Tumgik
#gotta keep that tattoo pristine as much as he can
gazkamurocho · 14 days
Text
Tumblr media
He is her sunshine ☀️
299 notes · View notes
starryeyedweeb · 3 years
Text
Valentine’s Day With Hunter x Hunter
Characters Included: Kurapika, Hisoka, Chrollo, Illumi
Content Included: Floofity fluff- Valentine’s style; fairly gender-neutral
A Valentine’s Day With...
Kurapika
Tumblr media
Kurapika’s actually beyond excited for Valentine’s Day with you, and has counted down the days until the event
He has a pretty traditional way of celebrating Valentine’s, but isn’t it tradition because it’s beloved by all?
He had made arrangements to get off work early that evening weeks in advance, and when the day finally comes, he can’t wait to go pick you up for your date
Like most, he had made reservations at a romantic restaurant, but the one he had chosen was more of a hidden gem- in a quieter part of town, with a niche menu, and in an intimate setting
You observe your surroundings in delight as you’re led to your table, where you sit side-by-side in front of a spindly vase of flowers
“Do you like it?” Kurapika asks, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he watches your reactions carefully. “I saw this restaurant months ago, and I’ve always thought you would enjoy it.”
“It’s perfect,” you reply, squeezing his hand lightly, and he averts his eyes with a sheepish chuckle
After enjoying your romantic course meal, Kurapika takes you off to the next spot of the night: an observatory, which is conveniently empty of all other people
“I’ve always wanted to go stargazing with you, but it’s too cold to go now. Even if it wasn’t, though, you can’t really see any stars in the city,” he explains. “So I decided on the next best thing.”
You could sense his nerves, for he wanted so badly for you to enjoy yourself completely
“I love it, I promise.” You press a kiss to his cheek. “Come on. Let’s go sit down and enjoy it.”
With hands still linked, you relax into your reclined seats and stare up at the celestial scene above you, pointing out constellations and naming your favorites
After settling deeply into your contentment at the time you were having with each other, Kurapika sits up slightly and reaches into his pocket
“I’d like to give you your gift now, if that’s alright.”
“You got me something?”
“I did.” He laughs gently, his cheeks reddening again. “I’ve always wanted to get you a nice gift, and this seemed like the perfect occasion.”
He hands you the pristinely wrapped package, which you open to find a delicate necklace, with a single but stunning ruby charm
He had saved up for months to get you something nice, and had labored over picking out something that would remind you of him without being too pretentious on his part
So, needless to say, happiness swells in his chest when you break into a wide grin
“It’s so beautiful,” you breathe
“Would you like me to put it on you?”
You nod, and with gentle fingers brushing against your skin, he fastens the chain around your neck, placing a whisper of a kiss just below your jaw.
“Thank you for spending this time with me,” you murmur as the two of you sit back again, your faces illuminated by the starry scene above
“If it was up to me, I’d never leave.”
Hisoka
Tumblr media
Going into Valentine’s Day with a partner as unorthodox as Hisoka left you with many questions about what he would do to celebrate, if anything at all
You were prepared for anything, so you were less surprised than you might’ve been when he shook you awake nearly at the crack of dawn
“What’s going on?” You mutter sleepily. “Why are you awake so early?”
He merely drops a bag down next to you and strides out of the room
“Put that on,” he instructs, shutting the door behind him
Your brows knit in confusion as you reach into the bag and pull out an outfit that toes the line between summery and skimpy, presenting the question of “Is this streetwear or lingerie?”
Knowing it would be more fun to play along with his plan, you do as he told and go to meet him outside the room
Your breath catches in your throat as you see him with his hair down and makeup off, almost as if he was going incognito
“It’s a little cold to be wearing something like this, isn’t it?” you ask by way of announcing your presence
Sighing headily as he takes in the sight of you, he approaches and wraps his arms around you, his hands sneaking down to give your ass a squeeze
“It will make sense soon, I promise.” He grabs your coat off the rack and holds it out for you. “We need to get moving if we’re going to make it on time.”
You allow yourself to be swept up in his plan, which ends up with the two of you on a plane he had “borrowed” from Illumi and the Zoldycks, flying towards an unknown destination
“Seriously, Hisoka, what’s going on?” You demand, peering out the window for clues
“Relax, darling. Would I ever lead you wrong?” He pours you a drink and holds it out to you
You take it and flash him a dubious look. “Do you really want me to answer that question?”
“Fine. I’ll give you a hint. I’ve always hated the cold, so I want to take the opportunity of a romantic holiday to escape it with you.”
“That’s better, I suppose.” You sip your drink, noticing him look you up and down out of the corner of your eye
“I did an excellent job picking out that outfit for you,” he declares, cocking his head slightly sideways. “We still have a while to go. Why don’t we do something to keep busy?
You slide a bit closer to him, drawing a finger up and down his hip. “What did you have in mind?”
Hours later, when the plane finally arrives at the mystery destination, you find yourselves on a secluded island, approaching a quaint beach house that had been carefully prepared for your arrival
“Was this the surprise?” you gasp, staring at the scene in awe.
“It was. Some time away where we can pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist,” he replies with a self-satisfied smirk. “Are you pleased?”
“I am! This is perfect.”
He snakes his arm around your waist, leading you towards the entrance of the house. “Let’s get started, then.”
“I thought we already did get started.”
“Darling, you should know by now that what we did was only a warm up.”
Chrollo
Tumblr media
Chrollo had been secretly planning a celebration for months, mapping out all of his operations around keeping that one special day open
On Valentine’s morning, he’s gone, but in his place is a tray of your favorite breakfast and a note instructing you to dress warm and be ready to leave by 7:00 that night
There are no other clues, so as you indulge in the breakfast, you wonder what he could have planned for you
Because with Chrollo, it could be anything
Meanwhile, he’s spending the day making all the last-minute preparations for your celebration, and hen the hour arrives, a knock sounds on your door
But instead of Chrollo, you find a driver that had been sent to take you to the date spot
You end up being driven so far outside of the city you halfway wonder if you’ve finally fallen victim to one of the revenge kidnappings Chrollo had always warned you about
Until the driver pulls up to the base of a massive hill, where your boyfriend waits with a smile on his face
“What on Earth have you planned this time?” You ask as he extends his hand to help you out of the car
“I’m a criminal mastermind, love. I simply cannot afford to be predictable.”
He leads you up to the top of the hill, where he set up a candlelight picnic on a blanket covered in rose petals, situated overlooking a fantastic view of the entire city
“Oh, Chro, it’s lovely,” you breathe, but can’t resist a shiver as you sit down and take the glass of wine he offered
He tuts. “I thought I told you to dress warm.”
“You didn’t leave much more information, so I wasn’t sure just how warm.”
“Well, then, I suppose it’s a good thing that I planned for this, too.”
He takes out a blanket and wraps it around both of your shoulders, and you enjoy your cozy meal whilst overlooking the lights of the city
“Let me guess,” you begin, reaching for yet another gourmet appetizer. “Everything here is stolen.”
“Why, of course it is.”
“And the Troupe is probably quite angry with you for sending them on such a trivial errand to get all of this.”
“Initially, but they were alright with it when I offered them half of the spoils for their own enjoyment.”  He shifts, pulling something from his coat pocket. “But I’d like to give you something that, for the first time in years, I haven’t stolen.”
“You actually bought something?” You gasp incredulously, taking the small box in your hands.
“Sort of. I had it made.” He shrugs. “I wanted it to be perfect.”
With him looking over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, you flip open the top of the box and discover a ring, the delicate silver band formed in the shape of an elegant spider web, tiny diamonds glistening at the points
Once you’ve taken the sight of it in, Chrollo takes the ring out of the box and slides it on your finger
“Since you’re reluctant to get a Troupe tattoo, I wanted something else to symbolize.”
“To symbolize what?” You ask, admiring how the ring glistens in the candlelight.
“To symbolize that you’re my home,” he replies with a cheesy, almost joking expression, but his eyes sparkled with truth. “Do you like it?”
“Chro, I love it.”
The corners of his lips turn upward as he cups your cheek
“And I love you.”
Illumi
Tumblr media
Honestly, Illumi had never even heard of Valentine’s Day before you came along
So, needless to say, no plans to celebrate were made until he was out for drinks with Hisoka the night before and Illumi was asked what he was going to do to celebrate
He just blinked, completely confused
“You know, people tend to get very upset if their partners don’t do anything for Valentine’s Day. They’ve probably got something planned for you,” Hisoka teased.
When Illumi was still staring at him with a blank expression, Hisoka explained the concept and helped Illumi make some last-minute arrangements
So, when you wake up on the morning of Valentine’s Day, you find an ornate vase full of orchids and a box of luxury chocolates sitting at the end of your bed
Gotta use and abuse the Zoldyck family funds, you know
You’re overjoyed and pleasantly surprised
Honestly you had expected nothing at all, so assuming that the flowers and chocolates were the entirety of your surprise for the day, you happily go about the rest of your own Valentine’s plans: a day of self-care and self-love
Dating an assassin with a personality like Illumi’s was rewarding, but also immensely challenging, so you definitely deserved it
In light of cliche and tradition, you decide to make some fondue for yourself, and are just getting ready to serve it when you turn around to find Illumi standing behind you in the kitchen
You let out a startled yelp and drop the spoon you’re holding
“Illumi, you scared me!”
“I thought I’ve been teaching you about awareness lately. You should’ve sensed my presence.”
“I was just distracted. Besides, I wasn’t expecting you to be here at all. I thought you were supposed to be working tonight.”
“I just learned what ‘Valentine’s Day’ is. I rearranged the plan so that I could come spend the evening with you.”
You sense a warm feeling spreading across your chest, and have to fight the urge to swallow him in a hug.
“Well, perfect timing. I was just about to serve dinner.”
The two of you share a two-course fondue, then settle in on the couch
Illumi wasn’t really a TV person, so you play some music softly in the background and gaze out the window as rain begins to fall outside
As you lay with Illumi’s arm folded around your waist, you reflect that your quiet Valentine’s Day was a little less than orthodox, but the peace it brought was exactly what the both of you desperately needed
475 notes · View notes
leftbrainrotsstuff · 2 years
Note
hey hey hey! greetings from rare-and-beautiful-things :)
you said you didn't mind asks and requests, so here I am to beg for you to please feed me uwu. i gotta admit there's a thing that really troubles me since the start of my obsession with manager na. did you see the tattoos on his knuckles? do you actually think it's possible for him to keep these tattoos in pristine condition considering the strength of his punches? because I feel like the skin on his knuckles would be split open so many times, and the tattoos would be all messed up...
really loved these hcs about him heating up when excited and having trouble with lids cuz of rings lmao
do you have any hcs about his trauma? what do you think of his coping mechanisms? do you like bread? i got into these headcanon of baekjin baking his own bread not long ago, and i just cannot stop thinking about it
sorry for... much words lol, i was just excited to talk to you i guess. please don't take anything too seriously (unless you want to, in this case be my guest), and don't feel pressured to reply :)
have a beautiful day!
love ya 💙💙💙
Feed you I shall- please consider this a love letter to the only person I know who wants to read the dark corners of his mind like I do.
*cracks knuckles*
Donald Na, Baekjin Na, sun god, golden boy... what can I tell you about him?
Loooooooong drabble/headcanon slurry under the cut
I'll start where you did I guess- his tattoos.
UGH his tattoos .
Nothing has been a source of willing frustration for me like his tattoos.
I set out to map his tattoos (that we know of thus far) and learned....
some things
but I'll save that for another post- I'm sure it will be long and technical.
To answer your question-
The delicate swirls and symbols on his hands should be in shreds
Truly, there should be nothing recognizable
But they're perfect
and I think that's intentional
look at where he uses his fists
stomach, throat, etc.
He punches where his opponent physically caves to his will
Caves so that he never even takes a scratch.
Never breaks a sweat
Never ruffles carefully gelled hair
Never wrinkles the Versace that he wears like armor
Really, what else do you expect?
***
I really like the thought that despite the intelligence, the perfection, the violence, the wealth... Baekjin Na is still a 17 year old kid.
I mean- he's just one person.
(that deeply, viscerally hit me when I saw this art (link))
***
I'm actually realizing this as I write, but I'm similar to him on the childhood front-
For lack of a better term, he was bullied for his intelligence
Perfection? Shit's scary. Doesn't matter who you talk to.
His classmates? these kids saw strange, other, outsider, different and fought for their own little survival in their own way
But let me tell you- what Baekjin saw was a wall
a wall of people too stupid to see you- frightened little sheep too scared to wonder about the wool over their eyes.
It's infuriating
They're unreachable because they don't seem to speak the same language as you.
They seem to have a hive mind you don't have access to.
And oh ho hoooo let me tell you from experience
his DIRECT response to that is a bone-deep and powerful need to scream:
"look at me please take me seriously I am not beneath you I can be useful Take me seriously LOOK AT ME see me dammit."
It's such a powerful need you don't know you have it. It leaks out your eyes and your ears and you bleed it until it's who you are.
That is his identity- and we can still see it.
Because "look at me" turned to "worship me" turned to "kneel to me" turned to "bow to the king of everything you love".
I guess my argument here is his coping mechanism is his entire identity.
He copes in other ways though
He's a big symbols guy
The symbols of power he wears for other people's benefit
and a small symbol of life he keeps for himself-
bread
I can hear my literature teacher SCREECHING in my ear: Bread is communion Bread is a biblical symbol Bread brings people together Bread is a symbol of Life
And she's right
Bread is the symbol of life and strength and prosperity and communion and
maybe, just maybe
Bread is the one thing Baekjin can hold himself together around
I think I'll leave you with that
This ask was such an amazing surprise! and I had way too much fun thinking about it
34 notes · View notes
Note
Hi fellow Gryffindor! Hope you're read for:
Not Yet Wed Questions
Note: Great Scott! This week, we are going back in time to MC’s intern year. Think of Ethan’s relationship with them at this point and answer the following questions accordingly. It is entirely up to you when in year 1 this takes place (pre/post Miami, pre/post CH 15, etc). Feel free to answer with dialogue or pictures or both :) Have fun!
No worries. All of this is off the record and HR will never know!
The setting for this answers is:
For Both
When I first saw them, I thought__________
What is your coworker's most used swear word?
Quick: What color are their eyes?
Three people at work your coworker hates?
What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?
If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?
(Bonus round! Feel free to skip.)
Never have I Ever:
come into work hungover
had a fistfight
been kicked out of a bar
gotten a tattoo
broken someone’s heart
been in love
For MC (Ethan is not there)
Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)
What do you find the most impressive about him?
Last thing he texted you?
If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?
For Ethan (MC is not there)
Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)
What specifically do you find attractive about her?
Last thing she texted you?
If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?
Ahh my favorite time of the week again. Also on a side note these questions are brilliant.
I am sorry for being late, my school thinks it's okay to torture seventeen year olds, smh
(Ignore if there are any typos, I am sleep deprived)
Tumblr media
Previous Interviews
The setting for these answers is: Two days before they leave for Miami. Diana already knows about Naveen and as an extra context, they now spend time together at his apartment or at Derry Roasters to discuss Naveen's case and both of them (grudgingly in Ethan's case) call each other ahem...."friends"
-----------------
[Two people make their way towards the busy little coffee shop down the street from the hospital, the man furtively looking over his shoulder, as if scared of being spotted, the woman, sensing her companion's distress, puts a tentative hand on his arm, which visibly seems to calm him somewhat. He sends a grateful smile her way.]
ETHAN : We are both busy doctors rookie, why are we supposed to do this—interview?
DIANA : It won't take long, plus we are already waiting for the test results for Doct- umm our patient.
ETHAN : Well if it will stop you from talking my ear off.
DIANA : (Says nothing just smiles)
(FOR BOTH)
When I first saw them, I thought ________
Diana : Actually the first time we met it was kinda in the midst of an emergency, so I didn't get much time to form an impression but once he left I thought he was a (glances towards Ethan, then says in a rush) handsome asshole.
Ethan : Excuse me, what?
Diana : Well after I helped save the woman you told me that it was incredible I didn't kill her, forgive me if I can't think that you were an asshole.
Ethan : (a little flustered) That's not what I said excuse me fo- never mind, I thought she wasn't completely incompetent for an intern and also that she's quite bold.
Di : "Bold" ?
E : Yes, you tried to flirt with me.
Di : Oh that was before I knew who you were.
What is your coworker's most used swear word?
Ethan : She alternates between Shit and Fuck
Diana : Goddamnit and Fuck
Quick: What color are their eyes?
Diana : Blue, a bright clear blue.... umm it's quite noticeable when someone chews you out every other day.
Ethan : Dark brown that appears almost black at times.
Diana : (mutters)I am surprised he can see my eyes from his giraffe height
Ethan : glares at her
Diana : What? Oh did I say that out loud? Umm well it's true (shrugs)
Three people at work your coworker hates?
Diana : (giggling) I think it's easier to tell you about three people he doesn't hate, he hates everyone except Dr. Banerjee, Dr. Emery both of whom he respects and well me.
Ethan : (a rare smile playing in his lips) who said anything about not hating you Rookie?
Diana : Because you are my partner in crime and I think we are friends.
Ethan : "partner in crime"?
Diana : Yes we go to burning buildings together and anyways deny as much as you want, you don't hate me.
Ethan : (softly) I don't. (composing himself) In case of Dr. Ramirez, I don't think she can ever hate anyone, she herself says "I love everyone" I don't know how that's possible but she doesn't hate anyone at this place.
What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?
Diana : Definitely pinching the bridge of his nose thing, I once tried counting how many times he did it while morning rounds, it was exactly 17 times in two hours.
Ethan : Not my fault most interns are utterly hopeless. In Diana's case it's forgetting a hair tie every day and using a pen or a pencil to keep her hair up.
Di : This irritates him so much that he keeps a spare tie in his office now.
Ethan : I don't know why I put up with these habits (pinches the bridge of his nose)
If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?
Diana : (in an uncanny imitation of Ethan's gruff voice) It's beyond me to have juvenile emotions such as a crush, it's mostly a result of continued exposure to the person for a long time anyways.
Ethan : What- I don't sound like that
Diana : You do!
Ethan : For her it might be one of her friends, they seem quite enamored by her.
Di : My friends....nah! It's someone else
E : Who else do you spend time with to have a crush on?
Di : A girl's gotta have some secrets. (muttering so softly that Ethan doesn't hear it) how much more oblivious can a man be?
(NEVER HAVE I EVER ROUND)
Ethan : What is that?
Di : You drink if you have done said thing before, it's a classic drinking game.
E : I am not playing any such game.
Di : Come on we are already doing this.
E : *Grumbles in agreement*
come into work hungover
The iced coffee lies untouched before both of them.
Diana : We are responsible doctors.
had a fistfight
Both take a sip of their respective beverages.
Diana : Okay I'll go first, I once punched a guy in seventh grade because he was being obnoxious and then his other friends taunted him on being punched by a girl which hurt his male ego and he tried to fight back but some of our teachers spotted me dodging it and I escaped punishment because of my pristine record.
Ethan : Well, in our field there are many power hungry morons who deserve being punched.
been kicked out of a bar
Ethan takes another sip, Diana doesn't.
Diana : Okay dish
E : We all do regrettable things in our youth.
Di : Really, you won't tell us?
E : (grins) I am going for an air of mystery.
Di : Well it's working
(Both smile at each other, forgetting their surroundings for some time)
gotten a tattoo.
None of them drink.
Di : It hurts like hell so I am never getting one.
broken someone’s heart.
Di : Nah! I haven't. But Ethan you drink this time.
Ethan : Why?
Di : Honestly have you ever seen the way the nurses look at you?
Ethan : If you say so (takes a sip)
been in love
Ethan : Doesn't drink but all of a sudden he fixes his gaze at her almost involuntarily.
Di : (Drinks) I like to think I have been in love before.
Ethan : (trying to look as uninterested as possible) What changed?
Di : Well we broke up after around two yearsof dating.
Ethan : (doesn't say anything but looks visibly less tense)
Di : Oh we are out of coffee...
E : You sit here I'll place our orders.
Di : Thanks
(DIANA)
Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)
Di : Professionally he'll most definitely contribute even more to the medical world, lead the Diagnostic Team like the best doctor he is. Personally, I dunno maybe he'll find someone, I hope he does, he needs someone to help and support him through his problem of shouldering every little thing.
What do you find the most impressive about him?
Diana : His passion for medicine obviously, you should see when he talks about medicine, it's so evident how much he loves what he does and also how much he cares despite the gruff exterior he puts on in front of everyone.
Last thing he texted you?
Diana : He hates texting, so I think his last text was, let me see (scrolls through her phone)
"We need to put ciprofloxacin in our list, can you do me a favor by adding it?"
It's uh about a case.
If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?
Diana : It's never going to happen, he's Ethan Ramsey and I am, well me, but if uh hypothetically he asked me out, I'd say yes immediately, hypothetically obviously.
(Ethan returns with the coffee, then looks at Di's flustered face)
Ethan : What were you talking about?
Diana : Uh nothing I was just - (her pager goes off) We have the test results, I'll go and bring those back in a few minutes.
(ETHAN)
Where do you see her in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)
Ethan : She'll be an amazing doctor obviously, maybe even with a spot on the diagnostic team. I suppose she won't hear this?
Interviewer : No, she won't.
Ethan : Personally, with someone who values her contribution to our sphere of work, I suppose.
What specifically do you find attractive about her?
Ethan : I really shouldn't be talking about this.
Interviewer : Don't worry, no one's hearing about this, it's just some extra information so that we know you better.
Ethan : She's an attractive woman obviously, but I think her smile, it's difficult to ignore and her eyes.
Last thing she texted you?
Ethan : "I AM DONE WITH MY PATIENTS🤩🥳"
"IT'S LIKE EVERYONE DECIDED TO BE SICK TODAY"
followed by a series of emoticons
"😣😖😫😩"
If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?
Ethan : I would have to turn her down, I am her boss.
(gazing wistfully at the street, eyes glued at Diana's approaching figure)
But perhaps in a different life I would have said yes.
Ethan : I think that's enough questions, she's here now and we have important matters at hand which require our attention.
-------------------
Taglist : @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @drariellevalentine @rookie-ramsey @aleynareads @miss-smrxtiee @terrm9 @aestheticartsx @fireycookie @maurine07 @starrystarrytrouble @schnitzelbutterfingers @tsrookie @anntoldstories @iemcpbchoices @stygianflood @sophxwithers @actuallybored @iloveethanramsey @natureblooms24 @chemist-ana @mercury84choices @casey-v @uneravine @mm2305 @mrsethanfreakingramsey @smilex1104 @missmiimiie @shanzay44 @sweetheartdetectivex @potionsprefect @headoverheelsforramsey @jerzwriter @mainstreetreader @coffeeheartaddict @adiehardfan @mia143
-----------------------
24 notes · View notes
thiswasinevitableid · 3 years
Note
For the mermay fills: 10 & 22 with indruck? 👁️👁️ (nsfw or sfw)
I went with ten (tattoos/piercings) first, since 22 will be part of another fill. I went with NSFW, and wrote this as a follow-up to my “Heat” fill from last year.
Indrid swims up  and down the hall outside the palace infirmary. He’s far from the only one doing so; the reef serpent wreaked havoc through the city before the Chosen mers defeated it. He’s not even the only person waiting to see if Duck is alright.
“Have courage, Prince Indrid Cold!” Minerva, sporting a new gash on her face, clamps her hand down on his shoulder in what he knows is her version of a comforting gesture, “Duck Newton is the strongest Chosen after myself. He will pull through.” The blue of her tentacles flashes with pride. 
“Besides” Ned, the castle mer who has, against all odds, become Indrid’s closest advisor, flicks his orange and silver tail “you informed us yourself there were no futures where our friend passed away.”
“I know.” Indrid takes a breath, intending to explain the tangled net of anxiety in his chest. All that comes out is another, “I know.”
Behind him, he hears two nurses murmuring that they’d better bump the prince’s consort up in the line, but before he can turn and order them not to, they’re gone. 
It happened like this: Duck kept his word, began courting Indrid properly once the seer's heat passed, and Indrid reciprocated without hesitation. This caused a near scandal; yes, Duck was a Chosen and thus noble to a degree, but Indrid was a prince, and a prized one. Indrid pointed out that he rather liked someone who cared about his welfare, not just his happiness, and if they had an issue with that, that was their problem not his. And so the comments about Duck moved from to his face to behind his back, which he counted as good enough.
