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luna-andra · 8 months

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Late Night Hotline | Sub!Konig x Reader | Part 2

Summary: Konig finds himself getting off to his Lieutenant's voice over the phone, and he can't get enough of her as he goes back for more.

C/W: 18+ MDNI, SMUT HEAVY, cunnilingus, fingering, collared sub, willing sub, praises, degradation, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, orgasm denial

Word Count: ~4k

A/N: I threw out the first attempt of me writing this part so I'm so sorry it took longer than I anticipated. I'm so much happier with this final edit, and I hope you are too! Gotta keep y'all fed <3

Enjoy~

Part 1

It didn’t matter what inflection or tone her voice carried; he could hear another version of her in the recesses of his mind. Moaning his name, whispering things that bounced back and forth from sweet praises to filthy degradation. It was at the most inconvenient moments, when she was presenting her reports during the current briefing, for example. When she was focused and neutral, paying no mind to how he undressed her with his eyes. If anything, she was better behaved than he was. At least from what he could see on the outside.

Then he discovered what went on behind her practiced persona. More like what she premeditated to transpire. His phone vibrated in his pocket, alerting him to a text message from Tempest.

Enjoying the view while you sit back there, trying to conceal your raging hard-on?

His eyes snapped back up, wide as saucers. They shifted cautiously, checking to make sure no one had seen him. Everyone else was too focused on Tempest, some of them looking too hard at her. It would warrant a cold glare from Konig if he wasn’t shocked by her message. Did she set them to send before the meeting started? He recalled her tapping away on the screen, the phone sitting in her lap while she waited for everyone to file in. And right now, she was still deep in her report, her phone tucked away in her back pocket of her ACU bottoms. Her face didn’t give away a hint of awareness that Konig received the first message. A deadly poker face, it almost scared him as much as it kept him aroused.

Another vibration from his phone. He shifted nervously, preparing him for what was gonna pop up on the screen.

Wonder if you could sit still after seeing this…

A second message popped up shortly after, a file downloading. Scheiße…

The file was an image, her blackout silhouette posing in a doorway. Emanating a deep red glow of her surroundings. There was no way she was wearing any clothes in that boudoir-style picture. Konig could see the peaks and valleys of her entire figure. The pose did miracles for her silhouette, accentuating her perfection. She was leaning against the threshold with her back bowed, a lone foot providing support against the same surface, and a hand brushing back her wild, undone hair.

He had to shove the phone back in his pocket immediately. His lower lip was going to be a victim to the sharp bite of his teeth, definitely bruised and on the brink of breaking skin. It was all he could do to hold back any and every reaction those photos roiled within him. It was also the first time Tempest had ever sent risqué photos to him.

That little minx… she had him struggling to adjust without drawing attention to himself. Fuck, the seam of his pants was ready to tear against the strain of his cock beneath. He was aware that even soft he had a noticeable outline in some of his pants. And unfortunately for him, he chose the wrong pair today. He just hoped that his leak didn’t stain past his boxers.

“You alright?” A whisper came from Horangi. “You looked pissed.”

Konig glanced at him with a side eye, thankful that he’s unable to see anything else but the intensity in his azure eyes. “Ja, fine.” His answer contrasted the short, gruff tone in his voice. Horangi gave him one last questioning glance before he dropped it.

Tempest must have heard the two of them conversing. Her sharp eyes flicked to the back of the room, immediately locking onto Konig. It interrupted nothing she was presenting, just a fleeting moment of attention that made his cock twitch. If he didn’t get himself under control, he was gonna go insane.

“What of the weapons cache that was confiscated from the warehouse?” Ghost’s interruption jerked Konig back to reality like a cold splash of water.

Tempest shifted her stance to the other leg. Konig swore the room dropped a few degrees in between the pause she took to answer. “Accounted for, Lieutenant. It was my next topic of discussion.”

“Could’ve brought it up sooner, eh?”

The twitch in her eyebrow disagreed with him strongly, maliciously. Their stand-offish aggression towards each other started not even ten minutes after Task Force 141 arrived to conduct a joint effort mission. Ironically enough, it was Tempest that conducted the eleventh-hour meeting with KorTac to announce their temporary stay. Konig recalled her words being:

For the next month, Task Force 141 will be roaming on our base. I will only say this once, no fighting. 141 will be treated as respected guests, these halls will be their home while they are here. No fighting. No. Fucking. Fighting!

141 arrived, Ghost and Tempest were immediately on rocky terms when he made the choice to disregard her presence and careful welcome.

For the sake of maintaining professionalism and taking the high ground, Tempest took the retort, a relieving surprise for everyone else in the briefing room, letting it roll off her tense shoulder. “You’re right, Ghost.”

It was like everyone released the breath they were holding simultaneously. The volatile hostility had distracted Konig from his uncomfortable situation. He eased back into his chair, listening to Tempest close out the report. Konig had a big issue with Ghost. If there was an opportunity to put him in his place, Konig would seize it like a prisoner of war. The unhinged, sadistic part of him that comes out on the field whispers ways it could be done, leaving him for the wolves to feed on Ghost’s incapacitated body as he brings Tempest a trophy, that stupid skull mask, as a gesture of his devotion. He was stable enough to control his bloodlust, but there just may be a moment when they cross paths, and only one might come back alive.

Once dismissal was given by Konig, everyone filed out of the briefing room. He lingered behind to wait for Tempest to gather her paperwork, shuffling it into the leather portfolio. She wiped her face with one hand, an attempt to diffuse the anger Ghost had stirred up.

“I’m gonna snap, Colonel.” Tempest gritted between her teeth. “He’s insufferable.”

Konig leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “You kept it together, schatzi. I thought you were going to bite his head off right then and there.” The feeling was mutual.

Tempest scoffed, a smirk growing on her face. “And what message would that send to everyone else after saying ‘no fighting’?” She tucked the portfolio under her arm and faced Konig. Rather than making room for Tempest to walk pass, Konig straightened up, his chin dipping to look at her more directly. He could see the shift in her eyes from irritation to confusion.

“Speaking of messages, you want to explain yourself?” Konig was asking as her Colonel, at least his voice reflected that. In reality, he was a few more heartbeats away from folding to her all over again.

Clarity cleared up the puzzling glint in her gaze, and her voice lowered to a level that made his legs turn to lead. “You really want to talk about that right here, right now? We can talk about how I can have you so fucking strung out, leaving you pent up without release for a whole fucking week, huh?”

To anyone passing by the briefing room, Tempest looked like a subordinate expressing her grievances that could be connected to Ghost’s temperament and lack of respect. Not a single trace of the debauchery she was making out of Konig. Her resolve was crafted - no, stronger than carbon fiber, her words sinking deep into his bloodstream like venom.

Her eyebrows raised after a pause passed when she didn’t get an answer from him. “At a loss for words, Colonel?” The added bite to his rank could rip through his jugular. “I left something on your desk. Maybe when you see it we can discuss this further.” The faintest smirk passed her mouth, and she stormed her way past Konig to leave the room.

Konig let out the breath that was caught in his throat since she started talking. His fist slammed on the nearby table when his pants became uncomfortably tight again.

----

The door clicked behind him as the sight of a black gift box greeted him, sitting perfectly on top of scattered files and loose papers across his desk. It was wider in dimension than its height, no larger than what could be a personal box of chocolates. After rounding the desk, Konig took a seat in his leather chair. He lifted the lid and set it aside, revealing a second box, but this one had a soft, velvet surface. Jewelry? No.

His deft fingers opened the top, its hinges giving some resistance. Inside sat a sleek, black collar with a metal ring adorned front and center, sitting on a bed of dark, red satin. Mein Gott… Konig’s eyes bugged, his fingers whispered against the high-quality leather. In the center of the collar was nestled a small card with scripted words, reading “If it goes on, there’s no turning back ♥” Konig was well aware of what this meant for him. Put the collar on, and he was hers.

He already declared himself to be hers after the second time, the sober time they had phone sex, but this would be the physical affirmation that would seal the deal. If it weren’t for the fact that he wore the makeshift sniper hood, concealing both face and neck, he wouldn’t have even bothered taking the collar out of its pretty display case. She must have taken that into consideration when she picked it out. It was extremely arousing, the idea of having this dirty little secret with a physical memento. Going completely undetected. They could be amongst all of KorTac, and only two people would be aware of the collar’s presence.

The metal ring made a soft clink against its hardware as he pulled it from the satin bed, and he lifted the hood enough to bring the collar around his neck. Why did it fit so perfectly? How did she get the dimensions down so well? It fit snug, pressed flush against the column of his throat. It would take some time getting used to, he’s never worn something of the sort. The fabric of the sniper hood fell over it, and Konig tucked away the box in one of the drawers of his desk. The inner lining of the leather was soft and when it rubbed against him, he let out a soft sigh. I’m hers…

“I’ll take it you got my gift.”

Konig’s attention shot up to his unexpected visitor across the room, he didn’t even hear the sound of the door opening and closing. Tempest. He went mouse silent. Her small boots thumped against the floor as she stepped forward to the front of his desk, leaning into it. Her face was still serious like the last time she saw her a few hours ago. Without answering, he flipped up one side of his hood to reveal the hardware hugging his neck. There was a glimmer in her dark eyes, like a furnace was turned on and was stoked with every piece of coal you could find.

She finally smiled, wide and proud of his decision. “It looks so nice around that pretty neck…” her fingers traced along the edge of the cheap oak desk, and she made her way around. Konig’s chair swiveled to face her when she stopped in front of him, his heart already racing, and his breath labored. She knows exactly what that lethal inflection does to him, using it like the weapon that will be his demise. With Konig seated, he was at eye-level with Tempest, giving her access to use a hand to trail up his chest. The ghost of her touch had his body shuddering, he was ready to let out a throaty whine. He’s been so fucking touch-starved, it was enough to bring to life the entire network of his nerve endings. Her hand reached beneath Konig’s hood, looping a finger through the metal ring. “Perfect for me to just…” she gave a hard tug, and his body jerked towards her. Tempest leaned in, giving herself leverage on the armrest with her other hand. Her lips pressed close to his burning ear. “You like being my pet so much that you’ll wear that pretty little collar?”

Words disintegrated on his tongue, but when all he managed to do was nod, her demanding grip on his face pulled him out of his stupor. “Yes, my liebling.” He was crumbling to her will faster now that this was all happening face-to-face rather than over the phone. Her touch was flames licking at his stubbled jaw. Konig took a second to close his eyes shut only to look back at her with his baby blue stare.

“Look at those sweet puppy dog eyes.” Tempest cooed sardonically. “Already this hard just from my hand holding your face?” Her eyes darted down to look at the front of his pants at the tent he was pitching. She added to the stimulation with her thumb brushing over his stubble. “I’m gonna put that strong jaw to use.” Tempest released her hold on him and scooted in the space between Konig’s desk and chair. He paid close attention to her movements, following her again with a squeak of his chair turning.

Konig couldn’t pry his eyes away from Tempest if he wanted to. He watched her hoist herself up onto the edge of the desk, wiggling her hips to make herself comfortable in the space free of paperwork clutter. Apprehension and panic made his heart race when he noticed Tempest reaching to undo her belt, connecting the pieces of what she alluded to. “Right here?” A quick glance at the door to his office signified that she locked the door when she first came in. Still, the possibility of someone coming looking for Konig had him on edge. But wholly fuck, it was erotic.

“You wanted to talk about my messages so badly earlier, and I’m gonna give you a chance to tell me what went through your head.” The fly of her pants was already down, and her lithe fingers slipped into the waistband of her pants to sit there.

Tempest was interrupted by Konig reaching down for her foot. “Here, engel.” He lifted one foot to rest on his knee, unlacing her boots with care to slip it off and set it to the side. His massive hands did the same as the other while Konig peeked up to her face, gauging her reaction. Konig thirsted for the slightest bit of delight from his domme. Her onyx eyes burned into him like a cigarette bud singing his skin, impatiently waiting for him to get on with it.

“I couldn’t chance another second of looking at that body of yours,” Konig muttered. “I didn’t want to know what it was like to come without touching myself.”

Hearing this brought her cruel pleasure, twisting that wicked smile wider. “It might just happen for you, sir.” Her hands began to shove off her bottoms, underwear and all. Konig assisted her, the act itself feeling extremely intimate. He did it mostly to avoid making direct eye contact with the thing he desired most right now. To avoid jeopardizing his chances of having any release from all of this. Tempest closed her legs off by crossing one over the other. “Keep talking.”

Konig bit down on his lip as he could see a tuft of groomed hair at the apex of her thighs. “My thoughts paled in comparison to seeing the real deal,” his German accent thickened as he went on. “Could see the outline of your nipples… the shape of your bare ass.” All thoughts ceased when her legs parted, the display of her glistening pussy left him open-mouthed. Paled in fucking comparison was the understatement of the year. His hips bucked once in his chair, hands gripping on the armrests so hard the leather groaned in his strong hold. Someone would have to stab his eyes out to make him look away from that beauty-

“Eyes up here.”

He let out a pained whine, willing himself to make eye contact with her. Fuck, he could already smell her from where he sat, it brought him to the brink of drooling like a wild animal. “Let me taste you, mein hase. Please, I need to have you.”

“Already this needy, after all the waiting you’ve done. Going the past couple of weeks with nothing but my voice and those looks you give me in the weight room? Don’t look at me like that, I know you look.” Tempest readied two of her fingers with a swipe in her mouth, not like she fucking needed it. Her greedy pussy swallowed up both digits as her strokes moved in and out of her at a languid speed. Her neck rolled back as she let out a soft sigh, the small part in her lips going very noticed by Konig as he coded every look, every sound and scent into his very soul.

“I do, I have watched you.” Konig confessed. “I’ll make you feel good, liebe. Please, I need you.” It was taking everything to not lunge at her and claim that pretty cunt with his tongue, his fingers, anything she desired.

Her fingers left her pussy neglected, poor thing. Konig caught the sheen of her arousal coating her fingers, webbing between her fingers when she spread them just enough. Instead of offering it up to him, she sucked on her own fingers, eyes rolling back in her skull. This was pure torture at this point. His cock was strangled in his pants, and he wasn’t about to touch himself when he was so close to having what he needed. Her fingers left her mouth with a gentle smack as she shifted her hips a little more forward. “Finish the job.”

Tempest couldn’t finish her command without Konig lurching forward like a starved predator. He lifted his hood just enough for his mouth to latch onto his target while his rough, calloused hands reached underneath her to cup her perfect ass. The tug had a sharp gasp coming from her when he pulled Tempest closer to him, her hips hanging off the ledge with the assist of Konig holding her in place. One of her legs fell limp to the side, so he pulled a hand away from her just to toss that lazy leg over his shoulder, giving her better leverage.

His growl was primal, almost demonic. Vibrating against her sex. Konig swiped his tongue from the bottom of her entrance, all the way up just below her clit. Tempest choked back a moan, clenching it tight in her throat to keep it from echoing in the room. The sound coming from Konig was a warning for her to give him every cry and moan, he wanted to hear it all the same way she ordered him so many times before. When she tilted her head down to meet his feral stare, the half-lidded, eyebrow furrowed expression she gave him had the cum shooting up his shaft dangerously quick.

Konig had to close his eyes and breathe to calm himself down as his tongue continued exploring her divine taste. He was drunk on it all, the taste, the way her body twitched and squirmed at every flick of his tongue, the privilege of pleasing his domme, the look she had just given him. What he would give to make her stay like this, splayed out on his desk for him to take.

After teasing her with a few laps up and down her slit, he moved on to circle his tongue on the neglected bundle of nerves, rolling it between his lips with a nibble. It made her squeal, something Konig had never heard from her. “Fuck, wait…” now she was the babbling mess at his mercy. “Too good~” Her small hand gripped onto the back of his head, scrunching up the fabric of his mask.

He wasn’t stopping now, not after the teasing she has been doing to him all this time. Konig wanted her trembling, quaking on his tongue. To show her what she’s been holding out on, make her regret it. To melt any and all thoughts floating around in that pretty head, his name being the only thing she will remember. “Too much for you to handle, pretty baby?”

“Shut up, almost there.” Tempest mewled as her hips started rutting into his assault on her clit. Konig didn’t need a warning of her impending climax, he could hear it in the crescendo of her moans. His hair was now tangled beneath the stranglehold she had on him. The sound of his name falling from her lips endlessly was a whole entire music score dedicated just to him. He kept the pace strong and steady, fueled by the need to make her come undone.

And that came sooner than anticipated. Her thighs squeezed the sides of his head as she writhed and bucked against his face. She tried scooting away from him, but it gave him the angle to pin her hips down, freeing his hands to add to the mix. Cries and screams pierced the air, a cacophony of stuttering breaths and whimpers of overstimulation. His tongue may have eased up on its ministrations, but he kissed the overworked nerve, open mouthed and lazily. “Mein perle…” Konig whispered against her sex, as if speaking to her pussy rather than her. A single digit lined up with the entrance of her weeping cunt, she was more than ready to take his thick fingers. “One more, liebling. Give me one more.”

“Ohh…” Tempest’s back arched off the desk as Konig offered her his finger, her walls greedily sucking him in as she continued to pulsate from her first orgasm. “Konig...!” Oh, how he loved hearing her squeal his name.

“You can take it, for me.” It wasn’t an order; it was a plea to let him break her apart one more time. He wanted to be the only thing on her mind as she fell asleep tonight, his name falling from those perfect lips in the dead of her slumber. Because he sure as hell was going to be dreaming of the way her face contorts and twists in blissful agony as she begs for him to ease up on her swollen pussy.

She was already tensing up for another, Konig could feel it in the way her body responded to his finger curling against that spot. “That’s it, come for me.”

Tempest did just that, convulsing and sobbing through each shockwave that racked her body. Konig pulled his mouth and finger away, knowing she was sensitive as hell from what he just put her through. He slid a hand behind her lower back and neck, lifting her from the desk and onto his lap to straddle him. She continued to tremble through the high, her hot breath against his neck as her arms found their way around his torso.

Konig wanted to stay like this with her, forgetting everything else that happened outside his office. It didn’t matter. None of it. He rubbed her back as she started to settle down. “How was that schatz?”

A pleased hum was her response before she sat up to move his mask away to reveal his lips. “Need to taste.” She leaned in for a forceful kiss, her tongue slipping past his lips, groaning at the perfect mixture of his saliva and her arousal. As if she couldn’t get any hotter.

#call of duty #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig call of duty #sub konig #domme reader #cod mw2 #mw2 #konig fanfiction

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on-stardust-wings · 11 months

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Findings from watching the season two opening. Here be spoilers if you haven’t seen it, begone all who seek to avoid those.

Crowley climbs up the rock (and does not look like he enjoys climbing much). Does that mean demons can’t fly? Crowley in particular can’t fly?

There is a moth (butterfly) that starts flying with Crowley and Aziraphale when Crowley lights the match. It’s the first creature that accompanies them. Is it important?

The fuck is this thing. I thought it’s an elephant first? With a trunk? But it’s on fire. Could just be a rock? Whatever it is, the angel with the box (Gabriel?) spawns right behind it. I would say portal to Hell, but angels don’t commonly come out of those. Or do they now? Anyway mysterious fiery thing.

There’s also a bunch of animals in the background of this setting. They seem to be mostly sheep and goats. And there’s huge bones/skeletons. Dinosaurs are fictional in the Good Omens verse, though. (Something about the dinosaurs are a joke thing? Please let it be something about dinosaurs being a joke, I love this bit.)

It’s raining fire and the poor goats and sheep get torched. :( Looking pretty apocalyptic for a season that (maybe) isn’t about the end of the world this time!

There’s the pickled herring from the spoiler/bts pics! And this person looks like Hastur IMO. “Everyday” apparently already died; it’s on a tombstone. What is the person in the back (behind the herring barrel) carrying? A miniature airplane? A rocket launcher? A big camera?

And THEN there’s the lamp with a face and feet guy, walking in front of the person with the headscarf. WTF is with lamp with a face guy. Lamp with a face guy even has a smaller lamp attached to his arm. I do not want to meet lamp with a face on a dark graveyard!

There are some more spooky characters joining the procession as it goes underground. What’s up with red head and a lamp on a stick guy for example?

Lovelovelove Hell with the magma and the giant spider and the office chairs on rocks (some of them upside down). Giant pentagram in the background that seems to be spinning! I loved the basement office hell vibe they used for Hell in S1, but this fiery Hell looks so cool. Creature with bat wings perching on top of a rock! Great vibes, very hellish.

London during the airstrike has a cool blimb, a tank, lots of wreckage, is apparantly a 30 zone, so no speeding, and there’s an ad for Stairway to Heaven. Seems like a play or a movie maybe?

Aziraphale and Crowley with their wings out walk in front of a bus with “wings for victory” written on the side. And then an aircraft throws a bomb on them.

It is raining rabbits in the entryway to the magic show theatre, and there’s person sized and shaped rabbit in the audience. Is it Harry the Rabbit?

Lots of interesting head dresses in the people following after Crowley here, and there’s Beelzebub. They’re being led to meet Aziraphale in his magic uniform, now upgraded with a cape! (He should have worn the cape to Adam’s party, capes are cool.)

Space! Spacespacespace! Look at the planets and stars! Also the tank, it’s still here. And there’s... a rabbit astronaut? With glowing eyes?

Little UFO crossing in front of that moon/planet! Looks a bit like the flying saucer from season 1.

Thy kingdom airways lol! And it’s raining hearts! On Aziraphale and Crowley on the bookshop roof.

“Give me coffee or give me death” is a very metal slogan for a coffee shop. And there’s lots of music themed stuff in the street. There’s a jukebox, a pile of records behind it, that decoration between the street lamps looks like vinyl records cut in half strung up? And the Bentley is there, probably blasting Queen. :D

The skycrapers are elevator shafts. The one in the middle has an angel in it, riding down. Down to Hell? Ding!

It’s the Dirty Donkey! And the movie theatre is called “The Arrival”. It’s screening today! That’s very clever, wonder if the opening will change with the different episode titles? :) Also, there’s the image from the box the angel is carrying again, on the film posters for The Arrival. Can’t tell what it is.

Look at them all walking into the light! They’re going to be enlightened! Or something. But it is a very bright light! Lighthouse! It’s also covered in scrap and junk nearly to the top. Whatever that may mean. (Guys don't walk into the light, no!)

My friends, I am really looking forward to stop waiting and see what this is all about!

#good omens #good omens season 2 #s2 opening title #in which I definitely watched this too often #should probably go to bed #but there's so much to see!#what's the mystery light they all walk into #p+a

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softly-potter · 18 days

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we can’t be friends

Summary: After a tumultuous breakup, Pansy informs her friends Ginny and Hermione of a facility, Brighter Days, that uses a new obliviation technique to remove a selected individual from their memory. Hermione thinks it’s an unorthodox method…until she goes through a breakup of her own.

Inspired by the ‘we can’t be friends’ music video by Ariana Grande.

Pairing: Draco x Hermione

Word Count: 7,137

Warning: none

Find chapter 2: papers & pens and chapter 3: wait until you like me again here

Chapter One: you’ve got me misunderstood but at least i look this good

“I think she’s actually showered.” Ginny whispers, and Hermione squints as they walk arm in arm across the outdoor seating of the restaurant.

Pansy is sitting at their usual spot, her red nails tapping at the lip of her cup impatiently. She looks clean and crisp, a stark contrast to how she had been looking the past several weeks after her breakup had made it to the Daily Prophet. Pictures of her and Theo had been splashed across the pages for days, and Pansy had been in shambles. Now, she resembles the look of someone who has just left their hair appointment, obsessed with the results.

“Ladies!” Pansy calls when she sees them, a bright smile on her face. Ginny and Hermione slide into their seats, giving the waiter that approaches them their orders and immediately leaning forward.

“You look like a million gallons.” Ginny breathes, her freckled face a mix of curiosity and confusion. “I take it you’ve found a new bloke?”

Pansy wiggles her brows before giving a singular shake of her head. “Nope!” she says and grins. “Did you two ever keep up with Longbottom after graduation?”

Hermione thinks on this. Last she’d heard, he’d gotten married to Luna, moved to the countryside, nothing overtly noteworthy. The waiter sets their cups before them, and Hermione lifts a spoon, twirling it thoughtfully.

“Isn’t he married now?” Hermione says, and Pansy rolls her eyes with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Yes yes but that's unimportant,” she sniffs before leaning forward, chin in her palm. “He’s opened a memory clinic. A few months ago actually, been working on it since he graduated, Brighter Days he calls it.”

“Oh?” Ginny says, lifting her cup to her lips. Pansy nods and Hermione wonders where she could possibly be going with this train of thought.

“It’s an obliviation-focused mind center. You take a box of everything that contains reminiscences of the person you want to forget, and they go in and eliminate them from your head!” Pansy exclaims. “It costs a fortune but now I can't even recall… What's his name again?”

Hermione feels her mouth fall ajar. “Theo?”

“Right! Theo,” Pansy says, and reaches for her cup. “Now it’s like he and I never existed. To me anyways, which is all that matters.”

