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hardlyinteresting · 3 years

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Risks Worth Taking 2/2

This is the second half, part 2/2 of the story, thank you to everyone who has read it! Professor!Zemo x Student reader Part 1 here The reader takes Zemo’s philosophy class focusing on Machiavelli. Posted in 2 parts because it exceeded the textbox limit. Apx 3k words.

Warnings: student-teacher relationship (the reader is of age, no real focus on power imbalance), implied age gap, consumption of alcohol, implication that the reader is sleeping with Zemo for better grades (she's not) and of course let me know if you want me to add anything else!!

Week five, he is not shocked to find she’s once again the first one in class. “Good evening,” he greets warmly, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck as he makes his way to his desk. She smiles back, “I left my paper on your desk there, I figured I’d get the pile started”. He laughs setting down his coat and bag, “Something tells me there will be few submissions for this class”.

He’s right. Less than half the class bothers to show up. Most of her peers seem to be getting a head start on winter break, at least the class is quiet she thinks content listening to Helmut summarize the most recently assigned chapters, providing historical context where needed.

“Enjoy your break Helmut,” she says softly as he shuts the lecture hall door.

“You as well. Do you have plans?” She shakes her head, “No, just reading”. He smiles, “Then I am sure it will be a good break indeed”.

The cafe is warm and cosy. She settles comfortably into her favourite booth with her favourite book and a second cup of tea.

The bell at the front door dings as a man enters in a long black coat and leather gloves. Fancy she thinks to herself as he approaches the counter to order. It's usually other students dressed in sweatpants and hoodies, the man’s put together dress piques her interest. He orders and then she watches over the top of her book as he drops a $10 bill into the barista’s tip jar. Oh, well dressed and exceedingly well mannered. She can't help but watch him as he waits. Removing his gloves he tucks them into his pockets and unbuttons his coat, she swears she can smell his cologne from where she sits; it's incredible!

“Cherry blossom tea for Helmut?” The barista calls sliding the cup across the counter.

Helmut? It isn't. Is it? He turns after saying a polite thank you, and she can feel her heart hammering as he turns and she sees his face. It is. She's not sure why she's shocked, she did tell him about this place after all. Do I say something? She wonders, weighing the pros and cons, but her thoughts are halted when she hears his voice,

“Hello,” he smiles softly, “I didn't expect you to be here--I know you pointed this place out, but I wasn't--”

He's worried he's intruding. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“No, no. It's okay! I don't own the place-- did you want to sit? You don't have to--”

He chuckles as her nerves get the best of her.

Silently he sets down his cup shrugging out of his coat, putting it over the back of the chair before sitting down.

“What are you reading?” He smiles, trying to peak at the cover.

Again, after their initial stiffness, the conversation flows smoothly, just like it had in his office. After several warm drinks, and a couple croissants ordered between the two of them it’s grown dark outside. Neither had noticed the cafe empty out slowly over the hours, the barista cleaning up for the night until she clears her throat from behind the counter. They both turn to look at her, finally noticing how quiet the shop is.

“Sorry, we’re closing now,” the barista smiles sweetly. “Not a problem. I apologise, we lost track of time. We’ll get out of your way,” Helmut apologizes. The pair collect their things sliding back into their coats and gloves. Helmut waits patiently for her to be ready to go his hand resting gently at the small of her back as she slips out of the booth and past him.

Helmut stops and puts another bill in the girl’s tip jar.

“Sorry for keeping you,” he apologises again.

Outside the winter wind is cold against their faces.

“Are you hungry?” Helmut asks.

“I could eat,” She responds. “Ever been there?” Helmut asks pointing to the pub across the street. “I don’t know if it’s your speed. It’s not super nice or anything, but their food is decent,” she says honestly. He laughs, “‘Decent’ is better than what I can make at home by myself”.

She bites her lip thinking about it, does he want to spend more time with me?

“Okay,” she smiles as they make their way across the street.

Settled at a table, they wait for their server, she asks, “Was that a fifty dollar bill I saw you put in that tip jar?”

He shrugs, “Yes”.

He says that as if it’s normal, she thinks.

“I know you’re not from here, but you do know that’s a lot of money right?” “Yes,” he shrugs again, “But she made excellent tea all afternoon, she let us stay as late as she could and she was polite. And I have been here long enough to know that servers of any kind don’t get paid fairly. I can afford it, she deserves it”.

She feels the smile grow across her face, she considers gushing that he’s such a good person, but instead what comes out is, “I’m really starting to consider becoming a professor”.

He laughs, “I told you, it’s family money, not my facility pay”. God, that laugh, sets off butterflies in her stomach, the warm, genuine sound of his laughter.

He continues, “Before Sokovia fell, my family were royalty. I was a Baron there”. “I knew your name sounded familiar,” she sighs, “I remember hearing about Sokovia on the news. I remember your name, you were building orphanages and relief centres”.

He nods sadly, “Many of us thought we could salvage what we had left after everything. We couldn’t”.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, without thinking she reaches across the table to place a comforting hand on his arm. His hand comes to cover hers, so much larger than her own.

There’s a silence between them for one of the first moment since he sat down with her earlier at the cafe. But it’s not uncomfortable, it’s the opposite -- a silence of understanding, both parties knowing there’s nothing they can say to make things better-- they can only ruminate.

The peace is broken by a waiter coming to take their orders. “Do you drink Helmut?” She asks with a mischievous smile. “I have been known to indulge,” he confesses, his eyebrows furrowed. “Two shots of ?” she turns to look at Helmut expectantly. “Vodka,” he replies. “Two shots of vodka, and an order of cheese fries to share please,” she orders, “thank you”.

The waiter returns not before long, placing the drinks and food on the table.

She holds her shot glass up waiting for him to do the same. “Prost,” he says raising his glass towards her. “Cheers,” she responds clinking her glass into his before they both tip them back.

And that’s how their night begins.

It’s nearing midnight when they settle their bill, Helmut insisting he pay-- though she put up a good fight. “Can I walk you home?” He asks looking at her under the light of the street lamps. She nods, her face feeling warm both from his attention and the alcohol coursing through her bloodstream. Her apartment is only three blocks away, but time seems to slow down as they walk arm in arm through the freshly fallen snow. At her door they stop, she looks up at him, him down at her. Without a thought, lips meet. It’s not rough or particularly sexy, but she feels her knees go weak when his hand comes to cup her cheek, his other splayed across the small of her back pulling her closer. This kiss deepens and she clutches the lapel of his wool coat before they both pull away. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Don’t be,” she sighs.

Then the thought hits her, “How are you getting home?” “Oh-- I was going to get a cab and go back to the cafe to pick up my car in the morning,” he explains. “Nonsense-- you can stay here,” she offers unlocking her door and stepping inside, he doesn’t follow. “Not in my bed,” she laughs flicking on the light, “I’ll set you up on the couch”. He steps inside.

In the morning he wakes to the sun shining through the window. It takes him a minute to orient himself remembering he crashed on her couch. He sits up taking a moment to look around the apartment, it’s cute. Books and textbooks and notebooks strewn about the place. It’s homey and inviting and every bit what he’d expect her space to look like. Carefully he grabs one of the open notebooks tearing out a page he writes a quick note:

Good morning, I find that I feel very sorry for having to leave before you wake. Alas, I have much to get done, and I do not wish to trespass in your home longer than needed. I am grateful for your hospitality, and even more, your company. If my memory serves correctly I must also apologise for making that advance towards you last night. It was ungentlemanly, and you are unquestionably deserving of much better. I hope you can forgive me, and that you might allow me to make it up to you. -Helmut

Week six.

“He should appear to be compassionate, faithful to his word, guileless, and devout.” Is written across the board. When she settles into her seat. She’s not early this week, rather just on time. Helmut notes the heavy rise and fall of her chest as she tries to catch her breath, he holds back a smile at the thought of her sprinting to his class. When the class is settled, he proceeds to hand back all of the submitted essays, now marked. He smiles as he sets hers on her desk, “Bravo,” he says quietly enough that just she hears it as he shuffles along to the next row of students. She anxiously flips to the last page, red pen scrawl reads 100%. Her jaw drops. There’s no way. She thinks back to the rumours she heard on campus at the beginning of the year, about how difficult a marker he is. Bullshit. Her blood boils, rage sizzling beneath her skin. She avoids his eyes for the rest of class staring down at her notebook as she notices the indents in the blank page-- indents left from where he had written her a note that morning. Her anger freezes replaced by the cold sinking feeling in her chest. All his kind words, all those moments shared-- did he really think she was just spending time with him for a better grade? What kind of handout does he expect to get from her? She scolds herself now for the little crush she’d developed-- how stupid could she be? The prince must appear to be virtuous in order to hide his actions, She remembers from her reading, a dagger to her chest as she thinks bitterly that she’s not shocked that the professor is practising what he preaches.

The class ends and he moves to collect his paperwork, sorting it back into his bag. She stays. “I’m glad you stayed behind,” he starts. “I’m sure you are,” she says sharply. Confused he puts his things down turning to face her. “Have I done something to upset you?” He asks seriously his head tilted to the side as he racks his brain for anything he may have done to make her so cross. Perhaps his note was not sufficient in conveying his apology? “Do you think I’m stupid? Or that I’m naive?” she asks arms crossed, “I’m not sleeping with you for a good grade,” she states firmly, sliding her essay back across her desk, “feel free to adjust my grade accordingly”. Is that what she thinks? His mouth goes dry, his mind and heart racing with all the different ways he wants to apologise, to tell her that she has it wrong. He approaches her, finally making eye contact with her, “Your grade will stay as it is. I mark all of my student’s work without looking at the cover pages. I have always strived to remain impartial. Your essay was marked no differently,” He explains calmly, “I would be wrong to say that I don’t hold any affections for you-- it is quite the opposite. I enjoy the time we have spent together, and I would like to continue to remain in your company; I hope to eventually find myself in your affections-- but none of this has any bearing on your grade. I am sorry that I have acted in a way where this was not clear”. Her throat clenches, oh. “I’m sorry--Oh my god--I’m so stupid!” her hand flies to cover her mouth. “You have nothing to apologise for-- I should be the one apologising,” he insists. She shakes her head standing to stand in front of him, “We’ve both been obtuse”. “I’d like to make it up to you. I’d like to take you out for dinner-- a proper meal. If you’ll allow me”. She nods her hand coming to rest on his cheek, thumb running gently across his cheekbone, “I would like that,” she says quietly, her eyes glazing at his lips, “But only after the semester is done and I’ve graduated”. “If that is what you want,” he nods understanding. She can feel him leaning in, her eyes flickering up to his caramel eyes and back down to his lips, his hand rests on her hip, but he waits for her to close the gap between them.

Last day of the school year.

She waits by the door to the lecture hall as he speaks to his class. She listens to the back and forth of conversing ideas from the students, her heart beating faster every time Helmut speaks. It takes a while for everyone to leave when the class is over, but he does his best not to make her wait too long, gathering his things as quickly as possible, he makes his way over to her.

“Maybe I should’ve taken this course, the conversation was much more lively!” She laughs. “Your intelligent thoughts would have been wasted here, my dear” He smiles shutting the door behind him, “your class needed a brilliant mind in it”.

The summer goes by quickly. Fine dining, nights in. reading during rainstorms. Nights of soft romance, followed by nights of passion. Pasts shared. Futures envisioned. In his bed the night before the new school year she rolls over to lay almost on top of him, laughing when he lets out an oof. “Old man she teases,” earning a playful pinch on the thigh from him.

She glances at his nightstand, a copy of The Prince laying there.

“And what are your personal feelings about Machiavelli anyway? You never speak about your own thoughts”

“You're so clever,” he laughs, “but you're right”.

He sighs pulling her closer. he tries to focus on his hand running up and down her arm, how soft her sweater is under his fingertips. He takes a deep breath before speaking, “every time I read it, my opinions change,” he confesses, “there was a time when I was young and stupid; thought I was invincible that I agreed with a lot of his ideals. Then I grew older, fell in love--I thought him stupid and lonely. I experienced an incredible loss--”

She squeezes his side as she hears his voice grow tense with tears, he swallows and continues, “and then I thought I understood him. I learned how to grieve and I thought him intolerable. In the end I learn more about myself than I do him”.

She smiles, “and have you read it lately?”

He nods kissing her softly, “I have”.

“And?”

“I learned to trust my instincts. To take the risks that are worth taking”

“You're kind of a sap,” she laughs, her face getting warm she buries it in his chest. Part 1 here

#zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #professor!zemo #daniel bruhl x reader #zemo #daniel bruhl #baron zemo x reader

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7demonhoes · 3 years

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The devildom and hell are not the same part 3

This took too long to write but it is done! Thank you to everyone who asked me to write a third and final installment to my short story series! If you’re interested, here is Part 1 and Part 2. And if you have any idea for fics you want to read, let me know, I need the ideas! I do angst, nsfw stuff, and fluff :)

Description: MC has decided that they would lose anything rather than be apart from the demon brothers. But now, after making their decision, MC must come to terms with the new wickedness inside of them.

Word Count: 4,942

Warnings: Violence, death.

I stand in the cellar of the House of Lamentation, surrounded by gray statues of demons as old as time. Each statue cups a ball of fire in their hands, the green flame burning for eternity. Shadows cross ominously throughout the room, dancing in the knowledge of the ritual that is to come.

I stand in the middle of the large room, staring at the impressive pillars that carry the weight of the mansion above me. Details of the brothers Falling are carved into each slab of marble. I shudder, both from the cold and from the anxiety. What does it feel like to be immortal? Will life seem redundant in a few hundred years? Will I regret this decision to shed my humanity?

Someone coughs, not out of necessity but to get my attention instead. Seven demons surround me, their emotions filling the air with electric tension. They all stand perfectly still, their eyes glowing apprehensively.

The one who coughed, Lucifer, raises his eyebrows at me in a silent question. Are you ready?

I swallow in an attempt to soothe my parched throat. Nodding, I steady myself and lower my eyes to the black goblet in front of me. It stands on a stone table, the contents within empty for now.

After making my decision and telling the brothers that I would rather become a demon and spend eternity with them than forget my time in the Devildom, I was immediately taken to the House of Lamentation to prepare for the ritual. I shift worriedly in my robe, the dark gray fabric flowing in the air with an impossible wind.

From somewhere beyond my vision, Diavolo steps forward and into my line of sight. He stands proudly in his demon form, all signs of his former anger completely eradicated. He gives me a fanged grin. "Once the ritual begins, there is no turning back. Are you prepared for what's to come?"

I take in a shuddering breath, thinking it over once again. I scan the faces of the demon brothers, their eyes hopeful and desperate. Would I give up an eternity with them to live a mundane, human life?

No. Never.

I nod. "I'm ready," I say, and my voice is filled with strong convention.

Each of the seven brothers give an audible sigh of relief. Diavolo chuckles quietly. "Let it be done," he says, and I swear that a humming sound of pleasure comes from the statues at the edge of the room.

"In order to grant you power in your demon form," Diavolo starts, "We will incorporate the power of your pacts into the ritual. You will not be a lesser demon; you will hold the same power that each of the brothers hold within them. This is our gift to you."

I blink, surprised. "How?"

"Through blood." Diavolo lifts his arms gesturing towards the demon brothers. "Come forth."

Belgaphore approaches me first. He's the most awake I've ever seen him, eyes wide and clear. He smiles almost shyly at me, eyes flickering with mischievous light. He walks so that he's behind me.

Diavolo whispers my name. I stare at him expectantly. "Remove your robe," he demands.

I begin to protest, then stop. I'm becoming a demon; I don't think I should be worrying about modesty. I stare at a spot of the wall in front of me, keeping my eyes away from the men surrounding me. I bite my inside of my cheek and remove my robe, the breeze making my naked body prickle.

"Blood will be mixed with blood," Diavolo whispers, his eyes bright with apprehension.

I feel Belphie's clawed hand against my upper back. I gasp at the sudden touch, twisting my head to look at him. "Sorry," he smirks at me, "this is going to hurt a little."

He swipes a claw across my skin. I suck in a gasp as hot blood wells in a shallow cut. He quickly swipes at the palm of his hand before pressing it against my back. Almost immediately, the mark of our pack glows in a purple light, washing his face in it's hue. The flesh tingles, completely replacing the pain with a feeling of rolling needles.

Belphie steps away. I turn to face Beel, who smiles encouragingly at me. "I'm excited to spend eternity with you," he sighs happily, bringing his wrist to his mouth and biting down. He makes a small, careful cut right above my stomach, mumbling apologies the entire time. When he pressed his wrist against my cut, the pack burns bright red. A feeling of hunger washes over me, so powerful that I almost double over with the strange need for something more, something fulfilling.

Asmo approaches me next, a familiar, flirtatious smile on his full lips. He kneels in front of me, a hand snaking up to caress my inner thigh. I blush, fighting against myself to back away. Asmo giggles, "The pain feels good, doesn't it? Don't worry darling; you're almost done." He takes a beautiful knife out from the sleeve of his shirt, the hilt carved in pink roses. He licks the blade, leaving a thin trace of blood on the steel. He lowers his face to my thigh, and with a warm brush of his breath on my skin, bites down.

I gasp as pink light glows from my thighs. Asmo winks as he walks away, and I have to take a deep breath to steady the rapid breathing of my heart. Something wicked and exciting tickles in my gut.

Satan is next to step forward. He gently takes my hand, thumb swiping across my knuckles. "You were the first being in existence to make me feel something other than rage." He bares his teeth in a fanged smile. "After today, let's do something truly demonic together." He slashes three claws across my knuckles before pressing a knife to my hand. "Your turn."

Without hesitating, I take it and grab his hand, turning it so that the pad of his thumb is facing upwards. I take the tip of the knife and press downwards until blood pools. I press his thumb against my knuckles. The pack marks against my knuckles burn green with a maddening heat. I immediately have to clench my hands into my fists.

Behind me, I hear Levi's timid voice. "M- my turn." When I turn my head to look at him, his face is completely red. "Please don't look at me!" He begs, "Especially when you- you're…" he hides his head in his hoodie. "...naked."

I suppress a chuckle, instead taking his wrist and pressing his hand against the back of my neck. "Help me finish this, Levi."

He gulps, curling his fingers and grabbing at the skin at my neck. I turn as he cuts me, waiting for the warmth of his blood pressing against my own.

When it comes, goosebumps ripple on my neck and a selfish chill travels down my spine. Levi hurries away. I blink, and Mammon is in front of me. He pressed a golden claw ring against his palm. He gingerly takes my hand before pressing it against my palm as well. He grasps my hand, and my palms shine brightly in gold. "Remember that I was your first demon, ya hear?"

I nod at him. "And you always will be."

His eyes widen, a blush erupting on his cheeks. "Shuddap, ya human."

Lucifer steps up behind Mammon and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Not for long."

Once he reaches me, he rests his hand against my heart and swipes down with a claw. His eyes are dancing with fire as he makes a shallow cut on his lip.

He rests one hand at my hip before leaning down, pressing his lips against me. My flesh burns blue, an icy feeling creeping from my heart and up to my throat. Lucifer leans forward, lips brushing against my ear. "Remember our pact. You are now mine. Forever."

I gulp as he turns away. Diavolo chuckles, stepping up to the goblet. He picks up a thick blade from beside it, digging it into the flesh of forearm. He rests his hand above the goblet, letting the dark liquid drip steadily into the cup.

I take a moment to concentrate on my body. Washed in a rainbow of glowing colors, my skin ripples and crawls with a mixture of pleasant chills and waves of heat. All anxiety of my decision is gone, even as something in my gut churns more and more with each passing moment. Something wicked prickles at the back of my mind.

Diavolo picks up the goblet and faces me. "You are to make a pact with me." His voice deepens with power. The firelight flickers, casting his face in shadow. "And offer me your soul."

I open my mouth, finding it difficult to speak. Without my soul, what will happen to me? Will I change beyond recognition?

Do I mind if I do?

I bite my lip. No matter what happens, it's already far too late. I've made my decision. It's time to see it through.

"Lord Diavolo," I breathe, feeling the power in my words, "I offer you my soul."

He passes the goblet to me. Warmth spreads across my body as I take it. I look down to see black runes carved into my skin, covering every part of my body from the neck down with shifting marks. The only place where it is not etched into my skin is where the pacts of each of the brothers burn. "Drink," he commands, and I raise the goblet to my lips.

The blood is bitter against my tongue. As I take my first swallow, the world around me dims. Somewhere beyond the black, I hear Diavolo's voice. "Once you have finished this unholy Communion, your journey will be over. You will be one of us: a dark, wicked thing. Drink, leave your humanity behind, and become a demon."

My body hums with his words. Blood steams in my mouth, burning my throat as the thick liquid pours over my tongue. And with one final gulp, I drain the cup.

My hands are shaking as I lower the cup from my mouth, the tremors vibrating them so badly that the goblet in my hands falls to the floor with a sudden clang. I gasp as searing heat spreads throughout my body, as if Diavolo's blood is scorching through my veins. The back of my head feels as if it's about to burst, and with a sudden cry I throw myself to the floor, curling my legs and clutching them to my chest with shaking arms.

Someone growls, and I look up to see Mammon rushing forth. Diavolo stops him, and Mammon feverishly claws at the hulking demon to get to me. With a grunt, Diavolo pushes Mammon's chest, and he flies backwards and crashes into a statue.

Something rises in my throat at the sight of Mammon, his body crumpled against the stone statue. A deep, alien rumbling sound climbs out of my mouth, the low growl echoing throughout the cavern. I feel the heat of eight pairs of eyes on me at once. The flames cease to flicker. The air grows still.

My flesh crawls and writhes as deep lacerations etch themselves into my skin, forming harsh cracks. The growl in my throat turns into a groan, and I watch with wide eyes as the intricate runes glowing from my skin dig themselves deep into me. There is no blood, only deep tunnels of hurt. The pacts scratch into my body, the gouged wounds turning into the color that each pack represents.

Through the pain, I notice the power. My muscles contort as they grow in size, bones lengthening and shifting underneath. I bite down on my cheeks to keep from screaming and taste blood as fangs dig into my own flesh, sharp molars and incisors itching to bite down harder and revel in the taste. A strong, terrible pressure emits from my skull and I scratch at it with newly formed claws, long black nails slicing open skin to reveal what feels like hard tips of rock bursting through my skull. The horns are about three inches in length and are covered in slick red.

And suddenly, the pain stops and turns into a dull throbbing. After a few moments, I take a deep breath and attempt to stand.

Someone wraps the robe around my back just as a different pair of arms help me get to my feet. I pull the robe against my bare skin, though I no longer feel the chill of the air around me.

I have to blink several times as I peer around the room. The cellar, once a dark, shadowy place, now appears to me as a brightly lit room. The details of the faces around me are clearer than they've ever been; I don't think I've ever seen the world around me with such clarity.

Something strange pulls at my chest. A dark, low heat attempts to twist my body towards a certain direction, an excited tingling feeling churning in my gut. The back of my mind prickles, and a mixture of hunger, anger, and need pours through me. The demon pacts of Beel, Satan, and Asmo shine even brighter. I should go to the place that is pulling me.

"What is this?" I ask, slowly turning my head to face the pull.

Beside me, Satan frowns pensively. He looks toward the same direction I am. "You're feeling Hell."

I blink as the realization dawns on me. Something in the back of my mind recoils at the thought, but it's quickly pushed away by the greed to quench the thirst within me. My palms are bathed in bright gold as the color pulses.

"The pull gets stronger the longer you wait," Lucifer says from behind me. "It makes it hard to appear human, and eventually it will tear the beast from under your skin."

I look down at my body, unfamiliar to me. "Is this my True Form?"

"Yes, darling." I hear Asmo's light footsteps approach me. "Would you like to see?"

I nod. He pulls out a hand mirror from his pocket and hands it to me. I open it carefully, unaccustomed to the claws.

I lift the mirror to my face and stare into my reflection.

Tiny runes the size of veins cover my face, giving my face a dark and ethereal glow. I frown at my features thoughtfully; they haven't changed much; my jaw is sharper and my face a little more gaunt.

My eyes, however, shift in color. When the firelight wanes, they glow just as the pacts etched into my skin do.

I silently hand the mirror back to Asmo. I scan the room, noticing that each of the brothers stare at me expectantly. I shift uncomfortably, suddenly realizing that I don't know what to do from here.

I have forever with them. How do I even begin to understand that? Time has always felt limited to me. As a human, the thought of death was never far. And beyond that, I always thought about how my time at the Devildom would come to an end.

And now? Now I have an eternity, and I have no idea how to process that.

I scratch my head lightly with a claw. "Uh," I begin, biting the inside of my cheek, "What happens now?"

Belphie snorts. "For now, you can change into actual clothes. After that, it's no longer my problem." He sticks his tongue out at me, his eyes playful. "I'm taking a nap."

As he leaves the room, Lucifer gestures towards the spiraling staircase. "Belgaphore has a point. Let's get you comfortable and then we can sort out our next steps."

I nod and follow the brothers upstairs. After I change out of the robe, Diavolo, the brothers, and me sit in the common room.

"First thing's first," Diavolo begins, "You must learn how to shift between forms. Then we can focus on training."

I blink. "Training?"

Lucifer nods. "You're a brand new demon. You have powers you are yet to understand; we don't even know what you're truly capable of. You have to not only learn your new strengths, but you have to learn how to live with your new needs and urges."

Satan cuts in, "Like that pull you felt towards Hell. You can still feel it, right?"

The need increases as I concentrate on it. Something dark in my mind salivates at the thought of going to that place. I suppress a chill. I nod silently, trying to push the pull from my mind.

"Once you revert back to your human form, you won't be able to change to your True Form unless you are severely agitated."

"Or in Hell," I whisper.

Satan and Lucifer nod. "Try changing. Focus in on yourself and concentrate on your body." Lucifer leans forward on the couch, watching me intently.

I do as he says. I close my eyes and focus on the beating of my heart, willing it to slow. My body cools as the warmth of the pacts etched into my skin fade. I look down to see my body as it was before my transition.

Asmo, sits at my feet with his arms sprawled across my knees, reaches up and pokes at my biceps. "You've grown some muscle, darling."

I shake my head, eyes traveling across the faces of Levi, Mammon, and Beel. "What now?"

The three of them sit quietly, thinking. After a few moments of silence, Mammon barks a laugh, leaving back on the seat across from me and crossing his arms. "Who cares? You have forever to think about it."

I smile, looking at my demon boys. I think I can get used to forever.

The week passes by in a blur. Days are filled with school, training, and spending time with the brothers. Solomon has asked me to make a pact with him dozens of times. No matter how much time we spend together, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to fully trust that shady wizard enough to offer him control over me.

Learning what I'm capable of has been strange. I'm still getting used to the superhuman strength and speed. I may not have wings, but I'm able to keep up with the fastest of the brothers with ease.

Besides strength and speed, I've yet to learn any other new abilities. I haven't even learned how to shift from my human form; I can never focus my energy enough to change. But I can always feel something dark in my mind black tendrils twisting. I try to keep them at bay. Maybe I don't want to know what I'm truly capable of.

But the pull of Hell is only growing stronger, and I can hardly think about anything but the memory of screaming human souls crashing in my ears. Something shifts and sneers under my skin at the thought of those tortured souls. I push the feeling down, trying desperately to forget it. What happens if I embrace it? Do I lose a part of myself?

I swallow, forcing my attention back to class. I doodle idly in my notebook, my leg bouncing wildly. I ignore the glares of the other demons surrounding me; they never liked me while I was human, but now that I have strength and power equal to theirs or more, their hatred for me is palpable. Eight of the most powerful demons of all time have chosen me as their own. Before, I was prey. Now I'm a challenger.

I keep close to the demon brothers during the school day. I haven't been left alone once during the entire week, but Mammon was summoned by Diavolo for stealing something of his, leaving me alone.

I scratch at the desk. At least I'm meeting most of the brothers for lunch right after this class, so I won't have to watch as all the people around me salivate at the idea of jumping me.

Just as I'm able to calm the anxiety growing inside of me, the teacher coughs before muttering something about ending class early. The pack up and rush out of the room.

Okay. Nevermind. My body stiffens as I slowly look over the room, watching as every demon's eyes turn to me. My spine shivers.

I hope no one can see the soft shaking of my fingers as I slowly put my stuff away and get ready to meet the brothers for lunch. As I stare at my desk, I hear a chair squeak loudly. When I look back up to try to stand, I find a demon standing in the way. He grins maniacally at me, the need for violence written all over his face.

"You're all alone now." The entire room watches us, the tense energy in the air palpable. "What, your high demons turned you into one of us and then threw you away?"

I ignore him, unsure of what else to do. I stand in front of him, hoisting my backpack over my shoulder and moving to walk past him.

He reaches out a hand and places it firmly on my chest. A growl rises in my throat, but before it can be heard the demon pushes me into the air and I fly backwards, crashing into the wall behind me.

The pain hardly even registers beyond the rage. Without thinking, I focus on the darkness whirling in my head and my gut and let it flow through my veins. I get to my feet, wiping at a thin trickle of blood I feel at the back of my head, and as my body fills with a deep rage a distant part of me noticing the strengthening of my muscles. Something pinched at my gums, head, and fingers as black claws, horns and fangs shoot out from shifting skin.

Green runes glow from my knuckles. The demon raises his eyebrows at me. As he stays still, sizing me up, I reach back into myself without thinking and focus on the hunger, the need to win. To gorge myself on this demon's blood.

Something around my gut warms. Muscles tear and grow. When I speak, it's hard to form words beyond the growls. "You think the monster they made wouldn't be able to take care of themself?"

The man erupts into his demon form, saliva dripping from his fat tongue. I focus on the pricking in the back of my neck and focus my envy, borrowing Levi's speed. I do the same for Asmo's grace, and by the time the demon reaches me I'm able to dodge his first blow.

