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ajbwasntwriting · 3 years

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Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 13. Flames

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(we using the same gif cause I couldn’t get the bridge gif to work sorry no sorry)

I’ll only post more chapters if previous chapters get a good reaction so if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

if you wish to be added to the tag list please dm me. All chapters can be found under the tag AJ’s Negan’s Daughter AU

Soon the camp was left near barren. The saviours had made up more than half the work force and as far as it seemed you were the only one left. You spotted Daryl sitting in front of a white tent eating an apple. You bee-lined past Eugene and Rick to him, sitting on the chair just opposite from him.

“Hey” Daryl greeted you warmly. You just smiled at him then went back to staring in the middle ground, leaned down in the chair and your arms crossed. You sat there in peeved silence for a moment, just not wanting to be alone right now. “Heard the yelling match you had-”

“Don’t” You said, closing your eyes and shaking your head in annoyance. “I feel stupid enough as is.”

A hand landed on your knee and Daryl’s gruff voice said “You ain’t stupid, Darlin’”

That made you smile whether you liked it or not. You looked at him through the side of your eye, leaning forward and looking at you with so much love. “Darlin’, huh?” you commented on the new pet name. You uncrossed your arms and took his hand in yours, ignoring how sticky it felt from the apple he was eating. “I could get used to that.”

“Anything I can do for you? You name it, I’ll make it happen.” Daryl said.

“Just sit with me a while.” You droned, clearly exhausted. “Before you gotta up and go again.”

“‘Course” he reassured you, kissing your knuckles. You detached your hands so he could finish his apple and you were happy to sit with him. The noise of the camp was gone and there wasn’t anything you could do, but with Daryl you always felt at ease. Though something seemed off about him. A kind of anger was boiling under your skin. Maybe he was pissed the Saviours up and left too.

Jerry arrived back on horse and was talking to Rick. You didn’t bother yourself with it but Daryl’s interest seemed to be piqued. Especially when he walked by talking rapidly into a walkie talkie. You tuned into the conversation out of curiosity.

“I need you to get an urgent message to Alexandria… If Maggie Rhee shows up, delay her at the gate and alert Michonne right away. Do not... repeat… do not let her in without an escort. Over”

“What’s happening?” You asked Daryl. He didn’t look at you as he stood up. You stood up after him and walked behind

“And, Maggie, if you're listening… let's talk.” Rick tucked the walkie back into his belt.

“Hey. What’s goin’ on?” Daryl asked as he approached.

“Maggie's headed to Alexandria.” Rick explained.

“Is that bad?” You asked.

“She's about do something she might regret.” Rick explained further, grabbing the horse.

“Hop on. I'll take you.” Daryl said.

“You sure? We got enough fuel?” Rick asked, already moving to Daryl’s bike

“Yeah. We’ll get there quicker.” Daryl said, climbing onto the bike. “I’ll be back soon, Darlin’” he called to you.

“Better be in one piece” you shot back.

“I’ll make sure of it, Y/N!” Rick replied. You watched as they took off down the road, leaving you in a crumbling camp.

You wandered around the camp, finding the Alexandrians had left too and what was left of hill top and oceanside were scattered with talk of leaving. You eventually came upon Carol. She was packing up with a group you recognised as the kingdom's people. “You leaving too?” You called, grabbing her attention. You settled onto the heel of your feet and placed your hands into the back pockets of your hips, watching as she asked a nearby man to finish packing up the crate.

“This place is bust, Y/N” She said, walking towards you. “I know you tried earlier but-”

“Yeah” you hissed through your teeth. “I get it.” She looked away, seemingly embarrassed. “You're going back to the kingdom I see.”

“There’s room on the wagon if you want” Carol offered, seemingly remorseful.

“No.” You replied “I told Sanctuary I’d be back.”

Carol shook her head in disbelief then chuckled as she threw her head to the sky then back to you. “I don’t get it. You hated it there!” She expressed while you nodded along in agreement. “But you wanna go back?”

‘I was trying to cover my ass but now everyone who knows me is dead’ you thought. Though that wouldn’t fly. Your childhood made you an adept liar though. ‘No granny those aren’t vomit stains on the carpet I just spilled my porridge. Yes, I eat porridge now.’

“I was scared. And lonely. But in time it got less so.” you explained, not breaking eye-contact. “I don’t know the Saviours you knew, but the ones I know appreciate my work. And they’ve got nothing. I had nothing and Daryl came to me, gave me a shot. I wanna extend that to them.”

“We won’t help,” Carol said. “Too many people were hurt.”

“Well if you’re gonna turn away starving children and hard working people,” You retorted. “We’ll go elsewhere.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” Carol chuckled.

“Right back at ya,” you turned to leave and pack your things when Carol called you. She came up to you and offered you a revolver and a belt holster.

“You’ll need it,” she said. You took the belt and weapon.

“Thanks, Carol.” You said. She pulled you into a hug that you returned with gusto then parted so you could pack your things.

You didn’t have much, mainly your knife and the clothing on your back but Enid had forgotten some valuable supplies in the infirmary. Between that, the change of clothes you had and a couple apples you had hidden away in your tent for later, your bag was bare.

You were about to set out and start dismantling one of the tents to bring back when you heard bullets fly. You immediately got low to the floor and pulled out your gun, checking if it was loaded.

The rounds sounded too rapid to be one sided. You walked out the back of the tent and noticed the shoot out. It was a small group of saviours going after Carol’s group. You took a deep breath and ran out of the tent and behind a nearby tree, then peered out the side and took two quick shots at the group. You managed to hit one and the larger group was now caught off guard. In the time it took you to unload the barrel you downed another two and the fire fight had ended with Carol’s group victorious and a number of the Saviours running back into the woods. They disappeared as quickly as they appeared. You ran over to Carol’s group.

“Is everyone alright?” You asked.

“They got Fred!” one of the hilltoppers yelled. You looked at the armoured body and knew in an instant he was gone from the axe wound alone.

“You gotta come with us,” Carol said to you. “The shots would’ve attracted the herd.”

“Alexandria’s the safest bet with the way that herd is moving” Jerry put in.

“Alexandria it is then,” you agreed, helping load up now. The tents were abandoned. Someone from Oceanside radioed that the camp wasn’t safe but no one checked for a response. Everything was loaded up and the carriages were moved.

Off in Alexandria, in someone else’s world. Maggie entered the dark basement cell. Her face was illuminated by what little light creeped between the shutters. Negan chuckled.

“Aw, she just gave up the keys, huh?” He jested “It's a shame. She got the blade, but you...You got the fire. My money was on you.”

Maggie looked into his cell. He sat on his bed, shrouded in darkness. “So you remember me.” She spoke into the darkness”

“'Course I do.” Negan Replied “It's why I thought you were gonna win.”

“Good.” Maggie swallowed hard, emboldening her resolve. This was it, she was going to give this monster what he deserved. “Get on your knees.”

“You know, I remember you screamin' in that clearing.” Negan muled aloud, standing up and walking closer to the bars yet not completely out of the darkness “I remember how much I broke you breakin' open your husband's head like I did.”

“Glenn.” Maggie snapped “His name was Glenn.”

“So now what? You finally come for…” Negan paused for intentional dramatic effect “revenge?”

“Justice.”

“Damn.” Negan gasped “Thought you'd do this a hell of a lot sooner. It take you this long to work up your nerve?

“I was always gonna settle this,” Maggie retorted, her voice growing in volume “what you did to my husband. Get on your knees.”

“What I did to him?” Negan pressed “You mean how I cracked open his skull and popped out his goddamn eyeball? How I bashed his big, beautiful brains into the ground over and over while you and his little friends watched? Is that what you mean?

“Ah, I used to say that I didn't enjoy killin'.” Negan sighed with satisfaction “That was a lie. Your old man… Christ, I forgot his name again. But he was different. Killin' him the way I did, ooh, now, that was fun.”

Maggie pressed the key into the lock, the teeth rolling over the internal mechanisms echoing in the dark cell. Negan took to his knees, as had been requested of him.

“Get to it. Have your justice. Kill me. It was worth it.”

“Lemme see you in the light.” Maggie demanded.

“Come on.” Negan beckoned her on “Kill me.” She turned the key, the lock clicking loudly. “You not have it in you?” Negan teased “Don't you punk out like Rick.”

“Come into the light.” Maggie demanded again.

“Kill me. This is what you came here for!” Negan demanded, his tone becoming desperate “You kill me!”

“Move into the light.” Maggie spook through her teeth, peeved.

“Kill me.” Negan’s head went down and he began to cry. Maggie finally lost her patience, pulling the door open and tearing Negan from his cell and into what little light there was in the room.

“Please. Please.” Negan began to beg. He was disheveled and cowering on the floor in a useless pile. “Please kill me.

“Why?” Maggie asked

“You have to. Just do it.”

“You tell me why!” Maggie began to yell at him “Tell me! Why should I?!”

“So I can be with my family!” Negan cried out “So I can be with Lucille! And with my Y/N!” Negan sobbed silently.

“I should be dead.” He began to ramble “I have to be dead. And it's supposed to be you. It has to be you, because I can't do it. I can't do it. I've tried. I can't. I can't be like this. Please, please don't make me stay like this. It's... Settle it.” He was so distraught every other word he was gasping for air. “Settle me. Kill me. Please.”

“Get back in your cell.” Maggie ordered

“No.” Negan protested from the floor where he lay “No. No. No.” He sobbed “Why?”

“I came to kill Negan,” Maggie said “and you're already worse than dead. That settles it.” Negan hid his face as he sobbed “Go.” she ordered.

He knew better than to argue with her, especially how she pulled him out of the cell without breaking a sweat. “It wasn't supposed to be like this.” He protested weakly, “It wasn't supposed to be like this.”

With that Maggie locked the gate and left the cell, content that her husband’s murderer was suffering.

“What the hell was that?” One of the kingdom’s people said when they were far enough away, clearly talking to you. In their eyes you were the last saviour. They strode up behind you.

“I don’t know” You muttered, pulling one of the horses along the road

You were walking as fast as you can, basically dragging the horses and carriages and this man wanted to fight. “What do you mean you don’t know!”

“I don’t know!” You yelled back, continuing to move. “People do stupid shit when they’re scared!”

“They killed Fred!”

“We killed them!” You finally let go of the horse and turned around to face the man. “And you’ve been killing them for a long time!”

“You don’t know what they-”

“The war?” You cut him off “I know that there is a factory full of people who are starving, working their ass off to get you ethanol, and have no protection.” You were too caught in the moment to notice the wagon train had stopped moving and too angry to hear Jerry and Carol calling to you “Not fighters! Workers! People who didn’t get a chance to defend themselve in your precious fucking war and are paying the price for it!”

Horses trotted up to meet you halfway in the road. You recognised Maggie, Eugene, Tara, and Michone and a few others. Daryl rode up from the back of the group on his bike.

“What happened?” Maggie rode up to the group and asked Carol.

“Saviours jumped us. Ended up shooting each other.” Carol explained. “The gun fire could’ve attracted the herd so we left.”

“Where’s Rick?” Daryl asked.

“He’s not with you?” You shot back.

“What if he headed back to the camp?” Beatrice, a girl from Oceanside, pitched. You could feel the panic set in the group. Daryl disembarked from his bike.

“I know a shortcut. Come on!” He lead the way into the forest. You and a large group instantly took off on foot, following him closely. Within minutes you were back at the bridge to a horrifying sight.

Countless walkers were crossing the bridge. The herd was so thick no sunlight was travelling through and standing at the end of the bridge, with all those walkers heading right towards him, was Rick. Daryl already had his bow out and was picking off the walkers that got too close to his friend.

“What is he doing?!” Maggie yelled.

“He's hurt!” Michone cried. You noticed his clothes were soaked in blood

“That herd that went right through Hilltop.” Daryl gasped “He's trying to bring down the bridge.”

In the next instant Michone had her sword out and was running towards the herd. You called after her and ran after her.

“We turn them around. Fight 'em back.” Maggie followed close behind you

“Fire your guns.” Carol ordered “Try to divert them.

Michone called to Rick as you all ran to the herd, but a moment later the herd caught in flames. Michone stumbled back as the orange heat climbed above your heads. She stood there a moment, shocked into place. You looked through the flames and felt yourself thrown back into your army days.

Rubble and sand were all around you. The air was heavy with debris. It was you, five other servicemen and countless civilians trapped into a crumbling building while bullets flew outside. Children were crying and parents could do nothing to calm them. There was a moment of calm. A moment to get the group through a gap in the rock fall near the back of the building. You got them through while the others lay down ground fire, keeping the enemy at bay. You pulled yourself through the hole after the last of the civilians made it out and went about helping your fellow soldier. They were nearly clear when an explosion went off in the building and you were both sent backwards. You could feel the heat from the explosion on your face, but your ally could feel their life seeping out of their lost leg. He screamed out in complete agony.

The same way Michone screamed out. When you felt yourself come back you noticed Maggie and Carol were holding her back and you had fallen to the ground.

“Y/N!” Tara yelled to you, pulling the rest of you into the present “We have to go!” You nodded rapidly and pulled yourself to your feet. You all retreated back a ways so the herd wouldn’t come to you right away.

“I need to find him,” Michone sobbed. “I need to help him.”

The smoke was rising above them in thick clouds. The radio was going crazy with people who were seeing the smoke.

“What was that?”

“Was that the bridge?”

One of the people with you got on the radio. “Rick!” he called breathlessly “He blew it to stop the herd!”

Everyone around you was in shock and crying horribly. These people had followed Rick, and now they seemed lost. You were in no way a leader but-

“We can look downstream.” You spoke up. Pale and contorted faces looked back at you. “If he fell in the water he’ll be downstream… If he got hit by the blow back he’ll be on the road bu-”

“You heard her.” A man with long hair in a bun and a beard. His face was red but he was already tired of crying “Downstream.”

“I gotta-” Michon spoke, shaking as she got back to her feet. The man beckoned her. In the next moment a small group had run past to look downstream.

“I gotta go to Sanctuary” You announced to those left. Carol nodded, tears streaming down her face. “They gotta know what happened here.”

“Go,” she croaked out, “and bring them back to kingdom.” Beatrice immediately got angry at the notion but before she could speak Carol silenced her. “Without that bridge they’ll starve. Rick didn’t fight for that.” Carol looked back at you. “Go.”

~Tag List~

@felicisimor @bodeckersbitch @lauren-novak @aestthete

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azureashes · 3 years

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Mess Her Up

NSFW 18+ ONLY, Minors DNI Summary: Levi Ackerman is just an ordinary gang member who receives an order he knows well. To mess her up. Only things don't turn out as he expects.

Pairings: Levi x OC, (Levi x Reader if you squint) Word count: 6.9 K Trigger warnings: Noncon, Dubcon, Blood Play, Knife Play, Gang Activity, Beatings, Masochism (?), Torture (?)

A young woman traipsed through the abandoned, yellowed stone alleyways, the sun shining high illuminating their surfaces and leaving deep shadows under the overhangs and archways. The buildings here were built out of stone centuries ago, in what must once have been an applauded endeavor in stone masonry but had since been abandoned for nearly as long. The beige tint of the stones set the image of a sepia landscape and was interrupted only by the flash of green of a rare tree or shrub in the area. It was a place that would look beautiful in pictures but was eerie in its abandoned echoes in person.

Her long hair trailed behind her and she smoothed down her skirts, clutching her cross-body purse as she climbed in her black flats lightly over the large stone steps that were clearly built for humans more intimidating than herself in size.

Spying a handsome young man leaning against the wall of a darkened alleyway, she marched towards him with renewed determination. His black hair was parted to the side falling loosely into his aloof face that looked displeased with the world in general. His stormy grey eyes were intent on the knife in his hand that he polished to a shine, glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

As she approached, his gaze flicked onto her, like a jaguar whose prey had fallen into his line of sight when he wasn’t interested in the hunt. A warning to back off.

“Excuse me,” she called, her voice ringing sweetly off the abandoned stone walls. He frowned at the young woman, irritation sparking in his eyes that she had disregarded his unspoken warning. “I’m looking for someone,” she continued obliviously.

Rummaging through her purse, she withdrew a photograph of a smiling young man with hair the shade of her own. “This is my brother. He hasn’t come home for three days. An elderly gentleman told me he had seen him somewhere around here. Do you think you could help me?” Her pleading tone of voice and wide, innocent eyes were met with a hardened, unmoved expression.

When he spoke, she was equally as surprised by the soothing quality of his voice as she was by the harsh, irritated tone he chose to speak in.

“Get lost, brat.”

She was taken aback by the rude rebuttal but, biting her lip, refused to back down. “Please,” she voiced, reaching out for his arm to convey her urgency, her eyes turned up to him desperately. He flinched at her touch and turned a livid glare in her direction. “Please,” she repeated, “He’s my only brother. I’m so worried about him.”

“Get your hands off me,” he hissed, his hands stilling in their movements where they were polishing the knife. She was suddenly struck by the realization that the gleaming switchblade in his hands was only a whim away from embedding itself in her flesh. That surely, him cleaning his knife meant it had recently been in use? Hesitantly, she withdrew her hand. “Can’t you help me?” she entreated again breathlessly.

“Is there something wrong with your ears? I said fuck off.” The scathing retort, clearly meant to scare her away, only served to have her dig in her heels in response. He hadn’t claimed not to know the young man in the photograph.

“Hey, Levi,” came a raspy voice from the shadows, “Who’s the visitor?”

When she turned her gaze towards the darkened alleyway, she found a tall, rugged blond standing there, his countenance partly veiled by the shadows, despite the brilliant sunlight.

“Tch.”

For whatever reason, the man’s sudden appearance served to irritate the black-haired man and he shot the strange girl a disparaging glance. One that seemed to read, “You brought this on yourself.”

Casting a wary glance at the raven-haired man - Levi, apparently, was his name - she sidestepped him to approach the blond man towering over her in the alleyway. Up close, she could see a thin scar running from one temple, down across the bridge of his prominent nose.

“Excuse me, sir,” she began, holding up the photograph, “Have you seen this man? He’s my brother and hasn’t been home in three days.”

Levi averted his gaze as the stupid woman made her stupid plea. Fools with no sense of danger could only blame themselves for whatever followed.

True to character, the blond took one look at the picture in her hand and laughed aloud, a deep, rumbling sound that grated against Levi’s ears and made the young woman hesitate uncertainly.

“Why, Levi,” the man chuckled, “it’s rude to leave a young woman standing outside like this. You should have shown her in.”

The long-haired woman looked from one man to the other nervously as she clung to the strap of her cross-body purse. Levi came up behind her with an irritated expression, as if she were severely wasting his time. Caught with the muscular man towering over her in front of her and Levi approaching from behind, all routes of escape were cut off. She swallowed nervously as Levi met her eye with a bored expression. “You heard the man,” he drawled, nodding towards the alleyway.

With apprehensive determination, she nodded and stepped into the darkness, bypassing the taller man who was still chuckling ominously to himself. Unable to see in front of her for the darkness, her footsteps slowed, and Levi, pressing a hand to her back, shoved her forwards. “Keep moving,” was the gruff command. His hand on her back felt warm – larger and stronger than she would have expected - and in the darkness, his low voice sounded as if he spoke directly into her ear, sending chills up her spine.

At length, he pushed open a door that was invisible to her in the darkness and she stepped into the light on the other side, blinking.

She had entered what appeared to be a large common room with mismatched sofas and tables in various states of disrepair scattered across the sprawling space. A generous refrigerator hummed loudly in a corner and a pool table with worn-out green felt stood off to the side. A single lightbulb flickered in a green lampshade that hung oddly, almost comically, to one side.

She noticed now, that the room was filled with people equally as intimidating as the man she had left behind, absorbed in drink, games, or tobacco and talk. Their muscular bodies implied that these were men who depended on their strength to survive, and the scars that decorated what she could see of their skin were evidence of the lengths they would go to, to do so. In comparison, she was small and insignificant, less than a morsel to the fearsome men in front of her. She clutched the photograph to her chest and stepped backwards, looking from one terrifying face to the other. When she bumped into a broad chest, she spun around in surprise, only to find Levi closing the door behind them, looking at her through unfeeling gray eyes down the bridge of his nose.

She backed away from him, intimidated, and found herself in the center of the room surrounded by the watchful eyes of men whose intentions she failed to read.

“Well, well, well...” voiced a gruff voice from the back of the room, With a gasp, she saw a tall, gangly man lying on a sofa hidden from view. His face was concealed by a cowboy hat but as he rose to his feet now, he replaced it on his head, covering his long, straggly gray hair. His low chuckle and his self-assured smirk confirmed what the silence in the room implied – this was the leader of the group.

“What do we have here?” The man marched right up to her and caught her chin in an unforgiving grip, as he lifted her eyes up to him. “Pretty little thing you brought in, Levi.”

Still, the raven-haired man behind her was silent and unmoving. The man with the cowboy hat suddenly caught sight of the photograph and with one fluid movement snatched it out of her hands. His eyes lit up in recognition and he lowered his head as a deep, sinister chuckle rumbled from his lips. “Well, isn’t this precious?” he barked with a laugh.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he waved the photograph in front of her face mockingly, “Who is this?”

“That’s-,” she took a deep breath for courage, “That’s my brother! If you know anything about his whereabouts, please tell me!” She lifted entreating eyes to the man, despite the sadistic amusement apparent on his features.

“Well...” he drawled, “We might know something.” He laughed, turning around and holding the picture up for the men gathered there to see, “Don’t we, boys?”

Raucous laughter erupted in the room at the girl’s poor fortune. “Listen here, girl,” he leaned in close until she could smell the unsavory mixture of tobacco, coffee, and alcohol on his breath, “Your brother has been our guest for the last couple of days. And he can’t leave here until we’ve shown him the full extent of our hospitality. That’s just good manners, isn’t it?”

“Is- is that so?” she stepped backwards, her eyes darting from one harsh, unforgiving face to another, “Well, then, I...”

“Oh, no you don’t,” the man had a lazy, laidback demeanor, but when his hand shot out to catch hold of her wrist, it was fast as the strike of a viper. He held her hand high, so that she had to stand on tiptoe to ease the pressure on her arm. “Now that you’re here, we can’t just let you leave. You’re our guest, too, aren’t you?”

He whirled her around and faced the men who had abandoned their card games and drinks to give their leader their full attention. “Who wants to show our princess here a good time? No one should be able to say that we treat our guests poorly, isn’t that right?”

A hum of agreement and low chuckles met his words as more men than she could count shouted back volunteering statements.

With one last burst of strength, she tore her hand free and made a mad dash for the exit only to come up against the chest of the raven-haired man once more. He stood with his back towards the door and lifted his eyebrows, unimpressed by her attempts to escape.

“Well, look at that,” the man in the cowboy hat jeered, “I think she likes you, Levi.”

Raucous laughter erupted in the room as Levi narrowed his eyes at the girl, irritated that she was causing this uproar and dragging him into this.

“Is this really necessary, Kenny?” he complained, turning narrowed eyes onto his boss.

“Oi. Go on, then. Show her a good time.” A shiver passed through her as she turned her eyes up to the raven-haired man who was pointedly ignoring her.

“It’s not her fault she has a piece of shit for a brother, and unlike you sleazy bastards, I don’t have a thing for brats,” his arguments fell on deaf ears, but his eyes dropped to the girl in front of him in surprise, when he saw that she had taken hold of the hem of his shirt between her thumb and forefinger, her head lowered, expression unreadable. Her action was invisible to the men behind her, but confused Levi, even as Kenny barked further orders.

“Birds of a feather, Levi.” He jerked a thumb at a door behind them, “Mess her up. That’s an order.”

“Tch,” irked beyond expression, he grabbed hold of her wrist and dragged her down through the living area to the jeers and catcalls of the men, pushing open one of the closed doors and pulling her through before pressing the door shut behind them, muffling the vulgar statements of the men beyond.

He eyed her calculatingly, his grey eyes walled off from her as his gaze wandered over her form from head to toe, his sharp mind mulling over a definition to the words, “mess her up.”

The resounding click that met her ears informed her that the door had been locked, and she was stuck with this enigmatic, terrifying man. He approached her slowly, annoyance still lingering in his eyes as he muttered, “I told you to get lost.”

Her eyes darted from one corner of the dimly lit room to another, shoulders trembling. An armchair and a tattered sofa stood haphazardly in the room, a beat-up old table with scratch marks stood tossed to the side. Light from a single, boarded up window strained to get inside. Telltale signs of struggle were visible in every corner of the room.

“You brought this on yourself,” his voice was deceptively soft and the skin at the nape of her neck prickled in response.

“I –“ she faltered, “Do you really want to do this to me?”

He drew closer as she retreated, backing up until her legs came up against the worn-out table. Her fingers traced its edge as she leaned backwards, trying to put every possible inch of distance between them. “Not my call,” he answered easily, towering over her now. She sucked in a breath, summoning mindless protests, but his closed fist slammed into her abdomen before she could utter a word, causing her to double over in pain.

“I’ll make this quick,” he offered, no touch of emotion lacing his voice. An unfeeling hand took hold of her long tresses and he tossed her carelessly backwards, the clattering sound of her falling against the table and the wooden legs skidding against the stone floor loud enough for the gathering outside to hear. She struggled back to her feet, and the next blow landed on the side of her face, leaving a large bloody bruise but carefully avoiding her nose. Women were vain about their noses.

She staggered towards him, disoriented, confused as to which direction was the one required to escape and falling unintentionally, straight into his arms. Using his grip on her, he kicked upwards into her stomach with his knee, causing her to cough up bile and fall to her knees. From there, she was at his mercy and he aimed one kick after another at her, his expression impassive and unchanging. A last kick to the face flung her to the side where she lay on the stone floor exhausted and beaten.

“Tch,” rolling his shoulders, he approached the young woman lying prone on the floor. Every move of his was calculated. He knew well enough which injuries would heal in a matter of days and which would leave lasting damage. The assignment was clear enough - “mess her up”. As long as she left here in a state that would make the group outside think she had duly suffered, it did not matter how much actual pain she had been in, or what he had done to her. It was all about appearances, after all.

He crouched down and, sliding a hand into her long, thick tresses, pulled her up from the ground, he turned her face this way and that and, seeing the blood leaking from her nose and the bruises blooming to life on her face, he determined she was injured enough to be allowed to leave without further hindrance.

“On your feet,” he muttered, rising and pulling her up with him. She stumbled to her feet and clung to the table for balance. He noted with satisfaction that her arms and legs were also bruised and battered, bruises large enough to satisfy the audience outside, but shallow enough that they should heal in a few days’ time.

He lifted a hand and indicated towards the door with a nod and a jerk of his thumb. “Get out of here, brat. Before I change my mind.”

She coughed and spat out the blood that had collected in her mouth. Levi blinked, veiling his surprise. The naïve, innocent, feminine impression she had carried into this room with her disappeared as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and narrowed her eyes at him.

“What?” she ground out, “Is that it?”

He only returned her glare with a blank stare of his own, nonplussed.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she continued, looking up at him defiantly, “And when they said ‘mess her up’ here I was, thinking you were actually going to do something to me.” She scoffed, and gave him a disappointed look, as if he wasn’t quite up to scratch.

What the actual fuck?

“Oi,” a dangerous spark flared in his otherwise cold grey eyes as he grabbed her by the collar and pulled her up to face him, “Take a look around you before you start talking shit. Are you asking me to break your legs right now? That what you want?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” she taunted, “But is this what your boss meant when he said ‘mess her up’? It’s not, right?”

He glared at her, unable to believe his ears. She should have been cowering in gratitude that he was letting her go without touching her. She should have been scrambling for the exit.

“They wanted you to fuck me, right? Or was I the only one who understood it that way?” The sarcasm that laced her voice, so sweet and innocent when she had approached him outside, now low and almost sultry even in its indignant anger, confused him.

He released her as if burned. What was wrong with this woman?

“So, what happens if I tell them out there you couldn’t get it up?” She indicated towards the group outside with a jerk of her chin as she leaned back against the table. He narrowed his eyes at her. Of course, he knew precisely what would happen to her, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before. Men get beaten, girls get defiled. Those are the rules of the game. The price for rubbing up against their group the wrong way. There was no such thing as mercy. Levi knew that better than anyone else. He had learned that the first time he had tried to allow a woman to escape unharmed. She had turned grateful eyes to him before trying to leave, only to be caught by one of his brothers and then passed around until she lost consciousness.

He had been made to watch. She had been made to thank him for his kindness, for sparing her – words that meant nothing as tears streamed down her face and the group stood in a circle around her. “It’s great that you’re so fucking nice, Levi,” someone had hissed into his ear. He couldn’t for the life of him now remember who had spoken. He had swallowed half a bottle of painkillers, but his body had recovered in no less than 48 hours, just to spite him.

He learned not to show any misplaced sympathy. He learned it was better to have a woman screaming and begging for mercy beneath him, than to have her be literally torn apart by the men outside. He learned how to tune out their cries. He learned how to have a heart that felt nothing. But it didn’t change the fact that he hated sex. He hated having to use it to break their wills. To punish them. He would much rather have just broken an arm or two. He hated the fact that he could not remember the last time he had had a willing woman beneath him.

With time, he had learned how to fake it. Learned where to leave bruises, where to tear clothes so that no one would stop and question them. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it. He was just fed up of it. Fed up of playing this ridiculous game. Fed up of using intimacy as a weapon. It wasn’t like he was into that kind of shit.

But this brat.

He narrowed his eyes at her, but she returned his gaze unabashed, shamelessly – demanding, almost.

“Are you asking to be raped right now?” he growled, stalking towards her. He was not going to let himself be intimidated by this slip of a thing.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” she shrugged.

“You tell them out there I didn’t touch you and you might not ever be able to have children. So, if you decide to open your mouth that’s on you,” his tone was devoid of intonation, but his narrowed eyes expressed his irritation with her.

“Are you gay?” she asked, blinking up at him inquisitively.

He only glared at her in return, he wasn’t about to play this game with her.

“Alright, sure they’ll have their way with me instead. But what about you? Does nothing happen to you if you don’t follow orders?” She seemed genuinely curious, and unbothered by the bruise swelling on her cheek or the blood seeping out of the wound above her right eyebrow as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Would nothing happen to him? He had been loyal to the group since he was barely more than a child. If it got out, however, that he had taken to sparing women again, it spelled trouble for whoever else they sent his way after this damned frustrating brat. If she wanted him to fuck her up so badly, then she had it coming.

“What do you want, brat?” he seethed.

“I don’t want you to harbor any illusions of having done me a kindness when I leave here,” she answered, her voice dark and unforgiving. “If you’re going to mess me up, do it right and let me curse your name for the rest of my days. Wallow in the guilt. Don’t deceive yourself into thinking you’re some kind of good guy.”

The irritation vanished from his face, only to be replaced by a deadened apathy, he placed one hand on the table on either side of her, leaning forward, inadvertently forcing her to lean back as her chest brushed against his. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke, his voice as soft as it was dark, “The things I’ve done? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She shuddered at the close proximity, at his warm breath against her ear, but those soft words were all that was gentle about him. She had asked for it, and he wasn’t kind to the point of being foolish. He could break a stupid woman as good as anyone. He pulled back, looking her coldly in the eye as he took hold of her collar and, without warning, tore her shirt open. She blinked, scarcely able to understand just what had happened as she stood there in the tattered remains of what was once her shirt.

She watched the buttons roll off into the corners of the room and was still wrapping her mind around this sudden change of behavior when his hand found purchase in her hair again and jerked her head mercilessly back, exposing the smooth column of her throat. His mouth instantly closed in on her pulse point, making quick work with his teeth, sucking on the sensitive skin there before biting down mercilessly. She gasped at the painful sensation that made one thing terribly clear, this encounter was not designed to provide her with any pleasure.

He tore off her cardigan, quickly followed by the torn shirt, leaving her in nothing but her skirt and the lacy black bra she wore. It did not occur to him that her choice of undergarments was alluring. He did not think to question whether that had been intentional on her part. Her eyes flew open when she felt cold metal between her breasts, before she could look down to see what it was, his knife had cut through the lacy fabric of her undergarments, inadvertently cutting her in the process. Knowing his skill, she could only assume that it had been intentional. Blood trickled down her chest over her abdomen, the stinging pain of the weeping wound rushed to her head. Exhilarating her.

She sucked in a cold breath of air, only moments before his hand closed around her throat, pinning her against the table. Her hands flew up in reflex, closing around his arm, gentle fingers pressing into the corded muscles of his forearm, she blinked up at him as her mouth opened helplessly for breath that would not come. She gaped at him, trying to word something with what little breath she had.

“What’s that?” he murmured calmly, his eyes cold and expressionless. “I can’t hear you.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as she arched her back, pressing her breasts up against his arm. Was this an involuntary reaction? Or... what the hell was she doing?