Ginny and Hermione exchange confused glances. Placing her mug back on its saucer, Hermione clears her throat. “Pans I’m so glad you're feeling better but, don’t you think that’s…odd?” she tries, and Pansy frowns. “I mean you were together for years.”

“And now we’re not.” Pansy declares. She takes a sip, her lipstick leaving behind a dull stain on the porcelain. “No sense in me just dwelling on it.”

“But you shared so much with him,” Ginny points out. “And now those memories are just what… gone?”

Pansy nods. “Mostly. Or altered. Instead of me remembering snuggling with him on the couch, I recall burying my face in Penelope's fur!”

Hermione lets out a low chuckle at the mention of Pansy’s dog, a consolation gift the dark-haired witch had purchased for herself the day after Theo moved out.

“While I'm sure that’s… easier to swallow,” Hermione says cautiously. “You can’t just not remember him.”

Tapping a nail against the table, Pansy narrows her eyes. “Yes, I can. And I already have.”

“And it’s safe?” Ginny challenges with a skeptical look. “Obliviation in itself is risky.”

“Yes, it’s completely safe and very little down time,” Pansy answers. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Longbottom wins an award or something for his research.”

“What’re the side effects?” Hermione asks, intrigued. She isn’t sure if she completely agrees with Pansy’s reasoning but she can’t help but be interested.

Pansy shrugs. “Nothing really besides memory replacement during a certain time period of your choosing. So, I still remember him from school but I can’t remember how we went about dating.”

“You met up again at one of Draco’s matches-“ Hermione begins but Pansy shushes her instantly.

“Granger! I paid all this money to not recall my time with him, remember?” She nearly shrieks and Ginny puts a hand over her lips to hide a laugh.

Hermione raises a skeptical brow but drops it. “I wonder what else Brighter Days offers. I feel like that process could be useful in trauma responses.” She says and takes a sip of her tea. Ginny nods, red hair slipping over her shoulders.

“Very true,” Ginny replies and for a moment her eyes darken. “I wonder if it can help the grieving process.”

Pansy leans into her palm, eyes darting between the two witches. “If you’re suggesting using it as a way to get over someone’s death, I don’t think you’ll be approved.”

“Approved?” Hermione and Ginny say in unison, and Pansy nods.

“There’s a whole list of prerequisites you have to pass and go through to even be considered, and then you have to sit down and do a verbal evaluation with Longbottom,” Pansy replies, reaching for her glass. “He’s the one that makes the final call.”

“How interesting.” Ginny muses, and Hermione agrees. She always believed Neville was smart, but this type of mix of magic and science was revolutionary. It intrigues her greatly, her thoughts quickly weighing out the pro’s and con’s of Brighter Days.

As the women finish their tea, Hermione waves goodbye, fishing out her mobile from her robes. Dialing her desired number, she holds the device to her ear, moving swiftly in between tables.

“I will never get used to this.” Draco says as he answers. Hermione snorts, barely suppressing an eyeroll.

“And that's why we’ll continue to use it,” she replies. “Practice makes perfect after all.”

“I miss you, when are you coming back?” Draco says instead of answering her. She can’t help but smile, her bottom lip slipping between her teeth.

“You just saw me this morning.” she chuckles and adjusts her purse on her shoulder.

“That barely counts, you were mostly asleep by the time I had to leave.”

Feet clipping on the cobblestones, Hermione tries to recall what had happened earlier in the day. “You’re right, I was indeed mostly asleep. Having a wonderful dream you awoke me from, actually.”

“Mmm? What was the dream?” Draco asks, and his tone makes her swallow. In the two years they’d been together, she still wasn't used to the feelings he could evoke from her even when he wasn’t in the room.

“Well, we were on holiday… It was hot. We were laying on the sand, feeling the sun on our skin.”

“Sounds lovely. Were we naked?” he asks and she laughs, taking the steps to the Floo network two at a time.

“No, you git. Well, you were shirtless, in swimming trunks.” she replies and draco hums on the other end of the line.

“Tell me you were in that striped bikini I love on you.” he murmurs and she suppresses another eyeroll.

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't,” she laughs, moving the phone to her other ear. “Listen I'm at the Floo, I’ll see you in a moment okay?”

Draco laughs, the sound deep like waves. “See you soon, love.”

Hermione ends the call, sliding the phone into her pockets as she grabs a pinch of Floo powder, and calls out Draco’s address before walking in.

The smell of chicken wafts into her nose the moment she steps out of the fireplace. Dropping her bag to the couch, Hermione grins as she takes in Draco’s back. His sleeves are rolled up as he chops an onion, a cream apron wrapped around his waist.

“Smells delightful.” Hermione says, slipping her arms around his waist and giving him a squeeze. Draco hums before twisting in her grip and placing a kiss atop her head.

“It’s nearly done, take a seat,” He replies. Hermione moves around him and sits down at his dining room table, elbows on the wood. “How was tea with the ladies?”

“Rather interesting,” Hermione sighs and runs her hands in her hair. “Are you familiar with Brighter Days?”

Draco looks up with a confused expression. “Should I be?”

“No, I was just curious. Anyways, apparently Neville started his own selective obliviation company,” Hermione replies, watching as Draco bends to open the oven. He slips on oven mitts before reaching inside, and pulling a tray out. “Pansy went, got treated.”

“Treated for..?” Draco asks and Hermione shrugs.

“Apparently she obliviated Theo from herself.” Hermione replies. Draco pauses his movements before settling the tray into the middle of the table.

“She what?”

Hermione nods. “I know! She just… erased him. She knows who he is, knows they dated but doesn’t remember the dating. The last three or so years of him? Down the drain.”

Draco straightens and unties the apron from around his waist before settling in the chair beside her. Hermione reaches for the bottle of wine on the table and pours them both a glass, her mind moving faster than her mouth.

“I think it’s a bit of an overreaction, in my opinion,” she says, recapping the bottle. Draco begins to cut into the chicken, steam rising from the meat and Hermione feels her stomach growl. “Yes it’s supposed to hurt but that's how you learn from them.”

“I’m assuming the treatment is expensive,” Draco replies and Hermione nods. “I can’t say I'm surprised by her decision but, it does seem like she rushed into it.”

“I agree,” Hermione sighs, picking up her cutlery. “What if she’s cut off any chance of them working things out and becoming, i don’t know, friends maybe?”

Draco snorts, puts a piece of chicken on his own plate. “My love, those two could never be anything but lovers. They’d kill each other if they were anything less.”

Hermione cuts into her chicken, taking a bite with a nod. They eat in easy conversation, Draco making her laugh so hard that her sides ache, and as they finish cleaning the kitchen together, he wraps his arms around her waist, pressing his front to her back and putting his chin atop her head.

“You smell nice.” He mumbles into her hair and Hermione giggles, soap caking up to her elbows as she scrubs a dish.

“My hair’s obnoxious,” she complains, and Draco makes a tutting sound.

“Nonsense,” he replies cooley, releasing his hold and reaching for the clean dish in her hands. “I hope my children have your hair.”

Hermione pauses, her tongue heavy in her mouth. She wants children, of course. She would love to have little blonde babies running around their home as she tries to get them packed for Hogwarts. Children had always been something she knew was in her future.

The thought of tying her soul to another's was an entirely different matter.

In the long line of Malfoy marriages, every couple was soultied to their intended. It ensured that the union would hold fast even in the instances of external affairs or death. Once tied, they could never be separated, forever be one. Draco, ever the traditionalist, believed children should be brought up in a married, unified home; the thought of a pregnancy out of wedlock was unheard of for him.

And the thought terrified her.

Hermione smiles tightly at him, and begins to scrub another plate. Submerging it into the water, her hands are damp as she passes it to him. Draco takes the plate and kisses her squarely on the nose.

She yelps, lets out a surprised laugh and gives him a look. Draco grins, baring his teeth, and Hermione has taken two steps away before she feels his hand on her arm, pulling her back. She turns and his lips descend upon hers, dragging her close as he kisses her.

Her hips are pinned to the sink, and his warm body presses hard against the length of her. Taught muscle against her soft curves, and his hands are needy, roaming everywhere, licking flames across her skin. She gasps into his mouth and the kiss deepens, ravaging and consuming.

Eyes fluttering closed she melts into his arms as she grips onto the fabric of his shirt and pulls him closer. Finding the buttons under his collar she undoes them, pushing it from his shoulders. Draco’s tongue slides down the side of her throat and she grips his shoulders as he bites at the junction of her shoulder and neck, groaning into her skin. The sound ignites her within.

Somehow they make it to their bedroom, and she isn’t sure how, her entirety lost in him. The air is thick when she feels the soft sheets beneath her. Her top has been lost somewhere along the way, and she feels his fingers pushing at her skirt, dragging down her thighs. His lips skim her skin before his teeth nip her shoulder and she shudders, eyes squeezing as her fingers fly across his bare skin.

Kneeling over her, Draco’s eyes are blown. Her fingers run down his chest slowly, touching the scar in the center of his chest with care. His hand closes over hers, squeezing gently as he holds it there. Pulling at him, Hermione drags her hand across the rippling muscles of his shoulders, her lips tingling from the pressure of their kisses.

Draco slips an arm behind her head and tangles his fingers through her hair, pulling her impossibly closer, breathing in the heavy aroma of her skin and twisting in the sheets of his bed.

Skin and sheets, Hermione tangles herself around him and drops kisses up and down his throat. Her tongue slides across his collarbones, listening to the way he gasps, tasting him.

He’s given her the power to nearly break him.

Shoving at his shoulder, she pushes him to his back, crawling down the length of his body and pressing kisses to every inch of skin she can reach. She pulls at his boxers and he lifts his hips, lets her pull them off. When she grips him, he makes a strangled sound, and she gently licks at his head. Draco huffs, his skin glistening and she takes him into her mouth.

She bobs her head, sucking him easily, her cheeks hollowing as her tongue stays flat against him. Draco lets out another strangled sound, his hands tight on the sheets as Hermione moves. With a light pop she releases him from her mouth, sliding up his frame and kissing him. Pushing her onto her back, Hermione feels him pull at the remainder of their clothing until she’s bare beneath him. He’s molten against her, parting her legs and pressing into her. There's a pinch and a sharp sound catches in her throat, nails digging into his skin.

Draco pauses, white blonde hair falling into his eyes as he waits for her to relax. He kisses her raggedly, and Hermione runs a hand into his hair, down his neck. Shifting beneath him, she rolls her hips and he gasps, tangles his fingers in her hair once more to pull her head back, his teeth scraping against her. Hermione keens and her hips jump against his. He jerks before sinking further. He moves within her, long deep strokes that pull exquisite feelings to the surface. Lips and hands dance across sweat-slick skin, arms and legs tangled. Their fingers entwine and she rolls her hips again, kisses across his face. Draco’s forehead meets hers and he gasps.

Draco’s lips caress her and his fingers tighten as he pins her hands above her head, his thrusts becoming harder. Quicker. The pleasure is white-hot, until she's whimpering, teetering at the edge, and Hermione pulls her hands free and wraps her arms around him, trying to cling to anything as she shatters in his arms.

When she stops trembling, he kisses her between the eyes, his nose dragging against her face gently. She feels boneless, her muscles like liquid, but when his breathing becomes ragged one more, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and he buries his face in her neck.

They’re gasping in an intertwined mess of limbs for a moment before he lifts himself and drops beside her, pulling her to his chest and dragging the sheets around them. He kisses her hairline, and Hermione shivers as she curls closer. Draco wraps his arms around her, his chin resting on the crown of her head, and she slips a hand to his chest, feeling the steady tempo of his heartbeat.

Eyelids growing heavy, she allows the thrumming of his blood to lull her to sleep, his taste still heavy on her tongue.

#we can’t be friends (wait for your love)#dramione #ao3 crosspost #soft draco #ariana grande

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readingbythestreetlights · 9 months

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i was tagged by the wonderful @crimsonicarus to share a snippet of one of my WIPs!!

i couldn’t decide if i wanted to post a bit of my mcstrome one or my mick/esteban one, so here’s a snippet from each!! (my apologies, the first one is a little long.)

despite all the rain

Dylan really isn’t a big fan of taking faceoffs against McDavid, but they are, quite frankly, the easiest part about playing him.

Training for faceoffs is less about the speed of your body and more about reaction time. Dylan has good reflexes. So when the arena goes quiet for that split second between the time the ref blows the whistle and when he actually drops the puck, Dylan steadies his breathing. Track the puck, don’t look at your stick. If you don’t win it immediately, do what you can to wrestle it from the other guy–don’t let him pass it cleanly back.

Dylan takes a shaky breath, not looking at the yellow CCM stick in front of him, instead watching the referee’s hands, preparing. Then the puck drops and he wins the draw, sweeping an easy pass back to the defense.

Whip’s earlier acknowledgment of the energy was on point; it’s one of those games where all the lines are working hard, some of the guys who usually fly under the radar finding important moments to shine through. Alexeyev has a quality block, rewarded with pumped-up hollers and stick taps on the shin as he passes by the bench. The bigger guys are doing their thing, throwing their bodies around and getting some good, clean hits in there.

The Capitals aren’t in a playoff spot at the moment, but they could be. There’s still a month and a half of the regular season, enough time to play catchup to the current Wild Card teams, still only behind in the runnings by a handful of points. This road trip is important. Dylan imagines the announcers are probably saying something about how this little Pacific swing could quite possibly define the season for the Caps— to make the playoffs or to not make the playoffs?

With the game tied at one going into the second (a powerplay goal for Osh and a killer snipe from Nugent-Hopkins on an odd-man rush), the team knows they have to take it up to the next notch, understands that they have to capitalize on the puckluck and good vibes tonight or forever hold their peace.

McDavid gets the puck stripped from him early in the period. The Caps bench is full of cheers and shoulder bumps at that.

Dylan would be lying if he said he doesn’t feel the need to prove himself every time he plays Edmonton. When everyone’s eyes are drawn to number 97 anyway, it’s easy to pretend that there’s no extra reason Dylan’s gaze follows McDavid between shifts. It’s easy to pretend that there’s no reason Connor would or should look back at all.

Dylan still wishes he would.

It’s early in the third that the floodgates fully break open for the Caps, the score having been stuck at 3-2 Washington since the middle of the second. The fourth goal is Dylan and the fifth might as well have been credited to him, fishing the puck out in a tough battle against the boards and deking out the defensemen before giving a slick saucer to Sheary, the pair of them getting herded into a good old Tom Wilson hug after the goal.

Dylan and Connor’s eyes meet as Dylan skates toward the bench to high-five the boys. It’s brief eye contact, but God, it has meaning.

won’t we see you once again? (in foreign soil, in foreign land)

Mick doesn’t bother too much with getting to know new people. He prefers consistency, enjoys conversations threaded with inside jokes, old stories, no expectations.

Esteban had looked pretty in the Spanish sun, his eyes appearing amber and his grin as inviting as ever.

Mick had let himself enjoy it. He was single now—no guilt for appreciating the beauty of life.

Offering up Mallorca just made sense. Mick, for some reason, has never minded showing Esteban the places most dear and private to him. He likes it that way.

Thinks the lack of walls between the two of them is nice.

Thinks the lack of walls between them could one day amount to a lack of physical distance. Hopes, anyway.

Esteban wears that grin no matter who he’s with.

Still, Mick hopes the way the French driver bites his lips softly while in conversation with Mick is purely reserved for just that. Conversations between just them.

#yes the second one is the mallorca vacation fic that i’ve been stuck on for like a month don’t mind meeee #and the first one i literally started in april 💀💀 writer’s block hit in early july and now it’s been stuck at 11k words ever since #fanfiction #wips #writing #mcstrome #micksteban #nhl #f1

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phoenix-downer · 1 year

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Enchanted Neighborhood Chapter 2

~1500 words. Sora/Kairi. Post-Canon. Family AU, SoKai Parents AU. Reunions, Fluff, Winnie the Pooh.

This is a sequel to After Ever After and Love’s Cost. There are five chapters total and the story will update weekly on Fridays.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Summary: Sora and Kairi’s children Miyu, Haruto, and Emi meet Winnie the Pooh, and an unexpected visitor joins them.

Of all the ways to spend their time during Mom’s appointment, Miyu had never imagined this. She still couldn’t get over the fact they were tiny and standing in an actual storybook. Having a Keyblade and going on adventures like this really was awesome.

“This is so cool!” Haruto said, echoing her thoughts as he bounded around the pages, and Emi’s eyes were as big as saucers. A delighted smile spread across her face as she looked all around them.

Miyu was glad. Ever since Emi had said she’d felt left out, Miyu had really tried to include her as much as possible. She didn’t want her little sister feeling left behind. Especially because she wouldn’t be the baby of the family for much longer, and as exciting as it was to have another family member on the way, it would definitely shake things up with the family dynamic.

As they walked around, Miyu noticed there were several hand-painted scenes on the two pages they were standing on. One of them was of a long table in a cozy-looking wood. When Miyu and Emi approached it, it suddenly popped up like those pop-up books Mom and Dad used to read to them.

“Haruto, look,” Miyu said. “I think this is where we’re supposed to go.”

Haruto came over and studied it carefully. “Yeah, probably. I wonder where this Pooh person is.”

“Maybe we’ll find him.”

As the three of them approached the pop-up scene, a wind picked up and a strong tug pulled on Miyu’s heart. The magic of the book pulled them in as she held tight to Haruto and Emi’s hands, and a few moments later, she blinked and opened her eyes.

They were on a little dirt path in the middle of a wood. A pleasant breeze blew through the air, rustling through the trees and carrying a few leaves with it. Birds sang and chirped, a nearby brook bubbled, and warm sunlight danced along the ground in dapples and gaps in the shade.

Miyu felt safe here. Something about this place brought back warm memories of when she was little. Of Mom and Dad reading storybooks to her before bedtime. The imaginative games she and Haruto used to play as kids. Hours spent in the garden as the family planted fruits and vegetables together. The smiles on Mom and Dad’s faces when Emi was born and they proudly showed her to Miyu and Haruto for the first time.

“This place is nice,” Haruto said, and Miyu agreed. It was very nice. It was so nice she could spend hours here and feel like no time had passed at all. A quick glance at the watch on her wrist told her it had only been a few minutes, but still.

“Do you think this path goes somewhere?” Emi asked.

“Good question,” Miyu squeezed Emi’s hand. “Why don’t we find out.”

The three of them followed the path, and before long they spotted a great tree ahead of them with a house under its roots. As they approached, Miyu noticed a pile of honey pots in front of the door of the house, and “MR SANDERZ” was written above it with a backwards “N.” A log rested on the path a little ways away from the house, and on that log was a small yellow bear with a red shirt. He looked like he was thinking very hard, though what about, who could say.

“Hey! Are you Pooh?” Haruto asked, not wasting any time on pleasantries.

“Think think think,” the bear mumbled to himself. “How to make new friends when one of your old friends hasn’t come to visit.”

“One of your old friends?” Haruto asked, glancing back at Miyu. “Do you think he means—”

The bear tottered to his feet. “Perhaps you will be my new friends. I’m Winnie the Pooh. Pooh for short. And you are?”

“Haruto,” Haruto said, jabbing a finger towards himself, “and this is Emi and Mi—”

“Sora?” Pooh asked as he stared up at Miyu. She started, then realized the confusion. While Emi looked the most like Dad, Miyu took after him too, and that became more and more obvious the older she got. She had Mom’s violet eyes, but her face shape was more like Dad’s, and her hair was brown like his too.

“Oh, me? No, I’m not Sora, I’m Miyu.” She knelt so that she was closer to Pooh’s height. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Not-Sora-I’m-Miyu,” Pooh said as he offered his paw. Miyu shook it, then Haruto and Emi did too. Pooh’s stomach growled, and he patted his belly and sighed.

“It seems there’s a rumbly in my tumbly. You wouldn’t happen to have any hunny, would you?”

Emi’s face lit up. “We actually do!” she said. She handed him the little pot of honey. “Daddy said to give it to you.”

“Daddy?” Pooh asked as he took the honey from her, plonked back down on his log, and started eating it.

Emi nodded. “Our Daddy is Sora. He told me to say hi to you.”

“We’re his kids,” Miyu explained.

“Kids?” Pooh asked, peering curiously up at her. One paw was in the honey pot, the other was dripping honey partway to his mouth. “Sora’s a father? He’s a grownup?”

She nodded. “Yes. We’re his kids. Miyu, Haruto, and Emi.”

Pooh just let the honey drip down his paws and face. “Sora can’t come to see me anymore?”

Miyu exchanged glances with Haruto and Emi, and they all shook their heads sadly.

“Oh, I see,” Pooh said, his head drooping. “So that’s why he hasn’t come to visit. I do miss him so.”

“We can tell you stories about him,” Haruto said. “Would that help?”

Pooh nodded. “I’d like that very much.”

They joined him on the log and made themselves comfortable. Haruto began with a story of one of his earliest memories: Sora telling him a bedtime story and tucking him in during a storm. Emi chimed in about a time the family all made sugar cookies together to celebrate Christmas, and finally it was Miyu’s turn.

“It’s not really one specific memory,” she said. “More like… How Dad is every single day. I can tell he really loves Mom just by the way he looks at her, especially when he thinks she’s not looking. And I know he loves us too. He gave up so much for us to have a normal childhood. His life of traveling and adventuring, a whole lot of fame and munny and respect, and… his friends, too.”

She looked at Pooh, who was listening very quietly. She hadn’t really thought about it before, but by giving up most of his traveling, Dad must’ve drifted apart from a lot of his friends. Not Uncle Riku of course, or the other people in his inner circle like Aunt Xion, Aunt Naminé, and Uncle Roxas, but Pooh and Pooh’s friends…

“Well, Not-Sora-I’m-Miyu, I may not have seen Sora in quite some time, but he’s always with me, right here,” Pooh said, pointing at his heart. “He went away for a while, but he came back, and he’s been with me ever since.”

She smiled sadly. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Still, I wish you could see Daddy again,” Emi said, and Haruto nodded. A slight wind picked up, blowing a few leaves through the air and making Miyu’s skin tingle, but then all was quiet.

“Perhaps I will. But until then, I shall enjoy being your friends, Not-Sora-I’m-Miyu, Haruto, and Emi.”

Miyu was about to reply when that strange wind picked up again. It was so strong this time that it lifted Emi off of the log. Pooh grabbed her legs, Haruto grabbed Pooh’s legs, and Miyu grabbed Haruto’s legs. Emi was well into the air at this point, as were Pooh and Haruto, and Miyu’s feet started skidding along the ground. She gritted her teeth and tried to dig her heels in, but keeping her teenage brother, her little sister, and a small bear grounded was proving to be a challenge. At this rate she was going to be lifted right into the air along with them.

“A little help please? Someone, anyone?” she called. Right as she lifted off the ground, something grasped her foot, and a flash of magic shot past her and made them all float in the air. Wait a second. She recognized that magic. Just a few days ago, she and Haruto had started learning this very same anti-gravity spell.

She glanced down. “Dad?”

Sure enough, she spied the Kingdom Key. It was gripped in the right hand of their rescuer, and her foot was in his left. But instead of her dad, there was a boy about her age in his place. He was wearing mostly black, and he had spiky brown hair, blue eyes, a knowing smile—

Oh my gosh, it was Dad!

#kingdom hearts #sokai #sora #kairi #sora x kairi #sora/kairi #kh fanfiction #sokai parents #sokai parents au #sokai family #sokai family au #phoenix writes #phoenix-downer #post-canon #reunions #fluff

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stasisarbiter · 2 years

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Volume 3 of my adventures in Eorzea text doc! This turned out longer for some reason, and it’s mostly rambles anyway so I’ll put it behind a read more (if I can figure out how to)

- Off to a crypt to beat up some doomsday cult! - It's quite interesting to see the starting zone of a different class (i assume that's what Gridania is) - Gridania at night is so peaceful, love the sound of crickets (at least in games) - Oh it's yet another dungeon! I wonder what the boss will be. The bow guy mentioned bird people so maybe them? - I've only just realized I'm called a Gladiator and the npc's are lancer, conjurer and thaumaturge, none of those are classes as I've heard of them, perhaps I get real classes later? - I'm a bit unclear on what interject does. I've been able to cancel enemy aoe's (the orange areas) with low blow and shield bash, but interject almost never works (I think it worked once?) so it must be for some other use. - Oh a squid wizard - Low blow didn't stop squid wizard's charge move, but that's probably because he's a boss and immune to stun? - I feel like most of my gameplay is done during the night for some reason, although it might be day rn and it's just raining. - Mother Miounne also pretty, elf race is pretty, but necks kinda long - Oof, poor rando party - Airship to the Golden Saucer? If I wasn't pressed to get my chocobo i'd investigate further. - Oh hey a third skill for my combo, finally I can stop pressing two buttons over and over and now I can press THREE! - I was just here yesterday but it somehow still feels like coming home back in Ul'dah - Papashan! - Hecatoncheires? They better have a hundred arms - Ah another duty/dungeon? idk the terminology. I wonder if these would go by faster if I was a dps class instead of a tank. - I always forget it resets iron will at the start of these, I always forget to turn it on until a mob attacks the npc's instead of me - Oh I got sync'd down to level 20 so I don't know my 3-part combo anymore, boo! - Nope they have 2 arms, kind minotaur-y but no eyes? or perhaps they're under those helmets. - This dungeon has a lot of random dead ends that has nothing in them. - Had to dodge so much in this Kottos fight. - This Gyges guy has some real weird aoe indicators - I feel bad for beating up the Hecatoncheires though, they didn't do anything wrong - Random merchant/thug encounter, I can't imagine this goes well for them. Well they got stomped and now I'm passing out again! - Used my past vision powers to prove a woman innocent! - The Scions you say? I've heard of you from a certain xenomorph - Ah! Edda! Oh noes, her fiance? Apparently that happened many days ago even though I was just in Gridania like... an hour ago, guess that's what happens when you do non-stop MSQ = Hmm looking at a quick wiki browse with no spoilers the point in the MSQ i'm at is level 17, even though I myself am level 27, so I still have a ways to go before getting my chocobo. Might have to wait until tomorrow. - At least I can rent a chocobo to get around! And the riding music is nice. - Oh Tataru, I've heard of you as well. - Oh god, more voice acting, it's so few and far between it's jarring every time - Lady put on a shirt - Perhaps it's the read from her VA but she sounds like she's stifling a huge smile the entire time she talks - Primals probably are a huge problem in this world, but I can't help but feel they might be friendly, probably my conditioning in Granblue - How is being able to see the memories of others gonna help me slap around primals? - That doesn't seem like a particularly strong passphrase Minfilia - I'm really not keen on Minfilia's voice for some reason, idk why it's not particularly bad, but doesn't really fit her? Maybe that's just me though.