I call out to the brothers and Diavolo in my head, using the strength of the pacts to try and reach them. Each pact suddenly explodes in a blast of fury, and I know that they heard my call.

The demon lunges again and I dodge, springing to the side as huge claws swipe downward towards my eyes. I see an opening near the man's gut and take it, but I'm not used to the sheer strength of my new body and end up becoming off balance.

The demon yells triumphantly as he swipes at me again, lifting his hand to strike. I watch the movement in slow motion as I stumble, unable to do anything. His hand sweeps in a wide arch towards my face into what I know is a killing blow.

Something bellows at the other side of the classroom. Time slams back into motion as Lucifer, Diavolo, and Satan run into the room. The demon attacking me immediately stops, claws inches from my face.

Lucifer opens his mouth, eyes glowing with terrifying anger.

I look at the demon who attacked me. He's half turned to the side, staring at the three high demons with his arm half raised. The darkness and fury I let in swarms, and I can't push it back. I think about the demon, how close it was to killing me. How much I want to return the favor.

Something in me screams.

Before I can register what I'm doing, I step forward and jam my elbow into the demon's exposed throat. He stumbles back, coughing, as I reach for his outstretched arm and twist it so that he turns, his back facing me.

Something wet drips from my chin as I kick him in the back of the knees. He falls to the floor with a quiet moan. My mouth twists into a cruel smile, a clawed hand grabbing the demon by the hair and tilting his head in such a way that he is exposing his already injured neck.

And with a cry of animal excitement, I slash his throat with my claws.

He collapses, gurgling in his own blood. I'm breathing heavily from the adrenaline, heart racing as I look up at the high demons facing me.

Belphie slinks into the room. He sees the twitching body on the floor and nods. "Nice."

Lucifer says my name. I turn to him, but my eyes keep on drifting back to the demon. To his blood.

Diavolo turns to Belphie. "It's time. We have to take them." He sighs, glancing at the body on the floor. "But it would be difficult to take them in their current state."

Belphie nods, stepping over to me. It's hard to register his movement. The demons watching seem to be anxious, seem to understand that I want more. I want their blood, to see it pulsing from open wounds, to watch as their eyes widen in fear and-

Belphie's hand presses softly against my forehead. "Sleep," he commands.

My vision blurs as I slump against him, my last thought about the blood under my fingernails.

I wake up staring at the night sky. I look around, seeing the brothers leaning next to me. Diavolo stands a few paces back. He perks up once he sees I'm awake. "So sorry about that, but you wouldn't have come here without trying to kill a few more demons."

I yawn, blinking rapidly. "Kill?"

"Yeah dude, you went psycho," Belphi says.

"Nevermind that," Satan shakes his head. "How do you feel?"

I raise a hand to my forehead. I don't feel horns, so I must have shifted back to my human form. I groggily try to remember what happened before I passed out. "Fine, I guess," I respond, narrowing my eyes at Belphie as I remember just how I ended up falling asleep.

"Fine?" Levi snorts, sounding almost impressed, "you just teared out some guy's throat."

I wince. Mammon reaches out and leans a hand on my shoulder. "I bet he deserved it," he whispers. "He tried to hurt ya, didn't he?"

I shudder. "I think he was about to kill me." I look to Lucifer, Satan, and Diavolo. "If you hadn't come so quickly…"

Lucifer frowns. "We should discuss that. You were able to call us through our pacts."

I frown, thinking about how I naturally used my newfound abilities while in danger. "I think I drew your power from them."

"You mean you could use our abilities?" Asmo wrinkles his forehead. "That is certainly interesting."

Diavolo walks over, staring at me pointedly. "You have the potential to be much stronger than I realized." He raises his eyebrows. "And you clearly are strong willed."

"What do you mean?"

Belphie scoffs. "Don't you realize where you are?"

I look around. I sit at the top of a steep hill, dry ash covering my clothes and sifting through my fingers as I clutch the black ground. I look to my left and see the shimmering air of a forcefield.

"Oh," I whisper to myself. As soon as I realize where I am, the pull I've grown accustomed to suddenly explodes. I gasp at the power, the burning instinct sending sharp tingles throughout my body. I feel an impossible mixture of each of the seven sins as my pacts glow in an ethereal light.

I shift, the pain almost unnoticeable besides the overwhelming need to step beyond the forcefield. I stand, my limbs moving on their own accord.

"This is it," Beel mutters beside me. "You know what you'll do when you walk through." He grabs my hand. I clutch his, a mixture of desire and disgust swarming in my stomach.

"Are you prepared?" Diavolo asks from behind me.

I swallow. I remember what it felt like to embrace the newfound wickedness within me, how the hot feel of blood under my claws sent shivers of pleasure through me. I remember how much I liked it, and something in me cowers in fear of what I have become.

But the pull will never go away. I have made my choice; I always knew it would come to this. It's time to leave my humanity where I stand.

I take a deep breath, focusing on the black runes that are ready to carve into my skin. I draw in Diavolo's power, using it to force myself to change into my True Form. I grit my teeth through the pain, focusing on the swirling air in front of me.

Once I'm fully changed, I walk with unsteady legs into the forcefield, ears filling with the sound of human screams. And as I stare at the Pit below me, I embrace the tendrils of darkness inside of me. I let it flow through me, my body prickling in excitement. I think about what I'm about to do.

And I smile.

#thank you to everyone who comments on my writing i love you #let me know if you want me to write anything specific #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me angst #like please i am begging for fic ideas rip in peace

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hatake-no-sharingan · 3 years

Text

A Well Loved Copy (PART 1: Magical Places)

Kakashi x Reader

Story Summary: Your cozy life as a bookseller is disturbed when a box of the worst books you could ever imagine arrives at your store, and with them a certain silver haired ninja to whom you are definitely not attracted.

Relationship: Kakashi x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: I wrote this first part a few days ago, but it still had a few things missing and I finally finished it today. I’m thinking it’s going to be at least 3 parts long (depending on how much my brain allows me to write) and that it’s going to be mostly fluff and romance, but I also want to add some angst. Hopefully you’ll all like it <3 Be kind and enjoy.

Magical Places

“God who even reads this crap” you tell yourself as you arrange the 20th copy of the latest Icha Icha Special Holiday Edition on the hot new arrivals shelf in the bookstore. “It’s unbelievable how they keep making new editions of the same trash and people actually buy them”

Last night, your boss had explicitly told you that he wanted the books in the most visible part of the store, because they were always a massive hit, unlike the beautiful short story books you had been forced to stash in a less noticeable shelf almost at the back of the store.

You spent hours admiring the graceful prose and the magical places they took you to, wishing your own writing was half as good. You knew most of those books by heart, and every time one of your favorite authors published one, you read it so many times until you could almost recite it word by word. That’s why your personal collection of books was small, but very well loved. Whenever you got the chance, you recommended them to customers, though almost none listened to you. However, those who did, always came back to thank you for it.

“It’s better to know one book intimately, than a thousand superficially” your mother told you when you were little, and to this day, the phrase stuck with you.

When your boss, the shop owner, told you to remove your favorite stories, the ones you knew intimately, from the best shelves to make space for what was basically porn disguised as a romantic thriller, it felt personal.

“I’m sorry, I know they’re good, but we need to give up the space for the best selling authors” your boss had told you yesterday night when he saw your frown as you removed them from sight. You ignored him for the rest of the time you were there while going through the new inventory together, and left the new arrivals unopened

“I’ll arrange them in the morning. If you don’t need anything else I’m leaving” you slipped your very worn book in your pocket, grabbed your keys and left.

That’s why people don’t read real literature, because it keeps getting hidden from sight and replaced with trash, you sigh.

Now you look towards the remaining boxes, the publisher sent way too many for your judgement, and decide to put them away in storage until more copies are needed, so you can still keep a few other not so crappy books on the star shelf.

When you’re returning from the storage room, you hear the door chime, signaling that a new customer is here. You check the time, barely 8:00am.

God, who’s here this early?

“IT’S HERE!” A silver haired man acting like a 6 year old in a candy store rushes in, and grabs 3, no, 4 copies of Icha Icha Special Holiday Edition without noticing he’s messing up your perfectly arranged shelf. “I literally waited a month for it! I need to read it now, it’s gonna be so good”

Is he talking to himself? Or to me?

The guy is bubbling with excitement, running his long fingers across the cover of the book on top. You don’t know why, but seeing the motion sends shivers down your very tired spine. You shrug, and start the computer to enter the day log into the system.

He walks to the counter, feeling giddy with the books and you get tense at the realization of who the guy you’ve been gaping at is.

The signature mask, the covered left eye and the nonchalant but confident walk give it all away.

He’s kinda hot in person, but his awful taste in books ruins it, you think.

“Would you like me to wrap those for you?” you manage to ask, pointing to the four copies he dropped on the counter. “Or would you rather do it yourself at home?” If I were his friend I’d kill him if he gave me that as a gift.

“Huh?”

“We offer a gift wrapping service.”

“Oh no, thank you, they’re not gifts. All four of them are mine”

“All four?” You ask, confused.

“Yeah, one’s my mission copy, another is my house copy, then the back up one, and the last goes on my shelves untouched”

“You must really like the series.” You say sarcastically, emphasizing on the word really.

“They are really good, contrary to popular belief. I know a lot of people judge them, but I swear if they actually read the series, they’d know it’s not just porn” he says with a chuckle, clearly aware you’re judging him.

“Ummm I don’t know” you say scratching the back of your head “I’d rather stick to real literature”

“Wait, you’ve never read them?”

“Nope”

“Not even one?”

“No no, wouldn’t want to waste my time”

“No wonder you’re staring at me like that” he says under his breath, and you pretend not to hear him. “What do you read, then? If you’re only into real literature”

You nod towards the last shelves in the room and then gesture to your own battered copy of The Cursed Beauties and Other Stories.

“They made me hide them away so I could make space for your special edition.”

“I’m sorry about that, maybe they can share a shelf next time.” Did he just smirk? Is he hitting on me? No, it must be me reading too much into things. “I’m Kakashi, anyway”

“I know, you’re kinda notorious amongst us booksellers, as the guy who buys too many copies of Icha Icha”

“Really?”

“No”

“Oh”

“You’re an important ninja okay?” He’s barely aware of it apparently “I have a few modern leaf history books here that mention you. And I think there might be a biography on you too, you’re definitely in the Yondaime’s. I had to read it for school, though I’m not very sure of how much truth is in it. Non ninja writers tend to exaggerate things huh? Not because I’m a ninja myself, becau-well, ummm I’m not, but I have read a lot, on ninjas I mean.” You get flustered when you catch yourself speaking a lot. He makes you nervous, alright? Even though he has bad taste in books and is a bit of an asshole, you can’t help but feel attracted overwhelmed by him.

You get an embarrassed smile from him too.

“I can’t imagine what in my life would be interesting enough to write about” he says, gently tapping his fingers to his temple “but I’ll tell you something, Icha Icha is interesting, way more fun to read than my life. I’d leave one of these copies here for you, but this isn’t the first book in the series, so you really wouldn’t understand it. But you should give the first one a shot, if you don’t like it, you’re allowed to hate me forever and judge my poor taste in books.” He heads for the door and makes his departure, but not before turning around and flashing you a big smile that you swore his whole face was glowing beneath all those coverings.

Something about him lingers with you for the rest of the day, as if he’d never really left the store.

The next morning when you come in, you notice there’s something inside the mailbox which catches your attention, only for the simple fact that you never get mailed anything small enough to fit in the mailbox. It’s always boxes upon boxes of books and gadgets related to literature.

You open it and take out a well worn copy that has definitely seen better days, of Icha Icha Paradise. There’s a small post it note stuck on the back cover scribbled with messy handwriting

Give it a shot, I promise you’ll like it.

-K

P.S. Take care of it, it’s my favorite copy. Hopefully by entrusting you with it, you’ll decide to entrust me later with your own book ;)

Despite all your judgements and aversions to the series and the author, you make yourself a strong cup of coffee, sit back on your familiar spot, and open the book to the first page.

#naruto #naruto fic #naruto imagines #kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi imagines #kakashi x y/n #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi x reader #kakashi headcanons #kakashi fluff #naruto fanfiction #hatakenosharingan #magical places

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staarshines · 4 years

Note

adhjdjs yesss!! very happy that i found smone else writing for karev haha. could you do number 6 from the frozen prompts with him :’))

Surprises, Surprises, & More Surprises || A.K.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1.6k

After a sleepless night, Alex decides you’ve had enough and pulls off a surprise for you, which surprisingly leads to feelings being revealed.

[A/N]: I’m only on season 14 of Grey’s, so if you want to send me a request with a specific scene that happens in the show, please make sure it’s not a spoiler!

Disney Prompts | Nat’s 500

“Hey, wake up.” Your head snaps up and you blink a couple of times, finding yourself standing over a nurse’s station desk. Groaning, you rub your eyes, checking the time and finding that you hadn’t even been asleep for one full minute. “You okay?” You turn to Alex, finding him with raised eyebrows and a concerned look on his face.

“I’m fine,” you yawn, pressing the save button on your file and placing the tablet that you had been working on before you fell asleep on a charger stand.

“You were literally asleep standing up. We have on-call rooms for a reason.”

“The mattresses in there are shit. I still gotta pester Webber to replace those,” you mutter, sighing.

“Were you up studying for a surgery or something?” You shake your head, running a tired hand through your hair to tame it as best you could.

“Meredith and Derek were at it all night. I should’ve known to not take the room under hers intern year,” you state solemnly, sticking out your tongue playfully when Alex laughs at you.

“I told you that you can come sleep with me if that ever happens.”

“What a very tempting offer, Karev, but I’m just not interested. Must be hard for you to face rejection?” you tell him sarcastically, flipping your hair exaggeratedly.

Honestly? That was the furthest one could get from the truth. You’d had a crush on him since intern year, and you knew you loved him the second year of residency. Those feelings had failed to dissipate, and they haunted you every day. Watching him get with Izzie, then Olivia, next came Addison, then Rebecca, Callie, Lexie; the point is evident. He’d gotten with all of them, but he couldn’t see that the person who’d loved him for years was right in front of his face.

“Oh, shut up. But really. I don’t want you falling asleep on the job when you can just get a good night’s sleep next to me.” For some reason, his last sentence makes butterflies go crazy in your stomach, which is probably the millionth time that’s happened. You wished there was something under those words, you really did, but you’d come to terms with the fact that he didn’t like you a while ago.

“I’m not falling asleep!”

“Oh, please. You were literally asleep standing up.”

“I was resting my eyes,” you defend yourself. “I was just giving my spine a break from supporting my head for a bit.”

“Yeah, right,” he chuckles, making you push his shoulder.

“I actually went up to your room. You were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you, though,” you lie with a straight face.

You had gone up to his room and even sat down on the edge of the bed, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath. He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping. Not stressed or snappy like he’d be on most days, but genuinely peaceful. Eventually, you’d left because you knew you’d get more sleep in your own room than Alex’s; you’d just be staring at him the entire night.

God, you really could never get enough of that face.

“We both know damn well that I’m a heavy sleeper. Just don’t steal the duvet, yeah?” You laugh with a nod.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“What’s this, the fourth time this has happened?”

“Sixth,” you correct with another yawn. “Or seventh. I honestly don’t know.” He tilts his head, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Whatcha thinking, evil spawn?”

“That’s Cristina’s thing. And I’m thinking…” he trails off, prompting you to raise your eyebrows and wave a hand in front of his face. “You know what? I have a surprise for you. You get off at nine today, right?”

“I do, but why? What’s the surprise?” you question, genuinely intrigued as to what he was gonna pull off.

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” You pout, watching him wink at you and walk off. “I’ll pick you up at the ER entrance once you’re done!” he calls out to you. You nod and realize there’s a patient you need to get to, but you’re deep in your thoughts as you walk the hallway to the Cardiac ICU.

What the hell was he gonna pull off?

“Put this on.” Alex hands you a blindfold and you look at him with a disbelieving expression, slapping it out of his hand and raising an eyebrow.

“I should’ve known there was something wrong when you sent me that text to meet you in your car,” you laugh, watching him huff.

“If you don’t put on the blindfold, then the surprise is gonna be ruined. You’re gonna know as soon as we pull into the damn lot, so just put it on?” You give him a weary look and pick it up from where you slapped it onto the dash of his car, slowly wrapping it around your head. Hearing him start the car, you sigh and bite your lip.

“I swear, if you’re playing some kind of joke, I’ll land you in the E.R., and not even by accident.” He chuckles before reversing the car and driving out of Grey-Sloan’s parking lot.

“Can I take this thing off now?” you whine, holding his hands and steadily walking—well, you don’t really know where. He’d just led you up a flight of stairs, so you’re pretty sure you’re walking down a hallway now.

“Just a couple more steps and we’ll be there,” he mutters, holding both of your hands and guiding you—again, you don’t have a clue where. “All right, stop. I gotta open this door.” You can hear keys jangle and you’re even more confused. “Okay, come on.” He leads you into the room, presumably, and puts his hands on the back of your blindfold, untying it. “Voilà!”

You flinch at the sudden change of light, putting a hand over your eyes and slowly blinking until you can open your eyes without any pain. An apartment—maybe a loft?—meets your gaze, and your jaw drops at how beautiful it is. Perfectly catered to your and Alex’s tastes, almost of like he had it custom-made.

“This—Holy shit. This is beautiful. What—How? Wait, why’d you bring me here?” You turn around to find him with a proud grin on his face, and you can read everything just from that. “This is ours?”

“Remember when we went apartment hunting because you started having the same problem with Derek and Mer and we came across that really musty loft that you said you wouldn’t move into in a million years?” He waves around, and your eyes widen.

“That’s this?” You walk slowly further into the loft, still awed by how much it had changed. What once used to look like a place where druggies would go to hang out now looked like a dream apartment. “How the hell did you manage this?”

“Well,” he walks up right next to you, admiring the loft, “you know I don’t like being told I can’t do something.”

“You did this? By yourself?” The surprises keep coming and coming, and you’re pretty sure your jaw is permanently unhinged because of how wide your mouth is open in shock. He nods proudly, putting his hands on his hips. “Let me get this straight. You renovated this by yourself?”

“Not too bad, huh?” You scoff disbelievingly, still not believing what you were seeing. “What? Do you not like it?”

“Are you serious? ‘Not too bad’?”

“We can find a different—”

“No! God, you can be such an idiot at times,” you laugh, pulling him into a hug. “It’s perfect.” He pushes you back by your shoulders but so much so that your arms are still around his torso, eyes darting all over your face to see if you’re kidding.

“You really like it?” You fight back a grin—and fail—at how cute he can be at times, nodding your head eagerly.

“I love it! I could kiss you! I could. I mean, I’d like to. I. May I? We me? I mean, may we? Wait, what?” The gravity of what you just said slaps you right in the face, and you remove your hands from his figure and start to let your mind race for an excuse. “I didn’t mean to say that—”

“You want to kiss me?” he asks in a soft whisper with the smallest smile on his face. You get lost in how awed he looks, nodding slightly.

“I’ve wanted to. Since intern year…” you trail off, thinking it won’t hurt if you tell him a bit more. You’ve already caused enough damage.

You realize it’s definitely not damage when his lips come crashing down into yours and he pulls you into him, hands gently cupping your face.

It’s not a soft kiss, but it’s not a rough kiss, either. It’s a kiss that’s full of longing, emotions, and “I’ve wanted to do this for so long”. You’re so in shock that you don’t actually register when he pulls away, so your eyes stay closed for a couple seconds longer than they should. When you open them, you’re taken aback again by all the adoration swimming in his eyes. Your eyes are having their own conversation with his, silently telling each other everything you two couldn’t communicate verbally.

“You like me?” You’re almost sorry his words break the nearly magical moment, giving him a light slap upside the head.

“No, I just kissed you for the hell of it. Of course I like you, dumbass!”

“And you’ve liked me since intern year.” Even the insufferable grin on his face isn’t enough to make you regret kissing him, which is a first.

“Oh, shut up about it and kiss me again.”

Masterlist

All taglists are open! Send me an ask or a message :)

Permanent: @becausewhyknotme, @criminal-cookies, @theladyoffangorn, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @talk-geek-to-me, @letsmellowjello, @thescarletknight2014, @wemisshim3000, @arabellathorne, @brooklynsmorales, @marvel-dameron

Grey’s Anatomy: @arkofblake, @asianravenpuff

#alex karev x reader #alex karev x you #alex karev x y/n #alex karev fic #alex karev imagine #grey's anatomy fic #grey's anatomy imagine #my writing #request #nat's 500: requests #nat's 500 #100

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eleanore-delphinium · 3 years

Text

Bare

DamiRae AU

Raven was in her room in the Titan Tower sleeping peacefully. The full moon’s light being the only illumination in her bedroom. Suddenly her breathing became shallow. She pushed her comforter off of her body as she struggled with some kind of phantom. Her black one-piece sleepwear riding up her legs due to her movements.

She clenched her sheets in fear, “Damian…” She mutters breathlessly, sweat starting to form on her face, but her entire body ashen. She calls out for Damian again.

“No…” She struggled, tears forming and falling onto her mattress. She awoke with a jolt, his name at the tip of her tongue. She was close to screaming. Her irises under the moonlight looked redder than it should be, and when she blinked it turned back to its familiar violet hue.

Raven felt like she was choking as she gasps for air. She could still vividly see the nightmare she had. Damian was in her arms dying. And she froze as the thought sunk in, her breathing had stopped.

Damian Wayne was all she could think of.

She found herself in front of his bedroom door. She looked at his door confused as how she got there. But still lost in the emotion that her nightmare had caused her. Her breathing still shallow. She had to know he was safe, something inside her was screaming so miserably to know that he was safe.

The knocking didn’t register to Raven as she was still lost in her emotions. At first it was barely audible, but realizing that there was no sign of life on the other side of door, her raps on the door became a little too hasty, a little too paranoid.

When the door finally opened, she was still ready to knock on the door obsessively. When her absent eyes registered Damian’s form, she couldn’t help but put a hand over her chest where her heart laid and clenched it in relief. The breath she exhaled seemed so loud in the empty hall.

Knowing he was safe made her relax a bit. When she studied his expression and was about to explain herself, she was surprised to see Damian wrapped around his blanket. His hair was a mess and looking haggard, but also very much worried.

“What- why are you dressed like that?” She couldn’t help but ask. Her fear over her nightmare completely replaced by confusion due to Damian attire. His blanket over his shoulders as he tightly wrapped it over his chest. A blush slowly crept its way to his face as he looked away not able to meet Raven in the eye.

“I—I sleep naked.” He mutters a confession softly. And with that said, Raven realized how she had knocked on his door. The urgency and suddenness must have confused Damian. And due to the knocks progressing rapidly, he did not have time to wear anything.

He was completely naked underneath that blanket.

“I had a nightmare—you died in my arms, and I was so scared.” She blurted out, her face turning ashen as the words sunk in again. There was something in her mind that clicked. Her eyes for a moment vacant once again.

“Do you want to talk about it inside?” He offered almost instantly, completely forgetting his naked state underneath the blanket. He clears his throat. “But if your uncomfortable, I can stay in the corner and I swear I won’t approach you.” He mumbles, his thoughts not coherent.

“I mean I could change first—” He tried to correct himself, but Raven shook her head and forced herself inside his room. Her eyes wide from recalling her awful dream.

“Oh… okay.” He mumbles as he took a peek at the empty hall and cautiously closed the door. He re-adjusted his hold on the blanket and made sure it was snug around him before he turned to look at Raven. After turning to face Raven he found that he could not look at directly.

“I sleep naked too.” She suddenly said and he choked on the revelation.

“Raven—” He called out, and turned his head to her but when his eyes landed on her—she was already naked before him. And he found himself choking again as he quickly looks away.

“I—I don’t think this is a good idea…” He mumbles, looking anywhere but at her. They were already at the age of twenty, seeing one another naked, really wasn’t a big deal. But this was different.

“That dream made me realize something—I don’t want to take any more chances.” She said as she took a step towards him, and Damian stiffened as he felt her presence a little bit too close for comfort. Her brows furrowed at his reaction.

“I—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.” She mumbled, starting to feel embarrassed at what she had just done. Not completely understanding why she did it in the first place.

“No-no it’s not like that.” He tried to explain and had looked at her accidentally. He froze seeing Raven pick up her nightwear.

She was completely butt naked under the nightgown; he came to realize.

Their eyes met, and for a moment he thought that her irises seemed a bit too red than normal. Her body bending over to pick up the piece of clothing, and a lump formed at the base of his throat among other places. His eyes tracing the outline of her body. Before he could mention her eyes, her face was already two inches away from his, and he inhaled in surprise.

Her scent entering his lungs and making his thoughts muddled.

“Then, what is it?” She asked softly—rather-- alluringly. He held his breath, her eyes not the right shade.

“Then what is it, Damian.” She asks again, the space between them even less now. His mouth opens to respond, but she slipped her right hand under his blanket, and her hand rested on his left pec. Her touch felt like electricity. The words he was about to say—gone. Forgotten.

Her lips met his and his green eyes widened in shock. Her eyes still a bit redder than it should be, and his eyes turning yellower than it should be too. And Raven gently pushed the blanket off of Damian’s shoulder as his grip on the blanket disappeared due to her kiss. The blanket slips off his body seamlessly.

Since his hands were free now, his right hand reached for Raven’s waist, his fingers tracing her spine. And he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. There was shock between the two when they realized what was happening and their eyes revert back to its normal colors.

But they didn’t stop. Their hands roam each other’s naked bodies, their lips not parting.

The moonlight hit their eyes and for a moment, both eyes were certainly a different shade.

~.~.~.~.~

“We are lacking a butterfly.” A lady with black hair that was tied in a tight bun near the base of her neck said. She was wearing a lab gown over a pencil skirt, a cream blouse paired with black stockings and black heels. She was in a bright white room. A laboratory.

A man in a black suit with black hair approaches her from behind and wraps his arms around her waist. The girl narrowed her grey eyes that had the faintest hint of blue in them behind her thinly framed glasses. She scrutinized the violet liquid in her hands which was inside a vial. The man in the suit glances at the liquid in her hand, his dark green eyes uninterested in what she was holding onto, or the missing subject.

The pair appeared to be younger than thirty. The male lays his head on her left shoulder. He was significantly taller than her but both frames were on the thinner side.

“It’s harmless anyways…” He mumbles onto her skin.

“You should still be concerned, after all it is your money being wasted here.” She replied swatting the man off of her with her free hand, and he lets go.

“And you shouldn’t be doing that in a sterile lab.” She scolds gently as she walks around the table and put down the vial. The man approaches her but she turned to walk to the glass enclosure a bit on her right.

“There is supposed to be two of them in here,” She taps the glass. “One is missing.”

He attempts to wrap his arms on the woman again.

“Leo, I am working.” She sighs, this time not even attempting to push him away.

“It’s harmless, you don’t have to worry about it now. Let’s just go home, Cami.” He mumbles into her shoulder and she sighs again.

“Alright.” She concedes and he pulled away as he waits for her to pack up her things. But he walks to an enclosure that seemed to have about eight sparkling butterflies in them. And Camilla noticed Leonardo observing her latest project.

“It’s just a love bug. It pretty harmless,” She says double checking some paper works. “It looks pretty, but once it bites a subject, it slowly dies. A one bite-kind of life.” She sighs as she signed the paper before her and takes her glasses off and sets it on the table.

“Its effects—is as what it is called—a love bug.” She says approaching Leonardo Killian Sawyer, the current CEO and founder of the Sawyer Conglomerates. “But it only enhances what is already there, it cannot give what is not there.”

“It is also easy to know if it is in effect, the infected will have their eyes change into a slightly redder undertone. People aren’t really aware what each eye color looks like if it’s just a tinge bit redder, and the change isn’t really evident unless they have some keen eyes. Thus, this symptom would likely go unnoticed by those infected and those surrounding the infected. If an infected were to exchange body fluids with another, they would infect the other. But like you’ve said, your love bug cannot give what is not there. If the other party has no mutual feelings with the one infecting them, nothing will happen. But if they are both infected, what exists will be enhanced and the chemicals the bug gives while the bug slowly dies. The bug is dead with no carcass, and the chemicals disappear into their own accord, leaving virtually no trace.” Leonardo finishes off with a smug face, and Camilla crossed her arms over her chest.

“You think I wouldn’t read your report?” He asks her with a sly smile to which she playfully rolls her eyes.

“Of course. You’re never interested in what I do.” She says as she turns from him and remove her lab coat. “You’re only interested in funding whatever projects I want to test out.” She places her lab coat over her left forearm.

Leonardo wraps his left arm around her waist as he takes her lab coat with his right hand.

“Nonsense, I’m always interested in anything you do.” He whispers beside her left ear, and her face slowly turn red.

“That’s the only reason you opened up this research laboratory.” She muttered, and suddenly her face was facing his. His right arm holding her lab coat around her waist as his left hand tilt her head to face him. His green eyes were cold as he stares down at her, and her back shivered against his chest.

“The lab is my engagement gift to you.” He said simply and Camilla refused to rebuke, knowing his personality well. She would be in deep trouble if she says anything at this point. He leaned in closer to her and kissed her, her lips opened and he deepened the kiss. She gently pushes him.

“There are cameras here.” She mutters her face flushed.

“I’m their boss, they will ignore it.” He says caressing her right cheek with his left hand. “I wonder if you’ve used those bugs on me.” He mumbles, and she takes a step back from him with wide eyes.

“I wouldn’t!” She says, but he took a step closer to her to keep their distance the same. And she exhaled breathlessly at the maintained closeness.

“Of course, you wouldn’t.” He simply said and captured her lips, this time not allowing her to breath and think. When he pulled away, she was left in a daze.