Duck found the whole consort business stressful, given that he’d forgone his Chosen destiny in favor of tending the kelp forests specifically to avoid that kind of fanfare and politics. Thus, they steered clear of the castle when they could, spending their time with their friends in town or in the sunken ship Duck called home. 
When the serpent attacked their town, Duck discovered the limits of his rejecting his destiny, and joined the fight to save his home. Indrid is proud of him, even if his stomach churns whenever the futures shift and he has to see whether the strings of fate weave a grimmer outcome for the man he loves.
It’s well after moonrise when he’s allowed to see Duck. The other mer is half-asleep in his infirmary bed, a massive bandage on his side and one of his tentacles bitten down to a nub
“Hey darlin” The sleepy drawl is accompanied by the mer opening his arms. 
Indrid carefully settles against the non-bandaged side of him, rests his head on his chest with a relieved sigh, “I’m so glad you’re alright. Or, well, mostly alright. You’re in one piece. Sort of. I, I’m not conveying this well.”
“I ain’t dead, given how today went I’m callin that a win. Besides, this’ll grow back in no time.” He wiggles the stub of his tentacle. 
“Mmm” Indrid cuddles closer, purring softly as intact tentacles pet his tail and back.
“When’d you last sleep?” Duck murmurs, kissing the top of his head.
“Not since the attack started.”
“Seems to me we’re both due for some shut eye.”
Indrid nods, right before falling asleep and dreaming of strong tentacles and stronger arms. 
-----------------------------------------
“Guess I gotta get a tattoo now.” Duck studies the scar on his side, his bandages having permanently come off this morning. 
“I suppose so. Though, if you’ve avoided so many other parts of Chosen protocol, I fail to see how skipping this one will make things worse.”
“I dunno, I kinda like this one. Used to strike me as macho bullshit, showin off how many battle scars you got. But now...makes me think of how when the forest gets trashed by a storm, or a huge-ass monster tearin through it, there’s a certain kind of pleasure that comes from watchin it heal, watchin it go from desolated and scarred to somethin beautiful.”
Indrid loves when he talks like this, smiles dreamily as Duck adds, “you could even design it for me. I’d like that.”
“I could do you one better; I could apply it as well. And since I foresee you asking yes, I do have the training to do so. Royal mers learn to tattoo themselves, due to rules about being touched by lower ranking mers that I judiciously ignored.”
“No kiddin” Duck grins, two tentacles coiling around Indrid’s tail, teasing the red stripe, “now that I’m healed up, gonna do all kinds of things to you to remind you why you ignored those rules in the first place.”
------------------------------------------------------------------
“Are you nervous?” Indrid finishes setting out his tools on the pristine table in his pristine chambers. He tends towards messiness in his habits, but when it comes to Duck’s health he’s cleaned the whole place by hand and with magic. Twice. 
“Nah, I know I’m in good hands.” Even as he says this, a burst of anxious yellow moves up his tentacles. 
“All the same, if you need a break at any point, let me know. And if the scar starts stinging or throbbing, tell me at once.”
“You got it, darlin.”
Indrid takes his time using a spell to transfer his design to Duck’s skin, double checking the placement before picking up the charm-powered tattoo gun. When finished, the tattoo will be a small forest of kelp, with the scar making up most of the body of the serpent swimming between the leaves. Six shades of green ink, three shades of brown, one shade of copper, and black for outlining, lay on the table, Indrid dipping into each of them in turn as he brings the image to life. 
“Love watchin you draw” Duck sighs, then shudders, “sorry, gettin a hell of an adrenaline rush from the pain.”
“Just try to stay still. If you twitch or fidget too much, it will cause mistakes on my end.”
“Do my best.”
“If you don’t, I’ll just have to tie you down.” Indrid says breezily. The tentacle near him pulses purple. Desire. Interesting. 
He’s most of the way through when Duck’s arms shake, his tentacles following suit, occasionally bumping Indrid’s tail or sides.. They’re small movements, all things considered, but in most futures they mean he has to re-do the entire last third of the tattoo. 
“Nono, this won’t do at all.” He set’s the gun down, flitting across to the closet near his bed. A sea-grass rope waits, right where he left. There hasn’t been much call for it, Duck capable of restraining Indrid in a variety of ways all on his own. 
“Now” Indrid bites off several lengths of rope, “since you cannot be still, I am going to tie your tentacles down. You’re to keep your hands where I put them, or I will tie them as well.”
Ducks tentacles are now deep, unflinching purple, “Holy fuck, ‘drid.”
“Just because I am generally submissive around you does not mean I’m not capable of giving orders.” Indrid smirks, tying the first two tentacles down.
“I, I know, it’s just  you, uh, you, you never talk like this.” Duck’s eyes are wide, excited even, as they track Indrid’s circular path. 
“I suppose you don’t hear me during advisory meetings, so this is a new experience for you.”
“Maybe I oughta start sittin in on ‘em.” Duck whines when Indrid kisses his cheek but refuses to stick around long enough for Duck to kiss him back.
“Perhaps. Right now, however, you are to sit still until I’m done with you. Understood?”
“Uh huh.” Duck smiles, docile and sweet, and Indrid wonders why they never thought to try this before. 
He returns to his work, inking colors into Duck’s skin, enjoying the intimacy of learning the familiar curves of his ribs and belly in new ways. At one point he notices Duck tensing and almost moving his hand, but the other mer catches it in time. 
“Good boy.” Indrid purrs.
“Fuck.” Duck tips his head back, “how much longer?”
“About ten minutes more, I’d say. You can manage it my sweet, you’re doing so well already.”
Duck whimpers low in his throat as Indrid goes back to his work. Exactly ten minutes later, he puts a protective covering atop the tattoo and pushes his supply table aside.
“There, all done. You did wonderfully.”
“Great, now untie me.” Duck wriggles hopefully.
Indrid raises an eyebrow, “In a hurry, sweet one?”
“Yes” Duck holds out a hand, trying to coax him closer. 
“Whatever for?” He replies airly, as if can’t sense the arousal pouring off his boyfriend in waves, “and stop moving so much, you’ll aggravate the tattoo.”
“‘Drid please” The folds between his front-most tentacles ripple as his cock starts emerging. 
“Oh I see.” Indrid swims so they’re face to face, pinning Duck’s hands to the back of the chair as he leans into his space, “you want me to fuck you, is that it? You’re willing to risk pain to new scar tissue, even marring my lovingly done work, just to have your cock played with?”
“Holyfuckinshit, why is this the first time you’re talkin like this?” Duck bites his lip with a little moan as Indrid rubs their cheeks together. 
“I don’t know. In hindsight, it seems so obvious; you’re my powerful, competent mate, you always take such wonderful care of me, but you want someone to take away that power from time to time, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Duck tips his chin up, hoping for a kiss, but Indrid floats backwards out of reach,
“What shall we do about that, hmm?” He swims a slow, tight circle around the other mer, staying just out of arms reach, “shall I keep you bound until the urge passes? No, that’s far too cruel for my beloved. Perhaps I should make you see to it yourself? But no, you might accidentally hurt yourself. Hmmm, what to do, what to do….” He taps his chin as Duck growls and whines, tentacles now straining against their bonds. Indrid knows Duck could snap them easily if he needed or wanted to. Which means he wants to remain at Indrid’s mercy for the time being.
“You do look wonderful like this. I didn’t even plan it this way, but how I tied you shows off most of your assets.” Indrid rubs the upper front of his tail, “now you’re getting me all wound up.”
“Good” Duck growls, tentacles swirling purple and pink. 
“Yes it, ahnnn, it is rather good, isn’t it. After all, I have the perfect solution to the situation sitting right in front of me.”
Duck’s cock is fully out, it and the slit beneath it tempting Indrid to abandon his plan. He swims in front of the other mer, eyeing his cock approvingly, “yes, you’ll do quite nicely.”
“Thank fuckOHfummmhp” Duck’s surprised moan turns to a laugh as Indrid, having zipped upwards in a flash, finishes shoving his cock into Duck’s mouth.”
“Yesss, ohyes, goodness I love doing this, you look so charming with your lips around my cock. Ah, ah, don’t you dare move your hands from the chair. This” he gives a sharper thrust, “is all I need to be satisfied.”
Duck moans louder, which Indrid takes as his cue to hold his head in place and fuck into his mouth with abandon. 
“That’s it love, that’s it, oh I ought to have done this months ago, tied my big strong hero down and reminded him of hisAHAnnn, his duties as consort.”
“‘M ot a ero.” 
Indrid looks imperiously down his nose at him, “It’s rude to contradict someone when they’re giving you what you want, my sweet. I guess I’ll need to render you further incapable of speech” He concentrates and extends his cock, a mechanism meant to ensure he can reproduce with mers of any size or genital configuration but that he uses only to make Duck groan with pleasure. 
His orgasm is already racing towards him, as it always does when Duck lets him (or orders him to) fuck his throat, and he shuts his eyes, concentrating on tight heat and the happy, muffled grunts floating up to his ears. 
“Just a little, nnnn, little more my sweet, let your prince ravish your throat a little longerOH, ohgods, Duck, sweetheart, yes.” He cums, a shudder rippling down his tail, and doesn’t pull out until Duck struggles to swallow the rest down. The other mer is still collecting his breath when Indrid wiggles down and pushes his tongue into his slit.
“Fuck!” Duck jerks hard enough to move the chair an inch to the right.
Indrid snickers, wraps both hands around Duck’s cock, stroking it hurriedly as he raises his head, “What do you say, beloved?”
“Th-thank you?” Duck cracks an eye open. Indrid nods, then dips his head back down to to suck and tongue at the senstive skin. 
“Fuckme, ohfuck, ‘Drid, darlin’, this is fuckin incredible, gonna, gonna be such a good consort, do whatever you say, fuck you five fuckin times a day, just, FUCK, just promise we can do this again.”
“Muv ourse.” Indrid thrusts his tongue deeper, twisting his hands on his upstrokes. The fourth time he does, he pops up to suck on the head just in time to catch Duck’s cum in his mouth. He takes his time, sucking him clean with happy trills and moans while his boyfriend utters curses that would make sailors blush.
He pulls away to wipe his mouth, intending to start untying Duck. The futures show that won’t be necessary, 
Snapsnapsnapsnap
The ropes break in pairs, rapid fire, and then Duck is on him, enveloping him in arms, tentacles, and love. He tries to press closer, then winces back, “owfuck, you’re right, the tattoo is real sore.”
“It’ll be that way for a few days. Your Chosen strength will help, but you should still rest when possible.”
“I dunno” Duck kisses him sweetly, then nips his lower lip, “you know how stubborn I can be. Might have to uh, tie me to the bed.”
“That, my love, can be arranged.”
14 notes · View notes
teruthecreator · 4 years
Text
Red Lines, Blue Hearts
hi friends! remember how i keep saying i’m going to write something, and then i do anything but? today’s “anything but” is brought to you by this epic and emotionally laboring art by matt (@accesscodex), as well as his chaos!fitzroy au which injures my soul. i don’t feel like putting this on ao3 but!! my ao3 is always available if you would like to see my other graduation crimes. 
reblogs > likes and i hope y’all enjoy!!! 
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The first thing Fitzroy sees when his body is released from Chaos’ grasp is red. 
Pinkish-red scars litter nearly every inch of his body, permanent reminders of the power he let consume him. Some follow the pathway of his veins, like the ones on his legs. Others are large patches that once revealed the pearlescent skin Chaos manifested underneath, like on his face and back. There are a few that look to be a result from fighting, puncture marks or slashes in odd spots across every plane of skin. Along with the dull pain that persists for weeks after, they leave Fitzroy feeling mangled and ugly. Like a porcelain doll shattered by a rowdy child, glued back together but never looking quite the way it once did. 
His friends have done a good job keeping his mind off the changes. Rainer comes over every week to repaint his nails and catch him up on what’s happening outside the safety of his room. She always extends the offer for him to meet at her place, but he always refuses. The wounds of what he did under the control of Chaos are still too fresh, and he’d rather spend months in solitude than force the people around him to relive through any of the destruction he caused. 
Buckminster and Leon (now restored to his human form) also visit with new cloaks and waistcoats for Fitzroy to try on; the excuse being they accidentally bought a size too small or large, even when the garments look ill-fitting for the pair at a glance. The brothers will then sit on Fitzroy’s bed and demand a fashion show, Leon politely clapping as Buckminster narrates each outfit with overabundant dramatics. They never ask for anything in return, nor will they accept the gold Fitzroy shoves into their hand each time. 
“It’s what friends are for!” Buckminster will say, patting Fitzroy on the back heartily (yet gently, so as to prevent any flare-ups of pain).  
Althea Song stopped by once, meekly peeking into Fitzroy’s room with a large bag in hand. He later found out the bag contained a number of hair and skin products for people with sensitivities. They spent the next hour smelling lotion scents and talking self-care. Admittedly, Fitzroy had pretty much stopped both his hair and skin routine after his faculties returned to him; the thought of even staring at himself in the mirror for that long gave him the shivers. So it was nice to have an excuse to start trying to mend the damages done to his body, even if he had to cover his mirror for the time being. At the end of her visit, Althea nervously extended her arms for a hug, which Fitzroy hesitantly allowed. The moment was a little tense, but overall nice. Althea murmured some encouragement that was lost to Fitzroy, who was too in his head to hear. 
Althea smelled of maple and charcoal. Just like his mother. 
It is a few days after this visit that Fitzroy sees something else, something he lost in all the constant red lines and marks. 
Blue roses, delicately painted along the skin of his left wrist. Marred by two lines of red, crossing out the pristine image permanently. 
The sight broke Fitzroy’s heart in twain. 
The tattoo was, admittedly, a bit of an impulsive decision. After spending nearly every day with the other two Thundermen, the roses on Argo’s right arm became a bit of a focal point for Fitzroy’s dazed stares. There were...quite a few reasons why his gaze always seemed to drift to the genasi, as loathe as Fitzroy was to admit to that, at first. But the roses were different; they were beautiful, matching Argo’s complexion perfectly and complimenting the rest of the art painted up that arm. After a while, the flower became synonymous with Argo. Fitzroy would pass by a rosebush and suddenly images of Argo’s sharp-toothed smile would flash through his head. He would smell rosewater and hear Argo’s boisterous laugh echo through his skull. The two became intertwined--land and sea, beauty and beauty. 
So, when Rhodes invited him to New Hope to touch up one of her forearm tattoos, he felt compelled to get the roses. It was only after the deed was done--artist paid, skin wrapped in a tight plastic, and instructions handed to him on how to care for the new ink--that Fitzroy realized how weird this was. Him and Argo weren’t even an item, yet! 
Not that they would be, or that Fitzroy even wanted them to, but-- 
You know what? Never mind. 
He couldn’t hide the tattoo forever, at the very least. The topic would have to be breached. Would Argo be offended that Fitzroy copied his tattoo without asking? Would he feel weird that they technically have matching tattoos? Would he...like it? Would he find it sweet or endearing that Fitzroy thought of him so much he wanted a tattoo to match?
After two weeks of hiding it and a week of teasing from Rainer (after she saw it during one of their study sessions), Fitzroy randomly showed it to Argo. He attempted to not be weird about it--simply rolling up his sleeves while he did homework with Argo in their common area--but Argo only noticed after a handful of dramatic coughs and awkward arm movements on Fitzroy’s end. Once he saw it, though, his eyes lit up with delight. He immediately reached out to grab Fitzroy’s wrist, leaning across the table to admire the artistry on his skin. The contact lit a fire in the pit of Fitzroy’s gut; a fire that continued to burn for months after.
A fire that doused in the wake of seeing his roses ruined. 
Instinct overrides rational thought as Fitzroy stands up from his bed, maimed wrist planted firmly at his side to hide the truth from his eyes. His legs carry him to Argo’s room, who was in bed studying. Argo’s head shoots up just as Fitzroy’s body leans and collapses into the embrace of the genasi. The tears unconsciously streaming down his face continue to fall as Argo’s arms come to envelop him. 
“F-Fitz? What’s goin’ on?” Argo asks, his voice gentle but concerned. Fitzroy hiccups a few sobs, feeling weak and helpless and utterly broken, as he leans back to show Argo his wrist. It takes a second for Argo to pinpoint the problem, but once he does he lets out a soft, “Oh.” 
“I-It’s broken,” Fitzroy whimpers, leaning his head onto Argo’s right shoulder. “I-I ruin--ruined i-it!” 
“Aw, no, hey,” Argo says, gently carding through Fitzroy’s platinum locks. “This isn’t your fault.” Fitzroy stubbornly shakes his head, face still pressed into Argo’s shoulder. 
“Y-Yes it is because I a-allowed them to do this to m-me.” Fitzroy’s voice warbles with his cries. “I-I wanted p-power, and they knew that, and th-they used me to g-get what they wanted because I didn’t stop them. A-And then they hurt you, and Master Firbolg, a-and Rainer, and the school, and the town, a-and nearly the world if--if you hadn't stopped them.” Every point of contact with the rogue is both a soothing salve and a knife to his skin. He burns with the broken, defeated rage of man with nothing. “A-And they’ve broken me, Argo! I--I can never return to normal, I can never be who I o-once was, I-I’m ruined!” 
“Hey!” Argo’s voice is stern, yet his touch is gentle as he pulls Fitzroy’s head off his shoulder to look him in the eye. It’s then Fitzroy can see the glimmer of tears in Argo’s eyes, along with the scattered lines of light-blue permanently streaked across his face. He moves the hand holding Fitzroy’s head to gently rub along his wrist, the other still firmly wrapped around his waist. Fitzroy’s mind unhelpfully provides only one thought: He’s beautiful. 
“‘M not gonna sit here and let ya kick yourself while yer already down, alright?” he continues. “I know this is all really...really hard for you t’handle. You spent--gods, felt like years, but was really only a couple’a months under Chaos’s control. And, yeah, things did get massively fucked because of that. But...But that wasn’t you!” 
“I-It was, though--” 
“--Will you let me finish?” Argo stares at Fitzroy until he sheepishly nods. “Thank you. What I was sayin’ was that the destruction wasn’t you! It was Chaos--they had most of the control of yer body during that time! And, sure, maybe you did allow them a little access in the beginning because y’wanted power. I-I get that, though! You...You didn’t have the nicest childhood. You’ve been constantly pushed down and made to feel lesser--so have I, if I’ll be honest. It’s a natural reaction to wanna get some power in return, to finally get what’s yours, as the saying goes. B-But you didn’t ask to be hurt like this. You didn’t ask to hurt me! Or anyone else! It just...it just happened. And we gotta just start...tryin’ to move beyond it, I guess. Not really a ‘live and let live’ situation, but more of a… ‘you got hurt and so did I, so let’s just try and move on together’ sorta thing...Y’get what I’m saying to ya, Fitzroy?” He carefully pulls Fitzroy’s wrist up and closer to his face so Fitzroy can see. 
“Yer not broken, Fitz. This,” he gently shakes Fitzroy’s arm to emphasize, “isn’t ruined. It’s just...new! A different take on life! A different take on art! But yer still you, Fitzroy, even with all the new. I still...I-I still think you’re gorgeous, if I’m, uh, bein’ honest. You, uh, always have been...to me…” The genasi’s cheeks flush as he breaks eye contact, bashfully looking towards the floor as the words flood Fitzroy’s head. It seems so silly--the smallest, most asinine fact out of Argo’s whole speech--but hearing Argo call him gorgeous makes the burning rage within turn to a melty, gooey, warm mass of fondness. 
“I...Thank you, Argo.” Fitzroy mutters, feeling his own blush start to climb up his face. “You, uh, you’ve always been...there for me. H-Helping me. And I, uh...truthfully, I do not know where I’d be if it was not for you and your kindness, and humor, and cunning...ness. And...you’re, uh...I-I think you’re handsome, as well.” The last part he’s barely able to get out of his mouth, but Argo still hears it because he looks back to Fitzroy. The half-elf smiles nervously and shrugs. “I...thought I made that obvious on several occasions, but, uh. I’ve always thought you were handsome.” 
Fitzroy and Argo’s relationship has been difficult to understand, to say the least. The two have been dancing intricate circles around the truth of their feelings for so long it feels almost like instinct. Yet, despite their hesitations, the pair have been drawing ever closer in their rotations. Now, in this moment--their bodies pressed close together, their hearts beating in unison--it’s natural what happens next. 
Argo smiles, full and big, and leans down to press a kiss to Fitzroy’s wrist. And Fitzroy, lost in the sensation, makes no move to pull away. 
They spend the rest of the day in this embrace, sharing few words and even fewer kisses. When the Firbolg finds them later that night, he smiles softly at the two wrapped in each other’s arms and quietly heads to his leaf bed. 
And when Fitzroy wakes that next morning, the first thing he sees is blue. Beautiful, beautiful blue. 
104 notes · View notes
thran-duils · 4 years
Text
Watch Me Burn (P1)
Title: Watch Me Burn (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x AU!Cas. Fem!Reader x AU!Sam. This fic was inspired by both parts of “Love the Way You Lie” by Eminem & Rihanna. Castiel and the reader are toxic for each other and keep falling back together until the reader moved away. It’s been years and now she is back home, waltzing back into Castiel’s life. She is determined to do better this time, to make them work, but outside forces as well as the scars the two have left on each other weave their way into their reconciliation. Will they be able to overcome the past and new threats to their sustainability? Words: 4,465 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Extreme angst, domestic violence, smut, unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, BDSM trust breaking, fluff, language, alcohol abuse, !!! eventual !!! happiness
Chapter 2 || Masterpost (mobile) || Fic masterpost
The bouncer at the door was different, not anyone that you knew. You wondered what had happened to Derrick, you had liked him. The new bouncer had eyed your shoulder bag and you asked if he wanted to look through it hardly keeping the condescension out of your voice. He had waved you through without batting an eye; the Prada bag and streamlined look of your outfit screamed elite, someone he could not fathom causing any real problems outside of acting like an entitled bitch if your drink order was messed up. Looks were deceiving but still, you knew he was probably wondering why someone like you was coming into this dive bar. You snorted, thinking fleetingly he might think you were from the health department.
The place was fairly busy for 8:00pm. It was Friday, yes, but peak hours typically began around 10:00pm. Granted, you had been gone for a handful of years, so who knows what else had changed besides the bouncer.
Your eyes landing on him behind the bar caused you to come to a stop in the middle of the walkway. The light in his eyes was only rivaled by the dazzling smile on his lips. He was as you remembered: illuminating, his presence a force to be reckoned with. He knew the layout of his bar like the back of his hand, moving effortlessly around the other bartender to get whatever liquor the patron had requested while simultaneously taking another drink order from another customer. More times than you could count, you had leaned over that same bar, demanding passing kisses from him.
He was the reason you were in this dive bar.
Exhaling deeply, trying to rid yourself of the anxiousness that had just hit you like a freight train at the mere sight of him, you pushed yourself forward. Finding an empty seat at the bar, you slid in, placing your purse on the bar by your feet, tucked against the wall. Pulling your notepad, cell phone, and pen out out, you placed it all on the counter. You planned to look as chill as possible when he did notice you – you hoped it was him that came to serve you, not the other – to have the upper hand in the situation. At least for a little bit.
Keeping your eyes down on your work, you tried to focus on your project that had been thrust into your lap when you had been transferred back here – home – from the headquarters in Austin.
You could not help it and you looked up. Which happened to be the exact moment his eyes shifted from a patron, his smile wide and joking, and fell on you. You saw the moment it registered with him; his smile faltered, melting away to shock. Brow furrowed, he stared at you and you stared back. You offered an uptick in your lips at the corner of your mouth, which gave him cause to walk forward, closing the space between the two of you.
“Cas,” you greeted lightly.
He leaned in over the bar towards you and asked over the music, “What are you doing here, Y/N?”
It was not accusatory; he was simply confused.
Playing it cool, you shrugged, “Grabbing a drink after work? Is that alright with you?”
“After work?”
“Yes. Transferred back here just this week. Haven’t even unpacked yet.”
“You serious?”
“Would I lie to you?”
“That’s a loaded question and you know it.”
You laughed and he did too, the ice slowly beginning to melt.
“I’m serious,” you told him sincerely. “I’m back. And I came back to old stomping grounds.”
His eyes raked over you, lingering on your lips. He met your eyes again, slowly beginning to nod as he asked, “You still drink the same?”
Biting your bottom lip, you pierced him with a flirtatious gaze. Leaning in towards him in return, you said, “Make it a double.”
This time his eyes were alight only for you. “You got it, angel.”