- Sadly it is time for bed and still no Chocobo, but tomorrow! By the gods I’ll get it tomorrow!

#Stasis Plays FFXIV

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Come Now, Little Prince

Prompts: Hey uh... *brushed off dust from crashing in through the roof* Could you write something about Roman or Remus having Agoraphobia and them getting trapped somewhere? My brain just wants to relate. If not that’s fine! Love your writing! - anon

Might I suggest,,,, writing trope where the severely hurt person goes to their nemesis and says “sorry, I just didn’t have anywhere else to go” but it’s with Roman and Janus - 1namelessalien1

Ahh, yes, the inevitable. Honestly a lil surprised I haven't done this sooner but here we go! Finally...

Read on Ao3

Pairings: roceit, dukeceit, creativitwins. can be platonic or romantic you choose save for creativitwins. they brothers

Warnings: roman gets stabbed and has to get stitches, agoraphobia

Word Count: 7611

Cities are full of bright lights and shadows alike. Those that live in the light, the heroes, the 'good guys.' Those that live in the shadows, their grisly work only illuminated when the sun deigns to show its face again. Sometimes the shadows are too deep. Sometimes the spotlights are too much.

The Prince, Roman Prince, is the Golden Boy of the city. The newsreels, the cameras, the public adore him. But they don't see the winces when the bulbs go off right in his face, or whispers to be better, do better, perform better from the people that pull him aside after every daring adventure.

No one knows the name Janus, but they know his work. They don't shout, they whisper. They huddle together in the dark, searching for the light so as not to get caught in his coils.

But sometimes, when spotlights are too bright and shadows too flat, a little prince will make its way into the snake's den.

He didn’t mean to.

It just—his hand slipped and they fell and they—they—

He didn’t mean to drop them. They weren’t—they weren’t supposed to fall but the knife hurt too much and he flinched and he—he—

The choppers roar around the roof, battering his head with their noise, noise, noise. The wind whips up around the concrete railing, whistling, whining, wailing as the body falls down, down, down. The searchlights glint off the knife as they pull it down with them.

And then he is alone, in a crowd, on the top of a roof, king of the clouds.

The lights glare in his face as their body disappears. Then…then…

Then fear.

———————————

One of the best things about being seen as a ‘super villain,’ and how gauche is that term, is that no one wants to ask too many questions when you rent an apartment. There are really far too many landlords that want to get to know you, want to be your friend, while knowing full well that they participate in a system where there is no ethical consumption or behavior. Really, if he ever starts renting his own property, there will be no illusions on his end.

But hey, at least these ones know not to put their noses where they’ll get bitten off if they poke too far.

Janus sighs, opening the cupboard and taking the teacup down. The kettle whistles merrily on the stove as he reaches for the tea boxes.

Black, green, white, herbal…really, there are so many options. What to have for tonight, then? It is awfully late in the evening, there’s no real justification for consuming caffeine. Then again, he’ll do what he likes.

His phone buzzes. His real phone, not the one everyone sees him carry when he’s out and about. He rolls his eyes and takes the kettle off the heat as he spots the name on the text notification.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

“What’ve you done now, Remus,” he mutters as he slides the message open, “and which one of your messes am I cleaning up now?”

The message opens to a report. Brief, as is the style of all the reports Janus demands, but the thing that gives him pause is just how brief.

Remus, as one can very well imagine, is…not exactly compliant when it comes to following the rules. And while that can be useful in its own special way, it does mean that Janus occasionally has to factor emojis out of Remus’s reports.

Well, more than occasionally.

But this time the report is two sentences. Janus pours the water into the teapot as he glances over the words.

R. Sanders: Slaughter down at 85th and Marilyn. The head of the beast is cut off.

Well, on paper, that should be a fantastic report. The rival infringing on Janus’s turf has been, ah, taken down a few notches.

That’s undermined considerably by the fact that this report lacks any of Remus’s enthusiasm.

Janus sighs as he settles on the loose-leaf blueberry mint tea, placing the cup aside to brew as he wanders toward the window. Perhaps Remus is simply tired from all this work today. It wouldn’t be the first time the man’s manic energy had been tempered by a good amount of strenuous activity. And cutting off the head of the beast was never going to be a simple job to begin with. True, it was always an issue with causing more collateral damage than Janus was personally comfortable with, but what’s done is done.

The city starts to slumber, the last of the pleasant natural light fading from the sky, giving way to the horrid stained brown of the light pollution. The skyscrapers barely flinch in the oncoming night, instead choosing to stand firm as the workers inside slave away. The smaller shops close their doors, the nighttime crowds vanishing into subway tunnels and bus stations. Janus leans against the window, the glass reflecting the elegant lines of his suit alongside the angles of the buildings.

If he were slightly less himself, he’d say it looks like he belongs here.

When the light fades further, he sighs, turning away and fetching his tea. He drops into his favorite chair next to the window and raises the cup to his mouth.

The head of the beast has been cut off. He has no appointments, no reports, no debriefings to attend. He has his cup of tea, Remus will handle anything that blows up on the networks. It is the perfect evening to be alone, secure in his apartment.

So of course, there has to be something that sends a prickle up the back of his neck.

Why is Remus’s report sitting with him like this? This should be fantastic news, he should be willing to open the bottle of champagne that’s sat in preparation for this moment. And yet, as he raises the cup to his mouth again, his teeth hit the rim and he jolts, spilling a little more than he meant to into his mouth. He swallows, thankful that there’s no one else here to see it, and sets the cup and saucer aside.

He folds his gloved hands behind his back and goes to the window again.

If there were something wrong, someone would tell him. He has eyes all over the city, ears everywhere, and those under his employ know better than to try and cross him. Remus is alive and well—clearly, given by the way the evening’s progressed so far—and wouldn’t hesitate to gleefully drag anyone he suspected into his rooms or an abandoned warehouse.

He spares a glance over his shoulder. The phone stays silent.

Fingers tap against his hand as he looks down. Not for the first time, he wonders what it must be like, down there, scurrying about, without the faintest idea of what it looks like from up here. Oh, he’s walked on the sidewalk outside his building, who hasn’t, that’s how he gets into the building in the first place, but…not like that.

The outside world is so…temperamental. So many people, so many things. There is no better place to be alone than a crowded city street, but there is no more dangerous a place to be yourself.

When he’s finished his cup of tea, and the prickle has not left the back of his neck alone, he stifles a curse and turns. Remus will listen to him. Or, more precisely, Remus will ramble and scheme and reassure him that nothing is wrong. He might get a strange look—because while everyone else can underestimate how much Remus sees at their own peril, Janus never has—but he will do it.

Janus opens the door, idly wondering if he needs to bring his coat, and abruptly stops walking.

There is someone on their knees right outside his door.

Well.

That would explain the feeling he’s had of something being wrong, how on earth his security system didn’t alert him to their presence is beyond him. He doesn’t bother to hide his sigh as he pulls his cane from the holder and tilts their chin up.

“I’m certain that you must be…”

Janus trails off as he tilts up a chin to reveal a bloodstained, agonized expression of someone who should not be here.

“I’m sorry,” Roman Prince says in the voice of a lost child, “I didn’t—I didn’t know where else to go.”

Janus’s fingers twitch on the cane as he watches the roll of Roman’s throat.

“Y-you said if I—if I—ever needed help one day to know better than to—to try and go back to th-them.”

Remus’s report is beginning to make more sense.

Janus remembers. Janus remembers this upstart pain in his ass getting in the way of many operations, from transports to exchanges to hostage negotiations. He remembers the crooked smile straight out of a movie as this little shit got in the way of everything, including his resolve to not get involved with any of the so-called heroes that ran around in this city in their spandex and naiveté.

He remembers shaking his head at this shiny new one and saying that when he realized the world was much, much grayer than he wanted to believe, Janus would be there to watch. He remembers a softer offer, after a rescue had resulted in a building—abandoned, but a building—blowing up and the poor thing looking like someone had kicked his puppy.

He remembers watching the rival’s henchmen carted off to jail as the hero of the hour was reprimanded for causing too much collateral damage by the people who supposedly adored him.

“You were right,” Roman continues in that lost, lost voice, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

It takes Roman reaching for him for Janus to remember what is going on and the cane jerks his head up higher, forcing him to stop. Janus narrows his eyes at the hero kneeling on the floor, takes in the blood on his face, his neck, his hands.

“Why are you here,” he asks, wrenching that chin just a little higher, “why did you come to me?”

“You said you would help,” comes the reply, “if I—if I didn’t want to do this anymore.”

Has the perfect prince killed someone for the first time? Is that what’s brought on this little display?

His eyes trail lower, looking for the weapon.

The light from his apartment shines on a tunic stained with blood, cut and torn, and a dark, ugly stain that is not getting any smaller.

Roman’s head lolls forward, almost nuzzling Janus’s thigh as it slips off the cane. His hair sticks to his face, too soaked with blood.

Janus’s eyes go wide.

Roman Prince is here, on his knees, bleeding out because he has nowhere else to go. He came to Janus, the person he should trust the least out of everyone in this city, and he’s here on his knees, pleading.

The hand not on the cane twitches, then slowly reaches forward to find the least bloody spot on Roman’s head. It runs gently through his hair and finds its way to his chin, lifting it up once more. Roman’s eyes, full of tears, stare back at him.

“Come inside, little prince,” Janus says, his voice far softer than he would normally allow, “you’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

There aren’t many places to go that aren’t carpeted inside Janus’s apartment, but they make it over the threshold before Roman’s state begins to truly worry him.

How did he even get here? By how much blood there is, surely he would’ve passed out by now? Roman seems oblivious to his inside questions, simply looks around for wherever Janus is leading him before he notices how much blood he’s leaving behind him.

“It’s alright,” Janus says, surprising the both of them, “I can have the floor cleaned.”

Roman just blinks at him. And oh, if it doesn’t hurt to see that innocence still in the eyes of the little lamb, even as the wolf goes to take his arm.

“The bathroom is through this way,” he says softly, “come now…”

It is an odd experience, surely, to have one’s own nemesis bloody, wounded, completely at his mercy, as he strips off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, and want to do nothing but hunt down the people that made him this way.

Roman sits like a broken doll, he realizes as he watches the man ease himself down and wait as Janus pulls on a pair of plastic gloves. He is not uncooperative when Janus pushes his limbs to the side, snipping away at the fabric, trying to figure out what precisely is going on. He does not protest when Janus finds the stab wound and presses a cloth harshly on top, nor when Janus grabs his hand and bids him to hold it there, hard. He is not unfeeling, just very, very quiet as Janus begins to douse the pads in antiseptic.

He doesn’t flinch when Janus cleans the wound as best he can—he’s no doctor, after all—before muttering that it’s going to need stitches.

“Oh,” he mumbles instead, “okay.”

“Yes, so—hold still,” he barks, forcing Roman to sit back down, “where do you think you’re going?”

Roman blinks. “You said it needs stitches.”

“Yes, which is why you shouldn’t be moving.”

“I was going to go get the stitches.”

Now it’s Janus’s turn to blink. “I will stitch you up, Roman, now stay.”

And there’s that lamb-like innocence again as Roman tilts his head. “You will?”

“I may not be a doctor,” Janus mutters, twisting to grab the first aid kit, “but I do know how to suture a wound.”

He takes a few more wipes and cleans the blood he can, pointedly ignoring Roman’s attentive look.

“You could be a doctor,” comes the mumble, “you seem…good at it.”

Janus huffs. “Less a doctor, more a medic.”

Roman’s brows furrow. “What’s the difference?”

“A doctor fixes you, a medic makes dying more comfortable.”

There’s a moment of silence. Janus half-expects the poor thing to seize up in fear, tremble before him, or—god forbid—try and fight him, but he does none of that. Because that would make sense.

Instead, Roman just closes his eyes and lets his head fall to the side against the tiled wall.

“You don’t have to make it comfortable then.”

Janus’s hands falter for a moment. His eyes flick to Roman’s bloodstained face before refocusing on the wound in front of him.

“You’re not going to die here,” he says firmly, and if he starts to work a little more quickly, that’s his business, not yours.

“Oh.”

“I imagine you wouldn’t’ve come here with the intent to die on my doorstep, that’s quite rude, you know.”

“…no.”

Now, see, as the best liar in the city, Janus knows when he hears one.

The absurdity of the situation strikes him once again, fainter this time, but still there. Roman Prince is here, bloody, wounded—fatally so if Janus hadn’t started tending to him right when he did— forced to roll over and show his belly, Janus’s teeth at his throat, and yet Janus reaches up to turn that pretty face to his.

“Tell me what happened, little prince,” he commands softly.

Roman swallows. “I didn’t mean to.”

Janus simply raises an eyebrow and starts to stitch up the wound. Roman doesn’t flinch but accepts the silent chide.

“I-it was the building security guard,” he mumbles, “they called in that someone was firing shots in the upper stories and couldn’t—couldn’t get away in time. They were—they—the call wasn’t completed.”

They died while they were on the line, Roman doesn’t say, but Janus hears it.

“Wh-when I got there, there were—they must’ve thought there was a mole in the—on the inside and they started—they were—“

They were killing their own people, Janus realizes, hiding his disgust behind another tied-off suture. He’s starting to have an awful feeling about where Roman’s been tonight.

“Something went wrong in one of the labs. They made a toxin, and it—it—“ Roman swallows— “it drove them insane.”

It made them homicidal, they killed each other.

“I...I think they were going to flee from the roof.”

As Janus ties off the last suture, he freezes.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I tried to stop them,” Roman whispers, “I was holding onto them, it was windy, they were going to fall, they ran too fast out of the door, I caught them, I—I had them, they—they were going to be safe but then they—they—“

Janus presses two fingers to the warm chest next to the wound. He can feel Roman’s heart jumping. He rubs in slow circles.

“They stabbed me,” Roman finishes, “and I—I—I—“

A small noise that sounds too much like a sob swallows the rest of his words.

Oh, this poor little prince…

Roman swallows another sob. “I’m sorry.”

Janus tilts his head. “What’re you apologizing to me for, little prince?”

“Well, I can’t imagine that this is how you imagined spending your evening.”

“No,” Janus says, folding his hands in front of him, “but I can’t imagine this is how you imagined spending yours either.”

The little prince bruises as easily as ever, only this time he doesn’t bother to hide behind his bravado.

“Off,” Janus says softly, tugging lightly at the remains of Roman’s costume, “the rest of you needs to be cleaned.”

He watches unashamed as Roman follows his instruction, eyes traveling over the scars littering the body revealed to him piece by piece. Too many scars. When he stands bare, Janus takes his hands and deliberately cleans them of the blood.

Roman doesn’t stop trembling until Janus has cleaned away every last bit.

The costume will need to be disposed of, there’s no saving it. The floor in the bathroom is littered with bits of blood and the carpet near the door will need to be cleaned quickly. Luckily the cleaner that Janus employs is well-accustomed to such a request. Instead, Janus walks back to the bedroom.

There the little prince sits, looking far too much like a lost child. Janus pauses at the door, tugging his normal gloves back on.

The little prince looks far too good wrapped in Janus’s colors.

“Why did you come to me, little prince,” he asks after a moment, “you had no way of knowing that I wouldn’t kill you.”

Roman lowers his head and the lie from the bathroom plays uncomfortably in his head. Janus tilts his head as Roman clears his throat.

“I thought—part of me thought you would.”

A harsh laugh tears out of his throat before he can stop it. “So what, I was to be your confessional? You would fall on your knees, repent, and I would put you out of your misery? Or put you down, like some misbehaved dog?”

Roman hunches his shoulders. Janus’s mirth disappears in a flash.

“…maybe.”

Roman Prince dragged himself from the roof of 85th and Marilyn, all the way across the city to Janus’s real apartment, disarmed his security, and did not once tend to the stab wound in his chest.

Roman Prince witnessed a slaughter, watched people be driven out of their minds, and dropped someone who did their very best to kill him off a roof by accident.

Roman Prince fell to his knees in front of the one man in this city who he knew would be capable of killing him without a second thought.

“…do you want me to kill you?”

There’s a softness in his voice again, one that slipped unbidden into the words to make the blow seem more like a caress.

“I would make it quick,” he murmurs, still leaning against the doorway, watching the little prince, “it wouldn’t hurt.”

Roman looks at him. The child is lost, so lost, and so, so tired. He opens his mouth.

“Don’t you want to?”

…well.

Does he? Certainly, the little prince has caused more than his fair share of mishaps, messes, and mistakes, and putting him out of the equation permanently benefits Janus in more ways than one. And it’s not like it would be difficult. No one knows Roman is here, let alone anyone who would care, and even fewer that wouldn’t expect him to never be seen alive again. Janus could kill him in half a dozen ways in the next minute that Roman couldn’t possibly fight against, a dozen more that would take scarcely any longer.

Unbidden, his mind begins to list off the possibilities. The gun in the cabinet, the knife tucked into his shirt, the poison stored in the bathroom, even snapping the little prince’s neck.

But he takes one more look at the little prince and all of them vanish in an instant.

“Why did you come here?” he murmurs again.

Roman lets out a long breath. His hand on the borrowed shirt tightens and loosens, tightens and loosens.

“You’re the only one I trust,” he tells him quietly, and it’s the saddest thing he could’ve possibly said.

Janus crosses the room and cups the back of the little prince’s neck. Roman just bows his head, the little lamb waiting for another hand to come up and twist. Janus bites back the snarl of rage at how resigned Roman is to dying tonight and brushes his thumb along the curve of his cheek.

Stroke by stroke, he coaxes the tears from the little prince’s eyes and wipes them away.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs, leaning his weight against the edge of the bed, “there’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“I could’ve held on.”

“You’d just been stabbed, flinching is a perfectly understandable reaction.”

“But I’ve been stabbed before.”

“It’s not like you build up an immunity to knives going into you.”

“But I—“ Roman cuts himself off, curling his fist tightly in his lap.

“What is it, little prince?”

He just shakes his head firmly, lips pressed tightly together, red blooming on his cheeks.

Well, at least there’s blood flowing properly again. “We’re well past the point of embarrassment, little prince,” Janus remarks gently, “and if you’re worried about sharing weaknesses with me now…”

“I got scared,” Roman blurts, sounding every bit the reprimanded child. Janus pets his hair absentmindedly, encouraging him to speak again. When he won’t, Janus hums quietly.

“You were stabbed,” he reminds again, “that’s understandable.”

“Not of being stabbed.”

Janus frowns. “What then, little prince?”

“I…”

“I won’t harm you, little prince,” Janus murmurs when he hesitates.

“…I got scared of being outside.”

Janus’s hand pauses in Roman’s hair before gently lifting his chin. “What do you mean, little prince, that you were scared of being outside?”

“There—there was nowhere to go, I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t escape, there were too many people, the choppers were so—so loud and I—I didn’t know what to do—“

Fucking hell, Janus realizes as he shushes the little prince tenderly, he’s agoraphobic.

Flashes of their fights and altercations start to make more sense now. Why Roman prefers fighting in dark, cramped warehouses, why losing the hero on public transportation was so easy, why he almost never confronted Janus in public in broad daylight even though he clearly knows where Janus lives.

The weight of the expectations on Roman…how difficult his chosen occupation must be…how little support he gets for something that makes it infinitely harder for him…

Janus doesn’t realize he’s cradling Roman’s head until he strokes his thumb down his cheek and feels the soft brush of hair against his forearm. He looks down and sees Roman’s eyes all but flutter shut, lulled by the gentle touch against his face.

Trapped under the spotlights of the world, laid bare, stripped by their merciless eyes, unable to look away, escape from what they would only see as a colossal failure…

No wonder Roman sought out a denizen of the shadows where he could be sure no one would look for him.

What should, by all rights, feel like a cage to Roman might just become a den.

The snake tightens its coils protectively around the little prince and leans down to whisper in Roman’s ear.

“You’re safe, now,” he soothes, “there is no one else here but me, and I will look after you. There are no expectations here, you cannot do something wrong. I’m here to help you.”

The snake hisses in contentment as the little prince slumps into the coils, letting it pick him up and deposit him gently in the mass of the den, leaving only for a brief moment before returning to his side.

“Shh, shh,” he soothes as Roman blinks about in confusion, “you need to rest, I’ll be right here.”

“Why—what—“ Roman’s head hits the pillow and Janus almost laughs at how quickly his eyes close— “why’re you…helping?”

“You came to me for help, little prince.”

“But you…care?”

And oh, if that doesn’t make the snake’s cold black heart beat warmly in its chest.

“You may be surprised, little prince,” it hisses, drawing the little prince closer and closer, “but you’re not that difficult to care for.”

No, Janus decides, resigning himself to a night of little sleep as he watches Roman’s breathing begin to even out, stroking a hand through his hair, the little prince isn’t so hard to care for after all.

The snake has never been one to spare those that wander carelessly into its den, but this little prince did not do it carelessly. And it is surprisingly easy for Janus to soothe the remaining prickle on the back of his neck by scratching his fingers lightly along the back of Roman’s, to gentle the furrow in Roman’s sleep with a murmured reassurance into the little prince’s ear. The night passes slowly as the little prince dozes under the snake’s coils.

Only later, when the sun has begun to rise, does he realize he’s left his phone on the counter. He sighs, extricating himself gingerly from the sleeping Roman and going back to the kitchen.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

He glances toward the bedroom and opens the text.

R. Sanders: if you don’t get your security system back online yourself in the next 30 seconds I’m coming over

Well, considering this message is from two minutes ago, Janus simply sighs and opens the door.

“That,” Remus snarls as he stalks inside, “is not the point.”

“I was about to reboot the system, Remus, do calm yourself.”

“I’m not the one who spent the entire fucking night in an unsecured location!”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “By all means, Remus, do keep shouting about my security system at the top of your lungs while the door is still open.”

Remus mutters angrily to himself but has the decency—or perhaps, the self-preservation—to quiet down while Janus shuts the door and turns the security system back on.

“Now then,” he says easily, setting the kettle to boil again—blueberry mint really was the correct choice to make last night— “what would you like to drink?”

Remus regards his tea boxes like he regards the new bottles of bleach.

“You still don’t keep coffee in your house, do you?” At Janus’s look, he sighs. “Just hot water.”

“Splendid.”

Janus takes his time setting up his teapot. Looseleaf black tea, a new teacup, the honey laid out just so, all while Remus’s tapping gets more and more impatient. But Remus is a good dog, he’ll wait until he’d given leave to speak again.

“I imagine you must have a reason for infringing upon my privacy this morning,” Janus says as he stirs the honey into the tea, “if not just to turn my system back on so that a corpse could not be tampered with.”

“I didn’t know if you were fucking dead, Jan,” Remus snarls, and oh, the poor thing was worried. How touching.

“I’m fine, Remus,” Janus says, softening his voice just the barest amount, “and it certainly speaks to the faith you have in me.”

“Yeah, yeah, faith in your something.”

“Come now, dear, let’s not be crass.”

“You like me crass.”

Janus hides a smile behind the rim of his cup. There’s the Remus that was missing from the report. Though as he looks at the loyal minion sitting across from him, he sees that something is still bothering him.

“Well, if that’s all then?”

Remus takes the bait. “Wasn’t us.”

“Pardon?”

“The beast,” Remus mutters, still glancing around the apartment, “wasn’t us.”

Then he spots the blood.

In Remus’s defense, Janus did open the door right as he arrived and he was definitely given time to look around before Janus swept him into a conversation. Still, the fact that it took Remus this long to spot the blood is…well.

“Shit—“ Remus springs to his feet— “are you hurt? How many?”

“Keep your voice down,” Janus murmurs, “I’m not hurt.”