“If I didn’t come by here, you would be sleeping in this laboratory. It’s time to go, Cami.” He whispered her name so alluringly beside her ear, that she was entrapped by him. And all she could do was nod silently.

Before she completely disappeared from the door, she stole a glance at the glass enclosure with only one butterfly left.

Later that evening way pass midnight, in their mansion, Camilla awoke. A hypothesis in her head. And she had to write it down. She looks at the man beside her who was peacefully asleep. With pressed lips she quietly slipped out of bed trying her best not to wake him up.

She tip-toed to the table a few meters in front of their bed. She was chilly as she stood in their bedroom naked, but bared with it because had she taken a blanket, she was sure he would wake. Her back facing him, her body filled with red spots. She picked up the pen and wrote on the paper.

She heard his throat clear, and she froze.

Camilla had no choice but to turn to her fiancé, and she sees him propped up against their bed’s headboard with crossed arms over his bare chest. She smiled wearily as she cleared her throat.

“I have to write this down. Before I forget.” She said and he sighed.

“The butterfly is a mixture of magic and science. What if there is a way to figure out if someone is infected. What if there is a reason why the butterfly got out of the enclosure. It is likely because of its magical properties. But then how would that butterfly find its subject. What if it has a similar magical property? A similar magical signature. And then what if it doesn’t bite but infuses—”

“I don’t bring work to the bedroom.” He tells her, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“You and I know for a fact that you do.” She said as she crossed her arms over her chest. His eyes gaze at her body adoringly and she felt her face flush.

“I do not pass 8pm.” He corrected and she pressed her lips.

“Just let me write this, and this will be the only time.” And she turned around to write on the paper as she heard him sigh again.

“Honestly…” She heard him mumble. “You know I don’t like you dabbling with magic.” He adds but she was consumed in writing all her theories.

He got up from bed and walked towards her, and wrapped his arms around her waist. He buried his face on her black hair for a moment.

“Aren’t you cold? Let me warm you up.” He mumbles as he slowly kissed her right shoulder.

“I have to write.” She insists, as she continued writing even with his distraction. “I never got to test the butterfly on a human subject. There is so much more I could learn from this. And your restrictions make it difficult.” She mumbles as she jots down other possibilities.

“Come back to bed.” He mumbled as he kissed her neck. “Do that later.”

“You know how important this is to me.” She turned her body to face him, her expression serious and yet weary.

“I know. But you are important to me too.” He stroked her black hair. “I do not want you dabbling with magic, but I indulge you even when you go against my wishes.”

With closed eyes as Cami touched her hair she nodded. “I know, let’s go back to bed.”

And he smiled at her tenderly.

~.~.~.~.~

Raven’s room in the Titan Tower was empty and cold, as the owner never came back from her little trip. A butterfly with beautiful dark blue wings glittered atop her dresser. It slowly flapped its wings, the moonlight causing it to glitter even more. But as it continued to flap its wings, the tips of its wings slowly fade and blend into the moonlight, until there was no more butterfly to mention anymore.

Meanwhile in Damian’s room there was life and heat that was stifling. Panting and mumbling and moaning. And two bodies atop the bed exploring each other. Raven laid against the mattress while Damian was atop of her.

“I’ve liked you for so long…” Raven mumbles her chin on top of his head. Her right hand running through his hair while her left arm hooked over his right shoulder. Damian was kissing and sucking on her clavicle.

“I have too.” He confessed as he pulled away to look at her. Who would have thought this night would come to the two of them. As the two continue to taste and explore one another, it felt as though their taste had permanently locked onto one another. And that no one else could compare to their partner tonight.

~.~.~.~.~

Author’s Notes:

So, this is the other version of MIDNIGHT RENDESVOUS. Keeping this all PG.

Hope you like it!

Camilla and Leonardo actually have a small background story. If you are interested, I could dabble on that a bit.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

#otp #Damirae #Damian Wayne #raven #rachel roth #damian x raven #robin x raven #nudity #under a spell or hypnosis #magic and science #original characters #ocs #teen titans tower #laboratory #romance #fluff #Damian al Ghul #dc comics cartoons animation #dcamu

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sunsetcurveofficial · 3 years

Note

So with the prompt thing, can you do the bedhead one with Ruke? Would much appreciate it lol

oh my god. i am SO sorry, love. i swear i did not mean to ignore you. tumblr must have eaten your message, because i genuinely did not see it until today. here it is, though, and it’s extra long to make up for it. hope you like it. xx

also available on ao3

“Your bed head is really cute.”

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

Luke has always had messy hair. No matter how often he tries to fix it throughout the day, somehow a few minutes later it always looks dishevelled again. But here’s the thing. Reggie loves Luke’s messy hair. He would never admit it, of course, but the messier Luke’s hair is, the more he enjoys watching him. So, naturally, he’s also taken it upon himself to ruffle it whenever he gets a chance. Luke always swats his hands away, shoves him, and glares as he tries to fix it again, but Reggie merely laughs and definitely does not think about how cute Luke looks. Luke is his friend and Reggie loves messing with him. That’s all, honestly. It’s all fun and games until Reggie wakes up next to him for the first time, anyway.

His parents were fighting again, so Reggie snuck out in the middle of the night and showed up at the first place that came to mind. Luke’s. And Luke hugged him, didn’t make him talk, and they listened to music together until they fell asleep. Together. In Luke’s bed.

So, Reggie is a little disoriented when he wakes up with his head somehow nestled under Luke’s arm, one of his own slung around his friend’s waist. He feels something flutter in his chest when he realises, and it gets even worse when he notices how warm and comfortable he is. He never thought about sharing a bed with Luke before, and much less waking up next to him, but he finds that he actually made it through without any nightmares for once, instead feeling like he is exactly where he should be, which hasn’t happened in a very long time. It’s nice.

Luke blinks his eyes open shortly after, grinning the moment he spots Reggie, who still has his face squished against a pillow under Luke’s arm. He hasn’t removed his own arm from Luke’s body either.

“Morning, bro,” Luke says around a yawn, reaching out to flick Reggie’s nose. He scrunches it up, wiping a hand over it when Luke draws his hand back and laughs. He sits up to look at the time, and Reggie follows suit, his arm dropping from Luke’s waist, albeit a little regrettably. His eyes wander over his friend as Luke turns back to him to inform him that it’s just past 10am, and he can’t help it. He giggles delightedly as he takes in the way Luke’s hair looks even wilder than he has ever seen it before. Not even after a gig. It’s standing up in every direction, the strands falling into his eyes and looking twice as voluminous as usual. He looks adorable. Reggie does realise that’s an odd thought to have about your bro, but he can’t help it.

Luke frowns, self-consciously scratching at the back of head as Reggie keeps eyeing him, giggles erupting from his chest.

“What?” Luke asks, running a hand over his mouth. “Did I drool in my sleep or something?”

Reggie shakes his head.

“No. Sorry. It’s just… your bed head is really cute.”

He blushes the moment the words leave his mouth and he can’t believe he actually said that. Surely Luke will never let him live that one down. Luke’s blush is almost more adorable than his bed hair, and Reggie figures he should probably have a good think about what exactly it is he’s feeling for Luke. It’s not normal to find your best bro quite so cute, is it?

“Cute?” Luke asks, voice so high pitched it almost sounds like a shriek. “I’m not cute.” He pouts.

Reggie can’t help it. How is he supposed to just shrug it off when Luke is sitting right there next to him looking like a kicked puppy that is most certainly cute, even if he tries to be all cool and intimidating most of the time.

“Duh huh. Yeah, you are,” Reggie says, because now that it’s out he might as well just roll with it.

“Am not,” Luke insists, and Reggie kind of really wants to kiss the pout off his face. Okay, right. He definitely needs to talk to Alex.

In hindsight, Reggie really doesn’t know why he does it. He’s not even that impulsive of a person. If anything, Luke is the impulsive one of the two. And he’s a little horrified at himself when he leans in and kisses the tip of Luke’s nose. He blushes when he draws back, and kind of wants the ground to swallow him whole, but Luke looks so startled, his beautiful eyes so wide and his cheeks so red that Reggie feels a little comforted and manages to shrug it off with a grin. He’s done it, he can’t take it back, so he might as well pretend to be confident about it.

Luke keeps sitting there mumbling something like “What the hell, bro?” under his breath and stares at him even as Reggie gets dressed. He really needs to talk to Alex.

“You can close your mouth now, Luke. Otherwise you might accidentally swallow a fly or something,” Reggie says with a grin, running a hand through his hair in front of the mirror to fix his own bed head. Luke does close his mouth, but keeps sitting there looking flustered. Reggie has never seen him like that before, and it does all sorts of funny things to his chest. The mighty Luke Patterson, finally brought to his knees by Reggie Peter’s strange new impulsiveness. Huh.

“I’m gonna go meet Alex. See you later, babe,” Reggie tells him, and he swears Luke’s jaw drops right open again. Babe? Honestly, Reggie is on fire today.

+++

“Reg? What are you doing here? It’s 11am!” Alex says when he opens the door. Reggie half walked, half ran to get to his house, so he feels slightly out of breath. He thinks he probably looks a little disheveled as well, if Alex’s worried look is anything to go by.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“Not sure,” Reggie manages to say, panting a little. “Maybe?”

Alex narrows his eyes at him.

“Okay? Well, come in. We can talk in my room.”

He leads Reggie inside and up to his room. Reggie feels the questions bubbling under his skin, itching to get out, so he jumps right into it as soon as Alex’s door is closed behind them.

“Do you think Luke’s messy hair is cute?” he asks. Alex looks a little taken aback, a faint blush growing on his cheeks.

“I mean… yeah? It’s cute enough. Why?”

“Because I think it’s cute. But that’s not normal, is it? I mean, I think about it constantly. And this morning I woke up next to him because my parents fought last night, and— have you seen his bed head?”

Alex tilts his head, something like recognition reaching his eyes as he watches Reggie pace as he keeps rambling about Luke’s hair. Reggie pauses for a moment to frown at him, but jumps right back in when the itching gets too bad. “So, I told him it’s cute. And I don’t know why I did that, because it’s weird, right? And Luke pouted, you know, that adorable puppy pout of his? Well, and then I found myself thinking that I would very much like to kiss it off, and that’s— I mean, that can’t be— What does it mean, Alex? I’m kinda freaking out a little bit.”

Alex snorts, and his frown is replaced by an amused look and a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Reggie finds it a little irritating. Alex should just tell him what it all means instead of smiling like he knows something Reggie doesn’t.

“I can see that,” Alex says dryly. Reggie wants to kick him. “Well, Reg. It sounds like you got a crush on Luke, dude.”

Reggie doesn’t have a crush on Luke. Luke is not a girl. Therefore Reggie can’t have a crush on him. Can he? No, wait. That’s a stupid thought to have. Alex is a boy who exclusively has crushes on other boys. Reggie thinks it over for a moment. He remembers Luke’s hair. He remembers sleeping in his arms. He remembers his pout, and his big hazel eyes. He also remembers his voice, and the way he gets all excited when he writes music. Or worse, when he plays his guitar on stage. Okay. So he does have a crush on Luke. That’s new. And interesting.

“Oh,” he says. “I have a crush on Luke? Oh my god! I have a crush on Luke! I’m gay, too?”

Alex chuckles fondly. Reggie is a little offended about his amusement while he’s having a sexuality crisis, thank you very much.

“I don’t think you are, bro. You still like girls, don’t you?”

Reggie thinks that over for a moment as well and comes to the conclusion that yes, he definitely does.

“Yes. But how can that…?”

Alex shrugs.

“You can like whoever you want, Reg. Like Bowie. He says he’s bisexual, because he likes both men and women.”

Reggie’s eyes light up. Like Bowie? He’s like David Bowie? Well, that’s pretty neat, he thinks.

“I didn’t even know that was a thing!” he says, smiling delightedly. “I’d love to be more like Bowie. Ha! Bowie, man!”

Alex smiles happily, getting up from his bed to pull Reggie into a hug.

“I’m glad you told me, bro. Finally someone to talk about boys with!”

Reggie laughs. He likes that prospect.

“Oh my god! Yes. Thank you for helping me figure it out, Alex. I’m a little terrified, I think, but it’s cool. I’ve got you.”

Alex shoves him playfully, his eyes searching Reggie’s as he puts his knowing grin back on.

“So what are you gonna do about Luke?” he asks. In his excitement, Reggie has almost forgotten about him. Even though Luke is the sole reason why he’s at Alex’s in the first place, and Luke generally doesn’t have a tendency to leave Reggie’s mind for extended periods of time.

“Luke! That’s right. Oh. Well… you think he might like me back?”

Reggie isn’t so sure. They couldn’t all like boys, could they? He isn’t sure why he thinks that, though. And Luke blushed rather adorably earlier, after all.

“I think your chances are better than you think,” Alex says, and Reggie swears he knows something he doesn’t again, “You gotta tell him, dude!”

Reggie hums.

“I mean… he did get really flustered when I accidentally kissed him on the nose this morning,” he muses. Alex raises his eyebrows at him.

“You accidentally…” He snorts. “Only you, Reg.”

+++

Luke is already at the studio when Reggie arrives for practice that afternoon. Alex and Bobby aren’t there yet, and Luke blushes the moment he sees Reggie. Grinning, Reggie walks right over to him and presses a smooch to his cheek.

“Hi, babe,” he says casually. Luke visibly splutters, looking even more flustered than he did in the morning, and Reggie absolutely revels in it.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Luke squeaks, nearly dropping his guitar as he tries to place it on its stand. Reggie shrugs.

“Because I like it. And you are. A babe, I mean.”

Luke looks like his head is about to explode, he’s blushing that hard. It’s the funniest thing Reggie has ever seen, because Luke Patterson is nothing if not confident. His nonchalance, however, is nowhere to be found now.

“Wh— what?”

Reggie grins and steps closer, right into Luke’s space. Their noses are almost touching, and Luke’s eyes are impossibly wide when Reggie meets them. He can feel his breath on his lips.

“Would you mind if I kissed you?” he asks. He doesn’t know when he became the confident one between the two, but he’s enjoying it way more than he should, probably.

“What?” Luke squeaks again, and Reggie really has to force himself to hold back until Luke gives his consent. Reggie doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. “Why?”

Reggie chuckles and nudges his nose against Luke’s. The other boy doesn’t back off, and he takes that as a good sign.

“Because I like you, man. Very much so. And it’s not just because I think your bed head is cute, although that is a bonus.”

Luke kisses him. Well, that was easier than he expected. Reggie’s hands come up to Luke’s hair as he kisses him back, starting out softly but quickly becoming a little more frantic as they’re both pushing and pulling at each other. It seems that Luke is regaining his confidence, and Reggie likes that just as much as he likes him all flustered.

“You haven’t seen your bed head, babe,” Luke breathes as he pulls away after what feels like a blissful eternity. Luke emphasises the pet name, and Reggie chuckles, feeling himself blush a little for change today.

“So, are we in love, then?” Reggie asks bluntly. He figures there is no point in beating around the bush. The more he looks at Luke looking all kissed and dishevelled, especially his hair that Reggie managed to mess up just perfectly, the more he knows that he is so in love with his best friend, and he doesn’t understand why he didn’t realise it before.

Luke laughs out loud, looking fond as he reaches out to pat Reggie’s cheek.

“Yes, you dork. We are so in love.”

And then he kisses him again, and it’s the best thing in the world. They only part when Alex and Bobby appear in the studio, one of them hooting while the other makes gagging noises. Reggie doesn’t care all that much. He keeps his eyes locked on Luke for the entirety of their rehearsal, his chest fluttering when he remembers why Luke’s hair looks especially messy today, and that he’s directly responsible for it.

It’s even better when Luke meets his eyes and smiles back at him, though.

- End. -

#peterpatter #ruke #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #my fic #my writing #sun-set-swerve

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dadoroki · 4 years

Text

Reminder [2]

Dabi x F!Reader x Hawks

Warnings: violence, fluff, swearing

Description: After many years, a familiar face decides to make an unexpected visit at your house before your date with Hawks.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

“Hey, you’re the kid that almost died right? I’m Keigo. But they want us to use our hero names so I’m Hawks. But call me Keigo when they’re not around. You’re actually really pretty.”

Boy, did this kid talk a lot. Everyday he’d come up to you, blabbering about some unimportant thing that you had no interest in. One day, something Keigo said had actually caught your attention. “Yo, so I heard there’s gonna be some new kid but he’s not gonna stay here. He’s only here for ‘extra’ training cause his dad teaches him...”

His voice began to trail away from existence as you were met in your own world. This was the first time you’d be meeting another kid who hopefully wasn’t the bland bunch around you, aside from Keigo of course. Curiosity started to fill your mind, excitement slowly rising as you counted down the days.

And here he was, standing right next to his famed father, Endevour. The boy was shy and avoided eye contact with you and the talkative kid beside you. You shamelessly gawked at the boy while Keigo jumped in joy, seeing his favourite hero infront of him.

You were too young, too naive to know what love was. But in that moment, that’s what you thought you felt. Your stomach was filled with butterflies. The boy was like a dream and you swore he looked like a prince in shining armor.

Your confidence rose, walking up to the boy and forcing him to look you in the eyes. Your little hands reached for his and held them tightly. “Hi! You must be Touya. I’m Y/N. You’re my boyfriend now.” Even at that age, you were a flirt. Maybe a little too bold but you still had much to learn.

Touya became flustered, his small cheeks blushing pink. He began to stutter but was interrupted by Keigo ripping your hands apart.

“Hey! You never said that to me!”

You were too distracted, admiring the new boy and that only made Keigo grow more jealous.

“Y/N, pay attention to me!”

“Y/N!”

Your focus went back to Hawks’s irked voice. These days, you couldn’t help but think back to when times were easier. Times where you didn’t have to care about your image, being able to live life freely.

“Yeah, sorry. What were you saying, Keigo?” You dried your hair, exiting the bathroom with nothing but a red robe tied around your body. You struggled to keep your phone between your cheek and shoulder as the man chattered his life away.

Hawks had dialed you to discuss your upcoming “date”. After initiating the hero plan against the villains, Hawks’s heroic face had been plastered on multiple cover pages of magazines, newspapers, and news outlets. The minute they came out published, Hawks had spammed you with multiple calls and messages to rub it in your face, reminding you of the public bet you lost. Unfortunately for you, you always kept your word.

“Yeah, I know.” You reassured the winged-hero, rolling your eyes in annoyance. You made your way to the kitchen, placing your phone and towel on the counter and snatching a bag of chips from the pantry. Sensing a presence within you, your movement came to a cautious halt. You didn’t spare a glance at the figure sitting on your living room couch, already knowing who it was. “Give me a second, Keigo.”

The good thing about Hawks was that he could always sense when something was off. He heard your sudden switch in tone and didn’t question you, muting himself but still listening to your line. You tossed your bag of chips back to it’s original place, walking around the kitchen island.

Reaching up the cupboard, you got two glasses and a half empty bottle of red wine, making your way to the shaded man. The room was dark with the dim lamp barely making him visible to the eye. “You know, it’s funny. I didn’t even recognize you.” You placed the two shiny glasses on the table and poured him and yourself a drink.

You sat on the opposite side and crossed your legs. When you first encountered Dabi, you didn’t really care much for him. But the more you examined his face, the more it felt familiar, even with the burns and staples. “How could I even forget you or those bright cyan eyes?” He didn’t say anything, keeping his eyes on nothing but you.

The lack of communication caused you to pout. Being greeted with open arms was what you expected but this was far from it. You took a sip of your red wine and twirled the glass in a circle, watching it spin like ocean waves. “Not gonna talk? Fine.”

You placed your glass next to his untouched one and repositioned yourself to lean closer to him. “So you side with the villains now, hm?”

Dabi concentrated on your words that were faint in a whisper, barely even audible.

“What would your father say about that, Touya?”

The mention of Endevour sparked the memory of a buried past and ignited a flame filled with hatred in him. He quickly pushed himself up, throwing an immense amount of flame at you. But you knew him too well. You were quick to sense his move and you forced upon a huge gust of wind, ricocheting the fire back to him.

From the other line, Hawks could hear the loud chaos. “Y/N, is everything ok? What’s happening?” He couldn’t figure out what you were saying earlier, as the whole conversation was mumbled.

Smoke was everywhere and you struggled to keep your eyes opened. “Yeah, I’m fine...” You coughed and rapidly blinked to keep the toxic gas from entering your eyes. A huge hole in your living room wall was newly formed with no Dabi to be found. So much for moving in. “But my house isn’t.”

You could say your date started early. Hawks had offered you a place in his house to stay while your’s was under construction. Being the gentleman he was, he offered you his room and that he’d sleep on the couch. But of course, he originally insisted on sleeping in the same bed. He would pester you from time to time, asking what happened and you never told him.

The day of your date, you walked the busy streets of Musutafu together. As expected, many fans surrounded you both and bombarded with questions. Hawks had held a conversation with you while impressively aiding civilians in need of help.

“You just love to show off, don’t you?”

“Can’t help it, babe. It’s my specialty and when we’re officially together, I’ll be sure to show you off too.”

A young boy rushed towards you, tugging on your black cape. “Storm! Storm! I’m a huge fan! Can I please get a picture?!” You crouched to match the same level as the kid. “Of course!”

His mother thanked you as you squeezed the boy in a tight hug, kissing his cute chubby cheek. He giggled in happiness and his mom snapped the picture. Hawks walked up to the kid, teasingly patting his head. “Woah now, kiddo. Don’t go stealing my lady now, ya’ hear?”

Hawks was immediately pulled away by you, as you thanked the fans and left in a hurry. “I can never do anything without you being jealous. Don’t you get enough attention?” He smiled and held the restaurant door open, waiting for you to get inside. “It only matters when the attention comes from you.”

The two of you were guided to your table with Hawks on his best behaviour, making sure to pull out the chair for you. They brought out the yakitori and you both conversated about just everything and honestly, you really enjoyed talking to him.

“Oh, if you aren’t gonna have anymore, can I have it?” Hawks asked, pointing at the last chicken skewers. You nodded and watched him gladly take it. “I just have no self-control when it comes to the things I want.” He took a bite and smirked at you. “You should know by now.”

Since when did Hawks become good at flirting? From the beginning, he knew damn well that he wanted you but it was a struggle. It was a struggle to even get you interested in him and now, he finally had the girl of his dreams on a date with him. Hawks was found attractive by many. He could have any girl in the world but none could compare to you.

“Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot!” His eyes popped out in realization and he dug into his baggy pants, pulling out a small white box and handing it to you. You stared at the box and he began to grow impatient. “What are you waiting for? Open it.”

You removed the lid of the box, revealing a silver tiara-shaped ring. You were in awe and slid it on your ring finger. Hawks smiled in joy, happy that you loved the gift. The ring was beautiful and you couldn’t help but move your hand around, watching the ring sparkle in every direction you went. “Hawks, this is beautiful.”

He smirked and crossed his arms. “I know. That’s because I chose it.” You laughed and admired the shiny ring. It wasn’t a surprise that he chose a crown-shaped ring because he always saw you as a princess. “And don’t worry...” He continued. “One day, I’ll replace that promise ring with a wedding ring.”

You turned your head with eyes shut in embarrassment, as he laughed at your shocked reaction. He waited for you to speak but your eyes remained closed with your eyebrows furrowed. You felt something was off and just by your reaction, Hawks felt the same. He glanced outside to what seemed to be a normal day. “Y/N...”

“Here are your drinks-” The waitress came smiling and you quickly opened your eyes, returning to your surroundings. “Hawks!” You yelled and he quickly got the message. “Get back, Miss!” A dark flying creature smashed it’s way through the window but you were quick to jump out of the way. The woman screamed and Hawks held her in a protective hold. The creature stared at you with dark piercing eyes.

Seeing that you were it’s target, you matched it’s stare and brushed the fallen dust off your nose. “Hawks, evacuate everyone now!”

“But what about you?” He asked worried.

Your eyes began to glow pearl white as you gradually activated your quirk. “You’re forgetting that we’re heroes, Hawks. I’ll be fine.”

He was hesitant but nodded. You returned your gaze back to the strange creature. With all the collected power, you gave it a strong hook kick to the chest, supported by a huge amount of wind that sent it flying out from where it came from. “I can never seem to catch a fucking break, can I?”

You ran and jumped down from the high story building. Hawks was worried. Not about you losing the expensive ring. Dramatically speaking, it did almost cost him a quarter of his bank account. But he was more so worried about you. He knew very well that you were capable of handling this on your own but the thought of you getting seriously injured made him anxious.

You glided your way down to the falling High-End Nomu, sending and shooting electrical charges at it. The lightning strikes gave you enough time to build up wind power. You were close to ground so you used up all your stored power and sent it to your leg, giving the High-End Nomu a hard stomp to the face on your way down to the empty road.

You released your leg to see the High-End Nomu’s head now entirely crushed. You tried to catch your breath and looked around. Screams were coming from all directions. Civilians tried to escape the chaotic scene but were blocked by multiple Nomus. Your eyes glowed as you raised your hands to the sky that slowly turned into dark clouds. Violent lightning began to appear and striked the Nomus left to right, killing them and giving the citizens enough time to flee.

The distraction caused the High-End Nomu under you to regenerate quickly without you knowing and you felt a hard punch to your stomach, sending you flying up in the air. Your ribs were for sure injured by now, if not broken.

The pain was highly effective and you struggled to keep your balance in mid-air. You didn’t have the strength to gain wind momentum but thankfully, strong arms grasped you tightly. You looked up to see the same annoying arrogant smirk. “Looks like I caught you just in time.”

You groaned and held your ribs. This was not the time to joke around and you definitely weren’t in the mood. “Keigo, give me a boost.” He gazed down at you before getting ready. “Whatever you say, darling.”

Hawks threw you towards ground level, giving you the speed you needed. You shot lightning towards the High-End Nomu but with each strike, it was quick enough to dodge them. You snarled in dissatisfaction and with all the energy you had left, you attempted to give the creature another kick. It was too quick, grabbing you by the ankle and smashing you to the ground.

The harsh impact made you dizzy and gasping for air. The monster was about to finish you off with one last punch before being cremated by hot blue flames. You heavily breathed and held your ribs, rising up to gaze at the figure that you wished wasn’t there.

The streets were packed with dust and smoke but Dabi was able to see you clearly. “Well won’t you look at that. You’re still fighting.” Blood was dripping down from your forehead and lower left eye. Your hero attire was ripped in some parts. But even with the damage, you still remained flawless. He smirked and walked closer to you. “Just like the Y/N I remembered.”

You limped towards him with an angry expression. He had no right to come here, let alone ‘save’ you. He wasn’t the Touya you knew. This wasn’t Touya at all. You didn’t have enough power to use your quirk but you did have enough power to physically punch him.

Or not.

You fell midway but he caught you with a tight grip on your chin. The pain from your body was taking over and you were struggling to stay awake. Dabi looked down at you with pity, pulling you up. “Dying on me now, Y/N? But we barely got to talk.”

You stayed silent, blinking as much as you could to keep you from fainting. A tiny light was shining brightly and Dabi looked down to your hand, only to see a ring displayed on your ring finger. He grabbed your hand and examined it. “That little chicken bastard gave this to you?” You didn’t respond and faded off, pissing Dabi off even more. He snatched the item off your finger and tightened his grip on your chin. “What do you see in him that you don’t see in me? You remember your promise, don’t you?”

“Touya?”

The boy flinched at the sudden call of his name. Your soft voice echoed in the room and the sound of your footsteps gradually got closer. You sat infront of him with crossed legs and scooted closer to him. “Touya, what’s the matter?”

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Just go back to Keigo.”

“I don’t wanna see Keigo. I came to see you.”

Your eyes softened, analyzing all the scars and burns of the boy’s body. He hid them behind layers and layers of gauze and you never noticed how much pain he put himself through. You spent most of your time with Keigo and unintentionally pushed Touya away.

You pulled the boy closer in a hug, never wanting to let go. “I’m sorry, Touya. Keigo told me he was feeling left out so I wanted to spend time with him.” Touya was about to speak but closed his mouth, letting you continue.

“I promise to put you first before anything. I promise I’ll always protect you and stay by your side. I promise that one day when you ask me to be your girlfriend or wife, I’ll always say yes. We can be heroes and be together like we imagined.”

Touya was young and kids always had their own wild imaginations of the future. Always having their own crazy perception in life. It was a know fact that you and the boy had strong feelings for eachother. Even at that age, Touya knew he wanted to be with you. For you to become his girlfriend. To become his wife.

He also knew his ‘disappearance’ had to be done. He was sad that he had to keep that secret from you but it was only to keep you safe. It was what he had to do. It would be a while before he could see you again.

“You promise, Y/N?”

“Always.”

“How’d that turn out?” Dabi watched you with eyes full of pain and you did nothing but stare at the ground. Words couldn’t leave your mouth as the memories were too much to handle. Finally, you had the courage to look up to him. “I could never love you. Not like this.”

Those words struck Dabi like an arrow to the heart and he tried to mask the hurt from his face. He slowly pushed you away from him. He stared at you and internally fought with himself, trying to bring himself to hate you, to want to kill you but he couldn’t.

He sighed and his eyes softened, lightly stroking your scratched cheek. “Even if I tried, I could never hurt you. You know how much pain you bring to me?”

Red feathers pierced Dabi’s back, causing him to yell in pain. He released his grip on your chin and before you could fall, Hawks dived in and swooped you into his arms, flying upwards.

“Am I too late to the party?” He jokingly laughed until he realized your unconscious state. Full protective mode was now on and he gathered his feathers back, zooming as fast as he could to the nearest hospital. “Don’t you dare die on me, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”

Dabi plucked the last feather out of his back, furiously throwing it to the ground and getting ready to burn it before it quickly flew up to Hawks. The High-End Nomu fully regenerated and Dabi watched as the winged-hero had you wrapped around his arms. He pulled out the ring he stole from you and stared at it.

