#god told me himself actually. let's not blaspheme
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can I tell everyone on your tumblr how you picked your name
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Behind every shitty hole in the wall is a story.
It’s a hysterical combination of luck and determination that lands Eddie Munson in the back alley of a dive bar five years after the world was supposed to end.
It's by chance alone that Steve Harrington is snuffing out a cigarette under his boot. Eyes fixated on a useless point in the distance. Off into space or wandering no man’s land. Distracted and distraught.
He’s never been the same.
He’s never known how to come back home.
He’s punishing himself. Has been for half a decade.
It’s the first anyone’s seen of him, since—
There’s a smudge of grease or soot or black makeup outlining his cheek. There’s gel in his hair—sticky and functional. He’s tangible. Real—somehow. Dusting ash off on his dirtied pants and trying to make the most of a blasphemously humid afternoon.
He wipes sweat from his brow bone, breathes deeply, seems to come to terms with the harsh underbelly of reality.
The sky is orange; afflicted by caustic heat. He doesn’t belong in a place like this. It’s time to bring him home once and for all. Of that, at least, Eddie is certain.
Eddie isn’t certain of much these days. None of them are. Not since Steve left and took their bleeding hearts with him like a dissolute trail of breadcrumbs.
Every moment without him has been spent painfully avoiding the mention of his absence. Setting his place at the dinner table was a habit they all had to unlearn, but sometimes Robin will forget—put out a plate and fracture at the realization.
And, then, the evening is ruined. The evening becomes a sinking ship. Blurry conversations swirling around how to convince him to come back. How to see it through. How to show him he has a God-given right to nestle into their world without making desperate apologies. There’s no need.
The desert’s on Steve’s side. Thinks it can outsmart Eddie by parching his lips, cracking the skin around them, drying out his tongue like the package of liquor store jerky he anxiously gnawed on while driving into town. Kicking up arid soil with his tires and blinding himself to fear—to the voices in his head that tell him to let Steve sulk and suffer in silence, because he’s the one who chose to leave in the first place.
It was a choice.
A fucking stupid choice, but a choice nonetheless—
Steve’s going to go back inside. He’s got a dish towel tucked into his apron pocket. A toothpick replacing the fallen cigarette between his teeth. Eddie’s been trying to muster up the courage to actually approach him for the past three days.
It always ends the same.
Steve’s fifteen minute break comes to a close, he disappears through the door on stage left to clock back in, and, as if looking through a broken kaleidoscope, the scene around Eddie fades into colorless obscurity. Everything else is void of meaning. Without Steve in the picture, life makes little sense. There’s no point. No clear way North.
He’d rather die than go through it again. The loss. Decay. Heartache and rage.
“Have you told your boss about the family emergency yet or do you need me to take care of that for you?” Eddie snarks, hiding his emotions behind a practiced smirk.
Steve looks up. Hand on the door. Stuck between two universes. One in which he hides and another in which he allows himself to be found.
“What are you talking about?” He chokes on a peach pitted fantasy in which he gets to briefly wake up and hit snooze–rub the sleep from his tired eyes, “Why are you—Eddie, you’re not supposed to be here. How the fuck did you find me?”
There’s uncertainty afoot. His chest rises and falls in shaky hesitation. One beat slow followed by two in rapid pace—standard procedure for someone who's been forced to confront his past in broad daylight. Out of the blue and into the unknown. Eddie wants to pin him to the wall and kiss him—drown his sorrows so he never has to feel them again.
But, it’s not time for that.
Not yet.
“Is someone hurt? Is it one of the kids? Robin? Nance?”
Eddie feels cruel for planting that seed in his brain so he cuts him some slack. Pushes past his own frustration, devastation, the scars on his torso that ache when he twists this way or that—reminders of who he was before.
“Everyone’s fine. Healthy and safe at home,” he swallows the gasp that wants to come out when Steve releases the handle on the door—when Steve makes the conscious decision to stay, if only for a moment, “You, however, won’t be, if you don’t march right up to your manager and let him know that you’re gonna have to throw in the towel a little early on this shift. We have plans and—unfortunately, for the big boss—they can’t wait.”
“I don’t understand—”
He starts to say and Eddie can’t help, but soften. Can’t help, but fall apart under his pretty eyes and pouty lips. Gaze catching and tugging on his heart strings when he notices the hint of Steve’s own scars lining his neck. Temporarily exposed by the breeze shifting the collar of his work shirt. Hidden unless you know where to look.
Eddie’s always known.
“Do you know how hard it is to say ‘no’ to a guy who looks like you—especially when there’s a sob story attached to that face?” He leans forward, exhales softly as Steve’s lashes flutter out of control, and bites the opposite end of his toothpick—stealing it and sucking it into his own mouth, “You have a family emergency. You have somewhere to be. You’ll be back tomorrow or you won’t—that part’s up to you. Knock ‘em dead, sweetheart. Go on. It’ll all make sense later. Just need you to trust me for now.”
He thinks of the bats. Of the fight. Flashes of the unforgiving war. The smoke and mirrors and nightmares that never fully went away. The cold sweat and salty tears. Memories that no one can verify, because time and space have made them intangible. Like monsters under the bed. Creatures that stalk the house in the wee hours of the morning. By dawn, they disappear, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t real.
There’s no confirming or denying. Steve doesn’t nod or give a final answer with his hand hovering over a big red buzzer. Instead, he moves forward, steps through the door, doesn’t look back over his shoulder to contemplate if Eddie was a figment of his imagination. Leaves without a trace.
Like he was never really there.
Like he’s a ghost haunting the untethered planes of Eddie’s memory.
—
When Steve climbs into the back of Eddie’s van, it’s comical.
He bangs his head on the roof. Mutters a curse or two. Almost tips himself backwards hopping into the passenger’s seat. The van shakes with laughter—amused by the boy who has grown out of his old polos and button downs, but has somehow managed to maintain his childish humor. Slipping back into an old tattered suit and finding it’s still tailored perfectly to his measurements.
“Are you kidnapping me? Is that what this is?”
“Pretty sure kidnapping implies taking a ‘child’ against their will,” he smirks at Steve rubbing the back of his head, “You don’t fit into either of those categories by my estimation. Try not to get any blood on my seats. I just got this baby washed—I mean, sure, it was ten years ago, but—”
Eddie slings his arm around the back of Steve’s headrest. Talking a lot of smack for someone who feels as protective over his aggravated passenger as he does. The van’s hot. There’s no A.C. It’s stuffy and awkward and all Eddie wants to do is kiss him.
All Eddie’s ever wanted to do is kiss him. Just once more. Once would surely be enough to quench a thirst that’s plagued him for five long years.
“People would come looking for me, y’know. I have friends. People in town who would notice…eventually,” Steve snaps, but his heart’s not in it. Sounds like a luckless penny hitting the bottom of a dried up wishing well.
“Well, you’re worth caring about,” Eddie feels the edge of a splinter graze his tongue off the toothpick, “Always have been. Shouldn’t be such a surprise.”
It’s too honest. God, he knows, it’s too honest.
Steve doesn’t say anything. Eddie half expects him to throw a punch.
A few miles pass and the only interruptions to the weight of their shared silence are the bumpy groan of a shallow pothole and the lonely howl of a coyote on the horizon.
Maybe he's been separated from his pack—
The thought is almost too much to bear.
“How’s business?” Eddie tries to change the subject, turn back the clock, pretend it’s just another weekday on the way home from school.
“Does it matter?”
“Guess that all depends on if you’re planning to stick around this dust bowl or not, but I don’t think you’ve quite made up your mind one way or the other.”
They’re almost to Eddie’s hotel. He can see the flashing bulbs of the sign down the road—The Saguaro Inn. It’s not the nicest establishment. The sheets have moth holes, he’s had to kill a spider or two, but the guy at the front desk gave him a six-pack of beer on the house and that, alone, was worth its weight in gold.
“Where else would I go? I live here. I work here. This is my home, now.”
If Eddie looked over and saw Steve running lines off a Hollywood script, he’d believe it. Authenticity evaporates from his voice like everything else that the blistering desert sun destroys in its wake. The only things meant to survive in such an unbearable climate are cacti, insanity, and dread.
Even the coyotes are lost and out of touch.
“Hmm. Funny,” Eddie raps his knuckles against the peeling steering wheel cover—needs to get it replaced, but in the face of an unearthed Steve Harrington it’s the last priority on his list, “We clearly remember things differently. As I recall, you’re a Midwestern boy. Born, bred, and raised on Indiana corn. Not whatever the Hell they serve at that dump you work at.”
“Fuck off. I’m happy,” Steve argues hotly, fists balled at his sides—tension working through his jaw like a flame on an inevitable collision course with the end of a stick of dynamite, “I’m fine. I’m not some damsel in distress who needs you to come rescue her. I chose this. I want this.”
It’s clear he doesn’t.
If only he had the wherewithal to look himself in the damn mirror and tell the truth. Tell it without leaving out the obvious—the lie written all over his face.
Steve undoes his apron, tosses it in the back, and throws a sidelong glance at Eddie as if sizing him up. As if searching for the minute details that have shifted, collapsed, grown in prominence. Like one of those ‘spot the difference’ games on a children’s menu in the back of an old diner. Illuminated by lightning bugs, grease, and splattered syrup.
Eddie doesn’t think he looks much different.
Eddie doesn’t think he’s much of anything to look at.
Old soul. Dark curls. A leather jacket that’s seen better days. He aims for mystery and shoots blanks. Comes up with mediocrity, a sense of macabre discontentment, the bitter taste that hangs around on the back of his tongue.
He practically jumps out of his skin and bolts when Steve, unexpectedly, runs a thumb over the Demobat scar on his cheek. It’s hyperreal. Throttles him through the past and future. Merging together hopes and dreams that he hasn’t allowed to see the light of day since those scars first got bandaged up at Hawkins Memorial Hospital.
“It suits you,” he hums thoughtfully, “I like it. Gives you an edge.”
Dizzy doesn’t even begin to define it.
In some universes, in this one, he might have fared better if Steve had the guts to hit him instead. To draw a knife, send a bullet flying, be a force of conventional violence rather than whatever the fuck this is.
This is worse.
This is a death he’ll keep reliving until the day he actually finds rest.
Or, perhaps, this is the afterlife and Steve is his eternal punishment for being stupid enough to care.
—
The short journey from the van to Eddie’s room is blissfully uneventful. Mundane.
They chat about vending machine snacks. Steve gets a candy bar and Eddie gets a pack of sour gummy worms. They split them. Share in the sugar coating, the sour bite, the milk chocolate that gets stuck in the backs of their teeth. It’s a dinner two little kids playing house would ‘cook’ up.
Only understanding later why their parents always advised them to save dessert for later. To end things on a sweet note.
Eddie’s room is 111 which prompts Steve to ask about El and the kids while he’s working at the keycard. The scanner’s finicky. Won’t budge unless the plastic’s inserted at just the right angle. It’s fucking annoying, but the place was cheap and, frankly, he didn’t know how long he’d be in town when he checked in.
He tells Steve about their accomplishments. Sounding like the proud father he never had—sounding like Wayne who made up for the lack of one. Max’s studying sport’s medicine at the community college. Dustin’s starting his summer engineering internship. Will’s got an art showcase coming up in October. Robin and Nancy’s new apartment is close to the city. Eddie crashes there most weekends and takes them out for coffee on Sunday mornings to show his thanks.
By the time Eddie’s done recounting the events Steve’s missed out on, their shoes are off. Tucked side by side next to the door.
Steve checks three times to ensure the latch is secure. Blushes when Eddie tells him its’ safe. Its’ okay to rest and close his eyes if he needs to.
Life isn’t what it used to be, but old habits die hard.
Eddie gives him the last gummy worm in the pack. Does it wordlessly. Automatically. Steve goes to decline, but Eddie does him a favor—closes his hand around it and nods.
It’s an act of love. It’s an act of faith. It’s the only way he can figure out how to say that bitter thing on the back of his tongue.
The mattress creaks obnoxiously to announce their arrival upon it. There’s a modest amount of space between them. Left vacant so their secrets have a place to run and hide. So they don’t have to speak them aloud.
“Do you ever miss it?” Eddie bumps Steve’s shin with his foot.
Cartoon sound effects curate the fantasy. Glowing orange and yellow from the rabbit eared television set—out of date and grainy, but that’s part of the appeal.
The screen casts desert colors across the headboard and suddenly, this is their life. A shared life. One they’ve built together. Nothing separates them anymore, but the itchy floral sheets and the inconvenience of clothes. Memory loses its ache.
“Which part?”
Steve looks at him through glassy eyes, marbles rolling across the floor.
“Whichever part you miss, I s’pose, if there is one,” Eddie shrugs and prays to a divine entity he doesn’t know the name of, “I’ve always wondered. ‘s hard not to.”
“Sometimes,” Steve reaches over the nightstand to grab a handful of ice—sets it on his chest over his shirt to cool off, “When I get off work. When I’m on the bus ride home and I’ve forgotten my headphones. Those times, I miss it—the sound of everyone talking over each other in Mike’s basement. It used to be like wrangling a bunch of wild animals. They drove me up the fuckin’ wall, but that sound? That sound was home. That sound was family, to me. No matter where I go, I don’t think I’ll ever find that again, but I was lucky to have it for a little while.”
“It’s not, like, that door over there,” Eddie points to the overly complicated latch that was designed to keep out intruders and cockroaches alike, “You’re not locked out unless you have a special key. The door—back home—it’s wide open. It always has been,” he studies Steve’s grimace; the evident pain he feels at that ‘too good to be true’ promise.
In the cartoon, it’s sunny. Steve’s bathed in a fictional variety of yellow optimism.
The character’s smile, laugh, and dance around in the middle of a playground. The swing’s never swing higher than they’re supposed to and conflict is resolved by the end of each thirty minute segment.
It’s a cruel juxtaposition to pay witness to as Steve’s cheeks become stained with tears. It hurts to see him curl up onto his side. To sit idly by as he goes about the wretched business of breaking his own heart.
“They’ve moved on, Eds. They’re onto bigger and better things. I’d just be holding everyone back. It’s okay.”
“It’s not—”
“Eddie,” Steve inches closer to him; knees knocking together—mirroring each other, “let it go. I’ve made my peace. Why can’t you do the same? Why can’t you let me–”
“Because, watching you leave was the single worst moment of my life. Worse than the bats. Worse than Vecna. Not a day goes by that I don’t replay it in my mind. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about what might have happened if I’d been brave enough to stop you.”
Kissing him is wrong.
Kissing him resolves none of it.
Kissing him tastes like sour gummy worms and chocolate and the satisfaction of finding a final resting place.
Kissing him is anger, spite, love.
Kissing him is the only thing that’s ever mattered and, maybe, that’s okay—
Steve startles. Keeps his lips perfectly still and Eddie thinks he’s really fucked this whole thing up, until he feels him break.
Until he feels him crack wide open like one of those novelty geodes Wayne used to bring back from his trips to mining country.
As the next episode begins and the cheesy theme song plays out in the background, Steve yanks Eddie towards him and sobs. They ground each other through twisted limbs, the rough meeting of lips, and the active avoidance of any moment outside of this.
They kiss and it’s both Heaven and Hell. It’s the promise of what could be and the mounting fear that the second they pull apart, the bonafide shelter they’ve created will crumble.
Steve whines openly. Sighs into Eddie’s mouth and slots a desperate knee between his thighs—a generous offering from a dead man walking.
Eddie grinds against it. Finally loses control. He rides Steve’s thigh in earnest—hips bumping, moans dripping from his lips like saccharine honey, cock throbbing and making a sticky mess in his boxers. Everything tastes like salt and sound and fury.
“Taste so good,” Steve licks over his mouth quickly, “Taste sweet. That part’s stuck with me—Eddie Munson’s real sweet.”
“You bit my tongue when we—”
“You probably deserved it,” Steve jokes and slaps his cheek playfully, “C’mon. Don’t stop. Kiss me, again. Want you to taste me like I taste you.”
He fucks his tongue into Steve’s mouth and the remembrance of a night he’s only been able to dream of, for the past five years, plays on.
He’s kissed Steve once before. Left a violet hickey on his neck. It was the end of June—concrete sizzled, mosquitoes swarmed, an ending should have been obvious, but it wasn’t.
They’d been scared. Afraid for the future. Afraid of how the past would follow them around in the shadow of tragedy. Afraid to press onwards, to lick over each other’s teeth, to make a mistake.
It’s different now.
Eddie doesn’t hold Steve like he’s fragile. He holds him like he believes he’s strong, because he is and he does. He’d have to be to start all over. To press restart in the middle of nowhere.
Steve’s hands roam his body ceaselessly. Wrinkle his clothes. Tug at his belt. He’s possessed by hope and the taboo Mirage and who can blame him? It’s gorgeous and awful.
“I haven’t touched anyone—” he cries, “I haven’t let anyone touch me since you kissed me on the night I left Hawkins. Remember? In my driveway–”
The confession sends a pang of agony racing through Eddie’s chest.
Nobody’s held him. Nobody’s kissed his neck and left behind a brutal memory. Nobody’s taken the time to wash the suds from his soft brown hair or dab the soap from his hazel eyes.
“Shh,” Eddie hushes him, laps at his tears and makes a split second decision, “I’ve never forgotten. How could I? I hardly ever think about anything else,” Steve whimpers from where he’s found a spot to rest his head in the crook of Eddie’s neck, “Shh, baby. Will you let me wash your hair? Will you let me help you clean off? Is that okay?”
Clinging to him and refusing to let go, Steve shudders and nods. Eddie knows this is significant for him—to relinquish the tired role of martyrdom and permit someone else to take care of him. To shoulder the responsibility with gentle hands.
Slack in his arms, Eddie carries him to the dim bathroom. The cartoon characters scramble around on screen—chasing each other around with hammers and wacky laughter.
When the water warms to the point of comfort, Eddie undresses the two of them in tandem.
First, Eddie’s shirt. Then, Steve’s. A breathy kiss in the interlude—they savor this practice. This delicate waltz. Their hands tremble. Steve’s shockingly sensitive. He breaks skin on Eddie’s shoulder when he circles his nipple and bites down just to tease.
“Nobody’s ever done that—”
“I don’t care about anyone else. No one. This is about me and you. Let me be the first. Don’t let there be anyone else. Me and you. Yeah?”
“Yes. Only you, Eds. No one else.”
“There’s my boy. My sweet, sweet boy.”
He cradles Steve’s sleepy face in his hands, pecks at the corners of his mouth as he helps him out of his classic Americana blue jeans. Levi’s or Lee. Brass buttons, deep pockets.
In the humid steam of the shower, they melt into each other. Eddie guides Steve to stand in front of him under the spray of the water and folds his arms around him. He strokes a hand over the flat plane of his stomach, toys with the pretty hair there, and sways with him to the tinny sound of the end credits. Conclusion. Finality. It is decidedly so.
He scrubs away the dirt, tears, grime, and misfortune with the prepackaged bar soap. Supplied by the manager at the front. Handed to him alongside the six pack and finicky roomkey. Steve lets Eddie rub out the knots in his shoulders. Thanks him unnecessarily as if this isn’t the greatest gift Eddie’s ever been given.
“Let’s do your hair, next,” Eddie presses lingering kisses to the column of his throat.
“I’d like that.”
The shampoo isn’t great. It’s in a miniature hotel bottle and opens with a snap. Smells like a pink petaled flower that would never survive this heat. Mildly delusional peonies with a whimsical flair.
“Tilt your head back. Rest on me,” Eddie whispers, flattening his palm over Steve’s heart—swearing an oath, “I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you fall.”
He listens. Obeys readily. As if having waited his whole life to be instructed to do so.
“That feels nice,” he whines high in his throat while Eddie lathers the floral shampoo and works it through his hair, “Want more. Please, Eds. Please—more.”
“I’ll give you more, sweet boy,” he’s deliberate about the way he subtly scrapes against Steve’s scalp and tugs at the tendrils swooping around the nape of his pretty neck, “You’re so perfect,” he kisses his ear, nibbles on the lobe and revels in the resulting moan, “so kind, so smart, so lovable.”
Love—
Eddie wasn’t supposed to say love.
Shit.
He really wasn’t supposed to mention that.
“Fuck,” Steve sucks onto Eddie’s jaw—groaning and nipping along the full line of it, “Do you?”
“I’ve gotta rinse it,” he pretends to miss the question, “You can switch spots with me or–”
“Eddie,” Steve grinds his ass against Eddie’s dick and it’s no fucking accident, “I wanna come home. I wanna be yours. I don’t wanna be here anymore,” he turns so they’re face to face and Eddie sees Steve’s hard and leaking onto his hand where he’s lazily stroking himself as he crowds into Eddie’s space, “But, I need you to tell me. Do you love me? Do you love me the way I love you, because if you don’t—I can dry off, I can get my stuff, I can go back to the bar—”
“I love you—Jesus fucking Christ, Steve! Of course, I fucking love you! I’m not capable of loving anyone else! Don’t leave—”
“I won’t,” Steve caresses his cheek and wipes away his tears—the years of pent up heartache, “I love you.”
Breathless, Eddie’s back hits the cold tile wall and Steve’s fucking against him. Using the place where his hip meets his stomach to rub, press, and plead. Eddie grabs his hips, pulls him closer, gasps when he feels Steve spurt pre onto his pale skin.
“Say it again. Tell me why, so I believe it. So I know who to call when the voices in my head get too loud. So I can learn how to come home. Please, Eddie, please.”
Taking them both into his fist, Eddie pumps Steve’s dick alongside his own. Slow and steady. He thumbs the slit as Steve’s knees buckle. Grits his teeth and grins dumbly when his boy hisses at the heat and building friction.
“Honey, I dreamed of you. I ran after you a million times. I begged and prayed to whoever would listen. I’m nowhere near religious, but, fuck, I devoted everything in me to finding you,” he slots their lips together and feels Steve’s smile before he sees it, “You’re my home, Stevie. It’s empty without you. I’d rather die, than drive back alone.”
To have him like this is a million times better—a Goddamn miracle, compared to what Eddie’s envisioned night after night alone in his bed.
Moaning brokenly into his pillow as he chased after the punishing gossamer threads knotted in the hair of his phantom lover.
To untie him meant freedom and, at last, Eddie has the filthy pleasure of being the one to make Steve Harrington come undone.
“Gonna make me cum, Eds? Gonna let me be good for you?”
Steve’s thrashing wildly. Thrusting into Eddie’s fist and digging his nails into his back. Babbling sweetly about how badly he wants to shoot off over Eddie’s hands.
“Not yet, angel. I need something from you first,” he catches his breath, forces Steve’s hips to go still, and does his best to keep it together, “Promise me you’ll get in my van when we wake up tomorrow morning. Promise me you’ll forgive yourself.”
Steve’s quiet.
The water’s running cold—you get what you pay for.
The coyotes and cartoons fight for dominance. Lone rangers, lone wolves, trembling in the dust.
The dim bulb flickers—one, two, three; it’s fading fast—
In the pitch dark, Steve traces Eddie’s mouth with his fingertips, peels off his scars, draws whimsical shapes and crisscrossed stars with the very top of his tongue. An odd ritual and not a word to explain it.
As Steve finds the path to Eddie’s goriest scars—those that line his ribs—his curiosity gets the best of him.
“Care to enlighten me?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Steve kisses the tops of his knees and that makes Eddie horny and madly in love. Even madder than he was with Steve’s cock in his fist.
“Not to me, no.”
His laughter is infectious. Eddie giggles—genuinely giggles like a blushing schoolgirl.
“I’m making a map,” Steve licks the head of Eddie’s cock and he shivers, “memorizing you, so I’ll always know the way back home if I get lost. It’s a promise.”
—
They stay up later than they should for a drive as long as the one they have ahead of them. But, it’s worth it.
Eddie cums down Steve’s throat in the shower. Steve thanks him. Licks up every last drop and kisses his knees like a forbidden secret.
Getting dressed isn’t an option. It never had a chance to be part of the agenda.
Steve falls apart in Eddie’s lap on the bed—fucking himself at his own pace. Deep and perfect. His moans belong on an album. Eddie tells him he’ll make him one some day. Burn a CD and terrorize the neighbors by blasting it in his car with all the windows rolled down.
Afterwards, they brush each other’s teeth and make a mess of the counter. Cackling like crazed animals because the light’s still fucked and Steve can’t find the toothpaste cap. They decide to leave it there—a piece of themselves for whoever rents the room next.
—
An hour into the drive, Eddie reaches for the map over Steve’s lap and looks at it for a moment before shrugging and throwing it out the window.
That gets Steve’s attention.
“What the fuck? Did you mean to do that? Was that on purpose? Tell me that wasn’t on purpose—”
“We don’t need it. I know where I’m going. I have everything I need right here with me,” he winks at Steve and steals a handful of gas station sunflower seeds.
“You’re such a sap,” Steve snorts, “I can’t believe you made me promise to come home with you and now, we don’t even know which direction leads to home.”
“I’m a romantic,” Eddie pats his thigh affectionately, “and, I may or may not have convinced Robin and Nance to fly out for a family road trip. We’re meeting them at the next rest stop. Nancy has another map. Hope that’s okay?”
“As long as you’re there. I’m there,” Steve takes his hand, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
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The doors open, and a person steps into the confession booth. Sebastian stays silent for a moment, the smell of gun oil and gas familiar to him, and before he can initiate the sacrament - in the name of the father and the son and the holy spirit again and again and again - the other person speaks first.
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."
Sebastian closes his eyes. He keeps silent.
"My last confession was - fuck, I don't know. At least a month ago. When I tested the new fighter pilot, that was - Thursday, twenty-seven days ago." Sebastian smiles, because of course that's how Max would remember it. Of course it would be in connection to his flying. Of course.
"Since then, I've, fuck. I've blasphemed, uh, a lot, as you can see. Hear," he amends, and Sebastian bites his lip, "and I've, uh, had some pre-marital sex. I guess blowjob counts as sex, right? Yeah, a, uh, a girl blew me." Sebastian hears him shuffle, and guesses that he's shrugged. "It was nice. Wet, but - nice. She was cool." There is an intake of breath, and then a soft curse, and Max falls silent.
Sebastian waits. There is nothing else to do. He doesn't dare speak; he's too - it's too much.
"I guess - none of that shit matters. It's all - you'll just tell me to pray, and I'll try, but -" he huffs, irritated, and Aeb knows the face he's making, he can imagine it perfectly "- I don't think it matters, so it doesn't count, right? Fuck, the only - the only thing that counts is what - I don't know how to - fuck!" Max half-yells, and Sebastian can hear him perfectly, even through the furious beating of his heart in his ears.
"I'm in love with someone I shouldn't be in love with," Max says quickly, irritated, and Sebastian would bet he's squezzing his eyes shut, like he's trying to hide himself from the truth. "And he - it's a he, which is already shitty, because you don't - you don't condone that shit." He scoffs. "You suck for that, by the way." Seb bites back a laugh; bites himself so he almost draws blood, so that he doesn't speak and - and ruins Max's confession.
"The problem is - he's - he's fucking - smart, and good. He cares about the environment - he ranted about fighter jet pollution to me once for twenty fucking minutes," Max says, smile in his voice. "And he's - he's kind." He lowers his voice. "He's kind to me. Not many people are."
Sebastian clenches his fists. He starts praying; instinctively, desperately, silently.
"And he - I can't ever tell him, because, he's - fuck, I can't even say it." Sebastian hears him suck in a breath. "He's a fucking priest."
Sebastian lets out a harsh breath. Max doesn't seem to hear it, speaking on, the dam broken.
