Death Machine, he spun the prototype, revealing the ground ore, smug in the eagerness of his tribemates’ glee, flickering his eyes towards Diana, who affixed her attention towards Seungmin and Akari, fingers tangled with each other out of domestic habit.

Akari, Seungmin, Hyunjin, and their troop of archers trekked northwards, scanning for a brightly clad squadron of Imperialists, smirking at the revelation of seeing the valets, Jisung and Jeongin, nursemaid Miyu, and Crown Princess Jihyo struggling to climb the mountain. A scornful, perfunctory cackle inadvertently escaped the female archer escaped her lips, mellifluously cruel, nothing short of the biting warrior she had trained to be. Jihyo heard it, her acute hearing processing the mocking chortle and malevolent grin with an unwavering vexation, and for the second period of time, she felt a surge of fear running through her veins as the archer—and many others similar to her—launched a series of arrows on the mountain, a red-haired archer spun around the projectiles. The effectiveness of the strategy seemed evident, as Seungmin delivered a kick to Jisung, resulting in his loss of balance, spared only once by a black-haired archer, who proceeded to throttle him down the mountain without so much as a second thought, a sadistic smile on Hyunjin's face.

Jihyo could only shriek in mortification from her safe position as the white-haired girl exchanged positions following another array of launched projectiles lodging themselves onto the mountain; the simultaneous action of retaining her safety while attempting to decipher the identity of the archer bothering, even irking, her cognizance beyond comprehension. The princess's untarnished fingers grazed past the other's nimble own during the latter's ascent, tainted with faded scars and worn callouses from training, a terrified expression painting its way onto her face as the fearsome archer snarled with a ferocious audacity, smirking at the scream that escaped the impending monarch's lips. The archer's war paint made her appear more feral, according to the princess, who had only seen the intricate decals in artwork, and never personally. Akari locked her ankles around Jeongin, firing him down the mountain as the valet went unconscious hitting a steely arrow (not Akari's own, of course), tumbling down with an ungraceful motion, contrasting her own descent, landing on her feet on gentle steps, and a powerful smash. A final glower at the princess and Akari returned back to the mines, the small pack nursing each other's wounds and aggressively handling their new captives.

Their return hailed whoops of joy and glee as they saw two new prisoners, sardonically jovial at the prospect of inflicting pain onto them—aside from the sight of Chan and Woojin imprisoned in cages. Counselor Minhyuk praised the trio for their impressive work, before beckoning them for rest, which everyone in their troop obliged, the vociferous clambers and footsteps gracing their ears as Seungmin and Akari roamed around the corner to their chamber, their habitual pecks and laced fingers foreign in their given living conditions and current predicament, though not unwelcome.

Lilting footsteps fluttered down the metal railings, unusually silent, yet Akari managed to rush through and down to the den, wearing a mask to protect her respiratory system from inhaling mass quantities of the ore. She could only watch in disgust as Diana, evidently lovestruck by Prince Chan, danced to the flute melody he played, and she released the prince from his confinement, subsequently allowing the Court Jester, Woojin, to leave. Perhaps out of wistfulness, Diana danced again, tossing the flutes she had acquired—stolen, in more accurate terms—in a baton-esque fashion, a serene smile on her face.

The Chief Archer's daughter reverted out of her reverie upon hearing the biting scoff she had grown accustomed to during her upbringing, the minutiae of the very woman she grew to trust and to loathe. "Akari," Diana beckoned, the said young lady stepping out of the shadows, a bitter scowl on her face as she spat out a cruel, "Ingrate," from her lips. It caught the former by surprise—as honest as Akari was, with every snide comment, every cruel snark, she never disrespected Diana; it shocked her, yet she never asked ice-white archer to repeat her barb.

"Vengeance is a double-edged sword, Akari," the elder quipped in return, intending the statement to inflict as much pain as the singular insult the younger struck, yet, Akari took the remark in stride, seeming invulnerable to the attacks made in her regard.

"Vengeance holds no meaning in my wake so long as you decide to act like a spineless imbecile, never once having to sacrifice anything, leaving you free to lead on and dither between countless archers, spearmen, now the Crown Prince? Have you no loyalty?" the white-haired girl hissed her paroxysm, inching portentously closer to the pink-and-orange archer, provoking her further while not permitting any interruption, "Minho has pined over you for years and would be infinitely better than settling for a child-king, so perhaps you stick to your own kind before your father has your head. And if you wish to know, Diana, your new playtoy, his sister killed my brother."

A crane of her figure and Akari observed the presence of Minho, an impassive expression marring his face; however, his eyes reflected a more vulnerable aspect of himself, portraying crestfallenness and internal torment at the absence of reciprocation in feelings. He supposed nothing could ever pass unnoticed by her, her minuscule attention to the subtler details and minutiae of the significant people in her life, despite her trepidation to act upon it, as such with this particular instance, choosing to remain in silence regarding the entire ordeal.

With the recent imprisonment of Miyu, life in the mines seemed to go accordingly, lest for the viperous glares Akari inclined to bestow on Diana, reasons unknown to nobody except Minho, gracious for the defense of the mostly-apathetic archer. The construction of the Death Machine loomed closer to completion, Akari and Seungmin spent their evenings inspecting the automaton, the prisoners piqued in wonder as they watched the couple chat or dive from the rails in amazement, peering at the stars every now and then. The imprisoned reminisced of the two Imperialists, beheaded for committing treason, and held speculation regarding the identity of the lady, though never betrayed their passing intrigue, for they placed a handsome value on their lives, and they had a decent understanding of the price for speaking to the white-haired archer and her capability of murder. The topic appeared perplexing, each recognizing that Akari harbored a harrowingly malignant hatred against the Empire, her methods of torment more restrained and cunning in opposition to the brutal, more physical styles her fellow comrade, Hyunjin, displayed—a flicker of a knife, or a particular angle of watching her archery inexplicably as adequate as physical pain.

Gratuitously, her scarce presence throughout the upcoming week allowed solace for the Imperialists, never imploring to question the reason, only watching as most were placed into servitude on the apparatus, a glimmer of hope sparking as they saw the two prisoners defy the demands of the tribe. Optimized by their impending freedom as they saw their monarchs liberate them of their capture, noting the recent addition of an especially radiating individual.

The battlefield proved barren, both sides equally matched, teeth bared predatorily, the Imperialists carrying a disadvantage—a lack of understanding the setting of battle, and their moral compass of righteousness. The tribe of spearmen and archers' sense of honor functioned on a different spectrum, one of a slightly villainous perspective, holding a partially nonchalant attitude on the prospect of killing.

Akari allowed Jihyo the opportunity to strike first, alarming the latter as her lethal combination of precise, rapid movement and unrepressed anger proved overwhelming to the monarch—the complexity and intricate motions computing at a velocity that rendered Jihyo haggard within moments of combating against Akari. In retrospect, Woojin and Seungmin's clash seemed to mirror her own, the red-haired archer applying a butterfly kick to strike against the jester, besting him despite the use of a weapon on Woojin's behalf. They seemed relentless, merciless, prepared to kill the princess, the defense taught to Jihyo crumbling in regards to the brutally rapid offensive strokes Akari displayed, yet, both parties froze in a picturesque scene to the sonorous boom of an explosion, the tribe members facial expressions morphing from sinister to mortified. Counselor Minhyuk rushed out, a pained scream of agony bursting from his aging lips, cradling his son's head in his lap, an aching fear rising in Akari's chest—shockingly, the Imperialists' moral code refrained them from interfering or attacking any further.

A lingering thought that occupied Jihyo's cognizance on one-too-many occasions was Akari; the verdict revealed that Akari was acquitted of numerous past crimes, both hers and her ancestors, allowing her to attempt to assimilate into Imperial society. Yet, unlike Counselor Minhyuk (though, the title should no longer be intact), who bowed in humility, and a blinded Minho, whose grip on his walking stick nearly snapped the device into two, Akari sent a ferocious glare towards the monarchs, hatred evident in her eyes. Had she not wanted exoneration like her fellow comrades? She assumed she was partly to blame, as she had killed her elder brother in nearly the same fashion as her parent's execution, and Akari’s realization towards that information created a personal vendetta against the newly christened empress.