“I’m gonna kill you, Keigo Takami. Even if I die trying or in the process of it all. If it’s the last thing I do.”

390 notes · View notes

bush-viper-cutie · 4 years

Text

Love Me Roughly: A New Start

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,968

Rating: M for Mature

Plot: Severus is ready to start a new chapter of his life with the woman he loves. Nothing could come between them, or the life he knows he deserves.

A/N: This is part 7 of 7 for the Schedule 1 week 1: Snape Lives AU for Snape Appreciation Month 2020! @snapeloveposts Also if anyone is interested in me continuing this little fluff series, please let me know :) I wouldn’t be opposed to updating it every so often after the month has ended :D

DISCLAIMER: I have edited (drawn over the original) the artwork (taken from a 80′s bodice ripper novel) for the purpose of this short series and will post more information about the original work here.

Posted: 6/7/20

Chapter List

<– Last Chapter

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The August sun blasted through all the windows, illuminating the house in bright yellow sunlight, turning the dark wood walls and floors into warm hazel colors. Ice cracked in the glasses of lemonade and broke apart only to come back together, floating peacefully in the sweet liquid.

Severus picked up his glass and brought it to his lips, shivering at the sudden cold. He let the lemonade swish around his mouth, cooling him down, before swallowing and sighing merrily. He looked up at the bunches of flowers all around the room, blooming and stretching, filling the air with colors and scents of nature.

He looked at the clock on a shelf and smiled. In precisely two hours there was to be a marriage officiant, and, in precisely two hours and fifteen minutes he was to be wed to his love. In the month after he told her his story, they had grown closer than he could have imagined.

Every day was bliss with her and although he was still saddened by the loss of his friends, he could bare it with her by his side. He loved her and cherished her and never knew someone could be so understanding, compassionate, and kind.

In two hours, their lives were to be forever combined and he would finally belong. Gone would be the days of being alone with no one to hold or lean on. He would never go through anything alone ever again.

Severus set his empty glass in the sink and walked into the laundry. There was a small mirror hung between the toilet and the dryer where he kept practicing saying the simplest and most important words he could ever say, “I do.”

He would be upstairs practicing in the bathroom except the whole floor was hers for the day. He had agreed not to look and promised to stay put downstairs. He sighed and walked back out, kicking Jiggy’s toy out of the way.

Jiggy came bounding after it and tripped over his tiny paws. He clenched it in his jaw and ran wildly back towards Severus, dropping the slobbery toy on his shoes. Severus kicked it away again and shook his head.

“Severus? Come upstairs.”

Confused, he headed up the stairs and stood on the landing, “I thought you wanted us not to see each other until – ”

“Close your eyes,” she sang.

Severus closed them and smiled. He heard the bedroom door open and a hand gripped his wrist, pulling him inside.

“Keep them closed the entire time you’re here, alright?”

He nodded, wondering what it was she wanted.

“Stand here and don’t move and don’t. Say. A word,” she led him to the edge of the bed and held him there.

He held perfectly still waiting for her to say anything, but she never did. Instead he felt her hands sliding from his arms where she held him in place down to his waist and around to the buttons on the front. He opened his mouth, forgetting he wasn’t supposed to talk, but was stopped with her soft lips.

He felt each button come undone and smiled as she pulled his trousers down until they were pooled around his ankles. She pulled on the elastic band of his pants and dragged them down as well. He bit his lip, wishing he could open his eyes and look at her.

He was pushed back suddenly, and he almost did open them, but kept them shut as he landed on the bed. He laughed and sat up, stretching his legs out. He could hear his own breathing, rough and excited, along with his racing heartbeat.

He felt her hand first, stroking him gently, and then her other hand around his shoulder, pulling him forward until his lips connected to hers. He immediately reached to pull her onto him but she resisted, forcing his hands away. She slid her tongue over his, teasing him with the promise of what was soon to come.

He let out a moan of desperation as her gentle strokes became faster. Her lips left his and before he knew it, they had replaced her hand. He let out a louder moan than the one before, wishing he could speak her name over and over as she continued tending to him.

Her lips were wet and her mouth was warm. He could feel her tongue licking him all over and all he could do to keep from opening his eyes and pinning her to the ground was to instead reach out for her head.

Her hair was soft and put up in pinned braids with what felt like small flowers pulled through the loops. He was careful not to ruin anything and gently placed his hand, feeling her head bob up and down in perfect rhythm.

He could feel drops of saliva dripping down from her lips as she moved up and down and he knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. He could feel the inside of her cheeks as she suctioned them in, creating an incredible sensation of pleasure so good he whimpered and moaned, wanting to beg her to go faster.

He knew she could sense his need because immediately he felt her bobbing faster and her hand left his knee to grip him just below her lips, following the faster rhythm. She tightened her hold and started moaning, sending vibration deep within him.

Almost immediately he lost all composer, throwing his head back and moaning deeply one last time. He felt the wave touch every cell in his body, reach every nerve, and bathe him completely in steaming hot bliss and happiness.

He fell back onto the bed, fully satisfied and felt her pin his hands above his head and climb over him, kissing every inch of his face while giggling. She kissed him fully and gave a little moan before climbing off him.

“And that is the last thing we did before getting married! I’m going into the bathroom and you, Sir, have ten minutes to get back downstairs.”

Severus nodded and listened for her footsteps and the thump of the door closing behind her. He opened his eyes and smiled, jumped to his feet and pulled his pants back on. He slid his trousers on and buttoned them up, fixing the pockets and tucking his white shirt back inside.

He stretched his back and immediately realized how much more relaxed and loose he was. He chuckled to himself and jumped up and down, feeling elated and lighter than air. The day couldn’t possibly get better than what it was already turning out to be.

He left the bedroom and headed back downstairs and into the laundry room again, “I do, I do, I do, I do.” He looked in the mirror and smiled, noticing she had put a tiny flower in his hair. He reached to remove it but thought better of it and kept it in, letting it hold back his long hair from coming down onto his face. “I do,” he whispered.

He splashed water on his face and dried off just as Jiggy started barking in the other room. Severus stepped out and followed the sound into the living room until he stood behind Jiggy. He was barking at the front door and before he could tell him to stop there were three knocks.

Severus jumped back and looked around, realizing he would have to open it. He was confused, because it was still an hour before the officiate was supposed to arrive and he didn’t know anyone else around town, but he unlatched the locks either way.

He opened the door and stared at Minerva McGonagall, standing on his porch in elegant green robes and a summer hat. They stared at each other for a long while and Severus didn’t know whether to scream, cry, hide, or beg on his knees for forgiveness. He kept perfectly still, analyzing her face which was as stern as ever. He looked into her eyes and noticed tears had formed on the corners and were threatening to come down.

“May I come in, Severus?”

Severus stammered and closed his mouth, opening the door further and stepping aside to let her in. She gave him a small nod and stepped inside, heading for the center of the living room. She looked around once and settled her eyes on him.

“Severus – ”

“Minerva, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, I – ” there were hot tears running down his face and his words caught in his throat, “Please, I didn’t… I had to,” he sobbed into his elbow, “I had to.”

He couldn’t breathe through his nose and all he could manage to do to keep from falling to the ground crying was keep searching his pockets for anything to blow into. He heard her step forward and he looked up, his vision blurred, to see she was holding out a small white handkerchief out to him.

“Severus, please, sit down. I’ve come to tell you something,” she took his elbow and led him to his fiancé’s chair.

He sat down and blew his nose as she sat in his reading chair. She turned the chair more and sniffed, as if holding back tears of her own.

“Severus, (Y/n) came to see me last month and… Well I have to apologize because I did not react the way I… I should have. She explained to me what happened, and I turned her away and as a result, turned you away as well.”

Severus blinked, realizing she must have gone to see Minerva during those three days away. She had lied to him. And worst of all went against his wishes.

“I told her not to. I swear I had nothing to do with her finding you and disturbing you – ”

Minerva held up a hand and nodded, “She told me. She made herself very clear. But I am not… I hated you Severus. I hated you for quite a while, as I’m sure I made myself clear during your time as Headmaster at Hogwarts… I hated you so much – ” she looked down and a single tear fell onto her trembling hands. “ – that I was glad when Harry told me you had died. I didn’t even care that they didn’t find your body… I never wanted to see you again.”

Severus stared at the light reflecting of his black shoes, focusing on it, trying not to let the words sink in. His oldest friend hated him, and there was no going back. He had already gone through this before, he knew there was no coming back this time either.

He felt his heart grow cold and his seething sadness died down to nothing. He felt like nothing. He looked back up at Minerva as she continued.

“After the battle was over, about a day afterwards, Harry came to see me. He told me what you had done, and I refused to listen. I could not understand how… how you could follow the instructions of-of a second mad man!” She stood up and paced the floor, “I couldn’t believe what he had forced upon you, made you do… and I was still angry that you had listened. That you didn’t even think to tell me.”

She turned to him and shook her head. He lowered his eyes again.

She sat back down and sighed, wiping her tears with her finger, “Then Poppy came to see me.”

Severus turned his head slightly, watching her as she spoke.

“There was a second Poppy Pomfrey who was covered in blood running from her neck and drenching the spare gardening robes tending to students with dark, deadly hexes that only a skilled Dark Arts master could have cured.” She looked into his eyes, “She knew it was you and that you had survived.”

Severus nodded, “I needed to assume a disguise to get closer, to help any way I could.”

“And then I was given word that the Ministry had organized a raid on your house. They told the Daily Prophet that you had been attacked in your house by the remaining Death Eaters hours after the battle and had burnt to death inside…” she closed her eyes and tears started streaming down. Her voice came out broken, “And I regretted hating you… Severus, I should have believed in you. I should have known – ”

“I needed to play my part, to convince everyone. Even the Dark Lord… How could you have possibly – ”

“Because we knew you best! Poppy and Pomona, Hagrid, all of us… We knew you and I knew that you were working with Albus very closely to take Riddle down. I should have believed in you,” she nodded and put her hand to her heart.

“I let them hurt the students,” he whispered.

“You kept them alive.”

There was a silence between the both of them that allowed them to take in each other’s presence. He knew she wasn’t finished speaking, but he was glad to have seen her, even if the conversation still ended with her not wanting anything to do with him.

“When (Y/n) came to see me, I was still mourning your loss, upset that I could have ever been so glad that you had left us all. She told me everything Harry had and when she knew I believed her to be telling the truth, she told me you were alive and in hiding.” Minerva looked back down at her hands, stretching them and clasping them together, “And I was upset again, angry again, that you had left and let me believe you were dead. Another soul among the many who had left us that day.” She shook her head, “I sent her away to tell you I was glad you had left because there was nothing for you there anymore.”

Severus pulled his hair behind his ear, “I know.”

“No, you don’t. Because I was wrong.” She reached out and put a hand on his knee, “I’m there for you, along with your colleagues and your students. All the ones you saved, and all the ones who have been reading the Daily Prophet to stay informed on Harry’s case against the Ministry to clear your record, and award you the Highest Degree Order of Merlin for your sacrifice to the cause.”

Severus blinked several tears away and looked around the room as if searching for something, “Potter’s doing what?” He fidgeted his fingers and shook his head, “I-Why?”

“Because as we all now know, your efforts as a double agent won us the war. You sacrificed your life for everyone, and barely made it out alive. The Dark Lord fell because of you and by Harry’s hand… He, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger are refusing their Order of Merlins until Harry’s demands are met.”

Tears were forming in his eyes again, although this time he did not know why. He couldn’t understand why they would be doing that for him, let alone Harry Potter. He more than anyone had every right to hate him and despise him… and yet he was out there fighting for him long after his victory.

“Why are there so many flowers?” Minerva waved her hand at all the vases around the room.

“I’m getting married today,” Severus leaned back in the chair and pinched the corners of his eyes to stop the tears from flowing.

“Then, as a wedding present, I offer you a position to teach at Hogwarts once again.”

Severus looked to her immediately. She was smiling. He couldn’t believe she wanted him back at the school.

“Do you really think anyone would even want me – ”

“They do if they want to attend,” she looked sterner than ever, “I’m Headmistress now and I insist you come back. Hogwarts could not be a safer place without you, Severus.”

Severus laughed, grabbing his stomach, and cleared his throat, “I don’t suppose I can teach only Newt classes for Defense and Potions?”

Minerva smiled, “That can easily be arranged.”

. . .

Minerva’s visit lasted an hour and when the time came for her to leave, Severus felt nothing but relief that his friendship with her had endured the war. He heard a creak on the stairs, and he knew she had heard everything that was said. He walked out onto the living room and looked up at her.

She was sitting down on the top step looking at the tissue in her hands, “I’m sorry, Severus.”

He nodded and sat down in a kitchen chair, also looking at his hands, “You kept this from me.” He could hear her sobbing quietly, “You lied about what you were doing, where you were going… and you knew I didn’t want anyone to know.”

She walked down the stairs and sat in a chair opposite him. He kept his eyes down on his hands, not wanting to look at her.

“I betrayed you… I’m sorry. I just-I know you had been feeling guilty about how you left, and I wanted to help you… I couldn’t bare seeing you so torn up, even when you tried to hide it. I can tell when you think about those things.” She sobbed again, “It was wrong of me to go find her and talk to her… I betrayed you and I can’t be forgiven for that.”

She got up and made to run back upstairs. Without thinking Severus pulled her back to him and hugged her tight, keeping his eyes closed while his tears dried. She placed her arms around him and hugged back, burying her head in his shoulder.

“Do you still want to marry me?” her voice was quiet and trembled.

Severus smiled and hugged her tighter, “I do.”

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Chapter List

<– Last Chapter

#pro snape #snapeloveposts #severus snape x reader #severus snape x you #severus x reader #severus x you #snape x reader #snape x you #snape x fem!reader #snapedom #snape fanfic #snape fanfiction #snape appreciation month #snape appreciation month 2020 #severus snape #severus #snape

94 notes · View notes

perfeggso · 4 years

Text

Noir (yutae)

Week III pt. 1

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies)

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 9.7k

Every day at work since the night in the car with Yuta was torturous for Taeyong. He found himself wishing he had just been left alone at the electronics shop in Akihabara but no – Yuta had to pluck him up and complicate an already complicated situation. Maybe that was what Taeyong deserved for getting his hopes up and prying. Yuta had been glum for the first couple of days and Taeyong thought he caught him trying to approach the topic a few times, but Yuta would either drop it before he even opened his mouth or else Taeyong would remove himself from Yuta’s presence. Eventually, Yuta seemed to decide that the best way to handle what had transpired was to not handle it. He went back to acting cordial and more or less professional, and Taeyong figured he should too even if he couldn’t always shake the memory of the humiliated tears which escaped his eyes that night.

It had been four days when Taeyong found himself in a communal space at headquarters, sulking over a sour plum onigiri he’d bought for lunch at Lawson. Doyoung, Jaehyun, Johnny, and Taeil were there with him, having a smoke break and waiting for orders from the Oyabun or from Yuta. Well, all but Jaehyun, who was only there to distract himself from his studies. Taeyong knew from the way he and Yuta had been acting that everyone probably suspected something – but no one asked.

Johnny was talking to the others about some girl he was seeing while, in the corner, Doyoung was, as the only non-smoker, listening and practicing throwing a small knife into a corkboard. Taeyong wasn’t really paying attention and was sitting in the opposite corner next to the open window so he could taste his food.

“Taeyong!” yelled Johnny, clearly trying to knock Taeyong out of his stupor with some good cheer. “You should come around to my place this evening. I’m closed tonight so we can all get drunk and have a grand old time. These guys will all be there, right?” The indicated guys nodded their heads. “Unfortunately,” quipped Doyoung.

“Right,” Johnny continued, “what do you say?”

Taeyong chewed his food slowly. He didn’t have to think about what he’d do, he just felt like taking his time. “I don’t think I can,” he explained, “I’m going somewhere with Yuta tonight. For his project.”

Johnny cocked his head, expression betraying concern. “Well maybe you two can swing by after. Just let me know if you decide to.”

“Alright.”

Taeyong felt like his general demeanor had brought down the rapport in the room that had existed during whatever bawdy story Johnny was in the midst of telling before. The only sound for several beats was the THWACK of Doyoung’s knife lodging into its target. Finally, Jaehyun spoke.

“What are you two doing?” he asked Taeyong.

“We’re going into Shinjuku to meet up with someone named Donghyuck who has contacts that might be helpful. Do you know him?”

Taeil spluttered. “Oh, you haven’t met Donghyuck yet?” he asked.

Taeyong paused his chewing, wondering if there was something he should be aware of that might be concerning to him.

“No,” he said, “is that a problem?”

Taeil laughed again, the dregs of his earlier outburst. “Just be on your toes. He’s a street kid, kind of like you were, but infinitely more obnoxious and he likes to test the new recruits. You’ve got to establish dominance before he gets too much under your skin. I know you don’t want to look like a little bitch in front of Yuta, yeah?”

“Oi!” Jaehyun warned Taeil with a quick glare. “Maybe cool it with that.”

THWACK! Everyone turned their attention to Doyoung. “That kid is Satan spawn,” he said coolly, going to retrieve his knife from where it was lodged.

“Oh, you know you love him though,” Johnny jested, then turning his attention back to Taeyong. “But don’t worry about it; he’s not even old enough to have a driver’s licence – you can handle him.”

Taeyong just nodded.

“I never said I didn’t love him, Johnny,” said Doyoung with a sly smile. “I am a Satanist after all.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Taeil interjected. “You just want to sound clever.”

***

That evening, Taeyong met Yuta at their pre-arranged spot below an elevated highway. Yuta greeted Taeyong curtly – although Taeyong read some of the discomfort on the other man’s face more as guilt than contempt – and introduced Taeyong to the young man by his side.

“Taeyong,” he said, “this is our associate, Donghyuck. Donghyuck, Taeyong.”

Donghyuck was slightly shorter than Yuta, with shaggy black hair and a round, jovial face. He had a couple of Inagawa-kai themed tattoos on his neck and wrists and carried a baseball bat with him. Must be a confident kid to get away with that, Taeyong figured.

“I’ve been told to watch out for you,” said Taeyong by way of a greeting.

Donghyuck smirked. “I have no idea why that would be,” he sing-songed. “If those guys at headquarters can’t handle a shatei then I think that says more about them than it does about me. Now,” he continued, grinding a foot into the gravel below him and clinking his bat against the ground, “shall we be on our way?”

They started under the overpass towards an area populated by office buildings and construction projects. Since they were on the edges of Shinjuku, in a sort of no-man’s land between neighborhoods, there weren’t many people around and Taeyong wondered to himself what kind of weird stuff went on in the shadowy corners under the highway once the sun started to set like it was. Mostly though, he just tried to avoid getting pooped on by the pigeons loitering above.

“Where are we going?” Taeyong asked.

“Donghyuck is our go-between for gaining information on the operations of other yakuza groups. He knows the small-time gangs that do business with them informally, since that’s the world he was part of when we plucked him up,” Yuta explained. “We’re going to go meet with one such gang in their hideout.”

Taeyong nodded as they approached a wall of gray buildings. “What does this have to do with Sana-san?” he asked.

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” said Yuta, looking the closest to normal spirits that Taeyong had seen him in days – probably because he anticipated a big break in the investigation. Taeyong thought Yuta might know more than he was letting on, but he was mostly just happy to feel some of the tension between them letting up. Even if their interaction in Yuta’s car scarred Taeyong every time he laid eyes on the other man, he knew it was in his best interest to be personally liked by his greatest advocate.

The three continued walking on the desolate sidewalk and, out of curiosity, Taeyong turned to Donghyuck, who had inched uncomfortably close to his side. Taeyong chose to ignore that.

“You ever join the Bosozoku?” Taeyong asked, eyeing the baseball bat: a favorite of the biker gangs.

Donghyuck raised his eyes at Taeyong like he was an idiot. “No!” he said. “Besides, you think they’d take me? Fucking fascists.”

“I was just wondering about the bat,” explained Taeyong with an almost faraway laugh. “One time I got beat up with one just like it.”

“Oh yeah?” Donghyuck asked swinging the weapon around viscerally with an intense expression which reminded Taeyong of himself a few years earlier. “Then you understand how I feel about Bosozoku. I stole this baby from the leader of the Black Emperors!”

Donghyuck skipped out ahead of Taeyong and Yuta a few steps and turned around to walk backwards, holding the bat over his shoulders with one hand. He reached into his pocket, rummaging around for something.

“Speaking of stealing,” he said, pulling Taeyong’s wallet from his pocket, “you need to be more aware of your shit, kumi-san .”

Before Taeyong could make any words materialize to express his shock and irritation, Yuta spoke for him.

“Hyuck,” he said, “that is wholly inappropriate. I’m going to have to request that you give my partner his wallet back right now.”

Donghyuck threw the wallet at Taeyong with just enough warning for him to catch it, then turned the right way around. Yuta sped up to catch his subordinate and place him in a playful walking headlock.

“That was very disrespectful to your elder,” he chided.

Donghyuck faked a choking sound and spat on the sidewalk to his left, causing Yuta to let up off of him.

“I’ve worked for you for longer,” he complained.

“Damn, now I know why everyone warned me about you,” said Taeyong, replacing his wallet and patting himself to confirm the presence of his other possessions, having finally regained his voice. “Brat.”

“Oi!” Donghyuck spun around, wielding his bat and only calming down when Yuta placed a hand on his shoulder and plucked the weapon from his hands. Taeyong laughed and Donghyuck looked at his boss in disbelief.

“Your men are totally out of control, apparently!” he whined, and Yuta tutted, spinning Donghyuck around and recommencing in the direction of a large under-construction high rise. He pulled Donghyuck into his side.

“Now listen,” he began, “you certainly don’t get to tell me when to discipline my men. Alright, shatei ?”

Yuta let Donghyuck go as he nodded begrudgingly. “Yes, Shategashira .”

“Good,” said Yuta. “I’ll kick your ass if you try anything else.”

Taeyong barely registered the end of the interaction playing out in front of him because he was too busy trying to process the flow of blood he felt at the insinuation that he should be ‘disciplined.’

They stopped before the chipped doorway of the high rise. The structure seemed almost complete, but it was difficult to tell under the scaffolding.

“Here??” asked Taeyong, growing more confused by the minute. When he was a teenager he had sometimes messed around with his friends in rundown buildings and other sketchy locales, but never in an active construction site.

Yuta nodded mildly and turned his attention to Donghyuck, handing him back his bat under the condition that he be good and control himself. Donghyuck took the bat back with a pointed glare and went inside. Yuta looked at Taeyong.

“After you,” he directed.

Taeyong followed Donghyuck up several dilapidated sets of stairs. The interior of the building was about what would be expected; lots of brick, concrete, raw drywall, and exposed wiring. Some of the walls were damp from unfinished plumbing and the farther they made their way up the stairs, the more convinced Taeyong became that this project had been abandoned for some reason.

Finally, they came to a steel door which Donghyuck pushed them through, and then to an equally dank hallway that smelled of duckweed. There was barely any light on account of it being dusk, and this fact made Taeyong’s skin prickle.

“Last door on the right, Shategashira ,” Donghyuck instructed as Yuta moved past him down the hall. Taeyong followed all the way until Yuta had entered the indicated room, at which point he felt something hard and rounded brushing against the back of his head. He paused where he was just on the outside of the naked doorframe and put his hands up. Looking to his side, he realized that Donghyuck was looking at him, smirking but angry seeming at the same time, and holding his bat up to Taeyong’s head as if teeing him up.

“ Kumi-in ,” began Donghyuck, “this is strike two. I thought you seemed soft. And Yuta’s soft enough already. If you want to survive together you need to be more aware, got it?”

Taeyong nodded, trying not to seem too intimidated by someone four years his junior. He heard Yuta yelling for them from inside the room.

“Point taken,” he said. “May I be on my way?”

Donghyuck nodded, bumping his bat lightly against Taeyong’s head for good measure before pulling it away.

“Don’t let there be a strike three,” Taeyong heard Donghyuck say behind him as he entered the room.

Inside was an industrial attic of sorts with lots of metal beams, trash scattered over the floors, and a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling on a wire, illuminating three late teens to early twenties looking boys along with Yuta at a plastic table.

“What kept you?” asked Yuta.

“Haechan!” yelled the tallest of the boys, and Donghyuck approached the table with a sunshiny plump-cheeked grin. What a contrast .

“Sorry,” said Taeyong, eyes on the grimy floor. “Also, Haechan?”

“Nickname,” Yuta explained. “I think he uses it as a code name with his friends.”

“I see.”

“Who’s this guy?” asked one of the boys, almost yelling.

Yuta motioned towards Taeyong. “Jisung, Jeno, Jaemin, this is my new associate, Taeyong.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Taeyong and the three boys, each of them tall and rail thin, bowed unenthusiastically and returned the greeting.

“Yuta-san,” began the one in the middle. He had a squarer face than the others and if the order of their introduction was anything to go by, he would have to be Jeno. Taeyong wondered for a moment why they didn’t have to address Yuta by his title, but he figured it was because they didn’t technically work for the Inagawa-kai.

“You need more information on this girl, right? Sana-chan?” Jeno held up a small black and white photo of the girl Taeyong and Yuta had stalked the other night, walking with an older man in a suit.

“That’s her,” Yuta confirmed.

The boy on the far end of the table, Jaemin, leaned forward into the light. “Listen, boss, I don’t think you’ll like what we have to tell you.”

Taeyong snuck a glance at Yuta’s face, feeling the nerves start to creep up on him, but Yuta’s expression remained completely placated; he showed no indication of worry and this calmed Taeyong down a bit. Only a bit, though.

“Please, just tell me whatever it is,” said Yuta openly. “I’m sure I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Okay,” Jisung began, “essentially, Yamaguchi is holding Ms. Minatozaki hostage. They’ve got her working Miyazaki for cash as like, a sugar baby, but little does he know all the money he’s wiring his girl through shady Thai banks is really going right into the pockets of a yakuza clan.”

“We don’t know how she got mixed up with them,” explained Jeno, “but she is, and we’re pretty sure she’s doing it because they’ll hurt her if she doesn’t.”

Yamaguchi, Taeyong realized, would have to mean the Yamaguchi-gumi, only the largest criminal family in the country. How did his situation just keep growing more and more outlandish? Taeyong watched Yuta’s reaction and finally thought he caught a hardness seeping into his face.

“Fuck, Yamaguchi,” Yuta practically snarled. “Okay, this isn’t ideal but if we play it right and don’t allow them to catch wind of us, we could use this situation to our advantage. Did you get this straight from them?

“Yeah,” Jaemin assured, “we heard it from our contacts in the Yamaguchi-gumi! But listen, that’s why you need to make sure we have protection, because we’re really sticking our necks out for you and they might have more men but the Inagawa-kai owns Tokyo, so we expect you can manage to look out for us.”

“Oi, Jae, maybe you shouldn’t talk to a Shategashira like that,” warned Jisung.

Jaemin whipped around to look at his friend. “Listen, do we need to take this out to the roof or something? Because I’m just trying to ensure our safety and since you’re not down with that, I might as well give your ass a preemptive beating.”

“Come on, guys, let’s not cause a disruption,” said Jeno, laughing awkwardly and placing a hand on each of his friends’ shoulders. Then, he turned his attention to Yuta. “We humbly implore you, sir.” Still, Jaemin and Jisung continued arguing over him, that is, until Donghyuck slammed his bat on the ground with a resounding CLACK!

“Shut the fuck up, you guys!” The three young men all froze, silence reclaiming the space around them. Yuta’s face remained calm although Taeyong heard him let out an impatient sigh, and Taeyong himself had to suppress laughter. He used to be just like these boys.

Donghyuck continued. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t embarrass me in front of my boss, thank you.” He turned to Yuta. “Please excuse them, Shategashira .”

Yuta smirked. “Perfectly alright,” he said. “Jaemin-kun, I’m sympathetic to your concerns and I assure you that you will have ample protection from the Inagawa-kai be it from your friend, Donghyuck, Taeyong, or any of my men. You are also welcome to use our headquarters and safehouses if need be.”

Jisung, Jeno, and Jaemin, let out a collective breath. “Thank you very much, sir.”

“Of course,” said Yuta. “We appreciate what you have done to help our mission, and I recognize that you did not have to. That being said, I hope you will understand that protection comes with a certain level of surveillance. With your proximity to our rivals, we have to be sure you can continue to be trusted.”

The three boys nodded nervously, exchanging reassuring looks with Donghyuck. “We understand, sir,” confirmed Jeno.

“Good,” said Yuta. “Well, then. Back to the matter at hand.”

“Do you –” Taeyong began, cutting himself off when he noticed everyone staring at him. They had probably forgotten he existed. “Sorry, um, do you think this thing with Ms. Minatozaki and the Yamaguchi-gumi has anything to do with us? With our plan?”

Yuta smiled, his first genuine smile that Taeyong had seen since their misunderstanding last week, and it caused a rush of pride to fill Taeyong.

“That’s an excellent question, Taeyong,” said Yuta. “Do you boys have any incite?”

Taeyong caught Jisung and Donghyuck sharing a brief, quizzical look.

“Well, we can’t be sure unless we talk to someone higher up,” began Jisung, “but that’s certainly a likelihood. I mean, they have their ways of finding things out just like you do, and I know they wouldn’t want you getting this deal.”

“My guess,” said Jaemin, “is that they’re going to blackmail their way into the meeting in a month and try to outmaneuver your Mitsubishi arrangement. It would be a ballsy move since, like I said, you guys are much more powerful within the city, but Yamaguchi are nothing if not ballsy, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’d imagine you’re correct,” said Yuta. “That’s all for now, then. Thank you again, you three. Donghyuck?”

“Yes, Shategashira .”

