A/N: The movie isn‘t even out yet in my country and my Aramis feels return already with a force. I wrote a self-indulgent little sister drabble. No plot, just fluff. Imagine the Aramis you like best. ☺️ (an ordure is a sort of nuisance in human form ^^)

The level of stealth you were currently demonstrating made you wish to congratulate yourself. Up here, on the small balcony none of the musketeers ever seemed to use, you had found a hiding place of uncompared genius. Here, you could point the harmless old musket of your brother at all the heads of the guards who had sent you funny looks throughout the week. It was a very meditative passe-temps. It also saved you from the tasks random musketeers‘ wives tended to give you, simply because you were a woman passing by, a woman who didn‘t seem like she was occupied enough. But no, thank you, you were not entirely interested in stuffing any stinky socks. No no, you had weapons to clean and secret letters to carry around and a brother to tease. Why didn‘t these men stuff their socks themselves?

You were about to fake head-shot a man named Gerard who was telling nasty jokes by the fountain of the corps, when someone suddenly dropped down on the small space remaining next to you, like a lazy cat who‘d happened to find its way over to you. You hit your nose hard on the cold metal of the heavy weapon in your hand and let out a pain struck groan.

„Whatever did Gerard do to you?“ Your brother asked in his most nonchalant of ways, his left elbow meeting your right one as he settled down, mimicking your position. He was holding an apple in his hand.

You spent a moment grieving the peace and quiet and the integrity of your nose, before you retook your aim, glaring at Gerard over the tip of the musket.

„He‘s an ordure.“

Aramis chuckled, taking a noisy bite from the apple, before offering it to you. You wanted to ignore him to keep from messing up your aim, but the rumbling in your stomach betrayed you. You took the apple from Aramis and peeked a glance in his direction. He was already looking at you with that bemused quizzical look in his eyes, the one that was so individually him that it tended to make you emotional. Therefore, you quickly put on an unbothered expression and avoided his eyes.

„Are you enjoying or hiding yourself up here?“ He asked, putting his chin up on his hand.

„Why are these mutually exclusive choices?“ Your sour mood fit perfectly to the taste of the apple he had handed you. „Maybe I’m brooding… Did you give this apple to me because it tastes like it‘s poisoned?“

„Obviously.“ Aramis responded, smirking when you moved to hit his shoulder with your fist. „I‘m afraid I might be doing you a favor with it.“

The slight concern mixing into his voice made your eyes wander back to his face. His eyes were always gentle and bright when they looked upon you. They made you wish to curl up again his chest to be held and rocked and protected for a while. He was probably here to find out if you were in need of any of that.

You simply extended the apple with a raised brow, a daring look on your face, before looking back at the group of musketeers around Gerard. The aim wasn‘t perfect but you did manage to hit the leadspeaker of the nutbrains against the arm.

Aramis quickly covered his mouth with his hand to hide the snort that threatened to break out when Gerard started turning around himself in an infuriated attempt to find his offenser. You had to chuckle at your brother‘s reaction and soon your conjoined mirth got increasingly harder to suppress. Tears were showing in your brother‘s eyes, from the laughter he tried to silence with his palms and you could feel your own cheeks starting to hurt from smiling widely along to his shaking shoulders. All the while a wild Gerard was running in circles like a little chicken, pulling his rapier and wielding it around.

Aramis bent over and hid his smily face at your shoulder, bursting with quiet laughter when Gerard fell over a chair.

Your fingers held him close by his arm and you realized that you were sad and that you missed him and your feelings crashed inside your chest like a wave against a rock. He was the best brother any young woman could wish for. But he was getting more and more involved in politics and it started to feel like the two of you were drifting apart a little. Missed were the nights you‘d spent drinking and laughing with the three of them - your brother and the chosen brothers. You missed making fun of Aramis with Porthos‘ help, missed the way your brother always managed to get Athos to smile when he wanted it the least, missed seeing him scribble poems on napkins by the light of a candle while Porthos advanced as quietly as possible to steal it from him. You missed the easiness of the less politically active days.

After he‘d managed to calm down, Aramis took a deep breath and put his head against yours. It was the weight of hin that made you feel comforted in a way. You listened to him breathe for a while before wrapping your arms around his neck. As if he was surprised but moved by your sudden affectionate impluse, he cooed gently and put his arm over your back to pull you close. But due to your position being slightly inconvenient, he wasn‘t quite able to physically deal with your need for cuddles, which led to him falling on his back and you tumbling right on top of him.

The mixed emotions in your chest made you break out laughing instantly. Grinning, he looked at you, your fists on his stomach and your chin coming down to his chest. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, his hat making his eyes look like little sparkly lights in the shadow it threw over his face. You couldn‘t stop laughing - he wouldn‘t allow it anyway, riling you on with his cheeky smirk - so you threateningly held up your finger in his face. He raised a brow and made you laugh even more with the funny faces he pulled.

„Stop it!!“ You wheezed.

He gasped. „I‘m not even doing anything!“

With a yelp he jolted when you dug your fingers in his sides, but he quickly got a hold of your wrists. Chuckling softly he managed to prevent any further tickle attacks from your part, wrestling with your weak attempts of breaking out of his hold. Your laughter was making you weak - under any other circumstances, you would have obviously won against him.

Eventually you got too weak for wrestling and for laughing and you merely lay down, your cheek on his chest. He was a lovely person so he started rubbing your back which was so calming you could have easily fallen asleep. Instead, you started moving, inching up higher until your head was on his shoulder, his arm holding you close.

„Bonjour,“ he welcomed you, making you smile slightly, „how about you tell your big brother how you‘re doing now?“

You shook your head gently and closed your eyes, feeling the slight breeze of the summer wind on your face and the warm arm of your brother around you.

„Right now, I am perfectly fine.“

You could feel the muscles under your ear tense hesitantly, but he seemed to accept your silence nontheless, for now, indulging you with the quiet of the afternoon, merely broken by a few musketeers‘ voices from the courtyard.

For a few minutes, the politics of France didn‘t play any part in your life. And you could sense that your brother was just as pleased with that as you were.

Okay someone somewhere said ballet dancer hob and rewrote my brain chemistry.

So. Ballet director dream was once the absolute best in the world but he had a violent feud with a cold and demanding director named Burgess. During one practice Burgess was yelling and screaming at Dream for being useless (he hoped by hiring Dream, his legendary sister Death would come dance for the London ballet too. It didn’t work and he is bitter about it now). And it turns into a fight and Burgess hits Dream in the knee with his cane, injuring it so badly it ruins his career. (His mistake. In revenge, Dream launches a hostile takeover and ousts the asshole.)

Now Dream is the cold and demanding director of the London ballet. And for ten years (time skip because of silver fox dream supremacy) he builds himself up into an absolute legend. Gault is the prime ballerina because I say so. The Corinthian took over Dream’s role as the other star for a while but eventually he wouldn’t take direction and is also sort of a scummy person so they have a massive falling out and he quits.

Without the Corinthian, people say Dream’s shows have lost their spark. He gets colder and more difficult and demanding as a result. Everyone is on the brink of quitting.

Death is now a director too and she promises Dream that she knows the perfect replacement who will breathe new life into his company.

And she sends him Hob.

Hob is the exact opposite of Dream. He went to school on scholarship. He never even saw a ballet until he was 16. He started late but he’s making up for it with the sheer joy he brings to his dancing. He fucking loves it. There’s something loose and free in his dancing that’s so opposite from Dream’s typical technically perfect but brutally emotional style.

Dream bets Death that Hob will quit within a month. Hob is always showing up smiling and joking around and distracting others. Dream is hard on him as he is hard on everyone. And yet. Hob doesn’t quit.

There’s something about the way he throws himself into the dance that is unshakeable.

Dream can’t help but wonder when he lost that kind of joy. He is very quickly captivated by him. It is always this way. Dream fell for Calliope’s dancing before they ever spoke, those many years ago.

One night, Dream catches Hob dancing late on the stage when everyone else has left, practicing a section Dream criticized him harshly for. It is hard not to overcorrect and be too harsh on Hob. Dream knows eventually it will drive Hob away. So for now he stays in the shadows and watches, his heart pounding against his ribs.

When he’s done, Hob looks right at Dream and asks if that was any better.

Dream wasn’t aware Hob had known he was being watched, but he climbs up onto the stage with him. He tells Hob he is improving. But Dream has extremely high standards and it takes more than passion to survive in this world.

Hob just smiles at him and starts his cool down stretches. “I don’t know. I think you could use a little passion.” He‘s flushed and Dream…can’t quite look away.

“I want to impress you. I want to improve,” Hob tells him. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

Dream carefully doesn’t examine his words closely. Hob…can’t be imagining what Dream is. He doesn’t know what things Dream might ask for.

“I am not known for my kindness,” Dream says stiffly. “More experienced dancers than you have quit rather than work for me.”

Hob rises to his feet. “You can’t scare me off. I want this,” he insists. “I want to be here.”

Dream is reluctantly impressed. But he is also picturing Hob on his knees in Dream’s silk sheets and he doesn’t know how to stop. “I can be…punishing,” he warns, unwisely worded.

Hob is beautiful and determined in the stage lights. “Punish me,” he dares him.

Oh I LOVE a ballet au!! There’s so much drama here, I love it. Love the idea of dancer Hob, imagine the Billy Elliot vibes!!! Or maybe he doesn’t start dancing until he’s a teenager. Either way he’s the most lively, exciting dancer of his generation and he has so much JOY when it comes to ballet. He’s rough and uncouth at times but the moment he starts dancing he just becomes the most beautiful thing in the room. Death has nurtured him and given him a wonderful grasp of technique, but she knows that in order to become the greatest dancer he can be, Hob needs to go to Dream.

The thing about Hob is, he loves ballet. Loves it in a way that simply can’t be faked. And Dream’s heart clenches each time he sees Hob because he used to be like that! He used to love ballet more than anything in the world. Where has that love gone, and when did he get so angry and cold? It’s not something that Dream wants to dwell on, but watching Hob makes him feel things he hasn’t felt in a decade.

Watching Hob also makes him horny, but that's another thing that he's not ready to unpack.