When he felt her convulsing from lack of oxygen, he released her with a grim expression. Something wasn’t right. Something about the balance of power between them. That unimpressed look in her eyes still irritated him. As if she had no sense of the actual danger she was in, even though she was in this state, literally bruised, battered, and bleeding. Now, coughing for breath. So, why did it feel like she was the one in control?

He let his knife fall to the floor as he unbuckled his belt, watching her eyes turn towards him, wide with something akin to terror - or was that anticipation? Had he become one of those lecherous swine who imagined they saw willingness in the eyes of a woman who wanted nothing more than to escape them? Had he really fallen to a point that he had begun to justify his actions?

He slid the belt out with one smooth action and, binding her wrists, turned her roughly on her stomach before he hung the buckle from a hook screwed into the wall. Her front was pressed roughly against the harsh surface of the wooden table and her arms were extended further than was comfortable, bound by the rough leather. From this angle, he could not see her face and that was certainly for the better.

“You asked for this, didn’t you, brat?” He placed one booted foot between her own black flats and pried her feet apart. His hands slipped under her skirt and found the curve of her bottom and kneaded roughly, his fingers greedy and bruising. The hair on the back of his neck rose in alarm when she moaned in response.

“Oi,” he responded, “What the hell?”

She bit her lip, not allowing another sound to escape her mouth, and he lifted a hand to flip up her skirt, tossing it carelessly over her back. She had, quite literally, asked for this. When he lifted a hand, the resounding slap echoed throughout the room. Her skin quickly flushed red, and knowing that he had not held back, would likely be bruised as well. She had asked him not to hold back. No illusions of mercy.

One resounding slap after another echoed throughout the room and could likely be heard in the common room as well. He wanted to punish her. For being so stupid. For coming here at all. For not just leaving when he had given her a chance to. By the tenth slap she could not take it anymore and a husky moan escaped her lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this,” his voice was dripping in disbelieving sarcasm. “Is it just some kind of shitty coincidence that this kind of shit turns you on?” Indeed, there was no denying it now. Her moans were proof enough of that, not to mention the fact that her panties were positively soaking. Did this crazy bitch have some kind of abuse kink?

Hooking a finger into her waistband he pulled her lacy black underwear down to her knees. “Tch, look how wet you are.” It sounded like a complaint and her face burned in response. “You’d almost think you wanted this.” When his fingers stroked her slit, she bucked her hips in response, chasing his touch, instantly wanting more.

“Oi,” he blinked at her, “Calm the fuck down, will you?” With a flick of his wrist, he unhooked the belt from the wall and brought her to her knees with a single kick at the inside of her knee. He held on to the belt with one hand and angled her head backwards with a firm grip on her hair with the other. When she lifted her eyes to his, they were dark with lust and he swallowed, realizing the situation had curiously grown out of his control. He had never seen a bloodstained face like that looking up at him with such desire. Tugging on the belt, he brought her forward as he regarded her through apathetic grey eyes.

He unzipped his trousers and pulled out his engorged length to her wide-eyed surprise. “Well, go on then,” he muttered coldly, with a curious edge to his voice, “Since you’re so fucking eager.”

She wasted no time in closing her bound hands around his length and long-lashed eyes fluttered elegantly shut as she brought her lips to his tip. She began with a chaste kiss before dragging her tongue over his slit lapping up the precum gathering there. She closed her lips around him, using her tongue to heighten the friction as she took him in as deeply as her gag reflex allowed. She bobbed her head back and forth, wanting to drive him to the brink as he had done with her. He closed his eyes, despite himself, enjoying her mouth on him more than he thought he would allow himself to. He stifled a moan rumbling to life in his chest as her warm, wet mouth worked magic on his erect member.

Why not? She was his assignment. She was willing. She was undeniably attractive. If she truly wanted him to have his way with her, then why the fuck not? She would have only herself to blame at the end of all this. Gripping her hair more tightly, he thrust into her mouth, more deeply than she had been willing to take him at first, but helpless to resist him all the same as he fucked her face, his length thrusting into her throat and her muffled sounds indecipherable. Were they protest or pleasure? Damned if he knew.

At length, he released her. Having made up his mind to make the most out of this encounter, he was far from done with her. His eyes roamed over her nearly naked form now, as if seeing her for the first time. The full swell of her breasts, the dip of her thin waist, the curve of her hips. The short, pleated black skirt that pretended to cover her. Her almond eyes, darkened with lust and her long, silky hair. She was a sight to behold.

He tugged her to her feet and threw her onto her stomach on the table before thrusting without so much as a warning into her wet and aching cavern. She released a throaty moan, one that was undeniably of pleasure. He could not for the life of him explain why that sound made him feel more guilty than protests would have. All the same, he reached up to knead her breasts as he thrust in and out of her, quickening his pace, eager to reach his own release. His ears perked as her moans intensified, growing louder and more insistent.

“Oh, more... Just like that, don’t stop...”

Was she hearing herself?

“Harder, Levi... hurt me, please...”

This was far from the words she was supposed to be saying. She was supposed to be cursing his existence. Wishing him a slow and painful death.

“Oi,” he hissed, slamming into her with increased force, “Shut the fuck up, will you?”

Her answer was another desperate groan, and with a frustrated groan of his own, he reached up to fill her mouth with two fingers. It was the fastest and most effective way to gag her. His conscience could not take her pretending to enjoy this. But he was equally as ill-prepared for the way she began sucking off his fingers. He was nearing his climax but literally every thing she did was infuriating him.

In the span of one thrust, he pulled out of her, flipped her over and reentered her without missing a beat. But was that a mistake? Now that he could look into her lust-filled eyes with his own frenzied, grey irises, he was sure she was not pretending. She seemed to be genuinely enjoying this. No matter, she would have time enough to regret it when it was over. For now... for now, he just wanted to reach that climax that was fast approaching.

If she could just keep her mouth shut for two minutes, that was all he needed. “Oh, Levi...” she whined. Having a complete stranger call his name that way sent shivers down his spine. It was unnatural. He closed his fingers around her throat again. He just needed her to shut up. For just one goddamn minute. Her large, expressive eyes fluttered closed and her terrible sounds stilled as he squeezed her airways closed as he slammed into her, faster now, harder, chasing the sensation he knew was close.

She came first, first convulsing from oxygen deprivation, then trembling from the intensity of her orgasm, her back arching off the table as her walls clenched around him, providing him with the last push he needed to reach that height. He squeezed his eyes shut as the sensation tore through him, leaving him breathless. With a low growl, he pulled out of her to spill his seed literally anywhere else. The last thing he needed was to father a child with a nameless nobody. He hovered over her still. His hands resting on either side of her. Catching his breath, both their chests heaving as they came down from their mutual high.

What had they just done? Could that truly have been considered non-consensual? Well, perhaps that would be what she decided it was, given a day or two to think it over. They stayed that way for a minute, catching their breaths. A smirk crossed her face, unbeknownst to him as he pressed his eyes shut, calming his racing heart.

At length, he drew back, and she pulled herself up to a seated position. She held her hands up to him expectantly and he wordlessly unbound them, before looping his belt back into his trousers, watching her out of the corner of his eye as she scanned the room for her clothing, only to see her note with a distant smile, that most of it was unusable. Foregoing the torn shirt and slit bra, she reached for her cardigan, wrapping it tightly around herself, using the belt to wrap it tightly closed as a makeshift shirt. She ran a hand through her hair, brushing it away from her face and Levi could only stare at her with awe.

She had, at some point wiped the blood from her nose, her face was still undeniably battered. Her arms and legs were severely bruised and yet- and yet – why the fuck did she look so content?

“You didn’t kiss me,” she voiced, lifting her eyes to his. Was that a complaint?

After everything else he had done, a kiss was the least he could offer her, wasn’t it? He stepped forward, taking hold of the back of her head gently. Here was something he didn’t do often and when he did, he only ever did it the way he wanted.

So, that was what he did now, angling his head to claim her lips. Kissing her slowly, deeply, intently – as if he meant it. There was only one right way to kiss someone. When he drew back, she released a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her soul.

“Thanks, Levi Ackerman,” she breathed.

As he buckled his belt again, he lifted stormy grey eyes to her, taking in her dazed expression. “You should get that head of yours checked out,” he commented, “Something isn’t right with you.”

She giggled at that comment from her perch on the table, kicking her legs back and forth cheerfully as she waited for him to finish dressing.

“There’s nothing to be so fucking cheerful about,” he reprimanded, “Look at your face.”

“It hurts,” she agreed, but with a smile on her face that disturbed him. Shaking his head, he took hold of her elbow and led her out of the room. The men in the common area fell silent at her battered appearance.

One of them released a low whistle, “You’ve outdone yourself, eh, man?”

Levi froze in his tracks, pausing to deliver a deadly glare over his shoulder. “I’m not quite done yet, though. Should I just take your tongue out next?”

The man blinked up at him before quickly turning his gaze back to the card game in front of him. That Levi was not one to be trifled with was well known among them, with exception of their leader.

He led her to the exit and tore open the door, he hesitated only for a moment, regarding her for a second. She had been beautiful, before he had “messed her up”. She still was, if you asked him. But for the entire duration of her short stay in their hideout, every thing she had said and did had only served to confuse him. He did not even know what he should say to her, if anything at all. She nodded in parting and turned to leave, and he let her go.

He supposed he would think back to her, in dark, contemplative nights. Wondering if he should perhaps have done this differently. How it would have been if he had not had to hurt her. He watched her disappear into the darkness before shaking his head and closing the door behind her. Whether he had actually fulfilled his assignment was anyone’s guess.

He moved past the common room to a hallway behind it. He needed to see Kenny. To get some actual work done and take his mind off of the ridiculous encounter. He followed the sound of screaming and found their boss with relative ease. A brown-haired man tied to a chair was screaming profanities as one of their men carved intricate designs into his flesh with a knife.

Kenny sat nearby, his feet propped up on another chair as he dragged on a cigarette. Catching sight of Levi, he coughed, and rasped, “Back, are you? You sure took your sweet time.”

Levi said nothing to this, nodding at the man instead, clearly the young man from the girl’s photograph. “Still nothing?” he asked, turning grey eyes on to Kenny. “Not yet,” Kenny commented, but turned towards the screaming man.

“Hey, that reminds me. You won’t believe who was just here.”

The dragging of the knife stopped, and the man caught his breath before turning incredulous eyes towards them.

“What a coincidence that she would come all this way looking for you, eh?” Kenny barked a laugh, “But don’t worry, Levi took good care of her, didn’t you, Levi?”

Levi did not respond, letting his silence serve as his answer.

“The fuck are you on about?” the man hissed, breathing raggedly from the hours of unabating pain.

“Why, your sister, of course,” Kenny remarked, bringing his cigarette back to his lips. “She was here looking for you.”

The man blinked at them incredulously before releasing a weak laugh, “I don’t have a sister, you sick fuckers! You bastards raped an innocent girl!”

Levi felt the blood in his veins run cold as Kenny turned towards him with a raised brow.

His mind raced - the way she had approached him, clung to his shirt, insisted he not let her off easy, the way she had looked at him, the way she had left without so much as asking about her brother again, and most of all ... Thanks, Levi Ackerman.

Where had she learned his last name? No one had used it in the short time she had been there. Levi turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, down the hallway, back through the common room, tearing open the door before bursting back out onto the stone-laid roads beyond. No matter where he turned, she was nowhere to be found.

Turning back, he froze at what he saw, and realizing what it meant, a sickening feeling crept over him. He felt used, exposed, and somehow violated. He felt sick to his stomach. He had been sent to force himself on her but, recalling how forward she had been with him, how she had insisted he finish what he started, which of the two of them had truly been taken advantage of?

When Kenny came out after him, ducking under the archway, he turned to look at what had caught Levi’s eye. His boss and uncle released a low, amused chuckle.

“Looks like she had a thing for you.”

“Well, fuck.”

“You catch her name?”

“Of course not.”

He blinked at the wall, at the red graffiti emblazoned on it.

“Thanks for a good time, Levi Ackerman.” And beside that, a ridiculous red heart.

He should have known she was fucking crazy.

#levi smut #levixoc #levixreader #tw noncon #tw dubcon #snk #levi ackerman

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kyber-queen · 3 years

Text

of silver and steel (wolffe x f!reader regency AU)

Summary: Reader is a mercenary hired to protect Duke!Wolffe without his knowledge. Shenanigans ensue.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: One (1) innuendo, mentions of weapons, an exorbitant amount of pride and prejudice-esque Female Gaze

Author’s Note: Hey guys! I wrote this MONTHS ago and found it sitting in my files and thought I'd just post it so I don't forget about it again. Lmk if you'd be interested in me writing any more of this!

***

Your reflection stared back at you from your vanity mirror. Your face was painted in the fashion of the time—cheeks flushed coral and lips stained a Persian rose-red. You smiled to yourself, smoothing your hands over your bodice—it was a deep forest green, with a bold golden line down the center. It was your personal favorite, and it would serve your purposes well that evening. One gloved hand lifted elegantly from your form to hover over the objects adorning your vanity. You settled over an elaborate golden-hilted dagger. You tested its weight in your hand before guiding its tip to the rim of your bodice, sliding the weapon into the pre-stitched gap in the fabric. Only the hilt remained visible, but against the golden embroidery, it appeared altogether unrecognizable as a dagger, taking the form of an ornate golden cross emblazoned across your chest. You hummed in approval.

You were to be attending a gala tonight, with the proceeds benefitting the construction of a second dormitory within the orphanage in the capitol, Coruscant. It was sure to be a rather raucous event—the more rambunctious of the younger nobility had accepted the invitation—but your mind was far from drinking and gallivanting. You were there for one explicit purpose: to protect the Duke. The Duke did not know this, of course. From what you had heard, Duke Wolffe Fett was a rather imposing figure, and this combined with his military service made him rather vehemently opposed to the notion that he was unable to protect himself. His brothers had solicited your services as a mercenary in secret after the Duke had experienced three separate attempts on his life, all of which he had managed to fend off on his own.

Your mission was quite straightforward—make the Duke’s acquaintance, and remain nearby should trouble arise. Nerves prickled at the tips of your fingers. While quite comfortable with a blade in your hand, you were much less well-versed in these hierarchical social scenarios. Your eyes flicked back up to your reflection in the mirror, your gaze centering in on the cross adorning your bodice. Your gloved fingertips dragged across the textured surface of the dagger hilt. You looked the part of the elaborately dressed nobility; all you needed to do now was match their mannerisms.

***

The ballroom hummed with energy. Conversation and music flowed freely through the air, the Ladies in their best gowns and the Lords in their sharply pressed suits intermingling in small groups. Wolffe strolled from cluster to cluster, making his necessary introductions but never remaining in one group too long. He preferred to remain on the fringes—he was here for the benefit of the orphanage only. The hedonistic tendencies of his contemporaries at these supposedly charitable gatherings often disagreed with his more refined sensibilities. Wolffe had hoped he could escape the evening without engaging in the drunken small talk he so despised, but an old family ally beckoning him forward was a clear indication otherwise.

Wolffe now stood stiffly amongst a small circle of aristocrats, his features set firmly as he made tense conversation. The socialites were already quite inebriated, and the donation ledger had long been forgotten in favor of partaking of the complimentary spirits.

Wolffe cleared his throat.

“Sir Roger, have you yet had the opportunity to tour the orphans’ asylum in Coruscant?”

The man looked at Wolffe incredulously.

“Why in the blazes would I do that?”

Wolffe’s eyes narrowed. The man, obviously too taken by liquor to remember his station, placed a casual hand on Wolffe’s shoulder.

“You must have learned by now, my good man, that events like these,” The man gestured to the throngs of aristocrats conversing in clusters about the ballroom, “Are merely a justification for drinking and merriment,”. The man punctuated his sentence with a particularly loud hiccup.

Repulsed by the man’s uncouth behavor, Wolffe took a step back. The man’s hand fell from his shoulder. Wolffe opened his mouth to respond, but the smooth lilt of your voice drew his attention.

“Perhaps, Sir, were you not so unfeeling toward the plight of the needy you would see the larger purpose of events like these,” you quoted. The man stepped back, stunned, effectively making room for your presence.

Wolffe turned to you, his eyes catching yours for a moment before turning back to the aristocrat.

“I find myself in agreement with the Lady. This ‘justification for drinking and merriment’ will provide the funds to house at least a hundred needy children,” Wolffe’s lip wrinkled slightly in disgust, and the man fell entirely silent. “Good day, Sir,”.

The man turned to make his exit, leaving you alone with the Duke. He watched the drunkard stumble away, shaking his head slightly before fixing his intense gaze on you. Before he could say a word, you extended a snifter of brandy in his direction. He accepted the drink, tilting his head slightly at the gesture.

“I’m glad we can agree, Sir…” You trailed off your sentence, waiting for the Duke to fill in the blank.

“Duke Wolffe Fett,” He offered.

You widened your eyes in feigned surprise.

“Your Grace,” You murmured, dropping into a curtsy.

You rose, and when you met his eyes you noticed his eyebrow was raised slightly. He was one of the highest-ranking noblemen in Coruscant—had you presented yourself as too oblivious?

The Duke sipped his drink as you reeled for something to say.

“It’s unusual for a man of your status to have such high regard for personal involvement in charitable contribution,”.

Wolffe glanced up from his drink, pausing to look you over.

“Is there a question in there or are you merely observing?”

His tone was difficult to read—you assumed this was an invitation to inquire more directly.

“Why exactly does a young Duke such as yourself harbor so much respect for the common people?”

Wolffe hummed.

“It is my duty as a ruler to defend and uplift my people. There is no honor in wasting away your days indulging in mindless drink and frivolity,”.

You nodded in assent, falling into what you hoped was a pleasant silence.

The Duke seemed content to stand wordlessly at your side, and you understood that the less you spoke the less of an opportunity you had to make a faux pas. Your eyes darted about the room—having made your introduction your mind now focused entirely on detecting any plausible threats. You glanced over to his brothers, Boost and Sinker. They appeared engaged in conversation, and you quickly turned your attention elsewhere. A man stepped in front of the string quartet, clinking his glass. You feigned attention, scanning the crowd as pieces of the man’s speech filtered in and out of audibility.

“…And with that, let the dancing begin!”

Wolffe rolled his eyes, taking another swig of his drink

You watched as several ladies scurried to the floor, eager to partner with the gentlemen that had made their way to the open space in the center of the room. You watched closely as the many pairs began to twirl in rhythm with the string quartet. It was more crowded on the dance floor—here, on the fringes, the Duke was exposed. Keeping him hidden and occupied among the many dancers would complicate the efforts of any potential assassins. Was it within a lady’s right to ask the Duke to dance?

“Sir, would you grant me the pleasure of accompanying me on the dance floor?”

Wolffe’s head whipped to your direction—he seemed tense. You glanced over your shoulder, wondering whether he had spotted someone behind you. Neglecting to observe the presence of any potential assailant, you turned back to the Duke and affixed him with your most charming smile.

“As you wish, my Lady,”.

He offered his elbow, and you placed your gloved hand over his lightly. You strolled in tandem to the dance floor, and at the next pause in music, you each took your place across from each other in the line of dancers. Your eyes locked on his. One of his eyes was golden-brown, gleaming in the candlelit ballroom. The other seemed to be tinted white, with a long vertical scar reaching from just above his brow to the apple of his cheek. He was quite handsome, you noted. His gaze was intense, never seeming to leave your face, even as you pressed your gloved palm against his to begin the dance. His hand was quite large, and you felt its heat through the thin silk of your glove. Your breath stuttered as he brought his other hand to your waist. He gripped you firmly, each individual fingertip making its presence known as they pressed into your bodice. You inhaled, bringing your attention back to the task at hand.

You placed your other hand at his upper arm. He wordlessly lifted your hand to his shoulder, his eyebrow quirking slightly as he began to lead you through the dance. You felt your cheeks grow warm.

The music grew livelier, and the Duke shifted both his hands to your waist. His thumb pressed against the dagger concealed in your bodice as he lifted you into the air. The metal pressed, cool and foreboding, into your stomach. You masked your shocked gasp with a breathless giggle as your feet once again contacted the ground.

You stumbled, stepping to the right instead of the left. The Duke’s hand dug into your waist, pulling you sharply to the correct direction, and by coincidence, closer into his chest. He was warm. You offered a quiet ‘thank you’ at his correction, and he nodded stiffly. You felt the flexion and tension of his shoulder muscles under your palm. He was strong, you noted. This combined with his previous corrections caused your cheeks to heat even more than you thought possible. Focus on the mission. The music ceased, and before you could speak, his hand was gripping your forearm and he was dragging you off the dance floor.

You made eye contact with Sinker and Boost, the latter giving you an inquisitive look as Wolffe led you away from the ballroom. You turned your wild gaze back to the Duke. His fingers tightened around your forearm, gripping you hard enough to leave a bruise. He led you down a hallway, flinging open the first door he saw and roughly pulling you inside.

“Sir, I—”

He yanked you around so your back flattened against his chest. One hand gripped your upper arm while the other splayed across your midriff, pressing down uncomfortably. Pressing the flat edge of your dagger into your stomach. He knew.

His voice rumbled from deep within his chest, his breath hot against the junction between your shoulder and your neck.

“I value candor quite highly—why exactly are you here?”

Your breath hitched, and the pressure on your abdomen increased. You remembered Boost and Sinker’s words—he mustn’t know of your arrangement.

“I don’t know what you mean, Sir, I—” You squirmed against his iron grasp as he cut you off.

“You are no actress, my Lady,”.

You cursed yourself silently. You had been so focused on securing the Duke’s safety you had forgotten to ensure your own. Your hand flew to the hilt of the dagger against your chest, but the Duke’s hand on your upper arm caught your wrist with almost inhuman speed.

“What are you here for? To kill me?” His voice was a snarl.

Adrenaline flooded through your veins, your heart racing.

You drove your heel into his insole, using his shock to wrench yourself from his grasp. You drew your dagger from your bodice with your free hand, your other wrist still encircled within his grip. You gasped for breath, instinctively preparing for a fight. As your mind caught up with your body, you recognized your position and lowered your dagger. Your agreement to secrecy wasn’t worth a life.

“To protect you,” you panted.

Wolffe scoffed, his intense glare centered on your face.

“Your brothers hired me—Sinker and Boost. Said there had been attempts on your life, that they wanted me to look after you,”.

Your eyes searched his, praying that he would believe you. The Duke was a fearsome opponent—if this escalated further, you couldn’t guarantee either of you would walk away injury-free.

The door flew open, Boost and Sinker stumbling into the room.

“Are you both alright? What happened?”

Wolffe’s shoulders fell, and his grip on your wrist loosened. Your hand dropped from his grasp. Recognizing that the situation had been diffused, you reinserted the dagger into your bodice.

“A slight misunderstanding on my part,” Wolffe offered to his brothers before turning to you, “I apologize, my Lady,”. He bowed slightly before offering you his arm.

His gaze rose from the floor to your eyes and he looked at you expectantly. You cocked your head, content to let him stew for a moment. The man did drag you by the wrist across the entire ballroom, after all. His eyes narrowed. You returned his intense gaze before smiling slightly when an unrecognizable emotion flashed across his features, pleased that you had managed to get under his skin.

You took his arm tentatively, and he led you back out to the ballroom.

***

Two weeks had passed since your attendance at the charity gala. Boost and Sinker, though initially concerned by the events of the evening, had maintained that you remain in the area should they require your services once more. Your payment from that night would cover your stay at the local inn twelve times over. The town was quaint—its center held a tavern, a church, a few scattered shops, as well as the inn at which you were staying. You had inquired as to where the Duke’s residence was on your second day in town, finding out from the barkeep that his estate lay a few miles from the town outskirts.

The barkeep had said it was a lovely piece of property. He himself had not had the pleasure of visiting, but he had heard tales of its rolling green hills, lush forests, and the clear brook that bubbled just on the edge of the terrain. While you acknowledged the appeal of the property, your mind was much more entranced by its rather solemn proprietor. Your admittedly dull days were spent deep in thought, poring over your final interactions before the evening had ended.

Wolffe led you back into the ballroom, back to the deserted corner in which you two had been conversing before you had suggested some dancing to lighten the mood.

He motioned to a table with his head, pulling out a chair for you to sit in before taking a seat himself.

His eyes, intense and intoxicating, seemed to bore right through your soul. It was unsettling, yet something about his gaze resonated deep within your chest. Your cheeks flushed, against your will. You took another cursory glance about the room, ensuring that no suspicious figures had made themselves known.

“So, you’re a mercenary?”

Your eyes flashed back to the Duke, a slight smile creeping across your face. You nodded.

“I trained with a well-respected swordsman for quite a few years. Took a few odd jobs here and there as a sellsword, but my ‘unusual’ position made me much more suited for espionage. People rarely notice an extra woman in the household—makes it easier to slip in, do what needs to be done, and slip out,”.

Wolffe’s gaze lingered on your face.

“I find it hard to believe that no one would notice you,”

You snorted, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair. The Duke raised an eyebrow in response. Your behavior could hardly be described as refined—despite your earlier attempts—yet something about your casual air drew Wolffe in more than he’d like to admit.

“Tonight was a one-off. Typically, I’m much more discreet,”.

Wolffe shook his head with a barely-there smile.

“Oh, I’m sure,”.

A knock at the door of your room drew you from your recollections. You grabbed the handle of your dagger from the nightstand before peeking into the door’s spyhole. A courier stood, impatiently shifting from foot to foot, with a letter in hand. You opened the door.

“From Duke Fett,” the courier spoke, before darting off to deliver his next letter. Ensuring that no one had followed the boy to the inn, you closed the door behind you and tore open the letter.

It had been closed by an elaborate red wax seal, and you rolled your eyes before dropping the envelope to the ground. Typical nobility.

You scanned the letter quickly, noting the elegant handwriting marking the page while pacing the floor. It was a dinner invitation. You gulped.

Your experience with the nation’s nobility was admittedly quite limited, and you dreaded making yet another grave social error. Still, the Duke intrigued you, and anything was better than holing up in this godforsaken inn for yet another evening. You searched for your quill to pen a reply, but on a second reading of the letter, you noticed that the author had made no mention of an RSVP. The Duke had simply stated his wish for your presence at dinner. You assumed that he was not a man used to the denial of such wishes. You placed your quill back into its case, and readied a gown for the evening ahead.

***

A carriage was at your door three hours later. You took one last glance in the mirror—your gown was a deep blue, with a concealed pocket hidden within its skirt. Your dagger rested comfortably against your hip. You turned away from your reflection to meet the footman at the door. He helped you into the carriage before taking his seat at its front. You watched as the town slowly faded from view, little buildings being replaced by the moor surrounding the town. Low-lying shrubbery and taller grasses swayed in the wind, flashes of purple and green arraying the tawny scenery. You spotted a swatch of trees in the distance. The barkeep had mentioned something about a forest, right? That must be the edge of the Duke’s estate.

The carriage rumbled along the road, until the well-kept path grew over with the same grasses blanketing the moor. You furrowed your brow. Were you in the right place? Your hand travelled to the dagger at your hip. One could never be too careful, you reasoned.

The carriage stopped abruptly, nearly shaking you from your seat. Before you stood a large iron gate, flanked on both sides by tall evergreens. The footman stepped off the carriage to open the gate, its doors swinging open to reveal a wide cobblestone path. The horses’ hooves clacked rhythmically against the stone. Your eyes traced the path, following it to where it met its end and widening at what you saw.

Fett Manor was, quite simply, breathtaking. Dark grey stone, blanketed in ivy, rose up tall from the well-maintained gardens. Candles flickered in the many windows, giving the manor a gentle glow as it imposed upon the dusk-reddened sky. The carriage stopped at the crest of the U-shaped drive. You looked out at the tall oak doors, tentatively stepping out of the carriage and refusing the footman’s aid.

You marched up the front steps, tapping your knuckles gently at the door. You glanced over your shoulder at the footman, and to your surprise, he was already gone. The clacking of the horses’ hooves was still audible—the footman must have headed back to the livery stable.

The large doors swung open smoothly, and you were greeted by the sight of a kind-faced elderly woman. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her simple dress indicated that she was part of the staff. You offered a gentle smile.

You introduced yourself, dropping into a deep curtsy. The woman gave a small chuckle.

“There’s no need for that, dearie. I’m just the housekeeper,”.

Your cheeks heated as you rose from your curtsy.

The woman motioned for you to enter. You stepped inside tentatively, observing the high ceiling and grand staircase. The floors and stairs were solid and wooden, and the décor was elegant if not a bit dated. The manor seemed to walk the line between homey and formal. In your time as a mercenary, you had learned that a person’s surroundings could tell you much about their character. What did this tell you about the Duke?

“This way,” the woman spoke, leading you through the great room and into the dining room.

Boost and Sinker were already seated at the long oaken able, grinning when they saw you enter.

“Good evening, gentlemen,”.

The formality seemed to drip from your tone. Were you alone, you might have laughed at the pretense.

They offered you a greeting in response, before diving into the meat of the conversation.

“My lady, before our brother arrives, we have to ask you something,” Boost stated.

“Ask away,” you smiled.

“I’m sure the inn is quite nice, but would you consider staying at the estate? Just last week, the gardener spotted someone attempting to enter the premises through the back gate. Wolffe dealt with em’, but he’s been on edge, lately. Might do him good to know he’s not the only one on the lookout all the time,”.

Sinker exchanged a look with his brother.

Fett’s estate was certainly preferable to your rather cramped room at the inn, and if nothing else, you could spend your days wandering the moors instead of your one-room apartment.

“I accept,”.

“Accept what?”

You spun in your seat to face the Duke. He rolled his overcoat off his shoulders and took a seat at the head of the table, directly opposite you.

“We have a new houseguest, Wolffe,” Sinker grinned.

Wolffe glanced incredulously at Boost, as if to check whether or not he had heard his brother correctly. Boost shrugged as Wolffe settled into his seat at the head of the table.

“She’s gonna stay in one of the spare rooms so she can keep an eye out for you—maybe you can get some real sleep for once,” Boost said with a grin.

Wolffe nodded slowly.

“Alright,” he turned to address the housekeeper, who stood patiently in the doorway. “Mrs. Nu, would you mind preparing a room for our guest?”

The woman nodded swiftly before exiting the room with a twirl of her skirt, leaving you alone with the Duke and his two brothers.

“So you’re an assassin, right? Does that mean you always carry a weapon—”

The Duke cleared his throat rather loudly, interrupting Sinker’s stream of questions.

“Was your stay in town pleasant, my lady?”

You nodded.

“Very much so, your grace. I’d like to thank you for your invitation to dinner this evening, as well,”.

A sommelier materialized from behind you, filling your glass half-full with a dark red liquid.

“Mulberry wine,” Boost clarified. “The cook makes it himself in the summertime,”.

You uttered a quiet ‘thank you’ to the sommelier before taking a sip. It was sweet, the flavor of summer-ripened berries fresh and warm on your tongue. You set the glass back down on the sturdy oak table, taking a moment to admire its fine craftsmanship. Your eyes flicked back up to the Duke, whose gaze met yours as he raised his own glass to his lips. His accented voice cut the silence.

“Did you find time to visit the bookseller while in town? I’m told he has a new translation of The Odyssey in stock,”.

You shook your head.

“I’m afraid I didn’t. Are you quite partial to Homer’s works, sir?”

“I am, my lady,”.

You grinned.

“I myself prefer Virgil, but I cannot cast blame on your respect for the Blind Poet,”.

Wolffe hummed in approval as your eyes darted over to his brothers, who had been watching your exchange with increasing interest. Sinker cleared his throat.

“Are you fond of riding, my lady? I’m sure the Duke would be pleased to have you accompany him," Sinker paused, blinked, and in an instant turned as red as the Manor's garden roses. "--on his journey into town, that is. You could collect your belongings from the inn, as well,”.

Boost snorted as Wolffe choked on his drink. Your eyes widened as you absorbed what you hoped was an accidental innuendo. Your face rivaled Sinker’s in redness. Your mind reeled for a response, hoping to smooth over the embarrassment.

“I—I do have some experience on horseback. I’d like to visit the bookseller—if the Duke doesn’t mind the company, of course,”.

Your gaze traveled back to the Duke’s face.

“I’d be much delighted, my lady,”.

You smiled lightly. It was settled.

***

Your first night spent in Fett Manor was nothing if not memorable. After a rich dinner rife with conversation, you had been lead by Mrs. Nu to one of the most luxurious rooms you had seen in your life. A silk nightdress rested across the fine linen bedspread.

“I figured it would be more comfortable to sleep in than your corset, dearie,” Mrs. Nu had said.

Comfortable had been an understatement. You woke up late in the morning feeling more well-rested than you had been in years.

You tugged the down comforter up to your chin and extended your legs under the covers with a sigh. Light filtered in through the window, covering the room in a golden haze. You needed to get up.

You flipped back the covers with an exaggerated sigh, your bare feet meeting the cold wooden floor. You scooped up your gown, which you had rested carefully on a rather stately chair in the corner of the room. Your fingers coasted over the hem of your nightdress—you made a mental note to thank Mrs. Nu for lending it to you.