“You stay with them. Taeyong and I will be heading out.”

Donghyuck saluted and his three friends bowed, thanking Yuta for his consideration.

***

“Starting to think like an investigator, I see,” remarked Yuta once he and Taeyong were back down on the street. Taeyong started.

“Oh, really? I – I just thought it was an obvious question. Sorry I interrupted.”

Yuta began to walk back in the direction they came and Taeyong followed. “You didn’t interrupt,” he said with a sideways smile. “No one was talking. Besides, that was about to be my next question. I’m just glad you’re starting to feel comfortable being involved.”

“Oh,” said Taeyong, not knowing what to say to that. He felt tingly even though he now knew he wasn’t supposed to. “Shategashira?”

“Mm?”

“Are you scared?”

Yuta laughed suddenly, making Taeyong jump and proving, at least, that his nerves were on edge. “Scared? There’s no use in being scared, Taeyong. Although I wouldn’t fault anyone if they were.” Yuta began walking once more. They were just clearing the overpass highway. “Are you?”

Taeyong thought for a moment. He’d been in plenty of fights and dangerous situations, so he was used to threat. If he was being honest, he wasn’t so much scared as he was consumed by a sense of dread.

“Not exactly,” Taeyong stated.

Yuta repeated, “Not exactly.” The lights of central Shibuya were slowly becoming visible – like an illuminated cargo ship on the sea at midnight. Taeyong weighed the appropriateness of bringing up what had happened between them four days earlier, getting the sense that Yuta was still trying to ignore it and move on. Taeyong felt like he needed closure, but Yuta began to speak before he could.

“I’m sorry this happened to you Taeyong,” said Yuta. Taeyong huffed. He was getting a bit sick of the pity speech. “No, listen for a minute. I know this situation seems really crazy, but I’ve been doing this since I was fifteen; been around it my whole life. I’ll handle anything that comes at me and anything that comes at you, alright? And I don’t underestimate you. You’re smart, a quick learner, and you’ve got spark. I know that because I’ve worked with people like you for a while now.”

“What people like me?” asked Taeyong. “ Zainichi ?”

“No, not just that,” Yuta clarified. “People who’ve had to scrap just to exist. That’s the exact type you want in this line of work. That’s why I have confidence in you. I know you can scrap.”

Yuta’s words soothed Taeyong, although he wanted to punch him at the same time. He knew this wasn’t exactly flirty – more like, professional encouragement? – but Taeyong felt like he was being led on by all the compliments.

“I see,” he said mildly. “I will try to live up to that.”

Yuta chuckled, exhausted by formal talk. “Are you tired, Taeyong?”

“Not really, actually.”

Yuta smiled. “Good, because I told Johnny we’d be joining.”

***

There had been almost no one in the area until Taeyong and Yuta got closer to central Shibuya. Almost. Taeyong had noticed someone shortly after agreeing to accompany Yuta to Johnny’s place; a man dressed in dark clothes and walking a good ways behind Taeyong and Yuta. He wasn’t doing anything in particular to call attention to himself, so Taeyong didn’t pay him any mind.

He didn’t pay any mind either when he noticed the man entering Shibuya station after them. The station handled millions of commuters every day, after all. It was only when he and Yuta had boarded the Shibuya line and he spotted the same man in the next car over that Taeyong instinctively brushed his hand over the interior pocket of his leather jacket, where his gun was hidden. Still, he assumed he was just being overly cautious. Yuta didn’t like using his car if he didn’t have to because the plates could be tracked, but Taeyong found himself wishing for the false protection of being alone in a personal vehicle.

“Akihabara-eki. Please be cautious of the closing doors.”

The electronic woman’s voice rang through the train as Taeyong and Yuta descended onto the platform. Taeyong glanced to his right, making a mental note that the same man was also getting off, and practically pulled Yuta towards the exit under the guise of trying not to get separated in the rush of passengers. He heard Donghyuck’s voice in his head: “ don’t let there be a strike three .”

Taeyong walked out ahead as he and Yuta started down Ameyokochō, passing food stalls and vendors of knock-off Nike sneakers.

“You know how to get there, right Taeyong?”

“YeahIdo,” Taeyong huffed, and Yuta grabbed at his hand to pull him around, stopping them both in the middle of the busy pedestrian street.

“Taeyong,” said Yuta, “are you just that eager to have some fun, or is something the matter?”

Taeyong’s body was jittery with the impulse to move, and it only got infinitely worse when he caught a glimpse of the same dark-clothed man over Yuta’s shoulder.

Taeyong yanked Yuta forward.

“Taeyong, what the fuck?” Yuta looked angry, eyes dark and brow knitted. If he hadn’t been so scared, Taeyong might have found the expression attractive.

“Shategashira, I’m very sure we’re being followed,” he explained, practically dragging both himself and Yuta through the crowd of evening revelers.

Yuta stole a glance behind them and confirmed Taeyong’s fear.

“Shit,” he said, “I think that’s Yamaguchi. Let’s go.”

Yuta took the lead this time, navigating their surroundings more efficiently than Taeyong had. Yuta had Taeyong bend his knees as they walked, trying to disrupt their pursuer’s vantage point, and Taeyong silently cursed Yuta for feeling the need to dye his hair. Finally, they came upon an alleyway they could use as a shortcut to Johnny’s bar, thinking they had managed to lose the man.

“Here,” said Yuta, pointing to a dumpster about halfway down the alley. “We need to hide behind this for a second, so he doesn’t see us when he passes.”

Taeyong, as designated lookout for Yuta during this whole operation, took it upon himself to peak out from their hiding spot in case something went wrong. He watched as throngs of passers by ignored the alley, but none of them were the tall, dark-clad Yamaguchi agent. Taeyong hadn’t been this nervous since high school, when every day he would return home for the day not knowing if there would be nationalist gang members waiting at his house to drag him away. Still, back then if he could get enough distance between him and his attackers, he was probably safe. Now, he knew for a fact, everyone who wanted to hurt him was carrying a gun. Every cell of his body felt like it was trying to evaporate; the only things grounding him being the metal heft of the revolver in his hand and the outline of Yuta in his peripheral vision, sitting on the ground and pulling Taeyong down to earth like a heavy stone.

“Why didn’t we just stay in the crowd? He couldn’t shoot that way,” asked Taeyong, voice uneven.

“Because,” Yuta explained, “this is more direct and if he keeps on our trail, he keeps on our trail. Better to get in a shootout with him here than guide him to all our colleagues and put them in danger too. He might have associates ready to pounce when they know the location of Johnny’s place. Just trust me on this.”

Taeyong sucked in a breath as he watched the man from Yamaguchi turn the corner down the alley. He’d been able to see them the whole time.

“Damnit!”

“We need to run,” said Yuta urgently. “We can’t stay here and let him get closer and corner us.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Taeyong repeated, shaking and feeling fully gone as Yuta got to his feet next to him and the man stomped towards them.

Yuta took his gun out and Taeyong heard the click of the safety coming off. Yuta put a hand on Taeyong’s arm and looked him in the eyes, steady.

“Remember, Taeyong,” he said, “no use in being scared.” Yuta smiled his patented Cheshire Cat smile and with that was up and running before Taeyong could even think. Taeyong followed instinctively, turning around after a moment to check the progress of their assailant. His eyes went wide as the man slowed to pull something from his pocket – a gun, undoubtedly. Taeyong stopped and steadied himself and his weapon just in time to catch the black shine of the handle showing from behind the man’s jacket. No strike three, no strike three, no strike three!

“ Shategashira , look out!”

BLAM!

Taeyong stumbled half a step back, panting and letting the weight of the gun pull his hands down to his thighs.

“Holy shit…” he said, absently. The Yamaguchi member was a few yards from him and Yuta; where he’d been when Taeyong fired, struggling simultaneously to pull his collapsed right knee from the concrete and to pick up the gun he had lost his grip on when Taeyong shot him. Blood was seeping, dark and thick, from an open gash over his kneecap.

Taeyong watched as Yuta passed by his right shoulder, striding with brutal grace to the now pathetic man who had given Taeyong the fright of his life just a minute ago. He kicked the gun away before the man could get to it and then crouched on the ground next to him, holding a pistol to his head at point-blank range. Yuta looked pissed, but in a way that Taeyong had never seen before, like he could have skinned the guy alive and enjoyed it.

“Oi! What’s your name? What’s your position in the Yamaguchi-gumi? Are there others with you?” demanded Yuta.

“I’m not telling you anything, you, you fucker,” the man barely managed to get out with his ragged voice. “God damnit.”

Yuta stood back up and put his foot on the man’s thigh, just above his injured knee, pushing down. The man howled and Taeyong’s stomach churned at the horrifying scene.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” asked Yuta, laughing mirthlessly. “I know what you guys are up to. Seems foolish to try starting a gang war after such successful coexistence, but your leader’s always been a bit dim, hasn’t he?” Yuta nudged the man’s head with his gun as Taeyong started smelling iron.

“Shategashira, should we leave I –” Taeyong began, but Yuta cut him off, singularly focused.

“We have another three minutes or so until the police show up. Alright,” he continued, turning his attention back to his victim. “Never mind your name and rank. Tell me though, are you guys really going to go through with this? What are you doing with Minatozaki Sana?”

The man spat. “All I’ll say is that you Inagawa bastards will get what’s coming to you!” he panted. “We’ve let you have Tokyo for too long. You know how easily we’d take you down if we just tried? You think you’re intimidating? Fuck you.”

Yuta tutted, “that’s really too bad; you’ve wasted your chances. If your men are so confident why don’t they just attack already instead of sending in useless assassins like yourself?”

Yuta shot the man right through the head and Taeyong nearly shrieked, turning his head away immediately when he thought he saw something a little too pink to be blood hitting the brick wall on his left. He wanted to scream – wanted to ask Yuta how the hell he could bring himself to do that – but he found that he couldn’t speak. He realized all of a sudden that they were in public, noticing in terror that there were pedestrians trying to get a view of the alley.

“Hurry,” Yuta instructed, and Taeyong followed in horrified and awed silence until they reached the back door of Johnny’s pachinko bar.

Yuta stopped before going inside and clapped his palms over Taeyong’s shoulders. “Sorry you had to see that,” he said, lips curling just slightly. To Taeyong’s surprise, he didn’t feel any need to push Yuta away, despite knowing now the kind of shit he could do. “But remember all that to remind yourself that this is no joke.”

Taeyong nodded, eyes glued on Yuta’s, still in a bit of a stupor. “You need to stop apologizing,” he said, allowing himself a small smile. “It’s your ride and I’m just someone who fell into the sidecar. It’s not your fault and I’m not your responsibility.”

Yuta let out a breathy laugh. In the distance, Taeyong heard the quavering notes of police sirens.

“We should get into the party,” said Yuta, “but before we do, thank you. You saved me, Taeyong.”

Taeyong couldn’t even process the statement before Yuta was turning and slipping through the door.

The music which had been seeping through the door came at Taeyong with a pulverizing intensity when he got inside. He found himself in a grimy pachinko hall with machines, booths, and orange lighting. On the wall next to the door was a fully stocked bar manned by a yellow-Hawaiian-shirt-clad Johnny. Every member of the Inagawa-kai’s 15th Tora regiment had congregated around the bar along with Jaehyun and a few young women Taeyong didn’t recognize. The room was cloudy with smoke, but despite the assault on their lungs, Mark and Donghyuck had cleared a couple tables in the middle of the room to do some kind of pre-choreographed dance to the song that was currently playing. Taeyong was pretty sure it was “Back on the Chain Gang” by the Pretenders.

There was a general noise of excitement when Yuta made his way into the room, followed by a smaller whoop for Taeyong.

“You made it!” said Johnny, gleefully.

“Man, you look like shit, Shategashira ,” observed Jungwoo.

“Oh yeah?” mocked Yuta, “while guess what, I’m still sexier than you so who’s the real winner here?”

“Oooooh shit! You just got destroyed, man,” Mark interjected, pausing his routine. Jungwoo rolled his eyes.

Taeyong wanted to plaster himself against the wall like one of the traditional watercolor prints of tigers that Johnny had up. He couldn’t understand how Yuta’s demeanor could change so dramatically so quickly.

“In all seriousness, though,” said Yuta, “today has not been easy.”

“Oh yeah?” Johnny asked, “come sit. I’ll make you a drink and you can decompress. You too, Taeyong.”

Johnny served Taeyong a Sapporo (“that’s all you want?”) and broke out the Suntory he kept for special occasions for Yuta as Yuta recounted their encounter with the Yamaguchi-gumi. By the end, everyone was stunned into a brief silence as David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance,” played like an ironic joke in the background.

“Shit,” said Doyoung, “this is going to throw a wrench in things. At least we know their plan. But they can’t know we know.”

“Agreed,” said Yuta, sipping his whiskey. “Anyway, I know this is a bit of a bomb for us, but this was supposed to be a fun night and I didn’t come here with the intention of bumming you all out. We’ll have plenty of time to work it out tomorrow.”

“Wait!” said Donghyuck, approaching Taeyong at the bar. “Johnny, can I get a shot of shochu?”

Taeyong looked at Donghyuck with curious eyes, still a bit scared of the kid.

“I propose a toast,” Donghyuck declared once he’d been handed his drink, “to our new man Taeyong for showing his stuff and watching out for our Shategashira !”

He and Taeyong exchanged a smile as Taeyong protested weakly. No one heard him.

“ Kanpai !” the whole room yelled.

Taeyong cringed. “ Kanpai…eyy…arigato, arigato …” he mumbled, doing jazz hands for some reason.

“Now LET’S DANCE!” yelled Taeil from somewhere behind the bar, and everyone spluttered laughter at his enthusiastic drunken English. It didn’t deter a girl in a blue silk minidress from sauntering over to him, though. Hoo, wouldn’t that be easy? thought Taeyong, taking a swig of his beer.

One beer turned into two; then three, then four, then who knows how many? The relative mildness of the drink was stopping even lightweight Taeyong from acting out, but he did note with a bit of concern that he hadn’t eaten anything since that onigiri at lunch. Maybe he should stop.

“Need another?” asked Johnny. Or not .

“Sure.” A very pretty girl in a printed knit dress came up behind Johnny while he was getting another Sapporo from the fridge. With the short-sleeved shirt Johnny had on, Taeyong could see all the intricate tattoos which practically writhed over his arms. He realized that he’d never seen Yuta’s arms before, wondering if they looked like that too.

Taeyong watched apathetically as the girl tried to dance against Johnny and he whispered to her that she needed to calm down while he got his friend a drink. Taeyong wished, stupidly, that it was him and Yuta. He tried to remind himself that Yuta was a sociopath who didn’t want him anyway, but sadly, that didn’t help.

“You want a shot in this?” Johnny finally asked, referring to the beer, more of a suggestion than a question. “A shot for the shooter?”

“Why not?” Taeyong wondered aloud by way of an answer, ignoring the dreading feeling which came back at the mention of the shooting. Johnny poured a shot of shochu in the beer and handed it back to Taeyong. The resulting beverage already made Taeyong’s head hurt in anticipation of the next morning.

“Mina-chan,” Johnny snapped sardonically when the girl tried again to get a rise out of him, “why don’t you get to know Taeyong here? He’s new; you’ll like him. Talk about knee-capping bad guys or makeup or something, I don’t care!” Taeyong flinched at the mention of makeup, wondering if it was a subtle jab at his sexuality. He figured it was nothing though, while also making a mental note that Johnny was a bit of a dick when drunk.

Mina sat down on the stool next to Taeyong, sighing and sipping from her lemon sour. Then she smiled, and Taeyong was knocked out by the sheer aesthetic beauty of it.

“Hey,” she said. “Man of the hour.”

Taeyong tripped over a response, finally settling lamely on “I don’t know about that.”

“Oi!” Taeil was yelling somewhere, so loudly that Taeyong and Mina had to place their conversation on pause. “Johnny!”

“Yeah?” said Johnny, holding a rag and looking up from a shelf under the bar.

“Do these machines work?” asked Taeil, looking pretty out of it at this point as he fawned over the pachinko machines.

“Like, in general?”

“No, right now.”

Johnny sighed. “Not really, Tae, I turned them off. Why do you care?”

“I wanna play!” Taeil slurred. Taeyong giggled when he saw Doyoung make a face that communicated something along the lines of ‘kill me now’ and down the rest of his highball.

“You don’t wanna play that anyway, man,” said Johnny, throwing the rag over his shoulder. “They’re rigged. I don’t want you losing a bunch of money and then blaming me tomorrow.”

“Rigged? Really?” asked Taeil, incredulous. “That’s kind of crooked, man.”

Johnny threw his hands up in exasperation.

“A n y w a y,” Mina restarted. “So, you’re new. How did that happen?”

Taeyong recounted the story of how he had fallen into his position with the Inagawa-kai and would probably be going insane if it weren’t for Yuta, funnily enough. He omitted the part where he pined for a week and then got flatly rejected.

Apparently, the situation behind the bar was continuing to deteriorate even past Taeil’s outbursts, because once Taeyong finished the broad strokes of his story, there was yet another interruption.

Jaehyun, who had spent most of the gathering sat in a booth, flirting with a girl, came out of nowhere into the center of the space and pointed at Yuta, who was in the middle of a conversation with Mark.

“Yuta-san! My friend! I have been dared to wrestle you!” He was grinning and looking hyper charged and chilled out at the same time.

Yuta balked. “Me?? You really want to do that?”

“I’ve been dared!” Jaehyun repeated. “A true man must fight with honor when the occasion is upon him!”

Mark started to do the thing where he spazzed out all over the place instead of laughing. Now the whole room was balking.

“I think he needed to be cut off a while ago,” Taeyong whispered to Mina. She just sighed.

“I bet you there’s something a lot stronger than booze in him,” she said, voice resigned.

“Well alright then,” Yuta agreed, getting up just like that and rolling up his sleeves to reveal the tattoos Taeyong had figured would be there as Jungwoo and Mark cleared some tables away to make room.

“To the death!” said Jaehyun, pointing at Yuta again.

“Um – no!” yelled Johnny.

“Let’s ignore them,” Mina suggested, swiveling her stool to face Taeyong.

“Sounds good.” The two of them clinked glasses as the sounds of a physical struggle mixed with the rhythm of “Cat’s Eye” by Anri coming from the jukebox.

“They’re tiring, huh?” Mina prompted.

“Tell me about it,” Taeyong felt the hard alcohol in his drink burning the back of his throat as he took a sip. “You ever seen someone get killed, Mina?”

Mina’s expression looked flatly put-off for a moment before she gathered it back up. “No, Taeyong, I can’t say that I have.”

“Sorry,” Taeyong said, feeling like an idiot. “That’s really morbid, huh? I just – I’m still kind of in shock and this party’s been a lot for me to process.”

“Yeah,” said Mina, eyes skimming over her knees. “I bet. You know how I met Johnny?”

“How?”

“The oldest profession,” she said.

Taeyong’s brow furrowed for a second. “Oh! Oh…”

“It’s alright, I know it’s unglamorous,” said Mina.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to sound judgmental – I promise.”

“No, no, I know. But listen, I think if I was a guy who’d grown up in my same situation I’d probably be sitting where you are, and in all honestly after watching the kind of things Johnny gets himself into, I really don’t know if I’d be equipped to handle it. You want my advice?”

“Sure?”

Mina leaned in so she could whisper over the fight and the music. “Do what you can to get out of this as quick as possible. I know you’re worried higher ups than these guys will track you down if you try to run off, and you’re right about that, but the minute the Oyabun and Wakagashira decide you can be trusted you should remove yourself. That’s what I’d do.”

Taeyong nodded, a little too out of it to know how to respond. He settled on a mildly accusatory “But you stay.”

“I’m not the one getting shot at,” said Mina. “Today? That was just the tip of the iceberg.” She shrugged and looked at Johnny, “besides, I have someone pulling me in.”

I do too , Taeyong wanted to say but couldn’t, only in part because it wasn’t fully true.

Mina turned her attention to the wrestling match happening on the tile floor and Taeyong followed suit. Jaehyun was cackling and holding a yelling Yuta down below him. The image made Taeyong feel like he had consumed something stronger than alcohol.

Johnny came around to Taeyong and Mina on his way to the jukebox. “Watch this,” he said with a smirk. After fiddling with it for a couple seconds the telltale opening strings of “Come on Eileen” filled the room and the fight was being broken up in favor of dancing. Everyone jumped around, yelling whatever version of the lyrics they could and making fun of the actual English speakers when they admitted even they didn’t understand what was being said. This is how Taeyong came to learn that Johnny and Mark had each grown up in North America as the children of yakuza outpost members, and Jaehyun had gone to boarding school in Connecticut.

The drinks, bouncing around, and singing were really starting to shake the memory of earlier in the day out of Taeyong’s brain and by the end of the night, he was barely worrying about Mina’s warnings.

***

Everyone had gone home except for Johnny, Jaehyun, Taeyong, and Yuta. The former two were in the alley having a smoke and getting some air, so this left Taeyong and Yuta alone inside.

Yuta let out a big breath and spun around in the middle of the room. His hair and clothing were stiff with dried sweat and he had some bruises on his arms and his left cheek.

“What a day!”

“You alright?” asked Taeyong, parking himself in a nearby chair and eyeing his boss’s mild injuries.

“Aish,” Yuta jested, flexing his arms as if he were really in pain. Then, he broke out into a grin and laughed, waving Taeyong off. “Nah, I’m alright. Would’a had him if Johnny hadn’t intervened.”

Taeyong giggled. “Sure.”

“Oi!” Yuta started laughing harder. “I’ll have you punished for insubordination!”

Sounds good . “Sorry, Shategashira. You’re right; you are the manliest.”

Yuta hopped into a walk towards the jukebox. “We should dance!”

How was he not completely out of energy?? After a moment, “Overkill” by Men at Work started to play.

“I love this song,” Yuta remarked as if he hadn’t chosen it. “Come on, dance! That’s an order.”

Taeyong got up sluggishly and started to move in rhythm with Yuta from across the room. Yuta kept pulling silly faces and making Taeyong laugh in his way where the sounds seemed to keep getting caught in his throat on their way out.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Yuta asked.

“It was nice,” said Taeyong. “I felt like part of the group.”

“Good,” said Yuta, dancing closer and eventually getting right into Taeyong’s personal space, outstretching his hands next to Taeyong’s hips, palms up. Slowly, Taeyong placed his hands over Yuta’s, staring his dance partner in the eyes and knowing that his must have appeared full of uncertainty. As if by a natural force, Taeyong’s fingers slipped into the slots between Yuta’s and they swayed like that silently for a few seconds. It was a good feeling, and Taeyong let his eyes close just long enough to enjoy it.

“Yu – Shategashira ,”

“Mm?”

“What are you doing?”

Yuta looked back into Taeyong’s eyes and then flickered his gaze away, a breathy smile tracing over his lips.

“I’m thanking you for saving my life,” he said, plainly.

“You already did that,” Taeyong all but whispered.

“Not in the way I wanted to,” Yuta mumbled. “Not in the way you deserve.”

Yuta pulled a centimeter closer and Taeyong felt like his skin was an electric grid. He let out an involuntary gasp as Yuta sighed close to his ear.

“Tell me, Taeyong,” he continued, voice thick with liquor, “do you think I’m a monster?”

“Think you’re a monster? No! No, Shategashira , don’t be ridiculous. I don’t think that. I was just – scared. I know I said I wasn’t earlier today but that was before…I don’t think you’re a monster. Anyone with your position would have done the same thing – would have been expected to, even.”

“You’re a very kind person, Taeyong,” Yuta observed. “I hope you know that.”

“Thank you…” Taeyong smiled to himself at the compliment.

Yuta pulled back an inch and flashed his gaze over Taeyong’s face. “Would it be too much for me to kiss you?” he asked.

Taeyong felt like all his organs were shutting down at once. How was this happening? Hadn’t Yuta said no? Hadn’t that ultimately been the right decision for both of their safety? Taeyong froze, only able to watch Yuta’s beautiful face and babble god knows what – he didn’t know. Finally, he managed to spit out, “but I thought you didn’t want me.”

Yuta looked genuinely hurt. “I never said that, Taeyong,” he clarified. “And what I did say was a mistake. I’m trying to make up for that.”

Taeyong nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay I can kiss you?”

“Mm-hm.”

And that was all it took. Yuta pressed his soft lips to Taeyong’s and they stayed there like that as any awareness of the outside world grew fuzzy. It was gentle enough that Taeyong didn’t know if it was perfect or if he wanted more. Fortunately or unfortunately, he didn’t have to decide right then, because just as he was beginning to melt fully into the kiss, he heard Johnny and Jaehyun chatting as they walked back inside. Yuta pulled away quickly, but even if neither man had seen anything, the position Taeyong was in with him was incriminating enough. Taeyong’s face flushed so hard it almost turned violet as Johnny and Jaehyun snickered. Yuta, thankfully, was relatively cool enough to handle the situation.

“You two go on ahead. Taeyong and I will stay and lock up,” he offered.

“Alright, Shategashira ,” said Johnny slyly. “You do that.”

As the last two stragglers got ready to leave, Taeyong felt himself begin to panic. He was pretty sure all of Yuta’s friends knew about his sexuality, but he couldn’t remember if he had ever confirmed that fact or if he’d just inferred it. Finally, he was alone again with Yuta.

“Sorry about that,” said Yuta.

“I told you to stop apologizing to me,” Taeyong mumbled.

“Right.” Yuta sat next to Taeyong on a chair and pretended to zip his mouth shut. Taeyong laughed.

“They…know, right?” asked Taeyong and Yuta’s eyes went as round as coins.

“Oh, my god, yes! They do! Don’t worry about them. They’re obnoxious for other reasons.”

Taeyong finally let himself relax into his seat. “Good,” he breathed.

“Taeyong,” said Yuta, his voice taking on a darkness it didn’t have before and Taeyong looked at him expectantly. “Come here.”

Taeyong stood and traversed the couple of feet between them. Yuta patted his lap and Taeyong thought he was going to faint. He didn’t. Instead, he straddled Yuta hesitantly and let the man below him look him up and down, gaze sharp.

“Is this good?” he asked.

Yuta skimmed his hands lightly over the seams in Taeyong’s jeans. “Yeah it’s good,” he said. “You’re so good.”

Taeyong closed his eyes at that and let out a choked sound.

“Ah,” remarked Yuta, using his right hand to ruffle Taeyong’s hair and then brush over his cheek. “Yonggie likes praise, then?”

“Mm, mm-hm,” Taeyong confirmed, leaning into the soothing movements.

“Can I touch you?”

Taeyong nodded. “Yes please.”

This time, Yuta let his palms run flat over Taeyong’s thighs and up to his hips, causing Taeyong to wriggle in his lap. Yuta pulled Taeyong forward into another kiss, deeper and more insistent this time. It felt sloppy and wet and Taeyong absolutely loved it; couldn’t help himself from grinding his hips just a little bit, although when Yuta noticed this, he tried to hold him in place.

When Yuta pulled away, Taeyong let his face hover nearby, pink and panting. Yuta’s lips were glossy and somewhat swollen, and he was looking at Taeyong like he was about to disappear and needed to be studied thoroughly so he could be remembered. Yuta’s hands roamed over Taeyong’s back, slipping under his shirt.

“ Shategashira ,” Taeyong said in surprise before he had adjusted to the temperature of Yuta’s skin. Yuta burst out in whooping laughter, throwing his head back in a way that made Taeyong both nervous and aroused. God , Taeyong thought, hands going to his mouth out of nervous habit, Yuta was going to devastate him.

When Yuta came back up for air, he stared at Taeyong in mock incredulity. “Oh, stop playing with your lips,” he said. “You’re always doing that and it drives me crazy.”

Taeyong ripped his hand away, embarrassed. “What was so funny?”

“If we’re going to do this, you need to drop the title, Taeyong. Just call me by my name,” Yuta explained, holding Taeyong’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger as if chiding a child. Taeyong loved it. All of it. He smirked.

“What if I like it?” he challenged.

Now it was Yuta smirking. “Oh? Taeyong likes titles, hm?” he leaned forward to start kissing up Taeyong’s neck and Taeyong mewled. “You like feeling like I’m in charge, even now,” he teased between kisses, “hm, sweetheart?”

That was all Taeyong could take. He started grinding again and this time, Yuta didn’t stop him.

“Yes, Shategashira . I like it so much.” Yuta sucked a love bite into the skin over Taeyong’s collarbone and Taeyong hissed.

“Pretty,” Yuta admired absently when he pulled away. Taeyong was so lost in feeling that it took him until this moment to notice the pressure that had started to build against his thigh. He looked down at where Yuta was straining against his black jeans. If he was being honest, he was getting a little uncomfortable himself.

“Yuta,” he breathed, forgetting all about power play for a second. Yuta chuckled.

“I know,” he said, “I didn’t really mean for that to happen but here we are.”

Taeyong raised his eyebrows cutely. “Would you like me to help you with that, Shategashira ?” He was ready to drop to his knees at a moment’s notice, so he felt a little disappointed when Yuta waved him off.

“No, no. Let me handle it. I have an idea.”

Taeyong watched silently as Yuta pulled himself out of his pants and started to stroke himself, looking directly at Taeyong. Taeyong’s eyes went wide and he licked his lips. Yuta’s wasn’t the biggest cock Taeyong had ever seen, but it wasn’t small either and what it lacked in length it made up for in girth.

“Fuck, Taeyong, unzip your pants.”

Taeyong made quick work of his fly and let Yuta reach out and pull down the front of his boxers. Yuta pumped Taeyong a couple of times, making Taeyong gasp when his thumb traced over the head of his cock, then instructed him to move up a little on his lap. Taeyong watched as Yuta spit on his palm and wrapped his hand around both of them, letting out a gut-punched moan at the contact.

“Shit, Shategashira , ahh.”