Imagine Hob practicing at the barre. Repeating over and over, the same exercises, the same positions that Dream has drilled into him. He sees Dream watching him in the mirror and his eyes just light up! He works even harder, enjoying the attention, enjoying the fact that he KNOWS that Dream is going to find something to pick up on.

Imagine Dream stalking up to Hob and just pouncing. Pressing him against the mirror and kissing him desperately. Hob’s fingers stroke Dream’s silver streaked temples and his mouth moves just as beautifully as his body does when he's dancing.

And when Dream pulls back he's like "your tendu is sloppy, do it again." And Hob can't help but grin <3

Octoberfest Masterpost

This October I wrote a geraskier ficlet every day using prompts from monthly fests. It was lots of fun and I ended up writing nearly 25k in total, which is a lot for me! The fics are also posted here on AO3. Hope you enjoy!

1. A Marriage of Convenience (T, fake dating) Jaskier has some trouble with his inheritance: if he's not married by the age of 35, he'll be cut out of his family's will. Geralt, being the good friend he is, offers to help him out by marrying him.

2. A Timely Rescue (T, kidnapped) Jaskier gets kidnapped by Nilfgaardians looking for Princess Cirilla. Too bad he doesn't have any information to give them.

3. A Bit of Rough (M, manhandled) Geralt habitually manhandles Jaskier. Jaskier doesn't hate it.

4. The Chase (E, woods + predator & prey chase) Jaskier likes to be chased. Geralt is happy to oblige.

5. An Unconscionable Scandal (T, game of seduction) Geralt is faced with a most delicate situation when sharing a bed with Jaskier.

6. Beastly Appetites (M, 5+1 + monsterfucking) Five times Jaskier seduced the monster (and one time he seduced the monster hunter).

7. Your Song (T, misunderstandings) Geralt has noticed something about Jaskier's songs - they seem to have a rather distinct theme. He's starting to that Jaskier might be in love.

8. Scratching the Itch (M, outercourse) Jaskier tries to sneak away from camp to take care of some... personal business. Geralt won't let him leave though, and that's going to be an issue.

9. In the Eye of the Beholder (G, cat eyes) Geralt's cat eyes catch Jaskier's attention.

10. Incident and Injury (T, trail of blood) Jaskier gets hurt in a tavern fight, and Geralt has unexpected feelings about it.

11. An Unexpected Perk (T, only one bed) Geralt is a man who likes his space but, to his annoyance, Jaskier keeps pressing up close when they sleep.

12. A Most Grievous Injury (G, broken bones) Jaskier suffers what he insists is a most grievous injury while travelling with Geralt. Whatever will they do?

13. Like a Storm, Like a Flood (T, kiss in the rain) Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.

14. A Perfectly Natural Reaction (M, monsters + bondage) Geralt needs Jaskier to act as bait for a hunt. Jaskier enjoys it more than he expects.

15. Almost (T, near miss kiss) An almost kiss on a quiet night camping in the forest.

16. A Matter of Preference (T, right person in front of them the whole time) Jaskier is a man of broad and varying tastes. But recently, he‘s started to wonder if he’s developed a type.

17. In Need of Inspiration (T, blackmail) Jaskier, most distressingly, has writer's block. He turns to Geralt for help.

18. Conspicuous in Its Absence (T, ghosts) After the mountain, Geralt catches glimpses of Jaskier everywhere he goes.

19. With Shaking Hands (T, shaky hands) The first time Jaskier patches Geralt up after he's injured on a hunt.

20. The Unforgiving Cold (T, hypothermia) Jaskier is struck down with hypothermia, and Geralt does his best to help.

21. You're On (T, the bet) Geralt bets Jaskier he won't be able to go a whole evening at a banquet without falling into someone's arms. How hard could that be to resist?

22. An Idle Curiosity (G, withdrawal) Jaskier looks like he gives great hugs. But he doesn’t hug Geralt, obviously. That would be weird.

23. The Scent of Home (T, exhaustion) When Jaskier is excited, he smells like juniper and pine. (A love story in scents.)

24. Dead Doesn’t Mean Gone (M, ghosts) People say it’s a ghost story, but it isn’t. It’s a love story.

25. Primal Instinct (E, fuck or die) Strange flowers are having a profound and most disconcerting effect on Geralt, but Jaskier seems fine with it.

26. Weak and Wanting (T, I think I’ve broken something) After the mountain, Jaskier tries to compose music and himself.

27. Comfortably Ensconced (T, extreme weather) Oh to be a bard cozied up under a pile of blankets in Kaer Morhen.

28. High Toxicity (M, high toxicity) The potions give him the edge he needs to take on larger, more dangerous monsters. But once the killing blow is struck and a trophy claimed, he’s left like this, with poison running through his veins and bile building in the back of his throat.

29. Siren Song (T, modern reboot of a classic tale) Jaskier is a siren, but he longs to leave his home beneath the waves for a life of adventure. When he meets a witcher, he might just have his chance.

30. Leave a Mark (E, marking) Geralt enjoys leaving his mark on Jaskier.

31. Untouchable (M, cursed) Jaskier is cursed to feel terrible pain whenever he touches anyone... Anyone except Geralt, that is.

Joel x reader ( Pt 7 )

summary: Joel and Y/N take their relationship to the next level

warnings: cursing and smut 

you can read the previous chapters here 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you fuck Joel.“ Ellie mumbles, rubbing her temples while you blush furiously. “I wanted to tell you! Just didn’t know how I guess.“ You run a hand through your hair and Ellie simply looks at you, Dina giggling next to her. “You owe me a comic.“ Dina nudges Ellie with her elbow and she scoffs. “I know.“ “Wait, you guys had a bet?“ You ask confused. Your friends just laugh and you slowly relax on the bed, knowing they’re not angry with you. “It was Jesse´s idea. Ellie almost won, but you couldn’t wait another month to fall in love with Joel, soo-“ Dina bites her lip with a huge smile and even Ellie chuckles, although she looks slightly uncomfortable. You can’t blame her, you wouldn’t want to see your father figure kissing your friend, either. “I´m sorry for not telling you guys sooner, Joel and I wanted to wait until we’re sure things will work out. And we didn’t really know how you would take it.“ You shyly look over to Ellie and she clears her throat. “It kinda weirds me out that Joel and you are a thing, I mean, Joel is a dinosaur and you’re my friend. But its fine, I’d rather see him with you than anyone else.“ She shrugs her shoulders and Dina scoffs, rolling her eyes. “It’s not really a surprise, anyways. You´ve been crushing on him for months, it was awfully painful to watch.“ Dina fake winces and you slap her knee, laying down on your stomach afterwards. “Ha ha. Very funny.“ You bite back a smile and Ellie slides a bit lower, resting her back against the headboard of the bed while laying her arm behind Dina. Dina notices and scoots closer, leaning into Ellie. She nudges you with her foot and you watch your friends from the end of the bed, legs dangling in the air. “But please don’t kiss Joel in front of me. I can´t even imagine-“ Ellie shudders and you groan, fisting the sheets in your palm. “Don´t worry, we-“ “Oh Ellie, they’ve done a lot worse.“ Dina interrupts you and teasingly wiggles her eyebrows, finding the blush on your cheeks quite amusing. “Pictures out of my head!“ Ellie scrunches her nose in disgust and you hide your face behind your hands. “You suck, Dina.“ You mumble, earning a kick from her. “Hey!“ You protest, pushing her feet away from you. “You, my dear friend-“She begins while batting her long lashes at you, “can call yourself lucky that we’re teasing you, instead of being mad at you for lying to us. You own us a shit ton of gossip! Like, Joel and you?? Finally something exciting happens here.“ Dina throws her head back and Ellie chuckles at the hard impact on her shoulder, sneakily resting her hand on Dina´s arm. “I don´t think Ellie wants to hear my gossip about Joel. It’s mature content.“ You laugh and bite your fingertip, feeling the heat creep up your face. Ellie fake gags and holds her hand up. “Stop! I really don’t want to know anything sexual about Joel. You can keep your dirty gossip to yourself.“ Dina grabs Ellies thigh and shakes it slightly, missing out on Ellies flushed expression. “Oh come on, Joel is a grown man and Y/N´s old enough too. It’s only natural.“ You look at Dina and nudge her foot to make her shut up. “Can we talk about something other than my sexlife?“ You plead, Ellie sharing your distressed look. “Yes, please.“ She says, pinching Dinas arm and making her gasp. “What was that for?“ She asks, looking up to Ellie. Their eyes meet and you smile, seeing the way they look at each other. “for making Y/N and me uncomfortable!“ Ellie laughs and Dina smirks, teasingly running her hand over Ellies thigh. Ellie tenses and you look away, feeling the tension between them. “I´m good at making people uncomfortable.“ Dina lowers her voice and you cough, squirming on the bed. “you´re right about that.“ You say, pulling the two out of their little moment. Ellie audibly exhales and Dina snuggles more into Ellies side, waving her hand in front of her. “not my problem all my friends are prudes.“ She jokes, and you rest your chin onto your palm. “At least you have friends.“ Ellie laughs at that and you join, feeling a weight lift off your chest. You’re damn lucky Dina and especially Ellie aren’t mad at you, it could have gone a lot worse.

“My options are kinda limited, but you guys are alright.“ Dina makes a face and grabs the remote from her nightstand. “And now let’s watch the movie, before Y/N gets lovesick and leaves us for Joel.“ She turns on the TV and you shut her up by throwing your only pillow at her, turning onto your side afterwards. The intro of some 80´s movie Ellie wanted to see begins to play, and you nuzzle your head onto her lower leg, ready for the movie night to begin. 