"He's fucking everything, you know. He was going to be an engineer, or a pilot before that. Flew the jets, even, before - before. He told me that once. He knows stuff about jets, and he has all these ideas about what - about ethics and shit, and he laughs like he's free, and he - he listens to me when I talk, and he - he listens like he actually cares. And that's - and I can't ever tell him, because he's a guy, and he's a fucking priest, and I'm in love with him, and he'd never forgive me that. Nobody ever forgives me anything, fuck, your God sure as fuck won't forgive me this, and I - I can't, and I won't, because I can't live in a world where he - where he doesn't want to see me, or talk to me, or forgive me."
Max breathes harshly, like he ran for miles, or like he had been drowning and was now finally breathing again. It's the only sound in the confession booth. It's the only sound, aside feom Seb's own heart, irregular and fast, too fast, fighter-jet fast. He remembers how that felt, still. He hasn't forgotten.
The silence lasts - a moment; an eternity.
Sebastian forces his voice not to shake as he adopts a lower, softer register.
"I think our - I think he may forgive you, Max."
Max's heavy breathing stops.
"I think," Seb says, and he breaks, his voice breaks, deapite his best efforts, "he wouldn't think there was anything to forgive."
-- hope you enjoy this Athy :) all the love, sq101
Anon I’m quite possibly about to lose my mind. Like. I’m going to lose my entire mind, I’m gonna start crying, and walking around in circles, and knocking over furniture, and gnawing a hole through the wall and—
Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness gracious me (in George’s voice). When I said who will write me this I didn’t expect you to show up with this stunner of a fic I’m gobsmacked I’m at a loss for words. It’s beautiful.
I think—his voice breaks—he wouldn’t think there was anything to forgive. Oh my suns, oh my. Oh my. Seb granting him absolution? Oh my suns I’ve gone weak in the knees.
Anon I might be in love with you?? I will be thinking about this for the rest of the day/night/week?? I will get no sleep??
#athy texts#fanfic#rpf#max/seb#priest/fighter pilot au#sq101 anon#if you’re out there anon i want you to know that i love you#oh my goodness gracious me#(in george's voice)#i can’t believe i get to read this
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Masa's Thoughts on Ueno Division
Aranai Norikoru
"Ah, the rebellious, miscreant young girl who, in years past, caused a sea of turmoil and anarchy to wash over the country of Japan. She had just started her path of destruction around the same time I created The Crossroads. She had all of Japan under her boot, but it seems the Lord finally saw fit to punish her when she bit off more than she could chew. It is nothing less than what she deserved. I would have been pleased to hear that she had been locked away for life along with her miscreant friends, but that was not to be, unfortunately."
"Still, despite the fact that she claims to no longer have ill intentions, I know that she still harbors a darkness inside her soul. Normally, one such as her would have a place in my Church, but... no, I don't think she would fit in. Besides the fact that she is allied with the heretical Shisuta Heisha, our place of holiness has no place for a malevolent reprobate such as her."
Shisuta Heisha
Masa's face turns into a scowl as he looks at the photo of the Catholic sister. His disliking for her is apparent for all to see.
"Ah, the heretic, herself. You and your wretched mother have caused me no end of trouble. I was all set to lead this dissident country known as Japan into a new age. I would have made it a place united under one religion, one purpose, and one God. And any foolish blasphemers would be made to either submit and renounce their wicked ways, or they would have been cast out, for both my Church and the Kingdom of God would have no place for them. It would have been beautiful!"
"...But. That dream, that vision, that... reality. It was never to come to fruition."
Masa suddenly snarls and growls at the photo.
"And all because of you and your damnable mother! She opposed me, and told those foolish clergy members not to make me the new Archbishop! And they believed her! She ruined everything!"
The priest angrily punches a nearby table, making a crack in it, while also making his hand bleed. He breathes in and out, trying to calm himself down. It takes a minute, but he manages to regain control of his emotions.
"...As much as it would be easy to have you and your mother killed, no... That would be letting you off too easily. No, a more suitable punishment would be to have you experience when the good Lord took your child from you: pain, anguish, and fury over not understanding what you had done wrong. ...Yes, the D.R.B. will be the perfect battleground between the two of us. And we shall see who the Lord favors more: you, a heretical sister, or me, His most esteemed servant. It will be a battle worthy of Armageddon."
Kisouna Yuzairu
"...Perhaps the only tolerable member from this team. Her hatred for disorder, chaos, and tyranny is comparable to, dare I say, my own. I also do not have a love for evildoers or evil in general. However, sometimes I know that to create lasting peace, you must be willing to do some things that fall... outside of the moral line. It was for that reason I created the Crossroads, as they have no issue with what must be done."
"Besides that, I must admit I admire her drive and ingenuity. She seems to have an earnest desire to see justice done. A woman like her would be of great benefit to the church. ...But considering she is a sworn friend of Heisha, I doubt that she would join me willingly. What's more, I don't know if she will be happy with some of the work that goes on behind the scenes here in Ginza. So... as much as it disappoints me, I'm afraid she will have to suffer along with the rest of her team in the D.R.B."
Sakurai Clan
"Despite how popular and familiar this team may be with the Divison Rap Battle, I am not at all worried. In fact..."
Masa gives a small chuckle.
"...I am actually looking forward to it. You may have had a bit of success so far, Shisuta, but that has sadly come to an end. As stated, the crimes and sins your mother has done will be paid for fully. If you wish to blame someone, then blame her for the punishment you will receive when we meet."
Masa laughs softly, before blowing into a full-grown guffaw as he departs the scene.
#hypmic#hypnosis mic#hypnosis microphone#hypmic oc#hypnosis mic oc#masa judice#ginza division#last judgment#ueno division#sakurai clan#aranai norikoru#shisuta heisha#kisouna yuzairu
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Crack Theory: Red Dragon(and others)
My theory is that:
Saber Faces is the Face of Evil
I honestly don’t know much about Rome or Britain to give more other than:
I saw one comment say that the reason why Nero has the Whore of Babylon’s face is because she(Nero), has the mana of the Whore. Creating this Whore of Babylon=Rome, Rome=Nero. Resulting in Nero being a saber face.
Now, with Nero inheriting a country/empire/republican’s mana. It reminds me of how Artoria/King Arthur(I refuse to call her Altria) and the whole Mana of Britain thing. How Morgana inherited the Mana of the land but Artoria inherited the Dragon core of the Red Dragon of Albion(By Merlin. Maybe that’s why Beast IV/S is rivals with Proto!Merlin. Cuz Merlin stole her Mana), one half the Dragon of Albion and how Vortigern is the other half of Albion, the White Dragon.
Now, the biggest relation to Nero and the Matter of Britain for me(Other than actually history) is actually Castoria, or who I calmly call, Altria.(Cuz Lostbelt saberface is a different saber face all together who only knows of Proper Human History Artoria)
Why Castoria? Because she says this:
Now, the capital of sin? It can’t be Avalon, maybe it is Camelot. But truthfully, all can think of is another capital of sin, a certain loathsome city of evil, Rome.
But also, “final dragon” of course, this means the Red Dragon that Artoria/Altria has one half of the Dragon of Albion.
But what if, this Red Dragon was also the same one from the Book of Revelations? Or at least, came from the same Mana.
I need to back track to the Whore of Babylon for this. This is her first paragraph in the wiki:
This is the second paragraph for the Beast of Revelations:
From this, Beast of Revelations=Whore of Babylon. Whore of Babylon=Emperor Nero.
This is not explained here properly but if you read the Book of Revelations in the Bible or go to wikipedia via the blue link in the wiki, there is actually 4 Beasts in Revelation.
One from Sea, a seven headed dragon with ten crowns filled with blasphemous lands. This is the popular one. And this description is the same as the one the harlot rides. Which is why it is often mixed together as the same dragon.
Another from the Land, with two horns like a lamb that speaks like a dragon. This one is also called the False Prophet, whos purpose to spread the Image of the Beast(of the Sea).
These 2 were introduced around the middle of the book but a “third” beast comes after them. This third is actually of two beasts, a harlot who reigns over kings and a scarlet 7 headed dragon, her mount. These two were actually told as if it was History, like it happened in the past before. So the Whore of Babylon, is, not really that ironically, older than Rome and Gilgamesh.
But, another thing that many might not know, is that the Beast from the Sea was given this “authority” by a Red Dragon, sometimes serpent. This serpent, is equated to/is the Devil himself, Satan/Lucifer.
This authority might be Domina Coranum, who’s origin is beyond even Humanity’s First Hero, Gilgamesh. The authority coming from Lucifer would make sense, since he fell since even before Genesis, wayyy before Human Civilization. Maybe in the first “era” since God let there be light.
(and maybe even the war on heaven that resulted in Lucifer falling was on where the Whore also participated in, since she too, is an ancient being from history. Maybe even before Gil’s time but maybe around there)
So anyways, moving on from those other theory(s), saber faces. Since, get this, maybe the “authority” is the Mana, that’s the one that gets passed on in the land. The mana of the land, is the mana of the Red Dragon, which is the mana of Lucifer.
Which is why Nero, Artoria and Morgana have the same face, cuz they both have the mana.
So it’ll be like Lucifer>Whore of Babylon>Beast(s) of Revelations>Emperor Nero>
Now i will end this crack theory with more crack theories:
Lucifer is a saberface
Possibly even genderbent
Okita is sick cuz her body cannot handle the Mana of the devil.
All saber faces are evil and MHX was right all along.
There is a chance, that in the Protype world, the Whore of Babylon is a due(HELL YEAH! MEN)
The Beast VI/G(other half of Whore of Babylon) is her mount.
Beast VI L/R are the Beast of Sea and Land
The Red Dragon/Lucifer might be a Beast.
Lakshmibai is a saberface due to colonization and the spread of Britain
Okita is a saberface due to the spread Hinduism and Buddhism into Japan, thanks to Lakshmibai being the avatar of an Indian Goddess.
Jeanne is a saberface due to the spread of Britain as well.
The mana spreads to wars/matters of importance.
Spreading the will of the Devil.
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Bri's back story
Little back story, my mom's birthday is Halloween btw lol 🎃 She was a very wild child & couldn't be controlled by grama & grampa rip. Who always compared her to her older siblings who were roudy & eventually became roudy herself. Conceived me & twin bro in New Orleans where she had fun & came back pregnant w/us, Grampa passed in 96 & the fam split, she raised 4 kids on her own, did crack & broke under the pressure, got us taken away is the gist.
We were put in foster care when I & my twin bro (13) & 2 younger siblings were all split up into group homes after twin bro called cps & snitched on her, can't forgive her, paint himself as the victim & says I abandoned the family of which was only his opinion nobody else's. Since I reunited with her I'm unforgivable & discarded by him & my aunt by association. But honestly foster care was probably the best thing for us cuz we struggled to eat & were actually well taken care of. Twin & I got through our HS careers in separate schools w/the same build blueprint so was like a twin school...thank God he would have cramped my style 😎 We got jobs at 16 to save for apt after emancipation. The only issue was visitations, they wouldn't let us see her cuz CPS is ALWAYS AGAINST THE MOTHER... denied her rights to see us but we could see each other. (cuz drugs are involved regardless if from good homes or not, I had a roommate w/a similar situation w/her kids but she was a good mom) My younger bros got adopted out into & nice family, twin bro naturally got adopted by them as well cuz he wanted what they had. They got all their own cars & everything they wanted. However I went a diff route & not knowing it was an option I did everything on my own & humbled myself on the bottom living my own struggle....... while they floated in a pool & had loving parents & went on cruises without me.
Middle child always had a knack for making money 💰 starting young ADHD & had wild ideas to get in trouble, now has multiple businesses going & has 4 kids however he may be Fked up the most & may need exorcism due to antichrist & blasphemous behavior.
Youngest grew up right cuz he was too young & is very very funny, actually cares about me but doesn't know me.
Anyway mom spoiled twin more than all 4 of us to keep his mouth shut about her drug use after she told him,fought w/her alot whilst being spoiled at the same time while I cleaned & took care of the younger 2. Twin always played video games & ignored everything while I was screamed at with curse words & told to do everything for her except cook, traumatized the fk outta me. However paid me to play yazzi with her sometimes when she was high lol. Guys & friends going in & out of the place all the time, they didn't scare me...I learned to be very protective & wary. Misspent youth growing up early couldn't really be a kid so I'm sort of a kid still at ❤️ The group home drilled cleaning into me too 🫤 CindaBri over here. These days I'm very sensitive & am prone to crying since I was a kid. I don't do well with conflict, bullying, negativity of any kind I cannot tolerate. I have a huge heart despite how I grew up, I was a pushover & it took me a longtime to develop a backbone. I absolutely hate it when I'm mistreated, feels like I'm a punching bag for family to take it out on. Well hears something, I honestly do not give a flying rat's ass what they think about me or my mother. I am free from their controlling ways and I'm so grateful to God that he gave me the strength to sever ties on my own terms and not theirs instead. I'm allowed to do the same exact thing & cut people out of my life if its better for me & my health then that's what I'll do. Not because of hatred but because it's the right thing to do. As family oriented as I want to be it's just not possible for my family to get along and it's very sad & pathetic. I have to be able to heal from the trauma even more as I had the worst of it. now broken however beautiful 😊 Mostly independent & very strong/resilient 💪 I have Jesus to thank for saving my life more than I can count. Never learned to drive either to this day & always take the bus. I think I'm 10x slower, I work really hard & always burnt out.
Oh yeah here's the kicker, at 19 I started getting auditory & increasingly visual hallucinations ever since...i have a brilliant mind like I'm fkin Matilda after my trauma or some sh*t. I've been having de ja vu or precognitive dreams of my own life since I was a toddler, one of a week span smashed into 1 dream which was my strongest one. lately I don't remember my dreams since late 2023 😓 my gifts keep growing though & I swear I hear passed on family, friends, & even celebrities, & my calico cat of 15 yrs. Whatever it is I believe it's God given, but I don't know how to control it yet.
I have an amazing longterm memory I do remember my own birth (that's a good story too) My mind has a lot of knowledge to use but may be overloaded now as I've recently been having issues...Its why I write to get things down & vent.
I was diagnosed with "paranoid schizophrenia" w/ depression & anxiety, a lot of fam has mental issues it seems. Think I'm the only one diagnosed with mental illness but the eldest 2 boys should definitely get tested out for it too if they haven't seen a doctor already. There's alot of resentment from my family toward my mother cuz of her behavior in the past. As a God fearing woman I know better & choose to Honor my mom the best of my ability even if our relationship is strained, I know it's not her fault & it's the devil's work. She like my siblings are equally messed up by how our parents raised us, it's an viscous cycle of torture that needs to end, there's no love coming from most family & it makes me sick, family is supposed to stick together but we were left in the dust cuz they don't wanna deal with her. I believe the evil one has a grasp on people in many different ways, whether it be mental illness or hatred he causes havoc in everything he can, has a grasp on the people of earth. But the Father controls the universe, our story is prewritten & is a domino effect. My deja vu I've theorized it's like a time lapse of some kind, hope to God I haven't lived it already over & over that would be hell to me 🫤 Although never a dull moment that's for sure, oh if I could do it all over again ..... idk if I'd want to.
Fighting me on it & won't listen u have to have the patience of a saint. Doesn't like being proven wrong, very stubborn, mixed w/bipolar..gets angry. She keeps comparing me to my grandma. Think she's more mentally fked up than I am from her past too but I'm no psychologist. Luckily I raised myself to be better than that in this gen, self aware, I use logic & understanding but do stupid sh*t sometimes lol...I wanna break the cycle cuz it's a complete sh*t show. I don't want to be held back & torn down by family again & again just seems like even she doesn't care about me either sometimes. But she's getting old & cranky, wanna snap her out of it somehow. It's not a gypsy rose situation exactly I actually care I'm just annoyed & trying to get along with her, we do most of time.
And today I came to a starting discovery.
Seems I may need to check my mom for Alzheimer's/Dementia, think it's worse than I thought. She keeps having fits/episodes of memory loss & blaming me for things, thinks I touched her phone to change it to dark mode today but it's been that way for a month or so already & didn't believe me.
How to heal from the past when she won't give u room to breathe, thought i was making progress w/her, keeps buying cigs & soda everytime she has stamps or money & when she's out hits me up for money, I just got my 1st check & I'm trying to save, says I can say no but then bitches at me. I honestly don't understand her sometimes. And after the cigs are gone she's crankier which makes things worse. All the cigs she's had over maybe 2 yrs she could've had a car by now & I'm working my butt off for one, & all the food is eaten while I'm gone. Tried clensing the apt but just made her angry, mental illness or demons I can't tell sometimes.
I'm so tired I haven't slept after work yesterday & need it for brain function but I had 3 hrs to sleep b4 church this morning so decided to stay up ..idk how long I've been up actually my eyes hurt, Have 2 hopefully benign tumors in my head & she's stressing me the fk out. Church or sleep, was actually a good day. Was trying to recap to her on what I did today & I just got ready for church this morning, when did I have time to touch her phone? But doesn't listen at all & always threatens to kick me out when she's incapable of being her by herself anymore. And depending on an hour to the next day she fine again & tells me to ignore her. Fking crazy. I already have memory issues wtf happena when we both lose our damn minds. I have the choice between doing laundry to get tf outta here or watch the rewards show & rest my eyes...Bed looks good rn actually 🥱😴
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I’ve had this in my drafts for several weeks. I don’t see anyone saying this, so I guess I should:
Owen Wilson didn’t become hot just because of the grey hair. He “became” hot because it was a role you guys finally took him seriously in.
Let me explain:
I’ve been seeing a lot of people on Tumblr saying “Oh my god! Didn’t see the Owen crush coming!”
What’s even worse, is that people, those same people, openly say “I hated him with blond hair but now? He’s so hot!”
Tastes are subjective. It’s completely fine if you prefer grey haired Owen to blond Owen. But saying he was ugly before (which mind you, he isn’t) is just plain rude.
If I came up to you and said “You looked better when (part of you) was different” you’d be upset, wouldn’t you? You’d be upset.
There is a reason Owen isn’t on social media, because of shit like this. It’s one thing to not be a fan of his work, but to say he’s bad, and then appreciate it only after Loki? Blasphemous.
Sure, he’s leaned more towards comedy films, and I agree he should go more into drama. But there will always be some bitch out there who demotes him no matter what he does.
Sure, some of his roles are more “childlike” and comedic, but that’s not an issue. That’s what he likes and he’s made a name for himself. But saying those roles can’t be taken seriously is actually pathetic. Saying he’s only good in one role is pathetic.
I created this blog purely as a joke. I thought, what the hell, since my other blog was shadowbanned, and Tumblr won’t unban it, no matter how many emails I send, I’ll make a whole blog to appreciation Owen, posting pictures, memes and reblogging content about him.
This blog became a hell of a lot more popular than I anticipated. I actually got asks for the first time on this blog. I’d never gotten an ask before. Crazy.
I don’t mind it. I actually really like spreading positivity about him. After seeing the absolute shit show that is Twitter, and the sylki stans calling him a dead beat dad, I’ve been more motivated than ever to keep this up.
I’ll never shame any of you for preferring Owen with grey hair. However, I will shame you for saying he is attractive only with grey hair. He is actually really talented, and honestly, really beautiful. Make jokes all you want about how much you want to get railed by him after the Esquire interview (myself included) but he really is pretty.
I request you watch his work in any Wes Anderson film. He’s able to show off his range there, and the films are really good as standalone films regardless of him being there.
The reason I say this is because he isn’t just some blond himbo who can be stupid with Vince Vaughn. He isn’t just some blond model with Ben Stiller. He has some excellent roles, and was even nominated for an academy award for his screenplay with Wes Anderson.
The fact that some of you place all his value purely in his looks and his personal life is absolutely disgusting. The fact that some of you see Owen as Mobius and nothing else is awful. The fact you put value on him in one role is rude.
I know I won’t get any benefits from posting this rant. I know that. I just get so frustrated seeing some of you say “Wow I thought he was ugly but daaamn that grey hair makes me wish he’d breed me.”
I’ll reiterate: If I told you you were ugly until you changed a part of yourself, and that I wouldn’t like you otherwise, you’d be upset too. So please, let’s keep it respectful across all platforms, yeah?
Another thing I’d like to mention: Why disclaim you finding Owen attractive?
I don’t see anyone disclaiming finding Tom Hiddleston attractive. Why is that?
Are you scared someone is going to judge you? On Tumblr?
So what if you think he’s hot? So what? The fact I even have to bring this up just annoys the hell out of me.
I’ll wrap this up:
To those of you who have been appreciating his work from before Loki:
Thank you.
To those of you who have been making gifs of him from his older films:
Thank you.
For those of you who share the opinion that he’s beautiful no matter what:
Thank you.
To those of you who just think he’s hot with grey hair and think he’s valuable only in the Loki series:
Go fuck yourself.
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HEAVEN OR HELL ; part. 2
TEASER - PART 1 - PART 2 - (...)
━ WARNINGS ; demon!hyunjin, virgin fem!reader
if you feel uncomfortable with the mentions of religion, please don’t read this story cause there are a lot blasphem, mentions of Lucifer and Mammon (Lucifer’s son)
corruption kink, fear kink, humiliation (and not only in a sexual way), mention of killing a cat, pet name (angel), manipulation, mention of alcohol (wine), reader is ashamed of herself, sir kink, nipple play, clitoral masturbation, grinding, very slight choking, slight possessive kink, no penetrative sex
━ WORD COUNT ; 3.3k
━ NOTE ; part 2!!! the smut part is kinda... soft? but the naaaasty is coming!!! also sorry for that cliffhanger at the end zjfhdzfz. feedback are so welcomed!!
The sinister forest in which you walked every morning now was very different from the glittering glade you were used to. The trees were whopping and if you looked at them for too long you can see red eyes forming in the wood. Or was it your imagination ? No one never knows. No beautiful tulips, no cute birds tickling your ears with their cute whistles, no bunnies jumping here and there. Just dead flowers and a mortifying dead silence.
Everything was dead.
All the love and joy living in your heart were starting to fade away. You can’t even remember for how long you were stuck in this place you don’t belong. The time seemed to be unfairly long. The days were all the same, empty, but tormenting in a certain way. You even started to forget how it was, in Heaven.
But in your misfortune you were lucky. Mammon chooses you. He was one of the most powerful of this world, after all. You were constantly watched, mocked by the people living here for being an angel. But what was wrong in being good ? Hyunjin was walking you everywhere like a trophy, or a dog, exposing you to everyone with the leather leash he used on you the first time you both met. They all seemed both amazed and disgusted by you.
“Why did Mammon chooses her ? Is she that special ? She’s an angel, how can he spends his day with her ?” were most of the words you were able to hear when you were around the devilish creatures. And Hyunjin never answers one of those questions, but his legendary smirk wnever left his face. It was ever more painful for you to understand that you were nothing but a toy for him. But what did you expect ? To be fully accepted as a sweet person ? Bullshits.
The only time he left you alone was on mornings. That’s why you always ended up in that scary forest near the huge castle you were left. Well, alone was a big word.
Jeongin was following you everywhere. He was Hyunjin’s personal and favorite servant. A strangely gentle and obedient demon. He looked young and pure, his beautiful angular face was surrounded by his dark blue hair. And you found that there were bright shades of red waiting to sparkle in his eyes. He was tall, not as tall as Hyunjin, but tall enough to be impressive.
There was no in between in this world. Demons were either painful to watch or absolutely breathtaking.
You were walking in the dead grass with him next to you, breathing the fresh matinal air. A beautiful black cat presents himself in front of the both of you, rubbing against your legs and purring loudly enough for you to hear.
A smile finally draws on your feature and you kneel to pat his head and scratch his chin.
“Look, Jeongin ! He wants hugs, poor thing... You’re probably hungry... Jeongin nods, looking straight ahead. But it’s the first time I saw a black cat... Are they common here ? You turn your face to look at him with a smile but still, his mouth stay closed. Hm, yeah, I see... You whisper softly, a little discouraged by his constant silence with you, making you realize that you were really alone here.”
Still without a words, he resumes his walk towards the castle, silently asking you to follow him. And you did, with the cute animal on your step. You were playing with him, walking fast or slow to see if he was still behind you. A laugh escape your mouth seeing the fluffy cat struggling to follow your speed. Not that you were fast but he was a little bit confused.
You bump into someone not on purpose and immediately your blood went icy. Respectfully, and especially cause you were too scared to look at the demon in front of you, you bow your body so low it was almost painful for your back. But you better hurt yourself than being hurted by someone else. Especially in Hell.
“There, there, there... What do we have ? This voice... I knew you were stupid but not to the point of not looking where you are walking. His words were painful but you didn’t move an inch, not wanting to bother him even more. The cat behind you was meowing and if you could you would see the confusion on the man’s face. What’s this ? Jeongin, kill it.”
“No ! No, no ! N-no...? Your voice had suddenly risen to end up being very low. You lift up your chin to finally see Hyunjin in front of you. He was only dressed in a black silk bathrobe embroidered with golden pearls, his long hair was half-tied in a low ponytail and he was holding a glass of wine in his right hand. He... He doesn’t mean you any harm, Sir... He just wants a friend...? His laugh was cold and heartless and he was scanning your body up and down with his piercing eyes.”
Suddenly, you felt a cold sticky liquid running through your face and you just understood that he literally threw the wine in your face. Your lips were parted in shock and that’s the moment you could hear vicious laughs behind him. Of course, Lucifer’s son always need his public. He drops the glass on the ground, glass shattering into thousands of pieces near your feet.
Hyunjin grabs the back of your neck, bringing your face close to his. Close enough to let his tongue slowly lick your cheek wet with wine.
“Remember when we first met, angel... What did I say ? A lot of things, actually. But you didn’t answer and he grab a handful of your hair.”
“That you wanted me ! A-and... That I was a mess... That you hated dirty things, Sir... You answer quickly with a shaking voice. He lets go of your face abruptly with a wide smile, nodding his face.”
“Yeah that’s it ! And what did you just make ? He pointed your face nonchalantly, making you whisper A mess with a tiny voice. A fucking mess, I hate it, in the name of Lucifer... I hate it ! His pupils were all black, you couldn’t even see the white in it. And you knew you messed up.”
He was hysterical and the screams, laughs and encouragements from the lower classes encourages him to act even more crazier. He grabs your wrist merciless to the applause of the crowd and he leads the two of you in the part of the castle which belongs to him.
Faster than you would have liked, you were in his room. It was always cold, not welcoming and way too dark for your eyes in need of nothing but sunshine. Hyunjin stayed silent but the creepy smile on his face was enough to makes you shiver in fear.
It was crazy how easily he switched from being insane to quiet.
Once you were in his private bathroom he made you look at you through the big golden mirror in front of the black marble bathtub. And you could see the damage, the deep red liquid running down your face, some strands of your hair are wet and the front of your black lace dress is also ruined with wine. You feel your back burning from his stares, and it’s even more humiliating than your physical condition.
“I think my angel needs to take a bath, don’t you ? You nod slowly, playing nervously with your fingers. What are you waiting for ? Go ahead.”
You look up at him leaning against the door frame, panicked. He raises an eyebrow and you shake your head. No, impossible. You probably misunderstood. Or he misspoke. How can you get naked in front of him ?
“Need some help, maybe ?”
Still through the mirror you can see him approaching you to stand behind you. Your body was frozen, not that you were afraid, but you were mostly intimidated. Your aura may be a pink pale tone but his own was... Like a dark shade of the deepest blue. The ocean itself is bright compared to what emane from this demon.
He puts your hair on the right side of your neck to have a full access of the left side one. His breath against your shivering skin was hot, and it probably burns you in the best way. The warmth and the softness of his lips against your skin were painful and you couldn’t help biting your lips and squeezing your eyes.
The inner fight you waged against yourself scared you more. Do you really want to push him away ? Or can’t you wait to be naked for him ?
