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write-r-die · 3 years

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Prisoner - Part 21

MEDIEVAL AU - Henry Cavill is a respected Norman baron who has been tasked with finding Lady Thomasin, an ill-tempered Saxon noblewoman, and returning her to London so the king can marry her off to a cruel Norman invader. The two grow close during the long journey, and Henry puts his own life in danger (more than once) to protect the woman he loves.

Masterlist

For the first time in a long time, Henry dreamt of Eleanor.

He remembered the feel of the sunlight beating down on his bare back as the two of them made love in the tall grass for the first time. He’d tried to be gentle and careful with her but that wasn’t what she wanted.

She wanted passion. Something primal. Making love outside the confines of marriage was dangerous and wrong and it made perfect sense that Eleanor would want the experience to be intense. Looking back on it, she was probably just in a hurry.

Henry remembered how pleased he was when she first told him that she wanted him and he, like a fool, had accepted without question.

They snuck away to a hilltop where they wouldn’t be seen by anyone but grazing livestock. It was the first true day of summer. The flowers around them were all in bloom. The lovers were young and beautiful and in their prime. It was paradise.

Eleanor’s true intention, Henry eventually figure out, was to make him believe that he was the first and only man ever to touch her. Really, she’d already given in to her baser urges and gave herself to the man she would leave Henry for.

What was Eleanor thinking when she chose to sleep with Henry? Did she feel guilty for making a mistake? Was she trying to undo it somehow? Or was it a test? Did she wish to test Henry’s abilities as a lover against those of the other man?

When she ran off with the other man, he was torn between sorrow and humiliation. He’d loved her; she’d left him. Though he was no virgin, he’d given himself to her as wholly and completely as if he were; she ran away with someone else.

Such things happened to naïve young peasant girls, not a baron’s noble son. How could he be so foolish? So stupid?

He told himself he wouldn’t fall in love with a woman again unless they were already married, but of course he broke that promise when he laid eyes on Thomasin. At least he waited to have her until after they were wed, when he was sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would not sever their bond as Eleanor had.

Thomasin and Eleanor were nothing alike. They were both fairly tall, but that was where the similarities ended. Eleanor had thick, dark hair and eyes so dark they were nearly black. Her skin had the slightest olive cast to it and she constantly pinched her cheeks to add more color, although she didn’t need to. She was overly concerned with her appearance.

Not Thomasin. Tom was just Tom. She didn’t care overmuch about the flush in her cheeks or the fullness of her lips. She was just herself.

Eleanor was lovely though. She was a warm, soft thing that he could lose himself in. She never lost herself in him.

That didn’t keep him from dreaming of her, though.

Henry felt guilty when he woke. How could he dream of someone else after his wife had finally confessed that she loved him – especially because she did so while begging him not to leave her behind the way everyone else had.

He always knew that he was something of anchor to her – something solid to hold on to while the world churned around her – but he didn’t know how truly important he was to her. She’d said before that he was the only thing that was left to her, but he didn’t understand the gravity of that statement.

Henry just wanted to fall back to sleep, not to face the problems today would present him with. Not to face his harsh reality. Still, he forced his eyes to open.

The room was still dark; the thick fur that hung over the window to block the chill also blocked the light from outside.

Henry took a long moment to study the bright lines of sunlight that bordered the pelt. It reminded Henry of a battering ram hammering against the doors of a keep. It was something he’d seen several times since the Normans first made landfall back in September. The months that passed since then felt like a lifetime.

Henry turned his head toward his wife, Thomasin wasn’t beside him. He pushed himself up on his elbows. “Tom?” he called toward the antechamber. The door was partially open so she should be able to hear him. “Thomasin?”

He was just getting out of bed to search for her when she came shuffling back into the room.

“Where were you?”

“I was in a cupboard in the corridor.”

“Why?”

“I had to vomit and I didn’t wish to do so in our bed.”

“That’s very thoughtful.” Henry pulled down the blankets and helped her lay down. “You should’ve woken me.” He gently pressed his hand to her forehead and then her throat. “You don’t feel feverish.”

“I am not ill.” She was reluctant to continue but the look on Henry’s face was probing. “Do you remember how I fell ill when I thought you were going to fight Lawrence?”

Henry frowned, taking a deep breath through his nose. “Your courses?” That was disappointing. Henry had planned to make love to his wife a few times before he left tomorrow, but nature couldn’t be helped.

“Not yet. Maybe God will pity us and they won’t arrive until after you’ve gone,” Tom said.

Henry offered a weak smile.

Tom reached up, cupping his cheek in her hand. “I cannot stand it when you look at me like that.”

“Why?”

“That’s how you looked at me when I was shot.”

Henry turned his head to kiss her palm. “If you stay safe and healthy, you’ll never see it again.”

Tom rolled her eyes but it was an empty gesture. She was still too raw to do much more than lie there and look at her husband. She was too tired to speak – and even if she could, what would she say? She felt like her flesh was peeled back and Henry could see every thought and feeling she’d ever had, laid bare for him.

“I love you, Tom,” Henry said.

“I know,” she replied. She swallowed hard before she spoke again. “I love you.”

Henry lowered himself over her and caught her up in a kiss. She whimpered when he flicked his tongue into her mouth and again when he held her lower lip between his teeth. One of his hands rose to cup her breast, which was sore and swollen from her impending courses, and he gently squeezed. She moaned into his mouth, arching her back to give him better access. He pulled back slightly with an evil grin on his face. “Are you going to vomit again?”

Thomasin whined.

Henry chuckled as he moved down her body, holding her gaze, and tugged down her nightgown until her breasts were bare before him. He’d just taken one into his mouth when a hesitant knock came at the door.

“Sir? My lord?” Jamie’s voice cracked when he spoke. He was on the other side of the door and could not see what was happening, but Lady Thomasin’s moans gave him a good idea of what was going on.

“What?!” Henry spat.

“Your brother Simon is awake.”

***

Elaine was helping Simon sip from a bowl of broth when Thomasin and Henry entered the hall. He lay on his stomach as he struggled to swallow the liquid that was essentially being poured over his face; Elaine set the bowl down and dabbed around his mouth with a handkerchief.

Roger stood nearby, wavering on his feet. Henry bet he was on his feet most, if not all, of the night.

“Simon!” Henry called, dashing forward. Thomasin followed a few steps behind. She wasn’t sure if she would be a welcome sight to the injured warrior.

“Henry,” Simon croaked in reply. Henry knelt beside the table so Simon could see him better. “You’re looking well.”

Not for the first time, Thomasin noted how little resemblance any of the three brothers bore. She wondered if the other two brothers looked anything alike. She wagered they didn’t.

“So are you,” Henry said.

Simon snorted.

“You look better than you were before,” Henry amended.

“Mmm,” Simon replied. “I have Elaine to thank for it.” His bandaged fingers twitched the slightest bit against Elaine’s palm as if he were trying to give it a reassuring squeeze. Henry hadn’t even noticed they were holding hands.

“That’s not entirely true,” Roger piped in. “I’m the one who set your bones.” And removed his finger.

“All at Elaine’s direction,” Simon countered. “Roger and Elaine said you married the Saxon girl. Lady Thomasin.”

“Yes, I did,” Henry said, a smile bursting across his face. He gestured for Thomasin to join him, but Simon’s eyes were already drooping shut.

“Kill him for me, eh?” he muttered. He lost consciousness a few moments later.

A beat of silence followed. It was clear who he was.

***

Their lovemaking was so intense it was almost painful. Henry’s pace was slow but his thrusts were deep and hard. She moaned every time Henry touched her back wall.

He pulled one of her hands toward her center. “Show me,” he grunted. Thomasin rubbed a circle. The sensation was so strong it made her legs jerk. Henry smiled down at her. “Good girl.”

“Henry!” She dug her fingers into his back hard enough that Henry thought she may have drawn blood.

He held his own orgasm at bay, trying to concentrate only on Thomasin’s pleasure and beauty, but when she dug her fingernails into his thighs, trying to take him even deeper, he fell apart.

This was never how it was with Eleanor. Not once.

***

Thomasin lay against her husband’s bare chest, a hand pressed over his heart to feel its soothing rhythm. Henry had his arms around her, and he gently trailed his fingertips along her spine. They made love hours ago but they had yet to sleep.

They didn’t make love again, either, though Henry wanted to. Thomasin was worried she would vomit on him; she told him so and that was where the conversation ended.

She insisted over and over that he sleep, since there was no telling when he’d have a full night’s rest again. But it was clear neither one would be able to shut their eyes.

“Do you think the others are asleep?” asked Thomasin.

“Roger and Charlie might be, if Elaine is with Simon. It’s too much to hope they’re all abed,” said Henry. “Baron Edwin – William’s particular favorite I was telling you about – is probably sleeping like a baby.”

“I dislike that expression,” Thomasin said. “Babies sleep deeply but they don’t sleep well.”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Henry said.

“What about . . .” Tom hesitated. “What about Lawrence?” She exhaled deeply. “I can’t imagine him sleeping. Not ever.”

Some of the women at court alleged that he would skulk about his castle at night back in Normandy. They said it was part of the reason his wife went mad. It was as if she were being stalked by a predator – the moment the poor woman let her guard down, he would attack. Thomasin didn’t know what sort of attack the Norman ladies were alluding to and she did not care to find out.

Henry didn’t reply to his wife’s question, just gave her a gentle squeeze.

“What do you think will happen?” she asked after a moment.

“I don’t know. But I am pleased he will be with us.”

Thomasin pushed herself off of his chest and stared at him as though he’d sprouted a second head. “What did you say?”

Henry smiled slightly at her repulsion. “He’s a great fighter. Clever as the devil, too. I’d rather have him with me than against me.” Tom frowned and Henry tightened his grip on her. “Lay down with me again. It’s cold.” She did as he asked, and he tucked her back into his arms.

“Do you think he’ll try to hurt you?” she asked a moment later.

“No. Not outright. And not until we’ve done what we need to do.” Lawrence knew the others would take Henry’s side in a verbal or physical fight, and he was smart enough to put the king’s business before his own.

There was a moment of tense silence before Thomasin spoke. “Tell me a story.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Something happy. Tell me how you got Kal.”

“We were away at a tourney,” Henry began, a smile in his voice. “Me, Nik, Simon, and our father. A serf’s dog had just whelped and he was giving away her pups – we never saw the mother,” he added. “My father took one of the pups thinking to give it to my mother to be a companion – a lapdog. I looked after him on the journey home. My mother was so pleased. She spoiled him rotten. And then he started growing.”

Thomasin chuckled.

“My nephew wanted to keep him – he’s the one that named him – but it wasn’t long before the dog was bigger than he was. And my brother and his wife didn’t have the patience for it.”

“So you got him?”

“I was the one who picked him out,” Henry said proudly. “It was only right I take him.”

Thomasin smiled to herself. “It’s hard to imagine you without him. Did you have other dogs growing up?”

“Only hounds,” Henry said. “None like him. I don’t think there will ever be another like him.” He ran a hand through her pale orange tangles. “I’m going to leave him here with you. You need someone to argue with in my absence.”

Absence.

They fell silent again. It was impossible to ignore the rapid lightening of the sky outside.

“I love you, Henry,” Tom murmured. “I don’t know why it took me so long to say.”

“You’ve said it; that’s what matters,” Henry replied in the same low voice. “And when I get back you can say it again every day.”

***

The five warriors stood together in the armory, selecting weapons, sharpening their swords, and dressing for battle. Outside the sky was a medium shade of blue. Roger’s eyes seemed stuck on it as he gazed across the room through a window.

Henry stood directly across from his friend as Jamie secured his chausses. “You’re quiet,” he said to Roger. “It’s unsettling.”

Roger turned his head to look at Henry. “I have an ill feeling in my gut,” he said as his squire secured his pauldron.

“That’s just because you woke early,” Charlie said from nearby. He was watching intently as a smith sharpened his sword with a whetstone. “Or because you’re with child.”

“No,” said Roger, ignoring Charlie’s jest. “I’ve a feeling –” he cut himself off, eyes briefly flickering to Henry. Whatever feeling it was, he didn’t want to share it with his already-distressed friend and trouble him further.

“You can speak plainly in front of me,” said Henry.

Roger took a deep breath through his nose. “I’ve a feeling something bad is going to happen.”

Lawrence was pretending to concentrate on the balance of different bows in his hands as he eavesdropped. Henry saw his ears prick.

“We all have that feeling,” said Charlie.

Roger didn’t reply, just turned his head to look back out the window. He murmured to himself, “That isn’t what I meant.”

Henry’s heart sank.

***

Thomasin stood on the parapets to watch her husband ride out. He and his companions emerged from the stables, each guiding his horse by the reins. They were too far off for her to clearly see their features, but she knew Henry’s silhouette.

He mounted his horse and prepared to follow the others through the gates. He looked back over his shoulder at his wife, her hair loose around her shoulders. She offered a small smile and raised her hand to silently say farewell.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from weeping like a woman and soon his mouth was full of blood.

Thomasin managed to keep her composure until her husband was out of sight. She doubled over with a low moan, clutching her churning stomach.

(gif by @demivampirew as per usual)

I had CRAZY writer’s block with this but I had a breakthrough. I won’t get back to posting regularly until at least the middle of October

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thegeneralguy · 3 years

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The Champion of Olympus - Ares’s Arrogance

By thegeneralguy

Revised by @amalianetwork

The chariot of the sun was finishing its daily round over Mount Olympus, leaving a crimson trail in its path. The beautiful sky was painted red, the golden rooftops of the monumental temples and lavish palaces reflecting the majestic sunset´s light. In the inner circle of heaven, the faint sound of metal clashes resonated through the cloudy hills, where all the Olympian´s residences stood proudly watching over the vast extent of the celestial realm. The furious battle cries were coming from the dominion of the god of war. The magnificent mansion stood out of the rest of the buildings due to the dark marble composing its solemn columns, along with a vibrant bronze rooftop that illuminated the surroundings in a permanent hue of carmine.

The aggressive cacophony was coming from the inner courtyard, which occupied the biggest part of the palace. Ares was in the middle of a fierce battle against two other gods, wielding his giant golden spear to strike them with fury over and over again. His extremely muscular body did not impede his battle prowess, as he gracefully danced with the spear as an extension of his limbs. Both lesser gods brandished two identical golden swords, masterfully avoiding and countering the bigger deity's attacks. With the might of his enormous arm, the god of war planted his weapon on the ground propelling himself into a somersault and successfully jumping over the two surprised beings. Suspended on the air he then knocked down both his foes with a fast sweep of his powerful leg, landing gracefully on top of them.

"Again."

He said in a gruff bass voice, his fiery crimson eyes glaring down at the two defeated gods struggling to get back on their feet. Just as they were getting ready to clash weapons again, a bright pink flash replaced the bloody red atmosphere for an instant, leaving behind the most beautiful woman in existence. Ares put down his spear and walked towards his past lover, Aphrodite. She stared seductively at her forbidden object for desire. After all the eons resisting the urge to touch again, the mighty god of war still looked as imposing as the first time they fell for each other. His white robe was perched over one shoulder, exposing one half of his titanic chest. The enormous arms he once used to crack the skulls of his enemies rippled with power, thick veins pumping the holy ichor inside of them. His legs looked stronger than the dark marble columns supporting the palace. Many mementos from his previous battles decorated his bronze skin in the form of many little marks left by the few weapons that were able to harm him.

His brutish face was half concealed by a dense black beard and had a big scar that ran across from his hanging brow, through his eye, and got lost in the hair on his square chin. His intimidating appearance was only accentuated by his bald head, along with the piercing red eyes that flared with the rage of a thousand wars underneath. He approached the goddess, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her close, only to be pushed back by her slender arm.

"You know how he gets when he knows we're together, Ares."

The beautiful deity could barely hold her urge to make love with the masculine god in front of her, but the fear was greater than any other primal instinct she could feel. Ares grunted annoyed, and let the woman out of his embrace.

"I could take on him you know, and you would be finally free. Free to be with me for the rest of eternity."

Aphrodite looked at her former lover with a deep-rooted sadness behind her dark pink eyes and raised her elegant hand to caress the god's rough cheek. Ares took her hand delicately, like a gorilla grabbing the most delicate of a rose's petals, and planted a kiss full of passion and nostalgia of an immemorial time, when they were together, on her palm. They both stood still for a moment, and then Aphrodite removed her hand from his grip and took a step back.

"You know that can't be. Even though you're the god of war and combat, you're still no match for Hephaestus's might. Remember what happened last time."

Ares's winced for a moment, his melancholic visage quickly returning to its natural angry sneer. Of course, he remembered the humiliation his brother put his own wife and him through, exposing their affair to the rest of the gods. The animosity both of his parents felt for him only increased, making the god even more of an outcast than he already was. Only his desire for the goddess of beauty was stronger than his undying loyalty for his father, trying desperately to gain his favor in every conflict. But all his attempts failed miserably, especially when his sister Athena was involved. Zeus, although prideful and violent, was a brilliant strategist and he always sided with his wiser and more intelligent daughter, often leaving the god of war hurt in his pride. He looked back at Aphrodite reproachingly, wondering what the goddess's visit truly meant.

"What are you looking for Aphrodite? If you know Hephaestus doesn't like to see you with me, what is it that brings you to interrupt my training?"

"I know how these situations tend to put you under too much pressure. I just wanted to ask what you were planning to do concerning the trial of the Champion."

"It's been a long time since father has put a challenge on all of us. This might be my opportunity to prove once and for all that I'm the one he should be turning to in troubling times, not Athena."

The god of war was a force to be reckoned with. His prowess in battle was matched by no one in Mount Olympus, and his sheer force was only rivaled by few other deities. But although he was a fearsome opponent for whoever dared in challenging him, he had one fatal flaw: his arrogance. His thirst for blood and violence, when combined with his superiority complex, bred poor choices in and out of battle, often resulting in the mighty god being ridiculed. All the emotions from defeat were only magnified by his enormous ego, creating a bitter outcast who was often ignored by the rest of his fellow deities. Aphrodite knew that deep inside that glorious body and arrogant demeanor was a deep sadness product of rejection from his own family.

"I know how you feel Ares, but I would advise you not to waste too much energy in this affair. You know how Zeus can be when it comes to a world-ending crisis. I don't want you to get more hurt…"

She then took a step forward to put her hand on his gargantuan chest. Ares quickly turned his back towards Aphrodite, unable to keep the emotions from projecting on his face.

"What do you, the goddess of beauty, know about rejection? Father is completely blind to my superior power, and it's my duty to show him he has the most mighty ally for whatever challenge he might face. I have to eclipse the other competitors to take my rightful place on his side. Especially Athena."

The rivalry between the god of war and the goddess of wisdom was not unheard of in Mount Olympus. Even the epic tales from the terrestrial plane depicted the many victories Athena had against Ares. The big scar on the god's face was an eternal reminder of the goddess's superior abilities, often fueling the god's rage in battle every time he caught a glimpse of it in the reflection of a shield. Aphrodite wasn't very keen on Athena either, often clashing with her because of their separate views on vices and virtues, but it was nothing compared to the strong hatred Ares felt for her. The goddess of beauty then took a few steps forward to stand next to the strong deity.

"I guess there is no point in trying to stop you. I would advise you to be careful though. I don't know if you noticed, but Zeus's demeanor seemed very strange during the reunion. You'd be deceiving yourself if you didn't think the ascension of a new champion is not something out of the ordinary."

The god of war stood quiet for some time, reflecting on Aphrodite's words. It was true that the ritual of ascension was a holy ceremony, reserved for heroic acts of celebration instead of an emergency of this type. The last time he tried to gift a mortal with the divine essence, he watched helplessly as his devotee was consumed by its power, obliterating him. He couldn't even remember when was the last time the ritual was successful. But all these concerns were of little meaning for Ares. Before he stood a perfect opportunity to demonstrate his power and to show his abnegation for his father.

"I already made up my mind, Aphrodite. I will personally descend to the Earth and create the best Champion there is. No one will be able to stand against him, for he will be forged by my superior power."

Aphrodite let out a frustrated sigh, knowing her attempts of dissuading the god from taking part in this ridiculous plan were pointless. This whole plot seemed very suspicious for her, but she couldn't exactly point out what was going on. If Ares wasn't going to help her find out, she'll have to resort to other more extreme means. She then looked at the two godlings standing firmly waiting for Ares's command. Both looked practically identical, standing tall and strong like their father, but their handsome faces devoid of their progenitor's magnificent beard. They also had heads full of thick dark brown curls, encasing their more youthful faces. Their muscular bodies were also covered by numerous scars, mostly done by their father's spear.

"Look at my poor children. What have you done to them, Ares?"

Phobos and Deimos were the twin children of beauty and war, born out of human's innermost primal instinct: fear. Both godlings owed an undying loyalty to their father, often accompanying him in each of his affairs. Ares walked towards them, inspecting every inch of his two soldiers, who stood there firmly in silence awaiting their father's command.

"I made them into what they're right now. Two war weapons capable of sowing despair out of mortal hearts. And it seems I'll make use of their service once again. I'm going to make use of a couple of tricks you've shown me."

"If you already made your decision, it is useless to remain here and try to convince you otherwise. Just a word of advice Ares, don't let your pride be your downfall once again."

The goddess disappeared then with a flash, leaving Ares and the two godlings alone once again. The god of war then pondered on the goddess's words, wondering if he should change his mind and challenge his father, like many members of his family were going to. He remembered an ancient saying from another mortal cult: pride goes before the fall. But he quickly dismissed any doubt circling his mind. An opportunity to gain Zeus's grace wasn't going to present itself that easily again. It was his chance to demonstrate his superior existence, and take Athena's place right next to their father. His rugged face was drawn with a sinister smile. He was going to reap a human from his sister's flock, proving once and for all who the most powerful warrior of Olympus was.

It was an unusually agitated day for Athens High. The days before summer vacation were always received with enthusiasm by the students, and relief by the faculty members. Colorful school banners announcing the graduation ceremony for the seniors decorated the hallways, proudly signifying another school year's death. Every student was filled to the brim of school spirit, enthusiastically signing yearbooks, taking pictures, and joking with their soon to be former teachers. All except one. Leon Machiavelli sat quietly at his desk, tapping his feet nervously while he waited for the ultimate call for freedom that was the ringing of the bell on the last school day.

High school could be harsh for someone like Leon. The 19-year-old always felt like a fish out of water when it came to socializing with his classmates, most of his time spent on furthering his knowledge and improving his chances of getting into an Ivy League college, finally ridding himself of the shackles that an upbringing in a small rural town in the middle of nowhere could bring. The few friendships he managed to make over the course of his years through school were few and far too insignificant to regret his choice in moving to the other side of the country and never hearing from them again. Not to mention his troubled relationship with his parents, who were concerned by their son's more hermit nature. His family had been living in that town for a few generations, owning some small businesses in the surrounding area and establishing itself as one of the most aristocratic families in the county.

The swan song of the school year chimed in the form of the bell's ring, causing excited screams and cheers from all students. Notebooks were propelled into the air, paper falling everywhere painting the floor with white. Girls exchanged teary hugs, immortalizing their last moments in the classroom with their smartphones and guys hollered and smashed against each other in fraternal hugs. Leon swiftly picked up his backpack and made a beeline towards the exit, already feeling claustrophobic in the middle of the chaos. He made his way through the sea of students, already feeling the scorching hot summer air blowing at his face. When he was just a step away from freedom, he felt a meaty hand on his shoulder pulling him back inside. He turned around with an exasperated look on his face, only to find out the hand belonged to Kevin Volker, the varsity football captain.

"Leon, bro, what's up? I haven't seen you all day."

The relationship between the hunky jock and the hermit bookworm was, to say the least, complicated. Both boys practically grew up together, their families living next to each other and going to the same school from kindergarten all through to high school. Childish wonder pushed them to form a very good friendship in their first years of development. Family barbeques, playdates, camping trips, both boys had all the necessary qualities to become the best of friends. The fact that their parents were also friends and business partners was also a good advantage for them to keep interacting almost like brothers. All their years of primary school were spent joyfully carefree, with both boys enjoying the wonder of practically living together and embarking on whichever childish adventure they wanted.

But things got different once Kevin's biological clock sent him spiraling into puberty. The gorgeous blonde boy became an athletic teenager, and his energetic nature combined with his newly acquired physical prowess turned him into a social sensation in school. The allure of the childish fantasies he used to share with his best friend was slowly replaced by the enjoyment a real-life circle of friends could bring. Kevin naturally went up the ladder of the monstrous social scale that was high school. The sports teams didn't waste any time in hunting him down, but it was the school's most prided one that caught him in the end: the football team. After just four years the cute teen had developed into a strapping young man, with an all-American jock face and a body to die for.

