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damselofblueroses · 3 years

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The Name of the Rose, Chapter 4

Summary: Your study-buddy Doh Kyungsoo comes with you for a long-awaited trip to Tokyo, Japan. There is a tension between you, however both of you decided to build a friendship instead of a relationship.

Chapter Summary: Kyungsoo taught the Reader how she should be touched. After the lesson the Reader answers his question and tell him her observation about the lesson. (Note: This chapter is fucking long, so grab your drink before reading babes!)

Content: Unestablished relationship, AU, Hurt/Comfort, Anger, Slight Violence, Emotional Complications and Healing.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story was inspired by D.O.’s album, Empathy, the album of 2021 in my opinion. It is an ongoing mini project, I planned to write it as a one-shot when I started, however I realized there are a lot to say about Empathy Era and I cannot stop shut my mouth, or prevent myself from writing… So, here we go.

Chapter Word Count: 11.2k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 4: I Am Gonna Love You

A gentle breeze puffed past the slightly open window, as it blowed the curtain, moonlight spilled into the room. There was dull light, coming from the top of the walls, casting a dim yellow tint along the carpet and bed.

A soft smile tugged at Kyungsoo’s lips.

You were glaring at him, to be honest, Kyungsoo felt a little bit exposed to you, but he was more than okey with being naked for you, all with his body, and soul. He was ready to give everything he had. Sometimes he believed that he must be crazy for loving you at this extent, definitely he had gone mad, there was no logical explanation of willingly being at your fingertips.

“We do not,” his voice was reminding you all the warm autumn nights you spent together, it was rich, baritone and velvety, your entire body stiffened as his index finger wandered around your face, from forehead to chin. “We do not do anything you do not want.”

You looked at him, forgetting how to blink. That bloody dim light painting him with a shiny halo, increasing his ethereal beauty and to your dismay, his already so-fucking-strong impacts on you. Sometimes you could not help but wonder if he has been knowing how he affected you or not. His eyes, fucking pair of big-doe eyes, chocolate brown and always full of emotions, skimmed over your face, you swallowed your heartbeat in the throat.

“I know.” you miraculously found your voice out of nowhere. With slow moving fingers, without noticing what the heck you were doing, you touched his upper lip.

Kyungsoo held his groan back, and his hands clenched into fists. He hated himself for his quick response to your touch, he wanted to keep himself as one fucking piece.

You took your hand back off him, hiding it behind your back, sagging against the pillows. A deep sigh emitted from both of you.

You were looking to each other, the silence invaded the room but this time it was different from before. This silence was like a messenger, it was not eerily or strange. Both of you were testing the waters, you were waiting for the one who was going to make the next move, but both of you were aware of the fact that this silence was nothing but an emissary.

An emissary that was telling your mutual desires for each other. Your dire needs and hopes.

He raised his hand, looking at you as asking for your permission, you forgot how to swallow but immediately shook your head from up to down. His lips formed as his fucking signature smile, heart shaped one, the type of smile which Kyungsoo gave only when he was really happy. Your breath stuck in your lungs, an unmistakable blush spread across your face, made its own way to your neck. He crawled towards you, his hands caressed your ankles and spread your legs enough to make a space for himself, sitting between your calves.

The little air which was left in your lungs left your body.

His closeness and warmness started to rile you up, if riling you more than now was possible. You could easily smell his perfume, fuelling your excitement that already brewing the potions in your lower stomach.

Kyungsoo had dangerously lingered in your mind since the first day you saw him.

And now he was sitting between your legs, and only God knew what the heck he was going to do. You knew you could not say no, fuck’s sake you just could not. If he wanted to teach you as you requested, you would say yes. If he wanted to just stay like this, you would say yes. If he wanted to take you over there, you would say yes.

You knew how dangerous your love for Kyungsoo was. You were always imagining him, Kyungsoo has been living with you literally and figuratively.

You did not say this to him, you would never ever, but it was always his name coming from your mouth when you think about the bases. There was no other option, Kyungsoo or no one.

You suddenly remembered the question that Baekhyun asked to you. Unfortunately, as Baekhyun would like to define, your Virgin Mary status, was a topic that the boys really liked to mock with you. However, once Baekhyun seriously asked you, if you could wish for someone ravaging you, who was going to be? As expected Baekhyun gave you a detailed scenario which made you terrified, ended up with a huge fight between you and Baekhyun, however when you were alone, you could not stop thinking about that scenario.

It was Kyungsoo.

The name was his name even when you thought that type of imagines.

It had been Kyungsoo, and it seemed, it was going to be always his name.

When that scumbag, the touchy one pressed his fingers onto your thighs, you did not like it because they were not Kyungsoo’s. You preferred to be violently murdered than admitting this, however when you were be back into the security of your room after that unlucky experience, the only question lingering in your mind was how you could response if those would be Kyungsoo’s fingers? What would you do if those bonny, pale, and sinewy fingers touching your thighs?

You were totally ignorant to the intimate relationships, if Kyungsoo would not be in the picture, you could be sure of you were not engaged to the desires and bodily needs. However, the reason of your hunger was sitting between your legs, and to your dismay you were more than aware of the calls of your body. God, did he have to sit this fucking close to you, enough to make his breathes hovering your hair? You could not tell if you wanted to throw yourself forward to his arms or pushing him to the mattress. God only knows what was going to be next, but your eyes coasted down his biceps, as taut as ever, and the fucking veins that were visible on his wrists appearing more than prominent as he gently held your ankles.

“Are you okey with this?” Kyungsoo pointed his position, smiling a little bit nervously. You inhaled sharply, then a sharp laugh fell from your lips.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you covered your mouth with your hand. Kyungsoo lifted his head, directed his gaze upon you, you wanted to beg him not looking at you with all the power of his eyes.

“No, I need to hear your words.” he slightly pinched your left calf. You tried to free your ankle from his iron grip in order to show your current discontent of his pinch, but your effort made him laugh, despite of his movements shuttered.

“I am okey.” you sheepishly whispered.

“Do you still want me to teach you?” he bit his tongue. While he was itching to teach you, -and to be honest, his inner peace was already destroyed after you asked him if he had feelings for you or not, he was dying to taste you, JesusfuckingChrist, he never had a piece of inner piece since you came into the picture of his life, he also refused to push you for any case. Whether you chose was going to be fine by him, he was not going to dig his own grave by insisting or shoving you.

“Depends.” you murmured. “Only if you do not make fun of me.”

“Why should I make fun of you?” Kyungsoo felt his heart churned. “You asked weird questions, first about leaving you, now about mocking you. Do I make you uncomfortable by any chance?”

“Yes.” you did not think about your answer, then registered to your word. Kyungsoo’s eyes widened, for the first time of his life, he could not find anything to say. He never think that he could be the reason of your discomfort. You quickly realized the meaning of your response, while you were swearing at your fucking useless brain, you took a deep breath. “I mean, yes, you do but not because of anything you do.”

“With all my respect to you,” Kyungsoo took his hands off your ankles. “May I ask what the heck you are talking about?”

“I can be uncomfortable when you are around,” your fingers brushed against each other. Kyungsoo realized that little habit of you, you always do this when you wanted to say something which really mattered to you. “Because sometimes your presence gives me heart attacks, Kyungsoo. I do not know to describe the feelings you cause in me; I am not an expert on the field, but what should I have to do when the only one I want to keep for myself is you?”

Your words caught Kyungsoo off his guard, turning him into a mummy who could not perform anything which were preserved for the human beings.

He never ever give himself the permission of hoping such as hearing these words from you.

“I thought I could control myself.” you let every miserable thought of you came out. “But I failed, I cannot press the feelings I have for you anymore. I know it sounds very poor, and I know how much popular you are.”

Kyungsoo heard himself as snorting, but still he was numb. You were peering him, as you have been expecting a response, a voice, a thing. However, Kyungsoo was not able to give anything, he was frozen, tearing off from his wit. He knew that you were going to get wrong deductions of his persistent silence, but his fucking voice was playing hide and seek.

Surprisingly, you continued to talk.

You realized that talking was refreshing and soothing the painful circles which had been staying in the darkest cliffs of your mind. Despite of your usual behaviour when it came to express how you feel, you decided to communicate with Kyungsoo.

Ride or die.

“I know we are friends, and I really afraid of losing you, but I am losing my fucking sanity, Kyungsoo. Day by day, you had been becoming the center of my thoughts. I thought I was better than this, I made all my effort to seal my fondness of you, but it drives me into crazy. Maybe I am just pathetic.”

Was it really your self-perspective? Kyungsoo wished you could perceive yourself from his eyes.

“You? Pathetic?” his voice was cracked, sounded like an old man. “Impossible.”

There was no hesitation in his face.

“You are quite opposite.” he finally managed to vocalize his thoughts. “If you were pathetic, I would immediately warn you.”

Your head was throbbing because of the hidden passion of his voice tone. His gaze became something irresistible, dawdling on your features, focusing on your pinkish lips.

“Thank you, Soo.” you vaguely smiled. This was Kyungsoo being coddling, as Kyungsoo could possibly be. He fucked the things up, then popped in front of your door, pressed you to the wall, had a shitty conversation, nested between your legs, and in the end, told you his opinion of being pathetic or not by pointing he would scold you as he generally did.

“If you would be pathetic,” he continued. “I cannot be so adamant to be close to you. I would be lying if I say I do not want to be with you. Always.”

It was your turn to lose the trail of thoughts.

“You are not the only one who has feelings.” an eerily laugh followed his words. “And you are not the only one who is afraid of losing what we have. Maybe we are both pathetic, who knows? But I am sincere when I tell you that I have interests in you.”

Silence hovered in the air, you watched his face while he was standing in front of you, refusing to take his eyes off you. You knew he was honest as always, he always said what he thinks, what he believes even it could be hurtful.

If your feelings would be platonic, despite of the sake of your friendship, Kyungsoo would tell you at once.

You leaned forward, you reached to his face, his brows were knitted.

“We are idiots, you know that, right?” you smiled to him.

“We always have been.” he assured you with a serious face. You wholeheartedly laughed. “By the way, is it sake or you I have been talking with?”

“I am sober as fuck.” you chuckled. “You?”

“I did not drink as much as you did, you filthy drunkard.” Kyungsoo quickly shifted between moods. “I am abstinent, abstemious and sober as a judge. However, I do not want to hear those poor self-thoughts from you. Never again.”

His fingers lightly stroked your lips. Your breath stuck in your throat, you lost counting how many times you lost yourself in his touch tonight. Anyone else could consider his tone intimating, but you knew Kyungsoo well enough that he really meant you were precious and beautiful in his eyes.

“Okey.” you nod.

You wanted to ask him what you were going to do with seems-very-correspondingfeelings, but you did not want to push him. Kyungsoo wanted to ask you what you what was your plan about him or if you wanted to have a relationship with him, but he kept himself under the yoke and refused to impel you. His hand was still cupping your face.

Suddenly, he started to feel extremely warm.

“Soo,” you placed your hands onto his shoulder. You actually cooed. “I was also serious when I said I want you to teach me.”

Your heart was pounding out of your chest. Your logic was fogged by the heavy desires, and your logic persuaded you, the one who started all of these was Kyungsoo. He was the one who said that scumbag did it wrong, and since he never ridicule someone for doing something wrong if he did not have the knowledge of the right ways.

And also, you wanted him, you wanted to feel him and have a proper taste.

So, you may be looking for the excuses in the book, but the frustrating heat was unbearable. You did not know what was going to be tomorrow, when you wake up, however you were sure of if you would not feel his lips again, you could not survive enough to see the sun again.

You did not care if you were going to torture yourself by having Kyungsoo for this night even when you were going to want him for the rest of your life, when there was always a possibility of losing him.

“Yeah, you said.” Kyungsoo inhaled. “Okey, I really need your words, and you have to promise me if you want to stop the session, you have to be vocal about it.”

“I…” you stopped before gearing up for the way. “I want to learn. I promise.”

“You are making everything hard for me.” Kyungsoo exhaled, staring at your small hands on his shoulders. “Do you know how you sound like? You are inviting me to please you, sweet Jesus, I want to make you feel good. Do you have any idea how hard to keep myself as a fucking one piece?”

“Do not hold yourself back.” you could not believe your own words. Your voice sounded like you were begging him, as you have not done till now. “Please, Soo.”

Kyungsoo thought that he poisoned you with his warped desires, he was not sure if he deserved you or your trust. You willingly put yourself in his palms, and he deeply believed that you deserved to have someone make you feel good, make you happy and feel secured. You deserved to feel fucking good, and Kyungsoo knew that he wished nothing but happiness for you.

But he could not stand the idea of someone else were to make you happy, make you feel good, even if that person could do it right. He was jealous to the bits even thinking about another man, being with you. He wanted to bring you such a high, maybe that was the worst thing to vocalize, however Kyungsoo wished nothing but be that man. He knew you like knowing the back of his hands, there would be one and only for you, you were an old-fashioned girl when it came to love someone.

He knew you would do everything in your power for the one who you loved, and you would keep him as the only man in your life.

And Kyungsoo felt like the most selfish person in the world for wanting it to be him to be loved by you.

He was aware of the fact that teaching you was just an excuse you came up with. You could tell him that you wanted to have a taste of Kyungsoo, you were too shy to say those words, however only you could be brave enough to find an excuse and play that card.

My little fox, Kyungsoo thought. How could I refuse you?

But there was fear.

After hearing you were also interested in him, you had feelings for him enough to make you to invite Kyungsoo to touch you, Kyungsoo was afraid of nothing, but you would change your mind. He could not endure if you were going to tell him that he made you unhappy. What if he was going to seed wrong thoughts and perspectives in your brain such as you feel like unwanted? He could not survive if he was going to hear that he made it wrong like that scumbag.

But you were leaning to his chest, he could feel your heartbeats and warmness. Your breath hovered his neck, and he could feel your velvety lips just over on his skin.

He was dying to feel more of you.

Shit. He really could not help himself.

He held your chin and lifted your head.

“I will do what you wanted.” he made his final decision. “But I have to warn you before starting to teach you. Every nerve of my body steer me towards you. I really want you. Consciously, logically, physically, emotionally. You name it, you get it.”

Your chin dropped at his bluntness. Well, you did not expect to hear those words, and Godfuckingdamnit, if Kyungsoo was going to be vocal and could not stop his goddamn mouth, you were going to burn right now.

“O-okey.” you shuttered. Your entire body tensed beneath his feathery touch, and you felt his touch made your heart rapping at a pace which your lungs could not support.

He closed his eyes.

“Damn.” you heard his low grunt, that made the fire in your stomach worse. “Remember, you promised t-

You could not help.

But kissed his closed eyelids.

Kyungsoo swore on there was no capacity left in his lungs for air as he felt your plumed and delicate kisses on his eyes, from right to left, then you made your way to his eyebrows.

“You have very beautiful eyebrows, Soo.” he heard your whisper, his heart twisted again and again. You had a grip on him, you could revel him in the blink of eye, he had a first handed experience of your power on him. He was riling up even with the idea of being at your call, being at your service, fulfilling your needs and desires as the best way he could. “And your eyes are spectacularly stunning.”

He wished you could stop praising him, otherwise he would just come in his fucking pants after hearing two nice words from you, but to his dismay, you seemed like you could not stop your goddamn mouth tonight.

Even worse, you could not prevent yourself from memorizing the details of his face with your lips and fingers. You laid your lips on his forehead as you got your hands through his stubborn hair to his neck, and you could not be sure if Kyungsoo’s body was actually trembling or if you were persuading yourself on managing to seduce him because you were deadly anxious about the issue.

The things you had no idea on that you already ignited the wheels of the machine, set Kyungsoo on fire and there was no turning back.

“Have I ever told you how much I love when you look at me?” you asked. “Even though when you look at me, I feel like I am going to explode, I love to be the view of your eyes. You are breath-taking, Kyungsoo.”

“Can you stop talking?” Kyungsoo could not hold his grunt anymore. “You cannot say these without noticing how effective they are!”

“Why?” your lips formed around a very little smile. “Don’t tell me you are into praising.”

“You little…” Kyungsoo was shocked due to your sudden transformation from a shy schoolgirl into a sharp brat, but you did not hesitate to make it worse by quickly pressing your lips onto his, then backed off.

“I see you really are.” you raised your eyebrow. There was a devilishly look on your face, you remembered something Baekhyun told you, and you did not hold it back. “So, what would happen if I told you how good you are for me?”

Kyungsoo immediately blushed.

“You are really blushing, Soo!” you exclaimed. “Look at your face!”

“Do not forget,” he deeply growled. “You started this game.”

You were not disappointed that seeing his transformation in the blink of an eye. He grabbed your wrists with one hand and securely pressed them on the pillows while pushing you into the mattress. His face was fucking close to you, your lips parted for him.

“You learned that I am into praising,” he beamed. His eyes started to shine like a boy unwrapping his Christmas gifts under the tree. “From now on, I am definitely going to discover what you are into.”

You wanted to answer by saying that you are irrevocably into him, but Kyungsoo’s lips covered your mouth, but he did not stay on your lips more than enough to make you shut up, he swiftly climbed over your body, slipping his waist between your thighs, his hips were fucking close to set your world on fire.

Kyungsoo did not hesitate to give you a couple of short kisses before fully taking your lips in his, just like he was testing the waters and tasting you before starting to completely ravage you. You had no idea how far he was planning to go; however, you were bloody sure on that if he wanted to encourage you to go to whole way, you were going to say yes. His lips were warm and soft as before, feeling you like you were a fucking addict of him.

You felt things you have never ever felt before to the point where he had you coming to stay in the palms of his hands. It could be your lack of experience, but in the deep of your heart, you knew the fact that it was not about being inexperienced or not, you knew that you were trembling, shuttering, shivering, and shaking because what he has been doing to you and for you was nothing but right.

Feels right.

He paused for a moment, he was out of breath and his face all blushed now. He leaned your forehead, cupping your face while he braced himself up on his right forearm. He kissed your forehead, kissing you fervently, he was drowned in all things about you. Your darkened eyes. Your plump lips. Your silky hair. Your words, your kindness, your firmness. You were composed by the everything Kyungsoo could wish for.

Your voice, begging him to touch you. Persuading him to take you.

Fucking hell, he should have kept himself far away from you. He really had to not listen your words when you said you liked him while you always could leave him in the darkness.

But running away from you was also equal to living in a personal hell, especially after learning the fact that you liked him.

Kyungsoo cupped the back of your neck in his palm and traced your eyebrows with his lips, he could feel the heat of your skin, singing the songs for him. All he could think was eating you alive, devouring you, marking you as his.

All his.

He hated being so clingy and cheesy, but he could not help it.

His lips followed their way from your eyebrows to your earlobe, you gasped when his lips brushed your ear, your hands freely moved and grabbed his shirt, digging your finger onto his flesh.

“Remember your promise.” his breath fanned your neck when he whispered. Godfuckingdamnit.“If I make you uncomfortable at any point, tell me.”

“Stop whispering.” you unconsciously moaned, swallowing hard. He made a mental note of your voice, storing the tone in his mind and boyishly grinned. So, you were into whispering. His fingers trailed the back of your neck, moved to your side, and caressed you gently. Your chest rubbing against him as you squirmed under his body as you could feel his hands pressing your sides, locking you in place, it was like your body responding to his heavy touches so well.

You were feeling weird, but it was not about Kyungsoo.

You were meeting with the most foreign part of your body.

There was an ache building between your thighs that you never ever felt before.

“Soo,” you glanced down to his mouth, then backed up to his eyes. His eyes were darkening with hidden desires that he was holding back all these years. “I am generally not like this.”

Kyungsoo wholeheartedly laughed.

“Oh really?” his face was lit up because of your funny explanation. “I know, you little idiot.”

He could feel you falling apart already, the softest whimpers getting caught in your throat and fuck, he could also feel that those stupidly nice noises you were unconsciously making, their effects go straight his dick, then climbing into his stomach and forcing him to dip his mouth against yours. He took your bottom lip between his teeth, your arms jerked around him, and you could not control your hips rutting against him.

Both of you could feel the pressure forming against to your pelvis.

And you heedlessly grind him, when you did that, he was the one who had to break the kiss.

“Shit,” he muttered, barely loud enough.

But you heard him. You heard him, not only hearing but also recording every reaction he gave to you in a folder in your head. You slide your hands up his shoulders and pulled him back into another kiss, even though you were aware of how much you wanted him, you had no idea of how thirsty you were for Kyungsoo’s lips. He was so careful with you, his touch was so delicate, and he was aware of your body and mind, completely tuned into your responses and reactions. He was reading your needs and limits out of your reactions, by every inch of your body where his fingers shifting against your skin, he was learning and composing a new song to be sung together.

You loved it.

Maybe you were sickly eager to be at his fingertips since ages, but you loved how he cared for you. Your blown pupils and glimmering irises were telling him that he was on the right track as he peppered more kisses on your cheeks, nose, and jawbone.

He dipped his head forward, pressing his lips on your neck where he begun to kiss diligently. This was new for you, it was consuming and tantalizing sensation which had you squirming under Kyungsoo, catching your desperate side, and turning you more needy. Your grip on his shoulders tightened, you clung onto the fabric of his t-shirt, and partly his muscles. One of your hands moved immediately to his hair, tugged the back of his head, and pulled him closer, enough to make his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

You could feel his little smile on your skin.

His hair smelled like bloomed roses, paired with something reminded you the salty fragrance of the sea.

Your heart was on the verge of exploding as your blood pressure was skyrocketing.

Kyungsoo bit you very gently, you could hardly feel his teeth, then he drawn a line on your collarbone with his tongue, your head tilted backwards, opened more place for him and you moaned.

“You are so sensitive, huh?” he mocked, and his tease caught you off guard. You shivered more than before in response as his hands wandered around your waist, pressed you against his chest.

So, you were also into teasing. Kyungsoo made another mental note for the future.

For the future.

Kyungsoo had already decided to never ever let you go. Not after hearing your whimpers. Not after tasting your lips. Not after feeling your curves under his stiff body. Not after being the target of your witty remarks.

You bewitched him in body and soul, and he never want to apart from you. If he had to lock you in a room with himself, he would even do it.

He could feel you trembling in his arms, he knew that if he was going to let another one to have you, he would die in that second. He irrevocably fell apart inside, he hovered over you to get a good look at your face, and it was the nail of his coffin.

Your pixie haircut lost its model, splayed out prettily, your cheeks were blushed, you were panting, and your lips were swollen and parted.

“Please.” you gasped, reaching to him again but Kyungsoo removed your hands over his shoulders, placing a tender kiss on your head. It was obvious that your lungs used all the capacity they had as you were out of air.

“Relax.” he murmured very delicately. “Take a deep breath. We are here to go for a long way.”

He turned back to your neck, finding the point of your pulse, circling around the point with his index finger while peppering your collarbone with kisses, touching you less to provide you with the chance of taking a full breath of air. He realized once again the amount of trust you just put in him. He knew that you did not do any of these before, you were totally handing yourself to Kyungsoo, blindly believing in him, the way of feeling proud was making his heart to swell in his chest. He resisted to the need of taking a good look on your curves, he also kept his instincts telling him to run his hands over your body in control. Instead, he made the eye contact and looked at your face when he lifted his head, then he hovered above your shoulder, waited for you till he could feel your breathing was under control.

“I am good.” you sighed.

He took the clue, then his mouth once more connected to your pulse point. He loved to feel your heartbeats beneath his lips and tongue. To be honest he really wanted to suck your sensitive flesh, however he knew that your skin was too pale and delicate, easily be bruised and he did not want to give you that horrible lavender colour as he was informed how much you disliked the bruises. You were extremely clumsy, enough to make him to want building a bubble around you to keep you always safe, however since that was impossible, he had to see and count the bruises and wounds all over your legs and arms.

So, he kept his desires under the yoke.

There were different ways of marking you as his.

He could do that, right? He could make you feel so good, enough to forget every possible name maybe you were keeping in your mind or the invisible rivals whose could always come to your way? He could carve his name in your heart, he could burn you well, so you could not remember anything but Kyungsoo.

What he did still not fully grasp was the fact that Kyungsoo was already the one and only for you.

While he was kissing your neck and collarbone, your fingers made their way from his shoulder to his toned chest and digging into his muscles. Slowly, very slowly, Kyungsoo began to slide the straps of your dress, driving you into crazy and your chest came on display. You always thought it would be very embarrassing, you did not like to be seen by anyone, but when Kyungsoo pressed his bonny fingers onto your chest, you fucking lost it.

It was not embarrassing. It was nothing like you could think of. You just wanted to look beautiful for him, when he lay his palm against your breast, you did not think anything but how much you wanted to please him. His eyes glazed over to your face, by keeping the eye contact, he slightly cupped your breast and gently squeezed.

Your eyes blown up, and you wiggled like a worm again beneath his body, that simple move alarmed your nerves and gave you goosebumps. Your heart thumped around in your throat, rammed against to your ribs just like a bird who wanted to achieve freedom.

“Is this okey?” Kyungsoo asked, his eyes were covered with a glistening thick layer of lust, his voice sounded darker and lower, doubling the tingles he was causing on you, you wanted nothing but crawling into his body. At the same time, he wanted to keep himself, he was afraid of pushing you more than you could ask for, however your fucking choice of undergarment made it almost impossible for him. He did not think Sehun also chose this for you, you were not the type of woman who could go and ask for the fashionable undergarments.

This stupidly attractive bralette must be your own taste, a dark navy bralette was covering your breasts softly, looking wonderful on your pale skin and the decorative details which composed by lace was wrapping your chest.

He closed his eyes for a second, he was not sure if he could survive or not.

You were drowning into the foggy thoughts, but even in this situation, you could not miss a single thing about Kyungsoo. You sharply observed something was wrong with him, and you were scared out of your mind.

You immediately thought that something was wrong with you.

Your insecurities did not wait for even a single moment, and quickly started to howl in your head. Your body stiffed like a rock, your fingers spasmed on his chest.

“What happened?” Kyungsoo reacted to your transformation as your body was frozen in his arms just like he was holding a sculpture which was carved out of ice. You shook your head, but due to the tension you got under your skin, the tears formed around the edges of your eyes.

You hated yourself.