“She´s not mad?“ Joel asks surprised when you visit him the next day. You shake your head, tiredly rubbing your eyes. You didn’t sleep much, thanks to Ellie and her love for old movies. Instead of watching one movie and going home afterwards, you stayed awake till dawn and slept only some hours. “No, sure she finds the thought of us together weird, but she’s accepting.“ You yawn and rest your back against the chair, closing your eyes as a gust of wind whistles by. Joel sits next to you, strumming away on his guitar while you enjoy the little sun that is out on his porch. “You stayed over?“ He bops his head with each chord he plays and you squint an eye at him, catching his relaxed expression. “Yeah, Ellie made us watch her favorite movies. Some pretty old stuff.“ You laugh and Joel puts his guitar down, a glimmer in his eyes. “Movies from the 80´s?“ He looks at you, and you tilt your head as you eye him up and down. His hair starts to grow over the tip of his ears and his forehead lays in thin wrinkles. “Yeah, she’s obsessed with them. Do you like them, too?“ You reach out and push some hair out of Joels face, making him chuckle. “Ellie and I used to watch them together back to when she was still living in my backyard.“ Joel gestures behind his house and you frown. “Why did you guys stop?“ Joel heavily exhales at your question and briefly looks into your eyes. “Thats a long story.“ Joel doesn’t meet your gaze and you take his face into your hands, leaning forward to softly kiss him on the lips. “I am here if you ever want to tell me.“ He‘s unsere how to respond to that, you can tell. But his mouth opens and the words start flowing out, even the smallest detail finally lifting from Joel’s haunted heart. He tells you everything. How he met Marlene and why  she asked him to bring Ellie to the fireflies, to make a vaccine against the virus. How his girlfriend back then sacrificed herself after being bitten, and how he and Ellie started to become an inseparable team. You couldn’t believe what Joel was telling you. Ellie is immune? There would have been a cure and a way out of his hellhole? “And when Ellie and I made it to the fireflies, and Marlene told me Ellie had to die, I just couldn’t let it happen.“ Joel runs a hand over his face and you listen, hand holding onto his knee. “I did what I had to do to get her out.“ Joels gaze hardens and he looks at you, face stern and mouth pressed tightly together. “I told her there is no cure, and her immunity isn’t of any use. That there are dozens like her, and they stopped looking for a vaccine.“ Joel swallows and you open your mouth, heart heavy with feelings you can’t express. It just sounds unreal. This terrible world is all you’ve known, and your friend could have been the key to end it all. “Oh Joel.“ You whisper, grabbing his hand when you see his shaking fingers. “She found out that I lied to her. Said she’s done with me.“ Joel clears his throat and looks into the distance, lip quivering dangerously. “I would have done the same.“ You say, mind slowly starting to work again. “Safe Ellie, I mean. Or you, doesn’t matter. I wouldn´t want to live without either of you, even if all of this would have come to an end.“ You gesture to the guarded fences and watchtowers, and the dangers that lay behind these walls. “So I understand.“ This makes Joel finally look at you, and you swear you see a tear running down his cheek but he’s quick to wipe it away. “I told Ellie the same. She came to me a couple weeks ago, said she doesn’t know if she can ever forgive me for that.“ Joel chuckles dryly and mindlessly traces the back of your hand with his thumb. “But she said that she likes to try.“ Joels voice breaks and you leap out of your seat, wrapping him into a bone crashing hug. His arms wind around your waist as you sit on his lap and kiss his forehead, leaning your cheek against it afterwards. “She will come around, you guys share a past. I´m sure she would have done the same for you.“ You brush over his back and he rests his head into the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your cleavage. “I understand that she can’t forgive me for that. She’s right, I knew what she wanted and took that from her. But I would do it all over again if I had to.“ Joel breathes heavily and you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. “The things we do for love.“ You mumble, staring blankly into the distance. “The only other person who knows are Tommy and Maria.“ Joels voice is so quiet, unusual to his otherwise rough and deep way of speaking. You peel yourself away from him and tilt his head upwards to make him look at you. “I won´t tell anyone. Never.“ You lean down and capture your lips in a kiss, tasting coffee and simply him. He grunts and grabs your thighs harder, knuckles turning red from the cold. He doesn’t want to think about Ellie anymore, as it saddens him, and focuses on you instead. “Let´s go inside.“ He whispers, so that’s what you do. You grab his hand and pull him up, into the living room where you sit down and guide him to the empty space next to you. You push him deeper into cushions and keep a tight hold on his shoulders while you rest your legs on either side of his hip, sitting down on his crotch. “I wouldn´t want to miss you for the world.“ You whisper as you kiss the spot below his ear, hands messing up his unruly hair even further. Joel shivers under your touch and grabs your hips, breathing shakily into your ear. You feel his body tense and stop, paying attention to his face and running your fingertips over his wrinkles. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.“ With that you properly sit on his lap and grind back, feeling the rough friction of his jeans against your own clothes. Joels eyes flutter shut and his mouth opens slightly, a deep grumble coming from his throat. You cup his jaw and kiss him, tongue lazily licking his bottom lip and teasing the inside of his mouth. You want to distract him and make him happy, to truly make him understand that you’re there for him. You feel his hands creep up under your jacket and mirror his actions, hands opening the zipper of his jacket and peeling the fabric from his broad shoulders. Joel eagerly leans forward and removes his jacket, holding onto your lower back while he attacks your collarbones with kisses. His fingers move to your front and undo your jacket, joining his on the floor. You giggle and lean into him, pulling on his hair when he bites your sensitive flesh. “Joel-“You breathe out, grinding against him once more. “This is about you, not me.“ You remind him when you see his dark eyes and pink lips. He stops and looks at you, hand coming up to brush over the back of your neck. “making you feel good makes me feel good.“ He tries to connect your lips with his, but you turn your head and his lips land on your cheek instead. “just let me.“ You peck his lips when he frowns and slowly move to the side, exploring the harsh hairs of his beard while you kiss his jaw and neck, fingers quickly working on the buttons of his jeans. Joel starts sweating slightly and you remove his shirt, fingernails grazing the warm skin of his chest. You feel him grow beneath you and throw your head back, supporting one hand on his knee while you rock yourself back and forth on his crotch, sighing when his lips suck on your neck and dip deeper to the rim of your blouse. You quickly lift your arms and undress yourself, shivering when Joels breath meets the valley of your breasts. He carefully pushes the fabric of your bra down and kisses the soft flesh, humming when you press into him. You stop your movements and let him kiss your chest, hands flying into his hair and massaging his scalp. “Lean back.“ You whisper when you feel his kisses getting harsher and breaths quicker, hands impatiently playing with the rim of your jeans. He does as he’s told and watches you climb off him, getting out of your jeans and urging him to do the same. When he’s about to get rid of his underwear, you grab his hand and stop him. You guide his hands around your lower back and rest them on your bum as you climb back onto him, lining yourself directly onto his hard one and grinding your cores against each other. Joel buckles up into you and you almost moan, eyes squeezing shut and mouth opening. The air around you is hot and you feel your hair sticking onto your forehead, Joels own body heat only increasing your warmth. “you´re teasing me.“ Joel mumbles against your neck when you press your fronts together. “Do you want me to stop?“ You ask in a low voice, lips dangling over his and touching as you speak. “No.“ He shakes his head and applies pressure to your bum, making you grind forwards. Your mouth forms into an o when you feel your wetness spreading onto him, and a shaky sigh slips past your lips. You run your hand down his belly and between your cores, feeling his clothed member in your palm before you pull his boxers down. Joel gets the hint and slides your underwear to the side, fingers holding it in place while he aligns with your entrance. “I love you.“ You whisper as he pushes into you, and you lower your hips to meet his thrust. Joel holds your lower back while you lean into him and looks into your hooded eyes, adoring your almost naked frame leaning against his. “I love you.“ He responds, mouth meeting yours for a soft kiss while you wrap your arms around his neck. Your chest almost suffocates him as you inch closer and move your hips back and forth, tensing your muscles at the hot friction against your core. Joel starts melting under you as well and his hands move upwards, cupping your neck with one hand while he holds you close. You lift your hips and sink down onto him, repeating the movement when you hear Joels heavy grunts next to your ear. Your forehead comes to rest against his shoulder when you grab onto the cushions for support, picking up on speed. “You feel so good.“ You kiss his neck and moan loudly when he thrusts into you, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling the room. Joel grabs your chin and makes you look at him, the sight of him alone almost making you come undone. “I don´t ever want to lose you.“ He rests his forehead against yours and you cry out in pleasure as you continue to ride him, rocking your hips against his. “You´ll never lose me.“ You mumble between heavy breaths, kissing every inch of his face that you can reach. Joel gasps huskily when you shift your weight and lean back, allowing him to push deeper into you. “I´m yours and you’re mine.“ You look at him and run a finger over his open lip, smiling when he kisses your fingertip. Your whole stomach is in knots and you feel your legs getting weak, the friction on your core almost unbearable. Joel picks up on your tensing body and slips a hand between your hips, gently rubbing your bundle of nerves while you squirm on top of him. Your grip on his shoulders tightens and you furrow your brows as you sink harder onto him, feeling his own release nearing with each thrust. Another grind of your hips is all it takes for him to come undone, shielding your own body with his as he hugs you so tight all air leaves your lungs. You rest your whole body  against him as you let go, hot waves washing through your bones and making you see stars. Your hands slip from his shoulders and wander over your own body as you breathe abruptly, legs quivering and face tensed. The heat in your belly and chest gets overwhelming and you need Joel to hold you close, holding onto him for dear life. You hear your own blood rushing through your ears and Joels heavy pants next to it. "Oh god." You pinch your eyes shut and hide your face from Joel, body tensing one last time. After you calm down, you feel his fingertips on your back and sides, his beard tickling the side of your face. You move and let him slip out of you, shivering at the loss of contact. Joel carefully lifts you onto the seat next to him and pulls his boxers back up, hovering over you as you lay down on the couch. “Move in with me.“ He says, face glowing in the dim light. You laugh tiredly and grab his shoulders, pulling him on top of you. You wrap your aching legs around his middle and lock him in place while he rests his weight onto his elbow, face inches away from yours. “I´m serious. We wasted so much time with tiptoeing around each other, let´s not lose any more.“ He runs his hand through your hair and you swallow, eyes gazing back and forth into his own. This all feels like a dream, and as you come down from your high, you realise he’s still waiting for an answer. Are you moving at a quick pace? Yes. Do you have any doubts? No. “I´d love to move in with you.“ You close your eyes and kiss him, wrapping your arms around his chest and almost disappearing beneath his form.  “I feel like a teenager again.“ Joel shakes his head and unties himself from you, moving to grab a towel to get you cleaned up. You stretch your tired limbs and watch him skip up the stairs. “You´re quite the romantic, can´t deny that!“ You call after him, and laugh when you hear him huff. It’s true, Joel is way sweeter than you ever expected him to be. Behind his hard shell and fear of losing any more loved ones, the old Joel is still buried deep inside. And you managed, with lots of patience and love, to make him show you this side of him. You can´t even describe the amount of happiness you feel when you think about him, now that he’s an integral part of your life you no longer want to live without. You really managed to find love in times when death and horror rule the world, and you are beyond grateful for that. “Hey Joel?“ You say as you hear him rummaging upstairs. “Hmm?“ He responds, closing a drawer and stomping the stairs back down. You watch his trained form walk over to you and smirk, dangling your feet off the couch. “how about you take me out on a proper date once I moved in?“ You thankfully take the towel from him and quickly run it over your body before getting dressed again. Joel lets himself fall back against the cushions with a loud thud, and watches your every move. “I fear to disappoint you baby, options here a limited.“ He shrugs his shoulders and you stop buttoning your blouse as you hear the nickname slipping past his lips. “Oh I´m not asking for much.“ You walk over to him and stand between his legs, smoothing down his hair and staring at his chapped lips. “Just a nice evening on your porch with a glass of wine while you sing for me.“ You beam at him and he rolls his eyes, a chuckle erupting from his throat. “If that is all it takes to make you happy.“ He traps you in his arms and you eagerly sit down next to him, body worn out and tired. “You is all I need.“ You snuggle into him and close your eyes, his strong chest comfortably resting against your side as you swing your legs over his lap. He rests his hands on your knees and leans back himself, eyes falling shut and body relaxing. “All I need now is a nap.“ He mumbles and you laugh, sliding lower and resting your head against the pillows, sleep washing over you. 