Watching his best friend turn into the king of school wasn't easy for Leon. The slow abandonment combined with his frustrations over his very delayed development slowly bittered him. Instead of growing up big and strong like Kevin, Leon just gained a few inches in height, but a lot of pounds in weight. He resented his friend for getting the attention of their peers and leaving him alone to fuel their fantasy world on his own. He resented his friend for gaining the grace of other students, and soon cut all ties to him. The chubby red-head grew up alone in the darkness of his bedroom, while the blonde stud dwelled in the sunlight. His natural curiosity pushed him into pursuing knowledge, far prioritizing the cultivation of the mind instead of the body. His academic achievements mixed in with his hidden frustrations bred an arrogance delusion. Leon convinced himself that he was too good for other people, shielding himself from the pain of rejection. Completely dismissing any attempt of remaining active took a toll on his body, turning the chubby teen into an overweight young man with a disheveled appearance. Every time he saw Kevin, he remembered their lost childhood and caught a glimpse of his true reality. The muscular jock served as a window of truth in Leon's arrogant delusion: his loneliness was a product of his own doing.

"I was just busy getting my things ready for tomorrow's speech. Can I help you with anything?"

He bitterly stared into the jock's blue eyes and saw exactly the look that he hated. Even though Kevin grew dismissive towards him, he never once participated in the occasional bullying red-head suffered, often offering to help out with whatever he needed. His usual cocky gaze hid a deep-set sympathy for the lonely nerd, and Leon hated that. He didn't need the sympathy of someone he considered inferior.

"No, it's all good thanks. I'm going to drive home first to pick up my gym bag, and I wanted to offer you a ride. It's too fucking hot out there, man,” said Kevin with a burst of awkward laughter. His deep voice vibrated on his chest, which twitched playfully from time to time. Leon scanned his former friend with a resentful gaze. The heavily muscled jock was encased in the trendiest designer clothes, his bulging arms threatening to rip his polo's sleeves apart, and the tree trunks he had for legs wrapped in skin-tight chinos, showcasing the deep definition within the heavy muscles. He tried his best not to stare too much into the body and kept his apathetic frown fixed on his piercing blue eyes.

"Thank you, but I'm gonna take the bus. There's some stuff in town I need to sort out first."

"That's ok, guess I'll see you tomorrow in the graduation ceremony then,” said Kevin with a subdued sigh. Leon turned around without saying anything and headed outside towards the searing sunlight. Even though he kept a straight face during the exchange with his former friend, his fists were clenched due to the anger he felt. Even after all those years, Leon's heart still skipped a beat every time the jock was nearby. No matter how much he tried to deceive himself into thinking he was the superior of the two, he couldn't get rid of the feelings he had for his former friend.

"Congratulations on the valedictorian thing by the way!"

He managed to scream before Leon was outside the door. The chubby red-head barely turned around, and with a weak thanks, he was lost in the blinding light.

The little town's main street was buzzing with activity on the hot summer afternoon. Families paraded themselves on the sidewalk, eating ice cream and letting the kids play on the numerous water fountains around the place. Little restaurants and boutiques decorated the sides of the street, offering a colorful option of both local and imported goods to the town's small population. The Machiavelli family owned many of those businesses and almost every convenience store in town. Leon was heading to the family's favored tailor to meet his mother to get his outfit for the graduation ready. After all, the son of one of the town's most important families couldn't show up in his usual disheveled state to his high school graduation. Leon always thought things like fashion and social status were frivolities, intellectually inferior people used to feel better about themselves, so he gave little importance to them. Even now on the threshold of the rest of his life, he could care less about how he looked, but his mother insisted so much that he gave in to her requests to keep her from nagging him any longer.

The little bell on top of the door chimed in when he entered the door, attracting the attention of his mother, who was enthusiastically discussing ties and bows with the tailor.

"Honey, you made it! Step in front of the mirror please, Mr. Schneider will take your final measurements."

No one would think the chubby teenager was related to the elegant woman standing next to the counter. She looked flawless despite her age and dressed impeccably no matter if she was at a charity ball or going to the supermarket. The only trait that tied both of them to each other was their fiery red hair, which she kept in a perfect updo fully solidifying her upper-class status. Without saying a word, Leon stepped up to the little platform surrounded by three body-sized mirrors. The tailor approached him, fully armed with his measuring tape and a set of pins to hold the seams and folds in place.

"What do you think of this tie honey? I think the green would highlight your…"

The excited chatter of his mother soon faded away, as Leon focused more and more on his reflection of the three pieced mirrors. It looked like puberty forgot about him in the middle of the way. He never really grew that much in height, topping at a shorter 5'5. The prominent curve of his stomach was visible through the simple black t-shirt he was wearing, deforming The legend of Zelda's Triforce symbol together with his sagging chest. His stubby arms laid powerless on his sides, and his chubby legs were hidden under a pair of oversized jeans. His pale freckled face was covered by pimples, accentuating his unclean appearance, and it still sported the signs of infancy he never outgrew, with chubby cheeks and a small nose. The most prominent feature on him was his bright green eyes, courtesy of his mother's Irish heritage, along with his unkempt red curls. He had convinced himself long ago that an unkept body was not a problem as long as the mind flourished, so he gave up on any attempt in bettering his appearance. Dwelling in his thoughts he didn't realize the tailor was done measuring and was discussing the suit's finishing touches with his mother, who didn't wait for her son's approval on the rest of the accessories.

"Is that all mom?"

He asked a bit annoyed whilst grabbing his belongings and heading to the door.

"Yes honey, I'll arrange the rest with Mr. Schneider. You will look so handsome tomorrow. I'll see you at home later."

She answered without even looking at him. Leon sighed and headed outside, not wanting to spend another second thinking in tomorrow's ceremony, and made his way towards his house.

The Machiavelli family's estate consisted of a big two-story house, a big garden with a swimming pool, and a small guest house. There was no doubt that it belonged to very affluent people. The mansion's pearl white walls reflected the afternoon sunlight, almost giving it an incandescent glow. Leon entered through the massive oak doors and headed straight for his room. On his way there he couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the massive family portrait in the house's foyer. A younger Leon smiled faintly back at him; his chubby body encased in a black suit just like his father. The elegant man looked imposing with his strong physique and masculine features. The only common thing Leon and his father had was their last name because no one would say the pale red-head was related to the mature Italian stud that was his father. His mom looked perfect as usual, leaving Leon sticking out like a sore thumb between his two impressive progenitors. He tried his best to ignore the picture like he always did and enclosed himself in his private sanctuary.

His room was decorated with posters of antique temples, beautiful palaces, and imposing sculptures. Leon's love for fantasy had slowly driven him into researching the origin of human imagination itself, and therefore human's creative history. His ultimate goal was to become erudite of anthropology, teaching and researching in the most lauded institutions on the field and finally gaining the recognition of better people than the small-town folk he loved to look down upon. He sat down on his desk to revise his prepared speech for the graduation ceremony one last time. Despite his parent's best effort to dissuade him, Leon was willing to perform a bitter soliloquy expressing his frustrations against his classmates and solidifying his status as the class' arrogant intellectual. Beneath the snarky remarks and morality lectures written on paper, laid a profound pain product of his loneliness. His train of thought slowly brought the image of Kevin into his head again. Leon was going to finally be free of watching him blossom more and more every day. But even if he moved across the country, he was still unsure he would ever be able to forget the handsome jock. After all, despite the endless hours he spent convincing himself Kevin abandoned him out of malice, he was the only person Leon ever loved.

The chubby red-head barely gave any thought to his sexuality. He considered any kind of lust as a distraction, a primal burden that impeded the full growth of the human psyche. Unlike practically all of his classmates, he wore his virginity as a badge of honor, his mind completely clean of the stain of sex. But despite trying his best to suppress his natural urges, the thought of Kevin always came through inside his head. The connection they shared when they were children still transcended the barriers Leon tried to put up to elevate himself. And the fact that the handsome jock looked like a classical Greek sculpture come to life didn't help the lascivious thoughts leave the nerd's mind. Leon tried to hate Kevin as much as he could because if he didn't, he would become the ultimate shackles preventing him from breaking free from his small-town life once and for all. The last golden rays of sunset light came into the room through the big windows, illuminating the red-head's face. His gaze was glued to the sheet of paper in front of him. This speech was an ode to intellectual growth, and a farewell to the life Leon chose to leave behind. He went into bed exhausted, nervous about the events coming up the next day. It was going to be the last time Leon Machiavelli graced his classmates with his thoughts. Afterward, the only way they could catch a glimpse of his brilliant mind was either buying his future publications or listening to his TED talks.

It was past midnight when Leon was woken up by a shiver down his spine. The pale moonlight illuminated his bedroom, casting out gruesome shadows out of every corner. The nerd had the feeling something was staring at him from the darkness. The entire room was scorching hot, despite the cold night air flowing through an open window. A low animal growl attracted Leon's attention towards the darkest corner in the bedroom. His face went pale with fear when he discovered the two big glowing red eyes staring at him maliciously. A black figure slowly crept out of the shadows, making itself visible thanks to the white moonlight. Leon stared speechless at the giant black dog growling at him menacingly from the other side of the room. His big snout was curled up into an angry snarl, making the dagger sized fangs visible. The terrified nerd was petrified in his bed, unable to muster the minimal courage to even scream for help. Without taking his eyes off of him, the black dog spoke with a deep man's voice.

"When the time comes, follow me. I will give you what you want"

And as soon as it appeared, it melted into the shadows, leaving the red-head alone to faint out of the fear he just experienced.

The golden rays of sunlight in the late morning woke Leon up, who groggily rubbed his eyes and got up. Despite sleeping through the night, he felt exhausted. He was unsure if what he saw in the darkness had been real or just a product of the stress before graduation. He looked at the clock on his nightstand, only to realize he had slept through his alarm and was already running late.

"Damn it"

He yelled exasperated as he jumped out of bed to get ready for his ceremony. He splashed some water face and combed his red curls a little bit just to hide the mark the pillow had left on his head. One of the maids brought up the finished suit his mother had bought the previous day. It was a beautiful dark grey suit, Italian cut, with an emerald green tie and a handkerchief to match. He quickly put it on, feeling it snug against his body. Despite the suit being tailored to his exact fit, the outward curve of his prominent stomach was still visible, putting a slight strain on the buttons. The emerald green tie did highlight his eyes, just like his mother told him before buying it. He took the cards for his upcoming speech and made sure he had everything ready for the ceremony. On his way out, he looked at his reflection on the big mirror in the hallway. Even after neglecting his appearance today, the beauty of the suit made him look almost distinguished. He felt strong, ready to sever his ties to this town and his past. It was going to be a memorable day, marking the beginning of his new life.

He arrived at the ground floor of the mansion, only to find it empty. A small note was laying on top of the little table next to the entrance.

"Your father and I went to the club for a quick workout. We'll see you later at school. Tell Charlie to drive you there if you don't want to take one of the cars."

He crushed the little note on his hands, feeling a pang of pain due to his parents' absence. It wasn't unusual for his mother to delegate accompanying him to the chauffeur, but Leon thought the day of his high school graduation was going to be different. He quickly dismissed any sorrow from his head, replacing it with a fiery determination. His speech today was also inspired by his aloof parents, who barely gave their only son a second thought. He looked at the big family portrait one last time. With this suit, he might have looked a bit like he belonged, but he knew the truth. His destiny was far away from this little town, which was below his expectations.

The school was buzzing with activity, with teachers running everywhere getting every last detail prepared, and students getting their graduation robes ready for the ceremony. Colorful banners decorated the main courtyard, where a scenario with a podium and a line of seats was built. The many rows of chairs in front of it were already filling themselves up with enthusiastic families, readying their cameras for their children's special moments. Leon scoffed at the scene, thinking how sad it was that this was going to be the only highlight in their offspring's life. He picked up his robe and valedictorian sash and headed towards his seat. In the distance, he saw Kevin arrive with both of his parents. The gorgeous stud was impeccably dressed in a beautiful sapphire blue suit. Every muscle was perfectly framed and enveloped in the expensive fabric, accentuating the dramatic angles his body formed. His dirty blond hair was perfectly styled in his usual messy style, and his white smile beamed stronger than the sun itself. Leon couldn't take his eyes off from his former friend, making an inhumane effort to remain focused on his goal. This day was going to be about him for the first time, not about Kevin.

The ceremony began after all the attendants took their seats, with the principal opening the day with a generic speech about school spirit and class fraternity. Leon fiddled with his cards nervously, the pressure of his big moment slowly starting to overcome him. He couldn't help but ask himself if he was willing to pull through it. After all, his classmates were still people deserving of respect, even if he considered them intellectually inferior. But then the memory of Kevin laughing with all of them, sharing the fabled fraternal bond the principal was talking about, and excluding Leon from their circle solidified his decision. The words he was going to say could be harsh, but it was something he felt entitled to share.

"And now, please welcome the Athens High class of 2019 valedictorian, Leon Machiavelli."

The sound of the applause woke Leon up from his daze, as he stood up and made his way to the podium. All the eyes in the audience were for the first time focused on him. The scorching sunlight made him feel a little light-headed, his hair matted with sweat, and his body sticking uncomfortably to his suit. He looked at the seats below him, squinting his eyes due to the sun's intense shine. All of the chairs were occupied, except two, very close to the front rows. Leon let out a sorrowful sigh, the last ember of hope of sharing this moment with his parents dying. He put his cards down, took a big breath, and started speaking.

"My fellow students of Athens High. The promised day is finally upon us, the day when we will finally take flight and begin the rest of our lives. Most of you don't even know who I am, but after today you will never forget my name. When I was writing this speech, I couldn't help but notice a few ironic facts that I would like to share with you. It is fitting that our school mascot is an owl because that is how I've felt all these years. I've dedicated countless hours to quietly observing your behavior, your desires, and every intricate social structure in our school, and I can't help but feel immense gratitude. Thanks to all of you, I've blossomed into the epitome of human intelligence and wisdom that I am today. And let me tell you why. After a long analysis, I've come up with the conclusion that my greatest fear is becoming as simple as one of you…."

Something beyond the sun's glare caught his attention. At first, he thought it might be a mirage caused by the burning heat, but the more he focused on it, the clearer it became. A shadow beneath a far tree looked eerily familiar. Leon's hands started to tremble in fear, as he recognized the black dog from last night staring at him from the distance, its glowing red eyes visible through the blinding sunlight. His entire speech suddenly vanished from his mind, together with the fleeting empowerment he was feeling moments ago. He fumbled nervously with the cards, only to drop them by accident.

"You….uh…..I…"

The echoes of his nervous words coming from the speakers resonated through the courtyard. Curious eyes focused on Leon, who quickly turned into a sweaty mess. He looked at Kevin in the front row, who had a worried look on his face. He felt a shame he had never felt before. Being humiliated in front of half the town was the last thing Leon wanted. He searched for the dog again, only for it to vanish without a trace. He looked at the public in defeat and managed to scavenge some last words to minimize the embarrassment.

"I want to thank you all for coming. Enjoy the rest of the ceremony."

With those last words, Leon left the podium and sank into his seat, wishing for the earth to swallow him. The principal took the microphone again and followed through with the protocol.

"Thank you, Leon, for those, uh, inspiring words. And now, we will present the students with their diplomas."

Leon sat in his place quietly, staring at the green grass. In his mind, the only thing that was present was the horrible feeling of embarrassment. Everything he had planned; all the preparation and previous excitement had been for nothing. The muffled sound of pomp and circumstance blasting out of the speakers was all he could hear, as the principal went through the line of students calling each of them to the podium and shaking hands with them. One face still stood out from the rest: Kevin's. One thing was failing in front of his classmates, but failing in the presence of the person he wanted to impress the most made everything worse. Now Kevin would never find out how well-off Leon thought he was despite being abandoned by the handsome jock. Somewhere inside the cacophony governing the courtyard, he heard his name, and without taking his gaze off the ground he stood up and picked up his diploma. He gave the principal a weak handshake and quickly slid back into his chair. This moment was indeed immortalized in his mind, but not in the way he intended.

Once all students got their respective acknowledgments, the ceremony ended with Oxford caps decorating the sky accompanied by deafening applause. Families reunited in the whole courtyard, hugging and blasting pictures everywhere. Leon was still in his seat when he saw both his parents approaching him.

"Honey, sorry we're late. How was your speech,” asked his mother without any hint of remorse in her voice. Leon was used to being left behind by his family, but this time he felt actual pain. If his parents were there, the only people with whom he shared some kind of superficial connection, he wouldn't have felt so helpless in the aftermath of his speech debacle. He looked up at his parents with cold wrath in his eyes, tears starting to slowly well up inside them.

"I don't ask much of you. I don't mind when you hide me at your parties, or when you go on extravagant trips without me. I just asked for your presence for one day. One day."

His reproaches were met by the unchanging poised faces of his progenitors. His mother was the first one to speak.

"Honey, not here. People are looking,” She said with a simulated smile.

"I don't care about your deluded picture of perfection, mother. You ruined the last time we were going to connect as a family. And for what? A sauna bath in your pretentious club."

His father's petrified face showed a glimpse of anger. The Machiavelli patriarch had never been very fond of his only child, considering him a nuisance and a liability for their public image. Leon just didn't fit well as the heir of the family's fortune, completely lacking charisma and skill to lead. In his eyes, the only thing his son did was cower behind his infinite collection of books in his room.

"Quit whining, Leon. You should be thankful your mother and I made time to come and congratulate you. Now, let's take a picture. We will discuss this back at home."

Leon's last hope of acceptance from his family died as soon as the flash from the camera was gone, his young heart completely overtaken by the coldness of rejection. His aloof parents then proceeded to greet the rest of the attendants. The young nerd felt completely lost inside the crowd. All he wanted to do was to get back home, pack his bags and leave on the next bus out of town. While he was analyzing the best way to scurry out of there, a sapphire flash caught his attention. He then looked towards it, only to find out the colorful splash of light came from Kevin, who was heading into the school through a side entrance. At first, he didn't pay too much attention to it, but then he saw the black dog from earlier following the handsome jock. After some consideration, Leon managed to conjure the courage to follow Kevin into the building, worried about what that black creature could do to his former friend. He pushed the door and entered the school's auditorium, only to find it dark and empty. The light to the locker rooms was on, so he made his way through the big hall towards it.

"Kevin? Are you in here?"

His nervous voice echoed through the rows of metal lockers. The air in the room felt damp and heavy, the lingering musky smell of sweaty athletes permanently staining the atmosphere. Something else was mixed in the aromas, a metallic scent, like rusted metal. He hesitantly stepped further into the locker room, his only companion being the sound of his footsteps on the tiled floor. The cold lights flickered from time to time, giving the entire scene a very ominous appearance. He turned around the corner and finally found Kevin in front of the sinks. He was staring emptily into the mirror, completely unaware of Leon's presence. The young nerd was terrified but kept approaching the young jock.

"Hey Kevin, are you alright?"

He said as he put a sweaty hand on Kevin's shoulder. He was able to perceive a red flicker on the jock's icy blue eyes, and then Kevin reacted to his touch.

"Leon, what's up? You look scared bro, are you alright?"

He said casually beaming his celebrity smile towards Leon, who just stared completely puzzled at the handsome jock.

"I saw a black dog follow you into the auditorium. Have you seen it?"

"Black dog? Bro, I really think the heat has started to affect you. I just came inside to freshen up a bit, but I haven't seen any black dog."

"But I swear I saw it come inside, I was a bit concerned it would attack you or anything. That thing has been roaming around school premises since the ceremony. I saw it during my...."

He made a pause, remembering the events that had just taken place moments before during the ceremony. The rage product of his humiliation returned to him.

"During my speech. Never mind, I can't say I'm surprised you're unable to notice even the most obvious things."

Kevin's smile faded from his face, his gorgeous gaze gaining the depth that bothered Leon so much because it made him care for a person he had convinced himself was below him.

"Leon, bro, I know things haven't been okay between us for a while. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel bad or something. I was just going with the flow, I never intended to hurt you. But I can't keep myself away anymore. If today is about a cycle, then there is something I need to set straight between us."

Leon's cold gaze lightened up a bit, curious about what he was talking about. He had never seen Kevin this nervous before. The young jock stared at the floor and fiddled nervously with his hands. The words came out a bit forced out of his mouth like someone was making him recite a memorized confession.

"I need to tell you something, but not here. Come to my place tonight for the party. Everyone will be there."

"I don't know Kevin. Parties aren't really my cup of tea…."

The handsome jock put his strong hand on Leon's shoulder and gave him a mischievous smile that not even the nerd's toughest defenses could resist.

"I promise to make it worth your while."

Leon hesitated for a second, completely incredulous for what he was hearing. He had already decided not to go to the party, but the day was not going according to plan. He could feel his heart beating almost out of his chest, excited and intrigued for whatever the jock was going to tell him.

"Sure, I'll see you there."

An eerie spark lit up behind Kevin's blue eyes, but Leon was so dumbstruck he completely missed it.

"Sweet bro, I'll see you later then. Nice clothes by the way."

Kevin then pulled the smaller man up for a hug, smothering him with his strong body. Leon could feel the hardness of his muscles through the expensive blue fabric. The jock then made his way towards the exit, leaving Leon in a disoriented haze. For a moment he completely forgot about the gruesome black dog and his failed speech, all he could see in his mind was Kevin's gorgeous smile.

The sun was already setting when Leon arrived at the Volker residence. Many groups of his fellow students were approaching the mansion through the extensive courtyard, already with some drinks on their hands. The young nerd hesitated, his social anxiety crippling him for a moment. He still despised the rest of his class and saw no point in trying to interact with them. If he was going to this party, it was for Kevin only. Maybe something good would come out of this terrible day after all. When he crossed through the house's massive portal, he was immediately assaulted by an explosion of light and sound completely overwhelming his senses. A sea of young adults covered the big parlor and the adjacent rooms, drinking and dancing like there was no tomorrow. The big chandelier hanging from the ceiling was adapted to flash beams of light of different colors in all directions, and a DJ booth was installed on the far end of the formal living room, blasting some modern music Leon couldn't recognize. He was an absolute amateur when it came to partying, so he felt lost and scared inside the crowd. He tried looking for Kevin everywhere, but due to his short height, he wasn't able to look past a few heads before him.

Leon approached the drinking table and ordered a soda. He tried to find a quiet corner to drink in peace before resuming his search for his former friend, but everywhere he looked was swarmed by the inebriated guests. He was quickly losing his patience, as he was pushed around by the dancing crowd over and over again. Somehow, he found his way to the big spiral staircase leading to the upper floors and jumping over the barrier to keep attendants on the ground floor, he quickly went up a few steps to get a better overview. Despite gaining the higher ground, his attempts in finding his friend proved unsuccessful. He was about to give up and head back home defeated when something caught his attention through the mahogany banister. The monstrous-looking black dog was staring at him from above, its glowing red eyes visible despite the chaotic party atmosphere. After making sure the nerd saw it, it walked further up the stairs into the second floor.

Leon remembered what the beast had told him the night before, and followed it into the higher level of the mansion. Once he made it to the upper floor, he saw the dog walking through a long hallway and entering the furthest room. The young nerd continued his pursuit and found himself in what he assumed was Kevin's room. The lavish bedroom was decorated with all sorts of trophies and medals, as well as an entertainment system appropriate for an active teenager. Leon's attention was drawn to the row of portraits on the big bookshelf. Pictures of young Kevin in all sorts of family trips and sports events were displayed in delicate frames. One picture, in particular, stood out from the rest. Leon couldn't believe his eyes as he took the silver frame in his hands and stared at the photograph. A young Kevin had his arm wrapped around a young Leon, both sitting on top of a rock next to a river. They were laughing, radiating genuine happiness through the picture. Leon couldn't believe that after all those years, Kevin kept memories from their childhood so close to him. The young man the nerd considered his bitter rival and enemy never antagonized him.

The big glass door to the balcony opened suddenly, letting a warm gust of wind into the room. Leon put the picture back in its place and headed outside. The stunning twilight sky was painted in different shades of red, showering the scenery with crimson rays of light. The hot summer breeze rustled the leaves on the trees surrounding the properties, producing a serene sound that drowned the music from downstairs. The nerd stepped on the balcony, and finally found what he was looking for. Kevin was standing on the edge of the marble banister, watching the beautiful sunset.

"Kevin?"

The handsome jock turned around to face Leon. The only thing the young nerd could see were the icy blue eyes inside his former friend's shadow, his silhouette completely encased in a red halo product of the dying sunset.

"I knew you would come. Come here, I want you to look at this."

Leon stepped forward, taking place right next to the handsome jock. Kevin flashed his regular charming smile at the nerd, who instantly turned red as a beet. For an instant, he was thankful for this unusually bright sunset that hid the blush on his cheeks.

"I wanted this evening to go perfectly. And now that you're here it's finally complete."

"Just tell me what you want Kevin. We haven't talked in years and suddenly you take interest in me. I just want to know why."