Once you had redonned your significantly less comfortable gown, you opened the door to your room and strolled down the spiral staircase to the great room.

The house felt surprisingly empty—a glance at the clock told you it was later than you had previously thought. Still, unease prickled at your spine. You peeked around the corner into the kitchen—it was empty, save for a plate of scones that had been left out from breakfast. You took one in your hand, biting into it as you continued your search.

A clang from outside the manor caught your attention. You hastily made your way to the side door, flinging it open with one hand as your other curled around the dagger in your dress. Your scone fell to the floor, forgotten.

Your lips parted in astonishment. The door had opened to reveal the Duke, with an elaborate silver spear in hand. His broad chest rose up and down as he spun the weapon with surprising speed and grace for a man of his size. Your eyes traced the strong lines of his arms, following all the way down to where his hands wrapped tightly around the spear. You drew in a sharp breath.

The Duke turned abruptly, lowering the weapon as recognition crossed his features.

“I apologize for the interruption, your grace,” you stuttered out, sheathing your dagger back into your skirt.

“It’s alright, my lady,” Wolffe assured. He rested the spear against the garden wall. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you,”. Your eyes danced back over to the spear. “An unconventional choice of weapon,” you noted.

The Duke’s eyes followed your gaze over to the spear before locking back on your face.

“I am a man of unconventional tastes,” he replied.

You nodded politely. He intrigued you––his skill with a weapon was undeniable. You had assumed you’d be able to hold your own against him in a fight before, but his use of the spear certainly changed the game. You made up your mind to review defensive tactics against spears once you returned from the bookseller. Wolffe posed no iminent danger to you, but he did present himself as a rather attractive sparring partner. You grinned slightly.

Wolffe turned back around to his spear, wiping off the point and grip with a silk cloth before making his way to the door. You followed, nearly tripping over a rosebush as your skirt caught on its thorns. His hand came to your shoulder instinctively. You inhaled sharply.

“I—I’ll have the stable boy ready the horses,” he murmured. He left your side in a swirl of disturbed air, the slam of the door to his study cutting through the morning silence. You huffed. You supposed his abruptness was typical for his demeanor and not a reaction to some perceived slight against him. At least you’d have time to eat.

You plucked another scone from the kitchen counter. You strolled over to the window near the wash basin, looking out the window to examine the property. Just behind the glass lay the garden where the Duke had practiced his spear-wielding. Further on, you saw a well-manicured lawn, and even further––at the base of the hill––trees sprung up at the lawn’s border. The forest stretched as far as you could see, though in between the thick evergreen branches you were certain you spied a glimpse of running water. That must have been the brook the barkeep had talked about.

Satisfied with your cursory examination of the terrain, you turned back around to face the kitchen, leaning comfortably against the countertop. To your left was an array of fine china, and to your right sat a full shelf of exotic spices. You meandered over to the spice rack, selecting a small jar of saffron and allowing the weight of the glass to roll across your palm. That small jar was worth as much as three weeks of your income. Despite the luxury he lived in, you knew the Duke was far from selfish. After the charity gala, you had examined the donor breakdown. Wolffe had contributed enough to singlehandedly sustain the orphanage for at least a year. Your brows furrowed. Typically, you were quick to figure out these old-money types, but the Duke seemed to be a conundrum. He was quiet, but made use of the words he spoke. Intelligent, with a military background—you suspected that was how he obtained his scar. He was wealthy, but if he didn’t give so much to charity, he’d surely be one of the richest men in Coruscant—aside from the king, of course. As you returned the saffron to the spice rack, your fingers caught on a small leather-bound notebook. You pried it out from between the thyme and oregano, flipping back the cover to reveal pages of recipes in neat, structured print. You noticed Wolffe’s name under one of the more recent ones. You chucked to yourself—he seemed to be full of surprises.

Another glance out the window revealed two horses––one black and one white––stationed just outside the garden walls. You darted out of the kitchen to the front door, almost startled when the Duke emerged silently from his study to walk at your side.

“Do you ride side-saddle, my lady?”

“I do,” you offered, curtsying slightly as he opened the heavy oak door and motioned for you to exit.

The white horse had already been fitted with an elaborate leather saddle, nicer than anything you had ridden on in your life. Hell, you rode bareback most of the time. You turned to Wolffe, whose lips curved into the beginnings of a grin. You smiled in return.

“Can I—” you motioned to the horse.

“Be my guest,” he replied.

***

Taglist: @peacefulwizardfox @nelba @marvel-starwars-nerd @a-lil-perspective

#commander wolffe x you #commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #clone trooper boost #clone trooper sinker #clone trooper x reader

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thetravelerwrites · 3 years

Text

Rupert and Sanoh (Lemon)

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Kobold/Male Human, Female Half-Elf/Male Tielfling Additional Tags: Exophilia, Tiefling, Elf, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons, Kobold, Half-Elf Content Warning: Sex, Rough Sex, Biting, Marking, Group Sex, Dom/Sub, Breath Play Words: 3349

A story with DuMont’s friends, Rupert and Sanoh! Rupert and Sanoh are having sexy fun in a bath when Kharis and DuMont enter the room. Not willing to stop, they try to be stealthy. It doesn't work. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler’s Masterlist

“Why do wererats always have to live in sewers?” Kharis grumped. “Every time we get contracted to kill rodents of any kind, I just know we’re going to have to go somewhere gross.”

Kharis, DuMont, Rupert, Sanoh, and Norman all pulled themselves out of the sewers of one of the larger towns west of the capitol. People had been going missing, and the mayor of the town realized that the rats in town were multiplying at an incredible rate, even with preventative measures. It was a clear indication that wererats were responsible.

“It wasn’t all that bad,” Sanoh said. “The humidity down there was good for my scales. They’re so itchy.”

“It may have been good for your scales, but it definitely wasn’t good for your clothes,” Kharis remarked. “That stink isn’t coming out. You might as well burn that shit.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Sanoh said with a sigh. Her dancer’s outfit, which she always wore regardless of the situation, was torn and it’s bright red hue was now dark brown. “I really liked this one, too.”

Rupert seemed even more miserable that Kharis. “Can we please find a bathhouse? I haven’t been this filthy in years.”

“You’re one to talk, look at poor DuMont!” Kharis said, pointing at her giant lover. DuMont, the mountain of a tiefling that he was, was splattered head to toe in muck and grime and rat guts. His large church-bell bludgeon that he had slung over his shoulder was absolutely caked in blood and gore. “He’s not even complaining!”

“That’s because he doesn’t know how to complain,” Sanoh said. “He takes the phrase ‘roll with the punches’ far too literally.”

“Is that wrong?” DuMont asked, his cavernously deep voice echoing through the city streets, causing many who weren’t already staring at the group to spin in surprise.

“Of course not, love,” Kharis said, patting his arm as he walked on all fours. “I much prefer silent temperance to someone who does nothing but complain.” She looked pointedly at Rupert.

“Norman complains more than I do!” Rupert retorted.

“I haven’t said a word!” Norman protested. “Don’t pick on me because you’re a whiner.”

“Oh, my god, everyone shut up!” Sanoh said, rubbing her forehead. “There’s a bathhouse one block over, so will you all just please stop bitching.”

“I’m not bitching,” DuMont said in an undertone. “But I am hungry.”

“I’ll order you a rack of lamb and a sack of potatoes when we get to the inn, hon,” Kharis said. “Get cleaned up first. You don’t want to eat when you’re that dirty or you’ll get sick.”

“I’ve never been sick.” DuMont countered.

“Even still, you should be clean…er. And I don’t want you to drop pieces of food in the bath, either. It’ll feel like we’re all sitting in a stew.”

“You weirdos can sit in the stew, I’m getting a private bath,” Norman said.

“Why do you do that?” Rupert asked. “You always get your own instead of bathing with us, even though private baths are so much more expensive. It’s no wonder why you never have any money.”

“I’m not trying to get head by a paid companion in front of you lot,” He said sniffily.

“Suit yourself, but I bet that’d be fun to watch,” Kharis said playfully.

Norman snorted. “You would think that, you pervert.”

“You’ve become so shy since we started traveling, Norman,” Kharis said. “You used to be a nice, relatable pervert, just like the rest of us.”

“Maybe being with you people has made me see the error in my ways,” Norman remarked.

“Pssh, there isn’t anything wrong with being a pervert. Besides, I think DuMont balances me out. He can be such a prude sometimes.”

“I imagine being raised by a priest in a church will have that effect on a person,” Sanoh said.

“You are a pervert, Kharis,” DuMont said, as if in agreement with Norman.

“Does me being a pervert bother you?” Kharis asked him, grinning.

He looked at her and cocked his head as he walked, considering her, looking like a massively oversized dog, as he always did when thinking.

“No,” He said eventually.

“See? He likes it.”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” He said. His face wasn’t built to smile, but Rupert thought he could hear laughter in his voice, and Rupert grinned.

“We would be the ones to pick brazen, sex-crazed women, wouldn’t be, big guy?” Rupert said, smacking DuMont’s broad shoulder in solidarity.

DuMont grunted in a way that could have been mistaken for a chuckle.

DuMont had been very taciturn since they had met him nearly a year ago, but his personality was slowly beginning to emerge as the five of them spent more time together on the road, doing jobs. Rupert was glad he finally felt comfortable enough with the group to try joking with them.

The bathhouse came into view shortly afterward. It catered to adventuring sorts, so it wasn’t necessarily a high-end place, and the five of them tended to frequent it often. The staff there barely batted an eye at DuMont anymore. The laundresses despised the sight of them, however, since they always arrived splattered with all manner of filth, much of which was hard to wash out.

“Hey, can we get the big tub, please?” Sanoh called out as soon as they entered the place. “We’ll pay extra to reserve the whole thing, though I doubt many people will want to come in after us.”

The woman at the front desk curled up her lip at them as they entered, but said, “Yes, of course. You’re usual packages?”

“Yes,” Norman said. “Private room for me, please. Do you have any companions available?”

“Derek is available.”

“Ugh, no, not him. What about Vincent?”

“Vincent is away visiting family. Connor?”

Norman nodded. “Connor will do. Just make sure he brings the right massage oils this time.”

“That costs extra,” The woman reminded him.

“I’m aware,” Normal said, starting toward the private baths.

“I’m beginning to think Norman is too fancy for us,” Sanoh said. “We can’t afford him.” She walked up to the counter. “Do you have any scale oil?”

“We don’t have any specifically for scales, but there are plenty for skin and hair.”

“Hmm…” Sanoh said. “Give me the hair oil, then. It tends to be thicker. What scents have you got?”

Kharis snorted. “Come on, let’s get these clothes off before they stick to us. She may be at this for a while.”

Dumont and Rupert followed her to one of the larger public baths, one with a door, and closed it behind them. Now that they had been together for a long time, they were less shy about bathing together as they had been. Even DuMont had stopped blushing when he saw them all nude in the same bath.

“Kharis, I’m hungry,” DuMont said insistently. The only time DuMont ever seemed to get grumpy was when he needed a meal.

“Let me at least scrub you down once and we’ll go get some food,” She told him, pushing him into the bath still wearing his loincloth. The robes and towels weren’t nearly large enough to cover him, so they just had taken to washing him in the bath, clothes and all. They usually did him first, drained the bath, and refilled it for the rest of them.

Once Rupert helped Kharis give DuMont a once over, getting him clean enough to go into the tavern, they left to get something to eat and Rupert and Sanoh waited for the tub to be refilled. When that was done, the fresh water was nice and hot, and Sanoh arrived with her purchased oils. They both stripped down and got in with a satisfied sigh.

“Oh, gods, this is nice,” Sanoh said.

“Mmm,” Rupert agreed. “I think this is the first time in a month that my shoulders have relaxed.”

“My scales were starting to get so brittle. Will you get my scale brush and scrub the oils into my back? I can feel them flaking.”

“Sure, just a second,” He said, getting out with a splash and grabbing her back. She had a special boars-hair brush she used to clean and sharpen her scales and horns. Her favorite thing in the world was laying out and letting him groom her tiny body all over. It often got her in a frisky mood.

Sure enough, after only scrubbing her back for fifteen minutes, she started to wiggle in his lap, rutting her hips backward into him. He began to harden immediately. Sanoh seemed to revel in getting him aroused in dangerously public places, but it always caused Rupert anxiety.

“What are you doing?” Rupert said. “Kharis and DuMont will be back any minute.”

“Then let’s be quick,” She said, looking back at him over her shoulder.

She lifted up in the water and slowly sank her swollen lips down onto him. He gripped her hips and groaned, his head falling back, trying to keep his voice down. There really was no arguing when she was in a mood like this. He began to thrust up into her, sloshing the water around them.

She laughed breathlessly. “Good boy.” She thrust back into him as he moved inside her. Before long, he picked her up and lay her over the side of the bath, slamming himself into her hard enough to make her thighs ripple. She began to moan loudly.

“Shh!” He hissed. “You’re going to get us thrown out.”

“But it feels so good,” She whimpered. “Norman has sex in the baths all the time, don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t make me gag you,” He said, panting.

“You can try,” She said, laughing, before crying out against the tile. He put his hand over her mouth, but she bit him. He let go, inspecting his hand, and when he found she hadn’t broken the skin, he instead grabbed her throat, squeezing.

“Oh, fuck,” She wheezed, her eyes going glassy. As bossy as she was, she loved it when he was rough and took charge.

“Shut up!” He snarled in her ear. “You started it. Be quiet and take it.”

“I will,” She simpered, and he squeezed harder.

“I said, shut up!” He slammed hard into her, and she squeaked against his grip on her neck, her body trembling in excitement. She came suddenly, gushing down her legs, but he didn’t relent, crushing his body against hers, breathing down her neck and spine, moving at a frenzied pace.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” He said through his gritted teeth. “Stand still, don’t fucking move.”

Before he got the chance, however, he heard the far door open and Kharis’s voice drift through.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, pulling out suddenly and ducking under the water to hide himself. His cock was throbbing with the unfulfilled promise of climax, but there was little he could do about it now. He was just going to have to sit there and suffer in silence.

Until Sanoh sat back down onto him, spearing him inside her, her inner walls still quivering from the orgasm.

“Now what are you doing?!” He asked frantically.

“Just act natural,” She replied in an undertone.

“They’re going to know!”

“Not if you don’t make a big deal about it! Lay your head back and pretend you’re sleeping!

“Sanoh!”

“Just do it!”

Rupert lay his head back against the tile on the edge of the bath with Sanoh in his lap just as Kharis and DuMont re-entered the bathing area, stripping down to join them.

“Well, DuMont cleaned out the tavern, so if you want food, you’re going to have to find a vendor somewhere,” Kharis said.

“Not surprising,” Sanoh said, stealthily riding Rupert’s cock under the water, pretending to be washing her arms to cover the movement.

“What’s with him?” Kharis asked, nodding at Rupert.

“He conked out almost immediately after you left. I’m just keeping his lap warm,” She said smoothly.

Kharis snorted and said, “I wish I could fall asleep as easily as he can. DuMont’s like that too,” She reclined on the large red tiefling. “He can fall asleep mid-sentence.”

“A gift and a curse,” Sanoh said in agreement. She squeezed Rupert’s length with her inner muscles, and it took all his effort not to grunt or move. He dug his fingers into the skin of her hips as a warning. Sanoh snorted. She moved under the pretense of adjusting herself and nearly made Rupert jump out of his skin with how deep she’d push him into her. He couldn’t help but make a small sound.

Kharis noticed. “What are you doing?” She asked Sanoh, her eyes narrowing.

“What are you talking about?” Sanoh asked innocently.

Kharis gave Sanoh a sardonic look. “You don’t have to pretend to be asleep anymore, Rupert, I know what’s going on. I’m a pervert, after all.”

Rupert sighed and lifted his head. “The jig is up, I guess. Sanoh, hop off.”

“I didn’t say you had to stop,” Kharis said. “Far be it from me to interrupt your fun.”

“What about DuMont?” Rupert asked skeptically.

“What about him?” Kharis replied, reaching over in the water and placing her hand in DuMont’s lap.

“Wha…” DuMont said, startled. “What are you doing?”

“Having fun,” Kharis said. “Don’t you want to have fun?”

“But…” He looked at Sanoh and Rupert.

“They’re already having fun,” Kharis said. “They started before us.”

“They are?” DuMont asked in surprise, squinting at the pair.

As if to answer, Sanoh let Rupert’s organ fall out of her and spun in Rupert’s lap. Now that she didn’t have to worry about stealthing, she rocked on him and moaned.

“Oh,” DuMont replied, and then sucked in his breath when Kharis squeezed him.

“Are you okay with this, buddy?” Rupert asked over Sanoh’s shoulder, though he was beginning to lose speech. “We’ll stop if you aren’t comfortable with it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sanoh said with a snort.

“We’ll stop if you aren’t comfortable, DuMont,” Rupert repeated, giving Sanoh a warning look. Sanoh rolled her eyes and shrugged.

“I’m fine, it’s okay,” DuMont replied, playing with Kharis’s hair and she fondled him under the water.

“See? He’s fine, don’t be such a baby,” Sanoh said, pushing him into her deeper. He grunted and stopped speaking.

Kharis held her breath and ducked her head under water, and DuMont tensed and groaned, his hands balling into fists on the side of the tub. From then on, there was little talk, just moans, grunts, groans, and breathy whimpering.

Kharis came up and went to the edge of the bath, bending over and presenting her rear. DuMont followed her and knelt down, pressing his cock into her and thrusting in hard, pushing her forward and down onto the tile. She laughed breathlessly.

“That looks like fun,” Sanoh said, going over to bend over next to Kharis, wiggling her butt at Rupert and moving her tail out of the way, so he could see her dripping between her legs. Rupert followed DuMont and rammed back into her, thrusting fast and hard.

“Wanna see something really fun?” Sanoh said to Kharis. Kharis nodded, and Sanoh leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.

The reaction was instantaneous. Rupert grabbed Sanoh by the throat again and pulled her up against his body.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, his voice hard and angry. He sped up, fucking her roughly as he held her in place. “You belong to me. Don’t you dare do that again without my permission.”

Sanoh’s face went slack and she nodded, whimpering, completely at his mercy.

DuMont’s reaction was also immediate. He grabbed Kharis up and vaulted out of the bath, throwing her to the floor. He pinned down her arms and legs and put his face inches from hers. He didn’t say anything, but a low, guttural snarl issued from his throat, his brows furrowed as he stared at her with the intensity of a predator looking at prey.

“What’s the matter, big guy?” She said with a grin. “Are you jealous?”

“Mine,” He growled lowly, almost indistinguishable from the threatening, thunderous rumble of his voice.

“Prove it,” She challenged.

He opened his mouth and sank his front canine teeth into her shoulder, drawing blood. He thrust himself back into her without letting go, his jaws locked, and he lifted her off the ground and just railed her.

There was no hope of keeping their voices down now. If they got kicked out, they got kicked out. Sanoh and Kharis screamed, shouted, howled, and swore in pleasure as their lovers used their bodies to climax.

At some point, there was a knock on the door.

“Is everything okay?”

“Go away!” Sanoh and Kharis shouted in unison.

Kharis and Sanoh came several times before the boys were done with them. While Kharis had as much stamina as DuMont did and was just as active, at some point Sanoh’s legs gave out and she simply lay there on the floor in a perpetual orgasm trance as Rupert pumped her full of his warmth and kept going like a machine, finally collapsing on top of her, breathing as if he’d run five miles in a minute.

DuMont was the last to reach his peak, gushing into Kharis, his seed pooching her stomach and dripping out of her, down his legs, and splattering onto the floor. For a solid minute, the room was quiet, safe for a lot of heavy breathing.

Finally, as they all caught their breath, the re-entered the bath to wash each other.

“Kharis, you’re bleeding,” Sanoh said, pointing. There was a very large bite in her shoulder, and it was rather deep.

“Oh,” DuMont said, flustered by worry. “I… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, big guy,” She reassured him. “I wanted you to do it. It’s proof.”

“Proof?” He echoed, his brow furrowed.

“That I belong to you,” She said simply. “Help me wash it.”

As rough as DuMont had been, his gentleness in tending the wound was a mirror opposite. Rupert and Sanoh sat cuddled together and watched fondly as DuMont lovingly treated and bandaged Kharis’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, DuMont,” Rupert said. “Sanoh marked me, too.” He turned and showed DuMont a bite on his left shoulder blade. “And Sanoh’s bites can be venomous. I was sick for a week.”

“I said I was sorry,” She said reproachfully. “It was the heat of the moment, I couldn’t help it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He said, hugging her in close and kissing her forehead.

“Does it hurt?” DuMont asked Kharis.

“Not really,” She said. “I’m sure it will tomorrow when the sex high has worn off, but I feel great right now. And it’ll scar up nicely, I think.”

“I’m sorry!” DuMont said, hiding his face.

“Honey, it’s okay!” She said, pulling his hands down. “I like it! It lets everyone who sees it know that I’m yours. Don’t you want people to know that you and I are in love?”

“Well… yes…” He said, frowning.

“There, see? It’s all fine.” She went up and hugged his neck. “Don’t fuss so much. I’m fine.”

He pulled her back and fixed her with a glare. “No kissing other people.”

She grinned at him. “I won’t, I promise. It was just an experiment.” She winked at Sanoh, who stuck her tongue between her teeth as she smirked. “And I’d say it was successful.”

DuMont grumbled. “I didn’t like it.”

She patted his face and kissed his exposed jaw. “I won’t do it again.”

“Okay,” He said, seemingly satisfied, and he pulled her into an embrace, careful of her shoulder.

The wound healed up really quickly, and Kharis took to wearing asymmetrical shirts, so that she could show it off. Most assumed that it was a grievous injury from a wild beast, and Kharis would laugh and say that was partly right.

Sanoh and Rupert didn’t engage in sex around the two of them again, but it was definitely something they kept in the back of their mind. For a rainy day, maybe.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience!To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#D&D Fanfiction #Tiefling #Kobold #Half-Elf

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

🤬 | seokjin

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ frenemy!seokjin ft. e2l and the magnificent get-along sweater | 2K words → a/n: this is dedicated to my homie @jincherie who has been, as they say, wiping her ass everyday only to shit again. i can’t really do much to actually alleviate your circumstances except maybe making you smile, so i hope this can be your tiny ray of sunshine amidst the crap. this fic literally makes no sense because i wrote this within one hour so i’m sorry but pls know that ilysm!!

“Where’d you even fucking get this abomination?” you growl, struggling fruitlessly against the coarse fabric. In your fidgeting, your elbow knocks into Seokjin’s broad chest, causing more damage to your weak joints than anything. Even so, Seokjin grunts overdramatically, stepping on your toes in retaliation.

“Yoongi-chi, you know that I love you very much—” Seokjin seethes, his teeth clenched almost painfully as he fights to restrain himself from ripping the sweater in half, a la Hulk style. “—but I will not hesitate to stab you once I get out of here.”

“Not my fault that you both are acting like a bunch of toddlers,” Yoongi snorts, hip jutted out in contempt like the homosexual that he is. “And to answer your other question, I bought that sweater online after your last fight, when you two were literally wrestling on the kitchen counter. I didn’t know whether I walked into some intense BDSM play or a WWE ring.”

“You bought a fucking get-along sweater for us? What are you, some sort of Christian camp counselor?” you growl, kicking your legs out in an attempt to hit him. The slimy twink bastard jumps away gracefully, landing onto the loveseat opposite the couch that you were sitting on. He crosses his legs, opening his arms wide when your traitorous cat jumps onto his lap, looking to all the world like a terrible Bond villain from the 80s.

“If I was Christian, I would not put the two of you into a sweater together,” Yoongi says. He strokes your cat, who purrs loudly before pointing a contemptuous glare back at you, as if she was enjoying your torture too. Dumb cat. You never liked Miko anyway.

Yoongi continues, “Anyone would two eyes knows that you both are just one brawl away from fucking each other into the next dimension. Lord knows that your sexual tension could power the entire city.”

It’s Seokjin’s turn to snort, who has been relatively quiet in comparison to you. He’s also less fidgety, but that might be because he at least has the advantage and comfort of occupying 90% of the sweater space due to his oceanic shoulders. You once described him as “horizontally imbalanced,” which he did not find slightly amusing.

“I would rather place my balls into a panini press and feed them to Miko than to ever fuck Y/N,” Seokjin fake-gags, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. “It would be less hot for me to actually grill my penis than for me to sink into her hell-ish cunt. I swear, you could bake bread in there with how much yeast has accumulated from—“

You headbutt his chin before he can finish, squawking indignantly. The satisfying sound of his teeth clacking together in pain is momentary but worthwhile. “Excuse you, but it’d be an honor to fuck me! I’ve got that S-tier pussy! If my pussy was in a gacha game, people would spend thousands of dollars just to roll for my mystical coochie!”

Yoongi smirks. “So you admit that you do want Seokjin to fuck you!”

“What the fuck! No! That is—what the—I don’t!” You stammer, face flushing as you struggle to regain your footing in the conversation. Yoongi’s eyebrow raises, intrigued by your slip-up. “That is totally not what I meant, and you know it!”

Yoongi picks at his nails, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “Sorry, I don’t speak hetero. Prithee, explain thy peculiar mating rituals to one who does not walk the straight and narrow path.”

You slump back against the couch, forcing Seokjin to follow and fall backward with you. His shoulder hits you square in the boob, causing you to groan in pain. “Yoongi, just let us out of this thing before I lose a limb to this walking inflatable tubeman,” you plead, ignoring Seokjin’s glare.

“I resent that,” Seokjin inputs, but no one pays him any mind. Your attention is focused solely on the smirking kitty man in front of you, who grows smugger as time ticks on.

Everyone in your friend group is aware of the weird relationship you have with Seokjin. Ever since you met him in your freshman year of university, things were never peaceful between the two of you. It was always constant bickering, squabbling, competing… everything. Even Jungkook, Seokjin’s other sworn enemy, doesn’t argue with the elder as much as you did.

For three years, everyone just assumed it was your weird kindergarten schoolyard way of showing affection for each other, and at the beginning, it might have been. You and Seokjin, both of whom have never dated in their lifetimes despite being moderately popular while growing up, are unsurprisingly emotionally stunted and never learned how to just be nice to people you like. Affection who? Compassion where? To the both of you, physical connection can only be achieved through hair tugging and nipple pinching, and not even in the sexy way.

But at a certain point, things were starting to get tiring. Your arguments only grew larger in scale, to the point where it was getting hard to differentiate whether the bruises on your neck were from pinches or something else.

“I just… Ugh… When are they gonna fuck, hyung? I’m actually getting tired of their constant fighting,” Namjoon had lamented one afternoon, just a day after your last altercation with Seokjin. It had been a big one, where Seokjin nearly lost a tooth when you had landed a neat uppercut squarely on his jaw after he called your toes ‘a foot fetishist’s worst nightmare.’

Yoongi’s boyfriend had been staring listlessly into his bowl of soup for the past hour, and he was honestly starting to get worried when it looked like Namjoon had started muttering to himself in a foreign language. Yoongi almost thought he might have been scrying for a prophecy, begging for an answer to their most pressing question.

“What do you want me to do about it? Lock them in a room and let them out only after they’ve done the deed? Mixed bodily fluids? Performed the monkey dance to its climax?! No thanks, I don’t wanna be near them when that can of worms finally explodes,” Yoongi grimaced, shivering at the thought.

Namjoon shook his head quickly, face paling with him. “Heaven forbid. Maybe you can keep it PG? How about getting one of those get-along sweaters or something. I think they used those in kindergarten.”

Yoongi sighed. “Yeah, but the question would be how I’d get them into it.” He flaps his noodle arms around in demonstration. “I’m not exactly in the running for world’s strongest twink. Plus, years of fighting each other means they’re both stronger than I am.”

Namjoon shrugged. “Easy, just dare them to wear it. Make it into a competition. Nothing gets them more riled up than when they’re trying to outcompete each other.”

And so, that’s how the two of you had gotten stuck in a 3XXL Hello Kitty sweater that Yoongi had bought from Ebay. It has yet to be decided whether spending $40 on expedited shipping was worth it.

“Look, Yoongi-chi. We both promise that we will stop fighting once you let us out of this,” Seokjin says, smiling sweetly at him. Had Yoongi been younger and much more prone to the alluring temptation of the Straight Man™️, he might have caved. But Yoongi is older now, plus he knows when Seokjin is lying better than any polygraph test.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, waving him off. “Fat chance. You’d probably stop fighting for approximately three hours before getting mad about mint chocolate ice cream or something.”

“Hey! Give us some credit. We both agree that flavor is abhorrent, so we would never argue about that,” you retort, with Seokjin nodding furiously in agreement. You glance at him. “And I feel like we’d last at least six hours without fighting. What was our record again?”

“Five hours and twenty-two minutes,” Seokjin says.

You hum thoughtfully. “Okay, I can promise at least five hours and thirty minutes. Maybe.”

Yoongi groans, rubbing his temples in frustration. His souring mood even makes Miko jump away in fright, and the two idiots trapped in a sweater can immediately feel the dip in temperature. Uh oh, here we go!

“I am absolutely sick and tired of the two of you dumbasses fighting all the time! It’s embarrassing as hell trying to bring either of you anywhere in public because everyone mistakes your little catfights for strange foreplay or whatever,” Yoongi glowers. The two of you shrink into your seats, ashamed.

“We’ve only gotten kicked out of one Costco—” Seokjin defends.

“But we did get fined for public indecency at the beach when I pulled your trunks down, which was totally unfair, by the way,” you mutter.

“You literally threatened to, and I quote, ‘Suck the soul out of Seokjin’s dick until he dies.’ How the hell is that unfair?!” Yoongi exclaims.

“It was a death threat! I would’ve accepted a charge for attempted murder, but that was not going to be a sexy blowjob, I assure you—”

Yoongi holds up a hand to silence you. “Face it, you both like each other. Whatever! Sure, you guys are the token straight people in our friend group, but that doesn’t make you bland as hell! Well, actually, it does but…” Yoongi pauses, wondering if it was worth lying. It takes a second for him to refocus. “Where was I? Oh right—“

Yoongi clears his throat, starting again. He heaves a deep breath, shoulders sagging tiredly as he puts on the sincerest face he can muster. “Listen, I just want to say that I care a lot about you, okay? And it sucks seeing the both of you hurting every time the other person says something really mean that neither of you even mean! If anything, will you please stop for me? If you really cared about our friendship, will you do it for me?”

There is a heavy pause as Yoongi strives to get his breathing back in check, his impassioned speech causing his fragile grandpa heart to race. He can feel his cheeks darkening in embarrassment, unused to using his “hyung voice” on Seokjin or you. Separately, the two of you are very reliable, never really needing him to scold either of you. Together, however… that’s a different story, but as the next eldest hyung, it really only fell to Yoongi to fix his friends’ mess of a relationship.

Screw age hierarchy. Yoongi would love to see Jungkook try to get Seokjin and you to fuck. Would absolutely pay to see the twerp squirm as he tries to even say the word “penis.”

After a while, Seokjin and you share a look. Yoongi watches with bated breath as he waits for either of you to speak, but he can sense some unspoken conversation happening between you. Perhaps, after years of exchanging blows, you had somehow knocked brain cells into each other and now share a weird psychic connection. Or, more likely, the two of you actually like each other and understand each other on a deeply personal level, so personal in fact that you could probably finish each other’s sentences, like—!

“We refuse,” you both reply in tandem, your joined voices echoing throughout the apartment. You both had said it so in sync that Yoongi might have imagined the other person speaking, but no—you both really did just say that to his face. In front of Miko. In front of his goddamn imaginary salad.

“Excuse me?” Yoongi squeaks. He cleans his ears with his fingers but finds no cotton there. These bitches! How dare they just throw his speech to the gutter! That shit took brain cells to think of, and he is not in the business of wasting his precious minutes by using them for productivity.

You shrug, leaning against Seokjin’s shoulder. He can see the ghost of a smirk tugging at your lips, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s confusion. “You heard us. We’ve made the executive decision to double our efforts, actually.”

Seokjin nods, not even shoving you off his shoulder like he normally would whenever you made contact with him. What? “Exactly. Honestly, we’ve been fighting for so long that we’ve kinda been just doing it for the bit at this point, and the fact that it annoys you so much is just the icing on the cake.”

Yoongi stares at them. His brain doesn’t feel like it’s connecting to his body at all; he feels like he’s floating. “So. What you’re saying is—“

“We know we like each other. Whatever. But we also like fighting, so who gives a shit if we’re having fun at the end of the day?” you shrug, pinching Seokjin’s cheek for good measure. As per usual, the elder retaliates by grabbing your finger with robot-like accuracy, before biting you there like a ravaging beast.