-----

I feel like I´m moving their relationship too fast but I can't stop lol, I just need more happy Joel in my life

paper cranes ft. nishinoya yū 1.1k words

synposis: it’s just a children’s story, but you can’t bear to let it go.

note: childhood friends, open ending, based on an imagine i had on my kpop account </3 the writing in this feels so simple but i kinda like it that way? makes it feel more naive, like a kid :D

They say that if you fold a thousand paper cranes within a year, the gods grant you a wish.

At least, that’s what Nishinoya tells you, but considering you’re only eight and he‘s known to confuse the details, you’re pretty skeptical. Nonetheless, you play along and fold the papers, content enough to be spending time with him.

He’s only ever heard the story in passing, so he’s not quite sure how the whole wish thing works—is the wish only granted if one person does all the folding? Is it cheating if you help him? Oh god, was he committing a crime against the heavenly powers?

“What if I go to...to...hell?” He whispers the last word hesitantly. His hand clamps over his mouth immediately, looking around to see if anyone else had heard him.

You shake your head. “I don’t think it really matters. And besides, whoever grants the wish can just make an exception for you on the basis of ignorance.” You beam at your use of the new words you’d learned from the television, crossing your arms smugly.

Noya’s eyes light up. “Yeah! Whatever that means,” he adds quietly. “You’re so smart, Y/N. You should be a lawyer.”

It’s your turn to perk up now, your eyes twinkling at the prospect. “You really think so, Yū?”

“Of course! Hey, if it doesn’t work out and we’re brought up before the gods in court, you should defend us.”

You groan. The thought of talking back to the highest powers doesn’t exactly bode well for you, and you’d prefer that you live to see the day you hit double digits. “Just get back to folding.”

It takes some time for your clumsy little hands to memorize the process of transforming the square pieces of paper into cranes, but by the time they do, it takes almost no time for you to accomplish your goals.

A thousand paper cranes are folded at breakfast, lunch, in class, break, dinner, and even as you go through your nightly routine, all so Noya can make his wish.

The night he makes his wish is as clear in your mind as a childhood memory can be. Most of it is hazy, but the important bits are crystal.

The two of you sit in your driveway, Noya’s arms full with the origami cranes. You have a few cradled in your hands. Most are crumpled and messy, beginning to tear because of how many times they’d been folded over. But they’re complete, waiting for your commands.

Nishinoya closes his eyes, lips pursed as he thinks hard. When he opens his eye again, an impish smile spreads across his face.

Suspicious, you ask, “What’s with that look?”

He huffs proudly. “I just made the best wish ever.”

You raise your brow, expression deadpan. “Really.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Prove it.” When he gives you a confused look, you clarify: “Tell me the wish.”

Nishinoya looks at you like you’ve just called his mother a cow. (He doesn’t really know why that’s such a bad thing though; cows are pretty cool. Especially since he can feel their milk building up a very promising growth spurt within him. He’s probably going to grow to be at least 10 feet tall.)

“No way!” he scoffs. “That’s against the law!”

“It is not!” you shoot back, putting your hands on your hips. “C’mon, Yū, I thought we told each other everything.”

“Like when you broke your mom’s favorite earrings?”

“Don’t change the subject. And you better keep quiet about that.” Your hands clasp together, eyes pleading. “Pleeeease, Noya? I’ll split all my popsicles with you until we get to middle school.”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, Y/N, but I can’t tell you my wish. Not even for popsicles. Don’t you know the first rule of wishmaking?”

“You tell your best friend?”

Another offended look. You pout. It was worth a shot.

“The first rule,” he says, beginning to collect the cranes and stuff them in his bag, “is to never, ever, ever tell anyone what you wished for.”

“Why not?”

“Because then it won’t work, silly. And I wished for something really cool, so I don’t wanna risk it.”

You think it over for a moment. It’s a logical deduction, which annoys you even more. Feeling spiteful that Noya’s won the argument, you mutter, “I bet you just wished for a girlfriend.”

“Ewww, no!” He sticks out his tongue in disgust. “Girls are yucky. I never wanna get a girlfriend ever.”

You laugh, and he reaches out to take the cranes you still hold. Before he takes them, though, he asks, “Did you make a wish yet?”

You shake your head. “I don’t have anything I wanna wish for yet.”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Really? Not even for an all-you-can-eat ice cream buffet?”

Tempting. You almost wish for that. But you shake your head firmly. “I’m gonna save it for when I find something I really, really, REALLY want.”

He shrugs. “Bummer. An ice cream buffet would’ve been really cool. Anyway, wanna race to your room?”

You grin. “You’re on.”

It’s been a long time since then. Somewhere between childhood and adolescence, you and Noya went your separate ways, too caught up in your own lives to keep up with each other, eventually losing contact completely. Even now, you aren’t sure where he is, but every now and then you hear a rumor floating around that he’s off in some foreign country, catching fish the size of yachts. You aren’t sure if it’s actually true, but you hope he’s doing well anyway.

You’re all grown up now, with your own little workspace that’s littered with cranes; you’ve developed a habit of folding them to cope with stress. In a way, you suppose, Yū isn’t completely gone from your life.

Everyone who sees the cranes asks the same question: Have you folded a thousand?

When you laugh and say that you’ve long surpassed that number, they follow it up with, What do you wish for?

And you always answer with the same thing you told Noya: There isn’t anything you really want, so there is no wish to make.

But sometimes you pick up one of your cranes and remember that energetic little boy who started it all, grinning at you as he proudly presented his first, misshapen attempt at origami.

Only then do you say your wish, the one thing you can really think of that’s out of reach, that only the gods can give you:

Well, I can’t say what it is, can I? After all, it wouldn’t work if I did.

Got7 Reaction to Receiving Multiple Orgasms (m)

Jaebeom

If you ever want to completely dominate this man, you’d have to catch him off guard, cause we all know Leader-nim would never voluntarily give up control—even less in sexual settings. Jaebeom would cuss, A LOT, but more specifically, he’d cuss you out for teasing him to the point where his cheeks were bright red and his entire perspirating body spasmed every time his climax leaked from his swollen cock. After some time, Beom would eventually succumb to your torture but only because he‘s already thinking up plans on how to get his revenge...

“You fucking- shit! Goddamnit, (Y/N)!... You’re so- fuck... You’re so-so dead when- ugh- when I get out of this... Fuck!”

Mark

For the most part, Mark‘s quiet persona generally carries over into the bedroom. Especially when he decides to sub. This instance would be no different, more since he’d be too embarrassed to allow himself to fully slip as a result of the overstimulation, so the most you’d probably get are breathy moans and little gasps. But even so, this boy would be so pretty omfg—gazing up at you with teary eyes and kiss-swollen lips. He’d love for you to roughly mark up his body too, specifically while pumping your fingers inside his hole, and hurl him over yet another earth-shattering edge.

“Ah, (Y/N), please... Please, I need you to bite me- shit- I need it so bad... God fu-fuck, I’m gonna cum again, shit...”

Jackson

If we’re being honest, Jackson would probably be the one to ask you to keep going after his first high to begin with. He’d be borderline addicted to the way your fingers/your tongue/your touch strikes pleasure throughout his veins—so much to the point he’d forget how many times you’d bring him to his peak of pleasure, loving how his own cum would cover his body. However, Jackson likes to push his limits pretty far, so you’d have to check on him, and if it comes down to it, would call the night quits before he actually passes out. Don’t forget to praise our Wang Puppy either~

“Ah, yes! I’m so close!... Make me cum again, please, (Y/N)! I’ve been such a good boy, I deserve it, right!? Keep going, baby, please, please, please...!”

Jinyoung

Prepare to deal with the brat of the century with Jinyoung. This boy would be such a little pest—acting indifferent toward your antics, which would probably have been brought on as a punishment, and dropping a snide comment here and there. Don’t let his cocky attitude deter you though, because once you make him cum for the nth time, Jinyoung would turn into a whiny, writhing wreck. If you push him hard enough, you may even reduce him to a sobbing, helpless state where he wouldn’t be able to hide his pleasure any longer.

“Is that really all you got? C’mon, (Y/N), you know I can take so much more than- Ow! That hurts!... You should do it again...”

Youngjae

Although Youngjae is fairly loud during most elements of sexy time, there’s something about being powerlessly fucked and overstimulated stupid underneath your hand that would have him screaming for the heavens. This boy would be such a desperate mess—squirming and whimpering and begging upon the mattress already stained with his release. One minute, he’d plead for you to stop, then the next, he’d practically howl for more with tears of pleasure spilling down his cheeks. Even if you’d already brought him to his high more times than his weak body could bear.