Kevin diverted his gaze into the sunset, suddenly turning serious. Leon could see the distress in his eyes.

"I never lost interest in you Leon. It was you who pushed me away. You were the one that decided to stop hanging out with me."

Leon clenched his fists in anger, the painful memories of his friend exchanging him for more popular friends still poisoning his mind.

"How dare you say that! You were the one that went away, that grew into…."

He made a nervous pause, uncertain about what he was about to say. The wrath inside of him made him spill out the words without thinking.

"Into a mindless meathead. Look at us, Kevin. Your physical prowess is unparalleled, that's a fact. But I got what truly matters: a brilliant mind. I have preserved my psyche in the best way possible. I've resisted the allure of petty teenage necessities. And now, I'm in the way of becoming one of the most brilliant thinkers in recent years!"

Kevin turned around to face the angry nerd, who was on the brink of tears due to the pent-up rage he was feeling.

"Is that what you truly want bro? It sounds very lonely to me."

"I don't need anyone. Soon, I'll be where I'm supposed to. I don't mind being alone."

Kevin grabbed Leon's arm, pulling him closer. The nerd could feel the intense heat radiating from the hunk's body. He stared directly into his former friend's blue eyes.

"Are you sure you want to be alone? I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I got all the attention I want, from anyone. When you look like me, it's an easy task."

He said flexing his meaty arm, straining the soft blue fabric on the sleeves of his suit. Leon couldn't take his eyes off of Kevin's body, completely mesmerized by the jock's posing show. He failed to notice his friend's eyes shining in a dark red shade from time to time. The jock's voice turned from warm and concerned, into cold and aggressive.

"No matter how much you lie to yourself Leon, you want to be like me. To finally be accepted by everyone, including your parents. Picture it for a second. Finally, be worthy of being called your father's son. What use is your intelligence to the Machiavelli family, when you lack the courage to destroy your fears? Truth is, you're no more than a resentful dweeb."

Kevin continued flexing, taking off his suit's jacket, his movements starting to take on a seductive flair.

"Stop it. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course I know. I know everything about you bro, including your darkest secret."

Leon suddenly opened his eyes like plates, completely incredulous for what was coming out of the jock's mouth. It was impossible anyone knew how he felt about Kevin, he didn't tell anyone. Kevin smiled with a hint of malice, knowing he had Leon right where he wanted him. His blue eyes now shone in a permanent crimson hue.

"That's right, I know that you like me. Your mind is indeed a complex maze, but no psyche cannot be cracked open. I could feel the fear of being discovered practically pouring out of your pores."

Leon looked down in defeat, feeling the embarrassment bubble out of him. He knew this was too good to be true. Kevin approached Leon once again, taking his chubby face with his hands and pulling it up to face him. The nerd's green eyes were pooled with tears.

"There's no reason to be miserable. The reason I called you here tonight was to tell you I feel the same way about you."

Leon couldn't help but open his mouth incredulously, his mind still registering the words that just came out of the jock's mouth.

"Wha—what?"

"I've also never connected with anyone the way I connected with you. You know the real me, buried beneath this sculptural body. That means I also know the real you. You don't have to be alone."

The young nerd's sad frown slowly turned into a smile. His face was inches away from his friend's, feeling the jock's hot breath on his skin. And then he smelled it. The same metallic smelled he caught in the locker room back at school, only this time it was much more intense. He also took notice of Kevin's glowing red eyes.

"Wait, this is not right. What's happened to you?"

Kevin's grip on Leon's face tightened, his face gaining a sinister flair.

"I'm exactly who I'm supposed to be. The question here is: are you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you who you are supposed to be? I know the real you is buried beneath this intellectual façade. We just gotta pull him out."

Kevin started caressing Leon's overweight body, rubbing his torso over the suit's jacket. The young nerd was giving in to the moment, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation of his friend's strong hands on his body. One last glimmer of resistance made him suddenly pull away.

"No. I don't want this. I'm above these carnal sensations. I've never done anything with anyone."

Kevin smiled, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt, exposing the ripped divide of his upper chest.

"I know you're a virgin, I don't have any problems with that."

"But I do. I don't want it to be this way. If it ever comes to it, I want it to be special."

Kevin's confident smile quickly disappeared, replaced by a displeased scowl.

"Look at this Leon. The sunset, the balcony, the hot summer air. You said it yourself, this is the end of one phase of our lives. Isn't this special enough for you?"

"I don't know Kevin; this doesn't feel right."

"Look, it's very simple. I want to be with you, and I know you want to be with me. I just need you to renounce this ridiculous virtuous perception of your virginity. Give in to your flesh, and your body will become what you truly desire."

"My body is okay as it is."

Said Leon embarrassed by the remark of the increasingly impatient jock.

"You know it isn't. All these years you have deceived yourself in thinking you value the brilliance of your mind when in reality it's what has alienated you from everyone. Relinquish that notion, and you shall have everything you desire."

The nerd looked at his friend nervously, completely unsure about what he wanted. He thought he was sure about who he was, but what Kevin said was true. What's the point of intelligence if all you need to be accepted is purely physical? Was brilliant wisdom worth the loneliness? While Leon dwelled in his thoughts, a shadow materialized on the corner behind him. What first looked like a black dog slowly grew into a human form, taking the appearance of an extremely muscular young man, his body full of scars. He planted his crimson red eyes on Kevin, who nodded in agreement as his face grew more sinister.

"I'll make it easy for you. Kiss me. If you do, I'll know you're ready to take the next step and leave your old self behind. You'll finally be better than anyone else, just like you wish. Be warned though, there will be no turning back."

Leon was then assaulted by all the painful memories of his past. The loneliness of growing up as an outcast, the abandonment of his parents, and the disconnection from everything and everyone started crushing him. He had an opportunity to have what he truly wanted, not what he convinced himself he wanted. Hypnotized by the jock's supernatural gaze, he approached his friend with determination. Standing on the tip of his feet, he placed his lips on his. Black smoke started enveloping them, completely encasing the entire balcony and isolating it from the world. Leon felt butterflies in his stomach, as the kiss continued to gain intensity. A scorching hot feeling started seeping into his being, product of Kevin's mouth. When he realized what he had done, it was too late. He was completely under the control of the handsome jock, who started to take on a dominant role, aggressively pushing his tongue into the nerd's mouth. The last thing he consciously realized was what that taste in Kevin's mouth was: blood.

Energy started seeping into Leon's body, slowly impregnating his being. He was lost in the intense feeling his connection with Kevin was causing. The waves of power-hitting his body started making his blood boil, turning his body into an incandescent mass. He was sweating profusely, as the energy coursing through his veins unleashed different chain reactions in his cells, resulting in a vastly increased metabolic rate. The fatty deposits inside of him started to melt away, vaporized to fuel the nerd's body's incredible energy demand. His pants fell, as the rest of the suit started to hang loosely from his body. The formerly chubby red-head was left practically only in skin and bones. Kevin broke the kiss and looked at what his friend had become. His green eyes were dull and lifeless, and his formerly round face was left looking severely malnourished. He smiled victorious, knowing the spell was doing its job. He needed the man in the back to complete the transference, so he called him forward to participate in the passionate scene.

Kevin took his finger, rubbing it on his friend's lips seductively, as the muscular man in the back slowly pushed down the shoulders of the now skinny nerd to the ground. In one swift motion, the handsome jock ripped his pants off his legs, exposing a menacing bulge that was quickly gaining size in front of Leon's entranced gaze.

"Is this what you wanted? To serve and pleasure me?"

Asked Kevin dominantly, looking down at his friend. Even though Leon was still watching everything going on, the sensations in his body were driving him like an automaton. A part of his consciousness still resisted, yelling desperately that he was better than what he was becoming, but it was slowly getting smaller as if it were burned away by the divine energy coursing through his veins. He answered in a stupefied voice, unable to resist the temptation

"Yes."

"Wrong answer."

Said Kevin fishing out his manhood from his briefs and putting it on the nerd's open mouth. The same metallic taste accompanied by other muskier aromas immediately assaulted Leon's senses. He licked and tasted the meaty tube inside of him, desperately worshipping it with his tongue. The scarred man behind him then pushed his head further into the jock's crotch, making him swallow the entire seven thick inches at once. Kevin then proceeded to drill inside his friend's mouth with aggressive thrusts back and forth. Each time the phallus penetrated the nerd's mouth, the pressure inside of him caused his bones to elongate. Each limb stretched several inches, along with his spine, leaving the nerd with over a foot and a half extra height. The hands holding the jock's legs cracked and grew, along with his formerly small feet. Once his skeleton stopped breaking, the scarred man pulled Leon to his feet, his pants staying on the floor. There was a fight between bliss and misery inside of him, causing a blast of emotions that quickly flooded his head. It was like his mind was inside a pressurized pot ready to explode.

"You are the one that has to be served and pleasured. You have to conquer fear."

Kevin lifted the now taller red-head with supernatural strength and flipped him around, exposing his naked rear. Leon fell forward, grabbing on to the scarred man to remain on his feet, and felt the scorching hot head of his friend's member rub menacingly on his crack. He desired him more than anything in the world, his carnal passion completely overtaking his puritanical nature.

"Once we finally break your mind, you'll be able to become the god you were chosen to be."

And with those last words, Kevin impaled his friend mercilessly, getting one last howl of agony out of the nerd. Leon felt as if a dam had broken inside his head, flooding his mind and washing his old self away. Kevin's thrusts started pumping more divine energy into the red-head, which traveled inside his body filling out his newfound emptiness. Pure pleasure caused him to moan loudly. His blood pumped new power into his whole body, causing his muscles to twitch and ripple responding to the strength. His glutes were the first part of his body to expand. The handsome jock's phallus was quickly being swallowed further by two inflating globes of muscle. It looked like he was humping a pair of overgrown watermelons. The growth spread down his legs, filling out his quads and hamstrings with thick columns of muscle, growing as thick as two oak trees. Deep cuts were etched painfully on them, the skin stretched to its limits over the massive muscles. His calves grew to match the upper legs, gaining enough size to rival a football. His feet expanded to accommodate the still coming weight.

The pumped energy seeped simultaneously into his core muscles. Veins started gaining thickness the more power flowed in them, changing the muscle underneath. His lower back took the form of a large spearhead, two pillars of muscle slowly crawling up his back. His lower abs popped into existence, framed by two increasingly large obliques. First two, then four, then six, and ending in eight grenade-sized bumps on his stomach. The muscular pillars on his back started flaring like two flags, spreading growth into the red-head's lat muscles. The suit's jacket couldn't resist the growth for long, shredding itself to pieces revealing the sweaty skin underneath. Kevin grabbed the growing back with lust, feeling the searing hot muscle underneath move and inflate. The man's lats spread wide like a fighter plane, the muscle fibers fighting to fit into the already large frame. Mountains and valleys decorated the expanse of the magnificent back before the thrusting jock.

His chest was the next to grow as if gravity was pulling the muscle downwards. Two massive slabs of flesh etched themselves in Leon's upper torso, increasing his weight and making him widen his stance to find his new balance. The inflating pecs rose higher too like they were trying to reach his chin, while the lower parts expanded themselves reaching the limit of the red-head's anatomy. Once the veins reached his shoulders, these exploded in growth, reaching the size of an ancient Grecian helmet. Divine blood pumped into his arms, his biceps swelling to the size of big cannonballs. His triceps expanded underneath his arms, quickly adding girth to the now powerful limbs, reaching the size of a Howitzer cannon. His lower arms etched themselves with strong sinews, growing as wide as baseball bats. His hands hardened and swelled with new strength, gaining the power to crush the hardest skull with ease.

Thick veins traveled up his neck, followed by thick muscle cords making it seem more like a bull's neck than a human's. Once his Adam's apple finished its transformation, his high moans of pleasure slowly turned into a low manly grunt. Muscle piled into the squaring jaw, giving him a cartoonishly hyper-masculine look. His cheekbones rose higher, and his nose grew and broke, filling in with thick tissue. His forehead expanded further, hooding his eyes and giving him a menacing look. Kevin accelerated the rhythm, reaching the mortal limits of his body.

"Taste true power brother, and take your place above those beings you always deemed inferior."

With one final thrust, he emptied his burning load into the titan in front of him. The divine seed seeped into every tissue, making his body gain even more thickness than before. The muscles gained the strength and prowess of the best warrior the world had ever seen. The essence then corrupted what was left of his being, turning him into a new deity. Blood flowed out of his pupils, forever turning the former green eyes to an intense crimson hue. A new personality engraved itself in his head, growing increasingly aggressive the more he became aware of his existence. His puritanical nature was replaced with an insatiable lust for flesh, either in sex or in battle. His enviable knowledge was replaced by a killer instinct that made him a fearsome foe for whoever was misfortunate enough to challenge him. Eons of battle techniques and combat prowess flourished inside of him, aging him into a man in his masculine prime. The former erudite was reborn in the form of the fiercest warrior in the world. And as such, his nature turned dominant, making him displeased about the situation he was in. He stood up, now much larger than the two other men next to him.

"That's more like it,” He said in a deep voice, flexing his new muscles. Kevin and the other man stared triumphantly at their creation, watching the giant relish in his raw strength. They both felt a psychic bond form with the titan, now that he gained dominion over them. The former Leon turned to face them, his glowing red eyes staring at the scarred man with lust.

"I'm still not quite there yet. Come, brother. It's your time to serve me."

He pushed the muscular man on the banister and grabbed his own still tiny penis. He could barely hold it with his massive hands, the 4 inches stuck out barely enough for his fingers to grab. With inhuman strength he pulled the muscular man's ass apart, exposing the coveted goal for his manhood. He managed to penetrate the scarred man, and another wave of pleasure assaulted him, making him roar in bliss. He started thrusting into the man with such force it started cracking the solid banister underneath. The lesser deity moaned delighted, as he felt the member inside of him grow further, pushing deeper into his body. The titan's phallus grew to heroic proportions, gaining almost 8 inches in length and resembling a thick torpedo. The balls slapping the man's muscular thighs expanded as well, dropping lower to bovine proportions. New hormones started pumping into the giant, altering its appearance even further. Kevin watched smiling as his red curls receded a bit on his head and turned pitch black, along with his eyebrows, which grew thick and arched themselves upwards. His face started taking on a more exotic look, his lips thickening and his nose growing a bit more. The black bubble around the fornicating gods started breaking, dark smoke seeping into every pore of the giant. His pale skin darkened to a light brown, and dark follicles started popping out of his entire body. His manly jaw was quickly covered by a shadow, which grew into a magnificent black beard. The hair was so thick the skin underneath was not visible. A carpet of black hair covered his body, growing thicker on his crotch and under his arms. He kept thrusting with increased fury, feeling his own divine seed churn in his balls. He was drenched in sweat, a manly aroma quickly surrounding him. He smelled like old iron, like burnt gunpowder, like a warrior in his prime. With a powerful roar, he exploded inside the scarred man, fully cementing his new birth as Assad, the king of war.

The scarred man dropped to the ground completely exhausted, leaving Assad standing naked under the crepuscular sky. The jock scanned the titan from top to bottom, savoring every aspect of the new god before him. Assad barely gave him a second look, his old knowledge and memories gone.

"Father will be very pleased."

"Indeed I am."

A bone-chilling voice came out of the shadows in front of them. Assad watched as the god of war emerged from the darkness in his full glory. Ares rarely smiled, but he couldn't help to curl his lips up a little bit once he saw his sons' creation. He was right in delegating his power and the transference to them. Assad immediately fell on one knee, bowing respectfully before his master.

"You bred it into a full warrior, well done."

Kevin just smiled solemnly, accepting the god's compliments. Ares suspected the chosen one had to renounce voluntarily to his virtue to achieve its fullest potential. That is why he let the natural lust do his task for him. He provided the essence; the rest came from the new champion.

"Ready to serve milord.” Said Assad without lifting his gaze.

"And you will. I gave you a new life as a descendant of humanity's most powerful warriors, and in exchange, I own you now. There's something I need you to do. If you succeed, you will be allowed to take a place next to me as a worthy god. I want you to destroy the goddess Athena."

Ares then took his spear and cut his arm open. Ichor fell to the ground, taking the shape of a golden sword. Assad took the weapon in his hand, feeling its power course through him. A shining bronze armor formed around his torso, along with a helmet and a red cape. Ares was satisfied by the look of his new pawn.

"Meet me in Greece, by the feet of Mount Olympus the night of the next full moon."

"Yes, milord. I won't fail you."

With a powerful kick of his legs, the giant leaped into the sky, disappearing in the red horizon. Ares approached the banister and stood next to his sons, watching his creation advance towards his destiny.

"You can get off that meat suit now, Phobos."

Kevin's face produced one last sinister smile, as a dark shadow stepped out of him, his body falling to the ground completely unconscious. The black mass took the form of another overly muscular scared man, identical to the one still laying on the ground.

"This was way too easy, father."

"Don't be arrogant. Influencing a mortal's free will is no easy task. It's different than just persuading them with fear, as you might know."

"I didn't have to do much. This mortal in particular had very strong feelings for the champion. I just had to break his self-control barrier a bit. And I admit I let him feel some of the pleasure too, although I'm sure Deimos there had way more enjoyment."

Ares stood silently staring into the sunset. He made sure he created the best warrior of them all. He proved that the virtues so dearly preached by his stuck-up sister were vulnerable to his raw strength. He chose to let the champion be corrupted by his own desire. This was going to be his opportunity to eclipse his siblings and get his father's acceptance. He looked at his son, able to see the beauty underneath the godling's intimidating appearance. Aphrodite's image came back to him, remembering the unbreakable bond both gods possessed. He wondered if she would be capable of moving against Zeus. The goddess of beauty was not to be underestimated, so Ares spared no effort in creating the best Champion he could to compete.

"So, you interfered with the mortal's love interest. Your mother wouldn't approve."

#musclegrowth #transformation #championofolympus

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blouisparadise · 4 years

Photo

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Your Good Time | Explicit | 3070 words

Louis nodded along with what the guy was saying, apparently his arousal taking over his brain to mouth filter as he said, “Who would want to hide a fit bloke like you? That guys an idiot.” Louis scoffed, dramatizing the word ‘idiot’, giving the guy a sly smirk. The guy leaned an arm against the bar, turned his body to Louis and fixed him with a curious look before he held out a hand.

“M’Harry.”

Louis and Harry meet in a bar when Harry's date is an ass. Inspired by Temporary Fix by One Direction.

2) I Push You To The Limits | Explicit | 3846 words

Louis is a brat who likes seeing his boyfriend get jealous and possessive over him.

3) Overkill | Explicit | 4354 words

Louis was never going to get over how fucking attractive Harry was. How glorious his big, tall, curvy body was. The feeling of Harry behind him, hot and heavy, trapped on the tube after they’d been somewhere during rush hour. His thick hands, full of pretty rings sometimes, handing Louis a cup of coffee, then getting one for himself.

4) Too Nervous to be Lovers | Mature | 6445 words

Louis doesn't want to spend quarantine with Harry, his straight roommate, who doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

5) Fratboy In Love | Mature | 6830 words

Harry Styles was a frat boy who loved to sleep around and flirt with boys and girls. Louis was a good uni student who loved to stay in and study and wasn't much of a partier.

Insert his best friend Niall who talks him into going. Louis gets drunk and ends up sleeping with harry. The next day he leaves before Harry wakes and tries to avoid him at all costs. Thinking Harry wouldn't care since Louis was just another conquest. But what if Harry did care. And actually have a crush on Louis. Read and find out

6) My Sunflower | Mature | 7057 words

Louis would rather be sunbathing at the beach with his friends, not slaving his spring break away in his father’s flower shop.

7) Waiting | Explicit | 8023 words

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

8) Shine Light Upon Your Ground | Explicit | 8506 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/H, which the reader can picture as Harry or Henry Cavill.

Louis sighs again and fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist, twisting the charms around and petting the fake diamonds.

“How much for a night?” A deep voice suddenly asks him. The man who approaches him is already pulling out his wallet and flicking through a bundle of bills. Louis, who had been sitting at the bar completely innocent and minding his own business, lets out an offended, strangled sound.

“Excuse me?” He demands, straightening up in his seat. The hem of his dress creeps further up his thigh but he pays it no mind.

9) Glistening Under The Sun (You're My Honey Soaked Love) | Mature | 8996 words

“Oh Petal,” he picks her up nuzzling the top of her head with his cheek as she nibbles on the lavender, “How lucky are we? I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy, the only thing we have to be sad about is that soon I won’t be able to hold you like this,”

10) Connected To The Heart | Explicit | 9059 words

Note: This is an coda scene for this fic.

“Your stage cue is way too close for you to be wearing that look you’re wearing,” Louis informs him. He can’t stop himself from looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, the silk of Harry’s dress shirt brushing against the backs of his knuckles.

“Twenty minutes,” Harry agrees. His breath is minty from the gum he was chewing earlier, fresh and warm. “Twenty minutes can be a long time, baby.”

This time, Louis has to force himself to roll his eyes. “Not nearly long enough for the way you always want to fuck me.”

11) Fuck U Betta | Explicit | 11438 words

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

OR the one where Harry likes the thrill of the chase, Louis likes to be chased, and everyone gets what they need… in the end.

12) Kiss Me In Your Chevrolet | Explicit | 11569 words

"Yes, Lou?" Harry asked, rubbing his tired eyes. A gust of wind came through the open windows, sending chills down Harry's arms as a light rain began falling outside. He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the couch arm rest.

"Can we go there?" Louis asked, probably pointing somewhere. Harry opened his eyes and felt his heart jump in his chest, a magazine page a couple of inches away from his face. Startled, Harry closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to collect himself.

Harry blinked a few times to focus his eyes on the page Louis still held in front of his nose. "You want to go to the Grand Canyon?" He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the left to look at Louis' face.

13) Pull The Trigger | Explicit | 12007 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #16 on this list.

Louis has never been alright with killing. Will that change when he learns what it's like to be the one holding the gun?

14) Open All Night | Explicit | 12537 words

It’s six in the morning when Harry finally makes it back home.

Harry's a bartender, Louis' got a nice ass and a shit taste in men. They make it work.

15) Among Other Things | Explicit | 16073 words

“Harry, it’s 7:45, oh my god, my class starts at 8:15,” and Louis wants to cry. Harry’s busy under the bed trying to find the tiny silver key but Louis knows that fate just hates him and he needs to find a way to get up. “Harry, I—fuck,” Louis whines. Harry stands up in a rush.

“I can’t seem to find them. It. The key.”

Or, Louis’ the teacher of Harry Styles’ daughter. Their paths shouldn’t cross like this. This meaning Louis showing up to school handcuffed to a headboard.

16) A Bullet And It's Gun | Explicit | 18156 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #13 on this list.

Louis’ parents arrange his marriage with Harry. He’s fully ready to accept that he’s going to be a sad and lonely person for the rest of his life. But then Harry starts proving himself as more than just an asocial man with money.

17) By Such Slight Ligaments | Explicit | 26764 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

A late night visit to a patient sets off a series of events that will turn Louis' world upside down.

... Here there be monsters.

18) At Your Fingertips | Explicit | 27384 words

He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before.

His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later.

And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button.

Three…

Two…

One.

Play.

19) Forgot My Roots Now Watch Me Bloom | Explicit | 28334 words

Lonely transit worker Louis pulls his longtime crush, Peter, from the path of an oncoming train. At the hospital, doctors report that he's in a coma, and a misplaced comment from Louis causes Peter's family to assume that he is his fiancée. When Louis doesn't correct them, they take him into their home and confidence. Things get even more complicated when he finds himself falling for Peter's brother, Harry. Loosely based on the movie "While You Were Sleeping".

20) Push You Out, Pull You Back In | Explicit | 31544 words

Harry hates feeling vulnerable. Louis is set on breaking through his tough facade.

21) Baby Blue | Explicit | 39439 words

Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head.

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin.

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.”

22) Lidocaine And Palm Trees | Explicit | 44653 words

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

23) Sleeping On Our Problems | Explicit | 67369 words

Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

24) Truth Would Be | Explicit | 91869 words

“You want me? I’m not a… a thing to be owned!” Louis stuttered, still very angry and confused.

“Hmmm…” The alpha tapped his lips as if he was contemplating something. “Last time I checked, the debt was paid off and the only thing I had asked in return was… you. So technically I do own you.”

“You are crazy…” Louis muttered as he began to back towards the door. Harry’s impossibly green eyes turned a shade darker, but his tone was still teasing and light when he said, “Maybe I am…”

The I-paid-off-all-your-debt-so-you-are-mine AU in which Omega Louis wants to be left alone by Alpha Harry but it's super complicated when he starts to not hate the alpha all that much.

25) Collision | Not Rated | 224594 words

Note: This fic was finished in 2018, but two new epilogue chapters have been added.