“And before you ask, no, we aren’t really dating. Yet. We kinda just wanted to piss as many people off before actually becoming official. We honestly didn’t think that you’d be the first one to crack.” Seokjin says, your finger falling from his mouth. The imprint of his teeth marks on your skin are plain as day, but you don’t look remotely bothered by it. In fact, you’re practically cooing at his ‘baby teefies’ like a psychopath.

“I—“ Yoongi stutters, at a loss for words for once in his life. He stands from the chair, but his knees give out from under him, causing him to tumble to the carpeted floor. He holds his head in his hands, shell-shocked. “So… That means…”

“Yeah, we’re kinda just freaky, I guess.” You muse before laughing hysterically when Yoongi begins to sob. “Hey, you’re right! We did make Yoongi cry! Do you think we could make Namjoon piss himself in rage when he finally confronts us too?”

Seokjin cackles, shaking your hand underneath the sweater. “If anyone can do it, I know that we can.”

And so, the two of you stand up clumsily to your feet, not bothering to escape the ridiculous sweater as you both waddled out of Yoongi’s apartment. From outside his door, Yoongi hears the sound of a new fight commencing, your shrieks resonating down the hall and for all the world to hear.

#btsghostie #bts scenarios #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts humor #e2l #kim seokjin #seokjin scenarios #jin scenarios #bangtan #bts fanfic #the sleep deprived series

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bestie-enthusiast · 3 years

Text

A Means To An End

Summary: After chasing a lead into a neaby building, Sam and Bucky get to see a more... vunrable side of the Baron.

This fic is inspired by @morganbritton132

They had been chasing a lead, one of the cars that supposedly belonged to the Flag Smashers had been spotted outside of a small theatre. They had speculated it was a supply stop, or maybe a place to lay low. Zemo had taken them, in a surprisingly non-attention-drawing car, to about a block away from the theatre, and they started to walk the rest of the way there.

“It is privately owned, from what I understand.” Zemo explained to them. “The owners, most likely powerful and influential individuals, are either unaware of what's going on, or are actively supporting the group.”

Sam nodded, “Makes sense to me. Do we have to worry about them being there?” Zemo shook his head.

“Most likely not. They would have no reason to be inside unless they are also super soldiers.” Sam hummed in agreement and turned to Bucky, who had been silent.

“Are you good, man?” He asked quietly as they grew closer to the theatre.

“This feels like a trap.” Bucky grumbled, glaring at the small, but lavish, building that they had stopped in front of. “They’ve been staying at the camps and keeping supplies there. This feels out of character.”

Sam frowned, “Well maybe they needed a place to lay low, they know we’ve been tracking the houses they’ve been staying at, so maybe this is how they're trying to throw us off?” Bucky nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

Zemo led them into the theatre, effortlessly navigating the building. It was much larger on the inside than it appeared. As they wound their way deeper and deeper into the building, Bucky seemed to grow more and more agitated, until he froze.

“Bucky?” Sam asked worriedly, looking at the range of emotions passing over his friend's face.

“Shh,” Bucky hissed quietly, tilting his head towards a wall. Sam barely had the time to open his mouth when an explosion rocked the building. He felt something hit his head, and passed out.

Sam blinked awake, groaning at the dryness of his mouth. It took a few moments for him to remember what happened, but he didn’t feel too bad, so he assumed everything was good. He wasn’t completely covered in the ruins of the theatre, which is good, and after relieving himself of the rest of it, everything seemed to be intact, aside from some bruising and some cuts.

He looked around and spotted Bucky, who seemed to be just waking up as well, and walked over to help him up. Not that he needed it.

After the two of them had (somewhat subty) looked over the other for any signs of damage, they set about scouring the building for anything of use. Bucky was walking with a limp, and Sam had a minor concussion, but they were both still breathing and alive. They stumbled through, leaning on the other or on the nearest (standing) wall whenever they needed it.

That was when Sam remembered Zemo, and Bucky heard a voice.

“Fuck.” They said in unison, looking at the other in surprise.

“Zemo,” Sam explained in a single word, watching as Bucky let out a tense sigh.

“I heard someone.” Bucky said back, looking in the direction he had heard a whimper. It was very faint, but still present. “We don’t know who was in here. Could be a civilian.” Sam nodded and Bucky led them in the direction he heard the cry. As Bucky and Sam grew closer, Bucky was able to discern the voice as a sort of pained mewling, someone on the edge of hysteria that threatened to consume them. Sam also grew more concerned as Bucky led them into a more unstable and ruined part of the theatre.

The pathetic cry’s grew louder as the drew near to the source, and the weakness and vulnerability in them was the reason neither Sam nor Bucky thought that it could possibly be the missing Baron until they laid eyes upon him.

Zemo, in short, looked like a mess. A cut on his hairline was pouring blood down his face as the man curled in on himself. His hands were bleeding, the skin on his fingers rubbed raw after being used to scratch as concrete and metal. His appearance and injuries weren't the worst part though, no the worst part was what he was saying.

“Heike, Carl, Papa.” Over and over, like a mantra. Even as he choked on dust he continued to repeat the phrase. His voice sounded wrecked, ripped to shreds by screams no one had heard. It was very clear that Zemo just wasn’t there. He was not present as he repeated those three words even as he gasped for air and his voice cracked and crumbled.

Sam reacted before Bucky, gently calling out to Zemo. Even as he raised his voice Zemo did not respond, not even a flinch at the volume. Bucky tried next. He gently prodded at the Baron’s hands, once again not even eliciting a flinch. Bucky tried again with more force, pressing both of Zemo’s hands tightly against his chest. It was a very tense few moments as the Baron because lucid once again.

The usual sharpness returned to his eyes, although the tears were still present. Zemo blinked at them, and for once the Baron looked ashamed of himself.

“Apologies, you should not have seen that.” The man quietly apologised, wincing at the way his voice cracked. Sam and Bucky both just shook their heads, helping Zemo up. They all stumbled out of the rubble together, and Zemo spared himself a glance at the two men helping him. Bucky had a sort of empathetic understanding in his eyes, eyes far too soft to be looking at a criminal such as himself. Sam gave him a look of understanding, although it felt more like pity than anything. Zemo knew both men had experience with PTSD, but he never wished for them to know he struggled with it as well.

They staggered through the streets, Zemo carefully keeping quiet about the sharp pain in his ankle every time he took a step. It would be better if they just left him alone for some time once they arrived back at his safe house, and they would not leave him alone if they knew the extent of his physical injuries, let alone his mental ones.

And so he kept quiet. When they made it into the safehouse, Zemo let out a breath that he hadn’t been aware he was holding in. He let himself relax minutely now that they were in a safe location. It had been a taxing experience, and all he wished was for some space to once again grieve and mourn for his family. Unfortunately, it did not appear that Sam nor James would be giving him such a privilege, and so he continued to do his best to hold apart his now fragile mask. “So.” Sam said once they had all settled on the couch in the main room of the house. It was a tense, but not unwelcome intrusion into their silence, nevertheless Zemo flinched at the sudden noise.

“So.” He repeated quietly, knowing that as long as he spoke in quiet, quick sentences they would not be able to tell his voice was still quiet ruined and cracking. Zemo resisted the urge to curl up, to bring his feet into his person and rest his chin on his knees. It would be a very childish position and not to mention, vulnerable. It was a very tense few moments before Zemo decided to speak again.

“Do I have your permission to sleep or-” his voice cracked again as he thought of sleep. No doubt it would be nightmare filled. “Or do I have to sit in this st-stifling silence longer?” He could feel himself flush at his simple inability to speak a proper sentence, but silently hoped it would convince Sam and his sympathetic and pity-filled body to let him go.

“Oh, uhh, sure man. Whatever you want.” That was all he needed. He walked as fast as he could, without making it obvious he was eager to leave, to the closest bedroom. He locked the door behind him, relishing in the comfort the simple click brought him. He toed off his shoes and shrugged off all of his clothes sans boxers, and collapsed onto the bed. He started shaking with the effort that it was taking to hold everything, and so he let it out. Every single bit of pain and grief and anguish that he felt as he was relieving the memory. He could taste the dust in the air, remember the pain in his hands that he ignored as he dug his family from underneath the rubble.

It all felt so real, like it was happening again. Like he was truly relieving the worst moments of his entire life again. Like he was- he was experiencing the destruction of his whole world again, he could physically feel the pain in his heart as he recalled the memory.

He sobbed and screamed into the pillows on the bed, shaking like a leaf in a storm all the while. It didn’t take long for the pain to turn into exhaustion and numbness. For the grief to turn into mourning. He let out a shaky breath as his tears started to slow and his shakes turned less violent.

He felt nauseous but all too tired to even think about expelling energy to have something to drink, so instead he focussed on just passing the fuck out.

And hey! It worked.

Or at least he thought it did. He was pretty certain it did. Especially when he opened his eyes to see his papa’s ruined mansion in front of him. He inhaled the scent of dust and smoke, eyes already watering as he stared at the remains of his once luxurious childhood home. He stumbled down to the basement where he knew his bodies would be, solidifying the fact that this was a dream. In reality, it had taken him much longer to search the basement, holding out hope that the caved ceiling wouldn’t be covering their bodies. He stumbled down until he was directly in front of the spot he knew their bodies were buried, and started to dig. He dug and dug even as his hands screamed at him (or was it him screaming?) and the pain became near unbearable, until he was able to make out a small, pale wrist underneath all the rubble.

He clutched it like a lifeline, checking for a pulse for a very long moment. He already knew there wouldn’t be one, but every time he had this dream he still held out hope. He continued to claw at the remains, more careful now, until his entire family was uncovered. And just like every other time he had this nightmare, he carefully checked for pulses, breathing, anything, and just like every other time, there was nothing.

He allowed his tears to fall in the privacy of his family’s ruined home, and hoped to wake soon. If the dream continued on like this, he would be testing the theory of whether or not dying in your dreams can make you die in real life.

Thankfully, he woke up soon after. Although the way in which he woke up was not the most pleasant. He awoke to a loud thudding on his door and someone shouting his name. He felt somewhat delirious and wondered if he had picked up an infection. He grabbed a neatly folded bathrobe off of a chair and pulled it on, tying it loosely as he unlocked and opened the door.

Sam Wilson stood before him, looking uncharastically concerned. Well the man regularly looked concerned, it was just that he was concerned with Zemo that was abnormal.

“What?” Zemo asked tonelessly. He was too emotionally exhausted to use any snark or sarcasm.

“You were screaming,” Sam replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets awkwardly. Zemo suddenly felt awkward as well.

“Oh.” He was usually silent during his nightmare, but the day's events appeared to have affected his subconscious more than he had thought. “Apologies.”

“No it's fine, I just… you got me and Buck real concerned earlier, and I thought maybe…” Maybe he had gone into another flashback.

Zemo shook his head, “Just nightmares. I should recover just fine in a few days.” Sam looked nervous, but didn’t push it. He left soon after. As soon as he was out of sight Zemo let out a quiet brief, sagging against his door frame. He knew that the right thing to do would be to talk, to open up and spill out all his vulnerability so that they could pick through it like vultures and decide whether or not he was worth helping. He did not believe he was worth helping, and so he would not do the so called right thing.

He would not bear his soul only to have it crushed.

He would not let himself believe that maybe people did care after all.

Because he was only a means to a necessary end. And there was no need to complicate things further by adding his own emotions into the mix.

No. He would stay strong. This wouldn’t affect his performance on the field, and he would not let it affect his newly acquired acquaintanceship with the two men who assisted him in his escape from prison.

A means to an end. That was it.

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feralandmoonstruck · 3 years

Text

Promise

DNI IF UNDER 18

WC: 1745

True to his word, Prince Viorel spent most of the next three days in the infirmary with Fiora. He had left her side a handful of times, but was never gone long. He even slept nearby until she was discharged.

“I want to see the others,” she told Viorel as they left the infirmary together.

“I’ve already made arrangements and am taking you to see them now.”

She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Thank you, Prince.”

“I promised you I would, and I always keep my promises.”

Fiora could hear the murmurs of courtiers and servants that they passed. She drew herself up under the frightened gazes that fell upon her mottled visage. She refused to look apologetic or embarrassed in the face of their twittering. Her defiance was in every line of her face. The scabs and swelling and bruises were all a reminder to herself and others, When faced with capture, I chose death. Having been stopped from going through with it was something entirely different from backing down on her own.

“Before we part,” Viorel said, “I was wondering if you might like to have rooms made up near mine, or if you’d prefer elsewhere?”

Fiora looked at him. “It depends on what my purpose here is.”

“I could not tell you what Dracen had in mind, but you would be part of the court in one form or another.”

Fiora heard the words he didn’t speak aloud. If you choose me, your life will be better. She chewed her tongue for a moment. “I know which you’d rather I pick.”

Viorel ducked his head. “I will admit that I have hope. I would not have made the suggestion otherwise.”

“Do I need to make my decision now?”

“You may see your friends first, if you wish, but the sooner your decision is made, the sooner I can have your rooms ready. You still need rest.”

“I’d like to wait.”

They came to a stop in front of a door gilded with gold. “Of course,” he said. “Once you’ve made up your mind, simply send Lettie or another of the maids to inform me.”

Beyond the golden door, the room was filled with sunlight. She didn’t have a chance to notice much more, because the moment they saw her all of the Oleran women surged to their feet as one. A wave of concerned voices. Viorel shut the door quietly behind her.

“Fiora,” they shouted, “are you alright?” Their questions overlapped with shrieks at her appearance.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” she assured them. She let them pull her deeper into the room and settle her on a couch.

“What happened?”

“We’ve been so worried about you!”

“They said you’d been hurt. Was it one of the soldiers?”

Fiora held up her hands to slow the onslaught of questions. “I hurt myself. That’s why I wasn’t here sooner, I’ve been held in the infirmary for three days.”

“Why would you do something like this to yourself,” Anjali, one of the oldest women among them, asked. She leaned forward, letting her black hair fall like a curtain. “You can tell us if someone did this to you.”

Fiora squeezed her arm. “I promise, I did this. I thought death would be the better option.”

Maria, one of the youngest of their group, began to weep. Jasmine and Beatrice, two sisters who’d run the mill after their father, moved to console her.

“You’re so strong,” another said. “I could never be as strong as you. Even if life here might be terrible, I just don’t think I could fight as hard as you have.”

A spark of annoyance shot through Fiora as a chorus of agreements rose around her. “They took us from our lives! Burned our homes to the ground! How could you not want to fight?”

Camry, a girl standing at the edge of the group, gave Fiora a small smile. “Fi, we’re not fighters. We never have been. And even if we were, what could we even do now? You said so yourself, our home is gone. We don’t have anything to go back to.”

Fiora bit her tongue and shook her head. “It doesn’t mean we have to give in to them.” She could taste the bitterness of the hypocrisy her words left behind. How dare she lecture them on giving in when she had spent nearly all her time here in the company of a prince?

“Fighting now would only make our lives more miserable. So far they’ve done nothing to hurt us. The only one of us hurt is you.”

“And the rest of you agree with this?”

The women gathered around Fiora looked away, mumbling noncommittal answers. She knew they were right, but to accept it felt like a betrayal of everything she believed. And yet, Viorel's offer hung like a glimmering crystal before her. It would be so easy to accept. She could give up and give in. It would mean having a better life than she could have ever dreamed of in Olera. There, she was just another poor person living on the edge of the kingdom, so far from the capital that help was hard to come by and any wealth got lost long before it came anywhere near Millen.

Fiora stood and pushed her way through them. “I can’t believe you. I can’t believe any of you.” she shook her head, “Turning your backs on Olera so easily.”

Camry stepped forward and laid a hand on Fiora’s arm. “Fi, you don’t have to keep fighting. No one will think less of you for doing what needs to be done. You think we don’t want to fight? Our lives and our families were destroyed, Fi. Of course we want to fight! But fighting isn’t going to bring them back. Nothing will. We’re just trying to be realistic, and so long as we have each other, as long as we’re alive, we’ll be Olerans. Nothing can change that or take that away from us. It’s just, there’s no reason to make ourselves more miserable than we already are.”

Fiora yanked her arm out of Camry’s grasp. She shook her head, the corners of her eyes burning. “I don’t,” her mouth opened and closed several times. Camry was right, these women were all she had left of her home. There was no way back to how their lives were before. “How do I stop,” she whispered. Tears slid down her swollen cheeks.

Camry wrapped her arms around Fiora. “Hey, it’s okay,” she soothed, “we’re all here for you. For all of us.”

Anjali rose and joined her. “I wish we had an answer, but I think that’s something we each have to find within ourselves. And even then we may never know.” She rubbed broad circles along Fiora’s back.

“How are you not scared?”

“We are,” Anjali whispered.

“Hattie hasn’t been eating,” Jasmine spoke up from where she cradled Maria to her chest, “and Juniper won’t get out of bed.”

A murmur of agreement went through the cluster of women. Fiora let herself be drawn back into their embrace. Giving their fears voice diminished their power little by little. It made them smaller and the bond between the women stronger. They cried together for all that they had lost. Time was immaterial as they clung to each other. When the door opened they all jumped. More than one of them let out a little scream, but it was only the maids.

“Ladies,” an older woman in Breschen colors spoke. “We’ve been sent to prepare you for your presentations to the royal family.”

Several of the Oleran women began to sob again as the maids filed in and drew their charges out of the room. One by one their numbers dwindled. Maria clung first to Jasmine and then to Beatrice, refusing to leave until their guards entered the room to prize them apart.

Fiora was one of the last women to leave. “Where’s Lettie,” she demanded when Milo came to fetch her.

“She’s finishing setting up your rooms.”

“My rooms?”

“Prince Viorel is having you something made up near his quarters.”

Fiora shook her head. “I didn’t– he said I could decide.”

Milo shrugged. “You’ll not be questioning the prince’s orders.” He took her by the arm and led her out of the room.

“He can’t do this! He said it was my decision,” she spat.

“The prince can do as he pleases.”

“I demand to see him!”

“Demand all you want, it’s not going to make a difference. Neither Vioral, nor any of the royal family will ever jump at your demands. You’ll see him when he wishes, and not a moment before.”

Fiora growled and swore all the way to her new room. Milo deposited her inside with Lettie and snapped the door shut behind her.

“How did your visit with your friends go,” Lettie asked. “My apologies for not being there, but as you can see…” she let the words trail off as she gestured around them.

The room was done up in greens and golds. Iron lattice adorned the exterior of the windows and cast intricate shadows on the plush rugs that covered the gleaming wood floors. The bed was larger and more beautiful than Fiora had ever seen. The footboard was carved into a masterpiece of forestry so detailed that she could hardly follow it. A glance at the headboard told her it was much the same. Each of the four posts were topped with carvings of an owl. This room wasn’t meant for someone who was considered a prisoner. Not even someone who would be a maid. Fiora’s heart lurched at the same moment her stomach twisted when she realized the implications.

Fiora dragged her gaze back to Lettie, “I can’t believe he did this.”

“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” Lettie ushered her deeper into the room. “Now, I know that this isn’t as close to Prince Viorel as you might have hoped, but even he has rules that must be followed. But don’t worry, he’s not far. In the meantime, why don’t I get you washed and ready for your presentation to the family, hm?”

Her shoulders slumped forward. “If you must.”

“We won’t be able to cover up all of the bruising, but I promise to do my best.”

“I’m not worried,” she sighed.

Lettie laughed. “I appreciate your confidence in me. The bathing room is this way.”

#the spite ratio #tsr #my writing

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flora-jimin · 5 years

Text

𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔 (𝑹𝒂𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

AO3 Link

Relationships: Namjoon x Hoseok x Yoongi x Reader

Genre(s): Smut, PWP

Written for @btspolyshipbingo

Square Filled: Bed Sharing

Rating: 18+

Tags: Smut, Pwp, Previous poly triad (rapline), Endgame poly relationship (mmmf), Dirty Talk, Cum Sharing, Spanking, 69, Oral

Summary: You’re invited to spend the last week with Bangtan before vacation is over. Of course, a certian someone didn’t get the house with enough rooms, and now it seems you’ll have to share. Sharing is caring, after all.

Word count: 8.1k Im so sorry

A/n: This is my first ‘y/n’ fic and of course its long as hell omg.

Tag List: @jungkook-me-down, @jinie, @mapofmarisoul, @vallkyr, @canyoucallthiswriting, @hobisbapsae

-x-

“Wait, you invited Y/n over to stay with us and didn’t even make sure there were enough rooms?” Jin inquired, brows furrowed as he watched Namjoon run a hand through his hair. You were seated between Yoongi and Hoseok while the other band members spoke, brows furrowed.

The vacation for Bangtan was winding down to a close and the boys had all decided to go out together with you before they were back to their hectic lives. The trip to Jeju Island was last minute and impromptu, hence why they could only snag a vacation home with a few rooms too less than they needed.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m just happy to be here. We can always just blind pick the rooms like you all did for the Run that one time.” You offered, blinking when a collective lightbulb went off over their heads.

“Did…did none of you think of that?” You slowly questioned, snickering at the way some of them flushed. You nod in approval, catching Namjoon’s eye as the other boys scurried around, positioning themselves in a circle.

The dimpled rapper had been your boyfriend for a few months now, and if the blind pick went well, you’d be sharing a room with him alone for the next week.

“Okay. So, there are eight of us. There are three rooms. If you choose a room, you have to honor however many people pick the room to share afterwards, got it? Once you’re done, write the position of the room on your palm with a marker.” Jimin ran the rules by everyone, bouncing excitedly. You and the others nod, and Jungkook motions for you to go first.

“M-Me?”

“Ladie’s first, Y/n. Choose well!” He beamed. You nodded and sent a small look over your shoulder at Namjoon before disappearing down the hall once the others turned their backs so they couldn’t see which direction you turned in.

The first room was on the smaller side, with windows facing towards the ocean. You wandered in, slightly in awe as you took in the view. There was a TV set up that took up most of the wall space and though you’d love the ocean view, you figured Namjoon would pick a room with more space for him to set up his laptop or work.

Turning, you moved to the next room, immediately taken by the scent of flowers. This room was definitely the master bedroom of sorts, with the bed being larger and facing the mountain side of the house. You could see it had a good view of the garden in the backyard and without hesitation you knew this would be the one.

Without needing to see the third room, you hastily wrote ‘middle room’ on your palm before heading back to the living room. You plopped down on the couch, hugging the Mang plushie Hoseok had left behind on the couch as he stood to pick his room.

One by one, everyone chose their desired rooms.

“Okay. On the count of three, everyone open their palms, okay?” Tae instructed, clearly excited. You and the others nodded.

“One, two, three!”

In union, all of you threw your hands out, opening your palms facing upwards.

“Hey! We got the same room!” Jungkook cheered, throwing his arms over Jimin and Taehyung. It seemed like the three chose the room facing the ocean, bounding eagerly down the hall after they scrambled to grab their bags from the living room.

“I brought my PS4!” Jungkook cheered, all but sliding into the room with the other two in tow.

Jin looked down at his hand, grinning wildly when he found he had a room all to himself.

“Handsome and lucky~” He whistled, blowing the remaining four a kiss before he strolled down the hall.

You blinked slowly, looking at the hands around you to find that Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok had all written down ‘middle room’ on your palms.

“Well that happened.” Hoseok exhaled, unable to keep the laugh from bubbling out of his chest. Namjoon gently rubbed your back as he stood beside you.

“It may be a tight squeeze, but we’ll make do.” He offered a little bit of positivity as you moved to grab your suitcase. Yoongi and Hoseok nodded, walking ahead as Namjoon gently took your bag. You pouted, tugging on his sleeve.

“Joon-”

“It’s okay, Y/n. Yoongs and Hobi already know about us, we can relax.” He whispered. You blinked in surprise, lips parting.

“You told them?”

“Had a late night session with them in Rkive and I mentioned missing my girlfriend.” He admitted, laughing gently as he started carrying both of your luggage. You watched his back for a few moments, feeling your heart flutter for a moment before you hid a smile, shuffling after him.

In the room, Hoseok was sitting by the window, his leg pulled in close to his chest as he stared out at the sunset. You perk, darting past Yoongi and Namjoon to admire the way the sky and the clouds were bathed in a stunning mixture of oranges and pinks.

“Woah…the sky is so pretty.” You muse, unable to keep the smile off your face.

Hoseok watched the side of your face out of the corner of his eye before he hummed in agreement, muttering a quiet ‘she sure is’ under his breath undetected.

-Later-

“Don’t eat so fast, you’re going to get sick!” You scolded as you watched Jungkook and Jin shovel food down their mouths. Yoongi’s lip curled slightly at the sight, moving his plate away when Jin nearly toppled over the sauce bottle reaching for more meat from the pot simmering between the group.

“She’s right. You’re going to choke or burn your tongue if you keep eating like a bunch of coyotes. No one’s gonna take the damn pot from you.” He added, rolling his eyes as Namjoon leaned down to add more meat and vegetables to the pot once the two ate the last fully cooked piece of meat.

“We have to hurry! The game DLC drops in 20 minutes!” Jungkook huffed, pointing his chopsticks over in you and Yoongi’s direction. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in mild disbelief while Yoongi leveled him with an unimpressed stare.

“So you’re telling me you two are trying to gobble down a whole pot of meat and veggies meant for eight people so you can stay up playing video games?” He inquired. Jin nodded from beside Kook, unable to talk as he drank his soju.

Jimin watched them in amusement while Tae eyed the grilled meat, clearly excited about the second round. Hoseok cracked open a can of sprite, pouring it into one of his glasses before he spoke up.

“We bought extra meat but you two are going to eat it all before Y/n even gets her share.” He scolded. The two vocalists exchanged a look with one another, frowning when they realized that not many of the others had gotten to eat much. Noticing the immediate guilt that crossed their face, you waved your hands.

“I-It’s okay, you guys are hungry-” the sound of your stomach cut you off and everyone frowned.

“Okay, that’s enough meat hogging for you two.” Namjoon declared, grabbing some lettuce and packing some rice in the bottom of it. Before you could protest and say it was okay, Namjon plucked some of the thicker slices of meat off the grill before holding it up to you. You blushed, slightly shy as you leaned closer to him, taking a bite of the wrap to test and see if the meat was too hot. Once you found it was the perfect temperature, you took the rest in one bite, your plump lips brushing against Namjoon’s fingers at the end.

He must have noticed your subtle flirting, if the blush on his face was anything to go by.

“You two would make a cute couple.” Yoongi mused idly, making his own lettuce wrap. Namjoon, now flustered, moved to take the meat off the grill, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. You only smiled as you reached for more of the grilled food.

Later that night, you stood in front of the bed, tapping your foot as you tried to figure out how this was going to work with four of you in one bed. Namjoon wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing light kisses to the side of your neck. Part of you melted immediately, pressing back against him before remembering that Hoseok and Yoongi were in the room, too.

“J-Joon!”

“Don’t worry, we’re not gonna watch you. Unless you’re into that kind of thing.” Yoongi mused, cursing when Hoseok elbowed his side.

“What, you gonna suggest we join, too?”

“Again, if she’s into that, why not? We already know Joon-” Whatever he had to say to end that sentence was cut off by Namjoon hurling a pillow in his direction.

“Yah! Quit it, you’re going to make Y/n uncomfortable!” He scolded, pivoting on his heel to get in bed, clearly flustered. You blinked for a moment or two, trying to figure out exactly what had just happened in such a small time frame.

What was Yoongi going to say? Joon was into…what?

You glanced back at the bed, finding Joon furiously scrolling through his phone, probably looking through his queue of webtoons to catch up on. Shaking off the small curious need you had to press this further, you crawled into bed beside him, scooting so your head was on his chest. Joon smiled, pulling you closer into him as he continued his scrolling.

You were already drifting to sleep by time Hoseok and Yoongi got up to turn it in for bed. Namjoon said something above you, but it melted into the sound of his heartbeat as you let sleep finally take over.

-2 am-

You tossed and turned, groaning in annoyance as a sudden wave of thirst arose you from a particularly cute dream. Rubbing your eye, you noticed Namjoon absent from your side, and your brows furrowed in confusion, noticing Hoseok was also missing from the bed.

After rolling out of bed, you slide on Namjoon’s oversized Koya slippers, shuffling your way out into the hall. Namjoon and Hobi could be out for a late night stroll or something of the sort. You just hoped they were being careful out so late.

Idly as you made your way to the kitchen, you wondered if you should slice some apples and wait for them to get back.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone chattering in the kitchen. You slowed your steps, slowly peeking around the corner.

You found the two men in question, standing near each other as they talked. Normally you’d stroll up and teasingly ask why they were up so late as well, but the intimate closeness and the looks on their faces made you hesitate. Instead you hung back, listening to them.

“You still haven’t asked her?” Hoseok inquired. Namjoon rubbed his neck, looking down at the ground.

“Things have been so hectic lately and I haven’t gotten to sit down and talk with her.” He answered, his tone clearly disappointed. Your heart sank.

Was something wrong?

“Not everyone is down for a poly relationship, Hobi.” He added after a beat of silence. You stared at the two, lips parting as the fractured context of the late night convo started piecing themselves together. Hoseok nodded, reaching out to gently squeeze Namjoon’s arm.

“I know. Yoongs and I aren’t gonna push things if she’s not okay with it. We miss you, though, Joon. And honestly? Y/n is a beautiful woman with an amazing personality. I’d be lying if I said Yoongs and I haven’t talked about it more than once.” He chucked. Namjoon cocked a brow, lifting his head.

“You two were talking about my girlfriend?”

“We’re trying to get you to quit being such a coward and tell her you’re poly. Maybe she’d be our girlfriend.” Hobi fired back, teasingly. Namjoon, seemingly flustered, didn’t seem opposed to the notion.

Your heart skipped a beat and you stepped back, eyes wide.

Yoongi and Hobi? They had been thinking of you in a romantic manner? Since when? And what was all of this about them missing Joon? Had the three of them…?

As you were turning to leave, you ran right into Yoongi’s chest. You almost let out a startled yell, had he not have gently put a hand over your mouth. You stared up at the sleepy eyed rapper and he shook his head.

“These two really have no hindsight, having this kind of conversation out in the open.” He nodded towards the bedroom. “C'mon, it’ll be a whole mess if they find out we’re here.” He moved his hand from your lips, gently taking your wrist to tug you silently along to bed.

Once there, he let you go, crawling into bed and giving you a small hum when you hesitated.

“Before they come back, I’ll fill in the blanks. Hoseok, Namjoon, and I were in a poly relationship. Joon met you and we all decided he could take a break from us and see how things went with you. He wants to tell you he’s poly and see if you’d like to try a relationship with us as a quartet. It’s a lot to take in, but you can rest easy, Hobi and I will respect your decision. Joon cherishes you and your relationship, too. He’s never snuck around or anything behind your back. All of us have respected you, as well as Joon’s wish to take a break from our relationship while he worked this out. Plus we’re not gonna like, push up on you or anything. Unless you’re into that.” He yawned, echoing the same words he said earlier.

They suddenly held a lot more weight.

You heard the other two rappers heading back down the hall and all but dove into bed, eyes closing just enough for you to peek in the darkness as Namjoon and Hoseok walked in. Yoongi bit back the urge to chuckle, humming in faux sleepiness when Hoseok settled in behind him, kissing the nape of his neck. Joon mirrored him, wrapping his hands around your waist as he pulled your back flush against his chest.

You hoped Namjoon couldn’t tell how much your heart was racing as you did your best to go back to sleep.

-Next Day-

After yesterday’s revelation, you began to notice things here and there that had previously went over your head.

The way Yoongi felt at home borrowing Namjoon’s clothes, giving himself sweater paws with one of Joon’s Fear of God sweaters as he settled on the couch, immersed in a book as Hoseok rubbed his calves idly, quietly complimenting Yoongi on the muscles that were there.

Namjoon wasn’t too far behind, squeezed into the end of the couch with Hobi, sharing his phone screen so they could also watch some videos of other bands. Hoseok shifted his attention quickly, his head on Namjoon’s shoulder as they watched.

They all looked so comfortable.

Biting your lip, you walked over, standing in front of them.

“I wanna watch, too. That sounds like Dreamcatcher, I love them.”

“I can lift my legs, Y/n.” Yoongi offered, moving to move his curled legs from beside Hoseok’s hip.

“That’s alright.” You swallow down the butterflies and nervousness, moving to sit down, your bottom on both Namjoon and Hoseok’s thigh, gently taking the phone from Namjoon and holding it between you three. Yoongi watched you in interest, the corner of his lips curling up.

“C-can you see?” You inquired, glancing over your shoulder to look at both Namjoon and Hoseok, biting your lip when you saw how close they were.

“Not quite. Scoot back a little.” Namjoon instructed, gently pulling your hips back until your back was flush against both of them. You squirmed slightly, heart hammering as both of them settled their chins on your shoulder, breaths ghosting your neck as you shakily resumed the video.