“Then explain to me why there’s blood everywhere—“

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why the fuck should I keep my voice down? Someone was here, there’s fucking blood—“

Both of them freeze as a rustle of covers comes from the other room. Remus’s eyes widen and his hand goes to the gun at his side. In two quick steps, he’s almost to the bedroom.

Janus catches him by the arm.

“Don’t.”

The steel in his tone finally gets Remus to settle, the man glancing at the door once before allowing himself to be held in place.

“What the hell is going on here,” he hisses, finally keeping his voice down, “what aren’t you telling me?”

“Stay out of that room,” Janus orders, even though it’s a redundancy at this point, “and tell me what else you know.”

Remus opens his mouth to protest but a look quells him. He glances at the door one more time before sighing.

“By the time we got there, everything was over. There were network choppers crawling over every inch of that place, swarming with civvies. We had to fence to get in. Janus, they—“

If Remus has to take a breath, what the hell happened?

“God, Janus, it’s like someone gave a neurotic thirteen-year-old a hallucinogenic and a sledgehammer and told ‘em the building was a giant whack-a-mole.” Remus shakes his head. “Heads bashed in, eyes gouged out, like they—they—“

“Like they did it to each other,” Janus finishes.

Remus nods, his face pale. He looks up at Janus and it’s the second time in the last twelve hours he’s been caught off guard by someone’s expression.

“Jan, it’s bad,” he says quietly, “if they—we’re lucky it only got into that building.”

“And you’re certain it’s contained?”

“Someone tripped the quarantine field. The building locked down. Only way out was the roof.” Remus shakes his head. “The head of the beast was splayed out on the street, spine snapped in half, bloody knife. Like he was pinned up like a butterfly.”

He quirks his brow.

“Gotta admire the craftsmanship.”

Janus nods. Remus notices his silence and steps a little closer.

“So who the fuck is in that room?”

As if on cue, there’s another muffled hiss.

“Don’t,” Janus says when Remus’s hand goes to his gun again, “you’ll scare him.”

Now Remus looks at him like he'd grown another head. “Who the fuck is in that room?”

Janus bites back a curse when there are more noises.

“The person who cut the head off.”

“If you think that’s gonna stop me from getting in there—“

“Remus.”

Remus subsides, looking at him carefully. Janus sighs. Remus knows better than to directly disobey an order, and if Janus pushes, Remus will leave.

And yes, part of the snake wants to wrap around its den and keep its precious charge safe from anything else.

A larger part of Janus knows that keeping this information completely under wraps will become a liability quickly.

“Watch the door,” Janus says, letting Remus go.

Remus hasn’t worked for him for this long without picking up some of his observational skills, so he goes without complaint. Janus opens the door to the bedroom and has to stop the fond smile on his face as he sees the little prince trying to feign sleep. As if it’s going to work.

He crosses the room and leans down.

“You can stop pretending now, little prince.”

Roman’s eyes open and the snake hisses gently, noticing the pressure the little prince’s position is putting on his stitches.

“By all means, ruin the work it took to suture you up,” he remarks dryly, chuckling as Roman quickly—and carefully—rolls onto his back, “better.”

“D-do—I can go now,” Roman mumbles, “if—if you—if you want. I can leave. You don’t have to see me again, I’ll—I’ll go.”

Janus quirks an eyebrow. “And let you leave without breakfast? How rude of me.”

Roman’s eyes widen. “N-no, I didn’t mean—you don’t—I—“

“Hush, little prince,” Janus murmurs, petting Roman’s hair again, “none of that now.”

Roman’s eyes keep darting around the room, from the closed door to Janus’s hands to his face and away again. Janus frowns.

“Oh, little prince, have you always been so afraid of me?”

“Yes.”

The honesty takes Janus by surprise. Roman Prince has never been afraid of him, at least not like this, like some creature constantly bracing for a blow. He’s responded brilliantly to whatever jibes Janus throws at him during one of their altercations, always ready with a quip on his tongue or a pretty blush to a flirtation. He’s not—he’s never been this.

Perhaps the little prince is a better actor than I gave him credit for.

There are not many people in this city capable of doing that.

Then there’s the sudden realization that the reassurances from the night will no longer work. Roman was safe because he was alone with Janus, there was nothing he could do wrong that would hurt him, there was an easy way to escape if need be. But now Remus is here, there’s another variable to worry about.

And Roman is no match for the both of them.

“Let me have a look, little prince,” he says instead, leaning down to gently tug the shirt up and out of the way. Despite the hero’s movement, there’s no blood, no popped stitches. The wound will still be tender for a while yet, but there’s nothing to worry about. Not at the moment. He says as much, ending with a soft: “sit up, let’s get you something to eat.”

Roman glances at the door again.

“Remus won’t hurt you,” Janus reassures, “not while I’m here.”

Roman’s head whips around so quickly he frets that the little prince will snap his own neck.

“R-Remus?”

Janus blinks. “Yes, Remus, he’s who’s here, he works for me.”

“Remus Sanders?”

He quirks a brow. “And here I thought you didn’t bother to learn my staff.”

“N-no, Remus Sanders, he’s—he’s not dead?”

Not dead?

Judging by the sudden silence in the other room, Janus has about three seconds to brace for it before Remus slams the door open.

Remus’s eyes are giant, his face almost drained of color. Three quick steps and he’s got a fist in Roman’s shirt, wrenching him away from Janus and slamming him up against a wall.

“Remus,” Janus barks, “put him down.”

It says something about Remus’s state of mind that he doesn’t even register Janus’s command. Instead, the man has a knife pressed to Roman’s throat, every muscle in his body bunched up like a clenched fist.

Roman hasn’t flinched. He’s just staring at Remus, his hands sliding and scrabbling uselessly at Remus’s shoulders.

“Y-you’re alive,” he keeps mumbling, “you’re not dead, you’re alive, you’re safe, you’re—you’re—“

Remus abruptly lets Roman go, shoves him further against the wall and yanks the shirt out of the way to see the stitches. The knife goes back in its holster as Roman keeps babbling about how Remus is alive.

“Was it him,” Remus asks in a soft, dangerous voice, cutting through Roman’s babble, “did that bastard stab you?”

Roman jerks his head up and down.

“…well, at least you finally learned how to stand up to your bullies.”

Ah.

Janus must be getting rusty.

“As much as I hate to interrupt the family reunion,” he says, startling the brothers, “I believe there is still business to attend to.”

Remus has the decency to look a little ashamed at directly disobeying several orders now, but the little prince is still staring at Remus like his life depends on it. Janus shakes his head, crossing the room to gently take his chin again.

“You need to eat, little prince,” he murmurs, “come now.”

He doesn’t have to ask Remus to help the little prince to the kitchen. By the time he’s followed them out—and made sure his tea isn’t ruined—Remus has Roman sitting on one of the bar stools, stood next to him, every bit the guard dog as Roman clutches Remus’s tactical vest. As Janus starts to get something together for Roman to eat, Remus doesn’t move once. Instead, he lets Roman cling onto him, mumble to himself, and absentmindedly rub his cheek against Remus’s chest.

Janus sets a plate of food in front of Roman and picks up his tea again, taking a sip and staring at them over the rim of the cup.

This could be a problem.

Remus’s loyalty is not easily won, nor is it easily lost. The man’s been dragged behind a truck by his fingernails and not squealed once. And yet as Remus lifts his head—finally—and looks at Janus, it’s the first time he’s seen that loyalty waver.

Janus stares back. Remus knows better than to try and cross him. Remus himself has been the blunt instrument that disposes of those who did. Remus knows the extent of Janus’s influence better than anyone else, aside from Janus himself.

And still, that loyalty wavers.

The little prince, oblivious to the staring match happening over his head, mumbles a small thanks as he starts to eat. His hands are still shaking. Remus steps closer, pressing Roman further into the counter and the little prince lets him. The message is clear.

This is the one thing of Remus’s that he won’t let Janus take.

Which would be a problem—or wouldn’t be, depending on how quickly Remus cooperates—if Janus weren’t currently dividing his attention between Remus and how his hands are itching to wipe the last speck of blood from the little prince’s hairline.

It takes barely a glance for Remus to understand that Janus would never.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, coming around to the other side of the counter once Roman finishes, “I need to have a talk with Remus, do you think you can sleep a little more?”

“I can try.”

“Let’s have you try.” Janus glances at Remus.

“C’mon, Ro-Bro,” Remus says quietly, one arm around Roman’s waist, “back to bed.”

“Re?”

“I gotcha, Roro, I’m right here.”

How adorable.

Remus closes the bedroom door and there’s a long pause.

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Janus takes another sip of his tea. “Does anyone else know what happened?”

“The networks have a hold of the main story, they won’t know what happened inside until the lockdown expires, but Jan—if he was there—“

“The choppers saw him.”

“Shit.”

“They saw him drop the beast’s head but him fleeing the scene won’t look good.”

“I’ve got the team scrambling the data, the location of the beast’s head won’t reach the airwaves.”

“Good.”

Another pause.

“…why’d he come here?”

Janus settles the cup back in its saucer. “…he said I was the only one he could trust.”

Remus snarls. “As if we needed more proof that they treat their people like shit.”

“Believe me, I’ve got quite the list of people I’d like to question.”

Remus bares his teeth. “Don’t do it without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” He watches Remus stare at the door. “So…you have a brother?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know that from the extensive background check you did.”

Janus accepts it, setting the teacup aside. “The famous Roman Prince…oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Remus’s head flicks sharply around to stare at him. But Janus says it with none of his usual flare, dragging his gloved fingertips along the counter.

“Has he always been so…” He fumbles for the right word.

There isn’t one.

Thankfully, Remus understands what he’s trying to get at.

“It’s hard not to,” he mumbles, “even when I hated him—and I hated him, he was always…”

Remus trails off into silence too.

“There was never a moment where I didn’t know that he was still my fucking brother.”

This is dangerous.

The closest thing Janus has to a weakness, up until this point, has been Remus. And Remus is a loyal man, but even he knows Janus will watch him die and feel only the slightest bit of remorse that a useful tool will no longer be in use.

But not anymore.

“I think he wanted me to kill him,” Janus murmurs, noting the way that Remus jerks in surprise.

“Do you think that’s why he came?”

“He told me that I was right,” he says, “that I was—that he remembered I’d told him if he ever realized he couldn’t do it anymore, if he ever needed help, that he should know better than to go back to the people that pretend to care about him.”

“You basically told him you’d be his suicide gun?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Remus,” Janus says lowly, looking up.

Remus regards him. “Would you have?”

“Killed him?”

“Yes.”

Could he have killed Roman Prince? Yes, easily.

Can he kill the little prince in the bedroom?

“My God,” Remus breathes, “you can’t do it, can you?”

Janus shakes his head. Like it or not, the snake can’t kill the little prince.

“So what now?”

Janus stands up straight. “The city isn’t just going to let Roman Prince disappear, not like that. They’re going to look for him. He’s going to have to make another public appearance.”

“And we have to clean up the rest of the mess.”

“That we’re used to,” Janus sighs, “that I’m not worried about.”

“You’re worried about Roman’s people trying to look for him.” Janus nods. “We’ve got feelers out, we can keep tabs on that.”

“Good.”

Remus spares another glance at the door. “Are you gonna keep him here until then?”

“Yes.”

He lets out a low whistle.

“Go. Get to work.”

“Aye aye, boss.” Remus fixes him with one last look before he disappears out the door.

Janus walks to the bedroom. This time the fond smile crawls across his face unhindered.

“You don’t have to pretend, little prince,” he says as he crosses the room, “if you can’t sleep, you can’t sleep.”

Roman blinks up at him as Janus sits on the edge of the bed. “Sorry.”

“No need for apologies.” He tilts his head to the side. “I never offered you painkillers, are you alright?”

Roman nods.

“Roman,” he asks softly, “why did you come here?”

There’s a pause.

“You said that you remembered me telling you that you could,” he continues, “and that you…trusted me, and yet you seemed surprised that I was—I am willing to help.”

“Still am.”

Remus’s words play in his head again. “You said you remembered what I said—and you be honest with me now,” he says, giving Roman a look, “did you want me to kill you?”

Roman swallows. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

And oh, Janus has waited so long to hear those words from that pretty mouth but not like this.

He pulls a tissue from the side table and tilts Roman’s head just so to get that last speck of blood, pausing at the way Roman shudders under his touch.

“When was the last time someone touched you,” he asks gently, “before this?”

Roman just shakes his head.

“What is the point,” the snake hisses, “of people pretending to care about you when they don’t give you what you obviously need?”

“You were,” the little prince mumbles, still a beat behind, “I think you were the last person to…to touch me.”

“Before…?”

“Yeah. When we…when you…”

When he had the little prince tied up in the factory downtown, another attempt to persuade him to back off. When he cupped the little prince’s chin in his hand and chuckled as a pretty blush spread across those cheeks. When he let gloved fingers run through his hair and smirked at how easily the little prince lost track of the conversation.

Now, though, Janus cradles the little prince’s face in his hands and lowers himself onto the bed.

“You can have it,” he whispers, running his fingers through the little prince’s hair, “if touch is what you need, you can have it.”

Roman’s eyes flutter, lost on the sensation of Janus’s touch, all but floating on the bed. He starts to curl unconsciously towards him, pliant and still. Janus lets him, moving to wrap his arms around the little prince as he tucks himself under Janus’s chin.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asks gently, “that you were hurting so badly?”

He feels the roll of Roman’s throat. “Didn’t want you to think I was any weaker.”

Janus bites back a curse. “Well, I’m afraid you’re about to witness firsthand how weak I am.”

Before Roman can ask what he means, Janus cups the back of his neck and gently, gently kisses his forehead.

“If no one else will do what needs to be done,” he murmurs into Roman’s hair, “then I will.”

If no one else will take care of the little prince that sacrifices so much to protect this city, then the snake is happy to oblige.

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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Driver’s License

Pairing: Dream / Clay x f!reader

Summary: [High School!AU] You’ve had a crush on Clay ever since he was first assigned to be your lab partner, and you finally muster up the courage to confess your feelings to him. But sometimes, not everything goes the way you hope it does.

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: this was requested by an anon who wanted some angst inspired by olivia rodrigo’s driver’s license! i hope i captured the right mood with the setting and story, and i sincerely hope you enjoy! <3

You glanced down at your phone, your thumb pressing on the power button before the screen flickered to life. The time flashed back at you in a white, clean font, and you chewed on your lip, your toes curling in your shoes.

There were only seven minutes until the bell—he was going to be late, wasn’t he?

Sighing, you picked up your phone and pushed your thumb against the home button, opening up your text messages. You scrolled down the list of contacts that stared back at you, your thumb hovering the one name that sent your head spinning in a flurry of pink hearts and white stars.

Clay.

Of all the people to have a crush on, of course it just had to be him. After all, how could you not fall for him? He was tall, cute, funny, and, well—he was a dream come true. It was almost like the universe had just set you up to fall, and really, you had no one to blame but yourself. It wasn’t like he liked you back, either. He was the cool, fun quarterback that was friends with everyone, while your only claim to fame was that you were his lab partner.

Should I text him? you wondered, fidgeting your fingers. I feel like I should text him. I know we’re technically just lab partners, but we’ve texted about other things, too. It wouldn’t be weird if I just asked him where he was, ri—

“Hey, you.”

You whipped your head up, immediately shutting your phone with one hand as your eyes wide went wide, your heart tripping in your chest. Standing by the desk next to you, Clay waved, amusement flickering across his face at your shocked expression.

“Hi, Clay,” you said, suddenly feeling breathless all at once. You could already feel the warmth blossoming in your chest, as his eyes locked onto yours. You really were too gone for your own good.

Sliding into his seat, he flashed you a bright grin as he dropped his bag onto the space beside him. “What’s up? Anything exciting happen to you?”

You turned away from your notebook with a soft smile. “Not really.” Trying to force down the heat crawling up your neck, you wagged a finger at him, a teasing lilt seeping into your words. “But you, my friend, are actually early—for once.” You shot him a thumbs up, winking. “Congratulations.”

Unzipping his backpack, Clay rolled his eyes at you, something like amusement flirting across his face. “Look,” he said, rummaging through his bag, “not all of us can be as early as you.”

Your lips twitched, and you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest with a triumphant look. “Well, I’ll have you know that I drove myself here today.”

He froze, his hand pausing as he looked up to blink at you with wide, fascinated eyes. “You did?” A grin slowly spread across his face, and he pulled out a notebook before setting his bag back down on the ground. “Does that mean what I think it does?”

You nodded your head eagerly, electricity buzzing up your skin as you pulled out your wallet from behind you. “It sure does!” Flipping it open, you held out a small, plastic card towards his face with a giddy smile. “I got my license.”

In an instant, he was cheering, his eyes as wide as saucers as he clapped his hands in celebration. You had half the mind to be embarrassed that more than just a few people were looking at you now, but you were far more focused on Clay. “Woah, congrats!” he said, lifting a hand tentatively toward you. “Can I...?”

You nodded, watching as he gently pulled your license from your fingers. He turned it over in his hands once, his lips curling up into a crooked grin before he tapped at your photo. “Look at you,” he said, mirth dancing through his emerald gaze. “They got your good side.”

You raised a brow at him, holding your palm out toward him. “Are you saying I have a bad side?”

Clay shook his head, sliding the card back between your fingers and your hands brushing. A spark ran up your fingertips at the touch, sending a dizzying surge of heat rushing into your chest. “Nah. Every side is your good side.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he turned back to his desk, his gaze leaving yours. Your fingers curled tighter around your license, and you swallowed. How could he say something like that so casually? It was so unfair. You already liked him enough, and then he just had to go and say something like that. Of course. Stupid, dumb, handsome Clay. It was not your fault he was so... attractive. Totally.

After a long moment, your fingers curled a fraction tighter around your license, the plastic digging into your skin as you softly said, “Thanks.”

He waved a hand at you, his eyes curving into crescent moons. “Anytime.”

Your stomach tightened into a knot in your gut, tingling elation shooting through you and wrapping around your lungs. Tucking your license back into one of the wallet flaps, you watched as he flipped his notebook open to a blank page, quickly scribbling the date in the corner of the paper with a focused gaze. With a reluctant sigh, you tore your eyes away from him to look back at your own paper, pretending to write something down that wasn’t just his name. It was almost embarrassing how easily you could just stare and get lost in everything he did. You never thought you would be one of those people, yet here you were.

“Hey, by the way,” he suddenly said, his voice making you jump while his eyes flickered to meet yours, “do you happen to have any plans for Friday?”

Catching your breath, your pencil stopped in its tracks on the page. Friday? You furrowed your brows, the cogs in your head churning before you slowly nodded. “I think so.” A grimace tugged at your lips, and you held back a quiet groan. “I’ve got a project due on Monday that I need to get done, but I can’t work on it until Friday, so...” You gestured vaguely. “You know.”

There was a moment of silence, and Clay’s lips curled into a slight frown. “Oh,” he said. “I see.”

You could have sworn you saw disappointment flit through his face, but it was gone in an instant. Leaning toward him, your eyebrows knit together in concern. “Hey,” you murmured softly, “is something wrong?”

In a flash, he was smiling again, and you couldn’t tell he had been frowning even a split second earlier. “No, no, I was just curious, that’s all.” He raised his hand toward you, tapping a finger against your nose. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

Your cheeks burst with warmth, his eyes brightening at the way your lips curled. Reeling back, you raised your chin at him, huffing. “Hey, this pretty little head is the one saving you from a C in chemistry, right now.”

He chuckled, his arm dropping back down to his side as he leaned back in his seat. “You sure are, and I hope you knows how much that means to me.”

Your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest. All at once, it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. Did he... could he—?

“Good morning, everyone.”

You jumped at the sound of your chemistry teacher’s voice, your hand tightening around your pencil as you watched him send your class a smile. “I hope you all had a good weekend. Today, we’ll be...”

Soon enough, you were already tuning him out, your mind drifting back to Clay’s words.

I hope you knows how much that means to me.

Something soft and fuzzy rolled over in your stomach, and you felt hope bubbling up in your throat.

Maybe your crush wasn’t as one-sided as you thought it was.

You dashed through the halls, your backpack bouncing against your shoulder as you weaved in between groups of friends leaning against the lockers and couples holding hands as they walked. You stifled a curse as you dodged someone’s arm, grumbling to yourself as you finally pushed past the doors that led outside. Couldn’t people learn to just not stand in the middle of the hall? People needed to get places—people like you.

Inhaling the fresh, spring air, you bounded across the dewy grass toward the familiar picnic table underneath the school’s willow tree. It was the only spot on school grounds that actually had enough shade to keep your head from overheating in the simmering Florida sun, so naturally, it became your and Wilbur’s go-to spot for lunch.

As the bench drew nearer, you felt your face brighten, spotting Wilbur already sitting in his usual spot, his beanie askew atop his head. The two of you were unlikely friends, to say the least, but after having spent years living next to each other, you were more than proud to call him your best friend, even if he did make you want to smack him more often than not.

Wilbur offered you a brief wave as you finally reached the bench, tugging open his sandwich bag with his other hand. Above you, the willow tree swayed, the branches and leaves scattering sunlight across his face. “Hey, how was chem—”

“Today, our hands touched when I showed him my license,” you blurted, not even pausing for breath.

Wilbur blinked at you once, stunned for a brief moment. Then, a groan flew from his lips, and he pressed two fingers to his temple, grimacing. “[Y/N],” he said, drawing out the syllables of your name, “I can’t keep doing this.”

You blinked as you sat down in the space across from him, dropping your bag onto the seat with a thud. “Keep doing what?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Keep listening to you endlessly pine over Clay without doing anything about it.” At your bewildered expression, he sighed, taking another bite of his sandwich as he pushed his glasses up further onto his face. “It’s been, what? Four months, at this point?”

“Five,” you said immediately.

He stared at you. “Five,” he repeated. When you nodded, his frown deepened. “You do realize how bad that sounds, right?”

A wave of embarrassment crashed over you, and you curled back into yourself, grumbling, “Let me live my life.”

“Not like this, I won’t.” Wilbur leaned over the table with a firm look, pointing his finger at you. “You need to ask him out.”

Your eyes widened at his words, and you felt your jaw drop open in disbelief. “No way,” you said, slapping your hands onto the table. “Absolutely not. I am not doing... that.”

You could practically see Wilbur’s impatience wearing thin, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “[Y/N]. C’mon. You like him—it’s so obvious.”

You opened your mouth to shoot back, then shook your head, closing it—Wilbur knew you too well to even try. “Probably, but not to Clay. To him, I’m just his lab partner.”

“His cute lab partner,” he pointed out, lifting a finger. “Who is also pretty, and smart, and funny, and interesting and—”

The smile was stretching across your face before you could stop it, and you whined, feeling your chest grow warm with genuine appreciation. “Stop, please.”

Wilbur’s lips split into a teasing grin, and he poked a finger to your side. “You know I’m only calling it like I see it.”

When you glowered at him, he only laughed, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face. Scoffing, you reached your arm toward him. “Well, if it’s only as much as you’re seeing it,” you said, “I guess I’ll just have to take these, then.”

Before he could react, your hand had wrapped around the side of his glasses, and you were pulling them off his face in a whirl. He jumped at the sudden change, and you watched as he fumbled with his sandwich, gaping at you as he whipped around. “Hey, give those back!”

You leaned back, sticking your tongue out at him as you held them above and behind your head. “Not until you stop.”

Now, it was his turn to glare at you, and he clenched his jaw with a long exhale. “Fine,” he said, focusing his attention back to his lunch. “I guess I just won’t tell you what’s happening on Friday, then.”

His glasses went limp in your hand, and your voice dropped down to a meek whisper. “There’s something happening on Friday?”

Wilbur only shrugged, humming softly. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Resting your elbows on top of the table, you pursed your lips, leaning forward to scan his face. “Will,” you said, your tone firm and demanding, “please tell me. Clay asked me if I was free on Friday and now I regret telling him no—you can’t just leave me hanging like this.”

Wilbur lifted his head to meet your gaze, a look of pure shock and disbelief shooting across his face. “He asked you if you were free and you said no?” He paused for a moment, then sighed for what must have been the millionth time. “Maybe you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”

You scowled, but didn’t say anything. Instead, you lifted your head to slide his glasses across the table toward him. “Here,” you said, the tiniest tinge of desperation soaking into your voice, “I’ll even give these back.”

He raised his eyebrows at you, picking up his glasses with a soft whistle. “That was easier than I thought,” he murmured, ignoring the glare you shot him. Sliding his glasses back onto his face with practiced ease, he turned his attention back to you with a gleam in his eye. “Fine then, I’ll tell you.”

You held your breath as he leaned forward, opening his mouth. “There’s a football game on Friday,” he said, “and Chrissy’s throwing a party for after the game.”

You stared at him, then frowned, confusion swirling in your eyes. “Chrissy?” you parroted.

Wilbur nodded. “Yes, Chrissy.”

Your eyebrows knitted together. While you didn’t really know Chrissy yourself, you most definitely knew of her. That was the case for a lot of people in your school. After all, how could you not know Chrissy? She was the head cheerleader and practically the face of the school. With shiny, golden hair and a dazzling smile that put the sun to shame, it was basically impossible to miss her—you’d have to be blind to.