Taeyong tried to let go and focus on the slide of Yuta’s hand on one side and his cock on the other, but he couldn’t help thinking how lewd this was: him perched on Yuta’s lap, face mottled with red splotches, starting to leak onto Yuta’s hand and the clothing that they were both still wearing.

Yuta moaned and Taeyong felt himself twitch, hips jerking into the partial ring of Yuta’s grip. Pleasure radiated from where Yuta was touching him all the way up to his head, stopping to pool hotly at the base of his stomach.

“You asked if I thought about you,” Yuta murmured, speeding up his rhythm. “I should have told you the truth, which is that I did. All the time. Sometimes at night I’d imagine you on my lap like this, or in my bed.”

Taeyong made a choked noise and Yuta leaned forward to pepper kisses over his cheeks. “But you’re so much better in real life.” Yuta made a sound in Taeyong’s ear somewhere between a moan and a sigh and laughed darkly. “Did you think about me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yes, Shategashira , I did. I tried not to, but I didmmmmmmm…” Taeyong cut himself off with a groan when Yuta pushed his thumb over Taeyong’s slit. The sensations were starting to overwhelm him.

“Yuta?”

“Yeah, baby?”

Taeyong shivered, his hips beginning to twitch in fits and starts.

“I’m gonna come.”

“Whenever you need to, Yonggie.” Yuta tried to speed up his strokes one more time. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

Taeyong held onto Yuta’s shoulders and Yuta kissed him again as he spasmed through his release, the sounds he made getting muffled by Yuta’s mouth. When he pulled away, Yuta was grinning and still stroking him through his aftershocks, the movements slicked now by a new layer of Taeyong’s come. The sight made whatever was left of Taeyong’s brain go numb.

All of a sudden, Taeyong was so sensitive that he felt like needles were pricking at his skin.

“Ah, ah, okay, stop, Shategashira , please,” he pleaded, squirming.

Yuta allowed Taeyong to pull himself away and closed his eyes, focused on achieving his own release. Taeyong took advantage of the moment to kneel on the floor between Yuta’s thighs, and when Yuta reopened his eyes, he was the one twitching.

“Oh, my god Taeyong,” he growled.

“It’s okay, I like this. Please, Shategashira , I want your come.”

Taeyong opened his mouth and stared up at Yuta. Within seconds, his pose had the desired effect: Yuta was groaning and coming over Taeyong’s mouth. Taeyong licked his lips as Yuta watched, spasming and rubbing himself slowly; his heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. Taeyong shimmied a little closer and lapped innocently at the head of Yuta’s cock, and Yuta threw his hands over his face.

“Ooooh, my god, Yong…”

Taeyong kept at it until Yuta started to squirm, reveling in the idea that he had made the cool, collected badass that was Nakamoto Yuta come undone like this.

“Alright, alright,” Yuta said, guiding Taeyong back to his lap with a hand on his scalp. Once there, Yuta stuck his dick back in his underwear haphazardly and brushed his fingers through Taeyong’s hair.

“Did you like it, Shategashira ?” asked Taeyong, eyes blown out.

“Like it? I thought you were going to kill me there for a second. You were so good, getting on your knees for me.”

Taeyong giggled.

“Did you like it, Taeyong?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I liked it a lot. Thank you.”

Yuta chuckled, pulling Taeyong in for one more kiss. He sighed after.

“Okay, I know Johnny has clean towels in here somewhere. Don't go anywhere; I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay.” Yuta pecked Taeyong on the nose for good measure before he stood, and when Taeyong got up to let Yuta off the chair he almost fell over, barely managing to steady himself.

Yuta returned with a clean one of Johnny’s bar rags that he’d run under some water and cleaned them both off.

“Okay,” he said thoughtfully. “That’s better.” He considered the rag. “I’m going to need to bring this home with me to wash.”

Taeyong blushed and Yuta pulled him into his side, looking around. “Not a very romantic setting, is it?”

“No,” agreed Taeyong.

“Next time we’ll go somewhere better and I’ll make love to you properly,” said Yuta, casually.

Next time.

Yuta continued, “we should probably lock up like I said we would and get out of here, hm?”

“Yeah.”

Yuta kissed Taeyong’s cheek and practically charged towards the front door, throwing Taeyong a small key. “I’m getting the front, so you get the back, okay?”

“Okay.”

Taeyong felt like he was high for the rest of the night and could barely get himself to sleep despite the knowledge that tomorrow would be a busy day. He couldn’t believe what had happened. He wished he could visit the version of himself that existed only days earlier and share the good news. Maybe, he thought, this whole insane situation he’d found himself in would work out for the best after all.

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ft-dads-au · 4 years

Text

End of the Road - Chapter 2

I Take Pride In What I Am 2020 Prompt: Gift Pairing(s): Silver x Gildarts, Pre-Slash Makarov x Porlyusica

A Collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404 AO3 | Prev: Ch 1

Summary: During a celebration dinner at his mother's house, Gildarts discovers something about Silver that he hadn't realized. Although he can't fulfill Silver’s wish, it gives him an idea that symbolizes how he feels about their future.

Chapter 2

September 8, 1989

Silver and Gildarts wisely stayed out of Porlyusica’s way as she rushed through the remaining preparations for their dinner.

“Everything looks great, mom,” Gildarts assured her, “smells good too.”

She flashed him a rare smile, “I really am proud of you, Gilly.”

“Gilly?!” Silver burst into guffaws, earning him two nearly identical glares from his boyfriend and Porlyusica.

He shuddered at the combined weight of their displeasure.

“You are never calling me that,” Gildarts declared, and when Silver attempted to respond, he covered his mouth. “Never, do you understand?” He waited until Silver nodded to remove his hand.

Silver waggled his eyebrows, “Have I ever told you how sexy you look when you have that murderous aura?”

Gildarts rolled his eyes but pulled him into a kiss regardless. “Mhhm,” he hummed, licking his lips after they separated. “Maybe I should have you for dinner instead.”

“Oh, for the love of,” Porlyusica protested, “can’t you two keep your hands off each other for five minutes?”

The doorbell rang, and Porlyusica went off to answer it, muttering under her breath about how they were much too old to be acting like lovesick teenagers.

Silver and Gildarts snickered, following her to the door to greet their guest. They stood behind her as she opened the door, revealing a short man with blond hair that was slicked away from his face in gravity-defying spikes. He gave Porlyusica an appraising once over.

“Oh, it’s you,” Porlyusica greeted their guest with barely hidden contempt, moving away from the door to let him enter the house.

“Hey, Porly, long time no see!” Makarov Dreyar grinned, clearly amused by the irritated glare he received from his hostess.

Porly? Silver mouthed at Gildarts, who shrugged his shoulders in reply.

“I’ve told you to never call me that,” Porlyusica scowled, even as she accepted the bouquet of pink roses he had brought her.

“And this is for you,” Makarov ignored Porlyusica’s remark and handed Gildarts the bottle of wine, which looked to be kind of expensive. “I had a hell of a time finding a good vintage for 1965, but this should do,” he patted Gildarts on the back, too short to reach his shoulders.

“You two know each other?” Gildarts looked from one to the other in confusion.

“You could say that. We went to medical school together,” Porlyusica muttered grouchily, moving to the kitchen to put her flowers in a vase.

“We were a little more than that,” Makarov teased, chuckling when he saw her shoulders tense.

“Don’t go putting ideas into the boy’s head,” Porlyusica scolded, glancing over at Gildarts, “What he’s trying to say is that he was one of the few people at that school who was not a complete idiot. Although that seems to have changed.”

Makarov snorted at her comment, “It’s been too long,” he opened his arms and, in a move that surprised both Silver and Gildarts, Porlyusica allowed herself to be hugged.

“So you were Gildarts supervisor?”

“Yep, all of last year and he was good enough to help me out this summer as well,” Makarov remarked, “He grew up to be a wonderful boy, who would have thought?”

Noting Gildarts' confused expression, Makarov explained, “I watched you a few times when you were little, so your mother could study. You used to have this amazing ability to break things, glad to see you outgrew that.”

“He hasn’t,” Silver piped in, earning a dirty look from Gildarts.

“Ah, this must be the significant other you’ve mentioned,” Makarov extended his hand in greeting, “Makarov Dreyar, nice to meet you.”

“Silver Fullbuster,” Silver shook his hand, “Whatever he told you about me is probably not true.”

Makarov chuckled, “Well, you must certainly be something to keep his attention, I swear Gildarts had every single woman at that center pining over him.”

“I bet,” Silver rolled his eyes, “it’s the same at school.”

“I mean, can you blame them?” Gildarts joked, “Besides, you’re just as bad. It’s how we met, remember?”

“Are you done?” Porlyusica asked them drily, not looking particularly impressed with any of them.

“Sorry, mom,” Gildarts flashed her a grin and grabbed one of the serving plates, taking it to the dinner table while Silver hurried to do the same.

“This looks wonderful,” Makarov complimented after they had sat down, “when did you learn how to cook?”

“About the same time you stopped growing,” Porlyusica sniped in return, causing Silver to almost choke on his water.

Gildarts was doing his best to keep a straight face, but it had been a long time since he’d seen his mother so riled up, and for once, it wasn’t directed at him.

“So Gildarts mentioned that you ran your practice from home,” Makarov remarked, “That was smart, it must have been very helpful when he was young.”

“Yes, it allowed me to be here when he got home after school, although it also meant that people showed up at all hours.”

“And I bet you saw them all,” Makarov smiled, “You always were a softie.”

Porlyusica slid him a guarded look, “Why do I get the sudden feeling that you’re buttering me up for something.”

Makarov shrugged, flashing her an amused smile, “You always were too suspicious.”

“Anyhow, enough about us, we’re here to celebrate our Gildarts’ accomplishment!” Makarov cheered.

“Dude, I think I just met your new dad,” Silver whispered into Gildarts’ ear, earning him an elbow to his side.

“Do you have something to add, Silver?” Porlyusica fixed him with one of her no-nonsense looks.

Silver’s eyes twinkled with mischief, “No, ma’am, just that Gildarts worked really hard for this, and I’m really proud of him.” He gave his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek, chuckling when Gildarts whispered, “Nice save.”

“You two make a lovely couple,” Makarov complimented, “it’s refreshing to see. How long have you been together?”

“About two and a half years,” Gildarts answered in between bites, “So how come you never told me you knew my mom?”

“Well,” Makarov tapped his fingers on the table, “I figured if you were anything like your mother you’d want to make sure you got the job on your own. And you did.” Makarov added quickly, “I chose you based on your own merit. I just didn’t want you to ever doubt it.”

“I just wish I could have gotten your help with this new project I’m working on, you’d be perfect for it,” Makarov said wistfully.

“Is this the center thing you mentioned on the phone?” Gildarts asked, eyes flashing with interest.

“A center?” Silver questioned, “What kind of center?”

“Well, the old-style orphanages are gone, replaced by something called the foster system. Now families can apply to care for children. The government pays them a stipend to cover the costs of housing a child in their care. It could be an orphan or a child taken away from its parents for any number of reasons. In time these families can even petition to adopt the child,” Makarov explained.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Silver commented, and it wasn’t hard to see he was excited about the idea, “I’d love for us to do something like that, Gil. Not now, of course, but maybe when we’re more settled, you know? We could get a bigger house, foster a few kids, maybe even give them a home.”

“You want us to have kids?” Gildarts gawked at his boyfriend, “You’d never said anything about that before.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“I hadn’t really considered it, but I mean, I like kids, and I love you so…” Gildarts scratched his head.

“I’m sorry to say you wouldn’t be allowed to,” Makarov interrupted Gildarts’ musing, “There are certain laws in place as to who can and cannot apply to foster a child, and unfortunately same-sex couples are in the cannot column.”

“What? But why?!” Silver protested, “We’d make excellent parents.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Makarov smiled kindly, “It’s obvious you love each other, and you’d probably be better parents than those that are just doing it for the money. To be honest, I feel the foster system has introduced more problems than it’s solved. That’s exactly why I want to open this center.”

“What do you mean?” Silver wrinkled his brow, trying to understand what the man was saying.

“Some of these kids get abused by their foster parents. More often than not, it’s their word against an adult’s, and the government isn’t that interested in taking them back now that they don’t have a lot of space to keep them,” Gildarts put in, “So if it gets bad enough, these kids turn to the streets, and it’s even worse for them there. Drugs, prostitution, slavery, they were talking about that in one of my classes last week. They can’t even get access to health care services cause that would get them caught. It’s even worse if they’re like us.”

Gildarts peered at Makarov with respect, “Is that what you want to do, create a place they can go to get services?”

“I knew it!” Porlyusica slammed her fist on the table, “I knew you were buttering me up for something. I have my own practice Makarov, I don’t have time to humor your whims.”

“Porly, these kids are getting lost. You always said Gildarts never had much, but he had you. These kids have no one. Besides, Rob, Yaj, and Goldmine already agreed to help. I’m even trying to get Bob to come back from Edolas for this.”

“You have Rob, you don’t need me.”

“You know as well as I do that some girls prefer female doctors,” Makarov reminded her, “You also know you’re only protesting cause I’m the one asking.”

“That’s enough! You were invited here to celebrate Gildarts’ achievement,” Porlyusica’s eyes flashed with anger, and to no one’s surprise, Makarov backed down.

“But Mom, this is really important.” Gildarts protested, “Didn’t you always tell me that if there was a way I could help it was my responsibility to do so?”

“No, Gildarts, she’s right, this wasn’t the right time to bring it up.” Makarov acknowledged, but a corner of his mouth lifted at Gildarts’ words.

Gildarts was about to say something when Silver spoke, “So do you have any funny stories from Gildarts’ internship you can tell us?”

“Do I ever,” Makarov grinned, eyeing Gildarts playfully, “There was this one girl in particular-”

“Noooo,” Gildarts groaned, “Please don’t tell him that story, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Even more reason to tell me,” Silver prodded, rubbing his hands together in glee.

They spent the rest of the dinner listening to Makarov’s stories, and despite his protests, Gildarts laughed along with them, always loving to be the center of attention. After helping to clear the table, Silver and Gildarts sat outside while Porlyusica gave Makarov a tour of her practice.

Gildarts put his arm around Silver’s shoulders, smiling when Silver leaned into him.

“What are you thinking about?” Gildarts asked when Silver had remained quiet for many minutes.

“Just how stupid this all is,” Silver sighed, “They’d rather have an abusive asshole care for a child than someone who doesn’t fit their idea of normal. It’s like they think we’re some kind of contagious disease or something. It just reminds me of growing up with my dad, terrified of him realizing how I felt, but still wanting his approval so damn badly.”

There wasn’t much Gildarts could say to that, so he squeezed his boyfriend’s hand tightly and changed the subject. “I never knew you felt so strongly about having kids.”

“I didn’t really think about it. Before I met you, I just assumed I’d end up marrying some girl and having kids. It’s what was expected of me, you know?” Silver tensed in his arms, “I’d never really considered any other outcome.”

“Silver,” Gildarts hesitated before continuing, “If this isn’t what you want long term, it’s okay.”

“That’s not what I said, I wouldn’t give you up just so I could have a family,” his forehead furrowed in thought. “A lot of those kids that Makarov was talking about, they run away because they’re like us, don’t they?”

“It’s not that simple, but yeah, a lot of them are LGBT or have untreated mental health issues. Sometimes they’re just physically abused or malnourished. There’s no one reason. The only thing they all probably have in common is that they’re scared.”

“I want us to help them if we can,” Silver entreated, “that’s kind of like being a parent too, isn’t it?”

“It is,“ Gildarts assured him, “I’ll tell Makarov we want to help however we can.”

“Do you think your mom will change her mind?” Silver asked, surprised when Gildarts started to laugh. “She never stood a chance,” he explained, “Makarov will continue to hound her until she says yes. He’s relentless. No wonder he was so eager to come over.”

Silver was still caught up in his own gloomy thoughts when he felt Gildarts kiss the top of his head before nuzzling it, “It won’t always be like this. People are starting to take notice of the injustices, and maybe this center will help bring awareness to some of these issues.”

More than anything, he wanted to share in Gildarts’ optimism, but he wasn’t as sure. In his experience, there was still too much hatred for things to change anytime soon.

They sat together in silence, watching the stars until they were called back inside for dessert.

0-0

“Wakey wakey, “ Gildarts singsonged annoyingly into Silver’s ear.

“Go away,” Silver whined, pushing his boyfriend away even as he tried to keep his eyes shut. “Come on, Gil, it’s Saturday, one of the few days we can sleep late.”

“Not today, come on, we’re going out,” Gildarts got up from the bed, grabbing the covers and taking them with him.

“Like that’s gonna work,” Silver muttered, snuggling into the sheets, grabbing hold of Gildarts’ pillow and hugging it to his chest. He tried to go back to sleep, but now that Gildarts had left the bed and taken all of the warmth with him, he couldn’t seem to settle again. After a few more attempts, he groaned and got up.

He walked out of their bedroom and scowled at his boyfriend, who was cheerfully preparing breakfast and coffee.

“How can you be this fucking chipper?”

Gildarts only laughed and handed him a mug filled with coffee before grabbing the plates of food off the counter and moving them to the table. “Not all of us are grumpy in the morning. Now hurry up and eat.”

Silver tried to remain irritated, but it was hard to do when everything looked and smelled so good. “Fine,” he relented, ”What is so important that we needed to get up so early?”

Gildarts rolled his eyes and sat across from him, “Dude, it’s like ten o’clock. It stopped being early hours ago.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” Silver declared, feeling the beginnings of curiosity gnaw at him.

“That’s because it’s a surprise.” There was a gleam to Gildarts’ eyes that Silver wasn’t sure he trusted, but he knew from experience if his boyfriend was determined to keep something to himself, there was no getting it out of him.

They finished eating and quickly got ready, leaving their apartment roughly thirty minutes later. The fall air was invigorating, and they began to walk towards the university. Thinking that they were headed to some student performance or something, Silver stopped paying attention to where they were going and trusted Gildarts to lead them while he thought about what he still needed to get done before Monday’s classes.

They stopped sooner than what he had anticipated, and he soon realized they weren’t on campus. In fact, they were standing in front of the Magnolia Animal Shelter, which had a colorful sign hung up, declaring that day as an Adoption Day.

He turned to look at his boyfriend in confusion, noticing that he seemed almost shy for once, “What are we doing here?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said last night, the things you wanted and-,” Gildarts seemed flustered, his fingers combing through his hair, “and I know this isn’t the same, but it is something we can adopt together.”

“Someday we’ll have that future you talked about with the house and the kids,” he said reassuringly, “but until then, maybe this can serve as a sort of promise. Either way, it’ll be good practice.”

Silver was at a loss for words, he’d never expected Gildarts to take what he’d said so seriously. Certainly not enough to try to do something about it, and for once, he threw caution to the wind, kissing Gildarts in broad daylight for anyone to see.

“Thank you,” Silver breathed out, smirking at the flabbergasted expression on Gildarts’ face, who could only nod in reply.

He pointed to the door of the shelter and asked, “Shall we?”

“I’ve never had a pet before,” Gildarts admitted, “This is kind of exciting.”

“Ah, so the truth comes out, you just wanted to convince me to get a dog,” Silver teased, chuckling when Gildarts immediately protested the accusation.

They entered the building already discussing what kind of dog they wanted, spending almost an hour looking into every kennel they could. Gildarts was excited about getting a puppy, but Silver was convinced that they needed a dog that was already housebroken since they were often gone for long periods of the day.

They had almost made their choice, much to the delight of the frazzled volunteer, when Silver noticed an older lady looking sadly at a dog they had walked past earlier.

Gildarts had also noticed her and had already walked over, “Is everything okay, ma’am?”

“What?” She blinked at him in surprise, “Oh, yes.”

Silver joined them, his curiosity aroused as well. Inside the kennel, there was a young, gray pitbull, with a white belly and gorgeous blue eyes, who looked rather sweet and seemed to be whimpering at the old lady. “Are you planning to take him home?” he asked after checking the information card.

The old lady sighed, “I can’t, I was the one that brought him here. My tenant association threatened to have me evicted otherwise. They said Slate was dangerous, but that’s not true.

“I didn’t want to give him up,” the old woman looked at Silver apologetically, “but I have nowhere else to go, and I couldn’t find anyone to take him.”

Silver could see Gildarts narrowing his eyes as he read the card, and suddenly he was kneeling in front of the kennel and calling out to the dog.

“Come here, Slate,” he called, and the dog cocked his head at him. A few seconds later, he moved to sniff Gildarts’ offered hand. He whimpered again, his tail wagging tentatively.

“Who’s a good boy?” Gildarts cooed as he patted the dog on the head, already looking at Silver with wide, pleading eyes.

Silver reread the information card to see what had caused Gildarts’ sudden interest, and that’s when he caught something that he’d missed before, making his stomach drop.

DEATH DATE: 09/10

That was tomorrow! Silver knelt next to Gildarts, holding out his hand as well, smiling as the dog licked it.

“His name is Slate, Silver,” Gildarts coaxed.

Silver turned his attention to the woman, “Is there anything we need to know about him?”

“He’s a wonderful dog, he’s very affectionate. Please don’t let them kill him,” the woman was close to tears, and he could see Gildarts was as close as he’d ever seen him. Apparently Porlyusica was not the only softie, Silver mused.

“Well, let’s take him for a walk then.”

Slate was indeed a wonderful dog, and five minutes into the walk, he’d already started to worm himself into their hearts. They decided to adopt him and demanded both their names be on the application, to the confusion of the woman writing up the form.

An hour later they left, after having purchased all the things they would need, using up some of the money Gildarts had saved for emergencies.

They spent the rest of the day at home, getting Slate settled in. Silver tried to get back to his studies but couldn't help but peek over the edge of his book, drawn to the almost childlike joy he could hear in Gildarts' giggles. He watched with adoration as Gildarts lay on the floor, wrestling with Slate, who rewarded him by enthusiastically licking his face.

After a few more failed attempts at studying Silver gave in to the urge of joining them on the floor. Slate came right up to him to give him dog kisses too, and he could hear Gildarts’ chuckle at whatever expression he was making. Once he was done with his greeting Slate settled between them, tired from all the playing and exploring of his new home.

“Are we still going to your mom’s tomorrow?” Silver asked as he stroked the smooth coat of fur on Slate's head, smiling at how content the dog already seemed with them.

“Of course! We have to introduce her to the grandkid,” Gildarts snickered as Silver rolled his eyes.

“Well, we should let this little guy go out to do his business before we get to bed then, you know she likes us to get there early,” Silver reminded him.

Gildarts hummed in agreement, getting up to look for the leash they had bought. Once they’d managed to coax Slate up they walked him down the stairs and out the door. It was late enough that the streets were mostly empty so when he felt Gildarts lace their hands together Silver didn’t even blink.

And perhaps this was the biggest gift of all, these little moments they could now look forward to where they were just a couple taking their dog out for a walk, free to express their love even if only in the cover of night.

#fairy tail #ftdadsau #ftglbtpride2020 #sildarts #ftlgbtales #silver x gildarts #I Take Pride In What I Am 2020 #fics #update #prompt: gift #dads pride 2020

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starryviolentine · 4 years

Photo

Color Me Blue (That’s Me Without You): A Pre-Apocalypse Story

Part 1 (here) Part 2 (here)

Part 3/10: A Gruesome Twosome

Therissa slaps on her headphones, cranks up the volume on her CD player, and lets herself get lost in her world of mediocre, low-budget nail art. Starting off by removing her old coat with some “peach scented” acetone (which actually smells like pure toxic chemicals and isn’t fruity in the least), Therissa decides to go with a simple basic black and starts with her right hand. Therissa likes to get the worst over with first. Painting her own nails with her non-dominant hand is still a pain in the ass even though she’s done this a hundred times before.

By the time Therissa’s finished with two coats of black and a clear top coat on both hands, it’s been well over an hour. All she’s got left to do is wait until they’re dry. To speed things up a bit, she plugs in her hair dryer and uses the cool setting to assist with the drying process. Curious, she glances over at Violet’s bunk again, just to see if her roommate is still in the same spot she saw her last.

Sure enough, there she is… in all of her gloomy, glowering glory.

Except now she’s sitting upright and watching her.

“You know, if you’re just gonna creep on me the whole weekend, maybe I should stay with my sister after all,” Therissa comments aloud, knowing full well that her voice is being drowned out by the obnoxious humming of her hair dryer. She watches as the frown on Violet’s face is replaced with a perplexed expression, confirming that she didn’t catch a word she said.

Violet mouths something, and even though Therissa can’t hear it, it’s undoubtedly a confused ‘What?’

Once she deems her nails to be dry enough, Therissa shuts the appliance off. “You’re not seriously going to mope around the entire time Brody’s gone, are you?”

Scowl returning, Violet visibly stiffens and crosses her arms. “I’m not moping.”

Therissa rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to the mess on her desk, starting to put things back into their proper place. “Whatever you say.”

Hair clips, cotton pads, tiny bottles of dark reds, purples, blues and blacks… The teen haphazardly tosses everything back into her makeup box. So she isn’t the most organized person in the world, but so what? Her fingers curl around her half empty bottle of nail polish remover, ready to put it back as well, but then she stops as an interesting idea comes to her. The corners of her lips twitch with the tiniest hint of a smile.

“Hey, V,” Therissa calls, “come here for a sec.”

Violet is apprehensive, her voice unsure. “What for?”

“Just get your butt down here before I change my mind.”

Before she can stop herself, Violet finds herself complying with the command. She climbs down her ladder and stops once her feet reach the floor, pausing to stare at Therissa as though trying to figure out her intentions before stepping any closer.

Still seated, Therissa scoots herself a couple of feet to the right and gestures to the space beside her. “Pull up a chair.”

The younger girl silently obliges, dragging her own chair across the room and placing it beside Therissa’s, but still keeping a bit of distance between them. Violet slowly lowers herself onto the very edge of her chair and keeps on her toes… just in case. Curious green eyes watch the teen, who pulls out several small bottles from a box on her desk and starts to line them up in a neat row.

Oh no.

If this is what this looks like… and it really, really does… any second now Therissa is going to-

“Let me do your nails.”

Violet internally groans.

“You’ve got nothing better to do… I’ve got nothing better to do…” Therissa leans her head on her hand, looking at the unenthusiastic girl beside her. “Honestly, what have either of us got to lose?”

“My dignity.”

The comeback is timed so perfectly, with just the right amount of snark that Therissa is both amused and impressed. Compared to when she first arrived at Ericson’s, Violet has come a long way in regards to feeling comfortable around others, Therissa included. There’s something rather endearing about the way that she’s gone from never saying a word to Therissa, much less making eye contact, to being able to be herself around her. She can even be kind of sassy sometimes.

For the second time that morning, Therissa explodes into laughter.

By now, Violet can recognize when Therissa’s laughing to be mean and when she’s laughing for real, and this happens to be one of those rare times when it’s a genuine, happy-from-the-inside-out kind of laugh. The younger girl sits up a little straighter, feeling somewhat proud of herself for making her roommate laugh like this. It turns out to be almost contagious, too, because Violet has to try really hard to keep a straight face.

“Relax, I promise I won’t make you look like a fairy princess or whatever. My shades rock,” Therissa says confidently. “Besides, if you end up hating them, just take the polish off. No commitment needed.”

Violet has never cared about makeup and nail polish and girly things like that, but the fact that Therissa, the teenager who never used to want anything to do with either her or Brody, is extending an invitation to join her is such an unheard of occurrence that it’s kind of enticing. So Violet shrugs and forces out a sigh, sitting deeper into her chair. “Fine.”

“Pick a color, any color.”

All of Therissa’s nail polish is dark and dramatic, much like the teen herself. Her selection of colors may not be bright and bubbly, but they’re still rich and vibrant in their own way. It’s no surprise that there are two different shades of black in the mix as well. Leaning closer to get a better look at those two in particular, Violet immediately gets the urge to ask what in the heck the difference between “Midnight Misery” and “Satan’s Satin” is, but, before she can, her gaze locks onto one particular bottle at the very end of the row.

Inside the bottle is a gorgeous sapphire blue with swirls of silvery glitter, like an ocean of stars against the night sky. It’s mesmerizing, and Violet can’t quite take her eyes away. She’s never seen Therissa wear this color before. And it’s not that she wants to put it anywhere on herself, exactly… she kind of just wants to look at it.

She must have stared for a little too long because Therissa, catching on, grabs the bottle in question with a teasing grin. “Did you always like sparkly things or is Brody rubbing off on you?”

Violet’s ears feel hot. “I don’t! I was… I was just looking.”

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone,” Therissa says. “Give me your hand.”

“What?”

The teen raises an eyebrow. “Your hand, so I can do your nails. Duh.”

“R-right…” Violet clears her throat and timidly offers her left arm to Therissa, who takes her wrist and pulls it closer to her face. The first thing that the younger girl notices is that her roommate’s hand is a lot softer and warmer than she expected, and it makes her feel a little strange.

“Gross, Violet, you need to stop biting your nails.”

Now completely and utterly mortified, Violet tries to yank her hand away, but Therissa holds on tight.

“Uh-uh, I’m fixing this.” The teen fishes through her makeup box until she locates what she’s looking for - a pair of nail clippers. “Seriously. Don’t do that. It’s a disgusting habit.”

So Therissa clips the uneven, jagged tips of Violet’s chewed fingernails and only then starts to paint them. The teen works left to right, from Violet’s little finger to her thumb, each stroke smooth, fluid and deliberate. It’s so much easier doing somebody else’s nails than your own. In no time at all, she’s done with one hand and sets the brush down. “What do you think?”

“Um...” Violet moves her hand to get a better look.

“Don’t move your fingers or you’ll ruin them.”