“Can you tell me what is wrong?” Kyungsoo asked, he thought he fucked the things up so badly, he pushed you too much, he made you afraid of him.

“You didn’t like it.”

“Ha?”

That was the best shot he could give. You were embarrassed to death, but you forced yourself to make an explanation, you pointed the bralette you were wearing, Jesus, the only reason you purchased this type of underwear, was… Well. It was very obvious why you owned a couple of good undergarments.

And why you chose to bring them with you.

Kyungsoo followed the direction you were pointing to, his eyes widened, and he swallowed hardly. Were you an idiot? How could he manage to not like the view since he was waiting to see it since ages? Godfuckingdamnit, the view in front of his eyes was worth for all the years.

Then he really registered to the meaning.

You were anxious more than he thought, and you wanted to be praised by him. When he closed to his eyes, you got the wrong impression.

He concluded that you were an idiot, but he loved you more than anything for also being so clueless. Your reactions were priceless.

You felt Kyungsoo’s lips on your finger, then in your palm. Your eyes immediately opened.

“I love it.” he directly looked at your eyes with all the power in his gaze. You literally bit your lips in order to keep that fucking need of whining under your control. “Now, watch me.”

“For what?”

“I am going to show you,” his mouth watered after he took a really good look at your chest. “How much I love it.”

Your body tingled after his words; he did not miss a second and dipped his head onto the vault between your breasts. You could not help but wonder where in the hell Kyungsoo learned how to do these things and how he could be so fucking good at.

He hooked his thumb around the strap of your bralette and slide it down your shoulder, lifting his head and pressing his lips onto the new patch of skin. You were going ballistic when you felt his tongue, your hands searched anything to hold on for your dear life. Kyungsoo’s breath caught in his chest, he has been leaving soft kisses along the line between your neck and shoulder, his hand curved around your waist as he yanked your dress down and tugged it all the way down to your spine, granted himself the opportunity to easily take you out of that fucking dress. You tugged on his shirt, half of your face was submerged in the yellow dim lights, however the fact of your brain already went to mush was palpable.

Kyungsoo nod once, looked at you, and rubbed his hips against your core.

“Damn you, Soo.”

He chuckled when he heard your sweetest moan. He felt your quivery fingers found their ways around his hair, sneaked to his neck, while you were pressing his head onto your chest and giving him more opportunities to taste you. Shit, you were smelling so good, your skin was too soft, and your heart was drumming. Your bodies are pressed together, you were melting in each other, your thighs were wrapped around his hips, you were touching him, he was touching you.

There was no surprise he could not fucking breath.

As his eyes poured into yours, your stomach churned. You were throbbing for him; his hair was splayed between his head and the vault between your breasts, and you felt something which was coming into life in the very deep of you.

Something wet.

You did not experience it till now, but you listened a lot of stories from Baekhyun and Chanyeol. They assured you on one day you were going to need this information, so you knew what the fuck was happening to you.

You were soaking, clenching around nothing, and to your dismay, all he has done was kissing you. He was unravelling you slowly, and you were taking everything he was giving to you like you had been starving since years. When it came to experience, you were totally ignorant, but in the secrecy of your head, you knew that if he would want to slide himself inside of you right now, you were going to take him like a very good girl.

You closed your eyes, then you sensed a stingy feeling on your breast.

He bite the hardening bud of your breast as your eyes blown up.

“Oho.” his voice was fucking dominant and demanding, his eyebrows were knitted but he was glaring at you with the softest look you have ever seen in his eyes. “I said, watch me.”

Embarrassment?

It was already left the room out of the window as you lifted your head and concentrated on him.

Kyungsoo brought his face closer to your collarbone, remained exposed and placed a gentle kiss on the sternum, and did not neglect your clavicles. You wondered why he did not take the bralette off, or if he was going to do, however you were so messed up to think clearly. You were trying to solve the problem, if the increasing pace of your heart was about the arousal or stimulation, however when he nudged your nipple with his fingers, all questions immediately faded away. His fingers circled around it as he lifted his head to watch your reactions.

You thought that your eyes must be wholly black because your pupils expanded to their limits.

Then he made everything worse for you by bringing his mouth down on your breast over the fabric of your bralette, kissing along the soft tissue. Your gasps were so sharp, you cried out.

Kyungsoo fought against himself in order to behave and have his fucking manners while every nerve of his body beg him to take you right there, right now, as that bloody sweet sounds of you reached out to his ears. He never ever hear your moans, to be honest he was certain on that no one heard the noises you made, but he imagined it before.

God, it was too wrong maybe, but he imagined all of these before.

He made all of these and beyond with you in his mind, again and again.

To be honest, Kyungsoo’s mind always dangerously wandered around you. He reserved the vastest place of his mind just for you, for every version of you, from the best friend to the partner in crime, from a witty brat to a trustworthy companion, from a bashful girl to the most alluring woman. Generally, he just think about the days you were spending together, noticing something that you pointed out in the library, laughing for the lame jokes you made all the time, finding your notebook full of your shitty handwriting in his bag, or coming across to a note you took on his currently readings. Damn, Kyungsoo loved to read even your fucking gibberish. Or he just harkened back to the moments that you gave him handmade bento boxes for the lunch, even though he was cooking better than you or sitting next to him without saying anything. Laying down on the grass together or walking around the campus during nights. He just recalled the moments of your presence like all memories you had were pearls for him such as the times you were waiting him to be back in front of the dorms with an umbrella because of the sudden raining.

But sometimes, he was imagining you in your lewdest forms, while he always make you to feel fucking wonderful in those dreams. You just entangled in his thoughts with the moment you made a speech with sinfully deceptive red dress, or running to his open arms after summer break, whispering to his ear when you were watching a movie in theatre or he remembered that you came out of bathroom without noticing he was also in your flat, smelling so fucking good and the water splashes were dripping off your body, your widening eyes when you noticed his presence and immediately started to curse him, making him burst into laughs with your vocabulary, or the moments your hands clashed each other, or you were stretching your body like a cat… He immediately caught them, stored them his mind and then, when he was all by himself, hooking them in the sea of memories.

God, he painted many pictures of you in his thoughts.

He had been thinking about you a lot, how he could touch you if you would allow him.

That’s why he was so fucking damn good at it.

He knew everything about you, he had been watching you for his dear life. He was aware of how you should be touched. How you should be cared. How you should be loved. He knew that you were made of steel, but you were also made of cotton candies. When you allow someone to be with you, that bastard had to create a perfect balance between carefulness and coarseness.

You should be bend, not broken and Kyungsoo was fucking devoted to do it rightly.

He wanted nothing but hearing his own name like a chant from your mouth, he wondered how you would sound like when his name was the only thing you could say.

He took a look at you, and he thought you were ready for the next step. Hell, he was born ready for doing these to you. As an answer to the silent question in your mind as he could feel it, he slide the straps of your bralette and swiftly stripped you out of it. When your bare chest come to display, he lost his self-control, as he did not spend any single second to clamp down on your nipple, digging his hands into your sides.

He was sure of you started to leak between your thighs as the increasing heat was alarming him, as you could feel he was literally hard against you.

“Fuck…” you murmured, closing your eyes, then immediately opened them widely as you remembered his command about watching him. You knew that he had a strong will and self-control, you did not know how much you affected him, but you could not take any risk which could make him to stop. You had to watch him.

Kyungsoo kissed your nipples softly, his hands glided upwards and caressed your flesh, his touch was an equilibrium of gentleness and roughness, had your body squirming more than before, then he took your bud between his fingers, tweaked it and devilishly smiled to you. One of his hands cupped your breast, while the other moved downward, sneaking inside of your dress and his fingers softly brushed to your inner thighs.

Another moan ripped from your throat, to be honest you started to feel like an earthenware and Kyungsoo was your potter.

“Is this okey?” as he clearly intended to peel your dress off you, knowing what you were going to say, but still asking for permission. You were melted in his hands you were amazed by the fact that he was really taking good care of you. Despite of your lack of experience, you could understand the situation was really unbearable not only for you, but also for him as you could see his eyes, darkening and his jaw, clenching more and more by every second.

“More than okey.” you mumbled inside of your mouth, your answer caused a luminescent glow on his facial expression, he rolled the fabric above your head, Jesus, he badly wanted to rip you out of this fucking dress.

“I have to say,” he chased the unveiled skin with his lips. “You have no idea how much I wanted to punch Sehun on the face.”

“W-why?” you tried to hold on your reasoning.

“This dress,” he grunted, threw your dress to the floor, and slithered himself throughout your body. “Is nothing but a sin.”

He gently bite your tummy, you wriggled inadequately, Kyungsoo found a new way to torture you, the whimpers fumbled past your lips reminded him how easy to tickle you.

He had never ever said he was a saint.

He held you between his arms, in his iron grip, then skimmed your belly with his nose, you wagged like a puppy tail as you tried to free yourself, your effort made him burst into laughs. You saved one of hands while he was laughing, punched his shoulders, he pinched your side as his response to your poor attack.

“Do not worry.” his smile was nothing but diabolical, and a sick part of you dangerously captivated by seeing that. “I am not going to leave you hanging.”

Godfuckingdamnit, you were not sure what he actually meant, but you were dying to learn.

Was it really terrible of you to think all of these made him yours? Could you really endure it if he would have these moments with someone else? Could you bare it if someone else got to see his eyes, glittering with ardour, love, and care?

You could not.

Your fingers desperately tugged onto his brown hair, you wanted to believe that if you held him strongly, no one could take him from you. The only thing you had to do was clutching him with all your power.

Kyungsoo looked at your eyes, your gaze was dissolving him as you were carefully watching even the tiniest move he made, he could see his own reflection in your pupils.

Wasn’t it enough to mark you as his girl?

You were standing in front of him, with only your panties, dark navy panties, what the heck you were wearing Goddamnit?!

His heart spasmed.

“You are going to be death of me.” he spilled the beans as he looked at the parts of your body where no one see before him. Well, you were embarrassed, it was tangible from the crimson red tone, which was spreading all over your face and chest, however at the same time, you enjoyed seeing his broadened eyes and he became slack-jawed as he wandered his fingers over the panties.

Well, he was not only one who became slack- jawed!

And you begun to notice that you were too compliant. Maybe you could not play this game with the rules, but you wanted to see him as he was perceiving you. Before Kyungsoo could make his next move, you held the hem of his shirt.

“Is this okey?” you echoed his persistent question, raising one eyebrow. His jawbone was tightening, but he did not say anything, the sudden silence was enough to let you hear his gulp and to see his Adam’s apple bobbled. He lifted his arms to help your sloppy hands.

“Take it off if you want.” he said between his teeth. You happily engaged in the task, in a second, his t-shirt joined to your dress on the floor. This was your first time to see his bare chest, Kyungsoo felt a little bit shaky to be honest when you literally examined his upper body with your eyes.

Actually, you were fucking him with your eyes.

“Kyungsoo.”

“Yeah?”

“You are really so pretty.”

“Oho!” his ears turned to red, but he felt like he was over the moon after your very simple words. You were definitely amazed by his beauty as you licked your lips unconsciously. “Shut up, you filthy woman.”

“You were licking my breast, Jesus Christ,” you hissed. “And I am the one who is filthy?!”

“Your comparison is shitty.” he gave you a feverish kiss. “I am worse than you.”

“Ah, that makes everything clear.” you nod, as he followed the direction in his mind with his lips that are fucking velvety, soft, and warm. He grabbed your leg, bending it at the knee and placing your ankle on his shoulder.

What the fuck he was aiming to do?

You remembered what Baekhyun told you during a night that he was drunk and out of his mind, you were immediately panicked but Kyungsoo sensed it. Well, he wanted nothing but pressing his mouth on your cunt, however he knew that it was too early for taking that step.

He did not want you to be freaking out.

“Calm down.” he smiled at you. “I told you we are not going to do anything you do not want.”

He kissed your Achilles and peppered kisses along your calf, he had you go fucking ballistic. You were not sure if you were panicking anymore or not, the heat between your thighs became a literal suffer, and your heart was ready to burst, you could feel there were knots tightening with every second in your stomach.

This bastard was going to make you cry, if he was not going to give you any type of relief.

“Kyungsoo,” your sound was desperate and vulnerable. Finally, he got his name as a fucking moan from you, he learned how it would be, the way of your lips chanting his name over and over again. He could see your panties ruined, you made a mess over there, and to be honest, Kyungsoo never felt so proud in his life like he has been feeling tonight.

You were needy, and all his.

He leaned forward and kissed along your inner thighs, your grip on his hair tightened, he almost laugh with sheer joy.

“It is really cute.” he could not help but teased you. “I mean how wet you are already, even though I just get started.”

“Damn you.”

“If I were you,” he dragged his tongue through the crease, where your thigh met your pelvis. “I would not curse me.”

You bit your tongue to suppress your cry, your fingers weakened, and your legs were twitching.

“I…” you tried to come up with something classy, but Kyungsoo kissed you.

Over there.

“Please!” you cried with the power of your lungs allowed you.

He wanted to give. He wanted to give everything you could ask for. He wanted to follow your instructions, your reactions, and goddamn, it was really so hard for him, he was fighting himself from the beginning, fighting with the utter and absolute need of having you. Your breathing, that sinful noise of you, the violent shudder of your body, all of them was burned into his head, the image of you carved into his eyelids and he was fucking sure you would hunt him for the rest of his life.

He dragged his index finger along your folds, quickly gliding over the wetness and tapped on your clit with the tip of his finger. A bare touch, nothing more nothing less but he had you, you grabbed his wrist, looking at him with big-doe eyes with tears on the edges. Kyungsoo pulled his hand away from your cunt but storing the reaction you gave to his feathery touch.

It was easy to see you wanted him to continue but you were also terrified by the speed.

He tempted to completely pull away, he could not help but feared if he pushed you so hard, enough to make you hate his touch, or him. Kyungsoo’s head was spinning as you were still holding his wrist and panting like his touch burned you.

Actually, it did. Behind every kiss, every touch, everything he did to you, there were his thoughts he never vocalize, not only his lust for you but his love and care for you. That’s why his touches were permanent, they were going to stay on your skin for the rest of your life.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered.

Trust him?

You could laugh, if you were not extremely turned on by him, but there was no capacity in your power storage to do it. Kyungsoo should already know the fact that he was the one and only person you trust unconditionally and irrevocably.

You took his hand and brought it back to yourself, where his fingers brushed over your nipple. Your hands were shaking to death, but Kyungsoo understood what you wanted to show him. You were not going to know how much your answer reassured him.

“Good.”

Damn you and your fucking spells on him, damn you for being the prettiest in his eyes.

He could feel himself soaking through his pants while your leg was still hooked over his shoulder, his hands wandered up to your sides, brushing over your ribs and stomach. He dipped his head again on your tummy and he sprinkled feathery kisses, switching from one side to other side until your brain melted out of your ears, and the only thing you could understand was his lips, memorizing every curve, every line and mark on your skin. His breathes tickled you, you were desperate enough, your instincts were telling you that you had to relieve yourself, you had to find a way, your fingers wandered over to your panties, however Kyungsoo was too fast to notice your every move.

“I do not presume you tried to do this before.” he caught your naughty fingers. “Tell me the truth. Have you ever tried to touch yourself?”

“Oh, fuck off!” you preferred to die instead of answering his question. You could feel the heat on your cheeks, the only thing he had to do was taking a look at your face, and he did that. One look at you was enough to inform him.

He was going to never ever tell you this, but he was more than shocked when he understood you also did not touch yourself before.

“You cannot be serious…” you heard his shocked voice, you covered your face with your hands, he had to take them off your face.

“Isn’t it more precious now?” he pressed your hands on the mattress. “You have really made a mess of yourself without knowing a single thing.”

“Shut your damn mouth.” you were panting, embarrassed to death, but his gaze settled on you, he was really damn hard had him on the verge of shifting against the bed, he had to repress his own moans.

“I do not think so.” a shiver ran down your spine as his rich baritone filled your ears.

“You cannot say that!” you refused his words, trying to refill the air in your lungs.

“Does it turn you on,” he whispered to your ear. “Hearing me state the facts?”

You attempted to kick him, he laughed and grabbed your foot. Then, he pressed his lips to your swollen folds over the fabric of your panties, damn, your thighs clenched around his body. He continued to hold your wrists as your hips jerked beneath his mouth, had you growling from the back of your throat. He was driving you fucking insane.

“You wanted me to teach you.” he lifted his head, enough to make an eye contact with you. “This was how someone should touch you. You have to want relief desperately before their mouth land anywhere near here, they have to touch every inch of your skin, they have to unravel you.”

You were dripping after every word he said, you were registering to every sound he made, you were soaking and aching, your heart was beating against your ribs with a force you could not endure.

“However,” he slide your panties, enough to create a space for himself. “You do not have to think about others, because I do not intend to let you go.”

How could you describe your feelings when you heard those words? How could you tell him you could not stand it if anyone else would do the things he had been doing right now to you? You knew that you could not hand yourself over to anybody but Kyungsoo.

“Unless you want me to let you go.” He released your wrists, you immediately reached to his face, caressing his cheeks, your fingertips stroked his cheekbones.

“I do not think so.” you gave the same answer he gave you just a couple of minutes ago. “If it happens, it happens, but I am not going to seek anyone else.”

Your answer made him want to cry.

He swallowed hard, partially satisfied with your response, damn he would prefer to hear a certain answer without an open door, but he leaned into your touch before he pressed his lips in your palm.

“Good.” he guided your hands into his brown tuffs. “Now, I will say it again, but this is the last one. Tell me to stop if you do not like what I am going to do. You do not need to think if I will be offended or not, I will not.”

Your mouth watered in anticipation, you hummed.

“Words.” he bite your finger.

“Goddamnit, okey!” your eyebrows knitted together with unsatisfaction, but Kyungsoo knew that you were happy at the moment.

And Kyungsoo needed you to be happy as he was fucking tempted to turn you fucking stupid. He wanted to hear your voice, he wanted to give you reasons to imagine everything he could do to you, and he could let you to do him.

He wanted you to cry his name like a carol, until his name would be the only think you could say.

He knew that how he could make you feel good quickly, but he was not an idiot. To be honest, you were more than ready to cum, a few licks and strokes on the right places would finish you. However, Kyungsoo was not ready to let you, not before he could be certain you were going to always come back to him, not before the memories were eternally burned into his head, not before he could engrave his love into your heart, mind, and body.

He circled his tongue around your clit, very carefully. Every lick was fucking calculated, he wanted to hang you just there as he watched your face between your thighs, as he listened your blabbers. Seeing you like this was literally and figuratively so hard for him, however he had no intention to lose his chance with you.

He wanted you for himself. For the rest of his life. Even though he wanted nothing, but take you immediately, he could behave better.

“Goddamnit, please…” you whimpered like you were on the verge of crying. “I.. I want…”

“You want?” he mumbled, blown to your clit and teasing you with his tongue.

His thumb knocked against your bud, neglecting the spot where you craved for him, he just brushed your folds and bud lightly, you had been becoming louder. It was like a circle of pleasure and torture, you were squirming, clenching, and burning.

“Do you want to cum?” he asked fucking bluntly. You never think that Kyungsoo could be shameless like this, devilish at this level, logically you disliked his sudden cockiness but a really sick side of you, the side in the driver seat, found the wicked version of Kyungsoo fucking hot.

You nod your head at a rapid pace, making him chuckled.

“No baby girl.” he turned and hovered over your clit, securing your legs over his shoulder. “Not yet.”

You groaned with a sudden anger, but he shut your voice by sucking your swollen bud, he was growling inside of him when he felt your toes curled, he could not help but he was also grinding his hips into the mattress, your moans were stimulating him so fucking bad. His fingernails dig into your hips, as he held you in your place, but he started to moan too. Every vibration went straight to your clit.

You could not think.

You could not speak.

You have been dragged into a place of euphoria where you had no idea of its presence, however Kyungsoo fed your veins with nothing but pure pleasure. You could feel that the knot in your stomach has been tightening and heating, you were so close to your first orgasm. You could feel it. You could almost name it.

Kyungsoo let you go.

He pulled his mouth off your cunt entirely and lifted his head.

He trapped you on the edge of your fucking first orgasm of your entire life.

“Why?!” you panted, panicking, and looking at him, searching for any possible reason of this sudden cruelty. His face was burning too, his eyes were never blackened before, however your frustration was fucking obvious. “Why d-”

“You are not ready to cum yet.” he cut your plea off, his hands moved from your hips up to your waist.

“Soo, please…” you could not help but whimpered with irritation. Your voice was so bitter, even though you called him as Soo.

“You will.” he kissed your lips gently, carefully destroying everything you felt in your stomach. “When I let you.”

You could be burn, turn into the ashes in the blink of an eye, on this fucking bed, and could he still talk with fucking future tenses?!

You bite his upper lip, enough to irk him to let him know about how much annoyed you were. The corners of his lips went up, he dragged you towards himself and literally manhandled you over his lap, making you to straddle him.

Your eyes widened to their extend as you could feel every part of Kyungsoo while he supported his back with the pillows, while leaning on them.

You. could. feel. every. fucking. move. on. your. lady. parts.

You groaned, a mix of frustration and excitement.

Kyungsoo held your hips and making you grin onto his lap.

“Better, right?” he brushed his nose to yours.

Your lips parted and formed around a silent O-shape; your hands locked on his neck. He pressed on your hips, enough to make you move in a row, but very slow. You started to feel the knot in your stomach again, however, Kyungsoo was fucking slow, and he did not let you to move with your own pace.

Kyungsoo was almost losing his fucking sanity with every friction you cause while you were grinding on top of him. He knew that he had to slow you, otherwise, he was going to not survive. Your taste was still on his tongue, your voice was still on his ears, he could not survive.

“Kyungsoo, please.” you lost the count, you even did not remember how many times you whimpered, you moaned, you asked him to finish his torture. He was keeping you inside this insatiable mix of delight and exasperation, he was insisting to keep you on the edge.

“You can.” your face lit up after his words, but he quickly continued. “Only if can tell me how you should be touched.”

He added more pressure to your hips, wanting to highlight the importance of his words, and making your moves a little bit faster. The stars were dancing in front of your eyes, and he slipped his hand inside of your panties, adding more pressure to your clit.

“Come on, do you want to stay here for all night?”

Kyungsoo wanted to hear what your learned tonight from your mouth even more than relieving himself. His throbbing cock was not an issue to compare with your observations.

He wanted to learn if he could carve his image into your head or not.

And this was his one and only chance. He could not be sure if you were going to let him to do all of these again, even though he said that he never let you go.

He had to know.

“Because I can easily hold you here for the rest of your life.”

You shivered, but you felt like he really could hold you on the edge forever, and you were already a mess.

You gave the only answer you could give.

Very bottom of your heart.

As plain as fuck.

“You have to touch me.” you whispered.

Kyungsoo just looked at you, he was frozen after your answer.

“You are the only one I want.” you were plain as fuck. “I learned that I should be touched by you.”

97 notes · View notes

charliedawn · 3 years

Text

Imagine you have been kidnapped and your favorite slashers decide to come to the rescue

It has been a few days now that none of the slashers have seen or heard from you. They are growing more and more worried and nervous by the day. Finally, thanks to his connections, Five succeeds in finding out that you have been kidnapped by your "old friends".

" I feel weird..Why do I feel weird ?"

Five asks himself and takes a glass of whiskey to calm his nerves. He then looks at his wall and stares at it for a while, hesitantly.

" Am I crazy ?"

He looks back at his drink and, after a moment at looking at his reflection in the amber liquid, swallows all of it in one go.

" You know what ? F*ck it all ! I am crazy !"

He then walks towards the wall and starts tearing it apart with his bare hands to get out the object he had hidden in it. An axe.

" It was supposed to be for a special occasion..but oh well !"

He then walks outside to his neighbor's door : Brahms.

He smashes the door to pieces and Brahms immediately gets up. When he sees that it is Five, he almost groans in annoyance, but stops when he starts thinking as to why he would come to him in the middle of the night.

" Y..Y/N ?"

He asks in a hopeful tone, wondering if the short man had finally found something about her whereabouts. Five finally enters his bedroom and whisper shouts.

" Yes, you idiot ! We're going to search for them ! As the police is obviously too dumb to find them themselves !"

Brahms smiles widely behind his mask and quickly grabs his doll before following Five. However, they are walking in the corridor when they spot two very distinctive orange and red head getting out by the window. The two clowns look up to see the two others. They stay still for a moment before smirking at each other knowingly. There is always a moment where crazy people just have this connection, this moment where they don't even need words to communicate.

" Ah ! Guess what ?! One of my escape plans actually works ! Just thought we would go and save Y/N, but looks like we're not the only ones. So..How about we go search for Freddy and Myers and you go find Jason and Sir Sh*tty the clown ?"

Five nods in agreement before running towards the mute's room, while the Clown Brothers run towards Freddy's room. Once all reunited, they get out by Pennywise's exit that was, in fact, a tunnel in the garden of Freddy. (Freddy being of course aware and even helping Pennywise by pretending to garden when he digs) Five, as well as all of the killers find themselves revigorated as soon as they are out, their powers coming back to them. Penny takes a step forward and starts sniffing the air for your scent. He quickly finds and turns his head towards the rest with a wicked smile.

" Let's go find them."

A few hours later :

" Come on Sam ! I don't want to work for you anymore ! I can't keep pretending that what you're doing is right !"

You yell, wishing to reason with him, even though you were already beaten bloody. But, he doesn't listen to you and only slaps you so hard that you see stars.

" Doesn't mean that you are free, Y/N ! Me and the boys will always track you down, wherever you go ! You are a part of our team. You really thought that just by moving away, you could get away from your family ?!"

You glare up at him before spatting angrily.

" You are not my family.."

However, before he could slap you again, kids' creepy laughs fill the room. Sam gnashes his teeths and looks around with nervousness. You can't help but feel a bit apprehensive yourself.

" Well hello.."

Sam almost lets out a scream when he see one of the clowns get out of the dark. He takes a step back and nearly tumbles over a grave from which, another clown appears.

" So, what was the plan, bad boy ? Were you going to hit them hit them hit them until they forgive you before finally bashing their brains out ?!"