On one hand, you wanted to believe she was stuck-up and catty like all the cheerleaders you saw in movies, but deep down, you knew you had no right to make that judgement. People said she was nice, and you had never spoken to her yourself, so who were you to stereotype her? But on the other....

“What does Chrissy have anything to do with this?” you blurted, your eyes scanning his face for even a hint of something more. “We’re talking about Clay, not her.”

Wilbur only stared blankly at you, his eye twitching in agony. “How you pass your classes and still manage to be this dense is beyond me.”

You let out a groan, hanging your head in your hands. “Wilbur, you know I’m stupid. Now, will you please just get to the point?”

Wilbur dragged a hand over the bottom half of his face, sucking in a deep breath before lifting a hand toward you. “Chrissy is the cheer captain, [Y/N]. Clay is the quarterback. It’s an after-game party. He’s definitely going to be there.”

Silence washed over the two of you, and for an excruciatingly long minute, you simply stared at him, the dots slowly connecting in your head to form a full picture. After a few moments, Wilbur sighed again and looked away, giving you some time to think. Your head spun with thoughts of Friday, Clay, and your project, and you watched distractedly as Wilbur shoved the last bit of his sandwich into his mouth, chewing while you eyed him up and down.

A party, huh? you thought to yourself. Maybe, just maybe...

Just like that, something suddenly snapped inside you, and you felt your chest swell with determination. You could not believe you were about to do this.

“Wilbur,” you said, calm and slow, “this changes everything.” When he silently cocked a brow at you, you tightened your jaw. “We’re going to that football game, then we’re going to Chrissy’s party.”

He nodded, only half-listening as he stuffed his now empty sandwich bag into his pocket. “Sure, yeah, good for yo—wait.“ He froze, and you almost let yourself feel a sliver of pride as he gaped at you. “You said we.”

You ignored the sense of slow, sinking horror settling into your gut as you swallowed, squeezing your hands into tight fists. “Yeah—we. Because I’m going to need the moral support.”

Wilbur blinked once. Twice. Then, a slow grin began to spread across his face, and you could already tell you were about to regret telling him that. “Does this mean you’re gonna—?”

You swallowed thickly, your throat bobbing as you threw back your shoulders and nodded, firm and true. “I’m going to confess to Clay.”

Wilbur was on his feet in an instant, his hand shooting forward to clap you on the shoulder. “Attagirl!” Pulling back, he crossed his arms over his chest, smiling eagerly. “Sure then, I’ll come with. But you’re driving.”

You furrowed your brows at him, pulling yourself up until you were also standing. “You know I’ve only had my license for, like, half a week.”

He slung his arm over your shoulder, his lips twitching at the way you stumbled at his sudden movement. “That’s all the more reason to celebrate. Let’s go get ice cream.”

You gaped, somehow even more confused than before. “Celebrate? What are we celebrating? My driver’s license?”

Reaching down, Wilbur patted your head, grinning brightly. “You’ve made a step forward to finally being less of a wimp. That’s something.”

You sent him another glare, but shoved your hand into your pocket nonetheless. A few moments of rummaging later, you pulled out your parents’ car keys with a defeated sigh. “You’re lucky I like ice cream. But don’t blame me if I crash the car.”

“Hey,” he said, unwrapping his arm from its spot on your shoulder to pick up his bag, “even if you do, at least that way I’ll miss my stats test tomorrow.”

You gasped, frowning at him as you smacked his arm. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he simply hummed at you, his eyes gleaming in the sunlight. “Sometimes, the truth hurts,” he said, “and you just have to accept it.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he waved a hand, gesturing to your backpack. “Enough of the melodrama, though—get your stuff. I want ice cream.”

With a sigh, you rolled your eyes at him again, leaning down to grab your backpack with one hand and your keys with the other. As the two of you began to make your way across the field, squinting past the blinding sunlight, you felt your heart flutter in anticipation.

Friday—you could wait for Friday.

The roaring applause was absolutely deafening around you as the football slammed into the grass, claps and shouts ringing across the bleachers like nothing you’ve heard before. On the other side of the field, you watched as the cheerleaders shook their pom-poms, Chrissy landing a flip in front of the crowd with a stunning grin. With a slight wince, you grimaced, your eyes flickering to the scoreboard. Your team was losing 24 to 37, but from the way everyone was yelling, you’d have thought they had just won a war. Did they just get a point, or...?

“You don’t know anything about football, do you?”

You whirled around, tearing your eyes away from the scoreboard to find Wilbur sitting beside you with a bucket of popcorn sitting on his lap. You frowned at his unimpressed look, resolve etched into your features. “I know things. Like, um—” You paused for a second. “Like, Clay is the quarterback.”

A sardonic smile stretched across his face, and he cocked his head at you. “That’s great,” he drawled. “But do you know what a quarterback does?”

You stiffened, digging your thumb into the palm of your hand. “Plays football?” you offered sheepishly.

Wilbur deadpanned, picking at a stray thread on his mustard yellow sweater. “You’re hopeless.”

You let out a whine, burying your face in your hands to at least try to ignore the aching warmth creeping onto your cheeks, a prickle of anxiety creeping up your spine. “I’m trying, okay?”

A hand settled onto your shoulder, familiar and warm. “I know, I know,” he murmured, sounding reassuring for once, “and I’m proud of you for that.”

You lifted your head, your wide eyes meeting his earnest ones. “Really?”

He smiled. “Really. But,” he added, something flashing in his gaze, “as your best friend, it is also my responsibility to clown you at every given opportunity.”

You pushed his arm off your shoulder with a pout. “You’re right, but I hate that you’re right.”

With a chuckle, he stuck his hand into the bucket on his lap, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Look,” he said, casting a worried glance at you, “I’m just trying to lighten the mood a little—you look like you’re stressed out of your mind.”

Your voice came out louder than you would have liked, your nails digging into your palms. “Because I am! I am, okay? He...” You trailed off for a moment, searching for the right words. “...he means a lot to me, and I really like him.”

Wilbur’s gaze grew soft, his hold on the popcorn bucket growing loose. “I know you do.” He paused for a moment, then nudged your shoulder with his. “Tell you what,” he began, “if we win the game, you tell him, but if we lose, we can just go home.”

You stared at him, the weight on your shoulders suddenly feeling a lot less heavy. “Seriously?”

He nodded, his lips quirking. “Yes. I don’t want to push you into doing something you’ll regret.”

You turned back to the scoreboard once more, your gaze darting back and forth between the 24 on the sign and the grass. Down below, you caught a glimpse of a uniform with the number one plastered across the back dashing across the field as the crowd cheered. The gears in your head whirred, and you felt your gut churn. Did you really want to leave and give up, now? Were you really okay with that?

Memories of emerald green eyes and loud peals of laughter flashed across your mind, and you felt your chest grow hot.

“Okay,” you breathed, quiet yet firm. “Okay, I think I—”

You stopped, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. Sucking in another breath, your eyelids shot open and you swallowed. “I can do this.” Your eyes flitted to Wilbur’s. “Yeah?” You nodded to yourself. “Yeah.”

Wilbur sucked on the inside of his cheek, his fingers nervously tapping on the side of the popcorn bucket. “We can still go home, it’s okay. We can leave now if you wa—”

You shook your head, and his words fell quiet. “No,” you sighed, feeling both nervous and relieved. “No. I’m gonna do it.”

His fingers stopped, surprise seeping into his expression. “You are?”

You watched as the football soared across the air, spinning in a perfect spiral. Something inside you flipped, and you found the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

“I am.”

Flashing lights scattered broken rays of rainbows across the ceiling, moving bodies jumping and dancing against one another as their eyes glimmered with excitement. Some pop song you were pretty sure you had heard on the radio that morning was blasting through the speakers, making the floor shake beneath your feet. You blinked down at your shoes, feeling your arms tingle at your side with discomfort.

“I kind of regret doing this.”

Beside you, Wilbur let out a long sigh, shaking his head as he poured himself another glass of... whatever he had been drinking. “I literally told you we could leave earlier.”

Your hand trembled at your side, your thumb pressing against your side as you shuffled back and forth anxiously. “Do not remind me, please. I’m already on the verge of losing my mind right about now.”

Wilbur glanced down at you, taking in your shaking lip and nervous expression, then smiled, bending over slightly so that he was eye-level with you. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice still reaching your ear despite the deafening music, “you’ve got this, okay?” He pushed his cup toward you, gently tapping your arm with it. “I’m still here for you, even if goes badly. Remember that.”

The sting crawling up your spine grew a little fainter at his words, and you bit your lip, shooting him a sheepish smile. “Thanks. I’ll, um, find you later?”

Reaching his hand up, he ruffled your hair with a reassuring smile. “Of course. Go on, now.” Patting your back one last time, he bumped his side into yours playfully, pushing you forward. “You can do it.”

You pursed your lips one last time, willing the butterflies in your stomach to die down before turning on your heel and making your way through the house. You could do this—yeah, you definitely could! What was the worst that could happen?

You stepped past wild movements and braying laughter, weaving your way through the maze that was Chrissy’s house as your eyes swept over the bustling crowd. You never knew Chrissy lived in such a nice place, but really, you weren’t all that surprised, and you weren’t really complaining. After all, it was a nice party, and more than a great place to celebrate your school’s victory.

Although you would wished that it wasn’t as big as it was, if only so you could actually find Clay.

As you slowly pushed against the torrent of mingling people, your mind began to wander. I wonder if I look okay. Does my hair still look alright after Wilbur messed with it? He better not have ruined it. Or maybe Clay would find it cute? Your face burned, and you shook your head to yourself, muttering under your breath. You weren’t sure anymore, but you could tell that the nerves were starting to get to you.

You found your pushing into the kitchen, nearly toppling over someone’s leg as the dangling lights came into view. Reaching forward, you grabbed onto the counter to balance yourself, blood pumping in your ears. Were parties always this crazy, or was everyone just high off the adrenaline from the game? You couldn’t tell.

It was then that a voice called out over the deafening music echoing in your ears. “Yo, [Y/N]!”

You whirled at the sound of your name, your eyes scanning the kitchen for the owner’s voice before landing on a familiar face leaning up against the counter. “Sapnap?” you said, eyes widening as you walked over.

Sapnap flashed you a welcoming smile, raising his cup to his lips to take a small sip. “Hey,” he said, his voice somehow sailing across the blaring bass, “it’s good to see you. I feel like you never come to parties.”

You nodded, tucking some hair behind your ear as you offered him a sheepish smile, shrugging. “Just thought it would be nice to spend some a night out for once, you get me?” It was right when Sapnap nodded that you gasped, clapping your hands together. “Oh, by the way, have you seen Clay?”

Sapnap paused, fiddling with his cup. “Clay? I’m pretty sure he was with Chrissy out in the backyard.”

He jutted his head toward the glass, sliding door on the opposite side of the room, and you sent him a grateful grin. “Awesome, thanks.” Raising your hand in a wave, you turned. “See you around!”

He raised his cup in return, smiling back at you. “See ya.”

Your anxiety had blossomed into excitement now, a grin tugging at your lips as you leapt around the dining table and grabbed the door handle, sliding it open with a grunt. Stepping outside, you heard the splashing of the pool and bursts of giggles echo around you, washing the dim, evening clouds with a pale, swimming glow. Like the rest of her house, Chrissy’s backyard was big—bigger than you’d have thought. With a pool and a gazebo to boot, you were shocked by how unsurprised you were.

Sapnap said he was out here last time he saw him, you thought, wiping your damp palms on your bottoms. Your heart raged against your rib cage, beating wildly as you sucked in a deep breath. I guess it’s now or nothing.

Plastering a smile to your face, you lifted your head, taking a step forward only for your eyes to catch on someone moving in the gazebo.

Your heart stopped.

Tucked away under the gazebo’s arching roof, there sat Clay, his arm wrapped around Chrissy’s waist as he gazed at her with warm, fond eyes. He dipped his head down to whisper something into her ear, and you could only watch as she giggled, tilting his head down to press her lips against his in a soft, sweet peck.

Your lungs were constricted in your chest, and you suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe. Every breath you took felt like a weight of bricks had been set into your bones, your vision hyper focusing on the sight lying a few feet away from you.

Her hands in his. His eyes focused on her. The sound of her laughter, light and pure. The flash of his smile, loving and kind.

He... Clay... and Chrissy...?

It was almost as you had ducked your head into the pool, everyone’s voices sounding murky and unfamiliar. Beside you, you could vaguely make out the conversation of two girls chatting away with one another, their smiles bright and gazes eager.

“Hey,” one murmured, “do you know how long Clay and Chrissy have been together?”

The other paused. “I think he asked her out after they won the game, right when everyone was coming over. Romantic, right?”

There was a gasp. “Really? That’s so cute. They’re perfect together, aren’t they? Head cheerleader with the quarterback—” A dramatic sigh. “—it’s like a movie or something.”

You heard a noise of affirmation. “And they’re both so nice. Like, gosh, no wonder they ended up together.”

You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat, your eardrums ringing inside your head. The world suddenly felt like it was a million miles away, like you were hearing everything through a tunnel as you stumbled your way back toward the house. Voices chatted around you and bodies jostled you as you walked, but all you could think about was the thought of Clay’s lips pressed to Chrissy’s, the image burned to the back of your eyelids.

Wilbur, you thought through the jumbled mess of your thoughts. I need to find Wilbur. Where is he?

Someone laughed beside you—it sounded too much like Clay. Everything was too loud, too bright. You were going to be sick.

Just then, a swathe of mustard yellow caught your attention from the corner of your eye, and in an instant, you were turning on your heel, pushing past strangers and acquaintances alike with only one goal in mind. Wilbur was taking to someone you recognized as Eret, the British transfer student from a little while back. They looked like they were getting along well, what with the way Wilbur was smiling, but right now, you couldn’t wait another second to get your best friend’s attention.

The moment you reached him, your hand was already gripping onto his arm, tugging at him. “Wilbur,” you said shakily, feeling like your knees were about to give out, “we need to leave. Right now.”

Wilbur turned, the bright lights making his eyes gleam in the dimness. “Oh, [Y/N], how’d it g—” His smile fell from his face the second his eyes met yours, worry flooding his features. “What happened?”

Your throat felt tight as you curled your fingers tighter into his sweater, the fabric bunching up in your hand. “Wilbur, please.”

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, then he nodded, his gaze softening. “Okay.” Turning, he sent a quick wave to Eret, muttering some excuse before dipping his head closer to you and placing his hand on the small of your back. “I’ll drive,” he murmured. “Where to?”

You felt your heart squeeze in your chest, a small, tight noise leaving you as your lips struggled to form a sentence. “I don’t know—my house... yours... the park?” You clung to his arm like an anchor, half-feeling like you would drift off into the endless sea without him. “Just... anywhere but here.”

Wilbur scanned your face, his fingers twitching against your backside before he nodded, nudging you forward ever so slightly. “Park it is.”

You were only vaguely aware of being pulled away from the party, walking down the front steps of the house and into the passenger seat of the car as Wilbur turned on the ignition. Your vision grew blurry as you felt hot tears begin to stream down your cheeks, the world outside the car windows turning into a hazy mess of colour and shadows. Inside your chest, you felt the shards of your heart dig against your lungs. Heartbroken didn’t even begin to describe the anguish you felt.

At least you weren’t the one driving.

You kicked your legs back and forth on the squeaky swing set, the loud creaking digging into your skull like a thought you couldn’t shake. Your insides felt heavy underneath your skin, and you felt the back of your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“Did you want to talk about it?”

Your eyes slowly lifted to meet Wilbur’s, who was standing in front of you, his face contorted in concern as he quietly waited for you to respond. “I...” you began softy, swallowing. “I’m not sure.”

He simply watched you for a moment, then nodded, murmuring a soft, “That’s okay.”

In the distance, you could see a lamppost flickering in the darkness, the light fading in and out of view like it was just barely grappling to stay afloat. A wave of sadness rolled over you at the sight, although you couldn’t name why, as you found yourself opening your mouth, the words tumbling from your lips in incoherent sentences.

“It’s just... I just... I, um. I—” You stopped, letting your eyes fall shut before you managed to whisper, “He was with Chrissy, you know?”

Wilbur froze, his eyes slowly widening as he took in your words. “He was?”

You nodded your head, something cold and broken rattling in your chest at the movement. “Yeah.”

Fury flashed across his face like a wildfire, and he crouched down before you, his jaw clenched tightly. “Even after he asked you if you had plans...” He scowled, cursing under his breath. “What a prick.”

You let out a soft laugh, but it felt forced, the smile immediately slipping off your face the moment you closed your mouth. “He was all over her, you could tell,” you whispered, clutching your arms tighter around yourself. “He was looking at her like... I dunno, like she had done something wonderful, like she was the greatest thing in the world.”

The back of your eyelids stung, and you sucked in a shuddering breath. The hollow hole in the pit of your stomach suddenly didn’t feel so empty anymore as something cold and sad began to pool around your lungs as you continued. “And like, gosh, just... you were right when you said the truth hurts, Will.” Beside you, you saw him since, his expression blurry from the tears starting to fill your eyes. “It hurts. A lot. It really, really does.”

Your hand clutched at the fabric covering your heart, almost as if you were trying to cradle the shattered pieces. “I know I can’t control his feelings, and I shouldn’t have expected anything,” you whispered, “but I just felt like we had something, you know? Like we could have been something. But now it’s all—”

Your voice suddenly cracked, your sentences cut off by an empty, choked out sob. Hot, wet droplets spilled down your cheeks, and you squeezed your eyes shut, your sides trembling. In an instant, Wilbur’s arms wrapped around you, and you felt him tug you into his chest, your head resting against his shoulder while you whimpered.

“Oh, [Y/N]...” he whispered, his hand stroking against your back.

You hiccuped against him, shaking like a leaf as you buried your face into his sweater. “I’m sorry for roping you into this—I really thought I had a chance, but what was I thinking? She’s Chrissy, and I’m just...” You sobbed. “I’m just...”

All of a sudden, Wilbur pulled you back from him, his hands gripping onto your shoulders tightly as his eyes bore into yours. “You’re you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, your eyes going wide. Wh-What?

Before you, Wilbur’s fingers dug sternly into your shoulders, his stare unwavering as he spoke clearly and true. “Look,” he said, “I can’t tell you what he was thinking, and I can’t tell you why he did that. But...” He paused for a moment, and you watched his face soften as his tone grew warm.

“I can tell you that he just passed up the best girl in the whole, wide world.”

You felt tears prick your eyes once more, but this time they didn’t burn. “Y-You’re just saying that,” you whined, reaching a hand up to wipe at your eyes.

He shook you gently in his arms, prodding you with his hands. “I’m not, I promise, even if I do think you’re my loser best friend.”

When you laughed this time, it didn’t feel nearly as heavy as it did before. You caught a glimpse of his smile as you pressed the sleeve of your shirt against your eyes, soaking up your tears. “Thanks, Wilbur,” you whispered as you sent him a smile—a real one. “Really.”

He grinned at you, dropping his hands from your shoulders. “Anytime, [Y/N]. Now,” he said, rising to his feet, “how do you feel about getting ice cream?”

You blinked at him, taking in the sight of his glimmering eyes in the light of the shining moon. “Please don’t tell me you’re calling this a celebration.”

He shook his head, but you caught the way his lips twitched in amusement. “No. Sometimes you just get ice cream because it makes you feel better.” He stretched his hand out toward you. “Here.”

You slipped your fingers between his, letting him pull you up from the creaky swing set with a slight huff. Once you let go, you held your palm up toward him, waiting. “I’ll drive.”

He cocked his head at you, slowly pulling your keys out of the pockets of his jeans. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

You shook your head at him, picking the keys up from his palm. “It’s alright.” Tossing them once in your palm, you flashed him a grin. “Hey, if I crash the car, I won’t have to hand in that assignment on Monday.”

Wilbur blinked at you once, then twice. Then, he burst into laughter, clutching at his chest as he keeled over, wiping a tear from his eye as he smacked your arm with his. “You know what?” he gasped between breaths as he stood upright once more. “I’ll pay for ice cream, this time.”

A cheer tore itself from your lips, and you pumped your fist in the air as you went racing down the hill toward your car parked by the sidewalk, the wind whipping at your face. Behind you, you could hear Wilbur shout your name as he chased after you, his voice echoing into the cool, dark night.

Maybe things weren’t as bad as you thought. Clay was happy, and while you weren’t quite there yet yourself, you knew that one day, you would be, too.

After all, while the truth may hurt, it wasn’t all bad, either.

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yesokaythatsfine69 · 3 years

Text

Pretty Boys (Levi Ackerman X Eren Yaegar x Jean Kirstein x Reader)

Description: Why want one when you could have them all? The boys fight over you, so in your frustration you give them an ultimatum, one they really can't refuse.

Character(s): y/n, Eren, Jean, Levi, Mikasa, Armin, Hanje

POV: 2nd person

Warning(s): fluff, angst, cursing, you're a sexy queen

A/n: hello! New year's is coming up so as a new year's gift I give you this. I couldn't decide if I wanted to do smut for this or if I wanted to do a sequel of some sort but I think unless it's requested this'll do. This will be my last work for Attack on Titan. Again, feel free to request anything abt it though.

Word count:

Song: nowhere to run by stegosaurus rex

*none of the gifs used are mine, full credit goes to the maker.

You tugged your hair back, fingers nimbly working to tie the strands of your hair back into a proper pony tail. Sweat dripped from your neck, the summer weather taking a toll on your body and your work. You fanned yourself, huffing out a sigh.

"Taking a break?" You turned, coming face to face with Jean. He had the reigns of his horse in his right hand, leading the animal to where you stood, by the training area. He smiled, seemingly unfazed by the sweltering heat.

"I should ask you the same thing. Where have you been?" You crossed your arms, getting yourself prepared for whatever lackluster answer Jean was about to provide. Jean simply handed you the reigns, gently taking your hand and pressing the reigns into your palms.

"I've been taking care of the horses, believe it or not they like to bathe too." You huffed at his answer, but looked up at him and raised the reigns questionably. "What is this?" The brown eyed boy smiled again, crossing his arms. He leaned against the animal causally, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "This is Ren. She's new and needs a rider. So, I was thinking..."

You broke out into a wide smile. During the last mission, a particularly brutal one, you'd lost your horse. You loved that animal- he'd gotten you out of serious trouble in the past. Always faithful until the end...that had nearly torn you apart, as nothing was more villainess to you than to kill an innocent animal.

Before you could stop yourself you practically tackled the blonde, pulling him into a tight hug.

You and Jean had been close since the battle for trost, the two of you working side by side after being assigned the same squad. After giving pleasantries neither of you seemed focused on maintaining a friendship beyond just surviving- that was until you'd lost him.

Jean had gone missing in the chaos, you searching roof tops and buildings until finally you found his figure, hunched over.

You remember how badly he shook, tears streaming from his brown eyes. "Jean?" He hadn't spoken a word to you, but he hadn't needed to. You took his face in your hands and forced him to look at you.

You delivered a breathing technique that you'd taught yourself when you got nightmares after the wall fell. You waited until his breathing evened out and he seemed to be in a better headspace before you hugged him, gently.

Your kindness caught him off guard- especially for someone going the scouts- but he never forgot it.

Your grip tightened around him, practically squeezing the life out of him. "Oh Jean! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You couldn't see it but his cheeks were as red as cherries and his eyes were as wide as saucers. "Uh, yeah. No- no problem."

"Oi, what the hell are you two doing?" The sound of your captains voice rang through the field and you gently let go of your comrade. "Jean got me a new horse!" You squealed at your stone faced commander, who's eyes were narrowed at a still blushing Jean.

"That's very kind of him. Especially since I wasn't aware he was able to give away our horses." Jean straightened, his eyes still wide. "Well, no not technically, I just- the horse needed- needed an owner and since...ya know, I figured." Levi just stared at him, an eyebrow raised. "Tch, you are an bumbling idiot, but as long as y/n's happy with it?" You nodded empathically.

"Uh, thank you, sir." Jean stuttered again, and Levi rolled his eyes. "Shut up." "Right, right. I better go...clean something." Jean cast one last glance in your direction before he left, leaving the horse in your care.

Levi watched him go as you turned to Ren, softly petting her snout.

Gently a hand reached out beside you, joining in in stroking the horse. "She is very lovely, I'll give him that." You smiled at Levi's words.

"Maybe someday I'll let you ride her." You laughed, turning suddenly. You hadn't realized though how close the two of you had gotten when he reached over your shoulder to pet Ren, and suddenly the two of you were mere inches from one another's faces.

Your eyes widened at the degree of closeness, until Levi's own gaze flickered to meet yours. You smiled at him and his lips upturned the slightest. You opened your mouth to speak but once more you were interrupted with the arrival of a cadet. "Captain Levi, sir! Commander Erwin requested your presence for a meeting about-"

Levi waved him off. "Tch, save it, I'm coming." Levi turned back to you but jumped a little when the cadet spoke again, obviously having figured he'd be leaving. "Captain Levi, I was told to escort you." Levi's expression was tense, but his voice remained eerily calm. "Do you want a gold star, brat? I said I was coming." Levi began his way to the cadet, who seemed much less sure of himself.