Regardless of her response to the ultimate verdict, an uproar erupted from every Imperialist, potentially making Akari the most hated person in the Empire—in reality, Counselor Minhyuk held the mantle of such an unprestigious honor. Diana stifled the urge to mutter, "Ingrate," at the archer, yet, the temptation to insult her directly appeared relatively slim, given her last encounter with Akari, so she settled to gossip-mong obscenities about the white-haired girl, whose propensity for hapless shrugs overcame the baseless accusations.

Seungmin consistently wondered about the pretense of attempting to fabricate palace scandal expense of someone who held no respect for them, who openly scorned them with icy snippets of insults and smirk that entailed itself with her presence at the palace. Seldom had his presence often leave several court members bristling at the prospect of encountering him by chance, but he concluded it was only due to his romantic attachment with Akari, the most feared person inside the palace.

Spectating and engaging in war aged her, they established, yet didn't discern it from her malevolent personality—the rare occurrences of her appearing in the palace held a unique quiver, her stabbing glare, and implacably vehement hatred was a lethal, yet unusually enticing, make of entertainment. Ranging from sarcastic drawls of disdain, bickerings with the monarchs (Akari had no preference as to which one, though she especially enjoyed making the empress squirm), and cruel war of words with Diana that resulted in her tears on the rare opportunity that Akari's barb inflicted salt onto open wounds.

"You're a spoiled, spineless, brat without understanding nor consideration towards anyone aside from herself because your selfish desires render your sense of tact into nothingness, seeing as you haven't atoned for the immense torture you gifted onto Minho, Hyunjin, Seungmin, me? So, the next time you advance to lecture me or gossip about the void of my gratuity, perhaps weigh your actions over mine, as while you may hold a position of authority over me, I can at least accept my actions and its subsequent consequences," Akari hissed once. Everyone in the vicinity seemed astounded at the verbal attack, which resulted in a tumultuous tale nobody ever wished to recount, had they valued their heads. However, as the white-haired archer recalled the story to her love during their routinely stroll that very evening, Seungmin only responded with a simple, "I assume she wholeheartedly deserved it," and a kiss to her forehead; the simple action earned a timid smile, Akari shied away from embarrassment of the sudden act of affection, opting to stare at the stars.

They supposed they would always be warmongers, nefarious, vile—yet, perhaps, they could always guide each other whenever the stars chose to fail them.

#kim seungmin #kim seungmin scenarios #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios #cirque du soleil #ka #oc #my ocs #archer! seungmin #hopefully this doesn't suck #it's kind of a mess #seungmin stray kids #stray kids seungmin

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imagine-some-fandom-requests · 6 years

Note

Ahh!! I’m so glad to hear you do all out! I never see any Imagine blogs for that anime! Would be alright to request some headcanons for how Iwashimizu, Kifune, Koichiro, Kenya, and Renpei would react to having a s/o that’s pretty short but is an adorable ball of energy? You’ll be seeing a lot of requests from me about these boys and his anime in general lol. I hope you’re doing well. Thank you!!!

You like All Out? Oh my gosh yes that’s awesome!! There is only like two or so blogs on this site that do All Out which is sad because it is such a good series!! Please do ask for more All Out requests because these boys deserve the attention they don’t get! I am doing alright, college is boring as usual haha. I also hope you are doing good yourself! ♡

🔶 Sumiaki Iwashimizu

🔹How can a person have so much energy in such a tiny body?! He was amazed when he first met them. Like, seeing them so active and all is like ‘whoah please slow down my love I can’t keep up like this!!’

🔹Because they are so full of energy and they want to do all kinds of stuff, he tries to keep up with their activities. Like for example let’s say they want to go to the beach. Well, of course he is going to pack up all the necessities like sunscreen, beach blankets, and plenty of water (gotta keep his lover healthy and hydrated under that hot sun). So they would swim in the ocean, play some volleyball, walk on the boulevard, and a whole bunch of things! At the end of the day he is pretty worn out, breathing heavily and sweat covering his face and limbs. So that is why after a long day of activities, he will pull his tiny little lover into his chest, gently hold them, and then sleep right then and there. Because nothing is better than holding your lover after a long day~.

🔹“Ah! s/o!! Wh-where are you going?! P-please don’t leave me behind!” He exclaims as he quickly catches their free hand into his, giving it a light squeeze. Looking down in embarrassment, a huge blush painted on his once pale cheeks, he stuttered “I-I know you want to do this and that, but please d-don’t leave me behind, ok?” He then he turns his golden eyes to theirs and gives them a soft smile, leaning down and placed a soft kiss to the top of their head.

🔶 Isao Kifune

🔹At first he was a bit… intimidated. Like how can someone so small be so energetic? How can they have so much energy in that tiny little body?! Well, since he is more quiet while his lover is more outgoing and sometimes deciding what to do on dates can lead to some troubles. But in the end, they would both find a compromise and all will be good.

🔹Even though he is not a fan of going to big and loud places such as malls and concerts and such, but once in a while like if it is lovers birthday or a special holiday such as Christmas, then he would swallow up that anxiety and take them out to wherever they want. But the dates he loves the most is going to parks. Because the park can either be a quiet and peaceful place or an event can happen there, such as the local festival to which he honestly enjoys and has fun with. From playing booth games (he even won them a huge plushie which is bigger then them and he just becomes a huge blushing mess awww~) to eating cotton candy, then watching the fireworks when night falls, he honestly has the time of his life with them.

🔹“Um, s/o?” He asks in a gentle tone while tapping his lover’s shoulder. “I-I know you want to go to the movies, so umm… Ahh…” He stuttered, covering his cheeks to hide his raging blush that appeared on his cute little cheeks. But he then shook his head, letting his mushroom head hair swing back and forth in the motion. He then courageously took their hand into his and squeezed it, announcing in a voice that was filled with enthusiasm (which was rare coming from the mushroom boy) “Let’s go in and have a good time!” He then looked down again, closing his eyes and started stuttering under his breath “oh my gosh I can’t believe I did that gahhhh…”

🔶 Kōichirō Kashima

🔹His significant other reminds him of Kamo; short and full of energy, so he used to this kind of behavior around him. And when them and Kamo would play pranks on him, he doesn’t mind that either. Heck he even laughs with them every now and then, because seeing his little lover all happy and hearing that snorty cute laugh; he would love to hear that everyday.

🔹Even though he is not as energetic as his significant other, he will still do whatever they want to do. From playing different kinds of games (like ping pong to wii games) to going to a whole bunch of places (from the beach to the arcade) he will pretty much do anything! Of course there has got to be a limit, he don’t have an unlimited amount of energy unlike his lover. But every weekend they would usually go out on a date and at least once a month they would both plan an outing, like going to a vacation spot away from town.

🔹“Seems like you got me again s/o.” He softly chuckled, wringing out some water from his uniform shirt. Shaking his head, his brown locks would swish back and forth, getting some water onto his lover to which they playfully exclaimed for him to stop before they get wet in the process. “Ah, my bad.” He smiled, softly brushing their hair with his fingers to get rid of the water. “Maybe one day I should play a prank on you and Kamo. Or… maybe play a prank on Kamo only. You like that?” His significant other totally agrees, so the two hand-in-hand, go to his house to figure out a plan on how to prank the little cat.

🔶 Kenya Horikawa

🔹Before they even dated he would make fun of how short they are, calling them a shrimp or a hobbit. But once he learned how full of energy they have; oh boy. Let’s just say he was very overwhelmed. Like… why did they have so much energy? Even he can’t keep up with them at times. He would let them do whatever they please, but if they try to drag him along, he would protest. But after the two have been in a relationship for some time, he began to get used to it and not be bothered by it as much. But he will still make fun of their height at any chance he gets.