Your eyes followed him as he mixed your drink, smirking every time he snuck a glance at you as if he was expecting you to disappear. He was as fit as ever, his strong arms tight in his shirt and round ass accentuated by his black jeans. You swore he had even more tattoos than the last time you had seen him – no, he definitely did. He had not had his left sleeve completed when you had left and there it was, looking pristine. You would have to critique the new additions up close and personal.
He brought your drink back over and you held out your card to him between your index and middle finger.
“It’s—” Castiel started to say.
“Just take the damn card. I need to flex somehow and show how successful I became,” you cut in.
Castiel chuckled, taking the card from you. “Open, I’m assuming?”
“Me or the card?” you quipped.
His eyes crinkled and retorted, “I think that answers that.”
“It sure does.”
Pushing away from the counter, Castiel said, “I’ll check back in.”
You watched him walk away, eyes zeroed in unabashedly on his backside, bringing the glass up to your lips and taking a swig. Oh, yeah. He never skimped you on the alcohol.
Smacking your lips, you picked your pen back up.
Only a few minutes passed before someone leaned on the bar beside you, closer than what was comfortable. Looking up, you found a younger woman leaning on her elbow, looking down at you with disdain.
“Is there something I can help you with?” you questioned, raising your brows.
“Yeah, there is,” the woman said. “You’re making yourself comfortable with someone who isn’t available.’
Clearing your throat, you placed your pen down again. Jesus, Castiel. Who was he sleeping with now?
“Is that so?”
“Stop flirting with him.”
“On the contrary, he was flirting with me.”
The woman let out a bark of a laugh void of humor, “Right. Yes. He is naturally flirty. He is a bartender, it’s what he does and it’s how he gets tips. Don’t be fooled into thinking it’s something more.”
The nerve of this idiot. If she only knew…
“Well, let’s make a deal,” you proposed, staring up at her with seriousness. “I’ll stop flirting. But, if I do, you gotta promise to not completely lose your shit when I go home with him still.”
Scoffing, the girl pushed herself up to stand tall. “I was trying to be polite about this, you bit—”
She was cut off by an all too familiar voice.
“Y/N. You are absolutely the last person I was expecting to see when I walked into this shithole tonight,” Maureen crowed from beside the pair of you.
You held the woman’s glare for a few more moments before tearing your gaze away to look at the aged woman. Maureen was one of Castiel’s regulars and it seems she was as regular as ever because she greeted the other woman, “Aspen.”
Her attention was back on you and your face broke into a smile trying to ignore the annoyance rolling around in the pit of your stomach, “Maureen, it’s been a long time.”
“It has,” she nodded in agreement. “What are you doing here? Trip?”
Shaking your head, you said, “No. I moved back.” You did not miss the slight twitch in Maureen’s face and you almost smirked in response. Almost. “Transferred back downtown. Same company, just better pay here for my position.”
“That’s wonderful,” Maureen said smiling but her smile did not quite reach her eyes.
She knew way too much about the past and you did not blame her for her reluctance to be truly happy about the news.
“You’ve said hi to Castiel, then, I’m assuming.”
“Yep,” you told her. You held up your glass and took a long drink. “Still remembered the regular. He has the memory of an elephant.”
Maureen chuckled, “He sure does. Aspen, want to accompany me over to the other side of the bar to wave them down for a couple shots? On me of course.”
Aspen was still glaring daggers through you, growing more and more upset with the unveiling of this friendly relationship between you and Maureen. You surmised she was quickly realizing you were more than just a woman who happened to just wander into the bar by chance tonight.
“Fine. Yeah, that sounds good,” Aspen finally said after what felt like forever. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”
It was anything but a pleasure by the tone of her voice.
“Likewise.”
“I’ll be seeing you around,” Maureen told you and you nodded in acknowledgment.
The two of them walked off and you glared at Aspen’s back. What a conceited, entitled bitch. Now you were more determined than ever to take Castiel home tonight.
“Not that I have to try hard,” you muttered to yourself, picking your pen up for the third time tonight to try to focus on your report.
<> <> <>
At the other end of the bar, Maureen turned Aspen towards her and demanded, “What were you talking to Y/N for?”
“She was flirting with Cas!” Aspen spat at her. “And how the hell do you know her?”
Sighing loudly, Maureen said, “She used to live here.”
“I gathered that much.”
“Hey, cut the attitude. I’m trying to help you!” Maureen retorted, her tone tight. “Give Castiel space tonight. Trust me.”
“Okay, I—”
“You are sleeping with Castiel. Casually. Right? Unless something has changed recently?” Aspen’s silence spoke volumes and Maureen leaned in closer. “Trust me. Even if Castiel is a good lay, that –” she shot a look across the bar in Y/N’s direction. “Is not worth whatever drama you are going to be drowning in trying to hold onto his bed.”
“So, they’re a thing?” Aspen demanded.
Chuckling darkly, Maureen told her, “A ‘thing’ would be an understatement. Her and Castiel are absolutely toxic for each other. But, you know, like most toxic relationships, the two dancing just can’t seem to stay away from each other, no matter how many times they get burned or the damage they inflict on each other. No one can keep them apart from each other if they don’t want to be. And I’m going to guess – not to hurt your damn feelings – that Castiel is going to be occupied tonight.”
Aspen flicked her gaze to Castiel and jealously licked at her insides seeing him watching Y/N as he worked, his interest evident even as she was merely bent over her notebook writing away.
“We’ll see about that,” Aspen told Maureen.
Maureen groaned and waved her off, “Fine, if you won’t heed my word.”
Aspen pushed her way to the bar and pulled her shirt down, exposing the tops of her breasts before leaning on the bar.
“Hey, Cas,” she called sweetly as he neared.
Castiel gave her a smile, “Hey, Aspen. What can I grab you?”
“Uh, two shots of whiskey. On Maureen’s tab.”
Cocking an eyebrow, Castiel asked, “Maureen know about that?”
“Of course. I’m not a thief,” Aspen giggled, leaning further in.
Castiel set to pouring the shots, flipping the glasses onto the counter. “Well?” Aspen nodded and he teased, “Well, at least you’re a considerate thief if you are one. That’ll be a lesser dent in the bill.”
Aspen laughed at this and bit her lip, watching him put the bottle back down. He placed the shot glasses in front of her and she asked, “What are you up to tonight?”
Castiel froze only for a moment but she saw it, and in that moment knew that what Maureen said was right.
Clearing his throat, Castiel said, “I’ve got plans.”
“With what?” she pressed.
Fixing her with a gaze, Castiel said, “Stuff, Aspen.”
Clenching her jaw, Aspen picked up the shot glasses from the counter. “Right. Sorry that I asked.” Before Castiel could say anything else, she turned on her heel.
“So?” Maureen asked.
“Shut up and take this with me,” Aspen snapped, handing her the shot glass.
<> <> <>
A couple hours passed, small talk shared between you and Castiel in-between customers. He refilled your drink twice. You explained you were working on a report and he teased, asking if you could do it accurately with that much alcohol in you. You retorted to not underestimate your functioning alcoholism.
When he appeared again, he held out a fourth drink.
“This one is on the house.”
“I already told you –”
“Hey, I gotta be able to flex too right?”
Relenting, you took it from him. “Is this the only thing I’m getting from you tonight, Cas?”
“Absolutely not if you keep looking at me like that.”
Castiel’s smile was wolfish as he turned away from you and you felt butterflies. It was getting close to midnight. You hoped it was still true he never stayed past midnight, leaving that to his employees to finish up the last couple hours and close up the bar.
Aspen was at the bar again trying to talk to Castiel and you rolled your eyes watching the scene unfold. She looked far drunker than when she had spoken to you. It was blatant that she was flirting with him and becoming frustrated with his lack of reciprocity. And soon she was speaking loudly, and you doubted anyone in the bar was unable to hear the conversation from her end at least.
“Are you fucking serious?” she exclaimed over the music, her hands planted on the counter.
Two other women – Maureen was nowhere in sight – were at her back, trying to pull her away from the bar.
Castiel shook his head, ignoring her as he turned around and began punching on his cash register. Aspen was still trying to talk to him, but he was zeroed in on cashing her out.
He placed her card and the receipt in front of her with a pen. “Oh, fuck you, Castiel,” she slurred, snatching up her card. “I’m not leaving you a f-fucking,” she hiccupped. “Tip.”
Castiel said something in return, by reading his lips it was something along the lines of, “That’s fine. Just go home.”
“I’m not going the fuck home, Castiel. You’re being a jerk. I’ll find another bar.”
The women were trying to corral her away from the bar to the door no doubt.
She was resisting her friends, trying to get her credit card into her purse as they pushed her along. “Telling me I’m drunk. Kicking me the fuck out? Who the hell does he think he is?”
Aspen spotted you staring at her out of everyone else who was watching, and she pointed at you. “And that’s the fucking SLUT right there!”
Eyes were zeroed in on you now and despite yourself, you felt heat creeping up your neck.
“Latonya, get her home, will you?” Castiel called out and one of the girls helping her along promised Castiel she would, which made Aspen start swearing at her now as they forced her out the door onto the street. The bouncer moved into the doorway in case she decided to try to come back in.
“Jesussss. Haven’t seen her that drunk in a long while,” Maureen sounded from beside you and you jumped.
“Christ, Maureen. Announce yourself or something, huh?” you snapped, picking up your drink and taking a long drink trying to forget that you had just been called out in front of an entire bar by a drunken floozy.
“You’re already causing waves and you’ve only just returned,” Maureen told you, leaning in and you smelled the beer on her breath.
“I can see that,” you said sourly.
Maureen laughed before leaving you alone again. Scowling, you downed the rest of your drink, now praying Castiel was leaving soon so you could get out of here.
He was approaching you and told you sincerely, “Sorry about that.”
“Nice friend you have there.”
“I think you know what that was.”
“Sure do. Apparently, I’ve got competition.”
“I wouldn’t call it that.”
Snorting, you asked, “Right. Speaking of that, you still in the same spot?” Castiel pointed at the ceiling and you smiled. “Good. We don’t have to go far. When I said I hadn’t unpacked, I should have said that I haven’t because all my shit is in storage still and I’m staying at a hotel currently.”
It was Castiel’s turn to snort. “I would think you would try to look for a place before moving back.”
“I mean, I did. But then I thought that I might already have a place…” The alcohol was making you bolder to divulge your true thoughts.
Castiel caught your meaning. “That was mighty presumptuous of you.”
“I guess,” you shrugged sheepishly. “But then again, I thought I would already be on my back on the stockroom floor by now too.”
Castiel’s eyes flashed and you knew that had tipped things in your favor.
“Don’t leave. I’m off in a few. I’ll close your tab out.”
“Whatever you say,” you told him flirtatiously.
<> <> <>
You barely recognized his room when you stumbled in. Gone were the collection of beer cans and alcohol bottles, his ash tray was not in sight. Clothes were strewn around the room but there was a sense of cleanliness that was foreign to you. He had bought a proper bed, his mattress no longer on the floor. A large area rug covered the floor and you did not doubt that if you lifted the edge of it you would find the stains on the cream carpet where the two of you had spilled so many of your drinks and late night snacks.
His walls held proper framed posters; he had a lamp now, the only light illuminating the room right now. It was grown up. You had been surprised to see how tidy the rooms outside his room were and that had been jarring, but you had been sure you would find familiarity in here of all places.
“What are you looking at?” Castiel asked from behind you, his hands finding your sides, caressing.
“Where did my messy Cas go?” You asked turning in his arms, smiling up at him.
“You approve?” he murmured, kissing down your nose, his touches becoming deeper, squeezing you now to him.
You did. Really. It was a good change.
“Mhm, as long as you haven’t cleansed everything about yourself,” you teased, returning his nuzzle. Pulling away, you turned away from him again, tearing off your shirt and tossing it carelessly on the floor.
Castiel’s hands were at your bra before you could reach it, undoing the back without hesitation. He turned you around forcibly again and he grasped your face with one hand, yanking you to him, his lips crashing into yours. Your touches and clutches were desperate, wanting to explore every crevice and remember every curve of the other’s body that you had been deprived of for so long.
You fell into each other naturally, muscle memory helping you melt into the embrace. It felt like home.
His fingers were on the button of your jeans, tugging them down and you helped him kick them off.
Kneeling on the midnight blue, shag rug, Castiel kissed the hem of your thong above your sex before biting down. He pulled it down long enough to expose the top of your folds and he moaned lightly, inhaling. Hands on the sides he yanked the thong down your legs, tossing it aside when it was free.
Your leg hooked over his shoulder and his hot breath met you. His tongue was tantalizing, causing your fingers to grip his hair to pull him closer to encourage him to go deeper. His chuckle against your sex sent shivers through you and he obliged. A soft moan left you, closing your eyes to push yourself further into the sensation. Throwing your head back against the wall, you held onto Castiel’s head as his tongue explored your wet folds.
Castiel’s hands gripped your ass tight, holding you in place as he curled the coil in your core tighter and tighter with each passing second. A rough suck at your nub drew a cry and he flattened his tongue, licking you from bottom to top before delving inside. You rocked your hips as his speed increased chasing the high that was just out of your reach.
You were so close.
Then he pulled away and you exhaled in disappointment.
“You got something to say?” Castiel husked, staring up at you.
You remembered all your training. You nodded fervently, “Please, sir. I want to cum!”
“That’s my good girl,” Castiel growled before diving back in.
Shaking, you braced yourself as you came on his tongue. You rode his face through your climax, and he did not relent until you were done.
Castiel pulled away, his lips glistening. “That was a good one, angel.” You nodded breathless and he simpered in approval at your exhaustion. “Come down here while you’re still good and wet for me.”
You let him pull you down to the ground and Castiel climbed on top of you, smothering you with wanton kisses. His knees barred your legs from moving, holding you in place as he left a wet trail of nips down your neck to your breasts. You gasped when his teeth bit at your nipple, sucking it into his mouth.
“On your side,” he ordered you and you rolled over as he worked on freeing himself from his jeans.
When he slid in from behind, you held tight to his arms, moaning in tandem as you stretched around him. Castiel held your leg up as he built his pace. He was going to leave marks on your neck, and you did not give a shit. His hand slipped down to your pussy, rubbing your clit in tandem with his thrusts.
“Mhm, yes!” you groaned, arching your back.
“Who’s my good girl?” he growled against your ear.
“Me, sir!”
Your fingers dug into the rug, giving grounding as Castiel plummeted into you. He husked titillating things into your ear as he brushed your core, his speed on your nub increasing. You praised him, thanking him for fucking you so well, begging him to cum inside, and he groaned in pleasure.
Skin rubbing against the fibers of the rug, your breath quickened, begging Castiel to not stop.
Castiel’s arm locked against you when you clenched around him and he followed shortly after with a loud shout, emptying himself inside you. You keened feeling him twitch inside, relishing in his tight grip.
Relaxing back against him, you craned your neck to see him.
“Are we sleeping here?”
“No,” Castiel said sounding sleepy. “I’ll have you in a proper bed soon, angel, despite how comfortable this rug is. Just give me a minute more to relish in you.”
How you missed him and this. It was times like now that made you almost forget.
Almost.
You looked around the dimly lit room, trying to relax your breathing further.
Eyes landing near on the wall, you noticed the drywall was fixed on the right side of the bathroom, and memory seeped in. You remembered that fight in vivid spurts, the alcohol blotting out some of the other moments that had escalated tensions...
Castiel followed you into the room on your tail. Haphazardly, you threw his jacket off of you onto the ground, moving to go to the bathroom to take a shower in a vain attempt to maybe sober yourself up a little. You kept chastising him over your shoulder though, mocking him. “Oh, you’re a real fucking man, Castiel! You beat up a guy two inches shorter than you! And for what? Cause he asked me to dance?”
Castiel’s grip on your wrist was like a vice and you cried out, half in anger and half in annoyance.
“No, Y/N, because you had to go grind on him!” Castiel spat at you, his nose inches from yours.
“Jealous much? Can’t even let me fucking dance with someone else without going alpha.” You leaned in, scoffing. “You’re fucking crazy, Cas.”
“You did it on fucking PURPOSE, Y/N! To piss me off!”
“And?” you laughed shrilly, yanking away from him the split second he stared at you flabbergasted and picked up your beer can from the night before on his nightstand and taking a large swig. The beer was slapped out of your hand, spilling the contents on you and onto the carpet. “What the—” was all you got out before Castiel shoved you up against the wall.
“Well, it fucking worked. So, what now, Y/N?” He shouted in your face. “Huh? What was your big fucking plan! Tell me!”
Recovering, you donned a self-satisfied mask, not wanting him to get the better of you. Throwing your hands out sheepishly, you told him, “I just like winding you up. Sometimes it makes the sex better.”
Rage radiated off of him as he let out a half laugh, his smile more ferocious than anything. You barely registered his face drop before he cocked his arm back, his fist breaking through the drywall right next to your head.
“That how angry you like to make me?” He resumed yelling in your face, and you could not hide your shock, your mouth falling open. “Too far? Right there? You tell me, you manipulative bitch!”
Fury tore through you now that he even dared to do that. “Oh, you wanna hit me now, you asshole? Is that it?”
“Oh, fuck off, Y/N!” Castiel snarled at you, turning away from you, his fist white from the debris falling from the hole.
“You don’t just get to walk off now!”
“Back off!” Castiel shouted at you over his shoulder, walking out of the bedroom and slamming the door behind him so roughly it shook the frame.
Your hand was on the door handle, throwing it open to follow him. You were not finished with him yet…
It was patched like it had never happened, your memory serving as the only evidence it had ever been broken in the first place. Your eyes traveled around the room, taking in the memories from each corner of this room where you had spent such a substantial time. Each crevice held a memory, some good, some bad.
The past would not determine the future, you told yourself firmly. You would not let it.
Castiel had fallen asleep on the rug even though he had said he was not going to. Reaching up, you tugged the folded blanket off the end of the bed and threw it around the pair of you.
You snuggled in closer to him, holding onto his arm tightly, willing yourself to fall asleep comfortably in his arms.
Tumblr media
pic source (i know that pinterest is the *least* source reliable but that’s where I found it!)
~~~
CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love​ @perseusandmedusa​ @greenappleeyes​ @afanofmanystuffs​ @earthtokace​ @shikaros-blog​ @marisayouass​ @splendidcas​
33 notes · View notes
hartigays · 5 years
Note
Harringrove sleepover where they are high and play truth or dare... maybe some truths or secrets slip.. maybe some first kisses happen..
(i’m gonna do this one first because high boys give me LIFE)
steve takes the joint billy has handed to him, taking a long hit before passing it back.
“we should do something,” he comments. he’s laying on the floor, staring up at billy’s ceiling. billy sits on the couch in front of his fireplace, puffing on the joint.
it’s neil and susan’s wedding anniversary, so they’re both out of town for the weekend. this is actually the first time steve’s ever been allowed to see the inside of billy’s house. he was surprised when billy had called at all, asking if he was down to come smoke.
kind of a stupid question, really. steve is always down smoke.
“well. what do you suggest, stevie boy?” billy asks. he’s sprawled out on the couch, one arm slung over the side.
steve plucks the joint from his fingertips, bringing it to his lips and breathing in deep. “hm. we could play a game?”
billy laughs a little, sitting up to peer at him over the side of the couch. “are we fuckin’ six years old, harrington?”
“truth or dare is always fun. it’s a game for all ages.”
the look billy gives him is a mixture of judgmental, and considering. he finally shrugs, taking the joint from steve’s outstretched hand.
it’s starting to get late, and neil hadn’t felt the need to keep the heat up very high while they’re gone, even if it’s the dead of winter. so billy shuffles around, moving the couch and getting a fire going. by the time they make themselves comfortable at opposite ends of the couch, the joint is finished.
steve is comfortably warm and high. he burrows deeper into the couch cushions, shooting billy an appreciative smile.
“you go first, i guess,” billy says after a moment.
he’s lounging casually at the other end of the couch. the fire casts a soft orange glow over billy’s skin, making him look even more warm and inviting. steve clears his throat, looking away quickly.
“okay. truth or dare?” steve starts, still staring at the fire.
“hm. i’ll go with truth.”
steve pauses, thinking for a moment, trying to work his way through the high, fuzzy state of his brain for a reasonable question. there’s a lot of things steve wants to ask, but none of them would be appropriate, exactly. so he settles on something safe.
“what’s your biggest pet peeve?” he asks, finally pulling his eyes back to billy. he finds the other boy staring right back, unbothered.
“loud breathers,” billy says easily. “my turn. truth or dare?”
“loud breathers?” steve repeats, huffing out a laugh. “interesting. okay, i guess i’ll go with truth, too.”
“do you currently have a crush on anyone?” billy asks, almost immediately. he has an unreadable look on his face. steve feels himself flush.
“um. yes?” he answers after a beat, his gaze flickering back over to the fire. “okay, back to you. truth or dare.”
billy disregards his question, simply asking, “who?”
“that’s not how it works,” steve argues, rolling his eyes. deflecting hard. “truth. or dare?”
“fine,” billy complains, making a face. “i’ll go with truth again.”
“what’s your guilty pleasure?”
again, billy answers without missing a beat. “strawberry ice cream. you again, pretty boy. truth or dare.”
“well,” steve says, giving billy a knowing look. “since i know you’re going to ask me who my crush is, i’m going with dare.”
“fine by me. i dare you to tell me who your crush is.”
and okay, steve hadn’t been expecting that. “that is so not fair.”
“rules are rules. gotta take the dare, or change your choice to truth,” billy tells him, one brow arched. challenging.
steve is starting to wish, just a little bit, that he hadn’t suggested this at all. he’s just stupid and stoned, too relaxed and comfortable to think about the fact that he has way too many secrets to play a game that depends primarily on revealing them.
“why are you so interested in who i like?” steve asks, a challenge of his own.
“why are you avoiding the question?”
and okay, he can’t exactly argue with that. but he will anyway. “because it’s not like you’d even know him. i mean - her. jesus, the hell kind of weed did you get this time?”
“same as always,” billy tells him. his head is cocked to the side, curious. steve wishes he could use his hand and wipe the smirk right off of his face. “but fine. different dare. i dare you to tell me one of your deepest secrets.”
there’s a lot of options that come to mind. the primary ones being i sometimes fight monsters and i think boys are just as cute as girls and sometimes i think no one is ever going to love me.
instead, steve goes with, “okay. okay, when i was eight, i melted my neighbor’s barbie dolls. i was trying to see if they would melt faster than those little plastic soldiers. the little green ones, you know?”
“and how is this a deep secret?”
“because,” steve insists, “her family came around asking if i’d seen them. i lied and told them i’d seen one of the other neighbor kids messing around in their yard. they went over there and started a big commotion when the kid denied ever being over there in the first place. those families still have beef to this day.”
billy stares at him for a moment, then tosses his head back, his whole body shaking as he laughs. when he sobers, he gives steve a crooked smile. “you’re evil, harrington. you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“i’m headed straight for hell,” steve agrees, grinning a little himself. they’re quiet for a moment, before steve speaks again. “back to you, hargrove. truth or dare?”
“i guess i’ll mix it up this time,” billy says. “dare.”
steve hums thoughtfully, then settles on something he’s been curious about for a while. “i dare you to let me see your necklace.”
billy blinks. “my necklace?”
“yeah. the one you always wear.”
another beat of silence. and then billy shrugs, pushing himself up and shifting closer. steve does the same, moving until their knees knock. billy reaches into he collar of his hoodie, pulling out the necklace and moving to take it off.
steve stops him. “you don’t have to. i just wanted to look at it for a second.”
he takes the pendant from between billy’s fingers. it’s in pristine condition; it practically shines in the light from the fire. steve takes in all the details, running his thumb over the face of it before tucking it safely back into billy’s sweatshirt. he’s always been curious about it. it’s a pretty design, and he’s never seen billy without it on. he figures there’s some sort of story there, and wonders if billy would let him hear it.
when he looks up, his breath catches a little. he’d forgotten they’d moved so close, and billy’s face is dangerously close to steve’s. so close that steve can see every freckle on billy’s nose. it makes his heart flutter, just a little bit.
“truth or dare?” billy asks. his voice is a low rumble, and steve thinks he might be staring at his mouth.
but that’s crazy. steve shakes his head a little, trying to snap himself out of it. he’s still high off his ass, so he can’t be sure he’s not just imagining things. in fact, he’s pretty sure he is. his mind is still cloudy and billy’s so close, he’s clearly just seeing things that aren’t there.
“truth.”
“does your crush go to school with us?” billy asks, a small smile playing on his lips.
steve groans. “this again? seriously?” billy just looks at him expectantly. “fine, christ. yes. your turn.”