"Oh, captain Levi!" You yelled after him, waving your right arm in the air. The two paused both turning in your direction. "Don't forget I'll see you tonight to help you finish the paperwork over the last scouting mission." Levi nodded, his face less tense.

At their leave you also turned, bringing your new horse with you and heading to the stables.

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

Your clutched your tray, dodging around the people who stood and talked in the lunchroom. You searched for Eren, and found him, the boy waving his hand into the air to catch your attention in the crowded room. You smiled, making your way over and putting your tray down directly beside him.

Armin and Mikasa were already there, talking about something that happened on a recent mission. Eren grinned at you when you say down, his green eyes brightly shining in the lunchroom a light.

"How was training today, y/n?" Eren asked as he handed you his piece of bread. The two of you often shared food, and by now it had become second nature to do so.

You met when you were especially young, living only a few houses down from each other. You'd play, daydream, and defend Armin together. Although you were much more mild mannered- something Eren teased you about- you got along quite well. The two of you brought out an especially different side of one another.

But there was something the two of you shared deeply to your core and it was the need to protect. You'd both do whatever you could to protect those you cared about. It showed, but just in different ways. Armin often joked that you were the mother figure of the group and Eren the father.

You never noticed how bright Eren's cheeks turned.

"It went really well. Jean got me a new horse." You took a bite of bred, missing the way something dark passed over Eren's eyes.

Damn him.

Eren kept his smile as he leaned into you a bit, remaining his usual self. "Oh? Then you'll be back to riding with us soon." You shared his smile. "Yeah, as long as Levi approves. I'll be ready to kill some Titan's." Your enthusiasm caused Eren to blush, and he looked down at his watery soup. "Good, good."

He brought his spoon to his mouth, about to eat when Jean's voice thundered behind him. Immediately he straightened, but kept his body still for the main part. "Y/n, how are you liking Ren?"

Jean arrived behind you, tray in hand, and a sly smile on his face. Instantly you tapped the empty seat on the other side of you, wordlessly inviting him to sit down. He did so, and you turned away from Eren who noticably tensed.

"Yes! She's so lovely. I really can't thank you enough, Jean." As you spoke you placed your hand on his knee, Jean watching your movements intensely. His cheeks blushed as he met your kind eyes, an aw shucks expression on his blushing face. Meanwhile, Eren rolled his eyes on the other side of you, clearly finding this act overdone.

"Y/n," Eren caught your attention again, and you shifted from Jean back to your green eyes friend. "Since tomorrow's our day off, I was wondering if you'd like to practice some new techniques before you start going on missions again."

You opened your mouth to respond but before you could do so, Jean interjected. "You really think y/n would want to spend her day off training? Especially with a titan?" Eren answered him, but kept his eyes on you. "Spending the day training together is a great use of time, especially since she hasn't been in the field for a bit. Regardless of whether or not I'm a titan- the two of us still share the same goal-"

Jean laughed bitterly. "Oh can it, Titan boy. You just wanna spend the day alone with y/n." Now it was your turn to blush. "Uhh...guys."

Eren rolled his eyes. "Well at least I'm man enough to ask her to spend the day with me, unlike you, who'll just follow her around like a dog on a leash." Immediately the two stood up, bringing their faces inches apart. "Did you just call me a dog, Yaeger?" "You called me Titan boy."

You stood, turning to Mikasa and Armin who were watching with confusion as Jean and Eren engaged in a heated argument, in which neither were completely sure what it was about. "I'm gonna go, but if they calm down please tell them I'm open to spending my day off with both of them." "Sure thing, y/n." "Yeah, of course."

You side stepped the two boys and left the lunchroom, deciding that now was as good of a time as ever to go work with Levi to finish paperwork.

You left the lunchroom, making your way to Levi's office. You cast one last glance at Eren and Jean's figures. Biting your lip you hummed, and moved on, a dangerous new gleam in your eye.

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

"Why you little-" "Hey, where did y/n go?" The two boys pulled apart, casting wide glances around them. Eren found Mikasa. "She left a little bit ago, Ereh." Jean spun around. "You scared her off!" Eren glared at the blonde. "I scared her off? You're the one who-" Mikasa continued, "She did say that she wanted the spend her day off with both you, though."

Jean frowned and Eren's brow furrowed. The two shared a new type of look- one of confusion. Then they separated, still carrying the same tense jealousy as before but now it was dulled by confusion and a strange satisfaction. "Fine by me." "Sure, whatever."

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

You stopped in front of Levi's office door. Calmly, you knocked and waited for the captain to call out to you.

"tch, come in brat."

You opened the door, smiling gently at Levi's tired expression. He had stacks in front of him and it reminded you fo the first time you started helping him finish paperwork.

One night you were sent by Hanje to deliver some files to the scout leader, and you had knocked several times, none gave you an answer. Your curiosity had gotten the better of you and you let yourself in.

Levi was asleep over his desk, hair covering his face. He had to have been out cold, and it had absolutely surprised you, since you knew Levi barely ever slept let alone in the middle of doing something important. But there he was, dead asleep in front of you.

You first smiled, noticing how pretty he looked when he wasn't stressed or tense. Peaceful had been a good look on him.

You wouldn't dare wake him up as any other "brat" would've, instead your slipped some papers out from under him and began working.

You were driven by efficiency, and often if you wanted something done you wanted it done now, so it was easy to get through the paperwork- each answer meticulous and to Levi's liking.

After he woke up several hours later to you working quietly beside him, the two of you enjoyed quiet nights of paperwork, working side by side and talking in between.

Today, Levi was awake, but looked exhausted as he sat at his desk. He was illuminated by a single candle, and two cups of tea placed side by side claimed the edge of the table.

Your captain nodded to them. "Don't worry, I made the tea this time. I'm never trusting Hanje with the pot ever again." You snorted, carefully picking up a cup and sitting in front of Levi. "It wasn't that bad."

"tch, it wasn't even black." You hummed, taking a sip. He handed you stack, making sure you had enough room to work. "you, know, there's this bakery in town I think you'll really like. They have the best bread. It'd go so well with your tea."

You spoke while you worked, filling in each blank efficiently. "In town?" You nodded. Levi didn't like going out often, the thought was quite unappealing, unless... "Tomorrow's a day off, isn't it?" You hummed.

"tch, take me there tomorrow then." You looked up. "I don't know if I'll be able to, I have plans with Jean and Eren." Levi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "They'll be busy tomorrow." You frowned. "What? But tomorrow-" "They have stable duty all day tomorrow."

You stopped working and Levi looked up to meet your gaze. "What? What for?" Levi's face remained expressionless as he explained, giving you a long shpeal about them needing to learn to work together better and that the best way to do that was for them to spend that day cleaning.

Satisfied with himself Levi moved on, going back to work. You were still stunned. "Where in town is this bakery?" When you didn't reply he looked up, gently tapping your forehead. "Oi, pay attention, brat." You blinked away your confusion before rejoining in conversation with Levi.

Before long you two had switched to several different subjects and when you finally finished working the tea pot had become completely empty.

You stretched out your arms as Levi rubbed his eyes. "Well, that's all of it." Your breathed, crossing your arms over your chest. "tch," Levi laughed without humor. "For tonight." You smiled and lifted yourself up. "For tonight." You got to the door, before turning back to Levi.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" In the darkness of the room you could've sworn you saw Levi smile. "Tomorrow."

The door opened and closed softly and Levi waited until he could no longer hear the soft padding of your feet before he lifted himself up from his desk and carried his tired body to his room.

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

Eren was practically stomping when he left his room. Another cadet had delivered the news of his punishment, and each step Eren took seemed angrier than the last.

Eren loved you- loved you since you two had met outside of your home, just a few doors down from his own. You seemed less edgy than he- less angry and more gentle. It shocked him, but it also lured him into your caress.

For a long time you were his best secret, and it was definitely selfish of him- but...the thought of losing you caused his fists to clench.

Losing you to titans was one thing- and losing you to Jean Kirstein was a completely different thing. Improbable, impossible, and definitely not happening.

Eren entered the stable and saw that he had beat Jean there. He grabbed a broom and immediately began sweeping, hoping to burn off some steam before the arrival of Jean and Levi.

Jean was slow in every single movement. It was his day off, goddamnit and instead of spending it with you, he was spending it with Eren. He scoffed in disgust. Captain Levi's plan to somehow teach them team work was definitely going to give someone a black eye- and Jean just knew it was going to be him.

He just wanted to spend some time with you- and maybe Eren was right- he did follow you around like a puppy, but that was because he really really really liked you. Okay he kind of loved you.

You've always been there for him, especially when Marco died. You've even met his mother before. Jean doesn't allow many people into his private life let alone share the parts of him he's buried deep under a shell of heat and anger.

But somehow you were able to worm your way in.

Jean sighed at the door of the stable. He opened it and directly in his eyeline stood Eren, who had already begun sweeping.

They stared at each other.

"Where's the mop at?"

Levi had been having a pretty fair day- which was saying a lot. He was going to met you at the front part of building but before then he'd figure he'd check up on the two brats he'd put on stable duty.

Sure, maybe the reason he sent them on stable duty was for more selfish reasons then helpful ones. But Eren and Jean's apprehension to one another annoyed the hell out of him, not to mention he enjoyed causing a little innocent chaos where his cadets were concerned.

At the root though was you. Those brats saw you day and night, 24/7. He had noticed they way they looked at you, the way Eren refused to be with any other squad or person unless you were there, the way Jean seemed to follow you around.

That also annoyed the hell out of him. Of course boys in love was something he'd seen many times before.

However he'd never experienced it himself- that was until you came.

He quickly understood that it was your nature to be caring, gentle, and protective. That wasn't what caught his attention, actually.

What caught his attention was the way you worked- your focus, attention, drive. It was all surpremely attractive to him. He'd seen gentle and caring people die too often. Their nature being the reason for it.

But you held yourself differently. You had something more calculated driving you, and you weren't just another person Levi had to worry about.

That combination of skill and personality made Levi comfortable and much less tense.

He walked into the stable, seeing the two men begrudgingly work to clean the floor.

"Oi, brats, you missed a spot."

At the sound of his voice they turned, jumping to salute him.

"I'll be back around five, so that should be enough time for this shithole to be spotless."

"Yes, sir."

"No problem, Captain Levi."

He turned.

"Wait, captain!" Eren's voice caused him to turn back around albeit a bit threateningly. "What, brat?"

"Where are you going?" Eren was well aware that Levi rarely left- if ever during a day off so the Captain's sudden departure worried him- was there a titan problem he should know about?

Levi smiled to the shock of his cadets.

"Oh, I'm going on a date."

He turned.

"With y/n."

He left, the door swinging close behind him.

Jean and Eren watched him go, frozen in place at his words.

"You've got to be kidding me."

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

A/n: thanks for reading! Remember requests are open and criticism is always welcome.

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

718 notes · View notes

jeontaehui · 3 years

Note

Are there any chaotic Taehui moments during hot sauce promotions?

TAEHEE BEING CHAOTIC DURING HOT SAUCE ERA — A THREAD BY USER MRKSVTT

1. someone pls save her

🌶️ NCT DREAM has the hottest striking skills I Hot Sauce Bowling

haechan has been keeping his laughter all to himself since the past minute, causing jeno to become curious as to what he was laughing about.

“no, just look at noona,” haechan whispers to the latter, their eyes subtly giving short glances to taehee as they stood on their side, “she’s so quiet.”

as if mark had read his mind, the dreamies hear the familiar laugh of their leader and turn their heads to him, “taehee, calm down! your eyes are literally shaking right now.”

the boys chuckle at the nervous grin that appears on her lips, her meek voice trying to brush them off, “no, guys, it’s fine. it’s fine!”

“she’s convincing herself,” jisung comments with a giggle, “noona, i’ll make yours!”

“okay,” she replies, the worry in her tone causing mark to let out one more laugh. “do you want me to eat yours?” he asks, standing up, and as if she had a sudden change in demeanor taehee waves him off with her hand. “i’m not a baby,” she tells him.

“jiji noona,” jisung calls, catching the attention of the elder. he raises two of his fingers, letting taehee know that she was about to choose between two options. she groans.

“option 1, i’ll pick the least spicy sauce but place a ton of drops,” the snort that comes out of haechan and renjun shows that they like his idea, “or option two, i’ll get the spiciest one and place just a few.”

“wouldn’t that be the same thing though?” she wonders, finally standing up and scanning the various bottles of hot sauce scattered on the table. jisung shakes his head (cutely, if i may add), “okay, then i’ll go with option 1.”

taehee proceeds to watch jisung get to work, obviously dreading the fact that she was the last to eat among their team.

“but even if jisung places just a tiny drop,” haechan explains to the camera, “taehee noona’s gonna cry.”

shouts of protest begin to come from the said girl, but he continues, “like her spice tolerance is really really really really really low.”

“... 5, 6, 7, 8,” jisung finishes, looking proud at what he had accomplished before handing it over to a nervous taehee. as if to tease her further, mark reaches for the box of tissues on the table and places it in front of her. “these are for your tears,” he jokes.

a few moments tick by and taehee brings the plate up to her nose, “oh the smell— it’s burning.” chenle laughs, commenting on how his noona was so cute.

they wait in anticipation as taehee grabs the soft taco and sniffs it again, and it seems that all the walls she had built up until now collapse.

“AGHHH,” taehee suddenly groans, jeno and mark bursting into laughter once more. “WHAT DO I DO?! I CAN’T EVEN HANDLE THE LESS SPICY SAMYANG RAMEN!!! MARK!!!” she exclaims, brows furrowing in panic as she held tightly onto mark’s arm with her free hand.

“we won’t judge you if you cry, noona,” renjun chuckles. “well, you’re doing a really great job at it so far,” she retaliates.

quickly taking a bite, taehee places the plate down and chews on her food silently, serious eyes looking straight at the camera. “how is it?” mark prompts, but taehee doesn’t answer.

it takes exactly ten seconds of silence until her eyes are filled to the brim with tears, and it worsens all the more as she swallows the food in her mouth, leaving a scorching hot feeling on her tongue down to her throat.

the boys erupt into laughter once more, chenle screaming out on how adorable she was being right now, and she gulps down on nothing to soothe the pain in her mouth.

before taehee can even move to get herself a glass of milk, mark is already handing one in front of her, his, “here you go,” graced with a chuckle.

she downs the contents of the glass quickly, sighing in relief as the spiciness that lingered in her mouth starts to go away.

as if her almost crying in front of the camera wasn’t enough, taehee stumbles back as her head spins, and she would’ve fallen on her bum if mark didn’t hold her up by the waist.

haechan smiles at her endearingly but it comes off as a teasing one, “wah.. are you okay? do you need to sit down?”

taehee just looks up the ceiling and stays unmoving, her eyelids fluttering shut, “the world is spinning so i have decided to not move until it stops.”

2. bless jaemin and taehee

SUB)역대급헤각장!🔥눈떠보니 좋아하는 SM아이돌이 내앞에 있다면!!?? (feat.NCT DREAM) If My fave IDOLS are watching me..?

“you close your hand first,” taehee tells jaemin after having failed two attempts of their assigned challenge, “and then like da da da...” but jaemin couldn’t hear the beats properly since the rest of dream were also practicing on the sidelines, wanting to do the challenge too.

taehee plasters an annoyed smile on her face as she rolled her eyes, but jaemin was the first to snap, “BE QUIET!”

“STAY STILL!” taehee adds (much like this) as she raises her hands up in the air, the gesture making everyone in the room laugh.

3. idk how to explain this but i cant get it out of my head

시즈니이2관왕 (210528)

“‘taehee unnie, please cover your abs so you won’t get cold’,” renjun reads with a polite tone, to which jisung laughs at.

“summer is coming though?” haechan wonders from his seat, “do you want to see mine instead?”

while the others shake their heads against his suggestion, taehee clicks her tongue and raises her brows at him challengingly. “don’t say that,” she tells him, “they’re (the fan) mine.”

“okay okay,” haechan chuckles, and the threatening glare that was on taehee’s face is quickly replaced with a bright smile after hearing his response.

“czennies, i’ll work harder so you can see them more in the future too!” she exclaims, raising her fist up in the air before exaggerating a giggle, “ahihi.”

“what the heck is ‘ahihi’?” jeno snorts, “this noona, really.”

4. i sometimes wonder what goes on in her mind

REACTION to '맛 (Hot Sauce)' with Pinkfong REDREX | NCT DREAM Reaction

"WOAHH!” the sight of the red dinosaur mascot that was walking towards them makes the members’ eyes light up in surprise. “it’s a dinosaur!” haechan shouts, his voice going a pitch higher like a child seeing these extinct creatures in the museum for the first time.

meanwhile, mark, jisung, and taehee poke at its fake teeth in interest, fingers prodding at each tooth that were too dull to be sharp. “its teeth hurt me,” mark winces as he delivers his joke.

it wasn’t long before taehee’s curiosity got the best of her as she opened the t-rex’s mouth big and wide, her sudden movements causing the rest of dream to erupt in laughter. “noona, what are you doing?” chenle asks with a fond smile.

taehee pulls away from the mascot, laughing after seeing the surprised eyes of the staff wearing it. “he got so surprised,” taehee chuckles with a grin, before proceeding to imitate what she saw to the camera — eyes as big as saucers and a gasp slipping past her lips.

5. our clumsy baby pls be careful

7 (210413)

“what kind of dog will be created?”

“how far are we taking this?”

“the marriage...”

as the rest continue to explain haechan and daegal’s supposed marriage to jaemin, taehee scoots closer to jisung, who was on the floor, to read the comments the fans were sending.

“what the,” she mutters, amusement in her tone after reading a comment someone had said about buttholes and teeth and dentists. not noticing that she was right by his ear, jisung jolts in surprise at hearing her voice and the phone, that was also taehee’s, falls from his hands and onto the floor beside him.

taehee went to pick it up quickly — too quickly, in fact, that she hit her nose on the marble table quite harshly as she bent down to reach the object.

“OH!” all heads turn to their corner when jisung shouts, taehee recoiling in pain as she held her nose. “why?” mark asks in concern, “what happened?”

while jisung explains through held laughter the situation taehee was in, the female member slowly leans into the couch and meets the eyes of a concerned renjun.

“can i see?” he asks, and taehee carefully removes her hands just an inch away from her nose bridge that she was pressing against in hopes of relieving the pain. “is it bleeding?”

after noting that her nose was fine and that only a very tiny bruise was starting to form on her bridge, renjun decides to answer, “no, but your nose is starting to look like rudolph.”

the two-tone haired boy proceeds to sing the infamous christmas song, much to the amusement of haechan and jeno, and taehee slaps his shoulder in retaliation. “stop being annoying!” she groans, causing renjun to release a hearty laugh off his chest, hand comeing down to pat on the top of taehee’s head. “it’s okay, baby,” he coos.

“do you want to get some ice for it?” mark speaks up again, worried gaze still looking over her. taehee removes her fingers from her face again and makes eye contact with him, “do you want to kiss it better instead?”

though it sounded more than a threat than an actual attempt at flirting, jeno sighs, “and she’s back.”

6. clumsy baby pt. 2 (ft. chenle)

[Un Cut] Take #1｜‘맛 (Hot Sauce)’ Jacket Behind the Scene

after seeing mark throw a chip in the air and successfully catching it in his mouth, jaemin turns to taehee who sat beside him on the carpet floor. “can you do that?” he asks, and taehee shakes her head no. “if i do it, i might choke,” yet she’s already grabbing a chip from the yellow bag the latter is currently holding, “watch.”

the food does in fact get stuck in her throat, but only for a short while until she’s coughing it out. “are you crazy?!” jaemin shouts, the amused grin he was wearing contrasting to his scolding tone. taehee could only give him a smile back as she chewed, a mischievous glint present in her eyes.

at the same time, chenle watches the two with a bemused expression, before turning to the camera and sighing. “you know those people in school who are like, good in tests and get high grades or something?” he asks, “but then they’re super dumb when it comes to things outside of school?”

chenle laughs, “that’s taehee noona.”

“she’s good at dancing, surfing, skateboarding — all the things that require balance,” he explains, “but she’s the clumsiest person i know, as in the clumsiest.”

“it’s alright,” chenle shrugs innocently, “it’s cute.”

7. u can literally hear ‘all i did was try my best this the kinda thanks i get’ #SMFreeTaehee

💚시즈니 Fㅏ워🏆💚ㅣ맛 (Hot Sauce) 음악방송 대기실 비하인드 #3

“tmi?” jeno repeats before facing jaemin, “tmi.”

“the tmi for today is,” the other starts, eyes wandering around the room until they finally settle on a certain member, “there’s an album that i’ve been listening to ever since it came out, and i’m not even the one playing it.”

a confused hum sounds out of jeno at his member’s statement, his brows furrowing together as he tries to make sense of what jaemin had just said, so when the latter tries to imitate the familiar intro of olivia rodrigo’s ‘brutal’, he finally nods in understanding and agrees with him.

“ahhh,” jeno smiles, looking at the camera, “that’s right, i’ve been hearing it too.”

“this person,” jaemin continues, “plays the music so loud. they don’t use the speakers so it’s not that concerning—“

“that concerning?”

“—to others except when you’re next to them. they play the whole album so loudly in their airpods! then you go like, ‘huh? what?’ and when you look at them, they just have this look on and you go, ‘wow, they’re really going through it’,” he finishes. while he was describing the person’s expression as they listened to their music, jaemin’s mouth forms into a slight frown and his eyes go blank, jeno doing his own version after.

the video cuts to a zoom in on taehee, eyes fixed on one of the white fluorescent lights of their waiting room and mouth pressed into a thin line as she had her airpods on. “look at her right now,” jaemin mumbles from behind camera.

“she’s contemplating her life decisions,” jeno chuckles, “‘what am i doing?’, ‘why am i here?’, ‘who am i?’”

8. miss seeing baekhyun and taehee together :(

💚시즈니 Fㅏ워🏆💚ㅣ맛 (Hot Sauce) 음악방송 대기실 비하인드 #3

haechan summons the rest of the members by playing baekhyun’s ‘bambi’, not knowing that taehee had too much of her sugar intake for the day and currently felt stoked for their stage more than ever.

“BAMBI BAM..BI ~~ !!!!” taehee sings loudly, quickly popping into frame before moonwalking to the side.

“what’s with you today?” mark asks, bemused at the current state of his best friend. “taehee— ah, you can’t do that here,” the smile on his face quickly fades as he puts on a serious expression, his tone reminding taehee of the time haechan was told to do a dance he thought was sexy until the members tried to stop him.

that didn’t hinder her though from going all out on busting the choreography to the second verse, even exaggerating them before renjun and mark had to push her out of the waiting room.

“do you bet she’s still dancing outside?” renjun asks, brushing his hands off after closing the door, and he bursts out laughing after hearing the rest of the members agree with his question.

they open the door literally 15 minutes later to reveal taehee, both hands full as she waited patiently on her phone. “where did you get that?” mark chuckles, referring to the grape flavored juice can on her left.

“the vending machine,” taehee shrugs.

“did you dance all the way there?”

“yup.”

mark’s eyes seem to look at her with endearment, “really?”

“mhmm.... i sang too.”

9. i think we all have an idea of what she’s singing here

[Un Cut] Take #2｜‘고래 (Dive Into You) + Rainbow (책갈피) +Diggity’ Track Video Behind the Scene

before filming the choreography parts of the track video for ‘diggity’, the members wait for the director’s cue to start as they all engage themselves in their own conversations — haechan asking jisung for a hug, jeno and mark talking about anything under the sun, and chenle and renjun singing the lyrics to the songs in their album.

meanwhile, jaemin studies taehee with an unreadable expression, the latter dancing idly to the current song stuck in her head at the time.

“she made some plans with my mmm tonight. she not with him tonight. she not with jim tonight,” and it almost seems like taehee had no absolute clue of the words that flew out of her mouth, like she was in some sort of trance, “she in the gym tonight.”

“workout in that nana,” she pretends to throw something in the air, and reading her mind, jaemin simultaneously ‘hits the woah’ with her as they both shout, “AYEE!”

10. dude didnt even hesitate

7DREAM return! 7+맛=Show #우정의_A컷Z컷 #우정월드컵

“alright! the next one is for taehee .... would you rather keep your friendship ring and miss a chance to meet taylor swift or lose it and get a chance to collab with taylor sw—”

“COLLAB WITH TAYLOR SWIFT!!!!”

jeno and jaemin were the only ones laughing as the rest of the dreamies looked at her in disbelief. haechan’s hand even comes up to rub the back of his neck as if his blood pressure was going up, yet the proud grin that was on taehee’s lips does not falter.

“don’t you have to think about this first?” mark tells her, pulling her raised arm by the elbow until it was placed by her side.

“she didn’t even hesitate,” renjun gasps, “noona!”

“a ring is a ring—“

“it’s a symbol of our friendship!” haechan argues, meeting eyes with her.

the host begins to laugh at the ruckus taehee’s answer had caused, and the female idol retaliated, “mark and jisung have lost their rings a couple of times but why are you only reacting like this to me?!”