🔹Since his little tiny lover is so energetic all the dang time, he has got to keep them entertained somehow. So why not let them play rugby with the Sagami team? Now when they do play, he is a bit cautious since they like to bend the rules and well… they can get pretty aggressive. And if any of the team members severely hurt his significant other, they are going to get a long talk to not do that to his lover ever again. But other than that, they play how they normally do, and even the significant other would play tricks on the team members, to which he can’t help but chuckle when one of them starts to get salty.

🔹“What do you want?” He asks in an annoyed tone, his eyes still on his book which he was studying for the upcoming test. They started to point at his notebook which featured a frog, and they started to comment about how that is super adorable. All he did was roll his eyes and pinched their nose, saying “Well thank you, I am glad to think it is cute. Just like you, my cute little energetic bunny rabbit.” He then placed a kiss on their forehead. Getting up and closing his notebook, he then announced “Let’s get some fresh air since I know you waited so patiently for me.”

🔶 Sakura Renpei

🔹These two met like it was fate. He saw them cheering the most loudly when he was playing a match with a rival school. He would see them jumping up and down, holding a sign that said something like ‘Go Tenjiku!!’ in all caps and all the letters would be in different colors. They then went up to him and started asking him a bunch of rugby questions to which he was pretty pleased and of course answered all of them with a rare genuine smile on his face. After some time discovering they were energetic, he was a bit shocked. Such a tiny body, but yet so filled with energy.

🔹Dates would usually consist rugby related since he is all about that rugby. Heck he would even let them join in a practice match every now and then, showing them the ropes and even a few tricks here and there. But when it comes to actually going out on dates, Sunao has to help him set them up because the poor boy has no clue and is scared to ask his significant other because he will think they think he is not trying but he is it’s just that he doesn’t know how to do dates. So most of the dates are simple, like going to the park for a jog or even going to the gym: lots of physical movement in these dates.

🔹“Huh? You want to join our practice match again?” He asked while putting on his protective helmet and his uniform. Sighing, he then picked up a spare helmet and tossed it to them, saying in a rather cold tone (his usual tone) “Then you better prepare yourself, because I am not holding back to anyone.” His little lover nodded, and then went to him and stood on their tip toes to try to kiss him. He rolled his eyes, seeing them struggle. So he squatted down so they would have a easier time to kiss his cheek. But after they run to the field, a faint peach-colored blush would appear on his cheeks.

#all out!!#headcanon #iwashimizu sumiaki #kifune isao #kashima koichiro #horikawa kenya #renpei sakura

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rhapsody-under-pressure · 6 years

Text

Moonlight Magic pt 5

“No, no it’s like this.” Brian explained, taking out his wand and waving it in the required motion. John stared in his direction, not truly looking at anything and seeming to prefer watching paint dry. The little cactus in front of them immediately flourished, it’s bright pink flowers decorating it while a healthy shade of green spread from top to bottom. Even once the plant’s health was restored, John barely looked at it, still staring blankly at the wall opposite of them.

“Hey! You wanna pass or not?” Brian asked, snapping his fingers in front of John’s face.

“God, I just don’t care! I couldn’t care less about plants!” He groaned, leaning back in his chair and letting out a loud sigh. “I’m never going to bloody use this! And whatever her name is doesn’t exactly make this interesting!”

“You got two years-”

“Yeah great but I could actually be focusing on something helpful! God I’d rather be in potions, least I can use that later on.”

“I thought you wanted to work with animals.” Brian commented.

“Well yeah! I can use potions on animals. Or using them to help others or…” He drifted off, looking down at the table and shrugging. “It’s ridiculous, forget it.” John muttered.

“Hey helping others with that isn’t ridiculous. Though, knowing you, you’d use it on a hippogriff before a human.”

“So? They don’t complain as much.” John paused for a second. “It’s just…What if there was some other way to help Fred out.”

The solemn look on John’s face returned. Even yesterday after their chat that morning, he’d been so much quieter around them, even though he had said he was perfectly fine with what they had told him. And yet, his attitude only showed the exact opposite.

“I mean, there are people out there right now trying to do something. Believe me, I want to help more too. But I don’t know anything about making new potions or anything nor do I really know what happens with...them when they come out…” Brian admitted. As much as he hated saying it, he didn’t want to know what happened, how it looked, or how it acted. He had enough of the latter three years ago. Like Freddie would even allow him to know about it anyway.

“Isn’t pretty in the slightest.” John told him. “I’ve only seen drawings of it and what people always say happens but really, it’s just looks painful, let alone what it actually feels like. Really, the only thing we know about it is that it hurts. It’s gotta kill Fred to go through it by himself…” He began, something reigniting in his eyes and he turned around to his bag that sat next to them. Brian leaned forward a bit, watching him rummage through his book all while whispering excitedly under his breath.

“I read it among those books Jenk gave me. Something about protecting oneself from a werewolf.” He said while rushing through the pages of a book he himself hadn’t ever seen. “See! Right there! ‘Werewolves, while extremely dangerous, and possibly lethal, to humans, are of little to no harm to other species. Its sole purpose is to spread the curse via its nasty bite to other humans. This is why many wizards who are often attacked by werewolves have few, if any, other injuries to their bodies minus the bite. Only in rare instances does the beast intend to kill or continue attacking after biting its victim.’”

“Okay and please explain why that’s helpful? What do I just toss some bunnies in there?”

“What’re you, daft? One of us just has to become an animagus!” John exclaimed happily. “It might help him. Though he, well, can’t control himself, the company might help him out a bit. And one of us would be right there to help in the morning!”

Brian merely scoffed at the idea. It’d be impossible to do so. Like the school or ministry would allow a student to ever become one, especially if it dealt with keeping a werewolf company. They’d never let him do it and it was ridiculous for John to even fathom the idea.

“No.” He told him bluntly. “John you’ve any idea how dangerous that is!? Just cause animals aren’t as susceptible to being bitten doesn’t mean they’re invulnerable. Besides, you think the ministry’s gonna allow one of us to do that?”

“They don’t have to know. There’s plenty of books on becoming one-”

“Yes, and there’s hundreds of steps to follow and thousands of ways it could go wrong- disastrously wrong.” Brian told him. A saddened look instantly formed on John’s face, John folding up his book and sighing softly, prompting Brian to instinctively place his hand on his shoulder. “I know you wanna help but right now all we’ve got is that room to lock it up in.”

“Yeah, the room you two won’t even bother to show me.” John growled.

“John, you only found out yesterday.”

“Lemme see it still!” He begged. “Hardly anyone’s here! Would you rather do it with everyone else bustling around here?”

He opened his mouth to argue but couldn’t find the right words to refute John’s plead. No matter how anyone wanted to put it, Brian couldn’t get rid of that pit in his stomach. It just felt…wrong. Like he was betraying some governmental secret to an enemy. That room had been known to only he and Freddie since their third year and the chance of someone else finding it always left the chance for them to find out what really happened in there.

“Do you think I’ll let someone know about it?” John asked accusingly, his own betrayal appearing on his face.

“No! No, of course not! It’s just…”

“C’mon Bri. It’s a quick thing and I’m gonna have to know how to get in there, aren’t I?”

Each argument was just breaking him more and more. How could he say no? In reality, there wasn’t any reason to say no. And yet, he still didn’t want to. Of course he trusted John and he knew no one else in this school was going to find out. So why was he so nervous about showing him?

Yet his conscious couldn’t fight back anymore. He agreed and sat up, John instantly leaping up from his seat and dashing down the stairs and waiting right by the exit of his house. Brian forced a nervous smile, his own guilt continuing to gnaw at his rational while he led John down the corridor and out into the tower. It felt horrendously wrong for him to go near that room again, especially without Freddie being anywhere near the room, or inside the room. John’s own excited and curious expression wasn’t helping either. How could someone look so eager to see that hellish room? Was it some sick interest of his to see something that ravaged? The mere idea made the small pit of anger grow.