“Ah! I-I’m too sensitive, (Y/N)-ah! Can’t- ah- can’t cum again!... M-more! More, please! (Y/N)-ah, i-it feels so good!...”

Bambam

Similar to Jinyoung, Bam would totally start off acting like a cocky, little brat. Before you even begin, he’d claim that he could take whatever you give him without fault—which is technically true, but you’d obviously want to make it a bit more difficult for him. Instead of jumping right into it, you’d edge Bambam to his peak, leaving him squirming hot-and-bothered against the sheets, over and over again. His first orgasm would literally capsize his frail figure, rendering him as a sweaty and boneless pile of limbs. It’s safe to say the night wouldn’t stop there, not when he’d finally be on his best behavior.

“Are you kidding, babe? I bet I’m not even gonna make a sound... Wh-why aren’t you letting me cum? I-I thought- oh fuck!...”

Yugyeom

This poor, poor boy does not do well with anything along the lines of orgasm control, especially not overstimulation. Yugyeom would not be able to keep still for his own life—his arms flailing wildly and legs twitching from your hold—but he’d try so hard for your sake, forcing his fingers to stay locked and twisted up in the blankets. Only your name, high-pitched cries and moans would remain on his lips, loud enough for the neighborhood to hear. Every time you bring him to his climax, his thighs would violently shake, and his sweet, aching cock would swell another pretty shade of red.

“(Y/N)-noona! I-I- uh, Noona!- I don’t know- I-I don’t know if I-... Ah, please! Gon-gonna cum again! Pl-please, (Y/N)!...”

Fic WIP!

So, I’ve been cooking a fic lately. I’ve got a good 7K written of it so far, and it will be 4 chapters in total. I will be posting the full thing only when I’ve finished, but given I haven’t shown much creative work lately I thought I’d share a lil teaser with y’all of it.

It’s set post CYM, pre movie. Steven is almost 16. For slight context, he and Amethyst are tracking down some straggling corrupted Gems... intending to poof them and return them to the temple to heal with their diamond essence.

__

Preview:

In the corner of his eye he catches that barbed tail swing from above, vying to surprise them from their blind spot, and summons his bubble around them. Its surface ripples upon impact, but holds strong. His fellow battle partner follows the creature’s erratic movements rapturously as she recovers.

“Tell me when,” he huffs for breath, watching the Gem circle around them and slash at the surrounding trees as intimidation.

“Drop on three,” she says. “Your call.”

“Okay...”

Steven steels his nerves, inhaling deep, and focusing on the reliable hum of hard light running from his core outwards. Just relax. It’s all training. All stuff you’ve done a million times before. You’ve got this.

Working off the emerging rhythm of the creature’s strikes, he begins his count.

“One—“

Amethyst’s fists clench tighter.

“Two...”

The creature’s tail slams against the bubble and rebounds once again.

“Three!” he shouts, and throws his arms out, popping the bubble in a startling explosion of glittering pink.

The Gem howls. She’s thrown against a cluster of trees by the force of his magic’s kickback. Amethyst throws all of her energy into her spin-dash, and surges towards her with all the strength of a typhoon.

He summons two shields in turn, working light on his feet as he hurls them full force one after the other, desperately hoping to poof this poor creature as quickly and painlessly as he can manage. She’s strong, though. Incredibly strong— which gives more credence to his theory of this Gem being aristocratic in origin. Before Era 3, Homeworld used to endow the most ‘important’ Gems with greater durability. If she were a corrupted quartz or ruby, both easily poofed Gems, they’d have finished the fight by now.

“Hey!” Amethyst calls as she continues on the offensive, finally looping the Gem’s torso. “All this?” She gives a mighty battle cry, and swings her slender, scaly body over her head. Screeching, the corruption crashes headfirst into the dirt a good twenty feet away. “Is starting to get way too annoying. Ya’ wanna let Smoky take this one?”

Steven gives a playful laugh, averting his normally watchful gaze from the creature for a split second to face her. “You bet I do!”

And that’s when what should have been an incredibly straightforward mission goes very, very wrong.

All because he forgot to be careful. For one tiny, should’ve been insignificant moment.

He’s reaching out for a high five, fingers splayed outwards. His gem glows, the two of them so intrinsically in sync by now that he’s already anticipating their fusion.

His hand never finds its match.

Instead, the end of the corrupted Gem’s mace-like tail swings back around and slams into his gut with the force of a freight train, knocking the wind clear out of him. Wham. Contact. Following momentum, his body spins a good hundred feet away from Amethyst before she can ever try to catch him with her whip... and he crashes headfirst into a startlingly solid tree trunk. He falls to the forest floor like nothing more than an abandoned rag doll.

“Steven!!” she shrieks from afar.

Ears ringing. Head pounding. Heart throbbing. Veins pumped full of static.

(Inhale.)

H-he- surely he‘s not—!

(Just inhale!)

Black feathers the edges of his vision, looming like a reaper. It’s wrong. It’s real, but it’s all so distant, so wrong. Stubbornly, he gasps for breath. Refusing to let himself go unconscious. Not here, not now. But it’s so tempting, gosh is it tempting. His whole body feels numb and battered, his whole body feels...

There’s a twisting in his gut. His eyes shoot wide.

Oh...

I- imagine atsumu pounding into you so hard then samu walks in and join

This is hot omg 🥵 - but it also needs a trigger warning

TRIGGER WARNING

———————————

“Ya take my cock so well-“ he heavily pants on your neck, while he‘s talking you from behind, your body pressed flush against his.

His body was covered in sweat, his blonde hair hanging into his face, while he thrusts into you at a merciless pace.

“Ya enjoying this, huh? To be my little cum slut,“ his words make you moan more- he knew exactly how to degrade you in a way that made you want more, that made you arch your hips to meet his thrust even more.

“Tsumu- I‘m so close,“ you whimper, and he lets out a groan, while he pressed you harder against his cock.

“I bet I could make her cum faster.“ The words make you open your eyes immediately, and you let out a shriek, cause Osmau was watching you- his grey sweatpants doing nothing to cover his erection.

“Fuck- Samu- stop talkin‘ shit- bet ya can‘t make her cum at all.“ Atsumu didn't even stop thrusting into you, and you moan loudly, still slightly embarrassed- but it turned you on to have him watch you- to see how aroused he got by seeing how you got fucked by Atsumu.

“Let me have some fun too,“ he came closer with a smile, and Atsumu grunts, but let’s your body fall to the bed. Osamu catches you with one strong arm, and his other hand was quick to pull his pants down to free his erection.

“I‘m gonna fuck you so hard after this.“

[bulletproof glass part 3] part 2

“choi san is dangerous”

those were the first words that hongjoong uttered after the fateful meeting in the warehouse. “maybe i underestimated him.”

yunho remembers hongjoong having a nightmare that night, ending with a loud shout of “YUNHO!” and the banging open of his door, a frenzied hongjoong barging in his room, gasping for air like someone was choking him. yunho remembers hongjoong startling him awake, only to have hongjoong gather him in his arms and mutter incomprehensible things into his ears while he just sat there, helpless and confused.

“they can’t take me, hyung. it’s okay. i’m here, i’m safe.”

a frantic shake of the head. “no, you’re not. i made you a target since the day i took you to see them. i shouldn’t have done that, but i couldn’t leave you alone.”

“i know, hyung. it’s alright. we’re okay. i can protect myself”

a muffled laugh. “as much as that gun is loaded, yunho, we both know you can‘t bring yourself to shoot.”

yunho purses his lips, drawing back and holding hongjoong at arms length. “i’ll shoot it if anyone threatens you, hyung. threatens us. you know that.”

hongjoong sighs, and wonders for the nth time why he brought this sweet soul into the tainted abyss of the underworld.

he sleeps much better after that, though, buried in 185cm of yunho.

“hello again, yunho ssi”

yunho, in his sleep deprived, coffee induced haze, barely recognises the person standing in front of him. “huh.” he manages to utter, sounding so incredibly dumb that even he himself winces. damn it, yunho. get it together

but then he realises he shouldn’t even be engaging with choi san, who’s holding a latte to his lips and grinning at him like they shared some kind of inside joke.

yunho thinks he should find a new cafe to frequent. he can’t keep being distracted by devilishly attractive mafia bosses while he‘s trying to work on his dissertation. shame, the coffee here is the best he’s had in a while.

“what do you want.” he sighs out, not bothering to try and intimidate san into going away. somehow,within three meetings, he already understands san more than most people do.

choi san cannot be cowed.

“like i said last time, nothing. just wanted to say hi. and good luck on whatever you’re doing, it looks difficult.” choi san hums, still staring at him, and yunho, much to his horror, finds the tips of his ears going hot.

san’s grin morphs into a smirk. “i told you before, yunho- we’ll probably be meeting a lot. and it’s probably to my benefit that you look cute almost all the time. even holding a gun.”

what is this guy‘s problem?!

yunho grits his teeth, willing himself to ignore the man. “i am busy. go away.”

“of course, of course. see you soon, cutie.” san winks, and to yunho’s horror, the blush on his ears creeps onto his cheeks.

“i hope not.”

“darling, we don’t always get what we want in life.” san chirps merrily, and yunho tenses. choi san is dangerous.

warning alarms go off in his head when san leans in closer, just like he did the last time they met. this time, yunho forces himself not to shrink away. he can’t shoot me in broad daylight. he’s a mafia boss, not an idiot.

“but i’m the exception. i always get what i want. and right now, jung yunho, i want you.”

yunho chokes on air, and san whirls around on his heels, strutting off, a satisfied smile decorating his chiseled features. making yunho flustered was his new favourite past time.

while yunho is still recovering, an employee brings out a piece of hazelnut cake and sets it on his table. yunho eyes it suspiciously. “sorry, i didn’t order that.”

“yes, but that gentleman just now did. told us to bring it to you. oh, and he left a message. enjoy, sir!”

a card is slipped onto his table, and yunho can’t resist.

eyeing the cake and gingerly picking up the fork with his left hand, he turns the card around with his right hand and blinks.

you intrigue me, jung yunho. hazelnut is your favourite right? i bet you’re wondering how i know, though the answer won’t surprise you. i’ll get to know you more, and maybe you’ll want me to know you too.

by the way, my name is san, since you never use it. here’s my number. i trust you won’t do anything with it, but maybe save it. i’ll see you again.

for gods’ sake. was a mafia boss flirting with him?