Pennywise asks while accompanying his words with demonstrative gestures. Sam's eyes widen and he quickly gets out a gun and starts shooting in every direction. You close your eyes, wishing for him not to shoot you in the process. He almost feels relieved when he opens one eye and sees them gone. However, when he turns towards you, he sees Jason standing protectively in front of you, a bullet that was destined to you lodged in his chest.

" Not a very wise move, my friend. Should have gone for the head. Would have taken him longer to recover.."

Sam quivers in fear as he sees a third clown get out from around a corner. He then yells with tears in his eyes and snort coming out of his nose pathetically.

" Do all your friends wear f*cking clown costumes ?! Is it your new trick to get rid of me, Y/N ?!"

He doesn't see it, but from behind Jason, you smile and reply.

" You never asked what was my job, a**h*le. I am a nurse at St Louis, and looks like my patients are hungry.."

Suddenly, Sam is turned around by Freddy that gives him a nasty grin.

" You're right about that. I'm f*ching starving."

" B..Boys !"

Sam calls for his gang that his supposed to stay on watch, but then, Freddy gets out their heads. He then show them to Sam with mocking concern.

" You're looking for these fellows ? Sorry, the clowns were a little bit hungry on our way here. Thought we would grab a takeaway first."

Freddy starts laughing histerically at his own joke, which makes Sam fall to the floor, white as a sheet.

" Come on..Come to Papa !"

Sam screams so loud that it makes you wince in pain. He then starts crawling backwards, away from Freddy that is still walking forward while laughing maniacally. However, Freddy suddenly disappears and Sam is left with his heart beating a thousand times a minute. He gets up and sprints towards the exit. He opens the door and falls face to face with Michael. Michael stands in the doorway and tilts his head a bit to side while observing the shaking man.

Sam walks backwards, away from the giant. He doesn't even have any voice to scream with anymore. He is scared beyond anything and starts running the other way. He ends up in the same room as you again and sees Five, trying to untie you. He smirks, thinking to have finally found an escape..He takes Five and puts the head of his gun against his head.

" Stay back or I'll kill the kid !"

The group stops abruptly and Sam smiles widely, thinking he won. But then, Five glares up as him and stomps on his foot with such force that Sam screams in pain again.

" Who are you calling "the kid", idiot ?"

Five gets out of his grip and all of the slashers surround him. Suddenly, Michael and Jason raise some knives they had managed to get their hands on in the kitchen and you watch before whispering :

" They always say to watch out for the quiet ones.."

And with that, the die is cast. You can only watch with a morbid fascination as each one of the slashers seem to attack Sam with such coordination. You're impressed. They seem to work so well together. Even the clowns seem to have fun along each other, whereas normally they would be at each other's throats.

When they're finished and Sam is, indeed, very dead..They all turn their heads towards you, blood splattered all over their faces. They are waiting..For what ? You wonder. Suddenly, you stand up and they all seem to try to guess your next move. But, you don't let any emotion take a hold of you and only sigh before taking out a napkin from your pocket. You look at it for a moment before kneeling in front of Brahms and starting to get the blood out of his face gently. He seems to melt into the kind gesture and closes his eyes appreciatively.

" You can't come back to St Louis in this state..It would not be good for you or for me. You need to take a bath. If you want to escape, I won't stop you. Not that I have the power to anyway.."

Of all the reactions you could have had, this one was the least the slashers had expected. They had expected fear, screams..even disgust. But here you were, washing their faces as if they hadn't just killed someone in front of you. Before anyone could stop him, Penny jumps on you and licks your face happily while you start laughing at his impulsive gesture. However, Pennywise appears behind him and drags him away from you by the collar.

" Jeez kid ! You're happy ! We get it ! That doesn't mean you have to drool all over them !"

Suddenly, Jason, Brahms and Michael look at each other in silent agreement before using their massive size to wrap their arms around all of you.

" Hey ! I never agreed to this hugging bullsh*t !"

Freddy yells in disapproval while trying to wiggle his way out. To everyone's surprise, it's Pennywise that answers him.

" Oh, stop complaining, you old dog ! You're enjoying this as much as the rest of us !"

You can hear Freddy grumbling and can imagine him crossing his arms sulkily. But, he doesn't try to deny. You bite you lip in order not to laugh. No matter how much you should hate/be scared/horrified by what they had done, you couldn't bring yourself to do so.

" Let's go home.."

They all nod in agreement and the three mutes free you. You all start walking towards St Louis. Who knows ? Maybe you are crazy too..

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 1990 x y/n x pennywise 2017 #brahms heelsire x reader #the joker x reader #arthur x reader #michael myers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #number five x reader

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kythed · 4 years

Note

I have a fic request for Kuroo! A childhood friends to lovers situation based off the song Take my Hand by Picture This! (Just a cute song that has been haunting me because Kuroo ❤️)

I have been through and stalked your blog and I love it! I also saw the ficmas prompt list and I’m looking forward to requesting those too!

I hope this is okay and thank you so much! Your stuff is a joy to read! ❤️❤️❤️✨✨✨

take my hand

kuroo tetsurou x reader

hope you enjoy <3

five.

“You’re my best friend,” he tells you, swallowing the heart that keeps straining to burst from his throat, to lay itself at your feet in all its humiliating devotion. “Of course I love you.”

And he does love you, he reassures himself, letting you walk ahead of him. Just not in the way you think he does. He struggles to keep his eyes above your waistline, tearing his gaze from the hem of your skirt and pointedly pinning it to the back of your head, where your hair is loosely tied with a glossy silk ribbon. His efforts succeed for nearly thirty seconds before he again finds his eyes tracing their way down your neck, down your back, down to the arch of your waist and the flare of your hips, relishing the curve of your--

Damn it. He abruptly stops in his tracks, rubbing his eyes until he sees only stars. (Maybe if he rubs his eyes with enough vigor he’ll stop noticing things he shouldn’t notice while looking at his best friend.)

“Tetsu,” you say, turning around with a laugh. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says gruffly, blinking hard.

He’s not fine.

four.

Life is painful when you’re in love with your oldest, dearest friend. Let Kuroo Tetsurou be the first to testify that when you’ve grown up with someone your entire life, when you’ve made the long, tedious trek from diapers to graduation gowns with them, it feels almost sinful to find yourself slipping into daydreams about pressing that person against your wall, about hearing them whisper your name on soft linen sheets, about kissing them breathless and glassy eyed until the sun plunges beneath the horizon with a brazen wink.

He hates himself for staring at you and hoping to catch you staring back. He hates himself for letting your words wash over his head, unheard, in favor of watching the way your lips curve and curl when you speak.

Most of all, he hates himself for loving you so fiercely in a particular way that would surely sour your stomach and send you running.

“I love you too,” you say, waiting for him to catch up and fall into step beside you. You take his hand and lace your fingers with his as you make your way up the street to your house. The windows glow a domestic orange, dimly illuminating the patch of asphalt before your front door.

It’s nearing seven now-- the gentle clinking of silverware and some sort of faint, savory scent from within inform you of dinner’s impending commencement.

“I know,” he says, cracking a crooked smile. You roll your eyes as he brushes a mocking kiss over your knuckles. “I’m hard to hate.”

three.

Most of the summer passes uneventfully, according to Kuroo’s standards. He manages to keep himself in check, even as he spends each and every day with you, dawn til dusk, savoring your presence the way a starving man savors his last ration.

He manages to treat you almost exactly as he’s treated you his entire life-- like a best friend. He tells his silly jokes that make you giggle and groan simultaneously. He pushes you off the pier when you least expect it, howling with laughter as you resurface, sputtering and flinging fiery invective. He shares an earbud with you as he walks downtown with you by his side, arm slung over your shoulder with carefully calculated composure.

He almost makes it to autumn without incident.

The small, hidden moments are what gives him away, though, layered within false nonchalance and easygoing grins like brightly painted matryoshka.

The way his chest constricts almost painfully when you laugh at a pun he’s ad-libbed on the spot, sending a flurry of butterflies freewheeling in the pit of his stomach.

“It really wasn’t that good,” he chuckles, tenderly watching as tears of laughter prick at the corners of your eyes and you grip his forearm in an attempt to steady yourself as giggles rack your body.

“No, it wasn’t,” you agree, struggling to catch your breath. “It was awful, and that’s what made it so funny.”

(He makes about a dozen more puns that day, feeling like he’s won the lottery whenever you so much as smile at his pitiful attempts at wordplay.)

The way his hands tremble when you turn around and ask him to tie your bikini string before you jump into the lake, the way he bites his lip so some horribly incriminating comment about how he really thinks you’d “be better off without the bikini at all” doesn’t slip out from his mouth.

“Thanks Tetsu,” you chirp after he ties the string around the back of your neck in a neat double-knot. You give him a wink and take off towards the water, kicking up sand in the process. “Last one in buys lunch!”

(He was already planning on paying anyways.)

The way he sits up a little straighter when you lean over and slip a hand under his arms to press ‘skip’ on his phone while you listen to his playlist-- you’re so close he can smell your lip balm.

“Sorry,” you say, smiling apologetically. “I don’t really like that band.”

(Later that evening, Kuroo goes through his Spotify and deletes every single song from that band he has on all of his playlists.)

Yes, he manages to keep himself in check outwardly. But inside, he can feel himself digging his grave a little deeper with each passing day. He watches the sands of summer run through his fingers with the dread of a man counting down the days to his funeral.

He just knows that one of these days he’s going to slip.

two.

He’s right, of course. There’s only so much emotional torment one person can humanly endure. It’s just that he’s hoping he can extinguish this inconvenient, one-sided flame before August comes around. Maybe then everything can go back to normal, whatever normal might entail.

Needless to say, Kuroo’s hopes are dashed before summer comes to a close.

It’s a sticky July evening when you and he drive out to an empty parking lot at the edge of town, a blanket and an old transistor radio in tow. You’re wearing a pale yellow sundress that falls to just above your knees-- he’s glad it’s not any shorter, and that the breeze isn’t quite strong enough to lift your hem.

“I think I can see Orion’s belt,” you say, pointing towards somewhere far into the cosmos. Kuroo squints, trying to follow your finger.

“I don’t think that’s Orion,” he says. “Looks like a cat to me.”

The two of you are sitting on a blanket spread across the hood of his car, craning your necks to make out vague shapes in the stars. Between you, slow, muffled music trickles out from the radio’s small speakers, some sort of vintage tune from the forties.

“How in the world are you seeing a cat?” You shake your head, giving him a hard poke on the shoulder. “Looks more like a swarm of astral bees than anything.”

“Astral bees,” he repeats with a laugh. “Laziest constellation interpretation I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s not lazy,” you protest. “It’s accurate.”

Kuroo just smiles and shrugs, sneaking a glance at you. Your face is bathed in milky starlight, eyes wide as you peer up at the cloudless sky with a blend of wonder and appreciation. There’s some competition, but he thinks this might be the prettiest you’ve ever looked in a single moment.

As if you can feel his stare, you turn to catch his gaze. A gentle smile breaks onto your face, and you absentmindedly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with the endearing shyness of a schoolgirl. “What is it?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, mirroring your grin. “You just… look nice right now.”

“No, seriously,” you laugh disbelievingly. “Is there something on my face?”

“I am being serious,” Kuroo insists, fidgeting with the blanket beneath his palms. “You look good. Yellow suits you.”

You flush, glancing down at your dress. You bought it two summers back, and he’s seen you in it a million times before. This is the first summer where he’s really seen you, though. “Well, thank you. It’s a warm night, so I figured I was better off in a dress than pants.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, breaking eye contact to squint up at the stars. He grins and points, finger trembling slightly. “I think I can see where you’re coming from, with the bees.”

one.

A staticky, syrupy waltz comes on the radio, bleeding into the cracks in the comfortable silence. You sigh contentedly, leaning back onto the windshield. “I like this song. It’s… nostalgic.”

Kuroo cocks an eyebrow at you. “You’ve heard this before?”

“No,” you laugh, biting the inside of your cheek. “But it reminds me of times gone by, you know? Like, this is the sort of music I imagine playing when a soldier reunites with his wife after the war.”

“When he comes running out of the train and drops his bags on the platform,” Kuroo continues, watching you carefully, “only to sweep his girl off her feet and spin her around wildly.”

You nod, sneaking a glance at him. “You really know me that well, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes crinkling with humor. “But I get it, too. It has that old fashioned romance thing goin’ on.”

“Mhm,” you agree. You reach over and fiddle with the radio’s volume, turning it up just enough to round out the sound completely.

Kuroo sits for a moment, watching you close your eyes and hum along to the music. Then, a sudden boldness taking the reins, he hops off the hood and walks over to you, extending his hand. “Take it.”

“What?”

“Take my hand,” he insists, so you do, gingerly placing your palm atop his. “We’re going to dance.”

“Oh, no,” you laugh, nonetheless letting him help you down from the car and resting a hand on his shoulder. He lightly places his own on your waist, leading you out into the parking lot. “You know I can’t dance.”

“I can’t either,” he reminds you. “But I want to dance with you right now.”

As you begin to sway slightly to the music, Kuroo pulls you a little closer to his chest, letting his chin brush the top of your head. “Why are you into that whole idea?”

“What idea?” you ask quietly, letting him lead you in slow circles around the lot.

“The idea of an old fashioned love.”

“Oh,” you say, laughing as Kuroo spins you in his arms, catching you before you stumble. “I’m not sure… maybe because it seems more constant than love today. Like, today, if you tell someone you love them, it’s a compliment, not a promise. But back then, it was a vow. It meant something.”

Kuroo swallows, looking down at you. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, threatening to burst out of his temples. I’m about to do something I might regret.

zero.

“I need you to do something for me,” he says, voice low and thick with caution. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Please,” he says, voice breaking. He knows that if he doesn’t do this now, he never will. You look beautiful to him in this moment, dancing with him in the empty parking lot to the faint melody of an old waltz. Your eyes glisten with life, your lips gently parted, hair slightly curling over your cheeks.

You roll your eyes once but nonetheless close them obediently, relying a little more on his arms to steady you. He swallows. “Okay. So, imagine we’re living in the 1940s.”

“Okay,” you say, smiling slightly. “I’m imagining.”

“Imagine I enlisted in the war, and I just got back home. Imagine you’re waiting for me at the train station.”

“Mhmm,” you say, trying your best to envision the platform. “You look good in that uniform, Tetsu.”

He chuckles. “I look good in anything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, squeezing his hand. “Get on with it.”

“Imagine I come sprinting out from the train and you’re waiting there with open arms. This song is playing on the platform speakers. I ask you to dance just like we are now.” Kuroo watches you grin, feeling his heart flutter. “Then, imagine I tell you something.”

Unconsciously, you shift closer to him, almost pressing your body flush to his. A breath hitches in his throat. “What do you tell me?”

He leans down, brushes his lips against your ear. “I love you.”

You open your eyes, head cocked, slight confusion cloaking your features. “You mean, like…?”

Kuroo shakes his head. “No. I mean, like, I love you. Not just in a friend way. In that old fashioned way you were talking about. I love everything about you. I’m in love with everything about you.”

“Tetsu…” you breathe, searching his face. He gazes down at you seriously, not a trace of humor tainting his stare. He takes a deep breath.

“I love the way your hair falls in the summer. I love your stupid, annoying laugh. I love how your hand fits in mine. I love the way you rant about anything and everything and expect me to listen, and I do because I can’t help but get excited about what you get excited about. I love you like a soldier loves his wife,” he says, the words flowing out like a river bursting from a dam. “I love you so much it hurts, and it scares me, and I’m sorry if this ruins stuff between us, but I just had to--”

“Shut up.”

He blinks, mouth gaping. “I-- what?”

“I said,” you whisper, gripping the back of his neck and guiding his face down to yours. “Shut up, Tetsu. You talk too much.”

Then suddenly you’re kissing him, and he can’t believe it, but he kisses you back like it’s what he was born to do. He lets you crash your lips into his and watches as shooting stars burst forth and the planets align. Somehow, your hands find their way up into his hair, tangling themselves in his dark locks, and his own travel down to your lower back, pulling you as close as humanly possible, so tightly he never wants to let go. He revels in the warmth of your skin, the icy, tingly sensation of your lips, and when you pull back, it’s all he can do to refrain from pulling you right back in again.

There’s a brief silence. His lips are swollen, his lungs are devoid of air. “I… wow. Just, wow.”

You grin wickedly, slipping your hand into his. “I’ve been waiting to do that for a while now.”

“You have?” he asks, eyes wide in disbelief. “I didn’t notice.”

“Of course you didn’t,” you laugh. “You were too worried about not letting me notice you staring at my ass every chance you got.”

Kuroo flushes but gives a sheepish smile, massaging the back of his neck. “You know, I really thought I was being smooth about it.”

As it turns out, you love him back. And not just in the best friend way. You love everything about him, his stupid jokes, his loud, booming laugh, his teasing, his smile, his successes and his failures. You love how your hand fits in his. You love that it took him years and years to admit to himself that he loved you, too.

Kuroo Tetsurou may not be the smoothest guy in the world, but he’s certainly the only one you want. And you’re certainly the only one he wants.

And that’s really the most you could ever ask for.

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsurou headcanons #kuroo imagines #kuroo tetsurō x reader #kuroo scenarios #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you #friends to lovers

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abarbaricyalp · 3 years

Photo

@sambuckylibrary

SamBucky Halloween Prompt 1: Urban Legends

High School AU, spooky ghost stories and dead girl’s revenge

Rated G: mild cursing (AO3 link in the notes)

Haunt me, baby, one more time

“Legend says that every 17 years, the body of Lyla Ray comes back from the dead, looking for her next victim,” Sam whispered severely. Bucky’s attention was rapt on him, unblinking and fully engaged. “She preys on beautiful young men, the kind that killed her all those years ago. And she cuts their hearts out to eat it.”

“That’s a little on the nose,” Bucky breathed back, but his gaze didn’t waver. The bottom of Sam’s truck bed was starting to get uncomfortable, even with all the blankets he and Bucky had piled into it and Louisiana was hot on October 28th, so the blanket thrown over their heads--turning them into one lopsided ghost to anyone who happened to drive by and look--was getting unbearable.

“Do you want to go see where her body is?” Sam asked.

“I thought you couldn't bury people so close to the coast.”

“She’s buried,” Sam assured. “So far down underground so that maybe she won’t dig her way out.”

Bucky shivered involuntarily and Sam grinned. “How long ago was her last supposed appearance?” he asked.

“A year after we were born.”

Bucky let out a breath of realization. “I see. So she’s supposed to come back tonight,” he said.

“Exactly. If we hurry, we can see her come up.”

“Why would you want to?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted the full Louisiana experience while you were stuck down here?”

“Did I say stuck?” Bucky asked, reaching over to cup Sam’s cheek before pulling him into a slow kiss. “I’m sure I didn’t mean stuck.”

Sam grinned against his mouth, a little thankful for the blanket over them since they were parked just off the road. Then again, Halloween always made him feel invincible, so he probably would’ve let Bucky kiss him with or without the blanket.

He let Bucky distract him up until Bucky tried to lay him out over the blankets--later, definitely later--at which point he pushed him back. “Come on, you have to come with me,” he said, pulling on Bucky’s hands.

Bucky sighed like it was the last thing he wanted to do. Maybe it was. Bucky was the biggest skeptic Sam had ever met. Most kids new to the state were wide eyed and excited about the hundred billion ghost stories that permeated every street and building. Not Bucky Barnes though. He couldn’t be tasked to believe in any story about any monster or ghost or legend. Nothing phased him. Not any of the ghost tours Sam had dragged him to, not the haunted houses that had crept up in the weeks leading to Halloween, not the voodoo or tarot shops that always sent a thrill of excitement down Sam’s spine. Bucky just didn’t buy any of it, which made him even more enchanting to Sam’s stupid heart. Opposites attract and all that.

Bucky stood up, knocking the blanket away, and hauled Sam with him before climbing over the edge of the truck and waiting for Sam to do the same. By design, they were already pretty near the cemetery and it was getting dark, so Sam let his fingers graze over the back of Bucky’s hand until Bucky tangled them together.

“Y’know,” Sam said after a few steps, “you’re just like a Layla Ray victim.”

“Am I?” Bucky amused. “How do you reckon?”

“Oh come on. You’re a total pretty boy. Total heartbreaker.”

“Samuel Thomas, have I broken your heart?” Bucky asked in mock affront.

The thought of this thing between them maybe not being permanent broke Sam’s heart every damn day, actually. And Bucky being adamant about going back to New York for college was devastating too. “Not me. But I know you got a string behind you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and knocked their hands against Sam’s thigh softly. “You’re terrible to me. You’re like her victims. You’re breakin’ my heart right now as we speak. And with eyes like that? A mouth like that? Total pretty boy too.”

Sam laughed and leaned into Bucky’s side. “Now you’re just flattering.”

“Nah, it’s true. I’ve heard the girls at school talk about you. All of Sarah’s friends are obsessed with you. Becca thinks you’re the cutest.”

“They’re freshmen. They hardly have taste yet. Sarah’s friends are just happy I pay attention to them in the hallways.”

“Well, Sarah’s friends like you a lot more than Becca’s friends have ever liked me,” Bucky said. “Which has to count for something.”

“Nah, ‘cause you’re an asshole. I totally get where those girls are coming from.”

Bucky glanced down the street before hauling Sam into a kiss that sent Sam’s head spinning through the dark night. “You think assholes can kiss like that, Wilson?”

Sam still couldn’t think but he nodded anyway because being contrary to Bucky was second nature.

Bucky snorted and let go of Sam’s waist. “Then I’m an asshole who likes you a whole lot. Even if you’re, like, super mean to me all the time.”

“You like it,” Sam said and hurried to catch back up to Bucky. “Here, it’s just up ahead.”

“Yeah, I might’ve missed the gate,” Bucky agreed sarcastically.

“We can be a little extravagant,” Sam said, looking up at the metal monstrosity, a remnant of the past, holding all the secrets of the past too. “Gotta keep the ghosts inside, y’know.”

“From what I hear, you’re not very good at that part.”

Maybe not. “Layla Ray isn’t a ghost, she’s a Revenant.”

“She’s a bear?” Bucky asked, just to be obtuse.

“You’re such an asshole,” Sam repeated and pulled him into the cemetery. “She’s buried towards the back, ‘cause she’s so old, y’know. And so that maybe she’ll be confused while she’s trying to get out.”

“Wait a second, this girl has been eating hearts for centuries now and she’s been buried underground for most of the time this cemetery’s been around to keep her buried, but actually it’s not working since she’s been wandering around?”

“That’s not the point,” Sam said, waving his hand in the air. “The point is the story.”

“I get the story. I’m just saying, stick to a reason why she’s buried instead of cremated or something.”

“She’s buried because that’s how the story works.”

“You know, she ought to come after you, usin’ her name and tragic end to scare new kids at your school.”

“We used to come out here all the time when we were kids,” Sam said. “The worst trouble I ever got in was when I brought Sarah with me once and dragged a stick down her arm while she was looking at the gravestone.”

Bucky snorted. “And I’m the asshole.”

“I’ve been waiting for seventeen years for this. Just let me have this one night.”

“If this is a once in seventeen years event, why ain’t no one else out here?” Bucky asked.

“I dunno, guess you grow out of it,” Sam said with a shrug. “Or maybe no one wants to risk being the guy who gets his heart eaten.”

“Right. Or you just made this up to get me out here all alone. Maybe you’re actually the ghost.”

“Am I that unbelievable?” Sam teased. He leaned up and stole another kiss before weaving Bucky to the back of the cemetery. He made sure to avoid walking over any plots that happened to be in the ground, though there weren’t many. Finally, nearer to the back fence, they came to a stop in front of a gravestone that read Layla George Ray 1796-1813 Beloved Daughter.

“I hate looking at tombstones for people our age,” Bucky said, reaching out to run his fingers over the lettering of Layla’s name.

“That’s almost touching, Barnes,” Sam said.

Bucky crouched down to run his hand over the even, cut grass that adorned the top of the grave. “No fresh dirt. Guess your revenant isn’t so hungry tonight,” he said, tossing a grin over his shoulder. “Even with two eligible guys standing around.”

Suddenly a woman’s scream pierced through the night and Bucky sprawled back on his ass, scrambling away without ever being able to get his feet under him.

Sam wrapped an arm around his shoulders when they finally collided and then sank down himself, cackling so hard he could barely breathe.

“Oh my God, Barnes,” he gasped. “Your face!”

“Sam!” Bucky cried. “Didn’t you fucking hear that? What was that?”

Sam fell onto his back, clutching at his ribs, knees bent up to his chest. It didn’t help retain any air, but it happened anyway. “Jesus, look at you,” he wheezed and buried his face in his own arm. “You really thought--” He wheezed some more and real tears slipped out from his eyes.

“What?” Bucky asked, still panting, still ready to bolt, but now more confused than terrified. “What are you talking about?”

Sam uncurled himself and held out his phone. The scream pierced through the air again and cut off abruptly when Sam silenced it. “You thought-- You really thought a dead girl was coming out of her grave to eat your heart.”

“You’re a fucking bastard,” Bucky snapped, finally catching up to what Sam had done. He sat back heavily on the ground and Sam broke out in new laughter.

“Your face, Barnes! You were so fucking scared.”

“I thought someone was dying, Wilson.”

“You thought someone was coming back from the dead,” Sam corrected.

“I hate you. I hope you do get haunted.”

“You can’t hope for what you don’t believe in,” Sam pointed out.

“I can hope for what you believe in. And I hope all sorts of creepy shit haunts your ass for years. I hope you don’t sleep for ages.”

“Oh come on,” Sam said with a smug smirk. “You don’t mean that. You love cuddling with me when you think I’m asleep.”

Bucky glared balefully at him. “Cuddling with you when you’re awake is just as fine by me.”

“Besides, if I get haunted, that ghostie’s gonna be all up in your business too,” he pointed out. Finally, he pushed himself to his feet and offered his hand down to Bucky. “Come on, baby. I’ll make it up to you.”

Bucky followed the long line of his arm up to Sam’s face before reaching for his hand and standing as well. “That a promise, Wilson?”

“Well, those blankets weren’t just for story time, y’know.”

“I like the sound of that. Keep on talking.” Bucky closed his fingers around Sam’s and Sam took it as the reconciliation it was. Together, they started for the front gate again.