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp #larry

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twokinkybeans · 3 years

Text

Daddy Ain’t So Tough [Starker]

Summary: Sometimes, the word Daddy doesn't necessarily mean you're the one in charge. Or: In which Peter and Tony explore their new little fantasies. Warnings/tags: Nff, smut, incest play/kink, daddy kink, daddy!Tony, bottom!Tony, sub!Tony, top!Peter, dom!Peter, restraints / light bondage, begging & teasing. Notes: HI DEARS! This idea has been in my head for quite a while now and I am so excited that I finally wrote it! PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS/TAGS CAREFULLY. There's some kinks in there not everyone might enjoy. If you do like it, please do continue :) :) <3 And thank y'all for your neverending support! -Kim

Read here on AO3!!

“Daddy,” Peter giggles as he straddles Tony’s hips. He trails his fingers down the man’s gorgeous chest. It’s everything Peter could’ve ever dreamed about- even if he hadn’t done it consciously so. The arc reactor is fascinating to him, as are the scars scattered around it. Obviously, the hard lines of the man’s abs are very welcome too. God, he looks so handsome and strong.

“Peter, fuck-” Tony mutters under his breath. Peter simply smirks and he lowers his full weight onto the man’s crotch, causing Tony’s lips to part in a silent gasp. Yeah. Handsome, strong, and entirely Peter’s

It’s only very recently that they made this, eh, discovery. It’s a weird power shift. Contradictory, even. Yet, the shared pleasure shortcircuits their minds more than they’ve ever experienced before. Nothing’s ever been missing, but this? This is a whole new layer Peter aches to delve into.

“‘M gonna fuck you so good, Daddy. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be ruined by me?” “Yes, baby boy,” Tony lets out a breathy moan. “I’m so ready for you.” The older man tugs on his restraints in a desperate attempt to lay his hands on the striking, youthful body on top of him. With his 22 years old, Peter is absolutely breathtaking. Strong, ripped muscles to hold him down as no one else ever had. His legs tremble at the mere thought. “Petey- please.”

“Mmmmmh- that’s more like it.” Peter puts his hands down right next to Tony’s head and leans in to kiss the man’s warm lips. Peter moans when Tony is eager enough to immediately take a chance and suck Peter’s lower lip into his mouth. His cock twitches against Tony’s stomach and a hot surge of arousal courses right through him. Fuck. Fuck. Tony - ever-in-control-I’ll-handle-this-myself-Tony - is the neediest sub Peter ever imagined possible. “Nu-uh, Daddy, don’t get ahead of yourself now-” Peter murmurs and pulls back, smirking at Tony’s subconscious attempt to sneak in one more chaste kiss. Peter sits up straight, his hands finding their way to Tony’s hard chest again. His fingertips brush past the man’s soft nipples, earning him a loud groan. “So hot,” Peter whispers gently. He scoots down a little, now sitting on the man’s thighs, and he leans in again. “Bet you’ve been thinking about my dick in your ass all day, uh?” He sucks Tony’s right nipple into his mouth. No longer soft, nor gentle, but sucking harshly. Tony’s hips buck up wildly. “God-fucking-” “Now, now,” Peter laughs, letting go of the nipple and hovering over the left one. Still awfully untouched. “Didn’t think you’d be this filthy when you raised me.”

There. He did it. He crossed the line again.

Peter looks up and swallows, checking quickly if Tony’s still up for- well… This. Tony’s cheeks flush a bright red and he bites down his bottom lip. He stares right back at Peter- also checking up on the younger boy. They’re still treading new grounds, new fantasies, something neither of them dares to admit out loud just yet. “Well? Did you think you’d be laying here, legs spread wide, for me? What would people think uh?” “Peter-” “Well?” “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck.” Tony babbles, his fingers trembling as he clenches them together. Tony is aware that he has to cue Peter to go on. That he wants in fact pretend to be Peter’s actual Daddy. It’s so hard to say it, though. It’s so awfully wrong and yet his dick aches with want. Peter looks down at him, eyes dark and expectant- waiting for a sign.

“If I raised you so well,” he breathes shakingly, “-then why aren’t your fucking your old man just yet?” Peter scoffs, cocking an eyebrow at him. His eyes are twinkling though, teasing and cunning and Tony whimpers quietly. “You need it that bad, eh?” “Yes. Baby yes.”

After that everything turns hazy for Peter. He growls low in his throat and crawls even further down, kneeling in between Tony’s legs and spreading them apart until the tip of his cock brushes against Tony’s already slick and prepped hole. “All those times you punished me,” Peter rushes out, not knowing where the words come from but they feel so right. “Now you ain’t so tough.” “Just take me, kid.”

Peter doesn’t waste a damn second and he pushes inside without remorse, replacing the heat his fingers had been at a few minutes before. Tony’s eyes screw shut and Peter relishes in the feeling of this handsome, powerful man becoming such a proud bottom underneath his touch. He digs his fingers into Tony’s thighs, lifting his boyfriend’s legs up until they’re wrapped around his waist. God, Tony’s so warm and soft and tight and Peter bites back a pathetic whimper as he inches forward even more- the new position allowing him to slide in deeper. “Call me that again,” Peter groans demandingly. “Wanna hear you lose it for me.” He draws back slightly, now gripping at Tony’s round ass and pushes in again with such force that Tony shifts upwards in the sheets. Peter’s still holding back, not using all his Spider powers, but some. Enough to make Tony’s eyes roll back. “Please, please kiddo, fuck your Daddy.” This time, Peter can’t help the high-pitched noise escaping his throat. He thrusts forward harsh- again and again and again. His movements accompanied by the loud and suspicious creaking of his small single bed and Tony’s choked off moans as pleasure washes over his lover’s face. Peter’s cock almost hurts with how badly he wants to release himself. Fill up the man’s ass with his cum. He wants to claim him, take charge.

Every single drag back and forth has him see stars. Peter’s breath hitches in his throat and he ignores the light burn at his knees where it creates friction with the sheets. It only makes him more feral. More possessive. More… In charge. Nothing else matters right now. All that matters is the sweet melody of Peter’s name falling from Tony’s lips over and over again. The burning pit deep in his stomach grows higher and bigger- warning Peter he’s going tip over that very edge soon. “Daddy, f- ah! Look at you, legs spread wide for your own blood. Fucking filthy, and you even like it- don’t you?” Peter chokes out. “Does it feel good knowing that you no longer own me?” “K-kid-” “Not anymore, not anymore. Tony.”

Peter reaches down and curls his fingers around the thick, hot shaft of Tony’s cock. He squeezes, wants to drag his hand down and- “Aaah! P-Peter! Fuck don’t stop don’t stop dont-” Tony’s words turn into an incomprehensible string of syllables as white-hot come rains down onto his own chest. Peter watches in awe how the man’s face contorts with pleasure and a hint of blissful shame. His tight hole clenches around Peter’s still aching cock- and every fiber of his being wants to enjoy the same overwhelming euphoria. He quickly scans Tony’s face once, not sensing a hint of discomfort as he speeds up his thrusts. Not in the slightest. “Peter yes please fuck me through it. Show your Daddy how it’s done.”

Peter whines and drops his head forward. Curls stick to his forward where a sheen of sweat had gathered. He’s gonna burst. He can’t hold it back. Not even if he wanted to. His primal instincts have taken full charge of his body and he pounds into the slick heat beneath him until finally, his mind blanks out when filthily sweet sensations shake him to his core. He spills inside of Tony, feels how his cum mixes with the now warm lube. How Tony clenches around him to not lose a single fucking drop. Peter lets out a shaky laugh, in complete wonderment of how good this can feel. How much better this is than his own hand ever had been. And when finally, after what seems to be infinity, his eyes flutter open; he’s met with the deep, loving brown eyes of the man he’s been able to call his lover for the past three and a half years.

“Peter,” Tony whispers, body limp and soft and spent. Arching into Peter’s warmth. Peter cracks a smile and carefully lets go of Tony’s legs, leaning down to cover the man’s body with his own. Their legs tangle together while Peter’s cock softens inside of the man. He doesn’t care it’ll make a mess. Peter hums quietly and grabs his blanket to pull it on top of them. “Tony,” Peter whispers back. Tony smiles, suddenly shy. A feature that will always leave Peter amazed. “Was that too much?” Peter asks. Not out of insecurity, but because he wants to gauge how his boyfriend has experienced it. Tony chuckles, turning his gaze sideways. “No.” He pauses and shakes his head. “That was… Perfect.” “Yes,” Peter agrees. His hands gently massaging their way up Tony’s arms to undo the restraints. “I really, really, liked it too.” “The whole kid thing hit home, uh?” “Fuck yes,” Peter grins. “It’s so… You. But also a good different. It makes it feel natural even when it’s play.” “Agreed.”

Tony groans when he finally lowers his arms now that he is no longer tied to the headboard. His arms wrap around Peter’s shoulders, gently caressing him. Peter smiles, his cock now slipping out of Tony fully, and he nuzzles his face against the man’s neck to nib at the skin there. “You sore?” “If I say yes, will you treat me with a back rub and hot chocolate later?” “Of course,” Peter teases along. Tony beams and nods. “Yes. Very, very sore.” “Turn around then.” “Yes, kid.”

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flutteringphalanges · 3 years

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Summary: “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Well it’s been several months! Hope you guys haven’t forgotten about this little fic! I won’t keep you waiting too long! I highly suggest you read the second author’s note which can be located at the end of the chapter on either FFN or AO3 if you have any questions! With that said, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Huge thanks to @mitsukatsu for always letting me bounce ideas off of her! Thanks, girl! Hope ya’ll enjoy! -Jen

Chapter Thirteen

Though the sky was shrouded in near darkness, the full moon peaked through just enough to illuminate the scattered clouds that blanketed the night. It was eerie to say the least and even Agatha, despite what she now was, stuck close to Dracula as they made their way down an off-beaten path towards the small village. If her still heart could, it would be beating with such ferocity that her very chest would've felt the crushing blow of each throb.

"You're awfully quiet." Her mate commented, offering his hand as they stepped over a log. "You have nothing to fear. It is quite a simple process and I assure you that I would not allow any harm to come to you."

"That's not what I'm afraid of you." Agatha said quietly. "I am not worried about my sake."

"Then what?" The Count inquired, stopping them both in their tracks. "This isn't about your moral standards is it, Agatha? We've discussed this on numerous occasions. I only wish what is best for you. I think in time you will see that. How much, I cannot promise, but it will get easier." He smiled gently and tilted her chin to press his lips to hers. "Come," he urged. "Let us not wait. Time seemingly moves much faster than one would presume."

Part of her wanted to say something. Outright deny any participation in this immoral act. But perhaps it was her selfish love for him that even made her consider the possibility. Why was romance so damn desirable? Holding her in a vice grip where eternity with her former enemy was a far more pleasant option than being without? Was this love sickness? Could he feel the same way? That only made it worse. The former nun sighed, trying to clear her head of such thoughts. So much had happened in these past few months. Her skull hurt and she wasn't quite sure if it was due to her fall or just the strain of it all.

"Ah! We're here!" The excitement in Dracula's voice pulled the former nun from her thoughts. She looked to the vampire, his teeth glinting in what little moonlight shone from the clouds. "It's right outside the city of Brașov, secluded enough that we shouldn't be bothered." He reached down and gave her hand a squeeze. "Fear not," he murmured. "I will be right by your side guiding you the entire time." Though his words offered little relief.

The village was nothing special, far from appeasing to the eye. It was small, perhaps used at most for those passing through or people making just enough to get by. Agatha absentmindedly dug her nails into the palm of her hand, feeling their newly found strength press indents into the skin. Dracula was speaking to her, but his words sounded so distant as she took in her surroundings. As a greater part of her wanted to turn back and return to the castle, an unexpected sight captured her immediate attention.

"No, please! I'm begging you! Leave me be!"

From the entrance of an alleyway, a woman stumbled backwards, her hands outstretched as if in some poor attempt to protect herself. Agatha stepped forward instinctively, but found her mate's arm outstretched in front preventing her from going forward.

"Wait." He said quietly. "Allow this to play out."

Agatha threw him a look of horror about to protest when a stranger strode out from the shadows something glinting in his hand. Without warning, the figure slashed the object at the woman's neck causing a gurgling choke of surprise to escape past her lips. Something sweet filled the air. The scent was more alluring than any blossom the former nun could remember smelling. Blood. Fresh blood. Human blood.

Whizzing, the lady collapsed on the ground, too weak to ward off the man as he began to dig through what little satchel she carried. Finally snapping from her trance, Agatha looked in horror at the sight before her. At the intense feelings that bombarded her mind after witnessing what she had just seen. How both her former and immortal sides were battling against her sanity.

Agatha's eyes remained locked on the man's as he stood unmoved just meters from her. With her new found abilities, even in the nearly moonless night, she could make out the thick, crimson liquid as he dripped down the shimmering blade. It was almost teasing. Watching it fall to the ground below where it became soiled by dirt.

"What are you waiting for?" A voice coaxed softly from behind, its excitement barely masked. "Go, I'll follow."

Yet Agatha's attention was not drawn to Dracula. Instead, her gaze briefly flickered to the figure lying nearly lifeless off to the robber's side. The woman's hands wearily grasped at the deep slash drawn across her throat as her life blood gushed between her fingers. An easier prey, she knew, but not one of good consciousness. If the former nun was to kill, then there had to be a reason.

"Two for the price of one." She heard Dracula say from behind. "The girl is merely a mercy kill."

They had different ideas about compassion, and the younger vampire's attention redirected once more to the man. The soon to be murderer. If it could, her blood would be boiling. A strange emotion began to fill her. Almost primal in nature. Her smooth teeth began to shift as she took a step forward towards the thief.

"Stay-stay back!" The man warned, swinging his knife shakily between Dracula's and Agatha's direction. "I'm warning you!"

But Agatha's ears no longer heard the desperate, empty threats. Nor did she feel the anticipation of her mate by her side. Instead, she lunged forward and knocked the man to the floor. Predator finally becoming prey.

Fangs cut through soft flesh like a spoon through room temperature butter. Instantly a flood of hot, sweet liquid coated her tongue and flowed down her throat in deep, hungry gulps. Agatha wasn't sure what she had been expecting. As a child, she'd once fallen and bitten straight through her bottom lip. Through the pain, the blood had tasted salty. Unpleasant. But now, here where she feasted, it was like honey straight from the comb. This wasn't the putrid taste from animal gore. No. No, this was far, far delectable.

"Agatha."

A hand clamped down on her shoulder but Agatha ignored it, choosing instead to keep suckling away at whatever remained of her victim. The grip, though gentle, tightened slightly causing an unanticipated low grumble to escape from deep within the former nun's throat. Finally, she sat up, blood dripping unceremoniously down her chin. She blinked, slightly confused for a moment as she began to take in her surroundings once more. Dracula smiled fondly at her, an almost proud sort of expression. Agatha blinked again and, looking from the dead man to her lover, quickly wiped away at her chin in slight embarrassment.

"I must admit I am quite impressed." The Count mused, admiring her handy work. "You took to it much better than I had anticipated." He ran a hand through her hair, his dark eyes flickering away from the body. "Now might I interest you in some dessert?"

The blood that bubbled around the entry wound on the woman's neck was already blackening with clots when Agatha arose to her feet. With great care, the younger vampire made her way over, careful not to step on the crumpled body. The lady gazed up at her with grey, uncertain eyes, each breath more raspier than the prior. Perhaps she didn't see the act Agatha had just committed, or was too out of it to even fully absorb what had occurred.

"Scared…" It was about all Agatha could clearly make out. "Please…"

Ignoring what Dracula could possibly be thinking, his Bride gingerly sat on the ground and cradled the woman like one does a babe. Her skin was grey, cold as what little blood left stuck to Agatha like a paste. A waste, she knew, but her own needs were none of her current concerns. She held the woman close, as best as one could for both being around the same height.

"There is nothing to fear." The former nun said softly, her eyes locked onto the woman's. "Soon there will be no pain. No horror. Be at peace with your Savior. Go now with God."

Her pulse stopped and Agatha watched the woman's chest rise and fall one more time before all with still. Gently, she closed both eyelids, covering the irises that reflected the moonlight like glass. She turned her head to see Dracula watching her, his expression hard to read. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she lowered the woman back down onto the ground and rose to her feet.

"She didn't deserve to die like that." Agatha finally said, not turning to meet the vampire's gaze. "No matter what you say, I made the right call."

The Count exhaled. "I take it you know your way enough to start walking back towards the direction of the castle?" Agatha merely nodded and Dracula cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose then I'll clean up for tonight. We can make that a lesson for another day." He smiled, trying to lighten the tension. "You did well, Agatha. Give yourself some credit. We'll have to celebrate amongst ourselves."

Dracula kissed her cheek and Agatha forced a small smile. She tried not to look at the two bodies as her mate gave her hand a small squeeze. Though she physically hadn't felt this great in a long while, the repercussions of what she had done had struck her hard.

Honestly, she quite yearned for the vampire's company as she followed the trail that led back to their home. Right now, the idea of being alone wasn't all that pleasant. Then again, crushing the chest of a human to prevent it from turning was far less appealing. So she went by memory, trying to push past what she had done until the castle was in sight.

"Foolish, foolish…" She thought to herself, the brush and stone crunching under her feet. "Just let it slip away. If there is some higher power that thinks I have done some good enough to deserve the least bit of mercy, allow me to forget for a few precious moments."

A humorless chuckle escaped from between her lips. At least Dracula hadn't called her out on her biblical speech. That had taken her by some surprise. But as a nun, the dying always seemed calmed by the idea that God awaited for them with open arms and complete, forgiving nature. She hadn't quite understood that. Then again, she hadn't quite understood much of that the more she considered it.

A pair of arms wound themselves around her waist just as Agatha reached the top of a hill. Dracula pressed his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled. She could smell the heavy scent of blood on him, though it was far from pleasant. Corpse blood never did have the same effect she was beginning to pick up.

"You walk too terribly slow." He murmured against her skin. "If I were a fox and you were a rabbit, you'd be dead."

"Always lovely with your analogies." Agatha snorted, rolling her eyes. "And we both know I'm too wise to be a rabbit." She paused, hesitation in her voice. "Is it done?"

"As I've said before," Dracula turned the former nun so that she now faced him. "You are my true bride. I have no intention to turn others." Her eyes narrowed, pressing him for a better form of confirmation. "Yes. You have nothing to worry about." The Count exclaimed, admiring her in the moonlight. "Have I told you how ravishing you look tonight?"

Forget. Forget. Agatha gazed up into his dark eyes, taking in the lust and excitement that they held. She could taste the thief lingering on her tongue. Feel the dried blood from the innocent woman against her skin and on her clothes. Forget. Forget. She wanted to block it out. And here stood Dracula. Completely unaware, far too focused on what he thought was right. Was okay. In that moment, she needed him to help her forget. Wanted him to make her forget.

"Then show me." She whispered, his eyebrow quirked in surprise as she moved his arms to the straps of her dress. "You tell me I'm exquisite, but words have no meaning over actions." Agatha locked eyes with him. "Take me here. Right now."

Dracula's lips curled into a smile. "I did not realize how much tonight meant to you."

A blur of emotions. A tidal wave of feelings. Agatha bit her lower lip, glancing once at the night sky before back at her lover. They still had time. A few hours before dawn. They'd make it back. She just needed to be distracted. If just for a little while. Forget.

Agatha forced her second smile of the night. "Then let me show you."

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #BBC Dracula #Dracula x Agatha #Bad Moon Rising

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falling-pages · 3 years

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TurnTables: TamaKyo

I wrote my first smut piece!! And it’s about my otp, naturally. But I’ve been writing so much fluff for Tamakyo recently that I really wanted to try something new with them.

We all know Kyoya is absolutely a dom and Tamaki is a softie, but what if they swapped? What if Tamaki became a dominating beast instead?

WARNING: LEMONS. SMUT. LEMONS AND SMUT. SO MUCH SMUT.

“I’ll see about the shipment. The supplies should already be there, Mr. Tanaka,” Kyoya said into the phone, balancing it between his jaw and shoulder. He scrolled down the computer screen with one hand and wrote notes on a pad with the other, pausing to scratch the last of the ink out.

“No, no, don’t worry, I’m sure there was a misunderstanding.” He silently cursed as he grappled for another pen, the disorganization of his desk finally biting him back. He found one, seized it, and scribbled out a circle to force the ink to flow. “Yes. I assure you I will handle it. There is nothing wrong with your order.”

He focused on the computer, studying the graphics as the man on the other end rattled on. Ahead of him he saw his office door open, and Tamaki walked in, though without his usual bounce.

“That is the Ootori expectation, Mr. Tanaka,” he continued, shaking his head pointedly as Tamaki closed the door. He didn’t have time for the blond’s usual shenanigans. He was on the verge of losing a major business partner.

“Kyoya?” Tamaki mumbled.

Kyoya covered the mouthpiece of the phone, glaring at him. “Not now, Tamaki.”

He went back to the conversation, not noticing how Tamaki locked the door behind him.

Kyoya prattled on, laying on flattery like butter, as Tamaki walked closer, his footsteps even and quiet. It was unusual, especially for a man so loud and...bouncy...as Tamaki normally was. But then again, that devious gleam in his eyes was unusual, too.

Tamaki snuck behind his fiance, running his hands roughly over his shoulders. Kyoya was too busy for his own good. Too busy for Tamaki’s good.

“I will personally call with an update tom--AH!”

Kyoya gasped as Tamaki sunk his teeth into his neck, not deep enough to hurt but enough to awaken some tension below his belt. He stiffened, feeling warmth pool in his stomach, but shoved the other man away.

“Forgive me, Mr. Tanaka, my cat--”

He bit back a cry as Tamaki did it again, instinctively raising his hand to swat the blond away with a vengeance. Tamaki did nothing to suppress the moan gathering in his throat, and he let it loose with accompanying kisses to the bite marks. Deep, red teeth marks right on the side of the neck. Not easily hidden. Kyoya would hate him for that, but Tamaki didn’t care.

That was the only way to get his attention.

“Mr. Tanaka, I will have to call you back later, please forgive my interruption.”

Kyoya slammed his phone down and whipped his chair to face Tamaki, instantly incensed.

“What the HELL was that?”

“You haven’t been paying attention to me,” Tamaki said, narrowing his eyes on his victim.

“Tamaki,” Kyoya said, struggling to keep from shouting, “that was a very important client, and I might have lost him because of your inability to control yourself! How many times do I have to tell you to WAIT until I am FINISHED--”

“That’s all I do with our sex life!” Tamaki roused in response. “All I do is WAIT until you’re FINISHED with work, wait until three or four a.m., wait until you finally have enough time to sleep, wait until you decide it is convenient to love me.” He crouched in and settled his hands on the desk either side of Kyoya, trapping him and forcing his attention. “I’ve been a good little fiance, waiting my turn. But not tonight. Not right now.”

There was a primal, guttural tone lurking in his voice, something so different from his unrefined colloquialisms that it took Kyoya by surprise. He let his guard down, not used to being spoken that way, not by anyone--and certainly not by Tamaki.

“How have I not--”

“You haven’t shown me affection in weeks,” Tamaki said, lowering his eyelids to Kyoya’s lap.

Kyoya’s cheeks burned, but he took the opportunity to stand up and duck away from Tamaki’s advances. “What do you mean? I kiss you every morning before I go to work.”

A snarl burst from Tamaki’s throat. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” He straightened up and stalked towards his fiance like a predator towards prey. And with that rare dominant stance he took, Kyoya was feeling more like the hunted rather than the hunter he normally was. “I mean,” Tamaki continued, “the lust, the desire, the itching in my hands to pin you down until you whine my name and can’t remember your own.”

Kyoya’s blood turned hot, and though he was slightly concerned about the feral streak in Tamaki’s eyes, he felt that hot blood go directly to his dick.

“You’ve let Daddy go too long without satisfaction,” Tamaki purred, finally reaching him. Kyoya backed up until he hit the wall, and Tamaki stepped forward until he was pinned there, in between hard oak and an even harder blond. “I’ve gotten off to memories of you in the last few days, but you are right here, and it wasn’t enough, not enough, it wasn’t really your skin or your cock or your smell--”

He leaned in and sniffed near Kyoya’s jugular, softly taking in the skin between his teeth. Kyoya whined, not proud of how his fiance had just humiliated him, but damn if he didn’t miss his body just as much.

“The only thing that truly satisfies me,” Tamaki resumed, grabbing Kyoya’s chin and studying his lips, “is you. Only you. In the flesh.”

They kissed, and Kyoya felt the hot desperation in Tamaki’s tongue, felt the need and the want and the waiting. Tamaki, too, felt the heir pull him closer in an almost involuntary reaction.