“truth. ask me something good.”
“i’ve got something good,” steve says after taking a pause to think. “do you currently have a crush?”
“i do,” billy answers. his voice is easy and cool. and he’s definitely staring at steve’s mouth now, his eyes still glassy and heavily lidded. “‘s all you again, stevie.”
steve has no idea what to make of that. but his heart rate kicks up a bit, his palms starting to sweat.
“you want to keep playing?” he asks finally. he’s desperately hoping the answer will be no, but something inside of him is screaming to keep going.
“absolutely.”
it’s the finality of it that throws steve off. his head is spinning a bit, his high mind trying to catch up with the current situation.
“i’ll do another dare,” steve answers. “gotta keep it consistent, i guess.”
“let me think,” billy says, looking a little thoughtful. then he gets a mischievous look on his face. “i dare you to describe what your crush looks like.”
steve chokes on his own spit, spluttering a bit. he has no idea what to say to that. he could always just lie, pick some random girl from one of his classes and use her description. but he has a feeling billy would see right through that.
“i, um,” steve stammers, his cheeks heating up. “h-she. she has um. curly, uh - curly hair. blue eyes.”
billy keeps looking at him, his expression still open. playful. he raises his brows. “and? gotta give me more than that, harrington.”
steve is starting to wonder what billy’s playing at, when it hits him. billy is toying with him. why? steve isn’t sure, but he sighs and continues on anyway, kind of wanting to see where this leads.
“um, okay. she’s a little shorter than me. feistier, too. she’s uh, she’s got freckles in cute places, you know? and she just got this tattoo recently. really cool design.”
and now steve knows he’s said way too much. his mouth snaps shut so quickly that his teeth crack together. but with the look billy is giving him - something heated and intense - it barely even registers.
“she sounds cute,” billy decides after a moment.
“uh. yeah, she is. yup.” steve’s flush spreads from his cheeks all the way down his neck. “back, um. back to you. truth or dare?”
“dare. c’mon, do your worst.”
steve is still trying to wrap his head around everything. so he doesn’t have it in him to think too hard, and just blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “same as my dare. describe your crush.”
“well,” billy starts, staring directly into steve’s eyes. “he’s tall. taller than me. dumber, though. but that’s okay. it’s cute. he’s got these big brown eyes, all doe-eyed and shit. drives me nuts. and his hair? fuckin’ hell. never seen someone with so much hair in my life. but it’s perfect, all the time. i dunno how he does it. and his mouth, fuck. i would look at it all goddamn day if i could.”
his brain short circuits. that’s the best way steve can describe it. all he manages to squeak out is a pathetic, “he?”
“that’s not how it works,” billy says, imitating steve from earlier. but his eyes are sparkling and he’s practically fucking beaming. “truth or dare?”
“i - it just - you just -” steve stutters, tripping over his words.
“c’mon steve. you gotta pick one.” this time, when billy speaks, he’s a little breathless. his eyes are zeroed in on steve’s mouth again. he sounds a little wrecked, like he’s hanging on the precipice of something.
“i...dare?”
“i dare you to kiss me,” billy blurts, immediately.
steve freezes, his eyes now locked with billy’s. in his peripheral, he can see the rapid rise and fall of billy’s chest. and then he’s leaning in, because, as his stoned brain reminds him, it is a dare, and he’s not about to pussy out now.
he’ll worry about the real reason he’s following through with the dare later.
for now, steve just shifts foward, closing the distance between them. the first touch of his lips to billy’s is like an electric shock, but pleasant. billy gasps a little, seemingly involuntarily, one hand coming up to tangle in steve’s hair.
the movement makes steve feel a little bolder. he presses his lips to billy’s firmly, insistently. kisses billy slow at first, soft and tender. he feels the warmth of his high still rolling through him in waves, and combined with the feeling of billy’s lips against his, he feels like he’s floating.
when steve moves one of his hands, bringing it up to cup billy’s jaw, billy lets out what sounds like a soft whimper. and that has steve deepening the kiss, his other hand threading through billy’s curls and pulling him closer. he licks into billy’s mouth, trying to memorize every square inch of him. in case he never gets to do this again.
steve breaks away from billy’s lips. trails a line of gentle kisses along the stubble of billy’s jaw, up to his ear. he presses a sweet kiss to billy’s earlobe, delighting in the shiver it elicits. he pulls the sensitive skin between his teeth, biting gently. smiles when he hears that familiar sharp intake of breath, billy’s hands moving to grab steve’s shoulders, clinging to him tightly.
“god,” billy sighs when steve releases his skin from between his teeth, tucking himself into billy’s neck. “i thought you were never going to do that.”
steve pulls back and gapes at him. “wait. you knew the whole time?”
“duh. you’re shit at keeping secrets, steve,” billy says, huffing out an endearing laugh. “i knew you would never tell. not without, you know. a little push.”
“you could’ve just said something.”
billy gives him a coy smile. “but where’s the fun in that?”
steve huffs out a small noise of exasperation, but before he can say anything, billy’s lips are on his again. all the fight drains out of him and steve melts at the touch, sighing happily.
he can whine at billy any other time. right now, all he wants to do is kiss the boy beneath him until he’s dizzy.
so that’s exactly what he does.
671 notes · View notes
thinkingdelicately · 4 years
Link
Tumblr media
❤️ cover art: @hemaris​
part one: falling in love
sweet disposition / the temper trap
so stay there / ‘cause i’ll be coming over / and while our blood’s still young / it’s so young, it runs / and won’t stop ‘til it’s over / won’t stop to surrender
so i, uh, took him back to my place.
movement / hozier
when you move / i can recall somethin' that's gone from me / when you move / honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free
even his smile is unbefitting for a thief. it’s so naive. with every flicker of feeling, that smile shifts, daring a confident second in the sun, then hiding away behind his lips, then peeking again. you can read a man’s soul with a smile like that, can see his every hope and fear and love.
pink in the night / mitski
i glow pink in the night in my room / i've been blossoming alone over you...and i know i’ve kissed you before / but i didn’t do it right / can i try again try again try again / and again and again and again
you know, juno, call me a fool if you like, but i think i may have fallen in love with you.
run away with me / carly rae jepsen
packing a bag, we're leaving tonight when everyone's sleeping, sleeping / let's run away, i'll run away with you / 'cause you make me feel like i could be driving you all night / and i'll find your lips in the street lights / i wanna be there with you
it could be so simple. you can leave hyperion city behind; i’ll leave my powerful friends behind. we'll sell the mask and live a life of thrills and decadence across the galaxy, always running, never looking back. we could have quite a time together, juno. who knows what kind of trouble we could cause.
fuck em only we know / banks
i know exactly just how many kisses fit between your eyes / i'd run away, i'd run away if you would join with me / oh i could be a little grumpy, but hold on / just wanna tell you that i see you, baby, do you see me?
you’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me...you make me feel like maybe it’s all worth it. like maybe there’s something out there worth seeing.
just like heaven / the cure
i'll run away with you...you, soft and only / you lost and lonely / you, strange as angels / dancing in the deepest oceans, twisting in the water / you're just like a dream
his face was lean, but soft, with a cherub's smile and a fox's teeth. he looked like he was happy to see me and like he'd be just as happy to kill me if push came to shove. it wasn't unpleasant, all things considered.
part two: falling apart
gunshot / lykke li
and the shot goes through my head and back / gunshot, can't take it back / my heart cracked, really loved you bad / gunshot, i'll never get you back
i am alone. i will not forget that again.
seasons (waiting on you) / future islands
as it breaks, the summer will warm / but the winter will crave what has gone, will crave what has all gone away / i've been waiting on you
because the future can wait. that is all the future is, in fact: moments in wait, time whose time has not yet come. and in fact, if you are disciplined enough, the future can wait indefinitely.
a little lost / sufjan stevens
oh i'm a little lost without you / that may be an understatement / and i hope your feeling hasn't gone / i hope you need somebody in your life / someone like me / ‘cause i'm so busy, i'm so busy / thinking ‘bout kissing you / i’m so busy, i’m so busy / thinking ‘bout touching you
i said i needed you.
supercut / lorde
so i fall into continents and cars / all the stages and the stars / i turn all of it to just a supercut / 'cause in my head (in my head, i do everything right) / when you call (when you call, i'll forgive and not fight) / because ours (are the moments I play in the dark) / we were wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart
i just keep thinking about that night, and there was this second in the doorway, and it lasted so long i feel like part of me’s still there...
night shift / lucy dacus
i feel no need to forgive but i might as well / but let me kiss your lips so i know how it felt / pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down / walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell
walking into the same trap twice...i wouldn’t be here if i had any other options. you got me? (oh, i got you, juno.) that’s what scares me.
pristine / snail mail
i could be anyone but i’m so entwined / and out of everyone / who’s on your mind? / no more changes / i’ll still love you the same
i thought i was done with him, but...i’m not.
no promises / san fermin
hey honey, are you giving up? / hey honey, you look a little tired now / i won't promise you if you follow me around / i won't let you down, i won't let you down / been wandering, who's to say if we'll be found / no promises, no promises
wish i had that much faith in me. feels like you could fix the whole damn galaxy, with someone looking at you that way.
part three: falling together
tattoo / kevin abstract
they say I threw my life away / no shit, I threw my life away...told a lie and i’m sorry / let me make it up at the football game / pick you up in the morning...who was i when i was lonely?
i really want to get better, maybe for the first time in my life...and i'm just so scared that it's too late and everyone’s already smartened up and gone.
come into the water / mitski
i didn't know i had a dream / i didn't know until I saw you / so would you tell me if you want me? / ‘cause i can't move until you show me
you’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me...you make me feel like maybe it’s all worth it. like maybe there’s something out there worth seeing.
still into you / paramore
i should be over all the butterflies / but i'm into you, i’m into you / and baby even on our worst nights / i'm into you, i'm into you...yeah after all this time / i'm still into you
it’d take weeks for that smell to fade. i’ve missed it ever since.
don’t delete the kisses / wolf alice
a few days pass since i last saw you / and you have taken over my mind / i'm re-telling jokes you made that made me laugh / pretending that they're mine
he’s been...partnered with a super thief who he finds quite distracting.
if one of us wasn’t so distracting (a vision in gold and light)
do you / spoon
do you want to get understood? / oh, do you want one thing or are you looking for sainthood? / do you run when it's just getting good?
i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i just keep hurting people one after the other and i just have to think it’s all for something, y’know? it’s all gonna be worth it.
utopia / lykke li
i see the dream in your eyes and i want it / it's burning bright like a fire from a comet / if there's a bomb in your heart i'll disarm it / if you want it then i want it / we could be utopia, utopia
nureyev sleeps deeply, like someone who knows the tomorrow he’s waking up to will be worth showing up for. lying next to him, i feel that way too. and suddenly, desperately, i want to chase a future of that feeling every single day. with him.
show you / baby rose
tell me, baby, how you like me now? / god, i'm hurting for you, there's no easy way out / if i knew then all the things i know now, now / so many things i gotta say, but i wanna show you / so many words get in the way, but i wanna show you
show your heart through your deeds
all in / sun airway
and you think you know me / you know me all right / all in faith, all in good time / once you said you loved me / you never said it twice / all in good faith, all in good time
that name is very nearly my only weakness. and i’m risking it all—here, on you.
sea of love / cat power
come with me my love / to the sea, the sea of love / i wanna tell you how much i love you
i meant every word I said, juno. it will be quite an adventure. i'll be waiting for you to join me.
❤️ i recommend listening in order, but i also recommend living your life ❤️
83 notes · View notes
Text
Metamorphosis {Toni Topaz x Reader Oneshot}
Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2350 Notes: Implied sexuality.
The classroom was warm from both the air conditioning being broken, and the many teenage bodies that filled it. Toni wondered how full this place had been in before she and the rest of the South Siders came over here. She used the worksheet in front of her to fan her face, and moved her hair away from her sweaty neck. This was the only time that the dress code was a bonus for her - she would not be wanting to wear her South Side Serpents jacket in this weather. She looked out the window, tuning out the teacher until she noticed that she was being looked at by the man in front of the class. As she was about to catch his eye and ask what his problem was, his vision kept going around. Everyone was silent, until the teacher finally called your name. Sitting in the back of the class, you were nearly invisible to Toni but she turned her head slightly to look over at you.
Tumblr media
“Ninteen-forty-six.” You said without the slightest hesitation. Toni even thought she heard boredom in your tone. She smiled to herself then turned back towards the teacher.
“Correct.” He said, and then kept going on with the lesson. He  called on you three more times since there were no other volunteers. No one else wanted to waste their energy raising their hands to answer dull questions when all they could think about was going outside to where they may be able to catch a breeze. Nobody cared that you answered each question perfectly. Toni was the only one who had noticed, she discovered.
She went back to minding her own business, watching the clock eagerly for the second that the bell could ring and she could get out into the fresh and sunny air. Fate, it seems, had a different plan for Toni. “Can Antoinette Topaz and y/n l/n-” Mr. Wetherbee spoke over the loudspeaker. That was all that she heard before she gathered up her things and started to head towards the office, eager to get out of the stuffy classroom. She heard footsteps coming from behind her and noticed that you were following.
“Know what it’s about?” Toni asked you. She learned your name from the announcement, but that didn’t mean that she understood the connection between the both of you being called towards the office. You shook your head and held your books to your chest.
“No idea.” You said. Toni shrugged and kept walking, stealing glances at you every so often. You didn’t seem to be the typical nerd - Dolton Doily was the one who came to mind in that respect - and she was still impressed with your aptitude for giving correct answers. But she wasn’t going to say any of that, of course.
Once inside of Mr. Wetherbee’s office, the room grew more and more full as other students packed in. There was a definite contrast between the students that were there. Half of them were from South Side and it showed with their shabbier clothing and the attitude in their faces, and the other half were some of Riverdale High’s best students, more pristine and clean cut.
“I’ve called you all in here today because I’ve been looking at your test scores since coming here to Riverdale High.” Mr Wetherbee addressed the former South Side Students. “And it’s clear that there is a difference in how you were taught at South Side, and how we teach students here. None of you are at fault for this, it’s all a matter of logistics. No matter - I thought it wise if I pair each one of you with a student here to tutor you and help you get the grades to help you succeed later in life. Just to play catch up. How many of you are interested in this idea?”
To the principal’s surprise and delight, everyone had agreed. Toni had done so because she knew that this was a better school, and that she would have opportunities to be more than just a Serpent after she was done high school. The others agreed for the same reasons. Being at this more ambitious school had helped them create their goals and want to reach their potential. The Riverdale students agreed because this was a chance to put their intelligence and good grades to the test, as well as find out about the sneaky and secretive South Siders.
“Excellent.” Mr Wetherbee said, and started to pair off the students with the tutors. He had put Toni and you together, which suited the both of you just fine.
“Do you want me to come over to your place or meet you at the library?” Toni asked you. You seemed to think about it for a minute and Toni started to wonder why it was such a conflicting question.
“Come around to mine, anytime after six.” You said, and scribbled your address down on a piece of paper, ripped it off, and gave it to Toni. The pink-haired beauty pocketed it, said that she would be there, and headed over to the front doors to head home and get something to eat.
Once she was outside, her eyes settled on a familiar blonde ponytail swinging back and forth. Betty had been in Wetherbee’s office as well but Toni had been so preoccupied with you, that she hadn’t noticed. “Betty!” She called out, walking up to the blue-eyed blonde. “Quick question - what do you know about y/n yl/n?” Her curiosity was getting the better of her when it came to you. She suspected that you were hiding something.
“Not that much,” Betty said, thinking. “She’s usually top of the class but doesn’t participate in extra curriculars. And now that I think about it, she’s always wearing sweaters. Why?”
“Just curious about my tutor.” Toni brushed off the question. “I’ll see you later.”
Toni parked on the road in front of a nice looking house. Figures that someone like you would live in a place like this, not that she knew much about you. She took off her helmet, tucked it under her arm, set the alarm on her bike and walked up to the front door. She knocked without any nervousness in her at all, but there was still something in the back of her head telling her that not everything here might be as it seems.
That could be Riverdale’s motto by this point.
And Toni was proven right.
When the door swung open, she saw you but it was a different side of you entirely. You weren’t being covered up by a sweater this time, but rather a black crop that showed off impressive stomach muscles, as well as tattoos showing beneath it and trailing down your arms. The pants that you had been wearing at school were replaced by black ripped skinny jeans and Toni was surprised that her intuition had been so right.
“Am I at the right house?” Toni asked, not taking her eyes off of your figure. This was not at all what she had been expecting. She had been waiting for the covered nerdy schoolgirl to open the door and usher her in quietly but this was a whole different thing entirely.
Tumblr media
“Of course you are, come on in.” You said and moved to the side so that Toni could walk in. “It’s up to you whether you leave your shoes on or not, we’re not picky here.” You told her, closing the door behind you. That made Toni take a quick glimpse down your body to your bare feet. Strangely, she found bare feet to be adorable, and took off her own shoes to reveal her plain black socks.
“Alright, I gotta ask-” Toni started, following you into the dining room.
“I know,” You said, quietly, holding the back of a dining chair. “It’s either why do I cover myself up in school or why do I dress like this at home, right?”
“Something along those lines.” Toni nodded. “No pressure to tell me though, do your own thing.”
“You would probably understand,” You said, pulling out the chair for Toni to sit in, and then moved to sit next to her. Toni sat down, feeling the effects of being close to you. She was absolutely dazzled and hooked onto what the story could be, but her expression wouldn’t let her express any of that. She guarded her feelings closely. “Though being a Serpent isn’t the only thing that the school wants to keep hidden.”
“What do you mean?” Toni asked, leaning in. You could feel her breath on your shoulder which enticed you to keep going.
“I’m not part of a gang or anything like that, though it would be fun,” You supposed. “These tattoos I got out of spite. When I was younger, I got really into rock music and the style. I loved tattoos. I used to draw on myself all of the time. I went through phases where I’d want to be a musician or I’d want to be an athlete like a boxer or something. My parents always discouraged it. They said that I couldn’t have the style or the body and be smart at the same time. They wanted a homely daughter who could take over the family business. And I refused to do that, to fall into what they wanted. So I started to work out, going to the playground and using the monkey bars if there was nothing else. I made a fake ID and went and got these tattoos out of town to shove it in my parents face that they can’t control me.” You laughed. Toni was hooked line and sinker onto each like, appreciating you the more that she heard. “And the school doesn’t like miscreants so I decided to just suck it up, cover everything with sweaters and wait until I can finally get out of there and find out what I want to do.” “Kudos to you for making it work.” Toni said, feeling honestly impressed by the story that you had just told. “So you just ... walk around your house like this?”
“I had just finished my work out when you came over so ... yeah.” You said, shrugging, not finding it to be a big deal.
“You should definitely consider walking around like this more often. Maybe not at school because of guys like Chuck and Reggie but .. I like the style, it suits you better than sweaters.”
“Thanks,” You said, breathing out a sigh of relief. You were nervous that Toni was going to find it odd but by the look in her eyes, you could tell that she found it to be completely appealing. Toni could not take her eyes off of you. It was girls like you that were the reason she was bi-sexual. Just being this close to you was making her sexually frustrated. “Did you want a snack or should we hit the books?”
“You’re snack enough.” Toni said, smiling. You raised an eyebrow at her and placed your hand on her knee.
“You say that now, but we haven’t even got the whipped cream out yet.”
The next day, Toni walked into the school with a grin on her face. Sweetpea and Jughead had asked her what she was so happy about but she said nothing, giving them a wink and walked off to her classes. She couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. The way that your skin felt against hers, the way your lips felt on her skin. She still had faint lipstick marks around her waist and love bites hidden beneath her hair. She felt both emotionally and physically satisfied. She kept an eye out for you but Riverdale High was still a big school and she had yet to see you.
Up until it was lunch time and Toni went to her usual table with the rest of the Serpents. Her eyes scanned the cafeteria more than her friends and her food, looking for a special someone. She did not want last night to be a one time thing and even if that meant embarrassing herself and being the one to approach you first, it was worth it.
You came into the cafeteria with your usual attire on. The sweater, the hair covering your shoulders, the jeans that were a little loose so they didn’t show off your figure. “Clear a space,” Toni commanded of Sweetpea, stood up and approached you immediately, a coy smile on her face.
“Where you sitting?” She asked you.
Tumblr media
“I think you asked the same thing last night,” You smirked which looked very out of place with the disguise you wore around school. Toni laughed and nodded.
“I remember. Come sit with us.” She nodded towards the table that she had just vacated.
“Not the most fun choice you could give me but I’ll take it.” You said, following her to her leather-clad friends.
“This is Sweetpea, Jughead, Betty...” Toni introduced you to the people that were sitting at the table, making Sweetpea move so that you could squeeze in beside her. “And this is y/n.”
Everyone said hello and was pleasant enough but they kept giving Toni confused looks as to why you were sitting there. It didn’t make you feel uncomfortable but it did make you feel like you had something to prove. As did Toni, who put her arm around your waist, her thumb finding her way between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your shirt, stroking the exposed flesh, giving you goosebumps.
“You can stop staring at my girlfriend now, seriously.” Toni said snarkily to the table, each of whom went back to minding their own business, asking no questions and accepting it for what it was.
127 notes · View notes
concussed-to-pieces · 6 years
Text
ESC; Part Three
Fandom: WWE
Pairing: Elias Samson/Drew McIntyre
Rating: Holy shit M.
AN: Thirsty Crew, I ain't apologizin' for nothin'. Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and naturally, @hardcorewwetrash. Enjoy!
Part One
Part Two
[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains usage of straitjackets and allusions to previous abuse, as well as human muzzling of a non-BDSM variety. Stay safe!]
“How much for that one?” The well-dressed young man asked, his eyes lingering on the cage while he fidgeted with the scarves around his neck.
“Braveheart? It’s a big ‘un. Brings a lot of gamblers in, I can’t part wi-”
“I didn’t ask what you could or couldn’t do.” The young man continued over the ringmaster, his eyes narrowing. “If you wanted to keep…it, you wouldn’t have put it on display.”
“True enough, kid, but-”
“Brings in the gamblers, yeah? So why sell it?”
“S’ a fuckin’ nuisance.” The ringmaster snapped. “Too much collateral damage. This is its fourth cage, and the rages…it’s a danger to itself and the handlers. I have to up the dosages if I want to breed it and that cocktail is expensive. It won't win fights. If I like making profits, I can’t afford to hang onto it.”
“I tell you what I’m going to do.” The young man pulled his wallet out of his pocket and removed a wad of hundreds. “I’ll buy it off you. As an act of charity, two grand.”
“Hell, that’s over triple what that tight-fisted McMahon was offering me. You’ve got a deal, Mr.…?”
“Delilah.”
“You’ve got a deal, Mr. Delilah. I’ll fetch Braveheart’s papers.”
The cage wouldn’t stop rocking and spinning. His stomach protested violently and he curled into the fetal position, spit and bile dribbling out around the gag in his mouth. This was it, then. Passed off to the next person in the chain.
He wondered how long it would be before they slapped a new name on him. Breeder Braveheart. More bile surged up. That’s not my real name. It’s not my real name.
Light flooded the cage and there was the heavy tread of boots on the wooden floor. Someone had gotten into the cage with him. He wanted to scream and scramble away. But he was so tightly secured in the jacket, and his legs were heavy with the drugging to keep him docile.
“Easy, easy.” The person soothed, a gloved hand touching his hair. He felt a flicker of shame. He must be filthy. “It’s okay. We’re here to help.”
A likely story.
One of his eyelids was pried open and a blinding light shone briefly into it. “Mox, get the jacket off. Baron, grab one of the blankets. His pupils are dilated, so he’s still under the weather. There’s no script on his papers. God only knows what concoction that fuckwit plied him with. We need to get him to Regal.”
He felt someone else sidle up behind him and he flinched, snarling loudly and then gagging.
“Whoa big fella, just Mox. Here to help. Nobody should have to deal with these fuckin’ straits.” A gravelly voice said from over his shoulder.
He knew he should open his eyes. Needed to face his new owners, his new captors. Couldn’t show any fear. If only he wasn’t so foggy.
Someone was humming. Soothing, deep voice. Those fingers continued to stroke over his hair, nitrile squeaking with the motion. He found himself staying still as the straitjacket loosened.
“There we go, that’s better right?” That was the voice of the man who had made the offer. He shuddered and his gag was undone, dropping from his mouth. “Do you have a name?”
“Braveheart.” He croaked, feeling saliva and vomit trickle through his unkempt facial hair.