“san. what’s your intention with yunho?”

“god, seonghwa, you’ve asked me that so many times. i told you, he’s a bit of fun and amusement. such an innocent thing. maybe i want to ruin him. who knows? i just like messing with him.”

seonghwa pursed his lips, eyeing san cautiously while he spins in his leather chair behind his gigantic desk.

“there’s no time for amusement.”

you have to kill him.

“that’s where you are wrong, my dear stick in the mud.” san tuts at him. “there’s always time for fun, and jung yunho is the best fun i’ve had in a while.”

“usually you sleep with the fun on the first try.” seonghwa deadpans.

san laughs, and then contemplates. “true. but he knows me, knows what i am. he’ll take more effort, if i want to go there. but strangely, i’m not sure that’s what i even want out of him.”

“why do you care so much about him?” seonghwa bites his tongue, regretting his statement immediately when he sees san tense.

“i don’t. i’m just bored, seonghwa. don’t get anything screwed up inside your head.”

god, seonghwa wants to tell him so bad.

they’re going to make you kill him

stay away from him

i don’t want you to hurt

“i’ll have him soon. and then i won’t want him anymore, just like all the others.” san whirls around in his chair to face the window, the view of seoul greeting him. “they’re all so easy.”

seonghwa knows jung yunho isn’t easy. he’s not a toy, and he won’t fall for san.

at least, seonghwa hopes he won’t. he hopes that jung yunho is intelligent and cares enough about his own wellbeing to stay away from san. then maybe the elders would reconsider his target, and seonghwa won’t have to look hongjoong in the eye and tell him that his little brother is about to be killed-

seonghwa grips his phone tightly, standing outside an apartment smack in the middle of hongdae. he’s trying to decide whether or not to knock, when the door opens and decides for him.

kim hongjoong stands before seonghwa, in all the glory that one can at 4am in the morning.

“the fuck?” is the only thing he gets in lieu of a greeting.

seonghwa can’t help the little smile that crawls onto his face, or the little flame of warmth that blooms, just for a split second, in his heart.

this apartment is hongjoong’s secret hideout, away from all the filth and burden that he carries in his day to day life.

somehow, seonghwa has been let in on the secret.

“hey.” seonghwa manages, biting his lips to keep from spilling everything out.

“do you need something?” hongjoong’s voice is husky, and seonghwa feels slightly apologetic for waking him up. especially since he has no idea why he’s there, other than the fact that his feet took him there of their own accord.

so he decides to be honest. “wanted to see you. that’s all. i can go now.”

he doesn’t move, registering hongjoong’s slight widening of his eyes and the way he seems to be more alert.

god, if choi san knew how dangerous it was to be so, so attracted to the enemy, maybe he would stay away. but seonghwa is a hypocrite.

kim hongjoong is his biggest secret.

there’s a pale hand on his wrist, tugging him into the apartment, and seonghwa complies easily.

he has always, always been weak for kim hongjoong.

here, in this apartment, he tosses aside his persona as a senior member of the choi mafia, and hongjoong sheds the title of leader. at least for a while, they both pretend like they’re just normal people, enjoying each other’s company

and maybe they both secretly entertain the thought that they might be normal people, who don’t want to let each other go.

within each meeting on opposite sides, with the threat of dying ever present, hongjoong will never admit it, but he doesn’t think he could shoot seonghwa. or hurt him. or do anything besides gather the taller man into a tight embrace and press his lips against the tatoo on his neck. the insignia of his gang. maybe, if he kisses it hard enough,it will fade away and hongjoong can take him into his arms without feeling like he’s playing with fire.

there’s not supposed to be trust between them. but seonghwa bares his neck a bit more, and he knows he’s long gone , unable to stay away from hongjoong.

if it came down to it, they’d both shoot themselves before they would each other. of course, neither of them says that, because that would mean crossing a line that they couldn’t afford to. they’d trip over the web of strings and not be able to catch themselves. on the surface, they don’t speak of each other. but at night, seonghwa’s thoughts flit over to hongjoong automatically.

and seonghwa wants.

he wants so,so badly.

and he’s scared that san wants, too.

san, who covers for him silently and doesn’t use hongjoong as leverage against seonghwa. san, who has so much more on the line.

charming, seductive choi san, who wouldn’t be able to realise he’s in too deep because he thinks himself invincible and beyond attachment.

in hongjoong’s bedroom that night, buried under the sheets, seonghwa prays and prays, but he feels hopeless.

he’s always prayed to wake up the next day and still be here, next to hongjoong without a gun between them.

but tonight, he thinks of san.

there’s a mountainload of guilt in his chest. the knowledge that san will be tasked to kill, and seonghwa will be forced to choose between two sides of himself that have been clashing from the beginning

in his heart, seonghwa knows. he knows because he can read san like an open book. he’s grown up with san, and he feels suffocated at the thought that san doesn’t know himself as well as he thinks. san is plunging head first into the deep end.

san’s falling, and seonghwa might not be able to catch him.

A/N: i really didnt think this through. i dont know how i want the story to develop because i am an impatient prick who wants to get to the climax but can’t put together a good enough storyline to get there and shfhnfew i’m so frustrated

just one more drink||roger taylor x reader||part two

Summary: Y/N is a drummer who has a serious drinking problem (she insists she’s “working on it”). When Y/N’s band decides to collaborate with Queen, as the two drummers, Roger and Y/N have to work side by side. Things start out rocky but then a PR stunt pushes the two together.

Warning(s): alcoholism

Word count: 3,509

A/N: This part took wayyy too long for me to finish and it’s kind of short but now I know what kind of direction I wanna go with this fic so the next parts will (hopefully) be better! Enjoy!

It had been a week since your band first met with Queen in the studio. Most everyone had gotten a little bit of their music down. Guitar riffs and stray chords, vocal runs and vibratos, even a whole bass solo. Everyone had gotten something done except for you and Roger.

While everyone was writing their instrumental parts for the verse of the song, the two of you had been bickering over little things that didn’t matter and had absolutely nothing done. It felt less like a collaboration and more like the two of you bashing one another’s creative work.

“It’s absurd!” you ranted to your band. “The guy hasn’t even contributed anything and he has the audacity to complain about my drumming?? I mean the nerve of h-”

“Y/N if you’re so upset about it, just tell the man already!” Carter interrupted.

You had been talking your head off for the past hour about Roger and your bandmates had tuned out about twenty minutes ago. Your rants tended to get a bit repetitive and they had learned that it was more productive if they just cut you off.

“I can’t! Are you crazy? He is the Roger Taylor!” you shouted clearly frustrated by Carter’s suggestion.

“Yeah and you are the Y/N Y/L/N! We’re at the top of the charts right now Y/N! And that’s partially because of your talent.” Hendrix argued.

“You know what? You’re right!” you said, your confidence growing. “I’m gonna tell him off the next time we meet! I’ve been putting all my fucking effort into this song and the least he coul-”

“Y/N! Their car just pulled up to the studio.” Lucas told you in his best attempt to get you to stop talking.

Freddie walked in dressed up far too much for just another practice session (but then again, he was always dressed his best no matter what the occasion called for). Following him were Brian, John, and Roger.

Even the way he walked pissed you off. He had so much confidence that it was borderline cockiness. As he walked towards the room where your drum kit sat, you glared at him just wishing that you had been able to do the project on your own without his constant arguing.

“Are you gonna sit there and stare at me all day or are you gonna come play?” he questioned.

“I wasn’t staring.” you huffed.

“Sure you weren’t.” Roger said sarcastically, holding the door open for you.

“Alright Roger, everyone’s already got some parts of the song figured out and we have absolutely nothing. We have to actually work this time. Constructive criticism blah blah blah is fine but no arguing!” you told him as the door shut behind you.

“Y/N it’s fine! We have time to just do nothing! We haven’t even announced to the public that we’re doing a collaboration yet.” he argued. Almost as if it were planned, your manager bust into the room.

“Hey guys just a heads up, we’ll be holding a press conference in three days announcing the collaboration!” he informed you.

“Well...shit.” Roger looked down.

“Yeah ‘well shit’ is right.” you sighed. “Now are you gonna help me or what?”

-----

Three hours later, you and Roger had an intro beat done. It wasn’t much but at least it was progress. Roger became more bearable with each measure of it that you finished. The rest of the boys had gone out to go get lunch together but made the two of you stay behind until you finished something. ‘Anything at all! Even just one hit of a snare!’ is what they had said. Now the two of you were starved.

“So, where are we going for lunch?” Roger asked as he shrugged on his jacket.

“So it’s we now huh?” you chuckled as you grabbed your coat from the coat rack. You had to admit, the two of you had made some progress with each other. From glaring at each other in the restaurant last week (for no apparent reason other than that one drumming session where you had bashed each other’s skills) and arguing every five seconds to at least being able to hold a civil conversation, things were getting better.

“Yes it’s we now. Hurry up and tell me where we’re eating before I change my mind.” he smiled. That was the first time you had seen him genuinely smile at you. All the other times before were when he had made a joke at your expense. If you were being quite honest, he had one of the most gorgeous smiles you had ever seen (though you’d never let him know) and you had to admit that it made your heart flutter a little.

“There’s a takeout place down a block and then there’s a grocery store across the street that the boys and I always sit at to eat.” you answered.

“Great let’s go,” he said with that same smile on his face as he opened the door for you. “After you.”

-----

After getting your food from the chinese takeout place, you and Roger walked across the street to the grocery store. The two plastic foldable chairs were barely held together and the small metal table between them was scratched and dented. It was a strange juxtaposition to see two world famous rockstars sitting at such a dilapidated grocery store.

“I’m gonna go in and buy a beer.” you said as you turned towards the doors.

“No you’re not.” Roger called out.

“Excuse me?” you questioned. “And why not?”

“Your friend Lucas told me about your little drinking problem.” he spoke. “Told me to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t do any day drinking or whatnot.”

“So he‘s got me a babysitter now?” you huffed.