Behind them, others talked too.

#sambuckyhalloween2021 #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky fanfic #sambucky fanfiction #captain america #winter soldier #the falcon #the falcon and the winter soldier #writing #bingo

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moonlit-han · 4 years

Text

part v: true north

genre: college au, neighbor au; fluff, humor, slow burn pairing: 3racha x femme reader in poly relationship part word count: 9.2k part warnings: 18+ content, suggestive, explicit language, mild angst, alcohol consumption request: no a/n: this in no way reflects the actions of stray kids’ bang chan, seo changbin, or han jisung. it is a work of fiction. !! important !!: if you are under 18 years of age, you may not read this series. the author requests that readers be mindful that there is 18+ content in this piece and read only if age appropriate. thank you. and, remember to always get continued and enthusiastic consent as you practice safe sexual habits.

~ read other parts first! ~

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

“So,” Jisung said evenly, “when exactly were you going to tell me that you’re seeing Y/N?”

Facing him on the sofa, one leg tucked under the other, Chan let out a surprised huff of air. “I- Why do you care? I thought you were in an open relationship?”

“But that doesn’t mean we don’t tell each other when we’re dating someone new!” Jisung retorted, trying to keep his voice even.

Chan’s eyes widened. “I just assumed she would’ve told you…”

“She didn’t,” Jisung said flatly.

Silence descended for a full three minutes, the tension growing by the second, as both young men refused to speak. Jisung struggled to keep his features fairly neutral, even as he seethed, because, as much as he admired Chan and loved their friendship, his friend was a real bastard when he wanted to be.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Jisung.” Chan’s tone was flippant as he continued to stare at the ceiling. “Take it up with Y/N.”

“What?” Jisung demanded incredulously. He couldn’t believe Chan could be so… So cold.

“I said—“

“I know what you said,” Jisung interrupted, “but I can’t believe you’d betray our friendship like this!”

“Betray our friendship?” Chan ran a hand through his hair. “What the hell, Jisung? It’s not like we’ve told each other about relationships in the past?”

Jisung scoffed. “What relationships, Chan? You haven’t had time to so much as have a quick fuck, let alone an actual relationship.”

“Thanks, Jisung. That’s real nice.”

“It’s not like I’m wrong!” Jisung shot to his feet and pushed the coffee table further into the room with his boot, unable to sit still anymore.

“That doesn’t mean you can insult me.” Chan countered, also rising, arms crossed.

“Likewise, Chan,” Jisung spat, gesticulating wildly. “And just by not telling me, you’ve insulted our friendship.”

“Great!” Chan exclaimed, keeping his distance at the other end of the couch. “I’ve gone and insulted our friendship. Why is this my fault all of a sudden? What about Y/N? Aren’t you going to acknowledge that some of this is on her?”

Jisung spluttered. “Yeah, fine. It is. But you’re my best friend and you should’ve told me, especially since you seem to think you and she are this great power couple or something!”

“I do not!”

“Then why’d you give her that necklace, huh?”

“Jisung,” Chan said placatingly, holding his hands out like he’d calm a wild animal, “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I do care about Y/N.”

Jisung fought not to roll his eyes.

“I really like her,” Chan continued. “She’s just— I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like I’ve been spinning out of focus, away from my center. And then she just appears in my life one day, and suddenly I know where I am again.” He paused to take a breath, as if steeling himself. “Being with her feels amazing.”

Jisung finally did lose control of his expression, sneering as he rolled his eyes.

“Come on, that’s not what I meant,” Chan said flatly. “I’m talking about her personality, her laugh, her mind, everything, Jisung. You know what it’s like, I know you do.” Jisung’s lips pressed together in a tight line, but he remained silent as Chan sat down on the sofa again. “She’s so easy to be around, to spend time with. I honestly feel I’ve been waiting for something all my life and now I’ve found it—I’ve found her.”

Jisung sighed and acquiesced to perching on the arm of his sofa, if not fully sitting again. “Fine. I know what you mean about being drawn to her.” Chan looked like he was about to crow. “But still, you could’ve said something, man.”

“I wanted to, but didn’t know how!” Chan blurted. “And I thought… Since I gave her the necklace and she wore it… But she didn’t tell you?”

“Nope, she hasn’t said a thing, besides saying that she was going on dates. Which were casual. So she didn’t need to tell me anything else.” Jisung tried not to smirk. “You might want to check how serious she thinks it is with you,” he said in mock warning.

Chan seemed to deflate like a balloon losing air, but rose to his feet again nevertheless. Jisung just watched, his heart pounding. “Whatever, Jisung,” Chan mumbled as he stopped halfway across the room, then let himself out. “Bye.”

Jisung didn’t move from where he’d collapsed on the couch for a long time, thinking about everything that had just happened. Sure, he probably shouldn’t have said something so inflammatory to Chan, but that didn’t excuse the facts of the situation. But then again…

Over the past hour, it was as if every feeling of inadequacy, every insecurity had clawed their way out of the deep, mental grave Jisung had worked so hard to dig for them. Knowing that Chan—his best friend, the man he looked up to as a musician and as a person—was seeing you in some capacity made him doubt his own worth. How could he compare to the paradigm that was Bang Chan? Well, maybe not a paradigm, but he was certainly admirable. Jisung still couldn't believe he was dating someone so wonderful as you, so Chan dating you felt too much like him winning some competition of which Jisung hadn’t even known he was a part. Just the thought made him feel like vines were slithering under his skin, constricting him from within. He wondered if Changbin knew, since he lived with Chan, and what he thought if he did.

Jisung couldn’t help thinking that you wearing Chan’s necklace when neither he nor Changbin had given you anything like that felt like Chan was staking his claim. He knew it sounded ridiculous, like Chan was some wolf unable to control his instincts, but you were wearing jewelry that Jisung had seen around his friend’s neck for the past three years, without fail, which he knew meant the world to Chan. So, did that mean that you meant the world to Chan? That you were Chan’s more than his and Changbin’s, even though they were both actually dating you and Chan was, as far as he knew, simply seeing you casually? You hadn’t told him about seeing Chan, so it couldn’t be that serious, right? But that necklace… Seeing it on your neck made your tie with Chan seem more, well, real than his own.

Chan’s insistence that you were the one for him didn’t soothe Jisung’s anxiety, either. And, the fact that Jisung suspected he felt something similar made it all more complicated. He sighed and held his head in his hands, rubbing his temples as his elbows dug into his knees slightly more painfully than he would have liked, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to sleep or do something mindless, to not worry about his relationships or anything else. With a whining groan, Jisung stood and made his way to his bedroom. Maybe some alone time and a nap would help.

↠↞

You kissed Jisung goodbye as he and Chan headed next door, and Changbin tried not to look too forlorn at not being able to kiss Jisung, too. He didn’t much like how there were starting to be more and more secrets between the four of you. When you came back into the kitchen from retrieving your cardigan from exactly where you thought it was—not in the laundry as Chan had assumed—Changbin was washing the mixing bowls you’d used, trying not to splash water all over your kitchen and himself (again). You joined him next to the sink, drying whatever he handed you and putting it away.

Once the last fork had been washed and returned to live among its pointy brethren, the two of you made your way into through the living room where the tins of cookies still sat on the coffee table.

“How mad do you think Jisung would be if I ate all the chocolate chip cookies?” Changbin asked, grinning as he reached for a tin.

“Very,” you replied, knowing your boyfriend wouldn’t really eat the cookies Jisung had already claimed for himself. “But you should still give me one of those.”

Changbin opened the tin and gave you two before heading toward the bedroom.

Kicking off your shoes, you flopped onto the bed next to Changbin, slinging an arm around his shoulders to run your fingers through his hair. He rested his hand on your thigh, gently massaging your muscles—it was nothing erotic, just comforting. The dull light of the winter afternoon filtered through your curtains, catching the two silver rings Changbin had started wearing.

“So,” Changbin began, “how was your week? I’m sorry I’ve been so busy and haven’t been able to talk to you as much.” He leaned over and kissed your cheek, making you smile softly.

“No, no, no! Babe, don’t worry about it! Eh, my week was okay,” you shrugged, now twisting a lock of hair at the base of Changbin’s neck between two fingers. “I got cleared for graduation, so that’s something. But I still have way too much to do before spring break.” You sighed, letting your head sink further into your nest of pillows as you turned to Changbin. “Weren’t you in the studio a bunch this week?”

A sly look crept over Changbin’s countenance as he said, “As a matter of fact…”

You waited a beat for him to continue and when he didn’t you prompted: “Yes?”

“I was in the studio this week—most nights, actually.” Changbin made to rise. “Here, I’ll be right back.”

Before Changbin could return to the bedroom, you snatched one of the cookies he’d left on the bedside table; after all, why should you eat one of your own and have one cookie fewer for later when you could just steal one of your boyfriend’s? It was so delicious that you thought that whoever had written the recipe for these cookies was a genius and deserved a medal. As Changbin walked back into the room, you tried not to look too guilty as you licked the crumbs from your lips. He looked from you to the bedside table and back again.

“Y/N, I— Are you eating one of my cookies?” Changbin said in mock outrage, coming over to your side of the bed and standing over you.

You just stared up at the ceiling, feigning innocence. Changbin leaned down and caught your lips with his, kissing you so thoroughly that you were left breathless. When he straightened, you noticed that your pocket felt one cookie lighter. Sure enough, he’d stolen one of your cookies while he’d been kissing you.

“You little shit!” you cried, quickly sitting up and playfully jabbing Changbin in the stomach, causing him to let out a huff of air.

“Well, you stole one of mine, so it’s only fair,” he said loftily, popping the cookie into his mouth. All you could do was shake your head.

“Close your eyes, love,” Changbin said, and you made a noise of confusion. “Just wait a minute and you’ll know.”

You heard some strangely slithery noises, then felt something come to rest on your bed that was not your boyfriend. Once he’d climbed back up onto the bed and laid down beside you, he gently pulled your hands down from your eyes. “It’s a gift, love.”

The first thing you saw was your old boombox at the end of your bed, an extension chord trailing from it and across the room. In front of you on the bed was a small, rectangular package that looked very familiar….

“Did you…? Is that what I think it is?” you asked, hoping your guess was correct.

“How about you open it, love,” Changbin said, smiling.

You held the gift in your hand, then tore the brown paper from it to reveal a cassette tape.

For Y/N, the most beautiful and wonderful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. Enjoy, love ♡

“A mixtape,” you breathed, turning it over in your hands. “So this is what you were working on this week, babe?”

“Mhmmm,” Changbin hummed, nuzzling your neck. “I hope you love it.”

“I know I will, babe. Let’s listen to it now!” you said excitedly, and leaned forward to slip the cassette into the slot on the boombox, then pressed Play. Changbin held out his arms and you leaned against him, sinking into his chest. As always, Changbin arms were strong and warm around you as the mixtape began to play.

The first song was slow and mellow, setting the mood for the rest of the mixtape and how Changbin felt about you. You’d always known that he had a romantic nature and he’d demonstrated that many times, but the way he described his feelings for you in the lyrics he’d written… You couldn’t help the tears that began to tumble down your cheeks. As you listened to the mixtape in silence, breaking it only with laughs or sighs of deep emotion, you were stunned by the depth of emotion.

“Oh Changbin,” you murmured, turning in his arms to caress his cheek, “you have no idea how much this means to me.” Your hands twined behind Changbin’s neck as you brought your lips to his, lingering at the corner of his mouth before you kissed along his jaw up to his ear. “I feel just the same,” you whispered, and Changbin’s quick intake of breath felt like the fluttering of a bird’s wings against your chest.

“Love, oh love,” Changbin breathed as he drew you down onto the pillows, his body covering yours like a shield. “I’d hoped you did.”

Just then, raised voices came from Jisung’s apartment. You and Changbin looked at each other, wide-eyed. It was unusual for both Jisung and Chan to argue, let alone yell, so something must truly be wrong.

“Should we check on them?” you asked, coming out of your music-induced haze. “That doesn’t sound good…”

“I think they’ll be okay,” Changbin replied, sighing and staring up at the ceiling. He had a feeling he knew what the argument was about, but he wasn’t going to say anything. Not yet, at least. He hoped nothing would happen to 3racha because of the conflict, but he didn’t recall Jisung mentioning anything to him.

“Are you sure?” you prodded, hoping it had nothing to do with you.

“Yeah, I’m sure we’ll hear about it at some point.” Changbin tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Shall we get back to kissing, then?”

You laughed and nodded, craning your neck to catch Changbin’s lips with yours.

The next morning—Sunday morning—Changbin awoke slowly and simply laid there, admiring you the way the sunlight seemed to shimmer over your hair like quicksilver. He was struck by how lucky he was to be with you, to know you, to-

“Mmmmm, ‘morning, baby,” you mumbled, rolling over to snuggle into Changbin’s chest—his bare skin was warm and soft, the perfect counterpoint to the cool air of the room. He kissed your hair, wrapping an arm around and shifting so you could fit yourself against the curve of his body.

After a few minutes of gently stroking your back, following the same lines he’d frantically raked nails down the night before, Changbin murmured, “Y/N, love . . . pancakes.” You giggled softly at your boyfriend’s seemingly one-track mind—he’d been exclaiming his joy of making pancakes even before you’d gone to bed.

“Y/N….” Changbin repeated, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck and sending little shivers down your spine. You threw a leg over his, bringing your bodies even closer and noting that pancakes were not the only things Changbin desired. Still not answering, you scrunched your nose against his chest and began to leave little kisses along the lines of his muscles.

“Mmmm?”

“Love, Jisung’s going to be here soon and we should make pancakes so we can all have breakfast.”

You moved your hand from just under your breastbone to between you and Changbin. He moaned as your fingers slid over him, and, suddenly, pancakes were all but forgotten. Changbin pressed himself into your hand as he hardened under your touch, and he began to kiss along your neck, nipping at the skin. You traced the very tip of him with a finger, then ran your hand up and down, still with the same lazy slowness. Changbin’s hands moved to grip your ass, squeezing and placing you on top of him as he rolled onto his back.

Now that you were pressed firmly to Changbin, the obvious hardness of him teased you to no end. His hands still on your ass, gently massaging, your boyfriend pulled you further up his body so that you were chest-to-chest and nearly nose-to-nose. Your lips met, soft and gentle, and you kissed languidly; Changbin swiped his tongue along the seam of your mouth, slipping inside to explore each and every hollow, plane, and crevice of your teeth, your tongue, your lips.

Propping yourself up a little, you sighed as the brush of your skin against his sent pleasurable shivers down your spine. “Baby, please,” you breathed against Changbin’s lips as you slid your body up and down over his, imitating the motion you craved, hungrily kissing him.

“I don’t have a condom on, love,” Changbin said, a laugh coloring his voice. “I—“

“I’m on the pill, Changbin, you know that. And I know that you’re incredibly healthy.” You nipped at his jaw, then begged again. “Please.”

“Y/N, love,” Changbin said not unkindly, “I’m not taking any risks, okay?” He reached out to your bedside table, hand scrabbling a little, then came up with the little foil square.

“You’re right—I just got carried away,” you said, conceding.

“It’s okay, love, really.”

Sighing, you sat back on Changbin’s thighs as he slid the condom on, then stroked him so sweetly and lovingly that he rose and swelled immediately—you may have licked your lips a little. Changbin’s moans at your ministrations were soft, like the sigh of the wind through a field of wheat.

You leaned forward to kiss Changbin and you groaned with pleasure as you joined together, your boyfriend letting you slowly adjust. Changbin’s hands came up to hold your breasts, thumbs flicking over them as you continued to kiss, and you rolled your hips, luxuriating in the sensation of him inside you.

It was utterly exquisite.

As you kissed and kissed, sharing breaths and moans of pleasure, you moved together like the ebb and flow of the sea. The little words of encouragement and affection you shared seemed to bare your innermost feelings through their simplicity. Everything was slow and easy, just enjoying the feel of each other—your body felt tight and utterly molten at the same time, your core turned white-hot with desire.

Shifting so Changbin could find that perfect spot, you kissed along his neck, tasting the fine sheen of sweat that had begun to form on his skin. The new angle drove, even pulled, Changbin into you, and his brows knit as little groans low in his throat escaped his lips. Your pleasure began to slide down your spine like the inexorable glide of a glacier, gathering more and more power with every inch.

And finally, the pulsing deep inside seeming to reverberate through your bones, and all you could do was cling to Changbin as you gasped and cried out. The sense of overwhelming bliss was so intense that you thought you would surely cry. Changbin did not slow in his pace, even as you came down from that wondrous high, until his hips stuttered and with a few quick thrusts that forced moaning whines from you, he, too, found his release.

He held you to him, the warmth of your bodies nearly melding you together as your body seemed to refuse to relinquish its hold around him. Once both of you had regained your breath, you once again became two separate people and helped clean each other off.

Cuddling among your nest of pillows, you contented yourself with tracing the planes of Changbin’s stomach as he lazily ran a finger up and down your bicep. Your foreheads nearly touched on the pillow, and when your eyes met from time to time, your smiles were luminous. As always, with Changbin, you felt absolutely serene.

With a jolt, you woke from a light doze next to Changbin and realized that if you didn’t get out of bed right at that moment, there was no way you’d ever get up. Maybe you’d tell Jisung to join the two of you in bed and make a lazy day of it… Just as you were reaching for your phone, though, Changbin slid out of bed and stood with his hands on his hips; you looked up guiltily at him.

“Pancakes,” was all Changbin said.

It was now a tradition for Jisung and Changbin to come over to your apartment on Sunday mornings for pancakes, tea, and more cuddling and soft kisses than you knew what to do with. As Changbin helped watch the pancakes, you could tell something was on his mind, but knew that he’d say something if it was that important. You pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder before finding a spoon with which to scrape the pancake batter down the sides of the bowl.

A moment later, Jisung ambled into the kitchen, hair still slightly disheveled from sleep, his arms entirely swallowed by the hoodie he was wearing. “Hey, babe,” he said, coming over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder. “These smell delicious!” He kissed your cheek, and you hummed in reply, not needing words to express your happiness in seeing him or having his arms around you.

You took the spatula from Changbin and began turning the pancakes, trying your best not to fling them off the griddle. Jisung gave you a tight squeeze, let go of you, and moved two steps to the right to throw his arms around Changbin. “Hey, babe,” he said to him, too. Changbin turned in Jisung’s arms and smoothed his boyfriend’s hair before lightly kissing him.

He leaned against the counter, hands clasped together at the small of Jisung’s back so that Jisung could simply lean into him. You turned your head to see Jisung draped against Changbin’s bare chest so he could look up at the other young man, a syrupy grin on his face.

Your heart swelled with affection for both of them, and you had to brace yourself against the counter for a moment. It was genuinely easy to be with both of them in this new, wonderful relationship. There was so much trust built between you already—Jisung and Changbin’s three years of friendship lending an even firmer foundation to it all—and you knew, with as much certainty as you’d ever felt before, that the three of you were meant to be together.

Soon, the pancakes were done, the tea had brewed, and Changbin and Jisung were still kissing—although, they did pause for a moment to allow you to kiss both of their noses and say, “Time for breakfast, hot stuff.” You lead the way into the living room where you usually ate together, as Changbin went to finally put on a shirt.

↠↞

Changbin leaned back on the couch, his knees pulled up to his chest, while Jisung leaned against his shoulder, lightly rubbing his pleasantly full stomach. On Changbin’s other side, your mug of tea was warmth enough for you at the moment.

“Um, I think we need to have a talk,” Changbin said quietly after awhile.

“Is everything- What am I saying, of course something’s up,” Jisung said, concerned—your brows furrowed.

Changbin ran a hand through his hair, then spoke. “First, I want to say that I’m in no way blaming anyone or making them bad or wrong. I just kind of want to know what’s going on.” He took a deep breath. “So, last weekend when I woke up, I ran into Chan in the hallway outside our rooms with a tray of breakfast. I knew he had to have somebody over, since he’d asked me to be somewhere else.” He looked at Jisung, who gave him a wink. “But of course I wasn’t going to ask who, right? But um, Y/N? I think I heard your voice coming out of Chan’s room, and then a lot of giggling. And, well, a really loud moan and Chan saying to be quiet because I was home.” Changbin’s gaze was so earnest and open, while Jisung’s was a bit… pained, perhaps.

You let out a sigh, having known this day would come at some point. “Shit, yeah… that was me,” you admitted, embarrassed despite the fact that both Changbin and Jisung had made you moan and beg and scream far louder than you’d done that morning. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that, Changbin. I had no idea you were home or anything.”

“It’s okay,” he said, resting a hand on your knee in reassurance.

Jisung made to speak, but you held up a hand. “Could I explain first? Yes, I’ve gone on a few dates with Chan. Yes, we’ve had sex. Once. I hadn’t told you yet because it wasn’t serious and we agreed—“

“But it’s Chan! He’s our best friend, babe,” Jisung blurted.

“And I just met him a couple months ago,” you replied evenly. “Just because he’s your friend doesn’t mean I was going to treat him any differently from any of the other people I’ve seen.”

“So, you’ve been seeing other people even besides Chan?” Changbin wanted to know.

“Not since the middle of December—I’ve got both hands full with you two,” you said, smiling and winking. “Things with Chan kind of snowballed, if that makes sense? After winter break, we came back and he wasn’t so weirdly flirty anymore. And you’ve got to admit, he’s attractive!”

“Y/N, just because someone’s attractive, doesn’t mea—“

“That’s not what I meant, Jisung. Not being flirted at every other day over break allowed me to see that he’s a perfectly lovely guy. It’s been fun.” You shrugged. It wasn’t as if you felt at all toward Chan like you did toward Jisung and Changbin. They were… The bond between all three of you was iron-clad and effervescent, the threads between you weaving together to form a rich tapestry of feelings, responsibilities, and priorities. “I didn’t start going on dates with him with the idea ‘Let me see how fast I can fall in love with this person’ running through my head. I- I thought I made it clear to him that things were just casual. I never promised anything, and he knew we were taking things really slow. I guess something slipped through the cracks.”

There was a beat of silence, then Jisung coughed nervously, looking down at his hands twisting in his lap. “So, you know how I talked with Chan yesterday?” he began, and you and Changbin nodded. “I asked—okay, fine, confronted—Chan about you two.”

“Oh, so that’s what the arguing was about!” Changbin said with exaggerated, only partially feigned surprise.

Jisung blanched. “Um, yeah, sorry. I saw you,” he turned to Y/N, “wearing his compass necklace and kind of lost my head.”

“Oh my god,” you moaned, grimacing. “Are you serious?”

Jisung cackled. “Yeah, sorry. You know how he— Well, I guess you don’t necessarily know, but sometimes he gets really solemn and serious, to the point that it’s almost funny. That’s how it was… Once I finally got it out of him.” Changbin put his head in his hands, knowing just what Jisung meant. “He’s head-over-heels for you, Y/N.”

“Well, shit," you grumbled, not having expected this. "And yet again, Bang Chan is cheesy as hell."

“Yeah… kind of,” Jisung sighed. “But this is different. I don’t think he knows the significance of what he did. I mean, do you even know the significance of what he did?”

“Jisung,” Changbin warned.

“No, you don’t understand. In the three years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen Chan take that necklace off. Not even to go swimming. And now he’s given the thing to you!” Jisung threw up his hands, knowing that he probably shouldn’t be telling you any of this; but, he didn’t exactly care right now. “He thinks you’re the one for him, his compass. He was going on and on about how he’d felt like something was missing but now it’s like everything’s fallen into place because of you.”

“I don’t even have the thing anymore,” you felt the need to add quickly. “I slipped it back into his jacket before he left! Wearing it for a week was more than enough. I don’t like to wear chokers much, anyway.”

Jisung raised his eyebrows, not expecting you to have done that. “Really?”

“I mean, it was pretty and I thought it would be rude not to wear it.” Your statement curled up at the end like a question. “It’s not like it’s a binding promise or anything.”

“Oh, okay!” Jisung said with more excitement than was wholly appropriate. “But you might want to tell him that you’re not into him as much as he’s clearly into you.”

“I know, I know, Ji,” you said with a sigh. “I will.”

“Good. I’m glad we got that cleared up,” he said, nodding proudly. “I was worried that you’d somehow decided to break our trust by not telling us you were actually dating him.”

“What?” The word sounded like it had been punched from your gut. “I would never— I- Why would you think that?”

“I didn’t want to think that, but he made it seem like things were more serious than you say they are. I know he falls hard for people, and I trust you, Y/N—I didn’t want to think the worst.” Jisung curled his legs under himself as he settled back into the sofa.

“And what about you?” you demanded of Changbin.

“Me?” Changbin asked, his eyes wide. “I didn’t let myself make assumptions until I’d talked to you.”

Your heart hurt a little at their faith in you, that they didn’t want to believe that you’d go against your agreement, especially with their best friend. “You- You really believed me more than Chan?”

“Eh, it wasn’t between the two of you—not exactly,” Changbin responded. “Since he does fall in love or whatever with surprising depth and speed, and you're definitely sensible and cautious, it was more likely that he was the one misinterpreting things.”

You didn’t know what to say, and so simply leaned forward to gently kiss your boyfriends each in turn, leaving them smiling.

“You know, Jisung,” you said after a minute, “you and Changbin still need to tell Chan that you’re also dating.”

The two young men looked at each other, and you could almost see the words passing between them:

Shit, I didn’t tell him. Did you?

No, I thought you did. Shit.

You giggled.

“Um, yeah you’re probably right.” Jisung tried his best not to look too guilty as he looked away from Changbin. “That’s going to be such a fun conversation.”

“Hey, it’ll be okay, babe,” Changbin reassured Jisung, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jisung leaned his head against Changbin’s shoulder, and a quiet moment stretched between you.

“So, we’ll tell him we’re dating if you tell him that you’re dating both of us. Deal?” Changbin said more understandingly than you thought you deserved.

“Deal,” you said, smiling a sideways grin.

“Deal,” Jisung agreed.

“Okay, not to totally break the mood or anything, but I have to pee,” you stated, standing up. “I’ll be right back, babies.”

A moment after you left the room, Jisung curled closer to Changbin. He absolutely did not want things to change between the three of you. Of that much he was certain, especially not when you’d just affirmed an even closer relationship than before. He didn’t want Chan’s relationship or whatever it was with you coming between what you already had with himself and Changbin. Jisung whispered, “I just didn’t want him to take her from us. Am I a bad person for wanting that?”