A wet cloth gently smoothed over his mouth, moisture stinging his dry, chapped lips. “Your real name.”
He’s speaking to me like I’m a person.
“Drink.” He rasped instead, the straitjacket getting pushed off his shoulders and down his arms.
“We want to get you out of this first. When did you eat last?”
“I…I din’ remember.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Can’t, th’…nothin’ in me.” He gagged again, muscle-memory flare-up from having the bent plastic stifler shoved past his teeth. Soft fabric was wrapped loosely around his bare shoulders. “Needed it t’ drink what they forced. Hole in the middle a’ it.”
“Can you open your eyes?”
After a momentary struggle, he managed to oblige. “Drew. Name is Drew.” He grunted. Braveheart. Drew, damn it.
The man in front of him smiled kindly through his thick beard. “Well Drew, it’s great to make your acquaintance. Wish the circumstances were better, but you know how it is. Mox is just gonna’ sit you up so you can have some Gatorade, okay?”
Arms slipped beneath Drew’s shoulders, heaving him up to slump against the wall of the cage. “There, prop your head up. Man, they must have you on the fuckin’ strong medicine.” Commented the light-haired man Drew had to assume was Mox.
His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Sore, pounding cotton. He watched warily as the man in front of him twisted the cap off a bottle of neon-colored sports drink. “How’s your arms? Do you need a hand?” The bearded man asked, extending the bottle to him.
“Think I c’n manage.” Words were thick and strange in his mouth. It seemed like it had been ages since he’d spoken. Drew’s arm shook with the effort of raising the drink to his lips. The threat was more from habit than actual malice. “Ye're gonna' regret pickin' me up.”
“Little sips. Don’t want you getting sick.”
“I brought the crackers.” Said a tattooed young man who towered over the other two.
“Good move, Baron.” The bearded man praised, quickly accepting the box. “At this rate, Nev might start giving you your own assignments.”
“I dunno’ if I’m smart enough for that.” Baron replied uncertainly. “If I hadn’t forgotten the Pedialyte we would have been on time.”
“M’ sorry, but who the fuck are all ya’?” Drew asked bluntly, hydration livening his tongue. “Talkin’ t’ me like I have more n’ two brain cells. S’ got me curious.” The bearded man fed him a single cracker.
“We’re…well, I dunno’ what to call us.” Mox admitted. “We’re rescuers. We do…rescuing things. Relocations, rehabilitations, you name it. If you’re a feral, ya’ on our radar.”
“Oh? Rescuers? That’s a funny one. E’nt heard it before. You boys are a riot.” Drew snapped. “When does my jacket go back on, then? Before or after ye’ve slid the knife 'tween my ribs?”
“It’s…this isn’t a joke, Drew.” The man in front of him protested, giving him another cracker to nibble on.
“Ye, ‘course it e’nt.” Drew shook his head. “Fuck’s sake, you lot are just t’ fuckin’ worst. Get a man’s hopes up an’ slam the collar back on. No wonder ye name is Delilah.” He spat.
To his confusion the bearded man grinned. “Just wait ‘til you find out my real name, big guy.” The man got to his feet and extended a hand to Drew. “C’mon, it’s warmer in the van.”
“Don’t make him sing.” Baron groaned, hauling Drew upright when he avoided taking the other man’s hand. “If you ignore him, he’ll just start singing. One time I tried to sleep in and I paid for it with a three hour long serenade of Let It Go.”
“Drew’s off-limits for musical torture, due to further evaluation. You, on the other hand...” The bearded man threatened with a chuckle.
The plastic covering the seat crinkled beneath Drew when Baron cautiously lowered him down. “You’re okay to sit, right? No bedsores or anything like that?” Baron asked worriedly.
“No, m' arse is in pristine condition.” Drew grunted. “Hips are great too.”
The sarcasm seemed to fly over Baron’s head as he gave Drew a small grin. “Good! That’s good. Do you want another blanket? For your legs?”
Mox climbed into the seat on the opposite side of the van, reaching over quickly to buckle Drew in. Drew grimaced when the belt sawed over his bare hip. “Second blanket may uh. May be a good idea.” He admitted after a moment or two. “Diggin’ in o’er here.”
“Hang on, I gotta’-” Mox tucked a rag between Drew’s hip and the belt, then Baron spread a blanket across his lap. “How’s that? Not restrictin’ ya’ movement, right? We don’t need any rages in the van.”
“Nae, m’ alright.” Drew felt…strange. “What would y’ lot even do, if I did start up?”
“Get Mox out of here and have Samson bear-hug you until you passed out.” Baron said bluntly.
There was a quiet smack as the bearded man (Samson?) hit his forehead with his palm. “Thank you, Baron.”
“Answers m’ fuckin’ question, I like you.”
“We only had to do that once though.” Baron added hurriedly. “You’ll be fine.”
“Oh ye, grand.” Drew growled. “E’nt nothin’ t’ worry about, they have me so dosed up I can’t hardly feel m’ legs. Be a damn short rage.”
“Alright guys, enough chitchat. Lotta’ ground to cover before we’re in the clear.” Mox urged. “Let’s get a move on.”
The van rumbled to life and jerked forward. The now-empty cage behind it clattered and clanked loudly, making Drew grit his teeth. Mox’s hand hovered over his shoulder for a second, the light-haired man silently asking permission. Drew finally nodded, but all Mox did was carefully tug his blanket back up to cover his shoulder.
“Close your eyes, man. Look like you’re havin’ a rough time stayin’ awake.”
“Ah, that’s when you’ll slide the blade between my ribs, ye?” Drew blinked slowly at the other man. He barely had the energy to keep his head up.
“You and knives in your ribcage! With how thick your accent is, ya’ make it sound like ‘there can be only one’.” Mox snickered.
“I dunno’ what ye’re on about. I feel like you made a joke.” A faint spike of irritation flared. “Once this shite wears off, ye’re in a dangerous spot. Another breeder? Or more fightin’?”
“The only place you’re heading to is dreamland. Shh.” Mox said with the air of someone humoring a small child. “Take a nap. I’ll wake ya’ up in a little while, give ya’ more crackers.”
Drew fought sleep tooth and nail for a while. It seemed too dangerous. Going to sleep in a van full of strangers and expecting nothing bad to happen sounded like the epitome of naive. But he finally drifted off into an uneasy doze staring at Samson’s hands on the steering wheel.
“Christ, he might be in the same boat as Roman.” Elias murmured to Baron, watching via the rearview mirror as Drew struggled to stay awake. “He has breeding papers. I’ve never come across that before.”
“Breeding-”
Elias hurriedly shushed the taller man. “This obviously runs a little deeper than the porno industry. I mean, I know making money off of other people’s suffering is kinda’ an American pastime, but his papers say he’s from fucking Scotland.” Samson sighed. “Nev isn’t gonna’ be too happy about this development.”
“Well we know now, right? S’like half the battle.” Baron pointed out.
“What the hell is wrong with people?” Elias growled, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.
“Pretty sure that’s Neville’s line.”
“He can talk, though! More than you or Roman could when we got to you. He’s either been legitimately educated or he’s smart enough to convincingly act that he has been. The real question is how did he end up like this?” Elias mused.
“It’s like when we picked up Roman. Grew teeth and didn’t use ‘em quick enough.” Mox interjected from the seat behind Elias. “Maybe he lost his temper with the wrong person.”
“Yeah, like what happened to me.” Baron agreed, looking uncomfortable. “Got too bite-y.”
“You never had the rages though, you just liked putting shit in your mouth.” Elias teased, trying to lighten the mood.
“What are the rages like?” Baron asked. “Nev told me I should ask one of you when I asked him.”
“It’s…hard to explain.” Mox began slowly, clenching his fists on his thighs. “It’s like a predator-prey situation for me. I get fixated onto something or someone and I just kinda’...tear through whatever it is. Everything goes black and I eventually come back into focus a little bloodier than before.”
“Mine were different.” Elias cleared his throat. “I mean, I haven't had one for over a year, thanks to Regal. But I'd get tunnel vision, this loud, high-pitched ringing in my ears. Itch under the skin. I was also very mentally present through my outbursts.”
“Jesus. I feel like I'd rather go dark than know what I'm fuckin' doing.” Baron grimaced.
“'Lias had more control over his, though. Mine just kinda' take my body for a joyride.” Moxley straightened up when flashing blue and red lights caught his attention. “Oh, fuck me.”
“It's alright. We're fine. He probably just wants to go past us.” Elias put on his blinker and eased off to the shoulder, but the police cruiser pulled in right behind him. “Well then.”
Drew started awake, probably roused by the cease of forward motion. He flailed momentarily in the seat before going still, distracted by the cracker Moxley wisely handed him. “Lights?” He rasped after a minute.
“We're okay. Routine stop.” Elias tried to reassure the large man, cringing when Drew's head snapped to the side to watch the police officer slowly make his way to Elias' window. “Evening officer, is there a problem?” Samson greeted the young man as politely as he could manage.
“License and registration.”
“Of course, let me just-”
“Hang on, I've got the registration.” Baron interrupted, leafing through the glove compartment and grabbing the paper that said Delilah. Elias thanked his lucky stars that Neville made sure Baron was on top of document management when it came to their vehicles. He could barely keep his fake IDs organized, and that was with multiple wallets!
The officer took his time looking at his identification, glancing over Samson's shoulder to where Drew was sitting. “Your buddy sleeps like a rock.” He commented absently. “And your left taillight is out.”
“It must be loose. I just replaced it two days ago.” Elias replied smoothly. “I'll get it taken care of.”
The police officer nodded in the direction of the rear of the van. “No luck at the feral auction, I assume?”
“All the strong ones were gone by the time we got there! We have the worst timing.” Elias feigned a disappointed groan.
“See, that's really strange. Because according to a report I got earlier today, a Mr. Delilah bought one of the ferals for sale. But when the man who sold him his prize breeder went to deposit his two grand at the bank, the teller informed him that he'd been handed a stack of counterfeit bills.” The officer was watching Elias closely. “So where's the feral, Delilah?”
Samson opened his mouth, then closed it again. Think! He screamed at himself, fumbling to come up with a convincing excuse.
“Right here!” Moxley erupted from the side door before the officer could draw his gun, his hood on and mesh mask up. A brief scuffle ensued but Mox had the element of surprise, the brawler pressing his advantage to quickly knock the officer out.
He got to his feet and headed for the back of the vehicle. Samson was shaking in his seat when Mox pulled open the door once more and handed him back his papers.
“We'll have to get rid of those. I fucked up his hood cam and unhitched the cage. Drive, man.” Moxley ordered, slapping the back of Elias' head.
Elias wordlessly threw the van into gear and peeled out, dimly hearing Baron berate Mox for his aggressive behavior. So much for them displaying a united front for their new rescue! Samson chanced a look up at the rearview and found that Drew was staring at him. Drew broke eye contact after a moment, tucking his face down into the blanket around his shoulders.
“You did what?!”
“He was on to us! The jig was up, Nev!” Mox replied defensively.
“Why can't you ever have faith in Elias' gift of gab, fuck's sake Mox! We can't be assaultin' the local law enforcement!” Neville shouted, seeming inches from throwing his laptop at the wall. “Fuck's sake!”
“It's my fault.” Elias said quietly from the side. “I take full responsibility. Mox saw me freeze.”
“Christ all-fuckin'-mighty. Alright. Alright. Where the hell is Styles? We need to hitch up and move out as soon as possible.” Neville dragged a hand down his face. “A fine fuckin' mess this is now, new lad in and everything goes to fuck.”
“I'll go find Sheriff Styles.” Baron offered, making himself scarce. Neville groaned loudly, banging his head on his desk.
“I'm...fuck, I'm sorry. I fucked everything up.” Moxley mumbled. “I just...I panicked. Ro isn't stable enough to deal with field ops yet and I-”
“I understan'. You're involved with him, I get it Mox.”
“It's not like that, motherfucker! I'm not letting anyone get bagged ever again if I can help it!” Moxley yelled. “For fuck's sake, we took Ro from a porn dungeon, and this guy-!”
“Breeder.” Drew grunted awkwardly through a mouthful of toast and Gatorade. His head was pounding and he mostly just wanted to lie down.
“What the fuck.” Neville breathed.
“Been bred. Milked. Like...l-livestock.” Drew continued, the words to explain his suffering harder to come by than he expected. “Breeder Braveheart. There are others. I fought sometimes, prove I was strong to breed.”
“His name is Drew. Last name McIntyre, but I don't know if that's made up so that he looks more official. He came with papers, Neville. Supposed bloodlines, list of partners. They're breeding us.” Elias explained quietly.
“Any mention of parents?” Neville asked after a long, shell-shocked silence.
“Ma and Da gave me up. Was seventeen.” Drew had honestly forgotten he came with a last name. “T' name is right though. From...” The exact area escaped him and he settled for simply, “Scotland.”
“No shit, lad.” Adrian looked worried. “More of us from across the pond.”
Baron burst back into the trailer, wild-eyed with two more people in tow. “I can't find Styles!” He said, sounding panicky. “I got Roman and Love, they couldn't find Styles either. He's missing, Nev.”
“I do not need this shite. You lot know what to do, hitch up and swap the van plates. Elias, you're sponsoring Drew. Regal!” Neville barked, “We need him cleaned!”
“Is that really a priority right now?” Elias asked worriedly.
“It's either that or he's getting a face wash and a shower cap until the next stop. Your choice, Drew.” Neville turned to Drew, one eyebrow raised.
“If I wait...that means we can leave sooner?” God, his body ached. Neville nodded. “I can wait.”
“Regal, change of plans! Quick scrub while we hitch the trailers!”
The older man had cold hands. Elias hovered the whole time Regal was carefully brushing out and trimming Drew's bedraggled facial hair, eventually stepping in to douse his head with a healthy amount of strange-smelling olive oil. “When we get to the next stop, obviously there will be further treatment. Until then, keep that cap on.” Regal patted the bath cap and chucked Drew under the chin in a fond gesture. “You're a member of the family now, lad. As incredibly glamorous as that is. Free delousing with every new crew mate.”
Drew couldn't help his laugh. It hurt a little bit and it didn't sound right at all. He hadn't laughed in what felt like centuries. “Nae breedin'?”
“You're safe now.” Elias said firmly. “You don't have to go back to that ever again.”
Drew just nodded, too overwhelmed to properly gather his words. He knew his silence must seem ungrateful, but he assumed that the men in front of him had come across others who were less vocal.
Elias hesitated for a second, his hand waiting over Drew's until Drew nodded. He carefully took the other man's hand into his own, Elias kneeling so he could meet his eyes properly. “I'm your sponsor. Which means your safety is my responsibility, your well-being is my priority. You owe me nothing in exchange for this. I volunteered as a sponsor because I want people to succeed. I will do everything I can to help you adjust to your new freedom, and I will keep you safe.” Samson promised solemnly.
Drew had no idea what his body was doing. His chest felt hot and his throat was tight. His vision blurred and he broke eye contact, startled to realize that he was crying. Elias hummed soothingly, reaching towards Drew's face and then pausing. Drew shook his head and the other man withdrew his hand immediately. A sob wrenched free from his chest. “Not fair.” Drew choked out.
“What do you mean?”
“Why me?”
“Just dumb luck, I suppose. Neville said we should show up to this auction, he’d gotten a tip about ferals from across the pond.” Elias shrugged. “He was concerned about them maybe being folks he knew.”
Drew huffed in a shaky breath. “Sorry t’ disappoint.”
“Hell no! We wouldn’t have known about this breeding crap without you, that information is kind of a big deal.” Elias pointed out. “One of our other guys was kept in a basement cell and pumped full of drugs for performance in porn films, so it isn’t like we didn’t know that the so-called normal people are perfectly willing to exploit our bodies.” Elias’ face darkened. “I just didn’t expect this level of exploitation. Stupid me, I guess.” He gave Drew an apologetic smile after a second. “Sorry, got doom and gloom there for a minute. Let’s get you bundled back into the van, alright? We have a trek ahead of us.”
“I fucked up, Roman.”
Roman tilted his head, confused. “What do you mean, Mox?”
“I mean I fucked up.” Mox growled, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel when a gust of wind made the trailer sway. “I fucked up big time back there. I know it and Neville knows that I know, I’m assumin’ that’s why he didn’t kick my ass.”
“What did you do though? I didn’t get the whole story, I was helping Baron look for Sheriff Styles.”
“I jumped a police officer. Knocked him out.” Mox held up a hand, stopping Roman’s frantic questions before he could get started. “He knew about the counterfeit bills. He knew Samson’s alias. We needed to act quick and I made the decision to strike because Elias went deer in the headlights. We already had Drew in the van, all bundled up in a blanket like you were the first time we met and I just…” Mox paused, blinking rapidly. “I couldn’t let something happen. I’m your sponsor, dammit, if we got put away that would be the end of this shit.”
“Are you okay?” Roman asked softly.
“Fuck no, I barely stopped myself before I snapped the guy’s neck. It wasn’t even a fight for survival, I’m just so used to…it was like muscle memory.” Mox shuddered all over. “I don’t know how many times I musta’ done that in order for it to be somethin’ I can do without thinkin’ on it.”
Roman put a hand on Mox’s thigh, rubbing timidly in small circles. “I’m sorry.”
“My own fault man, I was spoilin’ for a fight and took the first opportunity I saw. Fuckin’. Stupid choice.” Mox cleared his throat. “They had him in a straitjacket. Like me.”
“Oh no.”
“Yeah so I mean, I was already well on my way to losing my fuckin’ cool.” Mox shook his head. “Not an excuse.” He covered Roman’s hand on his leg. “I’m ya’ sponsor, right? That means you come first, no matter what. And that I’ll protect you, keep ya’ safe. Okay?”
Roman nodded, his eyes still wide.
“I’m makin’ ya’ a promise that I ain’t gonna’ do dangerous shit like that again.” Moxley said firmly, “unless it’s sanctioned by the powers that be. I’d be a pretty shitty sponsor if I was six feet under.”
“Mox, are we…are we in trouble?” Roman asked slowly after a moment or two of silence had passed.
Mox just shrugged. “I don’t know yet. No word from Sheriff Styles. I’m in the dark, just like you.” He squeezed Roman’s hand. “But we’re together and that counts for somethin’.”
Almost three weeks went by with no word from Styles. Elias felt guilty about the whole situation. What if AJ had been scooped up? What if something had gone wrong?
And that nasty voice in the back of his head chiming in with what if he sold us out? Elias didn’t want to let his less-than-shining opinion of Styles get in the way of his logical reasoning, but as time marched on he grew more and more concerned.
Amidst all of the veteran members worries, the two newer acquisitions tried hard to make themselves useful. Roman would still tail Mox almost silently, and Drew mimicked his behavior when it came to Elias.
Drew always hunched a little, always seemed to be holding his breath. Elias hoped that eventually he would realize he was safe, but until then the bearded man did his best to remain calm around his new charge. Regal had held a full examination once Drew had been properly nit-picked and blow-dried, the older gentleman giving him a clean bill of health. “Keep him safe, now.” He had said to Samson. “He’s a nervous one, but he’s trying his damnedest to act like he's not. Respect the effort he’s putting in.”
Regal had immediately started with his treatment, making a concerted effort to ease the withdrawal symptoms from whatever Drew had been plied with to keep the rages under control. Drew didn't complain once, even after his body was wracked with tremors and he ended up bedridden.
He actually laughed when Elias brought him flowers and a get well card. The noise didn't sound quite so wrong this time.
Samson did everything that he could to keep the man entertained when he was stuck in bed, and he found out that Drew would hesitantly take his hand if he sat beside him long enough. So Elias made it a point to camp out next to the bunk and chat him up, thrilled with that progress.
Drew spoke sparingly of his home, a deep sadness evident in his heavily-accented brevity. He talked about his family even less. “It's almost Hogma--er, Christmas, yeah?” He had asked out of the blue one day, fidgeting absently with the bandannas wrapped around Samson's wrist.
“You're right! A lot of us have difficulty with the passage of time, seeing as how when we're captive we don't have to manage things like that.”
“Will y' hae a dinner?” Drew seemed tense for whatever reason, his eyes darting up briefly to meet Elias'. “Christmas dinner?”
“Usually we do. I mean, we have a variety of people in our group so traditions get a little muddled, but yeah. Food. Is there a specific tradition or food that you'd like to share?” Elias had done his best to keep his tone level. This could be an important breakthrough with the other man.
“I...I dunno'. It's been ages. I remember we...we had a puddin' for damn near everythin'.” Drew's smile had been wistful.
“So pudding?”
Drew had nodded, going silent for a while afterwards. Elias let him be, more than happy with the advancements he had made. “I was threatened with y' singin' when you first found me.” Drew finally murmured. “Haven't heard a peep out y' though. Afraid of scarin' me off?”
“Of course! I know how intimidating my tunes can be.” Drew laughed again and Elias grinned back at him, squeezing his hand. “Maybe you'll get some carols from me yet.”
...
The voices of strange men and loud banging on the trailer walls roused the ferals from their slumber late in the night. Samson bolted to his feet as Drew flailed, struggling with his blankets for a moment. Elias flung the door of his trailer open and stared out at the scene in front of him. Drew could barely see around his hip, but the campsite was swarming with dark figures. A southern-accented voice hollered, “Flush ‘em out, boys!”
Drew watched in confusion as Elias' face darkened. “I hate when I'm right.” The bearded man groaned. “AJ sold us up the river.” A masked man lurched towards the open trailer door, cattle prod sparking in the darkness. Elias caught him up under the arms and bodily threw him back out of the trailer. “Drew, stay in th-!”
“You’d best not be tryin’ tae tell me t’ stay put, then.” Drew grunted, already halfway done struggling into his boots. “Ye’re fuckin’ nuts if y’ think I’m hidin’ in here while you lot fight.” He was still shaking with fever chills, only just keeping his teeth from chattering audibly by clenching his jaw.
“Drew, I-” Elias began, looking torn.
“Samson, with me!” Came the clipped tones of Neville, the acrobatic mastermind gracefully ducking and dodging his way towards the man Drew could only assume was Styles. The idiot sheriff had posted up on the firepit, slightly elevated over the area.
“A man’s gotta' make a livin’, Nev!” AJ protested loudly.
Mox had already been restrained, four men muscling him into a straitjacket while Roman yelled and fought the grip of three more individuals. Baron was on the ground, snapping and snarling “Wolf bite!” as bodies piled onto him to keep him down. Love jumped into the fray, their smaller form a blur to Drew while they slugged wildly at the hordes pinning Baron.
Elias was frozen, just staring dumbly at his friends, his family being brutalized. Drew was suddenly reminded of when he had panicked and gone tongue-tied with the police officer.
Drew placed a hand on Elias’ shoulder and pushed him aside none-too-gently, the Scottish feral rising to his full height for the first time in recent memory. “They’ve come for me and y’ kin as well. Y’ jus’ gonna’ stan’ there?” Drew asked bluntly. “Or are y’ gonna’ fuckin’ fight, Delilah?”
“I-I haven’t fought in-”
“Di’nt matter.” Drew cut him off. “If y’ don’t fight now, we’re fucked.” Elias grimaced and began to unwind the scarves from around his neck. “Th' fuck're y' doin'?”
“Reminding myself of something.” Samson's fingers grazed down to the base of his throat, tracing thin, ragged lines of scar tissue that marred the skin normally hidden by his myriad collection of scarves. His eyes narrowed. “I promised to keep you safe.”
“Y' cannae do tha' alone.” Drew nodded in the direction of the Elias' neck. “Wha' happened?”
Samson didn't answer, instead bolting from the trailer and immediately tearing into the dog-pile on Baron. “Fuck off!” He yelled, heaving bodies left and right off of the large man at the bottom. “Love, go after Roman, get him free so he can loose Mox!”
Baron's 'special friend' (who went by Love for whatever reason; Drew hadn’t thought it important enough to ask) obeyed Elias' orders without question, their whole body a wrecking ball aimed at the men who were keeping Roman from reaching his sponsor.
Drew lumbered towards Elias, his own body feeling like it was too heavy for him. The larger man roughly spun Samson around, redirecting him towards where AJ was tussling with Neville. “Go make tha' bastard pay! I've got this!” He shouted over Moxley’s infuriated screaming.
“You shouldn’t be fighting!” Elias protested.
“Ye? And?” Drew grunted, his fist connecting solidly with the skull of one of the men on top of Baron. “Y’ need my help. I’m here Delilah.” His smile ached a little. “S'pect a song once this is all over.”