They climbed down the final set of stairs, Brian already following the path that had been ingrained into his mind after doing this so many times. His feet led themselves, John following close behind and almost copying his every movement, as though he had to do everything exactly as he did.

And then came the hallway. Nothing was out of the ordinary. No other students, no teachers, not even a stray rat scuttling across the stone floor. The large window sat at the end of the hall, the grey clouds stretched across the sky while the snow continued to fall down onto the frozen blanket that sat on top of the grounds. Not an ounce of darkness sat in the sky and the impending night was hours away, making it feel even more wrong for them to be anywhere near this area.

“It’s down the hall.” Brian told him bluntly, annoyance seeping into every word as they approached the area. John looked towards the wall, his grey eyes studying it for any abnormalities so he would know where it could possibly be.

“Just…picture a room. Any room you want. After that, all you have to do is-” He began walking up and down the area, Brian now desperately trying to come up with a room in time. “-Walk back and forth three times.”

Just like that, a wooden door appeared on the wall. John jumped back but immediately drew closer, dragging his hands across the wood and looking back towards him. Brian’s stomach dropped as he took out his wand, cautiously opening it up and heading inside. Even before he opened the door, he could imagine what was strewn across it.

Upon opening it, John rushed ahead, instantly freezing as soon as he laid eyes on the scene. It was just as Brian remembered it and it brought back the sick feeling he had gotten that morning. The only difference was the lack of Freddie curled up in the corner, his whole body slack across the floor and blood gushing out of each visible wound. But the blood stains, ruined décor, and tufts of fur still remained.

“He’s…Stuck in here?” John asked softly. “It looks…Different.”

“What’d you expect? A prison?” Brian asked bitterly, knowing full well how many times he had made it look like a cage.

John’s face went white as he turned away from him. He continued to look around the mangled room, kneeling down and timidly reaching out to a rather large clump of fur. The phantom touch of that beast’s fur ran along the tips of his fingers, the loud thud of it crashing against the ground sounding from behind him. His grip around his wand tightened, his body preparing itself for some form of attack.

“S…Surely you don’t…” John began, sorrow starting to lace his eyes as he sat down, jumping as his hand touched a patch of dry blood.

“We gotta. It’s not this exact one every time…” He said. “I try to make it different each time.”

“Wouldn’t it break out? I mean, glass isn’t too hard to-”

“Enchanted.”

“And you can’t have no windows. It might kill him if he skips a moon.” John told him, forcing himself back on his feet and walking over to the windows, trailing his hands across the glass and staring out to the grounds. He himself could truly only focus on the marks in the wall near the glass while John continued to take everything in at once.

“Have you ever…Seen anything?”

“No. Really only heard a b-bit…” Brian admitted, forcing back any resurfacing memories. “I don’t want to either.” he said, turning away from John’s curious and worried expression.

He took a seat near one of the cleaner parts of the room, falling back against the wall and sliding down until he hit the ground. John continued to look around, his odd curiosity bustling beneath the concern in his grey eyes.

“Tsk…To think this place is heaven compared to what we gotta do at home…” Brian began, this comment now earning John’s attention. “Lock it up in our old shack at my house and toss so many charms onto it while keeping our families quiet so they don’t get hurt.” He buried his face in his hands, every muscle in his body tensing up at the sheer thought of having to do all that again. “Freddie wouldn’t forgive himself…He couldn’t live with himself if he hurt anything…”

That terrible thought filled his mind, Brian using every ounce of strength he had to push it right to the back of his mind, trying desperately to control his expression to keep it as neutral as possible. Something lit up on John’s face, causing him to cautiously walk over and take a seat next to him. He watched as he picked up another bloody tuft of fur, rolling it around in his fingers and letting it fall to the ground, immediately wiping away any possible blood that stuck to his fingers.

“I just want him safe…” Brian said softly. “And I couldn’t even do that! He’s the…the best thing in my life. The best person I could ever have come across.” His heart skipped a beat. “You should’ve seen him when we first met. I’d tripped on a loose tile on the way to class and he helped me up.” He scoffed and let a small grin make its way up onto his face. “I was just enamored with him…” All that filled his mind now were those lovely images of Freddie baring that wide smile of his, one that he really only let show when it was just the two of them, his brandy eyes beaming with that wild energy of his or that brazen light sneaking up onto his face as he’d act like some pompous queen, talking in his eloquent voice that grabbed his attention, no matter what it was that he’d tell him.

“Trust me…I know the feeling. It’s really only been a year but Roger’s just…absolutely wonderful. God knows he’s an insolent brat at times…But he’s just…So wonderful. Been like that since we met on the train here and he let me sit in his compartment. He was right pissed when I didn’t get in Gryffindor…” John gave a quick laugh. “But he kept it up. Using any opportunity he had to come see me or try to get to know me.”

“And then you nearly had him in tears for an hour when you said you’d go to Hogsmede with him last Valentine’s Day. He came right up to me shouting ‘He said yes!’ for a whole minute and went right on about you for the whole hour.”

“Really?” John asked, his eyes growing softer as a relaxed smile grew across his face. “He puts on such a show at times-”

“Oh God Freddie’s like that too! Sassy little shit he can be out in public but you just get all soft around him and he melts in your hand.”

“Jesus Roger’s just like that! Puts on his little cheeky attitude but soon as he’s with us or just me he’s a big softie.” He paused and sighed softly. “It’s really cute…”

Brian snickered softly, leaning forward and looking out towards the window. Snow was slowly falling, almost every flake visible as it drifted down to the earth. Those warm feeling began to heat up, that fierce fire for revenge and the steel plated protection taking its place. He wanted to be back on that night and take the dammed thing’s life. It’d be the best thing anyway. Whoever was infected wouldn’t spread that curse anymore and Freddie wouldn’t be petrified of running into that one ever again.

“He nearly died.” Brian stated, John staring right at him, Brian’s own gaze growing harder. Brian inhaled deeply, his clothes feeling like they were growing damper and damper again while he used every ounce of his strength to lug his partner back to the castle. “T-they’re not meant to k-kill…So why did it try to do so with Freddie? H-he shouldn’t have b-been b-bitten…let alone nearly killed.”

He gave a helpless look towards John, hoping he’d give some kind of answer to one of the countless questions that lurked at the back of his mind. How come it was him? What did he do to deserve this? All Freddie wanted was a night with him…And he nearly died because of it. Even now he looked so close to death every month because of it. Why? What on earth did he do to deserve this sort of life?

“He c-could’ve died…H-he could’ve died that night. They’re not meant to bloody kill anyone! So why did it keep hurting him?!” He growled, unable to shake away the constant bombardment of hideous images from that night. Just how close he had been to losing him and what might’ve happened afterwards. Everyone would blame him. They had every right to do so anyway. He didn’t help and they’d blame him now if word ever got out.

“Well…There’s an idea that they only do that because they’ve been deprived of a human for so long. So they just get too excited and-”

“And that’s why he could’ve died!? Because that ruddy creature couldn’t go bite itself and whine about not getting to attack an innocent child! He was thirteen John! Adults barely know how to deal with this! Let alone a thirteen-year-old! Even now we don’t know what to do! I won’t know what to do if I ever run out of herbs or if he attacks himself to near death! I won’t know what to do if I ever get hurt! Hell if I ever get bit by it, Freddie’s-” He cut his sentence off, not wanting to think of what he would ever do if he ever infected him.

Tears finally welled up in his eyes, the building pressure that had been growing since John mentioned this room finally making him snap. He hated breaking down because of this. He refused to do so in front of Freddie. He could not be the weak one. Not now, not ever. And yet there he was, breaking down in front of John who had no idea what the hell to do because he’d only just been thrown into this whole mess. Now he was throwing all of this crap right at him, expecting him to know what the hell to do when even he didn’t know after dealing with it for years.