The four of you sat like that for at least an hour or so, enjoying the proximity of one another. With every creeping minute, you found it more apparent that you weren’t really bothered by the idea of Namjoon’s previous relationship with the other two rappers.

If the thunder of your heart was anything to go by, you were more than comfortable with also getting the same attention.

Before the gravity of that realization could hit you, Jimin came bounding into the living room, startling you all.

“Hyungs! Y/n! We should do karaoke!” He cheered, seemingly unbothered by the closeness of the four of you. You lowered the phone, tilting your head.

“Karaoke? Where did that come from?”

“I had to sit up all night while Jungkook played with Jin-hyung and Tae can sleep through a hurricane, I can’t. So tonight, before that happens, I want us all to do some karaoke!” He cheered. You smiled at his energy, sliding out of Hoseok and Namjoon’s lap as you helped Jimin set up the TV and the machine that Jimin had found in one of the closets in the home.

Namjoon rubbed his neck as he watched you, eyeing the curve of your ass while you bent over to see where the HDMI cable port was located.

“I didn’t expect her to sit in our lap. She’s making it hard for me to figure out an approach on asking.” He muttered. Yoongi hummed, sitting up to slide nimble fingers over Hoseok’s sweatpants clad leg, giving the outline of his cock a subtle, sneaky squeeze, purring when the younger rapper bit back a groan, sucking in a quick breath through his teeth.

“I’d say she’s making something hard, alright.” He added, casually taking his hand away from Hoseok’s now throbbing cock when he heard Tae, Jin, and Jungkook loudly making their way over to the living room.

“Yoongi, that’s just evil.” Hoseok spat, adjusting himself as inconspicuously as he could. Yoongi only hummed coyly, head tilting to the left as you leaned back further, cheering in success when you finally plugged in the machine.

“It’s in! We can start!” Jimin beamed, clapping eagerly.

“I wanna go first!”

“Is there Charlie Puth in the bank?”

“Can we sing songs in English and Japanese too?”

You and the vocal line began chattering at once, looking through the list of songs.

“How about we make it interesting. Whoever gives the worst performance has to do dinner dishes.” Jin offered, a spark in his eye. You immediately frowned, squinting.

“Isn’t that unfair? Did you forget who you are? How am I supposed to beat the seven of you?” You hissed in clear disapproval.

“Well you won’t win with that attitude, Y/n. Plus, as long as you have fun, that’s what matters!” Tae cooed, a boxy grin on his face. Your eyes narrowed even more and Namjoon raised his hand.

“If you do lose, I’ll help with the dishes. Though I doubt you will.” He offered. You smiled softly, feeling at ease once again.

“Fine. Let’s do it, then.”

Everyone eagerly looked through the songs after that, with Jungkook and Jimin teaming up to duet one of Khalid’s songs, having the time of their lives. Tae followed close behind them, singing one of Halsey’s songs. From the way he moved his body, you can tell he’d probably listened to it often, coming up with his own choreo for it as he sang. He nearly slipped a few times, leaving you wondering why he tried to dance on a tile floor with socks on. Jin got more than a few laughs as he chose Gain’s Paradise Lost, copying the choreo nearly perfectly.

“Hyung, how many times have you done this?” Hoseok inquired, clearly impressed by the look on his face. Jin only winked and blew him a kiss in his usual manner.

“Enough to not have to do dishes. Y/n, you’re up!” He grinned, passing the mic to you.

You shuffled forward, shyly clutching the mic as the familiar sound of Ddaeng filled the living room.

“She’s pandering!” Jimin gasped playfully, unable to move fast enough to dodge the pillow Tae threw his way as he shushed him.

“Shh! Let her rap!”

You stuck your tongue out, doing your best to copy the Rap Line as closely as you could, unable to keep yourself from breaking character and laughing when Tae started dancing and rapping along in the background.

Out of the corner of your vision, you could see Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok mouthing along, and you’d be lying if you said the subtle intensity in their eyes as they watched you wasn’t as terrifying as it was arousing.

You took a seat once the song ended, smiling and taking the water bottle Jimin offered you as you watched all three of the rappers get up from the couch.

“The three of you are going to do a song together?” You asked without hesitation. They nodded.

“We figured we’d wrap this up so we can actually start cooking.” Yoongi mused, checking the time. You glanced at your phone, nodding in agreement when you saw it was already close to seven at night.

You settled down on the floor with the Vocal Line, knees pulled up to your chest as you waited. Hoseok scrolled down the list of songs in their playlist, eyes sparkling when he found one, pointing at it as he whispered to Namjoon and Yoongi. Namjoon was blushing, but he didn’t look opposed to the idea, while Yoongi only sent him a knowing quirk of the brow.

“Subtle.” He hummed under his breath as the first notes of the song started.

You felt your throat run dry, immediately recognizing the song.

Girl, change into that Victoria’s Secret thing that I like

Alright, okay

Tonight you’re having me your way

Perfume, spray it there

Put our love in the air

Now put me right next to you

Fittin’ to raise the temp in the room

First rub my back like you do

Right there, uh-uh, right there

Uh you touch me like you care

Now stop and let me repay you for the week that you’ve been through

Working that 9-5 and staying cute, like you do oh, oh, oh

You watched, lips parted as Namjoon started singing, his eyes on you as he did so. Hoseok and Yoongi weren’t far behind, improvising a dance with one another as Bangtan’s leader practically serenaded you in front of everyone. Yoongi reached around Joon in a manner way too intimate for a mic pass, his fingers wrapped around Joon’s as he pulled the mic over to his lips, singing the chorus.

I love it, I love it, you love it, you love it

Every time, every time, we touchin’, we touchin’

I want it, I want it, you want it, you want it

I’ll see you, see you, in the morning, in the morning

I wanna put my fingers through your hair

Wrap me up in your legs

And love you till your eyes roll back

I’m tryin’ to put you to bed, bed, bed

I'mma put you to bed, bed, bed

Then I'ma rock your body

Turn you over, love is war, I’m your soldier

Touching you like it’s our first time

Imma put you to bed, bed, bed

Did no one else in the room notice how this was all directed at you? One glance at the others showed they were entertained and immersed in the performance, and not their best friends currently giving you fuck me eyes while singing a song about fucking.

Hoseok, ever the dangerous one, casually took the mic, a far too sweet dimpled smile on his face as he sang. He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was singing to you, motioning to you in gentle sweeping motions as he did so.

I’m staring at you while you sleep

You replaced, it for beauty

Put my face up in your neck and breathe (ah breathe)

Take you into my senses

Wake up, it’s time to finish

Round two, It’s round two

Matter of fact, it’s closer to three

D-did he have to motion to the three off them during that last part? You swallowed thickly, unable to decide which one of them to focus on. To be honest, it didn’t matter. At this point, there was an ache between your legs and a flush on your cheeks you were sure people could see a mile away.

The boys continued like this for the entire song, body roles, grinding, and eye contact relentless as they sung, and part of you honestly forgot there were others around. Your mind wandered the longer the song went on.

Yoongi’s fingers deep inside of you, his lips against your ear, his low voice purring pure filth as he made you fall apart from his hands. Namjoon’s large body pressed against yours, your lips crashed together as he rocked into you, your fingers laced together. Hoseok’s head between your thighs, squeezing your ass and pulling you flush against his lips as he greedily ate you out, dark eyes trained on every twitch of pleasure from your face. All of it rattled through your head along with images of the boys tangled up with one another. Soon, you couldn’t hear the music over the sound of daydream Hoseok, Namjoon, and Yoongi panting and groaning in your ear, accompanied by your own desperate cries and mewls for more-

God, what is happening?!

The sound of clapping cut you out of your daze, and you blinked back to reality as the three Rap Line members set the mic down, only slightly out of breath.

“Okay, so we know who won.” Tae whistled. Everyone nodded in agreement while you gulped down as much water as you could, trying your best not to choke in the process.

“So as for voting-”

“I’ll just do the dishes.” You said hurriedly, standing up like a shot. All eyes were on you in an instant and you bit back a curse at how obvious you were making it apparent that something was wrong with you.

“Woah, Y/n…I can see your cheeks all flushed from here. Are you okay? I can do the dishes if you’ve got a fever. Do you want to hold my RJ?” Jin offered, frowning. You waved your hands at him, shooting them all an unconvincing disarming smile.

“I-I’m just a little hot. Go ahead and start dinner, I’m gonna wash my face.” You stuttered though the sentence before darting down the hall, muttering a few curses in your native tongue before you ducked in the bathroom.

“Get it together, Y/n! What are you doing, girl?” You scold yourself, splashing water on your face. You grip the counter, bowing your head down as you collect yourself. There was a gentle knock that interrupted you, followed by a concerned voice.

“Y/n, are you alright? Do you want me to run to the store and grab some medicine?”

You swung the door open, looking up at Namjoon’s concerned face before you pulled him inside with you closing it back with a little more force than you’d meant to. This did nothing to calm the fears no doubt racing through Namjoon’s head.

“What-”

“I know about you, Yoongi, and Hobi.” You blurted. Namjoon blinked, brows furrowing for a moment before realization dawned on him moments later.

“Wait-”

“I overheard last night.” You explained, smoothing your hands down on your pants as you held Joon’s gaze.

“I…I was going to tell you, I swear I’ve never cheated or anything, I would never-”

“I know. Yoongi also woke up last night. He told me everything. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head, Joon.” You stepped closer to him, never breaking eye contact.

“I never expected something like this, but I’m not opposed to it.” You finally tell him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. Namjoon’s hands gravitated towards your hips instantly, surprise clear on his face.

“Are you serious?”

“I am. I wish you would’ve told me sooner, though. Instead of triple teaming me by singing sexy songs in front of all our best friends.” You teased. Namjoon hummed, a smile finally cracking onto his face.

“But where’s the fun in that?” He quipped, leaning down for a kiss. You happily kissed him back, giggling against his lips as he pulled you flush against him by your hips. You ran your fingers through his hair, licking at his bottom lip. Namjoon picked you up without warning, drawing a yelp from you as your legs wrapped around his waist. He set you on the counter of the sink, palms at either side of your thighs as he deepened the kiss, a low groan leaving his lips when you teasingly sucked on his tongue.

You two broke apart after a minute or so of the sloppy kiss, slightly out of breath as you looked into each other’s eyes.

“We’ll talk to Hobi and Yoongs about all of this in the morning, right?” You inquired. Namjoon nodded, kissing your head before the two of you quickly made your way out into the kitchen.

“Y/n, are you feeling better?”

Jimin was the first to notice you one you returned. You cleared your throat, nodding once.

“Sorry about that. Just got a bit light headed from the summer heat, it seems.” You lied, shuffling into the kitchen further to see what everyone was doing.

Jimin was slicing some strawberries and mangoes, gently dropping them in a bowl while Jungkook and Jin argued over whether the lamb or lobster should be cooked first. Tae was close to Yoongi, reading off the instructions of the pudding mix they bought while Hoseok washed off a rather large radish.

“Is that for some dongchimi?” You question, smiling when Hoseok nodded.

“I wanted to make something with a warm broth, so you’d feel better if you’re sick.” He grinned, rolling up his sleeves with a tender, yet determined look on his face. You felt your heart flutter for a moment, missing the proud smile on Namjoon’s face as he walked past you to take the spicy squid and pork out of the fridge.

“Can I help? I don’t want to stand around doing nothing.” You said, moving towards Hoseok. He frowned.

“But…you’re not feeling well.”

“I’d feel better if I was helping.” You countered.

Hoseok considered contesting the sentiment before he stepped aside, handing the radish to you. You took his place, getting to work cutting while Hoseok moved to dice some scallions. At some point, Jimin peeked over your shoulder, tilting his head.

“Hey, Y/n? Aren’t they a bit…big? The slices of radish are gonna take up the entire bowl.” He mused. You blinked and looked at the parts you cut, flustered when you realized they were, in fact, much too large for the banchan bowls. Hoseok brushed the sliced scallions into a mixing bowl before he looked over your shoulder, as well.

“That’s not too bad. Let’s doctor it up.” He hummed, walking behind you.

“Just relax, if you’re stiff, it’s gonna come out all chunky.” He told you, his breath tickling the back of your neck as he put his hands over yours, guiding you as you both sliced the radish.

You could feel the blush creeping up to your ears at the close proximity and intimacy. Yoongi watched you both out of the corner of his eye, a satisfied look on his face.

You swallowed thickly, noticing every fine detail now that you were so close to Hoseok.

The way his chin brushed against the top of your head as he helped you slice, the light scent of his cologne flooding your senses, the comforting warmth radiating off of his body.

Were Hobi’s hands always this soft?

“Oooh, are you flirting with Y/n, hyung?” Tae teased, dramatically popping a mango chunk into his mouth as he pointed in your direction. You bolted, nearly cutting your finger, had Hoseok not have tightened his grip on your hand.

“Keep teasing Y/n and I’ll tell Joon to cut down on how much meat you get today.” Hoseok scolded. Tae gasped, scandalized while Namjoon nodded from the grill he was setting up in the center of the dining room.

“I guess I’ll give all of your pieces to Y/n.“ He sighed, clearly kidding with the threat of less food. Tae still bowed in your direction like a child being scolded.

“Sorry, Y/n…”

You smiled.

“It’s alright, Taetae. Let’s get back to cooking, I know I’m starving.“

Tae agreed, maneuvering around the kitchen to grab everything he needed for the pudding.

Hobi smiled and nodded towards the cutting board.

“Let’s finish up, then. We have other things to slice.”

-x-

It took around an hour of shuffling around in the kitchen, hands brushing against your waist, Namjoon scolding the other boys for stealing food, and the usual chaos that came with cooking with Bangtan before dinner was done.

You squeezed yourself into a seat between Namjoon and Hoseok, digging in with the members cheerfully. It didn’t escape you how the boys had tactfully given you more food during dinner. You even took some initiative, reaching over the table to feed Yoongi a lettuce wrap.

You definitely noticed the way his tongue ran over the tips of your fingers as he took his bite, and part of you wondered if this was how flustered Namjoon was when you did the same to him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a small rose made out of sliced radish that seemingly appeared after Hoseok sat beside you. With a small smile, you admired it as you ate dinner.

Once everyone was full and satisfied, Namjoon hung back, as promised, to help you with dishes. He playfully bumped your arm with his a few times as you worked side by side. You sent him a playful glare, hip checking him while you put the plates away.

Together, you finished them in no time, sharing a few kisses like two reckless teens before heading back to the room to watch some movies before bed. Tomorrow, you’d definitely talk with Hoseok and Yoongi about this relationship and where it was headed.

-x-

Something shuffling beside you woke you up in the early hours of the morning, and part of you wondered why you couldn’t just a good night’s sleep without waking up mid way. The shuffling continued, followed by a sharp inhale and the telltale sound of kissing.

Curious, you cracked your eyes open, squinting in the darkness to figure out what all that movement was.

You got your answer when you heard the undeniable sound of a muffled moan. You could see Yoongi kissing and nibbling up the side of Hoseok’s neck, whispering something to him in a low, hushed tone. Hoseok shuddered, gripping Yoongi’s arm, and it was then that you noticed the fuller picture.

Yoongi had pressed himself close to Hoseok’s back, a small, devious smile playing at the corner of his lips as he lazily stroked Hoseok’s cock through the loose sweatpants he was wearing earlier.

“You gotta keep quiet, Hobi. You’re gonna wake up Y/n and Namjoon.” Yoongi purred, though he didn’t seem even remotely close to stopping. Hoseok bit back a curse, blunt nails raking down Yoongi’s arm as he thrusted into his hand.

“N-no one told you to start jacking me off, Yoongi.” He growled out, huffing out a low growl when Yoongi responded by rolling his thumb over the head of his cock, enjoying the opportunity to further tease him.

You bit your lip, squirming as you watched the subtle way Hoseok’s scolding melted away until he was gasping and whining in Yoongi’s ear, pleading for him to keep going. As your body heated up, you felt something firm nudging your ass, making your face ignite more when a low, groggy growl sounded off from above your head.

“You’re gonna wake Y/n.” He scolded, but you could tell he was more than enjoying the show.

“I…I’ve been awake.” Your voice cut through the sound of Hoseok’s moans and Yoongi muttered a startled ‘fuck’, stilling completely.

“Oh my god. Y/n, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-” Yoongi pulled back, and you could see the embarrassed flush on his face. Hoseok sent him a pointed look, clearly frustrated his release was yanked away so suddenly.

“It’s okay.” You cut off his rambling, looking back at Namjoon. He noticed the way your eyes darkened in the moonlight streaming in through the window and only quirked his lips, nodding in their direction.

“We did say we’d work things out in the morning. It is technically morning.” He mused.

Smiling deviously, you turned your attention back to the other two confused rappers. You got on your hands and knees, moving to straddle Hoseok, unable to hold back the laugh that left your lips as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“What’s wrong? You woke me up, aren’t you gonna put me back to bed? Isn’t that what you sang to me earlier?” You teased, rolling your hips down. Hoseok grunted, his hands immediately moving to your hips as you continued grinding on him, sighing at the slight relief you got when you felt the thick outline of his cock rubbing against you with every grind.

“F-fuck…are we dreaming, Yoongs?” Hoseok shuddered, sitting up so he could press a kiss to the side of your neck. Yoongi having crawled behind you, leaned down to nip at the free side of your neck, drawing a gasp and a whimper from you.

“Don’t think so.” Was the low growl of a response. You cupped Hoseok’s cheeks, leaning down to kiss him. Normally you would be tentative and shy, especially kissing someone who was just a close friend less than 24 hours ago, but the ache between your legs and the sound of Yoongi and Namjoon kissing behind you was enough for you to throw whatever hesitation you had away instantly.

Hoseok didn’t seem to mind, his large hands dipping into your pj shorts, squeezing your ass firmly as he rolled his hips up. You whimpered against his lips, rubbing your breasts against his chest as he moved your hips. Your clothes were getting much too stuffy too fast, and Hoseok must have agreed, if the subtle tug at your shorts was anything to go by.

“Are you okay with going further?” He questioned once he broke your kiss, his lips damp. You nodded, glancing over your shoulder when you heard Namjoon cursing. Yoongi’s head had disappeared between his thighs, and you couldn’t help the pout and challenging sway of your hips as you looked back at Hoseok.

“We should have more fun, too.”

Satisfied with your eager response, Hoseok ran his hands up your shirt, tossing it to the side once you lifted your arms. You did the same with him, gasping in surprise when he lifted your lower body with one arm, sliding your shorts and panties down past your ass in one fluid motion. You wiggled your hips, discarding them in the same manner.

It surely would be interesting finding all your scattered clothes in the morning.

You pulled Hoseok’s sweatpants down, nearly salivating at how thick he was. Without thinking twice, you took him in your hand, stroking him slowly as your tongue flicked out, catching the bead of precum that nearly rolled down his head. Hoseok growled in response, his dark eyes holding your gaze as you made a show out of kissing the tip of his cock, with each kiss lingering longer until you have him a teasing suck, rolling your tongue over one of the veins you noticed. He shuddered, hips tensing before he bit his lip.

“You wanna suck my cock?”

“I am down here, sucking your cock, am I not?” You shot back sassily, a jolt of electricity running through you when you saw the way his jaw clenched.

“Turn around. If you’re gonna gag on my cock, I should at least be able to taste that pussy while you do, right? C’mon, move that ass for me baby girl.” Hoseok ordered. The authoritative tone in his voice and the low drip of lust in his tone made you move much quicker, turning eagerly for him.

You hardly had any time to get your mouth back on Hoseok’s cock before he grabbed your ass again, pulling you down until your pussy was right in his face, his tongue flicking out to give you long licks. You gasped, gripping his thighs, hips involuntarily rolling down for more. Hoseok chuckled, his nails digging into the flesh of your ass even more.

“Almost creamed your panties from grinding on me and now you wanna ride my face, baby girl? Do you want it that bad?”

“H-Hoseok, ah…stop teasing her and eat her out already.” Yoongi scolded, drawing your attention back to him and Namjoon. Joon had sat Yoongi in his lap, spreading the pale rapper’s legs as he stretched him open with his long fingers, a bottle of lube off to the side of Namjoon’s hip. He was sucking hickies into Yoongi’s shoulder, watching you and Hoseok with such an intense look, it made you sudder in Hoseok’s grip.

Hoseok obliged, his tongue rolling over your clit a few times before drifting lower, curling as it slid into your pussy. You mewled, taking hold of Hoseok’s girthy cock once more, deciding to forgo the teasing from before as you tested to see how far you could take him.

Your lips stretched around him, stroking whatever you couldn’t comfortably fit. Hoseok groaned against your pussy, slapping your ass once you started bobbing your head. You whimpered, clenching slightly around his tongue. Namjoon perked from his spot near Yoongi, grinning devilishly.

“Spank her, Hoseok. She loves it.” He instructed. You looked over at him, drool running down your chin once Hoseok started thrusting up into your mouth. Almost as soon as Namjoon told him, Hoseok’s large palm cracked against your ass, drawing a whine and a gasp as the sting sent a pleasurable shock throughout your body. Namjoon, satisfied after pulling his fingers from Yoongi’s slicked hole, lifted his hips, kissing the back of his neck as the Daegu rapper eased down on his cock.

Yoongi groaned, fists clenching as he stretched around him.

“G-god damn, it’s been a while, Joon.” Yoongi sighed, rolling his hips to adjust to the stretch. You moaned around Hobi’s cock, your free hand cupping his balls, rolling them in your palm as you eased more of his cock down your throat.

“H-Holy fuck, Y/n.” Hoseok hissed, running his nails down your ass, leaving you with a pleasurable burn. You shuddered, feeling close to cumming. From the way Hoseok’s balls drew up in your palm, you could tell he was close, too.

A few more minutes of you drooling over his cock while riding his face and Hoseok was growling against you once more, squeezing your ass hard as he raised his hips, cumming with a low, drawn out groan. You mewled against his cock, feeling him fill your mouth. You whimpered, thighs slightly clenching around Hoseok’s head as you came yourself, literally riding your orgasm out as you rutted against his lips. Hoseok shuddered, giving your ass soothing caresses as you eased off of his cock.

Eyes half lidded, you crawled over to Yoongi, who was nearly incomprehensible as he rode Namjoon, his eyes closed as his head rolled back onto Joon’s shoulder. While on your knees, you shuffled over to him, cupping his cheeks and waiting until he cracked open his lust blown eyes to look at you. You stuck your tongue out, showing him how you still had Hoseok’s cum in your mouth and he instantly knew what you were prompting him to do, leaning down to mold your lips together. His tongue instantly slid into your mouth, greedily sharing Hoseok’s cum as he dominated your mouth.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Namjoon growled, snapping his hips up harder at the sight. Yoongi’s voice cracked against your lips and you took over the kiss, running your fingers through his silky, slightly damp hair. Yoongi reached around, spreading your cheeks, and the warmth behind you was a pleasant reminder that Hoseok still had more energy. He slid his cock between your legs, kissing the top of your head as he pushed into your tight pussy slowly.

“O-Oh my fucking god” You gasped, nearly biting Yoongi’s lip as Hoseok’s girth pushed into you. Hoseok kissed your head once more, holding your wrists back as he pushed in until his hips were flush against your ass.

“He feel good baby girl? You excited to be stuffed?” Namjoon purred, reaching around to stroke Yoongi’s cock as he watched the way your face changed once Hoseok started moving. It made his cock throb harder while inside of Yoongi.

“Y-Yes, oh my god yes!” You cried out, eyes rolling slightly as Hoseok started rocking into you with deep, hard thrusts. The only thing keeping you up was Hobi’s grip on your wrists. Your moans were shaky and loud, and the only thing that brought your volume down was Yoongi lacing his fingers in your hair, pulling you into a hard kiss. Whether it was to keep you from waking the others, or just because he wanted to claim your lips again didn’t matter.

The bed creaked in protest as the four of you fucked. At some point, Hoseok let your wrists go, chuckling darkly when your upper body slumped into the sheets, literally face down, ass up as he fucked you.

“God, your pussy is just swallowing my cock, baby.” Hoseok growled, giving your ass another firm slap. You whined, looking up and biting your lip when you saw Yoongi’s cock bobbing in your face as Namjoon fucked him.

You pushed yourself up to your elbows, leaning over to take Yoongi in your mouth, tilting your head and looking up at him through your lashes when his wide-eyed gaze flew down to you.

“Fuck, no no, I’m gonna cum if you-”

You slid further on his cock, shaking your hips for Hoseok as his thrusts curled up just right. You ignored Yoongi’s breathless pleas, the sound of Namjoon and Hobi’s voice encouraging you as you bobbed your head. You moaned and mewled with every thrust, the pleasure running through every inch of your body like electricity as you edged closer and closer to the edge.

“C’mon, throw that ass back for him baby, I can tell you’re close.” Namjoon instructed. You mewled, obediently spreading your legs further to move back, fucking yourself on Hoseok’s cock as you rolled your tongue along the underside of Yoongi’s cock.

Namjoon was the first to cum minutes after that, his grip on Yoongi’s hips near bruising as he held him in place. A long, shuddering growl left his lips. You came not to far after him, nearly at the same time as Yoongi as thick ropes of cum landed on your tongue. You swallowed every drop, still teasingly sucking him after he had finished to make sure he was fully satiated. His hand in your hair was enough to draw you off of him. Hoseok came last, pulling out and groaning as he came over the curve of your ass.

“Hoseok, did you just cum on her ass?” Yoongi inquired, arching a brow.

“I didn’t wanna be rude and cum inside of her!” Hoseok snipped back. You smiled lazily, shaking your ass.

“It’s fine. Maybe next time Joonie can show you two how much I enjoy being stuffed.” You tease. The three stare at you for a moment before Namjoon shook his head, a chuckle leaving his lips.

“God, I love her.”

You all exchange smiles and small pecks, taking turns showering off. Namjoon took the liberty of changing the sheets, beckoning you over once you all were showered and dried off. You crawled back into bed, kissing his cheek while Yoongi slid in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You figured Hoseok was somewhere behind you and you smiled, settling in with a smile on your face, the pull of sleep taking you not too long afterwards.

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amayawolfe · 3 years

Text

Bubblegum Blood Prologue Pt. 2 - A Glimpse of Darkness

My Stories Masterlist

Word Count: 2551

Summary: During some downtime before the sides shows, Abaki receives some unwanted attention from a fellow trainee she was hoping to avoid. When Hisoka steps in to help out, she sees a side of him she had never hoped to see again.

Warnings: harassment, mild angst, drama, mild homophobia, attempted violence

Hisoka

The sun had nearly set by the time the circus troupe had everything prepped and ready for tomorrow's departure. The entirety of the troupe was settled into an inn that was accustomed to taking in large groups of people who would come in with the ships. Located near the docks, the inn had numerous rooms ranging in sizes to suit the needs of a single person or a large group.

The majority of the troupe were in the massive common area. Numerous tables and chairs were occupied causing the large room to become noisy with many boisterous conversations.

Hisoka had taken up a quieter spot in an out of the way corner of the room. With his elbows set upon the table he rested his chin atop his slender hands and surveyed the crowd, a barely touched plate of food next to him. He was enjoying the relative piece when a sharp movement caught his sharp eye. It was Abaki.

The motion had been her retching her hand away from the tall, lanky boy that was practically on top of her. The short, oily, dark brown hair combined with the outfit of a fire-breather trainee made Jasper instantly recognizable to Hisoka. A frown formed on his mouth as he watched the two carefully.

Even though he couldn't hear what the two were saying, Hisoka could see that Abaki was clearly agitated. It seemed that Jasper was up to his antics again. He kept reaching over and touching her only to have his hands slapped away quickly. A swift glance around the room and Hisoka could see that everyone else was heavily preoccupied with their own meals and conversations. No one seemed to be aware of what was unfolding. That, or anyone that did notice didn't care enough to do or say anything about it.

Hisoka's golden amber eyes became dark as he slowly picked up the dinner knife sitting next to his plate. He carefully held the knife out of view as he returned to his resting position and waited, watching his friend and her assailant carefully.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Abaki

"Come on, Abaki," Jasper persisted, reaching out a hand to stroke the side of her face, "there's no reason you can't join me after the sideshows tonight." Abaki sneered at the scent of flame propellant oil lingering on Jasper's fingers and slapped the hand away again.

"I do have a good reason. A very simple reason. I. Don't. Want. To. Besides," she huffed, "I've already told you countless times that you're not my type."

The smile fell from Jasper's face and was replaced with a scowl.

"Do you honestly think I am dumb enough to believe you're into girls when you hang out with that red headed weirdo all the time?" he snarled. He reached his hand towards her once more and began to step forward when a sudden object whipped passed between Jasper and Abaki, embedding into the wooden post they were standing next to with a loud thunk.

The two of them turned and saw that it was a dinner knife. It had been thrown so hard the knife's blade was lodged nearly half way into the solid wood. Anger flickered across Jasper's face and he whipped around to see who could have possibly thrown the knife.

"Who threw that?!" he demanded loudly. A few people looked up yet paid him little heed. His eyes scanned faces for a suspect. Jasper's hands balled into tight fists upon seeing Hisoka sitting alone in the corner eating his dinner.

"You!" Abaki's heart jumped into her throat as he shouted at the red haired boy and stormed up to him. "Did you throw that?"

Hisoka didn't answer or even acknowledge the hot tempered young man, he simply continued staring down at his plate as he chewed what was in his mouth. Jasper slammed his fist down on the table causing Hisoka's plate and glass to jump.

"Leave him alone, Jasper!" Abaki shouted and attempted to pull the arm used to slam the table back. The boy ignored her, yanking his arm from her grasp he glared down at her young friend.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

"Hmmm?~ ♣" Hisoka casually looked up at Jasper.

"Pay attention when I'm talking to you, weirdo!" he spatt then pointed over to the embedded knife. "Did you just throw that knife at me?"

Completely unphased by Jasper's attitude, Hisoka finishes what's in his mouth at his own pace. He looks from the trainee over to the knife and back.

"No, I did not throw that knife at you, ♠" he replied coolly.

A snarl curled Jasper's lips and he grabbed Hisoka by the front of his shirt.

"Liar! If you didn't throw that knife at me then where is your knife you cut your food with, huh?"

Hisoka smirked and opened his mouth to reply only to be interrupted by another voice cutting in.

"Vaht is going on here!" Magikana was at the scene within a few strides of her long legs. Jasper instantly released Hisoka's shirt and threw his hands up defensively, wincing at the fierce expression the magician glared down at him.

"Hisoka tried to attack me!" Jasper quickly accused and pointed over to the dinner knife, "He threw that knife at me!"

"He said he didn't do it!" Abaki defended, shoving Jasper aside, glaring at him angrily.

Magikana scowled as her gaze moved from Jasper, to the knife, back to Jasper, to Abaki, then finally landed on Hisoka. She and Hisoka locked eyes for a moment as she paused in thought.

"Vell, little one? Did you throw knife at Jasper?"

"No mam, I did not throw a knife at Jasper, ♣" Hisoka answered calmly while retaining eye contact. An eyebrow slowly arched upwards on Magikana's forehead and the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly. She watched Hisoka for a moment longer before turning back to Jasper.

"There, you see? Hisoka did not throw knife at you. You can go and leave him and Abaki alone now."

Jasper's jaw dropped in disbelief as he looked back and forth between the magician and her trainee. After a minute anger flared in his eyes and a snarl curled his lips.

"This isn't over," he said in a low, menacing tone. Before leaving, he looked back over his shoulder at Abaki, glowered at her, then turned and stormed off.

Abaki shuddered and released a breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding. Magikana grimaced and nodded as if agreeing to some unspoken statement from Abaki.

"Zat one is trouble," she muttered, "is best to keep eye out for him."

"Tell me about it," Abaki shuddered again and rubbed her arms as though she were chilled. "He just doesn't stop..." "Perhaps you should speak to Drake?" Magikana proposed, "Is Jasper's trainer, yes?"

"It won't help," Hisoka interjected with a shake of his head, "Drake is worse. He actually encourages Jasper's behavior telling him Abaki is just playing hard to get. ♠"

A dark look now harbored in Hisoka's eyes. He shoved his cold food aside and rested his folded arms on the table, looking in the direction Jasper had gone before he continued.

"I almost wish I had hit him with the knife, it would have been one less thing to worry about.~♢" "Wait!" Abaki's head whipped around to her friend, "Are you saying you did throw that knife at him?!"

"No,~" Hisoka smirked, "I threw the knife at the very pole it's now stuck in, not at Jasper. Although, had he taken a larger step towards you when I threw it...~ ♢" Hisoka's words trailed off, leaving the rest to Abaki and Magikana's imagination. The two ladies exchanged glances before Abaki hugged herself tightly and gave the magician's trainee a concerned look.

"That's not funny Hisoka," she said sternly, "Jasper is an awful jerk but he doesn't deserve to die."

"Abaki is right," Magikana scolded, "Killing is no joke. Should only do so if there is no other choice."