“Without a doubt.” Samson clapped him on the shoulder, offering his own grin. Drew’s eyes wandered to the hand touching him and he noticed that Elias had lost a few of the colorful bandannas he wore looped around his wrists. The skin beneath them was crisscrossed with divots and faded scars. Marks from where cuffs had dug in.
Blue eyes widened in realization, Drew was unable to think of anything to say for a moment. “Make tha’ bastard pay.” He finally repeated stupidly. Elias nodded and headed for the two men trading blows on top of the firepit.
Just act like you’re the chosen one when you go out there, breeder! His last captor’s voice rang loudly in his head and Drew snarled, grabbing Baron’s heavily tattooed arm in the pile of bodies and dragging him upright with nothing but brute strength. Baron snapped his teeth once before he noticed who had a grip on him, nodding his thanks and kicking a masked individual in the ribs hard enough to send them flying. “Love!” He shouted, looking around frantically.
“Here, Baron!” They called. Baron and Drew turned to see them crouched next to a frothing Moxley, Roman struggling to undo the taut buckles on the straitjacket. Drew’s breath caught in his throat and he forgot about his aching body, the strain of motion.
“Hold it, hold it!” Drew yelled to Roman. “Dinnae’ undo that! You’re gonna’ hold him as tight as y’ can and I’ll unbuckle him, un’nerstan’?” Moxley shrieked and for a split-second Drew debated the sanity of his own plan. “Do not let him go, hear me, he’s nae in a state of mind t’ be unleashed but we’re nae leavin’ him in that fuckin’ coat either.”
Roman looked inches from tears as Moxley struggled in his arms, the light-haired man obviously trapped in more than the jacket as his teeth closed down on the air and he shook his head wildly.
Drew knelt and quickly unsnapped the buckles securing the sleeves. “Easy now, easy.” He murmured, Moxley thrashing against the unwavering strength of Roman’s hold on him. “It’s alright, it’s alright Mox. He hasnae raged around y’ before?” Drew asked Roman, who shook his head no. “Alrigh’, voice low an’ calm, jus’ gentle touchin’ on the back of his neck, a--” A muscular arm was suddenly cutting off his air and Drew choked, clawing desperately at the person’s exposed skin.
“You’re the one that’s the troublemaker, eh Breeder Braveheart?” Styles sneered in his ear, his usage of Drew’s feral name making his blood run cold. “Been a fun chase, but now it’s time to pay the fuckin’ piper. Counterfeit bills ain’t worth jack shit, so I guess you're stolen property.”
Drew strained in the shorter man’s chokehold, his lungs begging for air. Chosen one, chosen one-
Nothing good would happen if he raged out. Nothing.
But would anything worse happen?
Drew began to struggle more vigorously and Styles cinched his hold even tighter. That was his answer, then. Some member of the group he was, trying to coach someone else through dealing with a rager and then he himself submitting to it.
For the sake of them. To keep them safe.
Because he promised me a song.
Drew likened his rages to being caught in a strobe light. There were flashes, between five to fifteen seconds of memory apiece. The deafening noise of his own breathing drowned out almost everything else, the slow tick-tock of his lungs marking the passage of time.
AJ’s arm made the loudest sound when he snapped it, Drew flinched at the volume of it. The snow giving way under his boots as he rose to his feet once more. Legs aching, then he was across the campsite, bouncing one of their attackers heads off of a picnic table-
-all these men, all these men so ready to turn them in-
-cattle prod just infuriated him, Drew tore it from the man’s grasp and snapped the weapon over his knee like it was a toy-
-bone cracking under the impact of his fist and he couldn’t tell whether it was his own or-
-the cage wouldn’t stop spinning, they talked about sending him to a producer, a producer, ‘could make a profit if it wasn’t for the rages’-
-black fabric ripping as Drew slammed a man against a tree and grated his face down the bark-
-‘Get up, chosen one, you’re costing me money just lyin’ there!’ the ringmaster shouted, bald head shining with sweat as money exchanged hands and Drew pulled himself up-
-there was a hand on the back of his neck. God, he was exhausted. Someone was humming. “Tired.” Drew said thickly.
“I know.” It was Samson, because of course it was Samson. “Lean against me. Little steps. It’s going to be okay.”
“M’ sorry.” Drew slurred, and promptly passed out.
“Drew! No, shit-” Elias groaned, lowering the other man to the ground.
“He okay?” Roman called, sounding about as shaken as Elias felt.
“He overextended himself, I don’t think he’s hurt though.” Samson fumbled Drew’s hair out of his face, relieved to see that he didn’t appear to be injured. He had absolutely turned the tide of the fight, bodies lying broken in the wake of his wrath.
There had been a tense moment when Drew hauled the dazed Neville up by the front of his shirt, the blue-eyed stare of the raging feral going right through their fearless leader. But then Drew dropped him, turning instead to wrench the cattle prod out of another man’s hand and snap it in two.
Elias knew he shouldn’t be so worked up about this. There had been other raids. But they had never been led by someone that they had considered one of them before. Hell, Drew was still fresh meat and yet somehow he was more on their side than AJ had ever been! Elias shook his head and watched Regal flit over the campsite, the pharmacist checking pulses and broken bones with his usual wry expression.
“What a randy Scot you’ve gotten ahold of!” Regal commented loudly, making Neville wheeze out a laugh. “At least all the breaks are clean, thank heavens for small favors.”
“We’re hitching up and getting the fuck out of here. AJ!” Neville walloped the former sheriff on the side, rolling him over onto his back. “You fuckin’ try this shite again, I’m gonna’ personally make sure your bank accounts are dry as a bone for the rest of your fuckin’ days. That clear enough for ya’, Peachy? I know money is a pretty big motivator for you.” Neville nodded at Elias. “Also, Samson’s charge will rip your arm clean out the socket if you ever come after us again.”
AJ went as pale as the snow beneath him, holding his broken arm to his chest and nodding frantically.
“Elias, get Drew inside and then you’re on body-moving duty. Baron and Love, help Samson shift all these unconscious pricks. Zip-tie AJ.” Neville gestured at Roman. “Roman and Mox, you’re with me on hitch duty. I want to be on the road in ten!”
Elias took grim pleasure in tying AJ’s wrists together tight enough to make the smaller man yelp. “We all know you’re going to get free, but maybe listen to Neville’s warning. I’d use this time to get your story straight.” Elias suggested. AJ snapped his teeth and spat up at him. “Your funeral, I guess. Hope you didn’t like having two functioning arms.”
The cage ground to a halt beneath him. Braveheart struggled to stand now that the floor wasn’t moving, barely managing to pull himself upright by the bars of the cage.
“Right there, the lighting is better.” The ringmaster ordered and the cage shifted again, throwing Braveheart off balance. “Good, alright. Take the sides off so the folks can see it.”
Braveheart lurched for the front of the cage as soon as the wooden panel was removed, one massive paw swiping through the bars at the ringmaster who stayed wisely out of reach. “Fuck you!” Braveheart roared, knowing that it was pointless to lash out.
But it was better than just sitting quietly, waiting for the next fight to determine his breeding rights. Especially since he refused to win most of his fights. Punishment landed indiscriminately whether his stomach was empty or full, whether he’d been milked or not. It made very little difference aside from lining the ringmaster’s pockets.
The ringmaster sneered at him and Braveheart realized too late that it was a distraction tactic as the needle sank into his haunch. He clung desperately to the bars, still yelling abuse in a steadily-slurring voice while his body slowly wound down. A second needle jabbed him. God, he was so tired.
“Fuck you, y’ fuckin’ fuck piece a’ shet fuckin’…fuckin’…” He sank to the ground. Someone grabbed his arms and wrestled his limp body into the straitjacket. Groin strap pulled tight, the belts digging into already-chafed skin and…and he dissolved into the cool blackness.
Gloved hands touched his face. Someone pulling at his chin, examining his teeth. He wanted to snarl, bite. Couldn’t. Nothing would cooperate. He wiggled his fingers in the sleeves of the jacket, tried to keep the blood flowing because he remembered what happened when he didn’t. God, he was so tired.
“How much for that one?”
That one, that one, chosen one, that one, Breeder-
Drew started awake, his whole body covered in a sticky sheen of sweat. He wasn’t in the cage. Elias was sprawled out in the bunk across from him, long limbs half on the floor and loud snores issuing from his mouth.
Drew covered his face with his hands, trying to calm down from the memory-nightmare. He became aware of a strange sensation and his brow furrowed while he attempted to pin down what it was.
Nothing hurt, he realized abruptly. He didn’t feel feverish or achy anymore, for the first time in weeks! Had the drugs finally run their course? Drew cautiously swung his legs over the side of the bunk and got to his feet.
His knees didn’t shake. His legs felt like they could actually support him! Drew wanted to laugh but he stifled it, mindful of Elias sleeping inches from him. He bundled up and slowly popped open the door, the cold outside still taking his breath away but no longer rendering him a shivering mess.
The moon hung low in the sky, round and full with the slightest orange tint. How long had he been asleep for?
On the other side of the unfamiliar clearing was Mox’s trailer, and if Drew squinted he could make out the shadowy form of Roman laying on the roof. The other man seemed to have an odd habit of talking to the moon, but Drew supposed a coping mechanism probably wasn’t a bad idea in times like these. He made his way through the light snow, stomping a little louder than he needed to so Roman would know he was approaching.
Roman gracefully slid off the side and landed almost soundlessly next to the trailer. Drew was confused when he held out his mitten-covered hand to him, but then Roman dragged him into a fierce hug. “Thank you.” He mumbled into Drew’s shoulder. “Thank you for keeping us safe.”
“I-I…it uh. It wasnae trouble.” Drew stammered awkwardly.
Roman nudged his cheek with his nose, giving him a watery smile. “This is Neville’s weird thing that he does. He says it’s because we’re family.”
“He’s a bright one for bein’ a fuckin’ Sassenach.” Drew jibed, chuckling at the way Roman’s face crinkled. “Go on, ask.”
“What’s a Sass…Sassinage?”
“One a’ the top lads.” Drew rumpled Roman’s already messy hair. “How’s Mox?”
“He’s okay. He was really tired, so I cuddled him for a while until he fell asleep.” Roman shrugged while Drew did his best not to sputter. He’d had no idea that…well, thinking on it now he supposed it was pretty obvious.
“You two…ah, well, it’s nae business a’ mine now is it?” He finally said.
“Isn’t that what you did with Elias? He goes in there with you. Like Baron and his Love, or me and Mox.” Roman pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
“Ro, there isnae a snowball’s chance in fuck that Samson would fuckin’ cuddle wit’ me. That’s some fuckin’ wishful thinkin’ if I ever heard any.” Drew chewed on his lower lip, discomfited by the way Roman kept staring at him. “What?”
“Do you want him to? Is it scary for you? Like how it was for me with other people touching me?” Roman didn’t seem to have a subtle bone in his body. “Are you afraid?”
Drew huffed in a breath quickly. Shit. “Ro, I’ve heard about what y’ went through. I’d feel bad whinin’ over bein’ rigged up t’ a milker.”
“But you’ve dealt with something like I have.” Roman persisted. “Mox said I should be gentle with you like ‘Lias is.”
“Elias is my sponsor.” The chilly air seemed to be thinning. “He’s meant t’-”
“Protect you, make sure you’re safe, blah blah blah.” Roman rolled his eyes. “Look, that worked for Mox until I told him I felt…things. Maybe you could tell Elias that you feel things, get the ball rolling.”
“W-Who’s sayin’ I need anythin’ from Elias?!” Drew huffed. “I’m a grown…man, I can take care of m’self until I’ve worked through whatever fuckin’ hangups there might be. I dinnae need Elias for that.”
“There you are, you gave me a fucking scare!” Drew jumped guiltily, turning to face Samson. The bearded man looked frazzled, his coat not even buttoned and his boots untied. “Thought something had happened, man, jeez. You feel any better now?” Elias continued.
“I er, that is, I was mentionin’ t’ Roman here that it seems t’ garbage they pumped int’ me has finally run its damn course.” Drew scrambled to explain, pleading Roman with his eyes to play along.
Roman, of course, waited long enough for it to be blatantly awkward before nodding his head and smiling sweetly. “Yeah! That’s definitely what we were talking about.”
“Well good! I’m glad to hear it, guys.” Elias’ smile was so sincere Drew felt it settle in his chest.
“Elias, I-” He could practically hear Roman holding his breath, the meddling bastard. “I-I wanted t’ know if I could trade t’ song for…for a story instead?”
“You can do whatever the hell you want, man. I’ll still sing at some point.” Elias laughed, slinging an arm around his shoulders and ushering him back towards the warmth of the trailer. “I’ll tell you any story you want to hear when we get inside. Night Roman!”
“You guys have fun!” Roman replied cheekily.
Once back inside the tiny living space (made even smaller by Drew’s large form and bulky jacket), Elias patted his mattress. “Take off your coat and stay a while, man. What story do you wanna’ know?”
Drew almost hated to ruin the lightness in his voice, fidgeting for a minute beside Samson. “Y’ wrists. An’ y’ neck.” He said finally. “Y’ wear all these scarves an’ kerchiefs ‘bout’cher. I jus’…I wanted t’ know what happened.”
Elias heaved a slow breath out. Not exactly a sigh, but too hard to be a regular exhale. “I was in a root cellar for a very long time.” He murmured.
“How l-“
“Fifteen years. Until they could find a buyer.” Elias answered before Drew could finish. “Shackled to the wall.”
“Parents?”
“Grandparents. I never knew my actual parents.” Elias stared at the wall opposite his bunk, fiddling with one of the bandannas stacked on his wrist. “I haven’t thought about Gramps and Gram in years. Huh.” He mused, half to himself.
“M’ sorry. I imagine thinkin’ ‘bout that mus’ be hard.” Drew apologized, feeling like the lowest person alive.
“Hey, if I didn’t want to answer I would have said so. It’s okay.” Elias shook his head, giving Drew a nudge with his shoulder. “I’m still gonna’ end up singing to you, one way or another.”
“Oh?” And why, why did his stomach feel like it had just fallen out of his body? Drew swallowed hard. “Best make it a good tune then, ye?”
Elias didn’t know what the hell he was doing.
In the grocery store on Christmas Eve, minutes from closing time and he was standing in front of a wall of tiny boxes, his eyes narrowed while he read label after label. Finally he just gave up and picked a few at random, then practically sprinted to the registers.
Here’s hoping.
He still didn't know what the hell he was doing while Drew stared down at the assortment of boxes in his lap. “You uh...you mentioned pudding, so I...” Elias tried to explain his reasoning, feeling dumber by the second. “Merry...Yulemas?” He offered weakly.
Drew suddenly snorted, carefully depositing the boxes of instant pudding to one side. “Y' don't know much about puddin' if y' think it comes pre-made inna' box.” His smile made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “T' gesture is appreciated though. Thank you.” He looked back over at the stack of boxes, shaking his head. “You...ye're somethin' else. I cannae belive y' even remembered tha'.”
“You said...you said pudding.” Elias repeated, unsure of where he had gone wrong.
Drew's composure finally seemed to crack and he burst out laughing, tugging on Elias' arm so that he sat down beside him. “Delilah, y' ought t' know from y' friend Neville tha' sometimes the food is a mite bit differen' from what ye're thinkin' it is.”
“You said pudding!”
“Ye, our puddin' is on t' savory side. Not so much y' vanilla an' chocolate.” Drew knocked his forehead roughly into Elias'. “It was a good try.”
“Well fuck.” Samson said lamely. “I thought I was doing pretty good.”
“It's probably f' the best. I...my gift f' you isnae...” Drew paused, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I wen' t' Neville. He gave me a few pointers an'...well I dunno' much abou'--ugh, fuck.” Drew finally grunted, fishing around beneath his pillow and then dropping a small packet into Elias' hands.
“Are these...?”
“Strings.” Drew muttered, seeming embarrassed. “Nev sent me out like a fuckin' errand boy, dunno' if I even got t' right ones.”
Elias swallowed hard, rubbing his thumbs over the smooth plastic packaging. “I haven't been able to buy new strings in ages. I...God, now I feel like an even bigger ass for fucking up your gift.” He admitted.
“There is...one thing tha' could soften the blow.” Drew said, his voice oddly quiet. “I'm...nae very good at it, could use someone wi' experience if y' up t' teachin'.”
“Oh?” Elias asked curiously, tilting his head to the side. “Guitar?”
Drew bit his lip. “Y' mouth. On mine?” He asked hesitantly. “Like Baron an' his Love do.”
Samson was pretty sure he was about to hyperventilate. “Kissing? You want me to-”
“I dunno', I jus'...I mean I thought tha'...” Drew stammered, ducking his head. “I jus' wondered, is all.” He said softly through his thick curtain of hair. “Forget it, s' dumb.”
Elias cupped his chin, the strings forgotten on the mattress beside him. “I can do that.” He replied just as softly, his eyes searching Drew's. “If you want me to.”
“P...Please?” Drew breathed, sounding oddly desperate for someone who had been saying forget it two seconds ago.
“Hold still, okay?” Elias rubbed his beard over Drew's cheek, hearing a shuddery inhale of breath. “Only me. You're safe here.” He whispered against the other man's lips.
Drew's kiss was hungry, clumsy. He had no real technique, but he certainly made up for it with sheer enthusiasm. And his sounds, that was new for Elias, someone growling into his mouth while they kissed. Drew's hands ended up in his hair, tugging gently on the strands. “Thank y', Samson.” Drew sighed.
“You want more?” Elias asked, his heart tripping in his chest as Drew nodded eagerly. “Like what?”
“Harder, m' not gonna' fuckin' break.” As bold as his words were, Drew gulped audibly when Elias pulled on the belt loops of his jeans to haul him closer. His hips twitched at Samson's touch, pelvis canting forward. “Ah, Jesus-” Drew's mouth opened, his eyes half-lidding. “Fuck, Samson...”
“Should I kiss your neck? Huh?” Elias asked, mouthing over the skin that Drew willingly presented. The other man groaned loudly, rocking his hips up against Samson's thigh.
“Yes, God yes, please, no one's ever...ah, fuck's sake-” Drew panted, making Elias realize that this was all new to him.
Samson slid his hands into the back pockets of Drew's jeans, mouth still firmly involved with the side of Drew's neck as he coaxed the other man into humping his thigh. Drew gasped, his face landing in the hollow of Samson's shoulder while he ground his hips down. Elias could feel the heat and thick arch of him through his sweatpants, the sensation beyond arousing. “Drew, would it bother you if I...touched myself, while you keep going?” Elias asked carefully, hating that he had to stop kissing Drew's neck to speak.
Drew's motion paused.
“If that makes you uncomfortable, I can absolutely wait.” Elias soothed, fearing he'd overstepped. “This is for you.”
“Want t' touch.” Drew said all in a rush, his burr thick with need. “Y' like me enough t' do tha' in fron' a me, is it bad tha' I wanna' touch?”
“No, God no. Do you want me to touch you while you touch me?”
Drew shook his head violently, his fingers already fumbling with the drawstring on Elias' sweatpants. “M' good like this. Can't...don't wan' t' be touched yet.” He rutted himself against the tensed muscle of the bearded man's thigh. “Show me.” Samson covered Drew's hand on his cock, doing just that as he wordlessly demonstrated how he liked stroking himself with spit-slicked fingers. Drew moaned deep in his throat, bucking his hips a little faster. “Fuck, 'Lias.”
“That's right, fuck yourself on my leg.” Samson panted, “Use me to get off, I'm here for you to use-”
Drew's full weight shoved Samson's back to the mattress so quickly his head spun, the larger feral grinding his hips down with sharp, brutal snaps. Drew snarled and arched his back, one hand still working Elias' cock just the way he'd showed him while the other splayed on Elias' chest to hold himself up.
“Come f' me.” Drew gritted out, “Come f' me because I'm abou' t' come an' I need y' to, I need it-” He pleaded, his grip tightening to clumsily tease the head of Samson's cock. Samson cried out and Drew echoed the noise desperately, half a note lower and twice as ragged. “Oh God, please, please, fuck, please-”
Elias tugged him down for a kiss and thrust his hips up to meet Drew's fist, his come spilling over the other man's hand. Drew muttered a string of incoherent swears that didn't sound entirely English, pulling back and then shuddering to a stop. Samson panted for breath and watched Drew's cock twitch visibly in his jeans, the fabric darkening while Drew slowly rocked his body back and forth.
“Fuck.” Drew groaned, hanging his head. “I...God, it jus' stops righ' then. That's fuckin' nice.” His tongue lolled out and he licked at Elias' chest, seeming almost in a daze.
Samson just held him close, ignoring the mess that they had made for the time being. “Was that alright?” He murmured after he'd stroked Drew's hair for a while.
“Mm. Used t' a machine.” Drew sighed, obviously fighting sleep so he could answer the question. “O'er-sens'tive.” Samson fell silent, just continuing to lightly finger-comb Drew's long tresses. “Thank y' again for th' puddin', Delilah.” Drew slurred, making Elias snicker and roll him onto his back.
“Merry Christmas, Drew.” He nuzzled their noses together affectionately, luxuriating in Drew's sleepy smile. “Once my guitar is restringed, you're definitely getting lessons.”
“Fuck ye, try n' stop me.”
92 notes · View notes
honeybadgr · 6 years
Text
i’m bibi and welcome 2 my awful introduction
can i start off by sayin this girls name is josefina mariá ruiz-vázquez because most latinx parents are extra & we gotta pay for it lmfao but literally just call her joey pls ( or my fave, honey badger, cuz those little shits are fighty af even when they against someone bigger & that is... her )
now that’s out of the way, here’s my gal’s backstory ,, buckle up bc it’s a ride
although her birth certificate says she was born to adriana ruiz & matías vázquez, josefina never knew her mother. adriana was only 19 when she had josefina. a baby, in her mind, ruined all her years of planning... but it helped her sleep better knowing said baby would go to family, instead of foster care ( even if after realizing the father lived in a trailer on the southside of town, the uneasiness she was raised with didn’t fall short. )
nevertheless, adriana knocked loudly on the door and prayed that he would take in their daughter --- more so, he actually bothered to read the note she neatly tucked into the pristine baby blanket
ofc matías, who was like nine years older than adriana to begin with, was like ??? tf is this and how do i turn it off ??? make it stop crying ??? wh a t??? i somehow managed this once before, do i really gotta do it agAIN i am Tired ,,,
THUS THE STORY OF HOW HE GOT ANOTHER ONE OF HIS CHILDREN
oh yes, there’s more. an eight year old son who already lived with him, and unbeknownst to him, two more baby boys* born vaguely around the same time josefina was. let’s just say matías was a v busy man who only had to deal with two of the four. *owen wilson voice* wow
* also those two baby boys,,, also half brothers,,, and the ones mentioned in her secret / what’s been used to blackmail her so i’m gonna b hella vague ab them cuz i’m gonna likely b putting them as wc SO lmfao
matías wasn’t a bad dad... he just... had a lot of issues. but, those issues caused luís --- the eldest of the vázquez kiddos --- to often look after josefina when their dad couldn’t. being eight years older made it easier as they grew up, but when joey was a smol baby it was v difficult
it wasn’t a secret that their dad was/still is a serpent, but when luís was deemed old enough for his own initiation, he followed in the footsteps. “it’s in our blood,” they both told joey, on multiple occasions. and she really started to believe it.
despite being vivacious & kind of a breath of fresh air, a young josefina usually found herself in company that would have made her mom, if she were around, disapprove. if adriana kept her, there would be no doubt she would’ve done anything to keep her daughter away from anyone/anything associate with the southside ( a mistake she knew she made herself, after becoming briefly involved with matías )
it was only a matter of time before joey was inaugurated herself.
being fifteen at the time & as bold as ever, she didn’t quite understand why luís practically dragged her away from the wyrm in a fit of rage --- she knew what she was doing, she was “old enough” to do the serpent dance
she obviously wasn’t, but you know fifteen year olds thinking they own the fuckin world etc
even got her serpent tattoo on her hip wow she literally said fuck it to her brother & did it all anyway i can’t bELIEVE it def lead to somewhat of a fallout between them, bc like “you’re a child....pls sit down and do normal teenager things” BUT IT’S ALL A BIT HYPOCRITICAL BECAUSE HE WASN’T MUCH OLDER WHEN HE JOINED AS WELL damn
so at age 26 now luís is STILL no.1 concerned father figure to his baby sis especially w/ everything that’s happened & still happening & he’s just,, he’s getting early grey hair bc of her i swear lmao 
BUT MORE AB HER OK SHE’S AN ANGRY CHILD :/ SMOL AS HECK THO
she prob fought BOTH her other half brothers & didn’t even know!!! They related!!! Cuz fuck ghoulies they TRASH ( and she will ,,, be the first to shout it as loudly as possible oops sorry fam ) & i feel like the northsider brother would b stuck-up so ksdjfnhjdkm Y E A h
when i say smol i mean SMOL she only 5 foot :(( pocket sized 
LOVES DOGS!!! she got so attached to hot dog she cried
speaking of crying, ya girl is an angry crier oops again
“i swing both ways” / “are you bi?” / “well yes but also i mean i can swing both ways violently with a baseball bat, so---”
she,,, ain’t a bad person tho ,, she just has a lot of misplaced aggression at times & with the family situation coming to light/being blackmailed it’s like wow fuck thIS
and she hates math w/ a passion but like same so i relate u know ,, she an art & history hoe aka two things that ain’t gonna help her w/ shit out of school 
ALSO DON’T THINK I FORGOT AB OUR GIRL’S MOM ADRIANA HAHA OH MAN turns out adriana ruiz is now adriana ortiz & is a police officer :)))))) that’s fun !!! just imagine that initial reunion gosh ...
adriana vc: oh my small daughter i’m so sorry joey vc: fuck ur apology i don’t wANT IT LIKE U DIDN’T WANT ME
2 notes · View notes
mintyoongiskookie · 7 years
Text
A Waltz with the Constellations
Tumblr media
Member: Park Jimin (Ft. Jungkook as a friend)
Genre: Fluff, angst, Ballroom Dance Teacher!Jimin
Word Count: 4,470
A/N: why tf am I not doing the ones I said I would and this is long overdue you have every right to hate me I thought of this one day and holy shit I thought it would be so damn beautiful and he would be so graceful and I can’t T~T. I also feel like this one isn’t any good soooo... Hopefully everyone likes it!