“Your body needs me,” Tamaki hummed. “You can say you’re so busy--” he slipped his hands into his lover’s pants, gliding his fingers over the evidence, “but your body doesn’t lie. It wants me.”

Kyoya hissed, embarrassed at how easily Tamaki could turn on a dime from a happy submissive to an angry dom. It wasn’t often that he did, but he enjoyed it. It was nice to be told what to do sometimes. Kyoya was a foal not easily broken, but here he almost had no choice, like Tamaki was a wild animal snatching what he wanted and tearing it away. Not that it was a bad thing. And he certainly did not mind losing control once in a while…

“See?” Tamaki smirked and withdrew his hand, his point clearly made.

He kissed him again, and this time the men shuffled to the couch in the corner of the office, thinking in one mind and consisting of one thought alone. Kyoya fell first, his back pushed into the leather by his lover, who hovered on top of him. Kyoya had to admit, through foggy eyes, that Tamaki did look absolutely beautiful on top of him, stomach to stomach, chest to chest, pinning his wrists on either side of his head.

“You want me, don’t you?” Tamaki whispered, drawing sloppy kisses up Kyoya’s neck.

Kyoya squirmed, feeling pleasure bloom at the new position. “I--I do. I want you.” He bristled against his pride.

Tamaki smirked as he begged, rewarding him with a long kiss before fully settling his weight on top. “It’s a good thing I want you, too,” he said. He shoved his hand down Kyoya’s pants and found his shaft, stroking it. “And whatever Daddy wants, Daddy gets.”

#ouran high school host club #tamaki suoh #kyoya ootori #tamakyo #tamaki x kyoya #kyotama #smut #lemons #tw smut #tw lemons #ohshc #ohshc smut #tamaki smut #kyoya smut #tamakyo smut

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

Text

Give You All You Need

Ivar The Boneless x Reader x Roman Godfrey (Modern AU)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies,

This is a small thing that I have written for @walkxthexmoon, who has been having a few rough days lately and I hope that the comfort of our two big idiots might make you feel a bit better!

I am always here if you need everything, don’t you forget!

Have a lovely reading!

WARNINGS: Mention of Sadness, People Being Idiots.

Ivar looked at Roman who had been typing on his computer for quite some time, without truly looking at what he was writing, a situation that had been going on for an hour and didn’t seem to cease itself.

And it was making him pretty nervous.

But he didn’t want to blow up with either you or Roman, since you weren’t in the mood to tolerate one of his temper tantrums, and Roman didn’t have any fault.

So, he didn’t want to sink his own ally, when for once he hadn’t any truly involvement in your sadness.

He wished he could carry it on his shoulders, take it onto himself and turn it into pain, something that he could stand, something that he had learned to live with.

But he couldn’t.

And neither Roman could.

That was the reason behind his hasty gestures on the computer, and Ivar had to just wait till he finally realized that no amount of screaming and screeching virtually at his workers would have solved your situation.

Nothing could.

Except patience and love.

And although they had a lot of the latter, the former was certainly missing with your two hotheads.

So, they must learn it.

The hard way.

Although it was a constant torture.

And it was driving both your males mad.

Although they liked to pretend they were the ‘big bad wolves’, they weren’t able to deny you much, acting as soft rabbits near you, constantly taking care of you in the best way they could.

But right now, the best way was to let you take your time.

Although it was hard,

Because they felt this need to be with you.

Physically close.

But you hadn’t felt like being that close to them, and although they respected her, they missed you, physically and mentally.

The distance you had created for your own health, deteriorating theirs, as they saw that you still cried yourself to sleep.

And they felt this desperate desire, almost a primal need, to help you.

“… fuck” breathed out Roman, before he punched the table, surprising also Ivar who had been stalking attentively every move of his “… fucking sheet!”.

“Lower your tone” it was an order, but it missed its usual snarky characteristic.

Ivar’s tone was downright serious, and even Roman held back the growl in the back of his throat, knowing quite well that although you were distant worlds apart, you could still hear them.

“I just…” Roman put his hands in his hair, pulling on them, almost as if he wanted to rip them off, unable to unleash his violence on anything else than himself.

Ivar had even thought about a small sparing session, but both of them didn’t want to abandon the house and a fight with them in it wouldn’t have solely made much noise but it would have also probably broken some things they didn’t want to replace.

Because they gave you comfort.

And you needed it, in this moment.

“… wish we could do something for her?” Ivar’s face held a small smirk, sad enough to explain how much that thought had plagued his mind “… you have heard her. We can simply give her space and wait…”.

‘And hope’ he wanted to add, but that thing was something that solely you owned.

And that was something you could solely find for yourself.

“It is just…” Roman lowered his voice, scared you might hear him “… she is the one locked inside, but I feel like the beast in the cage”.

“Do you think that I don’t feel the exact same?” Ivar hadn’t meant to be that irritable, but he had his own emotions to deal with “… I know it is hard… I would give everything to simply have her back in my arms… but she doesn’t need that”.

“Maybe she does…” commented Roman, with a skeptic look at his lover “… she just doesn’t know how to ask us…”.

And then the door to your room slammed open and they both shut their mouths, settling themselves to almost clash against each other, as they tried to set themselves up in comfortable position, although they both ached to see you and feel you again.

And not even in a sexual way.

They saw you immediately appearing as a ghost, covered by your blanket, almost as if you were haunting your own grounds and they quickly waited expectantly, seeing your feet clatter on the ground towards the kitchen.

Eating being the only reason why you’d leave your room.

And they tried to avoid moving themselves, as Roman clutched tight his fists, meanwhile Ivar bit tightly his lips.

But this time… you didn’t straight up go to the kitchen, but you appeared in the dining room, where they were both standing, trying to appear like they hadn’t all their attention focused on you.

They also avoided to look at you, not wanting to overwhelm your mental state, but you quickly called out their attention to you, with a light mumble and both the men were surprised to find out you had showered and although your eyes were red you didn’t seem to have cried lately.

But this didn’t mean you had stopped suffering.

“… can we… can we have take-out, tonight?” it was a normal question, almost as if you had gone back to normal and Ivar was thankful when Roman nodded for him, before busying himself with the phone, as you stood still, in the middle of the floor.

Your hands tightened your grip on the blankets around your body, trembling lightly and Ivar tried to take a step forward, unsure of how to treat you, almost as if you were stuck in a limbo.

“… do you have any preference?” mumbled Roman, shifting his head to focus his attention on a few different papers of restaurants.

“Ahem… anything light… not Mexican definitely” it was a bad attempt to sarcasm, but it was still a small attempt at humor, something that definitely seemed more forced than natural.

But Ivar didn’t say anything about it.

He simply nodded, as he suggested something to Roman, a slight nod from you was all it took you, meanwhile Roman moved to search the suggested restaurant, moving to another room to call.

“Do you prefer to eat on the sofa or in the kitchen?” asked Ivar, also trying to busy himself, but your eyes suddenly were on him, so tight and attracting that he felt like he had just to come closer and before he knew it, himself… she was in front of him.

“… can you just hug me?” you asked, almost as if you didn’t expect him to do that, a tight half-smile on your face as he looked at you shocked, taken aback enough that you must have thought he was rejecting you, backing away with a mumble of apology, but…

… but he just tightened his body around you in a full-on body hug, feeling the tremble calm itself underneath him, as you breathed out in relief, and gently, your hands mapped out the body you had been denying yourself for so long, feeling again the taunt muscle of Ivar’s large torso, as the man tried to keep himself stable on his calibers.

“Oh, yeah… just start whatever you were doing without me…” commented loudly Roman, as he appeared on the threshold again, although he didn’t have any kind of grimace on his face and was looking at you both with attentive eyes, wondering what he should have done.

And then you held out your arm to him, welcoming him in the hug, in which he sprinted, hugging you even tighter, as he gently kissed your forehead.

And in that moment silent tears started again.

And they welcomed them softly, letting you take all the time you needed.

No matter what, they’d be there for you.

No matter how much it took.

“… we are here, sweet one” Roman muttered softly, as they gently loosened the hug to allow her to feel more comfortable “… and we know that you might need some time, but we are here for you, no matter what”.

You sobbed softly, but eventually looked up to them, both, before softly kissing the lips of both, as you thanked them wordlessly for their support, because you knew, that they indeed…

… were there for you.

No matter what.

And you loved them from the bottom of your heart for that.

#Ivar #Ivar The Boneless #Ivar Reader #Ivar x Reader #Ivar Imagine #Ivar Fic #Ivar The Boneless Fic #Roman Godfrey #Roman Godfrey Reader #roman godfrey x reader #Roman Godfrey Imagine #Roman Godfrey Fic #Angst #Fluff #Hemlock Grove #Vikings #Vikings Imagine #History Vikings

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inviouswriting · 3 years

Text

Darkwardens au - Choices

Going full dark in this one. So warnings apply. There might be some death. Having an adult rating doesn’t always mean smut. :3

Credits to.

@maiden-born-in-snow for Shuri.

@meepsthemiqo for mentions of Meeps, Fae, and Fae’a. (just briefly)

Kivera is use to alot of things, she is able to read people better than themselves. This comes with the many years she spends as Purgatory’s caretaker. She never truly rules that realm, it can never be ruled by anyone. It is a world that is meant for people to understand their wrongs, their sins and work to absolving them. She adopted a thought process to not get into the affairs of humans at that point because she has seen the true depravity of humanity. She had felt it when she spent time in hell as a freshly fallen angel, she was like a scrap of meat to a pack of starved wild dogs.

She is use to being used by others for their merits. So when the Scion’s Thancred approached where she had been guarding Anubis. She knew they had some trick up their sleeve to try and ensure their victory.

All it did was infuriate her, she noticed new champions they rallied for their cause. For their “extermination,” Kivera scoffs at their approach. They were going to attempt to reason with her, get her to side with them. To betray someone she loves. She noticed a few missing in Y’shtola, Alisaie and Alphinaud. They took her warning to heart, wisely not stepping against her. They’ve seen the aftermath of her fighting with G’raha. they would be walking to their deaths if they approached her, like the ones in front of her now.

“Leave.” Kivera hisses, she did not want to entertain them with idle chatter. Nothing of her morals, she has heard that too many times. She knew the faces that would not approach her would be her successor in Kiya and her family, Alphinaud, and G’raha Tia. He learned the hard way not to anger her.

“You are not even going to listen to reason?” Kivera feels her nerves stand on edge at Thancred speaking. He would be the one to act like he knew someone better. An orange eye glances his way, a warning to choose his words wisely.

“I already told you my stance. If you are here to kill her. Then my hand is forced. She is still in there.. give her more time. You did that for that kobold, and many others who had been tempered. Why not her?” Kivera notes them wandering closer, she kept her distance even using a miasma to warn them they were stepping too close. A burning clove scent in the air to ward off undesirable people.

“This isn’t a tempering, it is a corruption. Like the lightwardens. There is no coming back from it once their very aether is tainted.” Kivera’s eyes narrow towards the gunbreaker.

“You do not see her daily. You fought hard to stabilize her before. Why not seek that again, figure that out. Or better yet, run away and let someone else do it for you. You are very good at that. That is the only reason that paladin with you is here for...” At her feet, Kivera hovers, she was ready for an attack.

“Kivera, you can’t leave her like this. Isn’t it more torture for her to be locked away in an area? You did your best to contain her before the energy could spread. Yet I feel it from here, it is the same as a deeply rooted lightwarden. She’s too far gone. She would not want this.” Kivera turns her head towards them locking her eyes to Thancred’s. He tried this before with her, and she was firm the first time he tried to suggest what was better for Shuri like they were still lovers.

“I don’t want to hear that out of you. You have no idea what she wants. She wants to live, she wants to return to being a mother, she wants to see Estinien. She wants to break free of what holds her, but she is unable to. If it takes me removing her from this star and world altogether. I will make her a home in my world before I succumb her to your self righteous ways. Who do any of you think you are? When was it acceptable that you are the ones who decide who lives and who dies. Just because someone was tempered by a primal. You announce their demise, you rally people for it. You sent countless people to their deaths before the “right” ones showed promise. Yet when those ones too falter. Here you are ready to drop a guillotine on their necks. I said this before Thancred. You do not get to say what you feel is best for Shuri. You have no right for it, as someone who betrayed her trust a long time ago. Don’t think she hasn’t lamented to me her woes about it. You speak of knowing what is best for her, when you don’t have the first clue about her anymore. I will say this once more. Leave!”

“Damn it Kivera, you really will see this through then? I’ve seen the corruption first hand, in what it does to a mortal being. Remember Titania? How the pixies had to lock them away for the same reason, yet even they had to kill them for the greater good. It’s not about moral right, it is doing what needs to be done.” Thancred pushes it with the reaper, and as he steps forward a fire bolt is thrown at his feet to keep him back.

“Do not talk to me about what needs to be done. You and yours are the very reason I can never stand the self-righteous. Those who think they know the greater good. You tell yourselves that line to make it just. To remove any guilt that what you are doing is wrong. Like the many beast tribes you’ve had their guardian deities slain before their eyes. Visually destroying their hopes in front of them for the sake of “greater good.” Some of those tribes practice their prayer without the tempering. Yet if any of you spent time with those tribes. You would have learned a long time that the tempering does not happen without a reason. The call of a danger so much like what is happening now. We don’t know the cause of why Shuri tipped into darkness itself. If the sin eaters were a product of light, and their names of forgiven sins. Then the opposite here should be taken into account. Unless I am missing something. You were very much ready to end her life back before Emet. An acceptance then as the risk of a sin eater to ruin all of what you had achieved.” Kivera keeps her eyes on the group Thancred brought with him, a group of eight. Thinking that a full party of people would be enough to fight her.

Thancred realizes there is no way Kivera can be reasoned with, not when his own reason in this is questioned. The reaper notices his expression and folds her arms as she sheds the guise she had been in. The calm seeker of sun miqo’te for a form fitting of the nature they’re talking.

Her form shifting was as if breathing air to her, from dark wings, and clothing altering to allow her to move freely. She eyes them, sizing them up a party of eight people is nothing to her. She who has laid waste to worlds.

“This doesn’t have to end with your death Kivera.” Thancred hears her scoff again. The group that crosses the final threshold seals it for her. She would be taking lives today.

“Who says I am the one who will die here? Have you forgotten what I am? You better run away while YOU can. Unless you are wanting to sit back and watch the slaughter... How many more lives must stain your hands.. Just how many more must you lead along this path, dangling fame and money as a bargain for the lives you alter.” Kivera places her feet onto the ground and sweeps a foot across the earth to put a flaming barrier at the edges of the forest.

“What made you have those opinions of us in the first place? I don’t see how your thoughts were just grown overnight because of Shuri.” Kivera’s attention on Thancred, he was delaying the fight, he must have felt that this is a losing battle from the start.

“Elidibus. You remember him.” Kivera entertains him further. She had summoned her scythe and stands on the arch of the blade. Here she looks her namesake. Angel of death, Thancred worries even more that the eight people were truly enough. How does one fight death herself.

“Aye, I do, what does he have to do with your thoughts.”

“More than you realize. Fae, Meeps, Fae’a. By your meddling with affairs that should have taken place. She lost someone she cared for greatly, loved deeply. Robbed a life of so much. I had to endure yelling on that behalf mind you. It made me think. That maybe you and the scions are not truly someone to lay your trusts in. Then you wanted to recruit Shuri out of her domestic life for the sake of another suicide mission. You want to pull Kiya out of the same. Lucky Aymeric has a brain and refused to allow that after she had hung her mantle up. Because they know the dangers, because they know “if they don’t, you will just make others do it.” Like now. What you promise them? Pretty coin? their names engraved in stone or books? Matters not to me. And to be fair. I’m done talking. Enough stalling.” Kivera summons a mirror behind Thancred and with a flit she moves in front of him swinging the blunt end of her weapon to throw him out of the area, out of the realm they’re in and back into Mor Dhona. Her successfully saying “get lost.” With evicting him out of the realm entirely.

Kivera’s attention now on the group of fighters.

“How sad that you are pulled into their cause. Just... more souls for the underworld.” Kivera sighs seeing the group ready themselves, unaware of what exactly they’re up against. She is just a stepping stone to them in their greater cause. But even stepping stones do not move from their spot.

The analytical side of her has already noticed their weak points, that the fighters who are not healers or meant to take alot of damage falling to their knees already. Her miasma had been working from the start as a slow poison to the unaware. How it leeches their life from them if she chooses to. With a well timed blast of fire from her, she catches the very area on fire ready to burn it to ashes under her word. Yet leaves the trees and foliage alone. Her mastery over her power to not harm what she does not want destroyed while sending enough fire onto the ones attacking her.

When she notices them withstanding her a bit longer, she moves them to a different plane of existence. Her wasteland in one of her realms. She shifts time and place with ease that they seemed to be at a loss of what to do.

Here she puts her scythe away in favor of something she hardly uses. A weapon similar to what the astrologions use. Kivera doesn’t need to think further of their endurance. She draws a card from the item, mocking the healer she had just slain. Tossing the card up as if to signify the loss of another soul letting it burn to ash as the very air around them bursts into flames.

“Forgive me Divinity.” Kivera murmurs under her breath, and without waiting further she cleaves half of the group down with most of her elemental magic. figuring out their weaknesses with flashes of each element. She knew how to deal with paladins, they were easy than most gave credit.

The fires dim down and spark into lightning, she throws streams of attacks till the last healer fell, singling them out before she started on the ranged and magical fighters.

She had summoned a different scythe and spends most of her time chasing down the mages. She petrifies the others and silences them. Witling down their defenses till she was certain they can’t recover.

She grants a reprieve once it was just her and the paladin. She leans on Antares then draws her weapon up underneath her to sit in the air as the energy swirls enough to make her ominous. The fighter left fumbling for something to revive a healer. A phoenix feather, Kivera sees it and snaps her fingers to burn it off.

“You want to watch that one die again? Accept the outcome. You’re not going to walk away from here alive.” Kivera brings her hands to her face and rests her head into her palms. She was biding her time, watching the knight falter from realizing he is the only one left. She changes domains again. Bringing them to a different one, one that overlooks a failing world.

“Do you surrender? I’ll make it easier on you. Keep fighting and not even a Valkyrie will take your soul.” Kivera has no intentions of letting them walk freely. She wanted to send a message to Thancred after all. What better way for her than the bodies of those who he sent to kill her.

You know the answer to that, I can’t give up even if it is me alone. To the bitter end.”

“To the bitter end. I’ll commend you then.” Kivera starts after him, her weapon hooking with his, hers unfair in advantage of strength and power. A scythe is a versatile weapon with reach and heavier blade. Her hit alot harder than his, the curve of the blade digs in an arm at the seperation in his armor. Where she was aiming for. Her blade in his arm meant she could sever it.

The knight fends her off, and he is met with barrages of flames and lightning. Each stronger than the last throw. He noted her appearance change, not even the others have seen her true form, save for Shuri and her loved ones. strikes harder till she manages to remove the dominant arm.

To Kivera, this was no one special to her, just another face they called upon. To her, the lives she just took were nothing but that. Her doing her role.

“It’s over...” She says and without hesitation rends his head off letting it roll right off the edge of the platform. Kivera sends that through a portal to land timely in Thancred’s lap. Letting him see that she holds true to her word. That she will kill each and every champion he and the scion’s send after her and Shuri.

Kivera gathers each of the fallen, and sends them in a heap in front of Thancred.

“You sent them to their deaths. You bury them. You tell their families the suicide mission you sent them on.” Kivera’s words echo in his mind.

“Remember. That you had the choice to leave. I too had a choice to defend what is important to me. I will never lose another to a needless death. Send as many as you wish. I’ll cut them all down.”

Kivera ends it with returning back to her outpost to await the next group. She knows there will be more. It will never end unless she falls or they give up.

#darkwarden au #polyship with shuri #Kivera Siverstein #thancred waters #I apologize to fans

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moons-and-stars-and-shit · 3 years

Note

Hey- can I ask for a star matchup? My son sign is Gemini, moon is Aries and rising is Sagittarius! I have a self ship with Osamu!

Also! Congratulations on 300!! 🎉

𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣 𝕄𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕦𝕡 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕆𝕤𝕒𝕞𝕦

𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑡𝑠 🪐

Libra is ruled by the Planet Venus (Love) and Gemini by the Planet Mercury (Communication).

Libra and Gemini work well together; they combine the forces of love and communication.

As Libra prizes harmony with their lover almost above all else, Gemini won’t be able to indulge their love of a good, hearty debate too often

Libra would rather do almost anything than argue.

𝐸𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 🔥💧🍃🌬

Both Libra and Gemini are Air Signs.

Gemini loves Libra’s energy and has no trouble keeping up when Libra is off and running with a new idea, art project or other pursuit.

Both Signs have wide-ranging interests, giving them great material for provocative discussion.

𝑇𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡 🤞

When Libra decides to be with someone, even if it is after a long, hard inner battle, they will probably believe in their words and their actions.

When they choose a partner, they choose them for their character and their straightforward nature.

Libra has no reason to doubt their own judgment and will probably believe their Gemini in every case, except when their dishonesty is too obvious.

In return, Gemini will respect Libra’s need to flirt in order to be accepted and loved by other people.

Not only will they not find this threatening, but they will actually enjoy a consequence of this behavior – their own freedom.

𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 🤝

Gemini partner is very opinionated and Libra has a tendency to take a lot of things their partner says as a personal insult.

Although Gemini will, in most cases, just follow their rational nature and comment on things simply because they want to talk, it will be hard on Libra to overcome some of the things they might say.

The sign of Libra is very sensitive to any sort of will imposing or criticism and will recognize it even when Gemini has no idea what their partner is imagining.

Who’s to say which one of them is right?

Since no two people can agree on everything every time each of them opens their mouth to speak, Gemini and Libra can have a very hurtful and tough communication due to the mutual lack of tolerance.

Gemini partner would rather go blind than accept that they have a lack of tolerance, but the truth is they can be quite strict when it comes to someone’s mental activity and their opinions.

Libra is in most cases hurt enough by the pressure on their personality produced in their primal family, so they will have a very bad response to this behavior even if Gemini meant nothing wrong.

The main issue here is in the fact that Gemini lives to learn and teach what they have learned.

They often present themselves as someone who knows things, and Libra can see this as their need to prove their intellectual dominance.

Even though this isn’t their intention in most cases, sometimes a single sentence Gemini said can be something Libra feels hurt by for years to come.

Libra can learn from a teacher, from someone who has proven their worth, but hardly from their know-it-all partner.

𝐸𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 😠😔😊

The way Libra’s emotions develop is something really suitable for Gemini.

They seem to be in sync while Libra partner searches for depth, and Gemini flies around looking for a new discovery.

They won’t even notice as love between them starts to show, one of them running around and the other thinking about reasons why they wouldn’t be perfect together.

We could say that neither of them is very emotional, but Libra is ruled by Venus, so there is a strong link to an emotional plain here.

The problem develops when they both talk too much about their emotions, while none of them stops to actually feel.

They can remain detached and distant, unless Libra falls in love deeply enough to follow their Gemini partner wherever they go, and Gemini falls in love deeply enough for all words to lose meaning.

𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑢𝑒𝑠 🤲

While Libra will value consistency and someone being responsible and reliable, Gemini will be very different from this, with opposing values as well.

Gemini will value someone’s creativity and intellectual strength and this is something Libra can’t respond to if their Sun is in its lowest state.

Their meeting point is in their value of intellect, however strange it may seem.

They are both Air signs and give a lot of attention to their partner’s mental personality and the way they think.

They could find a way to tease each other with words, seduce each other and in the end find a way to communicate everything else – in case they both care enough.

𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝐴𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑦𝑠 💪

Libra is your typical activity chameleon when they fall in love.

They want to examine the world of their partner, beginning to end, and will gladly follow them around in all their activities expecting the same in return.

However, this can end in an unfortunate way, leaving Libra with their energy drained and wishes not granted.

Gemini just doesn’t care about following their partner only because they want to be followed.

Both of them need to keep their expectations low and let their partner surprise them by something new and exciting.

They will enjoy various activities together, but in order to do so, they need to respect each other’s limits and desires to begin with.

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 💕

Gemini and Libra partners are not exactly always a perfect couple, although their signs support each other.

If Libra partner has trouble being alone and doing things by themselves, this isn’t something Gemini will easily understand.

Due to their lack of personal boundaries, Libra representatives will often let their Gemini partners lead the way until all of their energy is gone, they feel like they should only lie down and turn their brain off.

If they want to work on their relationship and be happy, Libra needs to respect their Gemini partner enough to let them be their teacher, lover and a friend.

In return, Gemini will have to take care of their Libra partner, respecting their limits and their need for togetherness.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fandom #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu matchups #osamu #Osamu Miya

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mysterioh · 4 years

Text

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Chapter 2

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

Synopsis: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge in art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Masterlist

Death of a College Student

“Excuse me?” you questioned incredulously and a bit freaked out.