“you answered right away!” the brown haired vocalist says right back before his lips turn into a little pout.

“okay, okay,” taehee nods turning back to their host, “can you please ask the question again?”

even the group of staff behind the camera burst out laughing, “again?”

mark pushes taehee’s shoulder playfully as he shook with uncontrollable laughter, her polite expression remaining on her features as she waited patiently for the emcee to repeat the question.

“taehee-ssi, would you rather keep your friendship ring and miss a chance to meet taylor swift or lose it and get a chance to collab with taylor swift?”

“mmm,” taehee pretends to ponder, her brows furrowing together as she juts out her bottom lip into a pout, “a collaboration with my favorite artist seems like a once in a lifetime experience....”

“but, haechan’s right, the ring is a symbol of our friendship, which i value so much,” taehee says into the mic, some of the dreamies’ chuckles fading in the background. “we’ve been through a lot together — we’ve been happy and sad and all sorts of things together, and seeing how close we are now, i could say that this,” she gestures to all of them, “would stand the test of time.”

“ohhh,” the boys hum, nodding impressed at her answer. “not only a lifetime but would stand the test of time,” the emcee emphasizes.

“so i will pick option b.”

“NOONA!”

129 notes · View notes

supernaturalgirl20 · 3 years

Text

All’s Fair in Love and War!

Part two

Pairings: Mob!boss Din Djarin x reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, p in v smut, angst, small pieces of fluff, violence, cursing.

Summary: Din is the Mand’alor, head of the mandalorian mafia. He is a cruel man, shoots without hesitation, kills without remorse and fucks whoever he wants. Is he really as they say, or can you tame the beast?!

*comments and reblogs appreciated*

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Unsure of what was happening you quickly wrap a towel around yourself and move into the bedroom. You find him sitting on the bed, naked. Does this man have no shame! Even though he had just fucked you, you didn’t know where to look. He senses your nerves and beckons you towards him. He stands tall towering over you, his hand moves to where your hand is on the towel, loosening your grip. In one swift motion the towel falls to the floor. You don’t meet his eyes. He tilts your chin upwards, so your looking him in the eyes. The way he’s looking at you, it’s sending a warmth through you.

“Your beautiful.”

He moves your damp hair off your shoulders, slowly moving his fingers down and across your breasts. He pinches your nipple watching it harden under his touch. He moves his hand behind your head, gently pulling you to him until your lips meet in a searing kiss. The feel of his plump lips, the taste of him has you weak. He begins moving you backward towards the bed. When your knees hit the edge he gently lays you down and crawls up your body, kissing every inch as he goes. Pushing your head back into the mattress, you can’t help but wonder why he’s being like this. So slow, so gentle, not like the stories you’ve heard, certainly not like before in the shower. His body covers yours completely and staring into your eyes, he lines himself at your core. With one thrust, he fills you completely.

His movements are slower, and you can feel every ridge on his cock as it moves in and out of you. He sucks on your nipples and you let out a loud moan.

“That’s it baby, let it out, I got you.”

“Yes…..Jesus fuck…”

“So tight…..so….perfect…..you’re made for…me Mesh’la.”

He grabs your leg and wraps it around his hip, thrusting harder into you. You feel euphoric, skin tingling with pleasure.

“Look at me. I want you to look at me when you come.”

“Oh god…..yes…..mand’alor.”

“Call me Mando.”

With that you come hard. Your pussy clenches his cock, sending him over the edge. He quickly pulls out and paints your breasts in his seed. He climbs off of you and goes to get a washcloth. He gently cleans his mess off you. You find yourself unsure again of what to do, so you go to put back on some clothes.

“You can stay. Come lie down, get some rest.”

You nod and walk slowly back to the bed. He lifts the covers for you and once your under them he pulls you to him. Wrapping an arm around you he whispers “goodnight Mesh’la.”

“Goodnight Mando.”

****

When morning came you woke alone. You weren’t surprised, you expected it really. That’s what your father traded your for. Keep the mand’alor sexually satisfied in exchange for a higher cut from the drugs they sold. Why were you born into that family, you want more from your life than to be a sex toy. You want a job, a husband who loves you and a family. Things you’ll never have.

Getting up you notice a note on your beside table.

I had a business meeting first thing. I will be back soon. Make yourself at home.

Mando

Very to the point. I suppose that’s a good thing, you won’t have to second guess him. You dress in a black lace robe and fix your hair. Suddenly there’s a knock at the door.

“Yes?”

It slowly open to reveal a short old man, “Ms. Y/N, the mand’alor has had breakfast prepared for you, if you would like to follow me please.”

“Of course.”

The walk to breakfast is silent and you take in the house as you go. Wow!

“Indeed Ms. It is a fine house fit for a king.”

“Oh..I didn’t realise I said that out loud.”

“It’s no bother Ms.”

“You can just call me Y/N.”

“If you wish and my name is Quill.”

“Lovely to meet you. Have you work here long.”

“Oh yes, quite a few years now, the mand’alor is a very kind man. Treats everyone that works for him with respect.”

“Oh, that’s not what people say about him.”

“Ah yes well he has a reputation to keep. Can’t be the head of a Mafia family if your soft.”

“Of course.”

“Here we are, you will be left alone, but security will be outside the door.”

With that he was gone. Your eyes were wide like saucers as you took in the table covered in delicious food. Sitting down with some french toast and fruit you try to process the last day and a half.

There is a commotion outside the door and suddenly it’s flung open and a beautiful women storms in.

“So your the new plaything. Hmm, your not very pretty are you?”

“I….”

“That wasn’t a question. He’ll get bored of you soon enough, he always does. Once we’re married I’ll put a stop to all this.”

“Your getting married? To Mando?” Your teasing her now and it’s working, you can see the anger on her face.

“Of course to the Mand’alor. What you thought he’s marry someone like you, ha.”

“I have no intention of marry him. I am here because my father traded me. Nothing more.”

Towering over you pointing a finger directly in your face, “see that it stays that way.”

“Enough Omera!”

“Mando, baby I was just..”

“Get out! Now.”

She scurries out the door and he turns to look at you. You feel small under his gaze. He comes o stand beside you, he reaches for your face and tilts your chin upwards. He looks at you with those brown eyes like he’s seeing into your soul.

“Your very beautiful, don’t listen to her, she is just jealous.”

“Why do you need me if she is your fiancé?”

“She isn’t. I am being pressured into taking a wife, my family believes it will solidify my position.

“What do you believe?”

“I know I seem heartless, and I suppose I am most of the time, I have to be, but what I really want, is out of this life, to marry for love not necessity.”

“I suppose that’s fair. Why don’t you just leave so? You are the mand’alor, you have the power.”

“You would think so, wouldn’t you.”

He bends down and places a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Come, you need to be dressed properly, I do not my men distracted by your beauty.”

You take his hand and he guides out of the dining room, he places his hand on your lower back as you both walk through the halls. Suddenly a little boy comes running out of no where and jumps at Mando.

“Ad’ika I’ve missed you.” You look at them, shock written all over your face. Mando looks at you,

“Y/N, I’d like you to meet my son Grogu.”

Previous/Next

Tagging:

Everything: @lunaserenade @day-off-inkyoto @anaaaispunk @seasonschange-butpeopledont @librariantothejedi @elinedjarin @maievdenoir @kirsteng42 @loserrlauraa @javierpinme @pascal-rascal424 @ikinmahlen @thorins-queen-of-erebor @dihra-vesa @asta-lily

Din Djarin: @agingerindenial @covidihateu

(If you want to be added or taken off let me know or fill out my taglist form 😊)

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin imagine

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duuhrayliegh · 3 years

Text

male chivalry

warnings: okay so there is a trigger warning of sexual harassment and attempted sexual assault, language, men being gross, protective!bucky, angst a bit, i think that’s it, if you see anything else let me know

word count: 3230 :)

a/n: idk why it took me so long to finish this, but it’s here now!!! also this is based off this post from @teaboot (just the op bc the rest of it pissed me off :)) i hope y’all like it. i hope it’s what y’all expected idk, i’m proud of it.

i really hope i did the topics justice, if you don’t think i did, please shoot me a message and help me figure out how to do better. <3

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open! also this is not beta read, so all mistakes are my own.

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

************************************

It had been about three weeks since Bucky had first met the group of four at the protest. Bucky made sure to check in with Steve and let him know what he was doing. Steve was always worrying about Bucky, which was totally understandable because of everything they had been through.

Bucky’s day was a relaxed one with little to no time to dawdle. Over these three weeks, he had learned more from an eighteen year old than he ever thought he would. It was easier to open up to her, for some reason. Bucky hadn’t fully figured that out yet either, but he wasn’t going to question it.

Bucky had been going to his court mandated therapy with Dr. Raynor, to say they were making progress would be a lie. Honestly, Bucky was making more progress with the new individuals in his life. They knew what he did as the Winter Soldier-- no they know what the Winter Soldier did, Cassie made sure the distinction between the two was crystal clear. Bucky was still a bit cautious around them, not wanting to hurt them or be a burden to them.

It amazed Bucky how open they were with each other. Back in the 40’s, you didn’t express your feelings. Especially if you were a man, for fear of being labeled something unsavory. Even stranger still to Bucky was the encouragement and support that everyone gave to those in hard times. It warmed Bucky’s heart to see Penny comforting Freddie after his recent break up.

“Freddie and Ted had been together a little over six months,” Cassie explained to Bucky one night after the group had dispersed from the dining table. Bucky and Cassie were standing over the sink washing the dinner plates and cutlery. “Freddie was so in love with him. I thought Ted felt the same, but I guess that’s just how it goes, right?”

Bucky shrugged, this was one of his first experiences with modern romance. Dating in the 40’s was very rigid, which was to be expected, but nowadays everything is very fluid. It truly fascinated Bucky.

“I honestly don’t know.” Bucky shrugged as he dried the pristine plates. Just as he began to get lost in thought, Evie pulled him into a subject that he hadn’t thought of in a real long time.

“What was it like with women in the forties, Buck?” Bucky blinked at her and considered his answer carefully. The group had been teaching him how to handle some subjects sensitively.

“To be honest? The last date that I went on was to the World Expo of Tomorrow in 1943, the night before I shipped out to England.” He turned, leaning his weight on the counter behind him and crossing his arms over his chest. “I went with Steve, this was before he was Captain America, so when he was a little ol’ gangly thing. I had hooked us up with two women, one for me and one for Stevie, their names were Dot and Connie, I think.”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean, Buck. What was it like with women?”

Bucky tilted his head in question.“What do you mean?”

“What was it like with them? Like, how were they treated as a whole?”

“Oh, uh I think they were treated well? My Ma always told Steve and I to treat women with respect, so we did.”

“Right, but what about everyone else? How did they treat women?” Bucky was confused by the question and he began to think that he was giving the wrong answers.

“Um, I guess I don’t know. I guess they were treated how they are today?” Both of the girls in front of him released disdained scoffs.

“Well, that’s unfortunate, right Cas?” Cassie nodded at Evie and dropped her head in disappointment.

“Why do you say that?” Bucky asked. He was genuinely curious about what the girls were referring to. “I mean, I get that the treatment of women hasn’t always been good but it’s not that bad right?” The girls shared a knowing look, and then Evie sighed. She hauled herself out of her chair and nodded to Bucky.

“Alright, let’s go take a walk, just you and me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Oh, just a couple blocks away to the Walgreens. Sound okay?” Bucky agreed, grabbing his jacket and waiting for Evie by the doorway. “We’ll be back soon, Cas.”

“Uh, are you sure that’s a good idea, Evelyn?” Bucky had only ever heard Cassie use Evie’s full name when she was getting in trouble.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine, Cas, I swear.” Evie glanced at Bucky, “Besides, I’ve got a Sargent escorting me, so we’ve got nothing to worry about.” She threw a smile to her older sister whose face was just a veil of worry and doubt.

Bucky and Evie exited the apartment building and neither of them had said anything since. Bucky was wondering what this whole exercise was all about, but he wasn’t going to say anything until Evie did. The pair walked up onto a crosswalk, causing them to stop and wait so Evie was able to turn the man beside her.

“So, before we go any further, I just want to set the scene for you.” She took a calming breath and it was now that Bucky realized that this was the first time that she was noticeably scared. His brows furrowed and he nodded as she continued. “It’s ten o’clock on a Wednesday night and you’re in Brooklyn, walking to your local Walgreens because you need tampons.” Bucky huffed out a small laugh as Evie playfully glared at the man.

“Yeah, yeah. The female menstrual cycle is hilarious as is the pink tax that is put on feminine hygiene products. Laugh it up, James.” She shook her head and pulled Bucky closer to the front of a building. “I’m trying to tell you something, ya asshole. So, you see that it’s dark outside because it’s late but you decide to risk it anyway because you have a flight to catch at four the next morning. You leave your apartment and you are greeted with this.” She gestured to the expanse in front of her.

“Alright, let’s go. And just a word of wisdom real quick before we really get going. Women are considered fragile but I’ve never seen anything as easily wounded as a man’s ego.”

“Wow, that’s quite a pearl.” Bucky caught up to Evie as she made her way down the street.

“So being a woman and even more so, being a woman at night, means that you have to constantly be on guard.” As they were walking, a man in a greasy white tank top passed them. The man’s head turned and he scanned Evie’s body.

“Goddamn, that’s a sweet little body there, baby girl.” Bucky’s head snapped around to the man, but Evie kept walking. Bucky looked over to Evie with concern riddling his features.

“Hey, sweetcheeks! Let me talk to you for a while!” The greasy man was now following Evie and Bucky. “I bet I can show you a better time than he can, baby girl. Come on, let me talk to you.” He reached his hand out, gripping Evie’s arm and pulling her to face him.

“Please don’t touch me.” “Get your fucking hands off her, you dick.” The man took a step backwards away from the pair.

“Well, fine you bitch! I didn’t want you anyway, fucking fat ass.”

“Hey, you don’t just get to fucking walk away, you jackass! Apologize to her.”

“Why should I apologize to her? I was giving her a compliment.” Bucky’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. Did this guy just fucking--

“Okay, buddy.” Bucky went to approach the man to settle their disagreement when Evie stopped him.

“James, leave it. Let’s go.” She kept walking and Bucky didn’t want to leave her alone, not after that whole debacle.

“What the fuck was that Evie?” He questioned quickly, she shook her head in response but never verbally responded to him. A few paces later, the pair was about to pass a group of men leaned up against the brick wall behind them. Brown paper bags crunched around bottles were grasped in their hands. Drunken laughter was ringing out through the near empty streets.

“Hey baby! Why don’t you come on over here so we can talk to ya!” One of the men began to step in front of Evie effectively stopping her movement. The eighteen year old took a few steps backwards, coincidentally into Bucky’s chest. His arms came up to meet hers, about to move in front of her in a protective stance.

“Woah, you got a bodyguard baby?” The man tilted his head and stared at Evie. “You know you don’t need him sweetheart.”

“Damn, baby girl. You’re fine as hell.” Another man walked to stand next to the first. “What do I gotta do to get you in my bed?”

“Please leave us alone.”

“No, baby girl I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen.” Bucky stepped in front of Evie protectively.

“I think she told you to leave us alone.” The two men in front of Bucky didn’t waver. Two raised brows and a fit of laughter later, they still maintained their ground.

“Why? You guys going somewhere to fuck? Already got a piece of that ass and don’t want to share it big man?”

“That’s just cold. You gotta share sometime. And it’s just easier to do it now rather than later.” Evie trembled behind Bucky and leaned up so only Bucky could hear her.

“Come on Bucky, let’s just go back to the apartment.” She tugged on his right arm, fingers digging into his soft flesh. Bucky was sure that he would have crescent shaped indentations where her nails laid in because of how much she was gripping him.

Bucky’s eyes flicked up and down the two men in front of him, assessing how much of a threat they were. They were clearly enough of a threat to frighten Evie to the point of wanting to go home. Bucky gave Evie a stiff nod, not taking his eyes off of the men.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going baby? We’re just getting started!” One of them yelled at the pair as he reached out to grab Evie’s forearm. A split second later, Bucky’s left hand balled into a fist and he launched it at the man’s face. A loud crack resounded and a groan left the man’s mouth as he hit the ground. A look of shock fell across the other’s faces as they saw Bucky standing over their fallen comrade. The group took several steps away from the pair, holding their hands up in surrender.

“Don’t you ever touch a woman without her permission, you fucking prick.” Bucky then turned quickly, grabbing Evie’s wrist tightly and hauling her away from the men. Several paces later, Bucky still held a tight grip on the girl's arm.

“Bucky, you’re kind of hurting me.” Evie’s voice broke through Bucky’s barriers. He let up on how fast he was walking and then dropped Evie’s arm.

Worried eyes scanned her body for any bruising, “I’m so sorry, doll. Are you okay?” Evie laughed as she was rubbing her sore wrists.

“Bucky, that’s normal for any woman. Ever.” Shaking her head, she began walking back towards the apartment. “We could’ve kept on going to Walgreens, but I wasn’t sure your fragile heart could take it.” Bucky drew in his brows and a deep frown etched itself into his features.

“What the hell do you mean that’s normal, Evelyn?” He thrust his arm behind them, gesturing to what they just went through. “Nothing about that was normal.” Still shaking her head, the eighteen year old shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s normal for women.” She glanced at Bucky as she continued on her way. “Also, I know that you were probably just defending my honor or protecting me or whatever, but I want you to really think back, Buck. Think about when you were picking up women in the forties, did you ever push when they didn’t want to have that drink with you? Did you continuously ask for them to dance with you?”

“No, I told you. My Ma raised me the right way.” They walked up to the apartment building and Bucky reached for the door handle. Evie began making her up the stairs, Bucky not far behind her. She stopped suddenly, a few flights before Cassie’s apartment.

“What about your friends?” Bucky was taken aback. His memories were still a bit fuzzy about those times, but he could remember clearly enough. Although he wasn’t quite sure what she meant by the questions she was asking.

“What are you getting at Evie?” He huffed while opening the door to Cassie’s apartment. Freddie and Penny were lounged on the couch with an almost empty bottle of wine. Cassie’s head shot up at the sound of the two walking in the doorway. Evie dumped her things off on the granite countertop and turned on her heel to stare at Bucky.

“Did you ever stop your friends when women said no?” The quiet laughter between Penny and Freddie stopped suddenly as Evie’s question hung in the air. All eyes were on Bucky as he gulped and thought back to the times at the bars. Out with Steve and the other Howling Commandos, did they ever do that? He tried to think of a time when they pushed for what they wanted to happen. Of a time when the woman they were pursuing reluctantly gave in because they wouldn’t leave her alone. Evie didn’t wait for an answer, she could see that he was processing everything.

“So why did you stop those guys back there?” Her brows raised and her head tilted in question. Bucky took a deep breath and was about to answer when Evie cut him off. “By punching that guy out there, you’re a hero and we should all thank you and congratulate you for doing the right thing.” She stepped closer to Bucky and the three in the living room understood where Evie was going.

“What do you think would have been said if I would’ve punched him? Sure, you would’ve said something snappy and nice about how I can take care of myself. The general public though? They would say that I overreacted.”

“Easy Evie, he’s still learning.” Cassie said quietly. Bucky was thankful for that, he still did have a lot to learn but it felt like Evie was attacking him. That’s the point, you fucking dumbass. If you had been berating her for putting herself in danger by punching that guy, you would think she was reckless.

“Her point, Bucky, is that the double standard for men and women goes beyond what we expect. Everyone goes crazy for the knight saving the damsel, but everyone hates the damsel for saving herself.” Freddie explained from the comfort of the couch. Bucky nodded, starting to understand the concept. “And her questions about your old buddies. That has to do with the fact that you’re part of the problem.”

“What problem is that?” Bucky was honestly scared to know the answer but he knew to fully learn, he had to get all the facts, both good and bad.

“Stunting the growth of feminism. Being one of the people perpetuating the fact that it’s okay for men to be violent, but not for women.”

“Violence in the form of defending oneself in any capacity.” In Bucky’s line of work, he sees tons of capable and strong women. Natasha, Okoye, Shuri, Sharon, he could think of so many. Then he tried to think of when any of them got the limelight like Steve or himself.

“So it’s like anytime that there would be press releases for the team, and the interviewers would come and ask us questions,” he paused to think how to word what he wanted to say, “they always ask the guys about like super important things like how we’re keeping the city safe and stuff. But when they talk to the girls, they ask about their workout schedule and if they can wear underwear under their suits?”

“Yes, it’s exactly like that Bucky. That’s just a different form of it.” Evie replied quickly. She came up to hug Bucky. “I didn’t mean to attack you or anything, but this is something that we all feel is really important for you to grasp now that you’re back out there.”

“And now that you can recognize when it’s happening, the next important step is to stop it before it happens.” Penny yelled from the living room as she downed the last of the bottle in her hand.

“I’m so sorry, Evie. I didn’t know.”

“I know, I’m sorry too. You’re still figuring stuff out, but I needed you to see what it was really like for women.”

“Okay.” Bucky nodded. “How can I help this situation?” The group exchanged proud looks.

“Well, educate everyone around you. Don’t let it happen when you’re around.” Cassie said as she walked into the kitchen to crack open another bottle of wine. “And just support women. Push our problems into the public’s eye.” Bucky smiled, he could handle that, he was good at that.

Considering he was on his way to becoming a member of the Avengers, he would be able to influence from up high. He could openly support groups that were run by women, for women. He was used to standing in the background for things he didn’t believe in, so standing for something that he did was going to be a cakewalk.

A concern floated into the forefront of Bucky’s mind. He looked down at Evie, who had just recently released him from her death grip of a hug. “You know how to defend yourself right?”

Evie’s brows raised in a challenging manner, “Do I look like I don’t know how to defend myself?” The man shook his head and smiled as the surrounding group laughed. Cassie poured a glass of wine and cracked open a bottle of beer for Bucky.

They all made their way to the comfy couches to snuggle in for a movie night, satisfied with their teachings for the night.

“What are we watching tonight?”

“Well, in the spirit of feminism, we are going to watch Legally Blonde.” Penny commented as she picked up the remote. “And it’s Freddie’s favorite so yeah.”

The lights clicked off as the opening credits ran for the movie. Bucky looked around his group of friends as they giggled at the screen. Evie had her head in Cassie’s lap and she was stretched across the sofa with her feet tucked under Bucky’s thigh. Freddie and Penny were curled up in the loveseat across from where Bucky was. Pieces of popcorn and glasses of red wine were being passed from person to person, with the exception of Evie who was still underage. The energy surrounding the five of them was something Bucky hadn’t experienced in a long time and he wasn’t going to give it up anytime soon either.

A large grin overtook his face, although today was one of the harder lessons for him to learn, he wouldn’t want anyone else to be teaching him.

***********************

@mishaandthebrits

#twenty first century liabilities #bucky x oc #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes fanfic #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

a/n: this piece is a lil gift for by lovely friend arina ♡ (ฉันรักคุณ & ich liebe dich!!) ♡ as well as my first submission for svtredroom!! happy valentines day to you all hehe and i hope ya remember that i love you too so! much!

~in which getting stood up on Valentines Day goes a bit more differently than you expected

Like the Movies

Pairing: self insert, female reader x jeon wonwoo

Genre: fluffy smut

Tags: valentines day au, meet cute au, mentions of food and alcohol, sexual tension, hook-up, businessman!wonwoo, wonwoo being expensive eeee, softdom!wonwoo, sub!reader, kitchen sex, oral (f receiving), bondage, unprotected sex (stay safe!!), cockwarming hehe

Word count: 2.9k

Tagging: @hongnanglen-arina @svtredroom

He had been sitting there for at least forty-five minutes--or longer--you didn’t quite know, seeing as you had only been there for forty-five minutes yourself. In the time that you had spent waiting, watching him had become a bit of your routine; he wasn’t watching, so it wasn’t like you had been disturbing anyone.

You couldn’t imagine why someone like him would be sitting alone on a night like this.

Someone must’ve been a fool to think that they could leave him at that table by himself, for at least forty-five minutes, to read over the menu for the tenth time like you had watched him do.

Granted, you had also been sitting there for at least forty-five minutes.

Perhaps the world was much crueler than you had expected...especially on this holiday supposedly all about love and connection.

He had perfect posture: the kind that made you assume he must’ve been a businessman or someone else important who had to train themselves to keep a strong composure. The suit that he wore was plain, although it looked as if it had undoubtedly cost him a small fortune. Every corner and pleat of the fabric had been pressed professionally and not a speck of dust or dander seemed to cling to it. His raven black hair too looked effortlessly tussled with the stray strand here and there that must have been planned. Those slender fingers of his pushed up his wire framed glasses now and then. Under the dim lighting of the restaurant, his eyes of a dark brown reflected a color of dark obsidian: both cold and testing.

To his side, he had a tall glass of wine that he had barely touched: you thought to yourself maybe he just liked how it looked here; like he really was just waiting, and not sitting alone.

“Have you decided if you would like to order while you wait miss?”

Your waiter with a wispy beard leaned in to speak to you over the noise of the room.

“Ah-no. Not yet. I think I want to wait a little longer. I think that they should be here soon.”