Hisoka's eyes moved back and forth between his friend and trainer. There was an uncomfortable silence when he suddenly cracked a huge grin and waved a hand dismissively in the air.

"Of course I wasn't serious,~" he laughed lightly, "I would never wish any harm on a fellow troupe member. ♣"

"But still," he dropped his hand back down to the table and looked up at Magikana, "something about the matter should be done, wouldn't you agree? ♠" The magician's face was still stern but she nodded in agreement.

"I vill speak vith Tonio about this." She then pointed a long boney finger at her trainee, "In meantime, you must eat and get ready for show! Meet me by docks in vun hour."

"As you wish, sensei,~ ♣" Hisoka said, looking up at Magikana with a friendly smile. She held his gaze for a few more seconds before she turned on her heels and went up a flight of stairs that led to the rooms.

Abaki hugged herself a little tighter as she continued staring at her redheaded friend. The smile was still on his face, yet there was something off about it. It seemed a little too friendly, and it didn't reach the amber eyes that now seemed to smolder with a deep, seething anger.

She had heard others whisper amongst themselves how they picked up on a darkness from Hisoka. That something just wasn't right about him. Even after Morintonio explained to her that he was simply a lonely boy that was down on his luck and that she should friend him, she hesitated. Abaki had always been one to eagerly friend new people, but with Hisoka she was cautious.

At least at first.

Abaki had been the one assigned to care for Hisoka after he was found severely injured and on death's doorstep. Even though he seemed so sad and lonely, there was also a darkness in his eyes and his aura. But as time went on and the more her and Hisoka became friends, the less she saw or felt this darkness. He had seemed to become more stable.

That is, except for moments like this. Moments where Abaki was clearly reminded why she had been cautious in the first place; as well as to why people tend to stay away from him.

"It really is rude to stare like that, Abaki. I honestly do not like it. ♠" Hisoka's voice had dropped an octave giving it a more threatening demeanor. He hadn't moved a single muscle as he spoke, minus his smile melting away into a slight scowl. Only shifting his eyes towards her, they held a hellish, predatory glow to them. "Oh! I'm sorry, I- uh," she squeezed her eyes shut and gave her head a quick shake in attempts to straighten out her thoughts. Upon opening her eyes again she had to blink a few times in confusion. It was almost like she was looking at another person.

The hellfire had left Hisoka's eyes and now seemed to hold a look of concern. His head was titled to the side and there was a faint smile now on his lips. He didn't seem very threatening at all now, all the darkness and anger had simply vanished from her redhead friend.

Did- ... Did I just imagine it?

"Eh..?" she hesitated, then flashed a warm, friendly smile to him, "Sorry about that, I was just worried. Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay, silly,~ ♡" he pointed a slender finger at his friend and twirled it in the air a little, "I should be the one asking that question. After all, that creep was messing with you more so than me. ♠"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Abaki assured Hisoka then shrugged. "As much as I hate to say this, I'm pretty much used to it now. Hopefully once Kana talks to the boss something can actually be done about it."

"Yes, well, hopefully that something can be done before he goes too far.~ ♣"

Abaki cringed and shivered a little at Hisoka's dark words. She hugged herself a little again.

"Do you really think Jasper will do that?"

"Who knows," the magician trainee replied with a shrug. "I've just noticed his attempts have been getting more and more... desperate.~ ♠"

He was right. Abaki had noticed what Hisoka was talking about. Jasper's attempts to get her to go out with him were becoming more and more intense. She looked over to where Jasper now stood talking with his trainer, Drake, and a few other fire performers. Among them was a girl Abaki's age, Camilla.

Camilla must have felt Abaki's eyes on her because she suddenly looked up and over at her. She gave Abaki a small smile and waved. Blushing, Abaki smiled and shyly started waving back. Jasper noticed her movements, looked to see what she was doing then followed her gaze. He snarled and shielded his sister from Abaki's view.

She instantly stopped waving and pulled her hand to her chest. Camilla reached up and jerked her brother's arm, saying something to him in the process. A look of disgust came across Jasper's face as he turned to face his sister. It looked like they were now arguing about something.

A pained look spread across Abaki's face. She hadn't meant to get Camilla in trouble with her brother. She felt tears start to prick her eyes and she furiously scrubbed them with the back of her hand.

"I should get ready for tonight," she looked back at Hisoka who was still watching her. Her eyes fell to Hisoka's barely touched food and added, "You should finish your dinner. You hardly ever eat! Aren't boys your age supposed to, I don't know, be a bottomless pit or something?"

Hisoka smirked, "So I've heard. I guess I just don't have an appetite tonight. ♣"

"Yeah, well, you should eat, Hiso, you need the energy for the show." Abaki was aware that her voice sounded how she felt, down and emotionally strained. "And don't forget we're to practice our nen training after the show tonight."

Hisoka simply nodded yet said nothing more. Abaki sighed, she could tell that her friend was done talking for the time being. So she gave Hisoka a wave and told him she would see him later before turning and heading up the same stairs Magikana had ascended earlier. She made sure to walk quickly and not look at anyone at the fire performers table as she hurried by.

~ ~ ~

Previous Chapter: Prologue Pt.1 - A Circus On The Move

Next Chapter: Bubblegum Blood Prologue Pt.3 - The Show Must Go On!

~ ~ ~

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, if you did, please be sure to slap that heart note!

#hisoka #hisoka hunter x hunter #hunterxhunter #hunter x hunter fanfiction #fanfiction #abaki #hisoka x abaki #teen hisoka #hunter x hunter world #oc story #prologue #dark hisoka #young hisoka

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mytwilightimagines13 · 4 years

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Amnesia (Book one, part seven)(Alec Volturi)

A week had passed, and Maeryn busted herself to being excited and hopefull to see Alec again. She had even dressed up slightly but wore her long, goldenbrown hair neatly loose. But throughout the day, no Alec. She got ready to close the doors when the bell above the door rang, announcing someone entering. Maeryn turned around and was greeted by the gentle smile of Alec's lips. Maeryn smiled back, trying to not look too happy because he returned. "I hope you don't mind me barging in at closing time?" he asked. Maeyrn blinked her eyes a few times to get out of her dreaming state. "N-no. Ofcourse not." she said quickly, affraid he would dissapear again. Gosh, she sounded like a love sick fool. Alec smiled and walked closer to her, a hand behind his back. "I honestly hope you can forgive my absence this week. I had some errands to run." he said as he pulled his hand from behind his back and showed her a beautifull white rose. Maeryn smiled and took the rose from him. "You are forgiven. Though, I have to admit it has been quiet this past week." she said as she placed the white rose into the vase with the red rose. Alec couldn't help but to smile as she said this. "Daemon has told me you've wanted to see the castle ever since arriving here." he said as he watched her turn around. "Eh, yes. But sadly the tours are for invited guests only. Believe me, I asked Heidi before but no luck." Maeryn said as she played with her fingers slightly. "Well, how about a private tour? Tonight? Just you and me, I promise." Alec said as he held out his hand for her to take. Maeryn bit her lip and debated it. Daemon and Mauno had warned her many times that the castle was dangerous, and they should know since they worked there, but her curiosity and the fact that she could spend a few hours alone with Alec tempted her to take his hand and accept his offer. And so she did. She gently placed her hand into his, which was cold as ice. Maeryn gasped slightly at the coldness but didn't dare to pull back, as she could feel small sparks travel up her arm making her heartbeat speed up slightly. Alec smiled and gently pulled her out of the cafe and towards the castle. Palazzo dei Priori.

Instead of going to the entrance, Alec led her into an alley. "Do you trust me?" he whispered softly to her, making her knees feel weak. "Yes." she whispered back, unsure if he had heard her. But he had and he gently scooped her into his hard arms and jumped down a small gap at the end of the alley. Maeryn had burried her face into his neck while they fell down and it ended with Alec landing perfectly onto his feet. He gently placed her back down onto her own feet and grabbed her hand once more, making sure that she wouldn't trip on the uneven stone surface. It was quite dark, due it being night and no light was coming through the gap they had just jumped down from. The path beneath their feet continued to slant downward, taking them deeper into the ground. Slowly the hallway turned dark gray instead of black. Maeryn and Alec were in a low, arched tunnel. Long trails of ebony moisture seeped down the gray stones, like they were bleeding ink. Maeryn felt mesmerized by the old castle walls and couldn’t wat to explore even more, but she had trouble concentrating as Alec’s cold hand firmly held onto hers, as if being afraid to lose her. Slowly the temperature got colder and Maeryn had been unaware that she had been shaking slightly until Alec had stopped and turned around. “Are you alright?” he asked gently. “Yeah, I am fine. Let’s continue walking. I am sure that will keep me warm.” She explained which was true, but she was afraid that if she admitted she was cold he would take her back to the café, and that was the last thing she would want. She was finally in the mysterious castle and more importantly she was int the castle with Alec. Alec nodded his head and continued leading her through the tunnel into the castle. At the end of the tunnel was a grate—the iron bars were rusting, but thick as a human arm. A small door made of thinner, interlaced bars was standing open. Alec ducked through and hurried on to a larger, brighter stone room. The grille slammed shut with a clang, followed by the snap of a lock. On the other side of the long room was a low, heavy wooden door. It was very thick because it, too, stood open. Alec and Maeryn stepped through the door, and Maeryn glanced around in surprise. They were in a brightly lit, unremarkable hallway. The walls were off-white, thefloor carpeted in industrial gray. Common rectangular fluorescent lights were spaced evenly along theceiling. It was warmer here, for which Maeryn was grateful. This hall seemed very benign after the gloom of the ghoulish stone sewers. Alec pulled Maeryn along and the heavy door creaked shut behind them, followed by a bolt sliding home. Maeryn jumped slightly but Alec gave her a reassuring squeeze in her hand. “It’s alright, amore mio. Come on.” He said as he pulled her towards and elevator. Once inside the elevator, Maeryn took a quick glance into the mirror and tried to fix her hair slightly without him noticing. Maeryn looked at him quickly but was surprised by his eyes. Instead of their usual violet colour, they where now a bright burgundy. It slightly frightened her, but they also suited him much better than the violet ones. But to be honest, Maeryn couldn’t care less about his eye colour. The elevator ride was short; Alec and Maeryn stepped out into what looked like a posh office reception area. The walls were paneled in wood, the floors carpeted in thick, deep green. There were no windows, but large,brightly lit paintings of the Tuscan countryside hung everywhere as replacements. Pale leather coucheswere arranged in cozy groupings, and the glossy tables held crystal vases full of vibrantly colored bouquets. The flowers' smell reminded Maeryn of a funeral home. In the middle of the room was a high, polished mahogany counter. Maeryn looked at the woman behind the desk. She was tall, with dark skin and green eyes. Maeryn was sure she had known everyone who lived and worked in Volterra, but she had never met this woman before. Maeryn was afraid that they where busted and that this woman would most likely call the police, but to Maeryn’s surprise the woman behind the desk smiled politely in welcome. "Good evening, Alec," she said. Alec nodded his head. “Gianna.” He said politely as he showed Maeryn some of the many paintings. Alec explained most of the paintings and by whom they where painted, but Maeryn felt like something was off. He was defiantly hiding something. But Alec treated her to another sweet smile and Maeryn's worries where soon soothed as they continued through a set of double doors in the back of the room. Alec showed her all of the castle, almost as if he walked the corridors every single day and knew them very well. Their little tour ended in the garden, where two bushes with roses, one white and one red, where blooming and shining in the moonlight. "These roses look just like the ones you gave me." Maeryn said as she examined the roses. "Well, maybe they are from the exact same bushed." he told her. "It's not polite to steal from a castle garden." Maeryn said playfully while turning to look at him. Alec took a step closer to her and took her hand into his cold one. "Maybe I am not that polite." he said while kissing her hand gently. Maeryn blushed deeply and was gratefull that there wasn't alot of light for him to see her blush. But Alec had seen it. He gently placed a hand onto her cheek to feel her blood rushing through her thin, fragile skin. Skin he could easily pierce with his teeth while her sweet nectar would flow into his mouth and sooth the burning in his throat whenever he was so close to her. But he restrained himself, not wanting to harm this little flower. "May I ask you something, even though it might be impolite?" Maeryn asked softly. Alec smiled gently. "Of course you can, amore mio." he said softly as he lead her towards a bench and took a seat, Maeryn sitting next to him, her hand still in his. "What happened to your eyes? I mean they where violet before and now they are red." she asked bluntly but quickly looked away in shame. It where probably just contacts and she was worrying about nothing. But, to her surprise, Alec sighed and gently stroked her hand with his thumb. "I will tell you, but you have to promise to not tell anyone, not even Agnella or Adolfo." he said softly. Maeryn bit her lip but nodded her head in agreement. "I promise." she said, anxious to his answer. "Do you believe in myths about vampires?" he asked. Maeryn frowned. "Not really. That is why they are called myths, right? Because it doesn't excist?" Maeryn said as she watched her hand in his while his thumb circled on the back of her hand. Alec chuckled softly. "I guess so, in a human's book. But I am affraid some of those myths are true, seeing as I am a living one." Alec explained and looked at her. Maeryn frowned and looked up into his burgundy eyes. She felt like laughing. Him? A vampire? Yeah right. But when she saw the serious look in his eyes, Maeryn knew he spoke the truth. She wasn't sure what to do or, more importantly, what he will do to her. "Hey, it's alright. I promise I won't hurt you. Believe me, if I wanted too I would have done it the first day when I saw you in the cafe." Alec said trying to sooth her as he could hear her heartbeat quicken. Maeryn nodded her head and her heart calmed down slightly. Alec smiled once more and gently kissed the back of her hand. "Honestly, I don't know what has gotten into me lately. But when I first saw you I knew I wanted you for more than just your blood, which smells delicious to be honest." he said as he gave her a playfull smirk. Maeryn blushed slightly and Alec gently pulled her closer to him, resting his other arm around her waist. "I have told you how I feel, now I think it is only fair you tell me what you feel for me. I do hope I haven't misread any signs?" he whispered softly and his cool breath hit her face leaving the smell of his sweet breath on her face. Maeryn but her lip and shook her head. "You haven't." she whispered back. Alec smiled. "Good." he said and his eyes trailed down to her full lips. "May I?" his voice sounded husk and seductive at the same time. Maeryn could no longer anwser so she nodded her head. Alec slowly leand foreward and closed the gap between them by claiming her lips with his own. Maeryn had forgotten how to breath for a moment as his lips guided hers gently into a loving kiss, but he pulled away too soon for her liking. "My appoligies. I am sure you have alot of questions that I need to answer before we continue." he whispered softly as he pulled her hair gently behind her ear. Maeryn nodded her head as air and oxigen filled her lungs and brains and she could think quite straight again. "So, you're a vampire?" Maeryn asked. Alec chuckled. "Yeah. Or so I have been told." Maeryn blushed in shame and looked down. Alec gently made her look up again. "I am sorry. That was rude of me. Go on. I promise I won't laugh." he said, sorrow in his eyes. Maeryn nodded her head. "Alright. So what can you do? As a vampire ofcourse." she added softly and watched as Alec took her hand into his once more.

“Vampires are one of the four known supernatural species in the world, with the others being vampire-human hybrids, true werewolves, also called Children of the Moon, and shapeshifters. Vampires and Children of the Moon are transformed humans (by venom and infection, respectively); shapeshifters are a human population with gifts of their own; and, occasionally, humans show gifts of their own. The origin of the vampire race remains a mystery. Contrary to popular belief, vampires deviate from those of traditional myth. For example, all vampires have refined and perfected physical features including their scent and voice, allowing us to lure in prey. Our skin is flawless and textured with a marble-like substance much harder and stronger than granite. Due to the crystalline properties of our cells, when a vampire is exposed to sunlight, our body will sparkle like diamonds.” Maeryn giggled softly at the idea of a sparkling Alec. “What is so funny?” he asked curiously. “No nothing. I am sorry for interrupting. Please continue.” Maeryn said as soon as she got her small giggle fit under control. Alec looked at her curiously but continued anyway. “For vampires who feed on human blood, their eyes reflect a deep red, as opposed to those who drink animal blood, whose eyes will reflect a medium gold color. Vampires also possess superhuman powers, such as speed and strength. They also have incredibly keen senses and are able to hear for miles and see in total darkness.” Maeryn was lightly shaken by the fact that Alec’s eyes where read, meaning he feeds on human blood. But she was also very intrested to the rest of his story. “Vampires are indeed immortal unless destroyed. Unable to sleep, we spend all days and nights awake. After transformation, a few vampires show special abilities. I for example have the gift of sensory deprivation. But my sister Jane, the small girl you met in the cafe three weeks ago, has the gift of pain. Usually a prominent personality or physical trait magnified from our human life. Most of us, however, do not have a special gift. Vampires are unharmed by garlic, holy items, or wooden stakes; we have reflections and shadows, and we are able to walk freely in the sunlight without being physically damaged by it.” Alec finished his story.

"I guess that explains alot. Are there many vampires?" Maeryn asked. "There are quite a few, some live in covens and are stationed in one area, and others live in small groups traveling around the globe." Alec explained. "And you?" "I live with the largest coven there is. We are the Volturi, and we actually have been living in this castle for many centuries." he explained. Maeryn was curious to know more about his coven and he could see her curiosity in her eyes. Alec smiled softly and continued explaining.

“The Volturi act as the unofficial royalty in the world of vampires, and we are an incredibly influential coven. We are also considered 'nighttime patrons of the arts' as, because of our inability to sleep, we study the arts at night. The Volturi act as guardians, keeping the secret society of vampires hidden from the human world as needed. My masters often send their agents to travel from Volterra to prevent overzealous covens from exposing vampires through mass eradication of every vampire and any humans present. The coven has existed for over 3000 years, and is the largest coven in existence, followed by the Olympic, the Denali and the Mexican coven. Throughout the centuries, the Volturi have established and enforced a number of laws that all vampires are expected to obey on pain of death. There aren't many of these laws, and they mainly concern the secrecy surrounding the existence of vampires. The laws are not written down; to write them would in itself be an infraction. Instead, the laws are passed by word of mouth from vampire to vampire.”

Maeryn frowned. "Will we get killed now? Because you told me your secret?" Alec gently caressed her cheek. "No, amore mio. My family and I would actually like to invite you to live with us for a while. And after that we can always decide what we will do." Alec said and he kissed her cheek gently. Maeryn nodded her head and smiled gently. "Come on. My family would like to meet you. I promise no harm will come to you." he said as he stood up and held out his hand for her to take. Maeryn smiled and placed her hand into his as he gently pulled her to her feet and led her back into the castle.

Alec and Maeryn returned to the reception where Gianna had been and they went through a set of double doors in the back of the room. On the other side of the wooden doors was a different kind of reception, and at the end of the room the short girl was waiting for them. "I see she hasn't fled yet?" Jane said jokingly as she kissed her brother on both cheeks. "Thankfully, no." Alec said as he pulled Maeryn closer to his body. Jane smiled gently. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly. My name is Jane. I am Alec's twin sister." she said as she held out a small hand. Maeryn slowly shook it. "Nice to meet you. My name is Maeryn." she replied. Jane turned her attention back to Alec. "The masters, wives and high guard are awaiting. Aro wanted to make sure not too many people would be in the throneroom as it might give Maeryn an unpleasant feeling." Jane murmered softly to Alec. Alec nodded his head and followed his sister, gently pulling Maeryn along with him.

They ignored the doors at the end of the hall—doors entirely sheathed in gold—stopping halfway down the hall and sliding aside a piece of the paneling to expose a plain wooden door. It wasn't locked. Alec held it open for Jane and Maeryn. It was the same ancient stone as the square, the alley, and the sewers. And it was dark and cold again. The stone antechamber was not large. It opened quickly into a brighter, cavernous room, perfectly round like a huge castle turret, which was probably exactly what it was. Two stories up, long window slits threw thin rectangles of bright sunlight onto the stone floor below. There were no artificial lights. The only furniture in the room were several massive wooden chairs, like thrones, that were spaced unevenly, flush with the curving stone walls. In the very center of the circle, in a slight depression, was another drain. The room was not empty. A handful of people were convened in seemingly relaxed conversation. The murmur of low, smooth voices was a gentle hum in the air. The exquisite faces all turned toward the two vampires and one human as they entered the room. Most of the immortals were dressed in inconspicuous pants and shirts—things that wouldn't stick out at all on the streets below. But the man who spoke first wore one of the long robes. It was pitch-black, and brushed against the floor. For a moment, Maeryn thought his long, jet-black hair was the hood of his cloak. "Jane, Alec, dear ones, you've returned! And you have brought Maeryn. It is so good to properly meet you, my dear." he cried in evident delight. His voice was just a soft sighing. “Master Aro.” Alec said while Jane made her way towards the man and he lightly pecked her lips. Then he returned his attention towards Maeryn and he gave her a reassuring smile, one that a father would give to his daughter and Maeryn immediately relaxed. "My appologies. I am being very rude. My name is Aro and these are my brothers Marcus and Caius." he said pointing to the sad looking man on the left throne and the man with snow white hair on the right. "And the rest of my family. We are so delighted to meet you." he said and smiled like a child in the candyshop. Maeryn felt slightly out of place in this room where every last creature but her was absolutely gorgeous in their own way. "Thank you sir. It is nice to meet you." Maeryn said, trying to be as polite as possible. "Now I am sure Alec has told you all about us. But I am affraid he left out some pieces that I specifically had asked to not tell you. You see my dear, we have met before you came here. I believe you where on a camping trip in the forests of Forks. And a small accident happened and I had my dear Munin take those memories away. No I know you have wondered for a while what has happened that specific evening and as what hopefully will be a small welcome gift to our family, I would like to hand you your memory back. Now if you accept I do hope you consider spending some more time here with us, as a human ofcourse. We will not rush into things that need to rushing." Aro explained. Maeryn's head felt heavy. They knew what had happened that night that she had lost and one of her campsupervisors had dissapeared. She couldn't let this oppertunity slip away. "Thank you. I will glady accept your offer and gift." Maeryn replied. Aro laughed loudly and clapped his hands together as if he was praying. "Munin, if you'd please." Aro asked a man with brown hair, olive skin and red eyes. The man approached Maeryn carefully, affraid that if he moved too fast he would frighten the girl. "This may hurt alittle and I appoligise in advance." he said in his deep voice. Maeryn nodded her head and closed her eyes, waiting for the pain and the memory she so long longed to remember once more. Munin placed his fingers on her temples and gave her her memory of that specific night back. Mearyn screamed as she felt like her head was being burned. Alec helt her gently in his arms as darkness took over and the memory of that night played in her head.

#alec volturi #imagine #volturi imagine #twilight imagine #twilight #volturi

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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years

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Hallow-Queen (Joe)

I wrote three Hallow themed one shots back in October for the Boh Rhap cast (There was supposed to be a fourth, but unfortunately some things came up, and I was unable to write it. Maybe this Halloween I’ll finally get it done!?)

Anyways, there is a fic for Joe, Ben and Gwil

First up will be everyone’s favourite Dino boi! Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Reader

The monster mash filled the bathroom as you got ready for the evening, your poor spotify algorithm will be so confused after tonight. You go for months listening only to the hits of the 80’s, and then suddenly, monster mash, and the Addams family theme are on loop! That however did not stop you from grooving along to the song, moving your hips to the beat and bobbing your head. You could hear Joe downstairs, setting everything up for the party he had organised at the last minute. Joe had sent a group text to the BohRhap cast, demanding everyone be free for Halloween. This, of course had been met with a rather loud outcry. Rami and Lucy had already made plans, Gwil was travelling to Wales to see his brother, and Ben well, Ben was free and had accepted immediately. Up until two days ago, it had been planned for just you, Joe and Ben to have a quite night together, watching scary movies, and pigging out on pizza. That is, until Joe had received a message from Gwil, his brother had come down with the flu, and didn’t want to pass it on to him. Your party now consisted of four. Next came a message from Lucy, “Okay, this is crazy, I haven’t seen you in months! Tell Joe that Rami and I will be there this weekend! (Don’t mention anything to Rami please, I’ve still got to figure out how to tell him…)”

With six confirmed people, you had taken it upon yourself to invite a few extra people, work mates, old school friends, and the castmates of Joe’s current project. As far as Joe knew, there were only going to be four of you in attendance tonight, yet somehow the extra bags of crisps, candy, and drinks hadn’t clued him in on the fact that there would be a lot more people in your house tonight. The doorbell rang downstairs, and you pause your music listening out for Joe as he shuffles around the floor below. There’s the faint mumbling of voices, though they’re too quiet for you to pick up on who had arrived. Your phone ‘dings’ on the bathroom counter, and you turn your attention to it, a message from Ben illuminating the lock screen. “How long am I keeping Joe occupied for?”

You had a rather special surprise instore for Joe tonight, but to execute it properly, you needed Joe to give you some space for a little while. Ben had been more than willing to help out, offering to keep Joe away from you and the bathroom for as long as you required. “Just need 20 mins.” You send back just as the doorbell rings again. If you had planned everything correctly, everyone would arrive at roughly the same time, which meant Joe would be busy greeting all his unexpected guests. Turning back to face the mirror, you grin at your reflection, time for the piece de resistance! Carefully, you step into the legs of the suit you had chosen to wear, shimmying the material up to your hips. The suit is incredibly baggy on you, and it only becomes more noticeable as you shrug the outfit over your shoulders, but that was all about to change.

*****************

“What the hell is that noise?” Joe asks, turning his attention to Ben beside him, who paused as he went to open a beer. A loud ‘whirring’ noise seemed to echo around the entire apartment, Ben had a suspicion as to who the cause of the noise was, but had promised not to say a word.

Instead, Ben simply shrugs, popping the cap off his beer and taking a swig. “No idea sorry.” Joe squints at the blonde, but says nothing more on the topic, his eyes traveling over the costume his best mate had opted to wear. “Ben, mate, I’ve gotta ask. What are you wearing?” He waves his hand in the general direction of Ben’s costume, which consisted of a lime green skirt with purple flowers, salmon coloured tank top, and black boots.

Ben looks rather outraged at Joe’s obliviousness to his costume. “I’m sexy Patrick Star you uncultured swine!” He cries out, folding his arms across his chest, glaring at Joe. “What about you? You’ve barely put any effort in at all!”

Joe looks down at himself pouting at the blonde. “What do you mean? I’m in costume too!”

“It doesn’t count if you dress as your own character!”

Now that was something Joe hadn’t considered, he hadn’t even run his costume by with you, he just assumed that what he had decided to wear would be fine! He had on his baseball outfit from undrafted, lucky number 15 for Pat Murray. Looking at the slightly faded red shirt now however, Joe realised it was perhaps a somewhat lazy costume choice, he had just been so excited to still be able to fit into it! He never stopped to think, should he wear it? “At least my ass looks good in these pants.”

Ben can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head slowly. “Well, you’re not wrong.” A grin is plastered to Joe’s lips, as he gazes around the kitchen. Clearly you had been up to something, as there were currently at least fifteen people milling around the apartment, none of which he had invited, not that they were any less welcome though.

“No fucking way!” Joe screeches, as he looks over to the front door. It had been left open, allowing the warm night air flow into the apartment, also to stop people from constantly ringing the doorbell, allowing the guests to just walk right on in. Ben casts his glance towards the door also, an identical look of glee on his face also. “RAMI! LUCY!”

The sheer volume of Joe’s voice carries over the small crowd of guests, and the two people of his calling turn to look at him, only to find the man in question jumping up and down like a child on Christmas, waving his hands in the air. Ben looks almost embarrassed to be stood beside him, though he would never leave his side, especially seeing as the only other people who he knew at the party, were headed straight for him now. The ever impeccably dressed couple, now stood with them, dressed as Jack and Sally from the nightmare before Christmas. It was a classic costume, but they both pulled the look off so well! “What the hell are you two doing here?” Joe grins, as he wraps his arms around Lucy, then Rami in a tight, welcoming hug.

“You know, I would love to know the answer to that also Joe. Lucy, perhaps you could shed some light on the situation?” Rami smirks, wrapping an arm around the blonde bombshell.

Ben raises a quizzical eyebrow at Lucy, while she shies away from the interrogation she was currently facing. “Maybe, I accidentally typed in the wrong address when booking our uber?” She offers in explanation, though it’s obvious that even she doesn’t believe her own lie.

“Did Y/N have something to do with it?” Joe laughs, swiping a beer off the table for himself.

“I’m pretty sure Y/N had something to do with this entire party. You just weren’t told.” Ben offers quietly. Joe nods in agreement, there was no denying you had created this party, even if Joe had thought he was the one planning the whole thing.

The front door continues to swing open and closed, allowing more and more people inside, the dull mumble of conversation rising to one of a low roar. A tall shadow looms over the small group, who had migrated into the sitting room, Rami was scrolling through Joe’s phone, creating a playlist for the night, while Lucy, Ben and Joe discussed their latest projects. “Looks like our mission from God was a success. We’ve gotten the band back together.” The deep voice of Gwilym is one that cannot go unrecognised, and the small group all turn to face him. The Brit was dressed as Indiana Jones, complete with a whip from a children’s costume of the adventurer, and a brown sable fedora.

*****************

You switch the air pump off, turning to face the mirror once more, a broad grin covering your concealed face. “Joe is going to love this!” You chuckle to yourself, moving to exit the bathroom. Your walk is a slow, lumbering one, your oversized costume causing you to take short steps, as apposed to the long strides you usually took. You left your phone on the bathroom counter, having realised you had no way of picking it up and storing it on your person, now you had your costume fully applied. As you exit the bathroom, the soft notes of the time warp, melt into those of the much louder all star, the smash mouth hit blaring through the speakers on the floor below. “Stairs, okay, we can do stairs. This is fine, I am fine...”

At no point during the costume planning process had you considered the need to travel downstairs, and now here you stood, trying to gauge what the best way to tackle your descend. To say it was a slow process down would be an understatement, as you neared the bottom, a few guests stopped to look at your larger than life costume, attempting to peer in and see who had donned such an outrageous outfit. However they soon gave up, when you took too long to reach them. You could hardly blame them for walking away, by the time you got off the stairs, it had taken you close to seven minutes! You wouldn’t wait for you either.

You scan over the crowd, costumed people milling around your apartment drinking and eating, a few dancing along to the music that filled every crevice of the small home. Finally, you spot the people you had been looking for, your small band of misfits who had taken up one of the sofa’s in the sitting room. Somehow Ben, Lucy, Gwil and Rami had managed to sit themselves of the two-seater, leaving Joe sat cross legged on the carpet beside them. Moving closer, Ben is the first to spot you, not that you had expected anything else, he was the only one who knew what your costume was, in all honesty, he had been keeping an eye out for you all evening. Your shadow looms over Joe, who frowns slightly at what he would deem, as a rude intrusion into his personal space. “Hey mate, I think one of your guests needs a hand.” Ben smirks, raising an eyebrow in your general direction.

*****************

Joe looks up at Ben, his neck straining from having to continuously tilt his head back at an awkward angle to see his friends. He pushes himself up from the floor, adjusting his now lopsided baseball cap, before pivoting on the spot, only to come face to face with an inflatable T-Rex. The grin which takes over his face, is one you had been praying you would see tonight, and it only cements the fact, that you had worn the perfect costume. Sure it would likely never be worn again, you couldn’t think of a time where you would require a T-Rex costume, and you could almost guarantee that after tonight, it would be folded back into the amazon box it had arrived in, then shoved under your bed, never to see the light of day again. But just for this moment, the look on Joe’s face, made it all entirely worth it!

“Y/N that had better be you under there. Or I’m about to profess my love for a complete stranger.” He chuckles, the grin never wavering from his cheeks, as he looks past the mesh below the dinosaur’s head, searching for a face he could recognise.

You shake your head from side to side, the dinosaur’s head moving erratically as you do so. “Of course it’s me! Honestly, who else would do something like this?” You laugh, as Joe wraps his arms around you, hugging as best he can through the thick layer of inflated costume.

“Bugger me I love you.” He breaths out softly before he whirls around on the spot, one arm remaining wrapped around you, causing you to stumble forward with him. “Benjamin! Did you know about this?” Joe cries, mock hurt flashing through his hazel eyes.

Ben simply shrugs, downing the last of his beer, before leaning forwards and placing the empty bottle on the coffee table. “Don’t yell at Ben! If it hadn’t of been for him, this whole thing would’ve been ruined with your snooping!” You laugh in your friend’s defence.

Joe turns to look at you, mouth agape at your outcry. “What do you mean, my snooping?”

You roll your eyes, though quickly speak up, having forgotten no one can see your face terribly well. “Oh come off it Joe, you know as well as I do that if you get a hunch something is going on, then you do everything in your power to get to the bottom of it!”

“I do not!”

This time, there is a chorus of people agreeing with you, and Joe now turns to the group who he had only moments ago been sitting with. “Ben, I expected this from you. But the rest of you? I expected better!”