Steve gave you a charming yet crooked smile, taking note of your features with great detail. Your brows were knitted in confusion and mouth ajar in disgust. Your form leaning towards him in a primal state of attack with your hand tightly wrapped around your bag. Ready to swing if he decided to call you sweetheart one more time.

He found it rather endearing. Attractive would be the best word. Very attractive. Steve knew he was a bit unhinged, probably had something to do with his line of work , and that he did just meet you like two minutes ago but damn did he like you.

The way you held yourself. Firm and bold in front of a man you had to look up at to get a good look in the eyes. Your curt responses and brash attitude. He liked it all very much. Bonus points for having a cute face. Extra credit for possibly being a fellow Brooklynite.

"Sorry," he chuckled, "I didn't mean it in that way. I say stupid stuff sometimes."

“Then maybe you shouldn’t talk at all,” you snapped, quickly turning on your heel to walk away.

“Come on, now. If I didn’t talk, you would’ve been stuck in front of the painting for hours,” he pointed out, following behind you like a lost puppy. You grunted at his reply. He was right, but that didn’t give him the right to call you sweetheart. “I helped you and don’t you think I deserve some compensation for my contribution?”

You stop and turn to him. “Right of course,” you said, starting to rummage through your bag. Steve smiles, already thinking of what kind of coffee he’d like to get. You take his hand a put something in it. He looks down to find a dirty penny in his hand. “A penny for your thoughts,” you smiled then turned to leave.

Steve laughs heartily. Extra extra credit for a horrible yet good sense of humor. He wasn’t ready to quit just yet and quickly approached you, walking by your side. You huffed then turned to him.

“What am I gonna have to do for you to leave me alone?” you spat.

“Ahh, so you are from Brooklyn,” he pointed at you.

You groaned and he almost awwed. “Listen, asshat, I will not hesitate to break that pretty nose of yours,” you threatened.

“You think my nose is pretty? That’s kinda weird, but I’ll take the compliment,” Steve smiled teasingly. “I think you’re pretty cute overall,” he stated.

You jump back a little when he drops that on you. Receiving compliments was scarce, especially ones about your looks from gorgeous men. A light blush slowly creeps onto your cheeks and for the first time that morning, you didn’t know how to respond.

“Alright how about I help ya?” Steve offered.

“Help me?”

“Yeah, you’re doing some project, right?” You nodded. “And you probably have no idea what to write.” Another nod. “Then I’ll help ya. I’ll be the Rosalind Franklin to your Weston and Crack.”

“It’s Watson and Crick,” you corrected.

“Uh-uh, no science talk,” he wagged his finger. “We don’t do that around here. This is holy ground and we only speak in the language of the arts.”

You roll your eyes at him, but don’t say anything to deny his offer. He was right. You were probably going to fail this project if he didn’t help you. So why not just take it? If he made a move, you could just kick him in the balls and make a run for it.

You sighed. “Fine, I’ll let you help me.”

Steve beams when you accept and you couldn’t help but smile just a little. “Great let’s go.” He motions you to follow.

“Woah, woah, woah,” you stopped him. “You don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Right,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Mind explaining?”

“So I have to look at three works of art in this place and write how I feel about it,” you informed. “My professor gave us a list of things that are the most famous. I already have two. So I guess we can just go to the next one on the list?”

“Sure,” he shrugs.

“Right, so next on the list is-uh…,” you glance over the paper in your hand. “The Death of Socrates.”

“Ah, a classic,” Steve says, walking down the hall.

“You know your way around here?” you asked, with your map in hand.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Do you work here or something?”

Steve shakes his head with a chuckle. “No, just a humble lover of the arts.”

Left at the end of the corridor and right at the next then walking straight down the hall brought you to the painting of the great philosopher Socrates.

“Oh, I’ve seen this before,” you pointed at it. “We talked about this in class.”

“Yeah? What did you talk about?”

“Dunno wasn’t listening,” you shrugged.

Steve turns slightly towards you with an incredulous look.

“Please don’t yell at me again,” you told him.

“I won’t, but you’re making it so hard not to,” he replied, turning his body back to the painting. “Now tell me, what period is this from?” You had to have at least caught that.

“Renaissance,” you took a jab. When all else fails it had to be the Renaissance.

“Wrong.” he deadpanned. “It’s Neoclassical.” As if you knew what that meant. “You’re hopeless,” he said. “You sure you’re not failing this class?”

“For your information, I have a high B,” you retorted, hands on your hips.

“Okay,” he said doubtfully. “Neoclassical refers to a period after the Baroque. It’s simpler in terms of its style while the one prior to this was extravagant in its technique. The best thing about this painting is that it’s the perfect statement of Neoclassical technique. The stark simplicity of their statues and the focus on Ancient Greek and Roman anatomy... ”

The guy goes on for what felt like hours and it all just goes through one ear and out the other. You quickly write down some important notes about the technique. Something to do with a focal point and the direction the natural eye would move. Blah blah blah.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, I’m listening,” you replied, scribbling down words onto a notebook. He takes the book from your hands. “Hey!”

“You’ll learn better if you listen with all your attention. Bet you when you get home, you’re not gonna understand any of this.” He said, shaking the notebook in his hand. You yanked the notebook from his hand but listened.

“So as I was saying,” he continued, making you huff and cross your arms. “Notice how muted the colors are towards the outside of the painting and how it becomes more vibrant in the center. And why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “Cause he’s in the middle?”

“Exactly,” he grins. “And why is that so important?”

The look in your eyes is blank and said: you’re asking too much of me . Steve sighs then pointed at the painting with emphasis. “Don’t you see it?”

“I wouldn’t be asking you for help if I did,” you snapped.

“Socrates is the subject-matter. This entire painting is about his death.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He ignores your sassy remark and continues. “Look at everyone else. They’re distraught. Broken-hearted that their beloved teacher is being forced to poison himself just because his beliefs differ from the rest of Athens,” he explained. “But look at Socrates. He stands tall. He’s not afraid of dying. Cause he knows he’s dying for what he thinks is right. He takes it as an honor. When everyone else around him is falling, he’s still strong in the face of death.”

“Man, you’re really good at this.”

Steve hunches over with a sigh. “You haven’t listened to a word I just said, did you?”

“I did!” you assured, turning back to the painting. “I think it brings about the question. How far are you willing to go for what you believe in? Even if it brought you to death, would you still stick to it?”

Steve laughs with a shake of the head. Your brows furrow in confusion.

“Was I wrong?” you inquired.

“No,” he chuckled. “It’s just I wasn’t expecting so much from you. You caught me off guard there.”

“Jerk,” you murmured, writing a few words into your notebook for memory. You clicked the top of your pen with a satisfied smile. It was finally time to go home.

“So about that coffee?” Steve recalled with a wickedly handsome grin.

You groan internally, forgetting he was right there. Now it was time for an escape.

“Oh my god! Look!” you exclaimed, pointing behind him. He turns to look and finds nothing.

“I don’t see anything,” he shakes his head. He turns towards you or where you were supposed to be. All he found was a figure of dust and you halfway across the room. He could’ve caught up to you, but this time he decided to let you go. He chuckles to himself. She’s cute. She’s really cute.

TAGLIST

@scuzmunkie @achishisha @rootcrop

A/N: Hi! If you want to be tagged pls ask or msg me. This is a sideblog so I can’t reply :( but if you do it’s fine! I just won’t reply!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #mob!steve #steve rogers #mafia!steve #mafia steve rogers x reader

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kileyrose-2003 · 4 years

Text

Dan Torrance x Fem! Reader Part 3

A/N: Hi lovelies! Here comes another one of my extremely angsty psychological dive into Rose and Crow’s relationship. Lol. Very, very emotional write for me. Some of you might be wondering after you read this on just how exactly and I will simply say one thing: The relationship between Rose and Crow is very explicitly written and there while as in the film it is implied. In this AU I wanted there to be a reason why Rose and Crow seem more distant, hence why I am taking my own spin to them like this.

Anyways, I love you guys! I know there are a lot of people on Tumblr right now as well as myself dealing with the affects of COVID-19 in our every day lives. If you ever need anyone to talk to, my DM’s are always open. I might not be a therapist but I am willing to help :) I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe, lovelies!

Link to intro is here , pt. 1, and Pt. 2

Enjoy!

Warnings: Trigger warning for mentioned/implied child abuse, child death, baseball boy scene, blood, gore

“..Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me and especially don’t fucking touch me.”

“Crow-”

“No, Rosie! This is your fault. Not her fault, it’s yours. You hurt her! You hurt our baby!” In a rare display of emotion, hot tears were streaming down Crow’s face.

Rose chose her words very carefully before speaking. “..She is not our baby. We did not birth her into this world. She never belonged to us in the first place. And, no. I don’t hate her. I am not jealous of her either and I am not entirely to blame for all this. While maybe your way of thinking on this not being her fault may be correct, you are part of the reason to blame.” Her tone was calm and diligent like a mother trying to keep a tantrum prone toddler calm. “I told you from the start, that I didn’t think it was a good idea for her to be here. In general, our way of life is not fit for any child.”

“I-”

“Don’t talk! Just listen. You however insisted at keeping her here when I told you it wasn’t fair to her to live like this. Once she seen what we did, I did not want her to live like this. Had we of just-”

“Rose, I wasn’t just going to send her back to where she came from! Because-”

“Because you grew attached to her! When I told you not to get to fond of her too quick because it was supposed to be a trial thing. We don’t give affection to rubes, Crow. It’s a rule of thumb. That’s what we gave to her though. Not just you, but me too and I will admit with that I was wrong but yet you fail to recognize the reason I brought her into this in the first place was to make you happy and whether you think it’s right or wrong to do what I did to make you happy: I don’t care. To knock some sense into her was the only option. That was the only way she was going along with the whole thing though. So I did what I had to do, even if I didn’t like it. None of that would of happened though had you just let her go.”

Crow sat there on the ground, staring at the falling leaves around him while he processed every word that Rose said to him. “Comments?”

He had none. Yet. His head felt like a over boiling tea pot waiting to just spill over and burn the person closest to him. In that case, Rose. It wouldn’t be the first time he killed one of his lovers. His rage was infrequent but when it came out, it was a force to be reckon with like a blazing fire. It was what he related to most. It was the only thing that had passion that burned and grew as quick as he did until he met Rose. Rose burned as bright, if not brighter than he did. Crow wanted to kill Rose right then and there and she felt it. They all felt it.

Rose was quick to step away despite of her certainty he wouldn’t kill her. Yet something gave her the maybe, just maybe, he would one day. She’d make sure to keep that under control though and keep her dragon tamed.

Just like it wouldn’t be the first he killed a love, it wasn’t the first time he was a father either. Though that time was as far from him as the setting sun was near his finger tips, the memories though old and a little wishy washy, were engraved into his mind. The smell of smallpoxs immediately entering his nostrils at the thought of it. Just like he hadn’t forgotten the name and face of his own child, he was sure he wasn’t going to forget yours either. Or the way it made him the feel the last time he got to speak to you.

You felt stuck and he was stuck too. Except unlike the first child he lost, you didn’t feel scared to leave him. You felt almost relieved. Like you could breath now while the other felt like they were drowning in fear and pain. It was in that moment he realized you were scared of him. You were afraid he’d hurt you at one point

‘No, I wouldn’t hurt her,’ He told himself over and over. He would of never intentionally tried to make you scared of him or put you in a position where you felt uncomfortable. You adored him and he loved you just as much, if not more, than you loved him. You were his baby, even if it meant he had to kill to have you.

Finally he had his comment and the words came out full of fury and rage. “..Bullshit. You all fucking lie!”

…

He wouldn’t touch Rose for months let alone look at her until she forced him too and even then, that was a battle. He wasn’t the same after that. He became more cynical, more distant. Almost an empty shell of the person he was.

Any out spoken nature he had and was replaced by soft spoken snarkiness. There was no more The Irish Rose and her Crow. Only the remnants of a broken past and flings that occurred in the event of their primal feedings. Nothing more and nothing less.

While the stars shined down on you and Danny brightly as you were yet again acting out your passions in the privacy of your own home, Crow Daddy stood in the darkness of the abandoned ethanol plant in Bankerton, Iowa as he sharpened the blade of his knife. The only lights shining on him were the glares of The True Knot’s RV’S nearly blinding him.

He felt soft hands rub up and down the bare skin of his upper arm and a head press against his shoulder. Rose. “I’m excited. It’s been months since we’ve done our thing, you know?” She nipped the cartilage on his ear and fought the urge to push her away. “Sure,” He grunted.

Rose furrowed her brows. “Aren’t we testy tonight?” Crow fought the urge to laugh in her face. “When am I not lately?” She bit her lips. “You’re really going to do this. Right now?”

“It’s not like what’s been between us is exactly a secret to anyone in the family, Rosie.” She pulled away from him slightly repulsed and stretched her arms. “I’m ready.” The reply was snappy and quick and Barry was quick to obey.

'The boy is going to be the one to suffer for that reply but who am I care?’ Crow thought to himself as he looked at the bite mark the Baseball Boy left on his hand. 'The little bastard deserves it.’

“No! No! Please don’t! No..” The first couple of times he had to bare witness and participate in the unholy act after you left, he could hardly take. There was a slight lapse of faith and for a while he thought maybe he just didn’t deserve to have children. Now was different though. He felt numb.

After being in constant agony for over 20 years his sympathy began to decrease and soon he felt nothing for anyone. As Rose knelt down to Bradley Trevor’s level he took his position behind her, standing tall. To child on the ground, he was terrifying but the rest thought nothing of him.

Rose gestured for the knife and he handed it over immediately. “A-are you going to hurt me?” The reply was husky and menacing. “Yes.”

There were screams of protest but Crow took no mind to them. “Pain purifies steam. Fear too. So now you understand.” The Baseball Boy let out a scream of protest before Rose stabbed deeply into him.

…

Meanwhile as you laid in bed next to Danny who was in a dead coma, you felt someone poking at your mind. “Danny, stop it.” You elbowed him. He grunted and slapped your ass cheek. “W-wha?”

“You’re poking in my head again. Stop it.” He rolled over onto his side and shoved his face into the pillow. “I’m trying to sleep.” You rolled your eyes and as you went to wrap your arms around him, you felt the poke again. Accept this time it hurt. Like an electric shock.

(Hello?! Hello! Please tell me you can hear me.)

You paused before responding.

(I can hear you.)

(Good! They’re hurting him and they won’t stop.)

(Who is they?)

The response terrified you.

(The woman in the hat.)

All the sudden you felt nauseous and you gripped at bed sheets. You knew what was going to happen and you were terrified. The room began to slant on an angle and you gripped onto the head board tightly.

“Babe! What are you doing?” Dan sat up in bed and his face went flat at seeing the expression on your face. “Honey?”

You tried to respond to him physically but couldn’t so instead you turned to the person in your head.

(You’re mine and my husband’s pen pal, aren’t you?)

(Yeah.)

(Are you comfortable with telling me your name?)

(Yeah, it’s Abra.)

(Well Abra, can I ask you to do me a favor?)

The room began to tilt on an angle and you felt your grip on the head board becoming lose.

(Anything.)

(If I get stuck in here, tell Dan I love him.)

Your fingers lost their hold on the frame and you began to spiral down into a dark hole. 'This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.’ You prayed, silently hoping Abra was wrong but something told you she wasn’t. The dark hole began to reach it’s end and you had enough time to see trees and a sign that read 'NO TRESPASSING: BANKERTON ETHANOL PLANT’ When you felt the spiraling of your body stop.

Your astral body hit the ground hard and you had to spit the dirt out of your mouth. “Ugh, gross.” You attempted to reach forward to try and find something to grip onto that way you could stand up but your hand connected with human skin.

“Oh shit!” You scrambled back at the sight of Barry and you felt your body beginning to levitate upwards. “No! No! Please, please! I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to see it!” Your body wouldn’t move though. You had to look. Unless you were going to get stuck here and hesitantly you opened your eyes. “Oh my god! Stop! Stop! Please stop!”

Your body began to lower and suddenly you felt eyes on you. One of them heard you. “No! No! No! No!” A hand ran itself through your long locks and you trembled.

“What is it?” You knew that voice and you didn’t have to open your eyes to know who was infront of you.

(Look at me.)

You shook your head but felt fingers lifting your head up to force you to look at them and slowly you opened them to see Rose. Her hands covered in blood and her eyes full of steamy lust.

(Well, hi there sweetie!)

Panic began to rise inside you and you reached out to Abra.

(Ru-)

Before you could even finish your thought, Rose plunged the knife back into the Baseball Boy and you let out a scream. “Holy shit! Holy shit!” You screeched feeling his pain.

(Funny how things come around isn’t it, Y/n?)

“Stop! Stop! Rose, please stop! Just stop!” Just as Danny was about to lay back down he jumped up in bed and gently shook your shoulders. “Y/n?! Baby? What’s wrong.”

(You got a friend there, Y/n? I want to see him.)

As Dan leaned over to caress your cheek, you pushed him back. “Y/n!” You could feel the rise Rose was getting out of your pain and it made you mad. You wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of getting kicks off your pain. “Get away from me, Danny! Get away!”

Instead of now just seeing Rose in your eyeshot all of them were in eyeshot with those haunting blue eyes staring at you and you slammed your head against the back of the bed. “Make it stop, Danny! Make it stop!”

This time when you tried to push him away, he held your arms down against your chest that way he could try to wake you up. “She’s going to see you Danny!”

(Yes, Danny. I am going to see you. That your little friend you made down in Florida?)

“Shut up!” You screamed. “Who’s going to see me?!”

“No!”

“God damn it, Y/n! Who do you see?”

BAM!

The room shook and Danny landed backwards onto the hardwood floor. Now he was pissed, not at you but whoever it was he couldn’t see. He grabbed your wrist to stop you from pushing him away. “Leave her alone!”

As Dan continued to shake your body and beg for you to wake up, the astral world around you began to slide. This time you were hanging upside down as you fell and as you did, yours and Crow Daddy’s eyes unintentionally interlocked though he would be aware enough to know it.

As you slammed back into your physical body, you rolled off the bed and hit your head on the dresser. “Oww!” You screeched and started sobbing. Dan tried to pull you into a hug but you kicked at him. “No! No!”

“Y/n-” You let out a scream. “Just leave me alone!” Danny backed away and you let out a sob. “What happened?” He asked gently as he scooped you up into his arms like you were a child. Normally you would protest said act but for right now, you didn’t care. You needed the comfort and that’s how he was giving it.

“They killed him..” You sobbed and you felt Danny let out a sigh as he ran his fingers through your hair. “They killed who?”

“That poor little boy!” You let out a screaming cry and buried your head in his shoulder. “Okay..okay.” You choked on your own sobs and nuzzled closely to him. “It’s alright.”

…

Meanwhile thousands of miles away, the lights of RV’s shined brightly in the darkness of the Iowa night on Crow and Rose as they buried the baseball boy.

As Rose finished throwing her scoop of dirt over Bradley Trevor’s glove she paused for a moment and looked at the ground. “We had a looker.” Crow stopped what he was doing and for the first time in years she actually seen a glint of what she would like to think was excitement in his dark eyes. “Tonight?”

“Yeah.” Rose dropped the shovel on the ground and Crow did the same. “East Coast, I think.” He furrowed his brows. “You’re saying someone looked in from I’ve 10,000 miles away?”

“Could of been farther. Could of been up in Canada, but it gets better. She wasn’t alone either.” Rose smirked slightly. “Y/n was with her.”

They say a picture is worth 1000 words but in that moment Crow Daddy’s face had an expression of infinite emotions. He tried tracking you down a few times after you ran but he honestly wondered what good it would do. He didn’t have to be in your mind to you were petrified of Rose and he figured you probably would want nothing to do with him. His mouth went dry and he felt like he wanted to throw up. “What?”

“Oh yeah and she wasn’t happy to see me either. The second she seen me stab into the kid she was out of there so fast and back to her man friend.”

“Man friend?” He looked boggled. “Oh yeah. Danny is his name. She wouldn’t let me get a look at him though..or the looker but I swear Crow Daddy, I haven’t felt power. Raw power like that off the looker than I’ve felt in so long..”

“Then do you think we should look into it? The sooner the better. Before her parents send her to a psychiatrist. Put her on pills. Muffle the steam and make her harder to find.”

“No, giving paxil to this kid is like putting a piece of saran wrap over a search light. And when either of them come back and trust me, I’ll know they’ll be back, I’ll be ready. Oh I’ll be ready..”

Crow dreaded the prospect though. He didn’t want to see you older. A little bit younger than him. It served as a reminder that time went comes and goes fast and there was no buying more of it. For the rubes at least.

“Besides,” Rose straightened her posture as if she was reflecting back on another thought. “What is tied can never be untied.” As Crow raised an eyebrow Rose met the look with a smirk.

…

Your hands shook as Danny handed you a cup of tea. “There we go.” He wrapped you up with a blanket from behind and hummed appreciatively “Thank you.” He nodded and there was an awkward moment of silence as he stared at the REDRUM on the wall in the next room. “So you going to tell me now or never?”

"Danny,“ You begged and he shushed you. "Just listen to me. I think it would help if you told me about it though.”

“There’s a reason why I don’t talk about my childhood, Dan.” He squeezed your hand. “I know.” You kissed the tops of his knuckles. “It’s painful.” Your voice started to crack.

“If you’re afraid of me thinking differently of you, I would never. I love you for you. Whatever they did, it’s not on you. Please baby, I know it’s hurting you. Just let me in.”

You sighed and looked down at your kitchen counter. “You remember when you met me all those years ago in Florida?” He nodded and rubbed the tops of your hands. “I was only there for a brief amount of time. I moved around alot as a kid. For a while I never really understood why.”

“You mentioned your family was pretty nomadic but what does this have to do with anything?” Dan asked softly and continued to caress your skin. “The people who raised me, they were special like us. They shined maybe as much, if not more than we did. There are things out there, dark things, that hurt people like us.” Tears started to well up in your eyes. “Y/n-”

“They make people like us never be seen again and they warned me about the dark things and told me to stay away from them but I didn’t know I really didn’t have to worry about them at the time.”

Dan wiped one of your tears away, trying to ignore the hairs sticking straight up on his arms. “Why?” Your teary eyes interlocked with his. “Because I was living with the dark things that hurt people like us.” His posture stiffened and he slowly let go of your face. “What?” You ignored his question, continuing to ramble on.

“They always looked the same. It was the strangest thing. My grandpa went from having a limp in his leg to walking without a cane over night and sometimes when they were near me, my one uncle always looked at me like he was hungry. I was nine and we were staying long term in Georgia for the winter because I was sick. It made my mom a nervous wreck, so she’d stay with me every night while I slept and the one night I woke up over night and she wasn’t there so I panicked and I just remember hearing these screams. They were awful. Like these husky barks and even though I was supposed to be in bed I got up to look for my mom and when I got up she was on top of this little boy and she was-” You choked up a little bit. “She was gutting into him like he was a fish and they were eating him.”

“Like Hannibal Lecter eating him or-” You shook your head. “His shine. They were drinking his screams and pain too.” Dan looked so upset. “Honey.” Your body wracked itself with sobs. “And I’ll never forget the look on his face! Like he was being violated.”

“W-what did they do when they seen you were there?” You tried to wipe some tears away but they just kept pouring rapidly. “Most of them didn’t care or notice at first. My dad on the other hand looked so mortified. I can’t remember if it was him or my mom that picked me up and kept telling me over and over again it was out of survival and that I wasn’t supposed to see it. That it was all for the better. That way they could live longer and be healthier and that they wouldn’t hurt me. They could never hurt me like that.”

“Please don’t tell me you believed them.” His tone almost sounded judgemental and you became defensive. “Dan! What was I supposed to do? They were my family and it’s not like I had any where to go to. Despite what they did, I still loved him even though part of me was scared of them.”

“Sorry! Sorry! I’m just trying to wrap my head around all this.” He kissed the top of your head and you had to supress the urge to just shove him away. “Could you live like that? Live a lie?”

“I kept my mouth shut, Danny and if you were in my shoes you would of done the same. For about 7 years we went on like that until my dad left for business for about a week and I finally couldn’t take it anymore and then truth came out about everything.”

You let out a screaming sob as Rose threw plates around you. “..They would of never of been able to provide for you the way your father and I did! Those rubes pigs were selfish and given the chance, they would of used you and abused you even more than they already did.”

You shook your head feverishly, trying to block out Rose’s word. “You were so desperate to have someone love you, that I barely even had to wipe your mind. You were so touch starved that we practically did nothing but hold you the first couple of weeks you were here. We loved you when no one else did! Not even your fucking mother.”

You choked on your own sobs and slumped down to the ground, not caring if the broken glass on the ground cut into your fragile skin. Rose knelt down to your level and began to pull some of the shards. “But don’t worry though, honey. Daddy fixed that issue.”