“I can’t lose him…I just can’t, John…He tries so hard to stay strong through all this, like it’s not affecting him. But you’ve seen him. He just gets so empty when it has to happen. There’s none of that energy or feistiness. He’s so subdued and quiet…It’s awful to have to watch a-and just…He tries to act strong, he tries so hard. He doesn’t talk about it and doesn’t whine about it unless it just happened or he’s scared because he might hurt one of us.” He looked back at John who was still looking for the right thing to say. “He’s so scared of hurting us. Not just if he ever…infects us but if this secret ever gets out to the rest of the world. We’d take a giant hit from everyone out there because we’re involved in harboring one of them at this school. Parents would be furious; our families wouldn’t be the same…I might lose him. My parents wouldn’t let me be with him anymore…” His words finally stopped coming out, a few choked out noises taking their place as he tried wiping away the pool of tears that hung at the corner of his eyes. The noises fell apart and dissolved into complete sobbing. To think he’d nearly lost him once. He just couldn’t come near that again, not because of this stupid, unfair thing.

“You won’t lose him. Bri c’mon now. You’ve lasted this long! That’s gotta be something!” John tried, grabbing his arm to try and shake him out of his hysteria.

“It’s like you gotta wake up every morning, wondering if it’s the last day your lives are gonna be the same. Every single day it’s like that…Even you just finding out threw everything off. Anyone else and we’d probably be thrown right in front of the headmaster or the Ministry. Hell Roger would flip if he found out.”

“I doubt that would-”

“Oh come off it John!” He snapped. “You know what he thinks of those things. He hates them far more than the average person! He’d probably kill it on sight if he didn’t see him beforehand…”

“Roger wouldn’t do that. He might just hurt it but he’s incapable of killing anything. It’s just not in him…”

Anyone with functioning ears could hear the stress John was placing in each and every word that came out of his mouth but Brian just couldn’t accept anything he was saying. He knew what’d happen if Roger laid eyes on any of those things, especially if someone’s life was in danger. If he ever saw John near one…Someone wasn’t making it out of there alive.

“I know him. You know him. He’s not going to kill anything. Even a werewolf.”

He had heard everything John had said, but they all dissolved into some incoherent babbling that he wouldn’t be able to remember, let alone believe. John’s refusal to accept what would happen just made him sicker. Out of all the people in their group, John should be the one who knew about Roger. Even in class he was said to act so different whenever they spoke about these creatures. If he ever saw one…

Yet that was the exact reaction everyone would have. Fear or anger. That’s it. No one would straight up walk to one and pet it like it was some domesticated dog. They’d hide or run away. Most might even try to kill it the instant they saw it, giving little or no thought to the fact that that beast was a human almost all the time. Would they go and throw a curse at a normal wolf or human? No. They bloody wouldn’t. If it was a human, they’d try and help. If it was a wolf, they’d leave it be. Both could attack them and kill them but it was the idea that they’d be infected themselves that drove them off. No one needed to kill it…But so many would.

“Sometimes I wonder if it was better to let him go that night…” Brian finally whispered.

“Brian!”

“What if it was? What if he did die that night…We’d be sad and miss him…He wouldn’t suffer or-”

“Brian!” John started, shaking him out of his daze. “Listen to me. That wouldn’t help at all. Him living here is always better than him dying that young. You wouldn’t have accepted it and damn it all if Freddie gave in the instant he found out. It takes so much to bloody break him and it takes a lot to break you too. Don’t let it be this.”

Fog began to cover his mind as he tried to keep every dastardly thought out of it. No matter what they weren’t going to be safe. He couldn’t lose him…The mere thought nearly made his heart stop. But maybe if he had let him go back then it’d be easier now and…No, it wouldn’t be. They’d just be crushed and he could only begin to imagine if Roger knew what had killed one of his closest friends.

“John please…” He began, giving a grim look around the room, not wanting to be around any of it now. “Can we get out of here? I don’t want anyone to find us coming out of here.”

Hurt spread across John’s face, not giving another argument and stood right up, holding out his hand to help him get up. Brian gladly took it, his head pounding furiously, causing the room to spin around him. He held his ground, keeping his eyes shut as much as he could while he and John made their way out of the room. As they approached the door, Brian released John’s hand, looking ahead as a volatile urge began to rush through his body.

“You wait outside.” He ordered, giving him a harsh stare to silence any further back talk. He said nothing and walked out, Brian knowing he had gotten his seriousness. He yanked his wand out of his pocket, his grip tightening around it as he turned around and stared at the room in front of him.

“Incendio.” He growled under his breath, watching the jet of orange flames shoot out of the tip of his wand and instantly hitting the carpet in front of him. Heat hit his face as the fire began setting everything in front of him alight. Scarlet, blazing reds and oranges, and the cooler slashes of gold curled and spread rapidly across the room, latching onto anything that wasn’t stone, making quick work of burning it to a black crisp.

He so wanted to let it burn. To let every ounce of powerful magic in this room to finally go up in smoke so that he wouldn’t ever have to trap Freddie in here again. So that he would never have to imagine the pain he went through because he’d broken his oath to protect him from harm. And yet, he couldn’t. He couldn’t let it go on for any longer. Once smoke began to cloud the ceiling and made his breathing grow steadily more difficult, he sighed, giving in and flicking his hand around, putting the rest of his focus into casting the required charm. Clear water shot from the tip, Brian trying to let it spread as far as possible to silence every trace of fire. Flames sizzled and cried under the gushing water that crashed over it, the heat plummeting until the room felt cold and damp once more, the only remnants being the small clouds of smoke and the charred floor and walls, leaving nothing left but the stone that resided beneath the carpet.

…

“Did you show him?”

Brian and John looked over at Freddie, who was toying around with the remaining chicken on his plate. A half-eaten bread roll sat to the side, the butter still continuing to melt against the still warm inside and a few bits of braised carrots were still at the edge of the plate, the sweet coating still clinging to the corner of Freddie’s mouth.

“Yeah…” John answered for him. “Showed me how to get in and what to do before.” He said, cutting off any further explanation about what had happened.

“And?”

“Didn’t know what I’d expect. Certainly wasn’t what I thought but, well, definitely does work.”

Freddie gave a painful smile, shrugging soon after and taking another bite of the chicken at the end of his fork. John continued to wolf down the rest of his meal, happily taking another scoop of stuffing from the bowl in front of them even though there was still some on his plate. He felt Freddie’s hand on his leg a second later, the gentle touch feeling oddly comforting and making his muscles relax.

“Bri, dear, why’s your cloak burned?” Freddie asked, Brian glancing down and seeing a rough, grey patch sitting near the edge. The memory flickered to life, all the fire surrounding the room and just how good it felt to see everything melt and turn to ash, vanishing from sight so he would never have to see it ever again.

“Accident with a potion. Some spilled and caught it.”

“Explains why you reek of smoke. Jesus you look like you were playing with dragons.”

“Now that’d be something I’d pay to do! You ever see one up close!?” John exclaimed, his eyes bustling with excitement. “They’re absolutely marvelous to watch!”

“And you’d be burned to a crisp in a second.” Freddie replied.

“Nonsense! They’re like every other animal when they’re scared.” Something else flashed across John’s eyes, but it vanished a second later. “Just gotta know what’s scaring them and you can help any of them.”

“You try telling that to Kettleburn. Poor guy’s already lost a limb because of animals.” Brian continued, only for John to scoff at his response.

“He said that was when he was younger. Hippogriffs get like that from time to time.” John finished, adding a proud smirk at them before returning to his meal.

God we’ve another Scamander here don’t we. Brian thought as he began finishing his own meal. Freddie reached out in front of him, grabbing another roll of bread and scoffing it down like it was the first thing he’d eaten in months. He took a moment to wipe away the remaining food that hung around his mouth and leaned over, adding a quick peck on his cheek and earning a hearty laugh from his partner.

“Someone’s being cuddly.” Freddie commented, wiping up the remaining gravy from his plate with one last piece of bread, eating it in one go. Before anyone could respond, Freddie lunged at him and pinned him down against the seats, giggling playfully as he leaned down and planted his mouth right against his. Warmth rushed through his body, forcing back the mortification that had arisen for just a split second. He moved his hand up behind Freddie, laying them against his back while he placed his own atop his chest.