“Y/N come on. Think about it, do you really need that beer right now?” he persuaded.

“Fine. I’ll just go in for water.” you relented but he gave you a skeptical look. “I promise. You can even go in with me if you really want to keep such a close eye.”

You didn’t expect him to actually go in with you but to your surprise, he stood and waited for you to open the doors. Inside the store, the air conditioning was weak and the fluorescent lighting was a bit too harsh on your eyes but it was something that you and your band mates had gotten accustomed to as you went there every friday together. Usually it was to eat, maybe it was a band discussion, but sometimes you would go there to just talk. You had quickly become a tight knit family, not just a band.

Grabbing two waters, you head to the counter where you had gotten to know the store owner over time. 

“Y/N, no drinks this time?” he asked.

“She’s trying to quit.” Roger spoke for you.

“And who’s this? You didn’t tell me you got a new boyfriend Y/N!”

“No no no it’s nothing like that I swear.” you spoke a little too quickly. “This is Roger Taylor of Queen. The boys and I are working on a little something with them.”

“Are we allowed to tell anyone about that?” Roger whispered in your ear.

“Actually...probably not,” you paused. “It’s fine he won’t tell anyone. Doesn’t keep up with pop culture shit.”

After paying for your bottles of water, you head back outside and suddenly realized how tired your feet were from walking down the long block. Sitting down, you both set your chinese takeout onto the wobbly table.

“Are you sure this thing will hold?” Roger asked.

“Actually, we have a little bet going to see how long it takes until this thing breaks,” you laughed. “I said two week about well...two weeks ago so I guess I’ve lost already. Lucas and Hendrix both swear it’ll last at least three more months and Carter lost two weeks ago when he bet that ‘this shit should be broken by the time we finish eating’”

“Well you might just win that bet because this thing looks like it’s on it’s last leg.” Roger said as he inspected the table.

“It might look that way but it’s a lot sturdier than you think.” you spoke, waving your fork around. As Roger was inspecting the table leg, you quickly swiped some of the chicken from his takeout box.

“Hey I saw that!” he said shooting up from below the table.

“Sorry! Another bad habit I guess!” you laughed.

“Well fair’s fair,” he said as he took some of your fried rice. You retaliated by taking even more of his food and he did the same until it got to the point where you both basically had half of each dish.

After you had finished eating the majority of your meal with Roger, you heard a creek. Suddenly, the battered table beneath your takeout boxes collapsed one leg at a time.

After the initial shock of the clang of the metal table hitting the concrete floor, you both looked up at each other and burst into a fit of laughter. You held your stomachs and tried to catch your breath but it was no use as more laughter filled the air whenever you tried to suppress it.

“We should probably clean that up.” he looked up, still out of breath from laughing so hard.

“Hey, at least I won the bet,” you joked. “They’ll never believe that I won so you’re gonna have to be my witness.”

-----

“I swear it happened!” you spoke to your band. “Roger was there and everything! Roger tell them.” “It’s true,” Roger chimed in. “Table just fell apart halfway through lunch.”

Suddenly the door flew open and there stood both of your managers who looked fairly upset.

“What the hell is this?” your manager asked as he threw the daily newspaper onto the coffee table in front of you.

There in big bold letters read:

POSSIBLE LOVERS? DRUMMERS ROGER TAYLOR AND Y/N Y/L/N SEEN SPENDING SOME ROMANTIC TIME TOGETHER ON A CASUAL LUNCH DATE.

Underneath the headline were pictures of you and Roger taking food from each other’s plates and then another of you two laughing at the fallen metal table. Honestly, it would have looked like you were just friends if it weren’t for the third picture. Under the first two images, there was one of you and Roger walking to the grocery store but you were walking incredibly close together. You didn’t remember standing that close. 

The room went silent. You looked to your band mates and then to Roger. Why were your managers so upset over this? The silence hung in the air for what felt like forever until your band mates all burst into laughter at the same time.

“Y/N with Roger? Please they would kill each other within the first 24 hours of being together!” Hendrix laughed.

“Why are you guys so upset over this anyways?” you asked your managers. “It’s just teenage gossip right? It should blow over by next week.”

“Problem is that we don’t have until next week,” he replied. “Two more days until the press conference about your collaboration and all the questions are gonna be about you and Roger and not the music.”

“Well what are we to do about it?” Roger spoke. “It was just lunch and it’s not our fault that the press took it out of context.”

“And that’s why we have a plan,” your manager looked to the two of you. “We’re going to turn this into a little PR stunt.” “What do you mean?” you questioned, already sensing that it wouldn’t be good for you.

“What he means is that you and Roger are gonna be a couple to the public eye,” Queen’s manager spoke. “At least until the record has been released.”

“A what?” you and Roger both spoke outraged. This only made the laughs of all your band mates increase in volume.

“In public you two will be all lovey dovey but in private you’ll just be colleagues,” your manager spoke. “It’ll help put you guys in the media which in turn would increase the sales of the record. I promise you it’s a good thing.” Roger looked around the room to his band mates who all nodded. Then he looked to you. His eyes lingered for a bit before he turned to his manager and spoke.

“Honestly, if she’s okay with it, I’ll do it.” he agreed.

Copying his movements before, you looked to your own band mates who also nodded. Then you turned, looking to meet Roger’s blue eyes.

“Can I think on it overnight?” you asked. “I promise I’ll let you know what I’ve decided by tomorrow morning.”

-----

“Well I don’t know Lucas…” you spoke into the phone.

“Look, obviously you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he responded. “But it would be really good for the band. Plus you’d be dating Roger Taylor so it wouldn’t be the worst deal.”

“I just got used to not arguing with him every time we’re in the same room!” you sighed. “I like the guy but I don’t want to date him.” “It’s only in public Y/N not in private.” Lucas spoke gently. “Just think about it okay?”

“Yeah...I will.” you replied.

“Good night.”

“Night.”

-----

The next morning, your stomach filled with nerves. For the first time ever, you were hesitant about going into your own studio.

It was 5am when you woke up and sleepily got ready to announce your decision to the team. Now, at 6am, you were driving to the studio with a headache that felt strangely like a hangover despite the fact that you didn’t really drink yesterday.

Well, that was yesterday. Today is today you thought as you parked into the parking lot and pulled out the vodka you had in the backseat of your car. Maybe it would cure your headache (okay, the logic doesn’t make sense but that vodka looked really tempting).

“It’s just one sip.” you thought aloud as you took a big gulp from the bottle. You got your keys out as the burning sensation passed through your body.

“Okay, now I’m ready.”

-----

“I’ll do it.” you announced as you flung the door open. Everyone turned their heads to face you. “What? I said I’d be thinking about it! That didn’t mean no.”

“Well that’s great because we kind of already set up an interview for you two today.” your manager informed you as he walked out of the kitchenette with a cup of coffee.

“What? Today? What kind of management is this that you’re telling me now that I have an interview today?” you shouted. You had agreed to date Roger in the public eye but you didn’t agree to any interviews and certainly not any so soon.

“It was very last minute but it’ll be small. Only fifteen minutes at the very most.” Queen’s manager said.

“Where’s Roger anyways?” you asked suddenly noticing his lack of presence. “Does he know about this?” “Yes, we rang him yesterday.” “Well why didn’t you bother to call me?” you questioned.

“We did but no one picked up. Figured you were asleep.” you manager answered.

“It was 4 o’clock in the bloody morning Dan,” Lucas spoke to your manager. “Couldn’t have picked a better time.” “Suppose you’re right…” he said. “Well, there’s nothing that can be done now, it’s already been scheduled. There’s a binder on your drum set explaining what you should and should not do and a couple of things to talk about during the interview.”

“Are you being serious right now? Is this some kind of joke?” you laughed.

“Y/N I’ll admit, this was bad planning on my part but please do this. For the band?” he begged. You rolled your eyes but walked into your drum room and looked at the papers that they had gotten ready for you anyways.

As you were reading the third page (they had fifteen pages written out. Fifteen whole fucking pages), a knock came on your door. You looked out the little window that gave you a view into the lounge and saw Lucas’s puppy eyes asking if he could come in.

“Hey, how you doing with all of this?” he asked as he entered and shut the door behind him.

“It’s a lot for the first fucking day,” you admitted. “But, I’ll manage.”

“Look, it’s great that you said yes and all but, why did you say yes?” he asked. “You sounded like you were really against the idea yesterday. The guys and I just don’t want to make you feel like we’re forcing you into anything.”

“Lucas, I agreed to the plan on my own accord. It’s okay, I want to do this,” you assured him. 

“You know that we’ll stick with you no matter what right?” he looked to you with concern plastered all over his face.

“Yeah but it’ll honestly be really good for record sales. Plus, I’d be the hottest gossip for at least the next two weeks.” you joked.

Even though that was the excuse you gave to Lucas, you would be lying if you said you didn’t like the idea of being with Roger a little bit. Of course you were doing this for your band and your own success, but the idea of dinner dates or strolls in the park with Roger made your heart glow.

“Well as long as y-” Lucas started but he was cut off by Roger opening the door.

“Sorry to interrupt but they said to tell you that we’re leaving in ten minutes.” he spoke apologetically.

“Ten minutes??” you asked shocked. They were really testing your patience.

“Ridiculous right?” he agreed as Lucas excused himself from the room.

“They literally just told me to read this thing five minutes ago!” you exclaimed waving the binder around.

“Oh right that thing!” Roger laughed. “I lied about reading it all so could I maybe take a peek at that?”

-----

Ten minutes flew by quickly and now you were situated in the back of the car with Roger while your managers sat up at the front. Not having read the entire manual yet, you and Roger shared the binder the entire ride there. 

“Wait hold on a second,” Roger stopped and pointed to the fifth line on the tenth page. “You don’t want us to explicitly say that we’re together? How does that make any sense?”

“Well we have to keep them guessing,” his manager spoke. “If you tell them so quickly that you’re dating then they’ll know that you’re together and then there wouldn’t be any gossip. It’s not a real news story these days if you know all the details.”

“So then what’s the point of sending us two out on this interview?” you questioned. It seemed a little ridiculous to be doing an interview about your relationship when you weren’t even allowed to talk about it.