Changbin took a deep breath. “No,” he replied, “I don’t think so. I was thinking the same thing.”

“What should we do, then?”

“I don’t think we should do anything, Ji,” Changbin said simply. “It’s their relationship.”

“Yeah, but—“

“Love, it’s their relationship and they should figure it out. In terms of us, it’s clear she’s not going anywhere.” His tone was firm, as if Changbin couldn’t—wouldn’t—consider an alternative.

Jisung nodded and turned his face into Changbin’s shoulder to plant a kiss there, holding his lips against his friend and lover’s body. Just then, you came back into the room and sat squarely in Changbin’s lap with your legs over Jisung.

The two young men adjusted their positions slightly to accommodate you, the three of you falling into each other with such ease that one would have thought you’d been dating for years. You sighed and relaxed into Changbin’s chest, Jisung pulling you closer across Changbin’s lap as the two of you now nuzzled your boyfriend. The smell of your soap still clung to Changbin’s skin, and, despite having only been awake for three hours, you felt yourself drifting towards sleep in the comfortable embrace of your boyfriends. Jisung’s hand gently rubbed circles into your hip.

“You know,” Jisung said after a while, “I stopped seeing other people back in December when you said were jealous and had deeper feelings than you’d previously thought.”

“Where’s this coming from, Ji?” you mumbled, shifting a bit so that you sat nearly between him and Changbin. “You don’t have to reassure me or defend yourself or something.”

“It’s not that—I just wanted to tell you that because once we got together, I was so comfortable and into you that I didn’t feel like I wanted or needed to see anybody else.” Jisung leaned forward and somehow managed to wedge himself between you and Changbin, successfully resting his face against your breasts—this was not uncommon.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmmmm” was his only answer as he closed his eyes.

“Not that I’d been dating other people at the same time as you,” Changbin added, kissing your hair, “but I care about you just as much as I know Jisung does. And that’s a considerable amount, love.”

You smiled softly, hardly daring to believe that you had two such caring and devoted, not to mention sexy, boyfriends who also cared just as much about each other. It was more than you’d ever expected or dreamed. As you sat there in the blissful place between sleep and wakefulness, you were overcome with the depth of your feelings for Jisung and Changbin. It didn’t scare you, no. And for that, you were glad.

A twinge of remorse flitted through you at the knowledge that your feelings were not nearly as strong for Chan, but you didn’t know him as well. Even when you’d known and been seeing Jisung and Changbin for the same amount of time, your feelings had still been stronger than what you felt for Chan. Plus, there wasn’t the same sense of being pulled inexorably toward both Jisung and Changbin like you were magnets. You couldn’t escape it even if you’d wanted to—and you most certainly didn’t.

All you could do was bring your lips to Changbin’s and kiss him over and over, until Jisung sensed what was happening and sat up to pull you against him instead. Jisung’s lips were soft and warm, like the most silken caramel you could imagine, and you were soon fully awake and kissing passionately as Changbin’s hand smoothed the muscles up and down your back. Jisung’s little moans at being so thoroughly happy and comfortable were the sweetest thing you’d ever heard.

When you raked your fingers through his hair, he became utterly lost to your touch, whining and running his hands over as much of you as he could. Changbin’s hand had moved from Jisung’s shoulders to his thigh, slowly moving higher and higher; he wouldn’t stray any further, but it was enough to make Jisung wriggle. You continued threading your fingers through his hair as Changbin smoothed his thumb along your cheekbone and you kissed along Jisung’s jaw until you encountered the slightly calloused but soft skin of Changbin’s palm. Your lips simply slid from one curving line to another as you leaned into Changbin’s touch.

Limbs, breaths, kisses utterly intermingled and where one person ended and the others began was nearly indistinguishable as the soft caresses between the three of you continued. As wave after wave of tenderness washed over you, the intensity of emotion you felt threatened to make you cry. You knew that what you felt came very, very close to love.

↠↞

Seated at the small table by the window of your usual cafe and sipping on a latte, you waited for Chan to arrive. Snow flurries danced along the street, whipped about by a surprisingly insistent wind. It had been a week and a half since Jisung had confronted him about seeing you, and, while you’d texted and called each other, this was the first time you’d seen Chan. The bell above the door of the cafe tinkled as he came through the door, shaking snow from his hair. Chan’s ears and cheeks were bright red from the cold, making him look ten years younger and extremely cute.

You stood as he approached and squished his cheeks a little between your hands while kissing his nose… to warm him up, of course. Chan laughed, and pulled you into a one-armed hug as he began to shrug off his jacket before taking a seat.

“So, what’s up, darling?” he said, leaning forward on the table to face you.

“Well, I wanted to talk about us,” you said frankly, wishing you could muster more tact and failing.

“Oh, okay.” Chan looked only marginally surprised, and waited for you to continue.

“Jisung told me that he talked to you that one day we all baked cookies together,” you began. “Do you- Do you really feel that way?”

Chan was silent for a moment. “What way?”

“Like I’m… Like I’m your compass?”

“Yeah, I do.” His voice was absolutely serious.

“Oh, Chan,” you breathed, putting your face in your hands. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

“Y/N…” Chan said, not understanding and reaching across the table for you.

“Chan, I’m really not sure what to say,” you murmured, looking back up at him. “I wasn’t expecting you to feel that strongly for me so soon.”

Chan’s hand paused just inches from your hand and he slowly drew it back to his side before speaking. “Is it that you don’t feel the same?”

“I—“ You paused. “Sorry, this is surprisingly hard. Chan, it’s not that I don’t like you or am not interested. I’m just not at the same level of feeling as you, that’s all. I don’t want you to think that I’m ready to be yours forever or something.”

Chan balked slightly, your words clearly hitting just a little too close to home. He looked down at the table, his throat bobbing once as he swallowed. “I understand. Is this why you didn’t tell Jisung we’d gone on a couple dates? Because it wasn’t as serious for you?”

“Yes,” you said simply, knowing you were treading on dangerous ground.

“Ah. Well, we can go slowly, Y/N. It’s okay.” Chan’s tone was resolute, as if he wanted to simply make everything better by stating that it would be.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to somehow shackle you when you could be with someone who’s on your same level emot—“

“I’d much rather be with you, darling,” Chan interrupted with a soft smile.

“O-okay,” you nodded. You sat there for a moment, just staring at your hands as fiddled with your thumb.

“Shall we have some tiramisu, then?” Chan asked with a wink, trying his best to break the somber mood.

You let out a huff of air that could have been a laugh. “Sure, Chan, that sounds good.”

↠↞

Changbin sighed happily as he leaned back on his couch, a glass of wine in one hand and Jisung’s hand in the other. They’d been watching a television show earlier, but now just sat together, reminiscing. Now that they’d realized and admitted their feelings for each other, and were dating, they both saw the myriad ways in which their mutual attraction had manifested over the years, unbeknownst to them. Mostly unbeknownst to them.

Jisung sat facing Changbin on the couch, one leg thrown over his lap and the other tucked under himself, tracing the lines of his boyfriend’s body. When he reached Changbin’s ear, he took his time following the spiraling shape until he then moved to his jaw.

“Bin, whatcha thinking about?” Jisung said, tilting his head to the side as he traced the faint scar on Changbin’s chin.

“The first time I realized how I felt about you,” Changbin replied, smiling lazily.

“Was that the day by the lake? With the duck?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, you know,” Jisung purred, “I thought you looked cute as hell that day, too.”

“I- Really? I could’ve sworn you had absolutely no interest. None. I still can’t believe this is real.” Changbin’s tone was wondering.

“Yeah, I did. And yeah, this is real,” Jisung reassured him, kissing his earlobe and making Changbin shiver. “I’ve definitely liked you since then. So much, babe, you have no idea.”

Changbin turned his face to Jisung and caught the other young man’s lips with his own, smiling at the slightly sweet taste of him. Jisung swiped his tongue along the seam of Changbin’s mouth and he moaned as they came together, searching every hollow and plane of each other’s mouths. Kiss after kiss, some lingering and some heated. Jisung’s hands were in Changbin’s hair as their passion consumed them, while Changbin took care to hold Jisung like he was the most precious thing he’d ever known.

They broke the kiss, gasping slightly, and Jisung brought Changbin’s hand to his lips, kissing the space behind his thumb before turning his boyfriend’s hand over to kiss the inside of his wrist. Changbin’s mouth quirked up in what might have been a smirk before the other side joined its opposite to create a softly radiant smile that made his eyes sparkle.

Just as Jisung was leaning in to kiss Changbin again—and maybe more, if he had anything to say about it—the door to the apartment clicked open and Chan’s voice floated down the hall.

“Changbin? You home, man?”

“Aw, come on,” Changbin groaned, and tried to think of a nice, freezing cold bath.

Jisung quickly scooted away down the couch from Changbin, running a hand through his hair before taking a sip from his own glass of wine. “We should really tell him,” he murmured just as Chan entered the living room.

“Oh, hey Jisung,” he said, smiling happily at having his two best friends there.

“Hey, Chan.”

“So, what were you two up to—wine?” The latter part of the question was said with only a small amount of surprise. Chan enjoyed a nice glass of Pino Grigio every now and then.

“We were just watching TV and drinking a little,” Jisung answered.

“Hey, Chan,” Changbin started, “could we talk with you about something? It’s important.”

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“Well, I have no idea how else to say this— Um, yeah. We know we’re all friends, so this should be okay and all… And we know you’re accepting and understanding.” Changbin sounded more nervous than he’d been in a long time, even to his own ears. “So, yeah. We’re dating. Jisung and I are dating.” Jisung nodded in affirmation. “And we’re both dating Y/N. We’re all dating each other, actually.”

Chan stared at him for a moment, then shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, okay. I see it. I’d wondered if there was something more going on back at the beginning of the month. So, you two are happy? The three of you are happy?” He tried his best not to sound accusatory, despite having no reason to be; he just wanted the best for these three people he cared about so much.

“We are,” Jisung said, beaming and gently rubbing Changbin’s knee to help soothe him. “And I know Y/N is, too.”

Chan just nodded again and said, “Well, I’m glad that you two have found even more happiness. And I’m glad that you can make Y/N happy, too. Oh, and don’t worry—this doesn’t affect 3racha.” He smiled. “Look, I’ve got some work to do, so I’ll see you both later, yeah?”

“See you!” Changbin and Jisung chorused, then went back to cuddling as soon as Chan left the room.

Chan opened the door to his bedroom and sighed. He was happy for his best friends, he really was. They had something together that he didn’t have with either of them—not in a romantic way, but just as friends. And… He sighed again, leaning against the now closed door. And, he was happy that you had both of them in your life so thoroughly.

It was just that, well, he felt a little pushed to the side. After all, he was friends with Jisung and Changbin, and he was seeing you—albeit casually—but he still didn’t feel like everything had shifted properly into place. Maybe there was something missing with you. Maybe 3racha just needed to get in the studio again…

↠↞

It was the beginning of April, and the pollen had started to get to you. You let your head thump softly onto the desk in front of you, your pen slipping from your fingers to fall onto the what was soon becoming the bane of your existence: your final poetry project. It was maddening, trying to find just the right words and scansion, not to mention metaphors and allusions. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t eaten since noon, but your body felt like a withered corn husk. And, your mind would burst, if you weren’t careful; you couldn’t afford to let that happen, not three-quarters of the way through your last semester.

On the desk beside you, your phone buzzed and you checked it to see a text from Chan:

channie: hey darling <3 are we still on for tonight?

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

You’d almost forgotten about your date with Chan, and now that he’d so kindly reminded you… Well, it would be rude to cancel now but you just didn’t have the energy.

You didn’t have the energy to be with Chan more often than not these days. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him—you were just busy. Really fucking busy. He was fun to kiss and cuddle and be intimate with, but you didn’t have the mental fortitude to actively be interested.

It was difficult to describe… You were certainly physically attracted to Chan, and found him engaging and fun to be around. But, there was something missing. Perhaps you’d been thrust into a time-loop where Chan was concerned—that would explain the way every single one of your dates felt the same these days. You didn’t feel like your, for lack of a better word, relationship was going anywhere, like your emotions and the time you spent together were static.

He was so deeply interested in and attracted to you that you sometimes wondered if you actually felt anything for him and if all of this was simply you reflecting his own desire back at him. But then you’d come to your senses and remember how much seeing his little dimple appear would make you grin and giggle to no end.

And now, you should really respond to Chan.

y/n: hey channie. um, i’m absolutely exhausted from this poetry project… could we maybe not do anything tonight? channie: sure baby! want me to just bring over some food and we can do or not do whatever you like! y/n: i- chan, i’m sorry. i meant: can we not get together tonight. i literally don't have the energy to deal with other people channie: aww sorry you’re feeling like that. sure, darling, whatever you need. maybe we can see each other tomorrow! y/n: wow your optimism knows no bounds…. [UNSENT]

Now you were even more tired and just wanted to curl up under the covers and never come out. That would solve all your problems, right? So, with the blanket snugly pulled over your head, you drifted off to sleep.

An hour later your phone buzzed again, waking you up, but it was Jisung this time. You weren’t quite sure how he knew you needed comforting, but he did and said he’d be over soon. You rolled over at the feeling of another body depressing the mattress, and let Jisung enfold you in his arms.

The next day, Chan did come over to find you sitting on your couch with a mug of tea in one hand and a scone in the other. (Jisung was going through a bit of a baking phase, and had insisted that you try one of his cranberry and orange scones). You hadn’t gotten out of bed until an hour before Chan was due to arrive, and your hair was still piled on top of your head in a messy topknot. Chan, on the other hand, looked far too awake and put-together, even in just jeans and a sweatshirt, for a Saturday morning.

“I brought us lunch,” he said, setting a bag down on the coffee table and flopping down beside you. “I hope you’re in the mood for sandwiches, because that’s all I had time to make.”

“It’s fine, Chan. I’ve got more scones than I know what to do with. Did Ji give you any?”

“No,” Chan said, shaking his head, “I think he must have given them all to you and Changbin. That little traitor.”

You stood briefly to turn in place and curl your feet back under you on the couch, much like a cat would, then took a sip of tea. Your heart pounded slightly faster than you would have liked. “I’m sure you’ll get scones at some point.”

“I’d better…” Chan began pulling four sandwiches from his bag, clearly having thought that Jisung and Changbin would stop by.

“You didn’t have to bring all of those,” you said, frowning. “They’re not coming over.”

“Hmm? Oh, no. I brought two for me and two for you—they’re not that big, so I’m almost certain that you’ll want two.”

“Pffftt, really?” you asked incredulously, then took a closer look at the food. “Yeah, okay. You’re right.”

The two of you sat and stared at the sandwiches for a moment, Chan clearly wanting to break into them, while you couldn’t care less. You stared out your window at the new growth on the trees.

“Don’t you want to eat?” Chan finally asked.

“Eh, not really. Like I said: scone.”

Chan seemed to think for a moment, then said, “Y/N, is everything okay?”

“Um, well… Damn it.” You sighed gustily, and set down your mug before turning to Chan on the couch. “Chan, I have no idea how else to say this…”

“It’s okay, I’ll listen, darling.”

You pursed your lips, biting your bottom lip. “Chan, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t try to feel things I don’t. I can’t try to sustain a relationship that feels like an obligation. I hate feeling like that because you don’t deserve to be with someone who can’t put one hundred percent into their relationship with you.” Chan’s face fell. “Things are just so busy for me right now, what with graduation coming in less than two months, all these projects and papers—everything. Plus, there’s Jisung and Changbin.

“I do like you Chan, and I do like spending time with you. And you’re wonderful in bed, don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you. I’ve just— If I’m going to be with you, too, then I want to devote the proper time to building that relationship, instead of catching bits and pieces when there’s time. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does,” Chan admitted resignedly. “I respect your feelings and choices, if you want to stop seeing each other. I’m sorry you feel like us being together has become an obligation. That must not feel good, yeah?” You shook your head, grateful for how understanding he was being. “If you only want to see each other randomly or just have it be like friends-with-benefits—whatever’s fine with me. I’d just love to keep seeing you somehow.”

You thought for a moment, sipping on your tea again. Not having any expectations for your relationship with Chan would certainly make things easier…

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed. “Maybe we can just see each other when we have time and if we decide to make-out or go to bed or whatever, then okay? More like just enjoying each other’s company rather than trying to date?” You looked to Chan, who hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire conversation. “How does that sound?”

“Anything you want, Y/N. Anything.” Chan gave you a sad little smile, then stood. “I’ll just leave the sandwiches and everything here. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, anyway. I- I just need to go be by myself, if that’s okay. Bye, Y/N.” With that, Chan hurried from your apartment, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head as he did so.

You sighed to yourself once the door clicked shut, and got up to make yourself another cup of tea. By the time the water had boiled and you were back on the couch, your thoughts had ordered themselves.

Sure, Chan thought of you as his compass, the thing—well, person—guiding him and keeping him on track; he thought of you as an anchor. But you had something similar. You had a far stronger compass forged from two beings who, no matter how far you strayed, would always point you toward each other, toward home. Jisung and Changbin were your true north.

#inkidz #stayhavennet #stayracha #0325net #ultkpop #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #bang chan #seo changbin #han jisung #3racha #.moonlight

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kingreywrites · 3 years

Text

So Pardon The Dust

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2493

Summary: When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king has been dead for years.

Note: this is bittersweet, but the idea couldn’t leave me alone, and i had to write it out! so yeah, edmund’s death is heavily talked about, be careful if that’s not your thing! I just love Destinies Collide, and love what-ifs, so this story was born from there asghdh

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When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king has been dead for years.

They don't know that. What they do know is that once their travel in a shaky gondola over an immense rift ends, everything seems too easy. The kingdom is dark, cold, smells of dust and rust permeating the air, and it makes it hard to imagine that anyone has ever lived in such a place. But Rapunzel's hair pushes her forward, and they don't spend any more time thinking about it.

They enter the equally dark and cold castle, searching for the moonstone.

Desperate for a flicker of warmth, Lance lights a fire in a lifeless living room with no windows. Eugene's gaze is drawn to a painting, throning above the fireplace and depicting a man and a woman he presumes to be the king and queen.

He cannot explain the deep uneasiness he feels at the sight, or even why he can hardly tear his eyes away from the picture. His heart is racing, and he explains it by blaming it on his concern for Rapunzel.

The queen's smile remains etched in his mind as he moves forward.

The king has been dead for years. They don't know it, but Eugene finds a room filled with overhanging statues and, sitting in front of a gigantic door, is a tiny skeleton covered in too big clothes and dust. A dark crown still hangs grotesquely on its head, but the first thing Eugene sees is the purple gem necklace between the fingers of its single hand. The same as the queen's in the painting.

Eugene has a bitter taste in his mouth. Rapunzel holds his hand, also upset, and he remembers that they are here for her, and for her destiny. He holds her fingers tighter between his, and they move toward the door.

The ghosts are… certainly a surprise.

Death is not something new to Eugene, yet he can't help but feel nauseous when the king's ghost appears so close to his own skeleton, eyes full of a melancholy and anger that only he understands.

He doesn't seem to be capable of speech. He just groans and attacks, mindlessly guarding the stone that cost him his life. When Adira arrives to help them, she calls him Edmund, a soft grief in her voice, and Eugene keeps the name in a corner of his head. Edmund. Not a ghost, not a skeleton, but Edmund, who protected his kingdom until he died trapped within it.

Finally, Eugene is the one who destroys his statue. He cuts off its head, and tries to forget how a few seconds before, it was his own that could have been lost, if the king's axe had not struck beside it. Luck saved his life this time.

Adira asks Rapunzel to enter the moonstone chamber by herself. She says that it's her destiny, and hers alone. Eugene wants to protest, worry burning in his heart, but he doesn't even have the time - Rapunzel looks at Cassandra, and announces that the three of them will go inside. He should be relieved, but he can't help but take another look at the king's- Edmund's body. Many people have died for this stone, and the more time passes, the more terrified he is of what awaits them on the other side. He knows death, more than any other member of this group probably; he's been around it personally. He promised himself when he came back to life, that he would never let Rapunzel die the way he did, slowly and violently, when she has so much to live for.

He doesn't know where this promise will lead him.

When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king is dead. They enter easily, and though the ghosts of past rulers stand in their way, the path to the moonstone is far from the most difficult adventure he has ever experienced. Eugene is worried, of course he is - he's afraid of the conclusion of their journey, afraid of what he cannot predict. Rapunzel tells him she loves him, and he almost wants to throw up, because they're in the middle of a kingdom murdered by that exact stone Rapunzel intends to grab. I love you too, he thinks, but can't manage to say, because the words sound like a goodbye, and he's not ready for that. He'd die one thousand times for her, if she asked him to. He'd die for her against her will too, if necessary, but he knows he can't get in the way today. As desperate as he is to protect her, he knows how much she values being able to draw her own path.

He wants to grab the moonstone first because he loves her, and because he loves her, he stays back.

That's not the case for everyone. He notices too late Cass running for it, and Demanitus' warning echoes once again in his ears, mocking now that the only thing he can do is try to pull Rapunzel to safety as the world explodes in colours. The king is dead, and their friendship with Cassandra is too, the shadow of Gothel haunting Rapunzel once again despite how much she deserves to be free from it. Cassandra flees, Eugene hurts his arm when she pushes him away, and Rapunzel runs after her, desperate to salvage what can be.

It doesn't amount to much, in the end.

Things settle down, as much as they can while Rapunzel still sits listlessly near the broken bridge Cassandra left behind, and Eugene goes in the castle again, in search of bandages this time. His left arm hurts.

He doesn't expect to find Adira, standing silently in front of... Edmund. Her back is rigid, her mouth in a straight line, but when he calls her name, he sees a foreign melancholy in her eyes. He doesn't know her that well, but there's a lot Eugene can understand from looking into somebody's eyes.

Adira sighs, shoulders lowering, and he's sure she hears his unsaid question. "I shouldn't be surprised," she says, but it's clear that in a way, she is. "I… knew, that King Edmund was not well, when we left. I often considered that he might very well be…" she trails off, her eyes falling on his body again.

"It's different to be sure," Eugene responds softly, his voice loud in the silence of this immense room. Watching them - Adira, and this skeleton, barely hanging together enough to recognise a human shape - it was difficult to conceive that once upon a time, they had stood here together, alive and happy, perhaps. He can't imagine what it feels like to see an old friend this way, with no warning. "Adira…"

"It's okay, Fishskin," she smiles, and in her voice, he could hear the echoes of all the time Rapunzel told him she was fine, because she didn't know how to act when she was not.

He barely knows Adira. Both because he didn't ask, and because she didn't want him, or anyone, to know her. But he can guess easily that her life had never been one of peace, not even before leaving the Dark Kingdom, and losing contact with the other members of the Brotherhood. He doesn't think she's unhappy, per se, but he- he knows, they all know, especially now after everything that happened, that anger and fear and grief are not emotions that should be let to fester until they explode. Maybe it's his worry for Rapunzel speaking; maybe he's confusing everything, and Adira is simply dealing with the situation the way she wants to, but before he can think better of it, Eugene takes a step forward, and asks her if she wants to bury the king's body.

"To- To give him a better resting place," he explains awkwardly, her eyes piercing right through him. He's ready to say sorry and hope she doesn't kill him for overstepping her boundaries, but, to his surprise, she softens, a genuine if sad smile on her lips.

"Actually Fishskin, that's… a great idea."

And so they do it. Adira finds a bear hood that the King used to wear - Dabney, she says reverently - and they place his bones in it, carefully moving everything in tandem. They don't really talk while doing it. There's not much to be said. Eugene thinks of this king, who was so desperate to save his kingdom that he doomed it, and he thinks about death, too. About how lonely it is.

Adira leads them down a few corridors, and they emerge in a small, grey looking garden. They walk until they find an unmarked tombstone.

"The queen," Adira announces shortly, and Eugene wonders if she helped bury her too.

It's not the first time Eugene digs a grave for someone. He remembers starkly getting out of the tower with Rapunzel, both of them entirely different people than who they were before, and finding a cloak and ashes at the bottom of it. He remembers how quietly distraught Rapunzel had been, and how he had proposed to bury what was left of Gothel.

Shaking his head, he tries to think about something else, but it's hard given the situation. His arm aches at each of his movements. Surprisingly, Adira breaks the silence, and that's enough to distract him.

"I often disagreed with King Edmund," she says, without looking at him. "He was a good king, but his duty to the moonstone blinded him to the bigger picture, and I was afraid that it would lead him, and us, to lose everything. I was right, as I often am," she chuckles, but there's no mirth behind it. Simply grief. Something that can't be quite put into words.

"How did he lose his arm?" Eugene asks, voice low as they finally lower the bones into the ground. His eyes catch the sight of the necklace falling aside, and when they're done, he picks it up, thumb running over the smooth surface of the gem.

"The queen died," Adira whispers. She's looking at the necklace too, when he raises his head. "Edmund's grief led him to act on the anger he had been repressing for too long, but the moonstone was much more powerful than he imagined. Its retaliation costs him everything he held dear."

Gently, Adira takes the necklace from him, and Eugene can't explain the impulse that makes him want to hold onto it for a little while longer.

He's sentimental, he reasons. There's something deeply touching about this man dying while looking at the last thing connecting him to his late wife. These are good explanations, but neither of them addresses the unease and bitterness rising in Eugene's throat. He doesn't understand it himself.

Adira looks at the necklace for a long time, emotions he can't name in her expression. Memories she will not share make her frown, and Eugene feels more and more like he doesn't belong in this moment.

"Should we… bury that with him?" he asks awkwardly. Adira bites her lips, and finally shakes her head.

"This necklace was special for the queen. I know she intended to pass it down to her children."

A terrible voice in Eugene's mind reminds him that it's too late - they both died, and that necklace, that tradition, died with them too. He's hit by the tragedy of it all again, relentlessly reminded that the king passed away long before anyone could try to save him. And they would have, Rapunzel would have convinced him to let her through, she would have given him faith, Eugene is sure of that. He thinks that's why he's angry, too. The king has been dead for years, maybe, alone and desperate until his very last moments. And Eugene, Eugene wishes to go back in time, and give him another chance, get him the help he needed before it was too late.