“Oh c’mon guys, have some kind of decency.” John said, from above, Freddie not daring to pull away just yet.

Brian joined in, wanting to savor the fleeting moment for just a few more seconds before someone else caught them. He pulled him closer, hearing him hum softly against his collarbone. Neither wanted to let go, and who could blame him for not wanting to? At that moment, he couldn’t care about anything. Freddie’s touch seemed to alleviate every ailment that plagued his thoughts and brought a beautiful light into his mind that touched the very culmination of his soul. Peace, serenity, love…Everything began to gather strength once more. Until, as expected, something tore it away.

“May! Bulsara! Get off each other now!”

Even with the harsh shout from McGonagall, both didn’t rush to part. It felt far too nice to have him pressed up against him and he truly missed it. He missed tranquility and how much time they had spent together. Now it just felt like they were distant and it petrified him for any of that once powerful spark to die off because they just had no time.

Once they did separate, Brian’s mind kept working while his body wanted to just nestle up to Freddie in their room with some music in the background, nothing and no one to bother them with any nonsense or news that would take their mind of the other. They needed to be somewhere hardly anyone could get into, besides that accursed room. A light formed in his mind, Brian unable to hold back the smile that instantly spread across his face once it began to settle into place.

“What’re you thinking about Bri?” John asked after he downed his juice.

“Nothing. Just what I might do later on.”

His eyes flashed over to Freddie, a dejected shadow passing over his face. Oh don’t worry love…He thought softly, hoping he could read his thoughts for just a few seconds. It’ll just be us, no one else. He promised silently, reaching over and grabbing his hand. Freddie jumped in his spot, looking down and giving a soft smirk before leaning over and wrapping his arms around his waist, humming softly while he toyed around with the edge of his cloak. A movement caught the edge of his eye, Brian adding a quick look towards John, whose own face was growing sad with longing.

“Hey, Roger’ll be back soon. I bet he’s sending another letter out.” Brian said.

“Yeah, yeah he probably is he but…I dunno I just, miss him.” He whispered sadly. “It’s hard knowing he’s not here. I just hope he’s alright.”

“Why wouldn’t he be, dear?” Freddie asked out of curiosity.

John scoffed, now looking down. “Nothing…I’m just being paranoid, aren’t I?”

“No, not at all.” Freddie replied, sitting up and looking at him with worry, Brian’s own concern starting to grow.

John didn’t even need to say it. The memory hit him like a brick. When John did finally talk, Freddie’s face fell, guilt spreading over his face.

“Thirtieth is almost here. I like being with him when it comes ‘round.” He answered. “He always goes to the grave and I gotta remind him that he couldn’t do anything to help. He was only seven. Even adults can’t…” He cut himself off, immediately taking his eyes off the both of them. Freddie sighed heavily, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

“You can send him a letter. How ‘bout that? We’ll come if you want.” Freddie suggested, Brian adding a hopeful nod afterwards.

“Thanks…I dunno if Rosie would wanna fly-”

“Oh fuck that! You know she’s a strong enough owl to handle the cold. Plus, Roger’ll help her out once she gets there. He loves that thing just as much as he loves Zephyr.” Freddie exclaimed, jumping up from his seat and smiling widely. “Oooh, we should send him something! John, dear, you’ve anything to send him? Something from Hogsmede? Or-”

“Don’t worry. I got him a broomstick and an additional care kit back when I went to Diagon Alley in August. Sent it to his house before he left so his parents could wrap it. Cost nearly every galleon I had but I know he loved it. God the guy loves brooms…”

“Should write a song about it.” Brian remarked.

“But a letter does sound nice…” John resumed. “Quick little thing would be nice.” His face fell once more. “God I wish I could be there…”

“Sometimes you just can’t be.” Brian reminded him. “Doesn’t mean you sit back and do nothing. You always do what you can.”

John hummed in response, getting up from his spot. Freddie instantly rushed ahead, grabbing John’s cloak and tugging him out of the lunchroom, Brian being forced to dash after the pair, John now too stunned to even speak after Freddie’s sudden burst of energy. They all ran across the castle until ending up outside and near the stairs of the Owlery. Brian nearly collapsed onto the stone steps while John was clinging to Freddie for support, the originator of this whole thing standing proudly and looking at them like they were the crazy ones for not being able to keep up.

“Now that was nothing! Come on you slowpokes, every second is precious!” Freddie berated, leaning down and yanking himself up from the steps.

“Fre-Freddie! We just…just ran across t-the entire…bloody campus! Give…Give us a…second…” Brian managed, still trying his best to breathe.

Freddie rolled his eyes, kicking his leg up against the wall to the Owlery. By the time both had regained their breath, Freddie was impatiently tapping his foot against the stone and staring them down.

“C’mon then.” He said in a much softer tone.

Owls hooting and screeching hit them as soon as they opened the door, dozens of large eyes turning their way and watching them as they walked in. Only a second later did many just return to looking around, sleeping, eating, or cleaning themselves. John walked forward, looking around for his little barred owl, who was already flying down from up high to land on the windowsill, her little leg stretched out and ready for his parcel or letter.

“Anyone got paper?”

Unexpectedly, and surprisingly, it was Freddie who had the spare sheet and quill, to which John just shook his head and took out a pen, Brian snickering at the time when he had pulled it out in front of Roger and had to spend ten minutes explaining pens to him. He laid the parchment out on the little table that sat in the middle of the room, Rosie flying over and sitting next to him, nibbling at his ear while hooting happily. Brian tried to look over John’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of what he might be writing, only to have Freddie grab his sleeve and pull him back, shaking his head dismissively and motioning to stand next to him.

Freddie laid his head against his arm, pressing against him like some cuddly cat, to which Brian began to stroke his back, hearing him hum softly.

“I miss you…” He whispered.

“I miss you too.” He said back, unable to hold back a smile once he moved even closer.

“I’m glad it’s a holiday. Get to spend some time out of classes.” Freddie began, his eyes moving over to John. “What’d you think happened this time?”

“Probably the same thing. You know what they’re like. Poor bloke probably didn’t want to deal with it again.”

“Hmph…” Freddie huffed. “Lousy prats. I’m surprised Roger hasn’t socked them in the jaw yet.”

“He probably would’ve but John doesn’t want him to. It’d make it worse.”

God I’d probably punch them. Brian thought bitterly, adding a worried glance John’s way as he continued writing his letter. Freddie pushed himself even closer, leaning the side of his face against his chest and shutting his eyes. He couldn’t help but shut his own, tightening his own hold around Freddie and savoring the peaceful atmosphere for those few seconds that it existed. Only when Rosie gave a loud cry did Brian open his eyes, turning his attention over to John who was wrapping up his letter with a loose piece of string and tying it to his little owl’s leg. Her wings flapped excitedly, chittering in her high-pitched voice.

“Get it to Rog as soon as you can.” John instructed, his little owl turning and flying out the window in a second. John absentmindedly walked over to the window, laying his hands on the stone windowsill and staring out at the sky, rays of sunlight hitting his small face and turning his eyes into a bright silver.

“Hey, he’ll get it. He’s tough anyway, he’ll be okay…” Freddie told him, John not moving his gaze away from the sky.

Freddie didn’t wait for a response. He let go of him and walked over, laying his hand on the center of John’s back, the touch still not moving his eyes away from the sky. His body seemed to go weak, yet he forced himself to stand tall and fight back any of the rising emotions and turned to face Freddie. Neither of them spoke but even Brian knew what they were both saying. Freddie motioned towards the door, John nodding and following. Brian followed behind each of them, shutting the door and heading down steps.

“C’mon John, it’s okay.” Brian told him softly, seeing him look behind him with a concerned expression.

“Yeah…Yeah I know. It’s just…I miss him, that’s all.” He replied, his eyes starting to shine even more with the collection of tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

“Hey, that guy’s one of the toughest out of all of us.”