“It’ll be a video interview so they’ll be able to capture all of your body language,” Roger’s manager told you. “The interview will be mostly about any new music, how the tour was for each of your bands, future plans and whatnot. They promised not to ask any personal questions or anything pertaining to your rumoured relationship.” 

“We really just need you to convey everything through your body language,” you manager cut in. “Touching knees, hands almost overlapping, Roger maybe you could rest your arm against the back of the couch behind Y/N? You know, cutesy stuff that all those celebrity couples do.”

“Ugh fine.” you and Roger rolled your eyes in unison. Despite the rough start between you two, you were more similar than either of you cared to admit.

-----

You looked out the window, and watched the commuting cars zooming by and the little flashes of green from the trees you passed. Your eyelids started to feel heavy from the little amount of sleep you had gotten the night before. Soon, both you and Roger were fast asleep. (The car ride was pretty long after all. I mean, 40 minutes for one interview? A bit extensive if you ask me!)

“We’re here.” your manager announced startling you both awake.

Somehow, in the small space that was available for the two of you in the backseat, you had ended up huddled together in the middle seat. Roger’s arm was wrapped around you and you had your face buried in his neck.

Looking at the tall building ahead of you, you jumped away from Roger as you suddenly realized how close he had gotten to you in your slumber.

Roger shifted a little in his seat and as he did, his hand brushed against yours and it sent little chills through you.

You thought that it would be hard to act like you were into Roger but now, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the challenge would be avoiding real feelings for him.

——————————————————————————————

A/N: Anyways idk how I felt about this one! Any notes or reblogs are appreciated and if you’d like, you can send in a request! If you’d like to be added to my taglist, just let me know if you want to be on my permanent taglist or just the one for this series! If you’d like to be removed from it, just let me know! <3

series taglist:

@anxiouslymalicious @loveandbeloved29 @caborhapch @mercurycrowley @theprettyfandom @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @radiob-l-a-hblah @stormtrprinstilettos @rogahtaylahdrummah @catch-a-deak @prince-lucifer-v

permanent taglist:

@loversoon @luvborhap

Ｃｈａｍｂｅｒ ７４

                                   ᴀ ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ by Daphne Genuino 

           Christa woke up with a start. Beads of sweat fell down her forehead as she tried to catch her breath. It was that dream again. She was only six, small and defenseless. She was in a place she didn't recognize, with boys who seemed enough like people, but not really. Everyone had some kind of tattoo on their skin, they had piercings everywhere, their clothes were ripped, and they all looked ready to pounce. And they did.  On  her. She saw a blur of arms trying to grab her- or hit her, she did not know. She froze in place. She closed her eyes. She waited for the strike. She waited for it to hurt, but it never did. When she opened her eyes, all she saw was how a boy fought off those three jerk kids. It took three punches to the face, and they all backed off. That boy... That boy with golden hair.... Christa shook the daze off her system and got ready for work.

            Christa is everything a lady from the Silvra Republic would dream to be - beautiful, intelligent, strong and wealthy. Not to mention a valuable personnel of the government. She did not gain this status by just sitting around. Any official would affirm that she's worth her salt. Being a child of a patriotic lawyer and a military commander, it was expected that Christa would be of utmost use to the government. By the age of 7, she was already well-versed with the protocol of the Silvra Republic. By 10, she was taught self-defense, the art of attack, and had rigorous training to improve her agility and flexibility. By 13, she could hit a moving target within a radius of 30 meters with an arrow, and by 15, she could hit the bull's eye with a gun. Now, at the age of 20, none of the male soldiers under her command could even hold a candle to her.

             This is not what makes Christa amazing, though. It is her good heart. She let her parents mold her into what she is now because she knew she was doing it for the people - for the Silvra Republic - her country, her home. She would break all bones, tear off all her flesh, and devote every ragged breath to serve and protect her people.

            At a time like this, the people of Silvra Republic could not help but wish that everyone was Christa. If everyone was as strong and brave as her, they wouldn't have to bow to the wishes of other people. They wouldn’t have to hide in their basements for fear of bombs. No one would die with a bullet through the head in front of their families. If everyone was like Christa, they would easily win this war against Anteph.

             Everyone is on edge. Anteph has advanced to the entrance of Silvra. Even with Christa at the frontlines, their defenses wouldn't hold for long. What confuses Christa though is that the government does not seem to be very troubled by this. What are they going to do? At this rate, they are going to lose the war...

  Unless they have a hidden weapon in their arsenal.

             “This has got to be some kind of a sick joke!” Christa says, gritting her teeth. Her hands shake from the anger. It’s taking every ounce of willpower not to punch the wall of the meeting room. Never… never in her life did she imagine that the government of her beloved Silvra Republic would go through such lengths… such cruel lengths…

            Everyone in the meeting is keeping silent. No one has ever seen Christa this angry before.

           “We have no choice, Commander.” the presiding officer replies sternly. “Our doctors have already checked. He has the special gene. If we don’t take advantage of his abilities, we might as well pledge allegiance to Anteph right now. We’ll lose the war.”

          “My men and I will fight the war!” Christa retorts back with a raised voice. “We don’t need to turn an innocent citizen into a weapon just because he happens to have a “special” gene! He’s going to die, mister! How could we kill a fellow Silvran?” she continues, not sure if she’s even breathing anymore.

          “He’s a small sacrifice to make, Commander.  Just a boy from the streets.” the presiding officer replies. The government is hell-bent on winning this war. Christa made a fool out of herself believing all along that the government would never harm even a single one of its people even in dire situations.

            Christa took a deep breath, trying to regain composure. She doesn’t know what she can do for the faultless man they’re about to turn into a weapon of war, but she has to do something… Anything…

            “I want to see him.” Christa says with her commanding voice, the voice that makes even the toughest soldier comply with her directives. The presiding officer exchanges looks with the other officials present in the meeting. Christa stands straight with her chin up, determined to get what she demands. The presiding officer sighs and gives instructions to the guards at the far back. “Take the Commander to Chamber 74.”

She sees the shackles first. And then the syringes. And then the pills.

And then a blinding light.

A flash of gold.

Golden hair…

              The sight paralyzes her. He‘s bound onto the bed by thick, silver shackles. Drugs and medical equipment that she does not quite recognize are lying on the table next to his bed. Anyone could guess that he is being experimented on, operated on. There are bags under his round eyes, his lips a pale gray. He looks so tired. So used.

How could they do this to him?

And of all people, why him?

              The golden-haired boy. The boy from the streets. The boy who saved her when she was  six.

The boy in her dreams.

           The boy of her dreams.

              Christa feels the anger rising up on her throat again. She wants to scream, throw all the medical equipment to the ground. She wants to shoot at the shackles and tell him to run. Don’t let them use you. Run.

            She suppresses her anger, though. The guards are still outside the chamber. She can’t afford to let them know… that she cares more about the man on the bed than they think.

           “What do you want?” a weary male voice brought Christa back to reality. It’s the golden-haired boy – now a man. His tone sounds like nothing could surprise him anymore. He’ll take anything.

            Christa inches closer to his bed, making sure the guards outside could not hear them.

          “I’m Christa. We need to talk.” she says, not bothering with any more pleasantries. He catches the urgency in her voice.

          “I’m Aedon. What is there to talk about?”  he does not sound interested in talking at all.

        “Do you know what they’re doing to you?”

           He angles his head to look at her. “Do I look stupid to you? Of course I know. The doctors do what doctors do, experiments and crap like that. Making me stronger or something. What about it?”

          Christa is surprised. No one ever talks to her like that. She does not have the time to worry about herself, though.

           “They’re using you, Aedon. You have this special gene inside your body that will make you invaluable in combat . They’ll bring you into the frontlines of the war. It will kill you, Aedon. We need to get you out of here.” she says, almost pleading to the seemingly indifferent man.

              Aedon laughs. Like Christa said something so absurd, he just has to laugh. He shoots her a look. “You can’t just walk in here and tell me what to do, girl. I don’t know why you’re sticking your nose into my business, so kindly fuck off.”

           “Look, you have a whole life ahead of you. And you have the choice to choose that life. I’ll help you leave this place.” Christa insists.

         “Then what?  I’d have nowhere to go but the streets. Just shut up and leave, girl.”

           “Then go back to the streets! It’s a small sacrifice to make! Anything is better than being a weapon of war!” Christa could not stop herself from yelling anymore.

            Aedon lost it at the remarks of Christa. She hit a sore spot. “What do you know, you spoiled, rich bitch? I’d bet my non-exixstent money you never had to struggle for food, or sleep on the cold hard ground, or fight off fuckers who picked on you for fun. I don’t give a damn what you think, you don’t know what I’ve been through! And oh, just to let your sheltered ass know, because I’m sure you don’t realize it with all your goddamn privilege, anything is better than living on the streets, even being a weapon of war!”

             Christa pauses for a while, realizing thing after thing. Of course she never had to struggle like that. For all her skills and intelligence, really, what does she know?

     What do you know, you spoiled, rich bitch?

             “Is there really no changing your mind?” she asks, almost in a whisper, looking down at the ground.

              “Actually, there’s one thing that might convince me.” he replies. Christa looks up at him. She can swear something changed in him just now.  Is it the tone of his voice? Is it the look in his eyes? Is it something else entirely?

            “What is it?” she asks. There is a long pause. She does not realize she’s holding her breath. She does not know why, but there’s a voice at the back of her mind telling her to brace herself… brace herself for what she’s about to hear.

              Aedon looks at Christa straight in the eyes, as if piercing through her. Christa has to stop herself from shaking. What is it? What is he planning?

              He moves his face closer to hers. She can feel his breath on her cheeks. He moves his mouth closer to her ears. She closes her eyes. He tells her what he wants.

              Christa’s face is drained of all color. Her legs turn to lead. She can barely stand after hearing Aedon’s demand. She takes a moment to gather herself, to make sense of it all. To decide.

            She inhales a lungful of air and says with finality, “Fine. I’ll do it.” As soon as the words escape her mouth, she feels a tinge of fear.

But there’s no time for second thoughts now.

For the golden-haired boy,

For her hero,

            For the person who inspired him to fight for other people by saving her on that day on the cruel streets,

It will be worth it.

It’s a small sacrifice to make.