“Oh Joe, we love you, But Y/N is right. You remember Christmas last year, when you thought Gwil had you for secret Santa? You wouldn’t let it go for weeks! Not until you finally got you present, only to find out Rami had had you!” Lucy grins, shaking her head softly. Joe has the decency to look somewhat embarrassed.

“You followed me home one night after filming! It was bloody terrifying!” Gwil chuckles, crossing one leg over the other. “I nearly called the police, I thought someone was about to rob me, until I realised it was you lurking by the front door!”

You can’t help but laugh at this, as Rami turns to look at Gwil in shock. “I’m sorry, Joseph did what now?” Joe fumbles with his words as he attempts to explain himself, as Gwil simply laughs loudly, unable to form words to explain the situation to Rami. You remember that discussion quite well with Joe.

*****************

It was close the four in the morning when you heard the front door creak open, you had been napping on the sofa, the show you had been binge watching on Netflix long since finished. But Joe had promised he would be home at a reasonable hour tonight, so you had decided to stay up and wait for him. This, however, was not what you considered a reasonable time! And from the way he had been talking when you spoke on the phone earlier in the day, he was expecting to be home just after midnight.

“Hey babe.” He smiled, toeing off his shoes at the front door, and hanging his coat up on the hook by the door. You frown over at him, peering over the back of the sofa, sleep clouding you vision momentarily.

“Where have you been?” You sigh, on any other night, you would likely get into an argument over his late arrival. But you were too tired for that right now, and quietly you were just glad that he was home now.

Joe has the decency to look somewhat guilty, as he moves around the apartment, settling down on the sofa beside you. He lifts your legs for a few moments, before lowering them back down, now resting over his lap. “I’m sorry Y/N. I had a few errands to run. I guess I lost track of time.”

“Errands at three in the morning?” Joe goes still, and you can see the cogs turning in his mind as he tries to think up an excuse. “Out with is Mazzello.”

Joe pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index fingers, his eyes squeezing shut tightly. “I, um, followed Gwil home.” He mumbles.

You’re at a loss for words, and blink steadily at the ginger beside you. You had met Gwilym only a handful of times, he was such a gentleman! And for the life of you, you couldn’t understand why Joe had felt the need to follow the man home. “Expand and explain.”

“You know how the cast and I are all doing secret Santa this year?” Joe pauses, and looks over to you, watching as you nod in understanding before he continued. “Well, Rami kept asking me about things that I liked, and what I would perhaps want for Christmas. At first I thought nothing of it, but then I saw him and Gwil whispering to each other, and they kept looking over at me when I was grabbing a coffeein between takes. I put two and two together, and figured Rami was collecting information for Gwil! I asked around, tried to find out if anyone knew who had me, but either no one knew, or they refused to tell me. So I decided to take things into my own hands! We finished up for the night, and I decided to follow Gwil, to try and confirm my suspicions. He went to a department store, and I followed him as best I could, but I couldn’t see what he purchased, there were too many people around. So I realised I just had to follow him home, and see if I could catch what I was wrapping. And well, that’s kinda what I did. Problem is, he caught me lurking around the place, swung the door open, demanded I come inside, and proceeded to give me the lecture of a lifetime.” Joe finishes looking like a kicked puppy.

You can barely contain your laughter, and if it were to be told by anyone else, you would say they were lying. But you knew Joe, and this was exactly the kind of thing he would do! “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that right? The whole point of secret Santa is right there in the name, it’s supposed to be a secret!”

“Yes, I know that! But I just had to know if he did have me!”

“And, the verdict was?”

“I still don’t god damned know! I couldn’t see what the gift was when he wrapped it, and he refused to tell me!”

You shake your head, sighing deeply, it was a good thing you lived this man, otherwise you would be on the verge of sending him to a psychiatric ward. “Bloody hell Joe, I’m going to bed before you tell me anymore.”

*****************

As you stand with your rag-tag group of friends, you make a note of the one flaw in your costume, you have no way of eating or drinking whilst wearing it. A pout forms on your lips, as you join in with a conversation Lucy had sprung up with Ben. After a while, you excuse yourself “I’d best go play hostess to the rest of the guests.” You say with a grin, stepping away from the group.

“We all know we are the best guests here!” Rami calls, giving you a double thumbs up as you walk away.

You grin, shaking your head softly as you move around the large number of guests. It seemed like most people had taken the option of bringing a plus one, not that you could blame them. You often did the exact same thing, dragging Joe along to most social gatherings you were invited to. Slowly, you made your way around to everyone, making polite conversation with the guests you didn’t know well, and speaking enthusiastically about your costume with those you did know. By the time you had made the rounds a few times, you were hungry, and honestly really frustrated about not being able to eat. You made your way over to Joe, attempting to be subtle as you slide into the conversation he was engrossed in, Gwil talking animatedly with him about his latest project. “Hey babe, could I borrow you for a few minutes?” You ask softly.

Joe turns away to look at you, smiling at you, leaning down to hear you over the loud noise of the party. “Sure love, let’s go somewhere quiet so I can actually hear you?” He grins, before leading you away, towards the laundry. It was a rather small room, and was barely more quiet than where you had just been, but you were thankful for not having to manoeuvre the stairs once again. It was one thing to go down, and you wouldn’t know where to begin with how to go up. “What’s up?” Joe grin, leaning back against the washing machine, arms folded loosely over his chest.

“Can you give me a hand getting out of this?” You laugh, gesturing as best you can with you tiny T-Rex arms, at the costume you were surrounded by. “It was a bitch of a thing to get on, and I don’t even know where to start with taking it off.”

Joe grins, though moves to you quickly, helping you out of the outfit with ease. Perhaps you should’ve asked for some help getting it on also? That probably would’ve been a good idea… Joe places the sad looking T-Rex in the corner of the laundry, grinning across at you. “Now who are you supposed to be?” He chuckles, taking in your now lack of costume.

You look down at your yoga pants and shirt combo. “I’m a Jurassic Park fan still, can’t you tell?” You smirk, pointing to the faded Jurassic Park logo shirt, which you had long ago stolen from Joe. “I’ve got a soft spot for ‘lil Tim Murphy. He was my first movie crush.” You giggle.

Joe sighs, rolling his eyes at you, though a smirk tugs the corner of his lips. “How about a soft spot for Pat Murray too?” He suggests wriggling his eyebrows at you suggestively. You walk over to him slowly, rolling your hips as you do so, watching as his eyes travel from yours, and down to your hips. You stand up tall, taking the dusty cap off his head, planting it firmly on your own. His hair is an absolute mess underneath, his auburn locks pointing in all directions.

“Perhaps I just have a soft spot for that actor in general?” You tease, before making your way out of the laundry, and back to the party. You don’t wait for Joe, making your way over to your group once more, throwing yourself onto the sofa with an “Ooof.” Ben barely had a chance to get out of the way before you land partially on him, and Lucy grins at you from where she sits on the arm of the sofa.

“Someone pass me something alcoholic in nature please.” You grin, as you make yourself comfortable, sinking into the cushions. You don’t have to as twice, a glass of what you assume is rum and coke, thrust into your hands from Rami. “Cheers!” You grin, raising your glass in the air, before tipping the contents back.

You quickly fall into conversation with Ben, thanking him over and over again for keeping Joe distracted earlier in the evening, to which he brushes you off, telling you to not worry about it. Completely unaware, that when he brings up the promotion you recently got at work, that perhaps he was now keeping you distracted. Joe had reappeared recently, sitting on the opposite side of you, with a bowl of hula hoops in his lap. Carefully, he takes your left hand, and places one of the snacks on your ring finger, a soft blush covering his cheeks. “Thank you Joe, I am starving!” You grin, eating the food off your finger.

You’re oblivious to what he’s getting at, paying no mind to which finger he continues placing the crisp on, and instead, eating it off each time a new one appears. Joe looks at Ben over you shoulder, who simply shrugs in response, unsure what either could do about it. “Babe, could I maybe have more than one at a time?” You ask sweetly, and Joe looks physically pained.

Lucy, who had been watching the events unfold before her, had cottoned on to what was going on early in the piece, and decided to jump to Joe’s aid. “Y/N darling, just take a second and look at your hand yeah?”

You frown slightly at her, before turning away from Joe, looking down at your hand. “What’s so special about? Oh….” Perhaps it shouldn’t have taken you this long to figure out what was going on. The hula hoop sat just above your first knuckle on your ring finger.

“Um, I know this isn’t how one normally does the whole, proposal thing. But we haven’t gone out looking at rings before, and I don’t know was your ring size is… So I’m kinda hoping this will do for the time being? As a place holder kind of thing?” Joe rambles, the blush creeping steadily up to the tips of his ears.

“Joseph, I’ll marry you with or without a ring.” You grin, throwing your arms around his neck, as his snake around your waist, your lips pressing together in a fierce kiss. A kiss full of promises of the future.

“Jeez, I don’t know how we’ll upstage Halloween next year.” Gwil smirks, as he and the other guests who were aware of the happenings clapped for the newly engaged couple.

My Masterlist

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scaredofheroin · 4 years

Text

Captain N - Chapter 7: Plotting Their Course

Five cups of specially mixed fruit drink were clinked together in celebration, the five heroes then taking a synchronized sip from their own glasses. Down in Club LOL, Captain N, Simon, Falco, Pit and Zelda enjoyed their victory over King K. Rool's forces alongside other townspeople. Upbeat yet relaxed music wafted through the club as everyone was casually chatting with each other. The townspeople were courteous enough to crowd the five guests, offering them space to move about and feel comfortable. Zelda and Simon stayed further away from the center of attention, while Pit and Falco mingled about. Captain N carefully drifted through the crowds, unsure of what he's supposed to do. He's never been invited to any kind of party during his time on Earth, much less one in his honor. It was much more difficult than usual for him to remain inconspicuous, not only because of his status as town hero, but also because Captain N stood head and shoulders above the people of New Leaf Town. As he tried to take in the fruity drink, two small raccoon boys in formal suits approached him, each holding a piece of paper. "Excuse me, mister Captain?" The one on the left asked. Captain N turned to face them, and they stood up more straight. "My name's Timmy!" The raccoon on the left introduced himself. "And I'm Tommy!" The raccoon on the right continued. "We're in charge of Nookling General Stores, our uncle now runs Nook's Homes." Timmy explained. "We jut wanted to say it's really cool that you saved our home from King K. Rool's henchmen!" Tommy eagerly piped up. Trying to remain humble, Captain N smiled as he waved his hand nonchalantly. "All in a day's work, kiddos." He assured them. "We were just wondering something..." Timmy trailed off, getting more nervous. "Can we get your autograph, mister Captain?" Tommy asked, holding up his paper. Captain N chuckled as he carefully took the paper. Tommy quickly produced a pen for Captain N, before he could ask for one. Taking the pen, setting the drink aside and getting down on one knee to use his thigh to write, Captain N felt incredibly flattered to have someone want his signature. Well, not HIS signature, Captain N's signature. Giving them Peter Lavancha's signature would only confuse his two young fans. He then took a moment to decide how to write his signature, then deciding on writing "Captain" diagonally in cursive, with a large "N" resembling the one on his varsity jacket behind the first word, adding "To Tommy, keep up the great shop keeping!" as the finishing touch. "Me next! Me next! ...oh, please!" Timmy spoke up, holding out his paper. Captain N graciously took the paper and wrote a similar message to Timmy, handing it back after careful writing. "Thank you, mister Captain!" Timmy eagerly thanked. "Yeah, thanks!" Tommy added. Captain N laughed waving off their formality. "Just Captain N is fine." Captain N informed the two. Waving goodbye, Timmy and Tommy ran back off into the crowd, chatting to each other. Captain N could pick up a few sentences on their conversation. "You think he's cooler than Link or Mario?" Timmy asked. "I dunno, Captain N only saved our town so far, those guys saved like the entire world!" Tommy answered. Captain N felt a slight shadow over him, as if trapped under the legacy of the heroes that came before him. Taking another sip from his drink, he could feel the weight of the world on his shoulders again. Those guys, Mario, Link, Samus, Kirby and so on, they were all surely more skilled than him. They had more experience fighting these villains, from the sounds of it.

But they still lost.

Captain N nervously paced about the edge of Club LOL, his mind racing. He tried to calm himself, reminding himself of the victory earned today, but to little avail. His increasing nerves opposed those of everyone else present, who all seemed much more at ease, casually talking and exchanging jokes. Larger battles were on the horizon, and not just against the three kings. He knew invading Dracula's castle isn't going to be easy, and he really doubted his ability in facing the vampire face-to-face. His eyes darted around the club, searching for his allies. Pit and Falco were still talking to some of the townspeople, but Zelda and Simon were nowhere to be seen. Captain N's worrying intensified. Where are they? What are they doing? What if they bailed? What if-

Captain N took a moment, closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, waited a moment, and exhaled. Zelda has her magic, and Simon is more experienced in dealing with Dracula. Surely they were plotting the course to Castlevania. Deciding he shouldn't be alone, Captain N walked over to Pit, who was refilling his drink. He walked a bit slower and more carefully, still sore. Despite the noise in the club, Pit could hear Captain N approaching, and turned to face him. "Enjoying the spoils of victory?" Pit asked jokingly. Captain N shrugged with a smile. "It can be a little much to have all this in my honor." Captain N admitted. "You've really had a rough few days, huh?" Pit noted. "Eh, it could be worse." Captain N replied, rather bluntly. Confused, Pit prodded further.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"You just gotta count your blessings. I could've been sent to a world where nobody speaks the same language as me. I could've been sent to a world where the atmosphere is methane. I could have been teleported a mile in the air or underwater. I could have been sent here while I was in the shower."

Pit laughed gently before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, those are some good points." He chuckled. Captain N gently laughed along, taking another sip from his drink. It tasted rather sweet, but the taste was still unique from other fruit-flavored drinks he's ever had before. Maybe apples and grapes taste different on Yamajiro? It makes more sense than all the other stuff he's seen lately. Falco could be spotted leaning against a wall on the far side, setting his empty drink to the side as he answered questions asked by eager townspeople. A larger raccoon male approached Captain N, who greatly resembled Timmy and Tommy. "Excuse me, Captain?" The raccoon asked, getting Captain N's attention. Pit moved away, not wanting to eavesdrop. "Hey there, how's it going?" Captain N asked him. "I'm sorry if my nephews bothered you, they-" The raccoon started to apologize, but was soon waved off by Captain N. "It's fine! Always great to meet a fan!" Captain N assured. The raccoon nodded before continuing. "Anyway, my name is Tom Nook, I'm sure my nephews mentioned me." Captain N nodded, recalling their description of him, as well as Isabelle's description of him from yesterday. "I don't suppose you want an autograph too?" Captain N gently joked, where Tom shook his head in response. "No no, See, I run a housing business here, and I'm always welcoming new homeowners to New Leaf Town, so perhaps I could show you around where you could move in?" Tom offered. Captain N shook his head, smiling. "That sounds great, but I can't really afford to settle down yet. I'm on a mission, after all." Tom nook nodded to himself, slightly turning away. "Well, in case you ever change your mind, you know where to find me." He concluded, refilling his drink and walking off to find Timmy and Tommy.

As he was watching Tom leave, Pit noticed Simon and Zelda waving him and Captain N over. Nudging Captain N to get his attention, he joined Pit in walking over to the two, who produced a large map. Zelda conjured a small light to illuminate the map. "Here is where we are." Simon stated, pointing to a small town on the map. "And here is where we believe Castlevania is right now." He continued, dragging his finger over to a hand drawn mark further away on the map. "So that's where we'll find the next weapon?" Captain N asked. "We believe so. Yamajiro isn't home to many castles, so we're hoping that despite its mystical nature, Castlevania guards another one of your predecessor's weapons." Zelda answered. "Alright, now we're talking!" Pit cheered, turning a few heads. Falco walked over, peering at the map. "So we've finally got a plan?" He asked the group. Captain N nodded, pointing to the point. "That's where Castlevania is. When are we leaving?" Captain N asked Simon, who bluntly answered "Tomorrow morning, 7 AM.". Zelda noticed Isabelle beside the group, looking nervous. "I guess you're going to be leaving soon?" She asked. "Yeah, we've gotta get going." Pit confirmed, making Isabelle's expression sink slightly. "But what if more of K. Rool's or Dedede's or Bowser's forces come here? What will we do?" Isabelle asked. "Do not worry, I will know if your town is in any danger." Zelda assured. Isabelle seemed to be eased by this, perking back up. "It will be a shame for you all to leave so soon, I'm sure our mayor will have loved to meet you!" She insisted, to Captain N's slight doubt. What kind of mayor spends this much time fishing?

Just then, the spotlights dimmed and focused to the stage, specifically on a white male dog holding a tan guitar while sitting on a stool. The room quickly hushed, eagerly awaiting his song. Isabelle quickly shushed the conversation, despite there not being anyone currently talking. "It's K.K. Slider!" Isabelle eagerly whispered. A microphone was lowered from the ceiling, down to K.K. Slider, where he grabbed it and cleared his throat. "Good evening, guys and gals." He casually greeted everyone. The crowd applauded in response, and K.K. patiently waited for them to quiet back down. "It's been a real rough day, huh? Those no-good goons of K. Rool's almost came in and trashed the town." He noted glumly, but his tone raised after. "But we've got some new tight friends who protected us, and I think they deserve another round of applause." Once he was done speaking, the room erupted into more applause, with the spotlights focusing on the five in the back, Isabelle semi-awkwardly stepping out of the way. Captain N raised his hand to shield his eyes from the bright lights, but Zelda and the others adjusted to the light easier, merely turning away from the spotlights. K.K. waved them forward, and the crowd parted to allow them to walk right in front of the stage, the spotlights following them. Captain N led the group forward, followed most immediately by Zelda and Pit, with Falco and Simon in the back, who had folded up and stored away the map in one of his pockets. K.K. looked upon the group warmly yet casually, leaning back into the microphone. "Tonight's show is in the honor of our most excellent guests: vampire hunter Simon Belmont, Star Fox pilot Falco Lombardi, leader of Palutena's royal guard Pit, Princess Zelda from Hyrule and the man we've all been waiting for: Captain N! Here's to teaching those three jerks a lesson!" K.K. announced, the microphone raising back to the ceiling as he adjusted his guitar. Simon and Falco simply gave a quick nod, Pit waved his arm eagerly, Zelda offered a polite wave to the crowd and Captain N waved, still incredibly flattered. The club hushed once more as the lights refocused to the stage, the silence all the more deafening, eagerly anticipating K.K. Slider's next song. After testing a few of the strings, he began to play.

As a painter with a brush to a canvas, K.K. masterfully and intricately fingered the strings on the guitar, producing a hopeful and invigorating, yet oddly peaceful tune. Captain N closed his eyes, allowing himself to be submerged in the melody. Drifting away from his physical presence in Club LOL, his mind was taken by the song to a scene of Captain N, Falco, Zelda and Pit on the peak of a large cliff overlooking a grand valley, painted in countless, beautiful colors illuminated by the sun rising in the early morning. This imaginary valley stretched out as far as the eye could see, with towns and small settlements visible in the distance. But as far away as possibly visible was a large, imposing castle. The music swelled, K.K. intensifying the song. This raise in tone in turn raised Captain N's spirits. In this moment, he felt invincible. With his allies at his side, he felt like he could take on the world. Dracula, Bowser, King Dedede, King K. Rool and whoever else. None of them stood a chance against Captain N or those who stood beside him. He opened his eyes back up, a smile having grown on his face. Everyone else was enjoying the music, albeit quietly as to not drown out the tunes. Even Falco seemed more tranquil than usual, focusing only on the song. Each strum of the guitar spoke levels of K.K.'s immaculate mastery of the instrument. Sadly, the song, like all things, had to end, and the song concluded with the notes drifting off and becoming quieter and quieter. Once the song was over, K.K. set his guitar to the side, and was met with immense applause, which Captain N and Pit eagerly joined in on. Even Zelda seemed more eager in her congratulatory clapping, clearly impressed with K.K.'s musical talents. "That's a little something I whipped up earlier today, I'm glad you all grooved with it." K.K. said, slightly exhausted from the performance. "Let's hear it again for our heroes!" He announced, earning even more applause from the crowd. As egotistical as it made him sound, Captain N was starting to get used to getting applauded. The outpouring of attention right onto HIM specifically, for what he did earlier today with his four allies, it made him feel a level of pride he's never felt before. Falco nudged his shoulder, grinning at him. "Soak it in, buddy. You've earned it." He encouraged. Zelda and Pit nodded in agreement, while Simon remained rather nonchalant in the face of such praise.

Captain N was content to spend the rest of the night like this, drowning in praise from his good deeds, but Zelda walked closer to the stage and spoke up. "Truly, it's been a pleasure to share this evening with you all, but our journey must continue, and we will be departing early tomorrow morning." She announced to the room, and Captain N could almost feel the tone of the room drop like an anchor. For someone so distinguished, Zelda sure knew how to be a party pooper. "We can't thank you enough for your endless hospitality, and I think I speak for all of us when I say we wish we could stay here." Captain N spoke up, hoping to ease the mood. After some murmuring to each other, it seemed like everyone came to an understanding. Isabelle carefully walked up to the front to address the townspeople. "We should all be getting some sleep, tomorrow is a new day for us all." She spoke up, and soon after the club started emptying out. Not too long after, it was only K.K., Isabelle, Falco, Zelda, Simon, Captain N and Pit. "It truly is a shame that you'll be leaving so soon, but we understand your reasons." Isabelle admitted glumly. "We all hope the waves of life are smooth for you guys." K.K. added, carefully packing up his guitar. "Yeah, those butts aren't gonna kick themselves!" Pit spoke up, lightening the mood a bit. "You all will always be welcome in New Leaf Town, and I'm sure our mayor would agree!" Isabelle assured. "I'll take your word for it." Falco remarked. "We should get going, we've gotta leave early tomorrow morning." Simon informed the two. After waving goodbye, the five left Club LOL and walked back to the hotel. "You four should get to sleep, I can handle the packing myself." Simon declared. Zelda was about to protest, but relented. The ascent up the stairs was slightly more difficult this night, due to still being sore from the battle. Pit and Falco were eager to get to sleep, and disappeared into their hotel rooms first. Zelda was about to go into her room, but Captain N got her attention. "Hey, Princess?" He asked. Zelda turned to him in response. "What is it?"

"You're... you've got access to important stuff, right?"

"...I suppose so."

"Do you think that maybe... when this is all over... I feel awkward asking, but could you and Palutena and the others... figure out a way to send me back home?"

Zelda paused for a moment and looked away, mulling over how best to respond, then looked back to Captain N.

"...We'll see what we can do."

Captain N nodded slightly, hanging his head. Knowing this was the best answer he was gonna get, he responded with a soft. "Thank you, Princess." A mutual, knowing nod was shared between Captain N and Zelda before they walked into their hotel room. As soon as he rolled into bed, Captain N immediately fell asleep.

What felt like only an hour later, Captain N was woken up with a banging on his door. Looking at the clock and seeing it read 6:59, he slowly got out of bed and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before answering the door. Opening the door, he saw Simon standing right outside, holding a large bag. "We're leaving now." He bluntly stated. "Yeah, good morning." Captain N mumbled, nodding. Looking past the door, he found Falco, Pit and Zelda standing beside him. Captain N briefly looked back in his room, instinctively wanting to pack his bags, but upon remembering he had no bags, he stepped out of the room and met everyone else. "Good to see you're more on time today." Falco noted. "I'm just that eager to get going." He half-lied in response. "Well, since we're all here, let's go!" Pit declared, marching off towards the exit of the hotel. Zelda could hear Falco grumble about not being able to use his Arwing, but Zelda decided to not scold his sour attitude. Captain N groggily stumbled down the halls, managing to keep up with everyone else. Fortunately the sleep he was granted helped assuage the soreness in his body. Simon led the group, where upon reaching the front doors, a fruit basket was placed on the carpet before them. Looking around, only the receptionist was up, and the town was scarcely populated, with the sun not having fully risen yet. Simon picked up the basket and found a note reading "Here's to your continued success from all of us! -Isabelle" written in cursive. He only let out a slight "hmph" and handed it off to Captain N. He carefully took it, and looking around to the group, he could see everyone was ready to today.

Next stop: Castlevania.

#captain n #nintendo #konami #crossover #the legend of zelda #princess zelda #star fox #falco lombardi #kid icarus #pit #castlevania #simon belmont #animal crossing #isabelle #tom nook #kk slider #fanfic #reboot #writing

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metamorphicrocky · 5 years

Note

it doesn't have to be long or super elaborate but maybe a drabble with Little Cato seeing how stressful and tiring the idea of fatherhood is to Gary, how scared he is to screw up and comforting him? Bonus points for Gary opening about his childhood to Cato a bit.

minnie I think we both knew that I was never just gonna write a drabble for this. honestly I think I’m incapable of writing anything less than 1500 words. but this prompt? killed me. I love it!!!

Little Cato and Gary rush behind a group of barrels, gun fire following closely after. Little Cato pants, his fingers tightening around his gun as Gary takes his larger gun off of the strap on his back.

"This isn't good, at all," Gary says frantically.

Little Cato nods in agreement, peeking a look around the barrel behind him to see the enemy growing closer and closer. He glances at the man next to him who's focus is flitting around the warehouse room, probably looking for any close exits.

They really need a good plan.

The Ventrexian notices a clear and hidden path that would lead him right behind the men advancing on them. Okay, so he has a plan now.

"I'm gonna sneak behind and distract them, cover me," Little Cato says, immediately running off to enact his plan.

He barely even registers Gary's panicked, "Little Cato, don't you dare," as he launches himself over a crate and lands without a sound behind the men.

"Hey!" the kid yells, instantly drawing attention to himself. He takes this opportunity to shoot at two of the guys, and he's about to get another when he suddenly sees a dark shadow fall over him, then—

Snap!

Little Cato screams in agony, tears bursting from his eyes as searing hot and sharp pain courses through his arm. A large and strong hand squeezes his broken arm, and he cries out again as he's lifted off of the ground. He hears and feels something crunch, so he can barely register Gary's distant yelling from the white noise filling his ears.

He forces his eyes open, his vision blurry from his tears, to see Gary standing tall, his blaster at the ready in front of him. Words are being said, but Little Cato can't tell by who because of the pure agony he's in from so much pressure being put on his very broken arm.

Little Cato tries to take in deep breaths, but all he can do is pant. And then all of a sudden someone shouts, shots are fired, and the grip holding him up disappears, sending him hard onto the cement ground. He curls around his arm, more tears slipping down his face.

"Little Cato! Hey, buddy, what hurts?" Gary demands, frantic yet gentle all in one.

"Arm," he whimpers.

Gary curses under his breath and cards a hand through Little Cato's hair. "It's gonna be okay, bud. Just hold on. Nightfall, we need...."

Little Cato feels Gary wipe away a few of his tears as everything fades away, and then he passes out.

----

Gary's angry. Little Cato notices it within seconds of getting out of the medpod. Actually, cross out mad; pissed is more like it. He's just standing there, his arms crossed as Nightfall puts his arm into a splint so that it can continue to heal properly.

She can sense the tension between them, but once she finishes with his injuries, she leaves the room. So he won't get any help from her in stopping Gary from yelling at him. Great.

His dad isn't wearing his leather jacket, his hair is even more disheveled than usual, and he just looks tired. But more importantly pissed, which is not going to go well for Little Cato.

"How are you feeling?" Gary asks, stepping away from the counter he had been leaning on.

"Better," the kid responds. "The advanced healing and painkillers probably help, too."

Gary nods, and the silence that follows is very awkward, for the both of them. Little Cato decides to break it.

"I know what you're gonna say."

The blond raises an eyebrow. "And it is...?"

"That I shouldn't have done that."

"Yeah, you're right," Gary huffs. "But you don't believe that, do you?"

"It was a good plan," he mumbles.

"No, it wasn't! Why would you do something so stupid and reckless? You could have gotten killed!" Gary yells, throwing his arms out in exasperation.

"I had it under control!" Little Cato defends, his tail bristling.

Gary rubs his hands down his face. "Oh, so you meant to break your arm? They would've killed you if you couldn't be used as leverage against me."

Little Cato doesn't have a response to that, so he just holds his splinted arm against his stomach and stays quiet. His dad is obviously waiting for him to say something, but after a few moments of silence, he sighs.

"You're grounded. Go get some rest," Gary says, some anger still left in his voice.

Little Cato splutters, "But I–!"

Gary sends him a stern look. "I'm not arguing about this, bud. Go get rest so your arm can heal."

Little Cato hops down from the exam table with a huff and stalks past Gary, straight to his room. He slams his door shut, sliding down it until he's seated in an angry ball in the floor. Okay, yeah he got injured, but it's okay! He's still alive and kicking, just like he should be. And it was a good plan, even if it backfired.

The kid sits there angrily for at least a few hours, wondering why grounding was really necessary, until someone knocks on his door. He stands and opens it, thankfully seeing Nightfall instead of Gary.

"Um, hey," Little Cato says.

"He's upset, you know." Damn, Nightfall did not waste any time in getting to the point.

The boy shrugs. "Well, he's the one who grounded me and got mad," he mutters.

"You think he's mad? He's worried about you, Little Cato. He's been pacing the bridge this whole time. He won't let anyone in there," Nightfall says.

"He's worried? But my arm is healing." Little Cato is so confused right now.

Nightfall sighs deeply. "He thinks that he isn't raising you right. He blames himself for you getting hurt."

"Oh."

She hums. "Yeah. Oh."

Now that Little Cato is looking back on it, what he thought was anger was just very intense worry. And Gary looked so tired and worn out.... Oh shit, he messed up.

"Oh noooo," Little Cato moans, covering his face with his unbroken arm. "I'm an idiot."

Nightfall pats him on the back. "You're not an idiot, you both are just new to this."

"I'm gonna go apologize," he says.

Little Cato immediately runs towards the bridge as fast as he can without jostling his arm too much, slipping around corners in his haste to make things right. He can see the doorway just ahead, so he sprints faster and then abruptly stops in the middle of the entryway.

His dad is sitting in the pilot's chair, hunched over, his head in his hands. Little Cato can't see his face, but he knows that Gary is absolutely miserable right now. Oh, he really messed up this time.

The kid quietly approaches Gary, but stops next to him. Cautiously, he places his good hand on the man's shoulder, which causes his dad to lift his head and panic when he sees who it is.

"Spidercat, hey," Gary says nervously. "What are you doing?"

Little Cato frowns when he sees how Gary's eyes are red, the dark circles under them just making it even worse.

"Scoot over," he demands.

Gary gives him a confused look but moves over anyways. The kid squeezes himself into the small spot, and it's more than a tight fit. But he doesn't care because that's not important right now, but it does make wrapping his one good arm around his dad in a hug much easier.

The man stiffens at the contact, but Little Cato came here with a plan and will not stray from it. "I'm sorry about earlier, Gary."

"It's, uh, it's okay."

"No, I was being a butt. You were just worried about me," he urges.

Gary sighs. "Nightfall talked to you, didn't she?"

The kid nods.

"I'm fine, don't worry about what she said," Gary says enthusiastically, but now that Little Cato knows him better, he can tell it's a lie from how his smile doesn't reach his eyes. Also, even more telling than that, is how he still hasn't hugged Little Cato back.

"I don't know what's banging around in your head, but you're doing a good job. Like, dad-wise. Well, at least I think so, and I think I've got some authority to give my opinion on that," Little Cato encourages nervously.

He smiles up at Gary, who has an unreadable expression on his face. Little Cato wonders what it is until Gary just lets out a stuttering sigh and rubs at his face, his hands shaking slightly.

Oh, he's concerned now. "Are you okay?

"Oh, geez," Gary says as he pinches his eyes. "I'm just overwhelmed lately, kiddo. God, you are the last person I should be talking to about this."

Gary laughs sardonically as he tries to recollect himself. Little Cato just sits and waits for him to speak because if Gary is gonna be there for him, he has to do the same.

"After my dad died, I had no one. It was just us my entire life, and I didn't even meet my mom until the funeral. I was too young to be looking out for parenting tips, so I have no idea what I'm doing. And today? You really could've gotten hurt worse than you did, and that would have all been on me. I don't want my mistakes to hurt you.

"I've messed up everything in my life so far, and I can't let you be the next thing."

Gary makes eye contact with Little Cato, and the kid can see every single worry he has bottled up on the verge of bursting out.

"I don't care if you've messed up before, I think all you can do is try your best," Little Cato reasons.

The blond sighs. "That's the thing. I have to be better than my best for this, and I'm doing a horrible job."

"I mean, I think you're pretty great, Dad," he says, passionately quiet. He feels Gary shudder from where he's holding him, and two arms wrap him up in a tight hug. Gary buries his face into the top of his head, allowing Little Cato to feel some tears fall. So he hugs harder.

"If you're gonna be too busy taking care of everyone else to take care of yourself, I'm just gonna have to do it for you," the kid promises.