You felt your blood run cold and you tensed. “W-what do you mean?” Part of you knew the answer to that question though and you dreaded hearing it come out of her mouth. Rose reached up into a nearby drawer and pulled out an old Polaroid photograph. “Does that answer your question?”

“OH GOD!” You screamed and broke back into hysterics. “He never did it to hurt you. You wanted her dead. Trust me. It was all out of love, my sweet. Every single piece of it was out of love.”

"T-that’s not love!” You stuttered. “No?” Rose’s tone was cynical. “No!..”

“Y/n-”

“14 years, Danny. 14 fucking years, I let them scare me into thinking all people were bad besides them and I thought they were my family the whole time yet it was all just a lie!” Dan wrapped his arms around your waist and planted a kiss on your cheek, trying to process it all. Your water works started up all over again and Danny sighed. “Y/n..Y/n, it’s not your fault.”

“It is Danny! It fucking is! And then she started hitting because she knew I despised her for the truth and it hurt so bad because we went from being so close to so far apart.”

“Baby-”

“My trust with the rest of them too was so torn because they all knew what she was doing and they hid. Over two years I had to lie my dad because I didn’t want to make him upset because he was the only one of them that I trusted and then I let him kill my mother..”

“You were a child, honey. You couldn’t of known. It’s not your fault and that’s all over now. I’m here.” He rocked you back and forth as you cried into him. “And the worse part is that even after everything they’ve done to me, part of me still loves and misses them sometimes.”

Dan’s mind drifted back to his own father and he tensed, understand what it was like to still love the abuser even though they caused more damage than could be repaired. “I know, baby..I know. It’s a fucked up cycle.” You nuzzled close to him.

“Don’t leave me, Danny!” You begged. “I won’t..it’s okay.” As you wept into him, Danny looked off to the side room that had the ominous REDRUM scrawled on the walls and hugged you tight.

“We need to keep that little girl away from them Dan. They’ll hurt her.” He pulled away from you. “We? No! No there is no we in this. If anything, we should stay out of this.”

“Dan! You’re being selfish. We can’t just abandon this little girl.” He shook his head. “It’s not abandoning her if I tell her to keep her head down.”

“That’s the exact opposite of what we should do!” Dan huffed and you placed a kiss against his cheek, cradling his face in your hands. “Look, just listen with an open mind. Okay?”

He nodded and your eyes interlocked with his baby blue ones. “I know they work, Danny. That’s why they took me. To use my shine to find people. They’ll prey on people who put their heads down because it’s easier for them to seem like the good guys. It’ll make her more of a sitting duck. To make her hide this, all of this, it’ll just kill her self esteem and her herself. You have to encourage her.”

“Why me?”

“Because besides me, you’re probably the only person that hears her Dan. Who understands her. She knows you more than me because she turned to you first. You’re the only one who probably interacts with her the way people like us can.” You held his hands in yours. “Do you remember how lonely you felt being younger? We can’t let that happen to her.”

“And I can’t let you get hurt either. If these people, whatever the hell they’re called can find that little girl-”

“Abra. Her name is Abra,” You corrected but Dan only rolled his eyes. “-They probably can find you and I just-”

Dan visibly shivered. “I don’t want to even picture in my mind what things they’d do to you or what would happen you if they found you.” He cupped your face and took in all your features. “I-i’d never be able to live with myself, knowing I could of prevented it. I can’t- I won’t let them hurt you. They’ve done enough damage.”

“So that’s it? We’re just abandoning her?” Dan rubbed his face. “I wouldn’t call it that just..cutting ties for a while.” You pushed away from him and rolled your eyes. “Y/n, I’m sorry but I don’t want you getting killed!”

“Just don’t talk to me right now, Danny. I want to be alone.” You went back to yours and Danny’s bedroom and locked the door before he could get it. “Y/n..come on baby.”

“I told you I want to be alone.” You sat down with your back against the door and Danny did the same from the other side. “Okay..Honey?”

“Yes, Dan?” He laid his hand against the woods barrier between the both of you. “I love you.” Despite how mad you were, you smiled slightly and did the same. “I love you too..now go. Please.”

Dan did as you asked and as he made his walk to the guest room in the second floor of your house, he stopped at the spare room. Staring at the REDRUM on the wall before picking up a piece of chalk and scrawling a quick message. 'Abra: I hope you’re okay and you have a better day tomorrow. Your friends, Dan and Y/n.’

#doctor sleep #dr sleep #imagine #imagines #fanfiction #crow daddy #abra stone #rose the hat #Danny Torrance #dan torrance #x fem reader #x female reader #stephen king #The Shining #the true knot

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thebluesiren66 · 4 years

Text

A Little Tied Up

Sam Winchester X Reader

Summary: Sam gets captured while the two of you are working a case, luckily Sam has a girl like you to rush in and save the day, but as payment for saving his ass, you decide to take advantage of his current condition. *wink wink*

Warnings: Pretty much Porn Without Plot, Slight bondage kink if you squint, language, Sex in unconventional situations, slight Dom!Reader, more Dom!Sam towards the end, SMUT.

A/N: Requests are always open, I'm terrible at getting fics out in timely manners cuz I'm garbage. But I'm still trying!! (Based on Season 13, Episode 11.)

It was just a little nest, Dean called it 'a milk run mission'. So you and Sam could handle this one together, but you knew that was just an excuse so he would get to stay at the bunker all by himself, walk around naked, and watch porn as loud as he wanted. It was just as well for you and Sam anyway, you could be as lovey as you wanted or flirt shamelessly and not have to worry about all the dirty looks and glares.

You guys blew into town and got right down to business, checking for local witnesses or security camera leads. You were just on the way back to the motel, taking a short cut across a scummy alleyway when Sam and you were jumped by three vampires. Long story short, Sam attempted to take on all three while shoving you away and telling you to run. Typical Sam Winchester. Always the martyr.

The vampires didn't seem to take much interest in you anyway, they had snatched up Sam and drove away in a black SUV before you could even get your first punch in. Apparently they underestimated you, thought you weren't much of a threat to them. Big mistake.

Sloppy. You thought to yourself as you wiped the last of the blood off your machete with the shirt of a freshly beheaded corpse. They hadn't even frisked Sam for his phone before driving him all the way to their 'secret' nest hide out. It took you less than ten minutes to track Sams cell and let them lead you to an abandoned hospital fifteen minutes out of town.

Seven bodies, one by one all, came scrambling to you like sheep to the slaughter. A whole nest down, rescued Sammy, and it wasn't even eleven o'clock. You cracked your neck and sheathed your knife, taking off down the winding hallway to try and find where they stashed your boyfriend.

"Sammy?" You called sweetly, almost teasingly.

You knew you were never going to let him live down the fact that he had gotten himself nabbed by the most incompetent monster nest of all time.

You couldn't help but chuckle to yourself a little as you turned into a dark room at the end of the first floor where you heard indistinct muffling and the scrapping of table legs on the floor.

"Tis I! Your white knight, come to save the damsel!" you announced dramatically as you flipped on the lights and your eyes landed on your lover.

And what a sight he was. A light sheen of sweat formed on his brow, the vein in his neck straining beautifully and tempting your eyes all the way down to the top three buttons of his white dress shirt that had been ripped open. You could see the dark spirals of his chest hair and his tattoo peeking from behind the silky ripples of his shirt. Your eyes trailed all the way down his body, to his black slacks and the outline of his impressive length. Even flaccid, you could almost always see that Sam was packing. And the position he was stuck in, held to the examining table by leather belts, was doing absolutely nothing to conceal Sams manhood.

"(Y/N)!! Thank God..." Sam sighed in relief as he saw you appear around the dark corner.

You bit your lip and swayed your hips purposefully as you slowly approached the table.

"My my, what have we here?" you purred suggestively, finally getting close enough to be able to run your hands over the taught muscles of Sams thighs.

You couldn't help but smile at the doe look in Sams eyes as you shamelessly ran your hands up the smooth material of his suit pants. No matter where you were, every inch of Sams body always reacted to you in the most delicious way. His steeled muscles rippled beneath your hands and you kept your eyes locked on one another as your fingertips inched closer and closer towards his center.

"Are you really doing this to me?? Here??" Sam almost whimpered as his head fell back to the metal table with a low thud, his eyes darting around the room in search of anything to distract his blood from flowing south.

You hummed out a low giggle and promptly swung your leg over the cold metal table and straddled your lovers hips, forcing his attention back to you. Sliding your hands from his waist up each of his rocky abs, you reveled in the tight muscles beneath you. When your hands continued up his chest, they were interrupted by the leather strap across his chiseled pecks. You huffed slightly and began to unclasp the offending article.

Sam let out a little relieved sigh when he felt your hands begin to unravel the tight band across his chest. He couldn't wait to be off this damn table and kissing the living daylights out of you. His repose faltered slightly when he didn't feel your hands reach for the leather cuffs binding his arms, and instead began teasing at the remaining buttons of his dress shirt.

"(Y/N)..." Sam warned almost in a low growl.

"Come on baby..." You cooed, leaning over and pressing your chest with his so you could nibble at the column of Sams sculpted neck.

"I saved you from all the big bad vampires! There's no one around for miles... and I very rarely get to have you at my mercy like this... Can't I have just a little taste... Daddy??"

Sams body reacted to you instantly, hardening almost completely under your clothed core. You rarely called him that, but every time you did it never failed to set him on fire.

"You're playing a dangerous game Baby Girl... I won't be held responsible for what happens to you when I get out of these." Sam tugged on his restraints and lowly growled into your ear before giving it a quick nibble as you started to trail your lips down his collarbone.

You loved it when Sam talked to you like that, there was no doubt already a puddle forming in your panties. Your fingers worked open button after button on Sams shirt, and your mouth left open wet kisses on each new patch of exposed skin. The taste of Sams skin was always intoxicating, natural spices and a bitter sweetness flooded your mouth as you licked and nipped at each of his tensing muscles. You could tell that Sam was enjoying this just as much as you were, because his hardened member started bucking into your hips and creating the most delicious pressure.

When Sams shirt was finally all the way unbuttoned and pushed away from his hard chest, you moaned slightly at the sight. His tanned skin, the wisps of chest hair, the midnight black tattoo, it was all just too much for a girl to handle.

You quickly tossed your shirt over your head and smirked as Sam raked his eyes over you and pulled his bottom lip beneath his teeth. Slowly you leant over Sam again and pressed your pillowy breasts against his chest before kissing him sweetly. Sam wasn't really in the mood for sweet though, he pressed his lips into yours as hard as he could and swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, searching for entrance. When you granted it to him Sam moaned into your mouth and kept trying to grind his hips harder into yours. When you finally pulled away, you let your teeth gently scrape over the hollow of Sams throat. You kept your eyes fixed on his face as you continued to drag your mouth down his chest, between his pecks, over each ripple of his abs, until finally you had scooted back far enough to feel his belt buckle under your chin.

Sams eyes were dangerously dark as he watched you unbuckle his belt and tug on the zipper of his pants. His sharpened stare was meant as a warning, but you took it as more of a challenge as you tugged his pants down just enough to reveal his erection straining through his boxers. You could practically hear Sam grinding his teeth as you mouthed his covered cock and ran your nails up and down his thighs.

When you heard the tell tale sounds of leather stretching and giving way from Sams incessant prying, you decided it would probably be best to give him some relief (or you really were going to get yourself in trouble).

In one swift tug, you freed Sams hard member. The tip was swollen and weeping, but you could tell that he still wasn't completely stiff, so you took it upon yourself to fix that. You took the head of his cock into your mouth and suckled lightly, Sams muscles contracted even tighter and a primal grunt forced itself out from behind clenched teeth.

"Fuck Baby Girl..." Sam cursed, pulling even harder against his restraints.

You smiled around him at his encouragement and took him deeper into your mouth. Even at half mast you could never fit all of Sam in your mouth, so your hands squeezed and stroked the base of his thick cock while you tongued at the sensitive vein underneath the head. You knew this always drove Sam crazy, and you could tell how much he loved it by the slight tremor in his hips and the way he growled low in his chest. He was almost painfully hard now, his girth made your jaw ache and by now you were sure you were dripping.

Sam swallowed a whimper as your mouth left him and you returned to standing beside the table. His sanity was about to snap from all your incessant teasing, but he stilled as you slowly rolled your leggings down your ass. His mouth started to water as more and more of your supple skin came to view, first your legs, then you unclasped your bra teasingly slow and let it fall to the ground with a smirk. Finally you slipped your panties down your thighs and strode back over to him.

You nearly tripped over yourself in your haste to climb back into Sams lap, the only thing you could think about was having him inside you, you needed it. When you finally perched yourself on top of Sams length, you wasted no time sinking down until he was buried to the hilt.

This time Sam didn't bother trying to bite back his moan, you always just felt too damn good. You moaned with him as you began softly rocking your hips. Sams cock felt so delicious inside you, the friction from even the slightest of movement was able to put you right on the edge. You softly rubbed your finger tips over your clit and you knew you'd be coming in no time at all. Sam watched you as you rode him, your breasts bouncing slightly, you were panting and whining as you got closer and closer to your edge. But Sam needed more.

You were so caught up in your own throes of pleasure you didn't even notice Sams biceps straining against the ever weakening leather of his restraints. That is, until they snapped.

One moment you were on the edge of the most blissful orgasm, ridding Sam into oblivion. The next moment, Sams arms were wrapped around your waist and he was hauling you up and off the table completely. The next few seconds were only blurs of shapes and colors as Sam dropped your legs to the floor, spun you in his arms, and folded you over the metal table and plowed his hard cock back into your aching channel.

You practically screamed out your moans of pleasure as Sam roughly fucked into you from behind. One of his hands pressed into the center of your back, keeping your chest firmly pinned to the table. While the other tangled itself in your hair and tugged harshly.

"I told you I wouldn't be held responsible for what happened when I got loose Baby Girl..." Sam growled in between thrusts.

The hand that was pressing into your back traveled down to your ass, squeezing it harshly before continuing down your thigh and hoisting your leg up to rest on the table beside you. Sam new this angle would open you up more to his harsh thrusts, hitting all those special spots that made you scream for him. He gave you a couple of test nudges with the tip of his cock, delighting in the way your back arched and your nails tried to find purchase in the smooth metal beneath you.

"Now you're gonna be a good girl and take it all..."

Your momentary reprieve was over as Sam resumed his vicious pace, slamming his hips into yours and drawing every single wanton and sinful noise from your mouth. All you could do was arch into Sams touch and take every ounce of pleasure he gave you as you felt the beginnings of an earth shattering orgasm approaching. You couldn't even find the words to tell Sam you were close as he drilled into your over stimulated pussy. You came with a scream of his name and Sams release came close after yours as he felt your walls milk him dry.

Sam braced his arms on either side of you and you could feel his hot breath as he panted against the back of your neck. After a few moments he began peppering wet kisses along your shoulder blades and he slowly eased himself out of your center.

Sam chuckled softly and you slowly worked up enough strength to face him and stare at him questioningly.

"Next time I get to save the day and have my way with you while you're tied up." Sam gave you a cheeky grin before scooping you up in his arms and placing a searing kiss to your lips.

#Sam Winchester #Sam winchester smut #Sam winchester x reader #Smut #18+#Supernatural smut #supernatural fanfic #mine

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chapitre7 · 4 years

Text

In the mood for love

The Untamed [陈情令] | Mo Dao Zu Shi [魔道祖师] fanfiction

Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian (Wangxian)

Modern AU

Read on AO3

The very air of Yiling intoxicates him; more than the smoke of Wei Ying’s cigarettes or the alcohol coursing through his veins.

“Ah, Lan Wangji,” Wei Ying says, the name on his lips like a curse, clouding the edges of Wangji’s vision in black. There’s a neon sign glowing behind Wei Ying’s head, circular like a halo. It’s a mismatch with the curve of his lips, upturned but crushing, crushing against his bones with pity. “What are you doing?”

He’s stumbling through the bar, the world having lost its axis, and Wei Ying’s hand is pulling his arm, forcing him back on his feet. He’s not inebriated enough to miss the pressure of those fingers against his muscles, he’s hyperaware of it, indulging, drowning in the hope that Wei Ying is clinging to him as he clings to him, metaphorically, physically, pathetically.

“I... You.”

He frowns, hisses, frustrated and tired that the words still can’t come out like he wants them to, like he’s wanted to for years, but more alcohol would mean losing all sense of self and less would mean getting lost in a city of What If’s; what if he told him? What if he stayed? What if he loved? What if he left?

Oh, if they could see him now, how much he loathes himself, how he whimpers and crumbles and almost succumbs to his desire. It’s only desire. People lived with it, toyed with it, profited off it, and yet he almost comes undone when Wei Ying’s scent invades his senses, pollutes his lungs, nicotine with the burn of spices, of cologne, of sweat. Wei Ying is supporting him, has placed his arm around his shoulders and is calling him a cab and all he can think is that he wants to lick the skin on Wei Ying’s neck and taste the saltiness of him, to find out if the sounds he makes can live up to his dreams. More. He’s so sure it’s going to be much more that his nails dig into his palms painfully and his tears shame him, captured at the corner of his eyes.

He doesn’t back away once they’re inside the cab. Wei Ying lets him look, his own gaze focused forward, but he must know Wangji traces every line of his profile as he’s traced a million times before. He must know, even if Wangji can’t say it, even if he’s so disappointingly bad at voicing it all, surely he knows Wangji stares at the birthmark at the curve of his lower lip like he wants to devour it. He must. Certainly—

“Where are you staying?”

Wangji has to back away when Wei Ying turns to face him. Was he leaning in that close? Why hadn’t he taken the leap and kissed him? Was that not why he had...

No, that wasn’t why he had come to Yiling at all. He shakes his head, lowering his eyes, breaking eye contact like a coward. He still has an arm around Wei Ying’s and despite the full consciousness that he’s being an embarrassment, that he’s let his impulses stray him away, he can’t let go. The movement of the car in uneven roads shake him, makes a roller coaster of his perception, but he knows he can’t let go.

“Fine,” Wei Ying throws into the air, not exactly at him, not exactly at the driver, but someplace out the window, into the forest of city lights. “I’m taking you to my place. Just don’t complain that it’s not up to young master Lan’s standards.”

There’s nothing between here and there that’s a form or memory to him. There’s the thrill of holding Wei Ying’s hand, innocent, like they’re fifteen again, and Wei Ying is asking him to hold him as he jumps down from a tree. There’s the moment when their fingers intertwine, slow, atemporal, yet their hands are simply just there, in a lover’s lazy, intimate hold, once his consciousness is back in the car ride and the world seems less like the bottom of a pool, colors bleeding out, bright and blinding. Wei Ying’s shoulder is firm and reliable as he emerges and submerges from his stupor. There’s no left, no right, no wrong as Wei Ying manhandles him out of the car and they both trip and fall three stories up to his apartment.

His bed is not soft. Wangji can smell dampness and mold and decadence, but still he curls around himself and breathes in, fingers closing around the stained sheets. They smell like Wei Ying smells, like he used to, before Yiling. He feels Wei Ying’s weight pulling him closer when he sits next to his head, beautiful fingers combing through his hair. He looks up at him and tries to blink his overlapping thoughts away, and Wei Ying’s beauty hits him like he’s not clad in cheap leather and provoking make-up but like he’s art, forever appraised, a reference artists return to over, and over, and over again.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, and that name, oh, that name in his voice makes him exhale, makes the core of him tremble, makes him take hold of the hand that caresses his cheek. “Why are you here?”

To breathe in thin air for you, to kill who I am for you, with my own hands, for you, only for you.

His thoughts are a train on a spiral, downwards, upwards, like the games Wei Ying liked to play at carnivals and parks, and in the rise and fall of his heart on his throat, he rises. Bolts up to a sitting position to hold that face between his palms. He’s such a poor imitation of his usual self, or maybe this too is him, posture straight like he learned it should be, conviction keeping him gaze firm.

“Come back,” is what he says. “Come back,” he repeats, and in his head he repeats it a thousand times more.

Wei Ying’s laugh, usually a beacon of light, doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s high-pitched, akin to something primal, more animal than human, an instinct, a defense, like the strong hands that pry the ones holding him still.

“Back where?” He asks, voice suddenly horse. He clears his throat, moving away from Wangji and looking out a black window that displays nothing but a lifeless world. “I belong here.”

Back with me. You belong with me. I can keep you safe. They won’t hurt you anymore.

“Wei Ying.”

“You should go.”

He doesn’t move from the window, from whatever it is he sees from there.

“Wen Chao is watching me.” He knows. Of course he knows. It’s exactly what Wei Ying wants. “It won’t be long until he knows you were with me and—”

“And what? He’ll use me against you?”

It’s awareness that clears his eyes, or maybe an unhinged, inappropriate kind of hope at the implication. He should feel wary or affronted at the idea of Wen Chao trying anything against him, blue Lan blood running through his veins, but it’s the thought that he can be used as a weapon against Wei Ying that he clings to like a drowning man.

He knows he’s still drunk, after all, when the tears return, hot, uninvited, and revealing like his words could never be.

Wei Ying has a heart bigger than his body, he knows. He’s seen him take a shining to many a soul in need, just as he’s doing right now, hiding away in a forgotten city besieged by Wen eyes in order to make himself a target and keep the ones he loves safe. But when Wei Ying approaches him, thumbs brushing his tears away, caressing the arch of his cheekbones, he imagines himself lucky enough to be worthy more than just kindness. Wangji is small in his selfishness, but big under Wei Ying’s unwavering attention.

“You’re not alone,” Wangji’s manages to say. This time, Wei Ying’s smile is small but as real as ever, lightening up his whole complexion.

“I really am not.”

There’s something else to his phrase that Wangji can’t catch. But whatever it is, it’s too complex for that night, for the seconds that pass between them before the lights in the room flicker with an ominous buzz and die.

In the darkness, he has the notion that Wei Ying looks up at where the light should have been. In the darkness, under Wei Ying’s touch, he picks up the remains of his courage, emboldened by alcohol, false hope and a disregard for his own future, stands on his knees, reaches up, and kisses him.

He misses, lips touching at the wrong angle. It’s enough, once the lips meet, to adjust, to feel Wei Ying’s upper lip between his own, his own head tilting, his hands pulling Wei Ying’s face so they face properly. His lips pecking on unmoving ones. Wei Ying doesn’t seem to breathe, and for all of his bravado, he falls into stillness himself, breaking away with a small noise that only the two of them could possibly hear, in the no-space that keeps them apart.

Wei Ying’s exhale is hot against his face the moment before they crash down on each other.

His back hits the mattress without care, without mind, and Wei Ying’s whole weight falls down on him, his lips eager, much more than tentative against his, hungry, his hands moving to Wangji’s hair and closing around the strands, pulling too hard, without control. Wangji’s arms circle his waist, pressing him flush against himself, opening his legs, opening his mouth to accept him, accommodate him, a physical invitation for someone who has been living inside of him for such a long, long time. Wangji has no idea about Wei Ying but it’s his first kiss, his first real intimacy with anyone and surely Wei Ying must know, must have always known, and that must be why he takes the wet mess of their kiss, so clumsy, so needy, bodies arching into each other, choked, almost tearful sounds vibrating in their throats.

When Wangji can finally breathe, when he dares to open his eyes, Wei Ying’s black hair, too long for his age, has fallen forward, perfectly framing his face, framing the look of his red-kissed lips, parted, panting. Those dazed eyes are darker than Wangji has ever seen them. Oh, the light is back on. How long had it been? How could kissing and falling into Wei Ying feel just like of one of his dreams, where eternity lasts just as long as it takes the sun to break through the night?

Before he can catch his breath, Wei Ying jolts up with that legs that betray his natural grace, and he almost falls. Pulling himself up on his elbows, Wangji watches him with a black hole in his stomach. His eyes, still dazed, still captured, look at him but don’t see him; a hand touches his lips, not quite covering his mouth, and he laughs the laugh Wangji knows from when he’s hiding behind a mask. Wangji feels like he had him and then lost him at the whim of fate and the crushing sorrow, impossible to hide in his state, must show on his face because Wei Ying approaches him again, patting his hair back into place like he’s a child who’s played for too long.

“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan,” he says, and Wangji loves it when he says it, loves him so openly that he must see. Can’t he see? “What are we doing? You’re drunk and I’m...”

He sighs, leaving Wangji in the dark with his fogged mind, his desperate longing. I can’t let go. I can’t let him go. Wei Ying leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead that reminds him so much of his deceased mother that the memory of it will haunt him for years. And he speaks his last words next to his ear, his cheek warm against Wangji’s own.

“If the morning comes and we still feel as we do now, I’ll come with you.”