Slowly, his long fingers trail the curve of your body, from your shoulders, to your waist, your hips, but strangely... Never your intimate parts. And you swear, at that right moment, you needed that more than you could ever imagine. Your body was squirming against his and slowly he grabs your chin with his thumb and forefinger.
“Look at you, angel. You open your eyes to see your back totally glued to his chest, making you blush in an instant. Don’t be shy with me, I told you. I’m your owner, there’s no need to be shy. You couldn’t stop looking at him and when he pushes his thumb against your lips you opened it to take it in your mouth and to start sucking it. He chuckles, nibbling your ear, his hot breath awakening all your senses. So nasty, are you really a child of God ?”
His last sentence makes you shiver. He was right. Did you deserve to be considered pure when you wanted him so badly ?
Hyunjin slowly untie your dress and the unknown feeling of being naked in front of someone was as arousing as scaring. Only his sharp eyes was touching you. As usual, he was looking at every details of your body and you can tell how badly he restrains himself to not put his hands all over your frame.
Why was he even nice ? He was almost hysteric few minutes ago. But the answer was evident... He was a demon, after all. They don’t need an excuse to act like crazy.
You didn’t move, looking shamefully at your body for reacting to every ones of his caresses, looks and words.
He takes you out of your mind, grabbing your wrist to lead you in the bathtub, hot smoke escaping from it due to the water. You put your body in it and you look at him undressing. He was as naked at you. His body was slim, his thighs and abdomen were muscular, his body was sculpted by the the God himself.
How funny is it to think that when he’s the son of Lucifer himself.
It doesn't take long for him to join you, placing his body behind yours. You didn’t know if it was because of the water relaxing all of your nerves, or his strangely calm aura, but you felt good. Hyunjin grabs your shoulders to make your body leans against his, slipping his wet hands on your face to clean your features from the liquid that he himself threw at you.
A little sigh escape your mouth and you allow yourself to pretend that you’re not in Hell. That you’re in your own room with all your green indoor plants surrouding you. You even have the impression that your favorite sugary smell is all over you, and you can even feel Felix scratching you neck and chin cause he knows how much you like that.
Wait... But you’re not in your room. And there’s no Felix.
Hyunjin started to kisses your neck slowly, licking your skin with the tip of his tongue, making you moan unintentionally. You open your eyes, ashamed of how pathetic you melt in the hand of the one and only Demon who can controls you. He probably feels your body tense and he starts to draw some invisible circles against your tummy.
“It’s funny how I want to protect you and ruin you at the same time. You bite your lips, gulping slowly just imagining the two situations. Yeah, it’s funny. How I want to take care of you, kiss you everywhere, makes you feel good. His words are accompanied by gentle caresses, he brushes your boobs with his fingertips, making you shiver and squirm against him. Even if he was behind you you can feel his gaze on your naked body exposed to him. How I want to hurt you in the goodest way, makes you beg and cry. He pinches one of your already hard nipple with two of his fingers and again, you moan softly. Isn’t it supposed to hurt ? Then why does it feels good ?”
He chuckles when he hear your voice, rubbing now your two buds in his digits. You can’t control your body and the sensation you’re feeling and quickly you came to the conclusion that you want more. You want to feel more, you want that heatness in your body to be more intense, to explode.
The back of your head falls against the crook of his neck and his strong woody smell makes you loose your mind. Hyunjin turns his head to put his forehead against yours while his fingers travel all around you naked figure against him. You can feel him everywhere and nowhere, it's like he can touch your whole body at the same time.
“Don’t stop looking at me. He whispers in a low voice, his eyes fixed on yours.”
You nod slowly even tho it’s difficult for you to stay focused when one of his hands glides along your exposed pubis. His other hand is still firmly gripped to your boob, massaging it in both a soft and harsh way. It was his power. To be gentle and rough.
Instinctively you open your legs. More, more, more. That’s all you can think about right now. And it seems that he exactly understand what you want. More. His long fingers run through your womanhood, wet because of the water, but not only. You can feel how burning it is, how good it feels when he slides them against your two intimates lips. More. You try to keep your eyes open as much as possible to not break the intense contact you’re sharing. A little oh escape your lips when he circles his fingers around that tiny, little, swollen bud. More, you want more.
“You don’t have that in Heaven, uh ? You never felt that good, did you ? You shake your head, half closed eyelids due to everything you’re feeling. That’s the real Heaven, angel.”
His wide black dilated pupils were magneficient, you couldn’t even think of looking away. He continues to rubs your most sensitive area and the hot water just help everything to be more soother and slicker. He teases your nipple, kissing the tip of your nose with a smirk drawns on his beautiful lips and you start to buck your hips up to feel more of the frictions he was offering to you. Slowly, you grip his wrist to push his hands even more against your intimate area. He chuckles, again, at your eagerness and soft moans crash on his lips when he taps your pussy. It was tickling, weird, but oh so good at the same time.
Slowly he grabs your waist to turn your body around so that you are facing him. And it’s even more intimidating to see Hyunjin with his eyes totally lost in the luxurious world. Almost automatically you stick your body to him, surrounding his waist with your legs.
If only you know that doing that made your pussy crash against his, you can really feel it, hard and pretty long dick. Your cheeks were now probably a bright tint of red. And you can see that he wasn’t in a better state.
“S-sorry ! I didn’t meant to do that, Sir !”
“Don’t be sorry, angel. Do it again, can you ? You nod slowly, pressing your two hands on his shoulders to give you a little bit of support. You move your hips slowly against his body, his hard-on hitting your core everytime you moved. Yeah, just like that, keep going... How does it feel ?”
Your only answer was to nod again and bite your lips. It felt too good to be real. Your two bodies stick together were hot and you swear, the burning flames in Hell wasn’t as hot as you. One of Hyunjin’s hand was grabbing your waist to help you move and grind above him while the other one found their way to your exposing neck.
All of your body was covered with shivers and you didn’t know if the cause was his eyes on you, his hands gripping your throat without squeezing it, or your core sticking and rubbing on his rosy tip.
“You’re mine. You can hear his hoarse voice whispering in your ear as he still grab your throat in a possessive way while his hand on your waist tighten it firmly. You’re mine. I choose you not only cause I know you were obedient... His hips buck up into yours, making the both of you crash your crotch together in a moaning symphony. Because I knew you were going to love it a lot more than you should.”
You felt light-headed for a moment. Hyunjin’s words was arousing, making you feel like the dirtiest angel. And it was too much. Too much new sensations for your body. The knot in your stomach were growing to the point that it was consuming you so you speed your own pace, helped by his hands, his breath, his moans, even his praises “pretty, hot, good girl” were the only words you were focused on. You felt enveloped by your devastating orgasm, your face leans back and a silent moan escapes your parted lips. It was difficult for you to keep your eyes open, your bordy starts to shake against his and you scratch his shoulders to hold on to reality. It was insanely good to be on cloud nine, a soft smile draws on your lip as every muscles of your body relaxed and tensed at the same time.
You feel him chasing his own high, patting his veiny and leaking dick on your swollen and overstimulated bud. You wanted to escape his touch as much as you wanted him to keep doing that delicious feeling.
You let yourself totally go in his arms when the both of you come back down from your high. Hyunjin was as breathless as you and he rubs your back in slow caresses, kissing your temples with a little grin.
“I bet Felix never made you feel that way. You frowned your eyebrows, why was he talking about Felix now ? You lift your face to look up at him in a confused way. Oh, you probably didn’t know... You shake your head slowly. He was my servant. You both have the same disgusting sugary smell. ”
Your jaws dropped and you blink your eyes. Felix, the purest heart you have ever known was once... A demon ?
—————————————☠︎︎ —————————————
━ TAGLIST ; @sailorhyunjinz - @minholuvs - @that-anxious-bisexual - @ohmysparkle - @yuminsung - @minaamhh - @kittykatvenom - @bubblelixie - @imagineinnie - @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot - @etherealeeknow - @linours - @starry-jinnie @p0t4t0don14ll - @straytannies - @binnie-m00n - @formidxble - @skzcvre - @titleisyettobemade - @bythesunnotbythemoon - @nada-disso - @characha - @lizsvcks - @pxnidxjks - @ninjaleeknow - @solistired - @keloiu - @staaaaaa - @journalskz - @bubbl3gunz - @tinyminari - @hyuneytoast - @s4ilor-m4rs (if you want to be added to the taglist feel free to send me an ask!)
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orange tree ⇾ knj, kth. [M]
𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ares!namjoon x mortal!reader (f.) x apollo!taehyung
𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ greek god au, established relationship (w/namjoon), smut, pwp, filth, poly au, 18+
𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ he built you a pathronon but you would like to expand its patrons… at least just for the evening.
𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 7.4k
𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!namjoon, tattooed!namjoon, silver mullet!namjoon, dom!taehyung, blonde mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, a lil bratty!reader, rough sex, public sex, outdoor sex, angry sex, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), humilition kink, size kink, pain kink, jealousy, threesome, overstimulation, degradation, double penatration (in one hole), exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, oral (m. and f. receiving), deep throating, cockwarming, choking, manhandling, body worshipping, pussy worshipping, basically reader worshipping, pussy slapping, cum eating, clit biting, spanking, teasing, begging, spit play, breath play, breast play, pretty much an ungodly amount of filth :)))
𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m a hoe :))
❧ banner by ⇾ @kimtaehyunq (thank you so much friend~)
❧ beta’d by ⇾ @nottodayjjk and @uhgood-dooghu (a million thanks to these cuties~)
❧ le playlist
⟶ commission for @jamaisjoons through ChangesWithLuv, supporting BLM
Beyond the holy village of Barthes, within a meadow of sun dropped marigolds, you lounge topless underneath an orange tree. Cool winds cut the late summer heat. The breeze hardens your nipples and prickles your exposed skin with goosebumps. Hair tousled, you bite into another orange slice. He did not care for citrus, until he tasted your lips. Then, he planted you an orange tree. He promised you good fortune and a long life.
“You will want for nothing,” he told you. “Just, behave.”
Behave. A word he’d used often with you. Jaw tense, he’d hiss the warning while fondling your breasts or cupping your sex. When he is furious, he is boundless. He fucks like a titan, remnants of a gracious god completely withering away. Tight grips, rough pounds, and seething threats that promise such painful pleasure, Kim Namjoon is a red hot planet of sexual destruction. So angry, so lustful, he serves you a cockful of discipline and then some. You are helpless. To his wrath, you are subjected. But, you don’t mind. The truth of the matter is, your body is always alive when buried under his.
“You’re a minx,” a deep voice states behind you.
You sit up, fruit juice trailing down your arm. Lips in a pout, you gaze up at the tall man behind you. Blonde hair, symmetrical face, sharp collarbone, broad chest and - he smirks - and, oh so sinister. How could a delicate smile be so devilishly sincere? And he brands you a minx… what does this handsome man know of you? How long has he been watching? Swallowing your bite thickly, you try and fail to fathom his beauty.
He pushes himself off the tree trunk and circles around you. His eyes dance around the thin, red blanket, the array of fruits, and braided loaves by the wicker basket before trailing up your exposed legs. A shiver snakes around your curves. The way his eyes devour you makes you think he did not stumble upon this hideaway accidentally. Namjoon took extensive measures to ensure no one would. No, this man knows. He must. Why else would he not question your presence alone under the only tree? He accepts it, expects it.
Pushing your sticky arms around your breast, you attempt to somewhat conceal yourself and ask, “Are you a traveller?”
He shakes his head. The wind plays with his hair the moment the sun emerges behind heavy clouds. Its natural glow lights up his figure, in all its holy glory. Well-toned, pierceless, inkless, chiseled features are all too accurate to be human. He is pure. There is very little scarring on his skin as well. He looks down right angelic, prophetic, utterly godly.
Has Namjoon really entertained your fantasies? You first made the suggestion off hand, completely innocent in your phrasing, until his face fell. Stone fierce gaze slicing through your soul, you couldn’t help but describe an ocean’s worth of desires involving more than one man by your side. You were fucked to tears against the tree until it’s branches were bare and the ground was covered in ripe fruit and loose leaves. You thought that would be the end of it. But now, as you carefully stare at the god while he shamelessly sips on your near nakedness, you wonder just how wrong you might have been.
“Have you come to watch?”
“To worship.”
Your arousal slicks your thighs. Pressing your legs together, you suppress the giddy shivers that caress your spine. Though excited, you really can’t believe Namjoon did it. It was a joke but, scanning the sun god’s frame once more, you’re glad he didn’t take it that way. Face flushed, you lie back in your previous position. On your side, breasts on full display, you toss your hair aside. As your lips part to question the details of his intentions, you catch a familiar silhouette by the sea, in the distance. Flickering your gaze between the two men, you wonder if this new god was sent to test your loyalty or limits? The figure nods. You smile.
Attention returning to the golden god, you ask, “Apollo, is it?”
“Taehyung,” he corrects.
“Is that the name you prefer I scream?”
He pauses. Those mismatched eyes widen at your intrepidity. Dazed in confusion, he scans your frame once again, as if reprocessing your presence. He’s underestimated your wits, you realize, but the newfound understanding in his eyes reassures you that it won’t happen again. Good. He’s a quick learner.
Quirking a brow at the blanket beneath you, he asks, “May I?”
You nod once. He licks his lips twice, bites on the bottom one, then seats himself beside you. On his side, bare chest on display, he takes in the scenery from this new angle. Flowers bloom under a peachy dawn, and the vast fields of greenery wither to sandy shores where the sea waves as a way of greeting. His cocky stare lingers on your boyfriend before settling back to your little shrine underneath the orange tree. It’s a parthenon all on its own, with you as the center of its divinity. This detail seems to intrigue him more than it should, but you assume it might also have something to do with being watched.
Taking his hand in yours, you feel the dimming warmth of the setting sun. Who’s manning the chariot, you wonder, and would he be willing to let you ride it? Your bones tremble beneath your flesh at the impression of a distant growl. Oh, right. You almost forgot Ares can read your mind. Being something of a soulmate, he’s connected to you in ways other gods are not. Another growl slices through your thoughts. Jealousy sounds so good on him. Hearing his frustrations, knowing he’s enjoying the way you indulge, flusters the anxious bundle of nerves at your core.
Taehyung chuckles. Inches away now, his hot breath fans over your cheek. Fingers trailing up from your hand, along your arm then to your neck, he wraps his hand around your throat. He presses his thumb in the divet just under your chin, teasing a choke but never actually going through with it. You wonder what Namjoon must be hissing by the sea. What kind of curses is he throwing? Just picturing his furious eyes and cliffed jaw tickles the pit of your stomach.
“You’re precious,” Taehyung whispers, lips pressed against your chin. “I understand why he hides you from us.”
Us? Olympus knows of your blasphemous citrus temple? Usually, this kind of revelation would grant you a lightning bolt to the heart and an eternity in Tartarus. Only this wakes something different in Taehyung. His breath shallows, erection pokes at your thigh. He’s aroused by the idea of worshipping someone as powerless as a mortal. Or perhaps, you wonder as Taehyung nibbles on your skin, he simply adores displaying his power. Either or, you decide to make the most of what your Ares has granted you. Gaze finding his broad frame again, you let out an exaggerated gasp.
Namjoon flinches. However, it isn’t until you press your body against Taehyung’s that he cringes. He shifts his weight, fist clenched by his sides and you swear you can see steam hovering over his head. Namjoon is livid. But, Taehyung is oblivious. Too consumed by your pleasure, he tightens his grip on your throat and trails his open-mouthed kisses down to your breasts. Nipple between his teeth, Taehyung groans in hunger. Tongue teasing, he licks to play, not to soothe any of the stings. Your toes and legs hook around his waist. Hips rolling, you tease a preview of what you have in mind.
Taehyung shifts half an inch away though. You know it’s not because he didn’t enjoy the gesture, the throb against your hip reassuring you just how much he would really enjoy it. It still hurts your pride, however. Twinges of humiliation taint your soft features. He offers half a smirk as a means of comfort.
“He told me you’ve got quite a mouth.”
Is that an excuse or explanation? In both cases, it’s weak. He traces your face, fingertips so soft you almost forget the indirect rejection. Charming, his tiger starved gaze reflects hints of amusement. You’re easy prey, a fact that crumbles your courage. He is not here to coddle your pride, to serve the goddess of this naturous parthenon, but rather to obliviate it. A pitiful pile of pleasure is all he wishes to make of you. Though, now you wonder, is he doing this because he wants to, or because he’s ordered to?
Eyes darting between Apollo and Ares, you swallow thickly. The wondrous glow in Taehyung’s gaze makes you pause. Perhaps you’ve been too hasty. Perhaps they were both counting on that. The humiliation returns ten fold and prickles your skin upon realizing how careless you have been. Too quick to show your keen interest in devouring a different dose of daylight, you did not make Taehyung work as hard as he should’ve. And knowing that must have been what Namjoon was expecting only festers your heart with anger. This isn’t an opportunity to indulge, you conclude, but to reprimand. The both of them want to sip on your submission. The role of a meek mortal amuses them more than it should. It turns you on more than it should. So, you pull away more than you should.
Laying back on your elbows, you redirect your gaze to the sky. You can feel both pairs of eyes studying you. Taehyung props himself up on his forearm and looks over at your suddenly calmed features. It’s almost as if you’ve never exchanged a word at all.
“Funny,” you restart, all cards hidden this time. “He never mentioned you.”
Angry, confused, perhaps both, Taehyung stares. He blink, blink, blinks before he fully registers what’s been said. You can feel Namjoon’s delight though. The pride he has in the way you sassed a rival resonates deep in your core.
As you shimmy out of your dress, Taehyung finally scoffs a chuckle. You attempt to ignore the way it lights your soul with desire and focus on Namjoon’s silhouette. He looks closer, lurking by the tall grass, though still near the sand. Fully naked, you try to school your features and pretend you don’t notice the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches while Taehyung’s falls slack. Your hands rests on Taehyung’s bare thigh long enough to make him shudder and your boyfriend growl. It’s almost all too easy to push Namjoon’s buttons. He hates it when you do something simply because you can.
“You abuse your power,” he always tells you.
And, with a smile, you always reply, “I don’t abuse anything, Joonie. You just can’t refuse it.”
Taehyung seems to prove this statement now, falling prey to the way you toy with him. Half focused, you’re paying enough attention to him to feel his frustration. Displeased with the way you have your eyes glued on the god of war, Taehyung huffs and inches closer.
“Do I need to plant you an orange tree?” he teases. Well, he attempts to anyways. The resentment in his tone seeps through instead.
You bite back a smirk. “You can try.”
His eyes flash with annoyance. Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, Taehyung raises a brow. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, but you can safely assume he’s highly debating it. His eyes shift around the tree the two of you currently lounge under. Sparing you a glance, he scoffs. Perhaps he doesn’t think it’s worth it, you wonder. It’s no matter to you. All it really means is more time spent frustrating him, teasing him beyond-
The ground crackles, splitting open with the presence of new roots. Bare branches rise and twist around the orange tree trunk. The deep green leaves sprout. Then, ripe figs bloom. They dangle closer to you than the oranges do. You don’t have much time to really admire them, however, as a loud rumble rattles your bones. The sound is enough to snap your fearful eyes to the seashore. Namjoon is gone.
Shit. Have you taken this too far? Namjoon did plant this tree for you. He had never so much so as looked at another mortal. His allegiance, devotion, and adoration has been declared to you on more than one occasion. You are all he ever sees, thinks, breathes. Swallowing thickly, you mentally call him back. It’s all in good fun, you try to convince him. A quiet hum from the other side of the line is enough to soothe your anxiety. You lean back into the other god.
Taehyung couldn’t be less concerned. Instead of searching for Namjoon, as you seem to be interested in doing, he latches his lips onto your shoulder, a single hand cupping your breast. You gasp. Taking this as an encouragement to continue, Taehyung trails a wet arrangement of open mouthed kisses along your neck. Lips pressed to the shell of your ear, he hisses, “Quite a fucking mouth, indeed.” He digs his fingertips into the flesh of your breast and continues, “Might need some good dick to keep it in check.”
The thought is appealing. So much so, that you cannot help the way your eyes widen and glisten with interest. Having his cock shoved down your throat while he growls at the sheer sight of it alone has compelled your undivided attention. But, Namjoon’s rage still scratches at your bones, warning you against playing too much.
You scoff. “Who says I don’t already have that?”
Taehyung does not reply. Not a smirk graces his lips nor breath escapes him. He simply leans in for a kiss. You find yourself giving in all too quickly. He slides his hand down to cup the space between your thighs and you cannot find it within you to push it away. In fact, you spread your legs further apart and tell yourself it’s reactive. The jolt of your hips up into his hand though… that might’ve been calculative.
But the simple gesture of rolling your hips into his palm has shown all your cards once more. He reclaims the power, pulling away from the kiss and your sex. He clutches onto your hair, a deadpan expression the only means of emotion now. In huffing silence, he yanks on your hair, guiding your head down to his crotch. You hiss, the gesture proving more pleasurable than painful as you feel a fresh rush of your wetness further stain your legs.
His silk skirt, pinned up and hanging from his hip by an arrowed, gold pin, lies in a disarried pile beside him. His huge cock is all that stands before you. He’s thicker than Namjoon, but, even with its impressive length, it does not compare to your boyfriend’s size. Taehyung is massive, but Namjoon is monstrous.
Your mouth still salivates all the same. Tip oozing precum, Taehyung shoves your face against his balls. His thick scent rolls your tongue out. Heavy in lust, he mostly smells of lemons and cream. You’ve always adored citrus… Namjoon knows this well. And though you expected to feel your boyfriend’s anger at this revelation, all you feel on the other side is emptiness. You wonder where he’s gone.
Or, at least you attempt to wonder. The moment you feel the impression of Taehyung’s weighty balls against your lips, all your thoughts dissipate. You swirl your tongue around each one before dropping them in your mouth. Suckling, drool dripping, your enthusiasm cannot be hidden any longer. Moaning maniactically, your eyes roll back.
Taehyung gasps and hisses. The peak of his groans, however, surfaces when you wrap a hand around his thick cock. You were ready to start pumping until you realized a single hand barely even covers half of him. Both hands wrapped around his length now, you twist and drag them up and down. Every so often, you tighten your grip a bit and let out a throaty moan. He shudders each time, legs trembling from your attention.
On your knees, with your ass up high for any onlookers to easily see, the wind lashes at your heat. You squeal, then pull his balls out of your mouth to spit on his cock. The thick wad makes it easier to pump him. Brows furrowed, he runs a hand through his golden hair and shakily sighs… then his sight sets on something behind you. He smirks, white canines a dangerous nod to his power.
A familiar hand rests on the small of your back, the other landing a harsh smack on your ass. You scream and fall forward onto Taehyung, face fully buried in his cock now. He laughs heartily, running a hand through your hair as a weak excuse for comfort.
The hand behind you does not stop after one smack. It goes in for second, then third, and before you know it, your ass is burning with stings and pussy wetter than the ocean behind you. The pain ignites something viciously erotic, cradling your heart enough to make you whimper. It’s the idea of being used, you assume, and it only makes you perk your ass up higher.
His raspy scoff makes you shiver, spine tingling with excitement. He gropes onto your ass and grunts, “Don’t try to be a good girl now.”
Tangling his fingers in your hair, Namjoon uses this harsh grip to shove your face further against Taehyung’s crotch. He pulls back and tries again, making sure your mouth engulfs his friend’s cock this time.
“You want to suck his cock, huh? Then fucking suck, you little slut,” he growls.
Your face flames with embarrassment. You can’t even bring yourself to meet Taehyung’s gaze. He merely laughs through a moan, leaning back on his hands as he watches you choke on his cock. You really can’t take him all in one go; you haven’t even found a way to take Namjoon in a single motion. But, your boyfriend couldn’t care less. He pushes your head down and keeps it there. Your jaw aches, throat burns, contracting around Taehyung’s thickness enough to make him throw his head back. Tears spill and spill and you foolishly think this will be the height of his punishment.
Then, in he goes.
“Such a wet little bitch,” Namjoon hisses as he pushes his cock into your pussy.
You let out a strangled whine against Taehyung, much to his pleasure, and attempt to spread your legs, but Namjoon keeps them in place. They’re barely a hip’s length apart. The pain prickles against your pussy’s wall, making you gag a sob around Taehyung’s cock. The pressure of Namjoon’s huge dick behind you and the weight of Taehyung’s in your mouth trembles your posture. You shake under the intimidation and it doesn’t help at all that Taehyung’s dick is suffocating you.
Namjoon pulls your head up the moment he fully enters. Gasping, you try to catch your breath. You inhale deeply each time, worried Namjoon will shove you back down on Taehyung’s cock without warning. Instead, he gives you a quick moment to breathe, ramming in and out of you like he’s riding a stallion.
Taehyung, eyes half-lidded, admires the way you drool and babble all over yourself. You heave, holding his gaze long enough to realize he’s mocking you, tongue out and breathes exasperated. Then he laughs and Namjoon laughs, and your pride shrivels up. Dignity on the brink of shattering, you try to avoid his gaze, biting your lip to swallow your moans as Namjoon works his way in and out of you.
But Taehyung will not have any of that. He nudges your wet chin back to him and teasingly pouts. “Is baby embarrassed?” he asks, tone more menacing than that taunting gaze of his. You glare at him, but he doesn’t seem fazed. Cupping your chin, Taehyung squeezes your cheeks to pucker your lips. “Answer me,” he seethes.
Parting your lips, you’re about to confirm his statement when Namjoon grunts behind you. He thrusts his hips particularly harder this time and your balance crumbles. You fall over Taehyung. He catches you with his lips, his hand trailing from your face to your neck and gripping onto it like he owns it.
Namjoon is displeased. With a growl, he snaps his hips up, balls shoving their way in you too. Your teeth knock with Taehyung, causing him to grunt and glare at the god behind you. You watch him stare your boyfriend down while tightening his grip on your neck. He goes to say something, a curse judging by the placement of his lips in his teeth, but Namjoon pulls you out of his grasp before Taehyung can even get a syllable out.
Replacing Taehyung’s hand with his own on your neck, Namjoon pulls you back up against his chest. His other hand wraps around your waist. Lips to the shell of your ear, he hammers into you and whispers, “Don’t go forgetting who you belong to.”
You hold Taehyung’s hard stare. His face reddens, cheeks drawn into his mouth as he glares. You whimper, pouting and nodding to Namjoon, but neither one of them seems convinced. Taehyung’s brows raise as if you’ve given him some sort of sign, and Namjoon’s hissing warnings against getting carried away.
“Better not say his name.”
Out of sheer spite, you part your lips to utter the other’s name. However, the word is consequently pounded right out of your mind the moment it emerges. Neither god gives you another moment to develop a reply at all as they battle for your attention. A part of you wishes that each of them simply takes turns, but you already know how useless that would be. Neither one of them will be willing to wait and watch. Namjoon already slipped himself in, the act of watching being too distant for him.
And it seems to be the same for Taehyung as well. He can’t sit still, can’t just watch you get ravished by someone else. You catch the annoyed twinkle in his eye darkening every time Namjoon makes you scream. Swallowing thickly, Taehyung shifts so that he’s lying by your knees and pulls the plump, upper flesh of your pussy apart. Then, smirking, he dips his head in and enthusiastically sucks on your clit. Teeth grazing, he bites and nibbles, drawing the most high-pitched squeals out of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pushing his face further against your pussy.
Namjoon huffs a groan against your cheek. Pounding in full force, he loosens his grip on you a bit. Your hips jolt forward, Taehyung’s teeth clamping down on your clit. You cry out, both hands back over Namjoon’s arm. The god by your knees did not escape unscathed either, his lips slightly bruised from the hit. He drags his gaze up to you, glare deadly.