His dad laughs wetly, smiling at Little Cato's smug expression. "Oh yeah? Thank you, my dear old dad," Gary jokes.

Little Cato nods seriously. "You're welcome, my son."

They both laugh, and Gary takes this opportunity to wipe away his tears. Gary nestles his hand on top of his boy's head as they both turn their attention towards the endless space before them. They don't know what's going to happen in the future, but Little Cato knows that Gary will realize how great of a dad he is soon.

"You're still grounded, by the way."

"Yeah. That's fair."

#I'll always go elaborate for you #anyways lil cato comforting gary??? you really know how to give me the good stuff #final space #final space season 2 #fs spoilers #gary goodspeed #little cato #nightfall #dadspeed #john goodspeed #fs fics

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aelysalthea · 4 years

Text

The Secret Lives of Neil Josten

Chapter 3: Dan's Academic Pursuits

Dan was bored already. Bored when it wasn't even the end of her first class? It made for a long semester to come.

Mathematics wasn't really a choice she'd wanted to make. Even Introductory Statistics was so far out of her realm of expertise that it would be a struggle, regardless of how often Matt preached that it was "only a first-year subject". Dan wasn't a math person.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean she wouldn't take it. It would be useful, she knew, just as she'd known that Introductory Mathematics would be to her benefit in the long haul. It would. Hopefully. Surely her arduous struggle two years before couldn't be for nothing.

The first class of Statistics wasn't setting a good precedent for successive lectures, however. The lecturer was a younger man, thin and plain, unremarkable but was a remarkably boring voice which he used to make a dull subject seem even duller. He spoke at the room rather than to the students and seemed to forget for the better part of the class that he had an audience at all. That, and that the words he droned and the solutions he detailed were in perfectly legible font on the screen overhead.

There wasn't a need to read it out when Dan was fairly sure that everyone in the class could read. Almost one-hundred percent sure.

"This was a bad idea," Kelsey muttered at her side exactly fifty-four minutes into the lecture. Professor Drone-A-Lot looked to be only contemplating the prospect of wrapping up. "A really, really bad idea."

Dan nodded in heartfelt agreement. She and Kelsey weren't really friends, just as she wasn't really friends with Thomas at her other side, or Jackson another chair along. She didn't even know the girl who sat on Kelsey's other side but to recognise her as a fellow athlete. They tended to group together these days, and especially the seniors. Juggling a sports-life and college studies was nothing short of a circus act.

If Dan had her choice, however, she would have sat with one of her Foxes. Even a freshman would have been better than Kelsey the netballer or Thomas, who played - what did he play again? Hockey, was it? She couldn't remember. Unfortunately, a quick glance around the enormous, ominous, mostly full lecture hall when she'd first stepped through the doorway hadn't spotted any of her own. That in itself was strange, because Dan could have sworn she had one. A valuable one, too. Neil was reportedly good at math, or so Matt had claimed the previous year.

The professor was still droning, still dictating what was already written on the screen over his head, by the time Dan's watch ticked onto the hour. As if to the sound of a bell, motion rippled through every student. No one spoke, not a one interrupting the professor, but unspoken agreement sounded the end of class. A sidelong glance saw the boy at the end of Dan's row slink into the aisle, twisting in place to scuttle up the stairs and through the door in short order. He wasn't even the first one to leave.

"Should've picked a spot closer to the door," Thomas murmured, and Dan nodded again. A shuffle behind her signalled more escapees, and though the professor seemed to be making an attempt to wrap up the session, she didn't wait for him to properly finish. Her notes were minimal at best, and she hadn't written a word for the past twenty minutes. Scooping her bag from beneath her feet, Dan swept pens and books within and was scooting along the line of seats in Kelsey's wake before she'd even zipped it shut.

"Don't be the last one in," Kelsey's friend whispered over her shoulder, teeth flashing in a grin. "I heard from Monica that this guy sometimes tries to keep lecturing to anyone that gets caught behind if they hang around."

Kelsey gagged and Dan gave a shudder that wasn't wholly theatrical. Snickering with the rest of her not-quite friends, she hastened up the stairs in then thickening stream of escaping students - only to pause at the top. Thomas nearly ran into her from behind with a muted yelp.

"Dan," he scolded, but didn't wait for a reply before skirting around her and making through the doorway. Dan barely noticed. Hitching her bag over her shoulder, she slipped instead down the line of desks and seats along the back row, the chairs already emptied, and paused alongside the only one that still held an occupant.

"I thought I remembered seeing you'd picked statistics this semester," she said, not bothering to dampen her voice anymore. The ruckus of escapees had climbed to careless abandon, drowning out the vestiges of the professor's words. "I didn't see you come in."

Neil started slightly, snapping his attention from his notepad up towards her. He blinked owlishly for a moment, as quietly disconcerted as he always was when someone 'crept up' on him, even if he did seem to be getting better with it these days. When he realised it was only Dan, he eased immediately, shoulders releasing their tension.

"Hey," he said, sitting back in his chair and dropping his pen onto the notepad. "I came in at the last second."

"I'll say. I thought I was cutting it close and you got here after me." Dan propped herself against the desk alongside Neil's. "You're sitting with me next time, though."

Neil cocked his head. "Hm? Why?"

"Because you're good at math."

"I'm not that good at math. I just enjoy it."

"Bullshit. And that's weird."

Neil shrugged. "It's fun."

It's scary that he's not even joking, Dan thought with a mental roll of her eyes. Once, she probably wouldn't have been able to discern Neil's blank-faced humour from sincerity, but it was a little more apparent these days. In this instance, he was definitely being honest. "So weird," she said, shaking her head. "Come on, though, throw me a bone. I'm in my last year and could use all the help I can get."

"If you're not good at statistics then why did you pick it?" Neil asked.

"Because it'll be useful."

"I suppose. For you."

"I'll do a trade with you," Dan offered, turning against the desk to drop her elbows onto the back of the chair instead. "You're taking psych this semester, right? I'll give you my notes and even help you read my scrawl, and you can -"

Gesturing at Neil's notepad, Dan waved an indicative hand. It wasn't for lack of necessity that her words died, however. Her offer abruptly sidelined, Dan straightened and peered at Neil's paper. "What is that?"

Neil followed the line of her gaze. "What is what?"

"That." Dan pointed at a square of the page, barely post-it sized and covered in arching lines of pen. "Did you draw that?"

Neil shrugged, shoulders regaining some of their tension, but Dan barely noticed. She was more concerned with the pictures in black ink that the bleached the paper, making a mockery of the blue lines and disregarding any notes that Neil had taken above it.

It was difficult to discern just what it was that she was looking at, for it seemed a part of something larger. Like a jigsaw puzzle piece isolated from its kin, what appeared to be a landscape image in immaculate detail and various intensities of shading consumed the square piece. The outline of a tree trunk, gnarled knots at its base and twisted branches extending higher. Tufts of grass stretched from its roots, and debris surrounded its base. Foliage and stunted bushes, a shrivelled flower and a misshapen rock. Something that looked like the shadow of an animal – a fox maybe? – and something else that looked far more sinister but less discernible.

As Dan drew her gaze across the picture, she shook her head slowly. It was… unexpected, to say the least. She couldn't have withheld the wondering smile that grew on her lips if she'd tried.

"Neil, you drew this yourself?" Dan asked without really needing an answer.

"It's just doodling," Neil said.

Dan ignored that uncomfortable edge to his tone. She reached for the notepad, fingers trailing over the surface made bumpy by the footprints of the pen. "This is really good."

"What?"

"Yeah, it's - Neil, you're a really good drawer."

"Not really."

Dan shot him a glance. "Don't tell me I'm wrong. You suck at school work in everything that isn't math or, like, Spanish or whatever else you and Andrew decided to take up at the moment -"

"It's Russian, actually," Neil said.

"Whatever. What I'm saying is that I know you suck at things, but this," she tapped the picture with a finger, "does not suck."

Neil shrugged tightly again. His face bore the kind of closed blankness of discomfort that Dan knew so well of him, and the tension in his shoulders bespoke it even more. Why he should find such a thing uncomfortable Dan didn't know, but she'd learned a long time ago not to ask. It would be an unkindness when the answer could potentially dredge forth bad memories. Neil had a lot of those, and they were often sparked by the most unexpected triggers.

Straightening, sparing a last glance for the artistic spread of penmanship, Dan forced aside the urge to explore it further. "Well, whatever," she said. "It's not like it's relevant, just kind of cool. You won't be completely distracted doing drawings in every statistics class, will you? Because that would be a problem if I'm planning to mooch off of you. And if you actually want to pass."

When Neil slowly shook his head, Dan gave a short nod. "Good. That's good then." Another nod pointed towards the doors, almost vacated of fleeing students. "Let's go, then. We don't want to get trapped by Professor Mitchell, right? Apparently he has a tendency of doing things like that."

Dan didn't wait for Neil to agree. She barely waited long enough to be sure he was packing his gear away and rising to follow her. Leading the way from the lecture hall, Dan shrugged the incident aside, even if she did stick a mental pin into the reminder.

Neil had been, and likely always would be, something of an enigma. It seemed that, even without trying to hide it, he had a wealth of secrets buried just beneath the surface. Dan found herself smiling as she cast a glance over her shoulder at Neil, his chin tucked and head bowed in utter contrast to how he usually held himself on the court but nothing if not typical of what she'd seen of him in the college hallways.

Always secrets and accidental revelations. Dan doubted they'd ever stop coming, though if they were as curiously unexpected as this latest discovery was, she found she didn't mind finding them out piece by piece. Not anymore.

***

When Neil returned to Fox Tower that afternoon, the room was silent. Such wasn't uncommon, both when it was empty and when either of his roommates were present; more often than not Kevin would be sprawled on his bed with headphones on and oblivious to the world, or Andrew at a window deliberately ignoring anyone around him. Neil didn't care. He was just as often blotting his surroundings out himself.

Dumping his bag at his desk, he dug through its contents briefly before disregarding delicacy and upending it and tipping the contents out. As he flipped through his books, the door opened behind him and he glanced over his shoulder.

"Hey," Neil said as Andrew entered, gravitating towards his own desk to offload his shoulder bag. Its thud was surprisingly heavy given Neil knew he rarely carried books with him, though he'd never asked just what Andrew filled it with instead.

Andrew tipped his head in an acknowledging nod before turning towards the kitchen. "I'm hungry," he said.

In anyone else, Neil probably would have ignored such a comment. When it came from Andrew, there was question, offer, and suggestion wrapped up in the two simple words. Flipping through his extracted notebook, Neil followed after Andrew.

"There's mac 'n' cheese on the bottom shelf," he said.

"You don't like that," Andrew said, turning to the pantry.

Neil shrugged. He wasn't hungry anyway, and even if he hadn't a taste for the goop, Andrew liked it. "I don't care."

Andrew crouched before the shelves as Neil dropped onto his own haunches before the fridge. He rearranged the collection of magnets, crumpling a couple of brochures Kevin had stuck up, a receipt that Kevin said was important but definitely wasn't, and tore the sheet of his statistics notes from the book.

"You hid it," Andrew said behind him, shuffling through tins and boxes for the admittedly hidden box.

"Kevin would have tossed it otherwise," Neil said.

"Asshole."

"He's kicked up his game on dieting this season for some reason."

"We have diet plans already. Let him suffer alone. He shouldn't inflict his poor life choices onto others."

Neil snorted as he rearranged the fridge magnets, adding his paper to the motley collection. He could agree with Andrew's sentiment, if only in part. Without a dark cloud hanging over Kevin's head that year, he seemed to have launched himself into the life of a committed athlete with a vigour that put his previous attempts to shame. That meant monitoring every mouthful, and not only of his own meals but frustratingly those of every teammate. He'd nearly gotten his throat cut when he threatened to throw out Andrew's tub of ice-cream barely two weeks before.

Rocking back onto his heels, Neil glanced over his shoulder to where Andrew was pulling pots out of the cupboard before turning back to the mosaic on the fridge. The collection of paper pieces, torn slips in some instances and larger chunks of pen-lined paper in others, consumed most of the lower half of the fridge door, overriding what had once been cluttered with Kevin's choice of 'relevant' content in the form of pictures, newspaper clippings, and loud advertisements. In Neil's opinion, what took its place was distinctly better.

The image hadn't rhyme, reason, or intention behind it, but somehow each picture-piece contributed to the whole. What had started as an offhanded doodle, something sketched mindlessly in the boredom of a classroom, had expanded into something more. A crevasse in a tree that evolved into the entirety of that tree, had produced a branch, a root, and then the shadow of another alongside it. The arch of a hill scattered with clumps of dirt, pawprints, and grass flattened by a departed foot.

What had started as an offhanded glance over Andrew's shoulder, a simple request and a chipped magnet to hold it in place had expanded. Hours of mindless scratchings in the back of classrooms when he could have been prepping for the end of year exams, sitting in silence and barely attending to the movements of his pen, unintentional but subconsciously deliberate nonetheless. The result was an expanse of fragmented but somehow continuous depictions in lead or ink. To look at it, Neil could determine in an instant which scraps of paper and sketched images were his own and which were Andrew's. It was somehow satisfying to see them all click together.

He didn't know why Andrew drew. He didn't know if he even liked to do it or if he simply… did it.

Neil didn't know why he drew, either. He couldn't have said if he liked it, or if he was good at it as Dan had suggested at the end of their earlier class. He just… did it.

"That's the third one," Andrew said from behind Neil.

Neil cocked his head, arms folding as he glanced over the mishmash pieces of the picture they'd unintentionally made. "Third what?" he asked.

"Fox."

Neil eyed Andrew sidelong. Andrew was regarding his latest addition with his usual hooded, nonchalant gaze. It was difficult to get a read on him sometimes, still difficult even after over a year of knowing him, but Neil thought he knew. In this instance, with the beats of silence and staring, Neil thought he knew.

He shrugged. "So long as you're okay with it," he said, turning towards the cupboard to extract a pair of bowls.

"I didn't say I liked it."

"Neither did I."

"It's a little obsessive if anything."

"Yeah, well, it's typical of me. Right?" When he turned, Neil found himself the focus of Andrews attention. He stared back silently, expectantly, but Andrew only rolled his eyes, returning to his mac 'n' cheese. Neil followed behind him. "Your turn next," he said, just as he always did as an unnecessary reminder.

"Whatever," Andrew replied. "If I can be fucked. The entire pastime is growing increasingly pointless."

"So you agree it had a point at least at some time?" Andrew didn't reply but Neil shrugged anyway. "Then I guess it doesn't matter."

Andrew still didn't reply, didn't confirm, but though Neil had never partaken in the betting habits of his teammates, he would confidently wager there would be another addition before the end of the week.

#aftg #the foxhole court #post-canon #neil josten #andrew minyard #dan wilds #headcanons #fanfiction #domestic #college life #the secret lives of neil josten

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tywriteskpop · 4 years

Text

I Trust You (Mark Tuan)-Chapter 2

Your stomach was rolling with nerves. It felt like a storm had broken loose inside your belly, swirling up anything you consumed that morning and making you feel sick. You swallowed the temptation to throw up, closing your eyes and willing yourself to calm down. The never-ending worry for your cousin was eating away at you. You loved the boys, the whole pack, but Youngjae was your family. You needed him to be okay. You needed him home, safe with you and the pack. The inevitable thoughts of the worst-case scenario were beginning to gnaw at your brain, plaguing you with less than wanted images of what-ifs.

“You alright?” You jumped with a sharp gasp, nearly flying out of your seat. Jackson gave you an apologetic look and a small smile of reassurance. “Silly question?”

You caught your breath and gave him a look of exasperation. “Very,” you answered. You rubbed your forehead and glanced at the front of the large van. Yugyeom and BamBam were speaking quietly in the short second row. Jinyoung was practically standing in the center, leaning over the front seats to strategize with designated driver Jaebum and your furious mate. Your gaze drifted back to where you were stationed, in the empty back of the van that was cleared out for space. “Why the van?” you asked.

Jackson, who had been eager enough to keep you company in the rear compartment, hesitated to answer. “Just in case.” He didn’t need to elaborate. Your grotesque thoughts did that for him. You fought off tears of frustration and rested your head in your hands again, fighting off an emerging migraine. “I’m sorry.”

His voice had been low, so you nearly missed the way sorrow laced his words. Taking a long look at him, you noticed how pained he looked. “I should be sorry,” you admitted. “I reacted rashly before. I can’t blame you for something like this.”

He chuckled humorlessly, clenching his fists. He wanted to argue with you, wanted to take the blame fully. But a numbing thought in the back of his mind agreed with you, and it stopped him. He was conflicted. Guilt clawed at his throat, making it hard to breathe as he swallowed thick gulps of air. A faint scent hit your nose and you reacted quickly, taking his hand and turning it over. His claws had formed, digging into the skin of his palm as he forced himself not to turn right there in the van.

“Hey.” Your voice was quiet but firm. You yanked his wrist towards you, making him loosen his fist. “Stop it,” you muttered, trying to place yourself in his line of sight so he’d had no choice but to look at you. “This is not your fault, Jackson. Seriously, we need you in this.”

He nodded, showing that he heard you, but he was still fighting himself. You placed your other hand on the back of his neck, feeling his skin hot and damp with sweat. Your touch held a comforting warmth, and he realized it was your power as his alpha’s mate. The safety and reassurance he felt helped calm him and his head began to clear.

Jackson took a deep breath and turned to look at you. “I swear, I will do everything in my power to get him out of there.”

The sudden confidence in his tone motivated you. Your negative thoughts began to fade, replaced with a determination to save Youngjae and bring him home. You both sat in silence for the remainder of the drive, unaware that your conversation had been heard.

Mark felt himself relax when he heard your heartbeat settle down. A sense of pride swelled inside his chest seeing how you unconsciously tapped into your newfound ability. Something that showed the relationship between the two of you had grown, a sign that your bond would grow stronger.

“Mark? Did you hear me?” Jaebum’s voice broke through his reverie, drawing his attention back to his two betas. His eye caught the faded sign of welcome, overgrown with ivy and weeds. “We’re here.”

~~~~~

Jaebum had parked the van four blocks away from the old theater. The streets were dark aside from the flickering light posts just barely illuminating the darkest corners of the alleys. Dogs barked in the distance, roads empty of any activity aside from a few stragglers. Humans.

“What are they doing here?” you muttered, hopping out of the back with Jackson standing beside you protectively. “This place smells disgusting.”

“Vampires,” Jinyoung answered, coming up to stand with you. The others followed, allowing your small group to cluster together, alert at the first sign of danger. “These are the humans who offer themselves.”

“They what?” BamBam’s eyes were wide with disgust.

Jaebum watched as a couple of scantily clad women walked by, eyeing them carefully. “They give themselves up for feeding. They get high off of it. And pleasure.”

“Right before they’re no longer of any use and sucked dry,” Mark growled. He pulled you to the side to allow the boys to get ready for whatever was about to happen. With a strong but gentle grip on your arm, your mate met your gaze. “Stay next to me. No matter what. Any kind of separation, they’ll take advantage.” With his other hand, he lifted your chin to better meet your eyes. “Please, Y/N?”

Your lips formed a tight line, your chest feeling heavy with anxiety. You nodded shortly, allowing him to seal the small agreement with a brief kiss on your lips. You just prayed this wouldn’t be the last.

“Come on,” he mumbled, his face remaining close to yours. “Be careful.”

“You’re the reckless one,” you joked. Mark grinned, grateful for the small gesture of positivity as you all prepared to go into a dangerous situation.

“Jaebum and Yugyeom will stay with the van,” Jinyoung announced. “We need someone to standby, and Yugyeom is too inexperienced to stay alone.” The beta’s gaze drifted to you. “Are you sure you want to go in there?”

You nodded confidently. “I have to. I won’t be able to sit still here.”

Jinyoung shared a brief look with Mark before giving you his attention again. “Okay. Ideally, you stay with Mark. But if things get out of hand, stay close to one of us. You’ll be the one they’ll target first.”

�� “What? Why? Because I’m a girl? That’s sexist.”

“Because you’re still a Wolfling,” Jaebum corrected. “They can smell newborns faster than you can sense them. If they get you alone, you’re as good as dead.”

You huffed. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Still want to go in?” BamBam asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

You reached down beside you and took Mark’s hand in yours, lacing your fingers together tightly. He nodded in understanding and led the group towards the theater, silently leaving Jaebum and Yugyeom with the van.

~~~~~

Jackson raised a strong fist to the old, grimy door, banging on it loudly. You all stood with bated breath, steeling yourselves as you waited in silence. You could vaguely hear music from inside the theater hall, a weird mixture of classical and electronic rhythms. You didn’t spare too much time dwelling on the unusual choice in music as the door steadily creaked open.

A thin woman with sunken cheeks and pale skin now blocked the doorway. Her clothes were loose on her body but covered enough that you didn’t see anything too personal. Her black hair was cropped short in a messy pixie cut, giving show to the tattoos that covered her neck and shoulders. She eyed your group with wary eyes before taking in your scent, snarling in disgust. “No dogs allowed.”

Jinyoung lifted the invitation quietly, giving her a hard glare as she scrutinized it. The woman scoffed and was ready to slam the door in your faces. Something behind the door caught her attention, something you couldn’t hear or see. Was someone speaking to her? You saw the way Jinyoung’s brows furrowed, his anxiety growing the longer you stood there.

Finally, the vampire faced you once again. Without a word, she stepped back and opened the door widely, gesturing for you and the boys to go inside. It only took a moment’s pause before Jinyoung slowly led the way in. Your grip on Mark’s hand tightened nervously, feeling like you were willingly walking into a wormhole of shadows that you wouldn’t be able to escape. You were terrified, but the boys were just as scared. You weren’t sure if you felt comforted knowing that your fears were shared, or if it just frightened you more.

The hall was dark, shrouded in black as every window was boarded and covered with thick, black fabric. The booming sounds of music became louder. You could feel the speakers blasting from the main hall through the floor, the beat gradually beginning to match the rate of your quickening heartbeat. You realized in your panic that the boys had circled around you, searching for any sign of immediate danger and Youngjae.

The smells that swirled around you made you feel sicker than you already did. The air was musty, like old leaves and dirt. The strong scent of iron made you wince, and you needed to force yourself to not react. Blood permeated the air, and the overwhelming sense of drowning in it grew the further inside you went. Sweat coated the back of your neck, and you briefly worried that the vampires could smell your fear.

The hallway finally opened up a large ballroom. Dozens upon dozens of thin, pale bodies mingled in the room. On one side was a space made to be a dancefloor, the dancers looking as if they were barely aware of their surroundings. On the other side was a bar wide enough to fill the entire room. Even in the darkness of the room, you could faintly see the red stains painting the bar table and the floor surrounding it, glass littering the floor without a care. In the center back of the room, an open space where the old stage should have been, was a large chair.

A woman sat lazily in the chair, somehow appearing larger of stature compared to the other vampires. Her hair was dark as midnight and pinned up in a very old fashioned swirl. The chair was the equivalent to an old throne used in olden times, the days of kings and queens. It made you think of this woman as a regal being, and judging by the way Mark was glaring at her, you’d say she was the one calling the shots here. She seemed less than concerned with your group, casually leaning back against one arm of the throne while her legs hung lazily off the other.

Your small band of wolves carried on, your destination being clear. The further into the room you walked, the more attention you grabbed from the surrounding undead. The music gradually slowed to a stop, leaving the atmosphere uncomfortably silent. Not even a whisper. You suddenly felt like your breaths were the loudest sound in the room.

“They’re telepathic in their own coven the same way we are. Focus on the woman.”

Jinyoung’s voice resonated in your mind, and you briefly glanced at him. He hadn’t turned to face you, and you realized he relayed the message to the other boys as well. But you could still see the sheen layer of perspiration coating the back of his neck, showing that he was just as anxious as you were.

“Well, well, isn’t this is a…lovely surprise.” The woman on the throne had a booming voice, reaching to even the far corners of the room and possibly into the hall. She spared your group a short once over, observing each of you in turn. Her eyes lingered on you for a second longer before passing over to Mark, staying on him even longer. You squeezed his hand as if somehow it would protect him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the neighboring Alpha and his pups?” the woman sneered. Her followers chuckled, giving your group sharp looks of disgust and hunger.

Jinyoung answered for Mark, not allowing the woman to have the upper hand. “You tell us,” he replied. He held up the invitation between two fingers, his body language composed and undeterred. “You invited us.”

The woman swung her legs to the floor and stood up gracefully. Her steps sounded loud as she stalked toward him, making you tense when she stopped a little too close in front of him. But Jinyoung didn’t budge, even when she snatched the card from him to examine it closely. She growled, a snarl passing her lips as her fangs were revealed.

“So it seems,” she agreed reluctantly. “Let it be known that the traitor among us will not have a quiet nor swift punishment.”

Jinyoung steeled himself, willing himself not to make eye contact with the one who handed him the invitation. Mark’s eyes, however, shifted to his beta curiously. Jinyoung was hiding something, and it worried him. But he had to rely on him for this, praying that the information his beta withheld would be advantageous to their rescue mission.

The woman put a sarcastic smile on her face, making herself seem welcoming to the wolves. “Welcome to my humble coven, Wolfkin. My name is Lilith.” She started circling around your huddle, her hand gliding over each of the boys. “You are our guests here,” she hummed, her fingers smoothing over Jinyoung’s chin before passing over to Jackson, who forced himself to remain facing forward. Her hand ghosted over his chest. “Perhaps you like dancing? Hmm?” She carried on from the stoic wolf, stepping behind BamBam. “Or maybe some refreshments?” Her nails scratched lightly at the back of his neck, making the younger wolf shudder and swallow the bile rising in his throat. He closed his eyes and leaned closer to you, seeking your comfort.

Finally, Lilith found herself beside your mate, who had no problem making eye contact with the vampire. His eyes were hard, glaring at her as if daring her to touch him. She took notice of your joined hands and grinned wider, cupping Mark’s face with her long, thin fingers and guiding his full attention to her. “How about a drink, Alpha?” She stepped back to create distance between herself and your group, leaving your huddle alone in the center of a hoard of vampires. “We have a specialty tonight.” She snapped her fingers, and a spotlight turned on behind her.

The sight before you made your heart stop.

On the stage was Youngjae, clothes torn and tainted red. His arms were pulled behind him, wrists cuffed with shackles that were chained to opposite ends of the stage, making it difficult for him to move. He was bound to the floor on his knees, a thick collar around his neck also chained to the floor beneath him. Even without the binds, it was clear to you and your pack that he was too weak to even look up. You worried that you were too late, but the faint motion of him breathing told you he was alive. However, it did nothing to ease the panic you felt seeing the endless streams of blood running down his body, oozing from scattered tiny holes punctured in his skin.

Mark held onto you, wrapping an arm around your waist before you could rush over to your cousin. BamBam nearly followed you, only he was stopped in his tracks by the other two elder wolves. You suddenly felt foolish, your reckless reaction proving to be exactly what the woman wanted. Lilith laughed, showing the sharpness of her fangs as she cackled at the despair in your eyes. Other vampires laughed with her.

“Who knew you’d be so eager for a taste of our finest wine?” She spoke smugly, waltzing her way back to the stage. For a moment, you thought she was going to sit back in her throne and continue to mock you and the wolves. But your heart dropped further into your stomach when she bypassed the old chair and went straight to Youngjae. She stood behind him and knelt down, running her fingers through his hair. “He really is a delicacy.”

She tightened her fingers and pulled his head back, and you heard him hiss through his teeth at the strain of his limbs. Just as Lilith leaned in for a bite in his neck, a loud growling stopped her. She and the other vampires turned back to your group, some of them backing away from the sheer power that permeated the air alone.

Mark’s eyes were bright gold, his canines bared and ready to attack. “Get your hands off of him.” Even you were shocked silent. Your mate’s voice was deeper than it normally was, a low growl rumbling behind his words from his chest. His whole body was stiff, ready to lunge across the room and rip the woman apart if she so much as dared try to inflict further damage onto his packmate.

Lilith shrugged away her surprise, replacing her stupor with a smirk. She stood up and moved away from the weaker wolf, leaving him to droop in his chains, and you fought the urge to run to him. The vampire made his way back towards your group, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest when Mark met her halfway. He was now singled out, facing her alone, but you and the boys didn’t dare move, knowing that he was in no way vulnerable with the rage he was feeling.

“So, the Golden Alpha does exist.” A manic look of excitement passed over her eyes, the red color of her irises seeming brighter to match the crazed grin that stretched across her thin lips. “And your mate-“ She briefly glanced at you, prompting the others to shuffle closer to you protectively, and you heard a faint growl from Mark. “The Silver Luna. Quite the honor we have, meeting each other like this.”

After a few lingering seconds of staring each other down, Lilith hummed and spun around. Her heels clicked on the hard floor as she moved back to her throne, her movements graceful as she reclaimed her seat and crossed one leg over the other. “So you’ve come to collect your pup. And what? Expect to walk away peacefully?”

“You’ve attacked our people,” Jinyoung spoke. “And you expect us to react peacefully?”

As if on cue, loud booms surrounded you. You flinched, reaching up to cover your ears, thinking someone turned the music back on. But the room was being shrouded in thick, black smoke. The vampires around you began to panic, searching for your party of wolves amongst the chaos of blind movement and confusion.

You felt a push on your back, and Jinyoung’s voice reached your ears. “Go get Youngjae and get the hell out of here!”

You had no chance to argue or ask questions as he suddenly changed, his clothes ripping apart from his body as he lunged for the closest vampire near. Judging by the snarling and hissing around you, you could only assume the others had changed as well, fighting off the undead and giving you an opportunity to collect your cousin quickly. So you wasted little time, running the path you tried to remember in hopes you weren’t stopped by an enemy, heading straight for the stage where Youngjae remained.

The smoke thinned out the closer you got to the stage, and you could just barely see the golden fur of your mate through the cloudy mist. He was fighting Lilith, and neither the vampires nor your pack members were foolish enough to get close to a battle of power. You pushed it out of your mind, willing yourself not to worry about him. You had to trust he’d be careful against this threat, the same way he trusted you to rescue Youngjae.

After dodging claws and teeth of several vampires-all who were knocked out of the way by your packmates-you finally made it to the stage. You fell to your knees in front of him, taking a moment to catch your breath and gently cradle his face. He winced, the small reaction being the only indicator you had to know that he was awake. He was too weak to open his eyes, but the way he leaned into your touch told you that he was aware of your presence.

“Please…leave…” You had barely heard him, his voice the faintest whisper he could manage. It broke you. Your eyes flitted across his torn body, the small streams of blood slowly dripping from his arms and shoulders. He was dying and you needed to act quickly.

“Forget it,” you snapped, fighting off your inner panic. “I’m getting you out of here.” You reached up to the metal collar pulling him down. Just as the tips of your fingers brushed it, you pulled away with a sharp hiss.

“Silver…” he muttered. Looking closer, you could just see the beginnings of burning skin around his neck and wrists where he was shackled. Now you were beginning to panic. You looked around frantically, searching for any tool or cover you could use to remove the toxic metal safely.

You suddenly sensed a growing presence; someone was making their way to you quickly, but it wasn’t anyone you were familiar with. Your nerves stood on end as you spun around, fully prepared to protect Youngjae from any attack.

A woman appeared from within the thinning smoke. Her black hair was long and framed her face perfectly, but the crimson of her eyes indicated what she was. But even as you and the vampire stood face to face, you could sense no ill will or animosity from her. “Our cover won’t last much longer,” she said.

She moved past you, and your curiosity fought rationality as you let her approach your cousin. Within unbridled strength, the woman pulled at the chains binding him, ripping away the silver shackles with ease. Youngjae collapsed to the ground, already seeming to breathe much easier without the poisonous material gnawing his skin.

Heavy feet padded up to you, and you turned in surprise to find Jinyoung’s silvery gray form sidle up beside you. He crouched, waiting, and you realized he was planning to carry Youngjae out. You and the woman carefully maneuvered the weakened wolf onto Jinyoung’s back.

“Go,” the woman told you. “You need to make sure he doesn’t fall. The ride back to your van won’t be pleasant for him.”

An impatient bark from Jinyoung told you that time was of the essence. Just as you hopped onto the larger wolf’s back, you turned to find the woman had already disappeared. Somehow Jinyoung knew a way out the back, making an easy escape from the unaware enemies and the chaos of snarls and blood.

You held onto Youngjae with an iron grip, and you could tell the constant jostling of Jinyoung’s running was uncomfortable for his weakened body. You could only keep him as steady as possible, wishing endlessly for the van to appear within sight sooner rather than later.

All the while your thoughts were running wild, questions filling your mind that you desperately needed answers to.

Who was the vampire that helped you?

What did Jinyoung know that the rest of you didn’t?

Who exactly is Lilith? And what does she want with you and Mark?

#mark tuan #got7 mark #got7 #got7 scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop angst #got7 fluff #got7 angst #I trust you

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