      “(Y/N), get your lazy ass up! We have the dance class today!”
      “Okay, one, it isn’t until five in the evening, and two, we can all dance decently. And, you act like I’ll actually dance with anyone? Sure, I know it’s your wedding and all, but I hate dancing.” Shoving the covers back over your head, you deeply exhaled and closed your eyes. “What time is it anyways? We don’t have to do anything until then.”
      Your friend Cora sighed, knowing her attempts to get your curled up figure out of bed would be for nothing. “Hey, I’ll get you food. Just, for fuck’s sake, get ready!”
      You shot straight out of bed at this, throwing the blankets over her head. “Well shit you should’ve just said that first.” Stumbling over to your drawers, you rummaged through everything in attempts to find something that you could easily dance in. Alas, your best friend will soon be lost to a man, but a good one at that. He was so sweet, and they went together like peanut butter and jelly. He was a beautiful man, for a beautiful woman. All of your friends are in relationships - except you. You had never like the feeling of putting all of your trust and love into a bond that could so easily be broken. You were the antisocial pessimist of your group, and you really didn’t care. You didn’t know how you made all of your friends, because you never went out in attempts to talk to anyone in the first place. It’s more like they all found you, liked you, and adopted you. They more or less barged their way into your life, but in the end, you gave up on thinking they were annoying and ended up keeping them close. But, romantic relationships were never something you were good at. Actually, you can’t say that. You’ve never been in one, mostly because you also have never found interest in anyone. You’ve never had sex, never had a boyfriend, hell, you haven’t even kissed anyone! You absolutely despised all of these ideas, so rather, you just sleep with your cats all day. Many times you have been in a situation were you would get set up with someone, but upon seeing it was as a date, you walked out of their life and refused to go back. For some strange reason, all of the boys liked you back in grade school. Which ended up with their hearts broken and a red imprint of your hand on their cheek. You were an asshole - of course you knew it. Everyone thinks that they effect you when they say that, but facts don’t hurt you. Everyone used to say you were lying when you never had a crush, and you were so tired of people’s shit towards you for saying that, that you just blocked yourself out of everyone’s lives. You weren’t a bullshitter, you always told the truth. The strange, sad truth that is you.
      “You know (Y/N), one of these days you’re gonna have to get into a relationship. You can’t take care of yourself forever, things’ll change and you’ll realized how fucked you are when you’re fifty and a virgin.”
      “Cora, I’m not a horny teenager. Never have been, never will be. If no one tries to talk to me, then I will live the life I’ve always wanted. Lonely and quiet.” Cora groans, running a hand through her thick, curly hair.
      “I’m worried for you kid. Where are your good emotions at? I’ve seen them a couple of times, and shit, I’ve heard stories about you and Jungkook. You actually smile with him. Speaking of which, he’s gonna be your partner for dancing.” Jeon Jungkook was your childhood friend, both of you complaining about how much you hated everyone being the thing that brought you together. You two were practically twins, with the occasional thought of you being in a relationship with him. You would both cringe at that.
     Heaving a sigh, you shooed her out and before she could question you, you slammed the door and went to work on your makeup. You were not what society would call beautiful, but you didn’t give one shit about it. You wore all black all the time, tattoos covering your ghastly white skin, and piercings leaving a bright gleam of light on your face covered in bold makeup. You looked very intimidating, and looks couldn’t deceive with you. You had never met but one person who wouldn’t move out of your way - that one person, of course, being Jungkook. You had an icy cold stare, and a chronic case of resting bitch face. Many respected you for your dominate and silent ways of control, just like how many hated it. You had power and you knew it. Growing up and having a hard childhood left you cold and unforgiving, where any sign of appreciation towards someone would be considered a miracle. You didn’t have a good relationship with any member of your family since you were considered the alien of it. You had figured out by age ten that you were a mistake, and no confirmation was needed. The rest of your family was typical for where you grew up in the dull state of Iowa - a mother working for a university, a handy father helping out as a mechanic, a creative older sister, and a surprisingly smart older brother. You, however, had always wanted change. You had started out by dying your hair black, which immediately got comments on how ugly you looked by your parents. They had set up a rule where you couldn't get any piercings until you could drive, so the second they were asleep the day you got your permit was when you went out and got all of your dream piercings. You got seven on each ear, a septum ring, a tongue stud, and a lip ring. Now, sadly, you didn't get these all at once, but you spread out your collection over time. Your parents were furious, and almost disowned you. But surprisingly they didn't. Then, your eighteenth birthday rolled around and you snuck off to get some ink with Jungkook. He was always there with you throughout all of your body modifications, and he was your number one supporter. You both had a couple of matching piercings and tats, picking some of the dumbest ideas to inscribe onto your skin. The second you came home with a trace of ink on your skin, your parents had kicked you out, and you stayed with Jungkook's family. They were the family you never had, always wishing you your best and helping you through anything. You were deeply saddened when you both had to depart for college in New York. Everyone but your family was disappointed when you two announced your departure. Wishes were given, and off you two went. Your grandparent’s will was given to you, and your eldest sister had managed to steal some of your parents’ money for you. You both bought a tiny apartment near the campus of the university, sharing everything with each other. Now, you’re here - nice home, nice job, nice pets, nice friends. And, a nice relationship. 
      With yourself that is.
      Jogging down the steps, you poured your three Great Danes and two cats some food before running out to Cora’s car. After clicking your seatbelt on, you turned to look at Cora, who was staring right back at you with a mischievous smile. “Oh no. What now...?”
      Her laugh swam around the inside of her car, hands flying to turn the key. After getting to the first stoplight, she rummaged through her purse to grab a hold of her phone. Without saying a word, she shoved the screen into your face, your hands flying up to look at it. “Holy shit, who’s that?”
      “That, is our dance instructor. And I think you should get with him.” She said, speeding through the streets. A scoff came from you, shaking your head and setting the phone back on her lap.
      “He looks to nice. And innocent. Not my type, I don’t wanna scar him.” Looking back out the window, you glanced up at a grand and extravagant building. The outside was pristine gold and white - the marbling on the pillars having black veins crawling to the top. If this was the outside, you couldn’t even begin to fathom what the interior would look like. Sighing, you got out and slung your duffel bag over your shoulder and shuffled in through the enormous double doors behind Cora. If you thought the outside was nice, the inside was breath taking. You had never been in such a place so fancy, you were staring in awe at everything around. Everything was plated in gold, quartz, marble, the works. All topped off with the most beautiful man you had ever seen sitting on a white velvet sofa and talking to the other girls. His hair was a silky grey, brushed perfectly to the side. His shirt was tucked into his black jeans, the silky material matching his hair. With being too caught up in gawking at the man, you didn’t notice the sparkling bright smile directed towards you from him. With a nudge from Cora, you cleared your throat and made your way over to the others.
      “Well, since it seems everyone is here, I’m Park Jimin. Your dance teacher.” A bright smile spread over his features, and as all of the other girls were swooning, you mumbled a few things to Jungkook.
      “Oh god, we gotta work with a Ken doll? Put me in a blender and call me Jungsmoothie.” Hearing the words come from your best friend’s mouth, your eyes teared up from the attempts to not laugh. Gripping at the strap of your bag, your eyes went straight to the floor as a silent laugh escaped your lips. The second you were all dismissed to change, you walked off laughing with Jungkook to find the respective changing rooms.
      “Isn’t he hot?”
      “That shouldn’t be a question, that’s a fact. Like, holy shit, did you see his ass?” All this talk about Mr. Ken doll was annoying the shit out of you, and you had to hear it throughout the entire class.
      “Can you guys please stop talking about him for five seconds so I can leave? And, Cora, you don’t have any room to say that! You’re getting fucking married!” With a frustrated sigh, you snatched up your bag and walked out of the room to find Jungkook. There were a few calls from the girls, saying that ‘you know he’s hot!’ and that, ‘you’re just saying that because you like him!’. Rolling your eyes, you pulled Jungkook away from his group by his ear and headed towards the door. “We are leaving.”
      A hiss came from the man’s mouth as he swatted your hands away,  adjusting the strap on his shoulder. “What? Are they all talking about-”
      A call of both of your names from behind you cut him short, both of you turning your heads to find who it came from. Jimin was leaning against the back of the plush creme couch, waving you both over. With a sigh, you heaved yourself around and walked back over to him.
      “Yes?” Jungkook said, an irritable tone in his voice.
      A light chuckle came from the man’s mouth, his warm eyes looking at you both. “I know you two aren’t particularly enthralled with the idea of this class, and I can see why. You are both very talented, and this is just like stepping in a box for you. If it’s any of my concern, we might just have to make separate classes since you’re so ahead of the others. Is that okay?” He looked over to you expectantly, while you pinch Jungkook as he groans.
      “I think that would be okay, yeah. But are we working with each other? Because he keeps stepping on my toes.” A laugh fell from the man’s lips, and he waved it off.
      “I think it would be more reasonable to work with someone who has a greater skill level, but if you’d like to work together you ca-”
      “NO.” Your voices rang in unison, ending in Jungkook laughing.
      Jimin chuckled, and smiled that brilliant smile again. “Well, how does this weekend sound? You can both come on Saturday, and we’ll work out the times. You won’t have to come to these classes anymore, either,”
      As the three of you worked out how you’d like to practice, you caught yourself staring at Jimin’s eyes more than you would find appropriate, and staring at his plump lips too.
      What the fuck are you doing (Y/N)? Keep it together, don’t loose it now.
      “You like him.” The accusation coming from Jungkook earned him a punch to the gut as you stole his keys from him and walked to the driver’s side of his car.
      “Say anything like that again and I’ll slit your throat with high heels.” Turning the ignition over, you sighed and leaned back in the seat. “Ugh, how are we the best of the class? Do you think he’s just saying that? Fuck, I hate dancing...” You drove off to your place, deciding that you and Jungkook would hang out for the night.
      You found yourselves both on your couch, watching whatever was on the TV with a box of pizza on the coffee table. Sprawling out over top of his lap, you curled up and pulled a blanket over the two of you. “I’m sleeping here. Goodnight.” And, without any other words exchanged between the two of you, you fell asleep engulfed with dreams of the mysterious ballroom teacher.
      A knock on your door disrupted you from your much needed sleep, as many nights were spent looking up how to dance. Jungkook’s voice rang from behind the door, a ball of panic hitting you straight in the face.
      It was already Saturday.
      Throwing off the covers, you did your makeup as fast as humanly possible for you. Running out the door and pulling you with him, you were both already an hour late for the time you had set up.
      “WHY DIDN’T YOU COME EARLIER YOU DICKHEAD?!”
      “IT’S NOT MY FAULT I FORGOT TOO!” With a groan, you ran straight pass his car, knowing that the traffic would slow you down even more. Ignoring his calls, you ran away from your friend and down the sidewalks to the ballroom. Thoughts were running through your head, pounding on the walls of your mind. Finally, you bursted your way through those giant double doors and leaned against the wall in attempts to catch your breath. You already looked like a mess - sweat from the heat of the summer day dripping down your face, your hair a wind styled mess. But, all is well as long as your makeup was good.
      Silently making your way to the changing rooms, you threw on your dance attire and sneaked back out. You could have a simple excuse; you were wandering around the building and lost your way. A laugh from behind you caught your attention, your head whipping around to see Jimin.
      “You’re late.”
      A sigh fell from your lips as you made your way over to him. “Yeah, well at least I came.” There goes the excuse idea. “Where is my partner anyways? Since I’m not working with Jungkook.”
      A smirk grew on his face as he went to play some music over the speakers. “You’re looking at him darling. Now, come, we’ll go over what we learned on Wednesday.” His exterior seemed to change around you, his bubbly self turning into a confident and mysterious one. He held his arms out for you, the smirk still present on his face. 
      With a sigh, your fingers intertwined with his as you rested your right hand on his shoulder. His hand made it’s way to your waist, your body being pulled against his. You both made your ways around the entirety of the ballroom floor, your stiff and protective movements soon flowing with the music like satin. Your frown had disappeared, your features softening with the beautiful sound swallowing the room.
      “Keep your chin high. You don’t want your eyes trained on your feet instead of your partner.” Your eyes slowly made their way up his frame, taking in each detail and storing it in the file cabinets of your brain. Your eyes met his, and suddenly you could see the layers of sadness that had been buried beneath his many facades. His eyes had that single spark of warmth, like a blanket trying to cover how cold he really was. There was loneliness, sadness, you knew those eyes. You knew them like the back of your hand.
      You looked at them every day in the mirror.
      Your furrowed brows softened, a look of recognition flooding through your orbs. Your movements became unfocused, as you stumbled over your own feet and prepared for the feeling of cool marble hitting your bones. But, it never came, as you were instead encased in the warmth of a grasp on your waist. Your eyes opened, only to be met with Jimin hovering over you, holding you in the position of a dip for the end of the song.
      A quiet chuckle left his lips, your ears now identifying how forced all of his cheerful movements really were. “Careful darling. Can’t have any broken bones before the dance, now can we?”
      Instead of fighting, you subtly nodded, hands holding onto his as he swings you back upright. Your eyes lingered on each others’ for a bit too long, before he tears his gaze away to change the song. Coming back to you, he pulled you against him once again, the movements all flowing together perfectly.
      You both danced the day away, only realizing it once you broke gazes and looked to one of the giant windows. The stars were littering the night sky, the sight rare for a polluted city night such as this one. Jimin looked back at you, the smallest of smiles finding its way on his lips. His hand found yours, and he tugged you towards the grand staircase. “Come with me. I have something to show you.” Silently, you followed the man out onto the rooftop. The sky was enthralling up here, the dull sound of car engines fading away as you cast your sight up to the stars. Everything was crisp and clear, the lights in the sky outshining the lamps along the streets and the bright neon billboards on the towering skyscrapers. His quiet voice brought you out of your trance, your head snapping back down to look at him. “So you know.”
      “Know what?” You had a faint idea of what he was pointing at, but just to make sure, you wanted to confirm it.
      He took in a shaking, almost silent breath, a sound so quiet many wouldn’t have noticed. But you were used to these signs. Signs from people that lied when you asked them, ‘Are you okay?’. “That it’s all fake. I saw how you looked at me. You know I’m not the person I play out to be.”
      Looking down over the city, all words were hushed as any sound seemed to drift away with the breeze. Finally, you spoke up. “I’m used to seeing eyes like yours. I see them staring back at me in the mirror.” You had made your way to the edge of the building, casting your gaze over the city below. “What’s your story behind it all?”
      You could see his stature stiffen next to you, his head hanging low. “Someone... Special in my life died because of me. It’s all a long story.”
      “We have all the time in the world.” You knew you were prodding the safety line, wandering into treacherous waters, saying something like that.
      He sighed, his head tilting back to look up at the lights stringing together. After a painfully suspenseful silence, he started his story. “Her name was Jordan. I loved her, god, I loved her so fucking much. We were young, and stupid, and restless. She had moved to my school in sixth grade, but she blended in with the whole crowd. It was like no one ever knew she had come here. No one ever noticed her. But one day, I went to her table at lunch, and sat across from her. It was like it was just the two of us, and the entire lunchroom was dead silent. We felt like we were in our own little place, like it was just us two. I brought out the good in her, the different. Time passed and she grew close with me. One night, she came to me, and she made me chop off all her hair with a pocket knife so she looked different. Then, she dyed it all a bright blue. We stopped wearing the school uniforms, and yeah. We started dating. I don’t think she loved me as much as I loved her, shit, I don’t even think that was possible. But one day, we were driving down the interstate together. We were having this stupid fucking argument, and we were yelling at each other and everything. I took my eyes off the road to look at her for a second, but a car in front of us lost control and hit us off the road. We rammed into a tree and I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t know she died on impact until a week later...” His voice was broken and torn, the end of his past breaking apart into a hoarse whisper. You knew none of that was his fault, but you also knew that you wouldn’t be able to convince him.
      “I would say I’m sorry, but I know how useless sorries are.” You sighed, looking back up at the sky. “But just know that none of it was your fault.” You felt an unknown twist in your heart, the idea of him with someone had effected you in some way. It shouldn’t have though, right? You had lost a lot of people in your life, you should be used to things like this. Yes, you had lost people, but no one was ever close to you. Hell, you had sometimes wished they were dead from the start. And comforting people was never a trait of yours.
      You checked the time, seeing it was already close to midnight. “You should go.” Glancing over at him, you nodded at his words before turning to go.
      Stopping yourself, you looked over your shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Jimin.” That was the last thing you said to each other that night.
      You found yourself never missing a single class with Jimin, your heart slightly looking forward to being with someone like you. The wedding had crept up on you, so there you were, sitting at a table in a much too flashy dress, in gaudy heels you would never wear, with your hair in a bun so tight, you through you just got a free facelift. Like you said, you stayed seated the whole time, just listening and watching with a glass of wine in your hands. You had to admit, You never were one who enjoyed weddings or the after parties. But, you had to say, Hoseok was absolutely perfect for Cora. You mind drifted back to Jimin’s story, back to his past. You couldn’t get any of the things he said off of your mind since that night, and nothing could take it’s place. A hand was place on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts as you looked back to see him.
      “Jimin? W-what are you doing here?”
      His broken smile was taped onto his face, the corners of his mouth moving up robotically. “Cora invited me.” His voice was so soft, almost being drown out in the loud music and voices of others. “You’re the main reason I’m here. I knew you wouldn’t have danced, so it’s my job to make you.” You smiled the smallest smile, but he knew that it was real. That it held so much more than what met his eyes.
      “I would like that.” A slow song swam in the air, the sound suffocating, the chords too big and beautiful to be trapped in a singular room. Jimin’s eyes lit up, some of the sadness fading away. Some. Memories never do leave you.
      You found yourself wrapped in his arms, your bodies hidden away on the corner of the dance floor. People couldn’t help but stare, their eyes being drawn to the mysterious couple dancing away. Neither of you noticed, your eyes solely being locked onto each other’s. The hall was silent, save for the music. Others had stopped dancing, leaving just you two out in the open. your head was resting on his shoulder, eyes closed now and breath slowing. You could feel all of the eyes staring at you, burning holes into your figure. Once the song stopped, claps were caging the two of you in the room, a wink from Cora was making a smile spread onto your face. You were pulled out from the room, the atmosphere changing immediately. You walked beside Jimin, eyes trained on the floor in front of you both. Carpet changed to concrete, and you found yourselves dancing on the rooftop. The sky was littered with the stars, looking identical to the night you shared your secrets. There was no music, but none was needed. You were both standing there, dancing in each other’s arms. Your mind was throwing a tantrum, screaming that this was wrong, that you’d only get hurt once again. You saw no love in his eyes, and you knew he wasn’t over Jordan. He had no feelings for you, only for a dead girl. A dead girl of which he loved so dearly, and he lost so quickly. There was sadness in his eyes, and there always would be. Who were you to think that you could ever make anyone feel better? That you had any say in his past?
      And so you danced.
      You danced away your feelings for him, you danced away your sadness, you danced away that little sliver of hope you had, that maybe, just maybe, someone would love you.
      Only the stars knew.
81 notes · View notes
burstbombbitch · 7 years
Text
tagged by: @sturmazing ofc tagging: i’m actually exhausted today pls take it from me or something
instructions: fill out the questions about your muse, repost, and tag as many people you want.
Tumblr media
1. what does your muse smell like? More often than not, you’ll find that Bonbon smells like fresh lilacs and varying tea spices. They’re all rather “warm” scents, so to speak, calming like chamomile and refreshing like rooibos. Cinnamon is another frequent one. Similar to her true persona---alongside the many shells she hides in---she showers herself in comforting fragrances to nudge others’ guards down, while soothing herself.
2. how often does your muse bathe/shower? any habits? Ink showers and baths are her favorite pastimes. No one really intervenes when your mansion is large enough to have a bathroom in every room. Water is reserved for those tough spots that ink can’t overlap or brush aside. Although I headcanon that Inklings create artificial beaches, resorts, and ponds for fun, and that their inability to tolerate water is because they cannot swim, the aversion to water remains. You’ll definitely find her singing in the shower; if not splashing about and taking the curtains down with her when she begins to dance as well. Her parents frequently worry about the sounds coming from her room when she’s bathing---but they worry about everything their daughter does, honestly.
3. does your muse have any tattoos or piercings? Nope. Rather than traditional piercings, Bonbon uses padded clips when she wants to wear earrings. She simply doesn’t want to deal with really piercing her ears---but definitely will, in due time. Tattoos, however, are something she’d be extremely hesitant to do. Why bother, when you can just eat bacteria and then tell your brain to make art of its own? She feels as if there is no point, when she could just master her bio-luminescence and manipulate that instead (but she won’t, so why lie to herself).
4. any body movement quirks ( ex.knee shakes )? When she is on her own, you can bet that her body’s going to be in motion. Her fingers are usually skimming over fabrics, and her feet bounce frequently on their toes. Large tentacles flop tiredly all over the place when released from their binds. Knee bouncing is but one of her many habits. Her fingers, when daydreaming of conducting, wag like a baton. Her hips sway idly, the rest of her body following like a snake worming through sand. She’s a very antsy person, filled with energy, for someone whose poise ultimately leaves them standing breathlessly still before others.
5. what do they sleep in? To no one’s surprise, the princess prefers pretty, silken cloth to sleep in. When she’s with her parents, she wears a delicately designed silk gown, and her tentacles are bunned and wrapped up in a soft brocade called a bao. On her own time, usually at her apartment, she wears lengthy shirts that clearly never belonged to her. Despite how easy it is for her to trip in them, dragging along the ground as they do, she seems not to care. Throwing herself in bed is priority, at that point.
6. what’s their favorite piece of clothing? Her performance dress is her absolute favorite. While she rarely wears it---that’s how much she loves it---and even has duplicates in case something was to happen, it is the only garment she has that she feels expressly free in. It is a symbol of her desire to sing, to dance, and overall just not continue on the path she feels obligated to walk down. It’s also hella comfortable and pretty and she’s ridiculously shallow so I mean---
7. what do they do when they wake up? Honestly? She’s going to try to go back to sleep. Sleeping half the day away is her specialty. When she finally gets out of bed, she washes up, preferring to be fresh right off the bat. Sebastian usually has already prepared her usual tea and scones, though he bases it off when he hears her actually shuffling around upstairs. A good thirty minutes or so is taken to figure out what she wants to wear, and the usual cosmetic is applied. Gotta look good every day.
8. how do they sleep? position? Off the bed. Halfway on the bed. On someone’s face. In someone’s lap. On someone’s back. Draping off their shoulder. On their head. She can splay her tiny body just about anywhere. Know that she never sleeps properly; she is knocked right the hell out. She likes to be on her stomach, or her side, but her limbs like to be wherever they damn well please, making her somewhat of a nuisance to sleep with unless you wrap yourself around her (before she does it to you).