He has never been good at accepting unhappy endings.

"When… When King Edmund banished us from the Dark Kingdom," Adira continues, "he also made another sacrifice. He sent his son away, when he was barely a baby, to be raised far from the moonstone and its dangers."

Son. A baby, sole survivor of the royal family, who probably doesn't know he is. A baby, who isn't one anymore now, but who is probably alive, and the thought is enough for Eugene to feel something new - he'd call this hope, but he's not sure that it fits. Closure, perhaps.

"You want to give their son the necklace," he smiles shakily.

"That's what needs to be done," Adira agrees, before putting away the necklace in her pocket. The gem catches the moonlight one last time, shining brighter than before, and it's easier for Eugene to let go, this time. "However, I did not keep track of the prince. I don't know what became of him, after we left, but I will keep searching until I find him."

"Hey," Eugene grins, wanting to lighten the atmosphere a little, "you searched for the mystical and maybe non-existent sundrop, and you found it, so I'm sure a prince will be no trouble. And if you need anything, we'll be happy to help," he adds, more earnest this time.

There's a newfound warmth in her eyes, and she inclines her head, acknowledging his words. The situation feels easier, somewhat. They finish replacing the dirt on top of the king's body, and Adira places a little stone to mark the emplacement.

The king is dead, and Cassandra is gone, but Eugene wants to believe that they all can find their own healing in time.

One wrong move reawakens the pain in his arm, and Adira gauges him when he flinches. She tells him that if there are any medical supplies around there, they're probably in the King's personal quarters.

With her instructions, it's not too hard to find them. The bedroom he finds is enormous, which only heightens how empty and dark it feels. Blindly, Eugene makes his way to a window, and pushes the heavy curtains away, letting the moonlight flood the room, and reveal the ambient dust like as many little stars in the night sky.

One side of the bed is unmade. Next to the other, there is an empty crib.

His heart is racing, and he can't explain it. He turns to the bedside table, and does find what appear to be bandages, next to a pile of papers, so close to the bed that it is easy to guess that the king often looked at them.

Eugene approaches. He tells himself, without much conviction, that he should not look. That even in death the king deserves to keep his privacy. Whatever these papers are, they must have meant a lot to him, keeping him company in his darkest hours, and Eugene doesn't belong in this story.

It only takes him a step, and a second, to recognize his old wanted posters.

#tangled #tangled the series #Eugene Fitzherbert #King Edmund #Adira #Rapunzel

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 3 years

Text

Nothing Alike: IX

Description: Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with taking out a fellow Witcher who has decided to settle down in a town. She has no intention of leaving and Geralt is forced to take matters into his own hands.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: (future as well as present) violence, angst, smut, fluff, language

MASTERLIST

The journey to the palace should have only taken three days max. And the Geralt should have been free to go about his business. However, the prince had other ideas up his sleeve.

Upon awaking the morning after the incident, he proclaimed with great elation that Y/N would no longer be allowed to ride on a horse.

“If she’s going to act like a dog, she shall be treated like one,” he had proclaimed with great enthusiasm, as if it had taken him all night to think of it.

It probably had.

So, instead of moving at the reasonable pace of horses, they were subjected to the pace of a stubborn, disgruntled girl who wanted nothing more than to throw a tantrum.

A thick iron collar was padlocked to her neck, and her wrists were shackled together. They had considered her ankles as well, but Geralt had claimed it would take them too long if she couldn’t take large strides (not that she was taking them anyway). The collar and the shackles were connected to one another by a long iron chain that led to the prince’s horse, and to keep her compliant, a crossbow was trained on her at all times.

Geralt was forced to ride directly behind her, a silent reminder as to what they could subject him to if he put a hair out of line. He was forced to watch as she dragged her feet, slowing down until the prince gave the chain a tug, sending her to the ground. For a moment, she was being dragged across the floor, shoulder digging into the soft soil. Then she would struggle to stand, a difficult task when your hands were bound, and the horse never stopped moving. Eventually, she would get it, and for a while she would keep up an appropriate pace, but the indignation always returned and the cycled repeated.

When they camped, she was kept away from the fire’s warmth and given only scraps, a desperate attempt to break her spirit. Every night she was led into the prince’s tent, an offer, a bribe that if she were to take, small ounces of luxury would be granted to her. Every night she was tossed back into the cold.

It was those moments when Geralt didn’t mind the pace, because if they were moving slowly it meant that she hadn’t become another piece of land conquered by royalty.

When they did finally reach the palace, it had been a week and a half, and Y/N had been silent for three days (to the great annoyance of the prince who had screamed for an answer). While they had not harmed her, just as his threat had made them promise, she had still been abused. Her cheeks were shallower than they had been when they began. Hair matted; face covered in dirt, arms covered in cuts and bruises from hitting the ground. They burst through the door, the prince dragging her prize behind him as he entered the throne room.

All eyes turned to them, some interested, some full of hatred, all recognizing the woman who was being led forward like a wild animal. The prince pulled her forward, slamming the blunt edge of his sword into the bend of her knees, laughing as she dropped to the floor. He was going to soak in every moment, now that Geralt could no longer threaten him.

“I have returned,” the prince announced, arms outspread as he basked in the gasps of awe and wonder. The uncatchable beast had been caught, brought to her knees before their wealthy feet. The prince turned around to look at his prize, sprawled across the ground, but there was no such luck. She stared ahead, situated on her knees all while retaining a sense of entitlement. He had never seen someone look so regal while being mocked. “Bow before your king,” he growled, but she didn’t move. The only hint that she had heard him was a small moment where her lip twitched into a smirk. Struggling to maintain his composure, he motioned for a guard to step forward. A sharp sole slammed into her back and her forehead hit the marble forehead. When she sat up, emotion unchanged, a trickle of blood was running between her eyes. “I said, bow,” the prince howled, marching forward to do the job himself, but a booming voice stopped him.

“She is not my subject, therefor there is no need to bow,” the king said, standing from his throne, wrinkled finger pointing at his son. The prince looked ready to argue, to tantrum in front of the entire court, but for the first time since Geralt had met the pathetic boy, he held his tongue. “Do you seek trial?” he asked her, but she remained silent. Geralt willed her to speak, but she said nothing, only stared forward, daring them to execute her now.

“She does,” Geralt called, unable to bear the silence any longer. All eyes turned to him, including an extremely interested king’s. “She would like a trial.” Eyes returned to her and there was a small nod. Instantly, whispers filled the room like a tidal wave. “She will speak in front of the king, but the king only.” Another wave of uproar.”

“And I suppose you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Then it is settled. Everyone out.” Protests erupted, but they were followed by quick footsteps exiting the room. Within moments all the remained were the king, Geralt, and Y/N. “You may unchain yourself,” the king murmured, almost with amusement, as he settled himself back into his throne.

Within an instant the cuffs fell to the ground and she stood, eyes dark as she studied the man across the room. Her fists were clenched to her side, but she did not advance as Geralt presumed she wanted to.

“Pull out a chair, sit, we have much to discuss.” Geralt was surprised to see she listened, dragging an ornate chair to the center of the room. “You may sit closer.”

“It is for both our safety that I do not,” she responded, voice harsh and rough from the lack of care.

“Both our safety?”

“If I sit any closer, I will want to harm you, and then your guards will be forced to kill me. Do not consider me rude, just realistic.” The king laughed and nodded in agreement, fingers drumming across the arm of his chair. The two stared at each other across the large expanse of the throne room before the king pulled a scroll from a beaded purse that sat beside him.

“Do you know what this is?”

“My crimes against humanity, I assume.”

“That is correct. Now, I will not insult you by assuming you are not capable of these acts, so you shall not insult me by lying about them.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Let’s begin then. I shall read your crime and you will defend them to the best of your ability. The swindling of towns people across the continent, namely within my own kingdom.”

“It was not a swindle; they were simply overconfident.”

“They knew you were a Witcher than?”

“Absolutely.”

“The murder of five Witchers who attempted to capture you under the order of the crown.”

“They had no intention of capturing, only killing. I was merely defending my right to trial.”

“Six counts of horse thievery, including from my own stables.”

“It was my horse, wrongfully stolen from me in an attempt to disable me.”

“The massacre of one hundred men and women.”

“They were taking part in slave trading; I was merely protecting the freedom of the people.”

“Slave trading!”

“Yes, slave trading. I was being held as well, and I have marks to prove it. Torture, branding, had I not killed them both my liberty and the liberty of a few dozen others would have been taken.” The king paused as he pondered her statement before continuing.

“Evading arrest.” She only smirked at him, a smirk that he returned. “The murder of your mother and father.” Geralt could barely hear what was said after the accusation. She had murdered her own blood, that was a crime he was not acquainted with. He strained over the blood rushing through his ears to hear her defense, but it did nothing to console him.

“They sold me out.”

“That is not a defense.”

“It was not meant to be.”

“You cannot take the law into your own hands.”

“You do.”

“I create the law.”

“So do I.” He stared at her before he began to chuckle, the deep sound quickly turning into a rolling laugh that echoed around the room. She didn’t flinch a muscle, merely watched him as he laughed away her statement. When he had finished, noticing that she was not smiling along he quickly righted himself.

“You are full of insolence.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“I cannot in good conscience allow you to return to the outside world, but I can offer you a deal.” She raised an eyebrow, a silent gesture for him to continue. “We will either execute you, or you will work for me, and uphold my law.” Geralt’s heart sunk again, an offer she would never take. As she had said repeatedly, no one controlled her, and if that meant death over chains, she would take it.

“Then ready the gallows,” she replied coolly, confirming Geralt’s suspicions.

“You are making a mistake.”

“No, the only mistake made here today was the offer you just made me, as it was both a waste of words and air. Send me your dungeons and tie the noose quick because the only day that I will reside beneath you is the day you walk over my grave.” Geralt wanted to scream, to snarl and spit in her face until she accepted the man’s offer but he remained still, silently seething.

The king laughed once more, but it was not full of humor, it was full of hatred. He had not expected to be refused, and yet she had thrown it back in his face without an ounce of regret.

“Guards,” he called and two entered the room, swords already drawn, expecting the worst. “Escort our prisoner to the dungeons, and the inform the executioner there will be an execution tomorrow at sunrise. Call all to see for this will be their greatest victory.” They dragged her from the room, and even without the chains she did not struggle, merely smiled as they dragged her away, already readying herself for the final moments of her reign.

Taglist: @stuckupstucky @aurora-sweet @holyhumorliteraturelight

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cowperviolet · 3 years

Text

For Gods and Gold - Excerpt #3

Ippolito's first scene proper is entering a palio race incognito (though so did his good half-brother, from whose POV it is all told...)

"Onwards, onwards.

The sand is blazing white beneath his horse’s hoofs, the crowds around the turf are a blur of colour. He spurs his steed on without effort. It takes his direction as easily as it did at a tourney (not a battlefield, he has never been on a battlefield – so much was just the wait beneath the walls of Shashtre, slowly draining the city of the will to fight) – it obeyed him then, dodging and kicking, placing him in the precise position to thrust and parry, just as now it’s fulfilling his will to gallop as if all the demons of the Adversary are after him.

He is not the only one. They all set out light and swift, a moving illustration to the Song of Emperors; each of the young men the hero of the story, assured of his victory. The track isn’t that wide. They push together, getting into a proper scrimmage, some cannoning against one another. The horse sponsored by Arasht rears up, frightened, and throws the rider onto the sand. He rolls swiftly out of the way of the hard hooves. The lovely canal city isn’t going to be carrying the victory cloth off this year.

Alessandro maneuvers his way out of the scrimmage with some effort to find that he has been overtaken by the man with the white-green sash. He must have been coming up slowly, in a quiet rhythm. Yet another bribed jockey?

If so, they aren’t going to help you.

The first lap is behind them. Sweat is streaming down his temples. The sky above is of heated blue, clear as the heart of a flame.

A flash of grey-and-green in the corner of his eye. The rider from the Dragon District, in the livery of the island kingdom of Nali, is getting resiliently closer to them. Closer, closer. Overtaking…

For the first time since the start of the race, Alessandro takes up his whip of oxen hide to force his horse into even greater speed. His rival from Janab is doing the same – their thoughts seem to be moving in synchronicity.

His blue eyes smiling in the slit of the helmet, the man with the white-green sash raises his whip…

…and, leaning over at a dangerous angle, hits the rump of the horse from Nali with all his might.

Shrieks from all around her. People in the other stately galleries are jumping to their feet, crowds screaming. The white horse takes a sharp, unexpected left turn, and sends the grey-and-green rider flying through the air. Aletta imagines she hears a crunch of bones, as he lands on the other side of the clay border, a grey figure on the grey stones. It’s impossible, of course – she is high, high above, and the world is drowning in roar.

The riderless mount corrects its path and dashes onward, bewildered by the sudden freedom. In the corner of her eye, where the world blurs, Aletta can see the smidges of attendants coming to take away the black patch of the prone rider. One of them moves closer, probably hearing for breath. Then he nods, gesturing for his companion to help him lift the youth up. Is it a nod of relief or a grim confirmation?

She can hear Letitia’s heated breath by her side. Suddenly, Aletta feels the touch of her hot, sweat-wet hand on hers, clutching, digging the nails down blindly. Letitia has always had such pretty, polished little nails; but now, they are hurting like claws.

With some effort, Aletta forces herself to abandon the spectacle below and look at Letitia vander Welde. Her gaze is glued to the man in the black-and-gold of Shashtre, and her face is white with horror.

This what the lynchpin of her family’s hopes, Aletta thinks, careening towards a possible death.

Alessandro looks at his rival with a silent shock.

‘Ippolito!’ He might have as well whispered it with his lips only, for all the chance to be heard in the roar of the crowds. His half-brother, prudently protected by his helmet, inclines his head in a slightly mocking, elegant nod, and gallops forth.

Not to be outdone, Alessandro digs his spurs into the sides of his steed, and dashes after him.

The second lap is past.

He is not stupid – he knows that such races are a magnet of scoundrel-like tricks of all kinds. But what his brother has done was more than that. It is one thing to bribe someone for a betting tip. It is another to risk sending another man to his grave.

Ippolito hadn’t done it the ways those others used their whips in the heat of the throng to push their rivals away and their own way out, either. He was cool as a mountain spring, and his way just as purposeful.

The riderless mount makes a wild swerve, and they are both forced to the rail. Alessandro feels the wind of the mount’s swift movement on his skin, barely avoiding the collision.

His half-brother is barely a length ahead of him, his iron helmet shining white in the sun, bright against his dark hair.

They have always had the same kind of hair, always as if they were brothers of full blood.

Under Alessandro’s clenched thighs, his own horse is getting tired. Alessandro can feel it. He can feel the slick foam on its sides, too.

‘Soon’, he whispers under his ragged breath. ‘Just a little. Wait a bit’.

The crowd is in a frenzy. The others have long since fallen behind. Only three rivals left: he, Ippolito, and the riderless mount that can still bring victory to Nali if it were to cross the finishing line first. Rules are rules.

Another man would have been content to let Nali have its bittersweet victory, if it meant his half-brother didn’t win. Alessandro is not this man. He is going to win, and he is going to wipe the smirk from Ippolito’s face.

The horrible happens: his horse is slowing down. It blood is overheated, its efforts expended-

‘Don’t you dare’, Alessandro murmurs furiously.

But Ippolito’s horse has saved its strength in those first two laps, and is now careening towards victory.

The crowds below erupt in jubilation. The man in the sash of white-and-green crosses the finish line, followed by the wild, riderless horse, a dash of white; a mere second after them, the man Aletta now knows to be Alessandro comes third.

Her porcelain schooling slipping for a second, Letitia screams in joy which those around her can take for a celebration of some wager fulfilled. Her cheeks are flaming-bright, and her nails have left dark half-moons on Aletta’s palm. Red and white like the mystical colours of the gods, wildly happy in the sun, she looks almost the way she did that first night of the spring, bare in candlelight.

She has reasons to be happy. Alessandro Armizi has finished the race alive, and has now dismounted, with disgruntlement apparent even at the distance. Her family’s fortunes are safe.

This is the only thing that Letitia was worried about, after all: not the preservation of the man on the ebony throne, but the preservation of her father’s hopes and her sister’s investment. That was the only meaning the impeding catastrophe held to her, and none other. Aletta realizes it obscurely, as if it was a word whispered in the back of the crowd. In the sunlight, the realization chills her blood.

The victor, meanwhile, sees no reason to dismount. Having waited politely for his vanquished rivals to do so, he instead drags his helmet off, dark curls falling upon his shoulders, and salutes the crowds.

The men and women in the royal gallery above, who know him by sight, and those who were lucky enough to see him up close during his arrival from Janab, gasp audibly. For the benefit of the others, he proclaims with his rich and clear voice:

‘People of Shashtre, I am Ippolito Armizi, fortunate enough to be His Grace’s brother. When I’ve heard about the first gahanbar race to glorify the city of my father’s birth for years, I couldn’t help but honour it myself. I hope you would forgive me for the subterfuge I had to use to secure participation’.

Forgive? The people adore it. The roar reached such a pitch that, for a second, it seems to Aletta that they are now going to hoist him upon his shoulders, and carry him through the city like a conquering hero.

His half-brother is silent, and in no hurry to reveal his own scandalous deception as Ippolito Armizi is being crowned with a garland of sea-lilies and gifted with the palio, the silken banner that proclaims the victory in the race. Instead, he is standing on foot, sweat-darkened and defeated; and, for some reason, he turns his head to the right, looking beyond the turf, where man in Nali’s colours has lain, unmoving, some minutes ago.

They all might have imagined the red on grey."

#writing #currently writing #oc: letitia van der welde #original writing #novel writing #creative writing #writers #writer #amwriting a novel #amwriting novel #amwriting fantasy #amwriting #writeblr #writing community #writeblr community #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #for gods and gold

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watchtower-feed · 4 years

Text

Waynesitter and Favorites

Notes: Oh hey an actual fic this time. I’ve been feeling under the weather for the past few days and DDWP part 11 is heavy on the heart so I can’t do it in one sitting. Is that a spoiler or a teaser? Anyway, here’s something light for now. Words: 2,085

“Okay, but who’s your favorite?”

They've been asking you this for a long time now. You’ve been expertly dodging their questions but even Damian has started to be persistent that you’re finding it harder and harder to just say, “I hate all of you, let’s start there.”

“Jason.”

Cass answers suddenly which catches the attention of the whole room. Jason stares at her as a growing blush slowly covers his whole face.

“Wait.” Dick is visibly flabbergasted but more upset. He points a finger at Cass, “Is that Y/N’s answer or-“

“Mine,” she answers with a smile.

“Why?” Tim asks, sounding skeptical and a little outraged.

Cass places a finger below her lips and looks up, listing things in her head for a moment. Jason is the easy choice for her. She knows that when death comes knocking for one of them, he won’t bat an eyelid to kill the harbinger. Cass needs that. She needs someone to do what she can’t do.

There are other reasons, too, smaller ones. Like how Jason is a brute but he’s tender when he’s applying first aid on her wounds. How he quotes books she’s never read. How he sings while he cooks.

“Because he’s the most handsome,” she teases and you’re already hating her for the chaos that ensues.

If you think Dick was offended before, now he looks like Cass just stepped on his grave. “Lies,” he hisses.

Cass snickers which eggs him even more. Tim’s frowning when looks to you, “I always thought I was her favorite…” he says trying to sound nonchalant but failing.

“Tim,” you look at him with a straight gaze, “If I had a daughter, you’re the only one I would introduce her to.” Tim practically straightens his body in joy. You point your finger at him and wink, “So you better make sure you get her into an Ivy League.”

Tim rolls his eyes and groans.

You chuckle. You weren’t lying though. Tim is the most dependable and responsible out of everyone in the manor. He’s not great at taking care of himself, God knows he goes days without sleeping and won’t notice until he passes out, but whenever he sees someone injured or just plain exhausted, he goes into full big brother mode.

“I knew it! You just want me for my brains.”

“At least you get Y/N’s daughter! Cass won’t even acknowledge that I’m the most fun and loving brother!” Dick quickly turns to Jason with the distaste of a childhood rival, “You’ve been quiet. You must feel so smug right now.”

Jason pretends to inspect his cuticles, “What was that? I can’t hear you over all the handsomeness I’m emitting.”

Someone tugs on your sleeve and you see Damian sitting next to you now. He half covers his mouth to whisper something to you, “I know I’m your favorite.”

You twitch a little, “Really? How so?”

“You always see me last before you leave.”

Half true. Damian is the only one living at the manor full time so you always see him. He’s also still a child so you always have to check on him before you leave, making sure he’s still on the property and not out of the country without Bruce’s knowledge like that one time—

“I also overheard you talking to Alfred.”

Okay. Guilty. Whenever Alfred comes back early, he asks you how you are and you would always go into these rants about everything they did. You love them as much as you hate them but ever since you first met Damian, you’ve always had a soft spot for him, so everything he does is almost endearing to you.

He was in the garden with the dog when Lucius first dropped you off at the manor. You watched this stern little kid try to talk the dog into sitting down, gesturing the proper movement for the action, and staring Titus down like a boarding school principal.

But Titus did sit down and the wide and bright smile on Damian was too precious. He was beaming so hard that for a second there he lost his composure. You knew right then and there that this kid deserves more love than he can handle.

You place your finger on your lips and whisper, “Don’t tell them.”

“What’s this?” Jason calls out loudly, “Damian and Y/N are conspiring with each other.”

“It’s none of your business, Todd.”

“You’re bribing her, aren’t you?”

“Jason, you already have Cass. Stop being so greedy,” Dick replies, obviously still wounded.

“Who’s your favorite?” Cass suddenly asks him. You almost want to hug her. Of course, the best way to nurse an emotionally hurting Dick Grayson is by giving him the upperhand.

Dick is already grinning as his eyes sweep around the room. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“That’s why she asked, Dick,” Tim answers, almost bored of this topic.

“We don’t wanna know,” Jason adds.

“No. No. I’ll tell you.” He looks around, taking in the suspense that was slowly building. “It’s…” Dick takes his time looking at all of you.

“Any day, Richard,” you mock.

“You know what?” Dick crosses his arms and pretends to be hurt but the grin on his face is giving him away. “I don’t want to tell you.”

Jason groans and Tim just rests his head on the back of the sofa. You and Cass smile because it’s such a typical Dick thing to do, and it finally got everyone off your back.

“Have you all gone deaf?” Alfred pokes his head under the living room doorway. “I’ve been calling the lot of you for dinner for 5 minutes. Even master Bruce is already at the table.”

“Bruce!” everyone simultaneously yells out. Cass and the boys leap over the couch to get to the dining room, surprising and angering Alfred as they pass him.

“Goodness-- It’s like living with wild animals.”

“I’ve been telling you that since my first day!” you whine as you walk to the dining room.

Alfred grins at you, “We both know you’ve grown fond of them.”

As you get closer, their riotous goating of Bruce got louder.

“Come on, Bruce! You can’t not have a favorite!”

“The moment you tell us it’s not Dick, then we’ll be happy.”

“Stuff you, Jason. Just because you’re definitely not in the running doesn’t mean you can drag me down.”

“You’re all wasting your breath. Of course, I’m his favorite. I’m his real son.”

The room suddenly goes quiet. This was the worst time to enter. Cass, Tim, Jason, and Dick are staring at Damian, and then they roll their eyes and fill the room with a collective ‘oooh’.

“Look at me! I’m Damian! I’m his son!” Jason sways his hips as he mocks.

“Look, I have my father’s eyebrows,” teases Dick.

“Being his son means he’s obligated to love you, you know.”

“Shut up, Drake!”

Bruce turns to you and you’ve never seen so many worry lines on the cool and collected millionaire until this moment. He’s practically begging you to help him. “Um,” you say out loud, trying to drown their voices, “Cass is definitely the best girl here!”

They all turn to you. Alfred leaves you to sit at the table with the rest of them. Traitor you almost want to mutter. He gives you a look saying good luck because you’re digging your own grave.

“I mean, isn’t she though?” You walk over to Cass and hug her from behind. “If you guys ever got caught, like really caught, and I mean like you can’t fight your way out, or your talk your way out, who would you call first?”

The boys look at each other and think for a moment. Some of them nod and purse their lips. Cass holds onto your arms and turns to her side to kiss you on the cheek. You immediately smile and feel giddy that you lean your cheeks against each other. That was enough to calm everyone down because if anyone would dare ruin the moment none of them would be leaving the table alive.

Dinner lasted longer than usual. You yawn as you walk to the door with Dick.

“Want me to drop you off on my way to Bludhaven?”

You nod quickly, “You’re an angel.” He chuckles but you quickly remember something. “One sec.”

As soon as you go back into the house, Damian’s standing there. “You almost forgot me.”

“I could never.” You lift Damian in your arms and carry him off to his room, an extraordinary milestone that took you a month to reach.

“You tired, Dami?” He’s nodding off against your shoulders but still manages to suppress a yawn. You enter his room and lay him down on his bed. “What are you doing tomorrow?” You always ask him. When Damian thinks about his plans for the next day, it seems to put him to sleep faster.

He finally yawns, “I’m patrolling with father.”

“And during the day?”

“Training Goliath.”

You flinch. You’ve seen Goliath and you vow to yourself to never go exploring in the caves again. “H-how fun…” you mutter. You brush his hair until he closes his eyes. “I’ll be back in two days, okay? Tell me about it then?”

Damian lazily nods with his brows and turns to his side. You tuck in his blanket before you leave and head home.

Eerily, the drive back to your apartment is quiet. You sneak a look at Dick and see a more serious expression on his face. You nudge him.

“Hey! Driving here--”

“Wanna know who Bruce’s favorite is?” you tease with half-lidded eyes.

“Who is it?” you don’t answer so he takes a quick look at you and finds you raising your brows and smiling. He laughs, “No way!” then he stops, “Yes way? Are you serious?” You just smile at him and nod once. “I don’t believe you. How could you obtain such valuable information?”

“When you take your suits off, you guys are a lot easier to read than you think.”

“Gosh, Y/N. If you ever become a villain, you might just take over this town.”