Guts twisting in ecstasy and guilt, you whimper and shake your head. “Sorr-”
Your apology clinches in your throat as Namjoon tightens his grip on it. “Shut the fuck up, you filthy whore,” he grunts into your hair.
Taehyung catches onto Namjoon’s sly gesture quickly, hungry eyes aflame for vengeance. “Keep her still, or I’ll fuck her into the ground.” His deep voice tickles the swirling pit of your stomach. So rich and raspy, his dulcet voice guides you closer to your orgasm than you’d be brave enough to admit.
Subsequently, Taehyung relatches his lips to your clit. Namjoon swallows enough of his pride not to shake him off again. And you shudder as high doses of ecstasy creep over your nerves. It pumps your veins with excitement, anticipation and sheer joy. Even when they’ve mocked you and used you as a pocket pussy- a set of holes, you cannot deny how horny it makes you for them.
Namjoon huffs your name in your ear, whispering about your tightness, about how he knows how fucking close you are. “Baby is gonna cream,” he mockingly coos. “Do you want him to taste you? Are you that much of a slut, you want another man to taste you? He’ll get addicted.” Namjoon grunts thrice before continuing, “But you already know that, right? You want him addicted. You want him to worship that little cunt of yours, hmm?”
“Yes, yes, yes, oh fuck yes!” you screech. Whether it is in reply to his questions or simply a reaction to the dual assault of your pussy, you’re not quite certain. But, Namjoon is. And he’s irate. Shaking with anger, his pounds reach a pace unknown to gods, even Taehyung raises an impressed brow.
Your next intake of air cinches somewhere in your throat. You try to scream, to cry, to make some sort of sound as your cum rushes out of you. Gushing, slouching, your pussy makes enough noise that your mouth doesn’t need to. Both men fall victim to it - to you - anyway. Squirming in Namjoon’s hold, there’s very little you can do. Your mind is foggy, vision blurry, but it doesn’t stop either of them. A distant clash of throaty moans fill the fields, though you can’t register much of that either. Your ears are ringing too much to hear more than your own heartbeat struggling to keep up.
Taehyung growls, his hands constantly knocking against Namjoon’s. Your dazed gaze falls to meet his. Eyes blazed with sexual frustration, he claws at your hips and pulls you forward against him. Namjoon, however, keeps a strong hold on your waist. Your torso’s his for the taking. He grabs hold of your chin and whips your head back to him.
“You look at me when you cum,” he seethes. “Or you won’t cum at all next time.”
Half a breath escapes you in response, but it seems to be half a breath too late. Namjoon emits a raspy groan so sinister it would be a crime to simply call it a growl. He roars. You feel the vibrations of the sound in your spine, another dose of your cum rushing through you. Then, all too quickly, he lets go of you. It takes his hands off your chest for you to realize your legs gave out long ago. You instantly fall to your knees. Taehyung is quick to catch you in his arms. Lips inches apart, Taehyung looks ready to share some of his oxygen with you when Namjoon orders, “Turn her around.”
Taehyung glares over your head. Gulping, his lips twitch in a fake smile as he lifts you. You, however, cannot let him give in that easily. Besides, nothing is better than angering the god of war. His stubborn, victory-bound heart will not rest until you submit to him over Taehyung. And, throwing you into the enemy’s arms does not seem like he’s trying hard enough to win, to discipline you. So, after Taehyung turns you around in his lap, you press a passionate kiss upon his lips, slipping your tongue in for good measure. Taehyung snakes his hand between your legs too, fingers playing all too much for you to stay silent. Between kisses, you sneak a glance at Namjoon, finding Taehyung already doing the same thing.
Towering over you, skin inked, nipples pierced, muscles flexed and slick with sweat, Namjoon huffs. His jaw is locked, a gesture you’ve learned isn’t at all meant to be comforting. With his cheeks sucked in and a brow quirked, Namjoon jerks himself off to the sight of you so openly defiant.
“Open your dirty mouth,” Namjoon orders through gritted teeth. “I need to clean it out.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes, his fingers ceasing their movements as he cups your sex instead. “So dramatic,” he teases, earning a cold stare from Namjoon.
You resist the urge to giggle, having to choose your battles carefully. Taehyung has already gotten too much attention anyways, you decide. Pushing his hand away from your pussy, you ignore the wet kisses Taehyung peppers upon the nape of your neck and gaze up at Namjoon with your mouth open.
He bites his lip to keep from smirking. And, with a loud, chest drawn groan, he releases his load all over your chin and breasts. The warmth of his cum sets your skin ablaze. It feels just as thick as it tastes. Licking around your face, you try to swallow whatever you can get. A little smile breaks out on Namjoon’s face, swelling your heart with pride.
However, Taehyung isn’t as moved by the gesture as you are. He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls your head back against his shoulder. “That’s enough of that,” he breathes over your face. Then he wipes the rest of Namjoon’s cum off with the pad of his thumb and pecks your lips. He rubs the cum into your nipples, teasing them between his thumb and forefinger.
You almost forget Namjoon's presence. That is, until he grabs hold of your ankles and yanks you right out of Taehyung’s hold. With a loud gasp, you’re on your back, legs spread and Namjoon at the center. He gazes lazily down at you, like handling your body is a casual passtime. There is something glittering within that suspicious ease, however. Something cocky, angry, and terrifying. Hand around your neck, Namjoon jerks you off the floor and shoves you back into Taehyung’s arms.
The golden god catches you with a grunt. He draws his brows together in confusion, silently questioning Namjoon. He parts his lips, but your boyfriend huffs, cutting him off. Namjoon grabs you by your bicep and turns you around to face Taehyung.
After making sure your legs are spread and straddling the other god’s waist, Namjoon seethes, “The simplest instructions.” His warm tongue darts out to lick the shell of your ear. Between nibbles he continues, “You can’t even follow the simplest instructions. That can’t be easily forgiven anymore, baby.”
You’re not quite sure what he means, considering he’s never punished you in this position before. Usually, being on top is a reward. He grants you a sliver of control, consequence free, when you’ve been well-behaved. This level of generosity is a rarity. However, as Namjoon pushes you further into Taehyung, with you wrapped around his torso, you begin to wonder what kind of punishment you’re in for, and which one of them is administering it.
Of course, these thoughts are fleeting as Taehyung’s fat cock prods around your pulsing hole. Sparks of bliss set to flames the nerves bunching around your clit. You shudder each time he brushes his tip against it. Petting your hair back just to grab it, Taehyung breathes a chuckle into the crook of your neck. He licks and sucks on your delicate skin like you belong to him. And for a split second, you almost think you do. The sweet, wet kisses and the way he eases into you only just has you forgetting that Namjoon is standing over you, watching as another god worships.
With a smack, your memories jolt back. The sting of both cheeks makes you all too aware of his presence now. You cry out, falling over Taehyung clumsily. The spank hit so hard, so fast that it even has Namjoon hissing from the impact. Even still, he smacks you again and again and again. “You still have no idea what you’ve asked for, do you?” he questions.
You thought you did. You hoped you did. But, as Namjoon spanks you with added force, you realize just how right he is. You whimper into Taehyung’s shoulder. He’s kept his cock warm in your tight, clenching hole when Namjoon begins to get vicious with his spanks. Chuckling and mocking you in whispers, Taehyung finds your suddenly all too obedient state entertaining. It flames your face with shame, your entire body caught between wanting another serving of cock or slaps. He imitates your whimpers, coaxing more tears out of you before hissing, “If you had any real shame, you’d get off my cock and go suck your boyfriend’s.”
“She’s a fucking slut,” Namjoon answers, landing another slap to your tenders cheeks. “Why’d you stop fucking her?”
Some humanity flashes in Taehyung’s eyes as you nuzzle your face against his. He mutters something incoherent, along the lines of, “She can’t handle it.”
“She can!” Namjoon grunts as he finally rubs your pain buzzed ass. A shaky whine escapes you and tickles Taehyung’s ear. “You can take it, right, baby?” he asks, digging his nails into your flesh.
You whine in agreement. It’s not enough. He needs to hear you say- scream it. Grabbing a handful of your hair, he peels you off Taehyung enough for him to get a good look at your face. He folds his hands under his head, smirking at the sight of you so shattered by pleasure of being in pain. Face flushed, wet, cum stained and eyes innocent, your features fold in raptured anguish.
Namjoon roughly kneads your right cheek while pressing the length of his cock against it. “Can you take the fucking like a good girl?” He mockingly coos. It juts a chorus of shivers down your spine.
You squeeze tight around Taehyung at the thought. He rasps your name. Namjoon growls lowly, rubbing himself against you as he warns, “You’re not gonna make me ask you a third time, are you?”
Taehyung shifts his hips, cinching your breath at your throat from the stroke of friction. Why did he have to be so big, so pretty and hot staring at you like that? Why’d you have to go tempting gods you know you can’t keep up with? You regret angering Namjoon, realizing that jealousy is the worst power trip you can feed a god. They both want to watch you fall apart, crumble into a pile of bones. Tears spill at the thought, pussy aching around a cock too big to adjust to. Every nerve feels so sensitive, so overused, yet you need to cum again.
No. You can’t take it. But, you’ll be damned if you tell either of them that. And as Namjoon lays another sharp smack on your cheeks, tingling with pain, you circle your hips around Taehyung’s and cry out a broken, breathy and utterly desperate, “Y-es!”
Taehyung grips onto your hips, pulling you half out. You expect to be plunged onto his cock with a new degree of force, but find another one attempting to squeeze in as well. Namjoon’s monster cock pushing into your pussy alongside Taehyung’s. Your jaw drops, eyes roll back as that viciously delicious stretch strangles your soul with bliss. He enters you slow, but sharp, knowing full well that the both of them cannot fit.
Neither cares. Both gods create a quickly speeding rhythm of thrusts into you. Body jolting forwards, breasts shaking over Taehyung’s face and ass bouncing against Namjoon’s hips. He hunches over you to groan your name in your ear, voice husky with lust and dominance. He repeats the word like a prayer. Every syllable drips slow out of his lips like thick molasses when his voice reaches such depth.
You try to lean back into him, but Taehyung keeps you in place with the tight grip on your hips. “Stay still,” he grunts against your nipple. Then, he sucks on it, teasing the little nub between his teeth.
You moan a little too loud at Taehyung’s ministrations for Namjoon’s liking. Both hands locked on your ass, Namjoon pushing your cheek up and against Taehyung. You lose whatever balance you had weighted on your arms, falling flat against the sun god with a squeal. His cock fully plugs into you and when he tries to thrust up against you once more, Namjoon growls, “Both of you stay still.”
A shiver tickles your spine with the wind. As Taehyung kisses your neck, you attempt to sneak a peek at your boyfriend over your shoulder and push your ass back into him. He’s sweaty and huffing. The peachy sunset behind him halos around his muscular frame. He’s so pretty when he’s mad, all those veins lacing his inked skin like little spider webs. His gaze finds yours, that annoyed look intensifying in his eyes when you wink at him.
And though it was completely innocent, it still switches something off in Namjoon. He shifts his tight grip on your ass to the small of your back then, all at once, presses down onto it with the entirety of his strength. A series of loud cracks elicit from your spine like the fire of a gun at the start of a race. And away go his hips as he rams in and out of your too full pussy.
Screams and sudden sobs pour out of you and onto Taehyung as the both of you get shaken by Namjoon’s force. You know your back isn’t broken, blown out maybe, but definitely not broken. You just didn’t think this would be the result of his jealousy and anger. Did he think you were mocking him with that wink, with Taehyung? Perhaps some mocking did occur with Taehyung around, but he’s always liked your snarkier side. He tells you to behave because he knows you won’t and adores it when you don’t. But, maybe you did take it too far, and give into Taehyung too much. You really wish you can say, with all this overstimulating and teasing and taunting, that you regret it all.
Only, you don’t.
Clutching tighter onto Taehyung’s shoulders, your tears fall as freely as your broken moans. Namjoon smacks his hips over your ass, pounding your pussy like it’s just you two here. It’s not as though Taehyung is lying under you, obsessing over how tight you are and just how amazing you smell.
“You know why he’s so mad right,” he questions quietly, voice strained. When you shake your head, he chuckles and whispers, “Because he knows how much better I make you feel.”
The whimper that leaves you was by no means a response to whatever Taehyung was going on about. Though he gives it to you great, he doesn’t compare to your boyfriend. You suppose Namjoon knows this too, somewhere within that deep connection you two share. Still, he holds you further down against Taehyung, practically melding your body into his, and thrusts at an ungodly speed just as he did when he caught you sucking Taehyung’s cock.
You’re not sure either of them understand the load of pleasure they are washing over you. Taehyung has his giant cock stationed in your pussy with his tip pressing continuously against your g-spot as Namjoon’s monstrous cock jabs at it again and again.
Body trembling, voice broken, you squeal, “I’m- ahhgh I’m gon-na cuu-uum.”
“Me too,” Taehyung husks in your ear. It has you clenching tighter.
Namjoon scoffs through a moan. “No, you’re fucking not.”
“But, Joon-”
A harsh smack against your ass silences your protests. “You know what to do when you’re close,” he grunts.
Yes, you do. But there isn’t much time to beg. You have two huge cocks in you and if he thinks he can coax some sort of plea-
“Fuck,” you cry as he spanks you again.
“ASK!” he roars, hands on your back just to make it crack all over again.
Drooling, whimpering, eyes rolling, you somehow find it in you to hold back your orgasm long enough to beg, “Please, fuck, just let me cum! Please, please, Namjoon!”
“Just fucking let her cum,” Taehyung grunts.
Namjoon snakes one of his hands up your spine, hips still ramming into you all the same, and latching onto your hair. Slowly, he peels you off of Taehyung and holds you against his chest. You screw your eyes shut in an attempt not to cream both their cocks.
With his lips at your ear, he whispers, “Look down at him.” After forcing your eyes open and down at Taehyung, who looks all too pleased with your ruined state, Namjoon orders, “Thank him for a good time.”
Panting, lips a spitty mess, you whimper, “Thank you for a good time.”
Taehyung rubs your thighs. “She’s just as fun when she’s a good girl,” he hisses to himself.
Namjoon chuckles, wrapping his free hand around your throat. “You’re my best girl either way,” he whispers to you. The praise makes you shiver, your orgasm almost slipping right out of your control.
“Please let me cum now,” you cry. “Please, I need it.”
Taking a deep breath of your scent, Namjoon peppers little kisses along your jawline. “Shall we all cum together?” he asks before nodding to Taehyung. The sun god’s hips jolt back to act and soon each one is back to taking turns to smash your already too sensitive spot.
You nod energetically. Truthfully, you don’t care if either one of them cums, just as long as they let you do it now.
Taehyung shifts one of his hands further up your hips, his thumb working fast and small circles over your clit. You’re quaking, head thrown back against Namjoon’s shoulders, eyes rolling and screwed shut when Namjoon orders you to look at him. You force them open enough to watch a wicked swirl of power and lust gleam in his eyes. With a single breath, lips hovering over yours, he whispers, “Cum.”
Your vision spots black before failing all together as an extreme dose of ecstasy floods your senses. Their growls collide with your breathless screams in a cacophony of pleasure with each shot of cum they fill you with. And you return the favour, coating each cock with more cum than you think you’ve ever offered. In and out, they still go, desperate to leave you dripping with the impression of both of them for days.
Namjoon spits in your mouth a bit and chuckles quietly when you still find it in you to swallow it. “You just had to be a fucking brat, hmm?” he groans as both his and Taehyung’s thrusts slow down. “Are you satisfied now?”
You hear his words and think that maybe you are processing them, but you really can’t find enough of your voice or energy to respond. Heaving, you know your body gave out well before he even got you in this position and blew your back out. You don’t even realize that you’re slobbering all over yourself until Namjoon licks it all away. Only little whimpers and whines manage to reply to him. It only strengthens that power blown look in his eyes.
Taehyung suddenly pulls himself out of you. Or rather, Namjoon pulls you up and off his cock. Then, he stands up on his knees and presses a soft kiss to your mouth, despite Namjoon’s annoyed groan. “And thank you for such a great evening, my-”
“She’s not yours!”
You watch through somewhat blurry vision as the two gods glare at each other. Taehyung then glances over at the fig vines laced around the orange tree. With a smirk, he nods. His hands fondle your breast one more time before he grabs what little clothes he came with. Then, with the sun, he’s gone.
Basking in the glow of the moon, Namjoon slowly pulls out of you. His touches are now all too gentle to even register, or maybe your skin is simply still on fire from such a rough fucking. Either way, he’s careful in how he handles you now. Cradling you to his chest, he helps you lay down. He kisses your forehead and mutters, “Take a deep breath.”
You do so. Again and again. When you’re breathing somewhat regulates, your mind finally catches up with where you are now. Resting in Namjoon’s arms, his silk skirt draped over your body like a blanket, you gaze up at the stars.
“He planted figs,” Namjoon mutters.
You shift against his chest before shrugging. “He did.” You’re not sure why that simple detail seems to tick him off so much. They’re just figs.
“Do you still like oranges though?”
It suddenly clicks in your head. His anger translating into worry. Does he really think that you’d give him up for Taehyung? He should know you well enough to know he’s your world. And if you weren’t so sore or weak, you would have gotten up and picked the ripest orange and shared it with him. Instead, you turn in his lap, suppressing the urge to hiss at the sparks of pain running up and down your back, and press a soft kiss to his lips.
“I love oranges.”
He fights off a smile, but relief reflects in his gaze. “I’m sure they love you too,” he mutters like he hasn’t told you so before.
It all doesn’t matter too much anyways. He’s yours and you’re his. No other god, no matter how many times they stop by, will change that. This is, after all, your orange tree.
note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.
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Sjur Eido, from inventing war to pursuing peace
Three theses:
Sjur Eido started the Theodicy War.
Contrary to popular belief, her hesitation to kill Mara Sov doesn’t come from Mara’s “thoughtless grace and beauty”
She had learned Eliksni language and customs in an attempt for a diplomatic end to the Reef Wars and, potentially, partially redeem her past sins. Unfortunately, she was killed too early.
The first thesis is the one in which the third hinges upon. The evidence is circumstantial, but there is quite a bit.
I. The second crime ever committed
In Fideicide II we have this passage:
One of the 891 fell today, shot down by a matter laser, a coherent boson weapon: There was almost nothing left to burn. Matter lasers are the kind of appalling maltech weapon Alis thought she'd locked up in the Shipspire's vaults. She'd armed a few of her Paladins with them, just a few—women she couldn't bear to lose…
The thought that one might have defected to the Diasyrm breaks her heart.
And in Imponent III:
Historians were called to the court with bouquets of sweet flowers and grant money to speak of Sjur Eido. "She was one of Queen Alis Li's Paladins, but she was an Eccaleist, who believed that we would one day be called to repay the gift of our awakening."
There we have our defecting Paladin - and this was common knowledge after the war, that Sjur Eido was an Eccaleist and that she had been a Paladin. Nowhere it is said that this was the first shot fired in the War, though, but put a pin in that.
Flash-forward to Tyrannocide III, when the Awoken were already in the Reef, and Mara is starting to plant the seeds for her katabasis. Before she walks to her death, she confesses her worst secret to Sjur, both immersed in vacuum, isolated from everything else in a spacewalk.
"Sjur, I have this secret, this thing I did, and I don't know if anyone can know it without hating me forever."
"I had a secret too," Sjur reminds her. "The thing I did…"
"It's nothing compared to mine. Nothing at all."
As mentioned before, it was a known fact that Sjur was a Paladin, a deserter, and an Eccaleist. So what could her secret be, if not that she had been the first killer?
(Which is pretty fitting, given the parallels between the Osmium Court and the Awoken Royal Family. Oryx and Uldren, navigators. Mara and Savathûn, mistresses of lies. Sjur and Xivu Arath, incarnations of war)
II. Does blood wash blood?
The Theodicy War ends with the disappearance of the Diasyrm. This is the motivation for Sjur to declare her intention to murder Mara Sov:
Now in the court of one of the Scribes, there appeared a woman of stellar height and furious wrath, armed with a bow that could be strung only if she twined it around her body and used her whole mass to bend it. "I am Sjur Eido," said the woman, "and I accuse Mara of the ancient murder of my lady the Diasyrm. In my saddle, I have a weapon with only one death remaining. Take me to Mara, and I will deliver it."
The Scribes consulted and said to each other that this foul murder might prevent another Theodicy War. So they gave Sjur Eido all their knowledge to hunt Mara.
And here comes, in Imponent II, the infamous paragraph:
Sjur Eido deduced who among the Queen's court must be a disguised Mara Sov. She followed the hooded figure to her laboratory and watched Mara go to work soldering a makeshift bolometer to search for signs of primordial gravity waves. Sjur Eido's fury and grief whetted themselves against Mara's thoughtless grace and ancient beauty, until at last her heart unseamed itself and spilled its hot blood in a shout. "Mara Sov!" she cried, throwing down her maltech matter laser between them. "I cannot live while you live, but I cannot bear to kill you. I challenge you to a duel to the agony. I will fight your most beloved companion to the death and leave you forever maimed or else die in the attempt."
This can be easily read as “Sjur was too mission-abandonly gay to proceed with her vendetta”, but I think this is a superficial reading. Keep in mind the author of the Marasenna is Mara herself, and she warns you that
[a]ll things told, all truth revealed, if through mist and mystery. If you have grace, then see our sorrows, but swallow back your tears. We were made to pay this price. I led us to our fate.
Seek me in my place. Hear these whispers from the lips of Queen-Egged God.
This has passed through the filter of Mara Sov’s authorship. And later on Sjur Eido would become her lover, confidant, and closest thing to an equal she has had during her reign. Sjur’s internal turmoil, I think, is the kind of thing she would filter out of a history of the Distributary Awoken.
What kind of internal turmoil? The one that comes with having so much blood on her hands - the blood of immortals, no less, of immesurable value. Alis Li (well, Mara Sov, actually, but she does not know that yet) might be the biggest criminal by Eccaleist standards for having created the possibility of suffering and death, but Sjur has brought that potential into the material. She is a murderer (the first murderer) and she has had time to mull that over.
Maybe she could not kill a defenseless person in cold blood.
Maybe she wanted someone who could fight back and kill her all along. There is no evidence for that, this is true, but this would give Mara all the more reason to draw a veil over her lover’s motivations - Sjur’s mental health struggles were hers and hers alone.
3. Restitution and atonement
So we now have asserted Sjur as the first murderer in Awoken history, and as someone who regrets these actions. This contrasts with the end of her arc, when she has learned Eliksni customs and language to, presumably, understand them for a potential peace between their peoples.
In Misraaks, we read about her capture of a surly young Vandal who tries to kill himself by dashing off a cliff, and to take Sjur with him, before being a prisoner of war.
Drawing two fractal knives from sheaths on her thighs, she makes a perfect ireliis bow before him. Thunderstruck, he sits up straight. Stares.
"Not good?" she asks, and tries again.
Furious confusion takes him. This is some kind of trick. Blasphemous mockery. "Iirsoveks," he rumbles.
She shakes her head. "Nama." Sheathing one of her knives, she holds out her free hand with her fingers spread in supplication.
He draws his chin toward his throat with this fresh betrayal, narrowing his secondary eyes. It speaks!
Slowly, without breaking eye contact, she lays her other knife on the ground between them. The blade points toward her boots. He watches her every movement. How many secrets have the flesh-lovers betrayed, that this creature can make peace like a cringing drekh before his kel?
She taps two fingers against her cuirass. "Sjur," she says slowly, then she points at him.
Honor-bound even as he simmers in scandal, he replies, "Misraaks. Velask, Si-yu-riks."
"Mithrax," she repeats, then grins. "Velask, Mithrax. And welcome! Let's have a look about, shall we?"
She is trying so hard to meet Misraaks in his terms, despite the power imbalance! This is, of the three theses, the flimsiest one, but I think it is a very satisfying end for her arc. She is not redeemed, if she could ever be, for starting the Theodicy War - but she tries. And in trying, she has made an indelible impact upon a young Vandal who would become the Kell of House Light.
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HQHQ Collab - First Choice
Pairing: Atsumu x reader, mention of Bokuto
Words: 6.822
Warning: mention of unnamed cheating ex-boyfriend, angst if you squint really hard, fluff, friends to lovers
Beta-reader: thank you for beta reading the fic @xmyshya
Summary: You’ve been living with your best friend for a few weeks, crying to him about your ex-boyfriend cheating on you. But Atsumu no longer wants to see you sad and offers himself as Wingman once more when he tries to set you up with his teammate.
This story is part of our HQHQ server collab with the prompt: When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when? You can find the other stories here. So check out all the other wonderful writers.
“Y/n now go on and get up!” Atsumu’s loud voice wakes you up. With swollen eyes you turn to him, your hair still ruffled, left and right of you lie the crumpled handkerchiefs with which you have cried yourself quietly and secretly into sleep.
You’re tired, your head hurts, and Atsumu’s loud babbling doesn’t help your headache to settle. Reluctantly you pull your blanket over your head, but in vain. Because even before you can get used to the darkness and the warmth underneath, to the calm without the voice of the dyed blond-haired man, he pulls the coat off your body with a jerk and confronts you with the cold morning air, through the open window in your room.
“Tsumu, you idiot, give me the blanket back!” You whine, but he doesn’t even think about it. “Why does your bed look like a mess again? It’s been two months, and you’re still crying after this asshole? It’s enough with moping around.” Before he can finish his sentence, you can feel his hands curling around your ankles and how your legs were jerking forward, setting your entire body in motion.
“Tsumu what are you doing?” You scream and try to hold on to the upper edge of the bed. For a few seconds you manage to resist his tug, but you soon realize that he is stronger than you.
But Atsumu has apparently forgotten to calculate that you would let go and pulls you off the bed with so much momentum that you both land on the floor.
“Ah, Tsumu you airhead! Now my ass and feet are hurting. Why did you do this?” You want to know while you’re rubbing your butt, which you landed on a few seconds ago. Sulking, you look over to your best friend, who is also sitting on the floor, supporting his weight on hands behind his back.
“Sorry, I forgot how weak you are.” He teases you with a grin. “But you seem to be awake now, eh?”
“Yeah, awake and angry…” You quickly add to his statement and look at him with a wrinkled forehead. “Don’t look so evil. That wannabe look doesn’t suit you. I told you before, if you want to talk, I’m just a room away. No need to cry yourself to sleep.”
Even if he annoyed you earlier, you realize in his words that he’s worried about you. It’s been two months since you saw your boyfriend… No Ex-boyfriend with another girl. Just “saw them” is wrong. He had kissed her, touched her, and you were sure that if you hadn’t confronted them directly, more would have happened.
Atsumu was there for you, caught you with open arms and told you that everything would be fine. Because that’s how he always was. Back then, when the kids at school had teased you, when the girls had blasphemed you because you had always gotten along better with the boys. He was also the one who comforted you at your first lovesickness.
Ironically, you had a crush on his brother, who at the time had no thought of such trifles as love. The first time you were really in love with someone, it was Atsumu who tried to set you up with that person. Because it was none other than his volleyball teammate Suna who had twisted your head.
The fake blonde had really tried everything to make you as interesting as possible for Suna, had always invited you and Suna to ‘learn’ and then left the room for hours to leave you alone. But in the end, it didn’t work out because Suna told you he had feelings for another girl.
When your heart broke into thousands of pieces for the first time, it was Atsumu who had carefully tried to pick up all the shards and cautiously glue them back to the right place. He was always there for you. And even though you know what your heart wants, you shut yourself away from it. Because Atsumu is your best friend. The man who will always stand behind you to give you a push forward so you can finally find your happiness. Without him.