9. what do their hands feel like? Her palms are soft, and her nails are pristine. Her knuckles undergo constant care, because she’s quite the puncher, even if they aren’t nearly as strong as her kicks. Because her fighting style involves her balancing perfectly on both her hands and feet, constant care is the only thing keeping them from looking ragged. She indeed loves her look, so that wouldn’t do. More often than not, her gloves are hiding bruises she’s yet to tend to.
10. if you kissed them, what would they usually taste like? Sweets. Tea. Cinnamon spice. Honey. Cocoa. Warmth, albeit that’s not so much a taste. The things she ingests are usually very self-soothing (because her anxious ass needs it). Vanilla is very prominent too, as is things of confectionery variety. She’s prone to stealing people’s food (she loves to eat) so occasionally, the juxtaposition of her usual sweetness being overrun by whatever she just ate is jarring. She’ll be more likely to cover her mouth for the entire duration of a conversation if she feels like she just consumed two tons of salmon meuniere (teehee). 
1 note · View note
lhugbereth · 7 years
Text
Yakuza!Ignis fic update!
Hey there, lovelies! Here’s the second half of the first chapter of this thing (the first bit can be found here)
It also now has an official title: Death Fears Not the Reaper (it will make sense in later chapters, just trust me okaaaay) and can be found on AO3 here!
As always, feedback is GREATLY appreciated as this is my first time attempting a full-out AU with more plot than smut.... Let’s be honest, I have no clue what I’m doing lol *flails* On with the show!
-----------
It was only a short drive from the main complex to the penthouse apartment where Noctis, son of Lord Regis L. Caelum and heir to the family’s veritable underground kingdom, lived alone. It had been a compromise of sorts between him and his father; while Noctis wanted nothing more than independence, Regis wanted him close at hand to keep learning about the family business. Getting him his own place nearby seemed like the perfect solution, and Ignis himself had been asked to scout the area for suitable living arrangements. As such, he knew the place like the back of his own hand, and even had his own access code to get him through the heavy security.
Stepping up to the front entrance, he ignored the cameras that tracked his every move and punched in his key code by heart. The doors swung open and he was inside. It seemed easy, perhaps, but he knew that one false step, one suspicious move and he would never even hear the bullet coming. Regis took no chances when it came to his only child.
Ignis rode the elevator to the top floor as he’d done countless times in the past. As he waited, he withdrew his phone from his shirt pocket and skimmed through the various messages he’d received throughout the night. There was one from Cor, undoubtedly in regards to Gladio’s half-assed reply after the warehouse fiasco, and a few updates from other members of the Glaive whose names he’d never bothered to learn. Surprisingly, there was a message from Noctis as well; this was the only one Iggy bothered to read. He swiped the notification next to the familiar icon to see only two words:  
/Bring pizza./
A long-suffering sigh escaped him. Yet as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open, he had no choice but to step forward into the vast expanse of the ohji ’s suite.
From the foyer, he could see past the kitchen and into the drawing room that Noctis had furnished with plush grey sofas and a gigantic flat-screen television against the far wall. Noctis was there, too, as far as he could tell from the mess of black hair bobbing rhythmically above the edge of the couch to some music only he could hear.
Approaching, Ignis cleared his throat twice before the young heir, finally noticing him, yanked out his earbuds and turned around. “Oh! Hey, Iggy,” he grinned, and set his game controller on the cushion next to him. “Didn’t hear you come in.” He got to his feet and circled around the edge of the sofa.
“You should take more care. Lucky for you I’m not an enemy of your family, but the next time….”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Not like this place isn’t harder to get into than a maximum security joint.” Still smiling, Noct folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the sofa. Dark blue eyes roamed up the length of Ignis’ body, taking in the sight of his suit, his gloves, the way his hair was beginning to fall out of place where he’d slicked it back much earlier in the day. Fresh off work, then, and decidedly not carrying dinner. Noct feigned a pout.
“All out of pizza at the pizza store?”
He almost laughed aloud at the way Ignis stiffened. “Apologies, your Highness, I only just received your message. If you’d like I can call for delivery, or -- “
“It’s fine, I’m kidding. Anyway, I’m sure I’ve got some ramen or something around here.”
As he brushed past his advisor on his way to the kitchen, Ignis released another sigh. “Highness….” No response. “Noct, please. At least let me prepare something for you.”
“It’s fine ,” came the reply, Noct’s voice muffled inside the half-empty pantry. “C’mon Igs, you’ve gotta be exhausted. Don’t worry about me.”
A firm hand closed around his shoulder, causing him to jump half out of his skin in surprise. He hid it as smoothly as he could behind a cough. Above him, Ignis’ eyes softened. “Noctis, you are the one and only son of the most powerful man in the city. You need to learn how to let others serve you. Trust me, cooking for you is a pleasure, not a chore.”
The red tint that started at the bridge of Noct’s nose and spread slowly over his cheeks was impossible to hide. He swallowed, dropped his eyes to the gloved hand on his shoulder, and nodded. “...Then, uh, thanks. I guess I’d like that.”
“Very good.” Ignis shifted, moving instead to the refrigerator to inspect what little his ward had in the way of ingredients. “Hmm. How does a simple stir-fry sound to you?”
“Yeah, fine.” Mostly recovered now, the dark-haired heir to the criminal underworld hopped up on the edge of the kitchen counter and stared his advisor dead in the eye. “But no veggies.”
“...H-highness….”
In the end, Noctis acquiesced to the addition of green peas to the stir-fry provided Ignis double the serving of potatoes and smother the whole thing in sauce. While certainly not the most balanced meal, it was a far cry better than what Ignis normally got him to eat, so he accepted the deal without much argument. Noctis watched as, stripping off his gloves, Ignis stepped up to the sink and began to rinse his bare hands under the warm water. He noticed, of course, the dried blood under the other man’s fingernails, and the subtle red tint as the water washed away the rest, but he knew better than to comment. Ignis never talked about the details of his work with Noct, and now was hardly the time to press.
They ate together in relative silence. The dining table in Noct’s penthouse was large enough to seat eight guests comfortably, but more often than not it held only one. Dinner for two was a rare treat for the young ohji . Perhaps that was why, when Ignis got up to collect the tableware and, inevitably, excuse himself for the night, Noctis jumped up to stop him before he even knew what he was going to say.
“Wait a sec.”
Ignis paused, a plate in each hand, and glanced over his shoulder. “Something the matter?”
“No, I just, um.” The young crime lord shook his head, thinking quickly. “Don’t you want to grab a shower or something before you go?”
The look Ignis gave him made him instantly regret his choice of words. But never one to back down from even the scrappiest of fights, Noct straightened his back and continued. “I mean obviously you have a perfectly good shower at home and all that, but, well, it’d be a shame to get your car dirty on the way, right?” Open mouth, insert foot , he chided himself, though he managed to hide his grimace behind a convincing smile.
Ignis glanced down at himself -- his pristine suit jacket, his pressed pants, his polished shoes -- and arched a brow. “Do I offend ?”
“N-no, no!” Kicking himself mentally, Noctis decided to spare himself further humiliation by instead sidling up to Iggy and very gracefully snagging the plates from his grip. “I just mean, why don’t you take it easy for once, hm? Relax, pamper yourself. You go shower, and I’ll take care of the dishes.” That dark green gaze narrowed in suspicion until he was forced to add, “Well, I mean, I’ll at least put them in the sink for you. Go on, stop wasting time.”
Though his mind was spinning a mile a minute trying to catch Noct’s angle, Ignis couldn’t very well ignore a direct order. He padded down the hall to the bathroom, stripped and folded his clothes, and placed them neatly on the counter. While waiting for the water to heat up to an adequate temperature, he stole a glance at himself in the mirror.
And frowned. He had served for the Caelum family his whole life, just like his father and grandfather before him, and from a young age he’d gotten accustomed to the plethora of scars and injuries that came with the territory. But something he had never quite learned to accept were the tattoos. A mark, a brand even of his history with the yakuza, his irezumi were colorful, exotic, covering nearly every inch of his body from waist to neck. His chest was a menagerie of gruesome beasts with great, open maws. On his left arm, lotus blossoms scattered on the surface of a blood-red stream. On his right, falling leaves burned and blackened in a fiery wind as great, winding dragons ascending to the heavens. His back held the largest piece of all; the most fearsome skeletal figure imaginable, a Reaper, surrounded by the anguished souls of its countless victims.
Horrors, all of them. Noctis had never seen the tattoos, and Ignis was determined to keep it that way.
He tore his eyes away from the mirror and stepped into the hot water, letting it burn away the filth and rot of the day’s unsavory work.
When Ignis returned to the living room, hair damp but not a button out of place on his suit, he found Noctis once again on the sofa with his headphones. This time, however, he was nose deep in a comic book and, much to Iggy’s chagrin, had his shoes propped up on the arm.
“ Really , Noct,” he started, swatting his feet down and snatching the comic from his hands. “Is this all you do in your free time?”
“No. I play videogames, too.”
A resolved sigh before Ignis was taking a seat on the sofa at his side. There was a stack of black, sealed files set on the table in front of them, and he swiped up a few to pass forcefully to his companion. “Why not read up a little about the state of your family’s current investments? This is going to be very important for you one day.”
Noct accepted the files, glanced at the title on each, and tossed them back onto the table without ceremony. “Money comes in, money goes out. Got it. Hey, here’s a question,” he said suddenly, shifting a little closer until he could pick up the scent of lilac soap on his advisor’s skin. Ignis leaned back a few inches out of instinct. “Why don’t you tell me about those Glaives? Y’know, the ones who died yesterday.”
Behind his glasses, green eyes widened in surprise, then just as quickly narrowed. “Where did you hear about that?”
A shrug, and a smirk. “Y’know, around . ...Actually, it was Nyx.”
“Of course it was.” Ignis pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose with one gloved finger and sighed. “How much do you already know?”
“Not much. I heard it happened in broad daylight, that three of them were attacked and -- “ He paused, drawing his thumb across his throat in a meaningful gesture. Ignis’ mouth twitched.
“Beheaded, yes.”
“Right, that. So they’re dead, and now my father thinks someone is trying to start a turf war, or whatever.” He looked at Ignis for a long moment, his deep blue eyes searching for answers, for affirmation, anything written in his stoic expression. “Is that what you were doing today? Why you had blood on your hands?”
For once, Ignis wasn’t sure how to respond. As much as he wanted Noctis to someday successfully fill his father’s shoes, he was also loathe to drag him down any further into a world he didn’t yet belong. Still, he supposed this counted as studying in its own right, so he was willing to let both the comic book and the economics issues slide for now. “Yes. And no,” he added quickly, not missing the curiosity piquing on Noct’s face. “Nyx isn’t entirely wrong, but your father knows this is no mere turf war. The killings were sudden, unprovoked. Neither the Niffs nor the Nox Fleurets have stepped forward to claim the acts, and we haven’t been able to find any witnesses or reliable….informants.”
The young heir let the words sink in for a moment before asking again with renewed interest, “So who did it? What’s your theory?”  
He shrugged. “A couple of rogues? Or a mistake. Even a fool wouldn’t pick a fight with the Caelum family without some kind of deathwish. Still,” he sighed, reaching forward to lay a gloved hand on Noctis’ shoulder. “Until we sort things out, it isn’t safe for you out there. Noct, you’re going to need to stay here for a few days.”
Anger flared to life almost instantly in those usually calm eyes. “Stay here, alone in this glorified prison?” Noct spat, suddenly raising his voice. “The tournament is this weekend, Father promised he’d let me go this year!”
“Noct, calm down. I’m sorry, this isn’t my decision.”
“But you agree with it, don’t you?"
"For your safety, yes, I do." His reply was met with rebellious silence as the dark-haired nineteen-year old folded his arms over his chest.
It wasn't that Ignis didn't understand. Of course it was only natural that Noct was lonely, of course he wanted a taste of freedom. The boy had spent his entire life under constant surveillance, after all, under lock and key by an overprotective father who was doing what he thought best against the dangers of the cruel world. But no teenager ever understood that. And Ignis, for his part, would have given the world to see Noct happy, if only that choice were up to him.
"If it helps," he offered, voice quiet and soothing in the space between them. "Once this all blows over, I promise to take you fishing. Outside of the city."
"...Really?" Noct’s tone was a mix of hope and incredulity, but if nothing else the thought got him talking again. "And you think Father would allow that?"
A warm smile, one that made Ignis’ eyes crinkle as he patted the other’s cheek. "It may just be our little secret." That was the kind of thinking that would likely land his head on a spike someday, but he wouldn't really be Iggy if he wasn't risking his own neck to please the prince.
Although still somewhat reluctant, Noctis managed a smile up at his advisor. His gaze faltered for a moment, then before he lost the nerve he leaned forward and pulled the taller man into a hug. "You're the best, Specs."
Few things made Ignis the Reaper’s heart thud in his chest. Danger, the adrenaline-fueled thrill of a fight, was one. Palming a brand new set of knives was another. But perhaps more than either of those was the feeling of holding Noctis Caelum in his arms.
Only five years apart, Ignis had quite literally grown up alongside the young would-be boss. They'd been friends once, back when the innocence of youth had allowed such things, and even as they fit piece by piece into their ever-shifting roles, Ignis had wanted nothing more than to stay by Noct’s side. Selfish, perhaps, given the sheer amount of secrets he kept to preserve their relationship, but it was a feeling that gave him strength all the same. And, at times, had him questioning his own sanity.
He returned the hug gently, almost reverently, and willed his mind to focus on the present. "It's late, Noct. Would you like me to help you to bed?" Because that didn't conjure up any vivid images at all.
Against his shoulder Noctis shook his head. "Nah. Not tired yet. But...you don’t have to go right now, do you?”
Once more Ignis checked the clock on the wall. He had a meeting first thing in the morning, and Regis would be expecting results that he didn’t yet have. What he should be doing was making his report to Cor and checking that his men had properly disposed of the evening’s evidence.
What he did instead was pull Noctis closer and settle into the cushions of his sofa while he watched him play videogames for several more hours.
The young ohji had fallen asleep against him sometime just before midnight. Ignis carried him to his room and laid him out on his bed, at least taking the liberty of removing his shoes if nothing else. In sleep his face was so peaceful, so beautiful that tearing himself away from the sight was almost physically painful. Yet it was as he turned out the lights and made his way back toward the foyer that he finally retrieved his phone once more from his pocket. Now that Noctis was settled, it was time to get back to business. He pressed a single key on his screen and the line was ringing before he even stepped into the elevator.
Cor answered after only two beats. “Scientia, where the ever-loving fuck have you been?”
“Working,” he replied politely. It wasn’t entirely a lie.
“You’d better be. Now that our last informant is sinking in about twelve different parts of the Crestholm -- and I suppose I have you to thank for that? -- we’ve got nothing to show the boss. He isn’t going to be happy. You and Amicitia have exactly seven hours to fix it.”
“Overtime again, then, I take it?” His answer came in the form of a dial tone, and Ignis raked his gloved fingers back through his hair before switching to text.
/Be outside in ten/, he warned Gladio, letting his head fall back against the wall of the elevator as he continued to descend.
On the bright side, at least he’d already had a shower.
11 notes · View notes
Text
Really Long Character Survey
Rules: Repost, don’t reblog. Tag 10! Good luck!
Tagged by @themisfitmouse
Tagging: @genius-vondrake, @amadeus-aerinstat, @alphagearloose, @unclescrooge, @askflintheartglomgold, @thesmallestarchitect, @tempest-loupnoir, @the-queen-needs-us ...I can’t really think of two more people to tag who haven’t already been tagged by somebody else.
((Hoooo boy there's gonna be so many headcanons in this.))
BASICS.
FULL  NAME : Gyro Percival Gearloose
NICKNAME : Gyro, G
AGE : 28
BIRTHDAY : September 18th
ETHNIC  GROUP : Uh... chicken? I guess I kinda headcanon that he's got some Italian in him, but other than that, idek man.
NATIONALITY :  American
LANGUAGE / S : English (possibly others, but that's woefully all the mun is fluent in)
SEXUAL  ORIENTATION : Bi
ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION : Also bi 
RELATIONSHIP  STATUS : Single
CLASS : Uh... upper-middle, I guess? I mean, he's gotta afford all those parts somehow.
HOME  TOWN / AREA : Duckburg, Calisota
CURRENT  HOME : A workshop/barn on the south side of Duckburg, near the river
PROFESSION : Inventor/Repairman
PHYSICAL.
HAIR : It has never been consistent. Like... in DuckTales and the related comics, it's orange. In some of the old comics, it's light brown. In the Italian comics, it's bright blonde. I just... I have no idea, my dudes. Gyro's addicted to hair dye or something.
EYES : Blue
NOSE : He's a bird. He has a beak.
FACE : Uh... round? Covered in feathers?
LIPS : Again, he is a bird.
COMPLEXION : Pristine white feathers.
BLEMISHES : ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
SCARS : He's got a good few nicks on his hands, and probably a couple of other random scars from miscellaneous lab accidents, but nothing major. Plus, it's not as if you could see most of them anyway.
TATTOOS : None. 
HEIGHT : 5'5"
WEIGHT : Uh... I dunno, probably around 130-140? Gotta take into account that his bones are probably hollow.
BUILD : It varies. In some comics he's kind of plump, and in others, he's like a scarecrow. I'm gonna tentatively put him at athletic, with a little bit of a paunch? 
FEATURES : Big blue eyes, (usually) bright orange hair, slightly curved beak, glasses.
ALLERGIES : Blueberries, but he doesn't bring it up unless he has to.
USUAL  HAIR  STYLE : He basically just rolls out of bed and runs his fingers through it a couple times.
USUAL  FACE  LOOK : Lost in thought
USUAL  CLOTHING : Hat (with chin strap), button up shirt (usually pink, red, blue, or yellow), open black vest, jeans or khakis, work boots.
PSYCHOLOGY.
FEAR / S : Failure, mostly.
ASPIRATION / S : He wants to discover as much as he can, for discovery's sake. To do things before believed to be impossible just to say he did.
POSITIVE  TRAITS : Generally cheerful, independent thinker, kind, clever, creative
NEGATIVE  TRAITS : Easily frustrated, bottles his feelings until he explodes, tends to run from his problems, occasionally forgets to take care of himself
MBTI : ENFP, but only just barely (x)
ZODIAC : Virgo
TEMPERAMENT : Sanguine (x)
SOUL  TYPE / S : Creator (no surprise there), followed closely by Educator and Helper (x)
ANIMALS : Apparently he's a Zebra (x), which is not necessarily something I would have chosen but I guess it fits? (x)
VICE  HABIT / S : Can be kind of lazy sometimes, major sweet tooth
FAITH : "The Powers that Be"
GHOSTS ? : Skeptical, but willing to be convinced
AFTERLIFE ? : Who knows?
REINCARNATION ? : He wouldn't discredit it.
ALIENS ? : YEs
POLITICAL  ALIGNMENT : He doesn't really bother himself with politics.
ECONOMIC  PREFERENCE : ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
SOCIOPOLITICAL  POSITION : Everyone deserves to be treated with basic decency. Beyond that, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 
EDUCATION  LEVEL : I'm gonna go ahead and say he's got a Master's in engineering, and then a bunch of random courses he thought would be interesting but don't actually add up to any kind of extra degree.
FAMILY.
FATHER : Fulton Gearloose
MOTHER : ??? Gearloose (Until I find a canon name, I've called her Tallulah)
SIBLINGS : It's implied he has at least one sibling, since he's got a nephew in some of the comics, but I don't think they've ever actually been seen
EXTENDED  FAMILY : Ratchet Gearloose (Grandfather), Copernicus Gearloose (Great-grandfather), Descartes Gearloose (Great-uncle), Newton Gearloose (Nephew)
NAME  MEANING / S : Gyro, as in gyroscope or gyrosphere. Gearloose, as in a literal loose gear.
HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? : His great-grandfather assisted a gentleman thief in the 1920s. Long standing family ties to Scrooge McDuck. Gyro himself is a knight of the kingdom of Quackalot thanks to time travel shenanigans.
FAVOURITES.
BOOK : Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
MOVIE : Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back
5  SONGS : 
Why Does the Sun Shine? by They Might Be Giants 
Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger by Daft Punk
Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds by The Beatles
Poison by Alice Cooper (kind of a guilty pleasure)
Don't Stop Me Now by Queen
DEITY : ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
HOLIDAY : New Years
MONTH : I don't think he really has a favorite month.
SEASON : Spring
PLACE : His workshop
WEATHER : Partly cloudy, 68F, low humidity, light breeze
SOUND : Clocks ticking, birds singing, keyboard clatter, that wobbly sound that laminated paper makes
SCENT / S : Freshly cut grass, sunscreen, baked goods
TASTE / S : Fresh fruit, anything sweet
FEEL / S : The weight of a wrench or a hammer, the texture of blueprint paper, working outdoors in the sunshine (or by a window), laying in a hammock
ANIMAL / S : Dogs, bees, butterflies, songbirds
NUMBER : 42
COLOUR : Orange
EXTRA.
TALENTS : Not sure if you'd really call it a talent, but he's canonically ambidextrous. 
BAD  AT : Cooking, singing
TURN  ONS : Not getting into that here.
TURN  OFFS : Not getting into this either.
HOBBIES : Baseball, soccer, fishing, bug catching
TROPES : Cloudcuckoolander, Gadgeteer Genius, Mr. Fixit, Identical Grandson,  and probably a whole lot more that I can't be bothered to keep looking for.
AESTHETIC  TAGS : Tools, metalworking, robotics, clockwork, spring and summer landscapes, baseball, soccer, orange, circuitry, beaches, Arthurian legends, medieval weaponry, castles, old sci-fi, space, cyberpunk, steampunk, science labs, dragons
GPOY  QUOTES : ??
FC INFO.
MAIN  FC / S : Rick Moranis
ALT  FC / S : Don't have one
OLDER  FC / S : ...Older Rick Moranis?
YOUNGER  FC / S : ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
VOICE  CLAIM / S : Well, his last voice actor was Chris Edgerly in the remastered game, but I don't think it's been confirmed yet who his new VA will be.
GENDERBENT  FC / S : Don't have one
MUN QUESTIONS.
Q1 : If  you  could  write  your  character  your  way  in  their  own  movie ,   what  would  it  be  called ,  what  style  would  it  be  filmed  in ,  and  what  would  it  be  about ?
A1 : I have no idea. It would probably be a campy, 80's style sci-fi though, like Honey I Shrunk The Kids or Weird Science.
Q2 : What  would  their  soundtrack / score  sound  like ?          
A2 : Lighthearted, but with a sense of wonder. It would make occasional use of odd instruments.
Q3 : Why  did  you  start  writing  this  character ?          
A3 : I had just rediscovered DuckTales and Tumblr RP blogs were starting to become this big thing that everyone did so I just sort of jumped on the bandwagon.
Q4 : What  first  attracted  you  to  this  character ?          
A4 : I've always loved nerdy, quirky characters. Being a ginger doesn't hurt either.
Q5 : Describe  the  biggest  thing  you  dislike  about  your  muse.          
A5 : He is usually portrayed as having human-like feet, which makes no gotdang sense. The ducks have duck feet. Cats and dogs have paws. Other chickens have chicken feet. BUT LET'S MAKE GYRO A WEIRD MUTANT, MWAHAHAHAHAHA! ...How about no? I'm just... completely disregarding that as canon unless there's an explanation for it. I'll even take a one off, throwaway comment. Otherwise, y'all can fight me.
Q6 : What  do  you  have  in  common  with  your  muse ?          
A6 :  A tendency to get way too invested in a project and forget to do things like sleeping or eating a reasonable meal.
Q7 : How  does  your  muse  feel  about  you ?          
A7 : He doesn't know I'm there, and I intend to keep it that way for now.
Q8 : What  characters  does  your  muse  have  interesting  interactions  with ?        
A8 : He has had some truly memorable relationships and interactions with other muses throughout my time playing him, and I don't think I could adequately cover all of them in just a little survey post.
Q9 : What  gives  you  inspiration  to  write  your  muse ?         
A9 : I've got a playlist of songs that remind me of him that I listen to sometimes. Other than that, I find inspiration for Gyro in some of the weirdest places, like my history textbook the other day, or a particularly scientifically inaccurate episode of Danger Mouse I watched the other day.
Q10 : How  long  did  this  take  you  to  complete ?         
A10 : About two hours.
2 notes · View notes