With that, Wei Ying backs away, turns his back to him and turns off the light. He sits on the windowsill and lights a cigarette, which, in the past, never failed to make Wangji frown. Wei Ying has always assumed that he disapproves because it’s wrong, but Wangji disapproves it because it’s poison that Wei Ying willingly takes. Yet, without him wanting it, Wangji’s last memory of him will be that moment, before the alcohol and exertion and emotional distress knock him out; one leg propped up, foot resting against the window frame, the other stretched out, and the cigarette smoke drawing waves around Wei Ying’s face, hiding away his vulnerability, hiding everything away in gray shadow.

When morning comes, the sun high in the sky, all Lan Wangji feels is pain and Wei Ying’s absence. Crossing the corridor beyond Wei Ying’s door to the stairs that lead down to the empty world, he shivers. Looking over his shoulder, he can see eyes peeking from gaps from all the doors he had walked past, and though his memory of the night before is his disgrace, his senses tingling with Wei Ying’s existence more than his words, he’s still aware that this is what he had meant then.

“You’re not alone.”

“I really am not.”

So Lan Wangji walks away, leaving his heart to his decision and the city of Yiling, and resumes his life from an interlude louder than the sum of all parts so far.

***

Time doesn’t stop for the broken-hearted, and like broken porcelain, they never come back together again quite the same. It is, however, their ally, the hands of the clock allowing patient souls to mend themselves until they’re ready to fall again.

Time moves on, nothing remains the same.

The proud Wen Empire crumbles, crashing under the weight of their own arrogance. They thought they could rule without consequence, yet they fall like pieces thrown off a chessboard, each revealing the rotten core underneath the flashing outside.

The governor’s younger son, Wen Chao, dies. Not kindly, but he was not a kind man. There are enough whispers about the culprit; a no name servant who once lived in the main house with the Jiang family and who took a bloody vengeance after Wen Chao put the son of Jiang Fengmian, his father’s political rival, in the hospital for a heated, but mostly non-physical, scuffle. There’s no proof for either assault. The Jiang family sends the Wens no flowers for their dead. The supposed servant is never found.

Before his second term is over, a whistleblower throws Wen Ruohan into the mud and nothing is left of the man who stood tall and blinding like the sun, just dirt, his crimes on people’s tongues like cheap gossip, and then he’s gone, behind bars, his older son on the run. They’re forgotten like yesterday’s news.

Time moves on.

The diligent Lan family, ancient, unsoiled, keeps the machine running with their honest, hard-earned positions that survive governor after governor, as it always has, and perhaps always will. Not everything changes, after all. For better or worse, right is right and wrong is wrong, although it comes in many different colors, although it is not immune to cause and consequence. A choice is a choice is a choice, and we must live with them as our hearts mend, as we win or lose, as time moves on.

The brightest jewel of the Lan family is forced out of the chessboard for its own safety, until Wen Ruohan’s son is found. Safety is almost like a prison, cold and lonely, but he doesn’t mind it much, in the end. He misses his brother dearly, his only companion, his supporter, his best friend, but he’s no stranger to black, moonless nights where the wind blows so loud, it’s almost a threat, a promise to take him away. In those days, ten years ago, he would have welcomed it. Now, he has no strong feelings either way. A day will come when he can live without borders again. Until then, he lives with his paintings.

The mountains, though far and cut-off from everyone he had known, smell like home. That mother’s gentians still bloomed as they did in his childhood was a surprise and delight, but he couldn’t voice his questions to his uncle, who was even less likely to answer. So he just looked at uncle as he helped him settle within those glass walls, thin snow forming a blanket outside, letting his company warm him, choosing to believe that, although his relationship with his father was strained until his death, that there was still place for him in his heart. Love is most resilient, Wangji knows as truth. It lives through distance, through silence, through death.

He lives with his paintings, and nothing more. Once a week, a servant he doesn’t know the name of, who only smiles and doesn’t speak, brings him provisions, checks on him. There’s no need to clean or cook anything, for Wangji has all the time in the world to know every corner of the house like it’s a part of him, and he has been taking care of himself for even longer still. He wishes he could say something to his sole visitor, but they’re always changing, and he’s never been good at chit-chat, that was —

Wei Ying’s talent.

— never his forte.

He sighs, because in his seclusion, without anyone or anything to keep his mind focused, and against his will of years, he thinks about him. Always, always thinking about him, maybe even more than when they were teenagers and too young to know how precious being together, being part of a group is. After all Wei Ying fought for, sacrificed himself for, and all the ways Wangji fought to do him justice, treading the world of the corrupt as though he never knew fear, he allows himself to think of him.

Love is resilient in the crystal house where his mother’s spirit seems to live, the sound of the wind and rustling leaves lulling him to sleep every night. Where there’s nothing but his foolish heart beating fast, euphoric, at the sight of Wei Ying running, the star of the track and field team. His brushes the canvas with Wei Ying’s colors, ever-bright, ever-striking, even when he doesn’t paint his facial expressions or those big, expressive eyes. He can draw landscapes and cityscapes, the sea and the sky and as many flowers as he can think of, but when he draws a man, it’s always Wei Ying. Wei Ying, eating an apple atop a tree. Wei Ying, running after the school bus he just missed. Wei Ying, running, running like he’s flying, limitless. Wei Ying, hidden in a shroud of smoke, neon lights flickering behind him.

It’s not fair, Lan Zhan! You’re good at music and painting. How’s the rest of us supposed to compare?

He stills his brush, smiling to himself at the memory of Wei Ying’s pout, even though the boy was skilled at music, drawing, sports and speech. He was the one who was never fair, but Wangji never told him that. He should have. If he knew they were never going to meet again, he should have said everything.

He paints all of the truth of his heart, and once a month, the servant takes most of them away. Once spilled, what use had he to keep them? Let the world know. Even if he himself is now a shadow, let the world see his soul, laid bare.

Wangxian’s paintings have been selling spectacularly well. I hope you have been faring well and that your days aren’t too long, writes his brother in one of the occasional, unsigned notes he sends with the servant. Wangji wishes the same for him, maybe even more so, the distance always setting so painfully against his chest. And in the safety of his studio in the second story of the house, from where he can see the past on one side and the blue horizon on the other, he paints his brother white gentians with white bunnies playing in the middle, just the image of what he remembers of their days with their parents, filled with laughter and embraces, even in the coldest winter nights.

He signs Wangxian so naturally that he wonders, for a second, who he really is, right then. Is he still the dependable little brother? Is he the righteous civil servant who’s taking a deserved break for a job well done? Is he the enamored nineteen-year-old who traveled to a dangerous city with no plan but to chase after the love of his life for the first and only time, or is he a sad, almost thirty-year-old man who’s stuck in suspended time with nothing but memories?

He gets up from his spot, giving his back to the painting. He’ll be back, of course he’ll be back, but he... Needs some water. And not to think about anything much. He still has a book forgotten by his nightstand, so maybe he can get on that. Whatever, whatever. He hears it in Wei Ying’s voice too; he’s more than a memory at this point, a part of him that’s more natural than his own biting, merciless conscience.

He’s still holding his glass when he hears a small noise against the door in the kitchen. He frowns, because it is neither the time nor place for the servant to greet him, and nothing had captured his attention from the wide, stainless glass walls on the way there, so he cautiously, soundlessly walks towards the source of the noise. He uses a finger to peek through the blinds on the door and, upon seeing no one, unlocks it and pulls it just a few millimeters open.

There’s a rabbit there, on the other side. Correction, there are two rabbits, one black and one white, and he’s too stunned to react at first, caught between the pleasant past and the very real present where the bunnies look up and sniff up at him, the three of them too timid, the meeting too sudden for any rash reactions. He smiles, just a fraction, almost childish, and breathes a “Hello.” After a couple of minutes where they try to adjust to each other’s presence, Wangji walks back into the kitchen to look for a few vegetables they can eat, making mental notes of what provisions to ask the next time the servant comes over. Wangji feels light as he watches his new fluffy companions, and he questions nothing, not where they come from nor if it’s right to keep them. Maybe he’s been alone for too long. Whatever.

Walking back to his studio, he’s so taken by his mental plans for the bunnies that it takes him a second longer to notice that there’s someone there, standing in the middle of the room. His heart beats frenzied, terrified, his habit of leaving the door open during the day because this mountain is his safe haven finally coming around to punish him. But it’s... it’s not Wen Xu.

His hair is long, reaching past the middle of his back. His red shirt is long as well, fashionably longer than his jacket, and his socks make no noise as he walks from one side to the other with slender legs, taking in every canvas laid against the walls. He could pass for an art critic for the time he spends on each piece, but when Wangji can finally see his profile and the natural light catches in his eyes, he’s art himself; beautiful, still beautiful after ten years, even without the harsh, piercing determination to fight that Wangji last saw in him.

When Wei Ying finally sees him out of the corner of his eyes, his head turns in his direction, and he smiles.

If Wangji hadn’t been leaning against the door frame, he might have fallen.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, but his voice cracks, and he laughs, just as strained, before clearing his throat and trying again. “Lan Zhan, it really isn’t fair. You’re even more talented now, how can we mere mortals compare?”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji says, and if he was lost before, he’s a mess now, the floor almost disappearing from under his feet, but Wei Ying, Wei Ying, looks up at him and he doesn’t look like he did when he was fifteen or nineteen, he looks like now, he—

Wangji has both of his hands holding his face. He has no memory of closing the distance between them. His thumbs trace the arch of his cheekbones and Wei Ying holds his wrists, smiling up at him, all sunlight immortal in his eyes.

“Wei Ying,” he repeats, because he can, finally, call to him again. Because he can’t say anything else without taking a moment to gather up all of the repressed feelings that are now spilled by Wei Ying’s feet.

“That’s me, Lan Zhan.” He beams up at him and Wangji feels stupid with the absence of thoughts, experiencing nothing but a continuous rush of happiness. “You...”

Wei Ying licks his lips and his smile falters. Wangji’s falls too, without him taking notice of it, and he must have shown something on his face because Wei Ying’s grip tightens.

“Why, Lan Zhan? Why did you do it? You never wanted to follow into your uncle’s footsteps. You don’t belong in that world.”

The conversation is ancient, the two of them breaking curfew during their high school field trip to Cayin Town. Standing side by side on a small bridge, the protégée of the Jiang family asked the youngest heir of the Lans about the future, and they discovered that neither could see very far. There were expectations and promises, both spoken and unspoken, yet they bared their secret desires on that bridge, under the stars. Naïve dreams that could never have survived, but that Wei Ying, after everything, somehow still remembers.

The corner of Wangji’s lips curls up in a lopsided smile, both fond and amused.

“You didn’t either.”

One of his hands lose propriety and restraint and brushes Wei Ying’s hair, patting it down, (he’s real, indeed), tucking a few stray strands behind his ear. When Wei Ying speaks, he’s a whole step closer, and his hands have found Wangji’s waist.

“I did what I had to do. If I hadn’t, how many people would have died on a single man’s whim?”

Wangji hums and nods, his fingers running all the way down to the tips of that silken hair. It’s much too long, but Wangji can’t picture him in any other style, in any other way than how he simply is.

“And so did I.”

Wei Ying’s lips press tightly together, but he parts them again, closing his eyes for a second or two, when Wangji raises his hand again and brushes his thumb against his temple.

“They could have killed you. If they had discovered you...”

“Wen Chao too, could have killed you.”

“You know what I did.”

The statement, lacking the cadence of a question, widens Wei Ying’s eyes in a kind of wildness, an anticipation to a sudden move, a sudden blow. He’s still somewhat feral, ready to feel or cause hurt. Wangji finds that he still hates it, and that in this new chance that he’s been gifted, he’ll try his best to at least lessen the reflex.

“I knew what could happen the moment you disappeared to Yiling. And I knew I couldn’t stop you.”

“And you aren’t disgusted? You don’t hate me for it?”

Wei Ying’s fingers close around the fabric of his cardigan. Fingers soaked in blood that could never wash away, and fingers that kept blood from spilling just the same.

“You think I could?”

Wangji tilts his head and Wei Ying’s gaze follows his, his surprise both breaking and mending Wangji’s heart.

“Wei Ying, you think I can?”

There’s not much distance to break between them; there had never been much from the start. Wei Ying doesn’t have to stand on his tiptoes and Wangji doesn’t have to lean down to meet him, both seeming to move at the same time, in the same breath. It’s chaste, hesitant, almost afraid, like neither have felt in ten years, in the back of that cab, their hearts in their intertwined hands. It’s brief, but it makes them shiver, makes tears well in their eyes once they part, only enough to look at each other.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, and the way he sounds now is a sound he files away, along with all the other ways he says his name, all in their own unique taunting and provocations and invitations, but alike in warmth. “Morning has come. Do you still feel the same?”

They’re still just as inexperienced as the first time, all those years apart doing them no favors, only now there’s a promise sealed in the kiss. Wei Ying laughs, and Lan Zhan smiles too, neither breaking away, coming closer, hands grasping tighter, Wangji’s arms circling Wei Ying’s middle and pulling him up, his feet off the floor, and Wei Ying laughs again, his own arms around Wangji’s neck and kissing him still, pecking, delighted.

How stupid they both were. They could have been doing this since the first time Wangji thought about kissing him. It would have changed nothing of their history, wouldn’t have wiped the blood and the venom both had willingly swallowed to protect what they believed to be right, but a burden shared is nothing like the world upon your lone shoulders. And right then, Wangji feels weightless, Wei Ying is weightless in his arms.

“Lan Zhan, put me down,” Wei Ying asks, lightly patting his shoulder, and he obliges. “You have to tell me everything. What was it like working with the Wens? How did you gather all that information? How did uncle Qiren take it? How’s brother Xichen handling it? You lost so much weight, have you been eating properly? Have you been sleeping?”

“Slow down,” Lan Zhan prompts, chuckling, and the sound makes Wei Ying shine even when he tries to give him a disapproving look. “How did you get here? This place is guarded.”

While he could see Wei Ying bypassing the guards a ways down the mountain with agile athlete moves, he can’t shake the unease the thought brings. Would he have to contact uncle? What would uncle have to say about Wei Ying’s reappearance?

But Wei Ying gives him a grin, and his worries melt away before he even explains.

“Brother Xichen gave me permission. The guards are taking care of my bike and everything.”

“You talked to brother?”

Wei Ying nods, one of his hands traveling down to take Wangji’s and intertwine their fingers.

“Yes, I met him at a small art gallery and we talked over a few Wangxian paintings.”

He can feel his ears burning, which is perhaps the most unexpected reaction he’s had to Wei Ying since he laid eyes on him again. So there are still well-kept secrets about his feelings that he can feel embarrassed about the other knowing. It is perhaps unwise to let Wei Ying know of all the power he has over him, but seeing the way he glows with the knowledge that Wangji loves him is enough for him to come to terms that he doesn’t care. Didn’t he want the world to know? And what is the world if not Wei Ying?

“How did you come across brother at an art gallery in Gusu?”

Wei Ying leans in, a mischievous smile that Wangji would recognize anywhere spreading across his kissed lips.

“It wasn’t such a coincidence, Lan Wangji.”

In a dark room, ten years ago, Wangji opened his heart but received nothing in return but a riddle. He admits he had given up on receiving an answer, accepting that Wei Ying had bigger things to worry about, so he had let the hope slip away as he grew up and focused on his own decision to bring down the Wens. But Wei Ying, squeezing his fingers, grounding him to his presence, smiles a smile just as expressive as his eloquent words, speaking his truth.

The hand of Lan Wangji’s clock moves forward as Wei Ying pulls his hand.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying sings in a childish tone. “I’m hungry. I drove all night to get here. Won’t you treat your best friend?”

Wangji huffs in mock exasperation, gives Wei Ying a peck on the lips (which turns Wei Ying’s eyes into happy crescent moons), and guides him downstairs so he can cook them dinner while Wei Ying asks him all sorts of questions and he indulges him with all sorts of answers. He wants to ask just as much about Wei Ying’s past, where he had been and what sort of things he had been doing, but he can wait until Wei Ying is not yawning and his stomach isn’t as loud as he is. At one point, while the pots are busy with steaming and cooking their meal, Wangji hears a gust of wind stir his mother’s garden and decides to invite his new companions in. He doesn’t have anything settled for them, but neither did he have anything settled for Wei Ying, but he’ll make do. He can accommodate them. He’s waited long enough.

Wei Ying immediately starts cooing at them the moment they reluctantly cross the threshold into the kitchen.

“Do you like them? I chose them especially for you.”

Wangji blinks and Wei Ying misses it, too busy crouching near the rabbits who want nothing to do with him.

“You did?”

“Yeah!” He looks at him over his shoulder. “You had rabbits as a kid, right? I thought they could keep you company.”

“Wei Ying, you...”

He’s not given any time to suffer the panic of those words as Wei Ying swiftly jumps back on his feet and walks to him, his hands cradling his face.

“No, I mean–! I didn’t know how you’d react when I came back, so I brought them in case...” He sighs, hugging Wangji’s chest, shaking his head and hiding his face on Wangji’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving. Not unless you want me to.”

“I don’t.”

It’s not an option. The prompt answer makes Wei Ying laugh and squeeze him in his hold before hopping back, giving him space.

“Then they’ll keep both of us company!”

Wangji nods and smiles as Wei Ying tries, and fails, to make friends with the rabbits, before turning his back on him to finish their meal.

His uncle had taught him that meals were not moments for mindless chatter or idle behavior. His first meal with Wei Ying after their reunion is anything but what he had learned; it’s as full of food as it is of Wei Ying’s laughter, that Wangji encourages with his own short quips, and everything nourishes him, feeds him. By the time they’re finished, he’s full and drowsy with Wei Ying’s presence, their rabbits slumbering in a corner where the light is dim.

“When I was a kid, I used to live with my parents not too far from here,” Wei Ying says, resting his side against the back of his luxurious couch, Wangji mirroring him. “We used to move a lot but she stayed here for a while, I remember.”

“Brother and I used to live here with our parents. I was six or so.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying scoots closer, never breaking eye contact. “To think we could have been friends, all those years ago!”

Wangji scoffs just as Wei Ying reaches him, arms circling his middle, lying haphazardly across his lap, forcing Wangji to try and adjust them into a more comfortable position.

“You don’t think we would’ve been friends?” Wei Ying asks with a pout.

“You’d have bullied me.”

“I’d never bully you!”

“Wei Ying.”

“...Nothing too mean.”

“Jiang Wanyin might disagree.”

“Jiang Cheng was a brat and his attitude turned me into a monster. My Lan Zhan would have been cute and we could have played with bunnies. That’s not fair. I want a do-over.”

Wei Ying hums, content, settled against Wangji’s chest and between his legs, one of Wangji’s hands lightly scratching his scalp and the other running down his hair.

“Lan Zhan, stop, I need to wash my hair. Don’t— stop smelling it, Lan Zhan.”

Wangji kisses the crown of his head and Wei Ying looks up at him, face adorably red. Ah. So both still had plenty of sides to show.

“Let’s wash up.” And then he adds, with an elegant eyebrow raised, after something flashes in Wei Ying’s eyes, despite the blush on his face, “I have more than one bathroom.”

Wei Ying clicks his tongue.

“You’re no fun.”

Wangji chuckles, and despite his big words, leads Wei Ying to the bathroom connected to his own room, leaving him a set of his own pajamas on the bed for the other to change into, while he walks to one of the guest bathrooms. When he meets Wei Ying again, he’s drying his long hair with a towel and the scent of Wangji’s shampoo emanates from him like an aura. Wangji licks his lips, self-conscious of his own desire, but he moves to a different side, where he keeps a blow dryer.

Wei Ying peeks at him through the mess of his hair, and though the vision makes him bite back a smile, his body is still quite warm.

“Let me,” he says, sitting on the bed, and Wei Ying happily complies, shuffling closer, his back to him.

The knots in Wei Ying’s hair give in to his administrations, soft to the touch. Wei Ying is quiet, and Wangji would have been thrown off by it any other day. So much was said, so much was felt, so many shields were broken after years of taking nothing but blows. Wei Ying’s back in front of him is hunched slightly forward, shoulders loose, fully trusting and unprotected. How did he appear to Wei Ying? Did he meet the expectation he curated for years? When he wakes up in the morning, would Wei Ying still be there, the sun illuminating the white of Wangji’s clothes on him, reflecting the brightness Wangji knew lived inside of him? So much was said, there’s still so much to think about.

He sets the blow dryer away and Wei Ying immediately falls back against him, knowing Wangji would be there to catch him, to wrap his arms around his middle, to kiss his exposed neck.

“I can sleep here, right? You’re not sending me to one of your guest bedrooms, Lan Zhan?”

Wangji kisses his temple, long, lingering.

“Of course not.”

“Mm. Good.”

In the dark, in his arms, Wei Ying feels boneless, and even their last kiss of the night is slow, tinged with placid calm, with sleep, with dreams.

“Wei Ying.”

A hum of acknowledgment.

“Have you talked to the Jiangs?”

A sigh.

“Not yet. I was... I wasn’t sure how to do it.”

He kisses his shoulder, pulls Wei Ying closer against his chest.

“I’ll go with you. If you want.”

“...You can?”

His voice is a little more awake, a little surprised, a little hopeful.

“I’ll talk to uncle. He doesn’t expect me to stay here forever.”

“What are you going to do then?”

“...What does Wei Ying want to do?”

Wei Ying turns, his fingers touching, tracing Wangji’s jaw.

“And if I tell you I don’t know?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

Wei Ying presses closer, and vaguely, through another kiss, Wangji thinks that it might be dangerous, how easy it is to take Wei Ying back in his life, to love the taste of his kisses, to plan his life with Wei Ying in it.

“We can stay here a little longer,” Wei Ying says. What for, he doesn’t say. There are many reasons to stay as there are to go, but he doesn’t want to move, and neither does Wangji. Not yet. Not that night.

When morning comes, Wangji wakes first. The sun is out, alive, and much higher than it is when Wangji usually wakes. He turns his head and finds Wei Ying there, still asleep, chest rising and falling in sweet tranquility, and Wangji, surrendering to his selfishness, this time with no boost in his system but boundless affection, kisses Wei Ying’s cheek, Wei Ying’s nose, and the birthmark by his lower lip, kissing him until his eyes flutter open and his lips form a sleepy, content smile.

“It’s morning,” he says, and Wangji nods.

“Good morning, lover.”

Wei Ying whimpers, hiding his face on his pillow.

“Are you trying to kill me?” His muffled voice only causes Wangji to smile, to kiss his shoulder and neck and marvel at the visible shiver that affects him. “Did you kill all your other boyfriends like this, is that what happened?”

“No one else,” he whispers as he kisses a trail down Wei Ying’s jaw. “Just you.”

“Lan Zhan, I meant to ask.”

Wangji stops his administrations and backs off to look at him.

“Is that...?”

Wei Ying points to a painting safely kept in a spot on the wall where the sunbeams cannot reach. A boy is pictured, running, valiantly crossing a finish line. His feet don’t touch the ground, and he seems to want to fly away from the frame. His expression is detailed, eternally joyful in his youth.

“Your first win for the high school tracking team.”

He thought he’d be too embarrassed to say it, to show it, his oldest gift, his oldest treasure. But he’s not.

“All this time...?”

He could have been disappointed by the wide look in Wei Ying’s eyes but it’s morning and his eyes are clear and light and he’s warm and real to the touch, so Wangji only smiles, wiping away the stray tears that spill down into Wei Ying’s hair.

“Wei Ying. You really didn’t know?”

He should have known, but Wangji is glad to have him now, to kiss him now, their strength born anew, holding almost desperately to each other.

When Wei Ying flips him over, straddling him, leaning over him, his hands traveling, slow, from his torso, up his neck, resting on his face as Wei Ying draws closer, he sees him. The man he missed in Yiling, whose eyes looked deep into him over weak, blinking lights. The man who held him up, who called his name with a rich, lost voice, who looked dangerously close to his own downfall. Now he looks at him, focuses only on him, not dark but bright, catching the sun, dangerously close to burning like a miraculous red bird.

Wei Ying kisses him deep, open mouthed, discovering all the touches that feel good, saliva dripping from tongues, wet sounds replaced by moans, loud, their heads thrown back as Wei Ying grinds down, enough times to send Wangji growling, flipping them over again, and Wei Ying laughs, breathless, all the while mouthing, “Me too, Lan Zhan, me too,” and other nonsense about time and love and don’t stop.

The morning comes, sealing a promise long uttered, long overdue. There’s still much to be done, so many amends, such a long future to trace. But it’s still only morning, a morning so long waited, with all of the mist finally cleared away, that they allow themselves to think of nothing but one other, crying all of the emotions left in their hearts, in the mood for love.

#The Untamed #Mo Dao Zu Shi #fanfiction #Wangxian #Lan Wangji #Wei Wuxian #Alternate Universe: Modern Setting

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