“That’s enough sulking! What do you say you come to practice with me today? Get to know my teammates and friends? Maybe there’s someone in there who piques your interest, eh?” He grins mischievously and wiggles his eyebrows before he straightens up and stretches his hand forward to help you up.
“Mhm… You’re not gonna leave me alone before I say yes anyway, are you?” You mumble as he pulls your body upward.
He still grins as he nods and lets go of your hand just to bring it to your hair. “But before that… you go take a shower and make sure that this nest on your head becomes the normal beautiful hair you actually have. All right?” He laughs as he pulls a scrap of a handkerchief out of your hair.
Oh God, how embarrassing you think and at the same moment you have to laugh. No matter what you look like, even if you are wrinkled, with greasy hair, mustard stains on your top and swollen eyes, Atsumu still likes you. After all, he sees you as a buddy.
“Well, I guess… I’m gonna get ready. Can you make breakfast, Tsumu?”
“Are you nuts? There is no more time for breakfast. I can heat the last slice of pizza from last night’s movie.”
“Oh, you’ll be such a good husband someday, Tsumu.” You answer him sarcastically as you shake your head and pass Atsumu.
“Sure, and you eventually become a good wife Y/n.” He calls after you, but you already lift your middle finger and slam the door behind you with a smile on your face. “Tze… Tsumu you idiot.”
The knife slices the butter with ease as Atsumu greases the butter on a toasted slice of bread to put your favorite cold cuts on top. Because he was just joking. Your first meal shouldn’t be a piece of old pizza.
When you’re with Atsumu, you forget all the things that made you sad. You’re happy and glad to have such a good friend by your side. And even though you said it sarcastically earlier, you still meant it like this, that he would make a woman very happy. Just with the thought of him and another woman, you feel a short sting in your chest, but you are sure that deep down you have to think about your ex-boyfriend and that you still miss him.
“Ready to go! Give me that slice of pizza or I’ll eat your friends.” You shout out to Atsumu as you enter the hallway through the doorstep. Once in there, you can hear his muffled voice calling out to you while his voice comes closer and closer.
It is only a second where Atsumu stops in the doorway, looks at you before he continues his walk and pushes the slice of bread and an apple into your hand. “I can’t let you smell like tuna and garlic the first time you met my friends.”
With rolling eyes you take the bread from him, push it into your mouth before putting on your thin cardigan and place the apple in your jacket pocket. According to your phone, the weather today is anything but cool and gray.
But just as you want to pull your zipper up, you feel something heavy landing on your shoulders, looking confused from left to right before your gaze sweeps up from the yellow fabric on your shoulders to the fake blond-haired man.
You don’t need words, your gaze is filled with the question of why he gave you his jacket. But again he just lay down his arms against his hips, grins casually. “Well, you’re with me or not? Not that they’ll think you’re a paparazzo at the gym entrance and not let you in.”
With the words ‘you’re with me,’ your heart gives a beat. “Don’t you think your friends will think we’re together, Tsumu? That this is more such a friend-girlfriend thing?”
The entire car ride is quiet, but it’s not an unpleasant silence. Only the radio rattles quietly, while Atsumu complains about the careless drivers or cyclists, and that there is never a parking space in front of the gym.
“Ah, don’t talk such nonsense. You can tell we’re just friends, you dummy.” Another bang, no stab, making your chest heavier. “Sure… right.” You just mumble quietly. So quietly that Atsumu cannot understand it as you breathe in the fine fragrance of his harsh deodorizer as you walk past him and leave the flat.
You have to admit you’re a little nervous standing outside the hall with Atsumu. You can hear voices from inside. Probably his friends. As if Atsumu understood your feelings, he puts his arm over your shoulder to give you more security, and enters the room freshener smelling hall with you.
It doesn’t take long for all eyes to be on you until the first person beckons Atsumu and the next one goes on you. A boy with orange hair that you remember very well. Atsumu’s school team had a game against him. They lost and Atsumu was talking to you for weeks about how he wanted to play with this little boy sometime.
Behind him stands a dark-haired man, hands in the pockets of his jacket, while he lingers in place, watching you only from a distance. That should be Sakusa. The guy Atsumu always talks about, how clean and special he is when it comes to hygiene.
Just when you want to turn to Hinata again, as he is still waving towards you, another man runs towards you at an incredible speed, shaking your hand vigorously with sparkling eyes. Your whole body is shaking, you’re getting headaches, but somehow you find his overactive anticipation cute.
“Hey, hey, hey! I‘m Bokuto Koutarou! I’m a super ace and I’m really successful!” He grins proudly, which makes you giggle. Of course he is. After all, he plays in the same team as Atsumu.
Yet Bokuto does not remain long in his proud posture. His shoulders collapse after a few seconds, while his gaze wanders to Atsumu. “Hey, Tsum-Tsum, why didn’t you tell me you were coming with your girlfriend today?” He wants to know from the fake blonde one.
Irritated, you look over to Bokuto, wanting to clear up the misunderstanding as the voice of an older man interrupts you. “Miya, the next time you bring someone, please report this to me first. Now, warm up and let’s start training.” The man you consider to be the coach says to Atsumu, who nods in agreement before pointing at a bench where you should sit, before he goes to warm up with Bokuto and Hinata.
Although you talk little to people, you’re not bored watching them train. It pleases you to see how everyone is with full passion. From time to time the man who introduced you as Bokuto grins at you, waving a little awkwardly before Atsumu admonishes him and turns his attention away from you. He’s kind of cute.
“Oh Tsumu…” you mumble quietly while chuckling unconsciously as you watch Atsumu reprimand Bokuto for being so easily distracted, and how Bokuto lets his shoulders drop apologetically.
“You seem to have had a lot of fun today, eh?” The question is rhetorical, because of course you did. He recognized that in your face. With the rest of yesterday’s pizza and a salad with smoked tofu, he sits down next to you at the dinner table.
The training passes, and your attention on Bokuto grows. First a few glimpses you exchange, then words and sentences, up to such long dialogues that he completely forgets his break and is called back to the playing field by Atsumu to finally finish the training.
“You could have introduced me to your friends earlier. Especially Bokuto. He’s kind of cuddly.” You babble while you are in your thoughts about the cheerful man.
“So, so… Bokuto, huh? Looks like I got a new job as a wingman, eh? Give me a few days to figure something out. Operation Lovebirds begins.” His eyes are narrow and playful, while his face is only a few inches away from yours.
As Atsumu had said, a few days pass. Days in which you were always at his training, always with the yellow jacket which makes you feel much safer and more comfortable. Days when you often talk to Bokuto during breaks.
Your heart gives a quick blow as the warmth of his breath hits your lips. From the excitement? Excitement to see Bokuto again soon, right? With an unnaturally bright laugh, you slap him on the shoulder, turn to the pizza, before you both go to your own rooms and get ready for bed.
Atsumu has the idea to take Bokuto to Osamu’s store, like he’s doing almost every Saturday to eat together. Sometimes the other teammates come with him, but this time he will only ask Bokuto.
He wants to lure him to the store and write to him shortly before, so that he has no time. You would sit already in the store and then pretend after a few minutes as if you had randomly noticed Bokuto. You could eat, talk and maybe even exchange your numbers. The idea was perfect.
As agreed, you sit at a table near the kitchen, looking at the menu while watching Bokuto from the corner of your eye. How he reaches for his cell phone and how his cheerful look is slowly getting sad, because he probably reads the message from Atsumu that he will not come.
You consider going straight to him, but your vibrating phone prevents you from it. A message from Atsumu with the words ‘Mission lovebirds can begin’. An unconscious grin spreads across your face as you read the message before a voice makes you shrink.
“Has someone also dumped you?” You hear Bokuto’s sad voice and make a brief shout when you see him standing right next to you. “Bokuto!”
You laugh a lot, seem to have a lot of fun and get along great. At least that’s what Atsumu can see from his brother’s kitchen. Because of course he didn’t want to miss out on seeing if you two really come along well with each other.
“Ah! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you! Uh… mind if I sit here?” He asks clumsily, pointing to the free chair opposite of you. Nodding, you invite him to sit down before quickly putting your phone in a pocket and start talking to Bokuto.
“Why are you here, Tsumu?” His brother’s voice makes him look away from you.
“Eh? What do you mean, Samu? I want to see if I’m successful with my mission.”
“Sure, stop lying to yourself.” Osamu quietly talks to his twin while he continues to prepare the Onigiri for his guests. But his brother doesn’t answer him, just looks out of the round kitchen window at the table where you talk to Bokuto with a smile on your face.
“You know I didn’t reject Y/n back then because I had no interest in girls. So finally get some balls in your pants.” With a full plate of Onigiri, Osamu crosses his twin, passes the plate to his server at the counter, before he enters the kitchen without a word.
“If she’s happy, I’m happy for her too. Why don’t you understand, Samu?” He now turns his gaze away from you, instead looking at the unfinished rice that Osamu had prepared for the next order. It annoys him that his brother has to address this topic again and again. It’s not up to Atsumu to decide what you want. After all, it’s up to you.
“So? So you don’t mind if I invite her on a date if it doesn’t work out with Bokuto? As long as she’s happy, it shouldn’t be a problem for me to taste her lips.” He deliberately tries to provoke his brother, and for a split second he sees Atsumu twitching his eyes, his cheekbones sticking out from his clenched teeth before looking his brother in the eye.
“If that’s what makes her happy. Then make her happy, damn it, understand?”
“What the hell, what’s wrong with you, Tsumu!” His brother yells at him, furiously stomping to him and grabbing him by his collar. He expected such an answer, but not this flat, indifferent response, which is supposed to hide Atsumu’s feelings.
Atsumu also grabs his twin by the collar, pushes him away from himself and continues the scramble. Again and again he tries to explain to him it is not Osamu’s problem and he should not interfere in his things and anew Osamu tries to convince him to finally listen to his feelings. Plates fall over, knives that lay on the work surface as the voice of the server stops the two men.
“Eh… I’m sorry, but at table four, the lady was asking what was in the spring drink because of her allergies.” Both let off from each other while Atsumu’s steps carry him quickly back to the round window to look at your table. Because he’s irritated that you’re asking that question.
The fake blond man hardly notices the voices of the two men in the kitchen. His heart suddenly beats restlessly. A young girl your age sat next to you and Bokuto. Atsumu’s plan to set you up with Bokuto seems to be failing.
“Nobody ditched me, Bokuto. Actually, I just wanted to drop by and leave Osamu a nice greeting when it becomes a bit quieter here. But it always seems to be full here.” You lie because you wouldn’t even have come here without this plan from Atsumu.
He feels bad that a small part of him hopes Bokuto finds the other girl interesting, but Atsumu quickly talks himself up that he just wants you to be happy.
With a quick beating heart you hope that Bokuto does not see through your lie, but when he smiles at you, you are sure that he believes you.
“Oh sure, right! If you know one Miya brother, you automatically have the other on your back, don’t you? Especially when you’re so close.” He grins, and his words remind you of the incident in the gym. There, Bokuto said something similar. He wrongly portrayed you as girlfriend and friend, which was certainly due to Atsumu’s jacket. And just as you were about to correct him there, their trainer babbled something into the room.
You definitely need to clarify that you two are just friends, otherwise you can’t ask Bokuto for his number. Just friends…
“Uh Bokuto? I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Tsumu and I-”
“Y/n? Oh my God, is that you?”
Again, someone interrupts you. This time not Atsumu’s coach or Atsumu, but a person you haven’t seen for ages. Your old school friend, who was with you at the same club and with whom you really got along well.
Because of your ex-boyfriend, your paths somehow separated, but you’re thrilled to see her now. “Oh Mei, is it you? You’ve really changed, wow.” You smile at her before you greet her and sit down again.
“I don’t want to bother you guys, and I’m sure that’s rude, but is it okay if I join you? If I annoy you, I’ll leave!”
Mostly you’re just here to get a date with Bokuto, but sending her away now would be too suspicious. For a moment you think about how to best handle this situation, but Bokuto takes the decision off you by inviting her to join you and just stay as long as she wants.
You talk partly to Mei, partly to Bokuto for a while when you check if Atsumu has written anything to you. You’re surprised he hasn’t asked you how the date goes. Is he on a date right now himself?
“Y/n? Did you hear?” Mei’s voice gets you out of your mind again, before you look at her absent-minded. “I have to go now, but… I was really happy to see you again and I hope we can repeat that soon. And I was also pleased to meet you Bokuto.” She adds, before she smiles at you both and goes to the counter to pay her bill and leave the bar.
Just when Bokuto wants to say something, his phone rings and he apologizes to you for a moment. You take the opportunity to write to Atsumu, ask him if you should take some Onigiri with you from his brother’s shop and hope for a hint if he had a date. Because if he doesn’t want some Onigiri, he sure is having dinner with another woman.
Two minutes go by, four… Ten minutes until Bokuto comes back in, and you feel your phone vibrating at the same moment. A simple “No, I’ve already eaten.” is his answer. An answer that suddenly makes you feel so weird.
“I’m so sorry I kept you waiting. Akaashi, my best friend, called me. I have to see him. Is it okay if we postpone our meeting for another time? So… I mean this random meeting.” He smiles embarrassed, and scratches the back of his head as he puts his jacket around his shoulders and shoves the chair back to the table.
“Oh hm? Sure. I would be happy to meet you again Bokuto!” You answer him enthusiastically, even if you’re still on Atsumu’s date in your mind. Did he really go out with a girl? Why do you not know her? Why didn’t he tell you?
“Perfect! So, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow?”
“Sure, I’ll be there.”
“Then let’s talk about some meetings during my break. I’ll go to Samu and pay the bill for us.”
“Wa-!” You want to stop him, pay your own bill but Bokuto already stamps away from you and knocks on the kitchen door to lure Osamu out and pay.
He doesn’t know how fast he ran to be home before you. Good thing he didn’t tell you about the shortcut, or you’d have run into each other. Fully sweaty, he jumps into the shower, trying to get the smell of Osamu’s kitchen out of his hair as he hears your voice dull from the hallway in the bathroom.
Together you leave the restaurant, but then go your separate ways. Although this is not the first time you walk this path, even though you don’t need twenty minutes on the way, it seems like an eternity to you. Absorbed in your thoughts, you kick a round stone along the sidewalk, burying your hands in your trouser pockets while watching it roll. The long gray road matching gray walls on the sidewalk, no car to see. Everything is dreary and you feel odd, but also happy at the same time. After all, Bokuto seems as interested in you as you are in him. You can quickly overlook the fact that Atsumu is probably on his own date right now.
“Tsumu? Are you home airhead?”
Hissing, he shakes his head, rubs his towel through his wet hair, ties it around his hip and glances into the mirror before he goes out.
“Tsumu! Put some damn clothes on!”
“I’m also pleased to see you. Got my clothes in the bedroom. Don’t worry, I’ll put something on. But first, how was your date?” The question was unnecessary. Of course he knew, because he was there, watching you. But you don’t know that.
Atsumu studies how you dance on your tiptoes, how you swing your body forward and backward, and tap your lower lip. You always do that when you’re nervous. But before he can even give another thought to you, your body moves forward in his direction.
Just a few seconds pass when your soft skin lies on his, your arms wrap around his neck and you hug him. Atsumu stops as if petrified. Because his heart beats fast, your body so close to his triggers so much in him.
Carefully, he pushes you away from his chest, hoping you didn’t hear his raging heart. Yet, your arms remain on his neck, your warmth on him, although this on his chest slowly fades.
Lovingly you look at him, a look that gives him an unknown sting. An expression that you would probably turn to a big brother, otherwise he cannot interpret it. But he cannot look away from your warm eyes. Those bright, happy eyes that captivate him.
“The date was really great and tomorrow at the training we want to make a new one! Bokuto is such an incredibly great guy, and he is so funny. He made me laugh so many times and it’s sweet how emotional he always is and ah! He is really fine. Thank you for introducing him to me.”
Silently you look each other in the eyes, speak with your eyes instead of words. Subconsciously, your fingers move, gently stroking his neck up and down, while your sugar-sweet laugh makes Atsumu even crazier.
His body acts on its own as it bends forward, coming to a halt just in front of your face. But his mind quickly catches up with his body, for his words wander down your cheek to your ears as he whispers to you quietly that he is happy for you.
“So mission complete, eh?” With a mischievous grin, he tries to distract you from his previous action, patting on your shoulders with his hands before he walks past you and strolls towards his room door.
“I’m gonna put some clothes on. You should take a shower and get some sleep. You stink and need your beauty sleep for Bokuto tomorrow.”
“Haha, very funny! I love you too, you idiot.”
Days go by when you talk to Bokuto a lot. At training, to the detriment of everyone else, eating ice cream after training or just sitting around in the park and doing nothing. You get along well, laugh a lot, talk a lot about his buddies - Akaashi and Atsumu. After your dates you always tell Atsumu how much fun you had and are sure that you deafen his ears with your Bokuto-talk.
Words that come so easily out of your lips, for they are meant amicably. Words that are so easy to understand, but leave a bitter heavy feeling in his heart.
Today you both sit on a wall in the park again, fooling around like good friends. For a moment your shoulders brush against each other, when Bokuto twitches and stares embarrassed down at you. You too feel your body getting more restless, out of balance as you look into his golden yellow eyes. Both of you are silent, always opening your mouth to say something, but then close it again.
“So, eh… Do you… remember our first random meeting? In Osamu’s store?” Bumpy, he tries to find the right words, starts playing with the moss growing between the grooves of the stone wall.
Your chest suddenly stops moving. Out of panic you hold your breath because you are afraid that he has found out that Atsumu is behind this coupling action.
“I was wondering if… Well, there was your school friend there, and I was wondering if maybe you could… could give me her number?”
“Her number?” You realize how anger slowly boils in you, how an unpleasant feeling rages in your body and you suddenly feel so uncomfortable and stupid. With a bitter hiss you laugh up, turn your face away from Bokuto so that he cannot see your sparkling eyes. Eyes that don’t sparkle with joy, no. Eyes that sparkle with tingling tears and leave small wet spots, like those of rain, on the stone wall below you.
Of course he wanted her number, of course he did. After all, it was always like this. Whether it was Osamu or Suna, your ex boyfriend or any other man you found cute or attractive. You were always the second choice. You were always good as a friend, but not good enough as a girlfriend. There was always another who came before you, who had taken the place that you had so longingly aspired to. It was always like this.
So why did you think things should be different with Bokuto right now? Did you really think there was a man who had only you in his mind? A man who adores you as much as you do him?
“Why all the dates Bokuto? Why did you invite me to all those dates, get my hopes up if you only wanted my friend’s number, anyway? Why...? Never mind, forget it!” You sniff and jump off the wall to get out of here as soon as possible. Only Bokuto remains, sitting on the wall in confusion, trying to understand your last words.
With his cell phone in his hand, Atsumu scrolls through your messages, through your enthusiastic and joyful words about Bokuto while lying on the couch, the free hand behind his head. On the table is the last bit of a spinach-garlic pizza he ordered shortly after you went on your date with Bokuto. His thumb stops at a note in which you jokingly wrote to him that you also love him when he teased you with your crush on Bokuto. Words that hurt more every day, the longer you stay at Atsumu’s flat.
“Get your hopes up? H- Hey, Y/n wait!” He calls you, but your silhouette gets smaller and smaller. You’re not thinking of turning in his direction again.
His gaze is focused on his cell phone, the thumb still on that one message as a new message covers it. Irritated, he looks at the name of his teammate, who sends him one message after the other. Although he hasn’t read the messages yet, he has a bad feeling. He doesn’t know if it’s worry or something else, but he must think of you directly as he opens the messages with shaky fingers and straightens up on the sofa.
>> Tsumu-Tsumu! Get on your phone! I think I screwed up! I thought Y/n is your girlfriend and today something weird happened, and! I screwed up, man. Tell her I- <<
Atsumu is still reading Bokuto’s incoming messages, can hardly keep up with them when the loud banging of the front door makes him startled. As if he has just been caught in something forbidden, he throws his cell phone in panic behind the couch and looks in the direction of the living room door in which you suddenly stand.
Your eyes are red, nose runny, and your words come to him only as a loud sob. In him everything hurts at this sight of you.
“Tsumu!” You sniff and want to make a step forward to your best friend, but Atsumu is faster. He takes you in his arms as you press your head against his warm chest. His fingertips glide slowly through your hair, calming you while his grip around your waist becomes firmer.
“It’s okay, I’m here.” His words that softly kiss your ears calm you down. He knows exactly that there is no point in questioning you now, because you are still too busy collecting yourself again. So he just keeps silent, caresses your head and listens to you as your sniffing gets less and less, your fast, hasty breathing gets calmer and calmer.
“You want to tell me what happened?” His muscular arm loosens easily from your waist, his hand stroking you, now raises your head and makes you look at him. With a loving smile, he wipes away your tears, puts his arms on your shoulders and waits for your answer.
Hard you breathe out, try to pull yourself together, but your voice remains shaky.
“Bokuto… He just wanted her number… He didn’t care about me.” You notice how your voice becomes unclear again, begins to tremble more and your sniffing is again to take over your voice. But Atsumu’s thumb, which caresses your shoulders, calms you down again and you try to spell your words back into clear sentences.
“He wasn’t interested in me. At least not so… Tsumu, it’s like that every time. Men always fall in love with other women. I’m always just the third wheel. Am I that ugly? Am I so unattractive that every man sees me as a buddy? Tsumu… When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when?”
Your eyes glittering with tears, search for his eyes. His heart breaks with the sad look you give him. And although the answer to your question is on his lips, he would like to scream it out of himself, yet a big lump sticks to his neck and keeps him silent.
“Tsumu when?” Is the only thing that comes out of you broken, now that not even your best friend can give you an answer to that question.
It was probably his fault you’re so sad now. Because Bokuto didn’t mention that school friend of yours once. He probably only said that because he thought you were Atsumu’s girlfriend and he didn’t want to destroy the friendship of the two men.
It was Atsumu’s fault that when he introduced you to his team, he didn’t make it right that you weren’t his girlfriend. The fake blond had not done this on purpose. His words just didn’t want to come out of him back then. Only later he had understood why he had tried to make his friends believe that you are his girlfriend.
He’d have to answer his cell phone, read Bokuto’s messages to be one hundred percent sure he wasn’t serious about your school friend, but his body isn’t moving. Actually, he can’t move anyway, because you clenched your hands into fists and clutched them into his shirt.
Atsumu should set it right. But in him, Osamu’s voice pushes forward. The words Atsumu wanted to deny. ‘You’re in love with her… Stop lying to yourself… Finally, get some balls in your pants.’
Not even your best friend can answer your question. How could he if he met with others every time you were with Bokuto? But even though it hurts that Bokuto rejected you, it hurts more that Atsumu doesn’t give you an answer.
With a sad sigh, you push his hands off your shoulders and set your legs in motion to go to your bedroom and be alone. But you can’t take many steps, because Atsumu holds you to your wrist just to turn you back to him.
Slowly, without strength and without joy, you look up to him. In his face, which shows so many emotions at once, yet he tries to hide them all from you. You notice how he struggles with his words, not knowing how to begin. His grip on your arm gets tighter. It almost hurts, but you say nothing.
“You… You have always been… my first choice.” He says hesitantly, in such an uncertain tone which is unlikely for him. His words are so quiet that you don’t understand them, just look at him questioning.
“Y/n, you have always been and always will be my first choice. Shit, I know I’m gonna ruin our friendship with this, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m selfish, yes, I know. I didn’t correct the statement when Bokuto said that you were my girlfriend because I didn’t want to see you with someone else who would just hurt you again. Y/n I can’t see you sad anymore. I don’t want to see you like this anymore. It just doesn’t work anymore. Ever since you’ve began living here, swinging your sweet little ass around my apartment, eating with me, spending evenings, and almost all days, I can’t think of anything but seeing you as more than just a buddy. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you? Shit, you airhead, I love you.”
His words become clearer and clearer, on the contrary to his expression. Then, as his tone becomes firmer, his gaze becomes more anxious. And now you understand. You always wanted the perfect boyfriend. Wanted to have a man by your side who loves you, who Atsumu gets along with since he is your best friend and had never noticed that he was always your second choice.
You always wanted someone who liked your friends, who understood you, and that person was always at your side. You knew why Bokuto’s words didn’t hurt you as much as Atsumu’s silence a few minutes earlier. You knew why you enjoyed wearing Atsumu’s jacket, and you knew why it didn’t bother you that Atsumu had not corrected the statement, and so the rumor arose that you two were a couple. Also you knew why you wanted to convince yourself that Atsumu met other women to not feel bad about going out with one of his friends. You knew, but you never wanted to face it. Because like Atsumu, you were afraid of losing the person you needed most.
You open your mouth soundlessly. If you say nothing now, you are sure that the man in front of you will immediately lose his temper with excitement and fear.
Although you have said the words many times, your heart is racing like crazy, your belly is tingling and your chest is almost painfully contracting. You’re nervous, nervous like when you had to introduce yourself to the big class full of people.
“I love you too, you idio-” Before you can finish your sentence, the warm lips of Atsumu, which lie gently on yours silence your last words. Full of pleasure you give a quiet whimper, trying to calm your loud throbbing heart in vain. Because your body burns, trembles, is numb and awake at the same time. Your thoughts are going crazy.
Atsumu also gives a relieved sigh, almost as if a huge load has fallen from his shoulders. His arms quickly wrap around your cheeks, stroking your face while his lips open a little and you feel his wet tongue on your mouth. You have the feeling that your body has just gotten warmer, reducing the last distance between you and giving off a gasp as you also open your mouth slightly to allow him to enter. His hand, which stroked your cheek earlier, seeks its way to the back of your head to bury itself in your hair and pull your head back a bit to kiss you better.
For a moment your tongues dance together, your bodies almost link as you interrupt your kiss and look into Atsumu’s excited face. His cheeks are reddish, lips slightly puffed up from your kiss, while his breath lands warm on your body.
“What’s the matter Y/n?” He whispers hoarsely, the expression slightly playful. But you just look at him with a slightly silly grin.
“Did you eat garlic, Tsumu?”
For a moment he looks at you, as if a fuse blew through him. He’s thinking about what you meant by that, before he starts sulking while stretching his head backwards, so that he’s looking at the ceiling.
“Ah shit, if I had known I’d tell you that I love you, that we would be kissing, I would have bitten into a rose and not into a pizza with extra garlic.”
Laughing, you put your head on his chest, looking up at him while he continues to stare at you sulking. “Is there still a slice, bunny?”
“One piece, but it’s already bitten, babe.” He grins and reminds you of all the nights you two sat on the sofa watching series and arguing about who gets the last piece of food. Once Atsumu had licked the last piece and thus reserved it for himself, sometimes you were faster. You were acting like toddlers, but you were having an incredible time. You just had fun with him, always.
“Your tongue was watching if all my teeth were still in my mouth a few seconds ago. Do you think it bothers me that the pizza piece is bitten?”
“Guess not. But give your sexy boyfriend a last stinky kiss. Okay?” He smirks and sharpens his lips playfully to tease you and brings his arms around your body so that you can’t escape. Only so you press his lips away from you, laughing until Atsumu finally gives you a fleeting kiss and you act as if you faint and lean against his chest.
Your loud laughter resounds through the room and your hands do not let go of the other until you are quiet and enjoy the moment in silence.
“I love you Y/n. You, my first choice.” He whispers to you as he gives you one last kiss on your crown.
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Pink Lace - Chapter 6
Characters: Baekhyun x Reader (feat. EXO members)
Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn
Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.