Keeping her digits as stiff as she can, Violet rotates her wrist to examine her nails. The unfamiliar weight on her fingertips is totally new and is definitely one of the most bizarre sensations she’s felt in a long time. She answers honestly. “It feels kinda weird.”

Snorting, Therissa grabs Violet’s other hand so she can finish up. “Seriously, though. Don’t touch anything until they’re dry, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You know, Brody would kill to be in your place right now. Apparently her mom won’t let her paint her nails until she’s sixteen.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve read her diary.”

“You what?”

Therissa holds back a laugh. “It was like one time, I swear. Like last year. And that was before..." She trails off, stopping herself from finishing that sentence out loud. Before we liked each other. Therissa's not in the mood to humiliate herself by admitting that she cares about Brody now and would never read it again. Time to change the subject. "Can you believe that, though? The only thing more ridiculous is the fact that she actually obeys that stupid rule."

For the next several minutes, both girls are quiet while Therissa continues working on Violet’s nails. There’s something about sitting so close to one another, hands touching, that’s making this a little more intimate than either of them expected. They seem to have formed an unspoken agreement to just not say anything else until Therissa is finished.

With one last swipe of glittery blue across Violet’s pinky, Therissa lets out a satisfied sigh and recaps her nail polish. “Done and done. Let’s get these dry and then you’ll be good to go.”

While Therissa gets her blow dryer set up again, Violet holds her hands out in front of her and stares at her new nails, unable to recognize them as her own. It almost feels like a stranger’s hands have somehow been fused to her wrists. There’s only one way to be sure. Violet takes a deep breath, then tries to wiggle her fingers.

And they move.

These are her hands.

Out of her mouth slips a soft, breathy whisper. “...Holy shit.”

Smiling smugly, Therissa switches on the hair dryer and extends her open palm. By now, Violet knows the drill so she wordlessly gives her roommate her hand. Anything else she said wouldn’t be heard over the noise anyway. As Therissa dries her nails, Violet notices right away that the air is nice and cool against her skin - not warm like she expected. After Violet’s fingertips have been under the dryer for long enough, Therissa shuts the device off.

“Well, congrats. You survived.”

After giving her fingernails another long, hard stare, Violet looks over at Therissa, only briefly meeting the teen’s eyes before having to look away. “Thanks, I guess…”

Therissa quickly waves it off. “Don’t mention it. Ever.”

The younger girl stands and pushes her chair back to her own desk on the other side of the room, then plunks down on the unoccupied bottom bunk, sighing.

“Do you really have nothing to do all weekend?” asks Therissa, leaning back in her chair and using Brody’s empty bed as a footrest. There’s no malicious intent behind the question. Violet can tell by her neutral tone that she’s not asking to make fun of her, but because she truly wants to know the answer. “I mean, like, isn’t there anybody else you can hang out with?”

Violet merely shrugs, now appearing to be a little too interested in one of the scuffs on the floor. “I just don’t feel like it today.”

“Brody’s cool and all, but you really should try to find some other friends.”

The blonde picks her head up and peeks at her roommate, lips pursed in a sort of half-smile. “Did you just call Brody cool?”

“No! Shut up. I meant ‘cool’ in that… you know...” The teen struggles to find the right words to convey how she feels about their other roommate. She thinks back to the other day, the night before Brody left, and she can still picture her stuffing clothes into that gaudy yellow duffel bag of hers while excitedly rambling on and on in her quirky southern accent about all the things her family had planned for the weekend. “Like, in that cute, geeky sort of way.”

Violet’s smile grows into what Therissa would call a blood-boiling, shit-eating grin. “You called her cute.”

“God, Violet!” Therissa grabs the first object within reach - a nail file - and flings it in her direction. “I just meant that she’s a good kid.” Violet has the audacity to laugh, causing Therissa to jump up and lunge at her. “And you’re infuriating!”

“I’m not laughing! I’m not-” Clearly laughing, Violet tries to fight Therissa off her, but the older girl easily pins her to the bed.

“Laugh it up while you can, Blondie,” huffs Therissa, releasing Violet and collapsing onto the mattress beside her. The teen waits for her roommate to get a grip on herself before laying down the law. “Here’s how it’s going to be, so listen up. You won’t mention this conversation to Brody, ever, and I won’t tell her how miserable you are whenever she’s gone. Capisce?”

The younger girl freezes. There is no way Brody can ever find out about that. Not that it’s true, of course, because it’s not... but Violet can’t have Therissa putting crazy ideas into her best friend’s head. And knowing Brody, she would totally believe her. Seeing as she doesn’t have much of a choice, Violet gives a weak thumbs-up.

“You’ll live. It’s only four days.”

Violet watches as Therissa pushes herself upright and goes back to her side of the room. The teen resumes cleaning up her desk and Violet, ignoring the slight twinge of disappointment in her chest, takes that as a sign that the two of them are done hanging out. Returning to her own bunk, Violet lies on her back, trying to come up with something to do for the rest of the day… and the three after that.

Four more days...

“The hell are you doing back up there?”

Violet lifts her head at the sound of her roommate’s voice. Therissa’s standing there, hand on her hip and looking at her like she’s an idiot. There’s a stack of CDs and an old boom box on her desk where the nail polish and makeup used to be.

“Come on, I’m going to introduce you to some real music.”

A tiny smile forms on Violet’s face.

Maybe the next four days won’t be so bad after all.

#twdg brody #twdg violet #brody twdg #violet twdg #twdg #the walking dead game #fanfic #color me blue

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therealcalicali · 5 years

Text

An Inconvenient Wife

Imagine: Your life getting turned upside-down when the Gods see fit to use you as a source of diversion.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader and Reader x OC

Warning: Pure Angst

This is a gift for @tephi101

___________________

"I cannot believe this is happening." You vented as your husband Grimwald placed your combs inside a leather satchel. "That man is a monster! I swear on my father's grave, I'll kill him in his sleep. I’ll......I’ll gut him and leave him drowning in his own blood."

After tying the strings of the bag, your husband looked at you with great sorrow in his eyes. Always the introverted sort, he remained quiet. Although just as angry as you were, he was actually more heartbroken than anything else.

Simply put, Grimwald was beside himself with a pain that he couldn't put it into words. Meanwhile, you were busily cursing the King in your mind.

"How dare that cripple treat everyone like his possessions? Isn't it enough that he is King and a self-proclaimed God?" You thought. “His stupid mother cursed us all when she didn’t leave him to die!”

"Y/N, please don't say such things aloud." Grimwald pleaded before placing a hand on your knee. "Someone could overhear and report back to him."

"So let them! Why should I bite my tongue about that bastard?"

"You have every right to feel as you do but I'm begging you to hide your disdain. Trust me. I am working on our escape from Kattegat but we can't do that if you're dead. Remember, the King is known for his impulsive nature."

"Then that makes two of us. Let us see which one will win out in the end!"

"Y/N----"

Scrambling to your feet, you hastily made your way out of the humble cabin. You needed fresh air quickly before you either collapsed or went mad. This was your life and you had no desire to leave any of it behind.

________________________

Taking a seat on a tree stump, you noticed that after many cloudy days, the sun had finally shown itself. But you couldn't find joy in it because this was indeed the worst day of your life.

When it was announced that King Ivar was to take a second wife, you had found it amusing. The madman really thought he deserved not one but two women at his side. It was hilarious in your eyes. But other than gossiping about it with friends, you didn't really dwell on the matter.

Never would you have guessed that his decision would ultimately impact your life directly. But as your father always said, the Gods were ironically cruel.

A few months prior, you were happily assisting Grimwald in his jewelry shop when the King and Queen entered. Apparently, they were spending the day purchasing gifts to celebrate their third year of marriage. They browsed a while and after Freydis tried on a few rings, the King became belligerent.

Despite Grimwald being one of the most talented craftsmen around, Ivar scoffed at the collection. Going so far as to call the pieces "simplistic" in their design. He made more rude remarks before your temper eventually got the best of you.

Before you could stop yourself, you told the King to take his business elsewhere if he was so inclined. You also added that many wealthy patrons loved your husband's work so he was a liar with bad taste.

Was King Ivar ever furious!

The entire shop fell deathly silent as he stared you down as if he was going to kill you on the spot. Then, to everyone's surprise, he smirked before demanding that you to defend your statements.

More than happy to oblige, you praised Grimwald's work and spoke highly of all he had accomplished over the years.

Oddly enough, the Queen seemed amused and watched with great interest as you conversed with her husband. In the end, Ivar allowed Freydis to finish her shopping.

Little did you know that the chance meeting would have far reaching implications.

_________________________

King Ivar visited the shop numerous times afterward. Sometimes with the Queen in tow, but generally, he came alone. Strangely enough, he would go out of his way to engage you in conversation as he browsed. Most of the time, intentionally saying things to get under your skin. Naturally, you responded with your usual bluntness causing Grimwald to raise a brow often.

But that was the extent of it all.

It was a relief when the visits eventually stopped after some time. But then, one day, a messenger arrived at your home. To your horror, the man announced that King Ivar had chosen you to be his second wife. You were so hysterical, you unsheathed Grimwald's sword and chased the poor man off your property.

But despite all your loathing and rantings, the day had arrived. The King himself would soon arrive to escort you to his home.

"There you are." Grimwald said as he walked over.

He took a seat on the ground beside you and remained silent for some time. Eventually, he produced a blue velvet pouch from his tunic and placed it in your hand.

"What is it?" You asked.

"It's something I have secretly been working on. Go on. Take a look."

You opened the velvet pouch to reveal a leather necklace with a silver war-hammer pendant. The pendant itself was encrusted with an onyx stone and lovely pearl.

"It's so…..beautiful. I can't believe you actually used my idea."

"You should know by now that I’m a man of many surprises. Anyhow, let me put it on for you."

Grimwald stood and went behind you. After you handed him the necklace, he secured it in place before pressing his lips to your bare shoulder. You promptly turned to look at him, your eyes already welled with tears. Placing your hands on his cheeks, you studied every feature of your husband's face. From his intense eyes to the birthmark upon his temple - you admired it all.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat. When the two of you turned around, you were confused at seeing the Queen and some of her guards.

"Pardon the intrusion." Freydis said cheerfully. "Unfortunately, the King is indisposed so I have come to escort you instead. It's actually a blessing in disguise. The two of us can get better acquainted before you are formally presented."

Your teeth clenched as you fought the urge to split her head open with the nearby axe.

She behaved as if she was unable to see your misery. Before you could even get a word out, Ivar's men descended like locust. Some set about taking your possessions to the horse drawn wagon while others began forcing you toward the Queens carriage.

They were so pushy that you actually had to break free in order to embrace Grimwald one last time. As you held him close, you whispered that you loved him more than anything in the world. In response, he promised to secure passage out of Kattegat as soon as possible.

When you kissed him, the guards swiftly pulled you away. Within seconds, you found yourself tossed into the Queen's carriage and headed to your new home.

_________________________

Your head ached the entire journey. After all, holding in one's rage had a detrimental effect on the body. As for Queen Freydis, she was either unaware of your mood or simply ignoring it. She spent the ride educating you about Ivar's preferences and annoyances. Predictably, his list of annoyances was quite long.

After what seemed like hours, the procession ultimately arrived in front of the massive estate.

The sun was already waning when you were led indoors by a horde of awaiting servants. After you were given an uncomfortably warm bath, you were dressed in an extravagant gown. It was deep red in color with meticulous embroidery and a ridiculous amount of embellishments.

Most likely something chosen by the King himself.

When one of the Thralls tried to remove your leather necklace in order to replace it with an expensive one, you refused. There was nothing in the world that would part you from Grimwald's gift. Giving in, the women led you toward the Great Hall where Ivar awaited.

________________________

Other than the Queen, who was sat beside King Ivar, the only other people present in the Great Hall were guards.

"Please, don't stand so far away." Freydis beckoned. "There is no need to be to be afraid. After all, this is now your home."

"No, it isn't. You snapped. "I do not wish to be here."

Ivar's brow furrowed and he looked at you in a peculiar manner. However, he kept partaking of his mead.

"I understand that this must be difficult for you. We have uprooted you from your normal life." Freydis began with genuine sympathy. "But in time, you will get accustomed to this new life as well."

"With all due respect, my Queen, I will never like it here. I love my husband and I have no desire to replace him with anyone. King or otherwise."

"I expected you to say that." Freydis confessed. "But you should know that Ivar did not select you on his own. I had an ominous dream after our first meeting. So, in order to make sure that I had interpreted it correctly, I went to the Oracle. He also confirmed my thoughts. Afterward, I kept the revelations to myself. It was only a short time later that my husband told me of his intentions to take you for a bride. So you see, you were destined to be here."

You were growing tired of her attempts to convince you to comply. Queen Freydis may have enjoyed being the wife of Ivar the 'Boneless' but you had no desire for that title. As handsome as he was, you disliked him greatly. Not just because of the wars he had waged against his brothers but the tales of his infamous blood-lust.

"Enough of this talk." Ivar interrupted. He then passed his horn to a Thrall before looking at you again. "Y/N, come to me."

Hesitantly, you made your way up the five small steps and stood before the throne. With a smile, he looked you over before commenting that he truly liked the color red against your complexion. The compliment only made you angrier, however, you bit your lip to keep from speaking.

"I know it will take time for you to get accustomed such a drastic change. But it will happen." Ivar said as he took your hand in his. When you felt the roughness of his palms, you wanted to pull away. But instead of being so brazen, you focused your attention on a distant wall. "We just need spend more time together. That is why you will accompany me on the upcoming raids."

"What?" You exclaimed, your neck snapping in his direction. "Take Queen Freydis. After all, she is your adoring wife."

"As you will be, soon enough." He mocked. "And while we are on this subject, there is one rule you need to understand. My decisions are never to be questioned. Understand?"

"I won't go! I………I’ll...….I'll jump off the boat."

Ivar's serious expression quickly turned into a smile. Even worse, he actually chucked.

You had hoped that your insolence would cause him to have a change of heart. But in actuality, he found it much to his liking. In his eyes, you were a bit like Freydis. However, you were far more spirited and volatile than she was, and that enthralled him completely.

Pulling you to his lap, Ivar forced you took look at him. When you noticed the taunt in his eyes, you scowled.

"My King…" You pleaded. "I think it would be best if you found another to take as a wife. You see, I can never love nor care for you. It will never happen."

"And why is that?"

"My heart belongs to my husband. As strange as it may sound, I would never trade him for all the crowns or coin in the world."

"Is that so?" Ivar inquired as he held you closer. He then glanced at Freydis before giving you his attention again. "Tell me Y/N, do you not appreciate the fact that he still lives? Or are you so stubborn that you would prefer to see him dead?"

You stared at him, stunned by the thinly veiled threat.

The very thought of something happening to Grimwald because of your actions left you speechless. Tears fell as you realized that Ivar was not only cruel but highly manipulative. As for Ivar, he smirked and pressed his lips to your cheek, pleased by your silence.

In all honesty, everything was a game to the young King. And in that moment, he took pleasure in outwitting you. The vows had not even been exchanged and already, you felt hopelessly trapped. Could you really escape Kattegat as you and Grimwald had thought?

Only time would tell.

_____________________________

#ivar x reader #reader x oc #reader x ivar x oc #ivar the boneless #ivars heathen army #ivar #ivartheboneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar fanfic #ivar imagines #ivar imagine #ivar x oc x reader #vikings fic #vikings fanfiction #vikings fanfic #reader x oc x ivar

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years

Text

Second Chances - Ch. 11

A New Home

Warnings: blood, swearing

Word count: ~6000

You finish your story beneath the oak tree. You’ve been leaning forward for a while now. Shame rips through you as tears streak down your cheeks. You’re glad Arthur has already withdrawn his arm from your back. You can’t bring yourself to look at him just so you can see on his face how pathetic he must find you. You hate how weak you’d been for so many years, how long you allowed yourself to suffer. Of course, you weren’t exactly proud of how you handled it in the end either, killing your entire family when you could have so easily just run away.

You suddenly feel Arthur’s hand on your shoulder, rubbing with his thumb. Despite yourself, you look over at him. He looks at you sadly.

“I’m real sorry, sweetheart,” he says gently. You look away again.

“Don’t be, Arthur. Not like you had anything to do with it. But maybe we should just call this whole thing off,” you add, feeling your heart break.

“What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

“I mean there isn’t a future for us, Arthur. I obviously can’t give anyone a family, not even you, and I doubt I could ever lie with anyone without...”

“Ya think that’s the only thing I care about in a relationship?” he snaps, withdrawing his hand. You look back at him. “Darlin’, I don’t wanna lose you just because you can’t have kids. It ain’t like you chose that, so I ain’t gonna blame ya for it. “Sides, kids don’t make a family a family.”

He rests his hand on your shoulder again. “And as far as bein’ intimate, well, that might have to be somethin’ we work on. But I ain’t gonna force ya. What I’m sayin’ is I’d rather have ya as you are than not have ya at all. Shoar, maybe yer past gave ya some bad scars, and it might’ve broken ya. But I’m willin’ to help ya put yerself back together.”

A new wave of tears hits you. He smiles and grabs your hand, removing it from your knee and squeezing it gently. You feel your heart swell as you look into his soft blue eyes. He pulls you into his chest while you cry, letting you get all your emotions out. He doesn’t say a word while your pain rips through your chest. He just lets you cry, rubbing your back and brushing your hair with his fingers.

When you finally manage to compose yourself, he helps you stand up. He takes your face in his hands and wipes the last few tears from your cheeks.

“Ya gonna be a’right, girl,” he says gently. He lets you go and grabs your hand, leading you up to camp.

“Hey, what ya say we go do somethin’, get yer mind off of things?” he says as you walk past the hitching posts.

“What do you have in mind?” you ask, sniffing a little.

“Well, I been helpin’ this guy I met in Valentine. Says he’s an author, doin’ a story on some ol’ gunslinger. Offered me a lot of money to go find some people who used to run with a guy named Jim “Boy” Calloway. I found three of ‘em already, had to kill ‘em. Just need one more. Ya wanna come with me? I’m hopin’ she’ll be easier than the others.”

You blink a few times, the sun making your tired eyes smart a bit. “D’you know where she is?” Arthur pulls a photo out of his satchel. You see a tall woman in a black dress and large, black hat holding a rifle. He flips it over and you see the name “Black Belle”.

“Says here she’s holed up in the swamps of the Bayou Nwa. Think I have an idea where we might find her.”

You nod your head. “Okay, let’s go find her. I think I could use a good run. ‘Sides, I ain’t never been to a swamp before.”

“Nor have I,” Arthur admits, putting his photo back in his satchel.

You both check your horses, making sure you have enough provisions to last a few days just in case it takes longer than expected to find this Black Belle.

As Arthur leads you out of the trees from Horseshoe Overlook, you trot Rannoch by Artemis’s side.

“So you said you already found three others for this author,” you say. “What were they like?”

“Bunch o’ miserable bastards,” he says. “First was a man named Flaco Hernandez. Found him in a cabin up in a place called Cairn lake on the way to Colter. Think he was on the run from the law; didn’t seem at all like he was too happy ‘bout bein’ in the snow. Made me duel him, guess he weren’t too interested in talkin’ ‘bout his past.

“Then there was Emmett Granger. Pig farmer. Don’t think I ever been more happy to see a man dead.”

“Why?”

“He kept talkin’ ‘bout the horrible things he done to people. Skinnin’ ‘em, scalpin’ ‘em. Think he was makin’ it all up. Maybe he did kill people, but he was actin’ all tough ‘bout it. Made me clean up his pig shit just for a quote, but when I was done he wouldn’t give me one about Jim Boy. So I stuck a stick of dynamite in his shit pile and blew it up. He tried throwin’ a knife at me, but I shot him before he could. Like I said, nasty bastard.

“The last man I found in Rhodes. Ya been there?” You shake your head.

“Ain’t surprised. It’s on the west side of Lemoyne. Anyways, found him on a train. When I asked him about Jim Boy, he thought I’d come to kill him for killin’ some man in his sleep. Guess he felt real guilty ‘bout it, don’t quite know why. Made me chase him on top of the train until he got to the engine where he tried to shoot me. Like I said, all of ‘em were a bunch of miserable bastards. Doesn’t give me high hopes ‘bout this lady.”

“Well, at least you won’t be alone this time. Doesn’t mean I’ll be a good shot, though. Ain’t exactly a gunslinger myself.”

Arthur huffed. “‘S a’right. Like I said, we’ll just try talkin’ to her first.”

You follow Arthur’s lead, going over the plains of the Heartlands and passing Emerald Ranch. He takes you south and into a woodland. The trees start to thicken until you hit a wide, dark river. The trees on the opposite bank are foreign to you. Tall, wide willows dangle their ribbons of green towards the water. You cross the river through a covered bridge. When you enter the open air again, it’s almost like you’ve journeyed into a completely different world.

The air around you is thick and wet, almost soupy. You don’t entirely enjoy it as it seems to make the heat less bearable. A thick mist hangs persistently over the ground despite it being mid-afternoon. You can hear the ground beneath Rannoch’s hooves squelch loudly as he trots along. The vegetation on the sides of the dirt path is even foreign. Thick clumps of bushes, some drooping with the weight of berries. Tall grasses rise out of the mud. Tall willow trees, their trunks slick with green moss and slime. You see a flock of large white birds with long necks and legs take off into the air, cooing softly. Something loud growls from the right side of the path; it sounds huge. You hope you never see what made it.

Arthur takes you along the path where the trees begin to thin, opening up onto a muddy plain. As you run along the path, you hear the squeals of wild boars dashing towards the river you had just crossed. To the south, through the trees you see a wide, shallow brown lake. You don’t think it’s very deep as it’s dotted with multiple small islands, and in several areas the willows grow right out of the water. You spot what looks like a partially submerged log close to the bank near the path, but as the two horses approach, it disappears beneath the gloomy water.

You carry on, passing the lake. To the south, you see tall columns of smoke rising into the air from a distance. You squint your eyes, trying to see where it’s coming from through the muggy air. You can see the far-off outlines of buildings.

You pass by a muddy quagmire and see something strange. A lizard lies in the mud, but it’s huge. Larger than any lizard you’ve ever seen. It looks to be twice Arthur’s length, and you can see its teeth lining its long snout. You’ve never seen anything like it before. The animal opens its mouth and hisses as the horses pass it on the trail, but it doesn’t move.

“What the hell was that?” you ask, turning in your saddle to look at the lizard.

“Alligator. Nasty reptiles.”

You spot up ahead on the south side of the trail a small cabin held up on stilts above the thick mud. The land surrounding it is littered with bits of old wagons, a few empty crates and boxes scattered around. Arthur pulls Artemis to a stop and takes out the photo of Black Belle again. He reads the back and then replaces it.

“Think this might be the place,” he says, walking on towards the house.

You both dismount where the trail leads to the cabin, walking along the soft ground and to the stairs. Just as Arthur’s about to step onto the porch, the front door opens and he’s met with the barrel of a rifle.

“You there!” says a woman’s sharp voice. “You a bounty hunter?”

“Not right now, I ain’t,” he says, taking a step back and holding his hands up.You do the same.

“What about you?” she spits, pointing the gun to you.

You raise your hands higher. “No, ma’am. Ain’t never gone after a bounty in my life.”

“You Black Belle?” Arthur asks. She whips the gun back in his direction. “I’d like to talk to you about your wild West days.”

“I don’t care much for reminiscing,” she says, opening the door wider. You see her in a floor-length black dress and black hat as she steps out. A cunning smile spreads along her face. You recognize her from the photograph: Black Belle. “You got any friends is bounty hunters?” she walks out of the cabin, still pointing the rifle at you and Arthur.

“Not that spring to mind,” he says, taking a step back. You step back onto the soggy ground. She looks up and down the path in the distance.

“Well, then you done lead them boys here and you none the wiser.”

You both turn around and see several men trotting down the path towards the cabin. You can tell by the size of their group and the way they’re looking at Belle they’re hunters.

“Ah, those bounty hunters,” he says.

“Knew my luck’d run out sooner or sooner,” she snaps, lowering her gun.

“Well, get inside. I’ll tell ‘em yer gone,” he offers.

She laughs and points the gun back at him, stepping towards him. You pull out your gun but don’t point it from its holster.

“Oh, no no,” she says, ignoring you. “I ain’t hiding from them scalp hunters. I ain’t fightin’ them on my own neither. You still want that wild West story?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, lowering his hands. You turn and look back at the path and the gathering bounty hunters.

“Well get up here, then. When I give the word, you pull that,” she motions to a box with a plunger. “Whole place is wired.” She gives him a cheeky wink as he takes his position. You kneel down behind the railing, watching as the bounty hunters dismount. One of them approaches the path to the porch, holding a wanted poster.

“Black Belle!” he calls. “We got a contract here for your life or liberty!”

“Well, why don’t ya let me see that contract there and we’ll talk!” she calls.

The bounty hunter starts walking towards the cabin. “Light ‘em up, cowboy,” she whispers.

Arthur presses down on the plunger, and the ground shakes as the hidden dynamite explodes. Several of the bounty hunters fly into the air, blown back by the blast. You pull out your sawed-off, shooting at the remaining men, accompanied by Arthur’s pistols and Belle’s rifle. She yells profanities and taunts as more bounty hunters show up. A wagon appears, a man hiding behind a gatling gun begins to shoot, spraying bullets everywhere. Arthur stands up straight, aiming his pistol. You’re worried for a second he’s going to get shot, but then he pulls his trigger and the gatling gun goes silent. You peak over the railing and see the man who had been operating it is now lying dead in the wagon. The three of you finish off the remaining bounty hunters until they turn and flee into the swamp.

“Woo!” Belle screams, standing up.

“Shit!” Arthur says, holstering his guns.

“That the last of them scalp hunters?”

“For now,” Arthur says, standing up straight. You follow his lead, holstering your gun. “So, you gonna tell me about yer wild West days? Runnin’ with Jim Boy Calloway?”

“Little boy Calloway?” she laughs. “The only runnin’ that man ever did was away from a fight.”

“Well, apparently the man’s a famous gunslinger,” Arthur says, lighting a cigarette and taking a puff from it before handing it to you.

“Don’t get what’s famous confused for what’s true,” she says and reaches into her cabin, pulling out a heavy burlap sack and throwing it over her shoulder. She walks passed you and Arthur. “Those of us who lived that life was too busy bein’ scared for our scalp to talk to no writers or novel men.

“What were they like then?” Arthur asks, following her.

“Same as now, I guess, only longer ago,” she says in a strange tone.

“Ya mind if I get yer photo?” he asks her, pulling out a camera.

“Not at all,” she says, plopping the large sack at her feet. She grabs her rifle and aims it up into the sky. Arthur snaps a photo and thanks her, stepping forward to grab her sack. She laughs, picking it up and away from him, throwing a sly smile before slinging it over her horse’s back.

“You gonna be a’right?” he asks.

“Been runnin’ for twenty years, suppose I’ll be runnin’ till I drop. Just the way it is.” She winks at him again before charging down the trail.

He waves at her, staring at her back. “Interestin’ woman,” he says, turning away and walking towards Artemis.

“No doubt,” you say, whistling for Rannoch.

After mounting your horses, you trot down along the trail. When you reach the muddy lake, Arthur stops and pulls out his binoculars.

“What are you lookin’ at?” you ask.

“Heard there’s some real interestin’ birds in these parts. I don’t see any...hold on. Well, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that’s Mr. Mason,” he chuckles, replacing his binoculars into his satchel.

“Mr. Mason? The photographer?” you ask, gazing across the water. You can’t see anything through the dense trees. Arthur turns back down the way you had just come, dashing along the shores of the shallow lake. Rannoch stumbles slightly as one of his hooves sinks into the thick mud. You’re grateful you don’t see any alligators nearby. Something about them gives you the creeps.

You travel along the southside of the lake and you see the photographer standing on the mucky bank near a skiff. His camera points out over the water.

Arthur approaches the man. You can tell he’s smiling.

“They creep up on you, y’know,” he says, making the man jump.

“Mr. Morgan! Ms. Y/L/N!”

“What are ya workin’ on?”

“Do you know anything about alligators?” “Only the basics, avoid them wherever possible.”

“Did you know that in the last 50 years, we’ve wiped out 90% of them?”

“You say that like it makes ya sad,” Arthur looks at him from beneath the rim of his hat.

“They’re beautiful creatures.”

Arthur chuckles. “Well, let’s see if you change yer mind when one of ‘em’s got you in a death roll.”

“Yes, I’m sure to make some animal a very happy lunch someday!”

“You stay there, you might get a great shot but then you’ll get eaten,” Arthur walks over and grabs Albert’s bag, placing it into the boat.

“What a way to go!” he says, staring almost frightened over the water.

“C’mon, get in the boat. It’ll be fine,” Arthur gestures..

Albert climbs in, handing his camera to Arthur as he clambers over the seats. Once he’s sitting in the front, he reaches back for his camera as Arthur helps you into the skiff.

You’ve only ever been in a boat once, and that was when you were very little, still living in Blackwater. You can barely remember it. You sit between the two men in the middle of the boat as Arthur grabs the oars, pushing away from the shore.

“You carry on shootin’ from that bank,” Arthur says. “Yer gonna wish them wolves had eaten ya.”

“Really?”

“Yes. The 10% of gators that survived,” Arthur calls from the back. “They’re the mean ones.”

You situate yourself more into the middle of the seat, feeling nervous. You slowly lean over, staring into the murky brown water, partially curious about what lies beneath the boat, but also terrified. Albert sets up his camera to point out over the water. He directs Arthur to certain areas of the shallow lake. At one point, you see a small group of boars drinking from the lake just as a wide, reptilian head emerges, snapping its powerful jaws around the neck of one of the boars, dragging it beneath the water. Albert’s camera flashes and he hollers.

“Yes! Caught him enjoying his dinner!”