“Of course,” He bowed.

Across the room, his waiter approached him as well, likely whispering the same question. He nodded, and shooed him with the wave of his hand. Lithe fingers toyed with the stem of his glass, he he rose his head.

In your surprise, he had turned his head over to your direction of the room, and you suddenly became much more interested in the small assortment of white and cream colored roses on your table. You could feel his gaze, but you couldn’t bring up the bravery to meet it.

Under the table, your watch ticked tiny and nearly silent ticks as you waited for the minutes to pass by even farther.

How long is it acceptable to wait until you accept that they’re never coming?

In many ways, you felt pathetic and crinkled like the browning edges of those very flowers in the glass vase before you. Who in their right mind would stand someone up on Valentines Day? Out of all days of the year?

You thought to yourself that it must’ve taken some kind of evil and unfeeling person to do so...and you were the fool to think that you would’ve thought they would have showed up. For a moment, you had thought that perhaps it would be better if you left, marched right out of that door into the winter cold, gotten a taxi to the grocery store to buy discounted valentines day candy and cherry cola, then ate it all until you gave yourself a headache. As the night drew longer, that didn’t seem like the worst idea.

“Ma’am? I’m sorry, but we ask that if you are going to sit that you order an item...we have a waiting list still and we would prefer if you got your money’s worth.”

You could see the remorse in your waiters eyes. Even he felt bad for you.

Your eyes drifted to the lobster bisque that you had assumed you would have ordered had they showed up.

Discount candy? Or lobster bisque?

“--One order of the Burrata please.”

He had slipped into the chair across with you as swift as a shadow, and you hadn’t even seen him coming. From this close, he was even more breathtaking. His broad shoulders seemed to take up the whole space of the seat before you, and his creeping smile held a type of mystery that was intriguing and terrifying.

The waiter himself looked a bit surprised. “One...order of the Burrata then.”

The man sighed, then took off his glasses with finesse.

“It looks like you and I are in the same predicament.” His tone was deep, but still gentle. “I don’t think its fair to be alone on a night like tonight. I hope you don’t mind that I invited myself over.”

“N-no. Not at all.” Your throat felt dry.

Rather than respond, he smiled out in a grin that made you instantly enthralled. Even though you didn’t know him much, you knew him to be the kind of man that could wrap you around his little finger. Had it been any other day of the year, you wouldn’t have given him the time of day, but, today wasn’t any other day of the year.

“I assume you already know what you’d like to order?”

“Mm. Yes. I think I’ve looked over the menu just as many times as you have.”

He folded his arms over his chest with a little chuckle.

“I’m Jeon Wonwoo. And you are?”

“Y/n.”

“Seems like it there’s a reason that we’re both here at the same time, and...by ourselves.”

“Not...anymore.” You took a sip of your own wine with heart racing.

“You’re right.” He rose his own glass into the air which he had taken from his table. “To being alone...together.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Your heeled shoes fell to the hardwood floors of his apartment with a clack. His whole home seemed to be swelling with the same energy that he held about himself. It was simple, minimal, no room for anything that looked sentimental or unbecoming for someone as proper as him. The layout was mostly open with each of the rooms connecting to the other. Every item in the apartment seemed to be either gunmetal grey, or black. His kitchen was large for a relatively small apartment, and had a centerpiece of a large black marble island.

“Espresso?” He offered as he pulled at his shirt collar and tie.

“Sure.”

You wondered about you, tracing your fingertips over the leather couches and spotless upholstery of his dining table chairs. The far wall of the apartment was made of floor to ceiling windows that gave a magnificent view of the city in all it’s nighttime spectral glow. Millions of lights made up the cityscape and twinkled like faraway stars from the height of his 17th floor home. From here, you could take in the whole city fully and it filled you with an unknown sense of tranquility.

Behind you his stainless steel espresso maker made a little humming sounds, and then the air was filled with the nutty aroma of the coffee. You walked over, feeling the cold touch of the wood under your pantyhose. He placed the small cup on a saucer and presented it to you. The smell filled up your senses and it was perfectly foamy on the top. From the quality of the brew, you assumed this must’ve been his hobby.

The both of you drank your shots in silence, and you waited to feel the caffeine rush though your body.

You placed the cup down, “Thank you.”

He chuckled a little, then rose his finger to wipe a bit of the foam from the corner of your mouth. Instinctually you licked your lips after with the ghostly touch of him lingering there. He licked the remnants off his finger. All at once, you felt yourself grow weaker under the weight of his obsidian eyes. A tension too held in the air as he leaned his body lower and lower...

He tasted like coffee, much as you had expected yourself to taste as well. It was startling, but he was still gentle in the way that he had pulled your frame into his body with fingers splayed across your back. On your teetering tip-toes, you struggled to keep your balance returning the heat of his mouth. He had been smiling devilishly too as his hands explored your whole body: from the curves of your hips and your shoulder blades, all the way down to your ass which he grabbed at in handfuls. It was no mystery that he had hardened against your stomach and the feeling made you keen even further in his arms.

A deep groan vibrated his chest when your own hands explored the width of his back and clawed lightly at the fabric of his suit jacket hiding the rippling muscles underneath. He told you to continue by kissing a trail down the side of your cheek to your jaw, then to your neck where he sucked and kissed wet little reminders of adoration into the skin. Slowly, your hands snuck under the jacket and to his crinkling shirt.

In one motion, he lifted you by the back of your thighs to the stone counter which felt startlingly cold under your nearly bare legs. Here, you were allowed a better angle to throw your arms over his shoulders and push off the thick fabric that kept you at bay. You granted yourself one little peek between the kisses to take up the way that his arm muscles flexed the white cotton. He did the same with hasty fingers going to untie the thin bow that held up your blouse. His fingers tickled you as he tore the shirt up and off your head to throw it somewhere you had no idea where. After, he set to work unclasping your bra with ease, and the same needy hands cupped at your breasts firmly, tweaking your buds in-between his index and middle. Further, he traversed down your chest to suck harshly at your hardened nipples, not even caring when his teeth had grazed them slightly.

Your arousal had become painfully obvious in your underwear constricted by your tights. You couldn’t help but squirm feeling yourself getting wetter by the second. His teasing gaze never left you while he looked up at you with your perky nipples on his tongue. Shameless moans and breathy gasps from you filled the wide and open apartment, and got lost in the empty corners of the room.

You felt dizzy and breathless once he had decided to stop and opted to tear his tie off his neck.

“Can I tie your hands with this? Please?” He kissed the words into your neck and nibbled them into your ear.

You let out a little whimper saying “yes” and offered your wrists to him.

You would have never imagined it, but the blue silk looked even more lovely than you would’ve guessed. His eyes darkened too seeing how helpless you had become like this. It as as if he couldn’t help himself: he held your tied hands up to his lips where he kissed at your fingers and palms, giving them gifts of his pleasure to them.

He lowered you back to lay flat on the marble counter and the cold sensation made your whole body shiver wonderfully.

“Just relax.” He cooed while kissing down your stomach and fiddling with the zipper of your skirt.

The heat of your core had become unbearable waiting for him, and each of his teasing touches against your inner thighs and on your sides sent you spinning for more.

You were colder without your clothes, but soon he had granted you the rub of his thumb on your clit over your panties and a mischievous smile spread across his lips.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” He said, pulling your thin panties to the side to take a peek. He granted one more finger to rub over you directly and mix with your slick.

“Mm-fuck.” Your hips twisted with each of his touches and your hands writhed in the knot of his tie.

Wickedly slow, he removed your panties from your legs, then stopped to let his hot breath swirl over your twitching clit.

“Such a good girl.” He permitted you one kiss which elicited pathetic and needy moans from your mouth.

Wonwoo began his tantalizing lapping: thick and slow stripes with his wetted mouth that made you tremble. It was criminal how wet he had made you, and it was obscene how each of his kisses sounded against your clit. His cat-like eyes tested you further as if to say watch what a beautiful mess I make of you.

The mixture of cold stone on your back and the heat of your waist was terribly confusing, but you couldn’t help but get lost in it.

“Don’t you look so pretty like this?”

Your voice wavered and you lost yourself further in him while he continued. Your hands did feel trapped--you wanted nothing more to mess up that hair of his, and make it all yours to take in sinfully...but he didn’t grant you that pleasure.

It didn’t take him long to build up your orgasm, and each flick over your bud, he drew you closer and closer into melting into a shaking mess over his mouth. He built you up until you were painfully sensitive, then smiled with his gorgeously white smile when you came on his tongue, even grinding slightly to ride your release which he reveled in.

“Did you like that sweetheart?”

Airy chuckles shook your chest and you tried your best to calm your trembling body.

“Y-yes.”

“Here, sit up.”

Wonwoo grabbed you by your arms to help you up, and admittedly, you felt a bit dizzy yourself.

“Grab on.”

He prompted you to wrap yourself around him, which you were a bit hesitant of, but his now warm smile assured you that all would be well.

“Don’t worry.” He simply soothed.

You did so, even getting a little embarrassed over your arousal that must’ve been rubbing off on his clothes.

He walked the two of you over to his velvety looking couch, having you sit on his lap. Even after this while, he was still as hard as before. He returned his mouth to paint kisses into yours once more, filling your mouth with adoring comments in between each one.

“I can’t believe that you’re all mine tonight.”

His hands returned to your breasts to kneed over them more carefully this time.

“Would you like to ride my dick princess?”

It had been absentminded, but you had been grinding into his lap and against his swelling dick.

“Y-yes. Please. I-I want to.”

Wonwoo carefully helped you off his lap to remove himself of his own pants, then guided your hips over his hardened length which was much longer and girthier than it had appeared to be hidden under his pants.

“Take it as slow or as fast as you want, okay? We have all night.”

Once more his smiling kisses peppered your mouth, then you lowered yourself over him, and it was near euphoric how tightly you took him in. It was effortless in the way that the tip of his head would graze your cervix just like this. Both of you groaned out your symphony of pleasure.

“Oh fuck--” His eyes rolled. “You’re unreal.”

Wonwoo’s fingers dug deeply into your lower back, guiding the return of your hips over his length all the while giving love bites to the soft nape of your neck. Connected with him like this, the stranger that you barely knew, you felt a sense of closeness unlike anything you had felt before. He must have put a spell on you from the way each one of his kisses and the pull of your lip by his teeth made you fall deeper into him.

Your thighs straddled him harder in all of your want: you wanted to make him one with you, to have him all to yourself even though you knew he wasn’t yours to keep. The way that his faint grunts wavered in your ears was too much for you to handle. You weren’t alone. On the night that you thought you hadn’t been wanted, he made you feel as if you were the only one there was.

He hushed into you, “Cum for me, beautiful.”

Your hands now untied, you raked them though his hair just as you had wanted, chasing your orgasm roughly while you made a mess of him just as he did for you. It tightened in your core, and you used every last shred of your energy to maintain your speed over him. It was exhausting, and your legs shook the closer you got.

It flushed over your whole body, and dripped down your legs: it was electricity through each of your extremities, and then it was heat, warm as the sun that ran from the tips of your ears to your neck still throbbing from his lips pulling there, hard, as he reached his own orgasm that was left throbbing inside your walls.

A wave of exhaustion swept over you while you clung to him and he to you. He really was unimaginably handsome this close. The side of his hand caressed down the side of your dewy face.

“Would you like to be alone together...more?”

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lailoken · 3 years

Text

‘Dark and Demon Dogs’

“Haunting the coastline from the Wash to the Deben and beyond, and inland along the Peddars Way into the Brecklands, on marshland roads and mudflats, through the Fens and into the Broads, pads the ancient terror known as Black Shuck. For many hundreds of years the legend of the ghostly black hound has been kept alive and is probably the best known of all East Anglian spectres, still appearing to people today. He is typically seen as a huge, great, black shaggy hound, with blazing red eyes and dragging rattling chains behind him, instilling terror into all he comes upon and considered a portent of impending death or doom by most. Although generally called Black Shuck, he is known by many other names too; the Galleytrot, Old Scarfe, Owd Rugman, Shug Monkey and the Hateful Thing being some, although some form of Shuck or Shuggy is most common. Nor is he always a large black hound, appearing as anything from the size of a Labrador (shrinking into a cat!), a white rabbit in Thetford, to a calf or a donkey and even a monkey on a few occasions. Sometimes he was invisible, only his fierce breath, padding feet, fearful howls or the clanking of his chains giving evidence of his presence. Sometimes he could be seen without his head, but always with his glowing eyes appearing in the middle of where his head should be. One tale from Garveston in Norfolk goes;

‘They du speak of a dog that walks regular. They call him Skeff and his eyes are as big as saucers and blaze wi' fire. He is fair as big as a small wee pony and his coat is all skeffy-like, shaggy coat across, like an old sheep. He has a lane, and a place out of which he come, and he vanish when be bev gone far enough.’

Another informant from the village of Clopton, Suffolk, reported, 'a thing with two saucer eyes', on the road to Woolpit. It would not move out of his way but grew larger and larger as it breathed: 'I shall want you within a week'. The man died the next day.

One Christmas day in the middle of the 19th. Century, Black Shuck pushed against a small, blind boy who was standing on Thetford Bridge with his older sister. The little boy plaintively asked his sister to send the big dog away, but his sister assured him that there was no dog anywhere near them. However, the terrified boy insisted that there was, and that it was trying to push him into the water to drown him. The sister then felt the poor boy being carried away from her; she realised then that what he could feel, and she could not see, must be the terrible Black Shuck that she had heard so much about. Just as her little brother was about to be pushed into the water, she dragged him back from the edge and, hand- in-hand, they rushed off back to their waiting parents at home.

Villagers in the Waveney Valley round about Geldeston call it the ‘Hateful Thing', or the 'Churchyard or Hell-beast'. One old village woman claimed that she saw it one night on the road between Gillingham and Geldeston. She tells the story in the following words;

'It was after I bad been promised to Josh that I saw the Hateful Thing. We met Mrs S. and she started to walk with us. I beard something like a dog running pit-pat-pit- pat-pit-pat. "I wonder what that dog wants", I said to Mrs S. I was walking between Josh and Mrs S. and I lay hold on Mrs S's. arm and she say "It's in front of us; look, there it be." Just in front was what looked like a big, black dog; but it wasn't a dog at all; it was the Hateful Thing and it betokened some great misfortune. It kept on until we came to the churchyard, when it went right through the wall and we saw it no more'.

In Norfolk, Neatishead Lane, near Barton Broad, is a favourite walk of Shuck, as is the cliff path from Beeston, near Sheringham to Overstrand. This recalls the old adjuration in the legend of St. Margaret;

‘Still be though still,

Poorest of all, stern one,

Nor shalt thou, Old Shuck,

Moot with me no more.

But fly, sorrowful thing,

Out of mine eyesight,

And dive thither where thou man

May damage no more.’

A more humorous tale involves the grounding of Noah's Ark on Mulbarton Common, south of Norwich. Scoffers had better not go to Mulbarton. When one village elder was heckled on the point, he replied with some heat;

‘Thass trew! Trew as I stand bere. Where else could it ba' grounded? Aren't this the highest bit o' ground for miles around? When Ole Nick see the Ark be got inter a poont (punt), an' curled his tail up under the thwart and come rowin' around jest as Noah had opened the winder to let the dove in. And Nick sings out: "Mornin' Cap'n Noah. Nice mornin'arter the rain". But ole Noah he sees Nick's tail a-curled up under the thwart an' be sings out: “I know you. You're Owd Shuck! You goo to Hell". And bangs the winder down'.

However, perhaps the most famous accounts of the legend are to be found in Holinshed's Chronicle', an ambitious history of England which was updated to include contemporary events, and a pamphlet entitled A Straunge and Terrible Wunder' written by the Rev. Abraham Fleming, Rector of St. Pancras Church. Both accounts were published in 1577, shortly after the events recorded therein. According to Holinshed's Chronicle;

‘On Sundaie the fourth of August (1577), belween the houres of none and ten of the clocke in the forenone whilest the minister was reading the second lesson in the Parish church of Bliborough (Blythburgh), a towne in Suffolke, a strange and terrible tempest of lightening and thunder strake through the wall of the same church into the ground almost a yard deepe, drave downe all the people on that side above twentie persons, then venting the wall up to the venstre, cleft the doore, and returning to the steeple, rent the timber, brake the chimes, and fled towards Bongie (Bungay), a towne six miles off. The people that were stricken downe were found groueling more than balfe an boure after.......". At Bungay the storm "wroong in sunder the wiers and wheels of the clocks, slue two men which sat in the belfrie, when the other were at the procession or suffrages and scorched an other which hardlie escaped.'

However, Fleming gives the account as starting in Bungay church and includes the infamous Black Shuck;

‘Sunday, being the fourth of this August, in ye yeer of our Lord 1577, to the amazing and singular astonishment of the present bebolders, and abhsent bearers, at a certain towne called Bungay, not past tenne miles distant from the citie of Norwiche, there fell from heaven an exceeding great and terrible tempest sodein and violent..... There were assembled at the same season, to hear divine service and common prayer, according to order, in the parish church (St. Mary's) of the said towne of Bungay, the people thereabouts inhabiting, who were witnesses of the straungeness, the rarenesse and sodenesse of the storm, consisting of rain violently falling, fearful flashes of lightning and terrible cracks of thunder, which came with such unwonted force and power, that to the perceiving of the people...the church did as it were quake and stagger, which struck into the hearts of those that were present, such a sore and sodain feare, that they were in a manner robbed of their right wits.

Immediately hereupon, there appeared in a most horrible similitude and likenesse to the congregation then and there present, a dog as they might discern it, of a black colour; at the sight whereof, together with the feareful flashes of fire which then were seene, moved such admiration in the minds of the assemblie that they thought doomes day was already come.

This black dog, or the divel in such a likenesse (God he knoweth al who worketh all), running all along down the body of the church with great swiftnesse, and incredible haste, among the people, in a visible fourm and shape, passed between two persons, as they were kneeling upon their knees, and occupied in prayer as it seemed, wrung the necks of them bothe in one instant clene backward, in somuch that even at a moment where they kneeled, they strangely died.'

After reflecting somewhat on the wrath of God, he continues;

‘There was at ye same time another wonder wrought; for the same black dog, still continuing and remaining in one and the selfsame shape, passing by another man of the congregation in the church, gave bim such a gripe on the back, that therewith all he was presently withdrawen together and strunk up, as it were a piece of lither scorched in a hot fire; or as the mouth of a purse or bag, drawen together with a string. The man albeit he was in so straunge a taking, dyed not, but as it is thonght is yet alive; whiche thing is mervalous in the eyes of men, und offereth much matter of amasing the minde.

Meanwhile, the Clerk of the church, who had gone outside to clean the guttering, was thrown to the ground during a violent clap of thunder; and at the same time, the wires and wheels of the church clock were 'wrung in sunder and broken in pieces.' Inside the church, the Curate exhorted to prayer and 'comforted the people' until the frightening manifestation of the black hound had passed away, leaving behind it marks on the stones and church door 'which are marvellously renten and torne, ye marks as it were of his clawes or talans.'

According to Fleming, next, on the same morning, in the church of Blythburgh, about twelve miles from Bungay;

'the like thing entred, in the same shape and similitude, where, placing himself upon a maine balke or beum, whereon same ye Rood did stand, sodainly he gave a swinge downe throngh ye church, and there also, as before, slew two men and a lad & burned the hand of another person that was there amang the rest of the company, of whom divers wus blustled. This mischief thus wrought, he flew with wonderful force to no litule feare of the assembly, out of the church in a hideons and bellish likeness.'

The marks of his talons, burned into the inside of the north door of the church, can still be seen today.

Interestingly, archaeologists have recently discovered the skeleton of a massive dog that would have stood 7 feet tall on its hind legs, in the ruins of Leiston Abbey in Suffolk, close to both Bungay and Blythburgh. The remains of the massive dog, which is estimated to have weighed 200 pounds, were found just a few miles from the two churches where Black Shuck killed the worshippers. It appears to have been buried in a shallow grave at precisely the same time as Shuck is said to have been on the loose in this instance.

Coming forward in time, there is a legend of a black dog too, at Blickling Hall, Norfolk. In the 19th century, alterations on the Hall were being made by Lord and Lady Lothian, by the demolition of some partitions in order to form a dining-room;

‘I wish these young people would not pull down the partitions', said an old woman in the village to the local clergyman. Why so?' 'Oh, because of the dog. Don't you know that when A. was fishing in the lake, he caught an enormous fish and that, when it was landed, a great black dog came out of its mouth? They never could get rid of that dog, who kept going round and round in circles inside the house, till they sent for a wise man from London, who opposed the straight lines of the partitions to the lines of the circles and so quieted the dog. But if these young people pull down the partitions, they will let the dog loose again, and there's not a wise man in all London could lay that dog now'.’

This tale is interesting in that it links the occurrence or appearance of the hound with a practical knowledge of geomantic function and is the only tale told of its kind, as far as I am aware. It also links the Black Dog with the liminal area of the lake, which, as we have seen earlier in the chapter, is a gateway to the Other/Underworlds, guarded by supernatural beings; it is possible that the Black Dog may be another one of these guardian entities.

The common name for the black hound, Shuck, is generally considered to derive from the Old English scucca or sceocca, which means a devil/the Devil, a demon or a goblin (the 'sc' in OE being pronounced as 'sh'). There is also the likelihood that it comes from the East Anglian dialect word 'Shucky', meaning shaggy or hairy, a marked characteristic of most descriptions of the Hound. The first known use of the term comes from the Norfolk Chronicle or Gazette, in 1805, in an account by the Rev. E.S. Taylor of Martham as follows;

‘Shuck the Dog-fiend: This phantom I have heard many persons in East Norfolk, and even Cambridgeshire, describe as having seen as a black shaggy dog, with fiery eyes, and of immense size, and who visits churchyards at midnight.’

However, the term was obviously already in use beforehand, but for how long beforehand, no one knows. In regards to the appearance of the phantom in, at or near to churchyards and graveyards, there is another old tradition that is worth noting here. It was customry in years gone by, to bury a black dog in any new graveyard, before any other burials took place. The dog was intended to act as a guardian for the dead who were laid to rest there, and to protect the entrance to the Otherworld, ensuring that none came out – or went in – that were not supposed to. This practice goes back many millennia and is still rumoured to continue today in some areas; the dog is said to be buried in the North, or North-East of the graveyard, the traditional direction of the Dead and the Underworld.

Attempts to explain the origins and nature of the Black Hound have been many, some prosaic and some fantastical. He is said to be the memory of one of Odin's battle hounds, brought over by the Viking raiders in the 9th century. Whilst this may sound appealing, Odin did not have any war or battle hounds, but was accompanied by two wolves, a description never applied to Shuck. It is possible that he is the remains of a 'fetch beast', conjured by the Norse shamans to clear the pathways for their invasions, but there is no remaining evidence for this, however attractive; but the pathways theme is pertinent and I will come back to that in a moment. In the Anglo- Saxon classic, 'Beowulf', previously referred to in the case of Grendel's Dam and the Merewives, the monster Grendel himself is termed a 'scucca' and referred to as master of the fens and moors, some of the very places said to be haunted by Black Shuck in more modern times. He is also linked in popular imagination with the Devil and witchcraft, considered to be the Devil in animal form. Whilst there are recorded cases of the Devil appearing in dog or hound form in Suffolk, the descriptions of Shuck's appearances does not seem to fit any of these. He is often linked with Churches and graveyards, as we have seen, as well as crossroads, being described as coming from, passing over or into, or finishing his perambulations at one or the other; this also links in with the fact that the most recorded instances of sightings/encounters of the hound are on paths, roads, trackways, etc. as mentioned above.

It is these latter aspects of the Black Hound that I think give us the biggest clue to his nature and function; this is either as a guardian of the 'ghost roads' - the energetic and spectral pathways across the Land that guide the spirits of the dead on their way, or lead the spirits of living witches and magical practitioners to locations of power or gatherings of their kind or as a 'psychopomp', guiding the deceased on their last journeys to the Otherworld. It has often been remarked that Black Shuck is nearly always seen walking/padding along or beside a path or trackway and that his presence either heralds or initiates a death or near death experience (sometimes also averting disaster if it is not the person's time to die). It seems highly likely that this Hound is a product of the Living Landscape, given form and function, and imbued with the energy to guard/ guide those souls in need over the liminal point between life and death that we all must pass at some point. That he is given such a form by tradition and local culture only goes to show a living tradition stretching back hundreds, if not thousands, of years, as dogs and hounds have been seen as guardians of the gates of the Underworld for millennia, particularly and especially by the succeeding cultures that have inhabited East Anglia and the rest of these Isles. That he is feared, seen as a/the Devil, shunned and reviled, is only indicative of the lack of understanding of most people of the natural Laws and Ways of the Land and their separation from them.”

—

The Devil’s Plantation:

East Anglian Lore, Witchcraft & Folk-Magic

Chapter 2: ‘Mermaids, Giants and Spectral Hounds’

by Nigel G. Pearson

#the Devil’s Plantation #nigel g. pearson #East Anglian folklore #British folklore #Celtic folklore #spectral hounds #black dogs #black shuck

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