Word count: 4.3k
Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, eventual smut
Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo
Masterlist
You didn’t sleep. It just wasn’t possible, not when your mind was still going 500 miles per hour replaying every little detail of your time together in Baekhyun’s office. The way he sucked on the sensitive skin on the side of your neck, how you felt him dig into your hip as he’d sandwiched you between himself and the wall. Your entire stomach felt like it might leave your body if you didn’t get a hold of yourself. What end it would come out of, you had yet to decide on.
The night dragged on and on and eventually you gave up, knowing it wasn’t going to happen. Sleep was not an option when your brain felt like it was running a marathon with you powerless to stop it. The thought just would not stop. Your own hormone filled brain had you by the balls.
Eventually you dragged your groggy self into the shower in an attempt to wake back up. The second you felt the hot water pour over your skin, you felt some of the tension in your muscles dissipate. It was like you could finally breathe deeply again, the heat forcing your body to relax, at least physically.
By the time you were out of the shower it was around 5:00am. When you stepped out and began to dry yourself off you noticed the trail of dark purple marks going all the way from your neck down to your collarbones. Damn genetics for making you bruise so easily. You internally cursed yourself for letting him leave marks on you at all, but of course that had been the last thing on your mind in the moment. Mia would immediately have something to say when she saw them too, and you were not ready to recant the events of the night prior out loud to her.
Seeing as it was already the early morning you decided it would be best to just get ready and get out of the house so you wouldn’t have to face her yet. You did your usual routine, and decided that after all the stress you’d been through in the last several hours, you’d treat yourself to breakfast at your favorite bakery. It was a quaint little place only a few blocks away that had amazing croissants and coffee and you figured it would at least temporarily help block out the crippling thoughts of his teeth grazing against the skin of your neck. Why the fuck did it have to feel that good??
You didn’t bother trying to cover the marks. It was far too warm still to wear anything like a turtleneck and you knew they were too dark for concealer to work. Damn his beautiful lips for creating something so visible yet so blasphemous.
After finishing your usual morning routine, you headed to the café and ordered your favorite.
Croissant in hand, you were flipping through a book, sitting and enjoying your coffee when you heard your name, and looked up to see a familiar man, tall and slightly dorky looking, gazing down at you.
“Yeah that's me, Chanyeol, right?” You asked.
“Yeah...” He stared down at you with an unreadable look on his face, and you wondered if he would force you to talk to him. You had only met Chanyeol once before, the first night he brought Baekhyun to your work. “Can I sit down?”
“Uh... I guess. How do you know my name?”
In all honesty you really did not want him to sit down with you. Of course he would want to talk about Baekhyun. You’d have rather poured your hot coffee down your pants than talked to him in that moment. This was exactly what you’d come here to avoid but the universe just had not been on your side lately.
“Baekhyun told me. I’m glad I ran into you, I’ve never seen you here before, I always get my coffee here in the morning.”
“Well I’m usually not much of a morning person.” You replied, eyes on your coffee as you raised the mug to your lips, hoping it would magically invigorate you with the energy to have this conversation. It didn’t.
“I actually need to talk to you about him.”
You immediately groaned in frustration. “Does this have to happen right now? I’m trying to have a relaxing morning and I’d really rather not talk about him right now.” You looked at him with a face that more or less said ‘please for the love of god just leave me alone’ but unfortunately for you he was quite determined, so he sat down across from you anyway. This stranger was really about to ruin your desperate attempt at a peaceful morning.
“Just.. please be careful with him.” He started. “He’s the best person I know and he’s been through a lot recently. I don’t know what your intentions are with him but he likes you a lot and I don’t want to see him get hurt even more than he already has been.”
You sighed. You could see where he was coming from. Anyone would be worried about their friend if they were in his situation. He probably thought you still only wanted Baekhyun’s money, that you were just the stripper who hit the jackpot with a guy who’s rich and nice. It was a realistic thing to be worried about. Customers like him were definitely the most profitable and girls would string them along all the time knowing how attached they were and take their money anyway. The more they thought they actually had a chance, the more they were generally willing to spend, too.
“If you think I’m just using him for his money, I’m really not. I don’t know how much he’s told you, but last time he paid me I even tried to give it back.”
“Yeah he told me about that, so I figured you weren’t all bad, but still. And he talks to me about you a lot. It almost makes me regret bringing him to the club in the first place. If you end up screwing him over I’ll feel like it’s my fault too you know. That’s why I knew I had to say something when I saw you.”
“You’re a good friend. But you really don’t need to be worried.”
He raised an eyebrow, obviously not convinced. “Does he know you’re seeing other people?”
You gave him a puzzled look, but quickly understood when his eyes drifted down to the marks decorating the skin of your neck. You knew he was only asking to protect his friend, but the accusing look on his face irked you anyway. Blood was already rushing to your cheeks at the thought of having to tell him where they’d really come from.
“I, um, I’m actually not seeing other people...” You crossed your arms over your chest, slumping down into your seat in a subconscious effort to hide. By now you knew you were probably red all over, easily giving you away. The feeling of dread made its way back into your stomach, and your croissant didn’t even seem appealing to you anymore. “You haven’t talked to him since last night have you?”
His eyes went so wide you worried for a moment that they might pop right out of his skull and roll across the table and into your lap.
“Did he..?” You nodded slowly, desperately trying to avoid giving him any of the thrilling details. “You guys slept together? You didn’t just come from his place did you? You didn’t just leave? I swear to god if you-”
“No!” You quickly clarified. “We didn’t sleep together, and I never went to his house, we just, um..” Your guts felt like they were about to end up on the table again, but Chanyeol was still looking at you expectantly. “I needed help with an assignment so I went to his office last night... we kissed, but that’s all.”
“Quite some kiss it seems...” He said staring at the path of blue and purple that went all the way from below your ear to the hem of your shirt. And oh how he was right. It really had been something. Never in your life had a kiss affected you as much as Baekhyun’s had. Of course it had been much much more than just one little kiss, but there was no way you were going to say any more. The feeling of your stomach desperately trying to escape your body was too strong and you liked this café too much to get kicked out for vomiting all over the booth.
“I thought more was gonna happen but he kind of threw me out of his office before we could, you know...”
“He threw you out?”
“Yeah, like grabbed my arm, dragged me into the hallway, and slammed the door behind him.”
“Jesus what a dumbass.” You heard him whisper. “Do you like him the same way he likes you though?” You hesitated for a moment, but nodded again, and immediately noticed how his face lit up. “You know I really thought you were just going with it for the money. I’m glad you actually care about him as a person.”
“I mean I’ve known him a while now, how could I not...” You found yourself staring down at your hands as you fidgeted nervously, avoiding eye contact with the man in front of you. “Even if he wasn’t my professor now, he’s still just a good guy. I’ve never had a customer like him before. As dumb as it is, I’d be stupid not to like him, he makes it too easy.”
At that point Chanyeol was smiling widely back at you. “He’s an amazing guy, and he’s crazy about you. You won’t regret it.” A smile plastered itself onto your face as well, satisfied with his comment. “You know at first when me and the other guys found out he was coming back to see you every weekend we gave him so much shit.”
You laughed, because you could imagine it perfectly. It honestly was quite stupid of him to get involved with a stripper of all people. You saw how many times guys would try to start something real with you or the other girls at your work only to leave with a broken heart and empty pockets, but that was just a part of your job. When you were first starting out you’d feel bad for them sometimes, but eventually you got used to it. These men weren’t exactly the pinnacle of society anyway, you told yourself. It didn’t help that those guys were always willing to spend more money too. They were really just screwing themselves over. It’s silly to expect anything real from a woman whose job it is to take money in exchange for temporary affection. Technically Baekhyun was also just another one of those stupid men who got themselves in too deep with someone completely unattainable, only now you actually liked him too.
“He is an idiot for that, for sure, but I’m just as much of an idiot for liking him back so I guess he won.” You laughed together, and you were beginning to feel much more at ease with him and with the conversation, thank heavens.
“Thanks for letting me sit down, you really have no idea how much of a relief this is.” You rolled your eyes, you hadn’t allowed him to do anything, he’d just done it anyway. “I was so worried I got him into something that would hurt him even more. Women tend to really fuck him over.”
His last statement puzzled you. Was he talking about Baekhyun’s ex? Sure what she did was awful, but had things really ended that badly? From the brief talk you’d had with him about her he didn’t seem to be that affected anymore but that was only one conversation.
“Can I ask what the deal is with his ex?” Chanyeol leaned back, crossing his arms. His brows were furrowed, looking agitated by your question. “Sorry if that’s too far but I feel like that’s kind of important and I know almost nothing about her.”
“She’s fucking bitch is all you need to know.” He scoffed. “They were together for 4 years and the whole time she treated him like a doormat. I never liked her. But it’s not really my place to talk.”
“Oh... Sorry for asking, It’s just I found some pictures on Facebook when I looked him up. They looked really happy, she’s really pretty too.” You felt slightly embarrassed at your own words, but the curiosity was killing you.
“Sure she looks nice but she’s a goddamn demon on the inside and they definitely weren’t happy, although she loved to make it look like they were so their families would keep being supportive. He deserves someone who actually gives a shit about him as a person, and not just what he can offer them. He cares about the people around him too much sometimes. Even when she’d treat him like shit he’d make excuses for her, saying she was dealing with things too, or some other bullshit.”
Your heart ached. “Was he really upset when she left?”
You heard him let out a disappointed sigh, and knew the answer was yes. “Of course he knew she was only trying to use him for his money at that point, he’s not stupid, but when you’ve spent years of your life trying to make something work it still sucks when it ends. His parents really liked her too, they would get onto him all the time about why he hadn’t married her yet or given them grandkids. Thank god he didn’t. I think that’s what made it really sting when she left though. She didn’t just betray him she betrayed them too.”
“What a bitch...” You were in disbelief that anyone could treat someone as wonderful as him so cruelly. The idea of him having possibly married her made you feel sick all over again.
“Yeah, she’s pretty much a megacunt. Thank god you seem to have a conscience.” He joked.
“I’m not gonna hurt him if I can help it. He’s so sweet I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if I did.”
“Well I’m glad to hear it.” He gave you a deep-dimpled smile and you laughed. “I’ll leave you alone now, I have work to get to, but thank you again for talking to me.”
“No problem.” You smiled back. “Hopefully you like me better than her already.” You joked.
“That doesn’t take much” he laughed “but yes, definitely.” He got up and waved you goodbye, leaving you to enjoy the rest of your breakfast.
In the end you were glad you’d run into him. You hadn’t given much thought to what Baekhyun’s friends might think about you, but it was a relief that the person closest to him didn’t just think you were using him for his money anymore. Obviously everything about your relationship with Baekhyun looked terrible on paper, and being able to explain your intentions made it feel like there was weight lifted off your chest that you hadn’t even known was there.
~
Baekhyun woke up to his phone blowing up with messages from Chanyeol. Unlike you, he’d slept like a baby once the excitement of the evening had worn off a bit.
Chanyeol: (7:23am) Just got done talking to your new gf, you seemed to have a fun night. About time you finally made a move on her.
Chanyeol: (7:46am) You better call me when you wake up and tell me what the hell went down though.
Chanyeol: (8:37am) Dude you’re killing me
Baekhyun groaned when he read the messages, mind immediately thinking about all the embarrassing things Chanyeol could’ve possibly told you. Of course he talked to his best friend about you all the time, but you didn’t need to know that. His hands felt clammy as he began typing out a response
Baekhyun: (9:04am) What the hell did you guys talk about???
Chanyeol: (9:06am) She didn’t need to say much, you made things pretty clear with the way you attacked her neck, that shit looked intense. Good for you bro.
Baekhyun quickly dialed his friend’s number, and not even one ring in he picked up.
“What the fuck?” Baekhyun started, a bit too loud for how early it still was. “Why were you talking to her? What did you say to her? I swear to god if you told her some dumb shit I’m gonna-”
“Relax! You know I’m a good wingman! I ran into her at the café and just wanted to make sure she wasn’t still leading you on for the money or anything so we talked for a little while. But she seems to genuinely care about you, I think she likes you a lot actually.”
Baekhyun felt his heart skip a beat at his friend’s statement. Of course he figured you liked him after what had happened in his office, especially since you’d said it to him directly, but the fact that you had discussed your feelings for him with his best friend made it feel even better. He still thought that maybe you’d regret it in the morning, or it was just hormones that led you to act the way you did.
“What did she say?”
“Well at first I thought she’d let someone else mark her up like that so I called her out, but then she told me what happened in your office last night. Well, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“She didn’t seem to really want to talk about it in detail so I didn’t make her, but any girl would have to be crazy about a guy to him them maul their neck like that. I thought y’all had gotten into some weird BDSM shit at first. And why the fuck did you kick the poor girl out of your office? Are you dumb? You were totally about to get some.”
“Because we were in my office.”
“So? That’s pretty hot if you ask me.”
“I just... I like her too much to end up fucking on the desk in my office like some sort of horny animal. I need to do it right, she deserves that much.”
“That’s up to you, but man you must have some serious self control. She’s really hot.”
“Watch it buddy.” Baekhyun said, trying to sound as threatening as one can over the phone. “What else did she tell you?”
“That was pretty much it about last night, she did ask about Jisoo though. I’m telling you she’s into you if she wants to know about your ex.”
Even just the mention of her was enough to sour Baekhyun’s good mood.
“What did you tell her about her?”
“That I think she’s a massive bitch, obviously. And that you deserve better than that.”
Baekhyun stayed silent. He knew Chanyeol was right of course, she wasn’t a good person and he was better off now without her in his life but the way he talked about her still bothered him.
“You don’t have to call her a bitch every time she comes up, I know she’s far from perfect but she’s still a person you know.”
“Why are you even defending her? She fucked you up. And you actually seem to have found a girl who isn’t going to step all over you this time. So don’t ruin it.”
“I’m not going to. Or at least I’m gonna try my best. I like this girl a lot.”
“I know, you never shut the hell up about her. And she likes you enough to be stressing about your ex, so relax. She’s into you.”
A small smile pulled at Baekhyun’s lips. After all this time, you really did like him. How fucking cool was that? The hottest girl at the strip club, who he’d fallen head over heels for like some dumb kid, was into him for real now.
“Thanks bro, I needed to hear that.”
“I know, I’m the best. So when are you asking her out?”
Baekhyun felt stupid for not having considered that yet. Technically he was still just your professor/customer with benefits, but that definitely wasn’t the title he wanted to keep forever.
“Shit I don’t know... Where do I even take her? What do I do? I haven’t had to do this in years.”
“She’s a college student, I’m sure a nice dinner would impress her enough. You just have to do better than those greasy kids she goes to school with.” Chanyeol suggested casually, but Baekhyun wasn’t having it.
“I want to do something special, not just some lame dinner. I’m sure she’s had plenty of college boys take her out to expensive restaurants with daddy’s money before. I have to do better than that.” He was pacing now, trying to think of what the hell people even did for first dates aside from get food or see a movie.
“Do something different then, drive her out into the country and prepare a nice picnic or something and watch the sunset together, girls love romantic shit like that.”
“First I have to ask her out though, maybe I should bring some chocolate and flowers too. I want it to be perfect. And for her to say yes.”
“I know you’ll do great, don’t worry about it too much, she already likes you anyway. She’s gonna say yes. Just don’t say anything weird and she’ll totally fall in love with you.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
It was getting later and later in the morning and Baekhyun needed to actually start getting work done, so he ended the call there.
He had come up with some ideas for the date throughout the day, but they would all require quite some planning. He was going to do whatever he could to make sure you were thoroughly swept off your feet, he wouldn’t accept anything less than that.
First though, he had to make sure you’d agree to go at all.
~
The rest of your Thursday was spent more or less successfully getting Baekhyun off your mind with various school work and other mundane tasks. You’d stayed on campus, still avoiding Mia but eventually your classes were over and you needed to get back home. You knew you’d have to face her eventually anyway and at least now you’d had enough time to chill out about it a little.
Unfortunately for you Mia was in the living room when you entered the apartment, and within seconds her eyes traveled to your neck and she squealed with delight.
“Y/N!!! PLEASE TELL ME YOU FINALLY GOT SOME DICK.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” You responded, cringing and taking your shoes before going to sit with her on the couch.
“But something happened! Tell me everything!!”
So you did. Right down to his dick stabbing you through his pants and how he kicked you out of his office. Unlike Chanyeol, you knew she wouldn’t leave you alone until she knew everything, and in great detail, so you didn’t hold back.
You felt all the emotions from the previous night rushed back to you as you got into the intricacies of the kiss itself. This was exactly what you knew would happen, and why you’d been avoiding it. The whole time Mia just stared and nodded, seemingly fascinated by your thrilling tale. You were thankful she hadn’t made fun of you at all for how flustered you were getting while talking about it.
When you were finally done retelling everything, she didn’t speak. Instead she pulled you into a tight hug.
“You like him a lot, I can tell. And he has a lot of respect for you if he had enough self control to make you leave before more could happen. I think he could be really great for you.” She pulled back to look at you, keeping both hands on your shoulders. “And I’ve never heard you talk about a guy like that before.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever liked someone the way I like him. He’s not some college boy, he’s a real man. It just feels different. Much more... real.”
“Do you want something real with him? More than just a fling?” You nodded. “Do you think he’ll ask you out on a real date?”
“I hope so.”
“I hope so too. I’m sure he’ll come up with something amazing for you guys.” She smiled, lightly punching your shoulder in excitement.
You felt elated to finally have gotten everything off your chest. Talking about it really hadn’t been that bad, if anything it only strengthened how you felt for him.
“I’m really lucky, aren’t I?” You asked, letting yourself fall backwards to lay across the couch.
“Duh. You found a super cute, nice, and rich guy who thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread. Any girl would envy you.” Her eyes went wide, and you could practically see the lightbulb manifest itself and flicker on over her head. “He has hot friends right?”
You laughed, amused by her usual boy craziness. “Yeah, he has some pretty cute friends but I don’t really know any of them, give me some time and I’ll report back to you if any of them are available.”
For some reason, you didn’t tell her about your conversation with Chanyeol. Maybe it was what he’d said about Baekhyun’s ex that was still hanging in the back of your mind, but it didn’t seem like something you needed to bring up to her now anyways.
“Well, please do let me know.” She responded, grinning, getting up from the couch and making her way into the kitchen.
“Aye aye captain.” You shot a thumbs up at her from the couch, giggling.
She ended up cooking dinner for the both of you, and you spent the rest of the evening collectively fantasizing about what sort of extravagant outing he’d take you on once he asked you on an official date.
You couldn’t wait.
Next Chapter
A/N: Just wanna say I love Jisoo and used her name purely to convey the characters appearance! She in no way represents the real Jisoo who is obviously a wonderful girl :) also if the spacing is weird on mobile I blame the fact that I wrote this on my laptop 🥴 sorry
#baekhyun#exo#baekhyun fic#exo fic#baekhyun smut#baekhyun fluff#baekhyun fanfic#exo fanfic#exo smut#exo fluff
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the darker side
A Deckerstar canon divergence fic, diverging after season 3. The sequel to can we surrender?. Chapter 10/10, read on AO3 here (or from the beginning here).
The alley's as cold as it ever gets this time of year in LA, but Chloe's shiver are more about the way the shadows along the wall stretch, make it unclear what exactly they're walking into.
Being dragged into, technically, but Maze knows Chloe has a gun and didn't take it, so at least she's not completely unarmed. Plus there's whatever she'd hidden in Chloe's jacket. She can't feel for it without making it obvious something's there, so she has to just take it on faith.
Ha.
They reach a dead end in the alley and Chloe has enough time to be confused, since Michael's not here, until she hears the creak of a door opening behind them. Maze's hand tightens on her arm, just briefly, like she's nervous, which--actually, freaks her out more than everything else that's happened.
"Good to see you listened to orders, Mazikeen," says Michael's smarmy-ass voice behind her.
Chloe can't exactly turn with Maze holding her, but she moves her head enough to see him grinning widely. He has a long cut across his face now, still open and raw but no longer bleeding, though the collar of his shirt and a bit of his neck is stained red with blood where he didn't bother cleaning it up. It's unnerving, to say the least.
"As long as you get me what I want, why wouldn't I?" Maze says, tone cold in a way that Chloe has never heard her sound. Even when she and Lucifer were barely even partners on the force, there'd been a playfulness to her, if not warmth. Now, she sounds every bit a demon.
She feels bad as soon as she thinks it. Maze is a demon, sure, but she's loving and loyal and fiercely defensive of people she considers hers.
"Yeah, yeah, you'll get your soul," Michael says with a dismissive little handwave. Maze's hand flexes on her arm. "I told you, it's only a matter of time."
"How much time?" Maze says, spinning them so that Chloe can see Michael a little better. He's also got a long cut in his shirt that seems not to have made contact with his skin, or else healed faster than she knows Lucifer can.
"How did you get hurt?" Chloe asks.
Michael looks at her like she's some gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe and doesn't answer. "So! Chloe. You asked Lucifer about Uriel; his reaction shows he's guilty, don't you agree? I mean, you're an investigator."
"It shows he--"
"You know," Michael interrupts, and God, she can't wait to shoot him, even if it won't actually kill him. "It doesn't actually matter what you think. Maze was there, wasn't she?"
Chloe can't help but glance at Maze, even though she knows it's what Michael wants her to do. Maze shrugs, jostling Chloe's arm as she does so. "Yeah, we killed Uriel together. What do I care about an angel? Lucifer didn't like that he--"
"Stop talking," Micheal hisses, but that's enough for Chloe to be sure the situation's more complicated than Michael had let on. Not exactly new information, but good to have it confirmed. "You can see why it's best to just leave, right? I mean, you're human. You shouldn't get in the middle of all this--"
"Yeah, yeah," Chloe says, even though taunting the angel covered in blood is a bad move. "You want me to leave Lucifer, fine. Or I'm still bait, or some other plan. What I don't get is why now? I mean, Lucifer and I have been on Earth together for months now. The only new thing I can think of that happened before Kingsley called me was Candy coming to town."
Michael, making a face at the name 'Candy', says, "I wouldn't expect you to understand. But Lucifer needs to tend to his responsibilities. Hell's been left completely untended! My Father sent him there, and He has His plan. We just need to trust it."
"If your Father has an issue with it, he can come down here and say so himself," Chloe says, possibly the most blasphemous thing she's ever said. Considering she's slept with the Devil, that's saying something.
Michael grins, which is not the response she would have anticipated from questioning his ability to enact his Father's will. "Yes, Chloe, but you're the miracle. I know people talk on and on about God and His mysterious ways, but it's pretty simple. His will is enacted by the people He trusts to act on his behalf. Like Amenadiel making you--" Well, she hadn't known that, that's. Cool. "Or me trying to get Lucifer to go back to Hell. He'll go there eventually, anyway."
Prayer didn't work for Chloe earlier; she spares just a moment to think at Lucifer as best she can, then levels her gaze back at Michael. "What are you talking about? Angels are immortal."
"Do you really think he's gonna stay on Earth after you're gone?" It's said almost pityingly, and Maze ducks her head down. "It's not like he'll follow you to Heaven."
"And it's not like I'm on the verge of death or anything," Chloe says, even though that gets to a worry she hadn't even realized she'd been harboring. Going to being 'friends' with Lucifer? That'd sting. Going forever without him? Even in heaven, that'd be hell. "So is this your whole thing? Remind me that Lucifer can't go to heaven so I should just leave him now so that I get, what, less time with him?"
Michael's eyes gleam. "I'm an angel. I'm just trying to help."
Yeah, fat chance. Chloe's about to open her mouth and ask why she's here, then, dragged here in this alley when Maze lets go of her to shove her off to the side. She gets knocked into the wall and all the breath knocked out of her chest, and that's all the warning she has before all hell lets loose.
Maze throws herself at Michael, one blade in her hand. Michael doesn't seem especially surprised, and he's able to catch and redirect her so she has to lunge again. What does change is that Lucifer appears out of nowhere, grabs her, and then they're in the air.
She shrieks in surprise, throwing her arms around him. "Lucifer!"
"Are you alright?" Lucifer says. "I heard Maze say you were with Michael and I came as fast as I could."
Chloe's got to be praying wrong, apparently. "Yes, I'm fine. Are you?" He's got a few nicks and scrapes on his face, which is all she can see without looking down. Lucifer sets her down on a rooftop--again--and has his hands on her face, looking her up and down. When he sees that she's telling the truth and is fine, he exhales, presses his forehead to hers.
"I'm alright," he says. He does seem to be. "I fought Michael, but he's hardly a match for me. Or for Maze."
"What happened?"
"After I--" Ran away. "Left, I went to find it. I wanted to--" Lucifer gets quiet, just for a second, and drops his hands from her face, takes a step back. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about Uriel..."
"What happened? Actually, no, go deal with Michael first." She reaches into her jacket, finds Maze's other blade, and hands it to him. He takes it, looking far more hesitant than he had about going after Kinley. "Hey. Are you okay?"
"I don't want to have to take a blade to another one of my siblings," he says, a raw undercurrent of grief in his voice.
"You don't have to," Chloe says. "I mean, I'd like for him to stop harassing us, but you don't have to kill him to make that happen. Just--I don't know, scare him off?"
"That's really more his thing," he says, with a small attempt at his old bravado. "I'll figure something out."
"Amenadiel's looking for him too," she says. "I don't know if you can pray to him--" Amenadiel suddenly appears next to them, so that answers that question. He looks furious, his usual placid calm completely gone, fists clenched. "Are you okay?"
"I will be once we find Michael," Amenadiel says, and then turns to Lucifer. Lucifer, still looking down at the blade, nods once. "Then let's go."
"Lucifer, is Michael a match for Maze and Amenadiel together?" Chloe asks.
He scoffs. "No."
"Then give Amenadiel Maze's blade," she says. "You don't need to go after him, too."
Lucifer shakes his head. "I can't."
"Why--"
"I need to make sure it's over," he says, but he does hand Amenadiel the blade. "I'll be back. It'll be just a moment for you."
Chloe kind of wants to push further, but she trusts him to know himself. "Okay. I love you."
He smiles, small but real, and says, "I love you too."
She blinks, and when she opens her eyes, Lucifer's standing there alone, looking tired. "Lucifer?"
"It's over," he says, relieved.
"So you weren't kidding about the moment thing," she says with a little laugh. "What--happened?"
"We cut off his wings," Lucifer says. It sounds horrific, barbaric, and there's a sort of haunted look in Lucifer's eyes, but he's standing tall. "It's the only way to make sure he doesn't come back to try something else in the future."
Chloe nods. "I mean, I definitely have more questions, but can we maybe have this conversation off of the roof?"
"Oh! Of course." He holds his arms out for her to jump into, and she does. "Where to?"
She's about to say home when she remembers. "Uh. An ice cream shop down the street." At his questioning look, she adds, "Trixie's there."
"Are you parked there or something?"
"No, Maze stole a car."
They fly to the shop, and Maze, as if anticipating them, is parked out front with the same car, waving at Trixie with one hand to come out once they walk around the corner. (The other hand is throwing a knife up in the air and catching it over and over again.) Trixie does, holding a cone that has so much ice cream on it the top scoop is precariously swaying. She seems fine with it.
Maze looks--frustrated. It's not obvious, but Chloe'd lived her with months and has learned to read her--the slight downward turn of her mouth, the tight grip she has on one of her non-demon knives whenever she catches it. Her smile when she sees them, small and sharp-edged, seems genuine enough, at least. "Hey, Trixie."
"Hey," Trixie says. There's a bit of chocolate on her face that looks like she wiped most of it away, just a little. She looks up at Lucifer--only slightly messed up, but still visibly post-fight--and frowns. "Did you and your brother fight?"
"Yes, child," he says.
"Did you win?"
He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Yes. All fine now."