“It’s not that!” John barked, an uncharacteristic anger spreading across his face as he spun around, his hands curled into fists at his sides. Freddie snapped into attention and turned around, moving forward to try and help, only for John to storm past him and down the steps, vanishing from sight within seconds. Brian lunged forward, Freddie reaching out to stop him, only to be pushed back and nearly falling over from the force.

“Brian dear, don’t.” Freddie said, looking behind him in the direction John had ran. “Let him calm down. He’s going through a lot right now.”

“But-”

“Brian.” Freddie repeated, now looking him right in the eye and breaking him instantly. Brian let his arms fall to his side as he looked down at the ground.

“I just wanted to help.”

Freddie gave him a grim stare. “You can’t do that with everyone…You just can’t do that…”

…

Neither had seen John for the rest of the day. Wherever he had run off to had to be well hidden for no one else had seen him either, though there hadn’t exactly been many students to ask. Once it had been dinner, they gave up, knowing something bad must’ve been bothering him if it meant he wasn’t showing up to the last meal of the day. And yet, for Freddie, it was nice not having John there. It was so nice to just have some time between him and Brian without the impending worry of someone interrupting them. While he was still a tad bit sullen, he knew he was starting to get back to his better mood once he got some food in him. Again he took his usual seat laying against Brian’s lap, moving his hand away from him only to grab another bit of his dinner.

“And then I said to him ‘I’ll buy your silence for the rest of the year!’ and all he did was just march right off!” Freddie exclaimed “Just walked right away like I wasn’t worth his bloody time! God the nerve of some people!” Freddie then pulled a smirk. “I still won though. Last time anyone wants to comment on what I’m wearing.”

He lifted one of his legs into the air, tossing his head back and shutting his eyes, laying one of his hands on top of his chest, trying to pull his most regal face. “I could dress like a queen if I had money! Good lord imagine going somewhere with galleons upon galleons to spend! Be absolutely marvelous!”

“We wouldn’t get out for ten hours knowing you!”

“Precisely!” Freddie continued, shooting up and throwing both hands up into the air. “It’d be splendid! Plus, I could get you some shirts without buttons since you have no idea how to button them all up! Hm…Then again I don’t mind the view.”

“Don’t you bloody start again.” Brian groaned, adding a quick look around to make sure no one was watching this time around.

“Hm, don’t be so prude darling.” Freddie purred against the side of his face, moving even closer and laying both hands on his leg. He added a playful bite at the back of his jaw, snickering as he felt Brian’s face instantly heat up. “It’s cute when you’re shy.”

Despite what he wanted to do, Freddie refrained and pulled away, finishing up the last bit of his meal before pushing away the golden platter. His eyes moved down towards the middle of Brian’s cloak, the idea only having a second to truly manifest in his head before he reached out and yanked his wand out of its pocket. Brian turned towards him, nearly choking on his pumpkin juice. He instantly reached out, his hand swiping at the air as Freddie jumped back, wiggling the wand around between his pointer finger and thumb and baring a playful grin.

“Come and get it Bri.” He teased, jumping back again as Brian lashed out again.

“Why you-” He began, Freddie catching that smile on his face before he fought it back.

“Gotta be quicker than that!”

He leapt off the chairs and landed on the ground, not even giving a glance back to see if Brian was chasing him, his loud footsteps answering that question for him. They both dashed out of the main hall, Freddie making sure to keep ahead of his boyfriend to avoid capture. He rounded the nearest corner, hurrying down the corridor and finally taking a peek behind him, seeing Brian desperately trying to keep up with him. You’d think he’d be quicker with those long legs. Freddie vanished around the next right, dashing up the stairs and pausing at the top, sticking his tongue out just as soon as Brian got to the end of the stairs.

“Now I can’t be that fast, can I?” He taunted, whirling around and climbing up the last set of stairs towards the north tower.

This time around, his own speed began to diminish, forcing him to slow his pace ever so slightly. Brian’s approach sounded from behind him as he reached the door to the Ravenclaw house. The eagle sprang to life, giving its little riddle and Freddie having just enough time to answer it before hurrying inside. He turned and helped the door close even faster, grinning wildly at Brian’s stunned expression as he rushed towards the door.

Before Brian could get inside, he headed up the stairs and into their dorm, shutting the door behind him and looking around the empty room. Where to hide…Where to-oh! Just as the sound of Brian’s marching up the stairs sounded through the wooden door, Freddie stuck his wand down his trousers, hiding it on top of his left thigh.

“Come and catch me big boy.” Freddie continued, leaping on top of his bed just as Brian lunged for him.

Unfortunately, the bed wasn’t as sturdy as the floor was. Freddie took one last jump back on top of it and instantly lost his balance, falling right down onto the mattress with a loud thud, his body rising up once more before falling still. He tried to get back up, but Brian was on him in an instant, placing one of his legs atop his waist and pinning both his hands down to the bed.

“Alright, where’d you hide it?” He asked, fighting back his smirk to try and keep his serious charade going.

“Gotta look around. Bet you’ll like the hiding spot.” He answered, lifting his waist up ever so slightly.

A light Freddie hadn’t seen in so long shined inside of Brian’s gaze, making him instinctively bite down on his lip. Without another word, Brian planted his mouth on top of his, letting go of his wrists and latching onto his clothes. Their heavy breathing filled the room, soon mixing with the sound of shuffling clothes. His hand grabbed at Brian’s cloak, tearing it right off of him and letting it fall to the ground while he wriggled out of his own. He felt his hand land on top of his leg, running up along the wand that had gotten him into his current position. Yet he knew Brian didn’t care at this point, for he just quickly went back to undressing him.

It was only when he removed his shirt did something unsettling started to churn around within his stomach. Stop it stop it stop it. He ordered, trying to get himself back into the moment. But the touches and sounds were starting to lose their effect. He tried his best to try and cover his chest back up, not wanting all the new scars to be seen again. His attempt failed instantly, for Brian thought he was just being playful and easily pushed his arm aside, placing his splayed hand on top of his chest and running it across every single white line. Once his hand grabbed the back of his legs in an attempt to really get started, Freddie pulled himself away, getting as much of himself out from underneath his lover as he could. Brian sat up, concern seeping into his eyes once more as Freddie reached out and grabbed a pillow, covering himself back up as much as he could.

“I’m sorry…” He whispered. He grabbed the wand out from underneath his trousers and held it out, Brian taking it and laying it on top of his nightstand. “I thought I’d be ready but-”

“Fred, we’ve done it before-”

“Yeah and we were both fully clothed in a fucking dungeon. Besides, we didn’t really do anything. Jerking each other off is different then-”

He silenced him with another kiss, gently cupping the side of his face. Brian instantly returned to running his hands across his body, Freddie groaning uncomfortably as he tried doing so again.

“Brian stop it.” He said with a much sterner voice, guilt tightening his stomach as he pulled away once again. He looked back at him, shutting his eyes and turning away once he saw that lost look upon his face again. I just can’t…

A cold touch hit his hand, Brian’s own interlocking with his. When he opened his eyes again, he saw something new light up Brian’s face. He opened his mouth to question it, only to have Brian shush him. For a moment, his curiosity beat out his guilt. He lifted him up from the bed, grabbing his shirt from the mattress and holding it out to him.

“Follow me.” He told him once he got his shirt back on.

He cocked his eyebrow at him, Brian giving no further explanation but still holding out his hand for him to take. The two of them left the room again, Freddie still holding onto his hand while they made their way out of the dormitory, down the stairs, and back out into the main part of the castle. They continued down towards Brian’s selected corridor, Freddie desperately hoping they weren’t going towards the room.

Yet his confusion continued when they paused in front of the bewildered statue, Brian looking a bit to the left before leading him in that direction. He gave the required password, Freddie watching the door creak open and Brian lead him inside.