He directs the boat further into the lake until the boat is nearly upon an island where you can see a particularly large gator basking in the sun.

“Oh no!” Albert squeals as the gator runs off into the tall grass and away from the camera. “We’ve spooked him. Would you mind, Arthur?”

“What?”

“Well, would you mind going over there and luring him out? He’s quite spectacular!”

“Ya gotta be kiddin’ me,” Arthur grumbles as he climbs over the boat. You grab his hand.

“Be careful,” you say, worried.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a minute.”

He slowly wades his way over to the island, peaking over the grass. He suddenly darts back to the boat, climbing in as the large reptile barrels out after him. You scream a little, grabbing Arthur’s arms and pulling him in. He sits on the seat, breathing heavily as the gator scurries into the water, away from the boat.

“You okay?” you ask, looking for the gator.

“I’m just fine.”

“That was quite remarkable!” Albert hollers. “I think we have enough photographs, Mr. Morgan. Take us back to shore!”

Arthur pulls out from the island, turning the boat and rowing it back to the shore where the horses patiently stand. He hops out of the boat, pulling it onto land.

“These photos yer takin’,” he says to Albert as he helps you out.

“Yes?”

“They gonna be any good?”

Albert laughs as he stands up. “I certainly hope so, though I’m doubtful. The subject is magnificent, the backdrop jaw dropping. But God’s agent of beauty is a talentless fool.”

“You shoar make me laugh the way you talk about yerself, Mr. Mason!” Arthur chuckles, putting his hand around your waist.

“Well, I’m good for laughing at if nothing else,” Albert chuckles as he pushes the boat back out into the water, rowing himself in a circle.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. But may I mention that you two make quite the handsome couple?”

You bow your head, blushing. Arthur squeezes your hip gently, laughing. “Take care of yerself, Mr. Mason.”

“And you too, Mr. Morgan. Ms. Y/L/N? It was a pleasure once again!”

You both wave to Albert as you turn to your horses, mounting them and heading back to the trail.

“I kinda like that fella,” you say.

Arthur laughs. “Me too.”

You look to the south of the swamp at the distant buildings belching smoke.

“What city is that?” you ask.

“I think it’s Saint Denis,” Arthur says, stopping.

You suddenly think of Emma, your horrible cousin. The last thing you want to do is visit the city where you might accidentally bump into her. You’re happy leaving her in your past.

“Let’s go home,” you say, turning Rannoch to go up the path. Arthur follows you, heading on back to camp.

The next morning, you stand beside Pearson’s fire with Arthur, drinking sips of coffee.

“John wants you and me to meet him in Valentine. Somethin’ ‘bout rustlin’ sheep.”

“Oh yeah,” you say, finishing your drink. “He said he was gonna look into that job. Told me he wanted me to be part of it.”

“Well, good. Let’s go.”

You both ride to Valentine, spotting John’s horse Old Boy by the stables. He’s leaning on a beam, staring out at the livestock waiting to be sold. A large sign announces that there’s to be an auction later this afternoon.

“So, feelin’ better, I see,” Arthur says to him. “How’s the scar?”

“I heal pretty fast,” he says, staring out at the livestock in the corrals. You glance at his face and can see the stitches across his scratched face.

“Lucky you,” Arthur snips at him. “So you just lazin’ about or you actually want us here for a job?”

John straightens up and points at some sheep in the nearest corral. “You see them?”

“What, you see yerself as a shepherd now?” Arthur jokes.

“Maybe, c’mon, follow me.”

He starts walking away down the street and towards the main road of Valentine.

“Where are we goin’?” Arthur asks, following him and you walking in his lead.

“Collect somethin’ that’s gonna help with the sheep.”

“Y’know, that attempt to sound enigmatic and interestin,” Arthur says, grabbing Artemis’s reins. “It might work for Dutch, but for you it just makes you look stupid.”

You throw him a curious look to which he doesn’t see. John leads you down the streets towards the gunsmith. You listen to the two men argue about the wisdom of returning to Blackwater to collect the money that was left there. You agree with Arthur that going back would be nothing more than a death sentence. You have no desire to return.

You follow Arthur and hitch Rannoch next to Old Boy by the sheriff’s office, crossing the muddy street to the gunsmith. Arthur climbs up the steps to find John leaning against the wall near the door.

“Here, take this,” he says to Arthur, handing him some money. “Go buy a sniper rifle, will ya?”

Arthur takes the money and goes inside, leaving you alone to stand next to John.

“What’s the plan here, John?” you ask.

“Dug into that note you stole from that guy,” he says, lighting a cigarette. “Found out some fellas are gonna be bringing some sheep for auction here today. Might be able to grab ‘em.”

Arthur walks out of the gunsmith, the scoped rifle slung over his shoulder.

“A’right, let’s go,” he says, going back to the horses. You and the men walk down the muddy street and get on your horses.

“I don’t know why you couldn’t buy this gun yerself,” Arthur calls to him from Artemis’s back.

“Had a run in with that fella earlier. We ain’t on the best of terms.”

“You had a run in? I had a run in with nearly half that town! Why are you bein’ so cagey ‘bout all this? Always playin’ some game.”

“I ain’t the one takin’ Jack out on fishing trips!” John snaps as you pass the train station.

“No, you ain’t,” Arthur shoots back. “If you say the boy ain’t yers, then what’s the difference? You’d probably run off again!”

“Why are you so interested in my life? Ain’t you got one of yer own?”

“Look, just do one thing or another, not be two people at once. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

You listen to the two men bicker once more as you canter down the path out of Valentine, passing a tall mountain leading towards the Heartlands. John leads you both past it and up onto a slope overlooking the plain you had just been on. To the north lies a wood, and east of that is an oil field sitting on black ground, a train passing through it.

John leads you to the top of the slope and dismounts. You and Arthur follow him. You stand with the two men on the top of the mountain. Arthur pulls down his scoped rifle and looks through it. You pull out your binoculars and spot three riders in the distance following a small herd of sheep.

“Just put a bullet in near ‘em, scare ‘em off,” John says.

Arthur pulls the trigger, the gun thundering. You see two of the riders scurry off, but one of them just stops and pulls out a minuscule pistol.

“That one’s not runnin’ off, shoot again closer this time.”

Arthur shoots again, you see a small cloud of dirt rise up just behind the third rider. He gets the message and gallops away, leaving the sheep abandoned.

You climb back onto Rannoch and follow the two men down the mountainside. The herd has dispersed in the chaos, scattering over the plain. You go and round three of them up, directing them back to the main herd as Arthur and John argue who is going to take charge of the sheep, Arthur eventually winning out.

“Now ain’t the time for you to be learnin’ how to herd!” he says to John, guiding the sheep towards Valentine. Every once in a while, he spurs them on with a shout. Within moments, the herd dashes past the Valentine train station and into the open gate leading to the corrals. Three men close the gate behind the last sheep and then turn to you and your companions as you dismount.

“Fine sheep!” John says.

“They’re okay,” one of the men says, eyeballing you, John and Arthur with a haughty stare.

“You seen better ‘round here?” Arthur demands.

“I’ve seen ones with less ambiguity about their provenance.”

“What you tryin’ to say?” Arthur barks, stepping towards the man. You nervously place your hand on your gun in its holster.

“I’m sayin’ you give me 25% kickback, and I won’t say nothing to nobody.”

“Excuse me?!” Arthur says.

“Sure, I’ll excuse you. For 25%.”

“Do you want me to put another hole in yer head?” Arthur snarls.

“Folk swing for rustlin’ livestock, my friend. 25%!”

John steps forward, pushing Arthur out of the way. He and the man argue about the amount, bringing the agreed amount down to 18%.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you,” the man says as he shakes John’s hand. He offers it to Arthur, who hesitates before grabbing it. You can tell by his grip that he’d like nothing more than to break his hand.

“Calm yourself. Think of it as I’m buyin’ your sins,” the man says with a nasty grin.

“Yeah, yer buyin, but we’re payin’!” Arthur snaps, turning away.

John mentions to him that Dutch wants to meet him in the saloon just down the street. You start walking Rannoch down the road with them. You expect to go to the large saloon on the main street, but you spot Dutch’s horse, the Count, hitched outside a smaller saloon you’ve only seen but never been inside. You hitch your horse and follow Arthur inside, spotting Dutch and Strauss at one of the tables in the back. Arthur turns to you quickly.

“Hey, darlin’, ya mind if I speak with Dutch alone? I’ll buy ya a whisky next time we’re in town.”

“Of course,” you say. “I’ll meet you in camp?”

He nods and pats you on the back. You turn and climb back onto Rannoch, walking down the main street at a steady trot. You’re partially relieved to be leaving the town. Something doesn’t feel right.

You’ve just passed the tree below the rail bridge where the mutilated corpse had been hanging when you hear them: gunshots coming from Valentine. You stop, looking behind you. Of course, you can’t see anything from this distance. Within seconds, riders and carriages come barreling in your direction, pushing you further down the path to avoid being trampled as the gunshots continue. Despite your desire to return to the town and help, as you’re sure it has something to do with your gang, you return to camp. You stay in the cover of the trees, still mounted on Rannoch. You wait for several moments, nervous and anxious. You hear horses approaching and see the small white form of the Count and John’s large horse, Strauss clinging onto John. Arthur is nowhere in sight.

“Dutch!” you call as he charges past you, looking angry. He ignores you, so you follow him, dismounting your appaloosa by the hitching post.

Dutch begins marching towards Hosea when you catch him by the shoulder.

“Dutch! What the hell happened? I heard gunshots from Valentine. Where’s Arthur?” you demand.

“Everything’s just fine, Y/N,” Dutch says, raising his hands slightly. “Let me take care of this first.”

“Dutch Van der Linde!” you yell, surprising even yourself. “What the hell happened and where is Arthur?!”

Dutch sighs as several gang members begin to approach, looking worried. Hosea, sitting in his tent, stands up and approaches.

“Leviticus Cornwall showed up in town. Guess he was real angry about us stealing from his train. We had to shoot our way out. Arthur stayed behind to make sure we weren’t followed.”

“And you left him there?” you hiss. “You just left him there?! He could be dead for all you know, Dutch! I swear to God if he has even the tiniest scratch, I’m taking it out on your ass, Mr. Van der Linde!”

“Ms. Y/L/N!” he hollers, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Calm down! He’ll be just fine, he always is!”

“I don’t care if he’s been fine in the past!” you throw his hands off. “It only takes one time!”

You hear a horse trampling up the path and turn to see Artemis’s familiar form, Arthur on her back, sweaty but unhurt. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“You see, Y/N,” Dutch says calmly. “Like I said, he’s always fine.”

You ignore him and march over to Arthur as he dismounts Artemis. You plant yourself in front of him, hands on your hips. He looks at you, confused.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“You stayed behind while those other two just ditched you?” you snap. “Let me guess. You hid behind a crate while getting shot at by God knows how many men while Dutch and John just sauntered up the path?”

“‘S wagon, actually,” he smiled bashfully. “‘Sides, I got out just fine. No one followed us, that’s all that matters.”

“I don’t give a damn that no one followed you, Arthur Morgan!” you holler. “And I don’t care that you got out just fine this time! I don’t ever wanna hear that you let yourself get left behind during a gunfight so that I have to guess whether or not you’re coming home!”

He lowers his brows. “They had to leave me behind, Y/N! Strauss got shot in the leg, so John had to get him outta there.”

“But did Dutch stay with ya? No, he didn’t! He just ran off, letting you clean things up! I swear to God, Arthur! I never wanna hear about you doin’ something like that again! I don’t wanna worry about whether or not you’re okay!”

Tears are pricking your lower lids, you wipe them away angrily. You always tend to cry when arguing with someone. Arthur looks at you understandingly. He pulls you into a tight hug.

“I’m real sorry, Y/N,” he says. “Didn’t mean to make ya worry. Just so used to it, ‘s all. I always been looking behind Dutch’s back.”

“Well, you need to remember it’s not just his back you need to worry about,” you sniff. “Please promise me the next time something like this happens you won’t let yourself get left behind?”

He chuckles a little. “Honey, ya act like gunfights are somethin’ that happen to us on a weekly basis.”

You can’t help but smile. “Almost surprised they don’t.”

“Look at you two!” a thick Irish voice comes from behind you. You let go of Arthur and look back at the grinning face of Sean. “Gettin’ all cute with each other when ol’ Grimshaw’s barkin’ at us to get packed up! Typical ol’ Morgan!”

“Yeah, you’d know so much ‘bout helpin’ ‘round camp,” Arthur jokes, stepping around you and walking towards Dutch’s tent.

Grimshaw barrels towards you. A bear would’ve been less intimidating.

“Ms. Y/L/N!” she shouts, attempting to grab your arm. You dart out of her grasp. “We need to get movin’ and yer too busy yellin’ at Arthur to help! Now get over there and start packin’ up!”

You run over to your shared tent, grabbing empty boxes from inside the wagon and throwing Arthur’s belongings into it. You turn your head and see him marching away with Charles as Dutch tells them to go find a new camping spot.

Within hours, the camp is packed up and the horses are hitched to the wagons. You mount up on Rannoch, not wanting to ride in the wagons again the way you did when leaving Blackwater and Coulter. You follow the train along the side, going at a steady trot.

The train heads east into the Heartlands. You look back one last time at the trees that have provided you cover these past few weeks. You feel somewhat sad to leave it behind. Horseshoe Overlook had been a beautiful place.

The wagons continue on down the through the plains. You can see in the distance the few buildings that make up Emerald Ranch. The train heads down south where you see the familiar form of Charles galloping towards Dutch’s wagon. You trot up to the front, but you can’t see Arthur anywhere.

“We found a place, Dutch,” he calls. “Place called Clemens Point.”

“What happened to Dewberry Creek?” Micah says, joining your side much to your dislike.

“We weren’t the first ones there,” Charles says. “We found a camp already there. Someone tried to rob them. Arthur’s with one of the families now, takin’ them home. He says he’ll meet us there.”

“Very good,” Dutch says, whipping the horses on.

You trot down the trail with the wagons, passing a sign that says “Welcome to the State of Lemoyne”. You notice that the temperature has become warmer, the roads dryer. The trails fade from a soft brown to an almost harsh orange. You see, not too far off, the huge form of Flat Iron Lake. You know that on the far-off shore lies Blackwater.

After nearly an hour of travel, Charles leads the wagons off the main path and into a large cluster of trees, approaching the lake. The trees thin out, giving way to a large meadow with a thick tree in the middle. You see Arthur standing by the tree, raising his arms up and greeting the entire gang.

“What ya think?” he calls to Dutch.

“I love it!” he says, clambering off the wagon. “Think we can really make a home for ourselves here.” He orders Grimshaw and Pearson to start unpacking.

The next few hours are spent running around the clearing, placing wagons and raising tents. You rather like where Grimshaw has assigned your shared tent, overlooking the silvery lake.

As the sun begins to set, you stand on the shore watching the burning sun as it dips. Arthur walks over to you, handing you a plate of stew. You thank him.

“Guess this is our home,” you say.

“For now, anyways.”

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x oc #fanfiction #van der linde gang #i'm awkward #second chances #r* games #rockstar games

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oh-theatre · 5 years

Text

Sycamore High: A Dance (Chapter 22)

A/N: I thought yall had too much fluff so here's some angst because a balanced diet is a healthy diet

summary: Something is off with Ted this morning

words: 2,818

warnings: Swearing, death mention, kissing, crying

Ao3 Link

“The way he feigns humility when all he does it gloat!” Ted tries again, he groans burying his head in his arms. He hears two feet shuffle in, turning to face a very exhausted looking Henry, followed, if you can call it that, by a very tired Chad. Ted freezes, feeling himself grow sweaty. “Oh god...I'm sorry, did I wake you?” His feet bounce as if trying to separate themselves from his torso. Chad yawns shaking his head, waving the young boy off.

“No...you're alright kiddo” Chad assures, he makes his way to the kitchen “Anyone want some coffee?” Both Henry and Ted say yes, so he gets to work. Henry makes his way to the table where Ted sits, he takes a chair next to him.

“Whatcha working on?” He asks, Ted looks up from his music, sliding it over. Henry examines it nodding “Interesting, why do you sound so annoyed? You are doing well” Henry compliments, Ted nods. He appreciates the effort but he just doesn't feel it. Henry pats him on the back standing up, he starts to make his way towards the kitchen.

“Is my mom really gone?” Henry freezes, Chad drops his things creating a loud noise. He turns facing Ted in the opening of the kitchen into the living room/dining room. Henry turns the same, his face falls. Ted sits looking so tired, he nervously fidgets with his pencil, not meeting their eyes. He shrugs. “I don't know, I just… Is she really gone?” Chad rushes over, sitting next to Ted. He instinctively falls into the professor, not sure where the tears came from. Chad embraces him soothing him, Henry sits across from them.

“Ted...I am so sorry” He says softly “She-

“How did she die?” Ted says rising from his position, he wipes his eyes with his pajama sleeve. His eyes squint at the sudden light that floods the apartment. He adjusts to the cheery aura the silent room takes on. Chad purses his lips, looking to Henry helplessly.

“Ted…” Henry tries, he hopes his voice conveys his resistance against telling him. He feels his stomach drop knowing Ted would find out one day, he'd rather he heard it from someone who cares. “The police-

“It was my dad wasn't it?” Ted sniffles. He lets out a dry, sad chuckle at the look that places itself on the professor's faces confirming his assumptions. He shrugs “Of course, only took a matter of time before he decided to go all the way,” He says, he quickly collects his things as the professors gape at him. “I should get ready for school” Once again not meeting their eyes, he takes his music swiftly leaving the room. The two men sit shocked, saddened. Unbeknownst to them, the tall boy instantly collapsed sobbing softly in his room. And unbeknownst to the small boy, the two professors want nothing more than to smother him with love and to take care of him. Today was going to be rough. For many reasons...

~~~

“Oh so you're picking me up from my house now are you?” Emma asks coyly as she steps into the dull morning. Paul shrugs chuckling, he leans on his car scrolling through his phone. He looks up at her.

“I'm your chauffeur now,” He says, he holds up a finger coughing “Madam,” He says in a very forced accent, she laughs approaching him. She leans in a little close, causing a blush to creep onto Pauls face, its like something she could just do when she wanted. He lets out a dry laugh, coughing away his embarrassment.

“I thought you were my Nigel?” She asks innocently, he bites his lip smirking. She examines his features up close now, how can someone's face be so smooth? He escapes her little trap opening the door for her, distracting himself. She pouts, much to Pauls content. Though their dance was tense and awkward at times they were practicing and slowly it was becoming a second manner. “Well that's no fun,” She says sighing dramatically, Paul nods. He goes closer wrapping an arm around her waist, she hums softly. “Oh?”

“Oh indeed” he mutters leaning in to meet her lips. She smiles through it wrapping her own hands around his neck. They pull away after a moment both pleasantly satisfied with the morning's events. Emma slides into the car comfortably, Paul does the same. Emma listens to a soft mumbling of words as they pull out of the driveway. “Oh, what a beautiful morning...oh what a beautiful day” He sings. Oh, how wrong he was.

~~~

“Hey, Sam!” Charlotte calls across the crowded halls spotting her boyfriend by his locker talking to some people. He perks up at the sound of his name and turns smiling seeing the excited girl coming forward. He halts his conversation meeting Charlotte midway. “Hey guess what..” She proposes, he raises his eyebrows wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Hmm?” He hums playfully, causing her to giggle. He kisses her cheek “What?” She blushes furiously.

“I was going to make a fun ‘Something Rotten’ joke but I’d rather just do this I guess” She jokes, shrugging sweetly. He laughs, kissing her once more, she returns it happily. Not so desperate to pull away when they hear a clearing of the throat. Charlotte groans leaning her head back slightly. Emma stands idle with a very awkward Paul behind her, she waves. Sam releases his grip simply taking Charlotte's hand.

“I should go…” He concludes, he pulls Charlotte in for a kiss on the cheek before wishing the trio farewell. Charlotte and Emma turn to each other arms crossed. Paul chuckles nervously and stands between the two.

“Hehe...So…” He starts, neither girl removes their glare. Bill comes up behind him, looking up from his book examining the situation. He turns to Paul.

“What is going on here?” He asks tentative, Paul jumps but manages a stiff smile.

“Oh look its Bill!” He exclaims rubbing the back of his neck, the girls remain. He shrugs taking Bill “Gotta go, bye, see you at rehearsals” He wishes the girls farewell before dragging Bill away and moving towards their locker. “Oh my god, they have been hot and cold for like a month or two now” He groans finally out of earshot, Bill nods barely listening as he reads through his book. Paul sighs opening his locker, he begins shoving stuff in and taking things out. Ted approaches quietly, Paul perks up. “Hey, dude! Excited about rehearsals?” Paul asks, Bill, bookmarks his page and waits for Ted's answer.

“Hmm?” Ted looks up, seemingly dazed “Oh yeah sure” He manages. Paul and Bill share a look but decide to let it go. Ted continues staring at the ground, breathing slowly as if his only job was to stand and stare. Paul snaps his fingers, Ted rallies himself making eye contact. “What? Sorry”

“You ok dude?” Paul asks, Ted goes to answer but is quickly interrupted by a bright voice. Tommy calls out bouncing towards the trio, Paul and Bill can't help but smile. The bespeckled boy really knows how to put a smile on everyone's face. Paul feels himself relax knowing if anything was going to ground Ted it would be the small, sugar-loving boy.

“Morning!” he exclaims planting himself by the group. Bill smiles, nodding at him, Paul follows suit. They turn to Ted expecting a similar maybe more intimate greeting. Alas, Pauls knot returns as Ted continues staring. His eyes looking glazed over, as his body barely moves. Tommy must have noticed as he places his hand into Teds, eyes trying not to burn with concern. This gets Ted's attention as he raises his eyes meeting the groups. He looks around, almost confused before landing on Tommy.

“Oh, hi,” He says shaking his head. Tommy tilts his head, a puzzled smile spreads over his face. Bill, squints trying to understand, he goes to speak.

“Ted, is everything alright?” He inquires, Tommy and Paul, look between the two. Ted sighs, inhaling sharply. His mouth twitches uncomfortably, as his feet follow suit. “Ted?” Bill tries again, bad idea. Ted lets go of Tommy's hand brashly, letting out an exasperated moan.

“I'm fine! Ok?” He blurts, the dazed look replaced with an annoyed fury. He messes with his bag, fiddling uncomfortably. “I gotta go” he mumbles pushing through the crowded hallway. Leaving a very shocked pair, and a very concerned but hurt boyfriend behind.

~~~

“He just stormed away?” Henry asks, trying to understand. Paul nods, supported by Bill. Chad sighs, leaning back in his chair. The teacher's lounge grows silent once more. Tommy leans by the door, fiddling with his hands. He examines the room, to the left is a sink area with a fridge and coffee. The smell carries towards the back with tables and a couch where the two professors sit listening. To the right are more shelves and books, mini lockers each labeled with a teachers name. The room is vibrant but calm. The yellows and blues bouncing off each other complimenting the blooming green plants cluttering the room. It's nice, and relaxing. Tommy wishes that would help him now but he simply fidgets. He tries to create a barricade between his eyes and the tears that threaten him.

Don't you dare cry

Don't be a baby

“Tommy?” Tommy looks up, the group is watching him expectantly. He furrows his brows before shaking his head.

“Sorry… what was your question?” Tommy tries, his voice is cold. Chad gives him a distant glance, Tommy feels a pull at his heart.

“Do you have any idea where he might be?” Henry repeats Tommy reflects for a moment remembering all of Ted's spots, or all of the couples spots. The cove under the hanging tree, the corner of the cafeteria, the park bench, the ice cream shop. Tommy struggles to keep a sad smile from inhabiting his face. He looks up nodding.

“I know a place...but..” he looks to Bill and Paul “I'm sorry, you can't come”

~~~

“Go away” Ted pouts, he sounded like a child but it had all been too much. Clearly, he had been straining his smiles, forcing his feelings. His body was exhausted, his mind was spiraling and all he wanted to do was be alone. Plus, he had just definitely hurt the one person he had strived to protect and...well love. Little did he know, he had just told him to go away. He hears the leaves of the trees rustle as another figure steps into the cove. He sighs immediately recognizing the sweet delightful smell, he opens his eyes. “Gumdrop?” He barely whispers

“I'm not leaving Ted” Tommy declares sitting in front of him. He rests his head on his arms and stares at Ted. “What's wrong? What happened?” He asks softer, taking Ted's hand. He wants to pull away but feeling the other boys touch was something he needed and loved. Tommy strokes Ted's cheek, I love you. He just wants Ted to know that.

“Tommy…” He pulls away painfully for both. He looks away feeling dramatic but justified. “You should go, this was stupid” He mutters. Tommy shakes his head lovingly.

“No it's not, whatever you're feeling, it's not stupid” Tommy assures, trying again to comfort him. He places his hand on Ted's cheek again, Ted shuts his eyes tight, he pulls away feeling his body reject the movement.

“No...this” He enunciates gesturing between the two boys “Was stupid” He looks around scoffing, nothing left in him “All of this was stupid.”

“Ted-” Tommy tries to cut in, his eyes growing in inevitable horror.

“No! This was stupid Tommy. So maybe you should go!” Teds screaming now, he doesn't mean to, and it's not at Tommy. It's at everything that has happened, at his dad, at his mom, at himself. Tommy sits biting his quivering lip, he listens to the hurtful words. I can do this, don't cry, just stay. “Tommy go! Just leave! This was stupid and we’ve just been pretending! You dont deserve this! And I dont get to have something good!” This catches Ted himself off guard, he clasps a hand to his mouth. Tommy scoffs lightly, he nods understanding, and the barricade breaks. Ted watches as the hot tears flow down his beautiful, soft face. He wants to reach out and wipe them away, pull him into a hug. But he can't, because he's the reason for the tears in the first place. Tommy gasps catching himself, before wiping his eyes. He exhales sharply. Ted tries to make a sound as he glares, he can't stop.

“Dont, just” Tommy stands, placing his hand on the hanging leaves “Goodbye Ted,” He says pushing them out of the way and walking outside the cove. He pushes past the shocked professors, flushing with sadness and embarrassment. Henry goes to follow the boy wishing to comfort him but Chad holds him back gesturing his head toward the cove where the sounds of silent pained sobs escape.

~~~

“They broke up?” Emma whispers shocked, even with her low tone Paul shushes her. He nods sadly much to the despair of the four people present. They glance around at the emptying library nestling deeper into their books that they were definitely not paying attention to. “What happened?” Emma asks as the room becomes deathly silent save for the hum of the AC.

“I don't know” Paul admits “He was being really off this morning and then…” He shrugs sadly, Charlotte purses her lips together checking her phone. Bill remains silent, his mind however races. This can't be happening.

“I hate to break this up but we have rehearsal…” Charlotte interjects feeling red. Emma nods unfortunately agreeing. The gang packs up their things and shuffles their way to the auditorium met already with an unsettling picture. Bills the first to see it nudging Paul to bring his attention to it. Ted sits by the door, headphones in, silently studying the script. Tommy watches while struggling to keep a conversation going with some of the other cast members. Billy approaches and much like Bill and Paul quickly catches onto the situation. He laughs maliciously whispering something to his friends before advancing over to Tommy, who now stands alone looking at his phone. He leans against the locker, Tommy has no choice but to look up. This catches Ted's attention. The group listens, feeling themselves struggle to punch Billy.

“Hey Tommy” Billy goes, he laughs royally, an act “It is Tommy right?” Tommy swallows nodding uncomfortably, Ted's pencil breaks, weird. “You play...Nostradamus right? Wow, that's so cool…” He glances over to Ted, Billy leans closer “You're so cool” he whispers, you can physically see Tommy recoil, a shiver running down his spine. Tommy can't help but face Ted, something pleads in his eyes. Billy decides to take it a step further, even though this grosses him out. He starts tracing his fingers on Tommy's shoulder, working his way around, Ted snaps. He sets his things down more than angry standing, Billy raises a brow awaiting his sweet victory. But Ted doesn't shout or push, he simply extends a hand out to Tommy who takes it instantly.

“Come on” he whispers softly to Tommy, who continues to shake. The boys make their way down the hall disappearing. Not before Ted glares a glare that could cut a man at Billy who simply smirks. Check and mate, Ted.

~~~

“Are you ok?” Ted asks once they reach a secluded corner. Tommy fails to meet his eyes, everything dropping heavily on his shoulders. They shuffle awkwardly, dancing around each other. When did this become so tense? When did their beautiful routine, something they had perfected, crumble so quickly.

“M’fine” Tommy says stuffing his hands into his pockets, though wanting nothing more than to collapse into the taller of the two. Be wrapped in a warm embrace, smothering each other with kisses and holding hands until they can't feel their fingers. Ted wants the same but he hesitates, he knows Tommy, he knows he's not fine. But he did this, he broke his connection, he gave away his right to be there, to give him love, he did this. It's my fault.

“Tommy I-”

“Hey, guys? Rehearsal is starting, Professor Hidgens wants everyone back…” Paul interjects, Ted swallows before nodding giving Paul a glance they both understand. Paul makes his way back, Tommys looking up now. Please continue, it was wrong but his heart felt hopeful like Ted had something more to say. Or something more to do. Ted watches the spot where Paul stood pursing his lips, he looks to Tommy who watches him trying to read him. He leans down placing a soft kiss on Tommy's cheek, whispering affectionately into his ear.

“I love you” Though something feels so final, Tommy manages not to break, keeping himself grounded. Ted pulls away and leaves without another word.

#sycamore high #tgwdlmhs #tgwdlm #starkid #musical theatre #theatre #musicals #the guy who didn't like musicals #corey dorris #lauren lopez #joey richter #jon matteson #robert manion #jeff blim #jaime lyn beatty #writing #my writing #ao3 #archive of our own

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