-
"All fine now" turns out to be a bit preemptive. The evil plot is over, Chloe thinks. She only vaguely gets what it was, because Maze isn't feeling especially talkative. Something about the fear and paranoia to get Lucifer to, if not actually go to Hell, at least not feel worthy of Heaven? Or something? Maze had just made a one-off comment about the place after a sidelong glance at Trixie, which doesn't explain much. Lucifer clearly has an idea about why Michael chose to do it now, because even after they get home and she tries to ask him about it, he immediately gets distracted by something someone else is doing.
People make their way to the penthouse over next hour or so, to varying responses. Amenadiel arrives with Linda and nods at Lucifer, solemn expression a little undercut by the babbling kid in his arms. Eve brings donuts from a shop that she brightly explains as having a B+ health rating. Trixie, who groaned but nodded when Chloe asked that she wait for the explanation until everyone is home, takes three jelly donuts and then holes up in her room.
"Terrible teens?" Eve asks sympathetically. Linda tenses, but doesn't add anything to the conversation.
"No, just..." Chloe sighs. "She knows. Suspects, anyway." The elevator dings. "Once everyone's here we're gonna talk about it."
"Talk about what?" asks Candy. She's got a smile on her face but somehow manages to carry an air of determination and rage anyway. A step or two behind her is Ella. She paints a sort of grim picture, black eye even harsher on her face with enough time for the bruise to form, cut bandaged, wearing one of the precinct's hoodies rather than one of her bright and quirky T-shirts.
"Just some family stuff," Chloe says. "Are you okay, Ella?"
"Yeah," she says, nodding a lot. "I mean. Definitely have more to talk about with my therapist for the next...long while. But I'm okay."
Ella and Eve start up a light conversation about the various donut places in and around LA; Maze volunteers what bounties she's collected on the owners of said places. Most of the stories make Amenadiel frown and Ella cackle, but Chloe can't quite join in the conversation, not while Lucifer's still staring off into the far distance.
"Does anyone want any food?" Chloe asks. Maze raises her hand. "Great. Lucifer, come help me find something quick to cook."
It's an obvious attempt at getting him alone, and not for any of the normal, fun reasons, but he doesn't put up a fuss, just quietly gets up and follows her. The kitchen's not far enough from them that they can't still hear the rumble of conversation, but it provides them enough privacy to talk without the exact words being overheard.
Lucifer doesn't seem like he's willing to start the conversation, opening the fridge and staring at it. He looks unfairly good even in the bright white fluorescence of the light, but it's impossible to ignore the way it seems to deepen his expression. She wraps her arms around his waist and puts her head between his shoulder blades. He doesn't make a joke, just closes the fridge and stands there for a second.
"We're okay, right?" Chloe asks.
Lucifer tenses. "I would hope so."
"No, I mean--safety. We're okay?"
"Yes," Lucifer says, though he doesn't relax at all. "Michael's returned to Heaven."
"I thought you said you cut off his wings," Chloe says.
"We did," Lucifer says, and then there's a long moment, where Chloe's not sure if she'll have to pry, if she even should. "He was escorted back."
"By Amenadiel?" Lucifer's silence suggests that's a no; the way he tenses further makes her think it's something he really doesn't want to talk about. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Or we can talk about it later. I trust you."
"You--" Lucifer laughs, disbelieving and somehow heavy. He brings one hand up to cover her hands where they interlock on his waist. "I don't deserve you."
Chloe shrugs as best she can. "I don't care about 'deserve'. I love you. Trixie loves you. As long as you want to make this work, I'll meet you halfway."
There's a beat, and Chloe thinks that'll be it for the conversation when he adds. "My father."
She frowns until it clicks, the earlier part of your conversation. "He--came down?"
"Yes," Lucifer says. He doesn't sound angry, exactly. She can't quite place the mood, just that it's not a good one. "Michael seemed to think He would be on his side. He wasn't."
"He was on ours?"
At ours, Lucifer relaxes, just slightly. "Yes. Strange as it might seem. He went back, of course, but...it was strange. Seeing him again."
There's a history of pain in Lucifer's voice, and Chloe almost wishes Lucifer's Father was still here so she could have words with Him. But instead, she goes up on her tiptoes, presses a kiss to the back of his neck. "Do you want to talk about it now?"
"No," Lucifer says, relieved. "I really don't. But if you want--"
"Like I said," she interrupts. "I trust you. We have all the time in the world."
Lucifer sighs. "We have years."
"You say that like it's nothing," Chloe says, though, of course, to him, it probably is. "And I'm sure we'll figure something out."
"I'm forbid from following you to Heaven, and ghosts live a hellish existence," Lucifer says. "I would never ask you to bind yourself here. You deserve to be happy."
"I'd rather be bound here with you than stuck in Heaven without you," she says. "Or we'll make our own home in Hell--"
Without even really processing that they've moved, Lucifer's turned and has her back pressed to the counter island behind them. His eyes are wide, panicked. "You can't follow me to Hell. Even if I do have to return there--you can't. You have a home here."
Chloe frowns. "Well, I'm not spending eternity without you. And once I die--"
"We have years," Lucifer repeats, pleading. "We can talk about this closer to then, can't we?"
They can, and Chloe knows they've all had a pretty rough day. Hell, they're supposed to be in court right now, at Pierce's trial. "Okay." Lucifer relaxes, leans into her. Chloe takes a deep breath. "We do have one thing we do have to talk about today."
"What, the prayer thing? It's quite difficult to master. I've only heard human prayers about three times in my existence, and all of them had practiced for decades--"
"No," Chloe says, though that's good to know. "Trixie knows."
Lucifer goes unnaturally still, just like Maze had. "I see."
"Or suspects, anyway. And I told her we'd talk to her."
"Right," Lucifer says. "The truth, of course."
"Yeah," Chloe says. "Do you feel up to it? I can do it alone if you--"
"No," Lucifer says, and manages a real smile as he stands back, offers her his hand. "I did vow for better and for worse, after all."
Chloe takes his hand, smiles back. "Let's do this."
-
celestial insiders minus deckerstar group chat
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: should we like
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: talk about it
maze: what
AngelAmenadiel12: Michael's fear power?
AngelAmenadiel12: I am here if any of you need to talk about it
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: yeah
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: thanks dude <3
maze: i'm immune so no thanks
maze has left the chat!
detectivedan: Mine was Hell
detectivedan: So you know
detectivedan: Same old
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: i felt like everyone was leaving me out of everything
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: like you guys only let me in the "know" because i was going crazy over Amenadiel's feather
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: and then it just felt like
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: i don't know
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: that's a lie i do know i think maybe i should talk with my therapist instead of you guys
maze has joined the chat!
maze: is feelings talk over
drmartin: No, but you're welcome to join
maze: ugh
partygirl4ever: you don't have to babe!
maze: no i'm gonna
maze: so his power doesn't work on me but he kept talking about souls
maze: but then he said like
maze: "so you can care about people" or something
StarTrekIsForBisexies: that's stupid you already do
maze: yeah
maze: okay i'm done now bye
maze has left the chat!
crichards: Is there a reason why we're having this conversation over text even though we are all in the same room?
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: candy doesn't know
crichards: Fair enough
StarTrekIsForBisexies: linda what about you?
drmartin: I'd rather not talk about it
drmartin: At least not right now.
drmartin: Need some time to sit with it, I think.
partygirl4ever: good self-care!
drmartin: Thank you
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: does anyone know where maze went
partygirl4ever: give her a moment, it's been a weird day
maze has joined the chat!
maze: we have a new member of the celestial insiders
crichards: ?
drmartin: I thought as much
trixisforkids joined the chat!
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: omg hi trixie!!!
trixisforkids: hi!
crichards: Hello
drmartin: How are you adjusting, Trixie?
trixisforkids: i'm doing good!
trixisforkids: i'm not a kid
trixisforkids: it just won't let me change my username :(
maze: hold on
trixster: what are you doing?
trixster: !!!
trixster: hell yeah!
maze: 👍
partygirl4ever: i think maybe further feelings talk should be later
drmartin: That's probably a good idea
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: i love you guys
partygirl4ever: i love you guys too!
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: ...
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: you guys are all gonna leave me hanging except eve?
maze: yes
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: :(
trixster: i think you're great Ella
StarTrekIsForBisexiesOnly: :)
#deckerstar#chloe decker#lucifer morningstar#lucifer on netflix#fox lucifer#OKAY the fic is done. i feel like it veered pretty far from what ip lanned but it happens#my fics#fic: the darker side#series; the journey of us#dc
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A Different Side to You
Pairing: Angel!Sam Wilson x Demon!Reader
Word Count: 7k (yall this is my longest fic that isn’t a series, i’m crying)
Warnings: definitely some blasphemous talk, blood and gore, mentions of sacrifices, language
Summary: You like to get under Sam’s skin because he makes it easy, but he doesn’t realize just how far you’ll really go to make sure he’s safe.
A/N: Hello friends! This is my submission for @buckysknifecollection writing challenge, congrats again on reaching 3k bby cause you deserve every follower and more! My prompt was Flirting in Inappropriate Places, and I tried to be as interesting with it as I could asdlkfjd ! Please let me know what y’all think! I crave attention xx
Divider by @whimsicalrogers - check them out bc their edits are amazing x
"Do you pray, or is that kind of redundant given your direct line to the big man?"
Sam refused to look over at the intruder. It was bad enough you felt the need to bother him with your presence again but to do it in a church? He feared if he looked over at you, he'd throw the hymnal straight at your thick skull. That kind of behavior was unbecoming for God's favorite, and he knew better than to test his father's patience - even if you tested his own daily.
You sighed dramatically, and he heard the familiar click of your heels as you walked down the center aisle. You traced your finger against the armrest of the pews; your nails dipped in black paint occasionally leaving a small scratch on them. The wood was old and soft, it was easy to leave marks behind, and it made you smile knowing they wouldn't be able to buff it out without ruining the wood altogether. A church marked by a demon. How sad.
For the last year, you brought it upon yourself to cause trouble to Sam. Nat told you not to bother with him; she knew her father would protect him at all costs, but you couldn't stop yourself. There was something about Sam that made every part of your body feel hot - and not in the Hellfire kind of way. Maybe it was his strong will or those arms. Either way, you enjoyed bugging him because you knew you'd make him crack eventually.
It was too hard to resist you, ask any man or woman who was allowed to live after a nightly encounter with you.
"I have to say," you leaned against the pew directly in front of Sam and crossed your arms over your chest, "Orange really is your color, Sammy. I don't think I've ever seen you look so delicious before."
"Can you not flirt with me in a house of worship? It's bad enough that you are here," he hissed. "Do not disrespect my father by flirting with me as well."
"Touchy, touchy. I can see I've struck a nerve, so I'll tell you why I'm here."
Sam's brows raised, and for once, he seemed intrigued by what you had to say. "Oh? It's not to bother me?"
Part of your visit was to bother him, you couldn't deny that, but it was mostly a professional visit. Nat needed to return to Hell and deal with a few demons who were stirring up trouble. The longer Nat stayed on Earth, the more restless they became down below. Some of them even went as far as to say Nat was no longer their queen and wanted to overthrow her. And, of course, she couldn't let that happen, so she left you in charge of any earthly factions trying to rise up while she went down to control the chaos. You hated being left behind, but the company wasn't terrible.
The only way you could really get the demons on Earth under control was if you had Lilith's knife. It was the only knife capable of truly killing a demon, not just send them back to Hell to crawl their way out again. After the war between the angels and demons, the angels took the knife and hid it so no being could ever wield its power again, and you knew Sam was there when Steve hid it.
You suggested a trade: Sam loaned you Lilith's knife in exchange for one of your Souls. No one would ever be willing to give up a soul they took in a deal, but if it meant you'd get your hands on the knife, you would do it.
"Are you out of your mind?" Sam roared, his cool exterior finally cracking at your audacity to ask something of him. "You really think I am going to hand over Lilith's knife to you? You know very well that knife doesn't just kill demons, Y/N."
"I would never use it on you, you drama queen." You paused, and a wicked smile spread across your face. "Unless you asked me to, of course."
He scoffed. You felt the disgust rolling off him, and you tried not to be annoyed that the sheer thought of being with you made him feel sick. You weren't looking for him to love you, or anything like that, but he didn't have to act like sleeping with you was so terrible. It wasn't as if you could get any sort of disease - perks of being a demon, after all.
"I am not giving you the knife, so you might as well leave."
"I can wait," you purred and left your spot on the pew to explore the sanctuary. You knew it would bother Sam if you stayed any longer, so you were going to milk your time there.
The church was one of the oldest in the city. You never fully understood the separate denominations of the church, but you noticed Baptists put less work into their churches than others. The pews were old, the fabric on them was a faded green that was torn in some spots. The white walls were slightly yellowed and peeling in the corners, but you only noticed if you focused long enough. It helped that the lights, which you could see dust hanging from the top of them, were dimmed. The blue carpet on the stage was the only thing that seemed new, and even that didn't seem to be in the best condition.
You walked over to the podium, and from the corner of your eye, you could see Sam tense up. You smirked and continued on. A worn bible sat on top of it; there were tabs sticking out the side, marking several pages for future sermons, you assumed. You grabbed the end of one and flipped it to the marked page, running your fingers across the lines.
You opened your mouth to start reading, but Sam appeared in front of you almost instantly. He slammed the bible closed, barely giving you time to yank your hand back. He knew exactly what you were doing, and he refused to let you speak the words of his father.
Touchy, touchy, you thought.
Sam grabbed your elbow to escort you out, but you whirled around and faced him head on. You pressed your chest against his; you were so close, your nose brushed the tip of his. He hated being this close to you, but he made no sign of backing down. God's favorite was one of the proudest as well. A deadly sin, you chose to remind him.
He watched your eyes flick down to his lips and back to his eyes in a matter of seconds. It happened so quickly, he thought he imagined it, but he knew better. You were shameless.
"I guess I'll get going now, Sammy," you hummed as you trailed your finger down his chest. "Please wear this sweater the next time I see you. Like I said, orange is your color."
You disappeared without another word, and the breath escaped Sam's lips in a cough. Well, it was less of a cough, and more of a strangled gasp. You really had a way of getting under his skin, and he hated admitting that to himself.
He knew one thing was certain, he couldn't let you get Lilith's knife. No matter your intentions.
"What are they doing?"
You jumped at the sound of Sam's voice, thinking you were caught by one of the people you spied on, but instantly relaxed when you saw him standing behind you. You glanced back at the scene in front of you - an altar with fake skulls the group probably bought at Michael's, red fabric thrown carelessly around everything, and three men in black cloaks mumbling to themselves about Lucifer. A woman was tied to the table directly in the middle. She squirmed and screamed for someone to help her, but no one was around these parts for miles, and the group knew it. It was why they picked this spot in the first place.
"Virgin sacrifice," you grumbled. "I could smell the stench of goat's blood miles away, so I popped in to see what they were doing."
"You can't just let them-"
"Relax, Sammy. I'm going to stop them. I actually hate human sacrifices." You turned around and smiled wide when you looked over at Sam. His brows furrowed, confused by your sudden change in mood, but when your eyes looked down at his shirt, he knew what you were about to say. "You're wearing orange."
He rolled his eyes. "I had nothing else to wear."
"You're wearing orange because I said you looked good in it, aren't you? Don't be embarrassed, Sammy, you look absolutely-"
"Don't you have a virgin sacrifice to interrupt?"
Your mouth formed an 'o' as if you just remembered why you were here. You told him to wait one moment before you disappeared behind the red fabric.
Screams filled the abandoned warehouse, but they didn't belong to the woman. The stench of blood and mutilated flesh hung in the air around Sam. It was a smell he was sure you were used to, but he almost lost his lunch thanks to it. When the screaming stopped, Sam thought the worst of it was over until he heard one of the boys beg for their lives. A wretched sob and a plea to be better interrupted by the sound of him choking on his own blood.
You escorted the woman out quietly. The poor thing trembled in your arms, yet it seemed you weren't the thing she was terrified of. You may have been a demon, but the monsters were the men willing to sacrifice her in the name of someone who didn't want human sacrifices to begin with. Well, Nat only liked sacrifices if the one dying was wicked, but that was another story.
The woman thanked you, tears and snot streaming down her face as she clutched onto your torso. You grimaced but did not pull away. Human comfort wasn’t something you fully understood, but you knew she needed a good hug right now, so you let it slide.
"Is there anything I can do to repay you?" She sobbed.
Sam shook his head. He knew what you were about to say - she could offer her soul in exchange for helping her. Demons were all the same. They acted like what they did was for the benefit of others, but it always came at a price. A price the humans could barely afford. And just when he started to believe you did this out of whatever goodness you had in your heart, you were going to prove to him that you were just like every other demon.
"You owe me nothing." He sucked in a sharp breath. That wasn't what he was expecting at all. "Except…maybe don't go on dates with people you meet in cemeteries. This is New Orleans, you can meet better men at the bars."
She nodded and made her way out of the warehouse. You weren't worried about her spreading the tale of what happened today because she could be accused of murder if she did. No one would ever buy the tale that a demon swooped in and killed everyone just to save her. The witches of the French Quarter might, but they weren't lawyers who could bust her out of jail.
You noticed Sam staring at you and huffed. "What? Do you not approve of me killing those bastards?"
"No, I…" He trailed off for a moment, eyes wandering over every inch of your blood covered body. He wasn't looking at you but trying to look through you and understand why you would do something like spare that woman's soul. "I don't understand why you didn't make a deal with that woman."
You shrugged. You felt no need to explain yourself to him.
"Wait, when you offered to exchange a soul for Lilith's knife, did you even have a soul to offer?"
"Several."
"Ones that aren't centuries old."
"Why does it matter how old they are? A soul is a soul, right?"
It hit Sam that you probably haven't made a deal since you first became a demon. There was a time where Nat required every demon to make deals with people, but even she grew bored of the lifestyle. Many demons continued making deals and ruining people's lives, but Sam wondered when you stopped - and why. You spent most of your days following him around just to bother him, which meant you didn't have much time to harvest souls of the innocent. So, why? Why did you stop, and why did you make it seem like it wasn't a big deal?
You turned away to avoid any questions he was inevitably going to throw at you. You walked around the body parts and looked through the trinkets they gathered for the sacrifice. It was a long shot, but you wanted to see if they got their hands on Lilith's knife. A small bubble of excitement burst in you when you saw a black dagger resting on the table, but you knew it wasn't the right one as soon as you touched it. No magic, no power. Just a boring kitchen knife dipped in paint.
He watched you look around in disappointment. Questions bombarded his mind, made him wonder what else he didn't know about you - what else he might have gotten wrong. You were still a demon, though, and he would never be able to look past that.
When your search turned up empty, you focused right back on Sam and the dark orange V-neck he wore. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he wore that shirt for you. And you knew it.
"So," you began with a smile, "I find it adorable that you are wearing more orange for me. Very fall…very romantic, if you ask me."
"I didn't wear it for you," he quipped. "I told you, I had nothing else to wear."
"Mhm, so you said. Well, if you don't like it, you could always just take it off. I wouldn't mind." You ran your finger along his exposed collarbone, and he quickly swatted at your hand.
"There is nothing sexy about you asking me to take off my shirt when it smells like blood."
You giggled, something that should have been adorable yet somehow sounded evil coming from your lips. "You'll get used to it after a while, but I'll let you change the subject for now. I know it's probably not good for God's favorite to be aroused at the idea of taking me on a sacrificial altar."
Sam deadpanned, and you practically howled out a laugh. He made it far too easy to get under his skin. As much as you would have liked for him to ravish you then and there, you were perfectly satisfied knowing you managed to annoy him. It was the second greatest pleasure in your life, next to torturing evil assholes who thought the world belonged to them.
You tried to turn the conversation back to Lilith's knife. You hoped that your display of mercy would make him willing to give up its location, but he stood his ground. He vowed to never let you see the knife, even if you did swear not to use it on the angels. The knife's power was too much for one to handle; he couldn't guarantee that after you used it on the rowdy demon faction, you wouldn't just turn around and use it on him or his brothers. Once the knife got a taste for blood, it always wanted more.
No matter what you told him about the threats of war in Hell and on Earth, he refused you. His stubbornness made your jaw clench, but you knew when to pick your battles. When the precious humans were in danger, he would be willing to give it up. Despite not wanting for it to get that bad, you knew it was the only way.
So, you'd wait, and until then, you'd drive him crazy with your flirtatious comments.
The next few days were…off, to say the least. You spent a lot of your time trying to get a feel for Sam's godly aura - something that had a distinct smell and feel to it most angels didn't even realize - but there was nothing. Every corner you turned, every chapel you visited, was hollow. Cold and empty, much like the feeling in your chest the longer you didn't see him. You knew it was possible he was just avoiding you, but you couldn't help but feel a little dreadful.
If something happened to Sam, you'd unleash Hell on earth. You would rip through every being you had to in order to get to him. The heavens haven't seen true bloodshed until you've put your mind to it, especially if you were going to avenge your non-existent lover.
But as you sat in one of Sam's favorite sanctuaries, you wondered if he had finally grown tired of your games. He was an angel after all, and you were nothing but a demon. Scum of the earth; knight of darkness and destruction. A small voice in the back of your head reminded you that you would never be any more to him. You looked around and realized, he might not have been missing at all, he may have just decided you were no longer worthy of his presence. You weren't sure which idea hurt more, and you didn't really want to take time to analyze it.
The funny thing about sadness is that it eats you from the inside. The harder you try to push it down, the more power you seem to give it. Even as you sat there, staring at the ethereal paintings on the ceiling, you couldn't stop the sadness from burning a hole into your heart. You closed your eyes and exhaled, feeling the heat from all the Bibles burning around you. And you smiled - not fully, but enough to push down the sadness once more.
"Where is my brother?" You opened your eyes and looked over at Steve, who went to work trying to put out the small fires you set. "For the love of dad, did you really have to burn the Bibles? You could have gone for the hymnals, at least!"
You hummed disinterestedly. "Why are you asking me about Sammy? I figured he went back to Heaven by now."
"He hasn't been home in months, but he usually checked in with me. I haven't heard from him in days now."
Okay, so maybe he was missing, and maybe you were too quick to start throwing yourself a pity party, but could anyone blame you? No one had to know you were willing to burn down a church simply because you thought Sam abandoned you.
"The last I saw Sam he was alive and well, I can promise you," you purred just to get under Steve's skin. "If I'm being honest, though, I haven't seen him since then. He usually pops up to scold me when I start trouble, and I did everything I could to get his attention! I even kicked a toddler, and he never came. I should have realized he could never get bored with me; obviously someone has taken him."
Steve blinked several times, trying his best to process your words. He didn't know where to start - the fact that you both tend to end up in each other's company willingly or that you would go so far as to kick a toddler to see him. He shook his head. How Sam managed to put up with your antics was beyond Steve. He always told his brother that a demon like you wasn't worth watching over, but Sam always had one excuse or another. Lately, he claimed it was to make sure you didn't find Lilith's knife, but even that excuse was flimsy at best.
He wanted to be in your company, and it baffled Steve most of all.
"I'm not going to touch any of that," he quickly shook his head and tried to push the disturbing thoughts out of his head. "Nat said there was rebellion going on in Hell. Do you think demons might have taken him to get under her skin?"
"I wouldn't put it past them, but I honestly think if the demon faction on Earth kidnapped him it's because they want Lilith's knife."
"And let me guess you want me to give it to you."
You nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If demons are behind Sammy's disappearance, they need to be taken out. Lilith's knife can do that, and you know it!"
"You think I'm foolish enough to give a blade that can kill demons and angels to a psychotic demon with stabbing tendencies?" Steve scoffed. "You're off your rocker even more than usual."
A moment passed, and your passive façade finally cracked. You kicked Steve, full force against his abdomen, and sent him flying towards the altar. He caught himself before he landed on the podium, but he didn't have enough time to block your next blow to his side. You knew it was enough to knock the air from his lungs and catch him off guard, so you quickly grabbed his throat and forced him to his knees. His angel strength usually made him an even match, but your rage was the one thing fueling you. It was too much for him to fight off.
You squeezed until he was gasping for air and slapping at your hands. His eyes grew wide when he looked up at you and realized you were in full demon form - eyes black, teeth pointed behind your sinister snarl, and your skin slowly flaking off and turning to ash. He had never seen you like this, and for once, he feared his life despite knowing you couldn't really kill him.
You leaned in close, letting him get a good whiff of the rotted flesh and brimstone. "Let me make something very clear, Michael, you will give me that knife because the longer you wait, the more danger my Sammy may be in. And if he gets hurt, I will tear the world apart until it rains blood for eternity. You and your daddy will have nothing to protect anymore, do you understand me?"
Steve shuddered as you dropped him to the floor. The use of his real name never brought a chill down his spine until it came from your lips. He knew, somewhere deep inside of him, that you no longer wanted the knife for yourself; you wanted it to end those who dared to take Sam away from you.
Realization dawned on him in that moment. You loved him. It was something he never knew a demon could be capable of, but your protectiveness…your anger…it all made sense now. You wouldn't let anything happen to Sam, and he knew giving you the knife wouldn't be the worst idea. The other angels might frown upon it, but they wouldn't question Steve's judgement. He'd make them understand why he had to, and why you were somehow the most trustworthy person to take it.
"I'll get you the knife," he gasped. "You find out where my brother is, and I will meet you there with the knife."
You slowly turned back into your "presentable" self at his words. The relief that you wouldn't have to torture the information out of Steve flooded you. Sam would be incredibly unhappy if he knew you hurt his family, even if it was a little deserved.
"I can find out within the hour, I have someone who owes me a few favors," you replied. "Keep an eye out for my text. I'll give you the coordinates on where to find me once I know."
Without another word, you disappeared, off to cause trouble wherever you needed to. Steve stood there, hands dropped at his side and a deep sigh escaping his lips. There was one problem to your plan: he didn't have a phone.
The moon just started to rise when you stepped through the dilapidated gates of the cemetery. Fog clung to the ground, making everything damp and humid. Bits of leaves stuck to the bottom of your boots as you walked, but you didn't care. You just wanted to get to Sam.
You felt in your element, oddly enough. Surrounded by darkness, Lilith's knife grasped tightly in your hand. You knew the night would end in a blood bath. The demons weren't going to let Sam go willingly, and you mentally prepared yourself for what he was about to witness. If you lost control, even for a split second, your true form would come out again. You knew he would never love you anyways, but once he got a real look at you, whatever tiny amount of hope you clung onto would be squashed.
None of it mattered, though. You only cared for Sam's safety.
The faction waited for you in one of the larger mausoleums. They almost seemed too relaxed as you walked in, as if the party couldn't start until you arrived. You glanced over and saw Sam bound, gagged, and tossed in the corner. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and not let the rage consume you over the sight of him.
Mystique, the leader of the faction, casually hopped down from the top of the stone casket and made her way to you. Her movements reminded you of a lioness, calm and in control as she stalked closer to her prey. She wasn't scared of you, and that was the one thing you were hoping for; you wanted her to underestimate just how cruel you could be.
She walked around you in circles, taking in your presence with a hungry grin on her face. Her eyes lingered on Lilith's knife longer than anywhere else, but she made no advances to take it from you.
"I see you brought the knife," she practically purred in delight. "I'm surprised the angels were so willing to hand it over, but I see kidnapping one of their own was the best way to get their attention."
"You weren't just trying to get their attention," you replied calmly. "You were trying to get mine as well."
"Well, I did have a feeling taking your lover boy would get you here."
You refused to look back at Sam, even though you wanted to. You had to lie your way out of her trap, and you wouldn't be able to contain yourself if you made eye contact with him in this moment. And you wouldn't be able to hide any of your emotions from Mystique.
"He means nothing to me. He was just a means to get Lilith's knife."