The unnaturally golden glow of the bathroom hit him instantly, making his eyes squint at its brightness. In front of him lied the monstrous “bathtub” with its rows of golden taps sparkling beneath the light. He gave a grim look towards the sinks before Brian tugged at his hand. Brian finally let go of it, stepping back and turning the two of the faucets, the water filling up three-quarters of the tub in a matter of a few seconds. Wisps of steam curled off the surface, Brian taking the time to turn another tap that spilled out a light purple water, filling the room with a delicate lily scent. He stared at it, watching the purple spirals swirl around inside of the water, the flowery scent pleasing his senses.

“Brian why-” He began, cutting himself off once he caught sight of his now undressed boyfriend. His face went dark, Brian’s own obvious embarrassment hiding beneath his forced confidence. He didn’t even get to ask anything else before Brian leapt into the tub, the water splashing everywhere, including himself. While the floor dried instantly, he was still left drenched in the water.

Once Brian resurfaced, he couldn’t help but give into his smile that he’d been forcing back. Seeing Brian without his curls looked so wrong, like seeing a dog meow. He swam over to the side closest to him, laying his arm against the border and then placing his face against his arm.

“Wanna join me?” He asked. “I know lily’s your favorite.”

“Is this just another excuse to see me naked?” Freddie asked, this time with a smile.

“Hmm…Maybe.” He admitted. “Then again, who wouldn’t wanna see that?”

“You dog!” Freddie shouted, leaning down to splash some of the water into Brian’s face.

“I mean it though!” Brian retorted, keeping his own smile going. “I love it…”

Shame returned to his stomach, Freddie avoiding Brian’s hopeful stare for a few seconds. He won’t see anything. You’ll be underwater. It’ll be fun too. He told himself, adding a quick glance towards Brian. He gritted his teeth, trying to follow that sliver of determination that had grown because of his boyfriend.

“I can change it if you like. I know you adore those pink bubbles.”

“Just don’t look for a second, okay?” He asked, seeing his face fall, but he gladly obliged and went back under. He inhaled deeply and began taking off his outfit, keeping his own eyes shut while he removed his shirt. His skin prickled, every hair standing on end. It felt like a million eyes were on him, invisible whispers echoing around him now that he didn’t have his shirt to hide his scars. The feeling only worsened when he moved south, Freddie now clinging onto the little bit of determination inside of him once he removed his trousers and undergarments. Those invisible whispers instantly turned into gasps of horror, Freddie wishing his could just hide away or at least cover everything back up. Lasers shot from those invisible eyes, landing right on that giant scar upon his leg, forcing his heart back up into his throat as he leaned forward ever so slightly and tried to desperately cover as much of him as he could.

“Am I allowed to look now?” Brian asked playfully, Freddie prying his eyes open and seeing him still facing the other way. He couldn’t find a response. Before he could risk Brian turning around, he leapt into the water. The shock from hitting the water vanished within a few seconds, Freddie now venturing a glance at his surroundings, only to find them being blurred by the lavender water around him. He made his way back up, taking in a large gasp of air once he broke through the surface. That lovely, flowery scent hit him as soon as he resurfaced, the scent bringing a small smile to his face.

“Now that’s a sight.”

Embarrassment flooded his face as he shrunk down below the water as much as he could, leaving just enough of his face above the water so he could breathe through his nose. Concern returned to Brian’s face as he made his way over, Freddie still trying to keep his attention from the neck up. He still couldn’t get over the fact that this was all Brian’s doing. All of this was something he should’ve concocted and yet the roles were completely reversed. Brian, his Brian, actually showing confidence for once! It would be like the sun turning green. Yet he handled it with such an awkward grace that Freddie couldn’t help but watch him try to be alluring and brave.

He watched as he lifted his hand out from the water and held it out. “Don’t worry, I won’t look if you want.” He told him.

He recoiled from Brian’s reach, still keeping his arms tightly wrapped around him. However, Brian kept his hand out, his eyes silently imploring him to at least take it. It’s alright. They whispered as he beckoned him once more. Freddie did take it this time, looking up at him as he straightened himself up until he was at his full height.

“Got my favorite view back.”

He grunted in response, his body feeling sicker by the moment. Dammit Freddie just stop. You’ve dealt with worse…This shouldn’t be that bloody hard.

“I mean it. I love seeing you. Every part of you.”

“Now that just sounds like another reason to see me naked.” He told him.

“And as I said, who wouldn’t? You’re like a…” He paused, his face turning bright red as he fumbled for some kind of comparison. “Like a flower among rows of…dead grass?”

“Charming.” He replied, splashing another bit of water into his face.

He fell back into the water, soaking his hair again and coming back up only to see Brian’s own embarrassment climbing back onto his face. Freddie swam over, adding a quick shove at Brian’s waist and watching him lose his balance and fumble around in the water.

“What was-”

“You’re not the best romantic dear.” Freddie admitted. “But God it’s cute when you try.”

“Sorry I’m not Mr. Suave but-”

“I never need you to be. I’ll take that end for you.” He said.

“You do have some great ideas.”

Freddie’s face fell in an instant. “Yeah…Like a moonlit view of the forest for our anniversary.”

He sunk under the water before he could see Brian’s reaction. His eyes fell shut as he swam to the edge of the tub, leaning forward onto the border and staring at the illustrious designs along the wall. Water splashed from behind him, Brian’s thin fingers on his shoulder coming just a second after. He sighed and leaned forward even more so, continuing to keep himself from looking at his boyfriend.

“Freddie…You didn’t know…Hell you couldn’t have known! All you were doing was trying to make it a romantic night. I should’ve been out there with you from the start so that we could be together that whole time.”

A silent growl arose in his throat, Freddie’s thoughts continuing to bombard him with everything he wanted to say. Stop blaming your damn self! It’s no one’s fault but my own and I will not stand to see you suffer because I fucked up! But he stayed silent, giving a soft sigh in response.

“That’s the past though. We’ve come a long way from there.” Brian continued, now bringing his other hand up to hold him closer. He sighed once again as he ran his hand across his damp chest and buried his head against his neck.

They stayed silent for a few moments, Freddie savoring the gentle touch of his boyfriend against him. He focused on nothing more than the soft breathing against his ear and the occasional lapping of the water against the sides of the tub. I just don’t want to anymore…

“I’m so tired of being afraid Bri…” He finally said. “I want to go further.” He managed to turn himself around so he could finally face his boyfriend. “I don’t want to be petrified of every moon. I don’t want to have nightmares anymore. I don’t want any more attacks. I just…Wanna move on…”

Freddie again looked away, but Brian reached under his face and lifted it upward so he would look at him again. He nearly melted at that beautiful, hazel gaze of his. Every bit of concern and love that was etched into it only made him more unstable that he had been that whole night.

“And we will. I promised that I’d do anything to protect you and I swear I’ll be there so you won’t have to deal with it anymore. I have absolutely no idea how the hell we’ll get there, but I know we will.”

His body finally collapsed into Brian’s; yet this time no tears came. He just wanted to hold him, hold him and never ever let go. How on earth did he find someone like that? Everyone else would’ve left him if they found out he had this. But Brian stayed. For some unknown reason, he stayed. Not only that, he kept him safe from anything that might have caused him harm. He wished he knew that he would do that for him but there had yet to be a time when he could even begin to repay him.

Until that time came, however, Freddie could only focus on the fact that Brian was still there with him. It made him beyond happy that he was and all he could do now was just hold on and not let go. He relished in every second that he sat there pressed up against his body and every beat of Brian’s heart.

“Thank you…”

“For what?”

Freddie looked up at him, giving a small smirk his way. “You know what…”

“Oh Freddie…Come on now, you know that-”

“Shut it. I mean it. I’m so happy you’re mine.”

Brian did indeed fall quiet. The two of them fell back against the opposing edge of the tub, sitting atop the seats underwater. Freddie nestled himself against Brian’s body, watching out of the corner of his eye as Brian studied his body. And for the first time in ages, he didn’t mind.

#Yes yes it's been a while #But my laptop was broken #Moonlight Magic #Fanfiction

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