You shake your head at such a ridiculous notion. You hate crime-fighting and you hate crime even more. You suddenly punch Dick in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“You better not tell your brothers!”

He rubs his shoulders and looks at you, “Why would I? Is it true? Am I really Bruce’s favorite?” His grip on the wheels suddenly tightens and he looks like he’s ready to speed into the distance, “Jason is going to be so mad!” You shake your head and wonder how many hours you have to wait before you’re bombarded with group messages about this.

“Oh hey, Y/N,” Dick pulls over outside your apartment building. “Guess who’s Alfred’s favorite?”

Your attention is definitely piqued, “Who?”

“I said guess.”

“It’s not you, is it?” you narrow your eyes, suddenly feeling like this is just a narcissistic trap Dick has set up.

He chuckles, “It used to be. But have you noticed how you get called to the manor even when he’s there?”

You roll your eyes, “Have you met you? You guys are a serious handful!”

Dick shakes his head, “No no. Listen. Alfred can handle us. He can handle us better than Bruce, let me tell you--” Dick pauses a little, “Alfred actually saw you at the office. You were scolding Lucius and when Bruce came to check on him as a backup, you scolded him, too.” Dick laughs.

“Wait. What? What’s this? I don’t remember that. Come on, Dick. Stop laughing and tell the story properly!”

“I don’t know,” he’s still laughing, “I forgot what it was about but Alfred was just impressed by how immune you were to their charms and how scared you made Bruce in a matter of seconds. Not an easy feat and you know that.”

You narrow your eyes at Dick, “You’re the worst storyteller.” You unclasp your seatbelt and step out of the car. After walking around, you knock on the driver’s window and wait until he rolls down the window. “Thanks for the ride by the way.”

He salutes you. “Want me to pick you up in two days?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Okay. I’ll pick you up.”

Dick drives off before you can add another word. You glare at his sports car before you walk up to your building door. Before you even get the chance to slip your keys in, your phone vibrates in your pocket. “That little-”

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

#waynesitter #DC imagines #DC fanfiction #DC reader insert #batfamily fanfiction #batfamily imagine #batfamily x reader #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction #watchtower-feed #acropen #lexyartem

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loveactionsspeaklouder · 3 years

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we belong together - kylian mbappé and julian draxler fanfic

5| Stone Cold

a/n: very smutty

september 2023| paris

Kylian couldn't wrap his head around how different Molly was, he was shocked how little emotion she showed. He knew the death of her father was tough, but he didn't realise it would have these consequences. Did my ignorance really ruin her that much, he questioned.

He ran a hand over his short hair and scratched his neck, something he had found himself doing when he was frustrated. He felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around his neck, feeling wet kisses fall on his skin. He closed his eyes and breathed in. "You've been so distracted lately, what's wrong?"

I've been fucking my emotionless ex, he wanted to tell her. I'm in love with her and I can't help it, he should have said. But instead, he lied to his fiancé, something he told himself he would never do, until he started his affair. "I'm fine, I just want the season to go well."

Rosalie spun Kylian around and moved herself onto his lap. Did she believe him? No. Was she going to pester him? No. She was still in shock at their relationship; it was no secret what their engagement had done for her career, but she did truly love the Frenchman, despite what his fans had been saying. She knew they missed Molly and she wasn't stupid to notice that Kylian's recent mood swings had started happening when she returned. "How are you and Molly?"

Kylian scoffed at her question. She knows, she fucking knows. But she didn't, she wasn't anywhere near the truth. He rolled his eyes and removed the model from his body. "We don't speak," he replied. Technically, he wasn't lying. The only time they spoke was when they were planning their next lust filled night together. Heck, when they fucked, Kylian would do all the talking. He would try and whisper sweet nothings in Molly's ear, she would block it out and concentrate on reaching her high, something she has trained herself to do. "She doesn't want anything to do with me. She's got Adam and I've got you and that's the end of the conversation."

Rosalie was used to his sudden outbursts, especially when it came to his former girlfriend. She had seen first-hand just how heartless Molly had become. It was like she was a different person; her bright blue eyes now resembled the colour of the darkest part of the ocean, her lips were trained to only curve when she was talking to someone she potentially liked and that scared Rosalie. That scared her to her core. She didn't know what had happened to turn her into the stone-hearted person she now witnessed. But in her heart, she knew deep down her suddenly agitated fiancé, could potentially be the key to fixing her.

....

september 2023| paris

Julian knocked on the familiar apartment door, it was the first time he had visited since Molly returned. "Come on in daydreamer." As he walked through the door and placed himself on the couch, he thought back to the reason he was there. Please talk to Molly, he remembered Kylian pleading. She's not the same and she won't let me in, he sobbed. It was the first time the German had seen him cry, he knew something wasn't right. "So, what brings you here?"

"Can a friend not come and see you?" He winked. Molly sat there, straight faced with an ever-present daunting grin. Jesus, he thought, she is fucking different. He gulped, watching her take a sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving his. "Are you enjoying being back in Paris?"

"I would be, if silly boys didn't keep asking me stupid questions all the time," she mocked, slowly rolling her eyes. It wasn't a secret to everybody that Molly wasn't the same fun-loving, emotional girl from two years ago. This version was strong, relentless and daring. She loved scaring people into doing what she wanted. "Just tell me the real reason why you're here and not some bullshit one you randomly thought off."

She placed her wine glass on the table and removed herself from the couch; she took one look in the mirror and traced a finger seductively over her lip, Julian bit his own in awe. She walked over to him and moved between his legs. He gazed up and looked at her; she looked powerful and in control, her eyes were dark and commanding. "I know why you're here," she finally spoke. Her voice was quiet and intimidating. She placed herself onto his lap, his hands instantly moved to her thighs. This is what she wants, he realised when she smirked at his actions. "And it's not going to work."

"What do you mean?" Julian questioned, unable to think straight as Molly started leaving kisses along his neck, her hand moving down to his growing bulge. He drew in a breath, unable to stop a moan leaving his lips. She laughed against his skin, he still wants me, she thought.

"You want to change me," she breathed against his lips. "You want to know what's happened to your precious Molly," she continued, pulling him closer and connecting their lips into a passionate kiss. Julian couldn't help but wrap his arms around her waist, allowing her entrance into his mouth. She slowly rocked her hips against his hard shaft, he moaned into the kiss. I told you so, he pictured Kylian telling him. "I'm still here Julian, I just need piecing back together."

"Let us help you," he groaned. She picked up the pace and rocked quicker. He said her name as his eyes fluttered shut, she dragged her teeth along his bottom lip, making his fingers dig into her skin. She didn't want to hear him speak, she just wanted to feel him. "Molly..." his voice was cut off by a choked moan. She swivelled her hips, running her hands over his chest. He strained his head back and started cursing. "What about Adam?"

Julian grabbed onto Molly, gripping her hips for control, she refused and continued her movements. She moved his hands above his head and pinned them to the back of the couch, staring hard into his pleasured eyes and gritted teeth. "Forget him, just let go," she whispered into his ear, she continued to grind her hips with no mercy. He closed his eyes and reached for her face, sloppily kissing the skin.

"Shit, I'm..." he finally let go; shaking his legs, spitting German profanities and letting his fingers leave slight bruises on her skin. She smirked as she felt his pants dampen as he reached his climax. Seconds later, she reached her own, collapsing onto the sofa in complete satisfaction. He turned to face her and removed a few strands of hair from her sweaty face. She softly smiled at him, he was always gentle with her and she appreciated it. He kissed her one more time, with simplicity and love. He rested his forehead on hers and traced a finger over her cheek, watching her every movement; her eyes were still dark, but they showed a hint of emotion and fear. She's hurting, he realised. "I know you don't want to hear it or don't care, but we are here for you Molly. I'm here, Kylian is, Adam is, we all are. You just have to allow it."

....

september 2023| paris

Kylian had been pacing around Molly's bedroom for fifteen minutes in a fit of rage. He was struggling to process the conversation he'd had with Julian a mere thirty minutes ago. He flew in rage to her apartment, unable to keep his emotions in, he was furious and didn't care who saw. "Molly, what the fuck?"

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "If you're not here to fuck me, then you can leave," she cynically smiled. She didn't understand why he was angry, it wasn't like they were dating. You're cheating on your boyfriend with him, you know he has feelings for you, she ignored her thoughts and shrugged. She moved her eyes to him and lifted her eyebrows, patiently waiting for an answer.

"Fuck you."

"That's what I'm asking you to do," she mockingly sang, a sarcastic laugh escaping her filthy lips. He moved closer to her and carefully gripped her neck, she licked her lips and looked at him through her eyelashes. "Finally, I wa..."

He attacked her lips with a harsh kiss, trapping her on the bed. "You listen to me," Kylian hissed. He watched as Molly teasingly bit her lip and fluttered her eyelashes. Ignore her and stay strong, he pleaded with himself. "You are mine. That means you don't touch anybody else, do I make myself clear?"

She loudly chuckled and easily flipped him over, keeping him on the mattress. She watched his eyes like a lion would watch its prey, waiting for the slightest movement before she pounced. He nervously gulped, unable to hold her terrifying gaze. Got him, she smirked. "I'm not yours," she whispered against his lips, leaving an agonising small distance between his face and hers. He ached for her touch, it was all he wanted after hearing about her actions with Julian. "You made that very clear when you proposed to someone else. I wanted you to fight for me and you failed," she carried on speaking, her voice gravely low. Kylian held a breath in his throat, paralysed by her words. "You will never own me Kylian, you had your chance and blew it."

"Why are you being like this?" He managed to choke out. He watched her face, no movement. She removed herself from the bed and walked over to her window, staring at the empty sky; no clouds, or stars, just a dark blue sky. It represented how she felt, empty and alone.

Kylian walked up behind Molly and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. He breathed in her scent, placing a small kiss to her shoulder before resting his head on it. They stayed like that for a few minutes before she turned around to face him, he timidly stroked her cheek. "I'm so sorry. I want to make it better. I need to."

She sighed; the old Molly would have hated to see how upset Kylian was, but the new Molly revelled in it. That's why, after hearing his pleas, she took a breath and stared into his eyes. She remembered his threats from before. "This between us means nothing," she started. He cupped her cheeks and closed his eyes, it was the only thing to do to stop his tears from falling. She removed his hands and pushed him away. She folded her arms and tilted her head, ready to repeat his famous words. She smirked at him, before laughing and shaking her head. "Do I make myself clear?"

....

a/n: fun fact about this chapter - i wrote this at 6am one saturday morning, i had a sudden burst of inspiration haha! so about the chapter, we are starting to see more of molly’s new personality - she’s ruthless, nasty BUT she lets her guard down sometimes. my poor molly :-( who do we prefer her with - julian or kylian??

also!!! lockdown is FINALLY over in my country, so i am now going back to work. luckily i have nearly finished writing this story, so updates shouldn’t take to long! but they will be less frequent than my last book.

as always, thank you for reading - love always xxx

#kylian mbappe #julian draxler #fanfiction #fanfic #football #psg #paris saint germain #Football Fanfiction #football imagine #imagine #football smut #kylian mbappe imagine #julian draxler imagine

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magioftheseas · 4 years

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Scar To Burden

For @badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Scar to Remember taken from here.

Rating: T+

Warnings: Body horror, mental instability, messiness. Yes.

Notes: It was also part of an art trade of sorts. Because it’s canon Matsun, it ended up a little vent-y. Waaaaah. I should write more MatsuHina. We need more danganronpa zero + super danganronpa 2 content in general.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

“If you’re gonna keep staring at it,” Matsuda griped. “You might as well just take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Hinata froze immediately, fingertips lingering on his head scars. In the reflection, he sees Matsuda huff. Sees him stride close, clapping a hand on his trembling shoulder.

“What’s up?” Matsuda asked coldly, leaning in and pressing up against him, sending chills down his spine. “The hell is with that stupid fucking face?”

Matsuda’s thumb presses against the scar, right above Hinata’s ear, where Matsuda’s touch had lingered before.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The specter snorts, crossing his legs the way the living Matsuda Yasuke so often did. Hinata tries not to let his gaze trail from the other’s face, not to the legs fading out to nothing and certainly not to the chest under Matsuda’s crossed arms, which looked like it had been stomped in. Over and over. But rather than the expected blood and gore, it was faded around the edges, as if the being were just a wax replica. Except wax didn’t huff at him like that.

“Don’t tell me you’d rather I was someone else,” Matsuda sneezed. “Upset I’m not your stupid fucking girlfriend? God, don’t tell me you’d prefer Junko.”

“Absolutely not,” Hinata snapped, bristling. “It’s just—why now?”

“Dunno.” In typical Matsuda fashion, he was just shrugged at like he wasn’t worth a second longer of thought. “Just felt like it. It’s super fucking boring being dead, y’know. I can only read over people’s shoulders. I can’t eat. I can’t even sleep. Sucks. So fucking bad. Makes me wish necromancy was a talent, not gonna lie.”

Hinata did feel Kamukura Izuru stir inside him. Whether with curiosity or something else, Hinata steeled himself against it.

He’s gone. Matsuda’s gone. That he’s even here is probably just—

“You think I’m an hallucination,” Matsuda droned. “I’m not. Ask me a question, fucker. I’ll prove it.”

“Proof?” Hinata had to laugh at that, mirthlessly as it was. “Like what?”

“Your stupid fucking boyfriend? He’s with the meathead coach right now. Being lugged about like a particular sad sack of potatoes after collapsing during a jog.” Matsuda shows his teeth. “That sniveling not-quite-nurse will be treating him by the time you rush over.”

Komaeda isn’t—

Hinata got up immediately.

(To his utter despair, Matsuda was completely right. He didn’t even know what to say in between Komaeda swearing that he was alright and apologizing for the trouble as Tsumiki insisted she was doing well in treating him, don’t worry, don’t worry, why do you look so pale, Hinata-san, y-you look like you’ve seen a ghost—)

Despite clearly keeping tabs on everyone there, Hinata doesn’t see Matsuda tailing anyone else. Hell, he doesn’t even see Matsuda outside of his cottage. He wonders if Matsuda can control whether or not he’s seen, and he’s too disturbed to ponder it.

This, unfortunately, doesn’t stop Kamukura Izuru, which makes Hinata feel all kinds of skin-crawlingly disgusting. Makes him also want to claw out his skull, to rip the stitches open if he could.

“Jeez, what’s up your rectum?”

What do you fucking think, Matsuda? Rather than spit out the words, Hinata glares at the ghost over his shoulder. He’s trying to read a book Sonia lent him—but of course Matsuda’s too damn clever to buy into the ruse.

“You look constipated,” Matsuda pointed out, cutting through him with such ease. Always capable of cutting through him with well-practiced fingers and an even more skillfully sharp tongue. “You’re so fucking obvious about it, too.”

Hinata wanted to seethe, but willed himself to keep a straight, unimpressed face.

“Boring read, huh,” Matsuda droned, reflecting that same expression back. “Is it because it’s predictable or because it’s just not to your taste?”

“It’s...” Hinata bit back the word boring. His temper flared, and he forced that back down as well for good measure. “It’s hard to focus on anything when you’re breathing down my neck. In a manner of speaking.”

The dead man—boy, really, Matsuda fucking died before he reached adulthood—just quirked an eyebrow at him. The corner of his lips curled into a truly ugly smirk, accompanied by a snort.

“A manner of speaking!” Matsuda rose his voice to an annoyingly nasal high-pitched tone. “Isn’t that book about a fucking doctor who plays god?” He blows past before Hinata can think twice, flipping the pages furiously. “You didn’t even get to the best part! Look here!”

He brandishes it with mock theatrics and a sneer.

“They shove him back,” Matsuda intones, voice low and grave. “Down, down, down he went. They watch him fall. He, who built them, who built up everything—he who looked so much smaller when splattered to bits.”

Hinata said nothing. He just waited until Matsuda fizzled.

“You piece of shit.” Matsuda still got out one last mirthless chuckle. “You’ve already read it, huh? You fucking started fiddling with it, knowing I’d get fucking curious about it. You knew, you knew, you knew.”

Hinata didn’t say anything to that, either.

“Was it satisfying?” Matsuda hissed. “Was it cathartic? Watching that bitch not only fall to pieces but also give up?”

“She was content, Matsuda.” Hinata simply brushed him off. “She was satisfied with the outcome.”

Matsuda’s form simmers with so much anger that it blurs his edges and especially blurs his expression. Like this, you might not even be able to tell that the once neurologist was in tears. What grew especially jagged from these distortions was the gaping maw in his chest.

Despite looking less and less like a once-person, this being couldn’t be further from dissipating completely. Hinata could hear his own heartbeat, and what a wretched sound that was in this utter, tumultuous silence.

“...sorry,” he finally whispers, just for something new. Just to keep himself from trying to dig his nails into his scar. The ghost reshapes itself, only slightly. It drifts close, and Hinata sucked in his breath. “I’m sorry, Matsuda, I... I-I just...”

Matsuda’s fingertips, practiced and cold and gentle as always, brush against his forehead scars.

“You’re unbearable to look at with this,” Matsuda murmured as Hinata’s breath ended up hitching. Like this, like this, the ghost of the guy who helped ruined him really did look like quite the dream.

“You think?” he couldn’t help but ask. “The lines were clean. The stiches tidy. Evenly spaced apart.” Those cold fingers curled against his jaw, and he just leans into that deathly touch. “It’s a work of art, isn’t it? On the outside and the inside.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Rather than with fire or ice, Matsuda’s words are airy and weightless. “Don’t say such creepy bullshit.”

When Hinata does reach up to grip the other’s hand, he phases right through. Because, obviously he does.

Obviously.

“Have you seen anything strange lately?”

“Mm? You’ll have to be more specific.” Komaeda, when perked up and bright-eyed, is especially alert. “Has something happened, Hinata-kun?”

“No.” The lie comes so easily it’s despicable. “I was just asking.”

I’m not the only person that Matsuda’s looking after.

“It’s a strange question,” Komaeda said, cajoling. Hinata still doesn’t bite, even when Komaeda seems serious. “Nothing happened at all?”

“Something is always happening,” he pointed out. “There is no need for suspicion over a simple question.”

“Hahaha. Oh, Hinata-kun. When did you get so unbearable?”

When, indeed?

Somehow, even if he wanted to, he wasn’t sure he’d know how to answer. Maybe he’s always been this way. Maybe he’s only like this because he got on a table and let a guy his own age cut open his skull under the slimy supervision of a farcical medical staff. That same guy had been—

Not...nice. Once upon a time. But, maybe, just maybe, they had a relationship close to being friends. Matsuda would smack him with books and demand food. Would often drag him off-campus and distract him from everything for a good hour. Matsuda was grumpy and abrasive, absolutely not the kind of person he’d normally want to associate with. He was cruel, too, up until Hinata finalized the contract.

It was only after the stupid simulation that Hinata realized that Matsuda never wanted any of this. That Matsuda did care, especially in the way he made the procedure swift and simple...and especially in the way he’d stare at his head scars with the most pained eyes.

How boringly simple Matsuda Yasuke always was. It’s no wonder he had so many regrets.

“If you do see something, let me know,” Hinata said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Komaeda gives him a look, and Hinata wonders about Matsuda’s regrets involving him. Involving damn near everyone in the class that Enoshima Junko got her claws into.

Selfishly, I don’t...

“I don’t want you to worry about them. They’re my responsibility now.”

“Mmhm,” Matsuda hummed, unconvinced as he draped himself over the bed. He was playing with the pages of a manga that Hinata purposefully left out. “Possessive, are you? Fucked up.”

“I’m the one with this.” Hinata tapped his scar. “This is all that remains of you after the simulation was forcibly shut down.”

“Maybe that’s why you can see me,” Matsuda muttered, sounding wholly disinterested. “And here I just fucking thought Kamukura Izuru was an Ultimate Medium or something.”

Kamukura Izuru was. However, Hinata has no intention of being the same.

“I want to be the only one that has to deal with the burden of your memory. You’re right. I’m possessive.”

“Just like her.” Matsuda sneered at him, pointing to where his own heart would be if it hadn’t been stomped to dust. “You’re a piece of work, alright.”

“That’s thanks to you.”

Matsuda chuckles softly under his breath. It’s not just mirthless, it’s downright miserable. His form flickers, too. Hinata idly rubs over the swollen scar tissue, gaze not leaving the other for a second.

“Take a picture,” Matsuda says, flat and irritated. “It’ll last longer.”

I’ll keep this image just as I’ve kept your marks and memory.

#Magi fics #bad things happen bingo #yasuke matsuda #hajime hinata #bad things bingo

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geekgirles · 4 years

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I Was Made For Loving You

Well, my dear @foxlanaeshrek, as we say around here: lo prometido es deuda. This one-shot is based on our Rock! Branch AU. To be more specific, on your headcanon that Rock! Branch would sing rock ballads to Poppy. Hope you like it!

Branch had always known he was unusual for a Rock troll.

Despite his dexterity playing the most hardcore tunes with his electric guitar, he would often find himself playing more subdued and forlorn melodies. Sometimes even ballads that didn’t sound all that rock-n’-roll-ish.

Even with his stern or even aggressive temper and his sarcastic mouth, always ready to deliver some snarky comments to whoever pushed his buttons more than what was medically recommended (basically, because most patients the doctors from Volcano Rock City tended to were usually sent there for messing with Branch in the first place), he had an uncanny ability for translating his thoughts in the form of the most beautiful verses.

Ugh, poetry. What a corny thing to do. If the other Rock trolls ever found out, he would never hear the end of it.

There was also his lone wolf persona. One of the main reasons he’d been chosen as Queen Barb’s Captain, in fact. He was known for being level-headed, precise, infallible, independent, never needing anyone but himself or anything but his queen’s approval. He always got the job done. Always. And yet, he was so touch-deprived he could barely process what was happening when he received physical affection.

Yes, he was unusual for a Rock Troll. But he’d never thought he’d be unusual enough to fall in love with a Pop troll. The Queen of the Pop trolls, of all people!

Although, on second thought… He maybe should’ve seen it coming.

To make things even more unusual, Poppy was actually the only mission he had ever failed at fulfilling.

He was supposed to send her people Queen Barb’s message, but just as he was about to, he saw her. The moment he laid eyes on her he was convinced he’d died and gone to Heaven, for only an angel could ever be good enough to compare itself to her. That voice, that laugh, those eyes, that smile! Any artistic masterpiece and its beauty paled in comparison to hers.

And then is when he realised he’d been drooling like a hormonal teenager over the freaking Queen of the Pop trolls. Wait to go…

After finally delivering the message, he tried convincing himself that if meant nothing. He just happened to think the pink troll was hot, that’s all. It wasn’t like his heart would then threaten to burst out of his chest just at the mere thought of her, let alone having her near.

Except it sorta… kinda… low-key… high-key… did. It definitely did.

He was such a mess around her that he’d gone and made the greatest, most embarrassing mistake of his life; he’d recited poetry to her! He, a hardened Rock troll and second-in-command of the troll responsible for her imprisonment, had recited poetry to her, a happy-go-lucky queen who proved herself to be the biggest threat to their plan. And it that weren’t mortifying enough, the poetry happened to be about her. Because, why not? Since he was already digging his own grave, might as well engrave the words in his tombstone…

When he finally realised what he’d done he expected to be mocked. To be looked at as if he were completely insane (he probably was, anyway). To be laughed at… What he didn’t expect, though, was to be stared at with such single-minded devotion by a wide-eyed, blushing pink queen.

Her mesmerised voice somehow managed to bewitch and simultaneously free him from his trance, “Wow… Branch, t-that was… That was beautiful!” she praised, “No one’s ever said anything like that about me. Thank you, I also love your eyes.”

The smile on her face as she uttered those words was enough for him to realise his loyalty now laid beside her. And he’d be damned if he ever let anything bad happen to her.

Although, a shameful part of him had to admit he’d been drooling over how smothering hot she looked as a Rock troll. But nobody had to know about that.

And now that the trolls were finally united, regardless of the kind of music they worshipped, he was lucky enough to have won the Pop queen’s heart. He just needed to find a way to show how aware of his luck he was.

Luckily, he knew just the perfect thing.

………

Poppy still couldn’t believe she was dating a Rock troll. And what a Rock troll he was! Branch was everything she could’ve ever hoped for in a mate; he was smart, he was reliable, he was down-to-earth (something hard to find amongst her subjects), he had the most incredible voice! And he was, oh, so handsome. So, so handsome. She’d caught herself shamelessly devouring him with her gaze more than once. Her eyes would wander around his naked chest, completely mesmerised by his physique. Or her hands would try and touch that mullet of his, in an attempt to pull strands of hair because she could barely control herself!

But if anyone noticed and asked about it, it was always the same answer, “Oh, I just thought he had some fuzz in his hair, that’s all”, or, “Oh, I was just looking at your tattoo! I didn’t notice that one before…”

But most importantly, she loved the way he treated her. She never would have expected a Rock troll to be so caring, so attentive. But alas, that was Branch with her. And she loved every second they spent together.

Which was all the more reason to be excited about their date tonight!

The night before Debbie delivered a letter from him to her, asking to meet him at one of the clearings of Troll Village the following night. He said there was something he wanted to show her.

So there she was, dressed in a simple violet dress with pink hearts adorning the hem and a tiara to match. She could already feel her heart beating faster the moment their gazes met. She ran to him, knowing he would catch her in his open arms.

“Branch!” she greeted him as she nuzzled his cheek with his own, enjoying the embrace he had her in.

“Poppy”, he chuckled in response.

“It’s so great to see you! How’ve you been these past week?” Has it been a week already since she saw him last? How did she manage to survive that long?

“It’s been fine”, he shrugged before leaning in closer so he could whisper into her ear, “I missed the presence of the only ray of sunshine I need in my life, though.”

Touched by his beautiful words, she put a heart on her chest before pecking his cheek. He was so romantic!

“So! What did you want to show me?”

“Actually,” he started as he guided her to a picnic mat that was already set, “I think we should eat first and leave the best part for the end.” He winked at her, “Wouldn’t want to work on an empty stomach!”

She just giggled before she complied, sitting down next to him.

Their little night picnic was simply delightful. They spent hours doing nothing but eating, sometimes feeding each other; flirting, laughing, and generally having a good time. Finally, just when the moon was highest in the sky and the lighting was just right, Branch took out his guitar from his hair and began to play. After a few notes, he soon accompanied the melody with his voice.