As the words left your mouth, your chest started to ache. You silently prayed - something you never thought you could bring yourself to do - that Sam wouldn't believe your words. Whether he ever planned on loving you back or not, you didn't want him to think you only saw him as a means to an end. If he never gave you the knife, you wouldn't have cared because you got to spend time with him. That was more than enough for you.
"For a demon, you're a terrible liar," Mystique sneered. "I've been watching you two. I know the truth, and honestly? I feel a little sad for you, Y/N."
Your lips formed a tight line, and you took a slow breath through your nose. "Why is that?"
"Because you're dumb enough to think he'll fall for you one day. Do you not see the heartbreak you're setting yourself up for? An angel will never see you as anything but the perverted failure of his father, and you are dumb enough to think he could ever see you as anything else." Her words cut into you, and you had nothing to retort. She was right; you came to terms with this before you ever step foot into his life. You weren't meant to fall for him and yet…you did. You tricked yourself. "Even Nat believes she is better than us, it's why we needed to take action! Can't you see? We're your family. We're able to give you what these angels never could - power and belonging. I know you crave both despite all your past protests."
She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and forced you to look at Sam. Her lips were next to your ear, and though you couldn't see it, you knew she was smirking. "All you have to do is kill him. Kill Gabriel and we'll accept you into our group. I can be a fair better leader than Nat ever could."
Sam's eyes grew wide as you stalked towards him. Mystique's words ran through your mind on a constant loop. He would never see you as anything other than a demon; he would never be able to love you the way you so desperately desired. The longer you stared at him, the easier it was to come to terms with that. But it didn't mean he deserved to die.
"There is one thing I think you are forgetting in all of this," you finally said, turning your back on Sam to face Mystique.
"And what is that, my dear?"
You shoved the knife through her throat, ignoring the spray of blood hitting your face. The other demons stood, ready to attack, but they faltered when they realized no one was going to give them an order. Mystique was too busy choking on her own blood.
Just before the light faded from her eyes, you leaned in close and whispered, "You get on my last fucking nerve."
You pulled the knife out and let her body drop to the ground. She was gone for good this time. Wherever the beings went when they were killed with Lilith's knife, you knew it wasn't Hell; she would never be able to crawl her way back to Earth and cause more trouble.
The other demons stood in shock as you stepped over her body. They didn't want to fight in you in fear of losing their own lives, but as you flipped the knife in your hand, they knew they had no choice. You weren't going to let any of them walk out of there alive. They started too much trouble for you and for Nat. This was your way of tying up loose ends.
You gave them props for putting up a good enough fight. They weren't coordinated without Mystique telling them what to do, but they tried their best. Even when bodies started to drop, and the smell of blood lingered heavily in the air, they fought tooth and nail to get away from you. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. Not a single demon stepped through the mausoleum doors alive. Well, besides you of course, but that was kind of obvious.
Once everyone was taken care of, you made your way over to Sam. You looked him over several times, and a pout began to form on your lips.
"You're not wearing orange today!" You whined as you pulled the rag from his mouth. "I thought we agreed you'd wear orange the rest of your life for me."
He let out an exasperated breath. "You're insane, you know that?"
"Well I heard-"
"If quote Alice in Wonderland and tell me all the best people are crazy, I'm going to shoot you," Sam grumbled, kicking away the ropes from his ankles in a hurry.
You beamed over at him. It was the kind of smile that made you look unhinged, and the blood spattered on your cheeks didn't help. "Ooh, gunplay? Sounds kinky, I'm in! But I'm pretty sure you don't even know how to work a gun, so I'll have to teach you."
"Please don't."
Sam took your hand and allowed you to help him stand. He had been tied up for days, and he caught himself using the wall to keep himself from tipping over again as the blood started to rush to his limbs again. He noticed how you stayed close enough to catch him if he fell over but kept your distance to give him some space. You assumed he needed a break from being surrounded by demons, and you weren't entirely wrong. He just didn't include you in the list of demons he wanted to stay away from.
You quietly let him pull himself together and got to work on piling the demons' bodies on top of each other. Not many groundskeepers entered mausoleums, but you didn't want to risk anyone finding them. You made a mental note to return with some lighter fluid and take care of the remains before the sun rose. It wouldn't please Nat to know you left bodies out in the open for anyone to find.
Sam tried to shift his weight onto one foot, and he grunted in surprise when a sharp pain shot through his ankle. You were by his side instantly, using your shoulder support most of his weight.
"Are you okay?" You asked, searching his face for any signs of discomfort.
He nodded. "I'm not sure how, but I think they might have broken my ankle. It should heal soon, though."
"Let's get you to a safe place to rest. I need to get the knife back to Steve, and we don't really need any other demons stumbling on your injured self."
"You're actually giving the knife back?" His surprise made you wince. You told him the only thing you needed the knife for was the get the demon faction under control, but he never believed you.
Because you're a demon, your thoughts reminded you.
"I told you I only needed the knife for one thing Sammy," you huffed and helped him step out into the cemetery. "I would never lie to you."
Sam said nothing, but he quietly examined the side of your face as you walked together. He wasn't sure what he felt in that moment besides confusion. Deep down, he already knew you weren't one to lie to him, but he didn't understand why. Why you went to great lengths just to save him. Why you hated virgin sacrifices and didn't take souls. Why you spent most of your time around him when you could have been doing anything else. You were supposed to be a typical demon consumed by a lust for blood, sex, and souls, yet you had proven time and time again that you were far from his expectation.
He wondered if Mystique had been right - were you in love in with him? The thought of you being in love with him made him question everything he thought he already knew.
He couldn't bring himself to understand why he liked the way you flirted him, or why he wore orange just to see you smile. He easily could have gone back to Heaven by now, but he always found an excuse to stay. To see you.
As you escorted him through the gates and far away from the stench of blood, he sucked in a sharp breath. Perhaps Mystique wasn't right about everything. She claimed Sam could never see you as anything but a demon, but as he looked up at you now, that was the last thing on his mind. All he saw was the woman he finally admitted to himself he was in love with.
You slipped into the pew beside Sam, who had fully recovered from last night's incident. You were exhausted after spending your night burning bodies and tracking down Steve to return the knife. Even he seemed surprised you gave it up willingly, but you didn't bother to banter with him about it. You were tired of the angels always thinking the worst of you.
You leaned your head against Sam's shoulder, half-expecting him to pull away in disgust, but he didn't. He sat there in silence as you closed your eyes and let yourself relax for a few moments.
The silence between you two wasn't uncomfortable. Both of you felt like you had been to Hell and back, and not much needed to be said about that. You were still covered in blood, and your clothes reeked of burnt flesh. Sam, who was fully healed, rubbed at his wrists to try and get the phantom feeling of the rope away. You almost made a joke about how a fucked up demon sat next to an equally fucked up angel, but the humor died on your tongue before you could get it out. It was just too much effort.
Sam sighed and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. "She was wrong, you know."
"About what?" You murmured so softly, you weren't sure you spoke out loud.
"About my feelings for you."
You sat up and groaned, feeling all of your muscles groan along with you. "Don't tease me, Sam. It actually hurts my feeling for you to lie to me like this."
"I'm not lying!"
"Sure, you're not."
He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. The sincerity in his eyes made your stomach churn. You knew how this played out because he wasn't supposed to love you; he wasn't supposed to see you as anything but a demon. Not a single celestial being would ever approve of him falling in love with you, and you would never be able to find peace.
"Listen to me," he began with a small, hopeful smile, "I love you. Do I fully understand it? Absolutely not. You're crazy, and I'm pretty sure you kill pedophiles for breakfast. You also willingly kick toddlers, which I don't approve but…I love you."
"No one will approve us being together, you know," you whispered as if someone was already listening in on you. "Not God, not Nat, not Steve. They'll always have something to say about us."
"Then let's get out of here for a bit."
"Where?"
"Anywhere you want to go." You quickly glanced to the side, and he rolled his eyes. "If you make another comment about that confessional booth, I will lose my mind."
You softly laughed and leaned in ever so slightly. You were officially invading his space, but you weren't making the first move yet. You wanted to give him one last chance to change his mind, to come to his senses or whatever it was he needed to do, before he turned his back on everything he knew just to be with you. Would it hurt? Absolutely. But you needed to know that this was going to last between you two. You weren't sure if you could live with the heartbreak of losing Sam.
"I think you've already lost your mind, Sammy," you teased. "You want to be with a demon after all."
He cupped your cheek in his hand, gently stroking your bottom lip with his thumb. It was an act so intimate, it almost caught you off guard. He stared at you silently before his lips finally met yours, and you nearly collapsed into his arms with how ecstatic you were to finally get a taste of him.
The kiss was hungry - full of teeth and breathless groans. You were exploring every inch of each other that you possibly could without tearing each other's clothes off. Sam practically came to life underneath you as his hands roamed up your side. Your name died on his lips - a prayer only you could hear. You thought about pulling back and reminding him that you were in the house of his father, but that would require you to stop kissing him, and you had no intention of stopping any time soon.
When he finally pulled away from, your chests were heaving, and you smiled over at him. He appreciated how gentle your smile seemed now. Even with the dried blood on your skin, there was a warmth in your eye that made your smile fill his chest with joy. A lot less unhinged, he would say.
"So," you pushed his back against the pew and crawled onto his lap, your knees straddling either side of his thighs, "You said we could go anywhere in the world, right?"
"Besides the confessional booth," he retorted with a smile as he caressed the side of your face.
You paused, trying to get used to him looking at you like you were the only woman in the universe. It felt odd but not entirely in a bad way. You spent most of your time denying he could ever look at you this way, and here he was, proving your doubts wrong. You weren't sure if it made you want to cry or kiss him until he caved and pulled you right into the confessional.
He claimed you wouldn't convince him, but you'd get him to crack one day.
"Besides the confessional booth," you laughed. "I spent a lot of time here, pestering you and scaring children in the cemetery. I think it'd be nice to get out of the country, explore the world a little bit."
"You haven't done that already?"
You shook your head. "I spent a lot of time staying close to Nat. She needed a strong right-hand woman, and I was the one who wanted to fill the job. I mean, Maria is great, but she's better at handling souls and all their pesky little contracts."
"Where do you want to go then? We can go anywhere you want, and we can get there for free thanks to my wings."
"Can I convince you to give the confessional booth a whirl?"
Sam sighed dramatically, not in annoyance but enough to make you laugh. "Absolutely not."
"Fine," you pouted. "I guess we can start with Greece, as long as you agree to wear your orange v-neck again."
#buckysknifecollectionchallenge#sam wilson x reader#angel!sam wilson#demon!reader#sam wilson one shot#sam wilson fanfiction#sam wilson fanfic#sam wilson fic#angel au#marvel one shots#marvel imagines#marvel fanfiction#marvel fics#sam wilson x you#angel!sam x demon!reader
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Okay, but when will we talk about the Readcerans? 👀 (and maybe a certain book....?👀👀)
It’s Late, I’m Exhausted, I’ve thought of nothing else for two days, let’s go.
So I already talked about Readceras and marriage, elsewhere, much more coherently, and it took me a hot minute to realize you were talking about the hysterical Eothas/Waidwen porn, so let’s talk about theater and the Ideal Romantic Partner. And hysterical porn.
So we’ve got an extant canonical morality play (which, like, somebody read extant irl morality plays because it’s really well done), which means I’m not just spitballing this. (I mean I am but) Readcerans are weird Calvinists, which means everything is Extremely Dour All The Time, but probably in practice if you’re not right in front of the Dawn Council you’re spicing it up. Virtue and Charity get into a fistfight. The Dawnstars get stuck on a roof and can’t come down to talk about the penitent, and instead yell rude things whenever he messes up a line. Somebody throws a brick. Y’know, normal stuff.
Probably not a lot of secular plays? Definitely nothing borrowed from Aedyr. Pre-everything, you’ve definitely got acting troupes crossing the border, so on a broader scale there’s still probably a lot of similarity between Readceras and the Dyrwood’s theater scene post-everything.
Your Ideal Romantic Partner (not necessarily romantic, Good Readcerans Get Married, whether they want to or not, and the social shunning for noncompliance is brutal enough you’d better have a damn good reason not to, and even then you might be better off booking it out of town) is pious, dutiful, and a little somber, but with a brightly optimistic attitude, serious about everything they do and thorough about whatever duty they’re given, a good listener, strongly community minded, did I mention the piety?, ambitious without being grasping or cruel, and vigilant both within their home, for things that could be improved, and outside it, for threats or weaknesses to be strengthened.
Divorce is even more of a Thing That Does Not Happen, more for social reasons than expense, it would be deeply ugly not only for the adults but also any children that might be about, but on the other hand everybody’s having a Really Bad Time, so an early death wouldn’t be too much of a stretch. Certainly no need to go to the lengths our canonical spousal murders go to.
Eothas is obviously Best God for everything, including marriage, but tbh you’re also probably invoking Waidwen himself, which must get pretty weird for anyone who knew him!
Speaking of, let’s talk about the porn. (I mean, let’s actually talk about the implications of the porn. Y’all can go read the book if you need context. Also yes I know the excerpt is not actually porn but that is definitely where the text is headed.)
There’s two major directions your inferences can go(1), both about equally likely, and they both lead to the same next step so in this context it doesn’t even matter. Either:
-Somebody Expensive with too much time on their hands, who tbh probably knew the dude, or at least knew someone who knew the dude, those last few doomed months, wrote a highly deviant(2) work and were lucky if the Hand Occult got to it before the rest of the Council did
Or
-Paper is cheap enough and labor light enough that somebody who never even met someone who met someone who knew Waidwen had enough time on their hands to write a highly deviant work, and required less luck for the Hand to get there before their neighbors did.
Either way, we’ve got a strong cultural push for literacy and more importantly, public libraries, and also a, well, grand is the wrong word but, tradition of extremely Romantic (as in the literary movement) novels, probably roughly as smutty as modern romance novels but with even purpler prose. And like, morals.(3) Actually, thinking about it, it points to novels even being a thing in the first place, because accessible widespread printing presses do not a literary tradition make!
Anyway.
I do sort of wonder what freaked Hand out so badly about it, as BoW makes it pretty clear it wasn’t actually possible, much less on the table, and since this is the first we hear about it we can presume the author was not caught by their neighbors (this does not preclude their murder), because it’s the sort of piece that, being so incredibly awful and deviant and nobody should ever read ever, everybody has to read it immediately. Which obviously the Hand did not want. (I have so many questions??? Why did the Hand give a shit? I mean, why did the Hand give a shit about a lot of things, really, someday I should like.... chart out what we’re told/shown them to have messed with and see if anything interesting turns up, but why blasphemous porn in particular?)
Anyways I really wish you could get your companions opinions on things because I would actually die to know what Xoti and Edér think about it, among other people.
1: technically three but ‘actually it’s au fanfic and Not Relevant to Eora as is’ is much less fun to consider, so we aren’t.
2: the porn is not the deviance, that’s the blasphemy
3: morals as in ‘good Readcerans get married’ and ‘good Readcerans embody the virtues of grace and charity’, maybe even emphasized with a nonsensical rhyming couplet at the end. This is not a judgement call about irl romance novels!
#pillars of eternity#thanks for memeing me!!#look I’m not saying everybody who knew and loved Xoti breathed a huge sigh of relief#when she and her highly visible deeply ugly crush tore off after the Watcher and/or Edér#but that is exactly what I’m saying she wasn’t being shunned just for the lantern thing#I think Waenglith brings it up obliquely? but yeah it’s a thing#also I really wish I were joking about the rhyming couplets but I am not#tbh if it wasn’t canon I would not have guessed how badly divorce was taken on Eora#like it’s definitely Obsidian not thinking it through but it’s a weird trend#ALSO I FORGOT HOW FUCKING INTO WAEL THE READCERANS ARE????#I did not cite this but I did attempt to confirm a detail#and got fucking blindsided with that fact#*bangs fists on table* obsidian what’s Readceran literary canon look like inquiring minds want to know#fuck I didn’t talk about Adaryc#is Adaryc almost word perfect the Ideal Romantic Partner? yes yes he is#but he’s not enough of an optimist and he feels things too strongly in a way the Dawn council doesn’t like but can’t argue with#which is why it’s a toss up if he himself is married#if you would like a terrible bulletpoint essag of your very own hit me up
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Memento Mori Pt 3. (Michael Langdon x Fem!Death!Reader)
You reached the courtyard of Kineros Robotics in record time, Michael hot at your heels.
“Can you walk a little slower?“ Michael complained, walking quickly beside you to keep up despite his long legs. You weren't lying when you had told him that you were on the clock.
„No can do, kiddo. Now come on, use those wonderful legs of yours,“ you threw at him over your shoulder, your hands searching for the car keys you had stashed in one of the conveniently hidden pockets of your dress without slowing down. Why weren't those a thing yet when humanity had invented every other type of useless thingamabob and yet pockets on a dress were blasphemous, you wondered. The intricacies of humankind often evaded you. The fingers of your right hand grazed the keys in your pocket and with a satisfied smirk you pulled them out.
“I'm not a kid, you know. I'm the Anti-,“ Michael began, irritated.
„The Antichrist, yes and you were born exactly when, 2012? You may not look it Michael, but in the grand scheme of things you're barely an amoeba,“ you interrupted him, not in the mood for any more temper tantrums. Without having to look back at his face, you felt the anger rolling off him in waves. He really was not used to being treated as anything less than the son of Satan. If he wanted you to lick his shoes, he was sorely mistaken. If anything, he should be on his knees before you, praising the universe for having sent you in his hour of need.
Continuing to ignore a seething Michael, your eyes zoned in on your newest toy. A 1965 Black Ford Mustang Convertible with bright red leather seats. Seeing as you were all things considered an ancient being and material things meant positively nothing to you, you did have two weaknesses. Fast food and fast cars. You liked to think that it was due to the human form you took, your immense power being pressed into the confines of a limited body and your patient nature being expressed in a rather paradoxical instant gratification. Thankfully, you couldn't gain any weight nor die in a car crash, remaining ever the same, and so you chose to indulge yourself at every given opportunity. Soon enough, those fleeting pleasures would come to an end. Might as well enjoy it while you could.
You skipped over the curb to the driver's side, admiring the way the inky paint coat glistened in the late afternoon sun, not a speck of dust in sight.
Michael came to stand by the passenger door, now more confused than angry. He was ever-changing, you mused.
“Did, did you sell your soul to my father too?” he asked, mustering the convertible before his eyes searched your face.
“No, Michael,” you chuckled amused. H really didn't know the first thing about the Apocalypse or his place in all of this. Maybe there would be time to give the boy a lesson, but not until you had had a good meal.
“I think I'm out of your dad's league if we're being honest. I am more a collector of souls myself. Your father or God don't actually hold the monopoly even though that's what they like to tell everyone. Tell you what, over dinner you and I will take a little trip down memory lane,” you explained, watching him with intent.
“Liar,” Michael said lowly, processing your words. His icy blue eyes narrowed at you. You could feel his power trying to claw at you, yet it felt distinctly like a kitten lick.
“Oh please, Michael, I don't lie,” you retorted unaffected, your hand grabbing the door handle and sliding into the seat, grabbing the pair of sunglasses on the dashboard and putting them on before looking at Michael, your fingers drumming on the steering wheel. This was not going nearly as well as you had planned and if you wanted to keep the plan you had set in motion rolling, you would undoubtedly need to change course, despite the fact that you loathed having to do so. Death be damned, you thought.
“I don't like repeating myself, Michael. I don't owe you any answers but perhaps I'm growing soft and the fact that you are left to your own devices, trying to figure out the single most monumental task on this rock hurtling through space has me feeling a little...sympathetic,” you stated, leaning over to push open the passenger door as a sign of goodwill.
“Tell you what, you can ask me all the questions you like, deal?”
Michael contemplated for a few seconds. He didn't like to admit it but so far he hadn't been the one to come up with any good plans that didn't involve The Omen 3 plot and his father had been absent throughout his accent so far. He didn't trust you or anybody bar Ms. Mead and yet you presented an enigma to him, one he needed to crack open. He was brilliant at problem-solving and he would solve you too, he thought to himself, a little grin creeping into the corner of his mouth. His invisible claws retracted.
“Deal. But I get to ask as many as I want,” he replied, pulling the door open all the way and plopping himself into the passenger seat beside you, arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Fine, a deal's a deal,” you groaned only halfheartedly, shooting him a grin of your own as you fired up the engine and pulled out onto the road. You really did have your work cut out for you. Lucky for Michael, he was so easy on the eyes that you didn't mind as much as you should have. You pressed the 'on' button of the radio and stifled a laugh at the song that had just started playing:
I see the bad moon a-rising
I see trouble on the way
I see earthquakes and lightnin'
I see bad times today
Don't go around tonight
Well it's bound to take your life
There's a bad moon on the rise
°°°
20 Minutes later, you pulled into a parking lot, turned off the engine, hopping out of the car, and came around to Michael's side to take an unneeded but deep breath, filling your lungs with crisp evening air and the distinct smell of desert. The sun had just begun to set, a slight chill setting in and the last remaining rays illuminated Michael's blond hair in a way that reminded you an awful lot of his father before the fall. You let your gaze wander over his sitting form for a second, before lightly slapping the arm he had draped over the side of the car, lost in his own thoughts.
“Come on, Angel, we're here,“ you chided playfully, knowing it would rile the blonde man up unnecessarily. On cue, Michael's gaze shot up to meet your own, nostrils flaring at the more than holy pet name.
“Don't call me that! I'm anything but that!“ he bit out but couldn't keep the blush from creeping up his neck. He didn't like the way you made him feel. Weak and unsure of himself. No power he had encountered could match his, not even Cordelia's and then you came along. As if he wasn't already feeling insecure enough, even after having massacred the witches and warlocks, you only added to the sense that he hadn't yet achieved what he was meant to do, or be where his father expected him to be. Sensing his unease, you tussled his locks with your left hand, pulling him out of his self-induced reverie.
“There is nothing a good cake can't fix, Michael. Trust me,” you smiled at him, hoping he would pull himself together and get out the car. At the word cake, he did perk up, finally glancing behind you to look at where you had taken him.
“The Cheesecake Factory, really?” he looked up at you quizzically, disbelieving. If you were in fact Death, and he wasn't yet sure you weren't lying to him despite your overpowering aura, shouldn't you be dining in some high-class restaurant on the other end of town where they didn't even have prices on the menu?
“Are you food shaming me?” you retorted, one eyebrow shooting up.
“Err, no. It just doesn't...suit you,” Michael replied, his right hand coming to massage the back of his neck, embarrassment evident at his remark.
“Wouldn't you like to know what does and doesn't suit me. If you must know, it's kind of my thing. Don't ask me why but I just can't keep my hands off sweet things,” you explained, winking at him and only adding to his embarrassment. Before the Antichrist could slide any further down your passenger seat and be swallowed whole by the ground, you opened his door and gestured for him to get out.
“Relax. You clearly don't know how to take a joke. Come on, I can smell the cakes from here.” You turned on your heels, cape dress swishing behind you as you made your way across the parking lot to the entry. You weren't quite sure your words were meant as a joke but that was a heart-to-heart you'd have with yourself later. The only sweet thing on your mind right now was cake and soda. The slam of the car door indicated that Michael had managed to detach himself from the red leather interior and he jogged up beside you, matching your stride.
“I hope you're hungry. I'm paying,” you said, smiling with glee and making Michael chuckle. Another thing to add to your slowly growing list of likes about the spawn of Satan, you noted to your dismay.
°°°
You placed the fork neatly back onto the now empty plate, devoid of even the smallest crumb, that had held an entire ultimate red velvet cake, groaning blissfully. Eyes closed, you swallowed down the last bite. Opposite you, Michael had stopped eating his pasta dish some time ago. When you had said that there is nothing a cake couldn't fix, you had meant an entire cake after all. The hunger you felt whenever you were in a human body was not easily satiated. Something that Michael or the waiter were clearly not prepared for. Both had been watching you for the last 5 minutes, jaws slack, as piece after piece traveled on the fork and into your mouth.
“That was positively delicious,” you hummed, casting a glance at Michael, fork suspended in mid-air.
“W-would you like anything else, Miss?” the waiter stuttered, taking your plate and admiring it as if it were a rare antiquity.
“Oh no, I think I've been quite naughty enough, don't you think?” you giggled, reaching for the Fanta and taking a large sip.
“Michael, you've hardly touched your food,” you noted, your voice rousing the young man out the trance your display of gluttony had placed him under. He cleared his throat, putting the fork down, adjusting his seat on the table.
“I'm not hungry anymore.”
“Oh, ok, well in that case we'd like the bill please,” you addressed the waiter with a satisfied grin, gulping down the last remnant of orange soda in your glass.
“Hey, you said you'd answer my questions! I knew you were a liar!” Michael intercepted, trying his best to keep his voice down.
“ I don't lie, Michael. You chose to watch me enjoy some cake instead of asking questions, didn't you?” you countered, your elbows coming to rest on the table, fingers intertwining. His anger and frustration bubbled to the surface once again. If he weren't the Antichrist, you were sure he would have a heart attack by the time he hit 30. His body tensed at your statement of truth, eyes squinting menacingly at you. Yet you were right, he had been so busy watching you, he had forgotten all about the myriad of questions buzzing in his mind like moths around a flame. His eyes fluttered shut briefly, gulping down the rage that threatened to burst out his chest. You watched as the blonde man tried to gain back his composure, your finger coming to run along the rim of the empty glass in front of you.
“Michael,” you demanded. His eyes opened to meet your own and you could see his restraint hanging by a thread in them. He did have a temper and you didn't want him setting fire to your favourite restaurant just yet.
“I'm in a good mood tonight. Instead of just answering your questions, I would like to show you something that will answer almost all of them. A deal is a deal,” you tried to reason. Michael mulled your words over in his head, sizing you up while doing so.
“Oh for goodness sake, Michael! I'm not trying to manipulate you. I'm trying to help you!” you exclaimed, exasperated at his hesitance and mistrust. While you knew his beginnings on this earth weren't exactly peppered in love, warmth and trust, you couldn't afford him seeing you as the enemy. Neither could he.
“If you don't believe me, take a peek. Make it last, this will be a one-off,” you encouraged him, an invisible finger beckoning him closer and allowing him limited access to your mind momentarily. Michael's mind pushed through your doors, grazing, flitting over millennia of memories before you let him look at your core.
No lies, Michael, you see?
You eased him out and sealed the doors shut tightly once again, leaning back in your chair, the restaurant coming back into focus.
“Here's your bill, Miss. Thank you for stopping by at the Cheesecake Factory tonight,” the waiter had brought you the bill. Wordlessly, you handed him a 100$ bill, nodding your head briefly at him to suggest that he could keep the change and waited for Michael's response.
“Ok,” Michael finally replied, rolling his head on his shoulders, resulting in a gratuitous cracking sound. You weren't sure if he was entirely satisfied with your show of goodwill. Not that it mattered.
“Let's take a walk,” you suggested, getting up without even the slightest hint of a stomach after decimating an entire cake. Michael's eyes never left you and the enigma you were to him just became a lot more enticing. A boyish smirk crossed his face as he stood up to walk in front of you. At the exit, he held open the door.
“My, my Michael. Didn't take you for a gentleman,” you chuckled, gracefully pushing past him and into the cool night air.
“My Ms. Mead would expect nothing less of me,” he offered, not bothering to hide his Cheshire cat smile. You had allowed him access to your mind and the things he saw, he desperately wanted to see again. You were like a box of confectioneries to him. For once in his life, his pride and ever-growing sense of entitlement took the backseat. He felt like he had finally met someone of his own caliber and the feeling was exhilarating to him. You weren't his father but you were the next best thing and best of all, right in front of him.
Tag List:
@sexwon131 @leatherduncan @rocketgirl2410
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