Tonight I want to give it all to you

In the darkness There's so much I want to do And tonight I want to lay it at your feet 'Cause girl, I was made for you And girl, you were made for me

Poppy certainly didn’t know what to do, she was still getting used to the Rock trolls’ customs and norms, not to mention their music. So she wasn’t sure how to interpret Branch’s song. But the more she listened to the lyrics, the more she could understand it was somehow… Beautiful. Touching even.

I was made for lovin' you baby You were made for lovin' me And I can't get enough of you baby Can you get enough of me

Despite his cool exterior, Branch was freaking out inside. What if Poppy was weirded out by his choice of song? What if she didn’t like it? He meant every word of it as he was composing it, his feelings for Poppy resurfacing at full force as he wrote down the words. But she was still a Pop troll, and their views on romance could be even more different than their views on music. He just hoped the song was getting through to her.

Tonight I want to see it in your eyes Feel the magic There's something that drives me wild And tonight we're gonna make it all come true 'Cause girl, you were made for me And girl I was made for you

As Branch kept singing, Poppy couldn’t help but grin widely at him. This song spoke about them! About how he truly felt about their relationship! Her boyfriend was really too wonderful for words. Without even realising it, as if under a spell, she slowly rose from her seat, getting closer to him with every step.

I was made for lovin' you baby You were made for lovin' me And I can't get enough of you baby Can you get enough of me

The moment he saw the smile on her face he knew he would do anything to see that expression on her face until his last day. She truly was too enchanting for words. But he was going to try and express how he felt through this song. Although he, himself, could barely keep the dopey smile off his face when she started getting closer to him. And the moment she started singing along? Hair, he was a goner.

I was made for lovin' you baby You were made for lovin' me And I can give it all to you baby Can you give it all to me

Oh, can't get enough, oh, oh I can't get enough, oh, oh I can't get enough Yeah, ha

I was made for lovin' you baby You were made for lovin' me

When the song finally ended and they looked into each other’s eyes they knew nothing needed to be said. As they leaned closer together, they sealed their feelings for each other with a kiss. They were truly made for loving each other.

#trolls #trolls world tour #twt #twt spoilers #trolls world tour spoilers #trolls fanfic #Rock! Branch AU #Poppy #Branch #Broppy #Rock! Branch

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veryberrybrenda · 4 years

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Just One More Bet

Pairing: Adam Du Mortain x Lucia Langford

Prompt: Guilt

Notes: I goggled the French curse words because I don’t speak French, so idk if they are 100% correct. I’m sorry in advance. This is Day 5 of Wayhaven Week 2020 by @otomefandomevents

Respect was something that came easy to Lucia. Her work ethic in the office was what granted her the promotion to Detective after all. What people respected most about her was her ability to do what was needed. Whether it be staying late to finish paperwork or helping out Verda with his work, she was always the one who did what most people didn’t want to do. It was something she took pride in, that was the case until recently.

Adam made her question everything. He made her own body betray her. Pulse racing, cheeks flushed, voice stuttering. She was used to being the one with the cards in her hands, but the world decided her winning streak should come to an end.

But right now, she was in control. Perspiration made her bare feet slick against the blue mat. Her breathing was ragged as she kicked the punching bag. It stood its ground, barely swaying against her valley of kicks and punches, mocking her.

She had been getting better, thankfully, not a small part due to Adam. He had been sacrificing his brooding time to train her – make her stronger against those who wanted to hurt her.

Lucia hated the feeling of being helpless, having to rely on others. Being a burden doesn’t sit well with her independent nature. That was why she chose combat with Adam over research with Nate. Although she was better suited to learning about the weaknesses of supernaturals, with her unquenchable thirst for knowledge and all, knowledge itself, won’t stop a creature from snapping her arm off like it was some crispy taco.

Creak.

The sound of the door opening interrupted her assault on the punching bag as she turned to face the person responsible for the noise. Before even taking a glance, she already had a guess to who it could be.

Who else would train at 10 o'clock at night.

Standing at the doorway was a man with an approved expression, posture as stiff as always. “Your form is getting better,” Adam said, voice echoing in the large room.

“That’s progress,” Lucia panted, breathing rough from exertion.

Adam walked, his usual brisk strides, over to Lucia. His hand clasped behind his back as he eyed Lucia as though he were critiquing a piece of art. “Have your legs spread a bit wider when you punch. It will help you keep your balance better.”

A devilish grin formed on Lucia’s lips. This is too good. The man is setting himself up.

“Spread my legs. Got it,” she replied with a smirk, eyes searching for the slightest crack in his once impenetrable walls.

The flirtation only made Adam narrow his eyes, jaw clenched. “This is not some game, Detective. Your life is at stake.”

“I make fun where fun is needed. I heard it makes it easier to remember stuff,” Lucia quipped confidently as she awaited the leader’s comeback.

“Your life is no joke. It is precious to me- I mean us.” Adam’s eyes widen at his slip up, but he hastily plastered back on his stoic mask. “Besides, Agent Langford would be highly disappointed in me if something happened to you.”

His almost confession had Lucia blinking for a few seconds. Maybe there is hope after all. She just had to do what was necessary to get it out of him.

Taking a step closer, she fully gazed into his emerald eyes, searching for some sign of the real unguarded soul behind it. “Would you be disappointed if something were to happen to me?”

She saw it. The slightest twitch of his lips as he concentrated on maintaining his mask. “Yes, of course. It would be quite an annoyance to have one less team member to utilize during missions.” Although his expression was unreadable, his voice wasn’t. There was a slight pitch to it that betrayed him.

I hooked him. Now it’s time to see if the world will deal me a good hand.

This was turning into a gamble as she took another step, his eyes trailing her every move, but thankfully he wasn’t fleeing…yet. Rolling the dice yet again, she reached out to grab his hand, his fingers limp against hers. She could sense the smallest tensing of his fingers like he’s fighting himself not to hold her hand.

Lucia still gets surprised each time she feels the delicate skin of his palm. Where she expected them to be hard, rough, and calloused from his centuries of work, they were soft, smooth, and lacking any imperfection. He would make an amazing hand model.

His mouth opened then promptly closed shut with unsaid words. Adam’s pupils were blown, turning his eyes dark as the green disappeared. A battle is raging inside of those eyes. The man who wants to be set free vs. the vampire who has survived centuries of loneliness and pain. Lucia can only hope her bet on the former wins.

There is no better time than now to confront him. I just hope he doesn’t run away this time.

Her volume has died down to a mere whisper, “Adam, I want to say- “

As though he knew where she was going with this, he suddenly whips around, yanking his hand away from hers, and knocking down a wooden dummy in the process. Lucia flinches at the loud thud the dummy makes when it hit the floor. Adam just stares at the dummy menacingly as if its existence offended him.

After a few seconds of silence, Adam crouches down to pick up the dummy. His eyes still radiating hatred when he sees Lucia also couching down to help him.

“I got it!” Adam snarled, tone low and threatening.

“I want to help.” Her tone not making any room for argument, but Adam always seemed to find a way.

Adam grips the dummy. “I don’t want your help.” His voice coming out in a single breath as he heaves the dummy up.

She desperately tried to think of something to say - to prevent his walls from rising up again as he wipes the dust off the dummy. Clenching her hands, she builds her resolve that she hopes will be enough to stand against a 900-year-old vampire.

“Tu Omnia.” It comes out as more of a command than a statement, which she hopes Adam will obey.

The phrase had Adam’s body freezing up like ice, his back, taunt as it faced her.

“You are everything.” She said the phrase slowly, afraid that if she said them a little too quick, she would’ve spooked him. This time, raw emotion spills into her voice, making Adam’s knuckles tighten over the wooden dummy, fingers white.

“Where…did you hear that?” Adam questioned accusingly.

Determination filled Lucia once again. “You told me that just before the medication kicked in after the fight with the trappers.”

“I…never said such thing!” Adam shouted defensively that emphasized his continued digging of his grave.

She crossed her arms, anger starting to simmer inside of her at the man’s lies. “Just ask Nate. He was the one who translated it for me.”

“No, you’re wrong!” An animalistic snarl escapes from his lips. The wood under his fingers finally break with a snap. “Fils de pute (son of a bitch)!” Adam curses in what she assumes is French as he chucks the broken wood aimlessly to the side. He throws it with so much force that it shatters the mirror beside him, sending shards scattering everywhere.

Without a word, she bends down to pick up the shards on the ground. Adam is still turned away from her while she silently cleans up the collateral damage, something she has gotten too used to doing.

Unfortunately for her, she made the terrible mistake of forgetting that she’s bare foot and she steps on a shard, a subdued scream escaping from her lips.

“Fucking hell!” She shouts angrily, while clutching her injured foot. Crimson drips readily from the sizable shard embedded in the center of her foot.

Maybe it was the pain of her wound or the frustration of being lied to by the person she trusts the most, but she just couldn’t take it anymore. She felt tired. Tired of pretending that it didn’t hurt every time Adam would show her a piece of his heart then proceed to snatch it away, leaving her to deal with the consequences. She knew this was no way to live her life, but if she was honest with herself, she was addicted. Addicted to seeing him smile at a joke she made or when his gaze would soften around her. Living 900 years alone had its baggage, sure, but her stupid heart couldn’t help itself. She’s neck deep in her bad habit that she just can’t bring herself to quit.

Maybe I’ll win the next round, she keeps telling herself, but the cards were slipping from her hands and she was powerless to stop it.

She would never be able to quit Adam Du Mortain for as long as she breathes.

Tears were forming in her eyes as her own walls that were meant to defend her, came caving in, trapping her under the rubble.

Lucia’s scream pulls Adam from his state and he instantly appears behind her in a blur, arms wrapped around her waist as he gently eases her down on the mat away from the broken glass. Her hands are coated in warm blood. The aroma of it overpowered his senses, crying out to his primal side to surface, to drink it, but he suppresses it as he tucks a piece of stray hair away from her face that have come undone from her ponytail.

Her black eyes always fascinated him and the same time, annoyed him. They gave him a hard time because he could never see her pupils that mixed with her black iris. Not that he has to of course, her hammering heart always was a telltale sign of her true feelings - ones that he tries his best to ignore, for his sake. They were two black holes, reeling him in and refusing to let go until he was consumed by them. They contrasted nicely with her bright lavender hair that set her apart from everyone else, but right now, he wishes he could see those eyes.

Lucia’s bloody hands covered her dark eyes as she chokes on her sobs. The sight of her in such a state because of him made his heart constrict in guilt.

Crying didn’t come naturally to her, so it wasn’t the glass that had tears racking her body. It was something else – something that he refuses to acknowledge because once he does, he won’t be able to stop himself. The only time he had seen her cry was when she visited him when he got injured by the trappers. Her tears had weakened his walls, which made him say those words that he wished he could take back. Tu Omnia. The DMB had made his mind weak and it slipped out before he could stop himself. She hadn’t brought it up since and he thought she didn’t hear it, but he was surely mistaken.

He admired her tenacity. He would shoo her away and she would still find a way back to him like some lovesick puppy. Her fighting spirit reminded Adam of himself. He would sacrifice anything for his team – and for her. So the sight of her broken and beaten in his arms caused him to feel like a failure. He failed to protect her from danger – failed to protect her from himself.

I wish you could see how much you deserve someone better than me.

Adam laid a hand under the back of her head to hug her closer to him, hoping that it would offer her some peace in her battle to find the shadow of the man that had been lost to time. Her head instantly tucked into his chest, and so he did his best to shield her from the dangerous world that threatened to destroy who she was. He was glad that she wasn’t able to look at him because if she did, his walls would’ve instantly came crashing down.

Sliding one hand under her legs and the other under her back, he lifted her up bridal style in his strong arms. Her cries had turned into small whimpers now as she struggled to regain her composure. She felt lighter than he expected – smaller, more fragile. Her tendency to project strength, just like her mother, almost made him forget how delicate humans actually are.

As Adam was in the process of carrying her to her room, he passed by Nate, who instantly rushed towards him, expression worried as he took in Lucia bleeding and whimpering in his arms. Adam had hoped that no one would notice, but everyone must’ve heard her cries by now.

“What happened?” Nate asked, brows knitted in worry.

“Please, not now Nate.” Adam pleaded. He hoped that his old friend can understand the look in his eyes to back off.

Nate must’ve understood. “Okay. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Can you clean the broken glass in the training room?”

“Of course.” Nate replied softly. He quietly walked away, something that Adam found oddly strange, given his size.

With no more interruptions, Adam arrived at Lucia’s brightly decorated room. He was glad that the lights were off because the bright colors made his sensitive eyes hurt.

He slowly eased her down onto her bed, her hands stubbornly refused to let go. He had to peel them off of his waist, which wasn’t difficult since her lack of energy meant her resistance was weak.

He was no stranger to treating injuries. During his time as a human, he was an expert at stitching himself up, a skill he learned growing up as a knight. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, running it under the tap. He also knew where the first aid kit was.

Under the sink cabinet and next to the shampoo bottles.

He memorized this detail when he helped Nate set up the room for her first stay at the Warehouse. With her being so clumsy, it was an extra precaution that had paid off.

He came back to Lucia, quiet and staring at the white ceiling, eyes swollen and glossy from crying. She slowly sat up when she saw him, black eyes still in a state of distress. He tried to ignore the way her sad eyes followed him as he began his work.

He gently grasped her ankle, glancing at her when it was time to pull the shard out. She understood his look and slowly nodded as she turned her gaze away from her foot. Adam firmly gripped the shard in his fingers and with one swift motion, yanked it out causing a whimper from Lucia. He quickly stopped the fresh flow of blood by cleaning it with the wet towel, her muscles tensing from the pain. After all the blood was cleaned, it was time for the most painful part. He poured the alcohol on a cotton ball and did his best to be quick and efficient. A few hisses signaled her pain. He was now wrapping her foot in gauze, careful not to make it too tight so the wound can breathe.

Once he finished, she still refused to look at him, her jaw clenched tightly.

It’s better for you to hate me. That makes it easier.

Thinking that there was nothing else he could do to ease her suffering, Adam stood up from the bed, but a small, weak hand gripped his arm, still fighting to keep him from walking away.

“Please, don’t leave.” It was mixture between a whisper and whimper that had Adam retreating back to the bed, Lucia’s hand still clutching his arm as though it was a life preserver in a stormy sea.

“I’m here, Luc.” He reassured her, eyes softening. “I won’t leave you.” He surprised himself at how naturally the words flowed from his mouth

“Can you lay next to me until I fall asleep?” She whispered, eyes pleading.

Even if Adam wanted to, no words would have come out of his mouth, so instead, he nodded and laid back on the bed, pulling the quilt over Lucia and tucking her small head in his chest. He could sense her heart slowing down as she drifted away from reality, but what he didn’t expect was his heartbeat to slow as well, synchronizing with hers. The familiar rhythm combined with her comforting scent of cherry blossoms lulled Adam to sleep, one where his nightmares wouldn’t dare touch him.

#wayhaven week 2020 #the wayhaven chronicles #adam du mortain #I really thought I would make them kiss at the end but where is the fun in that #I'm still waiting for a confession in the real book smh #I'll be 50 and this man still hasn't confessed #i hope you didn't cringe that much at this

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bippityboppitybibuck · 4 years

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Scarred Bark, Broken Heart

15x18 coda/alternate ending of sorts || WC 2580, also read on AO3 here

MCD, depressed Dean, (Tree!Cas ???), brief mention of suicidal tendencies, open but hopeful ending, part one of a two part series, Canon divergence

Dean doesn't know what made him decide on the tree. They didn’t have a body to burn, not this time. They didn’t have a six-foot hole to dig and he felt odd putting a marker over unmarred earth. So when he stumbled upon a tree in the woods surrounding the bunker, one with a beehive tucked nine feet up he didn’t even realize he had popped out his pocket knife and started carving until the first three letters were written in the wet bark.

His throat burned as he worked. The same knife sliced skin wide so that protection could be painted onto a door that was never going to hold. Cas was always ready to bleed for him, always ready to do whatever he needed to keep him safe.

Tears threatened to ruin his work by blocking his field of view but each time he tilted his head to the sky and tried to breathe through it.

The squared-off letters seem to mock him once he finishes, if Cas’d been here the letters would have been beautiful, a burst of power and it could have been script etched into the wood. Instead, it's his blocky ugly writing.

Something hideous rears its head in his chest, and staring at the letters, staring at the name. He always deserved more than Dean could give him, than this world could give him. He deserves more than a scar in some bark in a forest hardly anyone treks into. He deserves more than to die without knowing—to die thinking he wasn’t loved.

Dean doesn't look to the sky as his eyes fill again. Sam always said he needed to let himself feel. That ignoring your trauma isn't the same as dealing with it. But he worries that if he gives into it fully he’ll never resurface. Drowned in his own mind with the pain and regret, the fear and the sadness that washes in like the tide when his guard drops.

So he doesn’t let himself sink, he treads as best he can, hearing Bobby’s gruff voice in his head just like when he was a kid, ‘keep your ears above water son, that’s the only way to make sure you stay alive out there’, it’s like Bobby knew exactly why he needed that information. Like he knew it wasn't about swimming.

He’s not sure how long he spends looking at the carving, or when the wind picks up and shakes shivers through his body. He’s not sure when the tears dry and the wracking sobs take over.

Cas looked at peace when it came for him, and it ruins him to know that. To know that loving him brought him to the one moment of true happiness. Loving a worthless, broken, fucked up killer—no. No, Cas said he wasn’t a killer, he wasn’t a monster or a tool to be used and thrown aside, and yet he killed another hadn’t he? Killed him by doing nothing at all because that's what happens, that’s his legacy, people get close to him and they get killed. They always get killed.

Dean’s not sure when he heads inside again, or how he finds himself at the tree almost every day, week in and week out.

For the longest time he can do nothing but look, words that fight to break free, stay trapped behind the years of burying what he always felt, stay tapped behind the last dam he has standing in his soul the soul Cas saved—a good lot that did. He knows the dam won’t hold forever and all he can do is imagine the damage when it does finally break.

He doesn't always go alone either. Sam takes trips to the tree by himself sometimes but mostly he goes when Dean does. Jack trails after him every once in a while too but they usually let him go alone.

The first snow of the season begins to fall as he stands at the tree, the beehive long since gone dormant, its occupants burrowing in for their months-long sleep. And God how Dean envies their ability to escape reality for longer than it takes to sleep off a hangover.

It’s early for the first snow, weeks too soon but the world has been colder since—well since.

It’s been a while since he last talked while he visited, the dam broke finally or rather the levels grew too high on one side and it began to leak. Still, back then he hadn’t said much of anything.

He tries to talk now, he tries to do the same as what he did at his father's grave all those years ago trapped in a djinn dream, trapped in a world that seemed so perfect until he peeled back its layers. Kinda just like the one he actually lived in.

“Ca-s,” his voice breaks before he manages to speak the single syllable. No one is around to notice though, no matter how much he wishes he was speaking to a person instead of an unfeeling unrelenting piece of wood. Still though, it's easier to talk when no one is there to hear it, he doesn't have to hold as much back.

“Cas, I-,” Dean lets out a rough hum as he collects himself. This speech is going to be different. He can feel it, the emotions within him seem to grow choppy, spilling over the dam wall more and more and he just knows that whatever happens, he won’t be returning to the bunker whole.

“I keep thinking, y’know, back to that night you walked into that barn in Illinois, you told me that good things do happen, and I mean it’s not like I expected you to, but you didn’t believe me when I told you that nothing good happens to me. I don’t know if in the time from then to no—I don’t know if you ever figured out that I was right or not but I think that the one good thing that happened to me was the worst thing to happen to me too.” Dean stares at his name, willing it to actually be him. The cold bites at his fingers and his nose. His toes grow cold in his boots but he doesn’t move to leave he barely even feels it anyways.

“When Chuck told us that you were the one who never listened,” he chokes out a broken laugh, “it honestly made perfect sense, you did always say that it was our story, that we were the thing that was real in a world of manufactured realities. And when he said it I swear it was like I was standing in that ratty kitchen, minutes before Lucifer rose, minutes before you di—died for the first time. And I thought as Chuck went on and on how maybe I wasn’t dreaming it up, maybe it wasn't Chuck’s doing, and I was going to try to talk to you about it, after a shit ton of booze mind you.” He’s quiet for a long time, the snow begins to blanket the space around him and he thinks about how he’ll never get to brush snow off of the lapel of Cas’ stupid trench coat.

Just the thought starts a domino effect, his mind rushing through everything he wanted and everything he’ll never get now and it’s so overwhelming it sends him to his knees. Of course, because he clearly will never be able to catch a break all it does is remind him of the last time they were in purgatory together, the fear and heartbreak that shook him to his core, the devastation of Cas brushing off what he wanted to say because fuck it was so much more than his prayer.

“You beat me to it though, and then—well we both know what happened next.” His fingers are ice when they wipe the tears from his eyes. They jolt him, a shock to his system.

“You never gave me a chance to respond, didn’t even give me a damn moment to process any of it. And you’re a selfish son of a bitch for that because that wasn’t fair, that wasn’t—. I needed you to stay, I needed you to hear it too. I won’t ever be able to stay mad at you because I never have been, not for any of the shit you pulled in the past. But that? That was a new low.” He sniffles from the cold or from his tears he doesn't know but he does it all the same.

“Y’know if you were here right now you’d tell me to go inside because humans catch colds so easily and you don’t know how fucking much I need to hear that now Cas.” His heart plummets in his chest again. He feels sick all over again so he clenches his jaw to keep from heading too far down that road.

“I remember the first time you got sick, god you were a nightmare the entire time and I dealt with Sam getting sick every year since I was old enough to open kids cold medicine,” Dean laughs thickly, tears lodged in his throat. The strain of holding it all back shreds at the muscle and it screams with every breath he manages to shake into his lungs.

“I remember everything Cas, all of it, every fight, every drink, every goddamn time we looked at each other. And yet I can’t recall a fucking thing because I thought I had more time. After everything we’d gone through, I still thought we would have more time. It's all broken and jumbled and set to static and I can’t handle it because it's crystal clear and as muddy as anything because I thought I’d be able to make more, replace what got muddled. I thought you had more time.”

He shuffles around and presses his back against the trunk of the tree. His ass is uncomfortable as hell what with the roots and the wet cold earth below him but his knees appreciate the switch.

“I’m having a hard time this time because a part of me thinks just like it did after the whole leviathan fiasco. I swear you’re going to come back, that this is all a mix-up, that if I wait just a little longer, hold on a little longer, put my gun down just one more night that you’ll be back. But it’s been weeks Cas and nothing’s changed. I wake up and I go to sleep in a world that doesn’t have you in it and I was always okay before because you were just there even if I didn’t have you like I wanted I still got to see you, watch you, lo—be with you. But now it’s all empty, and no matter how ironically appropriate that is given the dumbass move you made a year and a half ago, I’m hanging on by a thread man. And Sam doesn't know how to help, even with all his dead girlfriends as experience to draw from.” He’s quiet for a long time, chewing on his lip, flexing his fingers together as he just sits.

“He says I need to stop making jokes to cover it all up but that's all I know how to do. I mean you can’t mourn your mom if you have a baby brother to take care of so you joke. You can’t talk about what the internet says is PTSD because there are monsters to hunt and people to save so you joke. You can’t let yourself be vulnerable because that means death so you joke. You can't tell your best friend what you need to so you joke. You hide behind something safe because no one wants you to show what's really there.” Dean's mind is a mess right now, jumping from one point to another, skipping ahead and falling behind. He has so much he wants to say and it’s like he’s trying to say it all at once.

He can almost hear Cas’ voice admonishing him for thinking that he didn't have a support system, that he didn't have people who loved him and wanted him to be okay and it strips him raw. Because it’s only been a few months, how could he already be forgetting his voice, or which way he tilted his head when he didn’t understand some random human action, which foot he started with when he stood up from a chair, if he liked smooth or crunchy peanut butter better even if it was all molecules to him, what his arms felt like wrapped around him, how he sighed when Dean was being an idiot, what his smiles looked like as he sat at their kitchen table talking with Jack.

How was he already forgetting all of the little things that made him fall for the fallen angel, heaven's most loved, heaven's most corrupted.

His chest is cracked so wide every part of him falls inside, his very soul falls into the pit, tumbles down and down and down because there are a million things that he and Cas will never get to do but there are a billion things Cas will never do again.

Sure Cas’ll never learn to dance but he’ll never smile again. He’ll never have the chance to memorize the words to the songs Dean showed him but he’ll never feel the sun on his skin again. Or laugh or cry or sleep in late. He’s never going to make another milk run, be it a monster hunt or an actual milk run. He’ll never watch another bee documentary or hug his son again.

Cas lived hundreds of millions of years and yet there was so much he left unfinished, he’s been around for eons and yet he still died too soon.

It takes him a moment to remember that even if Cas had been around since the Cambrian explosion in reality he’d only experienced humanity for eleven years. And all of it was spent fighting, shouldn't he get a fucking chance to just live for a fucking second. Let himself relax, shake the weight off his shoulders, just be finally?

Dean turns and looks from his position at Cas' name, the angle is atrocious so he can barely see the etchings.

There are a billion things he’ll never do again, a million things he’ll never get to experience. And for someone who's given all that Cas has given to this world, that just won’t do.

“You told me love drove me, you said that I fought for everything because of love, that I taught you how to and fuck Cas I don’t know how that's possible. But I’ve fought for nearly forty years because of love and there's no way in hell I am stopping that now. I’m going to fight for you, I’ll fight Chuck for you, I’ll fight against the anger that still lives inside me and dammit I’ll fight to get you back because no fucking way am I losing you forever after that speech. If love drives me Cas then you, you…” Dean takes a deep breath. “Happiness is in just saying it, but I can’t tell a piece of wood, so I’ll wait until you are back, because I will get you back. I don’t care what it takes. You need to hear it, you deserve to hear it. You deserve to know.”

I’m working on a rewritten ending for Supernatural that is set after this little alt ending to 15x18 because the actual ending... left a lot to be desired. Turns out spite was in fact enough to get me writing again! So that’s good right??

#supernatural #destiel #my writing #15x18 coda

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